They rest naked by the fireplace's carpet, Hildred had passed them by a few times for the kitchen yet she always turn a blind eye to the calm aftermath of their sex. She's Ocemenian after all and casual sex is but a normalcy encouraged in her Kingdom. A decree under her signature.

A finger had been tracing up and down Sion's spine, made sultry by the diversion of his hair to reveal his chiseled back. Each of their senses relaxed, the crackling of the firewood ocassionaly sending sparks their way as they soak in warmth and darkness.

The diplomat kept telling him stories of the Bleeding Auroras back in the deserts and how it can't contest his flawless hair. Or of each diplomatic trips on new lands none had ever visited before yet eloquently described for the house-rooted boy.

But all of the words passed him from ear to ear. Sion's mind wandering too far from the confines of the apothecary, far through all timescales in his life; from childhood up until his earlier fight with the Sailor at sea.

Ian'drah... he saw him in everything until now.

"I think my childhood friend is deranged." he had cut off Laguna's rambling.

"Well... from my perspective you made him that way- and I swear what we did just now would be the last straw on his mentality..."

Sion just laughed at this, the uncomfortable kind.

"And with the way you're smiling right now, guess I'll be the next willing candidate for insanity." Laguna added soft pecks upon his shoulder before Sion severed from him and stood up, collecting each article of clothing with the mask picked first.

"Will you ever sleep with me if it wasn't for my face?

"Will you ever sleep with me if it wasn't for your crazed Sailor?" the Diplomat fought.

"At least we have that established..."

"In diplomacy we call this a mutually beneficial agreement."

Sion didn't let any of it linger, walking to the Laboratories in hasted feet and leaving Laguna by the fireplace. And from the bioluminescent light of their mini garden he saw the white glazed on his stomach, his vagina dripping with thick cum as well.

He didn't wait to wash his body with his special brew of Glass Bell Extract on boiled snow. If only the Dirgefolk had an idea of hygiene he would be rich as the Whiteravens, but its the Whiteravens themselves that never permitted the Blackmercys to export.

From his bath all he thought of was the wooden boat toy floating on the tub, the first gift he had ever received from the Sailor.

"Apathy, apathy, apathy..." he chanted in hushed sounds. He caught a habit of repeating words while in panic which he learned from the Sailor.

The Sailor, the Sailor, the Sailor...

His mind flew back to his morning fight with the Sailor. The taste of the saliva that trickled down his face, the scent of the foam that escaped the Sailor's mouth...

The ingredients he had sensed concocts something... and his mind flew far again, to a sight of marsh horses on a landscape of sauerkraut lotus. The faint smell of burnt bristle wood and the greenish reflection of light from the foamed mouth- the venom of Flying Spiders.

He finally originates the answer- Stallion's Stupor, an expensive concoction that the Dirgean constabulary regularly orders from the apothecary in crates. Famous for interrogating criminals and spies.

Sion retreated deeper into the water upon a realization. The concoction was designed to release the purest urge of the consumer, the most fundamental truth of their existence. He just didn't expect that Ian exists just to touch him.

He thought of how the birds and the spider were right all along.

"Apathy, apathy, apathy..."

His shoulders trembled enough that even the pillars and mountains of the world had felt it.

"Apathy, apathy, apathy..." he chanted again as healing salve and fragrant oils touched every bruises and marks on his skin.

As soon as he was clean and clad. He proceeded to brew Child's Blood deep in the laboratory's confines. It wasn't a surprise that he knows how to since the nearest establishment from the Apothecary is the Brothel. This transparent thing which kept the Slums from burning to the ground.

Thin ribbons of moonlight tresspased the laboratory to give light on the illegal brew in Sion's hand. Its transparent contents as clear as his conviction which the alchemist emptied in a second.

"We're about to depart." Laguna called from the veranda outside.

They were off to Graygreen.

