It was a cold and lonely walk back to his apartment in Dorfchester. When Hideo had finally made it to his confined home, he had little time to rest or lament. He had been dead to the world for some days and needed to see what damage this had caused to his life. He changed his attire, choosing a bronze doublet with scarlet buttons. He selected green gloves to cover his scarred hands. They stung as he flexed them. Feeling empty and in pain, Hideo immediately took his leave. He was in such haste to make amends that he ventured to the closest stables to hire a palfrey so that he could reach the palace faster. He did not know why he was putting himself through the additional stress. He was already three days late to his shift at the alchemy chamber. Would another hour have made such a difference?

As he whipped the black and white palfrey into a brisk stride, he felt a myriad of emotions consume and overwhelm him. His heart was in tatters, and he could steadily feel himself losing everything around him. I have lost Amaya and Evalina all in one morning. He strongly hoped that King Sigismund would be grateful for everything he was losing in order to protect him. He was explicitly ordered to avoid contact or reveal who he really was to the New Jade King. Sigismund wanted the Night Fangs’ debt honoured, but to also be in no way involved in it to avoid scandal. Some good that all did. Shit on it all. Revealing himself as the Night Fang and his protector was the only way to explain his long absence from the King’s Court and the alchemy chamber.

Riding through Stone Sparkles was usually a joy. Hideo would admire the street performers and commonly gazed up at the high multicoloured apartments. Each block was a different shade, with red stacked atop green stacked atop marble. Unfortunately, with time no longer an ally, it became an irksome experience to ride through the richest borough. Crowds of nobles were gathered around a minstrel under the summer sunlight, largely occupying the cobblestone roads and causing a blockade. On the other side of the street, a jester created the illusion of breathing fire from his painted mouth.

The act had dozens of pedestrians standing in their tracks watching on in awe whilst a long line of riders and carriages started to form and cause congestion. Riders and merchants started bellowing and shouting from their trailers and horses. The audience paid them no mind.

A City Watch carriage pulled up beside Hideo’s palfrey, swerving in front and cutting off his path. The rider, a watchman in a rusted kettle hat and chain mail, glowered at Hideo. His face was molten rock as the brick-headed man approached him with scorn in his eyes. “Get in,” he ordered.

Hideo stared at him incredulously for a moment. He felt his heartbeat, which raced with the rhythm of a galloping horse. A heat came upon him, and he felt sweat stick to his ragged clothes. He could feel his suit pressing against his back through the burlap sack. If the watchman ordered a search of his belongings, then it was all over. “Am I under arrest?” Hideo asked, thinking of some kind of legal loophole he could play. Some could of hand he could deal to get out of the situation.

The watchman frowned. “Just get in!” he said stubbornly.

Hideo dismounted and did as he was bid, attempting to look calm and collected. Inside, he was panicking. He clutched his burlap sack tight, but not so much that he would arouse suspicion. He did not think that he had been discovered as the Ninja in black and blue from the papers. Surely there would be a small army of watchmen surrounding him if that were the case. He stepped into the carriage’s interior. The inside did not resemble a City Watch carriage. There were cushions of velvet crimson. A small scarlet and black carpet stricken with gold was matted below him. “Oh Hideo,” said a disappointed voice. “What sorry state have you put yourself in?” Countess Elizabeth Woodard was in a scarlet dress, her snowy hair undone and tumbling about her shoulders.

Hideo was flabbergasted. The embarrassment stung like a hot iron to his chest. “Elizabeth?” Hideo questioned, unsure how to explain himself to the Royalist. “Why aren’t you remaining safe at the Palace?”

“You should be more concerned with yourself, Hideo.” She leaned forward and felt the bruises on his face with her icy fingers. His cheeks felt swollen after his miserable duel at the library. “You look absolutely ghastly. A far cry from the charming professional I first met.”

“Countess, let me explain-”

“Oh Hideo,” she said sorrowfully. She sat back into her array of crimson cushions and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m afraid it’s too late. There is nothing that I can do.” She looked down at his hands, which he had wrapped in bandages to hide the scars. “Lady Aubrey once said that she suspected you of getting into drunken bar fights on a regular basis, on account of you turning up late with bruises.” She lifted the bandaged hands and studied them. “This does not help your case. There is some kind of demon in you.”

