The tower of magic always seems to be a tower of havoc.
Magicians running around, trying to either practice magic, try another new spell they've learned, or find their trinkets as usual as an everyday magician. Aliane knew this--he isn't stupid, and as clumsily and heavily annoying as many of his peers are, he only stuck to this damn gig because the kingdom pays talented magicians heavy bags of coins for simply existing and learning a few handy spells, so annoying be damned--he'll deal.
However, as much as the day goes by as usual--including a short scolding from the Magician Tower Master Milik (whom also happens to be the man to discover him and take him under his wing) and a really snappy call from Lia (who curses extra filthy this bright morning, which is nice), nothing could prepare Vice-Captain of the Black Fangs, Clarke Vivinia, to barge through Aliane's office doors in the middle of him trying to figure out a new spell he's been trying to learn for the past two days.
"Magician Aliane," Clarke said, almost breathlessly as she barges into his office, "I must talk to you."
Aliane sighs, rolling his eyes as he closes his book and levitates it to lay flat on his messy desk.
"You are already talking," Aliane said, his emotionless blue eyes showing disinterest, "spill it."
"Captain Jeremiah wants to discuss you attending the expedition coming up," Clarke said, "it's very important that you-."
"Don't wanna." Aliane said, turning his back and twirling his finger. A thin string of a glowing blue twirls around his finger and soars through the air, retrieving the book he just placed down.
"Magician Aliane." Clarke firmly calls, yet Aliane is very disinterested.
"No, ask Lia," Aliane said, letting out a loud huff, "such a bother. No-."
"Lia will also be attending." Clark said, causing Aliane to stop and stare at her.
"Why would you need both of us?" Aliane asked, raising a thin eyebrow. "You needn't both of us, unless-."
"It is important, Aliane." Clarke said.
Aliane sighs again, throwing his head back in annoyance, "it can't be that important. Call me when there's a war or something."
"If things go badly, there may be one, which means you'll be working overtime." Clarke said, catching Aliane's attention. "That's why we ask that you both attend. The Gods can be a wild card when dealing with them, and we need all the support we can get."
Aliane, confused, drops his book again and turns his head around, his tall statue overtowering Clarke's own.
"Why would we be dealing with them again?" Aliane asked.
"Because the oracle has said they're may be a war if we do not create a way of peace," Clarke said, "which is why we plan to establish a renewed treaty and bring Excalibur's owner as well."
Aliane drops the book heavily on his desk, keeping his pale eyes on Clarke's bright, warm ones.
"Do I now have your attention, Magician Aliane?" Clarke asked.
"You do," Alaine said, letting out a soft sigh, "I may also need yours as an exchange. What a bother."
...
Jeremiah starts his morning fairly peaceful.
Of course, with a few minor mishaps. For example, his Vice Captain, Clarke, barges into his office, holding the letter that Jeremiah sent Aliane in her hands in rage as Aliane clear sent Jeremiah's letter back and barely read it as soon as Jeremiah requested Aliane's presence during the expedition.
Aliane hates extra work, so Jeremiah wasn't surprised by the response, nor was he surprised when Clarke offered to barge in the magical tower and personally deliver Jeremiah's message. Look, as long as the message has been received and Aliane shows up, Jeremiah genuinely could care less.
Of course, Jeremiah also sips his favorite tea--this time with extra honey and extra lemon--and skims through the daily newspaper, making extra sure to skim through any gossip pertaining to him and the princess before he starts to settle himself in his paperwork-.
"Captain!" Jeremiah stills, placing his newspaper down as Clarke burst through his office door. The business with Aliane must have been fairly quick, yet Clarke appears more distress then when she left, causing Jeremiah to feel a bit perflexed.
"I talked to Magician Aliane," Clarke said, slipping in a seat besides Jeremiah's desk, "and I must tell you-."
"Did he refuse?" Jeremiah asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well at first, yes," Clarke said, "but ultimately he did agree--very rudely, may I add! B-but he also shared something with me and-I'm assuming you didn't get to the article yet?"
"Article?" Jeremiah asked, eyeing the newspaper in his hands.
"Yes," Clarke said, "the newspapers seem to work fast--but-but there's been a murder in Tila, Captain."
"In Tila?" Jeremiah said, sitting up in his chair, "why would this-?"
"Be important?" Clarke asked, gulping down a large pit of salvia. "Because Aliane thinks it may have something to do with the Gods, Captain."
...
The woman takes of her brown hoodie, lounging herself on a stool in a bar and signaling the waiter to make her the usual--a large cup of beer with a squeeze of lemon.
She's had a rough day--for a city such as Tila, burglars and bandits are more common then realized, but she refuses to sit idly and watch the elderly and young receive ill treatment enough to sway them to empty their pockets. She may not be a hero--a knight sworn by the king to serve their capitol, but regardless, she still desires to save as many people as she can.
After a few more drinks, the woman drunkenly stands up and moves out of the bar, wobbling as she trips and stumbles into the cold, late night. The woman hums, softly skipping as she absorbs the cool air. It feels nice, to finally have a break from playing hero and trying to save as many people as she can, but her peace suddenly gets interrupted by the stomp of heavy footsteps behind her.
"Ion' have any money, if that's why you're following me," the woman said. "W-why don't you get a job instead of trying to rob me?"
The footsteps stop, causing the woman to turn around. There, a feet away, stands a tall man, his face covered by a jet black hood, but his hand, left out in the open to be hit by the night's song, illuminates into a purple, violet electrical storm.
"I do have a job," the figure said, motioning to his hands, "and it's cleanup, nisf daw."