Rebirth from the Trenches

by MetalCrue

A soldier from the Great War, Artur is transported to Lugnica seemingly without cause. Is this a chance for a peaceful life? To absolve his sins? Perhaps he simply traded one Hell for another. The truth remains to be seen as his decaying mind tries to keep itself together at the seams.

5. Arc 1 - Chapter 005

Emilia and her newfound companion followed the directions that Julius had given them, discovering that the Loot House was surprisingly closer than they realised – this was a pleasant surprise, given the late hour that they arrived at. Only half of the sun remained visible to the pair, the other half having ducked under the horizon by now. The weather remained clear, spotless, not a cloud in the sky.

Artur looked upwards, enjoying the simple delight at the beauty that was the stars dotting the darkening sky. It was a far cry from the sight that he would see in the cities back home, the light pollution serving to blind the masses from the natural beauty that gazed down at them from above. The night sky was one of the few things he took pleasure in over the past few years trapped in hell, the lack of artificial lighting allowing the soldiers a five-star view of the heavens. The escape from reality that he found in the stars was to the degree that he had become intimately familiar with the arrangement of those far away lights, and he had even managed to get an astronomical book smuggled into the trenches.

As if the rest of the things that he'd witnessed today wasn't enough proof to him, it was his gaze up at the stars that cemented the reality as concrete. The stars, their arrangement, and even the light they gave off, were nothing like back home. In the sky that he now found above him, the man could recognise none of the constellations that were familiar to him – there was no Perseus, Corvus, or Caelum. No Aquila, Andromeda, or Tucana. No Lynx. No Carina. The most noticeable absence to him, however, was the lack of his two favourite constellations – the 'sisters', as he had liked to call them – Ursa Minor, the little sister, and Ursa Major, the big sister. He knew it was probably a daft thing to do, to anthropomorphise something as distant and impersonal as stars, but he didn't care. When he gazed up at the Bigger and Smaller sisters, he couldn't help but think of his own, back home, far from the trenches.

Wait, did he even have a family in this life?

What? 'This life'? What'd he mean by that?

Huh?

Before his thoughts could continue down that line of questioning, that searing, tearing pain, that felt as though it might rip his mind apart into a thousand pieces, assaulted his head in an ambush. He felt dizzy, it hurt to breathe in through his nose – his ears rung.

Emilia noticed that the man to her left, who had been listening to her so attentively as she 'yammered on' (as Emilia described it) that, when he didn't answer her question, she took immediate notice. She gazed back up at him, having been taking what opportunities she could to slyly sneak gazes at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

Immediately, however, an expression of worry and concern came to her face as the bearded man flung a hand up to his forehead, a terrible grimace seemingly appearing on his face out of nowhere. His eyes slammed shut, attempting to dispel the bursting flashes of light that assaulted his vision out of nowhere, the different arrangement of lights seeming to remain in constant position despite the spinning of the world around him. Emilia heard no voicing of the pain – other than a forceful expulsion of air through his nose – however she didn't need him to say 'ouch' to recognise something was wrong.

"Artur, are you okay? What's wrong?" Emilia asked, taking the opportunity – selfish though she knew – to place a hand on his arm. The concern was evident in her voice, and she inched closer to the man as they continued their walk to the Loot House.

The man didn't answer her, however – he didn't even hear Emilia, the ringing in his ears far too loud. He was confident that, at that moment, he wouldn't have even been able to hear an artillery shell detonating right beside his head. Slowly, however, as he moved his thoughts away from trying to untangle the misshapen mess that was his memories, and towards the gentle sensation pressing on his right arm, the pain began to subside once more. He opened his eyes, and looked towards the heavenly beauty that was Emilia, being entirely unable to miss the look of worry that was on her delicate face. Slowly, the ringing dissipated in his ears, and he could hear her melodic, bell-like voice once more.

"Please, talk to me. What is it that's bothering you, Artur? Is there anything I can do to help?" Emilia asked, before moving herself even closer to the man, to the point that if she wanted to close the gap any further, that she would find her hip touching against his upper leg.

Emilia's bearded companion, in his slightly disorientated state, and seeing the look of worry on her, unconsciously and without thinking, moved a hand gently against the small of Emilia's back. "I'm okay, lass. Just a headache, that's all." He said, before smiling warmly at Emilia, his eyes gazing straight into her's, causing Emilia's eyes to widen slightly, and her mouth to hang open a little, as her own eyes gazed back into the man's. The warmth spreading from his hand into her seemed to radiate straight up to her chest, and to say she had a strange fluttering in her tummy, as if her own body was trying to signal something to her.

Neither paying attention to their surroundings, or the actions of one another, they simply continued to gaze into each other's eyes. Emilia, without noticing, moved a hand of her own to rest on the upper arm of Artur's that stretched out to graze against her back. Emilia couldn't look away. "I-Is your head okay?" She asked, timidity and concern mixed with something else saturating her voice, not quite paying attention to the words that came out of her voice.

The man nodded almost invisibly, so minutely and unnoticeably that Emilia only noticed because of how undistractedly her eyes remained on him. "Yeah, I'm fine, lass." He said, his voice deep, soothing and warm. Emilia wouldn't be surprised if that masculine voice of his was heated enough to melt butter, smoother than her hair after she was fresh from the bath.

"I don't want to comment on your behaviour just now, Lia, but aren't you forgetting why me and you are here in the first place?" Asked the stern, firm, cold voice of Emilia's floating kitty cat. Almost as suddenly as Emilia felt herself drawn to the man, she realised what she was doing, and an overwhelming crimson arose on her face out of nowhere, spreading from the bottom of her cheekbones, across her nose, and all the way up to the tips of her small, pointed ears. Emilia drew back from the man, despite what her subconscious impulse told her. Queerly, despite knowing it was impossible due to her contract with Puck, Emilia felt… cold when the presence of the Officer's hand was no longer on her back. A heat unlike she had ever felt, left her feeling a chill that Emilia had never experienced before.

Emilia didn't notice the words from her father that specifically, intentionally, explicitly excluded her newfound… companion. Emilia's mind was too much of a chaotic vortex to recognise Puck's words, nor the cold, peeved off tone in them, almost entirely overwhelmed by the cacophony of surreal, inexplicable, unseen-before feelings. Artur, however, did not miss Puck's words. He hadn't actually spoken to the anomalous aberration that seemed to be sentient, if not sapient, with the being seeming to either hide in Emilia's hair, or in the gem that was suspended from her thin, white neck – otherwise known as a necklace.

"S-S-Sorry, Artur, I don't know what I was doing, and I was worried that you weren't okay and that you were hurt because you look like you were in such pain and I wanted to help you but you touched my back and I don't know what I was doing because I was feeling so strange but I was so-" Emilia rambled, the words flowing from her mouth without pause, so quickly that the man who was simply smiling warmly at her couldn't understand anything other than the 'sorry'.

"Sorry, lass, just a headache. Nothing for you to worry about." He said, no sign of fluster or embarrassment in his façade, greatly opposed to the hot mess that was Emilia at that moment. His words weren't a lie – it was nothing for her to worry about. The last thing Emilia needed on her mind was the wellbeing of him.

"A-Are you sure?" Emilia asked, herself calming down from her partially-self-inflicted embarrassment at the man's calm, mostly inexpressive words. Her heart remained beating at a pace that few drummers would be able to keep up with, and her breathing so fast didn't do much to help it. Strangely, Emilia's mouth felt dry, and she felt that fluttery feeling in her tummy, like a bird was doing somersaults.

He continued to smile warmly – not helping Emilia's situation in the slightest – as he gave a small nod. "Yeah. Thanks, Emilia – you're a good friend, you know." He said, not asking so much as stating. He had no idea the impact that the use of that single word had.

Emilia couldn't believe her Elven ears. The man – her companion – no, her friend. He had called her his friend. He had called her, Emilia, the silver-haired Half-Elf, his friend. Emilia, the silver-haired Half-Elf, the girl with amethyst eyes, who apparently resembled the Witch of Envy so much that it had been the bane of her existence, causing her endless misery. Emilia, in what had so far been one of the most stressful and unpleasant experiences in her life, had made a friend, whose intentions had even been confirmed by her father. It was like an earthquake's shockwave had spread over her and shaken the very foundation of her self-perception, wreaking havoc inside Emilia's turbulent, tumultuous, chaotic insides.

"Huh?" Was the only sound that came from Emilia's mouth, her eyes wide, and her mouth opening slightly at the shock she felt from her new friend's casual use of the word – his almost offhand, nonchalant use of it. Tears began to well up in Emilia's enchanting amethysts, tears that moved to the shelves of her eyes that threatened to spill over at any moment. The effect on Emilia, that Artur's proven genuine, sincere words had on her, was perhaps currently incomprehensible to the young man.

"Are you okay, Emilia?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing and lowering slightly, concern of his own now present in his grey eyes. Emilia, attempting to process the word that her first friend used that would alter her life forever, simply smiled a gorgeous, golden smile, causing the warm tears of happiness to spill over, past her eyelashes, and down her cheeks as white and beautiful as a swan.

Emilia's eyes closed, and she nodded as the warmth spread throughout her entire being. Her friend. Her friend. Emilia's friend. "Y-Yeah! I'm absolutely exultant, Artur!" Emilia said, the positivity and elation threatening to burst from her seams. Emilia wanted to throw herself at Artur, to wrap her arms around him and feel the first hug that, as far as she knew, she would ever know. Emilia held herself back, however. She had to be careful. She didn't want to scare the man away, for Emilia knew that he had had far greater an impact on him than she had had on him. Emilia didn't want to lose her first ever friend by being hasty.

