"Any objections?" asked Drak.

"I agree with the changes," said Setros, "less risks, same results. But managing to make the king leave his fortress will be hard."

"I'll deal with him."

"And if you can't?"

"Then back to plan one, we don't have a hostage anymore, so I don't know how it would play out. Best case scenario we manage to reach the king with the few people we have, worst case we're easily dealt with and we achieve nothing, besides getting ourselves killed."

"That's a grim worst case," said Setros.

"It wasn't certain that he would even care about his son, it was a bet from the beginning, there could be a hundred of his minions in the Crystal Palace, or a thousand, it would help if we knew what's inside, but we don't, so that's where we stand," said Drak. "I do have precautions, for when things inevitably don't go according to plan."

Setros nodded, saying, "I'll think of something, make the plan a little more sturdy."

"And the dead prince?" asked Nambu. "Your story won't hold up for long, when we enter the Farm they'll probably send someone to check at the Mouth."

"I'll send someone too, to make sure that doesn't happen," said Drak.

"Are you ok with that?" asked Alma. "If we fail to kill him fast, there might be chaos, people could get hurt."

"Oh, I'm counting on it, if we don't manage to kill that bastard, someone else has to," said Drak. There was a hint of glee in how he said it, his mouth curving in a short half-smile that didn't match the emotions of his eyes.

"Any other questions?" he asked, and there were none. "Then I'll make some arrangements before we go, tell the soldiers to load the cargo and prepare, I'll be back before a molten."

I didn't belong there, I probably shouldn't have even been listening to any of that, what were they even talking about? Kill the king? The fate of humanity? I just wanted to find a way home.

"Mika, you're coming with me," said Drak.

"Why?" I asked. Maybe he was planning to kill me in some dark alley, or any alley, they were all dark there. Not likely, just a thought.

"Because I said so, what part of 'I'll kill you get in our way' did you not get? You seem to not realize what you just did, but let me remind you that you already fucked up once, and despite what others may think, I have a gentle flame, sometimes I'm willing to forgive. But don't test me, I want you where I can watch you."

"I'll go too," said Alma.

"Sorry Arda Girl, I don't want unnecessary attention, and your face isn't really the type do blend in," he said.

"Alma, my name is Alma."

"Sure," he said, dismissively, making Alma even more annoyed. "Let's move, time is short."

He walked over to the table and teared a long piece of cloth, handing it to me.

"Here, use this to cover your arm," he said.

While enveloping the cloth around my arm, I noticed it was tender and the scales were a bit loose, the crack seemed to have spread too. That was bad, it wasn't going back to normal and it wasn't healing. How did bugs even heal?

"Hands," he said, opening the wooden restraints in front of me.

They were a bit uncomfortable but I didn't feel like arguing with Drak anymore, so I just put my arms on it and he locked it, he then put a rope through the third hole in the middle of the rectangle and around it, tying it on the other side.

"So you don't run," he said.

Like I had anywhere to run to.

I followed him out and we made our way through one of the craggy paths, the number of people walking around was astoundingly high, now, it went from one in the morning to rush hour. People gave a few careful glances at Drak, but no one seemed to mind the fact that I was wearing cuffs and that he was guiding me around by the leash like a dog.

We didn't walk for long, going over houses, under wooden bridges and through dark alleys until, in one of the latter, we reached a door in a small boulder of about my size in height, it didn't look large enough to be a house. He knocked on the door and a boy opened it after a few minutes, giving an angry look at Drak, but letting us in.

The door led to downward stairs cut from the ground, I could hear voices coming from below and see orange lights flickering as the wind rushed in, before the door was closed behind us. The boy went down and we followed after him.

Several men sat at tables arranged around the place, eating and drinking, most were talking and laughing, but there were some sitting alone at smaller tables on the darker corners of the place, where the light of the candles didn't fully reach, those were just drinking. The boy disappeared in one of the two passageways at the back of the place and quickly came back with someone carrying a large wooden jug.

"Table for two?" asked the woman. From a distance, she looked like a man, her hair cut short.

"One," said Drak. "Where's Sinom?"

"He's sick," she said, an unfriendly tone to her voice, "I'm his daughter, I'm taking care of the place in his stead."

"I didn't know he had an older daughter," said Drak.

