"Now, does Young Thomas have any preexisting conditions or illnesses? Asthma, history of fever, or recurring sickness?"

"No, unless Thomas' inability to use magic counts," Edward responded unsurely, feeling rather inadequate to answer the doctor's questions. If Thomas was ever sick in the past several years they had known each other, he wouldn't know straight away. Clarisse would be the best person to ask for these types of inquiries, but the maid refused to be away from her sick master for even half an hour.

Edward, Xander, Mr. Hughes, and the doctor, Dr. Ainsley, were inside the carriage arranged by the eldest Rosetta. Mr. Al-Amin was seated with his personal driver, Mr. Chester, in front of the carriage. They were on their way back to Rosetta estate, taking a roundabout route through a few other districts in order to evade any unwanted attention, and to save time during the check-up, the doctor began to ask for information on the patient.

"We're not sure why some people, regardless of their blood or relations, are not able to use magic and why some others can use it perfectly fine. The church claimed that the Goddess Ariadne would only bless a certain bloodline or some chosen few to become her people, but that's pretty much bullshit." Dr. Ainsley, an elder woman with both frown lines and laugh lines, and a hair full of brown, gray, and white streaks, wore a disgruntled expression when the church was mentioned. "Regardless, let's first consider other options before we address anything magic-based. You told me that those previous quacks diagnosed a summer flu and a cold?"

Both Edward and Xander took a glance at each other, one with an incredulous expression while the other gave a sheepish one. When his best friend had told him about the great doctor personally serving the Queen, he expected someone less... colorful. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised by her personality, considering Her Majesty's own crudeness...

"Yes. That was the diagnosis they had made."

"Amateurs," Dr. Ainsley scoffed as if what Edward admitted had offended her. "Did Young Thomas have trouble breathing?"

"... No."

"Did he have a runny nose? Coughing? Questionable, discolored fluids from any of his orifices?"

"No."

"How about diarrhea? Upset stomach? Nausea? Did he ever throw up or feel like throwing up all the time?"

"No, Thomas just has a really bad fever, and he says that his body always feels sore."

Dr. Ainsley hummed briefly before shaking her head. "It's not a respiratory infection or a gastrointestinal infection, that's for sure. But the fact he has a fever indicates that his body is fighting off something. Of course, his body would be sore if it's fighting off an infection. The problem we have to consider is where the infection is taking place. Does his skin have any discoloration?"

"No... I mean, he's pale, but flushed at the same time."

"What about his urine and stool?"

"....." Though Edward knew these were important questions, the corner of his lips twitched and he tried not to seem uncomfortable. "I do not know."

"Do you know if he has been urinating more often?"

"...I do not know."

Dr. Ainsley gave him a look as if he should know these things— and maybe he should have known the answer to all of these specific questions. It seemed that he wasn't attentive enough to Thomas' illness and he wondered what other signs he had missed for the past couple of weeks.

As Edward tried to recall anything that seemed abnormal with Thomas' health or behavior, Xander gave the doctor a subtle look, his crimson eyes darkening into a maroon, before asserting, "Let's hold off on the rest of the questions until we see Young Thomas. It's evident that he's ill, but we're not sure what signs you are looking for, doctor."

She paused in response to the Crown Prince's stare before hmmp'ing. Like a child, she crossed her arms and started to sulk. "I'm just trying to find the site of infection," the elder woman grumbled, jutting out her bottom lip.

Watching a woman older than his mother pouting like a chastised toddler was rather strange but Xander was used to it, being familiar with the elder's personality, and sighed. Dr. Ainsley was the most advanced and forward physician in her field. It wouldn't be far from the truth to say that she was the founder of today's medical practices. In a field mostly dominated by men, she traveled to several different countries, observing their healthcare, and brought everything she had learned back to Astria, bringing a new era of medicine.

But regardless of her high intellect and strong character, her personality could be considered... eccentric. She took every chance she could get to show off her 'genius' and make fun of others who were not able to match up to her. She had a morgue in her own home and always called 'first dibs' for whatever unfortunate dead bodies that happened to have caught her interest. She worked closely with both the royal guards and the people's militia on murders and unexplained deaths and proposed many questionable medical techniques every year at the Doctor Guild's Convention hosted in Evadne that did not always sound morally acceptable.

And if she did not get her way, she would whine, grumble, sulk, and pout until her nurses, coworkers, or even the king gave in. The only people who did not 'spoil' her was her husband, the Queen, and her son, the Crown Prince.

With a wry smile, Xander pointed out, "We're not your assistants or nurses, doctor. Both of us have never been sick before nor have we ever attended to a sick patient. Therefore, there is a limit to what we can tell you." There was a couple of minutes of silence afterward, Edward looking in between the two with an unsure expression, before Dr. Ainsley huffed broodingly.

"From what I can discern from the information that I have now, the fact that Young Thomas' fever is getting worse despite traditional antibacterial medication means his body is losing the battle. The fault can either be due to his immune system or the infection is spreading through the bloodstream. Neither have a good prognosis."

Edward felt his stomach dropped. While he understood that Thomas was sick, it didn't really hit him how ill his little brother actually was. No one in his family was ever sick before and even his friends rarely even caught a cold. He also had no interest in the medical field other than how to implement healthcare policies throughout the country. He knew the basics but now, the basics didn't feel enough.

"... If that was the case, can you treat him?"

"Can I treat him?" Dr. Ainsley scoffed dramatically, a wizened hand on her chest. "Can I treat him?! Give me five seconds with the young master, and some liquor to go with it, and I'll give you the most accurate diagnosis those quacks you called doctors can only dream of making."

"No alcohol," Xander deadpanned, ignoring how the elder woman had puffed her cheeks. "Does the treatment involve: A. cutting him open, or B. practices not approved by the health board."

Dr. Ainsley snorted. "I don't need those old cougars' permission to treat my patients."

Xander tactfully did not point out how she was older than the majority of those 'old cougars' and reminded her, "The board is there to ensure safe practices for both the doctors and the patients. And you're a member of the board, Dr. Ainsley."

"What?" she blurted, blinking in confusion as her eyebrows furrowed together. "I don't remember joining their merry band of merrymen."

