The Scars That Make You Whole

By CrimsonStarbird

Brittle Bones, Part 4

-Responsibilities-

"I know what you're going to say," Mira finished her tale sorrowfully. "I'm well aware that it's wrong of me to keep Lisanna from fighting, but you have to understand how different Alstonia is to life in Fairy Tail…"

When no one jumped in to argue, she tailed off, lost.

Lucy and Levy exchanged glances. "That's… really not what I was going to say," Lucy volunteered.

"Not even close," Levy agreed.

"…Eh?"

Lucy sighed. "Mira, we leave you alone for ten months and you accidentally become a mafia boss-"

"I'm a pub landlady!"

"-in charge of the one city in the whole kingdom where looking like a Rune Knight and merely asking about the Gehennan Princess is enough to get you kidnapped and imprisoned in a slaughterhouse-"

"Only because of how scared everyone is right now, and by the way, I am really, really sorry about that-"

"-not to mention that there's a serial killer out there, using terrifying magic to spread fear across the city in an attempt to unseat and possibly even kill you!"

"But if they wanted to kill me, why wouldn't they just come after me?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because of how ridiculously powerful your Satan Soul magic has become these past ten months, given how quickly you transformed in front of me and Levy earlier!"

Mira glanced away. "I'm sure they must have some other goal-"

"Mira, they wrote you're next in blood on your apartment wall!" Lucy exclaimed. "I think it's quite clear what they're after!"

Perhaps it was fortunate that Blackjack picked that moment to interject. "You would know, given that you're the ones who wrote it!"

"Don't be silly." Mira sounded more disappointed than angry, and yet her words had the gangster's scowl retreating at record speed. "These two are my friends. I trust them as much as I trust Lisanna, and far more than I trust you." Then, with a sweet frown, she asked, "Where is Lisanna, anyway? You should have sent someone to alert her the moment you discovered the apartment had been broken into-"

"We tried!" Blackjack protested. "We- we don't know where she is." By Lucy's reckoning, Mira didn't even glance in his direction, but Blackjack jumped backwards just to be on the safe side, raising his empty hands in a gesture of surrender. "She's not in the bar, and she wasn't at the apartment…"

"Find her! It's far too dangerous for her to be out with the murder-suicide killer on the loose!"

Blackjack was gone long before Mira reached the end of the second sentence, but Lucy and Levy remained to nod in agreement. "We'll help search for her," Levy offered. "I understand that you have to stay here and coordinate your Familia – I mean, your employees – but we don't. Besides, we can take care of ourselves."

"Also, for the record, we do agree with Lisanna's take on things, but I appreciate that now's not the best time," Lucy added, following her friend to the door. "We'll come back here if we find anything."

As the door closed behind them, Mira murmured, "I know, Lucy. I do know. It's not that I want to keep Lisanna out of it… I just need an excuse to keep out of it myself."

Levy would have loved to say that she managed to find Lisanna using the detective skills she had picked up during her time as a Rune Knight. Sadly, as said time had mostly been spent trying to keep Gajeel out of the same prison he was enthusiastically slinging criminals into, it was probably for the best that good fortune had her back.

Shortly after they began their search, Lucy had got a funny glint in her eye – the I know something you don't kind – and suggested that they split up to cover more ground. Thus Lucy had dashed off somewhere with mad purpose, and a few minutes later, a still-bemused Levy had stumbled across two shadowy figures in an alleyway.

Before she could write so much as the first letter of a defensive spell, one of them asked, "It's Levy, right?"

Although she did not recognize the voice or the speaker, Levy duly paused at the sound of her name. The man in question was perhaps a year or two older than her, wearing casual clothes rather than the sharp dress the ex-Familia members preferred, though this was likely to be through necessity rather than choice. His clothes were ragged and torn, speckled a wet red from numerous shallow cuts. A handgun was shoved into his belt. Neither external appearance nor his own safety had been his top priority that night.

At his side stood the black-armoured vigilante who had rescued them from the slaughterhouse, a silent, watchful sentinel. Levy was more inclined to think of him as a friend after that evening's events, but with his motive still unknown, and the murders plaguing the city, she needed a very good reason to trust someone so suspicious.

"Who are you?" she demanded of both of them, but it was the human one who responded.

"The name's Ace. Sorry about kidnapping you earlier. We didn't know you were friends of the boss."

"No harm done," Levy shrugged, although there very nearly had been. "At least we're all on the same side now."

"Quite so."

"We need to find Lisanna," Levy persisted. "Mira said she's been missing since this afternoon. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

There was a snort. Then a splutter. And then the sophisticated, dangerous, shadowy figure burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this any more!" Interspersed with giggles, that guttural growl sounded more bizarre than frightening. "I'm not cut out to be a brooding dark hero!"

"Eh?' Levy managed.

