Ten years before the start of the campaign

It was rare for candles to be captured. It almost never happened; they either died in battle or were assassinated by another operative on the way to whatever prison they were being dragged to. The more devoted members even resorted to committing suicide before being taken. Whatever the situation was, the common thread was that it was unacceptable. Yet it happened to Hemlock of all people.

The contract was simple, so simple that she was forced to bring the two new candles along with her. Usually, a candle would be replaced by the one who killed them. However, the third and fifth candles had decided that they were going to try and leave the eight flames. Hemlock didn't like to think about them. Both of them were young and stupid; it was practically an accident that they were able to become candles. Two teenagers who finished off two heavily wounded candles were suddenly thrust into this world of murder and misery. Tako had killed both of them. They got farther than most and almost got out of the oasis. Some gangsters gave Tako the tip, and he quietly killed them. With two vacancies left, Valentine soon returned with two children: a boy and a girl. The boy was 12 years old, he wore a stupid grin on his face. His hair was crimson red and looked oddly healthy for a street kid. The girl next to him, on the other hand, looked much worse. Her arms and legs looked like twigs; bruises and scratches littered her body. She swayed from side to side and clung to the boy. Her black and yellow hair was tied into pigtails, and her calm blue eyes flashed with fear as Valentine led her along. Both of them were introduced to V, who with relative disinterest gave them their animals. The boy a little black puppy that sparked into flames and the girl a golden kitten that matched the color of her hair.

Valentine didn't stick around after that. He led them to a room full of weapons, gear, poisons, robes, and candles. He handed each of them the candles he felt they deserved and disappeared without another word. Hemlock desperately didn't want to get involved. When a candle was ordered to bring in a recruit, they were alone responsible for mentoring them; she hadn't found them, and she didn't want to look after them. They just latched onto her. They didn't really have anyone else. Tako was crazy, Gravy fed them but would refrain from getting close to them, the first candle was always doing missions and Valentine was cold and ruthless. Hemlock was the last one, she tried to spit venom at them or scare them with her snakes but they kept after her. When Cleo started calling her auntie she knew that she had to at least train them for what was left of her conscience to not keep bugging her.

V had sent them on a mission less than a week into their training. Neither of them was very useful. Blake was handy if they were fighting other children his size, Cleo was too surprisingly, but anybody over the age of 15 could quickly kill the two new recruits. Hemlock tried to protest, but V had decreed it, and she didn't want to be sent away like the others who protested had. She had given them pistols and advised them to hide and shoot anyone who looked like they were going to attack her.

She hadn't taught them how to shoot either. In a moment of weakness, she gave them her snakes and told them to call them out if bad men approached them. The mission was a disaster; she killed the target but got caught by the local authorities. The target was a young man who was making waves in the sale of weapons. Hemlock had to weave her way through waves of guards to finally get to him and cut him down, his rivals must have really wanted him dead. The fight though left her so exhausted that when the men in uniform barged in with rifles she only had enough energy to raise her hands above her head. The children had run off, the one thing she had taught them.

As she felt the cold metal of the shackles jump up and down on her wrists, she held onto that fleeting feeling of self-satisfaction. For a small town, their jail was impressive. Judging from the stairs they had to walk down and the total absence of light, she deduced they had repurposed an old dungeon. Most of the cells were empty and clean—impressive for that town, indeed. The two guards pushed her as she slowed down to look at the cells.

"Keep moving," the taller one said with an authoritative bark. Hemlock didn't say anything; she just adjusted her pace.

They stopped in front of a cell at the end of the hall of cells. To her surprise, the cell wasn't empty. Someone was sitting on the bed. A young man, not looking at them even as the guard loudly ruffled through the key ring. Hemlock was stunned for a second before she spoke.

"Um, good sirs," she said sweetly, "May I be put in another cell?"

"We're overcrowded," The shorter, older one said with a reserved snicker. He gave her a look, saying that he knew why she had asked and didn't care. Hemlock opened her mouth but stopped herself from saying anything else. As the tall guard opened the door he quickly undid her shackles and shoved her into the cell. Normally, such a pathetic display wouldn't do much, but she was exhausted from dispatching the targets, and her body just flew into the room where she almost hit the wall. The taller guard gasped and looked lost for words as the older one laughed. He closed the door and nudged the younger one to follow him.