"There was a ceremony when you had accepted the position." The red-haired teen restrained from dropping his face into the palms of his hands. "You said it was because you wanted to 'show up that douche of a physician, Oxford,' and then proceed to drink the Duke of Westington under the table."

Dr. Ainsley cackled. "Oh right! I had to save that kid, Gregory, from alcohol poisoning at that time."

"Yes, and Duke Westington was very grateful for your help," even though she was the reason why he had alcohol poisoning in the first place, which was left unsaid. "Regardless, I ask you to refrain from using anything questionable on Young Thomas."

There was a brief moment of silence in the carriage before Dr. Ainsley reluctantly conceded, "We'll just put him on heavy antibiotics first— and I'll just need a vial of blood from him—"

"Whatever do you need my brother's blood for?" Edward questioned warily. Though he doubted the doctor would try to mess with blood magic, considering that anything of the sort would be against the law with a life sentence, it would normally be strange and suspicious if someone were to ask you for your blood. Decades back, merchants and other people did business with blood contracts to ensure the other's loyalty to their agreements. This was also during the time when slaves were legal as well, so the system was now considered archaic— though there was no telling what people still do in the dark.

Nonetheless, the chants and spells to perform blood magic were either locked up or forgotten. Proof of blood magic being used could also easily be found on one's skin and makeup could not cover the tattoo, so the matter was difficult to hide. Therefore, Dr. Ainsley probably wouldn't do such an obvious thing.

Probably.

"To check red and white cell count. Also to test for anything else circulating in his system that should or should not be there in certain quantities," Dr. Ainsley replied snidely as if it was an obvious thing. "Depending on the results of the investigation, we can personalize your brother's treatment and get him specialized drugs for his situation."

"...I see." Despite the other's mocking tone, all he felt was a relief. While Thomas' condition was worse than he thought, at least it was manageable, and maybe even curable.

"So, about my whiskey—"

Xander nearly groaned, his cheeks heating up as he ignored his Edward's side glances. He could feel the disbelief in his best friend's gazes. "I'll drop you off at your favorite tavern once we're finished. In the meantime, please maintain your professionalism—"

"Sir, someone from the estate is trying to contact you through the emergency CoM."

Amir Al-Amin's interruption startled them from their conversation and every one of them turned around to the open window on the front of the carriage. In the other's white-gloved hand, shown through the opening, was a small hand mirror-like object, riddled with carved runes around the intricate, metal frame. A faint twinkling sound could be heard from the object and there was a couple of engravings that were lit up. The symbol displaying a purple glow was one that Edward recognize for the ECoM (emergency 'communication of mirrors') in the manor and other than his family, there were only certain servants that could use it. The ECoM had to recognize the magic signature of the user in order for its functions to be accessed. Otherwise, it would appear as a typical hand-mirror with no special features.

Considering that it was someone that had called from the manor, Edward doubted it was one of his family members. It was too early for any of them to be back in the estate and each one of them had their own ECoM device (except Thomas, only due to his mother's excuse that they don't have enough money to hire a runemaster to make one for him). If it was really an emergency, then they wouldn't travel all the way to the staff's breakroom to use the general ECoM and use their own instead.

Unless they found themselves unable to use theirs... but the ECoMs were made from the best material and were difficult to break. Also, considering how rare and precious these ECoM devices were, only to Astria's highest authorities and their direct family would this kind of technology be available. It was absurd to think his mother, father, or sister would be careless enough to lose theirs. Not only would their father be infuriated, but the King would also probably take time out of his busy schedule to scold them for their carelessness. Most likely with the Queen making fun of them in the background.

It was rather embarrassing to think about and the King had a convincing 'I'm disappointed in you' face that made any noble want to crawl inside of themselves and die.

Either way, it was still rather concerning that someone was calling on a device that should only be used in an emergency and he couldn't help but hesitate when he saw the runes on the mirror blinking.

"Would Sir like for this servant to answer for him?" Mr. Al-Amin suggested and though he could not see the Zafarian's face, Edward had a faint feeling that his butler was somehow amused by his indecisiveness.

"...No, I will answer it," Edward said softly, ignoring the intense stares from the Crown Prince and the doctor. He took the hand-mirror from the butler and whispered a code phrase that only he and his closest butlers knew.

Instantly, the reflective surface faded away to the image of an older gentleman and Edward recognized the head butler, Henry Volkov, whose grandfatherly features were smoothed into a grim expression.

"Pardon me for interrupting your day, Young Master Edward, but by chance have you seen Young Master Thomas? Is he with you?"

Edward felt his stomach drop and he could faintly feel Xander moving closer against him as he struggled to find the words beneath the swirl of emotions. "He's not--" he choked up, the edges of the hand-mirror digging into his palm. "Thomas should be in his room."

The neutral line of Mr. Volkov's mouth dipped downwards, his eyebrows furrowing together, deepening his wrinkles. "He's not. The last to have seen him was you and Ms. Herring, but she had claimed that the young master was sleeping when she left."

"How long ago?" It was not the first time Thomas left his bed, but it usually wasn't long until someone found him. His little brother was clingy when he was sick and rarely would he be alone, either because the servants wouldn't leave him alone or because he would seek them out himself.

Mr. Volkov answered with a dark expression, "More than an hour."

That was too long for his little brother to be missing. Especially in a house full of servants who were more than willing to cater to his whims. Edward's expression started to match the older butler's. "When did you notice him missing?"

"Fifteen minutes ago." Which was enough for all the servants to scour for the youngest master's location. "It was when Ms. Baker came in for her shift."

When the woman didn't see her charge in his bed where he was supposed to, she feared the worst. After turning the room upside down, everyone found her distressed and panicked, running down the hall calling out for the young master, her face uncharacteristically expressive with worry.

"And the one before Ms. Baker's shift?"

"Mr. Hernandez." The elder butler's expression became even direr if possible. "He's missing as well."

If Edward wasn't aware how much the gardener adored his little brother, he would have been thinking dark thoughts about the older man. "Find him and Thomas. Expand the search around the estate and into the streets."

"Of course—" Henry was cut off by someone in the background, the voice too frantic and fast for Edward to catch anything they had said, but whatever they had told the butler caused the elder man's expression to turn ugly. "Pardon me, Young Master Edward, but something has come up. I will contact you back as soon as possible."