The man simply raised his hand to Emilia's soft, angelic face, and wiped the tears away in a tender, soothing gesture, with a smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear it, lass." He said, in his smooth, bassy voice, pausing for a moment, entirely oblivious to his gesture causing Emilia's heart to want to burst. She felt enchanted – Emilia thought that she might never be able to remove her eyes from her friend's own, ever again.

Were it not for the task at hand, at any rate. "Anyway, lass, your strange cat thing makes a good point. Shall we – as a silver-haired, Half-Elf friend of mine once said – vamoose?" He asked, the warmth seeming to brim from the man, and his re-affirmation causing Emilia's own face to grow a smile.

"Y-Yeah! L-Let's start walking faster!" Emilia said, absolutely on cloud nine.

He nodded to Emilia, the smile remaining on his face. "Yeah, you've got me curious to why it's so important." He said.

Emilia smiled back, though it had a sheepish tone to it. "It… isn't really important, really." Emilia said, looking away from the man, a guilty expression threatening to invade her face. Guilt for lying to the man who called her his friend. Emilia knew she shouldn't lie, but she couldn't let her guard fully down. Not yet.

The Officer didn't respond to that, not entirely believing her words – it was important to her, at any rate, but he didn't comment. Puck frowned at the strange man calling him a 'strange cat thing', and the frown deepened at the realisation that his daughter hadn't even corrected the man. Puck decided he would have to have words with this disrespectful mortal man. Unless, somehow, Emilia and the man ended up separated somehow – that'd be absolutely diabolical. A tragic event, even. How would Puck ever get over it?

They arrived outside the Loot House, the building standing out from all the others in the slums due to its significant, remarkable lack of dilapidation and decrepitness. It looked as though the only carpenter or mason in the slums lived here, and for some reason, only used their skill to maintain their own property. Around the Loot House, there were quite a number of dead trees standing, and it made Artur stop to appreciate the somewhat poetic nature of that – how the condition of the trees somehow seemed to reflect that of the environment they stood in. Lacking care, maintenance, and the slightest hint of a loving touch. Had he not become so focused on his and Emilia's task, he might have felt anger begin to rise to the surface at the government that allowed the people of the slums to live in the conditions they did – or for there to even be a 'slums' in the first place.

He knew that, regardless of where you were, there were haves and have-nots, but the scale of poverty on display in the slums was absolutely ridiculous. Perhaps this is how it was in his own world, during 'medieval times' (a phrase he knew was incredibly inaccurate to summarise at least a century of human history). He shook it from his mind, however – though it was an ultimately an important issue, it was not an important issue in that moment.

"Would it bother you for me to do the talking in here, Emilia?" He asked, looking at the face of the young girl.

Emilia smiled, and shook her head. "It reeeally seems like you've got a lot of experience with this kind of thing, so I feel like it would be silly of me to turn you down." Emilia said.

The bearded man smiled back. "I've got a bit of experience from…" He began, almost mentioning the war. He didn't know if that would be the wisest thing to do right now, when they really needed to focus on finding Emilia's gemstone with what little daylight they had left.

Emilia noticed him catching himself, however, and an eyebrow raised in curiosity at what he was going to say. "Hmm? You can tell me! You have experience from what, Artur?" Emilia asked, encouraging the man to open up to her, her curiosity reflected in her voice. Puck had told her that trust was important with your friends, and Emilia was trusting her new friend… although she supposed she hadn't actually told him why she needed the Insignia so badly, or what it was for in the first place.

The man simply smiled however. "I don't think we really have the time to go into it, lass." He said.

Emilia looked disappointed at that, but she knew that what he said was true. "Yeah, I think you're right." Emilia said, pausing for a moment, as a finger came to rest against her lips. "Do you think you could tell me after we get my Insignia back?" Emilia asked.

The Officer thought about that for a second. He didn't know how he felt about that, though he supposed that there was no harm in sharing that with her. Although, it could open up a can of worms he didn't want to get into – if Emilia asked what war, then he was sure that he was guaranteed to have to explain he came from somewhere completely alien. That would probably go for any information about his past that she asked about. Emilia knew his rank, right enough, and she hadn't questioned what he was a Captain of… yet. He just didn't think that she would necessarily believe the truth about his origins if he told her. Hell, he had trouble believing that he was in another world entirely, and it was him that'd done the travelling! He couldn't imagine how the idea would sound to someone he had just met.

As her friend remained silent, not giving her even a nod or a shake of the head, Emilia felt even more disappointed, and a bit hurt. Did he not trust her? She supposed they'd only met today, so maybe that was to be expected, but she wanted her first friend to trust her. Emilia considered whether she was being unreasonable, but Puck had said that friends trust each other, and so she didn't think she was.

He gathered his thoughts. "Maybe, Emilia. It's… complicated." He said, his tone remaining neutral.

Emilia's visage presented a pout in response to that, and her eyebrows furrowed in tandem. "Okay, we can come back to this I think, but you're going to tell me something about you, mister!" Emilia said, part teasing the man, though partly serious.

The Officer smiled warmly at that, and let out a small chuckle. "Hmm, you know, you don't really strike me as the torturing kind, Emilia. How do you plan on getting the information out of me?" He joked back, prompting Emilia's pout to break apart under the pressure of the man's warm grin, and the heat that seemed to come off of his eyes looking into hers.

"W-Well, you know, maybe I'll make you like me so much that you won't want to keep it to yourself!" Emilia said, her smile growing as she realised her teasing had caused the man's own smile to become more prominent. Emilia didn't mean the words, of course, for she was surprised that the man engaged with her at all, never mind that he was fond of her to the minimum that he would call her his friend. Emilia knew she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy this kind of joking around, though.

The man laughed, and with a wave of his hand, he moved towards the door. "You ready, Emilia?" He asked, the upturned corners of his mouth now having fallen to a match the rest of it into a horizontal, neutral line.

Emilia nodded, though unlike her new friend, the happy expression on her face had not departed from her face yet. "Yeah! I believe in you." Emilia said sweetly.

Artur shot her a grin, appreciating the sentiment, and with that, he tried the handle to the front door, however it resisted his attempt to open it. He tried jiggling the handle, pushing and pulling the door, however it seemed that it was locked.

The bearded man turned his head back to look at Emilia. "Looks like it's locked." He said.

Turning his head back to the door, he knocked heavily three times, loudly enough to ensure that even in the furthest corner of the building from the entrance, somebody inside would hear it. As they had already spotted, there were light on inside, so if nobody felt up to answering, he knew that the option was there to try some 'kinetic persuasion' to get the door to open. Not the most diplomatic method, however.

A couple of minutes passed, and as he prepared to knock again, they both heard what sounded like the footsteps of a small elephant echoing through the front door. He chapped lightly again, as a small reminder.

"Yeah, yeah! Shut up, I'm coming…" Mumbled the voice that came from behind the door. It sounded like a deep, rough voice – like that of a smoker who's went through eighty fags a day for sixty years. The steps grew louder and louder as, presumably, the owner got closer and closer the door. The bearded man was genuinely starting to wonder if it wasn't some kind of large beast, though he would be careful of using that word after his conversation about Demi-Humans with Julius earlier…

"For a hangover?" The voice asked through the door, and indeed, it sounded like it belonged to an old man playing chicken with lung cancer.

The bearded man looked at Emilia, in case she might know the meaning of the words, however she looked just as confused as he felt, giving him a slight shrug in response.

He looked back at the door. Artur guessed it was a password that the man was wanting – it was a familiar thing to him. On missions out of the trench, especially on recce missions, the Officer and his men would have a two part password, in order to identify each other as friendly in the event that they were separated, in the hopes of reducing the chance of a friendly fire incident. For example, if Artur had identified a group of unknown alliegance, he would say the first part of the password, and if the group gave the correct response, then he knew, theoretically, that it was his men. He remembered hearing of a Sergeant that almost got court martialled for using one of these that was a bit too close to the bone, where the first half of the password was 'There's no butcher', and the second half was 'like our butcher', in reference to a certain Field Marshal.

Instead of trying to play games, Artur simply rested his hand on the grip of his holstered revolver, and decided to state his intentions.

"Is it fair to guess you're looking for a password?" He asked.

He and Emilia waited for a minute, hearing no response, though Artur could hear the man's quiet breathing through the door – a feat that he never noticed was one he'd have been incapable of less than twenty-four hours ago.

"I'm not looking for trouble, I'm… looking to get something." Artur said – of course, it wasn't a lie, technically. Him and Emilia were looking to get something, just not necessarily from the fence, and not necessarily with money.

He felt a touch on his arm, and turning his head, he saw Emilia with her hand on his bicep, and an inquisitive look on her face. Not opening his mouth to risk giving them away, he just gave her a reassuring smile, and patted the hand touching him with his own. He turned his head back to the door, and awaited a response from the disembodied voice.

"Hm? Should'a just said so, got me standin' around thinkin' I got the city guard at my door. Hold on'a second." The voice said, before the steps moved away the door. Him and Emilia could hear the man moving stuff around inside, with what sounded like wood scraping against wood and drawers opening and shutting. They swore they could hear the man kick something, and swear in pain.

A minute or two passed, before the steps got closer to the door, and a jingling noise could be heard. The unmistakeable noise of key being inserted into a lock, and the turning of said key. A deadbolt being shimmied at, and the sound of metal scraping along metal. Sounded like it could use some oiling.

The door swung open inwards, and the interior was immediately visible to him and Emilia, illuminated by candlelight and, by what Artur guessed, was oil lamps – although the light radiating out from the lanterns looked far too cold-coloured to be an oil lamp, he would have thought. The owner of the voice was immediately the first thing inside that would catch anybody's eye.