Hideo respected and even admired Anastasia, but she had seemingly doomed him from the grave. He could not stop himself from cursing her for it. Not that it was entirely her fault. Hideo knew that he really should have been directing his anger at the man who neutralised him in the first place. Remembering the raptor skull sent an unpleasant prickle of cold down his beaten spine. Perhaps he should have blamed himself for making a pox of everything. “Please Countess,” he pleaded, “can you not grant me an audience with King Sigismund, even as a mere citizen? I must speak with him. The matter is urgent.”

The Countess shook her head. Her green eyes started to well with tears that streaked down to her freckles. “The Palace is in lockdown, Hideo,” she said with a screech in her voice. “I fled whilst I had the chance. I couldn’t stay. It reminded me of him.” The sun reflected through the carriage windows and off her tears that were left dangling from each freckle. “They killed my father, Hideo.”

“I know,” he said, feeling great shame weigh upon him. He had failed her. He had failed her father. He had failed Anastasia, the Duke and Duchess…The list would go on as he would fail the rest of them too. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Elizabeth, Sigismund, and Rosamund dead with a red gash across each of their throats. The fear made him sink deeper into a dark pit.

“On top of that, my brother is missing,” the Countess then said with a bitter laugh. “He’s dead too, for all I know.” This was more troubling news to Hideo. If he’s not safe at the palace, then the Velociraptor might have him…

The Countess smiled sweetly at him yet shook her head in disapproval. “I’m sorry. King Sigismund was wroth when you abandoned your station for so long. I’m doing you a favour by warning you. You were officially dismissed the other day. He already has new alchemists in your place. Today I think his anger turned so vengeful he was considering hanging you for deserting your post.” She leaned in close and placed an icy hand on his bruised shoulder. “I will sincerely miss you greatly. I’ll never forget our walks across the palace gardens and the way you made me laugh.” Her smile then faded into something darker. “But associating myself with an angry drunkard will be terrible for my public image.” She pecked him on the cheek and swung the carriage door open. “Now please get out of my sight.”

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It was a long ride back to the stables and the palfrey’s hire had cost him a small fortune when he returned it. He made a note to be less liberal with his funds, now that there was no income riding to his aid. The rent was seven-hundred Denarii a month, and he had no way of paying it. He estimated he had a month left before he would be removed out onto the uncaring streets.

Hideo climbed the stairs to his apartment in a sullen sulk. I have lost Amaya, Evalina, and a chance to rid the city of the Red Plague all in one morning.

He had been mistaken about one thing. He had mistimed how long it took him to ride back to Dorfchester and it was, in fact, already late afternoon. Many were gathered in the streets to admire the pink dusk sky, but he had no desire to participate in any revelry. Instead, he chose to crawl into his bed whilst he still had his apartment and not leave the thick sheets for quite some time.

Dusk started to conquer, and orange light illuminated through the window. He continued to lie in bed. He lay there for hours, yet his eyes never closed. Wide awake, feeling angry, mournful, and hopeless. He mused over abiding by Evalina and giving the whole thing up. He could ditch the suit into a river, return to the chapel and mend himself with her.

He thought of Countess Woodard and how she had cruelly dismissed him. Then his memories of her became sweeter. He remembered their walk through the gardens and her cute little piglet laugh. She had been the only royalist who acknowledged his existence and treated him as a person. Then there was Rosamund… If the Inferno Clan truly were aiming to end the entire Greenfire bloodline as the Empress had feared, then it would mean her death too. She had not even entered her fifteenth year.

After some hours sleep finally took hold of him, but the dreams were unwelcome nightmares. He dreamt of dead Royalists and men in demon masks. When he thought he had awakened, he found himself back in a small bedroom he could only faintly remember. The cold, harsh winds banged against the frosted windows. His sister was holding him. Shielding him from the bangs outside his door. There was yelling and smashing. Then, without remembering how or why, he was running through the Arkovian snows, his sister pulling him forward by the wrist. His legs were small, his shoes ripped with snow clutching at his toes with icy bites. Behind them was fire and pitchforks. Hiroko tripped and fell into a puddle, her iron grip dragging him along in with her. The puddle became an ocean, and he was submerged. His memory faded into blackness until he reemerged from a pool of scarlet waters. Blood and bodies were everywhere. He was in a throne room. No, he thought in terror. Not here again, anywhere else but here! He could feel his arms burning as blue sparks wrapped around his arms and flared into wild lightning. When he looked down into the puddle of blood below, he saw a pale face with long black hair, eyes dark and solid as coals. The creature opened a mouth of fangs and reached a white hand from the red depths. It grasped him around the throat and pulled him in. All he remembered then was darkness, and Evalina’s words calling out to him through the black. Deep down, you’re looking for an honourable way out.

