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[Graded]Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet (Ruslan/Lilith); Not all that is gold does glimmer.
Topic Started: Mar 9 2017, 07:58 AM (992 Views)
ajimeister
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^ Mood.

The war with Bosco was not over yet when it was unexpectedly overshadowed with other events. The emergence of what some knew as Princess Lucia from her aeons-long slumber, the tournament to crown the Champion of Fiore within the resplendent gates of Crocus, the exploits of Lord Commander Rance Gallagher in his bid to "taste the ripe fruits of the world". A great many of other occurrences had transpired in the wake of conflict between the embittered nations, seeds of discontent and dissent, strife and crime, that had manifested once more with the ever steadily fleeting absence of knights and guardsmen as they were mustered to the front lines. Within some portions of the kingdom, such instances had been easily quelled, with reserve forces stationed within the garrisons located nearby. But within the vestiges of Dandelion, a crime-riddled, smog-choked dump overflowing with miscreants and ne'er do wells, the blight of chaos had fast begun to plague its regions and streets, its various districts, with the grip of the knights stationed to maintain peace ever weakening with each new tour of duty.

In the wake of the uprising led by Backstrom the Tyrant, a general consensus had been had amongst the great generals and marshals of the council, that troops were to be stationed also within the Dandelion Sector, a means to prevent such a horrible conundrum such as the organized secession of the city from the kingdom from occurring once more. In stark contrast to many garrisons in the other cities, the detachment within Dandelion was soon bolstered, heavily equipped in full plate and weaponry, in order to effectively quell any would-be issues. But they, being relieved of more and more personnel with the escalation of the invasion, could only do so much.

It was at this most auspicious time that Ruslan Gudleifr, a veteran fresh from the war, arrived with his peers at the Military Quarter from West Bosco in full-kit: armed, armoured, and prepared for combat. The nature of the assignment was that he, one out of many from the Seventh, were there to perform peacekeeping operations in accordance with SOP; they were to fan out and restore a proper grasp upon the city and reinforce the law accordingly. Nine Lives had been effective in managing to hinder a fair portion of the more dangerous of folk within the sector, but there still remained the issue of a rampant crime rate and a general feeling of unease amongst the populace. Thus was it that scores upon scores of plate armoured soldiers, gleaming silver in actinic light, were to finish what the guild and others had done.




"Bloody oath, this ain't too much different from Bosco," the knight mused as he continued upon his beat across the street. Just like the forests and trenches and depredated ruins that the private had trod through countless time over, Dandelion seemed, and still was to the man a veritable warzone. Until recently, rampant crime had held the city firmly grasped upon the neck; Boscan Grass, Salt, and other illegal narcotics were in large supply throughout the city proper, whilst the number of homicides, robberies, and other vile things had piled up in large number, further adding to the city's already dismal reputation. The street upon which he trod upon was fraught with danger, like the trenches of Kaspar Pass and the ruins of Iserlohn; each and every window home to a sniper, each and every alleyway concealing a hostile. It was similar, too similar, to that place several thousand klicks away.

Holding back the feeling to retch, the private brandished a flask from his knapsack, before drinking heavily from it. The receptacle was filled with a sickly red fluid: a bitter liquid substance that tasted faintly of cherries, medication to stave off the psychological maladies that perturbed the private ever so often. With the course of time, they had fast decreased in intensity, but the memories, the specters of comrades, the scent of burning flesh and sight of fetid corpses still remained engrained within the knight's memory. And thus was it that he drank: to forget.

Upon the beaten and heavily worn path did Ruslan tread, armaments close at hand, and ever wary of the environment that was Dandelion. The patrol that he had committed to was seemingly simple enough: a short excursion through Orphan's Row and the Old Market, where he was to regroup with another detachment from his battalion. But the task, though seemingly easy on paper, proved daunting to the private to say the least. Soldiers such as he were a hated sight; they stuck out like sore thumbs and left only trouble and discord in their wake, uprooting what was otherwise the status quo in the name of the law. It was more than likely therefore, that the private knew that there would be no shortage of occurrences that would no doubt happen, that a less than fortunate fate would possibly befall him amidst the operation. In this sense was the Dandelion Sector far more dangerous to venture within than the Western Front: Every civilian could very well be a potential hostile, a possible combatant to be neutralized.