He was an older man, Artur guessed perhaps in his seventh decade, and he would consider it fair to say that he was an imposing figure, perhaps made even more so by the fact he appeared to be permanently hunched over. In fact, if Giants were such a thing here, then Artur would have guessed that he had found one. The man must have been at least seven feet tall, a good foot taller than Artur was. He was dark-skinned, blue eyed, and white-haired – or at least, white-eyebrowed. There was no telling what the man's natural hair colour might be, for his head was entirely devoid of hair, with his eyebrows seeming to hang halfway down his face in a curious style that Artur had never seen before.

The man's face seemed to have been put through its paces, and the same could be said for his body, the visible parts of which seemed littered with numerous scars. Despite the man's presumably advanced age, his physique seemed to defy it, with the man possessing large muscles defined by a lack of body fat. The man's primary clothing was what appeared to be the remains of a robe or jacket that seemed as though it had been torn apart by wild animals, and he wore a tattered pair of old trousers that were held up by some kind of sash. The giant man was barefoot – Artur supposed they probably didn't make shoes in his tremendous size.

"Come in, come in. Deadbolt the door behind you, if y'could." He said, walking backwards away from the door, not taking his eyes off the pair.

Emilia and her newfound friend entered, and observed their surroundings. It was a curious place, though neither of them really knew what a Loot House, a Fence's den, would like. To Artur, it looked like a pub that he might've seen before the war. Opposite the front door, there was a brown, wooden counter, in front of which it was lined with barstools of the same material and colour. It was a large interior, to Artur's surprise – although he hadn't known what to expect, he had assumed it would be a small place, for subtlety's sake, however it seemed as though whoever owned the place was loudly announcing 'we're naughty, please raid us'.

There were a number of light brown wooden tables and chairs that decorated the floor of the interior, that could seat perhaps thirty or forty people all at once, and at the back wall furthest away from him and Emilia, it appeared that the establishment's stock had casually been tossed anywhere, no sign of organisation and in full, open view of any visitors. This didn't seem very wise to the young man, considering the clientele that this watering hole most likely predominantly served. Behind the counter, much like any pub that he'd been to back home, there was shelving holding alcohol, but also an assortment of odds and ends, knickknacks, and curios. A golden chalice – though he would suppose that it was, at best, gold plated. A porcelain, perhaps bone china, tea mug. And… was that somebody's Grandmother's knitting? Along the same wall that the counter was found, there was a weapon rack that was, unsurprisingly, displaying weapons. A couple of battle-axes, two or three swords, and a great big bastard sword.

As Emilia and her newfound friend entered, the Giant's eyes made quick work of taking in the details of the two visitors and making a judgement on them, something that Artur didn't doubt was most likely from a history of necessity, if the place they were in was as Julius had described. Now they just needed to find the Rom that the Knight had mentioned.

Curiously, however, the man's eyes spent more time studying Artur's face than they did Emilia's – something that he would've thought would have been the reverse. He hadn't seen a mirror in… a number of years, however Artur would much rather look at the sight for sore eyes that Emilia's face was compared to when he'd last saw his own.

The stranger narrowed his eyes.

"How old're you?" The Giant asked nonchalantly, neither rudely nor politely, though his standing in the middle of the large interior said otherwise to Artur.

"Hm? I'm…" Artur said, before stopping. His brow furrowed. Huh. A small scowl directed at himself came to his face. He looked off to the side, and down to the ground, his mind trying to search for that very basic fact about himself.

"What, y'been drinkin' too much or somethin', son? Take a seat, take a seat, the pair'a you." The Giant said, gesturing to a pair of barstools in front of the pub counter.

Emilia, who had closed the door and bolted it behind them, accepted the invitation to sit – she hadn't sat down since this morning, bar her brief rest when her and Artur were speaking earlier. Before Emilia planted herself down, however, she looked back at her friend, and saw the expression on his face that told her he hadn't heard the man. It clicked, however, as she realised that the young man near her hadn't answered the Giant's question. Emilia walked over to her friend, and tentatively, still not used to physical touch with someone other than Puck, placed her hand on his bicep once more.

It wasn't Emilia's touch that got the young man's attention, nor was it her standing in front of him – no, it was her smell. It was a… sweet smell, delicate, tender, floral fragrance – it reminded him of the smell of an Edelweiss.

But how the hell did he know what an Edelweiss smelled like?

"What's wrong, Artur? You have that look on your face, like earlier." Emilia said in that charming, ear-pleasing, high voice of hers'. He only wished that her voice wasn't laced with the sound of concern and worry. She was such a sweet girl, was Emilia.

Unconsciously, he placed his hand over hers', just as he had earlier. However-

"Your… Your hand's shaking! Talk to me, please. You said I'm your friend, right?" Emilia asked, reducing the space between the pair.

The Giant, who had moved himself behind the counter to give the – what he perceived to be – lovebirds some space, observed surreptitiously. They seemed like good kids, although he wasn't sure if he could describe the man as a kid.

In response to Emilia's words, the young man looked at his shaking hand, and frowned. He knew what that was.

He smiled at Emilia, his eyes now looking nowhere but into hers'. "Oh, the hand. That's nothing to worry about, it comes and goes." He said, before running his thumb over the back of Emilia's hand unconsciously. It sent a shiver through her arm and into her spine, such a delicate and tender gesture from hands so large, cracked, and calloused.

Emilia frowned at his nonchalant dismissal of something that was very obviously not normal. "What do you mean? I really don't think that there's anything normal about your hand oft-times shaking. Did something happen? Did you hurt it?" Emilia asked, genuine and sincere in her concern. It touched his heart – it really, really did, but he knew how to stop it from shaking.

He shook his head, the smile on his face unabated. "No, no, nothing like that. I promise you that it's something that I amn't concerned about." He said.

Emilia bit her lip. He promised. That didn't mean that there was nothing to be concerned about, in fact, the way he phrased it was explicitly that only he wasn't concerned about it. It did ease Emilia's worry, though.

Well, Emilia's worry around the trembling in his hand. Her concern around the fact that he didn't seem to know how many years he was, was still not addressed.

"Why don't we take a seat, so we can talk some more?" Emilia asked. Artur wasn't looking at her now, but again, off to the side, and down at the floor. He bit his lip. Emilia couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside that head of his. She didn't think that he had heard her, and so, Emilia rotated her hand that Artur's was touching, and now that they were palm-to-palm, she took his hand in her own. Emilia tried to suppress the flushness that crept up on her face, which, despite the intimate gesture, remained fairly subdued thanks to her thoughts placing more emphasis on her friend's wellbeing.

Hand in hand, Emilia led Artur to one of the bar stools in front of the counter, where he sat down without realising it. Emilia sat down on the stool beside him, not thinking to let go of the rough, battered hand that seemed to dwarf her soft, delicate, petite one.

The Giant, who was idly cleaning a metal flagon with a wash cloth, looked at the pair sitting in front of him, and couldn't help but reflect on just how odd a couple they were.

"Mmm… weirdfolkeverywhere," he mumbled to himself, nearly inaudible to Emilia, "mmm… Half-Elf… whatever'swi'thisguy… both'a'themlookbroke."

The Giant placed the metal flagon on the counter alongside two others, and, now that the third was presumably clean, he reached down below the counter and held an unopened, unlabelled, glass bottle, with a cork poking out of the top. The Giant lifted the bottle to his mouth, before pulling the cork out with his yellow, somewhat-present teeth, and blowing the cork into a metal bucket behind the counter. He placed the neck of the bottle against each flagon in sequence and filled them to the top with… something. A light-brownish liquid. He slid two of the something-filled flagons along the counter to the odd couple, and sipped from the third that he kept for himself.

"Y'know, y'never answered my question, youngster." The Giant said, his eyes somewhat focused on the Officer sitting on the other side of the bar.

Emilia noticed that the Giant's words clearly never registered with the man who seemed to flood her with heat simply by sitting next to him, and so she gave his hand, still interlaced with hers', a gentle, affectionate squeeze.

The gesture seemed to bring the Officer back from wherever he had been, causing him to look around at his environment, with a slight frown coming to his face. He looked down at his hand, and noticed small, soft, pure white fingers had snuck between his own, and his gaze naturally followed them up the slender arm, and to the face of the fingers' owner. A small smile was present on the girl's face, and with a blink, the man remembered where was. And he remembered where he was no longer.

Realising what Emilia had done, a warm smile came to his face, and he squeezed her hand back, before snuggly fitting their fingers and hands together more closely. It took all the willpower in the world for Emilia not to squeal delightedly at that, allowing only a blush to escape instead.

"Sorry, Emilia, I was in my own wee world there." He said, before casting his eyes over to the Giant.

"Drink." The Giant said, gesturing to the mug in front of the bearded man.

Artur's eyes widened minutely, before looking down at the mug laying directly in front of him on the counter. Quickly, the man picked up the metal flagon, and raised it to his lips, taking a large, gluttonous swig. It tasted almost like cider. Perhaps cider-y would be a better way to put it.

"Sorry, I never asked you your name." Artur said, before taking another large drink from the mug.

The Giant followed suit, before wiping at his face with his un-sleeved arm. "Th'names Rom, although most folk round'ere call me Old Man Rom." The Giant, Rom, said.

Recognition hit Artur's brain, as he realised just how much of a cheeky bastard Julius was. He couldn't help but smile, now only getting the joke that the violet-haired Knight had made. At that moment, Artur vowed revenge on the man. REVENGE!

Artur gulped a large one from the Flagon, and set it down with a hollow clanging noise, now empty.

Emilia's eyes widened as she realised just how quickly her friend finished the drink – even faster than Rom. Concern flashed in her mind, before considering that she was probably just being a worrywart. He'd probably had a hard day. Emilia considered herself to be acting silly, and tried to shake that heavy feeling off. She squeezed Artur's hand, though more for reassurance for herself than the man whose arm attached to said hand.

