Abrakshana was by no means a clean city. While it was certainly the cleanest in the human empire, having many magic users permanently employed to keep it clean, it was still, for all intents and purposes, a medieval capital. Which meant loads of unwashed bodies, bodily fluids, rotting architecture and rotting food. However after spending several hours in the refugee camp... Lock felt like he was entering hygienic heaven. A quite literal breath of fresh air.

“Are we in the actual city now?” Kamin asked tiredly.

“Yeah, how'd you notice?” Lock shot back, curious. Had her electro-sense improved and she'd noted the difference in her surroundings?

“It smells better.” Was her answer, at which he could do nothing but laugh.

“Better, yes. Good no.” Lock replied, the comparison with the tent city slowly fading from his mind.

“Where are we going now?” The girl asked.

“Visiting an old friend I guess, he's a paranoid bastard so if he's still in the city he'll know what happened.”

“Don't we already know what happened?” Kamin asked curiously. Lock envied her naivety.

“We know the official version of an elf suicide-bombing the slums, because elves apparently hate poor people. I imagine that the unofficial version will be a bit different though.” Lock said gently.

“How different?” Kamin asked.

Sighing Lock contemplated if he should answer or not.

“My answer isn't a nice one, maybe I'll tell you later.” He eventually said.

Kamin pouted, but didn't query further.

Turning his attention back to the road they were walking on, and the people inhabiting it, Lock was struck by the difference in atmosphere to when he'd been in the city, less than two weeks ago. It wasn't a surprise by no means. The dungeon fiasco and now the slums firebombing were aft to strike at anyone's mood. However it was different concluding that it must be so, and actually seeing it. There were less people about, but they made up for their relative scarceness with fearsomely sullen expressions interspersed with bouts of anger. There were more Happy Time addicts lying around. Considering Shink lived in a good neighbourhood this was doubly surprising. Either the Underground had produced a lot of the drug after receiving the recipe, and had managed to get a lot of people jacked on it in the span of two weeks, or people were using the drug to escape mentally from the current situation.

Likely a combination of both really. The atmosphere created by the collective mood and the sparse addicts made for an interesting combination with his walk through a neighbourhood with meticulously kept gardens and the medieval equivalent of white-picket fences.

Ignoring proprietary Lock gave Kamin the ring with the old man inside, and then walked forward to Shink's door to loudly bang on it. He heard some shuffling from inside, but the door didn't open. He banged louder and started shouting. “Hey man, I brought you another package of that substance you wanted.” He nearly screamed knowing that his voice would be heard.

The door was ripped open by an incensed looking Shink and Lock was pulled inside and unceremoniously shoved to the floor from which he slowly got up to give Shink the stink-eye.

“Is that any way to treat an old friend you haven't seen in a while.” Lock asked, affronted, at which Shink simply snorted and pointed towards the living room. Deciding that now wasn't the time for anymore witticism Lock struck a retreat through the corridor lined with crocheting work and sat down on the homely couch upon arriving in the living room.

Shink joined him a minute or so later, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. He was also scowling menacingly, the effect of which was offset by his comfortable blue clothing and his pink apron. 'I poisoned the food', it read.

Giving the biscuits a suspicious look he nevertheless took one and bit into it. It tasted great, but it would go better with some tea. Tea which Shink was kind enough to pour for him.

“So what's with the reception?” Lock asked curiously after swallowing the biscuit and taking a sip of tea.

“Do you genuinely have no idea what you've done?” Shink asked as he leaned back tiredly in his arm-chair and sighed. “Or are you just pretending?” He asked.

“You'll have to be more specific, I get around a lot.” Lock said at which Shink's hands twitched, as if wanting to go for a ladle, or more likely a knife.

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“You barge into the Underground, seduce one of the daughters of the previous chief away from her family, start fucking riots with your actions, addict almost one tenth of the cities younger population to that disgusting crap you call Happy Time and now you bang on my door shouting like a maniac. After all that you have the audacity to act stupid when I ask you what the fuck you did.” Shink said silently, before taking a sip of his tea and eating a biscuit.

Lock spread out his arms and leaned back on the couch. “What can I say, expect, you're welcome.” He eventually said.

“Your Grandfather is rolling in his grave right now.” Shink eventually said..

That was a low blow, but comedy took no mercy on emotions, thus Lock simply answered, “Now that's a bit hard to imagine considering he doesn't have one.”

Shink froze. “You didn't bury him?” He asked coldly.

At which Lock could do nothing but helplessly shrug his shoulders. “There wasn't anything left to bury.”

“Whatever, he probably wouldn't have wanted one anyway.” Shink grudgingly admitted.

“If it's any consolation, he died happy.” Lock said softly.

