The next morning, stepping out to complete some local Courier postings, David found Sybil and Sammie, the Azure Guards assigned to their “protection detail”, waiting right outside the front door.

  The bunnykin took a step forward and stood at attention. “Sir! Guardswoman Sybil and guardsman Sammie reporting! We're officially assigned to your security, starting today!”

  David pursed his lips. “Right. That was today. Still no way to get out of this?”

  “Not without having the orders from HQ amended, sir!” She replied with a smirk.

  He stared some more, eventually running a hand through his hair and sighing. “I'll have to look into that, then... First rule, no Sirs or Madams. Call us David and Niala.”

  Sybil frowned. “But, Sir-”

  “David.” He cut her off.

  She squinted at him. “David.”

  He nodded. “Good. Second rule, stay back. Give us room to breathe. Especially for Niala, she...” His eyes widened as he trailed off, looking up at Sybil, who blinked back in puzzlement.

  “...never mind that about Niala. I'm guessing Sammie will be with me, and you, with Niala?” He asked.

  Sybil nodded. “When apart, yes, S- David. That was the plan.”

  He sighed. “Right, well, you can wait for her outside, I guess, unless you need to be in spitting distance at all times?”

  She shook her head. “We don't. Just need to escort you when you leave home.”

  “Small mercies.” He murmured, looking at both of them. Even though they kept up a professional front, they were clearly a bit put off by the cold reception.

  He let out a breath. “Don't take it personally, and sorry for being rude. We're private people, I'm sure you can understand.”

  Sammie snorted, Sybil flashing him a glare.

  David quirked a brow. “What's funny?”

  The corner of Sammie's mouth tugged upward, before he shook it off. “Sorry, it's just... private people don't go waving giant pitting swords while flying to your rescue, or arrive home riding a luxury air-yacht that would ruin smaller noble houses.”

  David narrowed his eyes at the man before scoffing and smirking. “Maybe we can get along despite you clinging to my ass all day. Sammie, right? Let's go.” David said, passing them by and walking toward the town proper.

  The guardsman winked at Sybil and turned around, following after his ward.

  She watched them leave with a blank face before turning to face the house, her own charge inside. She let out a puff of air, kicked at the ground, and went to find a spot to sit down from where she could watch over both doors.

  And then she waited.

  Sybil, helmet off, her long bunny ears unfurled and swaying as she hummed a tune, watched the shop's customers move in and out. Mostly adventurers, mixed with what looked to be the better-off villagers. Only a few of what she'd call “the common people” showed up.

  Considering the strength of those potions, and guessing the prices must have matched, the type of clientele made sense.

  And then, someone who didn't make sense. She stopped humming and stared at the newcomers.

  A short, rotund and balding man, followed by a lanky late teen who clearly did not want to be there. She recognized him as the town's other alchemist, from her reconnaissance through the locales over the past few days as she prepared for this assignment.

  She'd caught rumours that there had been bad blood between Niala and him, which put her on guard, but then, you didn't bring your teenage son along to commit a felony...

  Still, better safe than sorry. She put her helmet back on, aligning her ears with the grooves inside that would tuck them backward, and got up to her feet. She quickly marched to the duo, intercepting them ten paces away from the shop's front door.

  She held up a hand. “Hello, Sir. Could I ask what business you have with Panacea Potions?”

  The short man looked up at her and blinked, as if she'd just appeared in front of him. He frowned, glancing at the shop, and then back to her. “I... we came to talk with the proprietor, Niala,” Brenson said, his voice failing to be steady.

  Sybil kept her eyes on the man, who defiantly managed to stare back. She slowly nodded. “Would you mind waiting here, Sir? I'll go inquire if the proprietor wants to see you.”

  Uncertainty passed through the man's eyes. “I... ah, alright. My name is Brenson. Niala, she... she knows me.”

  Sybil bowed her head at the man and turned toward the shop, stepping in to find a... rat, on top of the front desk. Her steps halted as she blinked at it, scanning the rest of the room and finding nobody else.

  The rat, its nose twitching, lifted its head up, and squeaked words at her.

  “Hello! I am Papo! Welcome to Panacea Potions! You look like quite the warrior, miss! Would you be interested in our line of Adventurer-grade potions? Outstanding effects for outstanding individuals!”

