"Shouldn't that be good news, then?" Arthur questioned, eyebrow raised, "If you know the location of one of the rings, then we can go ahead and get half the job don-!"

"It is not that simple!" Francis cut Arthur off abruptly, "The rings will only respond if the masters willingly cooperate."

Irritated, Arthur pressed on, "…meaning…?"

"Meaning, gaining possession of the ring would have to be of a completely selfless act. Moreover, a master cannot just walk into the room, take the ring, and simply leave." Francis explained.

"You make it sound as if the ring was alive." Arthur thought for a moment before continuing, "…would that mea-"

"Oui, the master will be tested by the ring; a one of a kind, personalized trial of creditability. There is no way to prepare for the challenge; you either pass or fail. Once the master passes, the doll will remain in its human state. These rings were created for the sole purpose of keeping the assigned souls attached to the doll from being destroyed permanently."

The thought almost frightened Arthur; he had to admit though, the simpler route of just walking in and taking it sounded much more pleasant. However, the ring would not allow for that. He pursed his lips in thought, something still wasn't clear.

"…What happens if the master fails this 'trial'?" The answer to this question seemed to terrify Francis more; Arthur guessed, by the incredibly distressed look in the Frenchman's eyes.

Francis hesitated for a while, biting his lower lip as if to keep the answer locked away; it was inevitable, he concluded, Arthur had to know the consequence.

"If they happen to fail…" Arthur noticed Francis' hands tremble slightly as he spoke, "…The doll will forever stay as a doll. They would be trapped; imprisoned, for eternity."

Again, silence filled the room, Arthur having only one thought in his mind; how would Matthew react? How could he possibly explain all this to his younger cousin? The weight of the current situation was now tipping his scale of reality so much so that even his dreams would be lighter than air.

Now, he couldn't even form coherent sentences, phrases, conclusions, anything! Arthur thought it would be best to keep the information away from Matthew for the time being. Yet, Arthur still had some questions.

"…whose ring is it?"

"Mine." The answer was immediate; Arthur could tell that the look in Francis' eyes was one of worry, from the very beginning, "There is also a very good chance that Alfred's ring is located in the same country."

"…Where is it right now?" If they could get this done as quickly as possible, then maybe they had a chance…

"…London." Francis sighed; Arthur could've sworn he saw his eye twitch.

Feeling relieved, Arthur straightened up, "Oh, well, if it's just one city awa-"

"…not that London." Francis laughed, patting Arthur's head jokingly to make the situation a bit less serious, "I mean; the ring has now taken refuge in a historical museum in London, England."

"T-t-that!" Arthur stuttered, wide eyed, "THAT'S ALL THE WAY IN EUROPE!"

When Francis tried to calm him down, Arthur grew frantic, allowing him absolutely no time to speak. After all, they had moved from Britain to Canada a long while back; he often mixed the countries up.

"How in the world are we going to scrape up enough money to travel to England?"

"You may not need to pay a cent!" Francis finally found room to squeeze into the Arthur's rant with himself, "Many of our previous owners worked in trade and international relations." Arthur settled down, curiously wondering where Francis was going with this idea of his.

He cleared his throat, "They've never seen us in our human forms, but, during the time they had us, we've gained some valuable information that could help us…"

"…You're talking about bribing them." Arthur cut in again, "…That could get us in an excessive amount of trouble." He didn't mind much for himself, but if Matthew ever got hurt because of this, it could be problematic.

"I will do my best to shadow all the blame."

Completely oblivious to the situation downstairs, Alfred curiously watched from the comfort of his self-made pillow fort – of which he was very, very proud – as Matthew took down all the dolls from his bedside cabinet, and placed them neatly in a line in front of him.

Alfred watched as Matthew grouped them up by colours first, then worked on putting them back in line; forming a rainbow of dolls. He made a mental note of the way his owner pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows in thought; taking one doll in hand, before shaking his head and putting it right back down; thinking again.

"M-Mattie…?" Alfred dared to speak, not intending to break Matthew's train of thought, but genuinely inquisitive at the same time, "What are you doing?"

"Organizing dolls" He answered simply, "Arthur taught me how!"

Carefully – so as to not knock over anything valuable – Alfred slithered out of his fort, and took a seat beside Matthew while he worked.

"So…how exactly does this work?" There had to be at least ten to fifteen dolls in the batch, and this whole concept of "organization" was not one he was familiar with.

"It's easy!" Matthew gathered the dolls into a pile, "First, you line them up by the dates they were made! The older dolls would start on the left side of the line…" He tried to explain, fixing the dolls into a straight line, "…and the more recently made dolls on the right side."

"I see…" When, in all actuality, he didn't; but he went along with it anyways, because he found it interesting to listen while Matthew spoke.

