The evening rendered the afternoon null, drawing the skies darker. It illuminated a path for the night to set its unholy activities under the shadows.

People caroused through mud-stricken taverns. If their senses were unclouded by the alcohol, they'd probably hear footsteps treading above their heads.

On the roof of one of the taverns, Sirius noticed movement from the hawk-like vane of a deteriorated farmhouse.

He arrived earlier along the alley of a trade point from what Dyie told him. Everything they did was based from Genon's handiwork at gathering intel. Dyie, as their Archii, was the voice who gave the order.

Glancing at the streets from where he was glued, he noticed a shadow from the farmhouse. Narrowing his gaze, he knew that person. And someone else was approaching.

There was a tap on his shoulder, making him draw his dagger sheathed from behind, and drove it towards the sudden disturbance. But as fast as he drew the weapon, he halted. He recognized the person's viridian gaze and dark brown hair. "Blaze? What are you guys doing here?"

Blaze raised his hands in surrender. "Yeah well, apparently Genon's intel perceived a rather large 'sum' tonight, doubted you could take it all on your own," he said. "We were looking for you. Where have you been?"

Sirius glanced at the cerulean figure by the vane from the farmhouse, ignoring the last thing Blaze said. He pulled up his scarf to conceal half of his face, a makeshift mask. "Uh huh, Llone says they're getting close. Better go."

With that, they've split paths. Sirius climbed his way to the rooftops. Blaze was left to stay on the ground while Sirius served as elevated support. No sooner did they see an automobile and several cargo following behind, planning to leave the city.

It took a mere few steps towards a wide alley with abandoned warehouses for the auto when Blaze deftly threw a stone toward the gears that spun the wheels. It jammed the contraption with a sudden bump, alarming the men it carried. They stepped down with blades readied to their sides, luring them out.

Sirius counted. There were eight men, one of them was probably the merchant meant to take the cargo elsewhere. The rest were mercenaries. He targeted the mercenaries first. Not giving them a chance to counter. He dropped from the rooftops, knocking the closest one he could get his hands on at the back of his head. Another one fell to the ground after throwing his dagger to the man's eye, blinding him and leaving a crack in his skull.

Yikes. He thought a second later. He shouldn't overdo it. Not when they could still be useful. Well, maybe.

Blaze had his fair share of the conflict, making some drop to the ground in a daze using his fists covered in spiked gauntlets. Castellone, the one who signaled Sirius from the vane, left the walloping to his companions. He made his way to the merchant, urging him to step out of the automobile.

When the mercenaries was left to the ground half dead and bruised, Castellone grabbed the merchant's collar and dragged him in front of them. The bastard was being uncooperative. A little force shouldn't hurt.

The man cowered with arms raised in surrender. "Masters, please, you don't understand, this is meant as supply for the famine we face in Clawde."

Castellone crossed his arms over his chest. His cerulean eyes met Sirius's. "Well, how 'bout that, Flesperia's constituent."

"That's everyone's excuse these days. Doesn't really exempt you from stealing from us, not from this Archii," Sirius answered the merchant, referring to Dyie. "I bet this won't be the last we'll see of your kind either. Plus, something tells me you're doing this for dirty profit."

Everyone was a victim of life and its cruelty. There are killers for hire and soldiers of fortune, but none starved like the dwellers of the wastes. Sirius had enough of the same excuses. They'd say their people starved. But really, when it was business, what better way than to steal the hard work of others, put up a blackmail or two, and sell it to the territories of the mainland just to draw in more wealth.

Sirius crouched in front of the man. His crimson eyes were devoid of reason and emotion. "Look at it this way. We are all victims here. Unless you tell your Lord and the King to stop conspiring against each other then there isn't really much we should talk about. Besides, you've killed the owner, his wife, children and servants from where you got these. They were a humble family who valued what little they could get in what little they gather. High time you paid the price," he tilted his head to the side. "Don't you think?"

The merchant raised his head. "You savages! You don't understand the state the mainland is in, people are dying!" He spat at Sirius's face. "You think what you're doing is right? Think again. There will be casualties to everything you do. Pray you won't have to be at the receiving end when that happens."

Mercy? They wanted compassion? They should have appealed to their High King for mercy, maybe then they could have spared the lives they've taken due to greed and selfish reasons.

Sirius stood, slapping dirt off his knees when he did, disinterested in the rest of what the man had to say. "And you will too."

He proceeded to cut the merchant's throat, allowing the blood to spurt and stain his dagger, leaving him in a pool of his own death's oblivion. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing blood where the saliva was supposed to be. Then he proceeded to the rest of the unconscious mercenaries. Harmless and defeated, they lay at rest for eternity. No witness left behind.

It was people like them that needed to be eradicated, to cleanse the world, to balance the scales. But what was righteous and what was not exactly? People spoke of justice and injustice, and one thing would always fall on the wrong side. Nothing in the world was ever truly right. For if you tip the balance, then the scales will fall.

Sirius noticed a bitter expression on Castellone's face after the ordeal. His rough look added to the tousled state of his windswept navy hair. But by the look Castellone had, he would rather not push what bothered him. With the retrieval of the items, they had to reach a rendezvous spot to meet with Genon. Their job was yet to conclude as they awaited the rise of a new conflict on the morrow.

No, they weren't constables nor were they enforcers of whatever law governed Rastite. They only had to do what was asked of them. There was one thing the men should have known before venturing into their borders.

That when they planned to do wrong, it was do or die.