"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!"

As Andy opened his eyes, a bright white light assaulted his sight, the morning sun seeping in through the open windows. The three men from last night were all standing around his bed, clad in raggedy tactical gear and light armor. Gin tapped the boy on the forehead and spoke up again, using that same overly sweet voice.

"C'mon princess, the early bird catches the worm, right? And we've got some bugs to catch and cargo to move! We'll be waiting for you outside, don't forget your rifle."

And with those words, they left, Shine giving a wide, silly grin along with an energetic wave, and Bourbon shooting him a surly glare.

So this was really happening. Moving cargo with a bunch of ragtag mercs. Sarkaz, no less. Same kind of people who ripped apart their outpost and sent both Droz and Ricketts six feet under. Or, have they? Their corpses probably haven't had the chance to be properly taken care of, not in this place. Not a single one of those bloodthirsty brutes would ever think about giving a sankta their well deserved funeral. Droz got a little ceremony of his own, but Ricketts? The ones who took the outpost might've found his body... And if they did, they probably burned it or strung it up somewhere near the outpost for everyone else to see. A sign for anyone stupid enough to approach and try to reclaim the damn thing.

Andy shuddered at the thought of his late guardian angel being used as some cruel precaution, like a lifeless puppet hanging from some flagpost. Just to take his train of thought off this dreadful track, he hurriedly threw on the last layer of his attire and left the room. Passing by the bar downstairs, he noticed just how quiet and cold the entire place seemed to be now, that the ruckus from yesterday was nowhere to be seen. With no patrons around and the icy light trickling into the interior from outside, the place was enveloped in an incredibly unwelcoming mood, sending icicles down his spine.

"Shh! Shh. Hey, Andy!"

As he made it outside the "DEVIL'S HEEL", Andy was immediately welcomed by a completely white smokescreen of thick, milky fog and the charming man shushing down his comrades. There was a large, hound operated sledge filled with crates standing right by them, with no beasts around to man it. The aforementioned "less than legal contraband", he reckoned.

"Hey. We're setting out like this? In this weather?"

"Uh-huh! Don't worry, though, I'm a master navigator! As for the sledge, we're not gonna make you wear a collar and drag it around, that's Shine's job, so no worries here either."

Both him and the tall strapper gave a heart chuckle, seemingly content with the way things were. Bourbon seemed less than amused, nervously checking his watch every few seconds.

"We're already fifteen minutes late. Should've been somewhere around Uri's Creek by now. Plus the fog, that's just…"

"Yeah, well, shit happens."

A sly grin stretched on the Gin's face as he gathered his navigating tools and let out a lengthy yawn.

"But since we're all here already, I guess it's as good a time as any to set out. Anyone, objections?"

Shine raised his massive arm in an attempt to interfere, but was quickly shushed by Bourbon.

"No, no objections, morons, let's just leave already!"

And with that, they set out. Down the snowy main road they went, catching the glances of any devils going on about their daily morning routines. The little town seemed so full of life, with sarkaz men and women hanging out on the patios, giving the mercenary group bored looks and immediately going back to their lively conversations. With various fowl serenading the four from an unseen distance, they made their grand exit and set out into the North Kazdelian wilderness. Andy kept wondering whether he was making the right choice here, going Law knows where with a bunch of complete strangers. Armed strangers, even, dragging him deep into a fog thick enough to be cut with a knife. There wasn't much use in overthinking now, though, as the town had already disappeared far beyond his sight.

The most he could do now was get to know his newfound comrades a bit better.

"Gin?"

"Hm? What's up?"

"I guess it's a bit late to ask, but, uh… Did any other sankta show up after I was, you know…"

"After you got hammered and almost passed out? No, nope, no one showed up. Come on, Andy, I would've said something if someone came looking for you!"

With a cheerful snicker, he gave the boy a thorough look-over, his eyes lingering on the rifle on his back for a moment too long. Amidst Bourbon's comically small crossbow, Shine's oversized sword and Gin's lack of any weapon at all, Andy's bolt action seemed like the most powerful life taking apparatus of the four. It was only natural that the mercs would be so fascinated by a real Lateran gun, right?

