Steal The Famous Fudge Recipe! (D/Arc/Job)

Arcanas was beginning to understand this job system and how it worked. One simply grabbed these slips of paper from many bulletin boards scattered across the country and followed the instructions scribbled across it. What's more, jobs of a certain nature could only be located in particular places of these towns and villages he's been to. The ones on the finer, well-maintained bulletin boards were usually in the busiest parts of towns: taverns, marketplaces, roads and the like, and these jobs were usually minor, trivial tasks. Things like helping old ladies cross roads, fix pipes, common problems that apparently requested the assistance of anyone who'd meet the client. But these jobs didn't interest him. It wasn't fitting for someone of his calibur, he figured. It was because of this and his desire to be kept away from such prying eyes of the public that he sought out the bulletin boards in the darker, more questionable places in town. These were the jobs offered through criminal jargon between folks in bars, or slips of paper offered in person. He'd had met many derelicts and human flotsam through these exchanges, and they always offered a "dirtier" task for him to do, and gave him every detail they could. He followed these directions To the T and almost always rewarded with their country's currency—jewels.

Arcanas hadn't spent any of his jewels yet and wasn't really planning to. He figured he hadn't any time to be shopping or indulging in these inferior people's materials. His primary desire was to learn about these people, experience their culture and their traditions through their petty "jobs." This system of work was so profoundly prevalent in every town, every village, every establishment he's been to and it only went to show needy Fioreans were and how they did cherish the work of sorcerers if you could even call it work. But among these trivial requests were far more dangerous ones. Quests that needed the attention of the oh-so-powerful sorcerers they so cherish. It was, by some means, a justified request, and while he planned to take many of these, none were quite as beneficial to his education than these trifles he takes, or so he assumed.

So today's quest, or job, required him to steal some sort of recipe. He was offered this by a woman who was selling something—maybe sweets. He wasn't really paying attention, or even said much of anything to the woman. But he accepted the quest, no matter how baffling its triviality was, and he followed through with it. He did it all within an hour: found the man's home, took the recipe without any trouble, and even rummaged through his home just to kill time. He found many things while he was there, like books and magazines and many other things that helped him understand Fiore a little better. He read them briefly and scrolled through their pages gingerly and eventually liked them enough to take them for himself.

He wasn't anticipating ever returning to this village, or "Peace Village" as they named it, and decided to leave something here for the man when he'd return, or any member of his family if he had one. Arcanas unscrewed a lightbulb just enough so it was loose and hazardous and retrieved several propane tanks he had found in the basement's storage. He unscrewed its dial and stopped when he heard the faint whistling sound of the propane exiting the tank and filling the air. There were about a dozen of these tanks and while Arcanas couldn't fathom why the chef had so much propane, it was a perfect storm.

He left, returned to the indignant client with the recipe and many others he had found, which she'd look at them as if she had won a lottery. Her face lit up and there was this wild look in her eyes when it did. Fioreans were petty. Later that week, the local news reported the murder of a family of five in the explosive destruction of their home.