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III

"Better Off Without A Saint"

The Muttering Mimzy glowed like a gold heart with warm firelight spilling from its interior, patrons bathed in its warm embrace while patrons chortled together over cuts of glazed meat and fruit. Kegs were fat with imported northern ales, straight from the taps of Capital Sola, mugs dribbling at the rim in foamy gurgles. In the corner, a fanciful man strummed his lute and sung songs of pleasing dreams.

If it wasn’t for all the obnoxious puff and posh of the place, Edwin might have enjoyed himself. But as with the earlier shopping, he felt entirely out of place, like a fool draped in a jester’s attire to be trounced around. He was wearing a hat and scarf, yes, but these were his new friend’s choosing, far too posh to be practical. It helped little his companion, Aloise, was beside himself, enjoying the local “flavors” with a flush to his typically alabaster cheeks. A gentle cloud of red complimented his pink freckles, no doubt because he’d down a whole mug of his drink.

“I thought you preferred wine?” asked Edwin. The two were perched on one of the many tables within the gallery, plates of food married to tall cups of drink.

Aloise gave a rather sloppy wave of the hand. “Ahh, it will do, it will do. Good wine is so hard to find around, you know?”

“Not really.”

At least the eating was flavorful. Edwin couldn’t remember the last time he had a dish so. . . substantial in terms of taste. Sure, he could get a plate of cooked chicken with bread and cheese on the road, and Pik always whipped up a stew, but this reminded him why people got fat in the first place.

He'd eaten a cooked goose wing that was seasoned and drizzled with honey and topped with sweet onion, an army of roasted squash cushioning the healthy slab of juicy meat. Fresh hot bread came with a dab of cow-butter, a dash of salt sprinkled on top to create a rainbow of tastes. The ale bit nice and hard too – and it was chilled! Sol bless the most useful use of magic around here. His stomach, for once, was happy.

Aloise abstained from meat, unsurprisingly. Despite the sharp files of his teeth, he maintained a light diet, a splinter of veggies seasoned with a homemade dressing – cherries, pepper, vinegar – all bathing a hill of fresh pickings. It relaxed him, his frame loosening, dropping the pretense from before. He was certainly in his element.

It did leave Edwin curious. “Aloise,” he started. The rabbit cut him off with a raise of finger, taking a deep sip of his ale.

“Al, if you’d like,” he said with a loud gasp, wiping his maw. Edwin shrugged.

“Alright. Al, ah, not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, on your coin no less, but, can I ask what we’re doing here?”

Aloise swung his head to Edwin, wobbly, blinking. “Sieur! Look around you!”

He gave a wide gesture. “What a fine opportunity to absorb some color!”

He pointed towards a stage, married to a background of silk red curtains. It was empty, though the implication of a performance was there. “Ah, theater, zhweet theater, I miss thee. . . oh Eddy, just look, isn’t it better than the scum and shit you wander around in?”

“You’d be surprised how theatrical ‘scum and shit’ can be,” said Edwin, looking the stage over. “Besides, more of a shanty man.”

Aloise wiggled his hand, scoffing. “Fah! Shanties won’t help us with zhe count. Come on, drink it in!”

Edwin glanced at his mostly empty mug. “Trying to.”

“I meant the zhurroundings.”

Said surroundings were filled with guests in colorful, expensive attires. Green feathers burst from dark navy-blue hats to wide for the wearer often matched with elaborate jewelry. Their cheeks were rosy from drink and chittering laughter.

“Well, they do croak like frogs.”

Aloise finished the rest of his drink. “Ohhh, don’t be such a stick! Get used to it, there will be zhese types at the Count’s estate.”

Edwin sighed. “Wonderful.”

He felt a gentle jab at his side. “Come now, Eddy, what do you have against zhem, anyway?”

“Better question,” said Edwin, looking to his rabbit companion. “Why do you want to be around them?”

Aloise fluttered his eyes, complimented by gentle eyeshadow and eyeliner. “Musn’t be deflective, sieur.”

Edwin looked back to his food which was mostly gone, so he couldn’t stuff his mouth with another juicy cut of meat to avoid the question.

“I prefer my company to know their way around a gun, how about that?”

Aloise’s ears perked, and he tilted his head, exaggerated from his drink. “Aaand what about a sword?”

Edwin studied his companion, understanding the implication. “You’re no soldier, Al.”