"It's me, Levy." In a ripple of moonlight, the black bodysuit dissolved, revealing the distinctly unfrightening visage of Lisanna Strauss. Her grin was still sparking up with traces of laughter – a grin that the guildhall had been sorely missing. Her voice was once again its normal, carefree pitch as she continued, making the most of Levy's dumbfounded silence, "I've been using this disguise to roam the city at night ever since Mira decided I wasn't allowed to go out."

"Disguise?" Levy echoed. "How are you even doing that?"

There was no denying the smirk on Lisanna's face – as close to Mira's demonic delight as Levy had ever seen the younger sister come. "I developed a new Take Over form, Animal Soul: Bat. I'll admit it's a bit of a change from my usual style of animal forms, but I just can't imagine something like a penguin fitting in with a criminal city like this one; can you?"

"Not a giant comedy one, at least," Levy conceded. "So, you were the one helping us all along?"

"Yeah. I went to Jimmy's as soon as I heard that two people matching yours and Lucy's descriptions had been seized for asking about the Gehennan Princess, but since everyone is supposed to think that I'm setting a good example for the citizens by staying indoors and following orders, I couldn't exactly walk up to the front gates and tell them to let you out… so I thought I would break you out as my alter ego, instead." She winced. "Not my best idea, I'll admit."

"I must say, I've had better rescues," Levy agreed. Then she snapped her fingers. "At least that explains how you were able to get in and out of the apartment so easily. You weren't walking through the walls at all – you had a key to the front door. But why could you not just tell us who you were?"

"Because secret superhero identities are supposed to be secret! Ace is the only one who knows, since I needed him to pass me the information that Mira has been withholding in order to make me stay indoors. The last thing I wanted was for you to mention my secret identity to my sister. She has no idea, and I'd like it to stay that way."

By mutual consent, they headed towards the Gehennan Princess. Even though she walked between Ace and Levy, Lisanna still ducked her head guiltily every time someone passed by. There wasn't a trace of that cool, commanding bat-warrior in her presence – and that, Levy supposed, was the whole point of a mild-mannered alter ago.

"What happened in the slaughterhouse?" Levy inquired. "Why did you run off?"

"Because it started happening again. I heard it. Allies turning on allies, just like the murder-suicide killings. I went to try and stop my friends from killing each other, but by the time I arrived, the man affected was already back to normal. It's odd. It's the first time there have been no deaths."

It should have been a cheerful observation, but Lisanna was frowning as she made it, and so was Levy. "Something similar happened to us. A security guard tried to murder us by switching on the killing room while Lucy and I were trapped inside. We thought he was working with our kidnappers, but…"

Vehemently, Lisanna denied, "None of our people would ever do something like that. At least, not without having interrogated them first."

"Lucy said there was something not right about him. Like he was sleepwalking."

"That could be the same magic." They walked on in sombre silence for a while, and then Lisanna blurted out, "I've seen it, Levy. I've seen them kill with my own eyes. It's not through choice. It's not a mad rage, or a compulsion, or a curse… they're fully aware of what they're doing, and they can't stop it. It's as if they have no control over their own bodies. If your guard had been sleeping on the job, he might have remained unconscious through the whole thing, unaware of what his body was being forced to do."

"There must be a limit to it," Levy reasoned. "Maybe the culprit stopped targeting Ace and his men in order to come after me and Lucy instead, because he can only control one person at once. If we could find out how his magic works-"

That was as far as they got before they were attacked.

Not by an enemy, mind. That was something they could have dealt with easily. Instead, they strode through the doors of the Gehennan Princess and were immediately ambushed by Mira, who pushed Levy and Ace aside and hugged Lisanna with a strength they hadn't known was possible without a Take Over.

"Lisanna! You're alright!" the ex-Fairy Tail mage and current mafia boss sobbed, while her bodyguards politely averted their gazes and glared at anyone who wasn't giving her enough space.

"Yes?" answered Lisanna, bewildered. "You didn't need to worry, I already told you I wouldn't do anything stupid-"

"This was delivered to the Princess ten minutes ago."

Mira handed them a note – old, thick parchment covered in the same blood-red scrawl that had painted fear onto the walls of the sisters' apartment.

Your sister is now ours. If you want her to see the sunrise, come to the junkyard where you made the city yours… and come alone.

"Umm," said Levy, with a lot less eloquence than one might expect for someone who read so voraciously.

"But… I'm right here?" Lisanna pointed out.

"I was so worried!" Mira exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"Uh," was the best Lisanna could manage, as she scrambled for a plausible explanation.

"She was, uh…" Ace tried.

"She was sitting atop a skyscraper and brooding over the nature of good and evil in her dark anti-hero costume," Levy offered helpfully.

"Honestly, you're all as bad as each other," Mira sighed. "Lisanna, if you thought Lucy and Levy were in danger, you should have come to me, not gone out to try and rescue them on your own!"

"Yeah… sorry," Lisanna muttered, giving up. "I didn't mean to worry you. But what I don't understand is where that note came from. No one caught me. No one even tried. So why would you be sent an empty threat?"

