Funny how this was the second time now that William had walked in on one of his back-alley dealings. This time, he wasn't even doing anything particularly out of the norm, either. He just happened to be walking through the same area they were, and caught sight of Henry's face almost immediately.

They stared at each other for a moment, Henry in his tacky leather jacket and William in what was considered his 'travel size' armor set. This one was only a modest half head taller than he was, designed to properly fit into buildings rather than through them. Aside from that, however, this earlier version of was pretty much a dead reckoning for it's massive counterpart.

The steel was polished and colored a dark, almost gunmetal gray, shimmering with errant pulses of multicolored light from the ley lines etched into the surface. The linework, while not exactly shoddy, had a certain jagged edge to it that the larger, more refined version lacked, like comparing a rough stone carving to a perfectly polished marble sculpture. You could tell that the entire set had had plenty of time to be broken in, and tales of the experience it held could be found in every buffed out scratch, dented plate or chipped raised edge it could offer.

The helmet, however, was nowhere to be found. William approached the two of them, eyes staring dead ahead like a hawk. His straight, shoulder length black hair hung on either side of his face, framing his dead-eyed glower in a way he must have practiced to make as unsettling as possible.

Those food riots he mentioned must have been something else, huh…

"What are you doing here?", William addressed flatly, the sound of oxygen hissing through the cannula attached to his nostrils making a loud, whistling noise in the subsequent pause.

Henry said nothing. He wasn't the one being addressed.

"A-ah… Sir William!" The captain stammered as he tried his best to hide behind Henry without making it look like that was what he was doing. "I was… j-just looking for you, actually! I thought I might find you around here…"

"Really?" The flat, unimpressed tone of his voice did little to calm the man. "You thought the first place to look for me would be the holding cells in the brig? Or perhaps, you had the interrogation room in mind?"

"I, uh… y-yeah? I think so?"

"Funny," he said without a single hint of amusement. "I would have thought such an intelligent man as yourself would think to check the barracks first. I am in the process of training a new contingent of Knights, after all. But, even if you didn't think to look there, surely the forges and metalworking halls would make for a better second guess?"

"G-gk-"

The captain was choking up. Not in the way that he was actively losing oxygen going to his brain, more in the sense that he was caught in an apparent bout of pants-shitting terror. He wanted to dig out of the hole he'd made for himself, to say the magic words that would explain everything, but he was smart enough to know that anything he said was just as likely to dangle him even further over the fire.

Guess I have to do everything around here…

Henry craned his neck over his shoulder. "Hey, are we done here yet? I already told you I wasn't cut out for military work."

The random interjection was more than sufficient to snap the captain out of his self-destructive spiral. Even more thankfully, he could see that kindred look of wheels spinning below the surface for a short moment. The look of liars and cheats, who'd just found a tiny morsel of something to work with and were desperate enough to run with it for everything they were worth.

As a liar and cheat himself, he knew that what they were worth wasn't exactly much, but…

"Ah! That's right! I wanted to check the most recent recruitment efforts first! This candidate, right here, I believe would be perfect as a squire or even a proper Knight someday! Check him out, won't you?"

...The hell?

He'd been hinting at making an excuse to leave, not this! Sure, he'd probably still have to explain himself to William later, but having time to set up a cover story would have more than made up for the awkwardness!

So why did he, in his infinite wisdom, instead decide on trying to press-gang him?

William took a few steps closer, lazily looking him over from head to toe. Not that he really needed to. It was pretty hard to forget faces from Greenwich when the whole lot of them still alive could probably be counted on both hands, with a one hand margin of error.

"Candidate…" William muttered under his breath. "You certain this one is worth my time? He looks a little skinny to me."

"Ah, but first impressions can be deceiving!" The captain strode forward, wringing his hands in front of him as he spoke. "This one here is a real survivor, and might I say well-connected with the outside world, if you catch my meaning…"

The Knight Commander quirked an eyebrow. "Oh," he replied nonchalantly. "So he's not another one of your… acquisitions, then."

The captain winced at being accused so bluntly, but was prevented by his station from defending himself on those grounds. "N-no, sir. He's a volunteer, I promise."

Yeah, bullshit…

"N-now, if you'll excuse me, I have some, ah, other matters I must attend to…"

William grunted, raising his right hand to give a signal some distance behind him. "Fine," he told the sniveling captain. "That will be all."

From hidden alcoves, a pair of similarly clad Knights stepped out into the hall they were about to travel down, armor clanking as the faceless visors flanked either side of the path. They made a space large enough for the captain to hurry through, but no more than that and not for any longer than they had to.'

"P-please do get acquainted with one another," were the last words he spoke before rushing off as fast as his already shredded dignity would allow.

Barely any attention was paid to him as he exited. Henry was now, regrettably, the undisputed center of attention.

"Escort him to a cell, and wait for me outside," William commanded. "I will address him personally in short order."

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"S-sir?"

"He's an outsider, remember? See to it that he's handled with care, and has serviceable accommodations. There is other business I must finish first, but I will attend to him when I can."

"Yes, sir."

That was all the explanation they needed. No more words, just some very well-maintained blades guiding him back down the path he'd come from. For a moment, he considered just making a break for it. Maybe, if he was fast enough…

…

Well, on the other hand, those shortswords do look like they have some nasty enchantments on them. He could always make that idea Plan B.

< -|- -|- >

An hour later, the heavy, iron-banded door swung open with a groan, spilling light into the pitch black 'accommodations' he'd been given. Though, compared to some of the other captive situations he'd gotten himself into over time, this one actually was pretty luxurious. Had a whole straw mat to himself and a piss bucket. Doesn't get much more high-end than that.

