Sally watched as Amy—the resident physician, a sign of how dire the straits they are in—and the twin-tailed fox who'd saved her tried to save the little red panda. She remembered that boy, how he'd brought Cixin to her and Amy, and what Vanilla had said of him a few nights later. He will either take the pardon, or he won't. The interpreter had confirmed her fear: rather than remain a thief, the boy had thrown himself in with the Boxers.

She dared not speak; to speak, was to become inconsolable. The boy did not need that from her. She was powerless to do anything except pray. To the astonishment of the old fox questioning the interpreter, she bowed her head, firmly gripped the boy's trembling hand, and did just that. Father, mercy, she prayed, Spare him. Please, spare this boy who doesn't know You yet.

The boy had seized her hand back, as if he were clutching for an oar in the crashing sea. His terrified eyes rapidly flicked between her and Amy.

Mercy, Sally had pleaded silently.

Amy gave the boy full breaths, but they came out as sickening, spasmodic gasps and hiccups. Both of their mouths were soon smeared with crimson, copper-scented spittle. As Amy spat on the floor between breaths, the physician put a stethoscope to the boy's chest, trying determine whether the boy's lungs or his abdominal cavity were filling with blood. All the while, the young fox spoke gently to him. "Did he kick you here? Nod yes or no. Do you feel a strain in your stomach? Stay calm. Breathe. That's it. Did he kick you here?"

Mercy.

The physician, an elderly jackal with dark eyes and a pinched face, had taken off his stethoscope. "His diaphragm hangs on by a thread, likely multiple pulmonary lacerations and contusions." He gave the young fox a gloomy shake of the head. "He might linger for an hour at most."

Spare him, as You spared me. Please. She felt her mouth twisting as the boy's gasps grew shallower and shallower, and more rapid. She forced a reassuring smile as she met his eyes, even though his grip was beginning to weaken. Please, Cixin wouldn't understand. Spare him.

But Shangdí hadn't spared the boy for even an hour: five minutes later, his heart stopped, his grip slackened, and a foul smell suddenly filled the infirmary. To her surprise, she hadn't been surprised. Amy was the one to shut the boy's eyes, as Sally dropped his hand. Swallowing her own tears, Sally stormed out of the infirmary. After a few moments, the old fox followed her out.

Had Amy been younger, perhaps nine or ten like Cixin, Sally would have dragged her back to the British Legation and forbidden her from ever speaking to the Germans again. But she wasn't. Sally went straight to the German Legation gate alone.

Sonic was there with Neubach and Smygwie, questioning them about how the Boxers could have managed to break in and leave so quickly, when he saw her. "Miss Acorn, what-"

"Open the gate," she demanded, "I need to go back."

Sonic blinked. "Back? To where?"

"The city. I'm needed out there more than in here."

Sonic made a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, but Herr von Ketteler has put the legation on lockdown. No one goes in or out without his express permission."

Asking that monster if he would be so kind as to open the gate for her, was the last thing on Sally's mind. "Herr von Ketteler can fuck himself with a fire poker. I'm leaving."

Sonic guffawed. To his complete surprise, Sally punched him in the face, and made a grab for his carbine.

The captain had taken far worse hits from his drill instructor, which was why he didn't immediately react accordingly until he felt her hands on his, trying to wrench the weapon free. Then, Sonic's body acted before he could think otherwise: his forehead slammed into hers and knocked her to the ground. Then he, along with five other German soldiers in the courtyard, leveled their weapons at her.

The old fox saw the whole exchange. He swiftly put himself between Sally and his own five. "Herr Hauptmann, stand down. Miss Acorn." He matched her withering glare with his iciest courtesy. "Follow me. We will speak privately."

She wanted to yell, to weep, to curse, to hit, to do something to avenge or mourn that poor child. But the old fox's simple, sober command checked the grief in her body for just long enough to allow her to think again. "Privately," she choked out, as the old fox helped her to her feet.

When she was in the office of Herr Oberst Prauer, her mind was much clearer. She crossed her arms and glowered at the old fox as he shut the door. "Please, sit."

Sally stood with her back to the old fox's desk, defiant and unmoving. "Am I your prisoner?"