Aloise pushed a delicate hand to his chest, huffing. “Sieur. I handle my hilt just fine. In fact, I could run a point in any of zhese fools. Zhe best in Yhorim, I was!”

Edwin blinked. Yhorim? Well, explained a bit of the accent. This route of conversation, at least, was more entertaining, and he preferred it this way.

“That so?” said Edwin, smirking. “Well, anyone can stick a stuffed turkey.”

“Besides,” he continued, “You’re an incubi. You have. . . let’s call it an unfair advantage.”

At once, Aloise cheek’s flushed, but not from the drink. He forced a grin, fangs visible, eyes narrowing. “Oh Eddy. Be glad I like you so much.”

“I’m not judging you,” said Edwin. “Incubi or no.”

“But you dare imply I cheat?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Aloise drew in a long, steady breath. “I’ll ignore zhat statement for the sake of our relationship.”

Relationship? Bun was tipsy, mused Edwin.

“But I like cheats. Helpful in a bad spot.”

Aloise took a harsh bite from his salad, point with fork. “You might not be used to high company because you trounce around with zhat little imp of yours, but-”

“Her name is Pik.”

The shift in tone force Aloise to pause. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, well. I do not cheat, not with matters of zhe blade_.”_

“The exception is for swordplay only, is it?”

Aloise grumbled. “I hope zhis isn’t the height of your speaking skills. They’ll pick you out at the estate like a blotch on his majesty’s ass.”

Edwin shook his head. “I don’t find common ground with fancy folk, Al, that’s why you’re there. And like I said, we’re not sticking around for long.”

Another grumble. “So you keep insisting.”

Edwin looked around him, eyeing all the furnishings and banners of elite wealth with weary regard. “Hey, sooner we’re done, sooner you can get back to your, well, whatever this is.”

For a moment, Aloise didn’t respond, falling quiet. He glanced at his food, munching it with silence, ears flicking. It didn’t take a scholar to see Aloise wasn’t fond of the idea, his shoulders drooping and his burst of energy vaporizing. He thought to shift the subject to brighten the bun up, but his counterpart spoke once more.

“Why these. . . vegetables?” he asked, blunt.

Edwin hushed a moment as an attendant returned to them, a well-dressed oafish man who took their plates and returned with fresh mugs of ale. Edwin thanked Sol, taking a gulp. Aloise wouldn’t be deterred though.

“Well?”

Edwin held back an answer, considering. Ah, well, what was the harm? He was in this deep, and his “friend” hadn’t done anything to raise his suspicion. Yet. Suppose the rabbit could expose Edwin the moment they waltzed into the Count’s estate, but, that would be a lot of trouble to go to. Fair enough then.

“Enchanted ingredients. Pik uses them. Specifically, peppers. More specifically, magic peppers.”

Aloise blinked, waiting. When Edwin said nothing else, he leaned, expectant. “Is. . . is zhat all?”

Edwin tilted his head. Was it? He rubbed his chin, thinking. “She thinks she can make a powerful sauce too.”

Aloise gawked. He wiggled his nose, rubbing his forehead, taking a long, impressive swig of his ale. “You are trying to break into the walls of one of zhe most powerful men in Vallen. . . to steal. . . peppers?”

“Magic peppers.”

“You’re selling them to someone?”

“No.”

Aloise wobbled, glanced at his drink, cheeks tinted rose. “Am I zhat drunk? Am I stumbling around in a dream?”

Edwin chuckled. “You’re not there yet.”

Aloise leaned into Edwin, his shoulder pushed into the man’s side. “Ohhh Eddy. Eddy, Eddy, zhat is one of the dumbest things I have ever heard.”

Edwin nodded. “It is.”

Aloise slapped the table. “Then we drink to its success!” Again, in a swift motion, the bun hoisted his full pint and guzzled it down. Some of the liquor dribbled down his cheeks in a foamy, streaming mess, but he got it down, gasping loud and raw when he finished.

Edwin never expected it. “Damn.”

His companion shivered. “It’s not wine, but it will do!”

Well, any excuse to get at the bottom of a bottle – or in this case, a glass – was fine with Edwin. He matched his friend with a hard drink, knocking the liquid back. Not as harsh as he preferred, but good all the same.

For a while, he forgot that he was drinking himself silly. For a while, he forgot about Pik, who often got up to a whole mountain of mischief when left unattended for too long. Realizing, he gulped, but not from his drink.

Uh oh.

-*-

What were those peaches filled with, anyway? Drugs?