"He doesn't like me around here."

"Makes sense, I wouldn't want my daughter around here either."

Impatient, she asked, "Are you going to buy anything?"

"A tickle for this guy here," he said, putting something in the pocket of her apron, "and I believe someone is waiting for me at the back."

She seemed a bit surprised, before answering, "Oh, so you're with her... Ian, go grab a mug of tickle for the man."

The boy diligently ran for the passage at the back again, disappearing before she shouted, "And don't drink it!"

"I know!" he shouted back, his voice drowned by the distance and the chatter around us.

"You, follow me, she's in my father's room."

Drak tied the rope attached to my restraints around the table's leg, and said, "Behave, I'd bring you in with me, but she doesn't do well with strangers."

Did he really see me as a child, or was he treating me like one just to annoy me?

"I won't do anything," I said, making sure he could feel in my voice how vexed I was.

He gave me a distrustful gaze before following the woman to the other passageway at the back.

The place was surprisingly clean. On a superficial level, it was in a shady location, with some shady costumers and had an overall shady atmosphere. But when I payed attention, I could see the wooden tables were clean, mostly, the floor was swept, the light of the candles was gentle and the two dozen or so people seemed to be having fun, talking and laughing. I still felt out of place, and the air was stuffy with a slightly sweet alcohol smell, but it was an oddly comfortable place.

The boy came back with one of the large wooden mugs everyone was using and put it on my table, saying, "Here, your tickle," and sitting down on the stool in front of me.

The liquid was transparent and a bit thicker than normal.

"Why do they call it tickle?" I asked.

"You never drank it?" he asked, trying, but failing to sound condescending.

"No."

"It's because it makes people laugh," he said, leaning closer and whispering, "don't tell my sister, but sometimes when she's not looking, I drink a little."

I chuckled, "Don't worry, I won't."

I moved the mug from side to side and the liquid slowly stirred inside.

"Is it good?" I asked.

"It's a little bitter, I didn't like it when I was a kid, but I got used to it," he said, "twenty two cleanses of wick burned."

"Right," I said.

He was definitely still a kid, somewhere around nine to eleven years old, the bangs of his hair covered part of his eyes, and his cheeks indicated he was a bit chubby, but I couldn't see it over his clothing,.

I took a sip of the the drink and the alcohol hit my nostrils faster than the bitterness hit my tongue, frowning as the combo carried over to my face. The texture wasn't great either, like a slightly watery syrup, I could feel a hint of sweetness but the aftertaste was mostly bitter. It wasn't horrible, but the laughing of the people drinking around me felt deceiving, now.

The boy laughed as I made faces and put the mug away.

"It's more bitter than I thought," I said.

"You'll get used to it too," he said, chortling.

"Boy!" someone called out. "Bring me another one!"

"Coming!" Ian shouted back, then turned to me. "Be right back."

I'd rather have had water than that, if they even had any, there would have to be a massive source to keep all those people alive. I'd do with what I was given, for now, water probably cost some money there, and I didn't want to ask Drak for anything, the "tickle" was different, he had already paid for it, and it was somewhat satisfactory to know he spent his money on it, it helped me keep drinking. The consistency was weird, and being at room temperature didn't make it better, but it quenched a little of my thirsty.

What now? I thought, I felt so lost, resorting to only going with the flow, only just doing what I was told and hoping the answers fell on my lap. The one time I decided to act, I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, I hesitated and people died. I could still hear the hard slap he gave the kid, the father's plead, the mother's struggle and the girl's cry. The fact that I killed the ones who caused all that suffering did nothing for me, it did nothing for that family, but I was glad I did it, those bastards deserved it. All that was left was an empty feeling of regret, like a hole I had in my chest just got a bit wider.

Asha felt so far away, now, like an old memory.

I sighed, a statement to stop thinking about it. No matter how many times I mulled over it, there wasn't anything I could do, trying my chances at the tunnels unprepared would be very close to suicide.

"How's the drink?" asked the woman, grabbing my attention.

"I'm... getting used to it," I said, noticing I had drank almost half of it.

She smiled, and for a moment, it broke the boyish facade.

"So, you're a prisoner?" she asked. "What did you do?"

"I... killed some people, one of them was someone important," I said, "I think."

"You think?"