The embarrassment of being knocked down like that manifested as her pale skin turning red in shame. She quickly stood up, leaning against the wall to try and catch her breath. She was wearing a pair of cheap trousers and a blouse covered in stripes. The female warden had stripped her of every knife, dagger, needle, poison, and snake fang she had hidden on her. She was barefoot and the bottom of her feet hurt from the cold and hard stone floors. She ran her hands through her tangled mess of hair and tried to steady her breathing. She had consciously not looked at the man next to her. She was too tired to fight and hoped pretending he wasn't there would give her the time to figure out the best face to put on to take him out of the question. Her strategy didn't last, though, as she heard reserved snickering from the shadow. She looked over at him with a critical look. The man noticed and tried to stifle his giggles with little success. She heard it very quietly.

"He really sent you flying." Between giggles. Hemlock crossed her arms and looked in his direction. A terrible idea, a passive smile would have been better than hostility, but it had been a horrible day, and she didn't have the power to put up with this person. The shadow noticed and stood up. He walked out of the shadows with a slight limp. The man, or more accurately, the boy, came into the light to face her with a sheepish grin. He couldn't have been more than 19 years old. He had auburn hair that was tied into a sloppy ponytail. His face was covered in cuts and bruises. He had a black eye on his left eye and two large gashes were planted on his forehead. The cheek was swollen, and lips were cut to hell. Behind all those marks, he was oddly handsome. He had the lightest of stubbles and clear eyes. Despite his injuries, his eyelashes were long, and his teeth were intact and pearly white. He was slightly taller than Hemlock was, but his limbs looked lanky and ragged. He closed his eyes and smiled as he held out his hand.

"My name is William. William Emanon."

"Mr. Noname, huh?" Hemlock said cuttingly. She was shocked at herself. Maybe it was because she was so tired, but she had no patience to play up herself in front of this man. William blinked a few times, he looked as if no one had ever said that to him before.

"Uhh yes, in the flesh," William said, hand still outstretched, "You from around here?"

Hemlock didn't answer his question and settled for a cautious handshake. His hands, despite the cuts and bandages, looked fine and well-kept. He gave her a smirk as he shook her hand and quickly flopped onto the bed.

"It's rude not to give one's name," he said, moving his hands behind his head with a loud yawn. Hemlock looked at him blankly for a moment before answering.

"My name is Connie."

"Lovely name, whatcha in for?" William asked absentmindedly.

"Mass murder," She said sarcastically. William's head whipped to look at her, eyes wide. He gave a flimsy smile before turning back to look at the room, he let out a barely audible "charming"

Hemlock was stunned. There was no way he had missed the sarcasm. It was impossible. It was true, but who would believe that some random woman came to a no-name town and committed mass murder? Was he dense or was he messing with her? Her face masked her confusion well as she just looked at him. The seconds dragged on for what felt like days. William's eyes darted from her, to the ceiling and then back to her what felt like hundreds of times. Hemlock kept her face neutral and unmoving as she tried to put together what was happening.

"Aren't you gonna ask what I'm in for?" William said finally, somewhat annoyed. His fear had taken a backseat to his frustration at the lack of interest.

"Oh. I'm so sorry, sir Noname. What are you in for?" The words were laced with venom that once again caught her off guard. What was wrong with her? She was throwing caution to the wind with no good reason she could identify. William's face went red.

"Damn, fine. I don't gotta talk to you either, lady" He said sitting up and looking up at her. His fear had all but disappeared by this point as the insult to his pride washed over him. Hemlock had to salvage this fast. The boy didn't look strong but in her state, she could barely throw a punch. Just raising her arms made pain shoot from all over her body. It didn't look like it, but she knew she would be black and blue in the morning. If she was really unlucky, she might even have broken a few bones. She needed to build rapport with her cellmate, at least until Blake and Cleo could call for someone to rescue her. She just hoped it wouldn't be Valentine. Gravy would save her without a fuss, and Tako would maybe take his shot to kill her, but a few nights of sleep would leave her in good enough shape to deal with him. A sigh snapped her out of her thoughts as William pulled a deck of cards from under the bed and started shuffling them.

"What are you doing?" She asked, as sweetly as she could.