Pik’s pointed ears flicked. The dull fall of footsteps wasn’t too far off, accented by the shudder of metal and weapons. Specific ones, coupled with specific boots. She was followed, and not by just some randy boozehound or sneaky pete. These were Anderly men, like the one she spotted passing the note to the kid, the note she now had. She suspected it was the paper they wanted.

So, perhaps boinking a boy who sold fruit on behalf of his father wasn’t the stealthiest way to pilfer valuables. But by the horns of the Sleeping King, what was the big deal!? Why was this a problem?

She was about ready to twirl on her pursuers and turn them into puddles of flesh, but, given her surroundings, not the best idea. Edwin would be none to pleased to come back only to find she’d blown their cover, adding another to the list of “places we really shouldn’t return to.” Too crowded, so, she led the followers down a twisting path, deep into the veins of ramshackle alleys in Lower Vallen. It was getting late, the dark was on her side, and though she didn’t know the city, she’d bet her tits in a card match these goons didn’t march around the “lesser class” all too often, meaning they were at a disadvanage. Noisy streets quieted, the market well behind her, leaving empty pockets of city and narrow paths that’d give her some cover. Sure, it’d create a racket and there’d be general chaos she figured, but best not to put on a whole production in front of everyone about it, right?

She glanced up. Old buildings rose high, cluttered by boxes and general refuse, a thin hush of fog choking the streets. Gas lamps weren’t on yet, not that she needed them. She stopped, turning, hands to hips.

Yep. Like she suspected, there they were, uniform and all. So far as she could tell, they didn’t have much armor – not that it mattered. Attires of black hugged stocky frames matched with thick hog-leather gloves and masks of carved brass. Blunt weapons were at their sides, and the three men stopped in a hurry when they saw Pik glaring at them.

“I take it you fugwas were enjoying the view?” she snickered, smacking her haunches. “Show’s not free, ya’ know.”

They ignored her. One man – the assumed leader – stepped forward. He was a bit different, a miniature shield worn on his breast with the Count’s sigil etched into it.

“By the authority of His Glory, Sol and Count Anderion Anderly, you are hereby under arrest, thief.”

Pik feigned a gasp. “Thief! Whatever do you mean, good sir!?”

The leader gestured to his soldiers and they started towards Pik, pulling their weapons free. Ugly hilts of oak ringed with brutal iron heads.

She raised her hand. “Hang oh boyos, think reaaaal careful here. You got families? Or like, a kid? Maybe a wife? A not-wife? A mistress?”

They didn’t stop.

“I’m askin’ cause if you keep walking toward me, you’re gonna die.”

The two slowed down.

“Did I stutter? You’re gonna’ die. The last thing you’ll see is me!” Pik chittered, pulling her mouth into a fanged grin. Now, the men halted, glancing back to their captain.

“You sure you want that?”

He crossed his arms. “Arrest her. Now.”

Pik clicked her tongue. “In my opinion, this is a shit way to go.”

As the two men crept toward her, their motions notably hesitant, Pik stuffed a hand into her satchel, withdrawing a sizeable vegetable. Specifically, a bulbous red pepper with fat, yellow stripes, tipped with a long, tail-like stalk.

“Get on the ground, scum!” barked one of the guards.

Pik held the pepper in one hand, wiggling her other fingers together. At once, a teardrop of green fire shuddered to life, and she pressed it against the pepper’s end. It hissed and sizzled, and with a manic grin she tossed at the guard to her left.

“Catch!”

“What-”

In a seizure of fire, the pepper convulsed and exploded, engulfing him. Hissing colors of burning yellow ate through his attire, scorching flesh and reducing bones to a spongy mass. Of course, the guard shrieked and attempted to douse the flames, though buckled as his knees simply ceased from the conflagration.

“SOL ABOVE!”

The other guard screeched, stumbling back. “WITCH! WITCH!”

His morale shattered, he twirled to flee, dropping his weapon, while the captain took a step back. His hand darted to side, retrieving a standard issue Solarian flintlock.

“No you don’t!” Pik shrieked.

The captain took aim as she darted to the side. The weapon let off a resounding crack as the round missed and cracked the street, the captain swearing. Pik was swift to respond, pulling out her cleaver and heaving it towards his head. The angry metal collided with the brass, echoing with an angry, metallic echo, though lacked the forced to break it. Instead the captain stumbled, dropping his weapon. Pik growled while the other attacker rushed away.

