Dethrone The Rat King!

Capital Crocus—the capital of Fiore and home of the King and other royal families. It was a melting pot of Fiorean culture in all sorts of tangible forms: food, craftsmanship, architecture, museums and the lot. But such knowledge that even young children had known was a mystery to Chiyuki Suzuki, or otherwise called Doppo, who knew very little of the town. In fact, on his way there he had purchased a convenient brochure meant for tourists to guide him about the town when he only ever looked at what sort of restaurants were famous there. There was a steakhouse for casual diners and other fine dining restaurants with names he couldn't pronounce. The list was seemingly endless and kept him occupied during his train ride there.

The list wouldn't keep him too occupied since right after he stepped off the train the place he was heading to for today was in the complete opposite direction from any other place that was even mildly interesting. He was not visibly upset by this and instead brooded. This place was nothing particularly spectacular—it was some petite building named "Tom's Exterminators" scrunched in between two much larger, more refined ones with, to no surprise, some more long and unpronounceable names that Chiyuki was sure was plain English but too complex for his tongue seeing as he was both somewhat sheltered and uneducated.

Chiyuki, who was wearing a black, baggy hoodie and equally baggy, ripped jeans to compliment, went to this petite building and stopped in front of it. He looked left, right, behind him and then back in front. It was the place where he was supposed to meet with two other mages accompanying him on today's job, which is why he had come to Capital Crocus in the first place. The job was simple—something to do with rodents and their removal but seemed mundane compared to the building's emptiness and the lack of other mages being here aside from him, as far as he could tell. He looked around him one last time before allowing himself to slip inside the building with a quiet "excuse me" to follow.


The room he stepped into was relatively spacious and had no tables or chairs beside an empty receptionist's counter in front of him and benches lining the seasoned walls, which he assumed were placed there for customers to sit on to wait—but there were no customers and the only signs of life were ugly, wilting white flowers he couldn't identify in a porcelain vase on the desk and the sounds of hammering metal against metal downstairs. Chiyuki said nothing and went to sit on one of these benches, his legs sprawled and back reclining as deep as it could into the wooden bench. He slunk into his seat and folded his arms over his chest—a messy red vineyard he called his hair spreading over his incredibly baggy and weary blue eyes. He heaved a deep and heavy sigh from the bottom of his stomach and let his head hang back to snooze, and snooze he did, and rather quickly. His snores were deep and gurgly, and his mouth hung open while he did it. If the workers downstairs couldn't notice him, the mages he was soon to work with sure would.

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Chiyuki continued to doze off and dreamt of nothing in particular. Although he slept deeply, he wasn't in a sleep deep enough to warrant and invite such visions, but what he did seem to fantasize were abstract versions of conversations that took place outside of his subconsciousness—something about rats and an accent that sounded too foreign for him to understand.

Although his snoozing was unperturbed at best, no poking or prodding could stir him. The butt of a wooden cane, the fingernails of a delicate finger, and not even a slithering beast could stir this man until an inhuman weight suddenly became apparent on his body, and atop his head, no less. With an abrupt jolt, Chiyuki jerked his head up and wore an expression so pale and white that he could be mistaken for a ghost if not for his glossy blue eyes making it clear that he was, in fact, very much alive. Yes, he was alive, but so frightened that all the color in his skin had found some other place and hid, leaving some ghastly shell behind. In front of him, Chiyuki would come to realize, stood a well-groomed man and a blonde, long-haired mistress standing there, both seeming equally as shocked as he were—but this didn't help him feel any less uncomfortable.

He looked down at what appeared to be some sort of serpent with his frightened look of his, only for it to soften and regain some amount of vigor—he even began to blush a little. Chiyuki deeply enjoyed animals, no matter their species, and even in the strangest of situations found some amount of comfort in their company. Of course, he wouldn't touch it or even consider the thought for its weight was so suffocating and uncomfortable that all he could do was stare and wonder how much longer he would have to endure such troubles. His arms remained crossed and his expression dulled back to its usual stiff indifference again and looked to the two persons ahead of him. He scrunched his brows together and looked at them with a disgruntled expression, which appeared more sheepish and childish than anything. A sort of "boohoo" look. "I don't work here." he explained rather plainly. He apparently thought that this would be the only reason for them to wake him aside from the fact that two other mages were supposed to meet him here around this time. He was especially dull when waking up.

As some more restful features returned to him, so did his wits and abilities to put a more coherent picture together. The well-groomed man looked like someone who was here for these services, but not the woman The woman dressed too extravagantly—or what Chiyuki considered to be extravagant—for her to come here for her rodent needs. They were both equally attractive and appeared to have purposes other than business with this Tom person. Chiyuki, with a weary struggle, lifted himself from his seat and tucked his head down in a form of greeting, "I'm here for a client. . . waiting for some people to—" he yawned, "—to come meet me here." Chiyuki looked down at his figure again, unsure of what to do about the strange serpent attached to him. He didn't know what to say to the two persons before him, and really didn't want to say anything either. The redhead didn't feel like talking to anyone or thing, but also couldn't exist pleasantly with such a weight on his body. So he, instead, exchanged a blushing expression and puffed cheeks as if he were trying to hold in his compassion for the animal and his desire to stroke it—or his discomfort it being there.