For a long, long time, Amadeus let the silence hang. "My guest," he said firmly, "as is Miss Rose."

"Then do I have your leave to go?"

Amadeus studied her. "You do not. Legation Street won't be safe until the barricades are fully erected. If it comforts you, your echidna companion reports that will be within the next week."

"Our safety is none of your concern, Mr. Prauer."

"I disagree. Your safety concerns me especially. Vanilla-"

"Don't." Angrily, Sally wiped her eyes; she refused to weep in front of this man, this...Old soldier, anonymous donor, Vanilla's secret treasure, and underling of a child-killer. "Don't. Not right now." Then she comprehended what he'd said. "My safety, especially?" The words sent a vertigo-like feeling creeping up her neck and down her back. Her face burned.

Amadeus confirmed her intuition. "Miss Rose confided in my son about what happened to you, the night of my wife's burial. He told me, which is why I sent for you."

They told...him? Him, of all people? Her head drooped with shame. She couldn't look at him. "So I am your prisoner," she said softly.

His hard, analytical gaze bore into her. "I understand, and I am sorry your burden of grief has been increased today." When Sally did not reply, he continued: "Tell me: were you planning to do something like that, when you left? When you assaulted one of my men, perhaps?"

Sally's head came up sharply. "No. Never."

"Why not?"

She hadn't expected the question. She didn't speak: she couldn't, for a minute or so. In her mind's eyes and ears, all she saw was the boy on the table, heard the gasps and hiccups that strangled out any last words he may have uttered. She saw the Peacemaker touch her father's temple. Stay where you are. "I'm needed here," she said finally. "Vanilla wanted me to run her mission. She needs me here, as does Amy."

"Dutiful to the last," Amadeus allowed. "If you later conclude that they don't, what then?"

She remembered Amy and Knuckles's reaction to seeing her alive; the desperation on Vanilla's face when she'd told Sally she wasn't ready; Cixin's little smile at the thought of Christ giving his eye back; and the little red panda. Stay where you are. "I'll find someone who will," she said quietly.

Amadeus's eye narrowed as he considered her. Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw on her face, his own features softened. He then said: "Ketteler will answer for this. You have my word on it."

A hard knock at the door, and Sonic's voice. "Herr Oberst?"

Sally watched the old fox halt the spasm of rage that threatened to cross his face. "Can it wait, Herr Hauptmann?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Amadeus turned back to Sally. "Ask for Mei: she'll see to your arrangements. I will see you in the officer's mess with Miss Rose tonight." With that, he went to the office door and opened it.

Sally's reply was curt: "Thank you, Colonel." As she brushed past Sonic on her way out, she felt the grief rise up her throat.

Amadeus returned Sonic's salute. His voice came out a low, clipped growl, sounding more like a panther than a fox. "What do you have to report, Herr Hauptmann?"

"Ketteler's interpreter ran off."

"'Ran off?'"

"He jumped the wall during that little drama in the yard. Kosschorreck spotted him running the way the Boxers had gone.

"Bloody fools, him and Kosschorreck. Put the lad on the stables." Worse, and worse, Amadeus thought. Any slim hope of keeping a lid on this ugly affair was gone now. Damn you Ketteler, you ape, you pig. You may have gotten all of us killed today. My daughter, my son, Amy, Miss Acorn... Amadeus banged a fist on his desk and kept it there, and it trembled in its place. Slowly, flatly, he said, "I trust that you sent out men to look for him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Resume your duties." When Sonic didn't immediately turn on his heel and leave, he asked: "Do you have more uplifting articles of news to add, Herr Hauptmann?"

Sonic went straight to the point. "What are we going to do about Ketteler?"

Amadeus paused. "Good question." He looked around his office, as if the answer were lying around like a forgotten pen.

Sonic persisted. "Surely this is grounds for an arrest."

