As Kuhn returned, gains in hand, Maron giggled, "Ehehe, they're getting what's coming to them!"

A bit further back, Lina was starting to find things a little strange...

---

Some time later, the Crimson Company had found themselves partied out. Their booze was dry, and the conflict with the Verdan Company was less than a day way.

Macario, who'd taken a quick map, was roused by a certain boss. As he woke to see Chadwick, he grumbled, "What!?"

"Um, dude, about your bro..."

Rubbing his eye, Macario asked, "He dead?"

"Well, it's just...the dude drank my stash in all of ten minutes! I mean, it was kinda...but-"

"So?"

"That was an hour ago man! What's he gonna do?"

Macario grumbled, "I met him, like a few days ago. If he hears about any more booze though who knows."

"Guys!" came a sudden yell from the fringes of the restless reds. "Blancson just got back! He said the Verdant Company took our booze!"

Macario wished he were wealthy enough to own a camera: Chadwick's face was something special, priceless: a memory now impossible to share, for the implacable agony of so many factors Macario could never truly grasp: from the wrath of Chester to the soon to be shattered inter-company honor of not holding oneself to pre-planned encounters; such an agony that had his jaw dropped, his eyes bulging, and a dribble running from his nose in perhaps the most uncool, unredical manner ever.

"Heh," Macario chortled.