Well, here we are. The last chapter of Part 1! I can't believe I actually got this far. I started writing this story after seeing Star Wars, Episode VII, without any solid plotline or idea as to where it was going. I was in a mood for sci-fi, so I opened a word-document and went nuts. Now, about two years and a lot of rewrites later, and here we are. I actually feel proud of myself for getting this far. I technically won't be done with this until the editing process is completely over, but this is still a good day!

Before I go on, I would like to give my deepest and most sincere thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this since it began. You guys have kept me afloat! In particular, I would like to lend my thanks to Edweis, Nao tan, Venandi, Lieutenant Tree, Flibo 17, Tonjasprofil and a recurring guest named Katija. You guys are the greatest, and the kind words you all left after each chapter made me smile and squeal like a 6-year-old. Thank you all, so, so much.

RECAP:
- Arthur is awake and explained his condition to everyone else.
- The group have been transferred into a different cell (not in the forest this time). Matthew and Alfred finally had their big heart-to-heart reunion.
- Kristian now knows about Lukas, and is chill as hell.

SOME RECAP POINTS FROM EARLIER CHAPTERS WHICH MAY BE APPLICABLE HERE WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE:
- Tori somehow recognised Lukas (who knows? such mystery?) - Chapter 24
- Y'all should probs revisit some of that sweet sweet info on Chalydrantis - Chapter 31
- Matthew def killed a guy - Chapter 32
- The whole thing about the bounty change to Lovino + the other four's profiles - Chapter 24

Thank you all so much for your support throughout this whole thing. It's been an honour and pleasure to write this, and wonderful to know that people actually enjoy my story! Updates about the editing process for this and the publication of Part 2 will be available via my Tumblr; huntingthestarsandetc so keep an eye out! I'll be back with the sequel (hopefully) before September!

Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma
1st Apryl

"I understand." Matthew said, bowing his head a little in respect to the trio of stern-faced judges in front of him. "Thank you."

He left the room, sighing in relief. Though he had expected far worse of a punishment, the one he had received was still unpleasant.

Two months of suspension, starting today, he recited in his head. It wasn't that terrible – especially given that his love of adventure had quelled a little in the last few weeks. He had been worn out by everything that had happened here, so maybe being grounded wasn't so bad. He knew that he would be dying to go back on missions in just a few days, but for now, he was content.

He'd be back in action by the 1st of Jaune, anyway. Matthew sighed, looking around. He had been worried when he'd received a notice informing him that the hearing to determine his punishment for killing Nesset would be occurring soon, but it hadn't been nearly as terrifying as he had feared. He had received the notice yesterday, after he had finished talking to Alfred and gotten his brother to the new cell block where his friends were. Matthew was fairly certain that they had all seen the redness around both of their eyes, but to his relief, none of them had commented on it.

Their prisoners seemed to be settling well enough into their new cell. It was a vast improvement on the last two. They each had their own bed, and the long cell was divided into sections which could be barred off by curtains. The women of the group had seemed rather relieved about this. They also had a bathroom attached, which they had almost gone berserk over when Matthew had shown it to them. It had been quite an interesting few weeks.

He turned when he heard his name being called, and grinned when he saw Tino strolling across the dirt towards him.

"Verdict?" Tino asked, looking curious. Matthew sighed, and mimed deep anguish.

"Two months' suspension, effective immediately." He said. Tino grinned slightly.

"Not bad, considering that you shot someone in the face." he said cheerily. Matthew nodded. "Still, I won lie; I am going to mock you. You'll be stuck here helping out with cleaning and cooking, while I'm going on badass missions. Suffer, Matthew, suffer. This is the price of murder."

"You literally murder people every single day." Matthew pointed out. Tino shrugged, grinning.

"Yes, but I have permission to do that, so the repercussions are zero." Matthew rolled his eyes at him, and Tino cackled, before sobering a little. "Seriously though, that's pretty good, considering the circumstances." Matthew nodded.

"Yeah, they said that it was because I committed the crime 'in pursuit of justice' and I was 'acting based on conscientious decisions designed to maintain the integrity of the rebel forces' and that sort of bullshit. In short, they let me off easy because I was technically preventing a mass-murder by committing a single one." Tino nodded.

"Fair enough." He said. "You can't ask for fairer than that. Besides, even if you are suspended, Yao will still find a way to involve you in shit. That's what he always does." Matthew nodded, grinning a little. It was such a relief that Yao was back. Octavia hadn't been an awful leader, but it was still immensely comforting to know that he had regained his position. Yao acted as a father figure to countless people within the resistance, Matthew included, and he would have been devastated to lose such a good friend.

"How's your side holding up?" Matthew inquired. During the scuffle with the prisoners, the huge one which Tino had taken down had managed to land a hit between his ribs. Tino had been bitter about it ever since.

