Clear windows of this particular tower quickly became foggy with the raindrops sliding down the panes, meeting the sky that only became greyer.

It was still early. He spotted some people strolling through the royal squares with makeshift umbrellas and a few children carelessly playing in the rain, either chasing each other around or quickly running to their parents, hugging legs and whatnot with a word that was perhaps too much.

Kania smiled before that faded away, and he continued treading the same path.

When a rather spacious hallway split towards bedrooms, washrooms and whatnot, he pushed on the wooden doors that marked the common area.

Rather spacious, with a lit fireplace, a big couch, another set of books and bigger windows looking out towards everything that made Oldenklow.

Bart raised his head from a book, sitting near the desk, nodding at Kania, while Patrick sat on the sofa, with an expectant smirk.

Instead of engaging in anything, the Haran breathed out, before moving towards the books, putting one inside the collection and turning towards the windows.

It was pretty much the same view as back then. Covered in even more rain, but the figures weren't as clear. It was one of the highest points of the Goldenleaf Castle, and a place where anyone would've felt equal with the heights.

Except, there were three elephants in the room.

"How's your wounds?" Bart quickly asked.

"Don't ask him that, Bart." Patrick raised his voice, before straightening himself up. "At least I'd expect a little decency stepping into here."

"What do you consider decency?" Kania turned, with a small smile. "Should I be thankful for something you've caused?"

"I know what I saw back then." Patrick inched closer, now standing eye-to-eye with Kania. "You tried to kill us, and someone came to punish you. Still, if it wasn't for Bart's initiative, you would've been left there as dead meat."

"It was the bare minimum." Kania pushed him away. "...and I wouldn't kill you. I don't kill anyone."

"Surely." Patrick stepped away, putting his hands on the windowsill and breathing in. "You seem the type to never stop once started. I'm just saying. It would've been one way to teach you a lesson."

"My arm's broken, and I'll have scars over some dude going on a frenzy against me. Isn't that fit enough? What else do you want me to do?"

"Bart?"

"Oh, is he your lapdog now?" Kania raised his voice.

"I'm sorry, Kania," Bart muttered, turning on his chair, with the Haran doing the same. "I'm not necessarily of the same opinion as him, but he made a great point once." he smiled. "You came uninvited and only caused chaos since then."

"Eh?" Kania raised a brow. "Uninvited? It's the King who chose me. Don't act like you're any more shit!"

"You came last when everything was already settled," Patrick muttered. "...and look how much of that Haran indecency you carried from home."

Kania quickly turned, taking an angered step forward.

"It's in your blood. Filthy, Haran blood-"

As the words were uttered, another step echoed.

Kania's hand found itself on Patrick's collar, quickly leaving him in a chokehold.

Bart moved back a little, in awe, but then, Kania let go.

"I'd only prove the point you made up," Kania uttered, stepping away, as Patrick fixed his clothes and turned. Bart shook his head lightly, and Patrick smirked.

"Guess, however, you'll be the only homewrecker left in the castle afterwards."

"Hm?" Kania turned.

"The two of us passed and you didn't." Patrick raised his hands. "What a shame, though."

"Doesn't matter. Got my shield. Where'd you put it?"

"It's in your room," Bart informed, nodding.

Kania swiftly turned on his heel, before heading for the doors.

The two stared for a while longer, but when the footsteps echoed away and the doors were shut, Bart turned to Patrick.

"The King wouldn't have tolerated this behaviour," Bart uttered.

"Doesn't matter. They're savages." he ground his teeth. "...and I can't see it any other way."

"You don't have Royal blood in you to speak like that."

"Neither do you. But we still live on, and so does he."

Bart sighed, stepping up from his seat and walking towards the doors. Patrick didn't glance back.

Instead, his eyes were focused on the outsides, but rather than looking down on everything that made Oldenklow, his gaze was glued to the shifting clouds.

Rain only poured faster, and the people down there hid beneath roofs or scoured through the weather back home safely.

The gates were left open, and Bart's steps echoed towards the rooms nearby.

He breathed out, knocking on the wooden entrance of Kania's room a few times before allowing himself in.

As expected, however, it was left empty. There was a stain where the shield once lay against the cabinets, with the bed as dull as it was. The window was still dusty and left unclean.

Bart moved out of the area, staring at Patrick from a distance, who never seemed that bothered.

***

Kania found himself outside, as he usually did at moments like these.

It always occurred to him that he didn't necessarily fit the bill of being considered a King's son since the dawn of time. Unlike the others, he didn't bear the same satin, Tributal-esque clothes or titles and weapons like they were something granted by the deities above.

Maybe it was the Haran in him, as Patrick cited. They were so different, after all, but still people in the eyes of everything that created the world.

People who could save others and cause as much hurt as a demon.

That's what he thought of Patrick, perhaps the same thing he did of him. A homewrecker, in something finite. He never held a grudge against the others, but the one man had a vendetta against him from the very beginning.

