Silence.

It was all a warm calm. The drapes were drawn, the moonlight of a crystal clear sky shone through the glass windows, basking the room in tender blue light. A simple sea colored run covered a majority of the oak floor. Many gloriously carved wooden chairs were in the corners of the room, accompanied by several red coated bookshelves. The mahogany counter had several glass jars of hard candies and beef jerkies for a penny apiece. The smooth surface was being polished by a man with reddish-brown hair. His average brown eyes were sleepy and worn as he slipped the cloth across the surface. His reflection could be seen through it. He was in his mid-twenties. He was a hardworking alchemist and pharmacist.

He yawned. "I'm done and going home, father." He took the rag and dropped it in a rusted iron bucket on the floor. He picked up the bucket, careful not to spill the brown sludge inside, and walked towards the door.

Just as his caucasian hand was about to reach for the bronze handle of the oak door, it turned on it's own. He took a step back, surprised, as the door opened.

There stood a redheaded teenage girl. Her long, messy hair was pulled back. The white fedora had a mangled emerald ribbon attached. Her green eyes were almost as beat dead as his. Her face was smudged with week old cuts and dirt. Her clothes were simple; a dark green leather jacket, green shirt, and brown pants covered her toned, sturdy body. The clothes were spotted with dust and grime. The brown boots that probably used to be a different color all together also were in filth. She obviously traveled a lot.

What really concerned the young man was her arsenal. An arming sword, tucked into a leather sheath, was strapped to her waist. A solid wooden shield was hanging on her back, alongside an animal hide pack.

She was armed. Considering the physical powess she obviously possessed, she was probably dangerous too.

"We're closed, ma'am." The man slouched, "And I just cleaned this place."

The girl did not meet his eyes. Instead, she awkwardly clasped her hands behind her back. Her tone was ever so slightly slurred, yet understandable. "I'm sorry, but is there a Daisuke Sirvant here?"

The man groaned, "They always want my father..."

He turned back to the room and shouted, "It's for you, father!"