Crocus was Fiore's capital city. Definitely, it would be one of the most protected and most lawful region in this side of Ishgar. Most of the people that lived here were the rich and royal, having earned a cut in the noble city through reason of birth, or connections, or having amassed enough wealth to be respected. Dia wondered what it would be like, being a renowned dark mage and living in a place like this. Perhaps with a lot of political clout, such could be pulled off. And that was why she detested most politicians to the core of her being. To her, they were no better than dark mages, because their corrupt actions caused widespread suffering, pain and misery. The only difference was that while dark mages were vilified, corrupt officials got to shake hands with the king, laugh false laughs and sip tea with those dainty tea cups.
Disgusting.
A politician had brought her to Crocus today, but while she was not invested in killing as many government honchos as she could, this particular one held a special place in her heart. He had been one of the people from her past, a past that she sought to erase with blood and wrath. Already, her vengeance had begun, and she had impressed herself by killing Le Trompe, thereby cutting off the little finger of the Hand of Doom. The Hand of Doom had been a group of five pirate lords, who operated off a ship bearing the same name. They had been her last lesson in torment, before she managed, through luck and near death, to escape them more than four years ago. Returning to Earthland a changed woman, both in flesh and mind, she had learnt that the Hand of Doom had since disbanded, most of them seeking to slip into normal society with their ill gotten gain. Seeing an opportunity, she started working towards eliminating all five of them. Of a surety, she knew she would be no match against the first three fingers, and even the Ring Finger, but with some subterfuge, and playing the right cards, she might be able to get close enough to slice off that finger too.
The quarry for today was not the Ring Finger, but an associate, who by gaining the favors of the upper class of Crocus, was close to connecting himself, as well as Dia's enemy with powers that would make them nigh untouchable. Fortunately for her, someone else wanted him dead. That was politics for you: many of them were treacherous backstabbers, but they turned their noses up at getting their hands dirty. She had picked this contract, because it was a priceless opportunity to cut the ground from under the Ring Finger. Little by little, she would encroach, weaken them, until she was close enough to plunge the dagger right into their heart...
"Don't you just feel like blowing up this place?" Hexter muttered, as some aristocratic looking youngsters sniffed with disdain at his clothes. Their eyes tended to dwell longer on Dia, who wore a black tube top, black leather pants and black leather boots. She had a jacket of similar material and color, but it had been draped on the bench beside her, allowing her fiery hair to spill onto her pale shoulders. Acting like they were not there, she looked over at Hexter, and chuckled at his face. "Admit it; there's a part of you that wants to dress like them." He gave her a blank stare, like he couldn't comprehend her words. She gave up trying to poke fun at him. "Our client said that we might be working with someone else. Did he say who?"
Hex shook his head. "Other than that he was looking for another suitable dark mage, no." He looked a little aggrieved. "I don't think the prick had faith in our ability to do this." Dia only shrugged. "A time will come, my dear Hex, when anyone who offers us such an indignity will pay for it in such a way that no one else would dare it again. But now is not that time. Right now, we're in a growth phase." She looked around. "How do we even identify our tag team mate?" she asked. "For starters, they won't look like all these milk drinkers milling about. Maybe tall, foreboding, a little intimidating, I don't know."
Dia laughed. That sounded more like a text book villain. She was a dark mage, and she didn't even look it. But then, she was yet to make a name for herself...
Disgusting.
A politician had brought her to Crocus today, but while she was not invested in killing as many government honchos as she could, this particular one held a special place in her heart. He had been one of the people from her past, a past that she sought to erase with blood and wrath. Already, her vengeance had begun, and she had impressed herself by killing Le Trompe, thereby cutting off the little finger of the Hand of Doom. The Hand of Doom had been a group of five pirate lords, who operated off a ship bearing the same name. They had been her last lesson in torment, before she managed, through luck and near death, to escape them more than four years ago. Returning to Earthland a changed woman, both in flesh and mind, she had learnt that the Hand of Doom had since disbanded, most of them seeking to slip into normal society with their ill gotten gain. Seeing an opportunity, she started working towards eliminating all five of them. Of a surety, she knew she would be no match against the first three fingers, and even the Ring Finger, but with some subterfuge, and playing the right cards, she might be able to get close enough to slice off that finger too.
The quarry for today was not the Ring Finger, but an associate, who by gaining the favors of the upper class of Crocus, was close to connecting himself, as well as Dia's enemy with powers that would make them nigh untouchable. Fortunately for her, someone else wanted him dead. That was politics for you: many of them were treacherous backstabbers, but they turned their noses up at getting their hands dirty. She had picked this contract, because it was a priceless opportunity to cut the ground from under the Ring Finger. Little by little, she would encroach, weaken them, until she was close enough to plunge the dagger right into their heart...
"Don't you just feel like blowing up this place?" Hexter muttered, as some aristocratic looking youngsters sniffed with disdain at his clothes. Their eyes tended to dwell longer on Dia, who wore a black tube top, black leather pants and black leather boots. She had a jacket of similar material and color, but it had been draped on the bench beside her, allowing her fiery hair to spill onto her pale shoulders. Acting like they were not there, she looked over at Hexter, and chuckled at his face. "Admit it; there's a part of you that wants to dress like them." He gave her a blank stare, like he couldn't comprehend her words. She gave up trying to poke fun at him. "Our client said that we might be working with someone else. Did he say who?"
Hex shook his head. "Other than that he was looking for another suitable dark mage, no." He looked a little aggrieved. "I don't think the prick had faith in our ability to do this." Dia only shrugged. "A time will come, my dear Hex, when anyone who offers us such an indignity will pay for it in such a way that no one else would dare it again. But now is not that time. Right now, we're in a growth phase." She looked around. "How do we even identify our tag team mate?" she asked. "For starters, they won't look like all these milk drinkers milling about. Maybe tall, foreboding, a little intimidating, I don't know."
Dia laughed. That sounded more like a text book villain. She was a dark mage, and she didn't even look it. But then, she was yet to make a name for herself...
WC: 764
TWC: 764/14000
TWC: 764/14000