Job Requisite :

There he stood, now titled 'Strategist' a name he knew not what for, but could only respect. After a series of examinations of his ability it was given to him by Icarus; retiring the moniker 'E.'He'd been covering with previously. To be the weakest in the guild was a scary feeling however Erebus would not let this deter his ambitions. He'd fight like none before. Once he reached the ultimate peak, he'd cause mages to tremble. It just took time, patience, and work.

"Keep your eyes on the prize, 'Strategist,'and good things will find you."

The boy reminded himself with the words outloud, fixing his new duds as he'd done so. After completing a few dark quests, money was piling in. So a new get-up was needed. Suits, fabricated down to the threads to be easy to move in were chosen by his own creative taste buds. Now here he was at the castle taking more work from the Phantasms'.

The temperature in the area was chilly, but well in the sixties. Erebus was to be the assistant mason, which kind of annoyed him now that he realized his suit would not be a good apparel picking. Although he did as instructed, course he was only told he really needed to snitch on some rats. Somewhat. A fat man by the name Boris, led him to where the masons were doing their jobs. The Boris guy gave a smug laugh upon seeing the tall dark-haired evil-doer. But he was under orders and therefore kept silent until he told Erebus what was to be done.

The male began working, keeping his ears peeled for any kind of underhandedness. The Phantasms weren't his favorite noble house or anything like that, but money was money and this quest. The boy continued to do his jobs. He was sleepy from long nights of teenage girls, but alas, the world was what you make it and what could he say? Luxuries like what Oak provided were to be enjoyed. So what if Erebus allowed his mouth taste from them? The answer? He didn't. This was a world of shit, and even more so-- once your story had began.

This however was the sad truth of the world. Most wouldn't understand that people are not created equally. They'd rather go on living thinking they have a chance, but sadly this is not the truth. Some mages were born with magic, some were not. Some were a stronger race, others were not. And some... well some came into this world being beyond the normal thresholds of a human.

Erebus sought to destroy the human threshold by any way necessary, without being born surpassing it. If that meant evolving as more than what he was, he'd take it, but if it meant he needed a human strength caliber alone-- then he'd do it. There was another path, for lone adventurers like himself. It was called practice. The mastery of the body and of magical items. Power could be achieved through struggle. Struggle could compete with talent. This much he believed passionately...

Hours passed and the listening led to nothing so far, except for some mutters for water bottles. But those were from masons, the assistant kept steady pace and lifted stone cement blocks onto the castle's outer walls. The strategist could now understand why Sirius, the one seeking information wanted to make sure no one took advantage. These masons could easily know weak spots in the building and use that knowledge to hurt the Phantasm's name. Enemies always wanted to kill nobles after all. This was practically like paying people to screw you over!

It was in the midst of these thoughts that the dark mage caught ear around the corner of the fat guy, Boris and two others laughing. He heard the mention of money and of... weak spots in the castle walls he had? Erebus Cassiel gritted his teeth, this was some low shit. But then again, he knew if this guy and his goons were guilty of selling the nobles out. Then they were even worse than he could've imagined. It was then, he became sure enough to grab his coat, sweaty and dirty from sitting on the ground. He approached and questioned the ugly fat man.

"Aye, Boris. I heard mention of something you said earlier."

"Is that so," said Boris with his strong Russian accent.  "What was that? I thought you knew how to cement stones boy."

Erebus allowed his sly side to chuckle. "I know fewer things than I give myself credit for," Strategist jested. Showing a fake smile, ensuring his humble approach. His eyes were closed and squinted as if to insinuate he were less than his true serious demeanor.

"Is it true about..."

"Those words best left unsaid twice. But... I'm not denying the money would be nice, if I did."

Erebus nodded and ended the conversation abruptly. He then left, only to come back to the castle late that night.

"He's a rat. Pay me now?"

Sirius and him discussed for about thirty minutes, sharing tea. Then Erebus made off with yet another quest completed.

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