"Maybe they don't know it's empty," Levy suggested. "Maybe they caught someone else and think that it's you…"

Her words tailed off.

She glanced around the room.

And then she let out a groan: "Of course. What else would it be?"

"What's wrong?" Mira wondered.

"Just out of curiosity," Levy sighed, "has anyone seen Lucy recently?"

Invel powered down his airship and stepped out onto the grass.

As usual, he cut an imposing figure – more so, in fact, for the state-of-the-art airship providing his backdrop was an engineering marvel unknown to Fiore. His formal white coat was spotless, as befit a visiting dignitary, even if he was travelling incognito. His hair was drawn back into its usual ponytail – messy, but in a calculated way – and even though his magical presence was entirely suppressed, purpose froze his blue-grey eyes into an ice whose grip had not relented in eleven years.

He held himself tall, surveying the unlit field in which he had landed with a haughtiness that wouldn't have been out of place back in his own empire. Every stride he took towards the city lights sparkling their invitation in the distance was deliberate, powerful, precise.

Only one who knew him very well indeed could have guessed that his hands were in his pockets to hide any improper trembling, or realized that the particles of frost swirling in his breath were an uncharacteristic slip of control for a mage as competent as he.

After all, he had been told to stay in Vistarion.

Like a teenager playing truant for the very first time, he could not shake the feeling that his every move was somehow known to those he was disobeying, and that he would inevitably be caught and punished by some mystical, omniscient incarnation of justice. Having never skipped classes as a teenager – not even for illness, bereavement, or the flash floods of '76 – he had never grown accustomed to those fears, nor come to see them for the flawed fallacies they were. That guilt was new to him, and raw.

He shouldn't be here. His Majesty had specifically ordered them to gather in preparation for the upcoming war.

And yet he had also told them that the revival of Fairy Tail, the guild that was destined to be their enemy, wasn't their concern.

Invel wanted to believe in His Majesty more than anything.

He wanted to trust that all those little inconsistencies were part of a grand plan whose whole he could not see. He wanted to trust that His Majesty – the man who infuriated him, and yet was impossible not to care for; the man who had pushed him beyond his limits to become the person he was today – knew what he was doing.

But how he felt didn't matter.

There were laws in the Alvarez Empire, and those laws bound everyone, from the lowliest child to the immortal who stood above them all. They set down right and wrong in ink and footnotes and tortuous legal definitions. And they existed because Alvarez was more than the man who led it: it was the citizens and mages and politicians and soldiers and territories and governors who each formed part of that incredible clockwork mechanism; it was every man, woman and child who had ever been born to it, and more.

Some of those laws, Invel had had a hand in creating. He had witnessed the effect His Majesty's ever-longer absences were having on the administration on the day His Majesty had hired him, when he had been both new enough to not have accepted them as normal and bold enough to confront His Majesty about them. He understood the importance of concealing the Curse of Contradiction from all but His Majesty's most trusted advisors. He did not understand the willingness of those same advisors to pretend it didn't exist.

Their emperor was unlike any other ruler. He was unrivalled in brilliance, and also uniquely compromised by his curse. Why did their constitution not account for that? Why did their laws not specify a chain of lay and military command when the need to contain the curse drove him away from his empire without warning? Why did they not have provisions for such inevitable uncertainties?

At first, His Majesty's response had been anger, but he had come to see the logic in Invel's argument. By the time the two of them had finished redrafting the Segregated Powers Act, three years later, it acknowledged the reality of Alvarez under its itinerant emperor.

The law did not merely sanction Invel's investigation. It required it.

Invel had a duty to his government, to his people, and to the beloved patchwork nation to which he had sworn his very soul. If their emperor was somehow working with Fairy Tail – if, willingly or otherwise, he was playing both sides in this war – they had a right to know.

And Invel had to be the one to do it.

If he didn't, no one would.

He had been a fool to think August would understand. The old mage had always been too close to their emperor – so close, sometimes, that he could see nothing else. It not to Alvarez that August was loyal, but its emperor, and he would continue to be so even if His Majesty ceased to be the leader their nation needed.

Invel loved his emperor. He truly did. He wanted nothing more than for all his leads to be dead ends; for him to be able to return to Alvarez satisfied that His Majesty had had no recent contact with Fairy Tail, and certainly wasn't involved in the revival and strengthening of their guild. He sought confirmation that His Majesty was still that brilliant man, that incomparable leader, that true heart of Alvarez, to whom he had pledged allegiance all those years ago.

But wanting it wouldn't make it true any more than turning a blind eye would make it go away. He had to know the truth. He had to do it for Alvarez. He may have been told to stay in Vistarion, but the law demanded he be here.

Through the dark he strode, and into the light of the town. The roads here twisted in an unplanned way. Cobbled rural streets had exploded with time into a cumbersome settlement – completely unlike Vistarion, which had known it would one day be the heart of an incredible empire from the moment it was founded.