"...shuffling," William said after a pause. His look screamed, 'Are you fucking stupid?' and Hemlock regretted speaking.

"Want to play?" she asked. She closed her eyes and smiled. Her smile was so tight that it physically hurt her jaw, though maybe that was due to the punch she had taken earlier.

"You play poker?" He asked immediately.

"I dabble from time to time," She lied. Hemlock was amazing at poker. She could read a face a mile away while not reacting even for a millisecond after being dealt a deck of pure garbage, "Want to play?"

William didn't say anything as he increased his speed of shuffling. Hemlock pushed a little harder.

"I feel as if we got on the wrong foot. A little game between friends should fix that right up." She said, "I mean if you'll go easy on me"

She fluttered her eyelashes and turned up as much charm as she could stomach. After a few more seconds of silence, William answered.

"What are we gonna gamble with?"

"How about questions? Whoever wins gets to ask the loser a question."

William's face became animated, and he shifted to one end of the bed, legs crossed, motioning for Hemlock to do the same. He started dealing with a five-card hand to each of them. Hemlock sat down and crossed her legs, looking directly at him. She picked up her cards. Three numerals and two face cards. Two spades, a club, and two red hearts. She looked up at him. His poker face was impressive. His eyes darted across his cards and then back to look at her. She could see through him though. His irises told all she needed to know, the widening and the twitching told her he had no better than her.

"Let's say changing cards is free," Hemlock said, "give me three."

William nodded and gave her three cards; he took two. Hemlock's new hand now consisted of a pair of deuces—weak, but better than nothing. She looked at his face; his eyes reacted the same as before. He hadn't gotten lucky.

"I'll bet one question," Hemlock said.

"I'll match that, and I'll raise a follow-up to that question based on the answer." William said, "Wait, what do we get if we fold?"

"Scared, are we?" She said, "Let's say folding means the other gets a point. The first to five points get to order around the loser until we leave this cell."

William pondered it for a second. His face was blank and he nodded.

"Good, I'll raise another follow-up question," Hemlock said. If she got those points, then maybe she could guarantee an easy stay and escape.

"Call," William said, but didn't say anything else.

Both of them laid down their cards. William had nothing, a blessing because a pair of deuces was the weakest hand Hemlock had ever seriously played. William cursed under his breath. Hemlock cleared her throat. This was a good path forward, she needed to settle past hostilities.

"What are you in for?" Hemlock asked, trying to seem genuinely curious. It wasn't very convincing but William's face lit up. He puffed out his chest a bit and chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck.

"I was caught breaking into a noble's house! You know, the ones with all the guards. Snuck in no problem, stole some shit, and got caught on my way out." He boasted proudly.

"Why'd you rob that place?" Hemlock asked, using her first follow-up question.

"Biggest prize on this useless little island. I'm not from here, you know, I came here somewhat recently. It was tough but I thought I could do it. Well, I did get the gold out" he paused and gave her a smug look. He was begging her to ask if he had gotten it out before he was taken. Hemlock didn't want to ask that, she went for a more neutral question instead.

"Did you work alone?" She asked.

This question took William aback. He leaned back, his confidence shriveling away as his face became darker. He let out an awkward chuckle and forced a smile on his face.

"Yeah, William always works alone!" He answered loudly. A nerve had been struck, and Hemlock desperately motioned for him to deal. Catching her drift, William quickly dealt. Hemlock got a pair again, though this time, she traded away the pair card to give her a worse hand. She played up a face of distress, which in reality just meant she moved her eyebrows up in shock and disappointment. She needed to let him win at least once to make sure that happy times would continue. He didn't even notice as he looked at his cards.

"One question," William said.

"Call" Hemlock responded immediately after. She didn't want to answer more questions than she needed to. Both plopped their cards down. Neither had anything, but William had the high card, so he won the round. He smirked and made a mock exaggerated face showing that he was thinking hard. Hemlock gave a fake little laugh at his attempt at humor.

"How old are you?" He said. How tactless. No need to lie. Not much he can do with age.

"24," She said coolly.

"Ah! I'm 19" William said with a smirk. He paused for a second before he cursed himself for giving her an answer despite not winning a round. Hemlock cleared her throat as he dealt again. Hemlock let herself react more this time. After the change, she had three of a kind and suddenly felt safe. It was her turn to bet first.