He was still bitter about it, obviously, as he swore at Matthew, glaring at nothing in particular. Matthew understood his frustration. Tino was unbeatable at hand-to-hand combat. He acted as a mentor whenever he wasn't working in the sniper division, and had beaten just about everyone in their headquarters. He'd managed to take down people like Nelia, Ayshe and Ali, and they were among the most prized fighters in the whole resistance. The fact that a criminal had managed to land even a single hit was probably driving him insane. He politely listened to Tino rant about how he should have protected his side more, or been faster to take him down, before the sniper noticed the time, apologised and darted off to the medical ward. Yao had been looking over some sort of treatment, and, had it not been for his suspension, Matthew would have been going too.

He sighed, kicking at the dirt a little as he headed towards the kitchens. Their cook would likely have been told of his availability by this point. He didn't doubt that he had already signed him on for several shifts a week. He tried to suppress a growl. He loathed suspension.

Better than being exiled or executed for treason, though, his mind reasoned. Rubbing at the slowly healing wound on his neck, he resigned himself to two months of boredom.

"So, over a long period of time, it could, hypothetically speaking, eliminate the disease from the body?" Yao inquired. Kabeeta nodded.

"Yes. My initial subjects have shown vast physical improvement over a period of one or more years." She said. "The serum redirects the flow of the toxins in the blood, and enhances their attraction to keratin."

Yao frowned. "How does that help the patient?"

"Well," she begun, "by increasing it's attraction to the protein, it is drawn in greater quantities to areas of the body which are rich in keratin. Since the toxin isn't known for pinpointing areas like the lining of organs or skin, it would instead target the hair and nails to a greater extent than the disease already does. In doing so, the serum eventually begins to expel the toxins at a greater rate than they can be formed. After several months, the growths start to break down their own structure to meet the demand."

"So, after time it wears itself out and the body purges itself completely…" Yao shook his head a little, staring at her. "Kabeeta, you're a genius" she smiled.

"Thank you, Yao, but I wouldn't say genius. The original medication isn't difficult or expensive to make at all, and it only took a few years of research for me to come across this solution."

"Why don't they popularise this?" he inquired. Kabeeta sighed.

"The corporations responsible for it's marketing and distribution are the definition of greedy. They can leech money out of desperate people for a temporary solution. If they put out an actual cure, it could end their business. They'd rather watch thousands of people waste away and die than have that happen."

Yao shook his head, disgusted, as Tino spoke up.

"Do you really think that he'd agree to this, though? It is experimental."

"As I understand it, this young man has an aptitude for, and love of, risk. I think he'd at least be open to the idea." Yao nodded as Kabeeta dug around in her cupboards, before locating a small vial of clear liquid. She handed it to him. "I would try to sway him, at least. This is a small sample of the medication, if he wants proof."

Yao nodded, taking the vial from her hand and gazing at it. "This whole idea seems a little wild, if I'm being completely honest." He confessed. Kabeeta nodded a little, though Ayshe, standing by Yao's side, shrugged.

"Talent is talent. We have an opportunity here. If we don't dive on it, we could lose it. you'd be surprised how agreeable people can get when they want something."

Yao nodded, sighing. "I suppose I can't argue with that logic, Ayshe." She smiled at him, and he slipped the small vial into his pocket. It really couldn't hurt to try, he supposed.

They bid farewell to Kabeeta and left the tent, blinking momentarily in the blinding brightness of the day.

"I forgot to mention," Ayshe said as they walked across the bare earth between the communications tents, "I like the shirt. Bold choice." Yao smiled softly.

Information about his trial had inevitably spread around the resistance like wildfire. Among the most prominent details was Yao's reasoning behind wearing long clothing. He had caught more people than he could count staring at his arms and neck, as if trying to see beneath the fabric and spot any scarring. Considering that most people knew by now, he had relaxed his clothing rule. The shirt he wore today had no high collar, and he had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. His gloves remained in place, but the vicious scarring and burns on his forearms were very visible. Numerous people had noticed them already. Some stared outright, unable to quell their shock and curiosity, whilst others had maintained a professional air and ignored them.

"It feels good to not be stiflingly hot for once." He said honestly. "I haven't worn anything so free since 4505." Ayshe laughed a little.

"Very true! Do you remember the missions we used to do together?" Yao smiled.

"As if I could forget." He said. "Like when we captured Merka Vandal from Reycass before the special operations squad had even arrived in the building?" Ayshe laughed.

"I remember that! They were all so furious at us! All that time spent bragging about how they were 'elites' and 'highly trained' and we ended up doing their job for them! The looks on their faces still makes me laugh." She smiled. "Oh! What about when Arshad and Mohammed got pinned down inside that half-collapsed warehouse? We were the only ones to volunteer to act as backup. The look on Arshad's face, when you busted in with an axe…I swore he was ready to propose." Yao laughed.

"Honestly, considering the tension of the situation, I might have accidentally gutted him if he'd done that." Ayshe smiled, tipping her head back.