So he fought back, and it turned out that the common man here had more to speak. It was all a string of unfortunate events that always brought him back to those gates here with a smoke in hand.

It was always insensitive words or comments about how the two exist, but never pure, unfiltered hatred towards something he couldn't control.

In the end, though, it only showed something about Patrick, which only made him chuckle at the stupidity.

Kania was rough around the edges, sure, but never one to kill. For a second there, reaching for his pocket, he wondered if Patrick would've been able to stand in those same shoes.

Given the chance, would he have really left him there to rot?

Kania didn't find the herbs and pipe in his pocket, much to no surprise. Well, it was still early enough. The downpour only got heavier, but that didn't mean the Royal Pig wasn't open.

With a sigh, he put the shield he carried out above his head, traversing through the roads on a whim and some instinct.

The kids he looked over were gone from the general vicinity with another glance. People in general left the premises, heading for similar bars or hiding under the roofs until the weather passed.

It was pretty much the same as yesterday, after a while of the streets he knew so well. Marble and cobble were empty, with a few Paladians staring out from the windows above, as Kania was the lone one moving through the street.

Lone, if it wasn't for something standing on the other end when the downpour only fastened.

A mother watched from above, with a pipe in her hand and a curious glance to follow. A few people beneath the extensions moved back into bars, and the sign of the Royal Pig stretched behind the corner.

However, Kania sighed, putting his shield down, and meeting the same man on the other side.

The same hat, covered in a thick shadow with a mask adorning those same, bloodshot eyes.

Their hair was braided with colourful string, just like his when he was younger. The same weapon peeked out from beneath a jacket and quickly found itself in his hand.

Then, a weary breath, from both sides.

Kania ground his teeth. "I think I denied it when I first saw you. You never give up that easily, though. Heaven, hell, or whatever other philosophical bullshit you always spouted, Hakate." he narrowed his gaze. "I thought we killed you hard enough back then."

He didn't lie to Patrick. If someone he could've considered his one friend stood right in front of him, then he never killed anyone.

That was the last straw before Kania considered himself a villain in anyone's eyes. Seems though, that motion was too far into the cogs for the other figure.

Hakate ran forward, readying his chain hook like a whip, with all the surrounding people halting their gaze.

The first shot of the weapon was parried by the shield, with the figure leaping above, spinning on the surface and finding itself right behind the Haran. With a quick move, though, Kania stomped the ground, managing to catch the chain with his one working hand.

The steel above landed on his broken arm, and with one painful close of the eye, he yelled through the adrenaline, smashing the weapon into the ground.

When the dust cleared, however, Hakate disappeared.

The hook slimmed back towards Kania's hand, trapping his fingers beneath the steel, all while the figure suddenly drilled into the shield from the back, further breaking Kania.

Through another bellow, he put all the other pressure away from his shaking, bloodied and bruised hand into his back, but that's when the shield was chucked away and now in Hakate's hand.

He was too fast for him to predict. Almost, as if he really killed him back then.

He became something more than an ordinary human, and Kania only narrowed his eyes, trying to push those thoughts away to defend himself through the fervour.

With a turn and a crouch of Kania, Hakate raised the armour and smashed it against his chest with the sharp bits. Blood came flying with a cough, and when his leg faltered, through a pain-staking tear, Kania shot out the chain hook forward blindly.

Likewise, nothing would've stopped the man from this point onward. Hakate grabbed the chain's end, with the sharp part piercing his hand.

The courtesy of the trapped fingers meant that Kania wouldn't be able to resist the throw. It didn't make much for one skilful move to chuck him against a pillar of the nearby building, with a couple of screams muffling out of the focus that was Kania's blood.

People ran around, calling for help, while keeping a safe distance away.

Guards started heading their way, and when Kania managed to look through the bloodied blur, Hakate was back there again, now standing above.

The shield was chucked elsewhere. The hook was pulled out with Kania's fingers and another yell forced tears down his cheek.

It was unbearable now.

Everything hurt, and he couldn't take it a second longer.

Hakate's eye shrunk, with a similar chuckle echoing out from beneath the mask. "I always knew you were weak." he sunk his fingers between his hairs. "You're crying again."

Kania ground his teeth, trying to glance up before a punch finessed its way into his face.

Nose broken, blood storming out of the old wounds reopening and hurting again, there wasn't much hope left.

Hakate continued smashing his head against the cobbles, over and over again.

The tears wouldn't stop coming out.

There was no mercy this time, or taking things into consideration.

There never was.

"Over here!" A shaky voice yelled from a couple of raindrops away. Hakate stopped, pushing Kania's face into the ground. "They're g-gonna kill one another!"

Footsteps came flying in. Armour clashed against armour, and a few stressed swears were thrown into the rain.

Too far for one to consider.

Hakate glanced over, and when the guards made the corner, the two of them were gone, only leaving a pool of blood, washing away with the rain.