Having never been to this part of Fiore before, Invel did not know quite where he was going, although he moved with such swift purpose that passers-by would have been forgiven for thinking him a lifelong resident. No one looked twice at him upon reaching his destination – which was ironic, since if he had been in Vistarion, there wasn't a single citizen who wouldn't have stopped dead in shock at the sight of Invel Yura entering a tavern.

To be precise, the Phoenix and Pyre Public House, in the centre of Marguerite Town.

Upon entering the tavern, Invel paused for the first time since his airship had touched down. His gaze swept around the interior. Despite the numerous firepits flickering around the edges of the room, it was dark; despite the laughter, and the loud conversation, he found it unwelcoming. His nose wrinkled at the stink of smoke and sweat. He had no issue with how other people chose to spend their free time, but he also wouldn't have considered it a great loss if this establishment had burnt to the ground by a stray ember from its firepits, health and safety hazard that they were.

Still, the disdain flickered across his face and was gone, no more than a shadow thrown by an unruly flame. He edged through the room, careful not to let a single gesticulating arm or slosh of spilled beer touch him, until he found the person he was looking for.

There, lounging at a table in the corner like she owned it – which, thanks to squatters' rights, she probably did – was Cana Alberona.

There must have been something fascinating at the bottom of her empty tankard, for she did not look up as he approached. Not even coming to a halt unmistakeably close to her table and clearing his throat did it. With impatience rising, he said, a little brusquely, "Miss Alberona?"

That got her attention. She glanced up from her tankard, and then, so slowly it could only be deliberate, she looked him up and down.

And then she said, "No."

"I beg your pardon?"

Mistaken was one thing Invel was not. He had been collating intelligence reports on Fairy Tail for several months now. There was no chance he could have mistaken Cana for someone else.

"You're not my type," she stated, as if her meaning should have been obvious. "For one thing, you're dressed like you're going to work; for another, you're dressed like it's a boring-as-hell office job you've got. And for yet another… it's eight o' clock on a Friday night, and you're sober. I'm not interested."

For a moment, Invel could do nothing but stare at her. Then her words caught up with him, and he snapped, "That is not why I'm here, and in fact I find it rather arrogant of you to presume-"

"Yeah, yeah, run along now," she yawned, shooing him with her free hand.

"I am only here to talk-"

"Right, because I've never heard that before." Her eyes narrowed, spearpoint-sharp despite the empty tankard in her hand. "Look, just because one guy stands me up doesn't mean I'm suddenly so desperate that I'll take whatever the cat drags in front of me! Is drinking on your own illegal in Marguerite? Geez!"

"I couldn't care less about your romantic situation," Invel retorted. He set a magazine down on her table – the old copy of the Weekly Sorcerer that had started all this. It fell open to the page he had been unable to erase from his mind since he'd confronted Ajeel and Dimaria on the plane, and he pointed to the photo of Cana throwing herself at Bluenote Stinger. "This is you, is it not?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I charge for autographs, you know."

Despite her flippant tone, he could tell he had her interest. He moved his finger to the blurred figure who may or may not have been his wayward emperor. "Did you see this man?"

No longer pretending, she spread her hands on the table and gazed up at him in an unashamedly appraising manner. "So what if I did?"

"What can you tell me about him? Why was he there?" When she didn't answer immediately, he pressed, "You know, don't you? You spoke to him."

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."

"Yes, which is it?"

Tossing back her raven-black hair, she stated, like it was a dare, "I don't remember."

"You clearly do."

"It's all a bit of a blur, you see. But I do find that alcohol is good for the memory…"

"That's funny," he said coldly. "For most people, it's quite the opposite."

This only made her grin. She tapped her finger on the table as she leaned back in her seat, looking as relaxed as she had before he had started up their conversation. "Do you want to learn about your mysterious friend, or not?"

Ice flashed in Invel's eyes. He understood the terms of the game, even if he made a point of staying as far as possible from the circles in which it was played. Still, he hadn't violated a direct order and travelled this far to run back to Vistarion at the first sign of hardship.

It was easier to force a smile around the self-important leader of a foreign nation than this impudent woman, but he managed it nonetheless. "Well, then, perhaps I could buy you a drink to help jog your memory."

"Four," Cana said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Buy me four drinks. Then I'll see what I can remember."

Invel stared in disbelief.

"I'd get them all up front, if I were you," she added idly. "Happy Hour's only on for another ten minutes…"

Invel headed towards the bar before his smile could slip. Did this woman have no sense of propriety? No, this was just what her guild was like. What all of Fiore was like. Improper, impertinent, inefficient; in desperate need of proper leadership.

Until the moment he returned at the head of the Alvarez army, though, he had to play by their rules.

The man behind the bar was another he recognized from his intelligence reports – Macao of Fairy Tail. There was no way Invel should have found anything about this man unsettling, knowing as he did the precise limits of his power and influence, yet there was something about his smirk that Invel didn't like.

