User blog:Alva the Cliff Jumper/The Crimson Hour Chapter 2: The Proposition

Hello, gals, lovelies, and other things that go bump in the night! As I promised here's the next chapter. If I was to say anything on this, it would be that this Chapter was a hard one to write due to trying to decide who the main lead is. Since many people liked Amy and it would be best to look through the eyes (or eye, in this case) of someone who is also wet behind the ears to this world, I thought it would be best to set her as the main lead instead of her father. Besides that, there is a scene transition in this story that may be jarring to some, so I will let you know now that it is intentional.

As always: This was originally finished on February 10th, yet received heavy rewrites and scene restructures since then. It is 22 pages long with 12934 words. I hope you enjoy and keep on being awesome, folks!

Chapter 2: The Proposition
'''“S-so, l-let me get this straight, sir,” Chauncey clarified, looking over the letter once more. “T-this little thing right here caused that entire ruckus downstairs? All of it?” '''

'''Alexander merely nodded from the other side of the table, casually sprawled out across his seat with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth to make up for the one he had lost during the brawl, his flask in one hand, and his lighter in the other, snapping it open and shut periodically. “Aye, that's what I'm tellin’ yea, mate. Don't know why it's so hard fer ya to understand.” '''

'''“It’s not like I d-don’t believe you, sir,” Chauncey shook his head frantically, upsetting the bandage tied around his head. “It’s just. . .t-to me, it makes no sense.”'''

'''“Oh?” Alexander inquired, tilting his head a little to get a crick out of his neck. '''

'''“Well. . .” Chauncey trailed off, rubbing his chin. “I-it’s awfully risky to break into an Iscariot’s shop, even more s-so your own, s-sir. . .” Chauncey pointed out, gesturing to all of the weapons scattered across the table from Alexander’s horde as an avid point of reference, each one risking the loss of whatever limb touched them if the carriage driver dared push the fine line between helper and irritation, even more so with Alexander’s current mental state. “So please pardon me if I. . .doubt the cause to b-begin with, s-sir.”'''

'''“I’d argue that thought,” the Hound interjected, voice slurred. “Do realize that those fools were not exactly the finest knives in the drawer,” Alexander tapped the side of his head. “So no doubt they followed you after spillin’ the poor ol’ messenger’s guts, thinkin’ themselves to be so damn smart in doin’ so,” he scoffed, tipping some ash off of the white rod. “Bloody pathetic blighters can’t keep their backbones unless their rears are covered, so don’t mind a ‘why?’ or ‘how?’ when talkin’ ‘bout ‘em. There’s no rhyme or reason with those heathen-swine, if ya ask me, and they don't deserve another second of yer time.”'''

“B-but they're not exactly headless either, sir—”

'''“That's true,” the Captain acknowledged, nodding his head. “That prick—Callum, was it?—is runnin’ the whole ring in the background, makin’ fools of our sacred ordeals,” he snarled. “If the Black Eyes keep on denyin’ the truth, we’ll be upturned in a few years time with a civil war on our hands, and the Parish will be laughin’ their arses off at our misfortune like the bastards we know ‘em to be.”'''

'''Chauncey shivered at the last segment, noticeably disturbed. “I-isn’t it a possibility they were sent after you on a personal level? An assassination, if you will?” '''

'''Alexander rolled his jaw, seemingly unamused. “Why in the bloody Hells would they do that?”'''

'''Chauncey fidgeted, taken aback by the reckless, gruff, skeptical attitude of the Captain, something the carriage driver doubted he could ever truly prepare against, even if his life depended on it. “You. . .are a Captain, sir. It's no s-stretch in my mind t-t-that you'd be a target of interest, even more so with the shop. . .And. . .” the driver trailed off, lowering his head to avoid his master’s gaze. The Captain, however, did not lose the fading sentence so easily, even if he was somewhat hammered.'''

'''“What were you going to say, lad?” Alexander growled, sliding his chair forward with sharp screaks. Chauncey tried to look away, mumbling something the Hound Captain failed to catch. “Mate, what did you say?” Alexander repeated, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. '''

'''“I. . Um. . .”'''

“Tell me, Goddammit!” Alexander bolted up, grabbing one of the knives on the table and stabbing it into the oaken flesh, rocking the wood and sending Chauncey falling back in surprise, gazing up at his master with an unreadable look behind his gleaming spectacles.

'''Raising both of his quivering hands before him, Chauncey tried to back up, only to hit the shaking door to Amy’s room, the young Shaw having been in there since the fight had ended, door locked to the outside world. This fact now had unintended consequences as Alexander loomed over his servant, eyes lost in yet another passionate rant, spurred on by his own ire and tendencies. “Sir. . .sir. . ! Hold on now, wait—urgh!”'''

'''Chauncey was cut off as Alexander raised him by the collar of his dress shirt, bringing the clamoring man to his feet, jaw flapping to try and form words in retaliation to the Captain’s sudden and aggressive advance. He failed in doing so, and more resembled a fish than what he truly was—or was supposed to be, at least: a man.'''

'''“I'll ask you again, plain and simple,” Alexander glared. “What, pray tell, were you goin’ to say? A pretty Goddamn simple question, if ya ask me. So out with! Go on!” '''

'''Chauncey gulped, regaining his voice after a few seconds of incomprehensible stuttering. “I-I-I was simply going to say, sir,” Chauncey clarified. “T-that taking Amy in was maybe not the wisest choice—”'''

“What the ‘ell do you know?” Alexander interjected fiercely, baring his yellowed teeth like a wild wolf with little regard to the feelings of his carriage driver.

'''“I'm not saying that's a bad thing!” Chauncey defended through a squeak, feeling the pounding from behind the door ceasing quickly as their little spat continued. “I'm. . .I'm just saying that taking her under your wing has more. . .erh. . .’r-roadblocks’, than one would expect, even m-more so from someone her age. Mistress Amelia has seen more than her fair share of woes from the viewpoint of someone more than double her age in the body and mind of a teenager, an age where their mind has yet to develop thoroughly and to properly recognize h-her feelings and emotions on an a-adult level,” Chauncey finally put into words. “T-that’s all I'm saying, s-sir. M-m-my full apologies for the senselessness o-on my part, I had no regard to what I was saying.”'''

'''Nothing came as a response. No fists, no cruel words that made the carriage driver cower in fear, not even a curse as Chauncey felt Alexander’s hands release him, leaving the man in a confused stupor as his master turned away. The driver watched on as the Hunter simply adjusted his gray, stitched up trench coat and rolled his shoulders, regaining his composure. '''

'''“No need to apologize, lad,” Alexander solidified in an attempt to speak normally. “Now return to your chair. I had a reason for talkin’ with ya, more so than just yellin’ at you like a mad dog,” he gestured to Chauncey’s chair. “I’ll whip up some coffee fer ya, if ya want. Does that sound good, mate?” '''

'''“Umm. . .” Chauncey peeped, looking between the Captain and the chair. After a few more brief seconds of apprehension, the timid man scurried over and secured his seat, Alexander moving around him and walking into the small kitchen adjacent to the dining room, which was systematically next to—on Chauncey and the table’s right—the living room.'''

