A short walk east from the town square, Basil Lovecraft moved through the streets, walking alone and apart from the crowd. To him, the whispers and gossiping sounds of the human townspeople were inescapable. The people of Hanford weren’t used to seeing someone like him. His frizzy hair and mixed-race descent made him stand out sharply. In this wealthier part of town, where most were white, he was treated as if he was invading their territory.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he shouted irritably, voice crackling.

“What fucking imbeciles!” he added, frustration evident in his tone.

He just wanted a drink, ignoring the taunts and the racist remarks hurled his way. His focus was on reaching the Hanford Inn’s bar, which at the moment had only a few patrons inside. As he approached the entrance, a large, muscular man stepped into his path. The man looked incredibly intimidating, built like a fortress. Basil, however, showed no concern, casually keeping his hands in his pockets, a sign of his carefree attitude.

“Take your hands out of your pockets, boy,” the large man commanded. He was one of the town’s leading watchmen, feeling it was his duty to keep order and put Basil in his place.

“Get out of my way,” Basil replied calmly and firmly.

A crowd gathered at the bar’s entrance, voices rising as tension built.

“Get him, Freud!” shouted a young voice from Basil’s right.

Freud was the name of the imposing watchman known for his brutal methods and his reputation for physically humiliating anyone who stepped out of line. But this time, he was the one stepping out of line himself.

“How rude of you,” Freud sneered, his eyes narrowing. “You’ll regret that,” he added, his tone hostile and unjustified, already preparing to pick a fight.

Just then, Felicity, the head barmaid, noticed what was happening. She remembered an earlier visit by three nobles, who had explained that a man with frizzy hair would soon arrive at the bar to assess the business. These nobles had become joint shareholders, and Felicity knew Basil was the one they had spoken of. As she moved chairs across the diner, she quickly realised the situation and made her move to intervene.

“What’s going on?” asked Croid, who had just arrived and was following her lead.

“Stop,” Felicity commanded sharply, mid-step, halting Freud before he could escalate.

Freud had a great deal of respect for Felicity—she was well known in the community. He hesitated, confused by her interference and unsure of her motives.

“Do you know who that is?” Felicity asked him, nodding toward Basil.

She looked disappointed, clearly disapproving of the animal-like tendencies that often arose toward minorities. People sometimes acted without thinking, and she was frustrated to see Freud rushing to make judgments. “He’s one of our new shareholders,” Felicity added calmly.

“What?” Freud exclaimed, stunned. The small crowd, too, was taken aback by the revelation, murmuring in surprise at the news.

Basil looked at them with a threatening stare, his intensity unmistakable.

Yeah, that’s right, he thought silently to himself.

Freud, recognising the dangerous presence of the new family in town, shook in his boots and quickly said, “Sorry sir, I thought you were here to cause trouble.”

Hurrying out of Basil’s way, Freud left the scene with the crowd dispersing behind him, whispering and gossiping as they went.

Felicity approached Basil as he entered the bar, offering a welcoming smile. She had been tidying up in preparation, partly worried after an earlier visit from the Lovecraft family. She remembered they had mentioned a family inspector. Yet, from what she recalled, the Lovecrafts were surprisingly tolerant, generous, charming even, and they appreciated her bar even though it was in a bit of a mess at that moment, thanks to their unexpectedly early arrival.

Basil continued to walk into the bar silently, Felicity leading the way. Despite the rough treatment he had just received, he didn’t dwell on it. Though he was often an angry man, he always tried to maintain politeness.

“It's a nice place you have here,” Basil said simply.

“I suppose you’ll be seeing me here a lot,” he added with a faint smirk.

Felicity was pleased to hear the compliment.

“Can I get you a drink, hun, I mean, sir?” she asked, accidentally slipping into formality.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Basil replied casually. “And yeah, a Scotch should do the trick.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and headed toward the bar.

“Croid, there are some things that need moving down in the cellar,” Felicity said, gesturing toward the back.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Croid responded, sensing that his presence was unwanted but knowing better than to argue. He gathered some heavy boxes and began shifting them aside, preparing to space them out so they could be opened later.

