/Honestly, on an individual basis people can be quite intelligent, thoughtful human beings. But on a whole… it's like watching a field of sheep. Except that it's more interesting, because humans are creatively bizarre in their stupidity. This includes the smart people, too. Of course, the really intelligent people know that acting stupid is the smartest thing they can do. Like that Fitcher chap; there are times where I wonder if he's acting of if really is a spineless wet lump./

/Tell ya the truth, I don't think I'm making sense. Okay, maybe using 'stupid' is the wrong word. It's just that… people don't bother to notice anything that goes around them. People like sitting in their own little worlds, excluding everyone else. That's what people like me are for. To wave things in their faces, and say, "Did ya forget this?"/

/And, if you don't think that what I do is proper or that it's worth the money I ask for, well, let's face it. Facts are facts. You pick them up, dust them off, and hand them over to people who need them. You have only to pick them up in the right place and time and give them to the right person at the right time. That's a pretty hard feat, if ya ask me. Ain't my fault that people don't go and notice important things. Ain't my fault people want to live in their own little world. People find out the meaning of Life in different ways. Some people think it's all right to be in a little shell, alone or ignorant or innocent or whatever. Maybe it is. I wouldn't know. I _don't_ know everything. But I damn well know what I see, and what I feel./

/And that's their Life is not My Problem./

/Too bad that I'm such a nosy bastard./

South Window, Richmond sourly reflected, was always the same, no matter how hard you looked at it. You could turn it upside down, shake it around, flip it inside out, and it would still be the same. Those idiotic soldiers would lounge around all day, looking particularly fierce (in the comfortable knowledge nothing was going to happen), business would be booming, taverns would be bouncing away all night, and those damn little bonsai trees would line every single avenue and every single street. It was the latter that was driving him crazy; something about the stilted tiny perfectness of those little buggers would drive anyone up the wall, especially bunched together on _every single damn street._

You had to hand it to the old man, though; Richmond, unusually enough, woke up early one day and had seen the bonsai lover walk down the streets trimming each little bugger without a care in the world, going at each wayward branch with a spiteful little _snip, snip, snip_. Richmond admired the sheer perseverance, if not the actual result, but then, at that age, the guy had to be thankful that he had bonsai trees to wake up to every day.

It was a nice morning, nonetheless; an overcast sky with that overwhelming hint of rain. He liked rain, but more often than not it just tended to be one of those little idiosyncrasies of Mother Nature to say that a premonition shouldn't be that far down the road.

Not like there wasn't already one lodged in his mind; Gustav was being unusually forceful lately, putting a lot more pressure on Granmeyer than was strictly necessary. It was more than just a premonition; he had already checked out Tinto and the place was all crying bloody foul at the Empire. It wasn't even as if they were trying to hide the fact that they were going all out against Barbarosa; weapon stockpiles were growing higher by the minute, pounded out feverishly by blacksmiths who were getting fat off the royalties they were making. All that really mattered was that they needed City-States' backing. Or, provided that they didn't get that, since all the lords of the City-States bickered like fishwives, at least the backing of another City-State. South Window, being lodged right up against the Empire's butt, was naturally the logical choice.

/Not like they'd get any other potential allies/, Richmond thought. Two River City was governed by a wet sop, Matilda was useless geographically, Greenhill didn't even _have_ the ability to draft, much less have a standing army, and Muse… well, not even Gustav  had the balls to go head on against Annabelle. Not that many could. Only Granmeyer considered Annabelle in a friendly, affectionate light, as if she was his favorite granddaughter or something like that. Richmond sometimes didn't know what world Granmeyer was living on, but wherever it was, it was obviously not in tune with reality.

Nonetheless, he rather liked Granmeyer. The man was honest, a particularly rare (/and useless/, Richmond thought) trait in politics, and for all his soft views, he was not weak-willed, surprising at it seemed. Of course, it was gonna get him killed some day, but Richmond was looking forward to the day anyone would actually _try_.

