Silence filled the air following the leader of the gangster’s proclamation. D’Artagnan let a small bit of sweat fall down his face, his hands gripping the hilts of his knives tightly, his eyes never blinking, staring straight ahead at the gangsters, their pistols pointed towards them. Sadly, the same could not be said for the money lender’s new friend, as Knave quietly struggled to stand up, but only managed to, after several minutes of fierce movement, to roll over, so his face faced the aggressors. “Eh?” the gangster leader cried in shock. “Your home?” “Majin?” “But sir-” “Y-yes sir.”