"Say, you any good with that rifle?"

Gin started casually, focused on operating an old looking compass.

"Pretty good, yeah. I've had a bunch of training."

"Ah, training! Of course, being an army man and all…"

He sped up a little, catching up to Shine and tapping the sledge dragging giant on the shoulder.

"Bud, we're swaying a bit too far east. Keep her steady, hm?"

The strapper simply nodded and corrected his direction, his massive boots thumping dully through the frozen snow. Andy couldn't help but wonder.

"... So, um, how did you three meet?"

"Us three? Well, there ain't much of a story to our trio! Just the right place at the right time… Like you, Andy. I mean, really, hadn't it been for me, you'd be lying dead in the snow by now, ha!"

A few girlish giggles came from the young man's mouth, quickly followed by a dim sigh.

"But that's that. No fancy stories, no grand meetings. Just pure coincidence."

"Uh-huh… And where exactly are we headed?"

Upon asking this exact question, Andy felt a spike of anxiety deep within himself. He probably should've asked questions like this BEFORE they settled out into the foggy wild.

"Oh, a decent merc town, Svaveni. Got all the necessities you'd expect from one, and… Well, yes, it ain't no Scar Market, but there's a nice little flea mart. Real fancy, I bet you'd find something for yourself there."

"Uh… Do they sell, like, tickets to Laterano?"

"Tickets…? OH, right! Of course they do. Of course…"

Andy couldn't help but feel uneasy by the man's answer. Then again, could that bright, charming smile really be lying straight to his face?

"And… Do they have phones there? Or telegrams? Or a post office?..."

"They've got everything you'd ever need, trust. Actually, why don't you chat with Shine for a bit, huh? I'm sure you two will find yourselves to be on the same wavelengths, you charmers…"

With his compass in hand, Gin hurried off to join Bourbon up front, their silhouettes becoming blurry in the fog's embrace. They immediately started talking in hushed voices and whispers, making Andy annoyed, as it was rude to speak in such a manner when in the presence of a larger group.

"You, angel."

The giant spoke up for the first time, addressing the boy. Despite his incredibly well built frame and rather threatening appearance, there was no disdain in his deep voice.

"Yeah?"

"You shoot guns, yes?"

"Uh-huh."

"You shoot guns, good?"

"Pretty good, I'd say."

"How good? How good is "pretty good?"

He was very inquisitive, with genuine curiosity painted over his confused expression.

"Uh… I can nail a bullseye at, say, four hundred yards."

"Four hundred…"

The laborer let out a small, impressed whistle.

"That a lot?"

"Well, yeah?"

"How long is four hundred yards?"

"Uh… Quite long."

"Quite long…"

Again, another whistle.

"You must be greatest shot in White City, huh?"

Andy felt himself blushing at his words. For a sankta, getting complimented on their aim was an honor of the highest degree.

"Not the best at all, I'm just… Kinda average."

"Kinda average… So best shots shoot farther than four hundred miles?"

"I guess so?"

"Huh. That's why we leave White City alone. No plundering, no raiding, not under our King. She's wise, she knows best…"

They kept on walking, arduously dragging themselves through the empty desert of snow, passing the occasional patch of woodland here and there. Pure, white snow and fog, nothing else. Not even a single sign in sight, no indicators of direction, not even a road to follow. Just snow. Unending, endless snow. His knees grew weak from the exertion, mind begging for rest. But he couldn't just ask for it, obviously. Ask for a breather and, what, make himself look like a sissy? A weak, frail little angel? That'd just prove all the stereotypes the sarkaz have made up about them right… But then again, a minute or two, just a few moments to lay down on this soft, fluffy snow, a second to gather his strengths, to drop that heavy rifle off his back and relax for just a jiffy…

"Whew, sure does take a toll on one's legs, huh? How 'bout we take a little breather, fellas?"

Andy snapped right back to the moment, focusing on their charming leader's words. A break?

"Fine. We can spare ten minutes."