"Wait-- Mr. Volkov!" But the elderly man had already cut off the connection from the other side, leaving Edward even more frustrated and worried. Though he wanted to assume that nothing was wrong and that Thomas was just falling back to his old habit of falling asleep in unorthodox places, his gut was telling him differently. It was the same feeling he had on the day he found Thomas dreadfully ill and he knew better now than to ignore it.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Edward was startled out of his swirling thoughts as he turned his eyes towards his best friend. Xander stayed close, their sides pressing together, and the red-haired teen gave a soft and comforting smile.

"We'll find him, Edward. He can't have gone far," Xander reassured and though he wanted to argue, Edward had to agree with his friend's reasoning. Thomas's condition could only allow the child to go so far. At the very least, he should still be within the estate's barrier.

But his brother was too small and concerningly light. It would be all too easy for someone to carry him away without being seen, though it was rather early to think in such a way.

"Young Master Edward, what is our next course of action?" the blond-haired teen heard through the front window, recognizing the deep voice of Mr. Al-Amin.

He considered whether to call back the mansion's ECoM, maybe even call his father or his sister about the situation, but what could they do? His sister was visiting her friend on the other side of the Noble District and his father was back in the Royal Palace. They would have arrived at the estate too late to help control the situation.

"Our course does not change. Double our pace back to the estate," Edward decided, his voice firm and grim. Next to him, Xander made an uncharacteristic grimace while across from him, Dr. Ainsley was unusually quiet. His best friend's warmth was steady and calming, like rays of sunlight filtering through the mist, and it helped him keep his head straight on.

"Yes, young master," was all Mr. Al-Amin responded with before the horses picked up the pace and moved the carriage faster than a gallop.

Just as they entered into the Noble District, the scenery changing from the gray middle-class cobbler streets to the smoother brick roads arranged more comfortably for carriage rides, the ECoM twinkled and glowed once again. Edward scrambled to answer it, saying his code phrase as quickly as possible.

Instantly, a yell of Bayanish came through the mirror, surprising everyone on the carriage.

"—When I get those, those, those CABRÓN, Voy a empujar sus intestinos hasta el culo, elLOSU ESSSSTT-ARÁNN CAGANNN-DOOO SU ESPERRAMA POOR SEMAAANAASSS!"

"Oh my goddess, cállate el infierno, idiota! Eso ni siquiera tiene sentido!" Edward could hear Ms. Antonia hissing in the background. "El Sr. Henry está hablando con el Sir Edward!"

There were more scuffles and yells, with Sven's gentle voice being the calm in the middle of the storm, but Mr. Volkov's expression remained undeterred in the mirror. Though the situation was a little comical, the head butler's grim face was anything but funny.

"According to Mr. Hernandez's claims, Mr. Smith has taken Young Master Thomas. We had Mr. Dominic do a headcount of his personnel and found that Mr. Smith did not have a shift this afternoon. Nonetheless, three witnesses can attest that they saw him on the premises, including Mr. Hernandez, who has a head injury. Mr. Hernandez also has told us that Mr. Smith has made a deliberate attempt to kill him." Mr. Volkov's earthy brown eyes flashed a dark light and Edward saw a glimpse of the man who was once the General of 100,000 men in the Zafarian War. It was more reassuring than disconcerting though. "We have every right to believe that he has taken the young master outside of the estate barrier."

Immediately, Edward recalled Mason Smith's profile in his head.

Twenty-six years old. Hired nearly six weeks ago. A former officer in the Royal Guards, before being demoted into the People's Militia group. There was not a reason stated, but Mr. Smith was common-born and it was not unusual for commoners to transfer to a department more suited for interactions with the common people. They went willingly or asked for the transfer themselves.

Edward probably should have looked for a reason, especially since Mr. Smith had two pages of disciplinary reports, but this was also not uncommon among commoners that earned their way into the Royal Guards. They often have one or two pages of disciplinary reports. The vice-captain of the Braveheart unit (named by their obnoxiously optimistic captain) had several pages under his file and would flush in shame whenever his friends would tease him about it.

Still, it wasn't an excuse. Especially when the man was now the prime suspect of his little brother's disappearance.

With gritted teeth and a dark expression, Edward barked out, "I want someone to go to the Royal Barracks and the People's Militia's offices to get whatever information you can find on Smith. Also interrogate our guards on his behavior and his acquaintances-- I want to know who he has talked with, eat with, or even slept with. Those profiles better be on my desk by the time I enter the estate's gates." It's possible that he probably looked unsightly because Xander placed a hand on his upper back, and the warm pressure and support made him feel less like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. He took a deep breath, his jaw cracking softly when he loosened it, and continued conveying orders to the elder butler. "You have permission to use my authority as a Rosetta to have the officers of the People's Militia conduct a block-wide search for a thirteen-year-old boy possibly accompanied by a twenty-six-year-old man with brown hair and silver-ish eyes. Give them all the details and emphasize on Thomas' ill state."

"Smith will not be allowed to leave the city, much less the district," Xander promised next to his side, his eyes darkening into a deeper red. "Please make use of the Royal Guards as well. As soon as we reach the manor, I will let one of the servants take my crest to show to the captain. My parents will not condone Young Thomas being threatened or taken hostage by this ruffian."

"...Thank you," was the only thing that Edward could say to that, the gratefulness almost crippling his heart. Though Xander was his best friend, he was also the Crown Prince and no matter how much the Windsor's favored the Rosetta's, they couldn't use their power irresponsibly. The Royal Guards made an oath to focus on the Royal Family's safety during their service and by law, the only individuals that were allowed to order them were the members of the Royal Family or those given the Royal Crest. And the only people with a Royal Crest was the Royal Family and those who had done great services to the country and the Royal Family. Dr. Ainsley was an example of a person with a Royal Crest though she would rather give up her 300-year-old dwarven-brewed whiskey than to advertise it.

Either way, Edward, and the Rosetta's in general, had no power or authority to ask for the Royal Guard's help.

"No need for that. You would have done the same thing for me if our positions were switched," Xander told him softly, a wry smile on his face, and Edward felt a bit overwhelmed by the other's generosity.

Nobility was a cut-throat world where you couldn't even trust or rely on your relatives, but Xander had always been a bright and reliable constant.

