Amaro’s search had brought him to Punuuk, but he had not come unprepared. He’d hidden his identity with a Raiju mask. Amaro had always adored the leopard-like creatures. Their antlers made them look so majestic, and as storm Magakos, Amaro felt no other creature fit him better.

What wasn't majestic were the rundown streets of Punuuk. Even in Amaro’s most humble attire, he still stood out like a sore thumb. There were people on the streets who only had rags to their name. Amaro could feel their glares, and he immediately felt out of his element. He did not belong here, but he was going to act like he did.

These poor people. If they only learned that nobility wasn’t a matter of blood but a matter of merit, they’d be motivated to bring themselves out of poverty.

Amaro had searched the burned down tower from before, asking any of the locals what had happened there. He had to grease a few palms, but he’d managed to get the information he needed in the end. According to the residents of Yvian, guardsmen from Punuuk had been seen detaining and bringing children into that building.

They were told the city of Yvian allowed them to bring those children for holding so they could decide what to do with them. As far as the residents nearby knew, the children were criminals from Punuuk, and if they asked any additional questions they were threatened with detainment as well.

Amaro wasn’t surprised that the people backed down after that, but he was also disappointed. If someone had stepped in earlier, who knows how many lives could have been saved?

If it were Amaro in that situation, he knew he would’ve done something. The only reason he hadn’t was because of The Crow’s threat earlier.

Amaro still didn’t understand why his actions would lead to war, but he didn’t want to risk the safety of his family.

Even if he knew his father could crush anyone he wanted.

Still, people who had no noble ties didn’t have an excuse like he did. There was nothing to fear from guardsmen, and society would only be better if more people caught the bad apples instead of letting them fester.

One of the residents was able to give him names as well. Calkos Cowak and Waltniir Whitnick. When he asked about The Crow, none of them had answers for him.

Whitnik was a sergeant of Yvian’s guards turned mercenary who had come to be known for his expertise in creating toxins with his rare birth element of life magic. He was well known, but not well liked.

Cowak was a captain of the wall vanguard in Punuuk. He often had a direct line of communication to Yvian’s vanguard, but it seemed the money wasn’t good enough. He did mercenary work while maintaining his duties as captain.

Amaro had gotten a tip for the whereabouts of Cowak. He lived on the north end of Punuuk near Yvian’s walls. It was one of the better looking parts of Punuuk, but all that meant was Amaro probably wouldn’t see a corpse rotting in the road.

Probably.

He got to the house and double checked the address. This was the place. The stonework was well made. It didn’t look nearly as weathered compared to the other houses, so there was no doubt an earth magic user lived here.

Stolen story; please report.

He knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

No response.

Amaro looked through the windows. He couldn’t sense someone inside, so they were likely out.

He took a seat on the steps and decided to wait. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, trying to think of his next steps. Did he skip town? Or maybe he was the corpse that had landed on the roof in front of him last night.

“Oi! Who the fuck are you? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Amaro raised his head. It was a dirty blonde boy about Amaro’s age flanked by a short stocky boy and a towering ugly boy.

“Those are some nice clothes, kid did your mommy buy them for you?” The stocky one said.

“He looks like he’s coming from the festival in Yvian. Look at that mask!” The dirty blonde said, “How much’d you pay for that eh?”

“I’m looking for someone. Be on your way.” Amaro said.

“No need to be so cold, Chrome Tail. We’re just making conversation.”

Chrome tail. That’s what the peasants called spoiled rich kids. Amaro gnawed the inside of his cheek.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money to give you. Spent it all on this mask.” Amaro still had some money, but he wasn’t about to let them know that.

“Oh but you’ve got the clothes on your back and that pretty mask don’t you? And you happen to be squatting on my property, so I’ll be having them as payment.” The dirty blonde said.

“This is your property? You’re Cowak?”

The boy pulled a knife, “Who wants to know? Now take your clothes off before-”

Amaro’s fist had already smashed his nose. He crumpled to the ground in a screech of pain.

“Boss!” The stocky one shouted, only to be kicked halfway down the street soon after.

Amaro ducked as the ugly one tried to grab at him, sweeping his legs and stomping his head into the pavement.

The ugly one was a lot more durable than Amaro thought, so he had to stomp twice to knock him out.

A stone flung at high speed towards Amaro’s head.

He didn’t even need to look to catch it.

Amaro crushed it in his palm and scattered the dust, looking back at the dirty blonde who’d flung it.

The dirty blonde stood up, stones coating his knuckles like gloves.

Amaro decided to take a page from The Crow’s playbook, letting him swing and whiff every punch he made.

When Amaro decided he’d had enough humiliation, a swift punch to the liver sent him right back down.

He snatched one of the stones from his hands and lobbed it at the stocky boy before he could fully recover.

The stocky boy slumped down unconscious.

Three down, but the dirty blonde was already stirring again.

Amaro crushed the boy’s shin bone under his heel to make sure he couldn’t run. The dirty blonde squealed out, trying to crawl away.

Amaro looked down at him with a cold uncaring gaze, pressing his boot down on his spine to keep him pinned, “Scum like you should be taught a lesson from time to time. What’s your name?”

“Piss off! Who the hell are you anyway?”

Amaro started pressing.

“Fine! Fine! I’m Cowak!”

Amaro stomped on his ribcage, feeling it crunch beneath his boot.

Peasants were so fragile, “Don’t fuck with me or I’ll break your neck next. Who are you, and what’s your name? Where is the owner of this property, Calkos Cowak?”

“I am Cowak, I swear! I’m Prepo Cowak! I’m Calkos’s son,” Prepo heaved.