A/N: It was only after I stumbled across the previous chapters that I had written that I actually came back to look at how long it had been. Ugh, yet again, I must apologise, profusely. Studying and working completely made my mind forget this, and I am sorry for that. I am going to endeavour to finish this, though knowing me, it will take time. Thanks to those of you who reviewed and continue to read this. Hopefully, you enjoy this chapter. Not much action, but there are some important tidbits located here and there.

Again, I'm sorry guys... :'(

FULL NAME:
Lovino Daniele Mattia Vargas

AGE:
19 (estimated)

GENDER:
Male

ETHNICITY:
Syhvvanian

HEIGHT:
Between 5'7'' and 5'10'' (genetic estmation only)

PHYSICAL TRAITS:
Ethnically consistent red hair, believed to be of a generally dark hue. Eyes reportedly lighter in colour, golden or brown. Ethnically consistent olive toned skin.

STATUS:
Presumed alive. Inheriting heir of Syhvvanian Free Court

MONETARY BOND:
50,000,000,000 |MK| (50 Billion Standard Marks*)

NOTES:
Inheriting heir of the Saijani Republic of Syhvva. Wanted for reasons of suspicion of collaboration with terrorist groups such as the Valkmaid Resistance and Eastern System Boilers. Monetary Bond or 'bounty' is current as of the 1st of Janwir, 4509 CC. Subject is presumed to be alive as of this date also, though this may not necessarily be the case. It should be noted that the photo provided was current as of 4498CC, and thus is considered defunct but potentially useful in locating and apprehending the target. Fingerprints, blood type and other DNA samples are unavailable. Height is projected only, weight is unknown. Age is determined considering age at time of disappearance.

*Amount may vary depending on current exchange rates

Matthias was nothing short of despondent upon looking further into the profile. For a person bearing the greatest bounty the galaxy had ever seen, the information was completely useless. One would hope that further investigation might have been conducted by the Empire so that there was at least the possibility of them being captured. Really, considering what was available, it wasn't surprising that the last solid lead anyone had had was over 7 years ago. Trying to force his thoughts into a more positive light, he turned his attention from the negatives to the positives. True, though there was nothing about what the guy's current location may be, the physical description available was fairly decent. Obviously, being Syhvvanian, he would have red hair and fiery eyes, and a darker complexion than the average Rywanese like him could hope for. Though his weight was a complete mystery, the height was probably fairly accurate. They had his age, and Matthias, as someone who never really delved into these particular profiles before, was surprised to learn this guy wasn't much younger than him.

Other than these, there were few tips on what the guy might look like. Matthias, however, was a trained and effective bounty hunter and knew how people worked. So he would probably be able to add in a few likely details. He retrieved a pen from his desk, and tore a sheet of paper from one of Alfred's notebooks (which he used primarily for doodling), and began to think.

First, the basic elements of his appearance. Eyes, skin, hair. His skin likely wouldn't have changed much; perhaps lightened or darkened a few shades depending on where he could get shelter. So, skin would be the same. Eyes were a slightly different matter. Though in the description, it was said that this would-be king's eyes were supposed to be gold or brown, it was obvious this was just a guess based on the image available. No matter how hard he squinted at it, Matthias himself could not glean a better estimate. The photo was more than ten years old, and not of an excellent quality. One would think that a nation that had once been as proud as Syhvva would have put more effort into capturing the guise of their own royal family. The whole thing about the eyes wasn't helpful, though, considering that about 90% of Syhvvanians had either gold or brown eyes. Mentally, he disregarded the eyes as a compelling factor. So long as they weren't green, blue or grey, he supposed.

He moved on to perhaps the most important physical feature; the kid's hair. Matthias wasn't as stupid as so many people believed. If there was one thing he understood, it was people. The reason, he believed, that so many people would have failed to catch these thrifty royals, was that they took the facts available at face-value. First of all, and quite obviously, there was no way in hell that this guy's hair was still red. Syhvvanian hair was one of a kind, and this guy must have known that. Nope, his head was either shaved or dyed. Matthias made a note of that.