/They'd have to go through Freed first/, he thought. /And then Yoshino. And then Freed again because the man has nine lives, all of it laid down for Granmeyer./

He whistled cheerfully, climbing up the steps, madly ignoring the whining Wuffles was making underneath his shirt. He'd catch hell for it later, for the elderly Wuffles might be slow on the uptake but still had sharp fangs, but he had business and as idiosyncratic as he was, he was not quite the idiot.

Well, at least he hoped, anyway.

He absently knocked on the doors of the Chamber Hall entrance, and waited for the guards to snap to attention.

Wuffles bit him.

"How's everything?" Granmeyer asked.

"Everything? Well, fine, I guess," Richmond said. "There ain't much you can say to that kind of question." He winced as Wuffles chose to gnaw his finger.

"I suppose," the elderly man said, and sighed. "Well, it's nice knowing you're fine; a fine lot isn't so fine lately." He stood up from his seat and folded his arms behind his back, a little hint of a military background showing through by Richmond's observation; the man still stood straight and tall like a young man, or a young soldier. "I suppose you've heard about Tinto?"

Richmond snorted. "Heard about? Hell, they're shouting across the border at us. You gotta be _deaf_ not to hear Tinto. They're shouting bloody war."

Granmeyer looked out the single window in the room, his back turned to Richmond. A spot of rain splattered against the window pane, and then another spot, and another. "Bloody war," he repeated absently. "Yes, with all that uproar in the Empire, well, it only makes sense that Tinto would want to." He turned around. "Have you heard the news of the Empire?"

Richmond shrugged, yanking his finger out of Wuffles' mouth and clamping a hand around the dog's jaw; the damn pooch growled and twisted his head violently. "I've-- ouch! -- heard a little about the -- goddammit, stop eating my _shirt_! -- er, Empire. In the middle of the-- sit, Wuffles, _sit_! bad dog! -- er, eh, a revolution, isn't it?"

"A 'liberation army', or so they style themselves," Granmeyer said, watching with some amusement as the hassled detective wrestled with the now seriously riled Wuffles. "They've already conquered a good swath of the continent."

"That's, er -- _dammit, that's a real leather belt_! -- nice, isn't it?" Richmond managed, clamping one of his hands firmly around Wuffles' jaw and fishing around in his breast pocket for the ever-present doggy treat. "They're doing the -- good dog, stay like that -- er, the mostly easy part now, aren't they?"

Granmeyer lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, the conquering part is mostly the easy part, isn't it?" Richmond said, sighing with some relief as Wuffles snuggled down to sleep, exhausted from overexertion. He gave the mayor a weak smile. "The hardest part is getting away with it, 'course."

"Ah," Granmeyer said, with a faint smile. "You're right, of course." He sighed and looked out the window. "Well, if you know that, you should know that the Empire is rather… occupied with the present… internal problem they have and border security has been rather lax lately."

"Bloody damn lazy, ya mean," Richmond said. "Hell, I'd be worried too if three of my best generals go out the window by a self-styled rebel army."

There was a merest fraction of a pause as Granmeyer digested the information. The mayor turned around and gave an oblique glance at the detective and said, "Might… I ask, where did you come by this information?"

Richmond looked up, a little startled. "Huh? Oh well, it was just lying around. It's kinda hard to miss the fact that two outta the five generals went suddenly "missing", ya know? Three if you count Georg Prime, but--" he shrugged-- "that man's got a pretty damn interesting life, if ya ask me. Flings his jobs like some old girlfriend or somethin', like he don't need them anymore. The Empire's seriously got its hands full. Barbarosa ain't one happy man, I'm thinking." He patted Wuffles absently, and then looked up at Granmeyer quickly, realization dawning. "You ain't thinking…" he started, but Granmeyer waved him silent.

