The fat, heavy rain descended like knives upon the back of Beau Bergeron, assassin and son of a high ranking boss in the Guilds of New Orleans. He was dressed in an all black suit of clothing, which covered his pock-marked and scarred body. Despite his noble birth he’d lived the hard life of a Guildsman, and it showed on his skin. On his brow beneath a cowl was the black mask he’d purchased in the alleyways of Sesus. His splashing footsteps as he entered her streets were like silence against the backdrop of the angry storm.
Slowly but surely, the streets of the canal city were becoming flooded with water. Like a thick mid-summer’s squall from his homeland, the storm was seemingly here to stay, which meant a great deal of water would clog the streets of Sesus until morning. This, of course, suited his plans nicely, under the cover of near total darkness caused by the black clouds over the night’s sky, and the deafening roar of the thunder and wind, he would sneak into the rooms of the embassy and snatch his prize: The Cards.
In the back of his mind he could see himself and William Hebert working together in the streets of New Orleans, going after a rival boss’ records or the wares of a shopkeep who didn’t pay their protection money. It felt like eons ago to Bergeron, who had lost all sense of time since his abrupt departure from the realm of Maurepas. The gunshot pierced his thoughts like the thunder in the sky, the one with which his traitorous friend had begun Beau’s path to purpose and vengeance. This night would be his opening volley.
He’d already ensured his cat’s paws, La Danse Calinda, would guarantee that the hunt would continue even after the prize had been won, allowing Beau to slowly but surely obtain the whole deck. Though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, those cards had called to him. He knew that they were the key to the strange vortices by which he’d found himself in this prison. Slowly but surely, he would have his revenge.
The streets were cleared of people, due to the heavy rain, and the guards which would normally have been on patrol were stationary, just outside the entrance to the embassy. But Beau had no intention of waltzing into the front door. Making his way through ankle-deep water around the alleyway he’d been ambushed in the previous day, he pulled the grappling hook and rope attached to his belt. Unfortunately, the alley was only three to four feet across, ideally he’d need another few feet to ensure momentum, but, he sighed, beggars can’t be choosers.
Rotating his forearm in a tight circle, he spun his rope, faster than he would have normally to make up for the lack of room between the two buildings. Aiming for a spot atop the ledge on the roof he released his hand, sending the grapple with a clang he hoped the storm would dampen atop the brick wall. Giving the rope a tug to ensure its hold, he placed a foot on the wall and began his climb, going hand-over-hand and shifting his position to keep his leverage against his upper body strength.
It wasn’t long before he was atop the roof, silently recoiling his rope and then moving to toss it over the edge and into the canal. The loss of the implement would be a hit to his pocket, but it was evidence against him if this went awry, and he couldn’t carry it with him in silence. Moving over atop a window that had been jarred loose by the driving wind.
Kneeling down at the ledge, he then held open the window and waited for the right moment to swing down into it. Lightning struck, and he took the momentary flash of light to aim his swing down into the open windowsill and land on his toes as silently as he could on the floor. It was dark inside the room, and while he was fairly certain that the prince and the wizard would be using this particular suite, being the largest above the floor of the embassy itself, he couldn’t be sure which room exactly the cards would be in. Where before the allure, the aura they gave off, would’ve pointed him in the right direction, now they were placed in that wrap used by the wizards. Their aura was silenced, and inside his own soul felt as if it had been silenced. Desperately it beckoned Beau Bergeron to free itself from their prison.
As he took a few steps down the hallway. Carefully and quietly, he scanned the few doors near his line of sight, trying to decide which was the more likely to contain the wizard and the cards. Nearby to a particularly ornate door-frame, he saw a table ladened with alcoholic spirits. Beau smiled; if he was a high-ranking nobleman wizard in this world, he would definitely take the room next to the fine liquors.
Quietly, he turned the knob and looked inside…