With his nerves shaken and the blood rushing to his ears, he adopted a blank-faced expression, trying to look calmer and more in control of the situation than he actually was. He could feel the numbing needle-like feeling of his magic coursing through his body, wanting to lash out at the nearest thing, but Xander's own warm fire magic kept him from turning the inside of a carriage into an icebox.

"Wait for us at the manor," he instructed, his heart full and heavy. "We'll relay more orders once we arrive."

By the time Edward had given his dismissal, the other side was quiet, probably due to Conrad's absence. The eldest Rosetta could see some maids and butlers behind Mr. Volkov, their bodies vibrating with nervous energy. They were probably waiting for the head butler's directive, anxious to do something that would help them find the young master. "Understood. We'll await your arrival."

The screen turned reflective once again, ending their conversation, but Edward was not willing to let go of the ECoM. The intricate edges of the artifact continued to dig into the flesh of his palm and he held the device close to his body.

Edward was realistic and he knew it was unlikely that they would find Smith and his brother within the vicinity of estate, but some part of him, probably the tiniest part that his best friend planted and sowed during the years they had known each other, wanted to hope that Smith would be caught within the hour and that his brother would be found unharmed. But there was something strange about the situation.

After a brief time with the People's Militia, Smith had quit and turned to mercenary work instead, which -depending on the job- had a better paycheck than a Royal Officer or Knight. Accordingly, a deeper background check was performed, but this was not an unusual routine-- they had hired former-mercenaries as their personal guards before and along with the background check, a letter of recommendation from any accredited employer had to be written and sent to the head of the household for approval. And Smith was recommended by a close ally of his, the son of Duke Stuart. He would have to contact him later and ask the young nobleman whether he knew Smith's previous employers as well.

Either way, Smith had a lot of military and battle experience. He would know better than to leave living, breathing evidence if the fact that he had assaulted Mr. Hernandez was true... unless something went wrong in the middle of whatever he had planned that involved leaving the gardener incapacitated.

He wasn't given the details of Mr. Volkov's findings, which he would acquire once he had arrived at the manor, but understood Mr. Hernandez's personality well enough to guess some things.

Thomas' bedside schedule was only known to several choice servants and himself. More likely than not, Smith was unaware that Mr. Hernandez was expected to be with his little brother by the time he had assaulted the Bayanian. And knowing the child, if he was left by himself long enough, he would seek out the person he wanted to see the most.

Smith probably never had any intention of taking Thomas in the first place-- the youngest master was usually guarded heavily and not without one or two people staying next to his side. Normally, it would be nigh impossible to conduct a kidnapping scheme when his little brother was rarely alone. It was probably because he knew that people would be looking for the child that he left the estate immediately without finishing off Mr. Hernandez. In conclusion, his brother was taken for insurance and little else. If he stayed in his room and didn't go out looking for Mr. Hernandez, the child wouldn't be in danger in the first place.

Amongst the aristocrats, Thomas held no value to the Rosetta's and this was not a secret to anyone that was acquainted with the members of the Rosetta Family. Edward didn't even know whether his father would pay for his youngest's ransom if a ransom note ever came through to them. His mother would probably hide or burn it before it could be brought out to the light of day. But while Thomas was not welcomed as a Rosetta, he still was his little brother.

His small, air-headed, defenseless little brother, who wasn't even half of his height and would reach out on the tips of his toes whenever he wanted to be carried or hugged. His lazy little brother that always wanted to sleep, who would lean his whole body weight against him as he trustingly dropped into unconsciousness. The little brother he finally reconciled with after years of nasty attitudes and backhanded schemes, who also liked books, kind people, and long, silent, peaceful moments within each other's company.

It was almost ironic that just as he was given a brother, the Goddess saw fit to take him away.

"Edward," Xander's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "We'll find him."

Edward looked away from the rune device and peered up at his friend's resolute expression. His crimson eyes burned brightly, his face taut with determination and the blond teen was a little mortified by the sudden urge to cling onto his best friend. Nonetheless, he loosened his grip on the mirror before it could pierce his skin and slumped.

It was like they were seven-year-olds again when his parents had changed in a way he hadn't understood. At seven-years-old, all pretense of rank and position was non-existent and he remembered visiting the Prince to 'remind his Father of his worth in comparison to the bastard'-- so his mother had told him. He was terribly confused and it hurt how his mother had implied that his father would no longer love him anymore because of his new brother, so as soon as he and Xander were dismissed by their parents, he hid inside of his friend's wardrobe. Soon after, his best friend dragged the comforter from his bed and joined him.

He remembered sharing that small, dark space, their legs intertwined, and if Xander had sat across from him rather than next to him, there would have been more room, but he didn't move and Edward didn't complain. Instead, in that dim, shadowy place, he curled himself against his friend until he was almost practically on top of the other.

It had always been an embarrassing memory for Edward, one that he would never reminisce out loud, but he had always held it dearly in his mind.

But he was not that seven-year-old child anymore and he was beyond that helplessness, even if some part of him wanted to burrow in his best friend's comforting presence.

He released a small sigh, his nerves strained as he tried to center himself into the moment, listening to the clopping of hooves and the crunch of gravel beneath the carriage. "...I'm afraid I would have to trouble you, your highness. Please allow my family to borrow your resources until we have our youngest back."

"It's no trouble at all!" Xander insisted, furrowing his eyebrows together. "I do not want to see Young Thomas hurt on top of being sick! Please rest your worries, my friend. I will make sure to send my best men to aid Young Thomas!"

Xander's word was better than the majority of peoples and Edward had no reason to doubt it. He relaxed, but only slightly. His friend's participation and Thomas' position as a hostage, which meant his little brother would be kept alive for the foreseeable future, made him feel less panicked and more in control of his feelings. Turning around slightly towards the front of the carriage, he called out, "Mr. Al-Amin, how long until we reach the estate?"

"At the pace we're going, it's another fifteen to twenty minutes, young master," the Zafarian called out steadily, calm and undisturbed for someone who Edward thought seemed fond and close to his little brother. Then again, while his brother was fairly attached to the dark-skinned butler, the affection didn't necessarily seem reciprocated by the dark-skinned butler. Of course, Mr. Al-Amin was more... gentle with Thomas and he seemed amused by the child, but it was nothing like the adoration all the servants seemed to hold for his little brother.

