Arcturus, Lock's father, happily munched on his nutrient potion soup mixed with commissioned bread, somehow managing to ignore the heavy tension around the dinner table, humming some stupid ditty.

Lock exchanged a glance with Inu, and then Harald, both of whom he'd already found sitting on the bench at the kitchen table they were currently occupying when he'd come back from his mission. They'd already finished the tea Arcturus had made for them but made no motion of asking for more. Probably because Arcturus was a horrible cook and managed to spoil even tea.

“So, your family is fine. Did you learn anything else?” Lock stated, and asked, the duo.

“Nothing we didn't already know.” Inu started, but was cut off by Harald.

“Almost 1/6 of the city is burned down, bout 4000 dead. Thankfully my family wasn't amongst them. This shit is fucked.” The swordsman cut out.

“Language.” Arcturus softly reprimanded in the background.

“The situation is dire.” Harald corrected himself with gritted teeth, hands quivering.

“You seem, very emotional about the issue.” Lock commented diplomatically, glancing down at his bowl of meat, and not really feeling an appetite.

“It's nobles throwing away the lives of everybody else for their sick desires, of course I'm angry.” Harald said softly and buried his face in his hands.

“It was the elv-” Ino started to say but was interrupted by Harald slamming his hands down on the table and jumping up.

“Shut the fuck up!” He shouted. “You think we're fucking retarded? I haven't seen an elf in my entire fucking life, and then suddenly one kills himself to bomb the slums, creating a situation only good for the nobles?” He angrily asked.

Ino remained quiet, crossed his arms, and looked away, a conflicted expression on his face, Harald meanwhile remained standing, heaving.

“My family could have died. The families of many people have died. For what, huh?” He asked, looking around the table and meeting everyone's eyes.

Lock raised an eyebrow at him once it was his turn. “Was that a rhetorical question? Because I'm fairly sure you already know the answer.” He said bitingly

The words, sarcastic as they were, seemed to do the trick to calm Harald, he sat down again and leaned back, laying his head on the brown spartan wall behind his bench. “Bunch of bastards clinging to positions they no longer deserve.” He said, tears starting to slip from his eyes and running down his face.

'Drip, drop', they fell on the table.

“Anyone want some ice cream?” Arcturus asked into the round to the incredulous look of Ino and Harald.

“I'll take a one, bring two spoons so Kamin can try as well.” Lock simply said.

Arcturus nodded happily as he left for the cellar, nobody else requesting any. “Anything for my future daughter-in-law.” He joked, Kamin, who was sitting to the left of Lock, blushed.

“Also bring some for Harald!” Lock shouted after the man. A spontaneous decision for which he was weakly glared at.

“What's ice cream?” He eventually asked.

“A dessert made out of flavoured frozen milk, it's quite good, I think you'll like it.” Lock replied, receiving a nod.

“I'm not a child who is easily calmed down by the promises of sweets.” Harald felt the need to add while crossing his arms.

“Bold of you to assume that it's only children who become calmer after eating something sweet.” Lock muttered, after which the group of people sat in silence. The atmosphere was heavy. The one to eventually lighten it up was Arcturus, who was carrying two bowls of ice cream, and slipped as he was nearing the table. He made a graceful arch with his back, the ice cream bowls slipping from his hands as he crashed face-first into the floor.

Thankfully Lock was quick enough to catch both of the bowls, none of the sweet delicious goodness managing to escape their confinement. The spoons did clatter to the wooden floor however.

No harm done Lock dug in once he retrieved the instruments from the floor. “You okay dad?”

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Arcturus shakily raised a hand to give his son a thumbs-up from where he was still face-planting on the floor.

“Your ice cream recipe improved again.” Lock commented, receiving a weak thanks in return before the man eventually managed to pick himself up and sit down at the table again.

“This is pretty good.” Harald commented after trying his, looked banana flavoured to Lock, he quickly dug in after his comment.

Giving some of his own to Kamin, Lock watched curiously as Harald devoured the ice cream and then leaned back on the bench he shared with Ino.

He couldn't believe it. The idiot had actually gotten distracted by sweets.

It didn't really matter to be honest, Lock didn't have anything he wanted to discuss with Harald, the boy would win him the admission to the magical academy and that was that. Their relationship would end.

All the goings on that would erupt in the next few years. The war, Lock's attempt to halt it, the mission for the Ninja who'd pledged him his service in conjunction with his admission to the academy, the situation with the underground and the burning of Abrakshana, the probable rebellion. All of these events would most likely collide into one gigantic clusterfuck somewhere down the road.

A clusterfuck in which Harald, and maybe even the Trydan's could have no aspirations beyond becoming a piece of collateral damage forgotten by history.

Lock didn't fault them for that. It was in the nature of mortals to be swept aside when the winds of change came knocking on the door.

-/-

It was later that night, when Lock was preparing himself for sleep that he heard someone knocking on the door. Frowning at the fact that he'd just undressed into a less armoured state, he told the person outside to wait a bit as he dressed back, even putting on his helmet, and disabled the traps surrounding his door.

