Races: Online

If you were rich, then you paid for protection. If you happened to be just a normal citizen or even poor, then there were instances where other people took 'payment' for your 'protection'.

Whether one looked at the world as a bright place where people lived in harmony or a place of strife and competition—both had to admit that there was trouble when one's interests were harmed or interfered by another individual. A great example might have been the Beastfolk Uprising that had taken place several years ago, between what one might call 'demi-human' and humans. 

One party desired to be free and left alone, the other wanted them to not be free and thus it was where conflicts both large scale and small scale arose.

This was an almost indisputable fact. 

And thus the necessity for protection became a thing and a livelihood for some. Risking their necks for their daily salary and pay. When it all came down to it, people received money and people gave away money for security.

There were people who had their own Bodyguards, hired Mercenaries and even Soldiers and Knights working for those who could afford them, but the Guards were the one who kept cities running orderly.

All Guardsmen and Guardswomen were expected to apprehend criminals, thugs and other unsavory individuals in the city—that was a natural duty of a person working in their Class. 

Sure there was stuff like… actually guarding the gates, but most were actually recognized from dealing with threats. It was impossible to truly avoid trouble when people had different desires.

The Baker wanted to sell his bread, and that Thief was hungry and had no money.

Simple things like that already brought in a lot of work for people who had to take care of matters like that. And it certainly didn't help that Boaz worked in a city as big as the people's ego who thought it was a great idea to name the city as Glory, the corruption probably still evident—and for all it was worth, it had not allowed said Guardsman from shooting out and grabbing the arrow from nowhere.

It was a shot out from the darkness.

A cowardly move that zipped through the air with a flash of a Skill.

Nobody had seen it coming, surely nobody had.

Until against all instinctive desires to protect oneself, Han shielded the rest of his classmates from getting hit. 

It was stupid.

The arrow bolt pierced and stuck deep into his shoulder. It reverberated against his entire body, he stumbled backwards, wavering in his foot. He reached out to hold and feel the warmth that gushed from such a shoulder.

Wait did he just push it in more—?!

"Fuckfuckfuck—"

Han fell onto his knee and tried to grin even while his entire body wracked in pain. He wasn't sure if he attempted to writhe or was now making sounds of agony—like any injured person that demanded for themselves to be heard.

Behind him came an elemental orb which lashed out and struck the Bowman in the alley. The man was thrown into the garbage as the others quickly moved towards Han. 

Until the Guardsman held a hand up, "Don't crowd over him. Do you feel poisoned, boy?"

"How does that even feel?" Han asked and bit back a wince. 

"It depends on the type of poison." Teresa offered. "And so does the antidote needed for it."

He tried to apply pressure on his shoulder but tried not to dig the arrow deeper. Blood continued to trail down his shoulder and he was just glad that it didn't hit anything important. If it had been his neck, eye or something like it—well, he wouldn't want to be known as One-Eyed Han. 

"Symptoms? When it feels like my blood is burning and my head is woozy? Maybe I—"

Diov shrugged. "If you can still talk that much, I don't think so." 

He had his own fair share of experiencing Nobles getting poisoned, and so far, it didn't seem like Han was exhibiting any symptoms. At least, a poisoned bowman would get apprehended immediately if the person caused many victims. 

Han had the urge to glare at the guy, but just took note on to actually study poisons later.

Russel stared for a moment at the dark alley and then back at Han. It should have been him getting struck by that arrow and yet this guy just swooped in and saved him, didn't he? After all those things… "Why did you—no, we need a healing potion."

Not everyone who had one, had it with them.

It was supposed to be a quick dinner and return to the Academy.

The Guardsman Boaz grabbed for his bottle only to find it was empty, drunk by Donovan earlier for his own injuries. He himself didn't know medical procedures, but as he glanced at the boy's bloodied shoulder, he remembered what Ryden told him before and said, "Take the bolt out of his shoulder. Actually—don't do that." They weren't in a battlefield to do something drastic. "We don't have someone who knows how to treat that. Get a Healer—"

If Ryden hadn't left immediately then they would have called for someone. How close or rather how far was the clinic where that Healer guy was? 

As long as this young man didn't move the arrow too much, and it didn't seem to be poisoned—then they were good. It wasn't too drastic. No enchanted arrows that cut through the veins and dug into the body. 

Finally, Han got a word in, perhaps this was what he had been waiting for. Or not really. He didn't know and attempted a weak grin. "Well, I heard that you need to sacrifice your life to be a friend."

Han threw his head back and tried not to grit his teeth. It wasn't that bad. He had already gotten himself in a motorcycle before, so this one was fine. It still hurt like hell but this was a world with better medical facilities through sheer use of magic.

Russel slapped a hand over his face and looked at Han. "You're still bringing that up, even now?" 

Oh, he'd definitely focus on things if it helped him distract from the pain. "I got another one too—where the heck is the barbecue that you guys bought for Sir Leon?" Han grinned and bit back another wince.

"Don't act like you're at your deathbed." Teresa narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm not!" Maybe Han should have gotten immediate medical care treatment right now, and so the man pulled himself up to his feet and said, "I don't think it'll hurt too much, I can take a few steps to get to a clinic or whatever."

"Few steps means a couple of streets down for Healer Treuse Arcois' clinic," Boaz informed him, finally recalling how much Ryden complained about the Healer for paying more attention to a Cleric. "There are people staying there if you can make it..." Maybe it was best to separate now? It was far too risky to do. "But I don't recommended it, you can stay here until reinforcements arrive—"

"And let me bleed out slowly, okay." Han grinned weakly. "Got it. But the name seems awfully familiar."

"Everybody knows who he is—but just conserve your strength for now. Stay where you are." The Diplomat tried to infuse a command into his words. He was a Guardsman who had authority over this situation, at least on this individual at that moment even when they seemed to be—

Han eyed the Guardsman, took another step forward and got immediately blocked by Teresa. He glared at the guy and raised his uninjured arm. "Argh, I think I can get there. Damn you, Donovan drank it all up—should have saved some for me."

"How should I have known?" Donovan half glared and sighed. "If you can still complain, then you're still fine. It's just an arrow"

Boaz blinked not at the words of the uncouth young man but instead at the actions of Han. This young man was higher-leveled than him, wasn't he? Obviously was the sound answer as he hadn't been a Diplomat for too long, but this Han should still have listed.

Regardless, it only took about ten minutes before the reinforcements came and the entire thing was finally over.

.

.

.

'Boaz reporting in. Overtime duty. Apprehended over twenty individuals of varying injuries during a chance encounter in the Copperhome Districts of Gloria City. 

Assisted five Students from Kraelonia Academy back to their Academy. Disciplinary action recommended for each one of them.

Injured Civilians - 1 (Student, Immediately Treated)'

The Guardsman hesitated over the report he was making about the incident from last night. It was still entirely fresh, and yet this was something he needed to have made a note about—something that should have been reported immediately. He had almost forgotten about it amidst all the fair share of trouble that arrived, but here was the truth.

A postscript was added at the bottom of the report, something to be read by people higher in the chain of command.

Student previously abducted by the three fugitives.