'Okay, from one to ten, how sure are you that this is a good idea?' asked Marcus.

Robert shrugged.

'I don't care if it's a good idea or not. One of us died, Marcus. We almost lost Jenna. Teodore is still in the hospital. We have the right to know the truth.'

He opened his fist, then closed it. Open, close. Open, close. The doctors said the burn on his palm and fingers wasn't reacting to magic like a normal burn supposed to, so it will be a lot of time and pain until it will eventually heal. Robert knew that pain was his friend in this case: pain meant that there was no nerve damage. It meant that one day he will be able to use his hand the same way he was before.

Open, close. Open, close.

'You are right,' nodded Marcus. 'But you are angry. I get it, mate, I'm angry too, Ayana was my friend. But when you are angry, you tend to make shitty decisions.'

Robert opened the door of Marcus' car and got out.

'Stay if you want,' he said.

Marcus sighed and followed him. He always did.

It was luch-time and the Broken Shield was supposed to be packed with people eating burgers but as always when something significant was about to happen, the pub was empty.

'Why is there a tree in here?' asked Marcus whispering.

'Long story,' answered Robert and went around the tree to the long oak bar. Luther was standing behind it. On the bar there was a tea for Robert and a coffee for Marcus.

'Gentlemen,' nodded Luther.

They sat on the tall bar chairs.

'The deed is done,' said Robert. 'The ancient lady is in prison once again.'

'So I've heard,' said Luther. 'Good job. Thank you.'

'A few of her followers escaped,' added Robert. 'We will catch them, eventually.'

'Good,' nodded Luther again.

The air was full of tension, as if they weren't talking in a pub, but were standing on a dusty high street waiting for the clock tower to beat so they can draw their revolvers.

'So I'm here for my reward,' said Robert.

Luther lifted his eyebrow. Marcus groaned and when Robert looked at him, he tried to pretend that he wasn't there at all.

'Your reward?' asked the bartender. 'You all get to live, isn't that enough?'

'No,' said Robert. 'It isn't. One of us died, you see.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said Luther and he looked sorry, too. 'But considering the size of the emergency we have been…'

'Let me stop you right there, mate,' said Robert. His voice was cold and quiet. 'There is no "we". You were sitting here, far from the fight while we were risking our lives. So don't start that nonsense about prizes to pay for the greater good, okay? You don't have the right to say that. Do you know who has? Ayana Masako, the woman who died for you.'

Open, close. Open, close.

Luther's face went dark. So did the whole pub, all the lights became dim all of the sudden. The fae looked taller somehow. Marcus' hand was slowly inching closer to his pocket.

'I did what I had to do and you did what you had to do. It's over now, young Montgomery. You are finally free, isn't that what you always wanted? Being free from responsibility? Go and enjoy it.'

Robert shook his head.

'I'm here for my reward,' he repeated.

'Mate, what are you…' started Marcus, but Robert raised his bandage-wrapped hand.

'Everyone thinks that fairy tales are just that, tales. But if you are listening carefully, every one of them is carrying a shard of truth. Now, you can do nothing with it, since the fae is gone, right? Except for our friend here. He still has to obey the old laws of his kind, or so he says,' Robert turned his ice-cold gaze from Marcus to Luther. 'So, Luther, elf of shadows, here I am, demanding my reward for the deed I've done for you. Will you obey?'

'The woman was dangerous. You would go after her sooner or later anyway and you know that,' Luther said.

'But you asked us to do so,' replied Robert. 'I am here for my reward. Will you obey?'

Luther's head hanged. He seemed normal-sized again and somehow older than ever before. The lights in the pub came back.

'I will,' he said. 'I have to, that's what the old law says. A deed for a deed. But… I cannot bring her back. Death is one of the few things that is beyond any magic, even mine.'

Robert nodded. He hoped that it would be otherwise, but he had his doubt. Now he knew. Open, close. Open, close.

'All right,' he said. 'There is another thing you can give me.'

'No,' shook his head Luther. 'You already know too much. If I'd teach you the Old Talk you would become another threat.'

'Why would he, though?' asked Marcus. Looked like he reached a point when he couldn't stay quiet anymore. 'I mean, c'mon, man, we are cleaning up your people's mess, you gotta throw a bone or two. You owe us.'

'I do,' nodded Luther. 'It is true. But I refuse to teach him nonetheless.'

'You can keep your magic,' shrugged Robert. 'I don't need it. No, what I need is something else.'

Marcus and Luther looked at him. That was it. Now they will know.

'Yolanda, the Goddess told us that the fae was dying when she was alive. She said she didn't believe that they would come back, because in the years between they must have died out. She said that fae was pure magic and from the moment human beings started to use that magic, they were sentenced to death. Which means they cannot come back, even if they are still alive. Which means the genocide your people have done wasn't for some kind of high ethical reason, it was for survival. You massacred us so you can live.'