"Good memories." She said wistfully. "I do sometimes wish you were still active in the field with me. I miss having you as my partner." Yao smiled sadly.

"I miss it too, sometimes, though I know what I do now is technically more important." He sighed. "I do miss the adrenaline rush, admittedly. Perhaps we should spar at some point – we can see if you're still the superior fighter."

"Please, you know that I'll just kick your ass again." He looked over at her. Her head was tilted upwards so that the sun had caught her features. Her lips had curved up into a small, teasing smile, and several locks of her hair had come undone from her messy bun and were being gently tossed by the low wind. He felt a sense of peace and calm, the likes of which he hadn't felt in years, consume him. He smiled back.

"I'll just prepare myself to get demolished, then." Yao said gently. Ayshe paused, turning her head to face him again, gaze unreadable. There was a beat of silence, before Ayshe looked like she wanted to speak, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. The moment was broken, however, when Yao heard someone calling out for him. Ayshe's hand dropped from his shoulder, and despite the heat of the day, he regretted the loss of it's warmth. He turned away reluctantly, to see Ines approaching them.

"Sorry to interrupt, General, Admiral. We retrieved the last of the group." Yao nodded. Ayshe bid him farewell, murmuring something about a meeting, and he turned to follow Ines.

"You're completely wrong, okay, bell peppers are awful."

"Agree to disagree. They're the foundation of a decent meal."

Feliks rolled his eyes. Eduard and Antonio had been going back and forth for over an hour over the advantages and disadvantages of different ingredients. Their most recent clash centred around peppers, of all foods. Antonio, being from Jhobras, a planet whose main export was probably peppers, was vehemently defending the food. Eduard, who was from the cooler planet of Ellmin, was decidedly against them. The first few minutes of the debate had been interesting, but Feliks was now approaching the point where he was ready to throttle them both.

Their situation had improved immensely in the last two days. Their new cell was much more comfortable than the old one, and not just because the girls in their group finally had proper privacy like they deserved – it was much more spacious, and the bathroom helped. He'd been able to have his first shower in several weeks, and it had been a borderline religious experience. Alfred had apologised profusely to him and Gilbert – especially for fucking up Gilbert's jaw, though. The albino had waved it off. Alfred himself had been light and cheerful since talking to his brother, and it was as though some lost part of him had come back. It was good to see him so happy.

His attention was caught when he noticed Tori enter their section of the cell. The five girls in their group had all taken the bunk beds down the far side of the cell, and hadn't come down this end of the room as much. Her expression looked frightened, torn. She met his gaze, and gestured for him to go with her. Raising an eyebrow, he complied, pushing himself into a standing position and wandering after her. She was sitting on her bed when he pushed the small dividing curtain back. Hesitating slightly, he moved and sat next to her.

"What's up?" he asked, even though he knew. Only Gilbert, Roderich, Tori and himself knew what was going on. Only they knew why it was so strange and confusing that the slender Fynknian boy had ended up being royalty. Feliks had a strong hunch, but didn't want to broach the matter in case he was wrong. As he sat next to Tori, though, he knew that she would be stressed no matter what he said.

"You know what's up." she murmured. "The whole thing with that Fynknian, Lukas." Feliks nodded. He and the others were yet to explain to the rest of their group about the odd and confusing fact that Tori had somehow recognised a random rebel as someone she used to know. Knowing now that he was, in fact, royalty…well, there wasn't a plethora of information as to why she would have associated him with her admittedly murky past. He could feel the words bursting to free themselves. He was dying to ask her a million questions about her childhood, about who and what and where she remembered, but he wasn't going to do such a thing while she was in such a frightened and confused state.

It just made so much sense.

They'd met Tori on Aralos, a distant and far-flung planet, far out of the way and minds of anyone with non-insidious intentions. Though in an industrial hub like Reycass, a rogue Daernic woman would have stood out, on a dustbowl like Aralos, no-one cared either way about someone's species or ethnicity – they were more concerned about whether or not the person was planning to walk past calmly or shiv you in the gut. She was Daernic, that was much was evident from the dark brown hair and vivid green-gold eyes, as well as by her own admission. She had told him that she'd lived on Aralos for over ten years. She was also about 18 or so years old.

Even her name, Tori, sounded suspect. She had never told him about any surname. He wasn't even sure if she knew what it was.

She matched the age, description and potentially even the name of one of the most wanted people in history. He knew that springing such a theory on her would be disastrous. Tori was already worried and seeming to be questioning her own identity. He didn't want to add to her troubles.

He decided to start somewhere relatively safe. Feliks wanted to try and examine his theory without Tori knowing that he even had one.

"Well, you said that you remembered him, right? Do you know anything about where or when you remembered him?"

Tori sighed, sounding frustrated. "It's hard to describe. I recognised his face, I guess, but the more I think about it, it feels more and more like I remembered the feeling of his presence more than I did his actual appearance." She shook her head. "Sorry, that makes no sense."