  Sybil's mouth hung open for an instant. “I- no, I'm... Hi, Papo. I'm not here for a potion. I was wondering if the proprietor was around?” She said, trying not to feel silly talking back to a rat.

  Papo's whiskers twitched. “Miss Niala should be in her laboratory. If you do not mind waiting, Mistress Linzy should be back soon, we can ask her to inquire! While waiting, would you like to hear about our many available potions? We also stock a variety of weapon and armour oils, to protect your equipment from the environment, and give it that professional-looking gleam that makes men look twice!”

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  “What? No, I-...” Sybil looked left and right, leaning in. “What sort of gleam?”

  Papo the rat managed to make a smile that somehow felt both predatory and warm at the same time.

  Niala put the stopper on her latest potion, putting it away in the last spot of the nearby crate, and threw her arms up, arcing her back and stretching, letting out a light moan as she felt some of her tension leaving her muscles.

  She got up, bending to give Lychee, who'd raised its “head” at the movement, a few reassuring pats. The bumblemoss rumbled, something it had started doing only recently, and went back to “sleep”.

  The more potion leftover her pet absorbed, the more personality and intelligence it seemed to develop. It was also starting to change colour; from the greyish-pink it had started out, its extremities were turning a purplish-blue, the colours meeting in a gradient. She idly wondered if other bumblemosses would display the same colours, or if there would be variations, like with dogs and cats.

  She removed her protective equipment and picked up the crate, making her way to the storeroom. Storing it in the “To be sorted” shelf, she heard Papo's squeaky voice talking to what seemed to be a customer.

  Linzy had told her she had a short errand to run in town, and that she'd left Papo in charge, but even if they both fully trusted the rat's integrity, it was still physically limited, at least until they finished setting up an interface on the spare golem they had.

  She made her way to the front desk, finding Sybil inspecting a few armour oils while Papo detailed each one's merits. She noticed there were two bottles set to the side, picked from the front desk display.

  “Hello, Sybil.” She said.

  The bunnykin startled, nearly dropping the oil bottle she had in her hand as she snapped her head in Niala's direction. Eyes wide, she stared at her, glanced at the bottle in her hand, and displayed the tiniest of blushes as she set it back on the counter and stood to attention.

  “Hrrm, yes. Hello, Mi- Niala. Hello, Niala. I am Sybil, yes. Apologies to interrupt. There is a Mr. Brenson outside who wishes to talk to you.”

  The catkin's amiable expression melted into a scowl. “What does he want?” She asked, her tone about as pleasant as a face full of boiling water.

  Sybil blinked. “I... do not know. He came here with his son and said he wanted to talk to you. Do you want me to ask, or send him away?”

  Niala stared for a few seconds, turning to look at Brenson's general direction, her ears tucked backwards. After a few moments, they rose partway up, and she sighed, looking back at Sybil. “Can you ask him to go around the back, to the garden's side entrance? I'd rather avoid a scene in front of customers.” She said.

  The guardswoman nodded, hurried to fish a few coins out of her purse, threw them at Papo, palmed her new purchase and stepped out the front door.

  Niala looked down at the rat, giving it a sad smile. “You're getting better at making sales.”

  Papo scrunched its nose. “Thank you, boss. However, I am ashamed to say that Miss Sybil has overpaid. I will open an account in her name and register the extra five bits.”

  Her smile grew a bit wider. “I'm guessing Linzy's been trying to keep you from doing things like that?”

  Papo nodded. “Indeed, but it is not an equivalent exchange. I fail to understand Mistress Linzy's concept of thinking of it as an involuntary tip.”

  Niala walked by the rat, toward the back entrance, giving it a pat on the head as she did. “Good. Keep defending justice and fairness, Papo.”

  She stepped out the back door, finding Sybil, Brenson and his son waiting by the garden door. The small smile Papo had left on her face evaporated as she willed her expression neutral.

  She stopped a few paces away from the man, who was fidgeting with his hands. He gave her a look halfway between despair and resignation, but kept silent.

  She squinted. “What is it, Brenson?”

  Her words seemed to jostle him back to the present. He rubbed his balding head a few times, averting his gaze.