“You get back here!” she yelled. Growling, she retrieved another object from her satchel, a spherical bluish fungus.

Her hand erupted in the same strange, alien fire, plunging it into the fungus. As she did, green veins spidered around its mass, and it gurgled and writhed to horrifying life. A mouth with mutant fangs formed along it, and a pair of small wings accompanied the repulsive transformation. Bubbling hisses escaped the “creature,” its sticky wings flapping as it took to the air in a mock display of actual flight.

Rivers of acidic “saliva” dribbled from its newly farmed maw as it turned to its creator. Pik pointed at the escaping guard, expectant. “Well? Go get em’!”

A miserable sputter escaped the thing as it hobbled in the air, shifting to chase after its quarry. In the meantime, the captain, tried to rouse, groaning. He was dizzied from the cleaver’s blow, though Pik was swift to retrieve the knife. She took it, coming to the guard’s head, her small frame leaning over him.

“Told you.”

The captain tried to push her away, but Pik responded with a flurry of meaty hacks against his head, until striking through the mask with a deathblow. She grumbled, frowning at the river of scarlet.

“Better not have dulled it. . .”

She sighed, turning her gaze towards the street. In the distance she could make out the blur of the running guard, though her familiar wasn’t far behind. She squinted, leaning, the fungal abomination not far from its target. Then, the mass of blue swooped into the man, sinking its fangs into flesh. The guard let out a pained cry, stumbling and falling. It wouldn’t last, though. His agony was met with a spire of blue energy, a pillar of azure fire consuming him, much like his counterpart. The violent explosion splattered him into a cloud of bits and chunks, his mask scorched and sent skyward.

The imp watched the spectacle with an amused smile, chuckling. It vanished, however, when other sounds erupted around her. Frightened cries and astonished voices filled her ears, house lights visible while civilians noticed her little “predicament.”

“Uh. Shit. Time to go!”

She glanced at the captain’s body, snatching his sigil and fishing around for any extra loot on his person. Maybe she could pawn the icon? She stowed it away before making a mad dash away from the scene of violence. So far as she could see, no one saw her, or at least, not distinctly enough to make out her features.

She scurried back towards the tavern, hat held down. What the ugwump was all this about? Was a letter really such a big deal? Ed could probably make better sense of it, not that he’d want to, she figured. Guess the elite in Higher Vallen really liked peasant fruit.

Pik didn’t rightly care about whatever elaborate conspiracies the puffy governance were up to. Buuut if there was something happening at the Anderly “get together,” it might create. . . complications. When she returned to the tavern, the guests were none the wiser. For now. She kept to herself and avoided the crowds, heading back upstairs to the rented room. It wasn’t empty.

“Oh. Bwugh.”

She intended to tell Edwin about the note, but ol’ bog-brain was spent. That is to say, his pale features were aflush, his eyes watery, chest bare. And who was hanging off his shoulder, nose into neck, giggling like a princess? That strangeling Aloise. Both of them were tipsy and drunk off their ass. Great. Pik grumbled, shoving the door closed as the two gazed at her, although their movements were fluid, exaggerated.

“Oh hey Pik,” slurred Edwin, raising a mug that wasn’t there. “Wheeere’ve you been?”

“It’s the imp,” added Aloise, kissing Ed on the cheek. “The iiiiimp.”

PIk frowned. “You know how bad it is that I’m the sober one here?”

She looked around. “Where are your guns, Ed?”

Edwin blinked, squinting, pointing in a general direction. “Ohh they’re sleeping, I think. Sleepy sleeping.”

“Mmhmhm, sounds divine,” intoned Aloise. “Mmm, sleeping, mmhm. . .”

Pik rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Slut.”

She sighed, ignoring the drunken pair as she fished out the note, setting it aside, along with the captain’s sigil.

“Hey Ed, just remember,” said the imp as she turned her satchel upside down, ingredients falling free. “Ya’ told me to drown you in cold water to wake you up if you get drunk.”

They weren’t listening. Rather, from the corner of her peripheral, she could see the two getting tangled up, or rather, that stuffy rabbit getting his arms around Edwin.

-*-

Pik made good on her threat.

Edwin gasped awake as a bucket of cold, unforgiving water slapped him to life. He spat and sputtered, falling out of his sheets with an unrepentant thunk to the hard floor.

Aloise mimicked this, shrieking as he twisted out of the bed, mouth agape in horror as the cold water matted his fur.