Feliks shook his head. "No, it does make sense. You mean that you remember his presence in your past, and you remember him, but not necessarily his facial features. Like, he could have been in disguise, but you would still have recognised him because you remember him, not his appearance." Tori nodded, looking relieved that he hadn't written her off as a mad person.

"Yes, that's exactly it! It's like…it's like I'm really familiar with him, but I don't remember how."

"What part of your life would you have known him in, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Definitely before I lived on Aralos. I remember my whole life on Aralos very clearly. It's the time before, back when I lived on Daerna, that's all foggy."

"Do you remember much of Daerna?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no. My earliest memory of Aralos was crawling out of a wrecked ship, so I could have amnesia from crashing or something. I only really remember a few flashes, a few phrases and maybe some faces. I know that I was evacuated during the Expansion, like so many other children and teenagers, but the whole journey is a sort of blur." She sighed again. "I always thought that I travelled with a relative of some sort. A teenaged guy maybe 18 or so. I used to think he was my brother, but the older I get, the less I feel like that's right."

"Do you remember anything about him?" he asked.

"Sort of. He wore a symbol on all of his clothes." Feliks rummaged around in his pockets, acquired a piece of paper and a pen, and gestured for her to draw it. Tori scrawled something which resembled an insignia of some sort, and she shrugged.

"It looked something like that." She murmured. Feliks cast a look at the symbol, trying to ignore the odd feeling of familiarity which dogged him even now.

"You said you also remembered a few phrases." He coaxed. She shrugged, still looking downcast.

"Only really a few. I remember an old parable, something like 'sąžiningumas, nuolankumas, vientisumas'. It means 'honesty, humility, integrity' or something like that. It used to be told to all little children to encourage them to be good, if I'm right. I also remember something about the 'Karo kambarys', which I think means 'war-room', so I'm not sure why anyone would have been saying that." She paused, obviously straining her memory. "Oh! I always remember hearing one word, over and over. 'Vika, vika, vika!' I don't understand that one either. I think it means 'victory' or is a derivative of the word otherwise. I told you, none of it makes any sense."

Feliks nodded, processing the information. "Yeah, that isn't a totally logical set of memories to have, if I'll be blunt. Still, keep working at it. We'll figure it out eventually." She nodded, smiling wearily.

"I hope so. I'm really glad that I have you here to help me with all of this." She sighed as she laid her head on his shoulder. Blushing a little at her words, he wrapped his arm around her.

"I'm glad that I'm able to help." He murmured. His brain was spinning so fast that it almost couldn't keep up with itself.

vika, vika, vika.

An odd Daernic word, like she'd said.

vika, vika, vika. It meant something. His stomach was turning over.

A chant half-recalled from a day of invasion and fear, perhaps?

But that wasn't it. He knew that it wasn't. Unlike other planets, most Daernic names had a meaning which was easily translatable. Tori wasn't lying; the word 'vika' meant victory. He shifted his consideration of the word.

vika, vika, vika…

Vika.

Not a chant. A nickname. A nickname for the girl resting her head on his shoulder. Vika was a nickname, just as surely as 'Tori' probably was. He could think of only one name which fitted both nicknames, and that was the one printed on the profile third from the top of the Index. He forced his thoughts elsewhere. Was it likely? Very much so, but he had promised himself that he wasn't going to panic Tori any more. He forced his muscles to relax, leaning into the exhausted Daernic girl a little.

Her identity, he could think about later. For now, he was content to enjoy her presence, and the weight of her head on his shoulder.

Szwicza District,
Bibesti, Rela,
1st Apryl

"Are you sure that it would work, though?" Feliciano asked as Lovino paced backwards and forwards in front of him.

"Of course I'm not sure that it would work. But it's one of the few options that we really have." Lovino responded, frown deepening. "Something made us stand out when we were on Incanda. I know that it's unlikely, but whoever recognised us there could potentially find us here."

"I know, you've told me that about five times a day since we saw the change." Feliciano said, sounding a little exasperated. "I know that there are talented mercenaries out there, and I know that the large bounty on us would inspire a lot of people to try and catch us." he said, saying what Lovino had been lecturing him about for the past week or so. "But we also have an established life here. We didn't just drop in here. We have proof that we've lived here for years."

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, that's true, but Feli, you really don't understand. Some people are beyond ruthless, beyond committed, beyond relentless. Our combined bounty adds up to 100 billion marks. Do you have any idea how much money that is?"

Feliciano hesitated. "Uh...a lot?"

"Yes, it's a lot," Lovino said, rolling his eyes, "let me put it this way. This rundown, shitty apartment that we call home costs 1000 marks a month. That's 12,000 marks every year. If we had that bounty, we'd have enough money to live here for over 8.3 million years." Feliciano's eyes opened wide, mouth mimicking the motion.

"…that is a lot." He said, sounding a little awed. Lovino resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, but smiled a little nonetheless.