Open, close. Robert's hand hurt badly but he barely noticed now. Luther looked at him, his face unreadable, his eyes old like time itself.

'So here is what I want, Luther: tell me the truth.'

Deep, deep silence. Outside, on the street, a car went by. Robert and Luther gazed at each other while Marcus ran his eyes from one to another as if he was watching a tennis match. At last, Luther looked away.

'The truth is, young Montgomery… The truth is that I don't know.'

'Motherfu…' started Marcus but Robert lifted his hand to make him silent once again.

'Explain,' he ordered on his father's voice.

Luther shook his head. He looked sad and old, and even a little confused. Robert never has seen him like this before.

'It is hard to explain. It was millennials ago. We did not have phones and maps back there, you understand. There was a dream… A dream every fae dreamed for days. It was sent by our one true king. He said "come to Albion, seek the big river and follow it. Find me at the door I found. We will leave this world". I was far, far away, the other end of the world. I felt it when they opened the door, by the time I made it to what you call France today. I was so close… But not close enough.'

He stopped, and even though he was looking at them, Robert knew that he didn't see them.

'So what, did they leave?' asked Marcus impatiently.

Luther shook his head again.

'I told you: I don't know. Some fae wanted to stay, some even told the humans about it. Romans wanted to go to that new place and declare it for the Empire. There was a battle, I think… When I get there… Here, there was nothing but bodies and the doors. I could only ever open one of them: it is just a shortcut in this world, you have used it once already. I used it to bring the fallen warriors to a place they could rest, fae and human together. I had dug graves for months. My people never used magic for digging graves: we thought there are certain things you have to work for with your hands. Then I made a ritual that was old and dangerous: I gave my blood to the land. This land. I built an inn and later someone else built another, then there came a bridge and that's really how London came to exist. I'm nearly immortal here, in my pub and around and I can do almost anything. But as the years went by I gave so much of myself to the place that I doubt I could even cast a spell in the next street anymore.'

'So you don't know if any of your people survived the battle?' asked Marcus and Robert had heard sympathy in his voice, something he did not feel.

'I think the door was open, one of the three you have seen on the wall. Some might have escaped, maybe most of them. I'm not strong enough to open them and I don't know which one was it they used. And even if I could open them, I wouldn't because I don't know what's behind. I could find my people or I could find the truth I never wanted to know… Or I could let some old bloodthirsty god into this helpless little world… Whoever closed the doors, they closed it for a reason. So I stayed to guard them.'

Marcus asked for something strong and Luther poured him some rum.

'How come I never heard this story before? A battle as big as this one was, must be in the history books, right?' Marcus looked at Robert, then Luther.

'History is written by the winners,' shrugged Robert. 'Or in this case, by the remaining. I suppose Luther made sure that the details would never come to light, in order to protect his secret.'

'I did, yes,' the bartender nodded. 'I could keep this place against an army if I have to, but I prefer not to fight.'

Marcus straightened his back all of the sudden and looked at Luther with big eyes.

'Wait a second! You can do anything here? Then you don't need to teach Robert, you just need to fix his brain! Then he could use Runes again, right?'

Robert smiled sadly and shook his head.

'For that, Luther should know everything about brains, Marcus. And not even neuroscientists know everything… It is a fairly new science, mind you, and there are a lot of uncharted territories. So no, I'm afraid he cannot heal me. Am I correct?'

'Unfortunately,' agreed Luther. 'I am sorry. I wish I could help but I don't know too much about these things… I was a warrior, not a healer.'

Robert got up. He was very tired suddenly. He wanted to be angry or at least shocked, but all he could feel was dim emptiness.

'You are not a warrior, Luther, not anymore. You are a coward. You sent us to die for a lie you are telling yourself for ages. You cost us a life, and your debt isn't paid yet. Do you agree?'

'Dude, that's…'

'Not now, Marcus. You are in our debt, Luther, do you agree?'

The old man looked at him for a long time, then slowly nodded.

'I agree. You may ask one more thing from me when the time comes. I'm not your enemy, young Montgomery.'

'When the time comes,' repeated Robert quietly. 'We will see about that.'

On their way out, Robert stopped at the small tree. He put his bandaged palm on it and whispered a word. Nothing happened. He tried again, and this time the leaves shivered. Luther watched him from behind the bar curiously. One more time, with closed eyes, deep in concentration: the trunk cracked loudly as if the tree was fighting against a thunder. The smell of aether filled the air. Nothing else.

Robert lowered his arm, sighed and walked out with Marcus in his tail.