Guillaume quirked an eyebrow. Henry had never seen the man laugh before, but he had to imagine that right now he was as close to it as he’d ever get.

  “A… favor?” the old man’s tone was laced with incredulity. “You were about to fight my right hand one-on-one for a chance at a favor?”

  Bound as he was, Henry gave his best estimation of a shrug. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

  All he received in return was a deadpan stare. The sharp gaze came with no spoken words, but reading in between the lines was more than enough to spell out the meaning.

  You have ten seconds to convince me not to hand you over to my pet blender, was about what he estimated the man was thinking right about now.

  Something that he was more than happy to oblige with.

  “Hey, wait, calm down there, now…” There was a slight tremolo in Henry’s voice, and a small nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m not asking for anything much. Just need some new replacement kit, is all.”

  “For what purpose,” Guillaume immediately countered. “So you can lose it all in your pointless crusade back into Central London? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little doomed expeditions.”

  “Oh, they're for sure doomed alright. Took me a while to get the message, but on that point, I can attest it’s the one thing we’re in agreement over…”

  He was currently sitting at… was it six or seven consecutive losses against that giant spider? They were starting to blend together in his mind, at this point. Didn’t even have a win to his name, unless you counted the stalemate aftermath of the Kennel Massacre.

  Which, he didn’t. What a waste of a team effort that had been.

  “…But, no. I’m nowhere near the point where I can once again indulge in death wishes as I please.”

  He was met with more silence. After a few seconds, Guillaume made a gesture with his hand to continue, his patience wearing thinner with each passing second. Henry gulped down a deep breath and obliged, launching into his practiced spiel.

  “For now, I’m just looking to get back on my feet. I get the supplies I need, maybe I help you and your people out with something that isn’t too unsavory as payment, and we go back to pretending like we never saw each other again. Keep it quick, simple and transactional.”

  Guillaume’s frown deepened. He wasn’t buying it.

  “If it weren’t for that infuriating Exotic Domain you hide behind,” he growled, jabbing an accusatory finger at the crystal embedded in Henry’s chest. “I would have you choking on your own intestines for even thinking to deliver me such an insulting deal.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a mind manipulating piece of merde,” Henry returned mockingly. “Have I mentioned that I really don’t like what you did to Four, by the way?”

  “Mentally dominating the Harpy of Woolwich was as difficult as it is rewarding. A fate that you should have shared months ago, had the world been so kind.”

  Guillaume gave a subtle nod towards his subordinate, who strode menacingly towards his restraints from the corner of the room.

  “I suppose merely silencing you will have to suffice for now, I’m afraid. Goodbye.”

  “H-Hang on,” Henry interrupted, regretting his knee-jerk insult immediately. “Before you kill me off, there’s one last thing that might change your mind. Let’s not be too hasty, right?”

  “You had your time to talk,” an angry edge developed in his otherwise monotone voice as the crime lord spoke. “Perhaps killing you now will teach your future copies to stay away from my men and my territory.”

  “W-Well, of course they would!” Had Henry been able to gesticulate wildly, he would be doing so at this point. He had to settle for shuffling in his seat instead.

  “Who wouldn’t want to be clear of the kind of fallout that that decision would cause?!”

  Guillaume’s eyes narrowed. The Harpy stopped dead in its tracks, a raised hand from the older man catching him mid-stride.

  “…I should have known there was more to this encounter than you were letting on.” His frustration was now directed towards himself, rather than Henry. “How easy it is to forget that sometimes your actions are motivated by more than sheer recklessness.”

  He slid a spare chair towards the card table in the center of the room, finally sitting down to take his request seriously. Propping his elbows up on the table, Guillaume steepled his fingers and gave him an icy glare.

  “Now… out of curiosity, what exactly was the contingency plan you intend to unleash on me? Wolves? Your vampiric friends in the Reformationist movement? Another clash with the Landed Knights, perhaps?”

