After Lumière had rejoined the White Roses, they flagged down two carriages. Lumière, Ainsworth, Nicole, and Cornifer got into the first carriage, and Ramses and Midas into the second.
As soon as the door of the carriage had been closed, Lumière shut his eyes tight. Without worry that the others may be watching, Lumière fell into a meditative state, appearing in the endless darkness of his mind, marked by the presence of the ancient stone wall and several others.
He ignored his personalities, who seemed to rave endlessly with their opinions over his previous actions and sat down on the cold floor of the abyss. He reached out into the empty air, grasping hold of illusory red strings that weren't previously there. Lumière instinctively activated Illusory Murmurs, causing his thoughts to reverberate through the strands, directed towards his subordinates.
In the distance, each member of the Mythos Garden heard his words ring out, even Nicole, who sat across from him. Because the seal of the contract was bound to him, it didn't sound out into the open air, rather in their heads. Each one, saving for Nicole, echoed the same sentiment. 'May the Garden flourish.'
When Lumière opened his eyes once more, he realised everyone was staring straight at him. His face adopted a sense of nervousness, and he questioned their behaviour.
"What? Do I have something on my face?"
"Did you get chastised by that Archangel?" Cornifer asked, unusually excited. It was surprising for him to be the one to speak out, so Lumière was taken aback.
"Ah, no. I actually got a promotion, I suppose." Lumière scratched at his cheek, laughing
Cornifer's eyes widened. "Ah, so the little dove has finally been recognised by the top brass. So, what duties are you going to take on now?"
Lumière put a finger to his lips. "It's a secret."
In the other carriage, Midas sat silently, awaiting his comrade. With no more room in the first carriage, it was certain that Ramses would join him, alone.
As soon as Ramses sat in the seat opposite Midas, the golden-haired man shut the door with his gloved hands, eyeing the Easterner with suspicion. Ramses immediately noticed this, an unsettling chill rushing through his body.
"You fought with such skill." Midas spoke in a cold, calm tone.
"Why thank you, my friend." Ramses smiled genially. "I appreciate your praise."
"Stop smiling. Just answer my questions from this moment forward."
Ramses, curious and surprised, nodded his head.
"How did you suddenly obtain the prowess necessary to eliminate so many creatures in such a short time by yourself?"
Ramses shrugged. "I had a revelation."
"Or you had prior experience that you've been pretending not to. I doubt a man with your skill would have lost several of your fingers during battle. If the plan was to strengthen and continue a facade, I could believe it."
Hearing this, Ramses's genial smile melted away. "So, what conclusion have you come to, comrade?"
"You were a soldier- no, the soldier. Were you there on that night… when the sea took shape once more…? Did you spill the blood that became waves?"
There was silence between them for a moment. Ramses's relaxed attitude became stiff, constantly aware. "Correct."
"Why? Why hide for so long, knowing I was once your enemy?"
"I was a monk… I followed the teachings of the Living Tree Saint. The way of Self, it's called. Simple, but that's the heart of it. Living isn't so hard. Nothing is ever so serious that anger becomes necessary. Be alike to the wind, they say…"
"Cut the shit, Ramses."
He chuckled. "I killed a man, Midas. Not in the way a soldier would, cleanly. It was violent, messy. It did not contribute to that sea of blood, but it did stain my hands…"
Midas's grave expression faltered, his eyes widening slightly. "What?"
"I cut out his heart and spilled the vestiges of his life on the ground. I bruised his flesh for days beforehand, and even then his screams gave no pleasure. I thought it would be kinder, morally righteous to preserve his agony. I thought maybe that the pain would guide him back to the Way, and I was wrong, oh how wrong I knew I was. Torment was undeniable, how does one struggle knowing their obedience to man's command would lead to a friend's suffering?"
Ramses laughed slightly, coldly. "Where is a killer to go? Back to his peaceful Way? How does he face the Senior Monks who told him to do such a disgraceful thing? Respectfully? Should I have killed off my emotions, my hatred and my dismay? I did, but not before I killed them."
"You killed them?"
"It was slaughter. Monks of the Way do not fight. They have never raised a fist against another, it's just not in their nature. It felt necessary. But the nature of a Monk falls to the nature of Man, violence. It was definitely why they commanded me to kill my friend. It was definitely that nature that caused me to become like this." A cold, unnerving grin curled up his lips.
He raised his hand, his palms stained a darker colour than his skin.
"But a Government does not know criminals. An army does not know peaceful men. They only know killers. They accepted me as I was, crimson-stained."
"You were always putting up a front, weren't you?"
"I realised that a command from a prophet like that is no will of righteousness, it is the will of man that ruins, and so from the start I was hiding an emptiness that I could not fill." Ramses replied. "So, yes. I was once a soldier. I was once your enemy."