Attempting to pay this revelation no heed, the knight continued to walk, with a firm grasp upon his weaponry. Chances were likely that he would need them soon.
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Reya Starlyght
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Verba volant, scripta manent.

Why, oh why, had Lilith stayed in Dandelion? She had just came in for a few jobs and to pay back a few favors, and then was going to leave. But something had drawn her into the wretched city yet again, and the spacial mage couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else she needed to do before departing. As she walked down the streets of the city, particularly those of Orphan's Row, she recalled memories that she had wanted to compress in her mind, the memories of desperation, loneliness, and hopelessness that she had felt stumbling upon the city for the first time. If only she had walked a little further, or had ran away from her burning village in a different direction, then maybe she would have been spared a decent childhood. But no, it had to be Dandelion.

Then again, Lilith did have good memories of the city, or at least decent ones that seemed good in her eyes. She supposed that the roughness of life on the streets did teach her how to appreciate the small acts of kindness just as much as the big ones. Something as simple as a gentle wave or hello, those were some of the most vibrant memories Lilith had. Of course, there were also many people that helped the mage on her way, faces ingrained into her very being. Not all of them were good, but each impacted her in a different way. They say that people are shaped by their trials and tribulations. Yet, they are also shaped by others.

There Lilith was, walking down that street for not particular reason, when something caught her eye. Was that a glint of metal in the distance? She attempted to approach the shiny object, or perhaps person, however a loud scream diverted her attention. It came from a house not more than 25 feet away. Lilith instinctively ran towards the outcry, grabbing her loaded pistol in the process. Within 10 feet, she saw that the windows had been smashed and the door of the house kicked open. It looked like a robbery was taking place, and a blunt one at that.
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ajimeister
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^ Mood.

Screaming. He could never blot out the voices from his head.

Amidst thick clouds of soot and smog did the private travel, continuing his patrol within the partially dilapidated sector of Dandelion. Amidst crowds of the haggard and weary, underneath rotted awnings and broken cobble did he move, ever vigilant in pursuing his task. The city was indeed dangerous for the knight, unaccustomed to its ways, to deal with proper; far different was it from the orderly city of Chrysanthemum with its bulwarks and anti-magic towers, far different was it from Hargeon, or Mizhou, or Trillium. A particular jenesaisquoi pervaded the very air, an eerie, unsettling feeling that belied the unsavory happenstances that had fast become the norm. The tumult of emotions that thus pervaded the knight's mind–apprehension, dread, contempt–were by all means similar to what he had felt back at the front, and even here, with medication to assist him, the private still found himself once again, back in that place.

The voices, they were present still within the knight's weary and fatigued mind. Quelled by the medication, they were but mere whispers in comparison to beforehand, but they still held a great pull over the private's demeanor, whose irritation was barely evident on his visage. Ever since returning from one of his tours of duty, the Seveni had found himself afflicted by a most undesirable disease unbecoming of him: Combat Neurosis.

At the most undesirable of times, it had manifested and afflicted him undesirably, detracting most unfavorably from his occupation. They came in the form of voices, of specters, of visions and flashbacks, that all served to remind him of his shortcomings. Why hadn't he saved them? Why had he, a mere coward, survived that integral battle, whereupon droves upon droves of soldiers had died, where sloughs of blood and viscera and mounds of bodies lay atop one another in a horrendous effigy of death? The knight still found even after the span of several months that he could not answer the question; all he could do was try to ignore the screaming.

It was during that precise moment that a peculiar, ear-shattering cry soon pierced the very air, alerting the knight to an altercation at hand. It was similar, yet paradoxically different from that which pervaded and disoriented his thoughts countless times over; a scream redolent of despair and grief that emulated not from within, but from the adjacent area. And in hearing that shriek was the private once again reminded of his covenant to the concept of rectitude.

"CP, this is Gudleifr reporting. Possible 10-31 at grid 4GFJ15. Permission to proceed, how copy?"

"CP to Gudleifr, you are cleared to proceed. Dispatching patrol your way."

