Chương 12: Smoke, Tracks and Problems

"Two million Alir." The pair of guards replied in unison, looking the trio over. Their dress was considerably more polished than what could be glimpsed through the gate's iron bars. The black, glossy jackets and blue caps with circular gold pins stood out sharply in the crowd, far more professional than their surroundings.

"TWO MILLION ALIR?!" Noel shouted at them, visibly bewildered, while Lance's eyes wandered around at an astounding pace. The only somewhat normal reaction was from Jeanne, who simply looked behind them.

"Each, to be precise." The guards replied calmly, showing no reaction to Noel's open mouth.

"We can pay our share, Noel, don't worry." Lance produced a set of white-and-gold two-million banknotes and extended them. The guard took the money from the boy's hand and snapped an elastic bracelet around his wrist. The second guard attempted to do the same for Jeanne, but found it difficult because the girl was instinctively pulling away from the man's fingers. He gave up and left the bracelet in her hand.

"If I may ask… Why an entry tax?" He said, straightening his two-million-dollar bracelet. The guards exchanged a stunned look, barely suppressing a laugh, and kept their composure.

"Arden Ring is an unconventional zone for the government of Andimica…We fund ourselves this way. It also functions as a deterrent for those without means." They said with dry, authoritative voices.

"Many shops inside charge an entry fee just to cross the threshold, and some of the ladies can cost dozens of millions of Alir for a single audience." They finished, separating to let the trio pass.

"Why are some brats here with such beauty doing in this dump? And why do you have so much cash?" One of the guards spoke before they could enter the block. Lance turned around, slowly closing his knuckles, when Jeanne stepped back.

"Guards should not meddle with the affair of who enters fair and square, am I wrong?" A piercing gaze fell upon them, prompting them to nod and turn their back. The three moved through the heavy, rusted gate in silence.

"Hey Lance..." Noel crept closer, pulling the clock closer to his face.

"Yeah, Noel?" He responded with a strange tremble in his tone.

"Jeanne... Is she always this scary?" Lance wanted to nod, but he simply sighed, patting Noel's back. A long road opened before them, leading to the main square. The paving stones had been hammered in at random angles. The result was anything but uniform or attractive. The road was wide enough for several cars, though nothing could move quickly through the flood of people that filled it. The trio walked until they found an isolated, fortunately empty back alley.

The sound of water running through unstable pipes and the peculiar odour: a blend of something marine and something fragrant, made standing even in the alley a fairly difficult experience.

"Where do we start now?" Noel began, pulling a notebook and a pencil from his cloak. The pencil looked like a matchstick between his fingers.

"Both low-ranking workers and visitors have disappeared." Lance said, recalling the details Round had mentioned.

"Correct! Specifically, a pair in the Pink Boundary, one in the Black Boundary, and another pair in the Green Boundary." Noel nodded, transcribing the information rapidly onto the page.

"The Pink Boundary?" Jeanne asked from a crate she'd settled onto, pressing the cloth to her face.

"As you already know, Arden is divided into three zones… To allow everyone to profit, so to speak," Noel explained, producing a hand-drawn map. The layout was perfectly circular like Bayork, but from one of the entrances, a single road ran to the central square, from which an intricate network of streets and alleys fanned out into each zone.

"The Pink Boundary belongs to Madame Fleur and specialises in aphrodisiacs and 'comfort'." He said the word comfort with studied neutrality, given the unsettled expressions on his two listeners.

"Where was I? Right the pair! The Black Boundary is managed by the Smith Sisters and specialises in contraband firearms. The Green Boundary is run by Madame Circ thanks to her expertise in drugs and medical substances." He folded the map back inside the thick cloak. Lance finally noticed the black glove on Noel's left hand; he hadn't paid it any attention during their first meeting. It was black leather, decorated with a row of circular studs.

Noel caught Lance's gaze and, grinning with satisfaction, pulled the glove off with pride. The hand beneath it was not made of flesh and skin. It was dark, matt metal and bolts. Lance took in the intricate mass of mechanisms that made up the prosthesis. It was extraordinarily realistic but looked genuinely threatening.

"Impressive, right? This jewel by Maverick saved my back way too much!" He beamed at his own mechanical limb.

"This beauty has incredible strength and can extend to become a spike." He activated the violet glow in the prosthesis's core. His fingers opened and began to lengthen, spreading along the sides of his wrist and reaching halfway to his elbow. The palm opened like a mouth and began producing a long, black, translucent metal nail. With a sharp sound of gears, the nail was locked into place by a series of pins.