"I'll have four pints of…" Unable to work out whether the labels attached to the bar taps were types of beer or the names of spells, he decided to play it safe. "Of whatever Cana likes."

"Sure thing," the barman breezed, his moustache still twitching in response to some private joke as he reached under the bar for a glass. Invel was glad that he'd had the foresight to bring some Fiorean currency with him. At least the pints were were buy one get one free during Happy Hour.

Dubiously, he watched as Macao filled four of them with a brown liquid whose smell turned his stomach… and then a fifth, and a sixth, with no sign of stopping.

As Macao set the eighth pint atop the bar, Invel objected, "I'm sorry, I think there has been a misunderstanding. When I asked for four, I meant two and two free, not four and four free."

"Oh, no, I got what you meant," Macao said, in a way that wasn't at all reassuring.

"Then you have given me four of these in error-"

"Not at all. I've given you them as a favour. It must have slipped your mind to ask for them, because I'm sure a gentleman like you wouldn't dream of sitting and watching while a lady drinks on her own."

"…That's very generous of you," Invel said, through gritted teeth.

"I'll get you a tray," came Macao's cheerful response.

Invel did manage to navigate back to Cana's table with the overloaded tray, but only by freezing the glasses to it, and covering their tops with ice to prevent them from spilling. As he set them on the table, she remarked, "Neat trick. You might wanna leave the spare ones iced for the time being."

Irritated at having to use his magic for such a trivial purpose, but not enough so for him to lose sight of the reason why he was here, Invel let one of the glasses unfreeze, which she took with an easy, "Thanks."

He eyed a second glass apprehensively. No matter what Macao said, all Invel's instincts were warning him that appearing rude wouldn't be nearly as dangerous as joining in. This was not a formal dinner in the palace; there was no calligraphed menu giving the name and the provenance of the sludge she was drinking. He may have to deal with her to get the information he needed, but that did not mean he had to sink to her level.

Instead, he pushed the remaining glasses aside and spread the old Weekly Sorcerer in their place. "So, about this photo-"

"Man, I really miss drinking with my guild," Cana said loudly. "No ulterior motives, no having to worry about not being alone, just raising a glass with my mates at the end of the day… or the middle of the day… or the start, because if you play it right, that's really just the end of the previous day, isn't it? Hey, you never did tell me your name." Something flashed in her eyes. Was it a reflection from her lowering glass, or something more? "Or how you knew mine."

"Invel," he said tersely. "And your name was in the magazine."

He pulled it a little closer as he stressed the word, hoping she would get the hint and return to the topic at hand. She gazed at the photo for a moment too long to be accidental, before smiling blithely up at him and patting the seat beside her. "I think this is going to be the most entertaining evening I've had in a while, don't you?"

"…and that's how I caught the villain behind the counterfeit Blue Mirror," Cana finished triumphantly.

Invel dragged his attention back to the present and forced another smile. Usually, he was excellent at zoning out incessant chatter – nodding in all the right places to some puffed-up ambassador while working through some vital matter of government in the back of his mind – but something about the stink of booze was making him feel queasy.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Feel free to volunteer your own story, Invel," she told him offhandedly. "That's how evenings in the pub with friends usually work. You both talk. And you both drink."

Invel did not dignify that with a response.

"Looks like it's my turn again, then." She didn't sound at all put out by that fact.

"Your next story could be the one about how you met this man," Invel tried half-heartedly, poking at the magazine, which had grown slightly damp.

"You're cute, you know?" she grinned. "So, about the time I entered a bike race with Quatro Cerberus…"

"…So I said, this is fun and all, but I'm looking for a partner partner, not a drinking partner. Then Bacchus said he'd rather have a drinking partner than a partner partner; and I said, well, maybe that's why it's not working between us; and he said he thought it was working fine and cracked open another bottle of vodka, and then… Hmm, I don't actually remember what happened after that."

"I wonder why." Invel had been trying so hard not to speak – he didn't want to drag this evening out any longer by encouraging conversation – but it seemed he had reached the limits of his tolerance.

"Ooh, getting feisty." Cana smacked him approvingly on the arm. He tried to slide further away from her, but found himself already pressed up against an annoying wooden beam in the corner. Given that the beer seemed to be dissolving her concept of personal space like concentrated acid, he was starting to think that he had used up his wriggle room far too soon.

"That's not why I left Quatro Cerberus, exactly," she mused, in response to a question some imaginary version of him must have asked. "I left because it didn't feel right, being in a guild that wasn't Fairy Tail. But I also think that the guys only saw me as someone to drink with, and they wouldn't be interested in me – in any sense – if I gave up drinking. Not that I'm gonna do that, obviously, but Fairy Tail never made me feel that way. Just because I like drinking doesn't mean it's the only thing I like, you know?"

She set her glass down again, pressing interlocking rings of condensation into the tabletop. "I figured that if I left and got a proper job – temping, sure, because I always knew Fairy Tail would come back, but still, a decent job as a security guard – I'd be more likely to find a man looking for something beyond a night or two. Guess I'm just destined to be unlucky in love."