Bourbon chimed in.

"Break…"

Shine commented, a drop of drool running down his massive chin.

They found themselves setting up a nice little picnic in the heart of some forest clearing, amongst the fallen trees and leafless vegetation. A large sheet covering the contraband came off, serving a new duty as a makeshift picnic blanket.

"Aaalright, let's see what I got packed for y'all…"

Gin whipped out a large basket from within one of the contraband crates, sniffing around for something within. The sound of aluminum wrapping paper rustling followed.

"We're serving fowl on rye, doused in mustard, any takers?"

Both Andy and Shine raised their hands excitedly, gathering around the basket.
The fog around their picnic site seemed to clear to some degree, giving them just a few meters of clear visibility.

"I'll take one!"

"Two! I'll take… No, three!"

With an amused grin painted on his face, their leader handed them their chow, then grabbed a sandwich for himself and laid back against a tree stump. They watched in awe as Shine quickly disposed of his three sandwiches in just a few bites, demonstrating what those sharp, sarkaz teeth were really capable of. Bourbon, however, kept circling their campsite, crossbow in hand. Andy couldn't help but wonder.

"Is he always like that?"

"Like what?"

"Antisocial? Lone wolf type?"

"Oh! No, no, he's just making sure no one's around. You know, when it's foggy you can't ever be too careful, lots of folk waiting for an occasion like this to show up. We've been jumped before, exactly like this a couple times…"

"You have?"

"Mhm! Imagine that - You're out here, in the wilderness, sitting by a campfire and trying to enjoy some delicious brine stew, courtesy of our not so professional cook here, Shine…"

The giant gave a thumbs up with a silly grin.

"... And a group of feral hounds rushes in to desecrate your little leisure time! By feral hounds, I mean those disgusting nationalist swine. We're, uh… Most of the time, we're supporters of Her Majesty, you know? Depends on who we're working for, really… Anyway! Four of them, I had to stab with a bread knife! Can you imagine that? Four ruffians…"

Andy couldn't imagine how this young man in front of him managed to kill four sarkaz mercenaries with a kitchen utensil. He gave a small nod, pretending to understand how that exchange might've gone.

"And we lost a soul, haven't we, Shine?"

Shine gave a diligent nod.

"Mhm! Sir Dumitru…"

"Yeah, "Dummy"… He was a medic of ours. Vampire. Not that I liked 'em at all, but, still."

He shrugged. Bourbon finished his precautionary duties and joined the rest with an annoyed glare.

"You should be eating, not talking. We've still an hour or two of walking left and you're chatting away as if we've all the time in the world."

A lazy sigh arose from the "leader."

"Oh, come on, stop being an ass."

"We're on a tight schedule, moron. Especially with this damn fog, if you wanna deliver this stuff on time and…"

He lowered his voice, leaning closer to his interlocutor.

"... And if you still wanna take care of your other business, then we should set out as soon as we can."

He then turned to Andy, completely unbothered.

"You, Lawie, what was your name? Ricketts?"

"W-What? No, that's…"

"That's what's on your dog tag, no? Why'd you wear it if it wasn't yours?"

"It's, uh… A long story."

"Long story my ass. You're Ricketts now, Lawie. Rolls off the tongue nicely and is less derogatory than slurs. Win-win for both of us, yeah?"

Andy felt a bit puzzled about being called by his deceased guardian angel's surname, but couldn't really protest. It was better than being called "Lawie", whatever that meant.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great. Then go and do one more circle around this place. Check for unwanted visitors with that fancy rifle of yours, yeah? C'mon, up you go, up, up."

Bourbon hurried him off the blanket and immediately took his place, turning to Gin. Andy could see the two engaging in some hushed conversation as he was reluctantly leaving the resting spot. With the rifle resting by his side, hanging from his shoulder, held up by the leather sling, he settled out towards the dim forest, bathed in a sea of milky fog. What could possibly be out there, in the wilderness of Kazdel that could pose any harm? Stupid question, obviously. Apart from the plethora of wild, hungry animals, there was also the possibility of bumping into a sarkaz bunch. Cyclops? Banshees? Vampires? Hell, wendigos, even.