Midas shot forward, grabbing Ramses's collar and slamming him against the back wall of the carriage, causing it to tremble violently.
"Why!?" Midas's expression fully fell away, revealing a remnant hatred, a vestige that had long despised those others that lie past the sea of War's blood. "We've been together for a year, Ramses! A year! You didn't tell anyone of your past affiliations!? Does Ainsworth know? Did- did Meraline know? How about the upper brass? Do they know!?"
Ramses's eyes grew dead, absent of personality, looking down at Midas. "Did it ever matter?"
"It does! You know what I left behind on that field of red! You know how it continues to torment you. You were the one who smiled and told me it would be okay! That I would be okay! Were you lying then? Why did you comfort me!? Was it pity, or the plot of someone who sees me as an enemy? Do you harbor hatred for me and our comrades, born in a nation that slaughtered yours!? One day, will you decide to take your revenge? Who will you kill first… who will you follow that Will of Man towards?"
"I was a peaceful person… once. Then I gradually became infected by the turmoil of war. I was a soldier… once. Then I gradually became infected by the trauma of war. I was your enemy, once, but I became infected by your friendship, and so I began to think of us as friends, comrades."
"All lies. Speak of a void of emptiness and then of friendship, how could you correlate the two?" Midas spat in his face. Through his gloves, the runes on the palms of his hands began to glow a bright emerald colour, and gradually, the collar of Ramses's shirt began to glimmer gold. "Answer my question. On that night, that final, horrid night, were you that soldier…? A man of a thousand kills, a sniper lying in plain sight, were you the one we despised?"
Ramses scoffed. "You called me 'Certain Death'."
Hearing those words, Midas recoiled his other fist, slamming his knuckles against Ramses's jaw. The impact caused blood to spatter on the Alchemist's face, but that was something he had long grown used to.
For a moment, the two locked eyes, deadness and malice intermingling. Breathing heavy, the carriage felt hot and stuffy. The rage that churned in Midas's heart was momentarily quelled, his greatest strength suppressing his instinct.
"That's one." Midas spoke callously.
"One?" Ramses questioned, grinning. Crimson dripped down towards his chin, but he did not reach up to wipe it away, or to defend himself from Midas's strike. He punched the quiet soldier once more, unable to keep from letting out a pained yet amused groan.
"Two." Midas's tone had grown calmer.
"Why are you counting? To what end?"
"Nine-hundred and ninety-eight more to go. Then we can become comrades once more."
Ramses laughed. "What is this, vengeance for all of the people I killed? You still want to be friends? After hearing all of that? I killed your friends. I killed all of your comrades. That night, I was the one who orchestrated your biggest loss. The night of spilled silver, don't you remember?"
"I do remember. But my questions have been answered. Nothing changes this past year we all spent together."
"But I was always putting on a facade." Ramses protested.
"Perhaps. Still, let's be friends."
Midas punched Ramses in the jaw once more, hearing something crack. This caused Ramses to recoil, finally lifting a hand to touch at his face out of instinct.
"Why-" he spoke painfully, "why are you trying to repair this so hard? Shouldn't I vanish or be killed? Why are you purposefully suppressing your rage, your habit as a soldier?"
"I want to kill you. But I feel that would be pointless, so long after war has ended. From the moment I entered this carriage, my intent was never to destroy this bond between us, false or real. I only wanted answers. I'm choosing to stay steadfast in my initial intentions. Let's remain comrades, Ramses."
Midas swung towards Ramses once more, but the man spoke out in reply.
"Do you love me, Ramses?"
This caused Midas to hesitate in his swing, his fist hovering above Ramses's face. Ramses grinned.
"Ah… have I finally struck something? But I don't think it's me your heart beats for. You've never shown interest towards me… rather, you've never shown outward interest towards anyone. That must mean it can't be anyone we work with. Then, if it was me who reminded you of it, was it during the war that you once loved? A soldier perhaps?"
Ramses sighed loudly.
"Was it someone I killed?"
Midas struck him in the nose, causing blood to drip rapidly from his nostrils.
"That's three."
Midas's gaze had steeled itself. "Stop trying to provoke me. I intend to keep the White Roses together. I know it has helped Nicole recover from his past, a victim of evil ambition. It definitely helped Cornifer recover from being rejected by his own blood, a deposed Noble. I know that the Roses have allowed Mr. Ainsworth to throw himself into his work after tragedy, the same for Lumière Croft. For me… it's allowed me to forget all that happened to me during war, what happened to those I cared for. If you're keen on tearing that apart now, breaking free from this false mask of yours, I'll beat that intent out of you. Then we can go back to normal."
"But what if this mask is killing me slowly?"
"Then die. But die while everyone else is happy."
Midas struck the man once more.
"Nine-Hundred and Ninety-six to go."