One of the major unknowns was the guy's weight. This, for someone who understood even the basics of what had happened, was easy to determine. Firstly, it was a capital offence to assist any of these people, and though many may have relaxed concerning this nowadays, back when the expansion into the Free Courts was happening, it had been a genuine threat. In truth, it seemed more relaxed now only because they had no idea where these royals were, and, as a result, no way of finding out the identities of anyone giving them aid. Back in the day, according to Matthias' own foggy memory, and some stories from his parents, capital punishment was used frequently, particularly in areas surrounding the Free Courts. Many would have been too afraid to risk it, no matter how fond of the Free Courts they were. In honesty, there weren't too many of those people to begin with; Syhvva, Daerna and Fynkn's best allies were each other, and they seemed to not have seen much use for any others. This greatly cut down the probability of them getting help immediately upon leaving their planet.

This kid, and the younger sibling he would have been tugging along with him, likely would have been told to get as far away as possible. The further you got from the actual courts, however, the less and less people tended to sympathise with them. Meaning, less aid available. Assuming that this continued much the same for however long it had been since then, then it was reasonable to presume that the older Vargas, as a result, would have had a low weight, which may have continued into his later years. It was likely as time passed that they gained more independence, of course, but most employment stations with jobs of substantial pay nowadays did extensive background checks (to prevent crime, of course), and a kid like this wouldn't hold up for even a second. So, safe to assume, the kid was skinny, or at least on the skinny side. There was, of course, the possibility that they had received immediate aid and had been living well since, but it was, statistically, far less likely.

Matthias made a note of that too. Being poor, the kid would be dressed in more ragged clothing, as well. Considering the dangers, the guy would be drawn to areas far from the planet, or places with potential sympathisers. Sitting back, Matthias stared at the list he had compiled so far.

Hair likely dyed another colour, skinny or scrawny, travelling with younger brother likely, ragged clothes, areas far from planet or with sympathisers

Grinning in triumph at his success in slimming down their search, Matthias set off in search of Alfred so he could draw a rough sketch.

Bibesti,
Rela,
18th Janwir

Lovino nursed his side as he made his way back to their shared apartment. He cursed, loudly, which caused some people passing by to momentarily turn their attention to him. Upon noting the sharp weapon clipped to his belt, and the blood which had transferred from his side to his hand, however, they immediately resumed their own business.

Fuckers, he though furiously, glancing from side to side before hurriedly crossing the narrow alleyway. It was still daylight, true, but the bastard's friends might still be following him, and he didn't want to risk endangering Feliciano because he was too slow on the uptake. Even thinking of it now made him grit his teeth. Now wasn't the time to let his emotions take hold, however, he needed to get home, and untracked at that. From what he could see and sense, he wasn't being followed, but his senses felt fuzzy, and he was starting to slip in concentration a little. Shit, he needed to get home now. Screw this, he thought, leaning against a brick wall, as he pushed his hand harder into his side. Pressure was good, but pressure also made it sting and burn. He closed his eyes, drawing in slow, deep breaths. If there was anyone following him, he'd lead them straight to his home and family, and knowing these kinds, they would take vicious advantage of this. He couldn't let them get to Feli.

He opened his eyes, briefly scanned the area, and closed them again, leaning back against the wall. Where are you bastards…

The back of his neck crawled, and he opened his eyes once more, fixing them on a narrow, dark space a few good metres away from him. They were following him, and they were there, he was certain. Evidently, his trackers had ascertained that he knew they were there, as there was brief rustling, before one of the cronies that he'd encountered earlier burst out of the space, lunging at him with a blade drawn and angled toward his face.

Lovino was just able to throw himself to the ground in time. Bad enough that this guy was the faster of the two bastards that had attacked him, but he was injured already, and his wound was starting to seriously affect his movements.

To put things more simply: shit.

He threw himself to his feet, even as his side screamed in protest, skittering to his attacker's left, which he had deduced was his weaker side. He dodged another strike, thought the blade grazed his arm this time. Upon noticing this, his attacker grinned, immediately swiping at him with his knife. Lovino was beginning to get tired, his vision blurring slightly.

"Aw, c'mon," the man crooned, "if you can't fight no longer, let me have a turn at ya, and I'll let ya go. You're a pretty thing anyways."