Andy pressed the rifle just a tad bit closer to his shoulder, feeling the soothing flow of originium surging within each bullet loaded into the integral magazine. At least there was one lifeline he could always rely on, filled with 7.35x51mm quiet pills. Ah, how lovely having a gun was. Even back in Laterano, parading around the streets with his dad's revolver tucked into his pants gave him a feeling of superiority over all the other kids around.

How nice it felt, sneaking out late at night to practice shooting with no one around to scold him. Without that annoying redhead or that cynical, blueberry haired freak to drag behind him and hold him responsible for anything he's ever done wrong. He could very vividly imagine the two frolicking through Laterano, cheerfully holding hands and merrily chirping away, having completely forgotten about him. No goodbyes, no letters (admittedly, there was no way for him to receive or send any as well), not a single sign of life. Did they even still remember what he looked like? Have they completely disregarded him as a person, or were they actually poking fun at him behind his back?

Andy stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brows in genuine confusion at his mindless, baseless rant. Why the hell would he even think that way about them? He's the one who left them, not the other way around. It was his own selfish choice that led him here, to the land of misery and despair, where almost everything he's ever held close to his heart had been brutally taken away from him.

This entire "search for a purpose", this feverish goal of his, it seemed so incredibly nonsensical and stupid at the moment. He took a seat on the snow, leaning against a snow covered boulder. Both the sky and the afternoon sun were barely visible through the fog, sending small beams of light cutting through the milky mist and glimmering in the boy's eyes. Enjoying the warmth on his face, his thoughts shifted from himself back to his two loyal friends, hopefully still waiting for him back home. He had no grounds to judge them so harshly, spewing acidic assumptions, thinking they had abandoned him completely. No way in hell. Out of everyone he's lost, he knew these two would always stick by, no matter what. It's just a matter of making it back to Laterano, now. What kind of future awaits him there is a completely disregardable matter in the face of just how homesick he was feeling at the moment. All he wanted now was to see them. To have one last reunion and never separate again.

Andy lifted his eyelids and found himself staring right into a pair of bright, red eyes in the fog.

Blurred and distorted by the mist, two glaring, red glimmers were peering straight into his very soul from within a gap in the leafless vegetation. The boy immediately turned to reach for his rifle in a state of fear induced shock, frantically feeling around for the bullets with his arts, sensing his mind overheating and halo glowing just a shade brighter. He hugged the stock close to his cheek and pointed the muzzle towards the red shimmer, only to find it missing. Just the fog remained.

He gathered himself and ran back to the others, heart racing with fear and anxiety.

"Guys! Guys…!"

"Shhh!"

Bourbon immediately shushed the boy as the rest kept packing the goods and chattels back onto the sledge.

"You want the entire damn forest to hear you? What? What's so important?"

"I found… There was a…"

He couldn't even put the sight into words, breathing heavily and clutching his knees.

"A… Pair of eyes! Red eyes, I saw red eyes in the fog…"

Both Shine and Gin turned towards the two as well at the mention of this unusual sight.

"Eyes? Like… Just eyes? No horned silhouettes, no bolts or arts flying at you?"

"What? No, I just saw a pair of eyes, it was…"

"A pair of bodiless eyes. Great."

"No! No, but really, I know what I saw! There was no body, but I saw..."

Bourbon sighed in exasperation.

"We've got the whole circus assembled. A charming moron, a strong dimwit, and a paranoid schizophrenic."

Shine gave a low chuckle at the mention of him being strong, flexing his large muscles. Gin simply shrugged and finished locking the goods in place atop the sledge.

"I dunno, man. Sounds to me like you were just imagining things. Besides, we're leaving anyway. No scary red eyes will follow, I'm sure, Andy."

With that charming smile, he gave the boy a reassuring pat and hopped onto the sledge. Shine took the back, pushing the payload onward, being accompanied by Bourbon, taking the front guard with his crossbow. Andy was left speechless, stunned and aghast by their complete lack of a care in the world.