"I know what I'm thinking," he said. "And I know what Tinto's thinking, too. The Empire's too busy, and there's all that border left unmanned. Who wouldn't be tempted? It means a greater tax revenue, more mining deposits for Tinto, more trade for South Window, the chance to get back against the hated Scarlet Moon Empire… what doesn't it offer?"

Richmond was silent. Granmeyer eyed him carefully, and then continued speaking.

"I know what you're thinking, too, and I'm thinking that now. Tinto's crying out all bloody war, but that's what it's going to be, isn't it?"

"A goddamn bloody war," Richmond said.

"Yes," Granmeyer said. "I'm afraid so."

"Bloody hell," Richmond said, from the steps of Chamber Hall. The rain had started off slow this morning, in a fine drizzle, but it had turned into an all out torrent of water by the early afternoon. Sheets of rain spilled off the sides of the roof, splattering to the ground right in front of his eyes and incidentally soaking his shoes (which, he remembered with some dismay, were his best pair). "_Yarrghh, bloody hell!_"

The Mayor Granmeyer, a gracious man, allowed him to leave for a smoke and lunch before getting down to the dirty business but had not quite mentioned, nor probably even noticed, the change of weather. Mother Nature, being the vicious bitch that she was, obviously played all her cards out with that damn premonition she had and it was raining for all it was worth. It looked like South Window was practically drowning. On the bright side, he noted with some mad cheerfulness, it'd probably destroy most of the bonsai trees.

/Then again/, he thought sourly, /that old man would be at it next morning, with that goddamn pair of clippers he's got./

Wuffles whined pathetically underneath his shirt and he shushed the dog absently, staring out into the rain with a thoughtful look on his face. Then he shrugged, sighed, put on his hat and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, and stumped down the steps, out in the rain, heading for the nearest restaurant.

The rain soaked right through his hat and dripped down his face, soaked through his shoes and coat; for some odd reason, he felt decidedly cheery. He started whistling a little ditty, and grinned as the rain suddenly went from sheets to a waterfall. Mother Nature could go hell with her premonitions.

The nearest restaurant happened to be a rather classy affair; rich merchants and their ladies entering and leaving at all times, talking animatedly beneath their tasteful silk umbrellas. One look at the waiters told Richmond that he, with Wuffles down his shirt and thin wallet in his pocket, would be tastefully and decorously thrown out the door the moment he stepped in. Nothing as crass as bouncers, of course, but some of the waiters looked like they carried more than just plates of beautifully useless decorated food. He stared at the building for a moment, sighed mournfully, and moved on.

The next affair was not so much as restaurant as tavern; the board outside proclaimed more drinks than food affairs, and the air to it was smoky and rather low-class and hinted at big portions rather than tasty ones. And it was, by all means, very decidedly cheap. He grinned, and entered. His kind of place; definitely, if anything, on the bottom rung of the ladder. Not like he minded, simply because it was what he was. He had never been good at recognizing social structures, but he knew exactly where he stood in it-- firmly on the bottom, looking up. Laughing at everyone on top, of course.

He sat down on a bench and almost immediately ordered a drink. Looking around, he recognized several people-- most, if not all, cops or soldiers of some sort. Richmond sorta liked soldiers, since most of the lot were fairly nice people and most of time weren't really at fault at what they did. Cops were an entirely different matter entirely, however. Almost all of them believed that they were out to stop crime, and all they did was stop petty little things. The real crime… hell, all they had to do was look up at the Chamber Hall and bring more than just a couple of handcuffs, and they would have gotten rid of most of the crime in the city. South Window policed South Window, and the cops were there just for show.

Granmeyer had given Richmond a single request before he had left for his break, and it was to find out, exactly, how South Window felt about the entire thing with Tinto and the Empire. It was a rather large order, being that Richmond couldn't exactly interview the entire city, but seeing that there were all these soldier types around, who better to ask? After all, it wasn't _South Window_ that was in the war, it was the poor grunts and draftees that were in the war. Everybody looked at the big picture, but only Richmond and maybe Granmeyer saw that the big picture was mostly made up of a lot of little small pictures, all individually labeled and numbered. It was a horrible thought to think about, but it was, in the very end, very true.

