"...Wait a minute!" Gus's voice dripped with doubt, each word tinged with an unmistakable sense of wariness. "That man assumes we will get information from a blacksmith?"

Jacques briskly dodged a young boy sprinting past his way. "Oui, Gus," Jacques tilted his head behind his shoulder. "Watch it, young man. You're going to get caught up with the wrong crowd."

"Sorry, Sir." The boy's voice was distant as his silhouette faded.

Poor kids. I thought the work conditions were better compared to France. I guess that's life. He resumed walking through the streets where vendors anxiously awaited their arrival, bombarding them with excessive equipment they weren't searching for.

His protective gaze lingered on Arieshell and Belle strolling in front of them. With each step they took, Jacques could detect Belle's frantic pace of searching for the mysterious shop: Jeeves's Spark and Flames.

"Matches! The finest phosphorous matches! A penny for a dozen!"

"No, thank you," Belle apologized in a hushed whisper.

Upon reaching a crosswalk, Jacques stepped between the two women. His eyes darted toward the merchants, civilians, and surrounding streets. Jacques inadvertently guided his attention up toward the clouds looming above.

Darn weather! England rarely gets good outings.

They waited their turn, crossing the brick road. Before long, a traffic guard stopped the carriages, gesturing to the crowds of people to pass. A harmonious click and clack rose from the crowd as their shoes met the brick road, and echoed a rhythm that filled the air in their wake.

Jacques gazed at the surrounding buildings. Their highest roofs stood majestically and people waltzed across the skyline's silhouette. Jacques skimmed the upcoming road signs, then focused on his companions.

"We ought to move further into the shopping district," he advised.

"How come?" Arieshell inquired. Her hand clasped with Belle's.

"It's a tool shop. Jeeves's a blacksmith, remember?"

"Pardon, my skewed view. However, I'm quite perplexed. How can we be certain that it's not a trap?" Gus queried as he positioned his hands on his hips.

Jacques's eyes pivoted, glimpsing toward Arieshell, as he resisted the temptation to become angry with Gus's unforeseen attitude. He pressed his forefinger and thumb between his eyes, rubbing slightly.

"The only trap that could exist is you cutting our time short! We do not know if Henry and Wilbur are on our tails! I'm not risking it."

"Jacques's right!" Belle piped up. "I'm unwilling to compromise my mission."

Gus diverted his gaze from them. He gnawed at his fingertips. "Alright! Alright. How much further?"

"It's only a few shops down," Belle answered.

After a short while, they discovered Jeeves's Spark and Flames. Upon examining the large plate-glass windows, there stood two mannequins showcasing uniforms resembling safari gear, one with a black leather case with a rifle, while the other displayed a shotgun.

Jaques mouthed 'wow' as the wooden sign, with its carved words "Jeeves's Spark and Flames," caught his attention. This is it! His heart lept for joy, meeting Belle's eyes. Undoubtedly, a spark of hope stirred inside her, like a glimmer peeking through a tunnel of thorns.

They were closer than ever to William's whereabouts.

Briskly, Jacques curled his fingers around the nob. His body shifted, allowing Arieshell and Belle to enter. Before Jacques could walk, Gus clutched his shoulder.

"I will return later. I want to update the rest of the crew."

Jacques nodded. "Be careful."

Gus patted his back. "Stay safe, please," he hollered.

Jacques stepped through the door with a crisp salute, pulling it shut behind him. After a minute to adjust to his surroundings, he sensed a gentle touch caressing his back. His face burned from the sudden affection.

"Where's Gus?" Arieshell questioned, leaning in, her curiosity piqued as she peered over his shoulder.

"He returned to Sparrow."

"Oh! He had enough with us?"

"What? No, he wanted to update the others," Jacques reported.

"Ah," she sounded. "Will he be back?"

"Yes, he mentioned he would return," Jacques explained. His eyes wandered. "Where's Belle?"

Arieshell shot him a flirtatious smirk. "Come with me!" She cooed, grabbing his hand.

She hurriedly guided him further into the shop's core. Her hand tightened its grip on his as they came to a halt. Belle lay with her legs crossed, her back against a bay window. Her posture appeared peaceful, a fresh change of pace for Jacques.

"Belle!"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Jacques! What took-"

"Good day, you must be Jacques," Jeeves's husky voice boomed as he entered out from a back room.

"Yes," he confirmed. He embraced Jeeves's hand, shaking it firmly. "It is a pleasure making your acquaintance."

"Charmed!" Jeeves gave him a humble smile, untying his apron. "I must express my gratitude to you folks."

