...

	A faint smile revealed itself on the stern squire as he watched the giant sunny-maned man, this 'Rajaka', questioning the nature of the complicated situation. Did he not take any of this seriously? Truly, he was as scatter-brained as wild his appearance. Clearly, this Rajaka must not be around this region. Judging by his outlandish attire, was this person from one of the nomadic tribes in the frigid northern lands? He had briefly studied about how the hardy people of the north have survived through altering their bodies with magic and gaining animalistic traits. Have they really changed this much since then? Well, it has been decades since the city has had any visitors. Perhaps there was another way before, but the lost knowledge of Arcana has forced the the remaining vestiges of civilization to primitive methods. News across lands is often delivered by messenger. This makes communication to be rather difficult considering the dangers of traveling in the chaotic storm-ridden wastelands of Noir. 

But then it still doesn't make sense how he knows the origins of the tear.

	But that didn't matter now. Mikhael sneered at the confidence of the giant, who had opened himself up for a hit. He thought it was a senseless tactic, but if this was how Rajaka wanted to start things off, he wasn't going to complain. Lowering his blade, unwilling to take advantage of the free hit, Mikhael lunging forward immediately. If he wasn't going to act seriously, neither was he. Besides, this was a good chance to test the waters.

The black and white form bellowed behind him as he rush forward with a straight forward punch to the chest. It was simple, but packed the momentum of his entire body. 

...