'''As Alexander sorted through the cupboards for a pair of glasses, a pot, and his special coffee mix, the carriage driver rubbed his hands together nervously, surveying the weapons scattered across the table. The timid man had no idea how his master was able to carry so many weapons, ranging from knives of all sorts to his revolver, all the way to the executioner sword leaning against the wall next to Alexander’s room. Chauncey shivered, knowing the dark rumors that surrounded such a blade. It contained the souls of its victims, and fed off woe and misery, even if it was a ‘sword of judgment’. Still though, Chauncey kept himself contained, staying to his seat and only that, awkwardly sitting there with a sharp ear still directed towards Amy’s room, the banging back in full force since their spat had settled. '''

'''“S-sir,” Chauncey turned to look over to his master from the chair, hands on his knees and shoulders scrunched up so that he perfectly fit into the piece of furniture. “Wha. . .What’s that noise? That. . .that thumping?” '''

'''Alexander looked up in surprise, glancing towards the door as well for confirmation of something he had purposely tuned out for the sake of his own sanity. “Oh, that?” '''

'''“Y-yes, ‘that’, sir,” Chauncey nodded, looking back over to the door, which the two had passed when Alexander had helped Chauncey up the stairs after kicking him in the shins enough times to finally rouse him from the depths of reality’s lucid mirror. While everything was still fuzzy, the last time he remembered seeing her was when she was looking over him, tears in her eye with a hand over her scarred oculus, murmuring harsh criticisms of herself the entire time.'''

'''Alexander sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter. “ ‘That’, as you so boldly call it, mate,” Alexander narrated in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Is Amy wailin’ on her punchin’ bag. Installed one when she wanted to put her old toy chest in the livin’ room,” the Captain gestured over to the far wall, the living room being fully open so that if Chauncey so desired, he could enter and rest on the couch overlooking the main streets from the window. From there even, one could watch the river Belclaire run by with schooners passing with expensive goods to trade for sizable quandaries of marks and coins. “So I obliged and put one in. Now, she wails on it all day long and far into the evenin’. If you decide to stay with that headache of yers,” Alexander knocked the side of his head with his knuckles to emphasize. “Then just knock and tell ‘er to hush up. She'll listen to ya, I already know.” '''

'''“P-pardon?” Chauncey inquired, lowering his glasses to make certain his eyes were not blinded by smudges or the cracks in the glass from the vicious hook he had taken. '''

'''The Captain waved his hand in a lackadaisical way. “Oh, I know she talks to you often and confides in you well. I've found it quaint that she puts you in such a high regard, though I hope she doesn't get the wrong idea about you, even more so when you're about the age I look.” '''

'''Chauncey rubbed his brow, minding the bandage all entirely. “N-no no. W-we just chat. . . once and awhile, sir. Nothing t-too marvelous. I just listen to her, and I give her my thoughts while we’re on the road. I even remember this one lovely spot we passed—” '''

'''“Chauncey,” Alexander reminded him with a forceful tone. “Don't get sidetracked now, because this is the reason I wanted to talk with ya. Pardon me fer not bein’ over there to keep you on track,” Alexander snorted, putting no true feeling into the ‘apology’ beside the grunt. “But duty calls and coffee beans must be crushed in the Lord’s name. Might as well use it while I have it, because these bags are low in stock as of now,” Alexander muttered absentmindedly as he fumbled with the sizable bag and began work on its contents, wincing at his own commentary. '''

'''“A-as you were saying, sir,” Chauncey reminded Alexander, waking the Captain from his mutterings. '''

'''“As I was sayin’,” the Captain restarted. “I wanted to ask yer opinion on something. It’s about Amy,” Alexander explained. “I want to know how to approach her ‘bout this entire leavin’ thing.” '''

'“I-I-I-In my'' o-o-opinion, sir?” Chauncey meekly repeated, mortified with the newfound opportunity to doubtlessly embarrass himself once more before his master. “Oh sir, I-I swear I only know as much as you do! She's a lovely lady and—”'''

'''“Stop with the ass-kissing,” a moody voice interjected, both men swinging their attention over to the door, only to find Amy leaning against the wooden frame, arm on her hip. The girl first looked over to her father in the kitchen, second to Chauncey, then to the weapons all over the table. “What in the world is all of this for?” She noted bitterly, walking over briskly and surveying the open revolver, sets of knives, and an interesting mask set down on the table, porcelain skin as white as a bone with insides as gray as ash. '''

'''“I-I wouldn't suggest touching that, m-madame!” Chauncey warned quickly, glancing over to Master Shaw a few times for confirmation. Instead, the Captain merely began to prepare the coffee for the group, adding a third cup to the waiting line.'''

“What brings you out of your room for the evenin’, lov?” Alexander asked after a long period of silence with the coffee on the boiler, checking the pot and fumbling with the cups in preparation.

'''Amy glared over at her father, raising the bird-like mask and bringing it to the side of her face, eye showing the same hollow look the mask presented. “I heard you fools through the door, so I decided to pop in for a visit with you and Mr.Pine and see if he was alright,” Amy admitted plainly, getting an irritated look from her father when he noticed the plague doctor mask in her hand, devoid of the lower part most were known for and more taking the expected look of a large, bird-like beak, meant to fit incense inside to ward off the stench of blood and fermented ire from the horrendous beasts he stalked. Her fingers were dangerously close to the spikes lining the sides of the object as well, meant for a dark purpose only the Captain knew of, and cared to forget if he could. '''

'''“Oi, put that down,” Alexander warned, looking at his daughter none-too-happily. '''

'''“Oh come now, father,” Amy snarled, showing the mask again next to her face. “Can't you see the resemblance? The pale skin?” She smiled weakly, comparing her own ghostly aura from her extended period of time indoors. “The emotionless eyes?” she continued, raising her hair to show the eyepatch. “And both of us—”'''

'''“I swear to God, girl,” Alexander muttered underneath his breath, gritting his teeth and already fearing for the worst thing a man in his current position could hear. “Don't say what you're goin’ to say. Don't you do it—” '''

'''“Have the ugliest faces in all of Graywall,” Amy finished smugly, tilting her hips. “Wouldn't you agree? Or. . .oh! Maybe the ugliest face in all of Saint Victoria? That could fit as well. Maybe even more so than the first flattering remark I made, eh?” Amy continued, returning the mask to the table and placing her pointer finger on her chin in a once innocent gesture of a child, now ruined in her devices. “Silly me, though. I guess I just have to accept the order of things—”'''

'''“Amy,” Alexander breathed slowly, turning around to look at her properly. “Just. . .take a seat and I'll whip you up some coffee as well, ok? We can settle all of. . .this then and there,” he gestured to the letter and the rest of the mess. '''

'''Amy glared at her father but a few moments longer, relenting finally when it became obvious she had no other plan in the works to do otherwise. As her father worked, Amy glanced at the letter in Chauncey’s hands every once and awhile, fingers nervously tapping against the hardwood as she waited quietly for her cup and to settle things peacefully. '''

'''“What were you and Mr. Pine talking about?” She finally inquired, wincing when she heard how dead her voice sounded. '''

'''Alexander sighed, knowing he had to give a proper answer, and without his servant's advice at that. “Amy. . .my dear Black Lily. . .Do you know how much I love you? How much I care about you?” He asked when he turned around, placing a cup before everyone at the table before taking his own seat with cup in hand.'''

'''Amy stared at her father, suspicion, fear, and other emotions switching lenses in the blink of an eye. “I know you care a lot. . .though I times, I fret you care far too much for someone who doesn't deserve it—”'''

'''“You do deserve, and don’t kid yourself with other notions that say otherwise,” Alexander shoved the thought away, proceeding to continue. “But, as fer why I bring this up: Why do you think I protect you? Because I’m selfish or misguided or something else along those lines?” '''

'''Amy sighed, already seeing where her old man was going with this. “Sometimes I see your ‘protection’ as unnecessary, but other times I appreciate the thought, because that’s what counts. Now, why are we going through all of this again? I just asked what you and Mr. Pine were talking about, now you’re waving all this cryptic shit in front of my face with the expectation that it will have any connection to the matter of concern at hand.” '''

'“Well, if you had let me finish'' I would have more than happily answered your question,” Alexander snorted, taking a small sip from his brew. “But to answer simply: We were talking about affairs of state and the turmoil of a certain city-state to the North of us, one you and I know all too well, and one that is currently afflicted with a disease so foul, it makes my blood boil to know that its still alive and kickin’ in that city, unchallenged so far and spreadin’ like the blight we know it ta be—”'''

'''“S-sir, is it wise to talk about all of this?” Chauncey asked, glancing between his master and Amy, who listened intently to every word her father said, who now paid his servant no mind. '''

'''“In a few days time, I will be called away again to an emergency meeting of the Crown, which I must serve in if I want to keep my job,” Alexander paused, clearing his throat. “And head.”'''

