We do not speak about Gang Club [Job/Private]

It was difficult— handling affairs in the stead of his mother. As she pulled the bulk of their clan across the seas, he was left to watch over the rest. What was left of their territory needed protecting. Not even his uncle had stayed behind. Being the only heir, it was a burden he had to bear. While he did not care much for these people, they were important to his mother and that was reason enough for him.

Tying his hair back into a loose ponytail, he slipped on his shoes and left the house for his patrols. Today, the route was a tad different. With his cousin on his usual, the young fanalis would have to venture out of the borders of the community. No doubt there was trouble unrelated to them he could get his hands into.

He was tall for a child his age. His features, more mature. Something that let him get away with much more than she should. It was a curse just as much as it blessed him with privileges.

It appeared there was a small ruckus broiling between a merchant and some guards. One of them spots him, waving him down. He perks his brow, tilting his head.

“Oi, Corvus! Making your rounds so far from home, eh?”

He nods. The guard beckons him closer.

“Won’t you help us with somethin’?”

While the merchant seems to object for a moment, one of the guards reassures them. Phobos makes his way over to them. He hoped they had a task more interesting than what he was doing prior. Either way, he wasn’t in the position to refuse their offer.

“The local ruffians gettin’ rowdy now that your kin up n’ left. This seller said he’s been harassed for a few days now. Be a friend n’ help us out. We were just goin’ to lunch and—”

Phobos shakes his head. In other words, they were being lazy. How his mother would scold them if she found out. “Yeah,” he blurts, cutting him off. “I’ll do it.” He turns his head to the merchant, staring for a moment. “Where are they?” Without much of a word and more of an awkward babble, they point.

He turns away only to see another person standing nearby. Tall, slight in resemblance to his mother with their fair features. Unabashed, he approaches her, grabbing ahold of her sleeve. “You’re going to help me,” he states. It might be too much to do on his own and she had a sword. Surely, she was a fighter of some sort.

The young fanalis would try to drag her along with him. With his strength, it would be difficult for any normal person to pry themselves.

Phobos halts to turn and look at her. His eyes were wide with his own realization. They spent so much time teaching him basic manners and he always seems to forget. Surely, he would’ve been scolded if his retainer were here.

The way she looks at him— expressionless, was much like his mother. Naofumia, was her name. He couldn’t help but wonder if her smile was the same. None the less, it allowed him to feel more at ease. “Phobos Corvus,” he says and in a rather childish way, “We’re going to fight evil.” While not much of an evil, every stain weaved into the world’s cloth had to be accounted for.

He lets go of her, allowing her to follow of her own volition. Every now and then, he would look back and smile. “You look strong,” he comments, peeking around a wall in search of their culprits. “Do you like to fight?” It was something he was fond of. If she was anything like his mother, so would she.