"Yes, it's a lot. That's why so many people want it. The recent increase has already caught people's attention." He said, picking up the newspaper which he had salvaged from the table of a borderline catatonic merchant. He flicked through the pages until he stumbled upon the article which he had been seeking.

"Interest has been peaked in financial and economic sectors of the Joğarı Keñes today after activity on the Index and 'bounty' information hubs spiked. The increased activity was determined to be due to an unexplained, 10-billion-mark increase in monetary bond, which was applied to each of the five – purportedly surviving – heirs of the Free Courts of Daerna. The changes, applied to the heirs of the royal positions and fortunes of the Vargas, Bondevik and Laurinaitis families respectively, were tendered early yesterday morning. It is unknown why the increase was approved, nor why the increase was tendered at this time. The update has resulted in approximately 61% more traffic to each of the five recipients…"

He stopped reading, quirking an eyebrow at Feliciano. The article was over two weeks old, but Lovino had pored over it ever since he had acquired it. Vash and his odd acquaintances had been gone for almost the same amount of time, and he was no closer to understanding why exactly the Union had chosen now to make them more sought after. They definitely hadn't caught any of the others – they would have gloated and paraded that fact endlessly if that were the case. There was something else, some other third factor at play. Lovino didn't know what it was, but he was determined to figure it out.

Feliciano sighed. "The increase means that we need to blend in more, I know, Lovi." Lovino nodded.

"Exactly. I hate to say it, but our days of pickpocketing and street-fighting are over."

Feliciano frowned. "I never did either of those things."

Lovino ignored him. "Anyway," he said, "because we are now going to be in more danger than before, we need to blend in even more. We need to be unworthy of notice or attention. Though theft is an admittedly effective way of getting money when we need it, we'll have to abandon it for now. It wouldn't do us any good to get arrested." Feliciano nodded, leaning back a little as he took over for his brother.

"So, to avoid crime and therefore avoid attention, we'll need to get actual jobs." Lovino heaved a great sigh. He'd never really had an actual job before – his quick wits and light fingers had always provided for them in the past.

"They aren't likely to be fun, mind you," he said, "they'll be boring and manual and menial, but as long as they bring in money, we should manage okay. We've never been big spenders, so this shouldn't be an issue." Feliciano nodded as Lovino continued.

"And…since it is likely that we are in more danger now…I'll start teaching you to use your gifts." This was something which he hadn't mentioned before, and Feliciano let out a verifiable shriek of delight upon hearing it, leaping to his feet.

"Really?! You mean it, fratello?"

"Yes, I really mean it this time." Feliciano crushed him in a hug, bouncing up and down out of sheer joy. Lovino couldn't fight the smile rising to his face. He had been worried that Feliciano wouldn't be able to execute a decent amount of control when using his gifts, but thinking on it more, he supposed that he far preferred the idea of Feliciano being uncontrollable and causing mass destruction over the idea of his younger brother being completely unable to defend himself.

"I'll be extra careful when you're teaching me, I promise." He said, eyes gleaming with excitement. Lovino sighed, patting his brother's head gently.

"I know you will. I trust you."

Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma
1st Apryl

Matthias was just getting properly relaxed when the rebels visited their cell again. He'd been slumped against a wall playing a confusing and somewhat ludicrous card game with Feliks. The game – Lepinanya, he believed the name was – was Pyndaphian, and Feliks, with the occasional input from Arthur, had spent over an hour trying to explain the most basic of the rules to him. He'd felt close to giving up several times, especially since he'd been convinced that they were pulling his leg. As it turned out, though, the game was intentionally confusing. Even Feliks and Arthur, who had both grown up playing with their parents and could play like pros, didn't understand why it was structured like it was.

"The professional players can earn millions a game." Arthur had helpfully explained to him. "Though any old hand from Pyndaph could do that just as easily." Matthias had blinked in confusion.

"Then why don't Pyndaphians just take over the tables and get rich?" Arthur and Feliks grinned at each other.

"Banned. It is officially illegal for any Pyndaphian to play Lepinanya in a high-stakes game."

"That sounds a little racist." Matthias muttered. They both shrugged.

"Maybe, in a sense, but it is understandable why they do it." Feliks said. "Once, when I was 14, I dyed my hair black and played a few rounds in a proper game. I won over 15,000 marks in about ten minutes. The casino didn't discover I was Pyndaphian, but they banned me anyway. Said I would bankrupt them." He grinned at the memory. Matthias shook his head in mild disbelief, and continued trying to puzzle through what rules he remembered, scrutinising his cards.

"Is that Lepinanya?" a voice said from outside the cell. They turned. It was one of the rebels which they tended to see more often, a tall Jhobrasian woman with dark hair clipped into a neat bob who always wore long leather boots and was never seen without a tall, metal staff. Feliks nodded, and she shook her head in disbelief. "I've never understood that game. Whoever designed it must have been on some serious shit when they came up with it."

Feliks nodded. "Yup. A mixture of cocaine, hallucinogens and alcohol, if the rumours are to be believed, anyway." The woman shook her head at them.

