“I don’t think this will solve anything.” Copain, grabbing Veronique’s bottle and stowing it away, said.

  “It’s not meant to,” She replied, barely lifting her head off her desk, “It’s just meant to numb me.”

  “I take it you weren’t pleased with your parent’s letter?” He asked, rubbing her shoulders.

  “Astute observation,” She mumbled into the smooth, wooden surface. It was a gift from her parents, and as she ran her finger across it, finding no cracks or blemishes on it, she realized it was meant to be an example for her, “I have no interest in being a statesman.”

  “I can only offer my condolences.” He said, continuing his appreciated rub.

  “It’s alright -” She pushed herself off her desk with an abrupt motion, containing all the grace of an untrained dancer, “I’ll simply have to deal with it. I can talk to them, they’ll be reasonable, surely.”

  “Like they were reasonable when you said you wanted to study here?” He asked, his hands feeling empty.

  “It almost feels like you’re discouraging me.” She chuckled, knowing he wasn’t really capable of such a thing.

  “You are correct in your assumption, I am not capable of discouraging you.” She had apparently mumbled her thoughts aloud, a habit she was trying to break, “I’m simply arguing that it behooves you to be prepared for the possibility that they don’t allow you to do as you please.”

  “I am prepared,” She crossed her legs and her arms, “I’m just hoping they see that I won’t falter. I’m going to be a painter.”

  “I see.” Copain responded, making towards the door, “I’m going out, good night.”

  “Where are you going? She asked.

  “I find it particurly helpful to observe people at night -” He expined, a gentle, wistful smile on his face, “It allows me to glean more of their true nature, as it were.”

  “Have fun.” She waved. Her smile faded nearly instantly as he left her with the gnawing responsibility of potentially defying her parents. She felt a headache start to form in her temples and decided to let the issue, and herself, rest, hoping that her dreams would provide a sufficient answer.

  —

  “My good man!” Bordeaux heartily wrapped Copain about the shoulder with his arm, “How goes it? I saw this most delectable tavern -”

  “Veronique is in trouble.” Coapain, uncharacteristically worried, replied, “Her parents don’t want her to pursue art. She refuses to capitute.”

  “Seems like the problem has resolved itself,” His baritone voice boomed and echoed through the near-empty campus as he led on, “Her parents just have to accept it.”

  Copain shuffled in front of him, blocking his way, “Her cousin was committed for disobeying Veronique’s parents, despite her own parent’s objections.”

  “What?” L’Orange blew a raspberry. “Poppycock! I’ve met her parents - they seem like perfectly respectable people.”

  “From the outside, I agree. I just wish there was something we could do about it.” He consciously grabbed his chin to give the appearance of a schorly man.

  “Well if that’s how you feel,” The older man’s voice turned mischievous, “I can think of a few ideas.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, we could always tell them Veronique died.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Bribery?”

  “We have no money.”

  “We could just lie - say that she’s studying politics.”

  “They could always contact the president of the university.”

  “Well,” L’Orange rolled his shoulders, “There’s always another option.”

  “If you are attempting to build suspense by waiting - consider it built.” Copain said.

  “We could always threaten them,” He looked around to make sure no prying ears were in pce, “Or kill them, if it comes to that.”

  “Pardon?” He tilted his head, like a dog, “I believe I misheard -”

  “It was a joke, Copain,” L’Orange once again puffed and blew his lips. Luckily for him, Copain could rarely tell when people were lying, “Let’s go drinking, we’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

  “A joke - I see.” He took a few moments to process it, “I am going to kill you.” The two shared an awkward few moments of staring at each other, “Was it effective?”

  “Not a bad start.” L’Orange forced a chuckle, so as not to hurt the feelings of his friend.

  —

  In a quiet little intersection, Paracelsus led Serpacinno away by the shoulder, hoping to afford them some privacy. He peeked around the corner again, verifying his partial crew was still distracted talking with each other. He sighed, part to steel his nerves, and part because he wished he didn’t have to. Still, despite all his gift of gab, it was clear he wasn’t going to be getting out of this situation. His partner was demanding answers, and he had no choice.

  So, with a flourish of throwing up his hands, he started - “Well, I spent a non-insignificant amount of time at the ga looking for Lonceré. Suffice to say, I couldn’t find him until the end.”

  “And what, you, you-” She stammed and stumbled over her words for a second, “Ran away with him? Why?”

  “He’s paranoid,” Paracelsus expined, leaning against the wall in a casual way, “I don’t know what, but something has changed him. He didn’t used to be this way.” He shook his head, “I digress. The point is: I met him afterward, and… we got ambushed by the police. Silver showed up, and -”

  “Silver?” Serpacinno raised her eyebrow and her voice in measure, “Do you have some past with her, too?”

  “Back in Bataine, she was the pirate I encountered.” He expined, “I thought the marines arrested her. I suppose she got away.”

  “And then?” She prompted, noticing his flighty, uncomfortable face.

  “After we dealt with the police, Lonceré had expended all his strength. His gifts have always run a gauntlet on his brain organ, and it was too much for him. I went to check on him, and Silver injected me with something.” He sighed, feeling a small weight fall from his chest.