"Three questions," she said. She looked at his face. His initial hand had been nothing, and she could tell the second he looked at his new hand that he had nothing in front of him either. She needed him to fold.

"I'll raise you two questions," He said confidently. He was in a corner, he wanted her to fold.

"Six questions," She shot back, a grin creeping up on her face.

"Call," he responded. Shit, Hemlock thought. Now, she would have to think up six softball questions to ask this tool. She sighed and showed her hand; before she could start asking some stupid fluff, she saw his hand. In front of her was a full house. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull. It was impossible. How could he have done that? She knew gamblers who could be stone-faced when faced with calamity, but never ones who could fake the tiny subtle gestures that give it away. Could this kid really have learned how to make tiny hyper movements with his eyes to feign distress? Or, was he cheating?

"Where are you from?" He asked, breaking her concentration.

"Oh right, um, the Grand Line"

"What are you doing in the South Blue?"

"Working"

"Hmmm," he said as he held his chin, "Do you have any kids?"

This question came off as something he asked because he didn't know what else to ask her.

"No"

"Siblings?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"What about little cousins or nephews?"

"No, what is this about?"

"Hey, you can't ask me something unless you win," William said in a sing-song voice. Hemlock narrowed her eyes on him, and keeping up niceties was getting more challenging every passing moment.

"So. If you don't have any family. Who were those two kids in the mansion? You know, red hair and yellow pigtails."

Hemlock froze. She was taken aback.

"I'm like their guardian. I can't say more than that."

"Oh, ok,"

"How do you-" she was cut off by the loud sound of him shuffling the deck. She caught his drift and cracked her knuckles.

The round went by lightning fast, and William folded. They played again, and he folded. Again, he folded. The fourth time in a row, he folded, this time flopping his cards upwards to show he had a straight. The veins in Hemlock's forehead looked like they were about to pop. She had lost her composure. Her face was red and scowled, and her eyes could send a dagger through any man's heart.

On the other hand, William only smiled more and more as the rounds progressed. He dealt again, wordlessly. Hemlock clutched her cards, she didn't stop looking at him. Reading his telling eyes and the twitches on his face.

"I'll bet one question," William said, humming.

"I see your question and raise you an answer," Hemlock said through gritted teeth.

"Oh?"

"No matter what the question is, you have to answer. No saying it's personal and with as much detail as requested," She said dangerously.

William didn't move. She could tell for the first time he wasn't playing up theatrics; he wasn't pretending to think to unnerve her. His hand was twitching ever so slightly. Bingo. This man couldn't turn down such a gamble. She could tell from his face that he had decent cards; her rage clouded her judgment to the point that she couldn't tell how good.

"Call," he said with a trembling smile.

Hemlock put down her cards. She had a flush of red diamonds. William cursed and slammed his hand down. He had another straight. Hemlock was too focused to let the relief of winning fall over her.

"How do you know those two children?" She barked at him, crossing her arms as William collected the cards back into his deck.

"I was robbing that manor. It's a real complicated job. I had to scale the outer wall in complete silence and between the guard rotations every five minutes. I made it up the wall and leaped into a tree. I waited for my opportunity and leaped over to the window. I may have misjudged the distance and crashed through it. Normally, that would be the end of a good heist, let me tell you, but-"

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid heist! Answer my question!" Hemlock yelled at him. She had utterly thrown out the pretenses. There was no point in trying to seduce or get into the good graces of this little asshole.

"Damn, ok, fine. No need to yell. I made my way to the coffers and started stealing the gold. I heard the sound of a safety being undone from behind me. I turned around ready to face some guy ready to kill me, but instead, I saw this little boy and a girl. Redhead and yellow/black hair, they looked scared."

Hemlock's heart was beating ten times faster than medically advisable. She had assumed the kids had run away. She hadn't heard the town guards mention finding children, so she subtly talked about children to see if that spurred any conversation about lost kids. It never had; she was positive they hadn't been captured. Hemlock's face sank.

"What did you do to them?" She said so quietly that William could hardly hear her.

"What? Nothing," He said, raising an eyebrow, "ah shit, I answered a question, didn't I?