He was jolted awake by the sound of smashing glass. It was night, but he could not identify what stage. Moonlight was streaming through the window, creating monstrous shadows across the floor and around the walls. There was another smashing sound coming from above, followed by angered yelling. The noble couple were bickering upstairs again. Hideo rolled his eyes and turned on his side. He wrapped the pillow around his ears, wiping sweaty hairlocks from his face. He sighed heavily and tried to shut off the world around him.

There was another smash of glass, this time followed by a woman’s shriek. Hideo gripped the pillow tighter around his ears. The woman above made another muffled scream that broke through the ceiling above him. A male voice answered back. The words were inaudible, yet thick with malice. Then there was a hard, slamming sound, followed by an unidentifiable high-pitched scream. More glass shattered. The screaming became prolonged and everlasting. Hideo’s hands tightened around the pillow until the feathers within were close to popping out. He threw it across the room. He reached for the burlap sack underneath his bed and upended the contents. The black and sapphire armour glowed in the dark. The visor of his mask looked back at him. There was nothing in there but shadow. Hideo felt as if it were watching him, luring him. There was another scream from above.

The Night Fang crawled out of his bedchamber window and climbed upwards to the window above. He smashed a sapphire gauntlet through the glass and unhooked the lock from within. The husband had a long scraggly beard and a tunic stained with wine. He had his wife pinned to the bed. Her hairnet had been ripped away, her golden locks thrown about harshly. She brandished a bulging purpled eye and her amber dress had blood stains and had been ripped. The bedchamber floor was sprinkled with glass shards from broken bottles and a straw doll was lying beside a pool of spilt wine.

When she looked at who was hanging outside the window, she screamed. Her husband’s jaw hung open in disbelief, unsure if what he was looking at was real. A blue wraith was perched outside his window with lightning blue eyes of scorn. The Night Fang jumped into the bedchamber and loomed over him.

The large man took a swing which was met with little effect as the Night Fang’s scarred hand gripped his wrist and bent it backwards. The nobleman howled and the Night Fang hit him onto the floor, towering over him like a great black and sapphire shadow. He leaned over and grabbed the man by the scraggly beard. “Hurt them again, and I’ll be back,” the Night Fang echoed darkly. He raised his other hand and blue sparks flared around his scarred fingertips. He slammed the bearded man’s face into the floor to make his point abundantly clear. When the Night Fang retracted, the man scrambled and ran through the chamber doors.

The Night Fang glanced at the woman. She watched him in uncertain horror. She was panting breathlessly and grabbing onto an indistinguishable religious symbol hanging from her necklace. She murmured a prayer under her heavy breathing. He was just a demon to her. A creature of the night. The Night Fang turned to walk away before noticing a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye. Something was squirrelled away under a small desk. The Night Fang knelt and saw a small girl curled into a ball, hidden away in the dark. She looked up at the Night Fang with stringy hair and a blank expression. Underneath the black and sapphire armour, Hideo felt very unpleasant. He picked up the straw doll from the red puddle. The tiny tartan dress it wore was damp and the buttons it had for eyes stared at the Ninja. He knelt down under the table and held out the doll to the child. Her eyes flickered between the doll and the lightning monster. Her face was hesitant, like a cat’s. She tentatively reached out with an arm that was bruised and sallow, grasping the doll and snatching it back into her embrace. She hugged it tightly as if it were a pet.

When the Ninja arose, he saw that the mother had a broken glass bottle in her hand. She threw it, the base smashing into the silver-horned tiger on his breastplate. He did not move or flinch. He couldn’t feel the glass shards raining down on his heavy sapphire boots. “Get out!” she wailed.

He obliged and swung out of the bedchamber window. The Night Fang climbed to the top of the apartment. The full moon was near midway into the black and starless sky. He did not have long until midnight. He spun over the rooftops, making his way towards Hook Harbour.