Thus was it that Ruslan moved, with a resounding clank of steel upon steel. Articulated plate and tightly banded chainmail clashed against one another as the private barreled through soot-encrusted pedestrians, weapons close by. Tempestas, the reverse-engineered submachine gun of Boscan Imperial Army manufacture. Contender, the service pistol that had served him well upon the beaches of Operation: Undine. Tīwaz, a deceptively simple longsword that was more than it seemed. These were the tools of the trade that the man had brought to bear, a tad unnecessary perhaps, but ultimately well warranted considering the environment.

At about several meters from the location from which the scream emanated from did the man witness truly the dilemma that had taken place. A shack within the shanty town of Orphan's Row, worn and dilapidated, with broken windows and broken doors. A scuffle, a commotion that seemed most dire appeared to be taking place. With the revelation of the scuffle continuing, did the private draw his submachine gun, with a cock of the bolt and a subsequent release of its safety.

But things did not end there. No sooner had the knight prepared, out of his own accord, to storm the building did he soon perceive a strange, possibly suspicious silhouette of a woman, brandishing a pistol. Perhaps she was affiliated too, with the people inside the building who were poised to profit out of the misfortune of others. Perhaps it were that she was merely part of another party, a looter taking advantage of the confusion to take part as well. On edge, the private brandished his submachine gun, pointed at the person arriving.

"Halt! Drop that handgun and state your bloody identity!"

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Reya Starlyght
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Verba volant, scripta manent.

Preoccupied with observing the details of the situation, a woman bound in a rocking chair with a gag in her mouth, and the yells of delight that came from the people looting the house, Lilith did not hear the clanking of armor coming from behind her. Nor did she hear him stop walking and pull out a large gun. However, she did hear his voice. Almost immediately after she did indeed drop her pistol and turned around, now facing the knight that had thought her part of the involved parties. Of course, anyone who had stayed in Dandelion could probably tell she wasn't a member of whatever gang was currently tearing up the house behind her, but someone who was new, such as a recently deployed soldier? Maybe not.

Lilith had never, in all of her time in Dandelion, came across someone even remotely close to calling themselves a policeman, but the man in front of her certainly did act like one. Perhaps Fiore was actually starting to care about what the inner cities looked like. Maybe not. In any case, Lilith certainly did not want to get thrown in jail for something she didn't do, so she did, in fact identify herself. "Lilith Nox," she said smoothly, stepping outside of the door frame, "If you're going to help that poor woman, then I would suggest hurrying up. There are... probably three men in the other rooms, two upstairs. I'm just a bystander, you see." Hopefully that would convince the man that she wasn't with them, if her appearance could not. Her clothes, unlike most of the permanent residents in the city, were not yet stained a sooty black, and it was easy to tell that she wasn't as rough of shape as any gang member she had seen. Along with that, she had spoken in a civilized tone the entire time, not out of obvious fear or anger like most would. Or maybe the man was dense and he would shoot her right there. Lilith hoped it wouldn't come to that.
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ajimeister
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^ Mood.

A bystander it seemed the lass was, or so she had stated.

The possibility that the girl was what she said she was–a mere bystander–was circumspect at best from the perspective of the knight. No mere bystander would of course, willingly navigate toward the scene of a crime, with a weapon in tow. Were it that the knight was less informed than he had been thanks to the woman's explanation, the private would've detained her according to standard operating procedure. But with the subsequent lowering of her weapon, alongside the indirect explanation to her agenda that she had stated, it was fast becoming clear that the civilian was no foul wastrel either.

Slowly, the private lowered his weapon and lifted his visor, desisting from opening fire on the individual in question. She was a rather tall lass, a lithe brunette with a particular sense of poise that reminded the knight ever so slightly of his superior officer. Armed with weapons, the civilian too seemed to be, and for that the man had mistaken her for a potential hostile. But in retrospect, Dandelion was a dangerous place; chances were likely that many would have no other recourse but to arm themselves in order to survive in this depredated, yet thriving environment.

"I'll choose to believe that for now, ma'am," said he neutrally. You a vigilante then?"