Meanwhile, Felicity poured his Scotch into a glass and handed it over, still surprised by how quickly he downed the drink. She had plenty to tell him about the bar’s schedule, the times it was busiest, the community events, and how the bar always contributed to local carnivals. But her eyes widened in shock when she saw him empty the glass in one swift gulp.

“Could I have a bottle instead?” Basil asked casually.

“Err… yeah, sure,” Felicity replied, grabbing a bottle from behind the counter and pouring it into a fresh glass, ready to hand it to him. But before she could, Basil already opened the bottle with his fingers and began drinking.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes flickering with disbelief. Watching him gulp down the entire bottle in moments left her speechless.

“Wow,” Felicity said softly, shaking her head. “You really should slow down, sir…”

“It’s like I said,” Basil replied with a grin, “you’re going to be seeing me here more often.”

She had never seen anything quite like that before, and they continued their conversation about how the bar was run. Most of the talking was Felicity’s, sharing stories about the community and the business. Peering through the back window of Hanford Inn, Husa lingered in the shadows, observing Basil carefully. He had been watching the newcomer for some time now, waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. Overhearing the exchange between Felicity and Basil, his instincts sharpened each detail in the conversation could influence his decision.

Felicity, glancing toward the town outside, murmured, “We’ve been having some trouble lately, though.”

Her tone grew serious as she continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard about the mysterious deaths in town?”

Basil nodded. “Yeah, we sent one of our family members to investigate. He’s quite curious, that one.”

She looked at him, her voice lowering. “You and your family are with the Union, right?”



“That’s right,” Basil replied, standing confidently. “Although politics don’t really concern us much. We just picked the better side.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her face. “That’s funny. It reminds me of something someone told me earlier.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Basil asked, curious.

“Oh, ignore I said that. Anyway, I heard most of the recent deaths involved political leaders associated with the Confederates after some argument with Union members,” she explained loosely.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Basil said, nodding. “Seems that way, anyway.”

Felicity sensed that the Lovecrafts were more aware of the situation than she’d initially thought. Her eyes flicked with suspicion as she regarded them more cautiously.

“So, you’re planning to find out who’s responsible for the murders?” she asked quietly.

“Crime’s a crime,” Basil said simply. “Whether they’re Confederate or Union.”

He paused, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “Besides, Brock has this obsession with knowing everything that’s happening around here. Even though we’ve just moved in, he’s a bit of a narc. Always monitoring something. I guess he keeps us safe that way, though.”

“Brock. That’s the name of the investigator?” Felicity asked, now more curious.

“Yeah. You sure ask a lot of questions, lady,” Basil shot back with a hint of amusement.

“Umm… I’m just curious,” Felicity admitted, hesitating a little. “All your family members seem to have different roles. Like a proper chain of command. I met the other three earlier, and they seemed so formal. It’s kind of like the Himura family. They own half the shares of this place, after all.”

“The Himuras?” Basil coughed, surprised.

“Yeah,” Felicity said, nodding. “Your families are alike in many ways. They’ve been living here as long as I can remember. Everyone knows them. I’m sure you’ll get acquainted with them soon enough.”

Basil’s expression darkened. “We already have. And believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?” Felicity asked, genuinely curious.

“Never mind,” Basil said, brushing her off. “That’s personal matters.”

Felicity caught the tension in his face, the way his eyebrows crossed, signalling he was getting annoyed with her questions. She immediately realised she had crossed a line. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“No worries,” Basil responded with a faint smile. “I think I’ll leave you to your business.”

He stood, slipping his hands back into his pockets and giving her a nod of acknowledgment. Without another word, he turned and headed out of the bar.

Husa, watching from the shadows outside, believed he could easily catch Basil off guard and eliminate him if he chose. But he held back, at least for now. Instead, he began heading toward the outskirts of town, detecting a far easier target to pick off in the plains.

As he slipped into the open lands, Husa’s mind drifted over their conversation. He was sure Brock had come to monitor his family of his own accord, and the rest of the Lovecrafts must be aware of it too. Yet, from the information Basil had gathered, it didn’t seem they’d been sent to eliminate his family. The three Lovecraft members he observed in the town square acted uncharacteristically normal unnervingly so.

Conflicting thoughts swirled in his mind as he continued his pursuit. With all this information, Husa couldn’t help but question his own judgment.