Jacques stared at him, his eyes lingering on Jeeves. His curly black hair, slightly disheveled, framed his lively face. Ash splattered his cheeks. Jacques observed him as his body maneuvered behind the counter.

"William spoke about Belle, but he never mentioned her having company," he continued. "He mentioned that her family abandoned her because of her mother having her out of wedlock."

"Most of her family abandoned her," Jacques corrected. "I'm her cousin."

Jeeves's gleeful face distorted into more distraught, little wrinkles formed above his brows. His eyes quivered, glancing in Belle's direction after diverting back to Jacques.

"My sincere apologies."

Jacques waved his hand. "I am not offended, sir. I assume either Belle or Arieshell has spoken to you about why we are here?"

"Yes! Excuse me for a moment. William left something for Belle."

"From William!" Belle yelled.

She jumped from her seat, her voice laced with excitement. Belle's eyes twinkled with delight, cheeks flushed a profound crimson red. Jeeves's chuckles echoed through the shop, retrieving a golden cloth; it exhibited a long, thin outline. Jacques automatically knew what the fabric contained.

Upon gently setting the cloth wrapped object on top of the table, the four of them huddled around it. Jacques faintly nudged Belle, motioning to her. His attention peered was drawn to Arieshell's lips, parted slightly, appearing as if she had been whispering.

"Go on, Belle. It's yours," Jacques whispered.

"A-are you sure?" she stuttered, glancing up at Jeeves.

Jeeves nodded. "William seemed keen for you to have this. He left a brief note inside."

Jacques's eye dwelled on Belle, her face captivated. He pivoted his eyes to the cloth. They dilated, focusing on the embroidered letter 'W' adorning the corner. The intricate design caused his lips to curve upwards. William must care for her a lot.

Belle's hands delicately hovered above the smooth material. After a prolonged period, Belle untangled the cloth to reveal a rifle.

"Oh... Mon... Dieu!" Gus gasped. "Is that... A-"

"A Meunier rifle? Yes," Jeeves answered.

Witnessing Belle examining the weapon, Gus inquired, "Do you know what to do with that?"

"Gus!" Jacques rebuked.

"Of course I do!" Belle confirmed. Her voice sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Welcome back," Arieshell mentioned. "I thought you went back to Sparrow? Your return was quick."

"Yes! Well, I crossed paths with Eda and Erasmus. I explained to them the situation and told them to keep a lookout for 'Your Majesty,' Henry."

"Thank you, Gus," commended Jacques.

With care, Jeeves cleared the table, meticulously wiping up any scraps of food. Meanwhile, Belle set aside her new possession. A brief note slipped from the cloth, falling onto the frigid concrete floor.

Jacques shared a glance with her before snatching at the ground. He peered at it, wondering if he could detect any sign of trickery Jeeves might be concealing from them—Belle, more specifically.

"What is it? Are there no words? Jacques?" Belle whispered.

"No, I wanted to see if he is not pulling a fast one on us. However, if he's a rogue, I want to be the first to know and in that case, you don't get hurt."

Belle's brows arched before peering at Jeeves. "Are you sure? He seems experienced. What did he do to—"

"It's a precaution. Here, I'll hand this to you. You said you can detect William's handwriting, right?"

"Of course! We have a special technique to confirm it's ours. Whether I write a letter to him or the opposite."

He nodded and passed the note to her. Her eyes diligently skimmed the piece of paper. As Jacques stood beside her, Gus remained astounded by her rifle, his hands quivering at his sides.

"Well," he voiced. "Is it William's?"

"It... It... is!" her voice cracked, almost bringing her to tears.

"Do you need a hug?"

Belle sniffed, extending her arms out for Jacques's embrace. A still quietude engulfed them, almost like a big blanket wrapping its silky borders, meeting with a benevolent kiss. Jacques's fingers rubbed her back as he overheard her ever-so-quiet whimpers.

"Shh, it's okay, Belle. You'll reunite with him soon," he calmed. His voice drifted through the air like a faint breeze, barely above a whisper.

"Ahem," Jeeves's gentle, though ruffled manner interrupted the eerie silence. "I hate to cut this sweet moment short. However, I have this safari uniform for you, Belle. William hand designed and sewed only for you."

Jacques loosened his grip, allowing Belle to pick up the garments from Jeeves. She gave him a courteous grin before darting through a set of doors with curtains draped across.

Jacques felt a tug on the corners of his lips, his cheeks flushed with warmth. As the earlier movements of Belle's spirit brightened her surroundings, a swarm of butterflies left in her wake. Jacques's stomach began bubbling inside.