I'm counting that as a point against you." Hemlock let out a sigh of relief. Truthfully, she didn't know why. He could have just been lying. Something about him gave her the impression he wasn't, though. For a liar, he had very honest eyes. She did want to know where they were, though, so she snapped her fingers and motioned for him to deal.

The next few hands were uneventful. William won all the rounds and asked stupid, small-talk questions. As time passed, Hemlock slowly started getting more energy. Her arms didn't feel as heavy, and her breathing kept steady. It had been three hours since they started, and William had won almost every round. Her reactions to losing became more and more animated as they continued. She was openly calling out his cheating while William just laughed and denied it.

"Last game", William said.

"I might have been disappointed if you would just stop cheating," she shot back.

"I don't cheat, lady. I use aggressive strategies."

"William, be honest with me. Before we play, do you know where the two children are?"

William didn't answer.

"How about this: We ask each other one question first, and based on our answers, we place our bets for the next round."

Hemlock figured it was her best shot for a straight answer.

"Ok. To get new cards, answer this: "Do you know how I know that you're an assassin who killed the owner of that mansion?"

"I figured that since I knew the kids and the kids were there, you put two and two together. Judging from what you are insinuating, that isn't true."

William shook his head.

"I knew the second they threw you in here with me."

"Cute. What are those two naughty children doing?"

"When they found me, I raised my hands in the air. The boy was trembling, but that girl looked like she was just about ready to shoot me down. I offered them some money, and they agreed to hide the loot for me. Where would be a different question."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Will that be your question if you win?"

"No, I'll tell you the question now."

"Hm?"

"I hereby wager to ask: "Why were you doing this job?" she asked, hiding her mouth behind her cards, "and don't give me some bullshit about it being for money. There were over 30 guards in there, and you knew it; not a job for some thief alone."

William looked visibly uncomfortable with that statement. He rubbed his neck and looked at his hand.

"That's a bit of a personal question," He answered sheepishly.

"Even better to gamble with, then. You can ask me anything: how many people I've killed, the location of my secret base, where I stashed the money of my rich targets, my three sizes."

She said the last party in a sultry whisper, making sure to look him in the eyes. His face went red. He rubbed the back of his neck harder and tried to find somewhere to look that wasn't on her body. Still flustered, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I wager to ask: What is your real name?" He said nervously, "Don't tell me it's Connie. That's stupid. You're too interesting to be called Connie."

"Says Sir William 'has no last name?'"

"Do you call or fold?" He said, still blushing.

"Call," she said.

Both mouthed, counting to 3, and plopped down their cards. William had a royal flush with black diamonds, and Hemlock had a royal flush with red hearts. Both looked at their cards and then at each other.

"You cheater," he said to her.

"If you can hold on to a few cards per game, so can I"

"If we have to go down to the suits, I win."

"Is that really satisfying, though?"

"What do you propose?"

"Flip a coin?"

William pulled a coin from under the bed and flipped it over to her. She caught it and held it forward in her closed fist. She was about to talk when they were both startled by the sound of a voice.

"Alright, then, what's going on here?!" Said a gruff voice. It was the older guard. The younger fiddled with the lock.

"You can't have those here!" he huffed. The younger guard rushed over to Hemlock, snatching the cards before her.

"You, young miss, are in big trouble." Said the older guard.

"You clearly haven't been reflecting on what you've done, murderer. Sharing a cell hasn't taught you anything, but we may have to now. Right Charlie?" the younger guard says. He waited for an answer, but he didn't get one. He looks back, puzzled. His mouth hangs open as he witnesses the scene in front of him. The older guard was struggling as William locked his arms around his neck. He was on his back with his legs wrapped around his waist. A younger man might have run into the wall, but standing took all his strength. Seeing the other one had spotted him, William kicked the dagger on the guard's belt, sending it flying. It darted forward, spinning in mid-air until it was caught by Hemlock, who effortlessly plunged it into the man's throat. His hands shot towards his neck as he let out a gagged yelp. He fell to the ground, clutching his wound. He tried to speak, but it just sounded like gurgles as the blood spewed from his wound onto Hemlock's blouse.

"William," she said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah?" he responded, struggling slightly. By now, the old guard had fallen on his back and desperately thrashed on the floor to get William off him.

"Call it"

"Lady, this is not the greatest time."

"Oh, I don't mind. Call it"

"Heads"

"Too bad, it's tails. I already looked at it."