“Sun’s up, asshole,” said Pik, looking between them. Aloise stumbled to his feet, glaring, while Edwin heaved, shuddering, skin dripping.

“You little wretch!” cursed Aloise, looking at his soaked fur. He was mostly bare, save for a pair of lace.

“You’re welcome.”

The rabbit looked to Edwin for pleading support, but Edwin merely groaned, rubbing his head. “Grugh. Fuck me. Literally.”

“I’ll say,” said Pik, tossing the bucket aside. “Now, get off your asses. Bad day to have a hangover.”

She clapped her hands together. “C’mon you mud maggots! Hop to! They don’t serve a late breakfast here!”

Aloise was frozen a moment, huffing, rubbing his forehead. A slew of swears escaped him as he forced himself to feet, mascara runny and blotchy. Though he looked ready to skewer her along the wall, Aloise ignored this and prepared himself, much like Edwin. His tail wiggled, he shoved past Pik, going to his clothes which lie in a lust-born crumple, fishing through them. He pulled free an object – a key made of black, shimmering metal – looking back to Edwin and the imp with a sobered frown.

“I’ll see you both in an hour.”

With a humph, Aloise jammed the key in the air, turning it. But, the air was empty. Or was it? No, instead, a door of inky shadow coalesced into existence, ornate patterns scrawled along it, summoned from. . . well, somewhere. Pik blinked and Edwin watched with indifference as the rabbit pushed inside, closing it, fading from existence as quickly as the door had appeared.

Aloise tilted his head. “Huh.”

Pik scoffed. “A pocket dimension? Really? Pfft. What a prissy little shikwit.”

“Easy,” said Edwin, pushing to his feet. “He’s the reason we can do this at all.”

“Yeah? Looks like he just wants your coffers, bog brain.”

“I trust a man who buys me a drink. A bit more, anyway.” Edwin rubbed his eyes, drying himself.

PIk snickered. “That’s a man, is it?”

“Enough. Lucky I don’t put you on soap duty again, PIk.”

She waived him off. “I’ll ride your dick later to make up for it. Right now, uh, you might wanna’ see this.”

Pik retrieved the note from before, yanking it out of her cleavage, holding it up to Edwin. At first, he didn’t take it, but it wasn’t until his eyes landed on the regalia stamped into the paper that he took a closer inspection. He rubbed himself off, pulling on briefs.

“What. . . is this?”

The imp handed it over, shrugging again. “I dunno. I saw one of those Anderly weirdos in the city. I nabbed that and uh, they kinda’ chased me. Can’t read it though.”

Edwin studied the note, squinting, finger going over the lines. “I’m sorry, chased you?”

PIk crossed her arms, shrugging. “Yeah. So?”

“. . .what did you do?”

She huffed, rolling eyes. “Noooothhhiiiiing, god.”

“Pik.”

The impish girl grab a strand of her black hair and rolled it in finges, twiddling it around. “Nothing, really! Er, I sorta’ killed three guards, but I was careful about it!”

Edwin stared.

“Don’t look at me like that! Nobody saw me!”

Edwin arched his head up and heaved a long sigh. “Oh, Pik, why.”

“Oh stop whinin’ ya’ old house wife! That note looked pretty important! It’s got some fancy name stuff on it too and everything!”

Edwin plopped on a wood chair, the pale morning light breaking through the room window. Well, nothing he could do now. Since he wasn’t in irons and currently getting split in twain by a metal axe, suppose no one found them out yet. He redirected his attention to the note, and there was the Anderly sigil stamped upon it. Everything else, though. . .

“This is written in Engla Noble,” he commented.

PIk tilted her head. “Yeah? And?”

“Can’t read much myself. Hmm.” He tapped the end of the paper.

“Isle Kadro? That’s odd. Coast is pretty far from here.”

He glanced back to Pik. “Where did you steal this from?”

She snickered. “Some guard handed it off to a kid selling peaches for his dad. Or that’s what the little scrumper told me.”

“Peaches?”

“Yep.”

Edwin continued to parse through the note, spying the name. “Sedrius. . .”

“Sounds fancy.”

Edwin set the note aside. “Hmm. I wonder if Aloise could read it?”

He didn’t pursue the thought much longer. Didn’t seem relevant to what they were doing right now, and he once again had to question Pik’s judgment. Then again, it was strange to see someone from Higher Vallen trounce around in the common public. There were town guards stationed there already, Anderly guards were paid swords.