"Arthur told me to start on the very last shelf with the newer dolls, and then to move on to the shelf above it. The top shelf is reserved for favourites."

Now fully attentive, Alfred smirked, "So…" He spun his cowboy hat on its rim before putting it on his head, "Where do I go?"

"No where in there." Matthew replied simply, causing Alfred to break a little on the inside. Noticing this, Matthew panicked, flailing his hands quickly above his head, "I-I didn't mean it like that! If I put you up on the shelf, then I'll be lonely!" He added, "…I would only have Kuma; Arthur won't let me hold on to any of these dolls unless we're tidying up the cabinet…"

That, and the fact that most of the dolls were fragile with age; he didn't trust himself to handle them carefully.

"I guess that makes sense" Alfred concluded, nodding to himself, "I'd be bored to death in that thing, anyways."

Being stuck in a dusty showcase for a good decade was enough; he decided it was best to live in the moment.

Dinner had rolled on by just as quickly has the day had started; the – now edible – food set a good mood for the evening, however, during the midst of eating his steak – medium rare, and drizzled with a sauce who's name he couldn't even pronounce – Matthew noticed that Arthur was acting eerily quiet.

Usually, he would have criticised the lack of flavour in his meal; or how much better he could've cooked the dish; followed by a blathering rant on the intellectualities of English food, versus, the French.

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Alfred yelled out, "…IT'S TOO QUIET."

Obviously.

Taking the opportunity, Matthew chimed in, "…A-Arthur? Are you feeling well? You seem distant…"

He cringed when Arthur sighed irritably, wiping his mouth with the napkin, as he went to wrap his leftovers in saran wrap, shoving it somewhere in the fridge. Francis followed suit.

"Finish your dinner and meet us in the living room; we need to talk."

Arthur kept a set pace, worriedly moving back and forth in the living room; so much so that he generated enough energy to cause a tiny static shock upon bumping into Matthew who then bumped into Alfred, after they had finished their meals.

Wasting no time, Arthur directed everyone to take their seats, sighing irritably as Alfred began whining about who got to sit next to Matthew.

"…Please do not start this up, again." Francis finally said, organizing everyone so that there would be no more unnecessary interferences. He signalled for Arthur to continue.

"Now…" He started, "…The location of Francis' ring has been confirmed."

He waited a moment for the look for shock across his cousin's face to subside before slowly highlighting the issues that were sure to bring up many questions.

"A historical museum in Europe is where it's located. Unfortunately, we have no funds to allow for us to pay for a flight; Francis insists that we take a much more…inexpensive route."

Matthew nodded, clearly not understanding what Arthur meant by "inexpensive", he then turned to Alfred who was more than willing to input his own opinion, "It should be fine then! The faster we find his ring, then the faster it'll be to find mine! Where exactly are we going in Europe?"

That was the question Arthur wanted to avoid the most. The look of pure naivety on his cousin's face was something he didn't wish to destroy. However, he had no choice but to respond.

"…London, Englan-"

"-No." Arthur was suddenly cut off by Matthew; whose voice had dropped a slight octave, meshed with a darker tone, "…I'm not going."

To his left, Alfred sat in disbelief. He had never expected such a reaction from the much more timid, quiet, male! In comparison to Arthur – or anyone in general – the boy was almost invisible.

Arthur knew that the past had accumulated false hope for Matthew; especially when they were so young. Going back to where they were raised would just spark more sorrow in both himself, and Matthew. He mentally shook his head; he had to move on, even if it meant pushing his cousin just a little over the edge to do it.

"...So you're just going to stay here; let Francis whither away to dust as a doll? What about Alfred? If their rings are both in England, what becomes of them?"

Arthur absolutely hated being strict with Matthew, for fear of making him cry. Nonetheless, what must be done has to be done; and, when Matthew didn't put up a fight, giving only a panicked look of distress and a feverous shake of his head, Arthur knew that he had won this battle.

"We will pack tonight, and leave first thing tomorrow." Francis added, "Do not pack too much; we do not need excess weight to pull us down."

With that said, Arthur validated his thoughts once more; craning his neck a bit to see his cousin being consoled by a very unhelpful Alfred.

He got up from his seat walked towards Matthew on the sofa, squatting down only slightly so that he was at they were at the same eye level, "…I apologize for speaking so harshly with you…" he offered a nervous smile, eyes gentle, genuinely sorry, "you're not angry with me, are you?"

Matthew began to tear up, sniffling as he cried into his sleeve, before tackling Arthur with a hug, "I-I'm n-n-not!"

He would always love his cousin; that, he knew. The only person to ever care for him as a child; he could never hate Arthur.

Traveling back to England – back in time; if Arthur wanted him to, then he would.

After all, the gears of their story had already begun to spin backwards the moment they had walked into that shop.