Regardless of his butler's attitude towards Thomas, there were plenty of people frantically looking for the youngest master of the Rosetta Family, and though Mr. Al-Amin was extraordinarily talented in finding his little brother during nap times, he doubted that skill would be practical in this scenario. The Zafarian would be more useful helping him screen information for Mason Smith and his possible acquaintances.

"Mr. Chester, can the horses move faster?" Fifteen minutes was too long considering the time constraints they were under. At the very least, Mr. Volkov was competent enough to create a perimeter of search and coordinate with both the guards and the servants to ensure Thomas' safety, but Edward hated not being there to help.

"My apologies, Young Master Edward, but they're already running at their top speed." Mr. Chester did sound regretful. After all, before Thomas became bedridden, Mr. Chester had driven them together to the academy and he was aware of how close the two brothers were.

"... Does this mean I'm not going to get my whiskey?"

The comment from the doctor reminded Edward of his guest while Xander sputtered in bafflement.

"Dr. Ainsley!" The Prince sounded appalled by the woman's insensitivity. "Is this really a time to ask such a thing?"

"Don't get your royal panties in a twist. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

"By suggesting alcohol?!"

"Come on, don't you think this is a great time to hit the bottle?"

Edward was in between faint amusement and exasperation, while Xander had a pained expression on his face. The Prince turned towards his best friend earnestly; "I swear she is a professional," he assured sincerely. "She is the best in the guild."

"The best?" she scoffed. "Considering all the loons that called themselves 'doctors,' I'm your only hope, that's what."

This time, Xander did give in to the urge to hide his face into his hands and felt justified in doing so. He should have taken her 'unofficial' official apprentice instead-- at least Young Sam would know how to read the atmosphere.

"Young Master Edward, there was an unmarked carriage that passed us at the intersection." Mr. Al-Amin's voice suddenly seemed loud in the carriage despite being outside, and the air seemed to freeze as Edward comprehended the butler's word.

An unmarked carriage? Of course, that would be a perfectly inconspicuous type of vehicle to use as a getaway. No one would blink an eye if anyone saw a carriage going through and out of the district, but while it was suspicious, there wasn't enough evidence to assume that his brother and Smith were in the carriage itself. After all, they were traveling in an unmarked carriage as well and it was not unheard of for some aristocrats to want some anonymity as they traveled through or even outside of the city.

But Amir was not the type to inform him of random things and his comprehension of his servant's personality was proven to be correct when the Zafarian then added, "Though it was only briefly, this servant believes to have seen Smith sitting within the carriage through the window."

Edward felt his heart sped up, several thoughts flashing through his mind faster than he comprehended them. He nearly stood up from his seat, the only thing keeping him on his feet was Xander's hand settled on his back. "Did they notice us?!" he hissed as if he was afraid he would be heard from the other party, wherever their carriage was, but then quickly realized how ridiculous he was being.

"No, young master. It seems they haven't noticed our presence," Mr. Al-Amin answered in a contrastingly tranquil manner, his voice low and unhurried.

Shoving the ECoM in his pocket, Edward flexed his stiff fingers and made no acknowledgment when his best friend dropped his hand from his back. "Follow the carriage from a distance. Be careful not to alert them."

"Understood, Young Master Edward." Almost immediately, the carriage slowed down and Edward felt the lean of the carriage as it was strongly turned around, unbothered by how Xander was pressed forcefully against him as they made a u-turn.

After they righted themselves, they took another turn down the street where the other unmarked carriage was traveling through and set a slow but steady pace behind the suspicious vehicle. Without care for decorum or his appearances, Edward went on his knees on top of his seat and peeked out from the front carriage window and Xander did the same thing from the other side. There was a clear space between Mr. Al-Amin and Mr. Chester to see the back of the other carriage, which had a man who obviously wasn't a footman with his leather-armor attire and a large trunk in the back, and Edward noticed a few things that caused him to narrow his ice-cold eyes.

The carriage was extravagant with its fancy metalwork and gold trimmings. Of course, this was what you would expect for a typical aristocratic carriage even if it didn't hold a noble's crest or any other identification, but someone with Smith's background and paycheck shouldn't be able to afford such a luxurious craft.

When Smith's carriage made a left turn at the next intersection, moving closer towards the middle-class district, Edward then saw their horses and his eyes widened.

"Gullfaxi," Xander murmured, recognizing the horse breed solely by their pure golden mane which almost practically glowed in the sun. Though not the strongest of breeds and not always suitable for long rides, they were the flashiest and definitely a favorite for the less-subtle kinds of nobles. Their manes distinctively and uniquely always gave off a kind of light that could daze a viewer and some zoologist claimed the strands contained a special type of magic.

Either way, there was a comprehensive list of people who owned Gullfaxi horses and all of them were housed by certain noble families. There were only fourteen of these horses in Astria and at least nine of them were inside the city of Evadne.

At first, Edward considered the possibility that Smith and his companions had stolen the carriage, but by no means would they be able to steal a Gullfaxi horse. They were originally wild horses from Kaltesblut and very difficult to train. They would barely listen to their trainer and master, much less any random stranger that decided to take them out.

This implied that whatever Smith had done or had planned on doing, it was under the influence of a third party with deep pockets. The realization made everything much more complicated because more than likely, another aristocrat was involved.

At the very least, since Duke Stuart and his family found Gullfaxi horses to be too gaudy to own, the one who had recommended Smith wouldn't be incriminated with his felonious deeds.

Regardless, they were heading out of the Noble District, so it seemed that Smith wouldn't be making a visit to his contractor. Assuming that they had his brother held hostage, they would probably drop him off somewhere to keep him hidden before figuring out their next move. During that time frame, they would be able to save Thomas before anything worse could happen to him.

But as Smith's carriage turned the corner, Edward saw the curtain-covered windows and for whatever reason, a man in the coach pulled the dark-red fabric to take a brief look outside. Obviously, the person saw their carriage, since they were the only one on the road at this time of the day, but once the man did, he immediately released the curtain and suddenly, the carriage sped up as if it was on fire.

Edward was baffled by the quick response for a second before he reacted. "Pursue them! Don't let them out of our sight!"

Mr. Chester didn't need to be told twice. With a whip of the reins and a loud 'ha!' from the coachman, their horses raced forward under the driver's control and followed the other carriage around the corner. The passengers would have been a pile of messy limbs in the back if they weren't holding onto something, but no one complained (other than Dr. Ainsley who might have made a snarky remark under her breath).