  If there was one hook Guillaume couldn’t help but pull on, it had always been putting challengers in their place. On paper, the old man was one of the weakest devils currently in the Dozen. Henry himself was a close second behind that, on account of only being about as strong as four regular adults, tops.

  In practice, things were much different. Playing fair would have had them both dead long ago if they’d followed along. When it came down to a battle of wits, you needed information. Knowing something your opponent didn’t was exploitable, and even if it didn’t give you a win, it could certainly prevent you from losing.

  Truthfully, he wasn’t much of a winner himself. But he knew how to keep everyone playing.

  Henry allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction. The nervous facade he’d been maintaining up until this point slipped away entirely, leaving only his personal misgivings with the shady Frenchman and a sense of anticipation to what his reaction was about to be.

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  “Worse. There’s a certain narcissistic dryad just dying to know how she could have possibly forgotten where her ‘hubby’ has been working all this time.”

  In an instant, Guillaume lunged across the table, grabbing him tightly by the collar and pulling with more might than his aged frame would hint at being capable of.

  “You’re bluffing,” he seethed with barely-contained rage. Flecks of spit landed on Henry’s face, causing him to wince but still not enough to wipe the smile from his face.

  “Why would I bluff about a chance to knock you down a peg?” His wolfish grin only further infuriated the man, as Guillaume’s face gradually deepened to yet further shades of beet red. “All it takes is for one of my copies to make a call to a specific number, leave an anonymous tip…”

  “Be quiet…”

  “Celine misses you very much, you know? Keeps a phone with her practically all the time, despite her recent, ah, natural inclinations. She’s hoping you’ll call her one day, she said.”

  “Be quiet…!”

  “Wonder how she’ll react to learning that you were the one that ripped the memory of your current location from her head…?”

  “SHUT UP! BE QUIET, YOU-!”

  Guillaume shoved Henry back into his seat, rattling off a rather impressive string of curses in his native tongue as his anger gained the momentum of a runaway freight train.

  Despite the rough landing, the show was actually quite the sight to behold. Had he known that particular piece of blackmail would be enough to elicit such a reaction from the sleazebag, he’d have blown it long ago just for the satisfaction of seeing him like this.

  “Putain de bordel de merde-”

  This was a significant retreat from the composed demeanor the man seemed to wear like a second skin at all times. While Henry was well aware that relationships could get messy, this?

  This was something else entirely.

  Even Four seemed startled somewhat. As much as an unblinking mask of rags, glass and metal greebles could look, anyways. The fingers on its left hand twitched, and its weight shifted ever so slightly in the direction of Guillaume for the barest hint of a moment.

  Then the mob boss got a hold of his temper, and they returned to their perfect parade rest position.

  Guillaume was about to throw the table across the room before he finally got a grip of himself once again. Right before he grabbed the edge of the flimsy furniture, his fist clenched tightly, to the point of making his whole arm quiver as his fingernails dug into his own palm.

  He began speaking his final piece on the matter. “That...harlot…”

  “Is that really any way to talk about your ex?” Henry attempted to give the man’s anger a second wind, to little success.

  “Please,” the old man retorted, voice dripping with vitriol. “As much as she might claim it, there was never anything – official or not – between us. She is like an over-attached puppy, following me wherever I go, whining and pleading for my attention. It is infuriating!”

  He pounded his clenched fist on the table, steadying himself with three deep breaths before continuing.

  “Had I known erasing her memory would be what motivated her to become a Devil herself… I would have just had her killed and been done with it.”

  A thin bead of blood trickled from Guillaume’s palm. He scowled at Henry once more for good measure, then – finally – approached the negotiating table, pretending like he’d been angling for this outcome from the start.

  “Name the price of your silence.”

  Henry allowed himself the barest hint of a smirk, knowing any further would push him over the line and into dead meat territory.

  “Firstly,” he began, “I’ll need a vehicle. On the larger side, preferably, something like a pickup or a cargo truck. Enough guns, ammo, armor and whatever kitbashed mage-tech there is lying around to outfit me fully twelve times over.”

