“Boss, what about me? What if someone threatens me?” Kidd popped his ugly grin between their talk and asked, flecks of brown stuck in his teeth. “Me too.” And Willy also phased in, his head sticking out from Kidd’s neck.

  Their antics finally evoked a giggle out of Nana, as she sniffed with her tears, her head still buried in his chest, and she wiped her snot and all on Ewan’s t-shirt.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll end anyone who threatens you all,” Ewan said in defeat, the solemnity of the night lost in their chuckles. “And pick your teeth, you have meat stuck in them.” He grabbed Kidd’s face and pushed his head away.

  “You looked pissed before, sir, did something happen?” Lance asked.

  “Yeah, my connector shook,” Ewan said as Nana scrubbed the wet patch on his t-shirt, fixing his jacket and the collar. “It toppled my stack of books and notes, I had just arranged it by letters.” When he took out the hub-connector, it quivered again, and a message flashed.

  “Why did you keep them together,” Nana said, checking the strands of his hair, and combed the loose bunch.

  “Lesson learned,” Ewan said, and triggered the message on the connector.

  ‘Invitation for Sir Ulrath: This is to inform you, sir, that your access to the hub has been cleared by the promise of Sir Thain Cesar. You may proceed to visit as you please, the connector will lead you, but do note that the hub is now opened only for physical stay. You have a personal docking station if you need so, and you may also extend the invitation to a limited number of people—your current limit is ten.’

  “The hub is open,” Ewan murmured.

  “Finally, we can earn properly,” Kidd said, picking his teeth with his fingernails. “I’ll advertise our potions, and you can also start selling wines and liquors.” And he clapped Stefan’s back with the same hand, cleaning his fingers on his blazer with a silly smile. “Sae’sa can sell her artifacts too now.”

  “It said physical visits only though,” Lance said, and Stefan had Kidd in a chokehold within a second. “Does it mean we have to personally go to the hub?”

  “Seems like so,” Ewan said, putting the connector back in.

  “But it’s on invitation only basis, can we sell anything with that kind of traffic?” Nana asked.

  “Probably not,” Ewan said. “But limited premium sales should be possible, we won't get much contention after all.”

  “Finally, we can earn properly,” Kidd said in a hoarse voice, panting when Stefan let go, his face rocked a feverish flush. “How long will it take us to go there by the way?” he asked then retaliated, locking Stefan’s head, scraping his scalp with his knuckle with a maniacal laugh.

  The quick chug of the brandy after the rums and wines that accompanied their dinner made them tipsy, but they could not take credit for the foolery of this band of clowns…

  “Can't say for sure, depends on where the hub has traveled right now,” Ewan said. “Either way, we’ll head out for the hub once we clear things out in this area. We first need to check the mine, gather more information on the feathered king, and go to Clinmere again and see whether Frost can still complete his rite or not, we’ll make plans after that.”

  “So, you lived.” A brisk quip oozing with hostility interrupted their chat, and its owner swaggered in from the dark patch of the garden, his team strolling behind him—it was Orson Mave’s team, and the voice was Quinn’s. “What type of luck were you born with?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I would say bad luck with how I saw your fugly mug on this lovely night. Did your father never tell you that you shouldn’t speak? Your voice is obnoxious,” Ewan said, and Nana tittered on the side, while Kidd cackled. “Fugly mug,” he repeated.

  But when the soft lemon light from the lamps feathered on the man, as his neck strained and his eyes breathed fire, Ewan’s database named him properly, with his surname and his origin, and it wrinkled Ewan’s brows. “You are Quinn Geltam, the royalty of Obria?”

  “Took you this long to realize? Did you spend all your braincells murdering a crowd of innocents?” Quinn retorted. “Whatever they paid you to do such a thing, I wonder,” he said. “Or do you just enjoy killing, you twisted fuck?”

  “Yeah.” Ewan flashed a wicked smile. “I relished every single one of it,” he said. The constant accusation of the blood festival had long eroded his patience for a genuine reply, not like his sincere explanation could convince anyone who had already steeled the conclusion.

  “Obria was your home, you ingrate, did you not even flinch when razing it to the ground?” Quinn said.

  “My house of bricks was my home, where my family was, I couldn’t care less about a walled colony,” Ewan said, the implications in the man’s words rippled his doubts. “It was yours to keep, it was yours to protect, and you failed at both, don’t blame others for your mistakes. Neither its prosperity nor its demise had my hand in it, I was and am a mere bystander to its fate.”

  “Hogwash.” Quinn scoffed. “Do you think those who could auction a whole colony off to a butcher will keep their word to you? Once your value hits zero, you’ll be the one lying dead under their blade.”

  “Boss.” Kidd chortled. “His information broker is shit, and he pays for it,” he said and broke into a laughing fit. “Oh, it rhymes!” And the rest chuckled.

  Quinn stared daggers at Kidd, gritting his teeth, and took a step forward when the weapons came out of their sheaths, their edges shimmering with deathly lust. Ewan bared his malice with a gentle smile, well prepared to trigger a barrage of his deadliest spells. Nana, Kidd, Lance, and Stefan took their positions too, and matched the other side, the hostility smothering the serenity. An array of Anima raged in the area, and the garden under the moons seethed with conflict—a hint of spark could decimate its beauty tonight.