"That makes it all the more impressive that you actually understand it." she said, tone sincere. "But anyway, I'm not here to discuss Lepinanya. We have a visitor for you."

They stared at her in complete befuddlement, before she stepped aside, gesturing for someone to come forward. They all let out cries of disbelief and joy when a familiar face appeared behind the bars, brow creased in worry.

"Ivan!" they all exclaimed, confusion replaced with joy. The next minute was a flurry of conversation as questions were thrown from one side to the other, neither questions nor answers very coherent. Gilbert took initiative and made them all quiet down, before turning and questioning their friend.

"What's going on? How the hell did you get here?" Ivan grinned sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck as Nelia explained.

"This big guy got worried about you lot, so he tried to come through the mountain passes alone. Our friends in the Dolyagor caught ahold of him, and sent word along to us. We went and picked both him and your ship up and brought them here."

Matthias stared at Ivan. The guy was claustrophobic, seriously claustrophobic, yet he had still tried to traverse those narrow, winding mountain paths to try and find them? He felt a sudden, huge surge of affection for the pale man.

"Serious kudos to you for attempting that alone," Alfred said, "those paths were a nightmare." Ivan nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Do not expect me to do it again." He said, looking a little pale at the thought. Matthias grinned at him. Ivan frowned a little. "Are all of you alright? Fredka, what happened to your leg?" Alfred looked down at his leg at the mention of it, grinning wryly.

"I got stabbed, but don't worry!" he rushed to say when Ivan's face showed pure shock and concern. "It's not infected, and I've been treated and everything. I'll be fine, just gimme a bit of bed rest, you'll see." Ivan relaxed marginally.

"That is good. So, what has happened while I was with the ship? The rebel, Nelia, she did not tell me anything."

Alfred happily launched into an explanation of their rescue mission gone wrong, including their near-execution and smuggling into an abandoned shipping container. He happily gave details on their scuffle with their saviours, and how he had reunited with his brother. Ivan beamed upon hearing this part of the story.

"Oh yes! I met a rebel who looked a lot like you, Fredka. He was very friendly!" he said happily. Alfred grinned.

"Yep, that'd be Matthew." He said, sounding giddy at even being able to say his brother's name. Ivan frowned a little as Alfred continued through the story.

"I do not understand," he said, "if you have paid the bounty for our friends, and this leader is back in power, why have you not been let go?" Matthias almost threw himself across the room to smack his hand across Alfred's mouth. Ivan blinked, looking a little taken aback.

"You, see, Ivan," Matthias said, glaring at Alfred and the others, warning them to be silent, "we found out a little secret of the resistance's. Because we know that secret now, they won't let us go, out of fear that we'd go to the Union. If we told you what it was, they'd lock you in here with us." he looked at him apologetically. "I'd prefer if at least one of my friends isn't locked up for no good reason." Ivan nodded slowly.

"I understand, thank you Matthias. I do wish you all could be let out, though." He said, sounding mournful. Matthias smiled sadly at him.

"Sorry buddy, but I don't want to drag anyone else into this mess." Ivan nodded in understanding.

"Okay then," he said, "I will not ask what this secret is. I will stay here at the resistance though, until they let you go, at least." Matthias felt even more affection surge up through him.

"Thanks man. It'll be good to have you around."

Ivan ended up sitting down against the bars, asking for more details on their many interesting exploits while he had been separated from them. He listened and told them about some of the more interesting news stories he had heard, sitting for hours by their cell. He ultimately stayed until their last, and arguably most important, visitor showed up.

They were all sorry to see Ivan get escorted away by the Jhobrasian guard – Nelia, by her and Ivan's admissions. They had spent hours talking to him, and Francis could see that the sky had started to darken. The day was coming to an end, and he almost sighed in relief. Daylight was a chaotic, tumultuous time. Where he had once feared sleep, and the dreams which accompanied it, he welcomed it.

Sleep removed him from the emotions warring against each other in his mind. Half of him was wrought with anger and indignation – the sting of being distrusted and dismissed. The other half was pouring with forgiveness and concern. And at the centre of his conflicted mind was the one person who he had once sworn to never give the time of day to again. He had tried and tried again, but once more, Arthur Kirkland occupied the brunt of his thoughts.

He finally knew what Arthur's mindset had been, those years ago, when he had chosen to commit himself to a workforce that was evil in its very nature. Francis knew now why he had done it, and he understood that fear, the desperation which no doubt drove him to do it. But Arthur remained ignorant of why Francis had acted in the ways that he had. A part of Francis wished that he could just be brave enough to bear his soul to the person who had once been his closest friend. But the rest of him knew that he would never be able to do that, not really. His scars ran too deep, entrenched in his consciousness as they were. He couldn't offer forgiveness as freely as a small part of him wished he could.

