by 
Guildless C-rank
Word Count: 653/500
Tagged: @tagged
Muse: pretty high
Music: Merry Go Round by Joe Hisaishi
This notes section will scroll if needed!
Now Capital Crocus was an exhilitariting experience. If there was any flesh on his being, he was shaking within it. The Petty King of Sorcerers and his family resided here and their minions, or what they call "Rune Knights," crawled between every corner, every opening of the capital. Arcanas began to feel like he were being watched no matter where he went, even in completely desolate areas, but never looked over his shoulder to check. He simply didn't care if he were being followed or watched or anything of the like, but it did make him feel itchy like a mosquito would when nipping at your ear. It was both obnoxious and pestering, and while Arcanas wished nothing more than their cleansing and eradication, sorcercy was an awful and powerful practice that would overpower him if he were to confront such evil as he was now. Besides, his endeavors in recent times are to investigate Fioreans and their culture, their ways, their society. Had His Lordship been here, he would've done the same.
The job he had been headed to today was one he accepted in Rose Garden, and the client was awfully jumpy over their "discussion," if you could call it that. As usual, Arcanas spoke very little and gave the yes's and the no's as needed, but said no more. Though he had been in Rose Garden just the day before, he had somehow found himself here in Capital Crocus through his clever use of navigation and studies of the country map.
The job was a standard robbery—nothing uncommon for the degenerate population of a nation. Arcanas recalled many times he was ordered to assist in detaining subjects in a robbery, and they all looked incredibly similar to the people he had been working with today: they were all skin and bones or so fat that their flesh dangled from their chins, thighs, and biceps, were all men ranging from the early twenties to mid-thirties, and were incredibly dumb. They had either been the same robbers from several years ago in Pergrande, or Arcanas simply didn't see human filth as individuals and commonly mistook them to be the same people. They all wielded some type of automatic gun—something he's seen before at home—and wore masks. They offered him one, but he didn't wear it. He didn't really find it necessary, considering he was wearing a helmet, and he didn't want to touch anything they touched.
Indignantly, Arcanas followed the group to the Bank of Crocus only for them to stop hesitantly in front of the entrance. The tall man looked over the others, confused. What was the matter? Were they scared? As a matter of fact, the three men were simply getting their barrings, but Arcanas was having none of it. He snatched the machine gun from the nearest robber and opened the door. Burdurdum! Burdurdum! Burdurdum! A barrage of tiny bullets decorated the bodies of every man and woman inside, riddling them with it. Many tried to duck for cover, but it was useless. There was no time to scream, there was no time to run, and before two breaths had passed, six men, nine women, and two children were sprawled on the floor or against a chair, red and dead. The other robbers watched in horror as Arcanas shuffled behind the counter and then down a hallway to retrieve the safe.
The a safe he did retrieve—the entire safe. He didn't both with the codes, as it'd be much easier to carry it himself, and so he did. He and the other spineless, or as he considered them, robbers returned to their client and split the jewels among them. It was all done in silence, and Arcanas, in turn, said nothing as well. He grabbed the bag of jewels offered to him and began to walk away, grinning through his helment. He sputtered sloppily on his way out, "Feckless."
The job he had been headed to today was one he accepted in Rose Garden, and the client was awfully jumpy over their "discussion," if you could call it that. As usual, Arcanas spoke very little and gave the yes's and the no's as needed, but said no more. Though he had been in Rose Garden just the day before, he had somehow found himself here in Capital Crocus through his clever use of navigation and studies of the country map.
The job was a standard robbery—nothing uncommon for the degenerate population of a nation. Arcanas recalled many times he was ordered to assist in detaining subjects in a robbery, and they all looked incredibly similar to the people he had been working with today: they were all skin and bones or so fat that their flesh dangled from their chins, thighs, and biceps, were all men ranging from the early twenties to mid-thirties, and were incredibly dumb. They had either been the same robbers from several years ago in Pergrande, or Arcanas simply didn't see human filth as individuals and commonly mistook them to be the same people. They all wielded some type of automatic gun—something he's seen before at home—and wore masks. They offered him one, but he didn't wear it. He didn't really find it necessary, considering he was wearing a helmet, and he didn't want to touch anything they touched.
Indignantly, Arcanas followed the group to the Bank of Crocus only for them to stop hesitantly in front of the entrance. The tall man looked over the others, confused. What was the matter? Were they scared? As a matter of fact, the three men were simply getting their barrings, but Arcanas was having none of it. He snatched the machine gun from the nearest robber and opened the door. Burdurdum! Burdurdum! Burdurdum! A barrage of tiny bullets decorated the bodies of every man and woman inside, riddling them with it. Many tried to duck for cover, but it was useless. There was no time to scream, there was no time to run, and before two breaths had passed, six men, nine women, and two children were sprawled on the floor or against a chair, red and dead. The other robbers watched in horror as Arcanas shuffled behind the counter and then down a hallway to retrieve the safe.
The a safe he did retrieve—the entire safe. He didn't both with the codes, as it'd be much easier to carry it himself, and so he did. He and the other spineless, or as he considered them, robbers returned to their client and split the jewels among them. It was all done in silence, and Arcanas, in turn, said nothing as well. He grabbed the bag of jewels offered to him and began to walk away, grinning through his helment. He sputtered sloppily on his way out, "Feckless."