"This adventure is going to be a once in a lifetime," he whispered.

His attention turned toward Arieshell and Gus, his eyes darted above the tops of their heads, gazing upon the exhibits of safari collections.

"What materials do you use for the clothing? I thought you only handled the metals."

"Ah! Indeed, my good fellow," Jeeves spoke while grabbing two rolls of fabric. "I grew up with a family filled with blacksmiths and seamstresses."

Jacques met his gaze. "So, you have multiple skills. Useful for an adventure like we're on, now?"

"Correct!" he agreed. "Take a gander at these fabrics. Both cotton and poplin will be efficient for movement and keep us cool in Africa's heat."

"Us? Are you-"

"Coming with? Yes, after all, I have not seen Monsieur William for almost three and a half years," Jeeves admitted.

Jacques whistled. "That's a long time without contact."

"It's longer for Belle," he pointed out. "Poor William entered my shop for a safari suit and asked if I could assist him. Throughout the months, we became close."

Jacque's eyebrow raised. "Close?"

"He recounted stories every time he tried to speak Belle's name. He wouldn't be able to utter one syllable. A cascade of tears would stream down his cheeks, each drop a testament to his unraveling. Once the floodgates opened, it seemed like an eternity before he could gather himself again."

Jacques felt his heart plunge back into his stomach's depths. His chest ceased briefly after Belle's faint whines shattered his unshakable demeanor.

A mist clouded over Belle's chocolate-brown eyes. Her lips quivered as she battled with her body to stand. She stood in the uniform William sewed, wearing a fluffy fur overcoat contrasting with her clothes.

The coat swallowed her petite form like a newborn swaddled in a blanket. The cuffs hid her hands, barely leaving her fingers visible.

"Belle," Jacques murmured. "Come, sit with Arieshell." He offered his hand, but she darted forward and bounded up the staircase, each step echoing her determination.

For a moment, Jacques remained still, his hands still stretched out. Confused, his eyes met Arieshell's.

"She's been through a lot," Arieshell spoke, redirecting her action to Jeeves. "With Belle having her equipment prepared, it is only adequate to get ourselves suited up for this trip."

Jeeves's lips curved into a magnificent grin. "Right! Let's begin! I require all of your measurements to ensure comfort and practicality."

"Great! Give us your orders and we'll execute them," Jacques replied.

Later in the night, Jeeves designated rooms for their restful sleep. Jacques's hand grasped the handle of Belle's door. As he quietly edged the door open, a sliver of a candle's light spilled into the room, illuminating Belle.

She lay peacefully, lost in her dreams. Her fingers sprawled, clutching the fabric. Jacques smiled, silently thanking the universe for allowing Belle an ounce of peace. Arieshell was on the other bed and signaled him to enter.

"Looks like she's already knocked out for the rest of the evening," Jacques whispered as he entered the bedroom.

"How lovely! She needed to rest," Arieshell mentioned. "I cannot imagine what's going on inside her head."

Jacques yawned. "Neither can I. She's special, that's for sure."

She glued her eyes to Jacques as he sat on the bed. "Our family has something that most people don't possess."

Her head cocked to the side, her lips parted. "I don't follow."

His eyes narrowed. Small wrinkles appeared on his face. "We have connections... Connections with creatures."

"Creatures?"

"Yes! Like you."

Arieshell's brows furrowed. "Excuse me? What kind of statement is that?"

"Uh... Shoot!" His arm rose to his neck. "I apologize. I'm not that great with conversations like these."

Idiot! Just tell her! It's not like you haven't gotten too deep with her. Speak, you fool! She's always in tune with you, just speak!

"No! Please," she spoke. "Go at your own pace."

Arieshell embraced him, wrapping him up in her arms as he sensed his body go limp. He snuggled against her, receiving a whiff of the sea breeze in her hair. She smells wonderful!

His eyelids fell heavily as he drifted from his consciousness to his subconscious.

Why do I feel calm? Relax? I've never been like this before! Wait! No, no, no! Get up! She might feel rejected. Or worse! Jacques, get your ass up!

Without thinking, he hurriedly unhooked himself from her grasp and stumbled back onto the other bed.

"Jacques? What's wrong?"

He swiftly stumbled up to his feet before dragging himself to the doorway. Jacques witnessed her eyes dart nervously as she met his gaze, her expression a mix of bewilderment and sheer terror.

"I'm sorry! Goodnight."

He scampered off, wanting to avoid any other dialogue with Arieshell.