Francis sighed, shaking his head a little. He had tried to maintain distance from the pirate, but the usual anger and red haze of fury which normally accompanied any sight or mention of Kirkland had vanished. He simply didn't have the energy – nor the irrefutable motive – to hate him so passionately anymore. He cursed Arthur for performing a betrayal which he didn't even know was one. He cursed the universe for throwing their lots together in the first place. And he cursed Hamide Boushab, who had stripped away that certain capacity for forgiveness, who had twisted him into what she wanted him to be, who had removed the very human he was and reconstructed him from the inside out.

Forcing back bile as memories surged up again, he turned his attention outwards. He focused on the walls, his friends' soft conversation, the mauve of the sky outside.

After escorting Ivan away, the woman, Nelia, had returned to the front of their cell. She was still and silent. Wary as she hadn't been before. She was anticipating something.

Evidently, whatever she was expecting arrived, as she suddenly straightened up and turned to them.

"Listen up," she said, voice authoritative but not overtly loud, "you have another visitor. Unfortunately for you, he's not another lost friend. Just be quiet and listen to what he says." She said, gaze warning. Francis and the others had only a few brief seconds after her words before she moved to the side, withdrew a large ring of keys from her pocket and opened the door, letting in a man before re-locking the door and walking away.

Francis observed him. The first thing he noticed was his height. They were all sitting down, so the visitor loomed over them all. He was, by Francis' approximation, maybe 5'10'', and, to mild shock on Francis' part, clearly Yanish. He had very long black hair adorned with a few streaks of white, which had been braided down his back. Francis was surprised to see that he was actually quite attractive. His clothing was an oddly fitting monochrome; dark pants, black boots and a simple, long-sleeved grey shirt which had been rolled up to the elbows. His hands were concealed inside a pair of dark leather gloves buttoned at the wrist. The exposed parts of his arms and neck were covered in scars.

Francis raised his gaze up to his eyes, and felt dread creep over him. He had noticed, with a passing glance, that the man had dark brown eyes. They were neither the warm, welcoming brown of chocolate or the sturdy, comforting shade of timber. His eyes were the colour of winter soil, dark and hard and unyielding. Francis felt discomfort creep through his bones. Though the newcomer was clearly unarmed, Francis didn't doubt that he wouldn't require a weapon to overpower them. There was silence for a moment as the man folded his arms, calculating, analytical gaze surveying them all. Francis saw his gaze catch, and linger, on Arthur before moving on.

The man broke a little of the tension by moving to sit on an overturned crate, lowering himself to their level. It wasn't much, but it made Francis relax a bit. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and finally spoke.

"Good evening to all of you," he said, voice deeper than Francis had expected it to be, "I hope that you've been treated well."

"Decently enough." Feliks spoke up. "Save the near-execution, of course." The man winced a little, smiling wryly.

"Ahh, yes, I heard about that. The woman that ordered that, well, she was only trying to do what she thought was best for the resistance, even if it wasn't the most moral." Feliks raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak again. "Anyway," their visitor continued, "you are all safe and relatively unharmed," his eyes skimmed over Alfred's bandaged thigh as he said the words, "so I hope you will not hold a grudge."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Matthias said, "listen, is there any chance that we'll be allowed out of here? We haven't done anything."

"I know you haven't, but unfortunately for you, you're a little too observant for your own good. I am fully aware of the fact that the lot of you have done nothing to harm the resistance, and that you are all, one way or the other, here due to the audacity of our own soldiers. I wish I could set you free. You paid the ransom for your friends, fair and square, and you have acted reasonably since then. You were taken captive by us for no discernible reason, and I'm sorry for that." He hesitated.

"But, you are now privy to the most valuable secret that the resistance currently has. You are bounty hunters and criminals. I don't mean to assume that you would all be terribly fond of the Union, but the fact remains that young Lukas is worth 55 billion marks. Everyone, no matter their occupation or allegiance, would be tempted by that sort of money. There is a large possibility that none of you would be interested in that reward, but I don't know you, nor your motivations, so I am not willing to take that sort of risk." He said. They all slumped back in defeat.

"So, what, we're going to be trapped here forever?" Antonio asked.

"I wouldn't say forever. We will attempt to make some sort of compromise. The importance of keeping Lukas safe is paramount to us, though he justifiably may represent little more than a fine reward for all of you. For now, though, you will be kept here."

"This is bullshit." Matthias muttered. "Let us talk to your leader. Everyone we've talked to so far says he's reasonable." The man raised an eyebrow.

"I do hate to disappoint you, though I do try to be logical and reasonable most of the time, I'm not so sympathetic of you that I would let you go." They all blinked, confused, for a moment, before the Yanish man smiled and leaned forward, taking Matthias' hand and shaking it. "Yes, that meant what you thought it meant. I'm the leader of the resistance. Yao, if you must." He leaned back as they gawked at him.

Natalya tossed her head, trying and failing to look unimpressed. "Okay then. That may be true, but you just gave a group of criminals your identity. Very smart."