"I—"

"Ena!" someone shouted joyfully. "Sit with us too!"

"Later!" she shouted back, then turned back to me. "You were saying?"

"I didn't really know him, but apparently he was someone important."

"You didn't know him? Why did you kill him then?"

"He killed a family."

"Your family?"

"No, I didn't know them, I was just there."

"Hm... so you're the good guy? Why did he kill that family?" she asked.

"No, I..."

Why did he kill them? Because of me? Would all of that have even happened if I wasn't there?

"I don't know... it might have been my fault. I tried stopping them, but I just..." I trailed, taking another sip of the drink "I don't know anything anymore, everything feels messed up, just... wrong. I don't know what to do."

I looked down at the mug, moving the liquid, I was afraid she would find me pitiful and it would show on her face, but when I glanced up she was just looking around the bar, an unreadable expression.

"I worked as a waste carrier, before my father got sick and I had to take care of this place," she said, "it wasn't an easy job, and not much safer either, but it was worse before The Miasma. I liked the freedom I had when going from house to house, not really having to deal with people, so I thought it was better than having to work here."

"Do you like it, now?" I asked. Glad she changed the subject.

"No, I was right, I hate it here. The air is stale, sometimes I feel like it stinks as much as carrying boxes of shit and piss all day did, and I'm constantly surrounded by drunken men," she said.

"Ena!" came the shout again, as if to reinforce what she said, a bit louder this time, and less joyful.

She turned to look, but didn't answer. "Father is old, and he has five mouths to feed, Ian is the only one old enough to work. Waste carriers don't earn much, so I eventually had to come back and help him, the sickness was just what made me realize the inevitable."

"Is your mom..." I trailed, trying not to sound insensitive.

"Dead? Probably, I never met her, none of us are blood related, father just picked us up from the street before any Family could."

"So there's only you," I said.

"You could say that. He took in of a lot of stray children throughout his life, most of them are adults now, with their own lives and families, others just followed the wrong path, despite father's best efforts. I just happened to be the only one available, or willing."

"Ena!" came the voice, this time followed by a bang on the table.

The chatter dimmed, the man was fat and big, wobbling as he raised from the stool, bulldozing past those who tried stopping him from going towards her. "I come here every fade, and you can't spare the time to sit with me?!"

I was ready to stop him if he tried anything. I was tied, didn't have Moon nor the hammer and I couldn't rely on my left arm, but despite his size, in his state I could probably drop him without needing my hands.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her arm.

"Hey, just back off man," I said.

He got even more angry, getting louder, "And the fuck are you? I'm just having her drink with me for a little, so shut the fuck up!"

Another man got up from his chair and went towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder and saying, "Stop making a ruckus, Tom, just sit back and drink your tickle, man."

"Shut up!" he said, slapping the hand away.

I slowly got up from my stool, ready to stop him if things got too out of control.

"Let go of my arm," she said, reaching for his hand.

He reacted too strongly, the back of his hand hitting her on the face, she fell.

I froze, the boy came to mind, how he didn't wake up. I had to do something, but my body wasn't moving, cold sweat was rolling down the side of my face, a noisy silence was filling my ears.

Ena grabbed the jug that had fallen from the table and hit the man hard with it between the legs, he buckled, she got up and hit him again across the chin, he fell.

I swallowed and exhaled. "Are you ok?" I asked.

"Em, it just brushed me, I got startled," she said. "Are you ok? You look a little unwell."

"I'm fine," I said. Good thing I was using those restraints, or she would've noticed my hands were slightly shaking.

I hesitated. Again.

"Don't worry," she said, "it happens more than you think."

"How is that not worrying?"

"Haha," she laughed, "I meant that I'm used to it, nothing bad would've happened."

"You don't know that," I said.

The guys that were at his table apologized and carried the unconscious man outside, it took all four of them to do it.

"I can take care of myself," she said, and I felt a little embarrassed.

"You said you don't know what to do. I know the feeling, when things just feel... wrong," she continued, "I don't know what you're going through, but don't let it stop you, keep moving, do whatever you can to move forward, or you'll never get anywhere."

It seemed so obvious, so simple, yet I needed to be told. She was right, I just had to keep moving forward.

"Oh! I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

"Mi..."

"Mi?"