"Maybe it's bad luck," Invel said. "Or maybe there's something about the way you spend your time half-dressed and half-drunk in seedy taverns that puts off decent men."

"Didn't put you off," she winked.

"Don't misunderstand me." His voice was as cold as it could physically get before things around him started to freeze. "I am only here for information. My interest in you beyond that is less than zero."

"Less than zero?"

"It started at zero. Then you opened your mouth."

She let out a great, booming laugh as she reached for another drink.

"I really miss drinking with my guild," Cana sighed.

"You said that already," Invel pointed out, hoping against hope that this wasn't her about to start her spiel of nonsense all over again. "I'm starting to think that what you really miss is living in a bar."

"That too," she grinned. "Though it's not like Macao minds if I kip here at the end of the night. Fairy Tail's bar, though… that was always full of interesting people." Tossing back her head, she drained her glass, but paused before lowering it, studying him through its warped base. "Then again, it's taken a few months, but it looks like I've found an interesting one in this bar too. You're not half bad-looking when I think about it, either."

"I might have been flattered, if you'd said that at the end of your first pint, rather than your fourth."

Her laugh was bold and unashamed, a challenge for others to remain silent. "You're alright, Invel," she grinned. Gesturing at his four untouched pints, she added, "You gonna drink those?"

"Help yourself."

"You should drink too, you know. It'll be much more fun."

"I have a job to do, thank you," he told her stiffly.

"You're still thinking about work?"

Invel felt the apprehension he had almost forgotten draw tight in his stomach once again at the reminder of what he was supposed to be doing in Fiore. "Believe me, if you had my responsibilities, you would be the same."

"That must suck, being stuck in a job that gets in the way of having fun. Don't you ever get bored?"

"In this job?" Invel almost laughed. "Never."

"That doesn't mean it's good to take it seriously twenty-four-seven."

"Oh, believe me, you have no idea how quickly things would fall apart if I didn't."

After all, it had been several hours since he'd left Vistarion, and he hadn't been absent for that many continuous working hours since he'd started training to become Chief of Staff eleven years ago. He'd had to come here himself – it was too important to leave to someone who wouldn't fully understand – but he couldn't stop a list of all the jobs he could have done by now if he hadn't left from building up in his mind. They were all urgent, but he could count the ones someone else would have picked up on one hand… or maybe he would need no hands at all. Maybe they hadn't realized he had left. Or maybe they had…

He resisted the urge to shiver, sitting up a little straighter instead. The law gave him the right to be here. Perhaps it was a new law, its provisions never before relied upon by a servant of His Majesty, but it was a law nonetheless. Sacred. Inviolable. Objectively right or wrong.

Cana pressed some more rings into the tabletop, replacing the ones that had long since evaporated. "I don't think you're very good at your job," she said suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not a good thing if your colleagues can't get by without you. It means you're not really a team."

Startled by this entirely unsolicited opinion, he gave her a sharp look, firelight flashing off the frost of his irises. "There is a world of difference between my job and being a guild mage."

"Maybe, but some truths are universal. If you can't trust anyone else to hold down the fort for a few hours while you let your hair down, there's a problem with the way you're running things."

"If I wanted the opinion of a drunkard, I'd have asked for it," he told her coldly. "Come on, keep drinking, I haven't got all night."

"I just don't think I could do what my dad does, y'know?" Cana ruminated, sloshing foamy dregs around the bottom of glass- six? Seven? Invel had given up counting.

"Do what?" he asked, even though, by now, he should have known better than to encourage her.

"Wander." She raised the glass, but lowered it again without drinking. "Not having a goal, or a home, or anything stable in life. I mean, there's the guild, and it's always there to return to, but… that doesn't really make it a home, does it? It's one thing knowing that the guild's always going to be there for you when you return, but that's not the same as being part of it."

Invel didn't feel that he was in any way qualified to answer that question, so he didn't. She didn't seem to notice.

"It always looked fun to travel with no worries, but then Tenrou happened, and we lost seven whole years. We missed weddings, retirements, births, deaths, a new Master; we weren't there when they lost the old guildhall or when they built the new one. I hated not being part of all of that. But that's what my dad does all the time. He chooses to leave, knowing that he'll miss all those important things."

Her words paused as she drew patterns in the water on the table, unable to concentrate on two things at once. When she looked up again, though, Invel was startled to see the same watery reflections in her eyes. "I love him, I do, but he didn't even know he had a daughter. I found him, and made sure I spent time with him, but if I hadn't done that, he would never have known! When I think that it could be me in that position – that I could be missing out on such a huge part of my own life – I hate it. I don't want to be like that."

"I'm sure you don't," Invel said. "And I'm also sure there's some cast-iron reason why you had to share this revelation with me-"

Cana let out a wail and flung herself at him. Stunned, he was helpless to stop her arms from looping around his neck or her tears from soaking his not-inexpensive shirt.