The concept of vigilantes existing within Dandelion proved to be something strikingly novel to the knight. Apart from the guild that presided over this area, until now there had been little else in the way of others dedicated to combating the rampant crime and vice that had characterized the sector. Yet, here was one, or so it seemed from the private's perspective. A bystander this person was not, indeed that was true. The fact that the woman named Lilith had moved to the vicinity of the house in response to the cries demonstrated that she unlike many others, was not apathetic to the victim's plight. After indirectly alluding to her intentions, Ruslan felt he had a grasp on what her intention was. And so did he lower his guard.

"Private Gudleifr, Company B, 7th Infantry. If you want to help out, stay behind me. I'll take point."

Once more focused at the task at hand, the private sought refuge in a corridor by the doorway, discerning what lay beyond the broken entrance. Toppled drawers and shattered porcelain could be seen from his location, whereas the chortling of the degenerates who had broken in was scarcely made audible. A loud clamor reverberated from across a flight of stairs, followed soon by the timid pleading of what sounded like a young man, that soon gave way to horrendous screaming, heart-wrenching cries of agony that made the private's blood boil, and ignited the fire deep within his belly.

"Oi, this dozy pillock's still alive."

"Innit so? Fokkin' omen mate."

"Wouldcha 'av me do 'm another one next?"

Thus did the private storm the entryway, moving through the parlor to clear the rooms meticulously, in order to rectify the conundrum at hand. And thus, with a gesture of his hand to the girl, did Ruslan attempt to clear the area. But no sooner had the man attempted to secure the hostage was he soon noticed. There was little that heavy plate could do in the way of stealth, after all.

"Oi shit, who's there?"

Submachine gun in hand, the knight responded by aiming it at the nearest target.

"CP, contact with hostiles, 5 plus. Permission to engage, over."

"CP copies. You are cleared to engage."

A harsh staccato of gunfire broke the tension within the abode, as Ruslan pulled the trigger.

[Tempestas: 17/20 (0 mags remaining)]
[Contender: 7/7 (1 mag remaining)]

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Reya Starlyght
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Verba volant, scripta manent.

Thank goodness the man had believed her. Lilith didn't hate the authorities or anything, but like pretty much everyone else in Fiore, and probably in the world, she didn't exactly want to go through a trial to prove her innocence. Still, the fact that the man called Lilith a vigilante, that was a bit perplexing, to say the least. The mage hadn't ever thought of herself that way, although she supposed protecting the innocent was what they did. But the fact remained that she didn't want to upset the man, so Lilith responded with a simple "Sure." It wasn't super assertive, but she hoped the knight would simply glance over that fact when he heard her. Or just not notice it at all.

Lilith didn't have much time to ponder the subject, however, as the man quickly introduced as Private Guldleifr, and then told the mage that she could follow him if she wanted to. Not one to leave opportunities behind, she waited for the knight to walk into the building, then picked up her pistol with her right hand and followed him. They had barely picked their way through the mess of the house, however, when enemies were spotted. Three gang members, all armed, emerged from a hall, only to be shot down by the private. The first shot was clean, shooting the man straight through the heart. The second was through his shoulder, and the third his thigh. All three went down, and Lilith assumed the first was dead and the second dying, although she had no time to check. It all depended on the lethality of the gun, she supposed.

The room was clear for at least a little bit, although the mage could still hear the clattering of footsteps above. She made her way towards the hostage, unsheathing her combat knife in the process and lowering her pistol so that it was pointing towards the ground. The woman stared at Lilith in fear, and was trying to say something through the gag that was around her mouth. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," Lilith said, in as calm of a voice that she could muster, "I'm going to get rid of your restraints, so don't panic. Take cover in this room here. I don't know who's outside, so I need you to be quiet, okay? Don't run away." The woman nodded to the best of her ability, although Lilith could see that her eyes still swam in fear. She cut through the woman's gag, then the restraints binding her arms to the chair, and then the cloth tying her legs to it. Lilith backed away so that the woman could get up, however she stayed sitting for a moment. "Please, save my son," she said in a hushed tone. Lilith nodded slowly, although as she heard earlier the screams above, the mage didn't know if that was possible at that point. The woman then took cover, and Lilith turned just in time to see a hostile man outside the door way approaching Private Gudleifr. She took aim at his temple and fired her pistol, hitting him exactly where she wanted too. Of course, at that range practically anyone decently used to handling guns could probably do that. The man went down, simply knocked out. Lilith's pistol had no more power then to do just that, and she knew that quite well, but she did hope the knight wouldn't notice.
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ajimeister
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^ Mood.