  “So you are still aiming for false dreams of being a one man army, then…”

  “Yes and no. But that’s not important, and I’m not done yet, either. I also need your organization’s full list of locations for Exotic Domain artifacts you’ve discovered and their capabilities.”

  Guillaume’s expression darkened. “...You drive a hard bargain, monsieur…”

  “Hey, pushing my luck is what keeps me alive, as counterintuitive as it might seem. Aside from that though, it’s just the basics left. Food, medical supplies, the usual. Enough to last a few weeks, nothing more.”

  “Quoi!? Nothing more!? You think those demands to be inexpensive?!?”

  “Nnnnope. Unless you’re offering…?”

  “No.”

  “Figured as much.”

  Guillaume inhaled deeply, pinching his nose bridge as he calculated what the cost of doing business would run him. For once, Henry waited patiently for his response. He did not want to kick the golden goose while it was laying an egg for him.

  “I can offer… most of that. With conditions.”

  Henry nodded. First rule of bargaining, naturally, was ‘never accept the first offer’. The second rule was also pretty similar in function, being ‘always start with an obscene asking price’. Anyone still alive was well familiarized with the practice of bartering, so the current trajectory of negotiations wasn’t perceived as too big of a slight by either party. It was just the process of doing business.

  “Our mage-tech isn’t for sale, end of story.” Guillaume took a hard stance on where the line in the sand was. “However, we have a surplus of… shall we say, home-grown crystallized Domain mana that we can offer as replacement.”

  “You mean, harvested from your mind-controlled sweatshop of cantrip mages.”

  “A crude wording, but yes.”

  “...Fine.”

  He made a mental note to use at least one of the Fire Domain crystals to burn this entire building to the ground, later. Right below ‘kill the pig responsible for its existence in the first place’.

  “The material goods, for the most part, are well within my ability to provide. You shall have them, no strings. However…”

  Guillaume held up three fingers. “I have multiple conditions for parting with such valuable information.”

  “...I’m listening.”

  Henry tensed, leaning forward as much as his bindings made possible. Wouldn’t be a deal with the Club if there weren’t some very important caveats that came along with it. Typically, it was best to listen closely the first time. Excuses like ‘I forgot’ or ‘I didn’t hear that part’ were not taken seriously by anyone these days.

  The crime lord held up his pointer finger to begin. “You will, on our behalf, extract an artifact of my specific interest before we offer you anything. You will be provided details as the need for them arises.”

  “Make sure you get the best one for yourself? Don’t see why not.”

  “Good. Second…” another finger raised. “You are to remain here under our supervision until the time and place of the mission, as well as maintain contact during the expedition itself. My subordinate here, Messieur Quatre, should prove more than enough to keep you in check, non?”

  At this, the Harpy began to object. “Master, I must seriously express-”

  “Silence.” Guillaume’s voice carried an undertone of his power as he commanded his dominated minion. The Harpy’s head jerked, and it slumped where it stood, its motive force being wrested from its control forcibly.

  “Apologies. It appears I have been leaving to much slack in the leash.”

  Henry pulled a face. As much as he griped about his existence as a physical manifestation of his soul, bound to a crystal that represented a Domain he barely understood, there was one reason he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  Immunity to mind control was a huge blessing, as situational as it was. Maybe someday it wouldn’t be necessary, but without it he’d be at the mercy of hoping Guillaume didn’t decide to leave his safe zone for once and take a more personal hand in his acquisitions.

  Just like everyone else less fortunate…

  “Lastly… and I recommend you pay close attention to me now…”

  Guillaume leaned in forward over the table, close enough that Henry could see the bloodshot vessels in the man’s eyes.

  “If, by any metric, I don’t get what I want from this…”

  He cupped a hand around his mouth, whispering the last words into his ear. They were enough to make Henry’s face blanch.

  “I will personally ensure that girl of yours ends their life as a permanent retainer in my collection.”

  He could feel his blood turn to ice. In just a few words, the advantage in the discussions had shifted severely out of his favor.

  Evidently, Henry wasn’t the only one who had been gathering information on the other Devils.