"It was in October, a good forty—no, forty-one—years ago when we first met, Alyn. We go way back, believe me." Elliot flicked the reins and tied them off. They perched, side by side, on the moving wagon's driving bench. Hughes snored in the back. Behind, Tim drove his and Elliot's painted wooden caravan. "Tim and I were fairly new to the country, then, and in our four years, neither of us had managed to find work. We were down on our luck with money, and Tim had a habit of trading what we did scrounge up—he still does this, and it's maddening—for more animals for his experiments. Humane experiments, of course. He loves them more than people. But, we absolutely couldn't afford to keep so many critters. We stumbled across your master in our search for funds."

2774

Elliot had spent his four years in the States studying to become a proper medicinal alchemist, taking courses in psychiatry and alchemy. His job in England had gotten him nowhere. With fencing being an expensive sport, there had never been much business. Besides, even when people could afford it, no one had the time for recreation. As an assistant to an instructor, young Elliot had earned little—just enough to scrape by and purchase a ticket to the new world.

Tim, nine years older, had been working on perfecting the nanotechnology in the blood of his lion, Bwenzi. Elliot knew little of where he came from or what brought him to the country, but he enjoyed the man's quiet company and unmistakable genius. Alas, the scientist had been no help in keeping the pair afloat. His focus was never on the world around him.

With the way things were going, he likely wouldn't be able to perfect any of his mysterious experiments before they went broke.

But, Elliot had an idea.

Scientists are a novelty these days, he thought, and worth a lot.

"Tim!" Elliot clapped the man on his back one day. "What do you say to looking for a sponsor?"

Tim, of course, did not understand. "Tim?" He questioned. He knew this word to be his English name. He had 'lost' his English translation book shortly after arriving in the country and discovering the unnecessary loudness of the people.

Elliot did not need an answer from Tim, because he knew the man to be very passive. As long his his animals were happy, Tim was happy. Elliot brought in the money for feeding and caring for the animals, so Tim stayed close.

The Englishman soon had his friend traveling to venues of all manners to advertise his companion's abilities. Elliot acted as a spokesman, while Tim showed off what Bwenzi—the favored animal of his collection—could do. Donations were consistently scarce, and Elliot's confidence in achieving sponsorship started to wane as the pair took to rationing all that they had.

Until, that is, a sponsor appeared.

A wealthy one, at that.

("Have you ever heard of gambling, Alyn?" Elliot asked. "Well, we went to a casino in Wyoming, where everyone gambles, where everyone wastes away their money, and we finally found our sponsor. And who could it be? None other than your Master Hughes. Much has changed since we first met, so mind the description.")

October 17th, 2774

Near the middle wall of Pint's Casino, Elliot stood tall and waved his arms. He advertised—a task he had grown used to. Tim sat behind him with Bwenzi and quietly spoke to the lion.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Elliot began, and burst into the regular ramble. 'Science is advancing', 'technology isn't lost', 'animals could be talking sooner than you think', 'nanotechnology is the future'.

Elliot hadn't been aware of the controversy around nanotechnology in the United States. Ban-Ken's walls towered only a few states away. Most of the people in the casino knew of how there was a plague in the city. They knew it was killing the people, there, and they knew it was caused by the radiation of failed science endeavors and nanotechnology.

One word about science or nanotechnology, and most of Elliot's passing audience grew cautious and left. To them, he sounded little better than a terrorist.

"Nanotechnology, you say?" This was, as we find out, Drew Hughes. He was the only person that stopped, listened, and stayed. He loosely held a half-emptied bottle of expensive liquor in one hand, oblivious to how its contents gradually dripped onto the worn red carpet. He was a handsome young man, run-down with heavy-lidded eyes and dressed in clothes that once might have been worth a fair sum, but were filthy and wrinkled. Whiskers were just coming to his jaw, and his messy hair, longer on one side, was pulled into an untidy ponytail. Elliot assumed that he was a wealthy aristocrat of some sort, who had likely lose a fortune in that very casino.

"You'd not want to be shouting that for all to hear." The drunkard laughed a little, though it was not much of a laugh. It was more of a passive, patronizing grunt. "You might find yourself arrested. Or worse, hired."

"Hired, sir? That's what we're looking for!" Elliot returned.

Drew shook his head. "You'll either be worked to death for the cause, or killed for the resistance."

("At this point, he had been trying to drink himself to death. If he ever wants to tell you why, he will. But, you musn't ever ask. Not ever.")

Elliot tilted his head to one side. His brows knitted. How very somber, he thought. He assumed that the drink was what brought the man to say such strange things. "Come, sir. Would you like to see what Tim's nanotech can do?"

The Englishman eagerly signaled to Tim, who issued calm commands to his lion. Bwenzi performed a handful of small novelty tricks, including grooming his mane with a comb. He knew well enough that if he earned a sponsor through the tricks, no matter how demeaning, he would help his traveling family to finally eat a fulfilling meal.

Drew watched expressionlessly through bleary eyes. He began to walk away.

Elliot's face fell. Tim mumbled thanks to Bwenzi.