Lance and Jeanne were watching Noel in complete silence as he went on at length about how incredible his hydraulic nail gun was.

"Excellent, Noel… Could you put it away now? You don't want someone to find us, do you?" He managed, trying to stop him from giving a full demonstration.

"Ah… You're right." Noel said, snapping back to himself and retracting the nail with a dry metallic sound. The crowd in the street was slowly picking up its pace toward the square, presumably, at the hour when the shops reopened.

"Right… How do we find some clues now?" Lance asked without taking his eyes from the alley entrance.

"We should split up. I'll inspect the Black Boundary while you two take the Pink one." Fortunately, Jeanne hadn't heard that last part, being too occupied watching a butterfly that had landed on her finger, but Lance heard it perfectly and wrapped his arm around Noel and steered him away." Why… Us two for that sector?" He asked, clearing his throat.

"I think it's the safest choice. Why not? It has the most victims and is the most extensive. It's heavily frequented by couples, and it would be perfect for the two of you." He smiled, with such sincerity behind his reasoning that Lance had to be sceptical.

"Why the two of us specifically?"

"You both are in a relationship... Right?" Noel murmured, placing deliberate emphasis on the word. Lance, instead of answering, stared at him, his face resembling someone recently deceased, eyes filled with embarrassment and shock, lips twisted into a shape that defied description. Noel swallowed, stepping back, almost frightened by the boy's expression.

"Fine… We'll follow your plan." Lance sighed, gathering the rational side of himself." Well... It might actually help me." He thought, referring to his social problem. The trio left the alley, merging into the crowd heading for the central square. The street was remarkably well-kept, the alternating circular stones of various colours making it considerably more lively. The enormous drapes serving as signboards swayed in the gentle, salty wind. The sun was slowly losing its intensity in the sky.

As they approached the centre, an enormous obelisk made of salvaged scrap loomed before them. Lance had glimpsed it through the telescope but hadn't been able to catch its full detail. It looked like an amalgam of rifles, propellers, and perforated metal sheets from various past decades.

"It's the commemorative monument for the Great War, and the symbol of Arden's independence." Noel pointed to the statue of a soldier in Andimica's army uniform.

"The crater where Arden Ring sits was the site of a bloody battle, one that only ended with a bombardment." He was now pointing at the large torn propellers.

"Fairly imposing… Way larger than the Bayork's one!" Lance was looking up at the massive obelisk.

"The one in Andimica symbolises the peace after the treaties, unlike this one. The capital's monument was built in far more peaceful times." Noel puffed his chest with quiet pride.

"Do you… Know a lot… A-about history?" Jeanne asked from behind Lance, still slightly red.

"Modestly, my father was a historian. I inevitably spent my time reading the enormous books he kept in his study." Noel kept his gaze fixed on the assembled war relics. Lance could have sworn he'd just seen him sigh, but quickly dismissed the thought.

"I'll send you the victim data on the Noirtech so you can orient yourselves better in the search!" Noel called out, waggling his wrist as he turned.

"ON THE WHAT?!" Lance said, loudly enough not to care about the noise.

"Your watch… That's what the Commander and Maverick call it." Noel looked confused by the boy's ignorance. Lance's jaw dropped, in what could reasonably be described as a dislocated expression of embarrassment, but he was nearly used to this by now.

"Call it a W-A-T-C-H… Or a D-E-V-I-C-E!" He pleaded, pushing the air from his lungs. Noel nodded slowly, again bewildered by Lance's behaviour. The watch on Jeanne's and Lance's wrists vibrated quickly, lighting up from beneath the sleeves." Antonia Rikys — Stage name: Rikya — Age: 22 — Residence: Pink Boundary / Main Hotel / 3rd floor — Distinguishing marks: scar on right arm.

Leiva Madron — Stage name: Luise — Age: 19 — Residence: Pink Boundary / Main Hotel / 5th floor — Distinguishing marks: birthmark on sternum. Among the victims: a Traveller — Male — Long hair — Approximately thirty years old — Last known sighting outside the Main Hotel." Lance and Jeanne went slightly pale reading the victim's details; the ages were barely above their own.