'''“So you’re telling me. . .that you’re leaving again?” Amy clarified, just making certain her ears did not deceive her. “When only a week prior, you were gone for another meeting of the Crown? When you promised you wouldn’t be leaving for awhile?” '''

'“It’s not like I want'' to leave!” Alexander argued, gesturing to Chauncey to give Amy the letter. “You can look at the bloody epistle fer yourself, and see that I’m tellin’ the truth!” '''

'''Amy gratefully took the letter and began to quickly scan through the notice, once to just summarize what it detailed, a second time for comprehension, and a third just to be safe. The moments waiting for the girl to finish—while brief—still felt drenched in nail-biting suspense, Alexander waiting for whatever explosive response his daughter would doubtlessly have, while Chauncey quivered in his seat, hands tightening around his drink, no matter how much his left arm shook in response to the heat. '''

'''“So. . .” Amy muttered, tossing the piece of paper away with a scowl written across her face. “Yet again, I am left to the wayside, all on my lonesome, while my father and his servant do God-knows-what elsewhere. Expensive balls, political debates, and what appears to be a serious decision that needs to be made for the fate of our people, and all of this is connected to the ever-vigilant eyes of the Church, deeming ‘our’ Father’s ‘justice’ as valid. To be expected, eh?” '''

'''Her father sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to get some feeling back into the numbed skin, senses still dull from all the drink lingering in his system. “Sure, the balls are nice, but it's just pretending to have class where there is none. Political debates, surprisingly, are no fun to be a part of. And a serious decision to save the whole damn country? Aye, yes there is, which is even more reason for you not to stick your neck out, so if we botch the whole thing up your head won't be on the line for the gallows grisly glory.”'''

'''Amy sighed, looking away. “But I want to help you in some way, more than just sitting around here and watching the world spin by like a princess in a castle. I must sound so childish. . . desiring to go to a place where the sun doesn't shine when I only have one eye and this useless stump weighing me down. . .”'''

'''“But yet you wish to prove yourself ‘useful’ to me, as you put it,” Alexander nodded, crossing his arms. “If I'm bein’ honest, I can see very few reasons why you'd not be prepared, excluding yer arm of course. You're competent with a weapon—excluding brooms, so making a mental note of that—and know how to think fast on your feet. While stress is most certainly a demon you may struggle with for the rest of your life, there's no better therapeutic treatment than tearing out the infected heart of a devil and crushing it like a grape—” '''

'''“M-master, could we please not get into such distasteful details as. . .evisceration?” Chauncey gulped, taking a small sip from his cup to calm his nerves. “It. . .ah. . .sours the b-brew you prepared for us so. . .gracefully.” The man awkwardly chortled, coming across as incredibly forced. '''

'“Right, I forgot yer squeamish to everythin’'',” Alexander accused passively before returning to Amy. “As fer you, what can I say? Yer a good girl dealin’ with a lot, and I’d hate to drag you into such a confusin’ mess of state and religion and all of that bollocks that even I can’t understand at times, and I’ve lost track of my age by now.” '''

'''“What could I do to prove to you that I am ready for such a burden?” Amy reasoned, trying to find some workaround or midpoint between their two vantage points. “Because even with this accursed stump, I can fight. Doesn't Captain Faultier have many of his fingers missing, for example—”'''

'''“And got them sewn back on so they were still useable,” Alexander retorted, a little stronger than intended, but nevertheless getting his point across. '''

'''Amy daintily placed her cup back on the table and stared at her father with a hard gaze. Not a glare, but just a gaze of competition. “Do you know how much I hate you at times?” '''

'''“Isn’t that the point of a father, or any parent figure at that?” The Hound shrugged. '''

“But isn’t it also a parent’s duty to see the best in their child?” 

'''“First off, while I admire yer term of ‘duty’, I’d more say it is my job, with both pros and cons. As fer seein’ the best in ya, I already do!” Alexander exclaimed, taking yet another swig, flask becoming lighter by the second at the rate he was going. “While yer in yer room lookin’ down on yerself fer no reason, I’m worryin’ ‘bout you and yer well-bein’. I’ll be honest: my heart nearly skipped a beat when you suggested joinin’ me in such a case of a Hunt, and—as said as well—I could never live with the knowledge that I let my child die in a city that is not our own, to hordes of creatures that can no longer be called ‘human’ by any stretch of the imagination.” '''

'''“But wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity to prove myself to both you and the Church?” Amy retorted. “I’ve made it no secret that I want to be a Hound, just like you. Yes, I’m missing an arm and an eye, but you even said yourself, regardless of these setbacks, I am still competent with what I do—”'''

'''“Then how did you get beaten, eh?” Alexander asked, staring at her with a blunt look of anguish. “Downstairs, while I was in the basement: how in the world did you get beaten if you suppose yourself to be up to the task?”'''

'''Amy looked away from her father, knowing full well that if she admitted the first thing that came to her mind, it could get her into serious trouble, maybe more so than what it was worth. If she didn’t say the truth, the situation would stay where it was with neither side moving, but if she did say what went through her head, no doubt her father would sentence her to her room without a second thought and disregarding such conversations of Hunts and such until she was ‘fixed’. '''

'''“I don’t know—” Amy muttered, getting cut off. '''

'''“Then please work with me here!” Alexander continued to rant. “I’m tryin’ to do what’s best fer you! I cannot fathom what thoughts go through yer head, makin’ you depend on me, but you have to be independent of such matters as this. I feel honored that you feel such a passion for joinin’ the Hounds, and I’m being honest, but—”'''

'''“Crippled girls should stay far away from such things, eh?” Amy asked, cutting her father off instantly. When she looked back to her old man, it nearly took his breath away, his eyes widening as memories flooded back to him. The men he had lost in the fields of war and in the streets, cut down by savage foes that had no regards to their life. The look his own daughter gave him was that of death, a full look of despair and loss no soul her age should ever experience. But it also reminded him of something else, when he was far, far younger than he was now, making his silence last longer than he had intended. '''

'''Catching his breath, Alexander clutched his chest as he took deep breaths in, calming his racing heart after a few moments of panting. “Amy—”'''

'''Before he could finish his sentence, Amy bolted up, knocking over her chair and drink and sending the warm coffee all over his gear. Turning on her heel, Amy started back to her room, shoving her sole hand into her pocket to hide the shaking fist that hid inside like a tree nut, waiting to bloom into a powerful creation of life. '''

'''“Amy!” Alexander repeated, getting up himself in an attempt to stop her. However, before he could even take one step out from beneath the table to take chase, she whirled around, a vicious look in her eyes and hand flying out of her pocket and coming right for him. '''

'“How does this'' fare for combat prowess?” Amy seethed as she socked her father across the face, sending the Captain a few steps back in surprise and falling over his chair. He held his cheek more in wonder than pain, though the latter was more of the reason for the former than he’d like to admit. Standing over her old man, Amy pointed at him, emotions free to take their toll. '''

'''“Do you know how it feels, to live in someone else’s shadow?” She began, pushing her father back down before he could get up. “To feel useless and alone? To be surrounded by those who have different outlooks than you do, and to be continuously judged for them? To be beaten and broken, over and over, until all you can taste is blood for days on end, even after you have washed out your mouth with enough water to fill a pond? '''

'''“I know I sound like a child, whining to be important. I know I’m a selfish idiot, being dumb to pursue a journey that I have no right in participating in,” Amy sobbed, tears now falling freely onto her father's heaving chest, his mouth open and eyes unreadable. “It’s just. . .I’ve always admired you for being. . .well. .you! You took care of me, always acted so strong in the face of adversity, and were able to deal with a system and religion I have always despised, and all with a straight face!'''