The door slammed shut, and two sets of armored footsteps walked off into the distance to return to their posts. The glowing runes of the recently arrived suit of armor lit up William's hands just enough to see him crack a light talisman. If you looked really carefully, you could just about make out how the little glimmers of light preempted every little twitch he made. Before the harsh glow of the disposable magic item drowned everything else out, at least.

"So, Henry," he began, dropping all pretenses of not knowing who he was. "What's all this about, then? Because I'm dead certain it's not about suddenly buying into Cavendish's drivel, that's for damn sure."

"Hey, Will. Nice to see you, too." He stood up from his seated position on the straw mat, dusting his legs off as he came up.

"You realize my hand is forced by you coming here now, right?", William asked. "Cavendish wants you dead or alive, and now I have you here alive. If I don't ship you off to the center of Hackney first chance I get, I'll be branded a traitor like you were."

"And that matters to you why, exactly?"

"Because he's the only one keeping me from spending my days drooling on the bedpost, you fucking muppet." William gave him a slight smack upside the head, hard enough to sting through the metal gauntlets but not enough to actually rattle him. "Unlike you, my livelihood hinges on making myself useful. That, and being the only remaining non-mage survivor from Greenwich after Elias. Hero stories make the world go 'round, and all."

"Gah- point taken…" Henry rubbed the sore spot forming on the back of his head.

"Now, I'll ask again – and I expect a truthful answer, this time – why are you here?"

Henry sighed. "I joined up with the other survivors from the raid on the Club's HQ. Before you ask, no, that's not the goons who went around terrorizing the streets for anything that wasn't nailed down. That's the people who weren't nailed down and got terrorized for it."

"Those mage-slaves you mentioned, then?"

"Right on the money."

William studied him carefully, looking for signs that he was in any way deceiving him. Even if he had been trying, Henry doubted he'd have been too successful on that front. They had history together, and the more you got to know him, the easier it was to see through his own bull.

Finally, he relented.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense… Good on ya, for taking the initiative to get them set up. I take it you got roped up in this escorting them here, then?"

"Yes… and also, no."

"Huh?"

When his assumption was found to be incorrect, William furrowed his brow and studied Henry even closer. Guess that meant he was back to explaining, then.

"The original plan was to use the GC's old motor pool to link up with Cecil and get him the support he needs," Henry elaborated, "But we hit a bit of a snag. The Dryad showed up and almost wiped the floor with me, and…

William hissed in sympathetic pain at the mention of Celine. They'd crossed paths once or twice before, typically not in a pleasant fashion. Neutral in Hallow London didn't exactly mean 'not hostile', after all.

"… to make a long story short, we scraped together what we had and were going to barter under the table for what we need. That's all I can really say on the subject."

"…I see," William replied. "Were you successful?"

"I can't say."

"Was that weaselly captain you were with involved?"

"I can't say."

"Does your specific presence need to be involved, or are you just a clone and this will carry on without you?"

Henry sighed in exasperation. "What do you think my answer's going to be?!"

"...Fair point."

Silence reigned for a short while, before William cut in once more.

"Unfortunately, my orders still stand. Sorry, but I'll have to take you with me to Cavendish, limited time clone or not."

"Hey, come on, now-" Henry tried to plead his case, but only met the broad-shouldered back of William's armor. "I've got obligations, now! You can't do this to me!"

"I can, and I will. And if you were here when it happened, you'd realize this was in your best interests, too."

Henry blinked, confused. "Sorry… 'it'?"

"Close to a week ago, now, shortly after I returned with Layla. A special guest showed up, uninvited and unannounced. Care to guess who it was?"

"How am I supposed to-"

"I'll give you a hint. Big Scottish bloke with glasses, who just so happens to be really pissed off at you for some reason."

His blood went ice cold.

"The Constable? But… wait, me?! He's… he's angry with me?"

"Murderously so."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you tell me! You're the one who managed it, somehow. Now Cavendish has even more of a reason to collect on your bounty."

Huh, so I have a bounty now, too…

This was bad. The Constable was after him. Why? Why was he a target all of a sudden if he promised-

...Ah. Semantics.

The maniac had given him six unerring bullets to finish the job with. Six shots that had been fired off in the course of reaching his last holdout and attempting to kill him. Unfortunately for him, those bullets had run out long before the fight had.

He'd inadvertently gone back on his word. Which meant that all bets were off.

I need to get out of here. NOW.

William turned to leave again, leaving Henry to frantically try and bargain his way out of a likely death sentence.

"W-wait! Can't you let things slide, just this once? Our route'll take us through Walworth, and Grace-"

"I'm terribly sorry, Henry, but you must be mistaken." William cut him off at the mention of his daughter's name. "But my daughter died in the second Witching Hour. Take care, we leave in the morning."

The door slammed shut, leaving only narrow shafts of fading light to accompany him as the armor's heavy footfalls echoed through the dungeon. Leaving him to stew in his own frustration.

"Damn!"

He wanted to punch a wall, but the solid stone bricks it was made of was more than enough to get him to reconsider that impulse. Still, his hands trembled with excess energy, anxiety and a hint of claustrophobia kicking in as he realized he was going to be alone for the foreseeable future…

...Actually, no. That wasn't quite right. He still had a copy available to him, and this time he wasn't even tied up or anything. By all accounts, this was the sort of escape he could make in his sleep. William should be more than aware of that, knowing his powers more extensively than most, and all. So why did he, of all people, leave him unguarded…?

Oh.

Plausible deniability.

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