Teddy’s stomach had finally settled, the medicine doing its work.

Conrad must have been more desperate to escape this desert than Teddy realized, for, despite that previous man’s threat—something about Teddy and Monteguem being under protection—Conrad refused to leave their side.

Although, no longer did he carry an intimidating aura; instead, it was the same aura Teddy projected his ownself when he used to beg outside the marketplace.

Used to...it was only a few days ago. Feels like an eternity, though.

Teddy motioned to Deckson to pour another slug, despite wanting to keep his wits about him. When it arrived, he slid it to the slouching Conrad standing next to him. Conrad choked it down without a second thought.

“It’s poor taste over Gon Jon’s brew,” Conrad lamented, preferring to stick to suckling his flask.

“Won’t leave a man blind, though,” Teddy replied.

“Blindness might be a bounty of itself,” Conrad replied between swigs. “Perhaps I found a new goal.”

Teddy couldn’t retort. At that point, despite their tense history, he fully empathized with Conrad. That burly adventurer was just a few more flasks away from kicking junkies out of a shitty foxhole. A few more flasks from becoming Teddy himself, and he couldn't fault the adventurer for scrambling for any shreds of hope he could.

A few days ago, Teddy couldn't even bring his own self to do that much.

If he could afford it, he’d have offered Conrad a job right there and then, but alas, Monteguem was not a charity, nor did he have any concern with the adventurer. His employer sipped on his own tin of whiskey feigning nonchalance.

‘Feigning’ was the correct word.

Despite Monteguem’s casual attitude, Teddy was close enough to notice no liquid actually went down his employer’s throat. Monteguem was just putting on a show; might be it was even to calm his nerves.

Teddy pat him on the back, this time, it wasn’t for the illusion.

“It’ll all work out, boss,” he comforted in his most reassuring voice.

Monteguem worked a slight smile and spoke low. “What if…would you be disappointed if I did not actually want to catch the syndicate?”

Before Teddy could respond, Monteguem waved his hand around.

“Forget my mad musings,” he said. “It is simply nerves.”

Teddy nodded, but couldn’t help but add, “I believe the terms clearly read that I am employed to Monteguem’s party and no other.”

That time, Monteguem actually took a drink.

Suddenly, Conrad’s head whipped to the entrance. The man from earlier stood in there, except his face was not twisted in the same over excitement as before, but instead, it twisted in rage.

Already, he had a rapier in hand and the other posed behind his back in a stance.

Teddy knew little about fencing, but he knew in an unarmored fight, a rapier had few equals. It was a razor-sharp instrument of death if he’d ever seen one. The part that really baffled him, was the angry man did not point his blade at Conrad or even Teddy himself, but at Monteguem, the one man who had his back to him and was slugging down one last drink.

Teddy did all he was good for. Surprisingly, the burst of adrenaline hadn’t kicked in yet. His body was light, the hangover easily forgotten, but he wasn’t shaking. He'd be a sorry meat shield if he was shaking.

“Conrad,” Teddy said. “I would like to hire you. If you can’t protect my employer, his passport stone will be lost, and I can assure you, you will be sleeping in a shitty foxhole in the alley getting bit by infected junkies and pissing it all away.”

Conrad took another swig. “I know it. I was already with you, why do you think no folk bothered you in my home? It weren’t because they didn’t know a dandy lived there, I tell you that.”

Conrad whipped his flask around like it was some kind of bludgeon.

Dammit…the only guy worth a shit probably traded his weapon for bathtub gin.

The man holding a rapier clearly knew what he was doing considering that stance he held. Teddy had seen fencing duels, those razor-sharp flashes of blade…truly he would become a meat shield in this fight. That was a certainty.

“I take it, you realized you didn’t like Tolkien’s writings?” Teddy asked, not having a clue who ‘Tolkien’ was.

That man stared straight through Teddy, onto Monteguem. “We can discuss your knowledge of hobbits later. You, yourself appear to have descended from them. But that, that monster behind you, I know who he is.”

Monteguem turned around, holding a decanter of whiskey and gave a curt bow.

“I may not know you personally,” the man continued. “But I know of the Bethhousen’s. The most wretched of Clans. Blending humans together, tearing them apart, all in the vain ego of your master. Ah, yes, I know where you come from, Monteguem. The mayor has many enemies, but I don’t mind making the Bethhousen’s another one.”

“Quit yer grandstanding you floosie,” Conrad chimed in. “Isn’t that a woman’s weapon? Too light for a man’s hand, if you ask me. Probably reminds you of yer cock. Thin and flighty. How bout I help you shove it up yer ass?”

Teddy couldn’t help but smirk. That Conrad, too bad this would probably be their only fight together. Despite Conrad’s hulking frame, he was more suited to wrestling beasts in the wild, not weaving around a ‘thin and flighty’ stick. His size would only be a disadvantage. For once, Teddy was thankful for his short stature.

The man stared Conrad down, then…

he lunged.