'“Look, I know'' I’m being an idiot,” Amy sagged down, falling to her knees with the same dead gaze as before. “But I’m your idiot, and I don’t care if Belton holds a high likelihood of being my death. I just don’t care anymore. During that fight downstairs, I honestly felt no reason to try and defend myself, to just be tackled to the ground and choked to death, thinking that I had failed you when the gunshot went off.'''

'''“But,” Amy proceeded, looking up to her father’s face when he gently touched her cheek, stroking some hair out of her eye. “When I saw you come back. . .it inspired me to keep on going. To stay alive. This is what you’ve inspired me to do, so the least I could do for you in return is act as another pair of eyes watching over the group? Maybe I will be useless, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if the Church sees me as a failure, being so ignorant as to ignore the one at fault for how I am now, and instead blaming you because they see you as nothing more than a pawn. Don’t you see that? The Church doesn't care about either of us. They only need you to rein in the Hounds, and me for some goddamn nebulous future that will never come to pass because I will not just sit around and let them control my future while you’re doing your duty. I want to be there with you, showing that I can be useful. That I am more than just a pawn for the Church. That I am more than the Church! This is what I want to prove to you, Chauncey, the world!” She exclaimed, gesturing to each target when mentioned, but soon simmering down again when she placed her hand on her chest. “And even to myself, believe it or not. . .'''

'''“I’m scared, father. Scared that. . .scared that I’ll be left alone again, taken by the Black Eyes and repurposed into some messiah. Perish the thought,” she sneered waving her hand through her hair to both clean her eyes and to disregard the thought. “I know that I’m still a child in your eyes, and that even with everything I said. . .I’m still in the wrong, for being an idiot and being selfish. I know it’s your responsibility, more than anything else, to keep my safety as a guarantee, and I respect that. I love you for that. . .But I can’t accept that, because at the end of the day, I will blame myself just as much as you will for anything that happens to you.'''

'''“Now,” Amy sighed as she got back up again, wiping away her tears. “Look at me. . .I’m a mess,” she chuckled, cleaning away the last streaks. “But I have to say this one last part, then you can make your peace. . .and invariably shoot me down,” taking a deep breath in, Amy calmed her nerves, and stared the last segment of her bottled emotions. “You, my father, have inspired me in so many ways to be a better person. Yes, I do not cherish them openly all the time, such as when I’m in my room thinking the darkest thoughts, or I refuse to do my work,” she chuckled again, but continued. “But your care and kindness, no matter what you or I say, is evident, even if it is hidden under layers of your own stressors and fears that I cannot fathom, many, no doubt, stemming from me.'''

'''“I will be honest with you. . .when I first saw you, in that alleyway looking over me,” Amy reminisced, watching for the first time as wetness began to form around her father’s eyes. It was very uncharacteristic of his usual self, though this was no normal conversation. “I was terrified, thinking you to be another Church member there to beat on me, like how that Black Eye had. . .but you didn't. You gave me home, food, and comfort from all the madness of the world. I had no way to appreciate you back then, telling myself that I would be a soldier one day, a Hound even! Growing up brave and strong and making up for my weaknesses! I promised my young, foolish self that I would grow up, just like you, fighting for a country that did not understand me, but I would never truly mind, because by then, I would be just like you, father. A paragon of ideals young and old, from a time where bravery was celebrated, instead of now, when the concept of a ‘hero’ is forfeit besides in fairy tales.'''

'''“But, as I have discovered—regardless of my grades, as you pointed out—I have learned there’s a simpler answer that I can give, one I think that will win you over,” Amy smiled, being the most genuine, pure one her father had ever seen as she stretched out her hand for his own. The words she said right after, while being so simple, remained so pure and heartfelt that it almost seemed like Alexander had lost his hearing, if not for his eyes set on her lips, reading the two simple words she said. '''

“Thank you.”

'Thank you. '

'''Those words rung like a gong inside Alexander’s head as adjusted himself to his knees, staring at his pride and joy with renewed light, both for her, and for humanity itself. '''

'''“Now, get up, old man,” Amy joked, waving her hand in front of his face to wake him up, sending it out straight again so he could take it. “Unless you want to share a bed with the dust bunnies— Woah!” '''

'''Amy was cut off as she was dragged to the ground and caught into a hug, constricting around her tightly, but not tight enough to cut off her breath. Instead, it was just enough to comfort her properly, the young woman smiling a little as she returned the hug for as long as her father was willing, lasting for quite some time. Finally though, her father let go, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking at his daughter tenderly. '''

'''“Dammit, lass,” Alexander smiled, showing his yellowed teeth. “I know my literature brain rubbed off on you, no matter what you said about yer bloody courses in school, but why now? Why use them now to stump me?”'''

'''“To make a bigger impact, of course,” Amy snickered, promptly getting up. “Now, as said: will you take my hand, or will you make love to the dust bunnies.”'''

'''“Hold yer horses, lass, I’m comin’ up,” Alexander groaned as he rocked up, rolling his jaw to get some feeling back into it. “Did you really need to sock me, by the way? Hurts like a bitch, for Lord's sakes.” '''

'''“Do you want me to kiss your wound and put a bandage on your face?” Amy mocked playfully, Alexander snorting in disgust. '''

“Yer not my mother—” 

'''“But at times I feel like I have to be one with how you act,” Amy clarified on queue, helping her father to his seat while his legs refused to cooperate, the drink hitting the Captain harder than he originally expected. “Even more so with your. . .habits.” '''

'''“What? Yer sayin’ I have a problem hea?” Alexander mocked, speaking his arms wide to make a big show of himself. Guzzling down another load of alcohol, the Captain slammed the flask down and wiped his whiskers with the back of his sleeve. '''

'''“S-sir,” Chauncey picked up again, staying complacent up till then. “Maybe it would be best to. . .finish off for the night? We do have a train to catch on the morrow, and it would be unfitting to both be hung o-over a-a-and out of your current. . .supply of the black blood. It's n-not often that we can get more of it, as you know—” '''

'''“Oh screw off it mate,” Alexander waved the idea away like how one would try to fan themselves, looking quite silly to his non-intoxicated onlookers. “It's not like I want to see my brother fer a refill anyway. . .”'''

'''“But. . .isn't he still g-giving you the black blood out of the goodness in his heart—” '''

'''“Bah!” Alexander snorted. “Goodness? Greedy bastard just wants to keep me out, and the only way he can do that is give me my vials and send me on my way. No goodness there! Just bribery!” Alexander continued to complain, throwing his hands into the air. “Now, where was I. . .?” '''

'''“Giving me the ok to go with you. . .?” Amy inserted expectantly, standing on her tiptoes to hear the golden answer. '''

'''Alexander stopped laughing, looking at her like he just remembered the conversation before. “Oh yes. . .” he muttered, scratching the back of his head to spark his failing memory again. “There are a few things I have to say about the whole debacle you went into.”'''

'''“Go on,” Amy pursued, intrigued with where he was going with this. '''

'''“First off, to all of yer questions at the beginning: Yes, I have dealt with them all. My time in and before the Legion was not the best of times for me, and truly showed the hubris, jealousy, and other cardinal sins I held. I still hold disdain for my elder brother, but let him rest with his horde. They pay us no mind in their little keep on the coast, while we stay here, living our own minds without having to embarrass ourselves with thoughts of the other.'''