Amadeus gave Sonic a long look. "Qing law doesn't apply on legation grounds—wars were fought over our extraterritoriality rights and none of us are going to give those up—and his position keeps him well-protected from prosecution via our own." he said, half to himself and half to Sonic. He began to pace methodically back and forth across his office. "I suppose we could tell the Foreign Ministry about what happened, get the Kaiser involved, then try to lobby for his dismissal..." he said, with both of them aware of how much of a longshot that idea was. Only five years ago—to Miles's bewilderment and Amadeus's consternation—did their Kaiser invoke the fear of the "Yellow Peril" in international circles. As they saw it, Wilhelm II wasn't likely to come to their corner.

"But the telegraph lines are still down, aren't they?"

Amadeus walked over to a bookshelf adjacent to the door, pulled out a diary, and retrieved a pencil from his desk. He then flipped through the pages until he discovered a blank one. "Yes, they are."

Sonic thought for a moment on what was within their power to do, even as he wondered why Amadeus was writing in a diary of all places. "I could still keep him out of the way until then," he offered, "convince him that the lockup would protect him better than his office."

Amadeus shook his head as he wrote. "He'll want free run of the Legation at least. So long as my wife's colleagues are present, that is a recipe for chaos and disaster; I fear this ugliness is merely the first of many." He showed the diary to Sonic, who read it. The Qing will learn of this, if they then hear we've moved Ketteler to a secure location, the Empress may see it as us trying to shield him from repercussions.

Amadeus offered Sonic the diary and pencil to continue this unspoken discussion. Sonic spared a glanced back at the door behind him before he carried on. "'Your wife's colleagues', is that all these girls are to you?" he mused outwardly as he wrote and then presented his response: If she hears. That's a big if.

Amadeus took hold of the diary and wrote back: Not as much as you think. If we don't find the interpreter within the hour, he's as good as lost. But regardless of if he is found or not, we will still do nothing. Verbally, he replied: "No. They're much more than that."

Sonic looked puzzled as he read the message and wrote up his own. "What are they then?" he said while showing the page: If she hears that we've done nothing, she'll have the perfect excuse to wipe the Quarter off the map.

"My wife saw them as the children she never had. I can't help but think the same of them." We can't be the ones to punish Ketteler. I have a plan. You need to trust me. Sonic took notice of the underlined "We" and nodded before Amadeus tore out the entire page and stuffed it into one of his pocket. "Tell Ketteler that I wish to speak with him, and then inform my son that he's relieved of duty for the day. His confinement to quarters is hereby lifted."

-burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Bur-

The judge's voice. "How much does that one rate?"

"A silver, if you can catch him," the brothel madame replied.

The boy was three hours dead when Tails found himself in the officer's mess. After Sonic had informed him of his father's orders, Tails had gone upstairs in search of Amy. To say what, he didn't know: to apologize? To comfort? He sensed that opening the conversation that way would only sting the girl to anger. She didn't need that now. Tails had knocked, not know what to say, but Amy made up for ihis tied-up tongue: "Go away," she'd said.

The brothel madame crossed her arms. "Do you know how ugly you look when you cry, boy?"

So he did. He went back downstairs, found a cask of good doppelbock behind the bar area, and poured himself a glass. Instead of drinking it straight away, he'd pulled out a cigar Sonic had traded him for a bag of candied peanuts; most of a small matchbox went into lighting the damn thing. Now he stared into the dark, somewhat warm beer, watching the thin line of creamy brown foam that clung to the edges of the glass slowly dissipate. Oaky tobacco sat heavy on his tongue, mixing with the smell of oats and caramel released by the dying foam.

Tails bit back the bile as he spoke. "Surely the university could fix him?"

The jackal shaking his head. "No point. He might linger for an hour at most."

You will burn.

Finally, Tails lifted the glass to his lips, and he sipped. The sip turned into a swallow, and before he knew it the glass was empty. He heard Amy through the boards on the floor above him, screaming into a pillow.

Wesreidau chuckled blackly. "So we're outgunned."

Tails smiled. "It's at least a fair fight."

Deep breath in, slowly out; in, then out. Then another smell.

Bloody spittle and burning tea. Ashes. Carbonic acid. The boy's bowels releasing on the infirmary table.