"Follow me," Drew murmured over his shoulder.

Elliot almost didn't hear. He urgently gestured for Tim and Bwenzi to follow, and together, they tumbled after the possible sponsor to a staircase. The morose young man had difficulty climbing the steps, and Tim asked Bwenzi to help him. The lion escorted Drew, and the group awkwardly ascended.

Drew led them to a room that neither large, nor extravagant. It was not homely or decorated. There were only casino advertisements on the walls, apart from a painting of a city with a large wall in construction around it. There was a bed, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe. A collection of chests piled against the walls in one corner.

Drew left his bottle on the desk, knocking over a stack of clay gambling tokens, and dragged the chair opposite the bed. He slouched into the chair and kicked the bed. "Sit."

Elliot picked up the tokens and replaced them on the desk. He sat, and pulled Tim with him. Bwenzi stretched and lay at their feet. His tail flicked from side to side. His understanding of English was better than Tim's, but not good.

The drunk rubbed his temples and gestured blindly to the chests behind him. "I can offer you money."

Elliot blinked and raised his brows. He counted fifteen chests. "Do you want me to tell you what Tim can do, first?"

"No, I don't care for the details. I will see for myself."

"Oh, yes, I can show you what the technology looks—"

"No, I will see for... Listen." Drew dragged his hand down his face and gestured again to the chests. "I will give you two of my chests. Two. Look inside."

Elliot hesitated. He shifted on the bed. Drew pulled a skeleton key from his pocket and held it out.

"Go and look," he repeated.

Elliot uncertainly took the key and stepped over Bwenzi. Drew bowed his head and closed his eyes and waited.

"Any chest?" Elliot asked.

"Any chest." Drew slurred.

Elliot picked one and inserted the key. He pushed back the lid and felt a rush of dizziness. He smacked a hand to his jaw and stared at the glittering golden gears. Were he a dishonest man, he easily could have slipped a handful into his pocket then and there. He did not touch the riches. He gaped back at the man.

"You said you were offering two chests?"

"Yes, two."

"W—well, that's very generous of you, but I... I..." Elliot held a hand over his pounding heart and closed the chest. "I don't know how to accept."

"Listen to the catch."

"Pray tell, sir!"

"I want to come with you."

"And?"

The drunk raised his head and groggily glanced over his shoulder. "And nothing. If you take me with you, I will give you two chests. I have been in this dreadful place for too long. I don't need company, I don't need to be cared for. I just need to get out of here."

Elliot blinked and ran a hand through his curls. "Well... That's no trouble at all, sir." He locked the chest and passed the key back to the drunk. "We can buy you a wagon, and—"

"I'll buy my own." He tucked away the key. "Your share is your own."

Elliot put one hand on his brow and one on his hip. "What did you say your name was?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of Ban-Ken?"

"Ban-Ken..." Elliot fished his brain. "Do you mean banking? Because I know very little about..."

He stared at the drunk's extended hand, covered in stained white gloves. "Drew Hughes is my name. My gloves stay on."

"I—yes. I have no problem with that," bumbled Elliot. He took Drew's hand in both of his and vigorously shook. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Hughes."

"All right, stop. Stop." The man pulled back his hand and cradled his head. "I feel sick."

Elliot awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. A pang of guilt touched his heart and he knelt to search for the man's eyes. "Mr. Hughes, perhaps we should wait for you to be sober before..."

"I am never sober, anymore."

"But... But, you must be. You barely look twenty... my age. Certainly, you don't drink all the time."

"Twenty-one," Drew dully corrected. "I am making my offer now. Take it or leave it."

"A-Are you sure, sir?"

"Take it. Or leave it."

July 26th, 2815

"As you can guess, I took the deal. I had nothing to lose. Over time, Drew became a friend to us. Eventually, I started to use my shaky alchemy and psychiatry training to help him straighten out, and, for the most part, sober up. We gave him Patriot, his horse, and Tim finally got to work more to his potential. Drew was a great help to Tim's success with the animals. Has he told you yet?"

"Told me what?" Alyn asked.

"He has some nanotech in his blood. It isn't the most useful to him, because he has little control over it. You see, when he's angry, smoke'll come out of his ears and nostrils, and his body temperature rises beyond what is normal. Not much use, that. But his tears. His tears can heal, and that is useful. Tim adapted the healing properties to the saliva of our animals."

Alyn grinned. "I knew there was something interesting about the old bully."

"Indeed. Now, I won't say another word about him." Elliot slouched on the bench and yawned. "I don't know how happy he'll be that I've told you any of this. But, at least, I hope you can trust me, now. Tim and I know all about fauns, so you have nothing to worry about. Drew spent most of his time with us searching for them, telling us about them, showing us pictures that he'd sketched himself, and photographs from an old book he carried. He gave up sometime around '78. That's why it really must mean the world to him that you exist." He touched her cheek and peered at her through hooded eyes. "You could save him, I think."

"Save him?" His hand drifted back to his lap. "Save him from what?"

Elliot smiled. "Goodnight, child."