'''“As fer yer entire decree to go: It was well-worded, and while it was long, you made your point clear to me, and admittedly swayed my opinion somewhat,” Alexander raised a finger before she jumped for joy. “However, do not think you're on board, not yet at least. I'm going to sleep on my decision, because I'm honestly feeling a lil’ wobbly. . .” the Captain grumbled before dipping out of his chair and spilling across the floor again with a hard thud. '''

'''“M-master Shaw!” Chauncey bolted up and waddled over to the other side of the table to see if he was alright. “Master Shaw! A-are you ok? Can you stand?”'''

'''“Poor bastard knocked himself out cold,” Amy noted when she looked over the chair at her sleeping father. “I guess sleep comes early now, to make his decision later,” she muttered, looking over to Chauncey. “Mr. Pine, could you please bring him back to his room?” '''

“Yes, M-mistress Shaw—”

'''“And Mr. Pine,” Amy interrupted, spurred on by her servant's words. “Please, stop calling me ‘mistress’. That title only extends to those with power or position. I don't deserve such credit.” '''

“A-are you certain—”

'''“Yes, Chauncey,” Amy snapped impatiently, acting just as rash as her father would in a similar situation. “Now go along and drag the blighter back to his room,” she commanded, Chauncey doing just that by carrying his master in soldier support. “And put him on his side! Not on his back or stomach!” '''

'''“Y-yes, madame!” Chauncey called from Alexander’s room, struggling with tossing his unconscious master’s body onto the bed so his shift would finally end. '''

“Also, Chauncey!” Amy yelled out again, waiting for a response.

'''“Yes, Mis. . .Yes, A-Amy?” Chauncey stuttered, poking his head out. '''

'''“I'm going to be turning in for the night, so feel free to sleep on the couch, at your leisure,” Amy invited freely as she wandered back to her door, turning around to wear a small, charismatic grin for Chauncey’s benefit. “Have a good night, Mr. Pine, and. . .I apologize for my weakness, in this case.” '''

'''“Madame. . .” Chauncey trailed off, trying to find some way to make things right. “Weakness. . .is not a sin. What comes to ‘solve’ weakness can be, though. Desire. . .fear. . .jealousy. . .bitterness. . .falsehoods. . .All c-can be answers to such ‘weakness’, as you put it. . .'''

'''“But good things can come from it as well. Strength to try and change both your body and mind. Determination. Duty and honor. All can come from the weakness you described,” Chauncey prolonged, gulping a little. “B-but w-w-what do I know? I am just a s-servant who c-cares too much at times. . .”'''

'''Amy waited at her door for a long while, considering his words. “Thank you, Chauncey,” she whispered, turning to look into the darkness of her room. “I wonder. . .” she caught herself, making certain what she was about to say was in an even voice. “I wonder if I step beyond this wooden frame, if all of my fears and emotions will rush back to me, just like before?” '''

'''“W-would it b-be better then if y-y-you slept out here?” Chauncey suggested, gesturing to the couch. “Y-you can take the spot I was going to rest at. . .”'''

'''“No,” Amy shook her head, smiling sadly. “I guess I just have to tough it through like I always have,” she noted solemnly, feeling the scars on her stump burn when mentioning that, disregarding the urge she always had to try and ‘lessen the pain’, only creating more scars on her ugly body.'''

“But—”

'''“Goodnight, Chauncey,” Amy looked up as she swung her door open and walked through, looking back at him one last time for the eve. “And I will see you in the morning.” '''

'''With that, the door was closed, leaving Chauncey to teeter in his spot, looking between his sleeping master and Amy’s door. '''

'''“G-goodnight, Amy,” Chauncey mumbled quietly before wandering to the couch and setting himself down, waiting for the long night to pass and the excitement of tomorrow to begin when the morning sun rose and cast out the Great Deceiver’s shadow once more. . .'''

'''However, in Amy's midnight chamber—the sole vacuum of light shining through a small port glass window that could, at most, admit a head through—excitement was just about to begin. Already, the young Shaw had changed out of her normal day work clothes and into her loose fitting pajamas, strewing her clothes on the ground without a care and settling down in her bed. '''

'''Amy’s room was small, to put it simply. All it had was a small closet, a bureau filled with disorganized clothing, her makeshift punching bag—practically in tatters, at this point—a small nightstand next to her bed with a dwindling candle waning away, and her bed. '''

'''Flipping open an old book—cover in tatters by the number of times she had flipped through—Amy began to casually scan through an old storybook of hers, one she had read countless times, but always found herself attracted to it again. The story was simple: a day at a fair for a little duckling, which turns awry when one of the carnival performers— the knife-tossing wolf— begins to try and lure the little duck away with its devious tricks. By the end, the little duck escaped the crafty wolf, and lived happily ever after. Quite a simple story, as Amy reminded herself, but a good way to waste time and bring herself to a target point of inner peace so she could finally settle and fall asleep. '''

'''A small noise, however, cued the girl awake again with a start when she was just falling under sleep’s shroud, eye growing heavy and the world turning fuzzy. Scanning the room, Amy reached to her knife on the bed stand and kept it in her lap suspiciously, glancing to the closet to make certain nothing had changed. When satisfied, she began to drift off again with a content smile, ready to receive the most peaceful sleep she had had in years. . .'''

'''Yet again, a low noise woke her up, ears instantly identifying the noise’s origin as the closet. Snapping up, Amy clutched her switchblade as she slowly rocked to feet, getting out of bed and slowly moving towards the closest, each step deliberate. What could be in there to cause such noise? Rats? A bat? Or. . .something larger, and more imposing than some simple animal? A kidnapper maybe? Even if the kidnapping hotspot was Radsforth, there had been reports of children being taken in the night outside of the cities’ borders, in other city-states, in fact. But Radsforth was on the other side of the Central Dominances, easily being a day’s travel, if not more, so that answer seemed unlikely to the girl as she placed a hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath in. '''

'''You were talking all that good shit before, Amy reminded herself, rolling her eye at her own tense muscles. So why not prove it now by facing this head on? She reasoned, taking one last deep breath before throwing the door open and closing her eye in fear of something flying into her face. Instead, nothing came. No noise, no attacker, no nothing. Chancing the situation, Amy opened her only, only to find!. . .an empty closet of disappointment.'''

'''“Amy, your nerves are just getting to you,” the young Shaw sighed to herself as she closed the closest doors and rubbed her tired eye, allowing a yawn to escape her lips. Taking the trip back, Amy picked up her book from the ground, failing to notice the changes to the cover that were not there before as she moved back to take a seat on the bed and catch her breath from all of the excitement. '''

'''Instead, all Amy found was empty space as she slipped past the sheets of her bed like how an animal would fall through the underbrush of a pitfall trap, descending through the expanse of darkness below in freefall, still set in her sitting position. Looking around frantically, Amy tried to comprehend what was going on, darkness expanding in every direction, and the opening above fading away from sight, leaving her in the shadows.'''

'''She fell for quite some time with no rhyme or reason, no up or down to the nightmare she found herself in. While Amy did note that she could still see her body quite well—meaning that it wasn't dark, per se, but just everything around her was dark—this notion was held to the wayside as finally something appeared for the ground, rushing to meet her by the second. '''

'''With the last moments of coherent thoughts she would have, Amy began to scream as she rushed towards the room laid out below, set up in the formation of a medieval dining room with a long table, numerous chairs set around the rectangular table, and dead torches clasped to the walls. But she couldn't appreciate the detail as the last few feet were met, and her end was made true when she hit the ground. . .'''