The Old Man's eyes widened slightly, as well, before shrugging, and picking up the Officer's flagon. He looked over at Emilia's mug, noticing that it was untouched. "Y'not goin'to drink that, missy?" Rom asked.

Emilia smiled, before shaking her head gently. "No, but thank you for the kindness, Rom-san. I don't drink alcohol, after all."

Rom seemed unfazed by this, before shrugging his shoulders, and sliding Emilia's untouched flagon along the counter to rest in front of the Officer. Not a great distance, and mostly an unnecessary gesture, when it was considered that Artur remained sitting right next to Emilia.

Artur looked down at the flagon, and, realising the looks that he had gotten from Emilia and Rom, he lifted the flagon and took a small sip, before placing it back down in front of him.

Rom gave a half smile at the gesture, seeing right through the shorter man. "Y'still haven't answered th'question, son." Rom said.

Artur looked at the Giant, and gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry," Artur said, "it must be the old age. I'm twenty four." He said slightly jokingly, before picking up the flagon again, and having what was larger than a sip.

Rom frowned at that. Not the answer he had expected.

Emilia's eyes widened in surprise slightly as her sparkling amethysts remained on her friend. "Wow, I wouldn't have guessed that you were twenty four." Emilia said, her eyes wandering the man's face a little more intensely, scanning it for details.

The young man put his flagon down on the counter, before looking back at Emilia. "Hm?" He hummed, an eyebrow raising at Emilia's words. "How old did you think I was?" He asked.

Emilia shrunk back slightly at that, and an awkward smile came to her face. She looked down at the counter, and poked and prodded it in embarrassment. The young man whose hand Emilia still held couldn't help but smile at the cute, goofy gesture.

"Well, I wasn't toooo sure, but I would've guessed, em… Forty?" Emilia said, a redness of embarrassment present on her face.

Emilia's estimation caused the young man to have to do a double take at that. His eyebrows furrowed, though he presented an open-mouthed smile of astonishment at the young girl's words. He was silent for a moment as he looked at Emilia, which prompted her to look at the man awkwardly. Emilia felt relieved that he had a smile on his face, even if it was an incredulous one, rather than a frown. She didn't want to upset or offend her friend.

"I don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult." The young man said, before shaking his head in amusement, and turning away from Emilia to take another swallae from his drink. In truth, he took it as nothing. He didn't know what it was about him that could make Emilia think such a thing, though if he had managed to age almost two decades over the span of three years of the war, then he figured that any luck he might have with the ladies around here was probably going to be rare.

Emilia's eyebrows raised as her mouth opened a little. "Ah-ah, a compliment! It was deeefinitely a compliment! I promise it wasn't supposed to be a criticism!" Emilia said, raising her voice, floundering slightly as she realised the hole she had dug herself into.

Artur's eyes saw the redness of Emilia's face as he looked away from his flagon. He was more or less unperturbed, but he had spotted the chance to tease the girl, and not wanting to miss his opportunity, he pounced. "Oh really, Emilia? So tell me, what was it about me that made you think I was forty?" He teased, his free hand coming to relax on the counter.

"Eh- I- I guess, because you act older than you are…" Emilia said, her eyes not able to look at the man for the fear of what she'd see.

In response, the man just chuckled at her, before squeezing her hand affectionately. It wasn't an answer that was unexpected, to be fair, though he had somewhat anticipated that she would say he looked beyond his years. Immediately, Emilia's head turned to look at the man, and a pout immediately came to her face.

"Wait, were you just teasing me there?" Emilia asked, her voice raising slightly in faux anger.

"I'm sorry, you were just too cute not to." He said, his eyes casting back to Emilia.

Emilia's pout disappeared, and immediately an expression of shock appeared on her face, both her mouth and eyes widening as she was taken aback. "Eh? I-I-I thought I told you that sneak attacks weren't allowed! They're banned! Off-limits!" Emilia exclaimed, stuttering through the embarrassment as the heat in her face increased further.

Before either of the pair could say anything further, however, a deep, sincere, bellowing belly laugh came from the man who was sitting across the bar from them. The Old Man had tried to contain it as he listened to the couple 'flirting' (as Rom viewed it) so innocently.

"You two," the Giant said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, "You two, y'remind me'a me an' my wife when we were kids." Rom said, his eyes jumping back and forward between the two.

Emilia's blush intensified as she realised what the man was alluding to, though Artur couldn't help smile at him. "Y-You're such a pudding-head, Artur!" Emilia said, although it was obvious to both him and Rom that there was no force behind her words. Artur couldn't help chuckle further at Emilia's antics, who, despite attempting to look upset, couldn't prevent the slight smile that she seemed to catch from her friend.

Silence descended for a moment. "Forgive the question Rom, but is your wife still around?" Artur asked, before taking another drink from his flagon.

The Old Man, with a smile remaining on his face, simply shook his head at the question. "Nah, my woman's been gone a'long time now, son." The Old Man said, looking at neither Emilia nor the man who asked him the question. "But, she'll always be my wife. Always feels like she's around me, y'know what I mean?" The Giant asked, his eyes looking to the bearded man, who just smiled in response.

"Did you love her, your wife?" Artur asked. Emilia looked at her bearded friend, wondering where the suddenly tender questions came from.

"Y'say that as if that's'in the past, lad. I still love 'er, and that ain't gonna change till I'm in the ground. My woman might be gone, but my love ain't." Rom said, taking a drink from his flagon again, his eyes moving towards the window and peering at the full moon that was now prominent in the sky.

The bearded man matched the Giant's action, and before anyone realised it, Rom had refilled both Artur's and his own drinks. Emilia became a little bit concerned at the drinking, but her attention was mostly at the Old Man's words. Love. It sounded like such a powerful thing, but it was something that Emilia didn't think she understood. Her heart ached a little at the melancholy coming from Old Man Rom's words, and she couldn't help but feel for him.

Artur removed his hand from Emilia's, whose fingers remained tightly interlaced with his. It had only just occurred to him that she was probably confused, or even feeling uncomfortable, because of it, and that was the last thing he wanted to make the girl feel. He took a drink afterwards, as Emilia turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her face as to why he'd released her hand. Emilia found herself suddenly feeling cold, for the second – as far she was aware – time in her life. She decided not to ask him why, mindful of the Old Man separated from them by the counter. As Emilia considered Rom, she couldn't help but ask herself something.

Emilia turned her head towards the Giant, whose own attention seemed to be focused on what appeared to be the heated surface of a wood-burning stove. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Rom-san, but why did you ask Artur his age?" Emilia asked.

The Old Man placed a kettle on top of the stove, before turning his attention away from it to Emilia. "Huh? Oh, just wonderin' if'e fought in the Demi-Human War, is'all." Rom said, before he cast his eyes over to the bearded man.

Emilia seemed confused by this, wondering why Rom would think that. She looked at Artur, who caught her gaze and simply smiled back warmly at her. Emilia realised what the Old Man was getting at, before she looked back at him. A slight frown came to Emilia's face after the penny dropped.

"Hey, that's kind of mean of you, Rom-san. It isn't nice to assume things like that because of…" Emilia said, trailing off, before looking back at Artur. Rom just shrugged his shoulders at Emilia's assertion, undisturbed.

The young man's ears twitched at that, and he looked back at Emilia, and then towards Rom. He was puzzled about what could've given him away to be a veteran. He assumed that this was the first time that Rom, or anyone, would have seen his uniform, so he guessed it wasn't that – although, his uniform was perhaps reminiscent of ones that existed in this world. He didn't know. Artur didn't want to get into it though, at the risk of falling down the rabbit hole of his past, and so he just went back to his flagon, taking another swig. Oddly, he didn't seem to be feeling even a buzz from the cider-y drink now circulating around his veins, though he knew it was alcohol from the cessation of his trembling hand.

As silence descended once more, Artur realised that it was an opportune time to focus on what him and Emilia had come here for. The old Fence seemed to have warmed up to him and Emilia, at least, and what with the drinking that he'd bet had loosened up the man's inhibition, he figured now was a good time.

"Hey, Rom, you've been about a while, right?" The young man asked the taller man who was drinking from his tankard.

Rom looked back with a relaxed expression on his face, before nodding at the question. "Y'could say that fairly, yeah." The old man said, before taking another swig from his mug.

"Well, I was wondering if you know anything about a young blonde girl. A thief. I've heard from a friend that she's supposed to be good at her job." Artur said, surprising Emilia at how convincingly he portrayed, what she had gathered, was somewhat of a character. Although, Emilia figured that it wasn't a lie – after all, she had told him about her.

Emilia wondered if this was part of her friend's plan – to chat away to the Old Man at first for a while, before getting on to asking about the real reason they were there. It really did seem to Emilia like he'd done this more than once before.

The Old Man looked back at him. "Hm? Y'mean Felt?" He asked, before realising his mug was empty, and reaching for another unlabelled bottle, before biting the cork out and firing it into the same metal bucket as he had with the first bottle.

Artur didn't say anything in response, remaining intentionally vague in the hopes that the Giant would fill the silence. Emilia herself felt inclined to say something in affirmation of the Giant's words, however she had told Artur that she'd let him do the talking, and so Emilia kept her lips sealed.

"Mmm," the Old Man hummed, "y'know, she's like a granddaughter to me. Raised her since she was just a kitten." He said, before taking another drink. Rom looked towards Artur, and in order to avoid suspicion, the young man took a drink from his own tankard. What member of the city guard, or a Knight, would be drinking in an investigation? With the exception of Heinkel, the real Deputy Commander as was unknown to Artur, Rom knew that such a thing wouldn't be tolerated, which relaxed him.

"If yer wanting t'speak with'er, she's supposed t'be coming back with some good loot right about now." The Old Man said, before taking another drink.

"Oh, aye?" Artur asked, encouraging the man to continue.