He sidled over to a table of soldiers, plunked down his drink, and said, "So, how's everything?"

Not the best opener, but it was, well, at least a start.

"I do believe that when you requested for a temporary break of day, you weren't intending on actually breaking something," Granmeyer said.

"Nah," Richmond muttered, and then conceded, "Maybe his nose."

Granmeyer sighed, and put away the report he was reading. "Normally, I don't like violence, but in your case… I don't know _which_ side to believe."

"Try me," Richmond suggested. "I'm working for ya, after all."

"I find that hard, seeing that you're the only one who walked out of the fight without a single broken bone, bloody nose, black eye, or knife cut. I do note, however, that you have rather bruised knuckles. I'm amazed that your dog seemed to have slept through all this," he said, gesturing at the peacefully sleeping Wuffles.

Richmond shrugged and cracked his knuckles. "He's an old dog, and I fight dirty," he said. After a pause, he looked up at the ceiling and stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning back on his heels. "And I don't like police officers that get in my way," he added.

Granmeyer lifted an eyebrow. "Why not? You do work extraordinarily like theirs, don't you think?"

Richmond pulled a hand out of his pocket and waved it dismissively. "I'm not a _cop_," he said with disgust. "Same like I'm not a ninja, either."

Granmeyer lifted the other eyebrow. "You seem to have an aversion to both."

Richmond shrugged again. "Yeah, well, I don't like either. At least I know where I stand in this goddamn world."

"And where might that be?"

The detective grinned. "Right on the damn floor." He paused, and then said, "To talk about other things, I _did_ get the info you needed, ya know."

Granmeyer gave him an oblique glance, and then shook his head. "You are…the most infuriating man I've ever met," he said.

"Why, thank you," Richmond said, reaching for a chair and sitting down. "I don't get comments like that often, ya know. So, do you want me to spill it or what?"

"Yes," the mayor sighed. "Go ahead."

"Well, to make it short, _everyone_ wants a war," Richmond said bluntly. "The soldiers want it, the merchants want it, the police want it, the little old ladies with their pooches living next door want it, hell, the _pooches_ want it… it's just too good of an opportunity to pass up. About the only thing that could make anybody unhappy with it is that they don't want Tinto getting the fatter share of the profits. What can ya say, everybody in South Window are greedy bastards."

Granmeyer was silent for a long while, thinking; Richmond took his time, and looked out the window of the office. It overlooked a very nice portion of Two River City: the city wall. If he stood, he could probably see over the wall and look outside the edges of the city and see grassland, but the rain obscured everything and anything. The rain had settled down to a steady fall, but there were more hints that more rain would be coming again.

/South Window isn't really much of a place/, he thought. /A lot of grassland and the occasional city, but mostly road. South Window City is important only because it's a major trade route, same as Radat. Everything's imported into this damn city.  If South Window wins even a part of the Empire's land down south, and they cleared all that fen and miserable godforsaken swamp, they'd have some pretty damn valuable land. And it ain't cheap kinda land. We're talking about real land, the kind of land that farmers dream about in their sleep when they ain't dreaming about women./

Granmeyer spoke suddenly, breaking Richmond out of his thoughts. "Richmond," he said.

The investigator snapped to attention. "Hmm?" he said.

"I have a single question," he said.

Richmond leaned back in the chair and nodded. "Shoot."

"What do… you think about all of this?"

Richmond looked genuinely surprised. "Me? Whatever the hell for?"

The mayor shook his head. "Humor an old man, will you?"

There was a pause, as Richmond thought about it. He stood up, and looked out the window, and realized he had been right; if he stood, he could see over the wall. But the rain blurred the scene into a mask of random color, and for a moment, he thought, /why does Mother Nature always have to be right?/ He turned to look at Granmeyer, who was watching him with a … look … that the detective could not read.