The house was awash in a cacaphony of gunfire, and with it, awash with blood.

No sooner had Ruslan opened fire on the hostile that had noticed him did two more opponents rush down the stairs, brandishing the effective, but ultimately primitive armaments of switchblades and sledgehammers. It was all futile however; armed with the submachine gun the soldier had dispatched them with haste. The contacts whom he had shot from the mere span of a few meters distance lay on the ground, writhing in pain. Unlike the first man, who had been struck through the heart, the other two were ultimately alive, albeit rendered wounded and incapable. At that, the knight clucked his teeth.

"Seems like I need to zero this thing. Again," noted the man. Indeed, the accuracy of the submachine gun that he had utilized today was surprisingly poor all things considered; countless times on the front when he had brandished it in pitched combat, the trigger grouping proved far beyond what it appeared to be; almost as reliable as a Boscan Weißerlösungewehr. For the weapon to perform in such a manner, far less accurately than he had hoped, noted that perhaps it was an issue with improper maintenance. Unlike most other weapons the Fioran Knights possessed in their arsenal, constructs comprised only out of machinery proved ill-suited to much wear and tear when the situation required it, though peerless in design. The shipment of rifles, heavy machine guns, howitzers salvaged from the front were testament to this very fact; more often than not they were fickle things that required careful maintenance and handling in contrast to guns and blades of Fioran manufacture, though many times more lethal owing to their fundamentally different design concepts. Nay, perhaps it was simply that his concentration was lacking.

The private pulled the bolt of the automatic weapon once, and then twice, before adjusting the aperture accordingly. No sooner had he finished with the temporary calibrations however, was he confronted with another threat; a single hoodlum, poised to strike. But it was due to the timely response of Lilith, brandishing her handgun, that the man found himself covered promptly. As a harsh bark resounded from the lass's pistol, so too did the hoodlum drop to the floor, incapacitated. Elements of bruising were evident on the man's visage, characteristic of a pistol utilizing lachryma clips as opposed to hulled, jacketed ammunition. In a way, this was advantageous, far advantageous to the cartridges the knight utilized; it was simply much more flexible in an environment such as here.

"Not bad."

Ruslan meandered over to the wounded men whom he had injured, brandishing a pair of restraints all the while. Handing two to the girl, the soldier made another gesture with his hand, pointing upstairs before gesturing at the two wounded miscreants that lay upon the blood-soaked floorboards of the corridor. His orders to cuff them acknowledged–or disregarded, the knight immediately began to move upstairs, in compliance with the rescued hostage's wish. It was an idealistic notion at best really; chances were more than likely that he was severely injured, or worse yet, dead.

Upon barging into a room upon the upper floor however, were Ruslan's suspicions laid bare. A gruesome and sickening sight awaited the man upon entering where the other civilian had been; flecks of red were splattered across the very walls, while pools of blood and chunks of viscera lay on the floor, surrounding the brutally maimed and dismembered body of a young man, scarcely a teenager. It was surprising–as if an artillery shell had struck the very house and damaged naught but the man–but at the same time all too familiar a sight to the knight. Far worse things had he seen at the front; there were far more gruesome and horrifying things that had vexed the mind and scarred the heart, but those were the byproduct of war, between combatants. It was a world in which troops such as he were mere statistics, numbers to be added and subtracted on a casualty count. It was a world far removed from this one, whereupon the war was but several thousand kilometers away. Witnessing the corpse splayed on the floor, desecrated beyond belief, demonstrated once more the wickedness of elements in human nature to the private, the primal instincts to kill, maim, brutalize and conquer. It was something the knight knew far too well; he had participated in certain operations that too, involved witnessing questionable things, doing questionable things. Yet, to that, the man was perturbed. This was simply not the place to commit to such horrors, such atrocities.