He cleaned himself in the meantime and put on some dry garbs, heading downstairs with Pik. The hostel was mostly bare, which was good. A few men in the corner munching their breakfast but not much else. Edwin went ahead and got his food, a plate of fat sausages with butterbread and half a potato. A small cup of black, bitter coffee worked nice too. Pik on the other hand grabbed a mess of meats and vegetables – salted tomatoes with strips of bacon, boiled eggs, and leftover chicken cuts. Mushrooms too, of course.

They ate in quiet until Aloise ventured downstairs. He regarded his surroundings with a quiet disdain, his attire far fancier than it needed to be. He took a seat opposite of Pik and Edwin. He kept his meal light – a hush of bagel spread with peach-cream, a warm apple center split, seasoned squash, and the smallest cut of sausage.

Edwin noticed. “I. . . didn’t realize you ate meat.”

Pik snorted to herself but Aloise ignored her.

“Zhere are many things you don’t know about me, sieur.”

As the rabbit ate, Edwin looked around, voice low. He pulled out the letter, showing it to Aloise. “Any chance you can read this?”

Aloise huffed, finishing a bite of squash, snatching the letter with finger. He looked it over, eyes widening.

“Where. . . where did you get zhis?”

Pik shrugged. “Stole it.”

“Nevermind that,” interjected Edwin. “Can you?”

Aloise studied it several times, blinking. The more he did, the paler he appeared to look.

“Yes, ahm. . .”

He leaned, voice almost a whisper. “We should not have zhis.”

Now Edwin was interested, head tilted. “Do go on.”

Aloise looked around him, cautious, before clearing his throat. Again, he kept his voice very quiet.

“Torvan,

The plan did not work. Sedrius fled before we could finish. Please see us at Count Anderly’s estate this coming moon at the gala. We will discuss what to do there. We believe Sedrius fled to the Isle Kadro.

Better health to your wife in these trying times.

All will be well. The sun always rises. We look forward to your fermented peaches.

-Urim Orot”

As Aloise finished the note, he set it down like it were a possessed artifact. Edwin tapped his hands.

“Sedrius fled to the Isle Kadro?”

Again, Aloise glanced about. “We shouldn’t have zhis.”

“Why?” asked Edwin.

Aloise shuddered. “I know zhe name. Orot is Master of Executions here. He’s the law, and. . . Sedrius? Sedrius Saldran. Zhat man was a upstart in zhe courts, he was gathering power, challenging Anderly, and. . .”

Edwin scratched his chin. “You trying to tell me old Anderly wanted to assassinate a potential opponent? I’m truly amazed.”

Pik’s ears flicked. “Uh, what? Since when does a shitty fruit seller get all dick-hard into killin’ guys?”

“Maybe it’s a front,” offered Edwin.

Aloise folded the note in haste, stowing it away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s dangerous to have.”

Edwin laughed. “Last time I checked you and Pik were daemon. You’ve nothing to worry about. Probably.”

Aloise hesitated, glancing to Edwin, then at his food. “I didn’t mean me.”

“It’s fine,” assured Edwin. “Does this change anything?”

“Fancy note talked about peaches. Maybe there’s a shipment of them?” Pik pondered, flicking at her food. “Could be a way in.”

Edwin nodded. “Huh. True. You could stow away in a peach crate, get inside, find the peppers, and then we find you.”

Pik snorted. “I can probably handle it all myself now, you know.”

Edwin laughed.

Aloise, in the meantime, wasn’t so sure. “He won’t have zhis note now. They’ll get suspicious.”

Edwin leaned back, sipping the rest of his coffee. “Don’t worry so much, Al,” he said, parting his overcoat. There, he revealed a small family of cannisters, each one as big as a finger.

“I’m prepared.”

Aloise grumbled. “I feel so much better.”

He pushed away his plate. “Not like they’ll let you waltz in with zhose.”

“I’ll improvise.”

A quiet pause formed between the group. No turning back now – tonight was the gathering. Edwin didn’t know if he cared to make sense of this Sedrius business, but he pushed the thought aside for now. Maybe it’d come in handy, maybe not, but they had one shot to make, and he made it a point to try and not miss.

“It’ll start at sunset,” commented Edwin after all, gesturing to Aloise. “When it’s time, your show. I’ll follow your lead.”

Aloise wiped his mouth with a cloth. “Saints, save us.”

Edwin leaned back, glancing at Pik, then back to the rabbit. “We’re better off without."