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So it was settled—everyone had gathered here to investigate this "Rat King." Well, there were more here as pseudo-exterminators than investigators since there was little to investigate. This "Rat King" simply assumed the royal position as King of Fiore and had to be dealt with. Now if one might've asked why the Rune Knights, the units serving directly under the Magic Council, wouldn't have dealt with such blasphemy themselves, Chiyuki couldn't provide a sensible answer. It was true that wizards were people with magical aptitudes who went about the world, or Fiore, solving problems—but normally these problems were of the magical sort and while this particular scenario involved magic, it was no more than some rats. It wasn't like they weren't already there before this Rat King's wild proclamations and a fireball would do no better than a Rune Knight blade if they happened to gather together. So, what do the Rune Knights even do then? If a matter such as this is too much, or perhaps not a concern of theirs, it was simply a matter of time before they lost control. It was a recipe for disaster.

The strange serpent-thing had been lifted from his figure but he didn't feel any less uncomfortable. His shoulders felt heavy and legs felt as if they would give way any second as he did not prepare to resume activity so quickly after a nap if you could call it that and not a Devil's attempt to deliver him death through thunderous slumber. Beaux and Onida seemed to get along just fine, it was almost as if he could slip away from the pair and nothing would've changed. This was, partly, due to his inability to begin conversations with others, so his dying presence was a natural result of that. Of course, in cases such as this where his snoozing had drawn too much attention for his liking, it was difficult to frolick off to somewhere where a spotlight was its dimmest. "Tis the nature of group jobs!" or so it goes. Though, all of these social problems seemed trivial and nonexistent when he was actively using his magic, for one reason or another.


Now the sound of metal against metal continued to ring downstairs and it was clearly the periodic movements of a human being. But these walls and floorboards weren't so thick and tough that he hadn't heard his thunderous snoring or Onida and Beaux's chit-chatter. So Chiyuki, while his company was talking, crept over to the receptionist desk with an outstretched gaze peeking as far as he could down the staircase into the basement. He could see a brightly lit room through a closed wooden door, but chances were that it was locked. With a tepid volume, he yelled down the staircase over the desk, "Excuse me?" he said this, but no response returned. He yelled again, and like before, no response. By this point, Chiyuki began to shuffle his way around the desk and attempt to make it down the staircase to open the door as discreetly as he could before spotting a small sheet of notebook paper next to ink and quills with something scribbled over it.

Chiyuki looked at it curiously, or as curiously as he, a visibly unreadable man, could've. He unfolded it to its entire length, which only expanded to the size of his palm, and read through it carefully. "Ahrm... ahem—" the redhead rubbed the nape of his neck unconsciously and resumed his speech, "Dear mages, thank you for taking up our offer. We're sorry that we couldn't be here to meet you in person, but there has been a wasp infestation long overdue that needs to be addressed. I've written down the address to the entrance of the place where you'll find the rat problem here. . . at, erh. . ." his bright blue eyes skimmed the passage again, searching for this address before flipping the note sheet to the back, "—2031 Sutgate Street. . ."

Chiyuki was certain that it must've been some sewer gate or some entrance to said sewers, but he would not mention this. The others must've come to some similar conclusion if he, of all people, could. He approached the group again, turning and offering the small note to Onida. He extended his hand and spoke dryly, "Or so it says."


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Miss Onida took the note from him instantly after he recited the directions and decided to assume the position of leader since she was the first to walk out and guide them to their destination. Even with the paper telling him where to go and the city streets so wide and open, the largeness of the buildings and the people who crowded in between felt nauseating. So he spent most of their walk staring at Beaux and Onida's feet and if there was a moment in which they were visibly lost, he hadn't seen it. He stopped when they stopped, moved when they moved, all of which he did had an acceptable distance. It was so comfortable that he'd even found the opportunity to doze off while he followed the sound of their footsteps.

But when the click, click, clicking of their heels and the soles of their feet were smothered in an abrupt silence, he stopped just before bumping into the pretty-faced mistress, Onida. He opened his drooping blues and followed their line of sight—and lo and behold, the entryway to the sewers. It was nothing spectacular or particularly impressive of a sight, but it wasn't like Chiyuki knew anything about grates in the first place besides that some places around Earthland decorated theirs beautifully. This one wasn't beautiful at all and was more unwelcoming and ominous than anything.

Onida was smart to opt out of delving into the smelly sewers first, and Chiyuki considered himself even smarter for staring at Mister Beaux a sharp, dead stare, determined not to go either and solidifying his place above ground. To his luck, Beaux submitted, and while he did so of his volition, Chiyuki was convinced that he had "won."

Srrrch! The grate ground against the cobblestone as Beaux lifted, and suddenly whatever evil odors and smells that had been suppressed by its weight had unleashed their contents into the surrounding air. Chiyuki's expression wouldn't change in the face of such a wonderfully awful smell but he was astounded on how quickly mister Beaux was able to delve into the sewers. He was impressed, really.


The sewer was dark and as Beaux descended down into it he became less and less visible. If not for the daylight, no one would notice him even if they were standing five feet in front of him. But he and Onida noticed him, and they also noticed how within seconds of his descent did his forehead begin to glow golden. He'd beckon the pair down, and this time Chiyuki decided to go first. He hopped down from the surface into the sewers and peeked down each direction when he did—but both were equally dark, ominous, and seemed to go on forever.

The sewer felt, well, wet. He could feel tiny pieces of rock stick to his shoe and grind underneath his heels and even though the surface had only been a brief ladder climb away, it was far more humid and had a more rotten odor. It wasn't nearly as warm as it was outside and it was so silent that he could hear water drop from the ceiling into the sewage from ways on. He didn't like closed spaces, but he disliked what sort of creepy-crawlers lurked in them even more. Chiyuki suddenly became very pale at the thought, swallowed his spit as quietly as he could and looked back up to Onida and then to Beaux. He stared at his body—there was no particular place he stared since all of it was glowing.

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