"Well I'll be."
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Reya Starlyght
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Verba volant, scripta manent.

Lilith didn't really acknowledge what the private said to her, simply shrugging her shoulders. Truth to be told, that would probably be the best shot she would make that day. For the private, the two shots he had missed on would more than likely be his worst. She nodded as the man handed her two pairs of handcuffs, pointing at the two injured men. Lilith figured he must have not had another pair for the man that she had knocked out, or that the private thought that he would stay down for a while. Whatever the case, the mage wanted to make sure no chances were taken so after fumbling to put the restraints on the two injured men she dragged a cabinet with a large gap between the floor and its bottom over the man that was passed out, preventing him from getting onto his feet stealthily just in case he were to wake up. With that done she walked in the direction the private had went, taking one last look at the two injured and the one dead man. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty, after all she hadn't even been the one to fire the weapon that had done the damage, but still, did they really deserve this? A part of her, the part that she tried to block out, said yes, and for that moment she couldn't help but be pulled in that direction. After all, they had looted an innocent person's house, and potentially hurt someone too. Not to mention they had also most likely committed crimes like this one in the past. So with a conflicted heart, the mage trudged on, up the stairs, only to behold an even worse sight.

The man, no, the son was dismembered beyond belief, bloodied in all the places that would suggest that something truly horrible had taken place. There was no way he could be alive. And at that very moment, Lilith wanted to storm back downstairs and place her knife on one of the throats of the men that were still alive, but the gruesome picture in her mind kept her feet rooted in place. This is probably what the people of Veronica looked like when they were slaughtered, was the burning thought in her mind. She couldn't even think of what she would say to the mother down below. Quite honestly, she didn't want to say anything.

Luckily, for the moment she wouldn't have to as a large thump from the other room in the upstairs told the mage, and most likely the private, that they were still not alone. Lilith crept towards the doorway that was wide open, and saw a woman digging through a chest full of stuff. For the moment she was unarmed, and the mage decided to use that to her advantage as she silently transferred her pistol to her left hand and her knife to her right. Once that was done, she started to sneak up on the woman who had her back turned. The woman did notice, but it was too late because by then, Lilith's knife was at her throat. "Who ordered you and your accomplices to do this?" she asked, the anger clearly visible in her tone of voice. "I-I-It was t-the leader of t-the D-Dark Knives..." she said, her voice trembling and stuttering. Lilith didn't say anything about this, but also didn't loosen her grip on the woman. She had heard of the gang before, from her time in Dandelion, and knew from her past experiences that it was not a small one. Or at least it used to not be.
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ajimeister
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^ Mood.

The sight of blood, of body parts and viscera strewn about before his very eyes was something that the soldier had witnessed countless times at the front, where sloughs of corpses, bloodstained tabards, lay atop one another in the midst of a depredated field. It was something that no civilian had to witness, yet here within this very room had the wholly unnecessary suffering of the young man been carried out. Little could the man make of what had once been the boy; most, if not all of his features were rendered unrecognizable, brutalized beyond belief. It was something that bid the knight question why, why would a group of miscreants go so far as to inflict that much harm on another person. What exactly was the angle here?

Ruslan continued to scrutinize the corpse and the surroundings within the room, in an attempt to make light what had transpired. Gone was the person whom had done this to the unfortunate soul, though some of the others downstairs were probably guilty of being accomplices to this horrific crime. Upon the side of the room adjacent to a latrine was a window, broken. Evidently, it seemed that one of these rats, these scumbags, had made a successful attempt to escape. As for the rest of the room proper, it was evident to the soldier that a scuffle had occurred here, but what, why had the fellow been mercilessly butchered? Was it a botched attempt at a robbery that soon transformed into a scuffle? Nay, if that were the case the entire top floor would've been ransacked, pillaged to the point where it was bare. Though there were a great many things that seemed now to be missing from this house, there still remained certain items; baubles and trinkets and clocks and other miscellaneous items that could've fetched a decent price were they fenced.