"Head through the Pink Boundary and ask questions. You'll probably find clients in some inn." Noel said, slowly disappearing into the crowd, waggling his black glove. Despite his size, his imposing figure vanished easily into the smoke and dust. The two headed for the large pink drape. The further they walked, the more the colour of the paving stones turned rosy and lustrous, until the entire street appeared entirely wrapped in shades of pink.

The entrance to the quarter was dramatically different from the rest of Arden. The buildings were considerably more colourful and well-maintained; the road appeared solid and clean. Rows of trees lined the pavement on both sides, covering as much ground as possible with their leaf-shadow.

"If it weren't a prostitution quarter, it would be rather charming." Lance murmured, genuinely surprised by the architecture. Jeanne nodded, shaking her head again under her hood so that the cloak swayed.

"It's even better kept than years ago..." The girl looked around, trying to ignore the feelings that those familiar tiles awoke in her. The lane began to narrow and flatten, with the shops on either side starting to attract a steady stream of customers. Lance was trying not to look through the windows, which was proving difficult since everywhere his eyes might land was considerably worse than the windows themselves.

Between the scantily dressed workers and men in barely covering garments, and the sounds drifting from the few open windows of the buildings, he found it much safer to focus on the mannequins and product displays.

"I can never picture anyone willing to work here of their own volition." The various mannequins, built to an unsettling degree of precision, wore primarily feminine and very suggestive clothing. Besides the figures, numerous vials, bottles and flasks filled with a multitude of fluids in every shade and tone. In some bottles, the liquid appeared dark, close to oil, while in others, it was transparent and looked in every way like the alcohol Lance used to disinfect wounds on his delivery routes."

I wonder what they contain." He thought, quickly shaking his head, remembering the Pink Boundary's specialty.

"I'd say we should look around for clues… What do you think, Jeanne?" Lance stopped and looked around. Before he could hear her answer, he felt a touch sliding along his sides, thin fingernails grazing his chest and neck.

"Oh my! It's rare to see a boy this well-presented around here!" The woman smiled, leaning against his back and blowing gently into his ear.

"What brings you here by — Oh, I'm so sorry! I hadn't seen that you were together." She said quickly, noticing the girl currently gripping Lance's sleeve and attempting to drag him away. The boy was in a complete trance, somewhere between panic and embarrassment, a combination that was distinctly difficult to untangle for someone like him, leaving him pale and slightly glassy.

"Mary! I've told you not to try with couples!" Screamed another woman, wearing a dress torn at the chest and hip. She had black stockings, scratched but in better condition than expected. Her curly hair fell behind her neck like a bunch of grapes.

"I hadn't noticed…" Mary apologised, releasing him. He finally managed to breathe.

"We're so sorry… It's rare to find anyone this young in Arden Ring at this hour." The curly-haired woman smiled.

"It's… Fine." He said, still something resembling a broken record. This, while Jeanne was surely shooting glances at both of them.

"Sorry for not introducing ourselves! I'm Mary, and she's Leva. We're both workers at the Main Hotel." Mary lowered her head and coaxed Leva to do the same.

"It's… Fine." Lance produced again, as his face gradually reassembled.

"What brings a couple here to this quarter?" Leva asked, smiling as she lifted her head. She was noticeably younger than Mary. Her blue dress had a wide neckline and stopped at the shoulders, leaving her neck and collarbones bare.

"A co…uple?" He murmured, looking at Jeanne, who had curled onto the ground and was wrapping herself in fabric again. The pair of women exchanged a stunned glance at the sight of the two unusual individuals before them. The boy was trembling, trying to lift the girl from the floor where she was wrapped in a cocoon of tattered material.

"Perhaps that was an inappropriate question?" Mary smiled with a gentle tone, her cheeks slowly flushing red, trying to calm them both. Lance gathered enough composure to remember the names of the victims and their assignments.

"Could you tell me whether you know a Leiva Madron and an Antonia Rikys?" He asked, arms straight along his sides like a plank. The expression on the two women's faces changed quickly; Their smiles were clouded by sadness and fear. Their hands tightened on their clothes, as if close to tearing them.

"Antonia and Leiva were… Our 'O lder Sisters'." Mary replied, drawing Leva closer.

"Sisters? Are you related?" Lance asked, biting his lower lip, trying to look as little sad as possible.

"In the districts of many expanded brothels, it's the norm to use that term with the one with more experience." Jeanne spoke, keeping her firm eyes on the two prostitutes.