It was a feint. He wasn’t aimed at Conrad, but at Teddy--no--at Monteguem seated behind Teddy.

In a flash, Teddy’s briefcase appeared. It wasn’t much, and right then, he’d wished he’d thrown a metal plate inside. Teddy clutched his suitcase in front of his chest and hoped it would be enough to stop that wispy blade’s lunge.

He could dodge; it would be easy. All he needed to do was turn to the side slightly, but that would leave Monteguem exposed. Teddy wasn’t a warrior, but he’d be dammed if he couldn’t even be a proper meat shield.

Pungent liquor splashed across Teddy’s back; Monte had thrown the decanter he was holding. A firm hand pushed Teddy to the side and the man with the girly sword lunged right past Teddy.

Monteguem had splashed whiskey in the man's face and shoved Teddy out of the way of that lunge.

Blinded by the liquor splashed across his face, that man continued lunging forward with reckless abandon and Monteguem yelped. Once again, Teddy was brushed aside as Conrad joined the mix.

Conrad brought down a hammering fist, and the man was too slow to withdraw his sword from Monteguem’s chest. Instead, he sidestepped with inhuman reflexes. Conrad’s fist only struck air and he stumbled off-balance.

Undeterred, Conrad charged forward, regaining his footing. Despite the man’s reflexes, he couldn’t predict a seasoned adventurer’s charge and Conrad slammed the man into the wall behind Monteguem. Unfortunately, the rapier stuck to the attacker's hand like glue, pulling clean from Monteguem’s chest with a spurt of blood.

And Teddy charged.

Conrad had the man pinned and Teddy wasn’t going to waste that advantage. However, despite being twice the man’s size, Conrad was struggling. The man, he was…he was pushing Conrad back? Insanity!

Closed in, Teddy raised his suitcase high over his head.

But at that moment, the attacker, having shoved Conrad far enough away to regain control over his sword, stabbed upwards just as Teddy slammed the suitcase downwards, smashing into that guy’s face. The corner of it shattered his nose; Teddy wasn’t above cheap shots. There was no honor in life and death battles, despite what the King ordered.

And the man, he struggled with his sword. Conrad had grabbed the other end and bent it ninety-degrees.

And that…that was the most impressive sight Teddy had ever witnessed, once he'd noticed what Conrad truly did. The rapier was shoved through the back of Conrad’s skull. The other end exited right between his eyes, and that, that brave adventurer bent the blade that pierced through his brain with the last of him.

Conrad slumped to the floor along with that useless blade and Teddy brought his suitcase down. And down. And down. And down.

Raised high over his head, Teddy smashed his beloved suitcase down, again and again, chiseling bits out of the man’s skull every time. Gore flew and the corner of his briefcase dented, but Teddy didn’t relent. If he couldn’t kill that man, everyone’s sacrifice would have been for nothing. He’d smash that whole damn skull to bits, a feat that ended up being far less effort than his enraged mind anticipated.

That bastard wasn’t going to get away without any repercussions.

Smash. Smash. Smash.

Each time Teddy’s suitcase smashed down, it vanished into thin air, only to reappear straight overhead once again. Teddy repeated the process of smashing his briefcase down, then teleporting it overhead and smashing it down once again.

He was a porter and a porter’s suitcase was his weapon, a weapon bound to his flesh itself.

With each cycle, the dents disappeared, healing themselves in transit. Teddy could smash his briefcase all night and was damn well ready to!

Smash. Smash. Smash. Thunk!

He’d smashed straight through the man’s skull and into the wall behind him.

Except…the wall was moving. He’d never seen anything like it, and he didn’t mean the gore.

Like an all-encompassing wave, the wall stretched forward, devouring Conrad and the rapier man. Worse yet, it kept extending.

Teddy backed away, dropping his suitcase to the floor. The wall spread towards him. Closer, closer, closer…then it stopped.

In an instant, Teddy understood why.

In his retreat, he'd backed up past the stool Monteguem sat on. With horror, Teddy looked on as the wall engulfed Monteguem as well.

And Monteguem smiled.

His boss smiled as the wall devoured him and sprang back, becoming an ordinary, breathing wall once more.

It was too much to take in.

A commotion started outside but Teddy ignored it. He stood there staring at the part of the wall that devoured Monteguem. Idly, his hand twiddled his prized knife in his pocket, that simple chunk of scrap iron he bought long ago, right after first arriving and realizing the severity of his situation.

Teddy took a step forward, and another and another.

Before he knew it, Teddy was clawing at the breathing wall, scraping chunks from its living flesh and scrambling for more. He would dig Monteguem out. He absolutely would.

By the time the patrol arrived, Teddy had dug up most of the wall.

There wasn’t a person to be found. All three, the attacker, Conrad, and Monteguem, had dissolved into the living plant, becoming a part of it.

Amidst the chaos, he hardly noticed the rough hands binding him back.

His only thought…

…It’s damn sure not vegetarian…