"Yeah, that's right. She told me she had a job t'steal some kinda gem from some noblewoman, somethin' or other." The Old man said, before stopping. "Y'ain't here because you're interested in buying it off'er, are you?" Rom asked, an eyebrow raising as his gaze remained pointed at Artur.

"Why not?" He asked, once again not answering Rom, and avoiding lying – technically.

"Huh. Well, it's just because she was hired t'do the job, so her client's meeting her tonight to collect it." Rom said, as he took another drink. "That said, if y'can pay Felt more for the whatsitcalled than the client, I'd put money on her happily letting you buy it instead."

"Really? Can't imagine that the client would be too happy about that." Artur said.

At that, the Old Man just shrugged his shoulders. "Business is business." Rom said.

"You mind if I ask how much she's been paid to do the job?" Asked the young man, before taking a small sip from the brown alcoholic drink.

The Old Man hesitated, before looking between the pair of them. More than just a few moments passed, before the Giant smiled a little. "What the hell, you're a good couple'a kids. What Felt told me was, was that she'd been promised ten Holy Gold Coins to do the job – to be paid on completion of the job, that is. Y'got a real good chance'a getting it instead of the client for that reason alone." Rom said.

Artur had no frame of reference for whether that was a lot of money or not, and so he looked to Emilia to see her reaction. To the young man's surprise, however, Emilia looked absolutely taken aback, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. She looked towards her friend, and was further surprised at Artur's own lack of reaction.

"Is ten holy gold coins a lot of money?" He asked, his question directed at Emilia.

Emilia recovered from the shock, and nodded slightly. "Yeah! Ten holy gold coins is a looot of money! I feel like it would be fair to say that it's a small fortune." Emilia said, before looking at the Old Man whose expression seemed unchanged, and then back at her friend. "I don't think I know the most, you could surely find out more from other people, but I think that someone could really, reeeally make a difference to their life if you had that much money." Emilia said.

The young man's brow furrowed, and a small frown came to his face. That was interesting. So, not only had this Felt girl been hired, but she'd been hired by somebody who obviously had enough money to spare – as Emilia had put it – a 'small fortune'. His curiosity over the significance of Emilia's thing was enflamed, but he held back from asking any questions from her – especially with Rom standing there. At any rate, Emilia had said she'd tell him about it afterwards, so he figured there was no need to prod.

"Interesting. Felt's client must want it badly, then." He said, his eyes trading gazes with Emilia's own amethysts, before they pointed at Rom. "Out of curiosity, did Felt say who it was that hired her to do the job, Rom?" He asked the bigger man.

Rom looked at the question. "Nah, can't say that she did. In this business though, the less questions asked, the better." Rom said. He raised a hand to rub at his clean-shaven chin. "I'd be surprised if Felt knew who the client was, herself."

The young man nodded at Rom's words.

"I mentioned that the client's meeting Felt here t'night, didn't I?" Rom asked, before looking into his tankard and frowning slightly.

"No, you didn't…" Artur said, before looking at Emilia who had a small frown on her face, before looking back at the large man. "Would you mind if we stuck around until Felt and the Client are here?" The young man asked.

Rom shook his head at the question. "Nah, that's fine." He said, before the kettle began to whistle.

Turning around, the Old Man picked the kettle up by the handle, and poured the boiling water into a ceramic cup. He picked the mug up, before placing it down in front of Emilia.

"Did you make me tea, Rom-san?" Emilia asked, her eyebrows raising slightly at the kind gesture.

"Yes, missy. I don't want t'feel guilty that me and yer boyfriend here are drinking, and you're dry as a bone." The Old Man said nonchalantly.

Emilia's face rouged at that, the scarlet spreading throughout her face, though not rising to the tips of her ears as Artur was so fond of. Her heart skipped as the idea that Rom had suggested ran through her head, and she might have squealed if her breathing hadn't hitched.

Artur, on the other hand, was unfazed, and simply smiled at Emilia's reaction to Rom's innocent words, before taking a drink from his mug. He was starting to wonder if he wasn't drinking pisswater instead of actual alcohol.

"W-We're, I mean… I…" Emilia stammered out, before shaking her head, and placing a hand on her tea mug, raising it to her mouth. As she took a drink of the black tea, she couldn't help but wonder why the warmth in her chest from the tea was so miniscule when compared to the warmth that spread throughout her chest as she pictured the idea that Rom had suggested.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The trio continued to chatter, joke, and gab with one another, and before any of them realised it, about half an hour had passed. The Officer didn't know what time it was, and now that he was entertaining the idea that he could be on another planet, or perhaps some kind of different 'world' or dimension, he thought that it was probably safe to assume that the system of time that he was used to using would most probably not apply.

As they were talking, with Rom telling the couple of a story from after the Demi-Human War had ended, Artur could feel his ears prick. Footsteps. He wasn't sure how far they were, exactly, since he was still getting used to the queer changes to his hearing, however he speculated that it was perhaps fifty metres, there or thereabouts, from the Loot House. Of course, he didn't know if they were approaching the Loot House from such a distance, however as the footsteps grew louder, and what he gathered to be closer, it became clear to him that they were, in fact, approaching Rom's business.

"I think you've a visitor, Rom." Artur said to the Old Man, during a pause in the Giant's story.

Rom looked to the young man, and an eyebrow raised.

"Huh? Why'd'ya think that?" Rom asked, an expression of puzzlement on his face.

"Footsteps. Light footsteps." The Officer replied.

The Old Man turned his head such that his right ear was facing the entranceway, however the only thing he could hear was the fluttering of wings from outside. That was a typical sound this time of evening – blats, or 'vampyre blats' as some people liked to call them. No sounds of footsteps reached the man's ears, however.

Rom turned his head back to Artur. "I don't-" The Old Man begun, before being interrupted by the wooden door rattling with a thud – a thud that repeated itself three times. Three knocks.

"How'd'ya hear that? Hmm." The Old man said, an expression of perplexion. "Doesn't matter. That'll be Felt, I'd bet." Rom said, before placing down his flagon on the counter, rounding from behind said counter, and walking over to the wooden door.

"For a hangover?" The Giant asked through the door, the same schtick he'd given Emilia and the Officer on their arrival.

"Fried rat." Replied the voice from the other side of the door. It was a high voice, and sounded like it belonged to a young girl.

Artur looked to Emilia. "Does that sound like the voice from the girl that stole from you, Emilia?" He asked, causing Emilia to look at him.

"From a moneylender?" Rom asked the door.

"Broken legs and missing teeth." Replied the high-pitched voice.

Emilia, looking at her friend, held a face of uncertainty on her visage. "I don't think I'm sure, to be honest. It's reeeally hard to tell through the door." Emilia said, before she looked back towards the door, her friend following suit.

"For the world?" Rom asked.

"A middle finger." Replied the unseen girl.

The Giant grunted. It seemed to the young man that the girl had gotten the password right all three times, as Rom soon disengaged the dead bolt, and pulled the door open.

"Jeez, Old Man Rom, can't you recognise my voice through the-" began the figure that immediately walked through the door, before stopping as they sighted the odd-looking pair sitting at the bar.

The newcomer was a girl, short at perhaps five foot, with a stride that struck immediately as being brimming with attitude. She had medium-length blonde hair which was adorned with a black ribbon, and crimson red eyes that immediately struck Artur as something that was not only unusual in this world (as pointed out by Emilia) but would have been extraordinary in his homeland, too. He would have guessed her to be around twelve years of age, however despite her young age, she was not dressed in clothing that Artur would've considered to be even remotely appropriate for her age.

The girl wore a black tube top that covered only her very small breasts, and a pair of black leggings, the left leg of which was torn and only covered the top half of her thigh. She wore a belt around her waist, on the back of which, Artur could spot the grip of the knife, and what he assumed to be the blade-containing end of a sheath. A pair of brown leather loafers covered the girl's feet, and a brown scarf that hung low to the ground was wrapped around her neck. He wasn't sure what the purpose of the scarf was – it was certainly not to keep her warm, considering how scandalously revealing her clothing was.

"Wh-What the hell are you doing here?!" Shouted the girl – who Artur strongly suspected was Felt, going off Emilia's description, and the shout directed at Emilia. The girl's eyebrows were raised, her eyes widened in surprise, and her arms were held out to her side in a posture that made her seem ready for flight at the first chance she could.

The girl's eyes then moved to the man standing beside Emilia. "And what the hell is wrong with him?!" The girl continued to shout.

Emilia jumped to her feet from the barstool, and Artur followed suit. Looking towards his friend, Artur dropped his voice to a low whisper. "I take it that's the girl, Emilia?" He asked, such that only Emilia could hear him.

Emilia looked back at him, her expression stern and reflecting determination. "Yeah, that's her! She's the girl that stole my Insignia!" Emilia said, without dropping the loudness of her voice as Artur had, prompting Felt to look towards the girl.

After Emilia and Artur stood up, the blonde-haired girl reached around to her sheath and withdrew her knife. It was immediately apparent to the Officer that the girl wasn't trained to use it – a novice unaware of stance, body weight distribution, and other advanced concepts, would even be able to tell – simply by the girl's grip of the blade.

"Yeah, I stole it, fair and square, and that makes it mine's! Sorry, but that's the rules of the streets!" The girl said in response.

"Wait, Felt, you stole from these two?" Asked Rom, his own eyebrows rising in surprise, whose gaze shifted between the blonde girl, Emilia, and her bearded friend. He struggled to believe the situation that was unfolding before him.

"Well, not that messed-up looking guy, I haven't seen him before. I stole some expensive-looking piece of jewellery from her, though." The girl said, pointing towards Emilia.

"Hey, you shouldn't say mean things like that, you'll hurt people's feelings!" Emilia shouted at the girl, before looking towards her friend. "Artur's a nice man." Emilia said, as a smile came to her face.

