Casameda, Bokan Region, Musabligh – around 9:00PM
The vibrant, bustling streets of Casameda had turned into a zoo of pickpockets. It felt as if the outer slums of the city encroached its inner sanctum periodically, like the rising and falling tides at the beachside. Men, women, children in masks and dark outfits roamed around, searchingfor prospective tourists with peculiar items or wealth.
At the heart of the marketplace stood a completely different figure. Leaning by the wooden pillar of a closed stand, fidgeting a dangerously sharp, crimson-hued dagger with two fingers – a tan-skinned, human-like woman with long, braided hot-pink hair, possessing a pair of feline ears and two ember-coloured tails that animatedly played with the gentle breeze.
Her name was Amethyst Dahmani de Montagne. And her long-sleeved, dark green dress blended the cultures and contradictions her name embodied.
‘What droll…’ she thought to herself, her accent exemplifying her Rulch-Musan ancestry. ‘The targets are showing some semblance of intelligence, no?’
Three tall men of the phantom-like pickpockets approached her, armed and on-the-lookout.
‘Master,’ one of them uttered, ‘We have not yet found this cult you speak of.’
Amethyst closed her eyes, absent-mindedly tipping the sharp edge of her dagger without consequence. ‘“Yet.” I do like your optimism, mon étoile. Keep searching, you are doing your job fantastically!’
The other two men looked at each other.
The first scratched his head in disbelief. ‘We get paid to do… this? This is even better than rummaging through corpses and hordes of tourists!’ The second simply nodded; as the catgirl most certainly heard their conversation without saying a word.
Instead, she let out a subtle, signature grin. ‘Then keep doing as you are. My Aureate Aegis welcomes only the hardworking.’
‘Understood, Master.’
Amethyst mischievously let out a chuckle. ‘Call me Amie. As you would a friend.’
The three nodded then searched once more. It was just after this exchange that she noticed a faint scent from kilometres away.
‘Alas,’ she thought once again, ‘Crime rates of Casameda will fall as the infamous poor join this noble cause. For tonight, their nobility lies in being diversions…’
Her golden irises glowed… as she found her prey.
‘How dare they tarnish sacred ground with heresy.’
Amie slipped into the shadows, then dashed across the city far quicker than the eye could see. Distant from the hustle and bustle, in exactly one area unexplored by the pickpockets, there was an underground cavern hidden beneath a mosque. As if phasing through the flooring and walls, she appeared behind a robed creature praying to the idol of an armoured angel.
‘And so, we begin our prayer. O… Angel of Death, Thirteenth Changebringer, may you return once more, and finally bring this planet into salvation–’
The high-pitched, metallic ring of chains whirred, as Amethyst swiftly grappled the creature with one of her two lengthy chain blades. Naturally, the cultist gasped and screeched in pain. The chains tightened, glowing faintly with a molten pink hue as Amie leaned in closer, her voice a silken whisper that dripped with mockery.
‘Les chaînes de Prométhée... the same chains that bound a thief to eternal torment. It’s fitting, no? A wannabe thief punished by the very chaos they sought to steal.’
As if they were previously hidden, lights open across the cavern, revealing an altar with a fully-booked entourage. A horde of nearly two hundred cultists readied their crossbows and pointed at Amie.
‘Impressive. Your cult has grown a disappointing number, âme perdue.’
But the ground above them rumbled. Swinging down from nylon ropes appeared the pickpockets with their own daggers and slingshots. They flanked the cultists by the walls with surprise attacks–
Dansons !
–as Amie prepared her own. She acrobatically dashed through the altar and swung the cultist’s body into his fellows, knocking many a good twenty feet away. Her free chain lashed out like a viper, wrapping around crossbows and ripping them from their owners’ hands. The leader of the Aureate Aegis danced across the cavern, her movements a blur of feline grace and feral precision, every swing of her blades leaving trails of burning light in their wake.
In two minutes, the mission was over. Only one remained alive – the unconscious cultist locked by Amethyst’s chains who she deduced to be the cult’s “priest of the week”. Atop the corpses of dead cultists stood more and more pickpockets, providing her an attentive audience as if she were now a cult leader.
‘Bravo, all of you. Not only have you given yourselves many corpses to loot, but you’ve saved your city. Consider moi impressed!’
The pickpockets eyed each other, perplexed beyond belief. Amethyst predicted this reaction and capitalised.
‘No longer must you scrape by stealing from tourists. By joining the Aureate Aegis, my Aureate Aegis, you can be rich while giving to the poor!’
The hordes of Casamedan pickpockets cheered rabidly, families of them even hugging each other. The catgirl quickly noted this and put a finger over her lips.
‘Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…’
They quieted down, far faster than she anticipated.
‘Ahem. Two things.
‘One, children below legal ages cannot work, I do NOT wanna get into more trouble with your corrupt city.
‘Two – and more importantly – you will meet many of the rich and poor in this institution. Social status does not matter in the Aureate Aegis. The only thing I need is… hard work. Grit. Belief that you can do the impossible, see the invisible. If you are willing to lend your life for our planet’s – our VANIRON’s – existence, then raise your hand.’
And much to her surprise, this encounter yielded a 100% drop rate. Her eyes widened.
‘Huh. Very well.
‘BIENVENUE DANS L'AUREATE AEGIS!’
Casameda’s underground scene would experience joy and salvation. A brighter future awaited them, even if some of them were to perish against the Angel of Death’s forces of entropy. But if it meant escaping the cycle of poverty and murder, or entering a life of more adventure and uncertainty, perhaps this would not be the worst idea after all.
Amie sighed amidst the cheers. ‘Finally, the city authorities can stop whining about their pickpocket problems. “Oh, Amie Dahmani, you’re a sleight of hand artist from our lovely Casameda; do something about it!” Well, voilà. Problem solved… and cash secured!’
She looked at her new divisions with glee and a shit-eating grin. ‘Can’t beat this job, nya~’