I smiled, "Mika, my name's Mika."

I wouldn't hesitate anymore, I would embrace this place, learn as much as I could and find a way home. No matter what.

"Mika, uh? A brave name, I like it," she said with a smile, slapping me in the back a little too strongly. "Mine's Ena."

"Thanks, Ena."

"Em."

"What happened?" asked Drak. He came out of the passage with a woman, despite her short frame, she looked sturdy, with defined muscles. She wore a gray cloak, dark grey dress, brownish yellow boots with black spots that went up to her thighs and disappeared under her skirt, and a brown glove on her right hand. She also had a quiver full of arrows at her waist and a long stick that was almost bigger than her at her back.

She looked at me and asked, "Who's that?"

"A hindrance," said Drak.

"Will it be a problem?" she asked.

"Will it?" he said, looking at me.

Five minutes ago, that would've pissed me off, and it still did, but I wouldn't let it get to me anymore.

"No." I said.

"Good," he said, then started untying the rope from the table.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," said Ena.

"Yeah," I said. "For what you said before, thank you, I really needed it."

She nodded, "I hope things feel right again, for you."

"Me too, for you."

Drak finished untying the rope, and said, "Bonding time is over, let's go, we're already too off track."

As Drak pulled me along, I took one last glance at Ena, and she waved me goodbye as I went up the stairs.

Now back in the alley, Drak turned to the woman and said, "I have a place by the end of that root, you can stay there while you wait."

"Understood, is that all?"

"Yes, for now. Where is him?"

"Somewhere up there, he likes the noise," she said, "it calms him down."

"Tell him to follow us, he'll know when to act," he said. "This will be our last meeting, provided no more hindrances"—he looked at me—"appear. Any questions?"

"Questions..." she trailed off, "not so much of a question, just a curiosity."

"What is it?" he asked.

"We already know what happens if we fail, but what if we succeed? Killing the king won't necessarily make things instantly better."

"Is that it?" he said, turning to leave, "It probably isn't the answer you want, but I honestly don't care about the 'after', my goal is set, killing the king, and that's what I'll do. If people still insist on hurting each other even when there's no one to blame, then I guess they can only blame themselves, and at that point there's nothing I or anyone else can do besides wait for their turn at getting hurt, or hurting."

After giving his answer, we left the alley. She stayed there, having disappeared when I looked back."

"What exactly did the king do, for you to hate him so much?" I asked.

He glanced back at me but kept walking, and said, "Whatever you experienced at that house last fade, it's an everyday occurrence for a lot of people."

"And that's his fault?" I said, affirming more than asking.

"Yes, more than you'd think," he said. "It isn't just a matter of what he isn't doing, he actively acts against people's interest, making everything worse every fade he's alive, and we're not sure why."

"Greed?" I said, jumping over a rock.

"That would be the most obvious answer, that he's just a stupid, greedy man, but I don't think so."

"Why?"

"The soldiers, did you notice? There's something wrong with some of them, and it only happens to those that went to the Crystal Palace. I think he's doing something to them, and it's not just that, the number of Reds he demands keeps increasing, so does the number of orphans. It might all just be the consequences of his poor ruling, but I'm not that hopeful."

I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but after what happened with that family, what those soldiers did, it was clear something was definitely wrong with this place.

We reached the house and the balled were line up and loaded, Drak went to talk to Setros and some of soldiers put me in the cell box along with some of the other prisoners, only Len and the old man were there.

"Oh, Mika!" exclaimed Len. "Where have you been? Killing some nobles again? I've got all sorts of questions for you."

I had forgotten about my "fan". I didn't dislike him, but his constant merry attitude was a bit too much, granted I only knew him for a few hours.

Wait, what about the soldiers?

"Should you be talking about that now?" I asked, whispering as to not be heard by any real soldiers.

"Don't worry," said Setros, coming from behind me, "we changed all the soldiers on this balled for our own. And I too am curious to know more about you."

I didn't mind talking about me to them, even about Zanir, carrying out their mission was clearly their priority, not going after some old man in those dangerous tunnels. It was also another opportunity to learn more about that place, one that I didn't think I would have that soon, so I tried making the most of it.

"I have some questions too," I said.

Setros nodded.

Len waved his restrained hands in the air, saying, "Great! Story time it is!"