"Yes, it's like she says, we are not related by blood… But among workers, we look out for each other. If you understand what I mean." Mary smiled, pushing the melancholy from her face.

"Yeah, I think I do." Lance said. His lip was dripping faintly with red.

"Thank you… Antonia and Leiva disappeared during their evening shift. They'd taken a guest to their floor, and by the next morning, they were gone," Mary explained, holding Leva's head against her chest.

"Do you know whether they had… Any regular clients?" Lance asked, his hood pulled low.

"A few frequent a nearby tavern, in the alley going further up!" Leva replied, lifting her head from Mary's arms.

"Thank you very much. If we find anything, you'll be the first to know." He bowed, genuinely but somewhat mechanically.

"You're kind… but why does this concern you so much?" Mary asked, still consoling Leva.

"Personal… Business." He said quickly, turning toward the uphill lane.

"I see... Not everyone in Arden Ring likes to discuss their affairs." She smiled.

"You'll find us at the Main Hotel… We'll receive you as guests." Leva added, wiping tears mixed with powder from her cheek.

"We'd be glad of that, wouldn't we, Jeanne?" He said, drawing his companion into the exchange. Jeanne softened her gaze, nodding with a brief smile.

"Of course… W-we'd be grateful." She whispered from under her hood. Her features were barely visible in the shadow, but Mary and Leva both caught something in the quality of them. The two pairs said farewell, and Lance and Jeanne began making their way up the lane as the sun slowly disappeared behind the clouds.

"So there are more places like Arden?" He asked, still glancing around at all the shrouded people and the fancy mistresses. She nodded, making a bit of hair fall through the hood.

"Not as big... But there are a bunch of them in Sector II and near the most civilised portion of the Dedalus." She answered with a steady tone and without even looking at him. A bit of Lance was relieved, but at the same time, he felt an anxiety he couldn't quite grasp. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"You are worried about the girls, am I right?" Her shoulder shot up, and Lance was sure he saw a bit of trembling under her hair.

"I used to m-move between them, and a l-lot of these women weren't bad people. I don't want them to suffer the way they always end up." Lance smiled, quietly watching the sun go down in the sea of clouds.

"You are right, sorry to ask that..."

"I am absolutely fried! I thought I was going to collapse!" Lance sighed, straightening his clothes, catching, with mild distress, the smell of soap and perfume that had attached itself to his chest.

"You can… Stop pulling my sleeve, please?" He asked gently, turning to the girl ahead of him, who was hauling him firmly up the steps.

"Better avoid… More encounters..." She replied, turning toward him. He was surprised by her expression.

"Fair enough… But aren't we going in circles by now?" Lance said, indicating a right turn with his free hand. Jeanne stopped, looking at him with genuine confusion at the certainty and confidence with which he'd whispered those words.

"How do you know?" She asked, staring at him directly with furrowed eyebrows.

"I memorised Noel's map. There are only three inns in the area. Eliminating those furthest from the Main Hotel, the only plausible one is on the right." He replied, pleased with his delivery-route instincts.

"I g-guess this place changed a lot... You are amazing for remembering that!" Despite her usual timid temper, she was actually really good at dispensing compliments." Not that it helps me remember what matters..." He thought with familiar bitterness, remembering the sea of answers he drowned in every time he tried to surface old memories. Jeanne was baffled by Lance's expression: a smile that stood behind a glance that was aimed far away.

"Are you feeling alright?" She timidly asked with a low tone. He nodded, turning his head in all directions.

"Lance, I guess it's this o-one." Jeanne pointed at a strangely well-made building. Before them stood an old-style inn, built entirely in light wood. The only darker, more sombre detail was the oddly dented door and the window crossbeams. From inside came a frantic swirl of voices, shouts, profanity, and loud laughter. Just outside, two men lay slumped in the corner between the building and an alley, the faint smell of alcohol perceptible even to Jeanne from behind her cloth.

They exchanged an exasperated, resigned look and decided to go in. The door opened with a sharp, unpleasant creak, though not comparable to the noise inside. The dark wood floor hid the stains of spilled drinks, but the glint and smell were more than sufficient to identify the patches. A series of heavy, chipped tables filled the room.

On the long pale benches sat every variety of person one could encounter in Arden Ring: off-duty workers, hooded travellers, mercenaries, guards seeking rest, and excitable young men. Lance swallowed and found a corner table far from most of the clientele. His nose was overwhelmed by a disgusting blend of perfume, alcohol, and other odours not easy to identify.