Nothing much, just tripwires and a few easily breakable floorboards. The more lethal apparatuses were near his bed, which he only ever used for sleeping.

“Come in.” Lock eventually said as he leaned next to the bookshelf, which along with his bed occupied half of the space in his tiny room right below the roof.

The light offered by the almost full moon, shining through the window, revealing all its splendour in the cloudless sky perfectly illuminated Arcturus as he entered, already dressed in his nightclothes.

For once the man had a serious expression on his face. Quietly closing the door behind him he sat down on the floor staring seriously at Lock, who remained standing.

“I got a visit from the Underground recently.” He started, which didn't startle Lock overly much, it had always been a possibility.

Arcturus closed his eyes and sighed. “You're not surprised.” He determined before continuing once again with open eyes. “Then you know what this is about.”

The mentally older of the two nodded, feeling slightly sorry for what he'd done.

“Happy Time. It's genius. I must congratulate you on it's creation, you clearly inherited some of my talent, if not the passion for the subject.” His father said.

“You're not mad at me?” Lock asked, tilting his head.

“As you well know, I am first and foremost an alchemist, you might think looking from the outside at how lawful I am, that I would consider all Alchemy used with the purpose of profit and harm to be sacrilege. However it is not so. For me, all Alchemy is beautiful.” He said, looking for once in his life, truly serene. “What I'm a bit mad about is the fact that you used me as a smokescreen for your own illegal activities.”

“I trusted that no harm would befall you.” Lock lied, omitting the fact that not only was his father a smokescreen, being a much older and well-known alchemist, but also a warning canary. One that was taken into mines to check for poisonous gasses, only fulfilling its purpose once it's been exposed to danger.

“I might have never been involved with raising you, but I can still tell when my son is lying to me, even if he is wearing a ridiculous helmet. Me being the most likely suspect for the creation of Happy Time is not only a smokescreen, but also a warning system that would alert you if the tendrils of the law, or the Underground were getting close to discovering your identity for what it truly was. Be it from my arrest, my death, or my kidnapping. Or as the case was, through me informing you I've been contacted.” Arcturus correctly deduced an intelligence that Lock had thought was only ever applied to Alchemy shining in his eyes.

“I'm sorry for underestimating your intelligence.” Lock said sincerely.

“I'm sorry for considering yours to be even an iota less malicious than it truly is. You always knew it didn't matter in the end did you, even if I discovered that I've been used. You're still my son, although at the moment, you appear to be more your mother's son.”

Lock tilted his head. “What does she have to do with anything?” He asked, and Arcturus snorted.

“Who do you think gave me the experience to deal with people like you?” He joked.

“People like me?” Lock asked curiously.

“I imagine most people in my situation would say 'villains', or 'misanthropists', perhaps even 'bastards', however I've long since know the correct term for your ilk. Players. For it is the individual who truly treats life as nothing but a game, who is the most dangerous in his actions, and the most vague in his intentions.” Arcturus said with a low voice. A shiver ran down Lock's spine and the hair on his arms stood on end.

Consider the game like quality of this world, the term player was truly too coincidental and hit far too close to home. However Lock was nothing if not talented in mental compartmentation, he quickly put the odd feeling out of his mind and asked a question that would lead away from the topic.

“So how did you manage to deal with the Underground?” He asked.

“Quite simply really.” Arcturus said with a shrug. “I claimed to be the inventor of Happy Time, and gave them a sample of one of my own attempts at making the drug. Once they offered me to join them I demanded a ridiculous price. A price that they didn't want to accept without some more proof, therefore they left to determine if the alchemical footprint on the drug was identical to yours. Seeing as they still haven't contacted me despite it already being three days, they likely determined that while the footprint was similar, which makes sense considering I taught you Alchemy, it likely stems from the fact that I am not the true creator. Simply a patsy left by the original architect of the whole thing to distract them from their trail. Seeing how sensitive alchemists are about the age thing they will consider you to be a false trail as well. No way could a thirteen-year old create something like that.” Arcturus explained, stunning Lock once again with his brilliance.

“Our whole family is a false trail, obviously, and seeing as we were left unprotected we aren't important enough to the creator to be used as bargaining chips.” Lock snorted out to disguise how impressed he was by his father.

A short silence emerged after his words, before Arcturus piped up once again, this time with a cheeky grin.

“So, did I prove myself?” He asked.

“Prove yourself for what?” Lock shot back.

“Why to be included in your plans for the future of course. While I don't necessarily like players, it's always profitable to align one's interests with theirs, one stands to gain quite a lot.”

“I'm not planning on going much further down the road of Alchemy, so having you as a continued support would be quite helpful I guess.” Lock begrudgingly admitted. There was a big problem however. Despite all his talk, Lock still wasn't sure if his father's morality could hold up with the things that he had planned. “I'm not sure you'll agree to help me after hearing what my plans actually are though.”

“Even if I don't want to join after hearing them, I won't reveal them to anyone.” Arcturus promised solemnly, causing Lock to shrug and give up.

“Alright, you asked for it.”