"Everyone just assumes I'm gonna be like him," she sobbed. "No commitments, no responsibilities, no serious relationships, no long-term plans… I don't wanna be like that, I wanna be responsible, but no one takes me seriously…"

Her shoulders heaved. Hics and gulps alternated between every word. "Why do I only attract the worst men? Why aren't I allowed to enjoy a drink and be a respectable mage? Why am I gonna end up alone and lost, like my dad, when he can be happy like that but I can't? It's not fair…"

Utterly lost, Invel patted the sobbing drunk on the back, and resolved to never leave Vistarion on his own again.

Cana was half-sat, half-sprawled across the seats with her head on Invel's shoulder. The bar was almost empty now, and the few remaining patrons were paying them no attention. Clearly, this was not unusual behaviour for Cana, although Invel wasn't exactly thrilled by the uninvited physical proximity. He only hadn't removed her yet because he had discovered she couldn't doze and run her mouth at the same time, and his ears were enjoying the blessed quiet.

Then again, she also couldn't answer his questions like this, and now that all the glasses on their table were empty, it was her turn to fulfil their bargain.

Grabbing her shoulder – the one which the strap of her tank top hadn't slipped off yet – he gave her a gentle shake. "You're not asleep, are you, Cana?"

After a few moments, she gave an utterly unconvincing, "No…"

"Cana. Come on. Talk to me."

"Mmm," she mumbled.

"Cana-"

"You know what makes me feel awake?" She had been doing well so far, but now there was a deep slur to her words, and she tripped twice over the last one. "Fire- firewhisky."

Invel scanned the range of bottles behind the bar. "Cinnamon fireball whisky?"

"That's it. Buy me one of them, Invel."

"You've had quite enough to drink, Cana," he told her firmly, lifting her head away from his shoulder. "I won't buy you any more until you've answered my question."

Blearily, she blinked up at him. "What question's that?"

"You're supposed to be telling me everything you know about this man," he reiterated for about the twentieth time that night, pointing towards the much-neglected magazine.

"Huh…?" She stared at it from so close that her eyes would have crossed if they'd been in any way focussed.

"Tell me what happened when you met him. What was he doing there?"

Cana stared. And stared. And stared.

And then-

"Never met him before," she said.

"But you said-"

"Did I? Don't remember. S'all a bit blurry."

"Cana!"

"Can't help you. Sorry." She got to her feet, swayed, but somehow remained standing. "Got to go."

"What, you're leaving? Just like that?"

She stared down at him for a long moment. "Didn't I tell you you're not my type?"

Invel spluttered, "That's not what I meant- you-"

"It was nice talking to you. Well, it probably would have been if you'd done any talking. It was nice looking at you for the evening, while I talked to myself. See you round, Invel."

She staggered towards the door. "Night, Macao!" she called, raising her hand towards a pillar.

"See you tomorrow, Cana," the barman called back from the opposite side of the room, clearly used to this. Or, at least, Invel assumed he was from the way that he continued clearing empty glasses, unconcerned, as his fellow guild mage took three attempts to get through the door and stumbled out into the street alone.

Well, if Marguerite was half as civilized as Vistarion, she probably wouldn't be in any danger walking home alone… assuming, of course, that she could walk at all. Invel had watched her drink an inordinate amount of alcohol that night. And for all that she was a disgraceful drunkard who had deliberately wasted his time, he was better than that.

"Cana," he said stiffly, as he stepped out of the bar.

"Oh, Invel!" she giggled. "Changed your mind on that fireball whisky?"

"I'll walk you home."

"Ooh. So much for not being interested, then."

It was almost enough to make him reconsider. Nonetheless, he stepped forward with gritted teeth and disentangled her arm from the lamppost that had been holding her upright. "You can't even stand. Come on. You won't make it on your own."

"If you insist."

Cana ignored the gentlemanly elbow he offered and slipped her arm around his shoulders, leaning up against his side. It was incomprehensible to him how anyone could willingly drink enough to put themselves into such a useless state. They staggered along to the sound of Cana's humming – tuneless, but such a step up from her drunken chatter that Invel was not about to complain – and he was still somehow sane when they came to a halt outside a front door.

"Here we are," she announced. "Number thirt… thirteen."

"This is thirty-one."

"S'what I said." She groped blindly in her bag and pulled out a keyring. "Funny," she remarked, holding it up to the nearest streetlight. "Sure I only put one key on here, so I couldn't get mixed up… but these three all look the same…"

Sighing, Invel plucked it from her hand, unlocked the door, and handed it back. "I'm sure you can manage the rest on your own."

She staggered over the porch, and then turned to pout at him, leaning heavily on the doorframe as she did so. "I don't think I can get up the stairs on my own," she said, mischief sparkling like bubbles in the champagne of her eyes.

Invel did not move. "Then sleep on the couch. Or on the floor; I don't particularly care. As long as you're not unconscious in some back alley, you're not my responsibility."