'''Or it would have, if not for the fact that she was now floating a foot off the ground, a plush seat set beneath her. Scanning her surroundings in surprise, Amy finally released the breath she had been holding, only to fall down the last foot available with a groan. '''

'''Thoroughly weirded out, Amy tried to comprehend the details of the room she resided in, more than the fall or what happened above in her room. The dining room table, for instance, had numerous platters of fruit and meat, the produce dried and dead, and the meat definitely rotten. Old chicken bones and lamb legs were tossed around the table and the surrounding side platters, revolting the girl as she tried to pay attention to things besides the disgusting feast that had been prepared. '''

'''She had already taken note of the chairs and large hearth when falling, though the fire was dead by this point— lingering as just a large pile of ash— so Amy quickly skipped over that detail. This inevitably led her to the realization that on the other side of the table, a person sat. A dead body admittedly, but a body nonetheless. '''

'''From what she could see, the poor soul wore aristocratic robes with a bloodstained ‘white’ dress shirt and a brown tailcoat jacket, ragged from whatever happened to them. Their arms were bitten at the bone, their chest was only the ribcage and little else, and the man’s face had been torn at ruthlessly, hunks of flesh stripped away, its eyes long gone, and its nose caved in. The sole part that made the young Shaw question if the body had ever been human to begin with was the dead body’s teeth, razor sharp and resembling— oddly enough— recently shined watermelon seeds. '''

'''Stifling any bodily reactions, Amy stood up to try and find a way out of the room, deadset in escaping the realm she found herself in. As soon as she stood up, however, the fire in the hearth cracked to light, ash and cinder erupting out of the hearth and dancing in the air brilliantly. Next, the torches began to light in order on both sides, continuing on until they finished at her own end. '''

'''An uncomfortable cold sweat began to grow beneath her clothing as Amy watched the cinder and ash begin to surround the corpse, flesh twitching as soon as it made contact. Revulsion filled her stomach as the cinders began to repair the grisly wounds the body had suffered, restructuring flesh, bone, and muscle to make the body whole again. First, the arms were repaired of all bite marks and laceration. Next came the chest, shriveled organs inflating to their normal size until a roll of flesh rolled upwards like a sticker, covering the insides of the revived dead man. Finally came the head, white goo dripping out of the sockets until they solidified into the creature’s eyes, glowing yellow irises trained on the terrified Shaw. Next, the nose popped out with a sharp crack, and finally, the torn jaw of the monster returned, skin the color of dirt and ugly hair being swept back in an attempt to make the creature look ‘handsome’.'''

'''Straightening its jacket, the beast made up for its bare chest by fiddling with the buttons to its shirt and jacket frantically until satisfied. “My. . .apologies,” the creature croaked, voice hoarse from its recent return to the living. “My previous feast turned messy when it became apparent that we lacked more meats on the spice racks. Avaricious cretins jumped me and had their way with my person, I fear, so I apologize if I cough and wheeze and whatnot.” '''

“W-what the Hell are you—” 

'''“But this isn't about me,” the creature interrupted, flicking a wrist at the thought. “This is about you. I lose myself so often, though my brain just came back after taking a claw hammer to it, so I'll be a little scatterbrained during this meeting, so I apologize immensely on those grounds as well,” the beast dragged on, making certain its scalp had been reformed properly. “But please, sit down. We have much to discuss, and my master wants results, not chatter. Unfortunate about the latter, but that's the matter of business, ey?”'''

'''Amy sat down uncomfortably and slid into the table, pushing her plate away and the mess that had been left on it. “This chamber is filthy.” '''

'''“Oh yes,” the creature coughed, dragging a chicken bone out of its esophagus and flicking it away, cleaning his teeth due to his lack of lips with a handkerchief, slime now coating the once fine material. “The previous diners were not fashionable guests, I dare say. I loathe how they treated my hospitality with such blatant disrespect, and I will pen a well-worded dispute in their direction for their disturbing proclivity, but enough about the mess or previous guests, regardless of how much this travesty makes my poor mind ache. This is about you, not me—” '''

'''“Ok ok,” Amy raised her hand, stopping the creature from saying another one million words in under a minute. “Hold up, calm down, and let me speak.”'''

'''“My apologies,” the creature repeated, setting its hand over its cutlery. “My manners escape me.”'''

'“First off: Who are you, where the Hell'' am I, and what do you want?” Amy demanded, sick of all of the confusion and unexplained occurrences. '''

'''The creature looked up with its sharp eyes, settling its fingertips together in consideration. “Let's begin simple and work up; The name you address me by—no matter how queer—is Devil Jack. I will not take Devil or Jack on their own, only Devil Jack, and that is that. '''

'''“Secondly, I, once more, apologize for all of the inconveniences and confusion. Such matters as these can be. . .complicated, to put it lightly,” Devil Jack grimaced, which was hard to tell when all he had to show was teeth. “I welcome you to my chambers, the Dining Room, as we call it in my master’s web of associates and colleagues. You, right now—and please don't try to put heads or tails of this, because it will give a headache if you try—are asleep, convicted to a dream of my—my master’s—design.'''

“Finally, to finish your first volley of questions before I commit to covering fire, the reason I have cast the line to capture you—the fish—was to entice thee with a suitable offer for your current situation of injury and matters of interest and debate, if you get what I mean.”

“Sadly not,” Amy muttered as Devil Jack continued rambling with an unclear answer in mind, being both discrete and unbearable at the same time.

'''“Now!” The creature expounded happily, bringing its head back to extend the word, shocking the black veins pulsing in its neck. “I get to ask you my three questions. I do always enjoy this ‘get-together’ games, both as a matter of politics and to understand who you are dealing with better. Also breaks the ice quite well, and you can even find common interests in the swathe of information people will spill when talking about themselves,” the creature procured, chuckling at his own pleasant memories of political fortés and other such extravaganzas.'''

'''“Can you please just ask your goddamn questions and be done with it?” Amy asked moodily, not trusting the odd creature for a second. '''

'''“Fine,” Devil Jack relented, sighing. “Question number one: How is my company so far? Honestly?” '''

'''Amy rolled her eyes at the question, deciding to be as blunt as possible. “It leaves much to be desired.” '''

'''“How so?” The creature leaned in, cupping a pointed ear to hear her more clearly. '''

'''“You're talking me up a wall and none of the food is fresh,” Amy pointed out, gesturing to all of the rotten meats stinking up the room. “Fix those two things, and we will be golden.” '''

'''“I really should fix that,” Devil Jack muttered in the regards to the food, looking behind him and snapping his fingers. The jingle of a bell rang as a response, and out of the shadows a servant with a tray walked in, wearing a white dress shirt, black vest, and a tie. However, the servant also wore a smiling mask over his face, with two small peepholes, a wide smile cut into the material, and no other discernible features besides that. '''

'''“Servant,” Devil Jack chimed. “Clean up the mess in due haste and give our guest. . .does steak sound alright to you?” The creature asked Amy, who shrugged.'''

'''“Sure, why not?” She responded, shrugging. “Just make it medium and there'll be no complaints from me.”'''

'''The servant quickly nodded and got to work, removing the hideous delicacies that had been torn into by the previous group and sped off with them. Shortly after, he returned with a plate for the girl, setting it down before her and opening the lid to reveal a freshly made steak. Thereafter, the servant returned to the shadows, waiting to be called on again. '''

'''“Lovely. Now, as I was saying,” the beast clapped its hands joyously. “How are you tonight? Sad? Depressed? Wishing to slash your pesky stump again?” The creature listed, clinging to its own left arm at the last part, eliciting a furious glare from Amy. '''

'“I thought I told you to settle down''?” Amy snarled, becoming more and more irritated by her ‘host’. '''

'''“I am the host, let me remind you,” Devil Jack interjected, taking no skin off his teeth. “Now answer the question so we can get through this fast so you can leave and not deal with me again.” '''

'''Amy sighed, rolling her eye as she took a bite of her food. “I'm—”'''

'''“No talking with your mouth full!” Devil Jack roared with a passion that had been lying dormant till now, drawing a throwing knife from his sleeve—from a fold of flesh, it appeared, acting as the sheath—and stabbing it into his table with a large bang. “Now chew and swallow or you'll be the next meal on this table!” He screeched, tearing the knife out and pointing it at the girl, his eyes turning red. '''

Amy stared at the creature in surprise, doing so as fast as she could.

