CW: Blood, Guns, Death

It is safe to say that Alexander Brittleson is surprised when officers knock on his door that very morning.

“Good morning, officers,” he says as he wipes his face as discreetly as possible. “How may I help you?”

One of them raises a parchment in Mr. Brittleson’s face. “Alexander Brittleson. You’re arrested for organized arson.”

And his sleep is completely gone now. “What?? This must be a mistake! Please,” he pleads as the second officer takes out a rope glowing golden-and-red with words in the ancient tongue and binds him with it.

“You’re making a mistake!”

He struggles against the bond, trying to nudge the spelled object loose somehow, but that also stops when a third officer places a gun to his chest.

“You have the right to remain silent. Every word you utter can and will be used against you under the holy name of Sol.”

With that, Alexander Brittleson withers into obedience, letting the officers take him to a cell in the building he had visited just days ago as a victim.

The golden-and-red of I.A.L.O. doesn’t look extravagant, he finds, when it greets him in captivity.

Still, he has hope.

He hopes that his mistress will send for him, take him away from this obnoxious place and prove his innocence.

So, he waits. He waits until night where a blood moon shines through the bars in his window, washing the golden-and-red cell crimson.

“You have disappointed the mistress,” a voice comments just out of reach of that light, making Brittleson scamper towards the sound.

“Please,” he says as he grasps at the bars holding him inside. “If the mistress would give me just one more chance—”

“You have failed to keep your promise,” the voice continues softly as though the owner can’t hear him. “You have failed to become worthy.”

“No, please. Help!” Brittleson calls, turning his attention to a guard who stares at him with blank eyes. His chains rattle as he slams himself against the bars, trying to wake them up, but he knows. He knows no guard remains conscious and close enough to save him. “Help me!”

“You remain a pawn,” the soft voice continues as a veiled woman steps into the crimson light. Her eyes are just as blank, as though she’s simply a puppet. “And pawns must be sacrificed when there’s a need to protect the king.”

The muffled shot of a silver gun paints the cells redder and the thud of a body announces the end of Alexander Brittleson.

“Long live the king,” the veiled woman mutters softly as she retreats into the shadows.

The guards’ eyes regain their focus soon after. There shall be a report on Chief Officer Melody Lark’s desk in the morning.

***

People gather in front of Piper’s Pied Potions on the day of its departure, wondering how they will move the whole building.

Jack and his mother, Mrs. Barlow, are one of the onlookers waving back at Piper and Charlotte as the building does something unexpected.

The ground splits as the dark brown roots of the lavender shop reveal themselves, crawling to the surface and rising up, up, and up as the building stands on its root-legs.

“Farewell, Solridge!” Piper calls as he bows in the garden. “Thank you for your hospitality!”

With that he waves one last time before he disappears into the shop with a smile on his lips.

Tardy bees rush after the shop as it quite literally walks out of the city.

As for where it shall choose to perch next, well. You’re welcome to look forward to it, Dear Reader.