  “I... ah. I had a talk with my son, Emil. He... has something to say.” He said. After a few more moments of silence, he glanced back at his son, who had kept his eyes locked onto the ground and hadn't moved. Brenson grunted and gave him a light slap on the arm. “Go.” He hissed.

  The young man awkwardly took a few steps, glanced up and met her eyes for a microsecond before looking down at the grass once more. “I... I'm sorry.”

  His father hissed some more. “Sorry about what?! Go on!”

  “I'm... I'm sorry I lied.” Emil blurted out, retreating behind his father as soon as the last word had left his mouth.

  Brenson glared at his son before sighing and turning his head toward Niala. “There, it's done. He apologized. We had a long talk, and he confessed to the events. He's sorry he lied.”

  He put on a tentative smile. “I hope we can forget about all that non-sen-”

  “No,” Niala said.

  Brenson's smile disappeared, his mouth hanging open. He clamped his shut, frowning. “I'm sorry, but, what do you mean? My son lied, so we came to apologize. What more do you want?” His tone rising.

  Niala stared at him, waiting, maybe hoping, that he was going to find his way out of his ass.

  All he did was get visibly more upset as he stared back. She shook her head. “Brenson, it's good that you had a talk with your son, and that you found out the truth.” She looked at him straight in the eyes, with amethyst eyes intense enough to make him flinch. “But if you think that pitiful apology is enough, you have a few years of introspection to go through.”

  “Wha-What!? We came to apologize, and this is ho-”

  “YES! This is how I'll act!” Niala shouted. “Do you...urgh!” She pulled at her hair. “Do you have any idea how idiotic, unwelcome, betrayed, and alone you made me feel? You refused to listen to me! Once, twice, maybe three times? But I must have tried talking to you at least ten, if not twenty times! Then you drag my name through the dirt, you rob me of my money and belongings, and you throw me out on the street like trash!”

  She let her eyes meet the ground, raising her head just enough to look at Brenson again. “Worst part? You didn't even think about bringing back the alchemy tools you took from me. You didn't come here to apologize. You came here to try and keep me from soiling your name by telling the truth.”

  The flash of panic she saw in his eyes was all she needed to confirm she was right.

  Somehow, she'd kept hope that she'd been wrong. That, at the last minute, Brenson would show he had some basic decency. She chided herself for being the fool.

  She let out a long breath and shook her head, looking back at the reddening bald man. “You're lucky, Brenson. I'm not like you. I won't spread rumours, or try to discredit you, or anything like that. I'm just... I'm just going to ignore you. I won't talk about you to anyone, I won't ask anything of you. I'll just forget you exist.”

  He opened his mouth to retort, but she spoke again. “And, I suggest you do the same. Can we both agree on that, and never speak again?”

  Brenson's mouth opened and closed a few times, a few words dying on his lips. In the end, he glared at her with popped-out eyes before turning on the spot and stomping out the garden door, his son glancing up at her one last time before stepping after his father.

  She watched them go, Sybil closing the door on them and turning to face her, remaining neutral.

  Niala slumped, taking in a few breaths, before looking up at the bunnykin. “Sorry you had to see this.”

  Sybil smiled. “Not at all. He looked like a piece of pitfiend. That was actually entertaining.” She tilted her head. “Can I assume I can safely add him to the blacklist?”

  Niala blinked. “Ah... if that isn't some Guard-speak for hurting people, and just means people I don't want to deal with, then yes, please blacklist him.”

  Sybil's smile grew a bit. “Consider it done, Miss!”

  Niala squinted. “No Miss. Call me Niala.”

  The bunnykin froze her smile in place and nodded. “Consider it done, Niala!”

  The catkin gave a small smile of her own. “So, Sybil, right? I forgot today was the day you were starting your duty. Did you stand outside all day?”

  The guardswoman nodded. “I did. Didn't want to intrude and all. David was pretty adamant that we give you people space.”

  “Oh, don't worry about him. He barks a lot, but he's super friendly inside. I'm sure he'll be trading jokes with your friend Sammie before the day's over. Come on inside, I'll give you some fruit water.” Niala said, motioning for Sybil to follow her as she turned and went back in.

  “Fruit water?” The bunnykin asked, tilting her head, looking at the side gate before deciding that refusing her ward's hospitality had to be against her orders, somehow.