William let out a string of curses but then sighed.

"Hurry up. We're not leaving until I get that answer."

"The reason I was doing that job alone was because I was trying to get the attention of someone…He's kind of like my dad, more like my boss. It's been a year, and he hasn't come back. He left a lot when I was growing up, but never for this long. I needed to prove that I am still worth having as a partner. Worth coming back for."

William said this through labored breaths as the old man would not just die. Hemlock stayed silent throughout his explanation. When he was done, she pulled the knife from the throat of the now-dead guard. She haphazardly tossed it to William, who caught it and stabbed the old man in the face a few times. Blood gushed out from his face like wine from a punctured leather pouch. It got all over William's arms, and as he got out from under the old man, he got it on his face and neck. He leaned over, hands on knees, as he caught his breath.

"I know you didn't ask," He said through labored breathing, "but I could tell you were an assassin because I could smell the blood on you." He held up his two hands and smiled, "I know the smell quite well."

Hemlock just looked at him in silence. That was definitely a new one. William straightened up, cracked his neck, and motioned to the door with a bow.

"Ladies first," he said with exaggerated hand motions. Hemlock smiled and walked forward.

"Silly boy," she said as she ruffled his long flowing hair. His ponytail had come undone in the scuffle.

The two were met with little resistance back to William's hideout. William hadn't bothered to change. He was still in his striped trousers and blouse. His shirt was marked with brown stains of the now dry blood. Hemlock had slipped into her original attire, much to William's amusement. Throughout the walk to his hideout, she was bombarded with questions about how and why she would wear an outfit made of leaves. She wanted to petrify him with her dagger, but she would never have found the hut. When the little shack came into view, two figures suddenly perked up and started running towards them. Blake and Cleo were both charging forward, tears in their eyes. They leaped at her, and she caught them, though she was still exhausted.

"Auntie Hemlock! Auntie Hemlock! We're so glad you're okay," Cleo said while crying loudly. Blake didn't say anything, just quietly hugged her. She turned to look for William, but he had disappeared. She looked forward again and found a light in the shack had been turned on. She couldn't help but be impressed. The three of them approached the shack.

William walked out, juggling small pouches of gold with one hand while whistling. He tossed the bags to hemlock.

"For your travels," he said, yawning.

"Thank you, William," Hemlock said happily.

"There should be about 20,000,000 Berri worth of gold in there. More than enough. Consider it your winnings after we went all in on that final round."

"We better get going. Hopefully, my superiors won't learn of this." She said, a slight sadness creeping into her voice. William nodded as he walked towards them and kneeled down.

"Hey, brats, do you remember my condition for giving you a place to hide and finding your guardian?"

Both of them nodded. Hemlock was stunned.

"Did a middle-aged man come by? Tall, beard, and raspy voice? Did anyone ask for me?"

Both of them shook their heads. Williams' face dropped. He stood up and tried not to look at Hemlock.

"It's fine; word takes time to travel. I bet he'll come after it comes out. I might take credit for what you did there if you don't mind."

Hemlock shook her head. She was rocking from side to side. All the rest from their several-hour card game had been erased from the trek to the cabin. Pain and exhaustion racked her body.

"If you're lucky, he might be in the area. He would already be on the way here." She said, smiling.

"I've never been too lucky," William said with a loud, dry laugh.

"He's lucky to have a partner as good as you, Mr. Noname," Hemlock responded quickly. William gives her a slight smirk. He put out his hand. Hemlock bypasses it and presses herself against him. She leans close to his cheek and gives him a quick peck.

"My name is Hemlock," she whispers. I'd really appreciate it if you forgot it, though."

Before William could freak out, he felt a slightly sharp pain in his knee, and everything went dark. He dropped onto the floor and started snoring loudly. Hemlock sighed. She put her tiny knife back in her satchel and turned towards the children. They didn't say a word, but they all understood. As they walked toward the doc with their little boat, Hemlock dragged her feet more and more with every step. She was so tired. William, for as much as he pissed her off, was a lovely young man and didn't deserve to be brought into her world. She just hoped he would remember this night as a long dream. With luck, he would forget all about them. She didn't feel too bad, though, as every minute led her closer to passing out, and her recollection of the evening became hazier; she was almost positive she wouldn't remember him either.