“He what!?” Neda screamed at the toga-clad, nervous barmaid fidgeting her fingers behind the counter. Neda, herself, had lacked the forethought to copy Asrael’s swift, improvised tailoring and had, instead, grabbed her soaked dress and quickly dragged it down over her head as she awoke from her nap, only to realize that Asrael had disappeared.

“M-Ma’am, p-please calm down... you’re scaring me...” The barmaid stuttered and took another step away from the madwoman. Neda leaned her closed fists on the bar with a fierce set of bared teeth and repeated: “He did what!?”

“H-he b-bought o-our clothes and left with that girl! P-please, I don’t know anything more-” The maiden screamed as Neda slammed her fist into the wooden countertop- knocking several of the pastries inside the barside display down from their perches. Next, Neda screamed at the top of her lungs and shouted up the stairs: “Kessiiiieeee!”

Following a lengthy pause, in which Neda pulled on her hair and furiously stomped the floor, a shout sounded from Kester’s faraway room. “What!?”

“Assie stood me up! We were supposed to eat, but he left me!” She could almost hear the melancholic man’s aggressive rubbing of his face. “Good for you!” He roared back.

The barmaid took shelter behind the display as the wildling girl turned and ascended the stairs with the full force of her lengthy legs, only to return a moment later- pushing the bare-chested, depressive tavernkeeper ahead of her. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go find him, Kessie! I’ve primed him to make me his pa’namph all day- I'm not accepting him running away now!” Somehow, Kester couldn’t shake the feeling he had heard that wording before- priming- from the lips of his wife.

“You’ve what?” The depressive husk asked as Neda continued to push him over the floor and towards the door.

“Primed him! I did it just like Maribelle said- fight him until he breaks and then he’ll be desperate to get me back!” Kester had no choice but to grab the door’s handle and swing it open. Without a second’s pause, she pushed him out into the mud and fog. He turned over his shoulder to mutter his protest: “I don’t think he’ll fall for that one. I might be out on a limb here, but I’m assuming some human emotions are needed for Belle’s tactics to work.” Neda’s naked feet dug into the cold mud as the rain began striking her cheeks.

She strained her neck to meet the eye he had turned over his shoulder and accused: “Well, it worked on you, didn’t it?” As much as he wished to protest, he could hardly do so. She wasn’t wrong- those very same tactics had led to the spawning of their beloved child, after all.

They traversed the misty, muddy street until they got to the stables where, surprisingly, Barrel was already awaiting them atop the carriage, through the thick carpet of the mist with a leather umbrella in his right hand- the horses already strapped and awaiting them. Both Kester and Neda stopped with momentary surprise as they caught sight of the small, round man through the fog.

Barrel sniffled and pointed to the back of the carriage, where he had procured another two, oiled cloth umbrellas, albeit a bit more worn than the one he held over his own head. Kester and Neda both made the crawl onto the back of the cart while Neda spoke: “D’you know where he went, Barr!?”

The chauffeur nodded as soon as Kester’s feet left the ground and whistled his horses into action, nearly knocking the tavernkeeper back into the mud with the inertia.

“Yeh, look. Y’can see Yurgen’s tracks on the mud.” Barrel swung the umbrella to the left, where Neda saw the three-toed-shaped pools in the mud. She might’ve sounded her relief, but as infuriated as she was at Asrael’s departure, she could not bring herself to calm down for long enough for Kester to show her how to operate the mysterious artifact in his hand. Instead, she stood up on the cart’s ledge and commanded: “C’mon, we’ve gotta hurry and catch up to him!” Before she could fall, Kester grabbed her by the sides and held the oiled, mysterious object over her head to shield her from the elements. He could feel the figurative heat of her rage exude off of her from where he stood, but Neda paid him no heed. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly affixed forwards with narrowed eyes and grumbled: “Bastard... he didn’t even tell me- how dare he?”

Kester grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her down to the cart, where she promptly folded her arms- shielding the dark areas that had appeared on her chest through the wet, white fabric. He held the umbrella over the pair of them and muttered, knowing it to be in vain: “Maybe we should ask Barrel to set course for Skum? I’m sure you can find a new psychopath there- maybe he’ll even be nice.” Neda’s furrowed her brow and shook her head sternly.

“No! It’s me and him or it’s no one at all for both of us.” Kester blinked several times, hoping her statement would become any less frightening, alas... no.

“R-right... I hate to say it, but didn’t he and that Purged woman-” Neda rounded on Kester- boring her frightening, red eyes into him. “Didn’t they what, Kester!?” The tavernkeeper raised his free hand in defeat and resisted his neck’s inclination to glance down at her chest- reminding himself that he was still married... or so he thought. He swallowed and pushed her back on the cart, where she huffed aggressively and grabbed her knees.

“She’s not his. It doesn’t count when it’s done like that!”

“Jeez, calm down, girl- fine. I’m just saying you could do better, all right? What do you even see in that guy?” Neda took a deep breath and looked solemnly onto her filthy, tattered dress. The platter of the rain and the hissing and thunks of the cart’s wheels filled the momentary silence between the pair. Neda finally looked up from her knees to watch the swirls of the fog consume the buildings on either side of the road as they journeyed onwards- after their disheveled leader.

“He’s... different. At first, I hated him. I wanted to kill him, but-… when I got to know him, I realized he ain’t that bad, y’know. He’s cold and you’d think he’s cruel, but he’s not.” Neda stroked her fingers along her legs and rested her head onto her knees.

“He set me free... not just my body, but me. He showed me that I could still be human and not a pet to the Inquisition and to the rest of the world. I can be me... I can be Neda. And I can do what I want to do, with my own body.” Kester attempted to wrap his mind around the wildling’s emotions.

“So, it’s a gratitude-thing?” He questioned, but Neda was quick to whip her wet hair around and clarify: “No, it’s more than that. He can be sweet, if you get past his coldness. I’ve seen it whenever he talks about his old life, y’know. And he’s smart- he always has a plan.” Kester still seemed unconvinced, where he leaned against the cart’s side with a crooked smile and waited for Neda to continue.

Still staring into the mist and mud, she spoke in a mutter: “He makes my stomach feel nice. When I smell his pillow, I sometimes giggle but I can’t help it.”

Kester sighed and shook his head. “Neda... he keeps talking about wanting to destroy Capita. That’s a lot of innocent lives. I’m not sure I disagree with that- not after what I’ve seen, but-… I can’t see that kindness you’re talking about.” Again, she whipped her hair around and struck his face with the wet tips.

“I don’t care. I’ll help him do it- as long as I can have him. If he’d just make me his, then I’ll be satisfied- I won’t ask for anything ever again. That’s all I want. I’ll help him burn whatever he needs to.” Kester felt the tension in his shoulders loosen. The girl was hopeless- whether lost in romance, or most likely, something far more sinister... but he could scarcely fault her for her devotion- not after what she had been through.