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The further away from the main avenues the narrower the walkways. While space shrinks, however, people find ways to set up shop within these corners. Proprietors commonly live above their work floor alongside their families. The current scene is no different. Men are plying their trades—Bakers, as always, are immediately serving laborers at this time.
STILL: although becoming cramped, the providence inside you leads you deeper into the brick-laid jungle. That is where petty thuggery lurks. And where iniquity is left unrighted...
...It is when the sky is obscured—by roofs, canopies, and eaves—that your sense of justice ACTIVATES!
BAM——!
—THUNK!
Evil being predictable, you lay eyes upon a confrontation—!
——Three men in aprons and shabby vests. Their triceps are bulky from carrying crates and sacks daily. It would be natural for them to topple over a barrel filled by foodstuffs; which, one of them has jealously committed.
Behind the cover of an isolated street: their disturbance aims itself at one of the owners, or what seems to be one of the staff, of the compact storefronts. "——W-What are you doing?! Hey! HEY—!" cries a timid voice. The aim of their ire attempts to rectify the damage upon the store.
A young lady descends to the ground. She shovels together the remains of tipped-over flours in a panic. Her small fingers carelessly salvage together tainted grain and dust granules; and, most fatally, is mistaking that her efforts will come out fruitful. No one buys dirty product. But her eyes might believe otherwise if she serves with good intentions.
The speaker for the trio flaps his gums: "You know our business, girlie! Either agree to support the grocers' guild or start expectin' to PAY. Us lot don't stand a chance for any longer if the wholesalers and trains jack up their prices!"
"But I already said we'd refuse! This isn't reasonable!" It dawns on her that shoveling flour is not going to fix her predicament. The vain act kicks dust onto her freckles and braids.
"Well as it is right now, us grocers have no choice to refuse. We need to lock down our streets before business leaves us! Control our area, ya know?! You're one of the shops with some good suppliers. You need to help the guild out!"
" ! ! ! " Her lips trip over themselves, stuttering between "N-No!", "wait", and "PLEASE!". Quite obvious: she is HELPLESS.
And in need of a HERO——The presence of your heirloom girdle arrives at the forefront of your mind. It TREMBLES. It's a bulky thing, hiding under your outfit, if not unwieldy and alien-looking! But in spite of its mysteriousness it is the KEY to your JUSTICE.
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