The rain did little to wash the lingering scent of smoke from the air.
Amidst the crowded streets of Reed, Theodore moved with a determined pace, his fedora pulled low against the rain. He held a worn, leather suitcase in one hand, the one which contained half a million orns. His other hand was tucked into the pocket of his heavy coat.
Behind him, he could hear the scrape of luggage on the wet cobblestone. The eight children followed, clumsy, carrying overstuffed suitcases. Their faces were pale, drawn and tired.
Corbin was the first to speak. He shuffled up alongside Theodore, his voice low and casual.
"So, the Baron. He seemed... quite familiar with you. What was it, a professional courtesy?"
Theodore didn't turn around. His gaze was fixed forward, and he didn't slow his stride. "Shut it,"
he grumbled, his voice lost in the clamor of the street.
Corbin smiled faintly and turned his head slightly to address the rest of the group. "Right? I'm not the only one who felt it, was I? That wasn't a friendly conversation."
Emmett's voice, flat and precise, came from the back.
"The Baron does not engage in friendly conversation. He doesn't look like he has many friends either."
Felix shifted his luggage from one hand to the other, his voice nervous.
"It just... it felt like he was paying for a service. Like he was buying Theodore or something."
The children's words, quiet as they were, were a constant presence in the back of Theodore's mind. He could feel their eyes on him; they were judging him.
The thought of them, a collection of spoiled brats with more privilege than he had ever known, passing judgment on his character, made a vein throb at his temple.
He stopped dead in his tracks, causing the children behind him to stumble to a halt. He turned slowly, his face a mask of cold fury.
"I said, shut up,"
he spat, his voice low and dangerous.
"Or else—"
"Or else what?"
Corbin cut him off, his blue eyes, usually so calculating, held a flicker of open contempt. "You'll starve us? It's the worst you could do. After all, you'd benefit from it, wouldn't you, you greedy bastard?"
The words hung in the air, a final straw. The line had been crossed. Theodore's jaw clenched, and his hand moved with a practiced motion. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, brass-plated pistol. He didn't hesitate; he aimed it directly at Corbin's head.
The street, filled with the noise of a thousand people, seemed to go quiet for a moment. The children froze, their faces a mix of horror and shock.
Without a second thought, Eta moved, placing herself directly between Theodore and Corbin. Her small hands were open at her sides, and her back was straight.
The crowd around them noticed the spectacle. They had stopped walking and were watching, their faces a mix of morbid fascination and cheap entertainment. Whispers began to spread, and a few people even leaned in, eager to see what would happen next.
A voice in the crowd screamed,
"Go on then! What are you waiting for?" while a woman next to them pulled her own coat over her face, whispering,
"He's just a child... "
Theodore's finger twitched on the trigger. His eyes, cold and hard, were fixed on the unwavering gaze of Eta in front of him. He was tired. Tired of the Baron, and tired of these children. He was just about to pull the trigger when he felt a hand on his back. He turned, his pistol still pointed at the children, to see the familiar, lazy eyes of the barkeep from the bar he had gone to before the Baron's call.
"Mister,"
the barkeep said, his voice calm and slow. "What are you doing? With a gun, aimed at children."
Theodore's anger had not dissipated, but the unexpected presence of the barkeep was enough to make him pause.
"They're not children," Theodore spat. "They're lost causes. They won't stop bothering me. I'm tired of their ranting."
The barkeep sighed, shaking his head.
"That's no reason to point a gun at a person, especially at children."
He reached out and took the pistol from Theodore's hand. The children, seeing the immediate threat removed, sagged with relief. The onlookers, seeing the show was over, began to disperse with disappointed sighs.
Theodore's shoulders slumped. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but the immediate crisis had passed. He snatched his gun from the barkeep's hand, placing it back in his coat.
"What are you doing here?"
he asked, his voice still tense.
"My shop's nearby,"
the barkeep replied, gesturing down the street.
"Saw the crowd and thought I'd come have a look. I've got some good stuff on tap. Why don't you come have a drink, calm yourself down?"
Theodore's face hardened. He shook his head.
"No,"
he said, his voice flat. He turned to the children, his furious look still present.
"Let's go."
They all sighed in relief and followed him, the sound of their luggage bumping against the pavement the only noise for a few moments.
"You really shouldn't have done that,"
Felix whispered to Corbin, his voice filled with a tremor of fear.
"Was that truly necessary?"
"I was just probing him,"
Corbin replied, his voice low and quiet.
"Calling him a greedy bastard isn't probing," Briar whispered, her eyes wide.
"It's just insulting."
"That,"
Corbin replied,
"was my personal comment on his character."
Before anyone else could speak, Eta reached up and gave him a gentle whack on the head.
"You could have at least kept shut,"
she said, her voice unusually sharp.
Corbin rolled his eyes.
"Don't blame me,"
he whispered.
"He looked miserable. Like Emmett."
Emmett, who had been quiet since the incident with the gun, finally spoke. His voice was cold.
"Don't go there, Corbin."
"And what will you do if he does, Cogsley?" Theta asked, her voice a mocking whisper.
A few muffled giggles escaped from the group, and Theodore, hearing the noise, whipped his head around. His face, still etched with fury, was enough to silence the entire group. They lowered their heads and fell into a quiet line behind him. After a few silent moments, Theta leaned in and whispered to Corbin in a serious tone.
"Seriously though. You should watch what you say. He almost shot you for it."
"Relax, Theta,"
Corbin whispered back, a hint of nonchalant arrogance in his voice.
"I know what I'm doing and what I'm saying."
Theta sighed, a sound of resignation.
"You still should watch what you say,"
she said.
"Or it might lead to your downfall."
With that, they walked in silence. The streets gradually grew quieter as they moved away from the main districts. They took several turns, moving from wide, commercial avenues to narrow, residential alleys. The buildings changed from impressive storefronts to humble, brick-faced apartments. The neighborhood wasn't a wreck, but it wasn't extravagant either. It was just... normal.
Theodore stopped at one of these buildings and, without a word, pushed open the door. The children followed him into a dimly lit lobby. They climbed a flight of stairs before arriving at a door.
Theodore knocked twice.
The door opened, and a woman appeared in the entryway. She was middle-aged, her face lined with the faint signs of age, but her eyes held a kindness that radiated warmth. She was stunning, a soft, inviting beauty that seemed to make the dim hallway brighter. At the sight of her, Theodore's face changed completely. The anger and exhaustion vanished, replaced by a radiant smile.
"Theodore,"
she said, her voice as warm as her smile. "I'm so glad you're home. But... who are all these children?"
Theodore's smile remained. He looked from her to the children and back.
"Aveline, my love, these are some people from work. I've been assigned to an investigation, and they'll be working with me."
Aveline's smile remained.
"From work? Well, it's a bit late for that, isn't it? Come in, all of you. It's too cold to be standing in the hallway."
She held the door open wider.
The children, their eyes wide, turned to Theodore.
"Who is she?"
Briar whispered.
Theodore turned to them, his smile now soft and genuine. He gestured to the woman.
"Children,"
he said.
"This is my wife, Aveline."