  “Injected?” She walked over and smmed her hand on the wall next to his head, pointing a chiding finger in his face, “What were you thinking, turning your back on her?”

  “I know, I know,” His pleading was cowed and ashamed, putting his hands up, and letting his normal fraudulent smile fall from his face, “I had the exact same thought as it was happening. I was stupid -”

  “No,” She leaned in close, and for the first time, she was gring at him, forcing him to swallow whatever he was saying, “You made a mistake. A mistake I can’t say that I wouldn’t have made.”

  “I appreciate the thought, but, I should’ve told one of you, if I wasn’t alone-”

  “Enough!” She shouted, baring her teeth to him. Even though she was an inch or two shorter than him, it was clear she had him sufficiently cowed, and her tone became gentler and less chiding, “Stop bming yourself, and just tell me what happened.”

  “It was a bizarre experience, I think she had some delusional fantasy,” He shifted again, his breath hitching as he looked for anything that might give him an out, but nothing presented itself, “We’d be some domestic couple. She fed me, but ter she…”

  The swordswoman let him have his peace for a few seconds, but her patience was a rope that was lit on both ends, and soon grew thin, “She what?”

  “She raped me.” He hung his head in shame, and braced himself for some chiding from Serpacinno. Some decration of his weakness, and his further weakness at being so easily shaken up.

  Instead, he looked up and found her dead, angry stare. But it was not directed at him, and her hand was shaking as it maintained her grip on her sword, “Did you kill her?” She asked, “When you knocked her down, did you kill her?”

  “No.”

  The shaking on her sword grew more intense, and her teeth were gnashing like two ships colliding at sea, “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t!” He shouted, wincing at his own outburst, “I can’t have that on my conscience. I’m not a killer, and I won’t allow you to be either.”

  “Oh?” She turned from him, “What gives you the right to determine what I do, or do not, do?”

  “I’m your captain, dammit!” He replied back, gnashing his own teeth, “And if you want trust - I want cooperation.”

  “Parace…” The name almost felt like venom on her lips. He made no habit of enforcing its exclusivity, but the nickname suddenly seemed like an iron ball, too heavy for her to pick up, “Alright. I won’t kill her. But you’re not leaving my sight until we sail again, got it?”

  For the first time in the conversation, the captain bore a small, meek smile, and threw his arms around his partner. They embraced for a short time, in all likelihood it was only a few moments; but to the both of them, they felt time slow as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s grasp, heads on each other’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Serpacinno. For everything.” He said, letting her go.

  “Anytime, partner. Now let’s go find Garend, yeah?”

  —

  “You have to go in, Tariq.” The captain said, shaking his head, “You can be unseen, we can’t.”

  “But I have no idea what to expect in there!” He argued, “It could be dangerous!”

  “None of us know what to expect either,” Paracelsus’ incredulous face said, “Tell you what: You do this, I’ll repce the money that got stolen.”

  While Tariq was busy rubbing his hands and blessing his good fortune, Lonceré looked away and whistled lowly, suddenly jealous of the younger man’s ability to cloak himself.

  “Good luck.” He said, using the same technique from before to stealthily repce Tariq’s wallet.

  Tariq rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He breathed in, breathed out, and repeated the ritual a few times before he felt his gift wash over him, his body fading from view as the rest of them all hid out of sight, waiting for him to make his move. Eventually he did, knocking on the door of the building Lonceré had told him would have Garend in it.

  “Who’s there?” The angel, Peeares asked, opening the door. He looked around for a few moments before closing the door, attributing the knock to a random prankster.

  Unbeknownst to him, Tariq had snuck in, quietly tiptoeing to avoid detection. He even held his breath, pointless as it was, what with the hustle and bustle and bloody noises of the city, until he was a solid dozen feet away and all at once, he released a loud puff that might’ve drawn the marine’s attention, were it not for something else grabbing his attention.

  “And what’s more, I greatly protest this treatment!” Garend was continuing her protests, her energy seemingly a bottomless well of annoyance as she shook back and forth, rattling the chairs and the ropes and the ground all at once.

  Tariq curiously eyed the man she was bound to, a hybrid like Serpacinno, but to a much greater extent. Whereas Serpacinno’s serpentine lineage only manifested in the snakes atop her scalp, and some minor scaling around the wrists and ankles, this man’s vulpine heritage was quite pronounced. He sported a uniquely shaped head, with two prominent, red and bck ears proudly protruding from his skull. The fur continued all through the skin Tariq could see, which to be fair, was not much.

  Shaking his head and willing the thoughts away, he approached quietly and cautiously, as cautious as he ever was. He tapped her on the shoulder, at first lightly and slowly, but with increasing fervor as his signal was ignored.

  “What?!” She finally shouted, throwing her head over her shoulder and looking right into Lorenzo’s eyes.

  “What?” The foxman turned his nose indignantly, clearly annoyed at having been caught in thought, “I didn’t do anything, you crazy wench.”

  She gasped in realization, setting off both the man she was tied to, and the Lieutenant guarding her. She pyed it off with a raspberry, and said, “See? Your boorish treatment is giving me hallucinations!”

  Tariq then started to untie her binds.