"Well," the detective said. "I can't say because I ain't ever been in a war before, but I gotta say, it ain't _wrong_. It's a sad thing, and it's bloody, but it's not… well, _wrong_. But, you gotta admit, it's not really _right_, either. The winner is whoever's left standing in the end, ain't it?" He stopped, and thought for a moment. "Things are different in a war, ya know. Everything gets turned upside down. Rules get broken, but there really aren't any rules. The only thing that really matters is if what you're going for is worth it in the end. Most of South Window thinks so. Maybe they might think differently afterward, but this is what they're thinking of _now_, ain't that true?"

Lord Granmeyer nodded, and Richmond sat down again, wondering if he had passed or failed some sort of personal test. But the mayor's voice was carefully neutral when he spoke. "I see," Granmeyer said. "Well, it was just a question. I've already booked you a room at the Cat Claw'd Inn over on the other side of the city; a bit far, but it's reputed to be an excellent place and I've already summoned a carriage. Will you please come in tomorrow morning, or if you can't wake up, then at least by tomorrow in general? I have no pressing appointments and I have a few matters to speak of that would take too long today."

Richmond got up again. "All right," he agreed. "But I'll prefer to walk, if ya don't mind."

Granmeyer lifted an eyebrow. "In this rain?" he inquired.

He shrugged. "It's a nice day," Richmond said, and continued, "Besides, there are some things I gotta see. I've got a feeling that I'll be leaving tomorrow, isn't that so?"

Granmeyer gave him a faint smile. "Very well, then, you can walk." He handed a folded sheet of paper to the detective, who took it. "This is your reservation there."

Richmond glanced at it, and then flipped it open. Reading it, he gave a low whistle. "Nice," he said, and folded it over to stuff into his pockets. "Well, I'll be seeing ya tomorrow." Wuffles poked his head out of Richmond's coat and blinked sleepily, yawning widely, and the detective patted the dog thoughtfully.

"Tomorrow, then," Granmeyer said.

"I know, I know," Richmond said, already half out the door. "Tomorrow."

The Cat Claw'd Inn was a prosperous affair, the kind City-State gentlemen used for government journeys. Carriages pulled to a stop in front of it constantly and young waitresses held umbrellas over the head of this or that gentleman while they waited for their carriage to come. Even the little apostrophe in the name of the fine, upstanding establishment seemed a little preposterously arrogant. Richmond hated it on sight. Thing was, he could afford to hate it on sight, seeing that he was going to luxuriate in its comforts. Most poor sods didn't even get to see the inside of the inn, much less make a reservation there.

The first floor was solely a drawing room of sorts; ladies sat around listening to the music, young men played cards, elderly men sat near the fire and read, and some just chatted, filling the room with a pleasant sort of hum. Furtive glances were directed at him as he stumped in, dog in hand and reservation in the other, nothing so crass as _staring_ but people were certainly looking. He looked around and settled on the haughty looking personage sitting behind a table that had "clerk" written all over her. Stumping over, he tossed the reservation on her desk.

The woman made no move to touch the reservation. "I'm sorry, sir, but are you certain you have been directly rightly to this establishment?" There was the oh-so-subtle hint of /get lost/ behind it and Richmond grinned; foreigner or native, high born or low, people were still people: bastards who wouldn't give you the time of day unless they made a profit off of it. He gestured to the reservation, and said, "Lady, before you even question me ya should at least make an effort to see I'm supposed to be here or not."

She flushed a brilliant scarlet and gingerly picked up the soaking wet reservation. Peeling it open with her fingertips, she read the blurred words, and her eyes widened just a bit. Glancing over to Richmond, and then the reservation, she asked, "Name, please?"

"Richmond."

Her pen poised over the guestbook, she gave a slight glance at him again. "No last name?"