The Frostguards of Dirgeclam Palace stood attentively when the Ocmenian envoys returned. Their weapon-hold tightened as the Nightshade Heroine appeared to walk behind. The last time her presence graced the palace was when she was freshly sentenced to her own version of confinement, which was to never step foot outside the Sovenian country or she will be chased back like the criminal hound she is. And she never violated that sentence in her 24 cycles of captivity.

"The tigers are ready to take your carriage to Graygreen. Please enjoy the refreshments provided inside." Drina Bluesaile welcomes them.

"Much appreciated, is it alright to bring along an old friend of our country to the said province?" Laguna gestured over Miriam Blackmercy, making the scenario that Drina feared the most materialise.

"May I confirm if her son is coming along as well?" She asked.

"Ah yes, I'm hoping he could."

"Of course..." The Silver Lady looked back to her carriage. "Yes he is most welcome."

"Excellent."

"But I have to warn that the- uhm, Nightshade Heroine... have a damaged reputation in the Graygreen Province. It would be in our best interest if she is kept close in your company." Drina tried to disclose as plain as possible.

"You have my word, Lady." The diplomat guaranteed.

"Hold yer horsieysh!" A slurred shout echoed from the highest crane of the ship palace. From there, the Kazer of Dirge stood wobbly with a bottle of mead gripped on his hand and the moon eclipsed from his back. He jumped from the crane, the ice and cobblestones smashed into shards upon the landing of his feet.

"Eir why'r ye must not include the Kazer im'self in accompanying our Mud-skinned... hiccup friends?" He propped on the slender body of his daughter with alcohol running down his beard. Sion could smell the strongest stench of alcohol he had ever come across polluting through his mask, and he stood a good crowd away.

"Father, meet Laguna Gazhafina. He is the envoy from Ocmenia-"

"Pleased to meet ye! I'm Halfid Bluesaile, Kazer of Dirge!" The drunk Kazer held out his hand to the diplomat, He is one head shorter than the Ocmenian.

"Pleasure is mine." Laguna expects to shake the man's hand, but his eyes widened when his crotch was grabbed by the drunk man instead.

"Aye! The rumours were true indeed! hahaha that was a handful!" The Kazer retrieved his hand, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Gah! One of ye milk-drinkers grab me another bottle o' mead before I chop yer heads off!" He shouted to the Frostguards. "Roll the tide, Prince Lagoon Gassymama. Graygreen is always a party!"

"I see you've never changed your dick-grabbing ways, Halfid." A voice spoke from the back of the envoys. All the frostguards had their eyes on her all this time.

"Mi-Miriam?" The Kazer stiffened, his alcohol-wet throat dried as if he had swallowed whole glaciers in matters of seconds.

"The one and only, you son of a bitch." Her eyes explored the state of neglect that the Kazer displayed. A maroon stained collar, a few missing buttons on his shirt, torn pants, and holed shoes. It is said that a Kazer perfectly reflects the state of his province.

"State your business in my palace, witch." The Kazer tried to compose himself, but Miriam just laughed from his frail attempt.

"Are you surely educated Halfid? Still can't differentiate the schools of magic to classify me correctly?" She steps closer to the larger man, taking a sniff off his collar.

"Take a bath first you pig-headed oaf, I could smell my Grandmother's crotch from your beard." She whispered to the unmoving Kazer before making her way toward one of the tiger carriages in shameless wonder.

"Oh goodness gracious, she entered the wrong carriage..." Drina pressed her face on her palms to keep it together as if things couldn't get any worse. She can already hear the sermons she'll receive from Geraldine later for letting this chaos ensue.

"Some things never change..." The Kazer chuckled, putting a cigar between his teeth only for it to tremble.

Miriam sighed when she closed the doors of the Carriage, warm winds escaping from its candle-lit corners.

Her short hands hurriedly reached for the wine at the centre table. She chugged down the luxurious bottle to calm her nerves, she's no different from Halfid- a complete mess. It has been 24 cycles since she had set foot in Graygreen Castle, 24 cycles of exile.

Author's Note: I can't believe that only two days had passed since the beginning of the story, oh all the drama inside Sovenia ahahaha.