Yao smiled. "Are you going to report me? Good luck with that. What would you say? 'The leader of the resistance is Yanish, and his name is Yao'," he rolled his eyes. "The Union has known I'm Yanish for years. Do you have any idea how many Yanish people are there in the Universe?" Natalya was silent. "over 96 billion. There are 90 billion people on Yan itself, and roughly 6 billion expatriates. I don't think that the Union would bother vetting every single one. Not to mention, the name Yao is not exactly rare. I'd wager that there are at least, oh, 79 million other people with the same name as me." He cocked his head to the side a little. "So good luck. The Union wouldn't thank you for that information."

Natalya cowered a little. In a moment, Yao's gaze had gone from apologetic and unperturbed to sharp, analytical and cold. Francis recalled something which he had heard a street vendor say once;

"The Union should give up trying to uproot the resistance, in my opinion. They're like a hydra; if you cut off one head, two more grow back. Whoever leads the whole thing doesn't seem to understand the idea of relenting."

Looking into Yao's face now, Francis didn't see an apologetic Yanish man. He saw a vicious, coiled snake, preparing to strike. His gaze was the gaze of a man who would not relent. A chill ran down his spine. He wasn't lying. The leader of the entire resistance was right there in their cell, and he was far more ready to dismiss them as useless pawns than the others may have realised. We're only still alive because of his good will, Francis realised.

"Why are you here? Is that all you came here to say?" Francis asked, desperate to divert the conversation. Some of the coldness in the man's eyes died down, and he turned his gaze on Arthur.

"It isn't, actually. Thank you for reminding me." Francis drew away a little as Yao made eye contact with the disgruntled pirate. There was a moment of complete silence. "Mr Kirkland, as far as I have been informed, you're dying." Arthur stiffened a little, but smiled wryly.

"You're not wrong." He conceded. Yao leaned back a little, surveying him.

"Chalydrantis is a vicious disease. As I understand it, you're only alive for the compassion of my subordinates." Arthur nodded slowly, looking confused.

"Yes…that is true. I never got the chance to thank them for that." Yao shifted a little.

"I'll pass it on," he said, "how long exactly have you suffered from it?" Arthur frowned a little, clearly not happy sharing such information with a virtual stranger, but, to Francis' surprise, he answered anyway.

"Almost five years now." He said. Yao nodded.

"Impressive. Though I would assume you have used Malthecs to treat it for almost, if not all, of the time?" Arthur nodded. "That's a shame. Malthecs tends to start to fail after about five and a half years of usage." Arthur stiffened.

"I've heard that, yes." He admitted. Yao hummed softly, looking at him for a moment before he rummaged around in his pockets and withdrew a small vial of clear liquid.

"I'll be honest with you, if Chalydrantis was going to be cured, it would be available already. Malthecs itself isn't a difficult solution to create. Most firms inflate the price by up to 7000%. Any amateur chemist could create enough to keep a Chalydrantis patient alive for a year. It's a simple fact that whenever someone makes a breakthrough in terms of an immediate cure, it is dismissed as 'hokey science'. There are far better and more effective ways to treat, and even heal, Chalydrantis. Those methods would never be used by those firms, though, because they would lose all of their customers."

"However," he continued, "not all of that research and progress has been stamped out. Our primary medic here is an incredibly capable woman named Kabeeta. She used to work in such a firm, researching Chalydrantis. After finding that her research was going to be destroyed for actually making progress, she left and took all of her notes with her." He held up the vial. "This is the result. It's a tricky little dose to create, but it's effective, though admittedly in a different way to Malthecs."

Arthur, despite himself, looked very intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"Chalydrantis toxins are naturally attracted to keratin. This solution increases that attraction by a great amount. It might not seem like a good thing, but this little solution forces the toxins out of the body via the hair and nails, rather than just stopping their production inside the body. It works at such a rate that the growths which create said toxins would eventually tire itself out, and attack its own structure in order to meet the demands."

Arthur was staring at the vial, stunned. "So…wait…you mean…"

"After a while those pesky growths, like the one inside your brain, would start to decrease in size. Perhaps, if taken for long enough, it could eliminate the disease entirely. It's experimental, but results so far are very promising." Yao's eyes were glittering, and he stowed the vial back in his pocket. Arthur's eyes followed it.

"What…what do you want from me?" he asked, voice croaking. Yao stood from the box, dusting himself off a little.

"What do I want? Well, Mr Kirkland, you are rather infamous. Your escapades have captured the attention and imaginations of billions of people. A criminal though you may be, you are a talented one. You can enter buildings boasted as impenetrable. You can avoid being seen in areas wrought with security cameras and steal things under heavy guard without trouble. Many dismiss you as a lucky crook, but it is undeniable that, at least in your field, you excel."

Arthur was still staring at him. Yao smiled a little, moving forward to crouch in front of him so that their eyes were level.

"What I want, Mr Kirkland, is to make a deal."

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FIN
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