"B-But… But I saw…?"

"You saw the alcohol from yesterday, kid! Come on, don't dawdle!"

Bourbon yelled back, hurrying him to follow suit.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Whatever Gin and Bourbon were discussing when Andy was gone put the two in a grave mood, as they kept completely silent, only speaking when necessary - to correct the course of their voyage. The boy kept dragging behind, his mind filled with a sea of worries, the unending assault of longing for Laterano and its pristine marbles.

With each step he took, he felt himself growing more and more nervous, sensing that despite their leader's words, something somehow would still prevent him from finishing his journey. It had always been like this, whenever a good thing was bound to happen to the boy. A thought of uneasiness would crawl and nestle itself within the deepest layers of his brain, cuddling against the very core of his nervous system and sending waves of anxiety dripping down his spine. His heart kept beating at an unnatural pace, not rapidly, nor calmly. Stuck in an expectant state, keeping him alert and waiting for the inevitable.

"Alright, here should be good."

The sledge stopped in its tracks. Andy took a few steps onward to better see his comrades through the fog.

"Why're we stopping?"

"Ah, just a routine thing. See, we're right outside Svaveni, just a kilometer or so away, so… We've gotta make sure the cargo's all nice and intact, yeah?"

He jumped down the sledge and stretched, before ripping the tarp cover off the top.

"You wanna help me do the honors, Andy? There's a whole bunch of this stuff."

He took a closer look at the "cargo" they had been carrying all this time. A bunch of unsealed crates, lids thrown on loosely.

"Sure. Sure, I can do that. So do I just open these?..."

"Mhm! Open up a box and get a closer look at the stuff. Gotta make sure it's all shiny and nice, yeah?"

"Shiny…? I don't even know what we're carrying here, but…"

Andy ripped a lid off one of the crates and felt his heart skip a beat. Right in front of him, arranged into neat little rows, were dozens of small, circular objects, glimmering in the dim sunlight.

"Oh, really? I told you yesterday, silly! Grenades! Must've been too drunk already, I reckon…"

Gin gave a small chuckle at his expression of horror and got busy with his own crate, unpacking the grenades and juggling them around, making sure each and every one of them had its pin still in place. Andy felt his knees growing weak as he hesitantly reached forward and picked up a grenade. Surprisingly heavy for such a small object. He gave it a thorough look over, making sure to check it from all sides, to scan every single little notch and scratch. With anxiety screaming into his ears, begging him to be careful with that thing and to keep his arts focused far away from the dust within the metal prison, he placed the grenade back into its place. One done, around twenty more crates to go.

It was mentally grueling. Picking and examining each one of these small explosives, carefully checking for any deformities and placing them back - It felt like every single grenade took an eternity to inspect, sending shivers through his entire body. Grenade after grenade, crate after crate, it slowly delved into nothing more but boring physical labor, after he had already tamed the fear of live explosives. Under the watchful eye of their leader, Andy kept working, diligently checking each box. Bourbon and Shine, however, took the liberty of just sitting around behind the two, doing absolutely nothing at all. Shine's time off was justified, since the giant pushed this entire payload through the snowy wasteland all the way, but Bourbon? The least that annoying prick could do was help.

With each grenade he grew more and more tired, more and more bored, wishing and begging for this absolute chore to finally end. His mind deteriorated to a machine-like state, where it would be focused on nothing but three very robotlike movements. Pick grenade up, turn grenade in hand, place grenade back in place, with the occasional addition of closing a finished box and opening a new one.

After an hour or two of this tedious work, he closed the lid of the very last box and leaned against it, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to get the boredom out.

"Alright, that's… that's all. Everything's in there."

"Everything?"

Gin turned to the boy, smiling warmly.

"Uh-huh. Checked every single one of these, never doing that again…"

"Oh, you won't have to!"

He let out a small giggle and nodded towards the boy.

"Shine, please."

A shadow grew longer behind Andy, blocking out the sun's limited reach. He turned around only to be met by the giant's iron fist plummeting right into his frail, weak face.