His little sister awoke in the crib in his father's quarters on the opposite side of the hall, and began to wail. Over the past week, Tails had realized that it wasn't the same wail for every need: when hungry, her cry carried a piercing note, as if she were in terrible pain; when soiled, she sounded more plaintive, even disappointed; and when she simply wanted to be held, she sobbed and keened relentlessly, aggressively, until someone picked her up.

He listened.

-burn. You will burn. Don't even think about it.

Tails blinked. About what? he wondered.

You know about what.

He frowned in thought. Judging from the mournful note of his sister's cries, alongside the faint smell that touched his nose, he realized what his sister needed. He stood up.

Don't.

He ignored the impulse to stop. A few days ago, Amy had shown him how to change a diaper, and he'd gotten the general idea quickly enough: all that he'd needed was practice. He went outside to grab two pails, filled one of them with well water, and then brought them to his father's quarters.

Don't don't don't don't don't-

Deep breath, in; exhale, out. He found the "baby bag" his father had assembled under the elevated crib. He then took out four terrycloths and a bobby pin.

DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T-

Tails dropped two of the terrycloths into the water bucket, which had grown lukewarm in the baking heat. He gritted his teeth as he undid the diaper. Breathe in, then out. His nostrils flared at the gagging odor, and he felt the warm beer he'd just swallowed threatening to come back up. He paused, hands frozen as his little sister fretted and wailed.

Miles. Relax.

The thought sounded somewhere between his own voice, Sonic's voice, and his father's. What would his father have said?

You can stand blood, can't you? This is nothing next to that.

And suddenly, Tails was calm, his nose clear and his mind focused. He dropped the used diaper into the empty bucket, and cleaned his little sister as gently and thoroughly as he would clean mud from a deep cut. When he was done, and had just pinned a new diaper together, a minor difficulty arose: Sahne fell silent for a few moments, before the smell returned, much stronger now. Her wailing started up again.

Tails had to laugh. "Kleine Scheisse. You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Sahne quieted and looked curiously at her big brother, apparently confused by his laugh.

He grinned and wagged a finger at her, unconsciously mimicking the brothel madame whenever she'd given him a scolding. "Just wait until Vati hears of this," he warned, gently placing a hand on his sister's stomach, "he'll be so grumpy, he'll tickle you!" He sent his fingers scurrying up and down his tiny sister's torso and armpits, causing her to squeal with laughter. "Here, here, and here!"

Amid her laughter, she suddenly coughed. It wasn't a loud cough, nor did it rattle, but it was enough: it sounded exactly like the last few hiccuping breaths the boy had taken. The red panda's death crashed over him, and Sahne's laughter turned to a pleading whine as he slowly withdrew his hand. The whine quickly faded into silence. Just as he thought his sister would stay mercifully silent, she started crying again.

See what you've done?

That's not-

If you'd waited-

God damn it, babies cry, that's all-

IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A DISGUSTING LITTLE-

"Tails?"

Tails turned to see Amy in the doorway behind him, red-eyed and visibly fighting with all her strength to keep a smile on that tired face. He offered back a slight and shaky smile of his own. "Hey," was all he could say. It was oddly impotent, and worsened his resolve. To his relief, he saw that she was still wearing his belt, instead of chucking it into the street like he'd feared she would. "I was just-" The words caught in his throat.

-BURN. BURN. BUR-

He vaguely indicated the buckets and forced out a light chuckle. "She wanted a second change, I suppose since the first wasn't amusing enough."

Amy sniffled but managed to form a grin, a genuine but small one, as she drew nearer. "She does that. Just when you've gone one mile, she'll want a second from you." She gently guided Tails away from the baby bag to draw out more terrycloths. "Why'd you stop? She sounded like she was having fun."

""It's not-" he cut himself off, and began again: "It seemed wrong after..." he started, but fell silent once more. After what Ketteler did to that boy...

Even if the little red panda had survived, what Ketteler did was still a terrible injustice. The boy was the enemy, true enough: but even the enemy deserved certain dignities and protections outside of battle. Wasn't that why the Geneva and Hague Conventions were created in the first place?

Amy glanced at him with concerned curiosity, but to his relief didn't ask any further questions. Instead, she removed the pin holding Sahne's diaper together, unwrapped the baby, and dropped the filthy cloth on top of the old one. "It's not your fault." she said after a moment, "I'm the one who ran into him, made him panic. He must've bumped into your boss after that, more focused on what was behind him instead of what was in front."