The bearded man was nonplussed, though he appreciated Emilia's sentiment, and while his eyes left Emilia's face to look at the Giant and his granddaughter-ish ward, Emilia's eyes seemed to remain on the 'messed-up looking guy'.

"I think we can all be calm and civil about this, can't we? I don't think that anyone here wants to get hurt, and since we all care about at least one other person here, I think it's safe to say that nobody wants who they care about to get hurt, either." Artur said, projecting his voice and injecting the authority, sternness, and maturity into it that he had learned to in the army. His eyes moved back and forth to land on everyone in the room – Felt and Rom especially, but Emilia included.

He gave that a moment to sink in to everyone there.

"If anyone disagrees with that, tell me. Now." He said, his hand moving to his holster, where he unbuttoned the strap keeping his revolver in place. Despite his eyes wandering between every individual in the room, he always seemed to somehow keep one eye on the girl who drew her knife.

Silence remained, however.

"Is that okay with you, Felt?" Artur asked the blonde girl. Though a small scowl remained on her face, she nodded at him.

"Rom? Emilia?" He asked, his gaze bouncing between them. Rom nodded, however, Emilia had a look of surprise on her face. He didn't blame her for that – Emilia was probably taken aback that he was talking to her in the same way that he was Felt and Rom, but he knew it was necessary. He considered it important to appear to be non-biased, in the hope that he could keep the room from turning into a powderkeg with its fuse lit.

Emilia wasn't just taken aback, however – she felt hurt at him asking her. Did he not trust her? Emilia supposed that, if that were true, then it was fair. The effect of her supposed likeness to the Witch of Envy nothwithstanding, Emilia supposed that it would be unusual to trust someone on the first day of their meeting, not to mention her lying to him only hours before. Emilia wondered if he would learn to trust her in time – she truly hoped that would be the case.

After what felt like half an hour, though was closer to half a minute, Emilia nodded to the young man.

Felt saw this, and with a melodramatic, audible sigh, she rolled her shoulders, and visibly sheathed her knife, before walking over to sit at one of the tables. Rom shrugged as he watched his adopted granddaughter pass him by, before turning around to face the wooden door.

While neither Felt's nor Rom's eyes were on the Officer, he withdrew his revolver, opened the action to check that it was fully loaded, and satisfied there were six rounds inside, he closed the action once more before sliding the firearm back into its holster. He didn't re-secure the strap that locked it in place.

Rom walked back over to behind the counter, indulging himself in what appeared to be his favourite hobby, while Felt sat fidgeting. Nervous? He supposed she was justified in that.

Emilia had remained standing, her eyes on Felt, and Artur wondered if it was just him who felt the temperature drop suddenly. The glare on Emilia's face was unlike anything he'd seen on her gorgeous visage so far, and it was an expression he hoped to never have to see again, although even with a deathly expression on her face, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

The Officer moved towards the large table that Felt was sitting at, large enough to easily seat eight people, and lay his rucksack and rifle beside it, before sitting diagonally across from the girl – if Emilia were to sit straight across from Felt, then Artur would be sat in the chair immediately neighbouring Emilia's.

The young man looked over his right shoulder at Emilia, whose expression softened as her eyes moved to his. The ambient temperature of the Loot House somehow seemed to rise back up to a comfortable level once more as the odd pair looked at each other. Following her newfound friend's example, Emilia walked over to the table situating Felt. As the young man had predicted, Emilia sat immediately to his right, and immediately opposite Felt.

An expression of disgust remained on the blonde-haired girl's visage as her eyes wandered the Officer's face, prompting said Officer to look back at the girl with a cold, deadpan look. Not an aggressive, belligerent, or hateful face, however Felt might have preferred such a look than the soulless one currently aimed at her.

"Can we actually confirm you've got Emilia's property before we talk, Felt?" Artur asked. The man was sitting upright, his back and shoulders straight, his fingers interlaced and resting on the table.

The blonde-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I've got the stupid thing." Felt said as she simultatenously reached into a pocket and withdrew the Insignia. It appeared exactly as Emilia described – well, almost exactly like it, as Emilia hadn't mentioned how the gemstone in the centre seemed to glow red – although, Artur figured that it could just be the interior lights reflecting off of it and causing such an effect.

Despite it matching the description however, he looked to Emilia anyway. "Is that it, Emilia?" He asked.

Emilia's expressed seemed to become colder as the thief held property, that they had stolen, right in front of her face. She turned her head to look at her friend, and Emilia nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, without a shadow of a doubt!" Emilia asserted, before looking back at the blonde-haired girl.

Emilia looked at the girl, and realised she hadn't even done the most simple, basic thing she could try.

"Please give me it back, Felt. You'd absolutely be a super-excellently-good girl if you did, and it'd make me reeeally happy!" Emilia said, forcing a smile to her face despite not feeling up to it.

Felt looked somewhat guilty as Emilia put it like that. Artur would have supposed that, if it had made Felt feel remorse, that that it was more so the way Emilia had said it rather than specifically what she said. She had sounded so earnest, so sincere, and so innocent, that it made him want to double-check that he didn't actually have it, just to make his silver-haired friend happy.

"Look, you seem really nice, and who knows, maybe we could've been friends if this hadn't happened…" Felt said, before looking away from Emilia. "…but this is just business."

Emilia' expression turned downcast at that – the thought of a friend that could have potentially be, had events gone differently.

"It might just be business for you, Felt," Artur began, leaning forward and injecting an authority into his voice that made Felt flinch, "but for Emilia, it isn't. For Emilia, it's personal." The Officer said.

Felt looked down at that, the guilt weighing heavier. Artur hadn't expected this – he was starting to wonder if they were genuinely going to be able to guilt someone into reneging on a commitment to a crime. It hadn't worked for him in the past, but then, he supposed we was a divine Half-Elf who was somehow both perfectly beautiful and adorable at the same time. Nor had any of the criminals he'd dealt with been pubescent children – though he got the feeling Felt was younger than that.

"Please, Felt. I could never forgive you if you didn't give it back, but I could definitely forgive you if you did. I bet we could be reeeally good friends!" Emilia said, sounding sweeter than honey.

Felt looked back at Emilia following her words, however she visibly shook her head, as if to physically shake off whatever remorse she had. "Look, I'm going to get a lot of money for this! I'm going to sell this, and there's nothing you can say to change that!" Felt said, a fiery glint in her eye, and a sudden determination saturating her voice.

Emilia looked dismayed at this, and she looked down at the table in front of her, the sadness palpable to the blonde-haired girl.

"Let me tell you, I don't want to steal, but it's the only choice I've got! I'm not some fancy-shmancy noble like you! I either do this, or I starve, onee-san!" Felt said, her tone suggesting that it was Emilia who was somehow in the wrong here.

"I-I didn't say-" Emilia began, seeming to develop guilt in her own features.

"I know that you might be able to just put your hand out and find money there, but life ain't so easy for some of us! For people like me, if we want money, we have to take it! We don't have the option of taking the moral high ground!" Felt said, taking the dominant position in the conversation, and somehow managing to make Emilia shrink down with remorse.

Artur brought his hand down on the table. Hard. There was such force in the strike that part of the wood cracked – though nobody noticed this – and it made both Felt and Emilia jump the height of themselves. They could feel the movement of air from the hand, and Felt's ears were ringing ever so slightly. They both looked at him, as did Rom, though he appeared entirely apathetic to the three-way chat.

The Officer hadn't forgotten that this was a child, but she seemed to have the emotional maturity and cognitive reasoning of a sixteen year old. He began to wonder if she wasn't actually in her late teens, but so small and undeveloped as a result of malnutrition from a life of poverty.

"Give it a rest, Felt. Anyone can see what you're doing." He said, leaning in further, and pointing an accusatory finger at the girl, an expression on his face that would remind some of a disciplinarian parent. If Artur wasn't mistaken, a bead of sweat had developed on the girl's forehead and begun to slowly sulk downwards.

The blonde-haired girl looked uncomfortable as an awkward smile came to her face. She looked off to the side, looking at neither Emilia not him. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, onii-san."

"Don't give me that nickname wank, you know exactly what you're doing. You've seen how kind Emilia is, so now you're trying to manipulate her into letting you keep her Insignia with pity." He said, causing Emilia to look at him, and then to Felt, in shock. Emilia's brow furrowed, and a frown that was sadness incarnate developed on her face.

It had happened again. Tricked by someone who acted kindly so they could get something they wanted out of her. Acting as if her being a silver-haired Half Elf wasn't even worth talking about, as if it were as natural as having two eyes, a nose, or a mouth. Of course Felt would never want to actually be her friend if different things had happened in different ways. She – Emilia – was the spawn of the Witch of Envy. The look-alike of the devil. The mistake on this world that even as imposing a creature as the former Great Spirit of Fire recognised as being a stain in the world's history books.

She'd been letting her guard down since she met Artur, finally finding perhaps the only person to see her as just Emilia, and not as someone with Silver Hair and Pointy Ears who looked like the worst person to have ever lived. But meeting him had allowed her to forget just how cruel the world really is to someone like her.

Was he going to be the only person she'd ever meet to treat her as Emilia, and not a sequel to the Witch? Did even he really see her as anything but the potentially long-distance relative of Satella? Emilia wondered whether she was so desperate for friendship, closeness, companionship and love, that she had deluded herself into believing that Artur was really her friend. Had all the things she'd done today been a mistake? Emilia wondered if she hadn't set herself up for a massive fall once she gained her Insignia back, whether Artur wasn't going to demand an exorbitant sum of money in return, perhaps land and titles, perhaps access to slaves.