'“And chew slowly''!” The creature snarled bitterly, hurling the knife into the wall behind Amy, nearly clipping her ear. With that said and done, the young Shaw did that complacently, not wishing to anger the beastly aristocrat once more as it settled down and fell back into its seat. '''

'''“I'm sorry. I lost myself there for a second,” Devil Jack noted, rubbing his chin and tapping his void black teeth with his elongated nails. “What were you saying?” '''

'''Amy finished her food, politely cleaning her lips with a provided towel to avoid another blade. “I'm fine, though I could've done without the knife being thrown at me.” '''

'''“Slip of the fingers, I assure you,” the creature passed off, adjusting its cufflinks. “Final question now, and thank you for being so patient,” Devil Jack congratulated, doing a small golf clap. “What, pray tell. . .is your disposition to table rules?” '''

'''Amy raised her eyebrow. “You're asking me about. . .table manners?” '''

'''“Yes,” the beast purred, running a nail across his teeth to make a crisp xylophone noise, or an attempt at least. “I am a fanatic about them, if you will. First set for first meal, second for dinner, third for the dessert. It's quite simple really, it's just people nowadays are so uncivilized that they act like animals. Animals, I say! It disturbs me so how the roughnecks don't even know the simple taste of vintage wine. How can they live?” '''

'''“I'm wondering the same thing,” Amy groaned, throwing her head into her hand and waiting for Jack to finally settle down and get to his entire reason for calling her. “But with how much you talk. . .”'''

“I digress,” Devil Jack finally subsided, catching another goopy cough into his handkerchief.

“Finally,” Amy muttered, rolling her eye.

'''“The reason you were summoned here was that my master had interests in making a pact with you. You get something, and we get something in return,” the creature explained, snapping for his servant once more, who presented an open suitcase to Amy. Inside was a glorious fountain and pen with an official document laid down in the comfort of the casing. “There's the document. Sign your name after you've made your inquiry, and from there we can be settled on a cost—”'''

'''“No,” Amy put simply, closing the case instantly. “And that’s final.”'''

'''Devil Jack raised an eyebrow, licking his teeth awkwardly and looking to his servant. “Well. . .this was unexpected,” the creature muttered, tapping his fingertips together again while staring at Amy. “There’s. . .nothing you want right now? Nothing at all? I truly find that hard to believe. . .”'''

'''“No, I want things, don’t get me wrong,” Amy defended. “But just coming off of the most emotional evening I’ve had in awhile— which surprisingly revived my cold dead heart—I really don’t care what you could give me.”'''

“Even a new arm or eye?” Devil Jack struggled, exasperated.

'''“I’d love those back, I do admit,” Amy finally after a few seconds of pause. “But I give more faith in myself than I should, and I’m willing to stand by my choice, no matter what foul offers you have in store for me.”'''

'''Devil Jack scratched his chin, drawing blood as he did so. “Master is going to be irritated at me when he hears this news. . .” he mumbled, thinking hard. “I’m honestly stumped. Here I was, fully ready to give you back the one thing that makes you useful to anyone, yet you deny it right out? When our duty is to help those who have lost things dear to them, and we get them back for them? Do you even have any idea what I am? Who we are?” '''

'''Amy smiled cruelly, a knowing smile at that. “A beast,” she stated, knowing full well that if she irritated either creature before her too much, it could spell a certain end for her, even if it was a dream. “And beasts lie, steal, murder, pillage, and do whatever they want with no regards to human life. My father has explained to me in great detail the sins your kind have committed, and I share his pure disdain for all of you. I thought you’d have more to offer me here,” Amy brushed some hair out of her way while Devil Jack just stared at her quietly, clearly agitated. “But I guess I stand corrected.”'''

'''“I am no beast,” Jack argued, fingers tapping against the table impatiently. “A cry was called when your desperation hit the point of fruition, and I was sent to give you back what you've lost. To help you—”'''

'“To only help yourself'',” Amy accused, done with his bullshit. “I don't care if you're good or bad, if you had genuine intentions to trade with me or not, but I will not deal with beasts, and that is final.”'''

'''Silence followed suit with that answer, neither servant or the host saying a thing. The masked servant just left after it was clear the deal was off, while Jack shook his head and smiled a cruel, cruel grin, beginning to applaud. “Impressive. Impressssssive,” the creature hissed, snarling. “I guess I should give you a reward for your victory of pissing me off. And here I was, on your behalf, yet I am ostracized and vilified for my work!” '''

“And how should I trust this ‘reward’?” Amy questioned, tilting her head.

'''Jack spat on the ground as he stood up and walked over to her, sliding his hand across the table as he did so until he loomed right over her, looking down at the girl with both a yellow eye in one oculus and a red one in the other. Drawing a hand into his coat, Devil Jack brought out a black envelope for her to see. On the front, painted on perfectly, was the Crucifix of Iscariot, with the words ‘Black Eye’ written beneath the two loops of the sign. '''

'''“This, right here,” Jack purred, tapping the letter on the table and pretending it was a person walking over to Amy, one corner hitting the table at a time like footsteps. “Is an official decree from the Black Eyes, allowing you to join your father in the unholy communion Belton has become.'''

'''“Do realize that if you take this offer, there are no take-backs or anything else along those lines,” the beast raised a hairy finger before Amy spoke, making certain everything he could do was done. “And, before you answer, I can guarantee to you that in the morning your father will say ‘No’, so this is your best chance you have. So,” the beast slid the letter to her, tapping it twice. “Make your choice, then you can go free and have your pleasant dreams of whimsy. If you tell anyone, however,” the beast warned, drawing back its sleeve to reveal all of the knives sheathed into his skin. “Then I cannot guarantee your safety. Certain souls are revolted and doubt our intentions—like you do—but are more passionate about destroying us than hearing us out. So, for our own protection and the protection of everyone else we have helped: Do not say we made this deal. Please.” '''

'''Amy looked down at the tempting notice, gulping. The offer was tempting. Really tempting. So tempting, in fact, that before Amy could register the notion, her hand had already picked up the letter and looked at the emblem on the front, lost in its image and the horrid connotations it had with her life. “And I will owe you nothing, correct?” '''

'''“Not a cent,” Jack soothed, crossing his heart at that fact. “We only deal in truths here. This, dear girl, is your victory prize, so take it,” the beast shooed, turning away. “And leave. You've already peeved me quite enough already, and I cannot stomach your words anymore, so just leave and be done with it.” '''

'''Deciding that it was best to take his suggestion, Amy got up and turned around to find a door where there wasn't one before. Taking one last look behind her, Amy scanned the room one last time before placing a hand on the doorknob with the intent of leaving. '''

'''“Girl,” Devil Jack said, drawing her attention back to him. While he was still turned away from her, she could tell he was looking down, no doubt still reeling internally due to her words and his own actions. “I wish you luck. And. . .if you ever reconsider, I promise you that my master will take care of you to the best of his abilities. Many say he is cruel and deceives the masses, but I can tell you he has more honest, pure interests than that.” '''

'''“Who. . .is your master?” Amy asked, asking the one unanswered question she had been struggling with. '''

'''Devil Jack sighed and turned back to her, giving a sympathetic smile. “You drew him earlier today. The same man who saved you from those cretins that pester you on your way from home to school and vice versa. That man is my master, and he saved me from my own beasthood long ago,” the creature explained, turning away again. “And if he was willing to help someone as far gone as I was, then he will be willing to help you. You just need an open heart and an open mind, but now I'm just rambling again. Enjoy your morning hours in peace. Even if I'm still a man on the inside, my senses still get shot when the morning hours approach, so au revoir for now.” '''