Was it possible that this was a hit, ordered by someone and spurred further by money? Nay, the slaughter of this man seemed far too prolonged, far too brutal to be a mere hit. And if it truly were what the soldier suspected it to be, there were doubtless other organizations more adept at the role, more discreet and professional in carrying out their duties than this motley group of wastrels. The mafiosi of Raven Tail, the contract killers of Tartaros, they were all more suited to dispatching individuals than a mere rabble. What indeed, motivated these people to butcher this poor woman's son in such a manner?

A clamor downstairs disrupted the musings of the knight, promptly alerting him to an occurrence transpiring downstairs, perpetuated by the woman who had moved to fend off the other degenerates that had terrorized the house's inhabitants. A single perpetrator had she found, whom she held at knifepoint. It seemed that this one was connected also, to those responsible for the brutal murder of the man upstairs. And at that notion was the private, enraged, poised to act. Approaching Lilith with an audible clank of steel upon steel, the morose man drew out his handgun, before placing a gauntleted hand upon her shoulder.

"See if you can get any information from the mother on anything about her son. Habits, activities, whatever you can find. I'll deal with this one."

An ever present, quiet sense of wroth enveloped the armored Seveni as he perceived the woman before him, alongside her comrades who remained restrained. The longer he gazed upon the perpetrators responsible for such a dastardly crime, the further had he held them in contempt. Those who kill should be prepared to die themselves. These people, as sadistic as they were, seemed from the conversation Lilith had to be incapable of owning their actions. It was disgusting, to say the very least.

"Talk. Who are the Dark Knives? What's their motive here?"

The knight brandished his handgun, before taking aim not at the lass, but at one of the fellows who lay subdued on the ground.

"Your friend here'll get a bullet, that fellow there'll get a bullet, and then finally it'll be you. Fess up."

"S-Salt," stammered she.

"Come again?"

"T-The Aozaki-Kai and the Dark Knives...there's a dispute over Salt. This man here...he...ran off with some of it."

"Oh really now?"

At the mere mentioning of Salt did the man have now a slight idea of what had transpired. The substance was a potent stimulant, a highly-addictive drug ten times more potent and dangerous than Boscan Grass could ever be. It was something in which Ruslan had learnt of when he had first arrived; some within the city had been addicted to the drug, often with less than savory results. Considering too its rarity, it was no surprise therefore, that altercations such as this were prone to developing.

"Got anything on your end?" directed Ruslan toward Lilith.
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Reya Starlyght
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Verba volant, scripta manent.

Lilith only relaxed the knife as the private put his hand on her shoulder, the coldness of it startling her a bit until she realized that the man was wearing armor. Or maybe it was just the fact that the mage currently had about a thousand thoughts running through her head that caused her to jump in her shoes. Whatever the case, she nodded slowly as Gudleifr ordered her to do something, her feet taking her there although it wasn't until she was standing in the front room again that she really processed what the private had told her to do. It happened to be the one thing she didn't want to do. Oblivious to the man's threats to the female gang member, she looked around the room anxiously to make sure that no other people were lurking around the house, and upon finding the still-passed out man and that no furniture had been moved she approached the mother's hiding place.

It was a small closet, in which it's contents had been thrown awry and in some cases torn apart with seemingly reckless abandon, although Lilith knew not if the deed was done by a member of the household or the perpetrators. The look on the mage's face was that of sorrow, and the mother could no doubt tell so as her eyes widened and she started shaking. "You can come out now, it's safe," she said, trying to avoid the question that was no doubt burning in the mother's mind. "Is-is my son...?" she started, seeming unable to finish.

"I'm so sorry," Lilith started, looking down for a moment. "It would best for yo-," but then the woman erupted into a sobbing fit, wrought with bits and pieces of sentences and thoughts. Out of all of it, the mage only comprehended a few things, that the woman's son had been forced to hold a package at the house for the money that they oh-so-badly needed, and that she wished that she hadn't pushed him to do something. "Do what?" Lilith interjected.

"I sh-shouldn't have let him j-join that cursed smuggling group!" she yelled, half out of anger and half out of grief. But something didn't add up. Letting someone do something was different then pushing them to do it. At that moment, the private called out to her, and stepping away from the mother that way she could see him she responded, in a rather low voice, "It seems our former captive here is hiding something, or at least not telling the whole truth. Care to help?"
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