But Emilia didn't want to believe that, and so far, the young man hadn't given her the slightest inkling of a reason to believe that. Not after the sincerity, earnestness, and kindness that he'd treated her with up to this point. Emilia supposed that, ultimately, if she wanted to know Artur's true thoughts and intentions about her, that she would have to wait until the moment she believed they would be the most important – the 'moment of truth', as Emilia thought she had once heard someone say.

"S-Sorry, onee-san, that was wrong of me." Felt said, a reticent expression on her face as she looked at Emilia. The bearded man didn't know if he believed it to be sincere regret that the girl was feeling, but if it was, then he knew the girl only needed to hand over the Insignia to prove it.

His mind was thinking of the carrot here. Playing on the girl's emotions….

But he couldn't think of any other carrots. Artur would be damned if he'd bribe the little shit – though he didn't have any money in the first place to bribe her with… although Rom was a Fence, so he supposed that, if it absolutely, unavoidably, somehow came down to it, then he could probably trade some of his possessions for the Insignia.

After all, he had meant it when he said that no-one wanted the person they cared about here getting hurt.

What else could he use as a carrot? He supposed he could offer a favour in return, to be called in as Felt required it, but that was a dangerous thing that. To put yourself into the debt of someone you don't know, and especially this girl, whose occupation meant that she could use the favour to put him into a lawfully vulnerable or morally dubious position. He supposed he could offer her the favour on the condition that she didn't use it for anything dodgy, but he was sceptical that she would even go for it. Felt would be trading a small fortune away, from a position of advantage, with nothing but the word of a complete and utter stranger that they would repay her with a 'favour'.

Perhaps he could offer her his services as a… mercenary. He was trained and armed, so why not? It was another big uncertainty, though, that Felt would even go for it. She didn't know him, and if what he conjectured was right, then his firearms probably meant nothing to the girl or her grandfather. It would be the equivalent of threatening a noble with poverty – they had never heard of the thing, it might as well not exist to them, and so why would they be threatened by it?

So what was left? The stick? Artur immediately recognised how he could leverage the stick in more ways than the carrot. He could threaten to hurt her unless she handed the thing over, he could threaten to kill the Old Man, he could threaten to turn her and her grandfather in to the guard, he could probably set their business alight with all the booze lying around and his lighter…

But he didn't want to use the stick. Not unless he absolutely had to. Whether it was the right thing to do or not wasn't worth even thinking about, because before the argument of morality would ever come up, he knew that Emilia wouldn't like it. Or, at least, he strongly suspected it – if she was capable of self-defence as she had said she was, and yet she let those thugs earlier get as close as they did, he got the feeling that she was holding herself back for a reason. If Emilia wasn't willing to fight for her safety, her life, and her happiness, then he was doubtful that she was going to be willing to fight for her gemstone, and he presumed that that unwillingness most likely extended to how she felt about him fighting, too.

And, ultimately, it was Emilia's property that was stolen at the end of the day. If Emilia wasn't willing for violence to be used in the case of diplomacy failing, then he couldn't dismiss that and trample over her wishes.

He supposed that he could try to deceive the girl out of the gem, and that it technically wouldn't be lying, but it was a personal dishonesty, and in the same family as telling an untruth. It wasn't like he had never used deceit before – after all, an ambush was nothing more than deceiving the enemy and allowing them to believe themselves safe, and taking advantage of that deception, and Artur knew he had led plenty of ambushes. But that was different, in his mind – one was a tactical decision to safeguard the lives of as many of his men as possible, whereas the other was a personal deception that would harm his integrity.

"So, you're not going to hand it over out of the goodness of your heart, then, Felt?" He asked, looking to the supposedly-remorseful blonde-haired girl.

Felt looked back, and that reticent expression disappeared, a scowl coming to rest on her face. She crossed her arms, and, looking from Emilia and back to him, she shook her head stiffly. "No, absolutely not. I'd be absolutely crazy to give away a ticket out of poverty without getting something in return." Felt said.

It hurt Emilia to hear such a young girl speak like that, reflective of the life she didn't doubt had been hard on her. Emilia was further hurt, however, by Felt calling Emilia's previous offer of friendship 'nothing', but she supposed that Felt was right. What value would being friends with a silver-haired Half-Elf have? Absolutely nothing, she knew. That's why Emilia couldn't understand the recent friend she had made. He asked nothing from her, yet Emilia felt indebted to the man. Emilia wanted to believe that it was solely her that he wanted, and not to extort her or gain some benefit out of it, but a lifetime's way of thinking couldn't be washed away in a day.

"Who hired you to steal it, Felt?" He asked.

Felt looked away from the man, blowing some of her hair that had fallen into her eyes from her face. "I ain't tellin' you that. No thief that blabs about their employer gets hired a second time, and that's assuming the employer just decides to cut relations and doesn't get the Assassin's Guild involved." Felt said.

Artur put a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, a silent sigh escaping from him. He understood the girl's position and empathised with her, but she wasn't making it any easier to avoid the Stick approach.

It was then, however, that he'd heard began to hear footsteps approaching, roughly from the same direction as he'd heard Felt's, though these sounded far, far lighter, and beat at a monumentally slower tempo than Felt's had been – whoever this person was, it was though they were walking incredibly lethargically, however the footsteps seemed too light for it to not be an intention decision. Though it was hard to tell, if he had to guess, he'd say that whoever it was might've been about ten metres away. As though they had tried to sneak up to the establishment.

He waited for them to get closer, to confirm they were definitely aiming themselves for the Loot House, and as he did, the person's light, inconspicuous breathing, almost concealed, became audible to him.

Emilia and Felt had been exchanging words as he listened to the sound, though he hadn't taken notice of what was said. As Felt was in the middle of saying something, Artur interrupted her. "When are you supposed to be meeting your client, Felt?" He asked, his voice holding an authority that make the girl stop. The blonde looked towards him, and a frown came to her face.

"Uh, any time around now. Why?" The blonde-haired girl asked.

"It sounds like someone's coming. They're… very quiet. Almost like they're sneaking." He said, a deadpan expression on his face, before looking towards Emilia.

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Felt appeared sceptical, a scowl appearing on her face as she crossed her arms in front of her, having relaxed a little. "What? I can't hear anything…" She said, before looking towards her grandfather figure. "Can you hear anything, Old Man?" Felt asked.

Rom cleared his throat, and gave a shake of his in response.

Not taking notice of the girl's words or Rom's response, or perhaps not caring, the young man looked towards Emilia. "Emilia, this could probably work for us."

Emilia looked confused at that, and tilted her head, causing the young man to smile at the cute mannerism. "Oh, do you think so?" Emilia asked.

The young man nodded. "If we meet the client, it might give us a chance to try and figure out why they hired Felt." He said, before running his fingers through his beard. "Or if it's even Felt's point of contact that actually wants your Insignia." He speculated.

"Eh?" Emilia asked, an eyebrow raising as a puzzled expression came to her face. "Why would the person hire Felt-chan if they didn't actually want my Insignia?" Emilia asked, before her eyes widened slightly. "Unless… Were you thinking that the person who hired Felt-chan, was hired by someone else?" Emilia asked.

Artur moved his head from side to side ambiguously. "I don't know, to be honest, lass. It could be a possibility." He said, the footsteps outside being only a few metres from the door.

Emilia's puzzled expression faded, and she unconsciously brought a strand of silver to her lips, nibbling at the end. "I suppose we can only figure it out when the lady that hired Felt-chan gets here." Emilia said, appearing uncertain, her mind whirring as she considered the possibility that Artur implied. Who would hire a thief to steal from her? And if the person who hired Felt, was themselves hired, then… Emilia didn't know what was going on, but she wanted answers.

The door began to slightly wobble as a light, almost delicate thud was knocked from outside. The bearded man that Emilia directed her words at was about to respond, however his head snapped to face the door. It remained silent after the first knock. He looked to Emilia, and then to Felt and Rom, all of who looked at him questioningly. "Did no-one else hear that?" He asked, receiving only blank looks, and a small shake of the head from Emilia.

The door then gyrated in place, noticeably enough now that Emilia, Felt, and Rom heard it, everyone's attention fixed intently on the door. Felt looked from the door to the strange young man, and her mouth opened slightly as her face scrunched in incredulity. "How… How did you hear that, onii-san?" Felt asked, looking as though she had just sucked a lemon.

The young man just shook his head in response.

Not wanting to waste time, Rom moved from behind the counter, and stalked over to the front door.

"Someone there?" The Giant asked, suddenly sounding somewhat unsure of himself – a far cry from his approach and attitude compared to earlier.

"Yes. I have a meeting with a professional whom I hired, and I believe this is where we agreed to have our rendezvous." Came the voice – it was definitely a woman. The young man wasn't entirely sure, but if he had to put money on it, he would have said that the voice sounded… sultry.

The young man looked towards Felt. "Do you recognise the voice, Felt?" He asked, causing the blonde-haired girl to look back at him.

Felt nodded at him, though she, too, suddenly appeared uncertain. "Y-Yeah, that should be her…" Felt said, pausing for a long moment, before continuing. "Let her in, Rom."

Artur didn't know what it was, but it was as though a wave of anxiety had flooded the room. He remained feeling his normal, however the sudden change in Rom and Felt's behaviour was queer to him. Was there something he wasn't picking up on? He looked towards Emilia, and noticed that she, too, appeared on edge. Emilia's eyes, widened, were fixed squarely on the front door, and though the light was low, they appeared pinpoint – far smaller than they should be to compensate for darkness. He gave Emilia's hand a squeeze, causing her to direct her gaze to Artur.

Emilia didn't know what it was, but it felt like an awful aura was emanating from the door, like the antithesis of good had arrived. She was probably being dramatic, Emilia thought, but she could shake the anxiety that had begun to swell in her chest. Her peripheral vision seemed to disappear as she stared at the wooden door, the door that had sounded almost shy… timid… hesitant to alert the inhabitants to the presence that was outside.

