David's walk back to the guest house took longer than it should have been, his steps feeling like he was trudging through shin-deep water. His mind was... half of it was back in the council room, the other, in the guest house, with Niala.

  He didn't dwell on it, just pushed forward. He knew, once he was back with her, things would realign.

  He dreaded having a member of his family run after him, intercept him before he reached his destination.

  But nobody did, and instead of relief, he felt angry.

  Maybe... maybe he had dreaded them not running after him.

  He stopped in front of the guest house door and shook his head.

  Didn't matter now.

  He found Annabelle and Niala playing pillow fort together. He found out when he turned the corner to the living room and got hit by a bunch of pillows, followed by girly giggles, and a second volley.

  David looked at the pile of pillows at his feet, then up at the two girls, victorious grins on their faces, hiding behind a mattress that they had somehow dragged from the bedroom, surrounded by upturned furniture and stacked cushions.

  He bent down and retrieved an armful of pillows, smirked, and triggered his imbuements, just enough that he softly shone blue.

  Niala's grin evaporated, while Annabelle's giggling redoubled as she pointed at her blue big brother.

  “All Brew, you are found guilty of rebellion. Prepare for your punishment.” David announced.

  “No- wait! David! It's just a silly game for your sis-”

  Her words were cut off by a medium-velocity pillow smacking her in the face, followed by several more at the rest of her body, with just enough force that they hit with a satisfying wumpf.

  Niala quickly retreated behind the mattress while Annabelle guffawed.

  “I surrender! Mercy!” The catkin begged, squealing in protest when two arms crested the mattress wall and hooked under her armpits, lifting her up and onto the conqueror's shoulders.

  David, with his prize futilely landing fists on his reinforced back, smiled and looked down at his little sister.

  “Lady Annabelle, I have captured the rebellion's leader. What do we do with them?”

  The little girl stopped laughing and, with a wide grin on her face, pointed at Niala.

  “To the dungeon!” She announced with mirth.

  David nodded, kicked the mattress to the ground, and dropped a meeping Niala on top of it. She rolled to her back, picking up a nearby pillow in the same motion and flinging it at David, who batted it away.

  He knelt next to her, his smiling eyes meeting her playful glare. “I win.” He declared.

  “No fair! You have big, magical muscles!”

  “I still won. Now I captured you. What am I going to do with you?” He said, his voice low and suave.

  She blinked, her cheeks tinting pink. “Huh... You... whatever you... want?”

  His smile widened. “Good answer, Ms. Prisoner.” He said, looping an arm around her back, bringing her up in a sitting position and bending forward, landing a kiss on her lips before she realized.

  A tiny voice spoke up. “Eeew! Gross! You're drinking her saliva!”

  They froze, turning their heads toward Annabelle, who was looking at them with a disgusted expression.

  He looked back at Niala. “I... forgot she was there.”

  She stared at him for a second before chuckling and pushing him off.

  They got back to their feet, dusted themselves off, and put everything back in order, Annabelle “helping” by jumping on the cushions and throwing pillows for them to catch.

  And then, David told Annabelle that he and Niala were leaving. She protested and jumped at her big brother, locking her small arms around his neck.

  He tried to pry her off, which led to her squeezing herself even harder around his neck, and eventually to a long bout of crying, which only stopped when he surrendered and said they'd be staying for the night.

  She stopped bawling, but still refused to detach herself from his neck, and so he spent the rest of the day with his little sister attached to his body.

  And, he should have seen it coming, but she also refused to let go when bedtime came around. He eventually relented, after encouragement from Niala, and the three of them spent the night together.

  Niala was the last to fall asleep. She did so watching over her boyfriend, tucked in with his little sister, soundly asleep against her big brother.

  Her last thought before drifting off was that no matter how much people made things complicated, the heart always knew what it wanted. She had the perfect proof in front of her: the content smile on David's face.

  Isaac showed up in the morning. He told David and Niala that Annabelle's return story had been told to the staff, so he'd come to bring her back to the mansion.

  The girl protested once more, but between big brother's reassurances that he would come back to visit and little brother's begging that her parents wanted to spend time with her, they were eventually able to get her to go.

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  After a few big, repeated hugs with her big brother, obviously, and a few with Niala as well, which left the catkin bleary-eyed.

  They said their goodbyes and left the way they came, through the village, taking the hunter's path, and back to Amberose.

  The Alchemical Star was still moored at the airport, and Captain Plerigass welcomed them back, inquiring if they wanted to leave soon or if they wanted to spend a few more days in the capital.

  They didn't need to ask each other; their home was waiting for them. It was time to go.

  The sleek airship lifted a few bells later and turned toward Majestic.

  David and Niala spent most of the trip lazing in their VIP cabin, letting the last week work itself out of their system.

  A few days after his son's departure, the Wardenfel council members began arriving to review Lord Torsteel's case and decide on his fate.

  Where one might believe that such meetings would have been considered drab and annoying, mere formalities, in actuality, they were events that had every council member drop everything and rush over to attend.

  To the Wardenfel branch families, each one was an opportunity to sell their votes in exchange for favours, resources, and support; the commodities of nobles.

  The Torsteels, being an official branch family, were unfortunately relatively powerful. They had plenty of allies who would work on securing a release.

  As such, Jacob, Isaac and Agatha had spent quite a bit of time and effort in planning what to offer to each of the twelve councillors. Torsteel had egregiously acted against the main family, and he would be made an example, even if the price to secure the decision they wanted would be heavy.

