"You're short! There are only three phials here, our agreement was for ten," a teenage boy dressed in a white robe with indigo and gold clouds embroidered on it chided with a disdainful frown on his face.
"I'm sorry Senior. The collection has become much harder given the increase in the... demand. I believe there are three more members from the Outer Division reporting to Senior," another teenager responded with a painfully deep bow. He was garbed in a black robe with similar embroidery minus the gold inlays. The condition of the fabric was also miles behind that of the other boy's, with frequent scuff marks and hastily patched up tears peppered around them.
"Are you saying it's my fault?" the white-robed boy shot back aggressively?
"N-No-"
Before he could respond, the black-robed boy was grabbed by his hair and slammed to the ground. The white-robed boy looked around hastily before dragging the boy by his hair into an occluded alley.
