quercu

He wants me to rescue them.

I want him to disguise himself as staff in my shop.

A flower shop.

A flower shop?

So while we were risking our lives on the front...

This is what those shitheads were up to.

A commemoration dinner?

A commemoration dinner.

Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard...!

And you just let it happen?

These flowers have been bartered for a blind eye to the refugees.

For basic supplies.

For necessary privileges.

For more than a single life.

With just these?

Not just.

But it is with these flowers, yes.

You just can't let go of that ridiculous fantasy.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

Nothing constitutes this 'refugee camp' except a bunch of toys flung at the children on a charitable whim.

Today, they can have you practicing your art and saving people, sheltering them all in a castle of sand.

But tomorrow, they can have you killing them, knocking the castle down, burying them all beneath the ochre dust.

As long as the refugees don't make too much of a scene, they'll let anything slide.

I'm a doctor.

I'm not killing anyone.

But what if someone else did it?

Then you should ask yourself what would a Victorian soldier would do, in times like that.

Then what if it ends up like Forrest again...

I'm begging you.

You've been scared, ever since your first day with the refugees.

That the war will continue, that life will no longer be worth looking forward to.

That life will no longer be valued.

You know these things are bound to happen.

And bound to happen more than once.

So what will you do, Dr. Quercus?

What now?!

They've got people manhunting right up ahead!

Bastard...!

Frankly, in the midst of the drab, muddy streets, faces worn all around, this many flowers naturally stands out like a sore thumb.

Don't panic.

They won't come prying.

But the snatch squads are smart. They won't try to get themselves into hassle.

After all, they know what kind of person would need so many fresh flowers for their evening occasion, don't they?

Oof...

Get a move on.

Are you still worried I'll turn you in?

I've had my eye on you forever at the refugee camp. You don't seem like the sort.

So I'm willing to gamble.

You don't need to say anything. I know what I'm doing here.

It doesn't mean I trust you.

And I'll be clear, I can't stand you.

I just wanted to warn you, if you keep acting sneakily like that... you'll only draw the snatch squad in by yourself.

Don't need you telling me.

Settle down! What are you hollering for?!

Fowl-hearted rubbish, the lot of them...

Hey, don't you think it's stuffy in here? Can't catch my breath.

And there's a sort of...

Is that some kind of... scent?

May the earth once again care for life tender...

Oi, look!

The vents!

What?!

Is that... flowers?

May the earth have mercy, that our lost children lay to rest in her bosom...

Urgh...

Wha...

Come out.

Let's find your comrades.

I've never seen Arts like that before.

Just some of the tradition of home.

So them few are...

They're unconscious, that's all.

You have enough time to get the ones you want out of here.

Hmph...

I can guess what crosses Michael's mind for a split-second.

But he doesn't draw his saber, after all...

He really does miss his brother so much.

The wrong person, the wrong place, the wrong standing.

Michael?!

How did you get in?

I'm here to save you.

Follow me!

Nice going!

Who's that with you?

She's...

She's just assisting.

Let's go.

Wait!

These stupid manhunting buggers.

I'm gonna settle my score with them.

What are you doing?

Michael and I are here to rescue you.

Not to kill them.

Oh, piss off!

You know what they've done?!

All too well.

Of course you know what they perpetrated in the refugee camp.

Why are you stopping these deserters from bumping off these scum?

Listen to yourself.

You were interrogating me just a second ago.