He was used to unpleasant smells, but Jeanne was having a much harder time; despite having lived in many brothels, her sensitive nose had never adapted to this particular atmosphere. While he was passing her water, an attractive young waitress with black hair approached their table with a bright smile. Lance looked away and kept his hooded head fixed on the table.

"What can I bring you?" She asked pleasantly, setting her notebook on the table.

"Some meat?" He asked timidly, head down. With a knowing smile, the waitress sat down beside him, pressing him toward the inside of the bench.

"Depends on what kind of meat you're looking for." She smiled, pulling down Lance's hood. He felt a cold shiver on the back of his neck that travelled all the way to the base of his spine." That sensation again?!" His dark hair swayed loose as the woman extended her fingers toward his face. Her slender hand traced his jaw gently, turning his neck slowly toward her. Her face was young and sharp, and her greenish eyes carried a strong, vivid warmth.

Her wide, curved lips were pulled into a smile of delight and surprise.

"Oh… What a young face! It's rare to see anyone like this around here." She smiled even more broadly, taking a long look at Lance. Her attention moved to the girl across from him, who was keeping her face covered but not hiding the rhythmic tap of her fingers on the rough wood, directed at the woman currently running her hand over Lance's face.

"I understand. Forgive me for the confusion, I hadn't realised you were so young." She pulled herself from beside him. He would normally have descended into panic from embarrassment, but this time a different sensation had taken possession of his flesh, something considerably more alarming.

"I'll bring a plate for two." She said lightly, standing quickly and transcribing the order into her notebook. She tucked it away in her dress but, before leaving, turned and caught Jeanne's eye, nodding in Lance's direction with a small smile. Jeanne unconsciously reddened, releasing the cloak from her face and letting it slide back. The waitress let a quiet laugh escape her lips, turning her hips and disappearing through the door on the far side of the crowded room.

"T-Thank you, Jeanne." He whispered, barely pulling the woman out of her rage.

"D-don't worry… I'd say we should keep our faces visible. It would be strange to stay hooded in here, too." She said, adjusting the cloak over her slender shoulders.

"I understand… You're right." He replied with a sigh, releasing his grip on the hood and straightening the folds.

"It's just this whole place! I really can't grasp it at all!" Jeanne smiled at him, almost laughing.

"Now we just need to find someone who knows something about our victims. Perhaps a client." Lance thought aloud, scanning the crowd for a potential witness. His view was blocked by a figure with a bare midriff. Waves of dark hair moved behind her shoulders.

"Your order!" She smiled, setting down a brown, steaming pot with care. The smell of the dish was strong enough to cut through the alcohol and smoke. Lance took the lid and lifted it gently, releasing a column of spiced and warm steam. Jeanne was hesitant at first, but the smell of food had already loosened her tension.

"It's a slow-cooked meat stew, a specialty of the house." The waitress presented the dish and left again, smile still in place. Lance took one of the two wooden spoons and dipped it into the thick, dark broth. He lifted a large piece of meat, which nearly came apart as it left the pot. He put the mouthful in his mouth very quickly, forgetting to blow on it first." At least it's really good!"

Aside from the unpleasant numb sensation on his tongue, the dish was enormously flavourful, with an extraordinarily tender, delicate texture. Jeanne watched him for a second as he reached for a second spoonful. She extended her arm, raised it over the cloak, and wrapped her hand around the handle of the other spoon. Her face lit up with genuine surprise. The delicate yet rich effect of the stew had apparently struck her almost as much as Lance. The two finished the pot in a brief time.

He leaned back against the wooden wall, relaxing his shoulders and sliding loosely down the bench. Jeanne simply cleaned her lips with a few napkins taken from under the pot, still warm.

"Not bad… Satisfied?" He sighed, sitting back up in a composed position.

"Yes… But... You are better." She said in pieces, pressing a crumpled mass of paper to her already clean face. There wasn't a single drop of grease anywhere on her skin, but she kept distractedly rubbing the napkins over it. Lance laughed, suppressed, as if he'd received an insult rather than a compliment.

"You overestimate me… I'm not as good as you think." He smiled, beginning to stand, then found himself blocked by a tall figure. The man blocking his path was dressed in a series of rags, leaving his muscular, hairy chest and stomach bare. His skin was anything but smooth, covered in scars and marks. His greenish eyes and the smirk-like expression gave him an immediate unpleasant feeling. Behind him, a group of men covered their laughter with their hands.