That was all true, or at least sounded so. None of it eased his conscience, nor indeed soothed his soul. As despicable as Ketteler's actions were, Tails couldn't imagine a world in which the porcupine would've done anything different. But Ketteler wasn't the only one to blame for the boy's death: another person shared responsibility here, as a dog's owner is held responsible for the mauling of whoever his dog had attacked.

And as he saw it, who that other person was, was obvious.

It flowed as surely as the Rhine into the North Sea. He had crossed Ketteler, and Ketteler had taken his rage out on the boy. And as for his father's part in further enraging the porcupine, Tails was confident that it all stemmed from a desire to shield him, his son, from Ketteler's fury. It all came back to him.

You useless half-breed mongoloid bastard. Fire is too good for you.

Thoughts of rushing water inundated his mind, though whether it was the Hai He or the Elbe he couldn't begin to tell. The tide brought the kitsune girl and the little red panda with it, the girl spinning and falling and the boy wheezing, choking, drowning in his own blood.

Verily I say unto you, it would be better that you be cast into the sea with a millstone tied to your neck.

Burn or drown, sink or scorch, what's the difference? Sodom and Gomorrah were just as gone as all those not aboard the Ark.

"It's not going to help." Amy said, which dragged him from rivers, floods, and ancient cities back to the present. He saw that she was already finished with Sahne and he realised how long he was zoned out for.

"Huh?"

"Chewing on it. It's not going to help. All you'll do is go through it in your head, over and over again. Nothing new will come, and nothing real will change."

"If only it were that simple."

"It is."

"No, it isn't. I can't ignore it, and I know that you can't either."

Amy turned, the redness of her eyes much more visible at this close distance. He prepared to hear her say the obvious: I didn't say to ignore it.

"It's not your fault."

He blinked. "What?"

She returned her attention back to Sahne. "You didn't ki-…" She made a face, as if she'd tasted something acidic and bitter. "You didn't do that to him."

"I didn't say I did."

"You didn't have to."

Tails didn't respond and instead looked Amy over as she tended to his sister. It was a surreal sight, to see that such tender care came from a woman so wounded. There were flecks of dried blood stuck in her quills, and though the raw stitched flesh of her scalp was covered by said quills for the most part, at this distance they were visible if one looked hard enough. Her left arm was quite bruised and scraped up, but not to any serious degree. While he believed her wellbeing worth asking about, it was also a welcome diversion from where their conversation currently stood. "Does it still hurt?"

Amy gave a soft snort, finally pinning the new diaper together. "Yeah, it hurts. Will for a while. Glad to see those fancy German universities are all they're cracked up to be."

He looked off to the side out of embarrassment as they both began to wash their hands with the remaining soap and clean cloths. "Right, stupid question."

"Don't worry. We all get our allotted amount, even you Lutherans."

"Calvinist, actually." he said as he looked back at her. She did the same, her eyes widened somewhat which further revealed the apple green irises, and her mouth curled from a grin to a smirk. He already knew, but it hit him once more how pretty she was. He mirrored back the expression.

"A German following after the ideas of a Frenchman? Does your da know of this?"

"Considering he raised me Calvinist, I'd say probably."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I am a lawyer's son." In truth, Amadeus had been a referendar before joining the army, a sort of legal apprentice that performed the legwork that real lawyers and judges couldn't be bothered with. Tails didn't feel the need to explain that distinction, as nobody outside of the lower Prussian bourgeoisie seemed to understand or care.

"Your da's a lawyer?" Her snort was a hair louder. "And here I was, just beginning to like him."

She'd meant it lightly, he knew that on a rational level. But the remark had stung nonetheless, and he wasn't sure why. He disregarded the sting and turned his attention to Sahne. "Well, she's awake now. Do you want to hold her and I take care of the pails, or the other way around?"

"Oh there's no need. Watch this."