"How did they figure out they were being followed? Or that we were following them?" Xander couldn't help but wonder out loud, his voice barely above the sound of rioting hooves. Their carriage was unmarked as well. There was no reason for Smith and his crew to suspect them unless they were just plain paranoid.

"...I believe that was this servant's fault," Mr. Al-Amin surprisingly admitted with a wry tone and after a second of contemplation, Edward nearly facepalmed out of embarrassment.

Mr. Al-Amin, being dark-skinned and a Zafarian, stuck out like a black dot among white paper and after the war, there were not many aristocratic families that were willing to hire a Zafarian even as a simple stablehand. Mr. Al-Amin was even more noticeable due to his handsome features, which he wasn't exactly hiding even with his long coat and top hat. If Smith, or anyone else distantly involved with aristocratic society, saw a well-dressed Zafarian in a butler uniform, they would probably assume that he was under the Rosettas' employment.

"Sir, they're heading into the middle-class area towards Ceres Market Street," Mr. Chester informed them, gripping the reins as the road curved ahead sharply.

Losing all pretense, Edward moved to stick his head out of the window instead of looking between his butler and his coachman. Up ahead, he could see the opened, large metal gates that would separate the aristocratic district from the middle-class. The gold and silver framework was distinctive even in the distance.

Unsurprisingly, there were a few Royal Knights assigned to the area and probably some People's Militia's (PM's) Officers in a joint patrol and Edward could hear them yelling to slow their carriage down, but of course, Smith's group nearly ran one poor man down as they passed the gates.

Xander stuck himself out from the opposite window and displayed his crest, the crowned, red-maned lion surrounded by all four common elements of magic was fierce and intimidating in the sunlight. "Under the decree of the Crown Prince, let us pass and then have every able man pursue the unmarked carriage with Gullfaxi horses!" the red-haired teen's voice was transmitted clearly to the knights and officers and unlike how they treated the other carriage, the guards backed away as they passed and then scrambled to follow their Prince's instruction.

Once they headed back into the middle-class district, the streets started to become narrower and there were more pedestrians obstructing their path.

The carriage ahead didn't seem bothered by how many people they hit along the way and Xander made a sound of distress after witnessing a little girl nearly being stepped on by one of the Gullfaxi.

They could not continue traveling this way or many more people would end up getting hurt. Unlike them, Mr. Chester was being extra careful going down the street, slowing them significantly.

Frustrated, Edward barked, "Al-Amin! Intercept them and stop that carriage! Don't let them escape!"

There was a slight smirk that the teen couldn't see on his butler's face, but the other's confident posture as he took off his hat and slid his coat with an exaggerated flare was reassuring. "As you wish, young master." Amir collapsed his hat and draped his coat over his seat nearly, leaving himself only in his vest and his dress shirt. Unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie, he began murmuring under his breath and allowed his magic to wrap around his body like a second skin, his clothes and hair suddenly fluttering as if gravity didn't exist.

Edward wasn't surprised when Mr. Al-Amin jumped, he stayed in the air rather than bowing to gravity, his control over his wind magic unparalleled to even some of his peers who were trained for this type of flexibility since they could walk. Though he was tested as a third-tier magician, his finesse with magic was comparable to a second-tier.

Skillfully avoiding the people and all the other obstacles along the way, Mr. Al-Amin stayed in the air and leaping further than their carriage could reach. He used the awnings, the rooftops, and sometimes even the side of the buildings to help him push forward and soon, one of Smith's men saw him from the back of the carriage and scrambled onto the top of the coach.

His features were mostly hidden under a cap, though it wasn't enough to shadow his sharp cheeks, and when their eyes connected briefly as the Zafarian took to the sky, the dark-skinned butler could see his unsubtle panic. Obviously, things hadn't been going according to plan and they were scrambling to figure out how to get out of the shit they were in. Like a predator who smelled their prey's fear, there was no way Amir wouldn't take the opportunity to bite while they were still flustered.

The Zafarian dived in with a gleam in his eyes, but it seemed just like Smith, his companions were not ordinary kidnappers. Out of hysteria, he screamed out a chant that made his arms burst out with fire. Amir narrowed his dark eyes as he felt the slap of heat and didn't so much as dodged when a stream of flames charged towards him.

It was easy for him to redirect and extinguish the inferno, but the cap-wearing man was careless and his magic several times more out of control. The more he built his flames, the further it flared outwards until it caught the plants of a passing flower shop. The wooden stands and the ropes which carried the hanging flowers also went aflame, devastatingly adding to the embers and smoke, and the shopkeepers were not able to do anything before everything spilled on the streets.

The horses from Edward and the Prince's carriage were spooked from the heat and light and stopped despite Mr. Chester's direction. With Young Master Edward's magic, it shouldn't be long until the fire from the flower shop was put out, but Amir had no choice but to leave them behind in order to pursue Smith and his men.

While literally breezing through the fire magician's attempt to push him back, Amir softly mouthed a spell, causing the air to spin rapidly until a cyclone appeared in the palm of his gloved hand. Though its size was small, the force was great, violently stirring the dust and gravel even from a distance and the Zafarian easily started to condense it into a spherical shape.

The man yelled something at him through the noisy wind, probably panicked by the seemingly destructive magnitude of the spell, but Amir either couldn't hear or didn't listen because with an amused and condescending expression, he released the contained typhoon towards his opponent.

The flames surrounding the man grew larger and he scrambled backward as to avoid getting hit by the condensed magic, but the spell didn't need any physical contact. With a whisper from Amir's dark, smirking lips, it burst, sending dust and gravel flying up into the air like a brown fog and whipping the flames into extinction. There wasn't even a smoky trace, and with the fire-magician's close proximity to the epicenter of the torrent, he should have been lifted off of the moving carriage, but when the air cleared, the figure of the man was replaced with a conspicuous metal-looking orb.

With a huff, he took the chance to land on top of the carriage. At the same time, a familiar man jumped up on the roof as well, his silver eyes gleaming indiscreetly in the sunlight with a slight perk of his full lips.