"Hey… My eyes are up here, boy." He grabbed Lance by the collar, forcing their eyes to meet.

"New around here?" He asked, tightening his grip on his coveralls until the fabric pressed against his skin. The man's breath smelled of alcohol and scraps of meat, with his saliva spraying out with every laboured breath he took against Lance, dirtying his face and lenses.

"Do you need something?" He replied, following the same procedure he'd developed over the years to exhaust and defuse situations like this.

"Yes… How about some money?" He smiled, showing yellowed, badly spaced teeth. The group behind him was losing the ability to contain its laughter. Without a word, the boy pulled a few pale banknotes from inside his jacket. The moment he held them up, the man's hand snatched them like a whip, still grinning, still satisfied.

"Good boyyy… But that's ain't no near enough!" His grip tightened further, forcing him to bring his face toward the man's malodorous one. Without warning, Lance found himself pushed hard onto the table. The man had shifted position and now had his hand in his hair, pressing his face against the solid wood. Jeanne moved to stand and found a knife at her throat, a few centimetres below her chin. A second later, her arm was grabbed by one of the man's companions.

"You've got a pretty girl with you…Do you mind if we take her as payment?" The man said with a disgusting grimace on his face, pushing Lance's forehead down hard. The faint creak of the table planks was audible. Jeanne looked at the hand holding the blade and bit it. In an instant, a gush of blood poured on the floor.

"You little..." A charge moved through Lance's nerves, flooding his cheeks. He exhaled bitterly, pressed his hands on the table, and began pushing himself upright under the surprised eyes of the group. It didn't matter how hard the mercenary pushed. He found it impossible to move him by a single step now that they were face to face.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to allow—" He didn't get to finish the sentence when a violent hook connected with Lance's face, sending his head into the wall. The room went quiet. The crowd was used to various acts of violence in Arden Ring, but a flicker of unease and sadness could be detected in most of the clientele. It turned rapidly to shock as Lance emerged virtually unharmed from the blow. He pressed his thumb to his jaw, massaging where the man's hand had struck him.

"Not bad, but I'm genuinely opposed to violence. If you really want to continue, at least..." He stopped talking, catching the man's wrist as it raised for another strike. The grip startled the man; he was using considerable force, but couldn't pull himself free from the boy in front of him.

"If that's how it is, at least come outside. I'd hate to cause further disturbance." He said, releasing him and opening the door. Lance nodded at Jeanne, pointing at the people.

"Y-yeah, don't worry, I will." She responded, cleaning her bloodied lip. The group laughed, following him to the back of the establishment, throwing small stones and rusted empty cans. In front of the dense group of mercenaries stood the man who, until recently, had been unable to subdue a boy shorter than himself. His arrogance had apparently been fully rebuilt, finding himself at the head of a band of drunks. Lance stopped, looked around, and unclasped his cloak, letting it drop to the dusty ground.

"I apologise in advance… But you went too far with that remark." He rolled up the sleeves of the work coveralls beneath the cloak. His muscle definition made the men who had followed him waver, forcing them to reconsider his age.

"Can't you just be respectful of others?! You got the money, why keep going?"

"Fine… You'll learn the hard way what life is like in this place." The man replied, returning a smile, decidedly more malicious than Lance's. The substantial squadron of mercenaries launched itself at the boy, raising a thick cloud of dust. He simply lowered his hips and sighed, with renewed weariness. Inside the inn, silence had fallen, except for the people Jeanne was questioning. Nearly ten minutes had passed since Lance left with the group of men.

The walls blocked any sound from the back, and the thick shutters covered the windows. Jeanne would have gone to help, but the look in his eyes before he left had been more than enough to tell her to just continue the research." I hope he doesn't spend any more time trying to lecture them..." She was troubled that Lance had to see that gesture in her account.

"I guess it's something that he really would do!" She smiled, trying to create his image in her mind. CRACK... CRASH! The window near her table shattered explosively, sending the man who had started all this into the room. His body fell onto the table beside Jeanne. His face was thick with mucus and saliva, covered entirely in bruises. His nose was swollen, and his right eye, puffy and bruised, had taken on an unsettling shade of violet.