  Which was why Jacob was left reeling in confusion as every single council member readily offered their vote for minor concessions.

  Even Julian Torsteel, the patriarch of the Torsteel family, through grinding teeth and clear disgust toward Jacob, agreed to condemn what was essentially a nephew for a pittance.

  This could only mean one thing: a secret, powerful player had gotten involved. Someone had a vested interest in having Hollis Torsteel, the wretch who had his son and girlfriend kidnapped, sent to his death, and had contacted the council members with an offer they couldn't or didn't want to refuse.

  Even though this netted Jacob the outcome he wanted at a fraction of the price, it also raised a plethora of flags and alarms. The council members were not weak or poor nobles. They were the heads of the twelve most powerful branch families. That someone could sway them so was more than a little concerning.

  The question he now had to answer was... who?

  Cornelius let the final drop of potion drip into the twelfth phial, corked it, and set it down in the last slot of the heavily padded and reinforced crate.

  He surveyed the work of his past three days: twelve youth potions, one for each of the council families, promised to them in exchange for their vote against Hollis Torsteel.

  Kidnap his daughter, would you?

  He thought he had made it clear years ago that his family was to be left out of their games, but he guessed those people needed to be reminded now and then.

  And the best way to pass a message had always been, and would always be, with an example that people did not think you capable of.

  Oh, not Torsteel's execution. That had been well within his means to orchestrate, or at least heavily influence.

  In truth, he hadn't even needed to brew youth potions. A number of other, lesser, but still highly sought-after concoctions would have sufficed, but thanks to his daughter's... boyfriend, he didn't think that thought would ever not grate on his mind, he had fairy dust, and dropping twelve such potions was simply a flex, a reminder that the All Brew was a friend you wanted.

  He smirked.

  No, the example was what would remind them that the All Brew was an enemy you didn't want.

  He looked up at the bellclock. Just past the thirteenth bell. Tomorrow, by this time, that message would be delivered.

  A few days later, rumours began circulating of a strange disease that had spread through the most powerful noble families, affecting the patriarchs, matriarchs and heirs, all in equal measure, and most peculiarly, all at around the same time.

  They had all turned a crimson shade of red.

  That was it. No other effect.

  And, even more mysterious, they had all received a mysterious package a few bells later, delivered by a throng of free couriers, each one apparently containing one fast-acting antidote, and one small letter.

  What did the letters say? Nobody knew, except the ones who had received them, and they weren't talking.

  Ultimately, given the lack of deleterious effects and its quick resolution, the event left little mark in the populace's memory, being little more than a funny story, soon replaced with new scandals.

  For the ones affected, however, the message had been clear.

  Hands off.

  Angeline walked to her father's office, knocked at the door, and opened it, stepping inside.

  Her father was, as usual, fully focused on his experiments and would have never replied. She doubted he had even heard her knocking. Knocking at his door was more symbolic than practical, really.

  She carefully stepped forward, waiting patiently a few paces away as he completed his manipulations and began taking notes.

  Only once he put down his pencil did she speak up.

  “Father.”

  “AAAH!” Cornelius shouted, spinning on the spot, ears extended. Only once he recognized his daughter did he slump.

  “Angeline! Don't scare me like that! You should knock!”

  “I did knock.”

  Cornelius quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I didn't hear anything.”

  She threw her hips to the side, scrunching her mouth in annoyance. “And how many times have we had this discussion, dear absent-minded father?”

  His ears wiggled a few times as he blinked and remembered. “...Many times.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled for an instant, her mouth flattening once more. “Father, we've been receiving a flood of letters and packages from... all the nobles, as far as I can tell.”

  She took a few steps and leaned forward. “You wouldn't happen to know what this is all about, would you?”

  Cornelius looked at his daughter. He shook his head and looked at the woman before him, who just happened to be his daughter.

  She was... beautiful, in the way her mother had been. Tall, with long and powerful legs, a refined waist, a generous... hrrm. Defined shoulders, a slender neck, an outrageous waterfall of blond hair, and those piercing, all-seeing amethyst eyes that she shared with her sister.

  If she'd only had her body, Angeline would already have a leg up in high society, where appearance was half the game, but both his daughters had been blessed with a mix of their parents' intellect. Where Niala was closer to his raw memory and analytical prowess, Angeline had inherited her mother's rapid wits and intuitive acumen.

  Altogether with an iron-clad self-confidence, his youngest daughter was... a panther. A huntress, for whom the social jungle was her domain, and every witless fool who spun within its confine, her playthings.

  He didn't want to admit it, no more than he had admitted that Niala had surpassed him as an alchemist, but Angeline, so young still, was twice the socialite than he was.

  He sighed, and smiled. One second, they're your cute daughter pulling each other's hair, and the next, you're left looking up from their shadows as the giants they have become.

  So unfair!

  He returned to the present, meeting his daughter's puzzled eyes at his silence.

  “Angeline, my beautiful daughter, I guess it is time we have this talk. You are a full adult now, and I know you will succeed me in ways I cannot even imagine.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “What is this about?”

  “A well-kept secret, that I was allowed to tell you only recently, to be revealed when I thought it appropriate.”

  “What secret, father?”

  “Hmm, tell me, Angeline, dear, have you ever heard of an organization called The Scourers?”