"The reservation didn't say any other, did it?" Richmond said. "I'm not a highborn fancy fool like the rest of this room."

The clerk ignored the last statement he made and delicately scratched the name Richmond in the guestbook. Turning it over, she handed the pen to him and said, "Room 2D, Royal Suite." She looked faintly displeased at the fact he was probably getting the best room in the house, but graciously, if a bit reluctantly, handed the keys over. "Sign, please." From the look on her face, he was pretty sure she was thinking that was going to scrawl a big "X" for his signature.

He complied with her wishes and scrawled a big fat "X" for his signature. He handed the guestbook to her. "I'm a bastard, I know. Taking up the whole page like that," he said, a little bit viciously. "Wish golly darn that I knew how to write my name, too. Would like you like to pet my dog? He's only a little fleabitten."

She snapped the guestbook closed, snatched the pen out of his hand like a bird swooping down on a kill, and patently pretended he wasn't there anymore. He grinned again and wandered through the drawing room (/well, it was more like squelching through the drawing room/, he thought), leaving little wet footprints behind. Feeling oppressed by the silence that had come upon the room upon his entering, he went up the stairs to find his room.

The second floor was another drawing room of sorts, if smaller since it also housed some of the rooms. The atmosphere was more pleasant; it seemed merchants and the like with money but no title guested here, and a few merchants invited Richmond to sit down and share a drink with them. He agreed, let Wuffles go to sniff around the place, and picked up the set of cards dealt to him.

The discussion of the moment seemed to centered around trade routes; as he carded his set in order he sat and listened to the talk, nodding occasionally at what seemed like an apt comment to nod to.

An old trader spat into a bowl and tossed down the three of diamonds to start the game. "Pah," he said, with disgust. "Tinto ain't worth a single penny to invest in. That Gustav, he's cut all trading routes down to nothing."

Richmond looked up quickly. "Whatever for?" he asked, and tossed in a six of clubs into the pile.

Another man, a middle-aged man with a long beard, shrugged. "He's threatening closing the trade routes completely into Tinto if South Window doesn't help him in his little war. A bully, that's what he is. Ain't like he's gonna hurt South Window… more likely /Tinto's/ gonna get hurt by this! All the stuff they get, they export-- all the stuff they /need/, they import. Tinto's a barren wasteland, that's all."

/Another reason to invade the Empire/, Richmond thought, and shrugged. "Well, it's their problem, ain't it?" he said.

"Feh," the old man said with disgust. "_Nothing's_ just 'their' problem. Like their little war they're a-brewing. Two River City's already agreed to help."

Richmond looked up so fast that he nearly dropped his cards. "Makai's agreed?" he said.

"Just this morning," the old man affirmed, and cackled. "Heh, ain't it just like Makai? He ain't doing anything. He jus' said that he'd help out Tinto, but he don't want to risk his people. So he's just supplying goods so he can get a piece of the pie. Same wi' Greenhill, except Greenhill ain't contributing _anything_. All they're doing is keeping their butts out of the way." The man spat again and tossed out an ace of clubs. "But Greenhill don't want anything, neither."

"And Muse and Matilda?" Richmond asked.

The middle-aged man laughed-- more accurately, _brayed_. "Ho, Gustav ain't a man to go up against Annabelle. He could bully Makai because the mayor of Two River City has no balls, and Teresa ain't getting anything outta it, but Annabelle? She'd draw and quarter _him_! And as for Matilda… high-falutin' bunch of wet sops, if ya ask me. Nah, Gorudo ain't gonna do anything." He looked at the cards on the table, and sourly said, "Who was the idiot who threw down the ace? Pass."

Richmond threw down the two of diamonds, grinned, and then soberly said, "Hell. Did ya hear anything else about Tinto, then?"

"Other than they're boning up for war?" the old man asked, and shook his head. "Nah. Tinto needs South Window's support. Heh, the City States all fight like my wife. All screaming and threatening and occasionally they got a sharp knife to go with it." He shook his head, and looked down at the cards. "Pass."