Amy leaned over and took Sahne into her arms. The bunny cooed as she was lifted from the crib and into the hedgehog's bosom. Amy hummed a melody that pleased both him and his little sister's ears, a tune well-known to him: "The Song of Palestine." Centuries ago, Prussian nobles, knights, and peasants alike would sing it as they made the long pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Amy didn't know the lyrics, but he did.

The desire to reach out and rest his hand upon Sahne's head came to him, but fear and other thoughts kept it inside; instead, he watched and listened silently as a newfound smile came to his face. This time, it was't at all forced.

Narcotic and sweet as honey laced with morphine, Amy's rendition of that ancient melody sent Sahne back to sleep, her warm brown eyes closing in peace. Amy looked over to him with a smile of her own. Unlike before, there was no fight or fire in this one. It was a simple thing. "And there we are." she said before she lowered Sahne into the crib, where she remained asleep. They shared a nod and each grabbed a pail. "Now, mind showing me where all this shit goes?"

Her casual profanity caught him off guard, and flustered him. "Er, not around her please."

His request made her realize her faux pas and she brought a hand to her mouth. "Sorry!" she whispered. He nodded and raised a hand to let her know she was forgiven before walking off, gesturing to follow. Once they were far enough from Sahne to not risk waking her, they spoke once again.

"How are you so good at that?"

"Well, there was a time when whether or not I'd eat that night, depended on how much people felt like giving me money. I played music to help with that, and singing alongside always brought in more-"

"I didn't mean your voice."

"Oh, right. Uh… I don't know. Not much I can say besides it comes naturally; I just do what feels right."

That answer wasn't much help to him. Figuring what felt and what was right was exactly the issue. He thought back to earlier, when she said to not think it over. He didn't understand how anyone could do that. "...You said I didn't have to say it, that I thought I killed that boy."

It wasn't a question, but as Tails didn't continue, Amy felt obligated to answer. "...Yes, I did."

"Then you said that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't do it. You sounded so certain. Why?"

"Why? How 'bout the fact that you weren't the one who beat him to death?"

"But I'm the one who put him in the same room with Ketteler in the first place. Your chipmunk friend-"

"Sally."

"Sally, the one I saved from the fire, if I wasn't there, she would've died. Horribly."

"That wouldn't have been your fault either."

"But it would be of the Boxers who stuck her in there, wouldn't it?"

"People aren't smoke or flames."

"So you agree that the Boxers would be at fault then, right?"

"Yes. But I also know that you can't compare people to fire."

"Why not?"

"Fire doesn't make choices, it doesn't decide to kill anyone. Ketteler made a decision, he chose to kill the fucking kid, not you."

"You don't know Ketteler. I do. He's not as different from a fire as you may think. For him, there was no choice. He was always going to savage that boy. He's a stubborn and intractable fool who's only in the position he is because of who he knows. The only thing that could've gone differently is whatever I did."

"As well as whatever I did. He ran away because he saw me, remember? Do you think it's my fault?""

"No, of course not! But the only reason he saw you was because I sent you downstairs. If I hadn't-"

"I would've had me head caved in by one brick, instead of bashing it against a wall of 'em. We can do this all day, but at the end of it you need to be concerned with your actions, not others."

Her defense of him and his actions was irksome from the start, but now it became intolerable. Thoughts of those kids stabbed his mind. Abruptly, he stopped and turned to fully face her; she did the same. "What, you think that just because I didn't deal the kicks or pull the trigger that my hands are clean? That's not how it works! The fact is that both of them are dead, because of me! Because I didn't do the right thing; because I don't even know what that is until it was too late!"

Her head tilted ever so slightly as she asked what anyone else would. "Who's 'them'?"

Her simple words stunned him into silence. He had no idea how he let it all slip, let alone how to answer that question. His mouth hung open as if words would find their way out, but there was nothing he could say. After a moment, he closed his mouth tight into a frown, seized the pail from her hand quick enough to stop her from holding it, and began to walk away. "I'll handle this, alone. I'll see you at dinner."

"Tails, what-"

"I said, I will handle it myself."

Once again, thanks to all of you who've been reading and providing feedback, and a special shout-out to Archon of Athenai for helping me conclude Act 2! I have no idea where I'd be without you guys!