Shards fell from the hole left by the window, which appeared almost wrenched from the wall by the force with which the man had come through it. A figure with a cloak haphazardly wrapped around his neck was beginning to rise from the remains of the intact crossbeam above. Lance shook his head in every direction, catching the bewildered expressions of the clientele, including Jeanne." Fuck... I overdid it!"

"I AM DEEPLY SORRY!" He shouted, bowing his head toward some of the waitresses and the barman, who was wiping glasses with his mouth hanging open, eyes moving continuously between him and the man slumped on the table.

"I WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING!" He flapped his hands in a frantic apology. Lance finally stepped through the remains of the window, setting his feet on the inn floor, pressing the glass and wood splinters with an unpleasant sound. He approached the barman, leaving a series of white, black, and yellow banknotes on the counter. He wasn't sure they would be enough, but they could at least dilute some of the guilt spreading through his nerves.

He turned with a nod, heading directly to the gasping, bruise-covered man on the table. He looked at him without warmth, grabbed him by the damp, sticky collar, and waited.

"Can you talk?" He asked, keeping his face neutral. The man coughed, spattering small drops of blood across Lance's skin. His breath was slowly returning. The pupil of his working eye was beginning to track normally.

"Bastard…" The barbarian said to Lance, who promptly tightened his grip, tilting the man's head.

"Lance... The people here didn't know much about the incidents..." She spoke from behind him, smiling at a girl near their table, or what remained of it. He nodded, matching the man's gaze.

"If you answer, I'll let you go with some money in your pocket…" He offered, in something close to a negotiation. The man didn't respond, simply forcing his body to endure the pain. His companions had passed out outside with multiple fractures. He couldn't forget the way Lance had slammed two of them into the wall, then kicked a third directly into the rubbish. The others had swarmed him with dismal results: wrists, collarbones, knees, elbows, all comprehensively broken." This boy… Is a monster."

He thought, trying to shake off the boy's bitter smile.

"Do you know a certain… Antonia Rikys and Leiva Madron?" The question brought the man back to reality. The weight of those words forced him to answer out of fear.

"Yes! The missing prostitutes, right?! A pal of mine had booked them for a night!" He replied with numerous nods and twitching pupils.

"A partner? What kind of partner?" He asked, forming the third figure from the information he'd received: long hair, approximately thirty years old, male.

"A hooded man with long black hair… I don't remember well, but he'd paid me to put him in contact with the Main Hotel." The man replied, swallowing saliva. He would have preferred to spit directly on Lance's lenses. He glanced at Jeanne and met her with a brief nod." The traveller might connect to the disappearances." He'd understood as much. Lance released him, letting him fall back onto the table. His muscles finally relaxed as his breath moved freely again.

A thin strip of yellowish paper was laid across his face.

"For your cooperation. Oh, call the medical forces for your friends outside. They're not in danger, but it's better than leaving them like that." He smiled, opening the door to let Jeanne pass, giving the man such a disgusted look that it almost felt more painful than his ribs.

"SORRY FOR THE MESS!" He bowed one final time before disappearing behind the door. The two walked in silence for a few minutes, watching the sky turn a brilliant orange. The sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, leaving the evening to the moon.

"I'm sorry… About earlier." He started, pulling his hood up, caught in something close to shame.

"Y-You had no choice! It's n-normal in this place." Jeanne replied, lowering her head.

"The fault is theirs... And mine, partly." He smiled weakly.

"Why… D -do you take the blame? You didn't do anything wrong… The fault is theirs…" She tried to offer what comfort she could, noticing the bitter, disappointed expression of the boy beside her.

"Anyway, being violent is awful! I'd like to keep confrontations to a minimum." Lance nodded, trying to let her words steady him." Jude wouldn't have shouted if..." He could tolerate it somewhat when it meant defending others, but that didn't prevent it from leaving him wrapped in disappointment and bitterness." But against Roman I..." He remembered that feeling, that strange drive against the man and the joy he felt when he was winning.

"I… Agree… I prefer you like this." She murmured, staying hidden under her hood. Lance appeared not to have caught the last words. He turned to look back down the slope behind them, watching the panorama falling away from the old crater's flanks. The square had finally become visible again, and the great iron obelisk shone faintly in the last rays of the day.

"We should find somewhere to sleep, preferably without further unintended purposes." He smiled, looking now toward the road ahead, where the outline of a large, faintly pink building was materialising.

"Y-yes!" Jeanne smiled, looking in the same direction. Over Arden Ring's sky, the young veil of the night loomed, followed by a tepid moon.