“It doesn't matter, dead is dead. I just wished we'd parted in better circumstances all those years ago.” The older Assassin replied, trying to appear unfazed.

“You two always did have a weird relationship.”

Shink snorted, “brothers-in-gold, until he retired just before our big break to raise your sorry ass.”

“He do a good job?” Lock asked, curious for the grouchy man's perspective.

Shink twirled the empty teacup in his hand. “Perhaps. You've achieved great things at the ripe age of sixteen already. Terrible, but nonetheless great. You'll surpass him, easily at that, but I imagine he wouldn't like your methods.”

“Justice can only be wielded by the strong. Maybe I will right my wrongs in his memory when the time comes.” Lock lied.

Shink easily saw through it, and snorted. “You're hardly a sentimental person,” He started, “and considering your skewed moral compass I would hesitate to wish upon the world anything that you would consider justice.”

“You're hardly one to talk.” Lock grumbled.

Shink took a sip of his tea. “I think the harm you've inadvertently, or not, caused with your actions has surpassed the negative impact I have had on the world almost a year ago.” Were his words, which ok, might have been true, but Lock couldn't help but argue against them.

“The thing with the dungeon is hardly my fault, a riot would have erupted had I let them succeed anyway!” He said affronted, at which Shink raised a single eyebrow.

“And the drug?” He asked.

That was a more complicated topic, considering that Lock had intended the effect the drug had on the populace. However. “I hardly forcibly addicted anyone, I just identified a potential market and filled it. People should be smart enough themselves to stay away from stuff that literally feels too good to be true. You're taking away their right to self-determination with your baseless accusations.” Lock shot back.

The eyebrow that Shink had already raised climbed higher.

The younger of the two felt the need to continue. “To be perfectly honest I'm doing humanity a favour, everyone stupid enough to start using the drug should not be procreating.” He finished.

“Well, it's good to know that me aiding your operation was actually a boon for humanity, however much literally everyone else disagrees.” Shink eventually said.

Lock nodded. “I'm glad we could come to an agreement.” After which, came silence.

“So why are you here?” Shink.

“Mostly to ask about what the hell is going on in the city, but earlier you said something that interests me as well, namely that the Underground has had a change of leadership.” Lock answered, looking at Shink's facial expression trying to determine any change. The man remained stone cold.

“With the introduction of your drug to the organizations profit model the power balance shifted towards the Alchemist faction. Deciding that a change in leadership was necessary to reflect this change a vote was held, and a new head was elected. It was surprisingly democratic and blood-free.” Shink said.

“Interesting.” Lock muttered.

“I would advise you to stay away from the Underground for a while however, with the change of leadership came a change of priorities, this means that the people who would be most interested in getting to you suddenly have the power to do so.” Shink warned in a serious tone.

Lock blinked in surprise. “What would they even want from me?” He asked.

“Your legendary Alchemy knowledge of course, idiot.”

“It was a fluke.” Lock insisted.

Shink rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sometimes when I go to the bathroom I also randomly start shitting out piles of gold.”

Lock nodded gratefully. “I'm glad you see it my way.”

“They don't however, just be careful, maybe leave the city, okay?” Shink said.

“Are you worried about me?” Lock asked, surprised, at which he received a snort.

“More like worried about the city. Considering the effect you've had on it I'm afraid it’s going to get wiped off the map soon if you continue staying here.”

“What's up with that anyway.” Lock changed topics. “An elf suicide-bombed the slums, and the king was kind enough to come down and solve the issue of cursed flames. Flames that the royal family is known to produce. Meanwhile the refugees get to sleep in army tents in return for being harassed by recruiters and taken away to build up a retaliatory force.”

“I'll be honest with you.” Shink started, then took a moment to think about his answer. “I know my means, and while I suspect something is afoul, dealing with nation-wide intrigue on this level is way beyond my pay-grade.”

Grudgingly nodding Lock agreed with the man, this was not something that Shink should be putting his nose in considering who he was. However, he'd given him a hint, there was something foul going on. And considering who benefited and who suffered he would take a bet any day that it was the royal family and aristocrats who set that fire.

He guessed that the elves magical resources were the most interesting to the nobility considering their own proclivity towards the art.

Now the only question remaining was.

What was Lock going to do about this?

“It's also above mine, I was just curious.” He lied.

“Try to stay out of it, and, oh, while you're here and asking about it, I should mention that the council and the king have gotten a bit pissy about how many young men are illegible to join the army due to their, uh, substance abuse. You're already out of the business, and so am I to be perfectly frank with you. But you should still keep that in mind.” Shink warned one final time before they both decided that it was enough serious talk for now and that it was time for some small talk.