Lon’qu pretends he hasn’t noticed Serpico attempting to reach for his weapon. It’s a futile anyway, he thinks, having long since judged Serpico to be far too weak to pose a threat to him. All he needs to do is to play his role as a delegate for one last time, before Lon’qu finally fulfills the terms of his contract.

He hadn’t counted on things going wrong at the start of the journey, though. With an inward sigh, he regards Serpico and his helpless nobleman act, completely falling for it as he snatches the coat with a grunt.

There’s no need to thank a dead man, after all.

“It’s a week’s journey to the border on foot,” he surmises out loud, gazing beyond the field of corpses to the distance. They won’t have time to stop and bury the dead now; more’s the pity. Already, he can see the first crows circling overhead, as though waiting for them to leave. He supposes it’s about time.

He reaches out, grasping at Serpico’s arm none too gently and shoving him forward.

“Now move.”