She tilted her head as she considered this, though he suspected it was less a gesture of curiosity and more an attempt to use the doorframe as a pillow. "You really don't wanna come in, huh?"

Invel bristled. "Did it ever occur to you, when you were insisting that I wasn't your type, that you were as far as it was possible to get from being my type? You are a vulgar and drunken woman who has wasted quite enough of my time already, and if we never meet again, it will be too soon. Good night, Miss Alberona."

Because she had wasted his entire evening, he reflected, as he strode away. The cold anger of his thoughts was evident in the trace of frost left behind in every footprint. He should have known better than to take Fairy Tail's resident drunk at her word. He should have gone to find Wendy or Lucy or one of the others in the photograph as soon as Cana had demanded he buy her drinks-

"You know, I just can't figure you out."

It was so different to the previous drunken slur that it took Invel a moment to recognize Cana's voice.

When he spun around, Cana was still leaning against the doorway, but it was immediately evident that her posture was through choice rather than necessity. Her arms were folded, her balance easy; her pupils had no problem focussing on him beneath the streetlights.

"You spend all night buying me drinks," she continued, "but you don't want to come in even when you're invited. You want information on Lucy's Spymaster General, which suggests that you're an enemy, but you're looking out for me even though I didn't give you the information you wanted, and that's not what enemies do. So, what are you really after?"

A lot of things ran through Invel's mind at that moment, but what came out of his mouth was, "What do you mean, Spymaster General?"

"Sorry, but I'm not giving any of Lucy's secrets to someone I don't trust, and you don't make any sense to me."

"You're… not drunk?" he demanded. "I watched you drink eight pints!"

She waved a hand. "Oh, come on, that barely qualifies as lunch."

"You were bawling!"

"Yeah, but you should have seen the look on your face," she smirked. "I gotta admit though, it was nice having someone listen to me for a change. Really listen, I mean. I'd be up for doing this again. I'll even buy my own pints next time."

"There will be no next time," he snapped, hoping the dark would cover his flush of embarrassment, which was always infuriatingly visible against his unnaturally pale skin.

"Shame," she commented, and he had the strangest feeling that she meant it. "I won't help someone I don't trust, but I do find you intriguing."

"If anything, I now like you even less," Invel told her coldly. Never mind that it was now slightly mitigated by a tiny, grudging, never-to-be-admitted-out-loud respect. He didn't care for her game, but he had to admit she played it well.

"You need to take some time off every once in a while, you know," she chided him.

Invel almost laughed. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "Night, then, Invel. Maybe I'll see you round."

The door clicked shut behind her. He couldn't help the feeling of irritation that bubbled up again; after a whole afternoon of being suppressed for a now-meaningless cause, it was determined to make its displeasure known. Of course she would say careless, insincere things like that. Someone who blagged drinks from strange men in dirty taverns could do what they liked with their time. They didn't have the fate of an empire – and perhaps an errant emperor too – resting on their shoulders.

He had a job to do, and Cana had set his investigation right back to square one.

Reading between the lines, it sounded like she had met His Majesty in some form. Furthermore, since she considered her silence to be protecting both His Majesty and Lucy at the same time, it was far more likely that they had met as allies than enemies. However, it wasn't the proof of His Majesty's involvement (or otherwise, he reminded himself) in Fairy Tail's rebirth that he had been hoping for.

At least there were other people in the photo he could talk to. He had thought Cana was the most likely to have known what was going on, but from his research, perhaps Wendy was more likely to help a stranger.

Yes, first thing tomorrow, he would head straight to Lamia Scale's guildhall.

If he made it to tomorrow.

The street was not as empty as he'd thought. At the end stood a man wrapped in night-black and moon-white, slight of build and great of presence, owning the night no matter which country's shores he trod.

For a moment, Invel almost smiled. It had been far too long since he had seen him in person, and as the years had passed, Invel had come to miss him during his absences just as much as August and the others…

But his emperor was not smiling back. His eyes blazed with ignited intensity. The air hissed and spat around him, unable to contain his fury; his robes were whipped by a wind so black it made the nightscape seem to burst with colour.

It was with an odd kind of detachment that Invel realized he had seen this happen once before.

He had witnessed this anger. He had felt the crippling pressure of this presence. He had stood there paralyzed as Markos Verde – a man who had disobeyed his emperor's explicit command; a man who had acted behind his back – had fallen dead at his feet.

He had seen it on his very first day in His Majesty's service, and now he would see it on his last.

A betrayal sanctioned by law was still a betrayal. Invel had known that when he'd left Vistarion. He just hadn't realized how little the reason behind his actions would matter until he looked into those red eyes screaming with pain and rage.

There was only one way that this was going to end.

A/N: And there you thought that Mira accidentally becoming a mafia boss and Lisanna being Batman was the peak ridiculousness of this arc. Well, don't worry, it's all downhill from here... Thank you all for your wonderful and fascinating comments! ~CS