Emilia felt her heart start to beat faster, and her breathing to grow irregular, as the presence seemed to leak through the minute gaps between the door and its frame. She felt… cold. It felt as though she was in a trance. When, like a searchlight in the night that banish, Emilia felt a tender, gentle pressure around her hand and between her fingers, Emilia's eyes darted to its source – Artur. He gave her a smile that was small, but despite how modest its size was, the heat that radiated from it seemed inalienably, unassailably, unchallengeably unbridled, and it was that warmth that seemed to cast that coldness, that anxiety in her, that shadow of evil, back from whence it came.

Though that oppressive aura from the front door remained, it seemed as though, as Artur directed his attention to her, that a glowing aura had begun to bloom out from around him, calmly, silently, and invisibly fighting back against the darkness from the door, and shielding her from its draining effect – whether it was an entirely mental phenomenon, Emilia didn't know. Unable to stop herself, Emilia smiled back at him, the reprieve from the blackness causing her spirits to rise, and the warmth she felt wash over her causing a slight heat in her cheeks to emerge. Emilia felt like the questions she had were infinite, and yet the answers to them were so unfathomably unobtainable. But Emilia smiled wider, warmer, her smile reaching her eyes unlike any faux expression. She realised she would have ample opportunity to ask the man all the questions she wanted, after this was over. Emilia would make sure of it.

Felt didn't understand what just happened. One moment, it felt like she had been thrown over the Great Waterfall, into an infinite void devoid of any warmth, goodness, or happiness. She wanted to run. She wanted to get away. She felt sick, and she felt a bead of sweat run down her forehead, despite the chill that seemed to freeze the air out of nowhere. This was the end. Felt knew it was the end. Whatever she had invited back to her safe place, it was going to hurt her.

Almost out of nowhere, however, she felt a competing force – a heat, a divine glow that seemed to directly combat the darkness. Felt looked towards the direction she felt it was coming from, and her eyes widened when she saw the – in Felt's opinion – strangest of the four. He was looking at his girlfriend or whatever. Felt didn't know what it was doing, and though she couldn't see, hear, smell, touch, or taste it, she knew that the friendly energy was coming from the man she had insulted when they first met.

After everything that happened… Felt didn't know why. She couldn't explain. She just knew that-

But before she could finish her thought, her attention was dragged kicking and screaming towards the door. Rom had opened it, just wide enough to allow a visitor to squeeze through.

"Thank you for allowing me entry. I must say, it was getting dreadfully cold out there…," the figure said, before looking up at Rom, "as you can probably tell." She said, the… sultriness and sensuality she was injecting into her voice being missed by nobody.

The figure was a woman – and she made sure that anyone who saw her knew it. The first thing about her that anybody noticed was her incredibly revealing clothing, a black dress with purple affectations, with a V-neck that descended just above her pubic region. The cleavage of her large breasts, and navel, were fully exposed – as were her hips. It looked as though a light breeze would be all a wardrobe malfunction would necessitate. Her dress featured a pelvic curtain that descended to her ankles, below which were a pair of black stiletto high heels. Though her shoulders were mostly bare, her dress being entirely strapless, wore a black cape which did nothing to preserve her modesty.

Black sleeves, detached from any other part of clothing, concealed all but the top half of her upper arms. Jet black hair adorned her head, and though for the most part it remained shoulder-length, a long, braided ponytail hung down to her hips. Her face was beautiful – sultry and suggestive, with large blue eyes and a beauty mark below her left eye. Despite the beauty, however, there was a hollow emptiness behind those eyes, and it betrayed whatever impression that she thought she flawlessly portrayed.

Before Artur realised it, he had flung his hand to Emilia's hood, raising it up and over her head, just as the newcomer looked over and smiled suggestively at the trio sitting at the table, barely missing the gesture of deception. Emilia let out a small gasp in surprise, and "Eh?" that perhaps only he had heard, and he gave a small, reassuring squeeze to Emilia's hand in apology at the sudden action.

"My, my, my. It seems as though we have a full house tonight." The women said, sex dripping from every word she spoke. Her eyes cast over Emilia first, quickly losing interest as her eyes moved to Artur. A small frown came to the woman's face where once a sultry smile had been, though it did not remain long as she then looked at the thief. "Ah, there you are. I trust you were a good girl and acquired the item we discussed?" The woman asked, before waltzing over to the table beside the trio's, inadvertently putting Artur between the target of said thievery.

"Y-Yeah, I managed to get it." Felt said, before putting a hand into her pocket and lifting up the Insignia, shining for the entire room to see.

Behind the woman, Rom shut the door, though he did not lock it. This bad feeling he was getting… He hadn't had it since the war.

The young man felt a slight probing at his mind as he looked at the woman, though it felt alien to him.

"Ah, excellent, just as promised." The woman said, her faux smile growing larger. It was clear to the young man it was no true smile – her mouth may have changed shape, however here eyes remained cold. Dead. "Then I'll give you the money, and be on my way." The woman said, before tossing a small coin purse towards Felt, landing in the middle of the trio. The young man at Felt's table couldn't help but wonder where Elsa had pulled the coin purse from – certainly no pocket that he could see.

Artur raised a hand, attracting the attention of the woman. "Not so hasty, Miss…?" Artur said, causing the woman to look at him. Her smile remained, frozen on her face like a corpse in ice, however her eyes changed. He didn't know how to describe it… it was as though her eyes held a grimace, despite the signals her brain was sending to her face to smile harder. It was a valuable lesson he had learned – if you truly want to know someone, look at their eyes. He didn't like what he saw.

"Elsa Granhiert, but you can call me Elsa… handsome." She said, her smile twisting. It was like she was mocking him. He felt the pressure around his hand tighten as Emilia squeezed it, prompting him to look over at her. A frown was on the beautiful girl's face, and though Emilia tried to give a small, reassuring smile when she realised the young man's eyes had reached her, it did not convince him.

The young man looked back at the newcomer. "Elsa. I know you offered to pay Felt ten holy gold coins, but did you not question why we were here?" He asked the woman, gesturing to himself and Emilia.

"Ah, I see, so that's it." Elsa said, before looking over to Felt. "You're quite the shrewd little thief, aren't you?" Elsa asked rhetorically, her eyes not remaining on Felt long enough to receive an answer before they returned to the young man.

"I hope you don't mind my curiosity," he said, his bassy voice soothing to the silver-haired girl beside him, "but before today, I never knew there was anyone else after the Insignia." He said honestly.

"Indeed? By any chance…" Elsa said, before a knowing look appeared on her face. "…were you hired to acquire it?" Elsa asked.

Artur gave a wry smile, neither his own nor Elsa's reaching their eyes. "It would certainly be safe to say I'm trying to acquire it on behalf of another." He said, unblinking, his eyes not leaving Elsa's.

"My, my, the games that are played all around us. All above us. Never knowing the other players until the puppet strings become tangled. But I suppose that is the role of us pawns, is it not?." Elsa said, her smile growing, seemingly becoming friendlier to the young man who she frowned at upon seeing for the first time.

He thought back to the war. "I think I can share in that sentiment." He said. "But before we speak about money, I have to ask – who is your puppetmaster?" He asked.

Elsa grinned widely. "What would my employer think if I were to reveal her name whenever a handsome devil asked?" Elsa asked, spreading her hands out theatrically.

"I don't think your employer would mind you mentioning her name. Do you?" He asked, before winking at the girl. Elsa's smile widened even further, though to call it a smile was an insult to happiness. It would be a more accurate description to say that the corners of her mouth had turned upwards, that the muscles in her face were contorted and twisted.

"Hmm, maybe you are right, you smooth talker." Elsa said, before licking her lips, and relaxing the tension in her 'smile'. "Perhaps if you are as transparent as I, I may share her name with you." Elsa said.

The young man gave Emilia's hand one last squeeze, before removing his hand from hers'. He raised his hand, and wagged a finger at Elsa. "Ah, ah, ah. Ladies first, Elsa. Did our – sorry, your employer never teach you manners?" He asked, before lowering his hand, and resting it on the grip of his revolver under the table.

Elsa frowned at his words, though her dead eyes remained unchanged in their expression. Was that the wrong thing to say? Oh well, too late.

"You needed only to mention 'manners' and 'employer' in the same sentence to identify yourself as a… brother." Elsa said, before smiling slightly.

"Indeed." The young man said. Slowly, silently, he slid the Webley from its holster.

He forced a smile that he did not feel to his face, however he said nothing.

"Perhaps I might be earnest then. My employer, as well as you know, is… Mother." Elsa said, her eyes and mouth contorting grotesquely in imitation of a beautiful woman's smile. Artur felt like it would take a million years of staring at Emilia after this, if he was to purge the filth he felt at the woman's gaze.

He slid the revolver sideways, along his leg, before pointing the barrel at the woman.

He smiled harder back. He wondered what Emilia would think if she could see the expression on his face.

"Perhaps I should have known your affiliation," Elsa began, "seeing that everyone else here smelled of anxiety, fear, or apprehension, while you smelled, almost like…" Elsa said, stopping for a moment, and pondering her next words.

Artur pulled the hammer back.

"…death's aide."

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End of Chapter 5

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave your thoughts, feelings, feedback, or any questions in the reviews.

I'm curious to hear your speculation and theories, so please feel free to share them with me.

If you are interested in beta reading, feel free to reach me out on Discord, under the username metal_crue

Massive thanks to Bruh707 on Archive of Our Own for beta reading this chapter! You're an awesome dude.

Reviews

To Comedyy: I'm glad you're enjoying it, which is hopefully as much as I enjoy writing it! Thanks for sharing your thoughts.