Lovino lashed out at him, foot striking him in the shin. It might not have had much of an affect, had he not chosen to wear his pair of stolen, metal-toed boots today. The man yelped, and he took the chance to dart away from him, staggering nearer the end of the alley. He ducked into a tiny slipway, clutching his side once more. The man gave chase, of course, hurtling down after him. Lovino was just barely able to turn to look at him. Darkness was creeping in on the corners of his vision, and his side was throbbing with and intense, persistent pain.

Really? He thought. After everything, this is how I'm going to die? How sad.

The man had him pinned against the wall, muttering all sorts of disgusting threats in his ear. Honestly, if this man did choose to violate him before killing him, there wouldn't even be anyone around to find his body and try to report it. He'd become another one of those nameless corpses that horrified Feli so much. Without meaning to, his mind drifted to the recent memories of those bloated, stinking corpses lining the narrow alleys of the Szwicza District, and proceeded to envision himself as one.

NO

He thrust out his hands, scrabbling for the man's throat. He could feel the odd, bubbling feeling in his upper chest even as he moved; could feel the intense sensation, like pins and needles, spreading across his hands as they locked around his attacker's neck. For a single, silent moment, there was nothing. But even as panic rose within him, the pins and needles dissipated, his body having finally adapted after remaining dormant so long, and the man began to scream. He clawed at Lovino's hands, desperation surging in his face. Lovino stared him down, keeping his hands stiff and unrelenting. The man began to cease his struggles, blood gurgling from his mouth as a thick, strong smell wafted from him. Recognising that his work was done, he released him, stepping back to lean against the wall as the man's body fell heavy and lifeless to the ground.

No-one will want to ask how that one died, he thought, wiping his hands on his already grimy trousers. His vision, though momentarily cleared by the act, was rapidly clouding again, and he refused to be caught near a crime scene like this. He gripped his side again, and made his way to the main street again, moving as fast as he could.

In hindsight, he had no clue how he made it home. In truth, he couldn't remember it. His last memories before awakening consisted of that man, and the horrific way his eyes had rolled up into his head as he died. From then on, he remembered nothing. Not leaving or arriving at the reception of their block building, as Feliciano later told him, not stumbling across Sadik, who proceeded to panic and drag him upstairs to Feliciano, and not Feliciano's subsequent panicking and desperate treating of the wound in his side.

No, he had to be told this by a tired but relieved Feli, who kept reaching out and running his hands through Lovino's hair, as if afraid he would disappear on him.

Lovino blinked up at him blearily, nodding slightly as Feli finished his tale. As he did, Feli's expression hardened, and his hand moved from Lovino's head to his shoulder.

"Lovi," he said, voice sterner than Lovino recalled ever having heard it, "no more fighting, okay? I'll do something, find a job, but you will not put yourself in danger again." As he began to voice his protests, Feli simply shook his head, frowning.
"You got stabbed, brother, you could have died! What if you had, huh?" Feli maintained his glare for only a moment before his expression faltered and tears began to roll down his face. Stunned, Lovino could do little more than stare at his brother like an idiot.

"I can't bear the thought of you leaving, okay? I'd be all alone. I need you, brother, I don't know what I'd do." He began sniffing, wiping at the tears on his face. Abruptly, Lovino felt incredibly selfish. He'd been so absorbed in having a way of making easy money that he hadn't considered what his brother's view on it was.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching out to touch his brother's arm. He'd been expected for Feliciano to simply pull away, but he leaned toward him instead, removing his hand from his eyes to look at him. "Okay," Lovino said, closing his eyes as he did, "I'll stop fist fighting, then, because I don't want you to be left alone either." Feliciano smiled weakly, squeezing Lovino's arm before rising to walk to the kitchen. Lovino frowned as something rose to mind.

"Feli," he called cautiously, "How did you stop my side from bleeding?"

Feli stopped, turning to face him, looking surprised. Without a word, he approached Lovino again, and leant down so Lovino could hear him.

"I had to get Sadik to help me cauterise it," he murmured, "I hope we did it right."

Lovino nodded, feeling ill. Feliciano smiled and stood, wandering off to their kitchen again.