'''“Same. . .to you?” Amy said uncertainly, taking her chance while she had it and throwing the large double doors open, the space beyond emitting blackness and smoke. Taking a deep breath in, and trusting—foolishly—that the beast was telling the truth, she walked through, doors slamming behind her with the sound of thunder, being a final punctuation to her time there. However,  Jack just stared at the fire, uncaring if she left or not, humid eyes reflecting the light that shined in the roaring flames of kindred lust. Only he saw what the flames held, and he shivered, feeling no warmth in the room, but only the cold expanse of death, a feeling that was all too familiar. '''

-

'''On the flip side, Amy bolted up out of her bed, breathing heavily to make up for her plummet. The most she could remember after the door was meeting cold, hard ground then nothing until she woke up. Morning light drifted through her porthole window, allowing her to take watch over her room with switchblade in hand, fearing that the demon had double-crossed her. Instead, the room was as quiet as a mouse, a little busy work happening in the other room, but nothing that seemed to involve her. '''

'''Checking the room once over, Amy was pleased to find her closet doors shut, and no signs of the weird pitfall that had taken her down into the depths below. Content that it had been a fever dream, Amy sat on the side of her bed, slipping her feet into her well-worn pair of work boots while snapping the switchblade shut. After that, she rose up and slid open her dresser, throwing off her sleeveless shirt and putting on a new bra and dress shirt for the new day, unaware of the brisk steps beating towards her door with severe military experience. '''

'''“Uhhh, Amy? You awake?” Alexander’s voice came from behind the door, a quick knock coming in with succession. '''

'''“Yea, why?” Amy asked, sliding on a new business jacket as she said that. '''

'''“Well— Oi! Don't push me!” Alexander barked as the doorknob was rattled violently, startling Amy enough to take a step back. Just as suddenly as the rattling, a loud crack and a spark of what seemed like electricity passed into the locked door and blasted the lock apart, allowing the door to be kicked in by the sudden aggressor. '''

'''“Oi! You can't just be breaking my shit!” Alexander yelled, being cut off by a simple glare from the newcomer, being at least 6’6” and looking down on Amy’s father with ease before entering the room, making the young Shaw’s blood turn cold when she recognized the individual. '''

'''The man was draped in black, wearing a black cloak with a matching black priest robe with brown lining. The man had shoulder pads and gauntlets—clear signs of the man’s privilege, since armor was a rarity—with a set of four distinct runes running down both gauntlets. Hanging around the man’s neck as an aluminum version of the Crucifix, and while this metal was not considered holy, it was fitting for the man it was attached to. Finally, covering the man’s face was a an open cloth resembling an opened bandana, one side flopping down the back of his head, the two side being tied around the back of the head to keep it secure, and the final one going a little way past the man’s Adam's apple, hiding his face all entirely. Most distinctly about the black cloth was the gray crucifix painted on the cloth mask, eye holes intersecting with the infinity loops to make a Venn-diagram sort of look. '''

'''“Amelia Victoria Shaw,” the Black Eye rumbled, placing a hand on his sword, the tool looking hellish to the girl as she looked down to it then back up to the man, fearful of what painful results he had devised this time. Would he take her other arm now, when she was so close? Or maybe one of her legs—'''

'''“Amelia Victoria Shaw,” the priest repeated, tasting each word with disdain. “It has been quite some time.”'''

'“What do you want, Iscariot priest''?” Amy yelled, furiously looking towards her father for support. '''

'''“Do not blame your father for my presence here in your room today,” the Black Eye clarified, sweeping the idea away with one hand. “Instead, I am here under holy matters of estate, though visiting this shop is just as unpleasant for me as my presence here is unpleasant for you, so let us do ourselves both a favor and be quick about this please?” '''

'''“Fine,” Amy snarled through gritted teeth, hating how arrogant this man sounded. Black Eye Calprice, the man responsible for everything. While everyone else held her up as some sort of messiah because Iscariot said such should be the way of things, Calprice seemed to have a different mind when it came to her. A crueler mind. “Now what do you want?” '''

'''Drawing a hand into his garb, the Black Eye revealed an item the girl was familiar with, because she had seen in it what felt like only minutes before. It was the black invitation Devil Jack had shown her, now in the hands of the one she hated most.'''

'''“It has recently come down to me from the All-Father that you wish to prove yourself at your ‘father’s’ side that you are able to be tasked with missions of the Hounds and other groups,” Calprice explained in a deadpan voice, seemingly hating every word he said. “So, in this time of great confidence, I drafted you an official letter of pardon and acceptance. You will need to secure your own weapons, attire, and a facade of some sort. . .like the distasteful name ‘Falkar’, when your ‘father’ wears that accursed mask—”'''

“Bloody ‘ell,” Alexander threw his hands into the air.

'''“But I will leave that up to you. I do not have confirmation yet on what Master Warren is doing in this expedition, and it may be a false alarm,” the Black Eye noted hopefully. “But if your ‘father’ is assigned out, you shall be joining him. Do you understand this appeal?” '''

'''Amy carefully took the letter from the strong hand of the Black Eye, careful to not touch a single part of his person. “I. . .” Amy coughed, getting her voice back. “I understand.” '''

'''“Grand,” the Black Eye nodded. But, instead of leaving, he leaned in to whisper a fair warning to the girl. “You're lucky that I'm bound by certain oaths and other powers,” Calprice sneered. “Because in a normal situation, you have served in the gallows for the stunt you pulled.”'''

'''“What?” Amy whispered, fearing for the worst. '''

'''“Don't think I don't know who you dealt with last night,” Calprice clarified bitterly. “Such impurity was bound to find you again, but mark my words: If such a situation as that arises again, let me know. I will more than gladly deal with whatever demon wishes to sway you with its charms. Just like that night in the alleyway. . .I shiver to think what sickly lies that monster tried to deceit you with, both then and now.”'''

'''With that said and his dialogue exhausted, Calprice spun around with a twirl of his cape, leaving the wide-eyed Amy to stutter in confusion as he walked by her father—their shoulders bumping but eyes never meeting—and left them to their own accord. As soon as the bang of the front door could be heard, Alexander rushed in and grabbed Amy by the shoulders, looking her in the eye. '''

'''“Lass,” he soothed, wincing a little at his headache. “Did he do anything to you? Threaten you? What did he say?” '''

'''“He. . .he said. . .” Amy cleared her voice after a few moments of hesitation. “He said I'm coming with you to Central, and even to Belton, if the need arises. . .”'''

'''“Bastard!” Alexander yelled throwing his hands into the air and scratching his head frantically. “This can't be happenin’!” '''

'''Amy watched her father, understanding the implications. “So I assume you were. . .not going to bring me?” '''

'''Alexander looked up at her with a startled gaze. “Of course not. Why would I?” '''

'''Amy looked away, but chose to say nothing as Alexander started forward again, but wisely turned back when he saw her pained reaction. Sighing, the Captain moved into the doorway, but not before taking one look back. '''

'''“I'll grab you a weapon and some gear, and we’ll be leavin’ at 11,” he announced before starting out the door again for the already incredibly busy day, but not before adding one last thing. “Also, I was recently made aware that a friend of ours will be at the station today waiting for us. He swung by earlier, and requested that I kept it a surprise.” With that said and done, Alexander left so he could settle the stress on his platter as he climbed down the shop’s stairwell and moved out into the crowded streets of Graywall at a brisk pace. Watching him the entire time was his ever-vigilant daughter, staring down at him from the living room window, face set in stone and emotions mixed. '''

'''Had. . .had she truly made the right choice? She couldn't say, because now, the time was set, and like the gallows themselves, everything had to fall into place sooner or later, no matter how many lives were taken in the process. That was just the way of things. '''