"Such powerful magic," Mason Smith complimented as he coaxed the metal half-sphere around his colleague to melt and blend back onto the carriage. His useless coworker had, unfortunately, exhausted his magic core and could only cling to one of the coach's decorative structures so as not to get thrown off while they were on the run. It almost made the ex-guardsman want to sigh-- this was why he worked best alone, but of course, his bitchy employer decided he needed to share his paycheck with a couple of other idiots. "Are you not worried that your young master will get hit by it?"

He said the title 'young master' in a mocking fashion and Amir tilted his head in a smug matter, his magic singing along with the screeching winds. "It's quite bold of you to assume that I am not capable enough to prevent any harm done to the little one," he sneered as he delicately and casually took his white gloves off by the tips of his fingers.

Mason sneered back, the carriage creaking in response to his irritability. "You were so submissive under that bossy blond brat. Who knew you could be so damn smug?"

The Zafarian only responded with a perfunctory smile and for a second, Mason could have sworn he saw some gold flecks reflected in the other's dark, abyss-like eyes, but the air seemed to become thinner and the winds more vicious and the silver-eyed mercenary knew that if he didn't intervene, he and his useless colleagues would be battered under the other's savage magic.

With a grimace, Mason unsheathed the sword hanging on his hips, the metal visibly thinning and bending to become more flexible, closer to a whip than a long blade. "Al-Amin, don't think about doing anything or even murmuring a single word," the ex-guardsman threatened freely and with a small flick of his wrist, the surface in front of the butler became a deep crevasse, effectively causing Amir to pause. "I coated this carriage with as much metal as I could control-- and let me tell you, it's not a little." The creaking grew louder than the roaring winds as if agreeing to its master and the metal on the carriage began to ripple.

With a deadly, sharp light, Mason looked up and down at his opponent, bearing his teeth in a way that looked less like a grin and more like a snarl. "I don't hate you, but I don't like you either. No hard feelings, but I'm just doing my job. Not my fault you don't have your pride as a man and decided to play pretend with some brats--"

"Are you going to keep babbling as if I care to listen or will you tell me where Young Master Thomas is?"

The mercenary's expression soured, scoffing at the other's easy-going remark. "Still think you can get the lazy bastard child back? I can control every inch of this carriage and it's all too easy for me to pierce the brat's heart."

Amir was unperturbed though, tucking his gloves in the back of his pants pocket. With a graceful curve of his lips, the Zafarian's features seemed to glow as he said, "It seems that unless you are not touching or in close proximity to the metal, you won't be able to do anything to it."

It took a moment for Mason to comprehend the other's word before his entire body stiffened. It was not an obvious weakness, especially since he was very flexible over his element, but it was something he wouldn't want just anyone to figure out. Fortunately, the information was only useful if the enemy had planned ahead of time and took advantage to strip every type of metal in the area. Even though the butler was right, what could he do about it? His wind magic might be comparable to those in the Royal Guards, but it didn't have the power to rid the metal off of this carriage.

But Mason couldn't relax. His obvious upper hand didn't faze the other's sickeningly pleasant expression. He stared at the Zafarian with wary silver eyes and watched intensely as his opponent mouthed one word. He couldn't hear what was being said, the wind much too loud for anything less than a yell to be heard, but the carriage suddenly lurched downwards, causing him to stumble onto his knees. Startled, his eyes hadn't left the other's serene face and immediately noticed how the butler seemed to be moving farther from his sight.

Mason looked down despite himself and froze when he saw the carriage had separated into two.

As soon as they were a good distance apart, Amir began to murmur and his side of the carriage slowed down significantly, his magic keeping the back-half of the vehicle upright.

For the other side, they tethered back and forth on one wheel, the driver and the fire-magician screaming while Mason was quiet and still. Suddenly, he laughed both maddeningly and joyously at the same time.

The mercenary barked a chant and what was left of the metal he could control dug itself into the ground still attached to the front half of the carriage. The bright, blond horses were forcefully stopped and they whined at the suddenness of it, but they were already passed the limit of their stamina— it would have been quite horrendous for their owners and trainers to see their mane tousled and their usually sharp pure-blue eyes heavy with exhaustion, but their passengers didn't care.

The fire-magician was still dealing with the aftermath of depleting his magic and could not move from where he laid on the carriage. The driver, who seemed battle-inept, fell out of the driver seat as soon as the carriage stopped. He was a meaty man with a large belly and his legs couldn't support his weight as he tried to scramble away.

Mason didn't care much for his companion's state of mind or health and watched hungrily as that man, who he thought was a mere spineless, bootlicking slave to those arrogant, spoiled brats, stop at a distance without a wrinkle or a hair out of place. The Zafarian descended from the carriage like one of Ariadne's deities, his poise and posture so perfect, it was as if he was taking a stroll through a beautiful, manicured garden.

The ex-guardsman, on the other hand, dropped himself harshly on the cobbled streets, though not any less graceful than the other man. There was a tinge of excitement in Mason's expression and the energy in his body flared. "I don't understand," was the baffled comment he made, though he didn't seem particularly put out. "Why are you lowering yourself to those coglione?" It was not a simple feat to cut a carriage in half. Wind magic was not known to be deadly. It was not innately destructive like fire or physically damaging like earth. Even high-level wind magic couldn't do much to a person other than giving them a breezy slap, but at the Zafarian's level... it was possible for him to decapitate a man if he wanted to. "You could have taken over the Prime Minister's seat-- no. You could have taken over Evadne instead!"

"It would be quite foolish to underestimate the Queen of Astria," Amir quipped nonchalantly and goosebumps rose on Mason's skin when the atmosphere abruptly became heavier, making it hard for anyone to breathe. There was a moment of calm, where the air stilled as if nature had decided to pause before it picked up wildly towards the butler's direction. The wind swirled around the Zafarian, creating a much larger cyclone that could be seen above the buildings, but it never touched the dark-skinned man in the eye of the storm. "Even in my country, she was known to be quite the monster."

Mason barked a laugh, unable to disagree with the other's statement. There were many monsters in this world and Queen Marie of Ariadne, the 'Brimstone Dragon', was one of them. And though he wasn't entirely certain, the silver-eyed mercenary had a feeling that he just happened to have met another monster hidden beneath a butler uniform and a submissive persona.