"That's why I didn't get married," Richmond remarked. "Kinda like going to war, ain't it?" He pulled out a five-card hand, a full house, and tossed it into the pile.

The old man cackled again. "War? Yeah, it's like war. It's jus' like joining the army. All complaining, but wouldn't _you_ know it, men just keep on enlisting." The middle-aged man laughed, and Richmond joined in. The old man threw down another full house, easily beating Richmond's.

The middle-aged man sourly looked at his cards, and shook his head. "Pass." He picked up a peanut from the bowl and crunched into it, looking at his cards and stroking his beard. "Eh," he said. "War ain't such a bad thing now, is it?"

Richmond threw down another full house from his hand and glanced at the old-man, who grinned toothlessly back at him, daring him to try it. "I wouldn't know," Richmond replied. "What do you think?"

"Nah," the old man said. "It's good for business _somewhere_. Only bad thing is that trade routes are being closed down all on the borders. Border checks are a nasty thing, my friend." He spat, and said, "Pass."

The middle-aged man nodded fervently. "Oh yeah, border checks are hell. Especially when you get real nosy guards." He glanced at the five cards left in Richmond's hand, sighed, and finally said, "Oh, hell. Let's go for it." He threw down a full house with three aces and a pair of sixes, and glanced over to Richmond. "Think you could beat it?"

Richmond grinned. "Hell, this shoulda been for money," he said, and tossed down four sixes and a jack. "And to think, I didn't even have to try."

The other two threw down their cards, complaining, but it was good-natured. Getting up, Richmond tipped his hat pleasantly at them and said good night, saying he was tired. Scooping Wuffles up, who had finally wandered to snooze in front of fire, he looked around a bit to find the suite he was in and found it easily (/you had to be blind to miss it/, Richmond thought), and kicked off his shoes once inside.

Looking around the expansive (and highly expensive) room, he dropped Wuffles off near the fireplace and laid his cap and coat across a chair. Throwing open a window, he watched the rain keep on falling, ignoring the fact that his dried shirt was turning all wet again. The bones in his arm ached abominably; it hadn't acted up earlier, but now it was, at the end of the day, like a time bomb that finally exploded at the wrong moment.

He shook his head and closed the window. Mother Nature and her premonitions. She was a crafty old bitch, all right, but it looked like that this one premonition might be right. Dammit, it looked like they were gonna go to war. Not like he objected, but… it was bad for business. For him, anyway.

The only thing he could really hope for was that the war was gonna be a short one.

/War's a real bitch. She takes from you and doesn't give any apology. But that's because it's all right by her. She's just like a woman, come to think of it. Sorry, but that's the truth. You don't ever mess with a woman because she's just gonna drag you into more trouble than what it's really worth. War's just like that./

/And war ain't short, no matter what it seems. It leaves scars, big ones, little ones, things that might not be seen until years later and ya realize it's been festering all that while./

/I didn't really know it then, but then, how does anybody know without really being there? Life is all about learning experiences. I ain't ever been in a war before. I ain't ever _seen_ a war before. All I knew then was what I knew, and that was this: war's messy. Real messy./

/I still stand by my decision, to this day, to what I said to Lord Granmeyer. War ain't right or wrong. It's sad, and it's really very pointless, but it's a part of what we are. There ain't ever been history without a war. History rarely _moves_ without a war of some sort. But, there's something I gotta say-- there _is_ an answer to the big question of whether war is right or wrong. It ain't a right answer or a wrong answer, but it's the answer, however ya look at it./

/And it's thought by the raven, who thinks somewhere in the back of its mind, "My, there are a lot of bodies."/

Return to Richmond's chapters Return to the chapter archive Return to the Suikoden 2 RPG main page
"Richmond" is (C) Konami This chapter was posted on December 25, 1999 This author no longer writes for Richmond