Flinching as the pain once more shot up his side, he carefully drew away the blankets to examine his bandages. There was blood near-soaking the bandages wrapped around him. He replaced his shirt and the blankets so Feli wouldn't see. Of all things, cauterisation. He sighed. He'd tell Feli to get a haemostatic agent tomorrow. He could mask it under the guise of having it in case of emergencies. Until then, as they had no morphine, he would have to live with the pain and blood.

Mauriti Settlement,
Aralos,
18th Janwir

In all honesty, he wasn't sure how to feel about her. Feliks had shown up a few days ago with this Aralosian girl beside him, and promptly introduced her to everyone. Gilbert was uncomfortable with her at worst, and indifferent at best. But he seemed like almost the only one. Alfred was endlessly grateful to her for solving his issue with the figs and ale, and even now seemed a little in awe of her. Ivan seemed to enjoy her company, as did Berwald, and Louise seemed to be very happy simply to have another girl around for once.

Matthias seemed amused by how she constantly bantered with the others, and seemed to hold her as a resident badass. Even Gilbert's closest friends, Antonio and Francis, seemed to like spending time with her, and Antonio found it fascinating to learn about ship structure from her.

As for Feliks, the person who had brought her here in the first place? God, was that fucker head-over-heels. It honestly worried Gilbert, and he and Feliks rarely got along well. If there was one thing he knew about his Pyndaphian friend, it was that he normally dismissed romance of any kind in favour of throwing himself into his work. The fact that he was taking such an interest was concerning. Gilbert couldn't help but watch how they interacted with each other. And he was no expert, but it was slightly comforting to see that Tori didn't seem to reject any of Feliks' subtle advances. Maybe the blond wouldn't get heartbroken, then, by her dismissing him.

Though, and this was what worried him, he might get heartbroken anyway. They had to leave the desert planet eventually; they couldn't just stay. Even for seasoned undesirables like themselves, Aralos was a bit rough, and they weren't finding much so far. Yes, through Matthias' honestly excellent people skills, and Alfred's decent drawing ability, they had a rough idea of what one of their targets may look like. Of course, Matthias had leapt directly toward the most sought-after of the five royals, though Gilbert couldn't blame him for it. That amount of money, offered for one person, not even the two Syhvvanians, was ridiculous. But, as Matthias always said, he enjoyed ridiculous. They'd gone all around Mauriti, and Francis had even taken a day trip to the records office, way over past the Rykkné Plains, to check their patchy census records. The last Syhvvanian person to live on Aralos had died close to 80 years ago, and though they'd reported a scattering of Daernics and a handful of Fynknians among their colourful population, the likelihood that any of them was something special, or even knew something useful, was microscopic. Having completed their search here, at least, they would soon be outbound. And that meant Feliks leaving his little girlfriend behind.

But that was where the problems arose. Either they left her here, and dealt with whatever emotions that might instil in Feliks, or she came with them, which could mean a whole range of other problems. This girl had spent many years around the Garvich race, maybe she had adopted their sense of smell. The implications of that horrified him. Feliks knew because it was something that had come up a lot on his origin planet of Pyndaph. Louise knew, because of course, she was his sister, and loved him regardless, though they were really only half-siblings. Feliks didn't judge him, he didn't care, and even kept such a secret for him. But all of the others; Francis, Antonio, Ivan, Berwald, Matthias and Alfred; they were oblivious, and he wished to keep it that way. He knew that Antonio was from Jhobras, and views there differed. Ivan was from Ellmin, a planet near Fynkn, and thus may have held more conservative views. However, it was Francis, Berwald, Matthias and Alfred whose reactions he feared the most. All were from Rywan, and the planet had many conservative values that were held by many of the population.

Said conservative values meant that they could see him as deserving of execution. Maybe, if they were particularly forward-thinking, this meant that they would consider him deserving of a quick one. Many of those like him on Rywan did not get such mercy. The thought of what they would do, what they would say….

He shook himself from his thoughts. If there was something else he knew, it was that there were few situations that came to mind in which he would actually have to tell them, and moreover, they'd known him for years, surely they would still accept him?

Hopefully, time would not tell.