A wash of giddiness through his body caused the metal from the carriage to groan in response, his eyes dilating in response. "Why lower yourself like this? I know a place and some people who would appreciate a man with such talent," he offered with a flourish of his hand, dislodging some of the metal from the carriage.

As the two juggernauts were about to face off, the portly man in the background finally found his legs and ran to the nearest alleyway to avoid the power struggle. He was sweating in beads and didn't care for his so-called colleagues; one was dead weight while the other didn't bother to run away. Instead, that crazy lunatic decided to provoke the man who could slice through an entire carriage with a single spell!

But along with the heaviness, the air suddenly turned nerve-prickling cold as he scrambled down an alley and the last thing he saw was bright, ice-blue eyes, filled with a devastating fury that chilled him from his marrow to his soul.

Mason immediately noticed the change in temperature and clicked his tongue when tendrils of ice started to crawl briskly from the nearby alleyway. Amir's pleasant expression hadn't changed from before, but the smugness had dulled into something more compliant and yielding.

"I'm afraid my employer will be quite unhappy with me if I accept your offer," the butler stated with an obnoxiously mild tone, the screaming winds softening closer to a whisper. "I believe we are done here since Young Master Edward's element is very incompatible with yours."

The mercenary bore a nasty grin, unthreatened by the cold, hostile air making its way through the tundra it created and snorted regretfully. What he was regretful for, it was hard to say. "Yeah, I have the shittest luck being assigned to kidnap a brat that my magic won't work against." In that instant, something dropped from his pocket and before the Zafarian could react, a slim vial broke against the pavement and released a dark, hazy smoke that engulfed the area. Even though Amir had reacted immediately and blew the smog away to find Mason, the man had already disappeared, leaving behind what was left of the carriage and his two companions.

Since the fire-magician was still incapacitated, save for his mouth which was spewing very crude curses at the escapee, and the portly man who was obviously secured, Amir turned his attention towards something else.

The carriage behind him was still supported on its two wheels by his magic, the wind keeping it balanced unless he directed otherwise. With an unnerving calmness, he walked around towards the back where the luggage was being kept and turned his attention towards the inconspicuous chest held innocently in between the brackets. There wasn't a lock, but the two latches squeaked in protest when he flipped them up.

Once he opened the trunk, a subtle but sweltering heat hit the butler's face gently and from within, he saw a familiar child still in his sleeping gown, unconscious and obviously unwell. The chest was only big enough for him to curl into and the little one was probably on the verge of suffocating judging by his panting breaths. His round face was flushed and shiny with sweat, and when Amir reached down to brush a hand against the young master's forehead, his dark eyes narrowed when he noticed the high temperature.

As he had done many times in the past few months, the butler slid a hand underneath the child's thin neck and then another one under his knees. Young Master Thomas expectedly weighed very little and it was much too easy for the Zafarian to cradle the little one against his chest. Once he had taken his target from the trunk and moved them to a safe distance, his magic left the carriage and allowed the back half of the vehicle to fall over.

The noise of the fallen half-carriage alerted the other young master, who was barking orders at the PM's officers that came with them, and he abandoned defrosting the suspect he had frozen to check the main scene.

Edward slid out of the alleyway, first checking for any immediate threats, and though he was surprised by the state of the carriage, his eyes focused on his butler, who had a small, sickly-looking child in his arms. His heart clenched at the sight of Thomas, who he had never seen so vulnerable as his little brother was right now, and nearly threw himself across the distance between him and the Zafarian.

He forcefully composed himself, because the flush on Thomas' face looked several times worse than it was a mere hours before, and getting him to a doctor would be more beneficial for his brother than his mother henning. He called for Xander to bring Dr. Ainsley, ignoring the woman's complaint about 'breaking her hips when she slips' and nearly ripped his coat off in the process.

Thomas' bare feet were caked with dirt and his white gown had turned brown with darker patches on several places. Sweat had made the sleepwear translucent and it clung to his skin, displaying yellows, browns, and purples from blossoming bruises. Edward would sooner stab someone's eyes with his ice magic than let anyone else see his brother like this.

"Give me Thomas." It wasn't a suggestion, but an order.

Edward didn't see the way his butler had tightened his grip, nor the strange way the shadows had shifted around them. He could only pay attention to the faint bruises on his brother's jaw and felt jagged pieces of ice forming beneath his feet.

The Zafarian gave his employer a cursory smile before giving the child to his brother. Immediately, Edward bundled Thomas into his coat, keeping his close inside of his arms, and at the moment, Xander came out of the alleyway followed by Dr. Ainsley. The Prince's fire element allowed him to create a path through Edward's rendition of Kaltesblut's frozen wasteland and once the red-haired teen saw the sleeping Young Thomas, he cried out in relief.

Immediately, Edward took the little one away to be fussed over by the doctor, unaware of the abyss-like eyes following his every move, which then turned towards the direction where Mason Smith had disappeared. The shadows rippled ominously where the mercenary was last seen before settling.

...--------...

"—When I get those, those, those CABRÓN, Voy a empujar sus intestinos hasta el culo, elLOSU ESSSSTT-ARÁNN CAGANNN-DOOO SU ESPERRAMA POOR SEMAAANAASSS!"

--Those bastards, I am going to shove their intestines up their ass, they will be shitting their sperm for weeks!! -- roughly

"Oh my goddess, cállate el infierno, idiota! Eso ni siquiera tiene sentido!" Edward could hear Ms. Antonia hissing in the background. "El Sr. Henry está hablando con el Sir Edward!"

--Shut the hell up, dumbass! That doesn't even make sense! Mr. Henry is talking to Sir Edward!"

Author's Note:

I'm so sorry. I actually meant to post this on Thursday, but, uh, this chapter got away from me >.>

Like, so many things that I had no plan on writing just... popped up? So... I was thinking this would be 15 pages long... but it ended up 25 pages long instead?

Also:



#IblameXander/Edwardfeels

#IalsoblameEditorchan

Anyway, I promise Editor-chan to finish up the next chapter of Having a Good-Looking Face is Troublesome so I will be focusing on that for a while. But chapter 16 for Lazy Life should be short-er. Well, definitely shorter than 25 pages, that's for sure >.>

Regardless, we will be going back to our usual fluff content. I'm bored of torturing you guys through angst and will be torturing you guys through fluff instead.

Congratulations, you made it past the climax!! *shoots confetti*