“Now, you will report back to your guildmaster. I am sure she will want to know everything you observed. I hope you were paying attention,” Rezkin replied.

Benni’s face dropped. “Oh. Yeah, I guess she would. Um … I think I got most of it, but I can’t say as I understand what’s goin’ on.”

“Nor should you. That is for me alone to know for now. Go. I have other business to which I must attend,” Rezkin stated. Benni responded with a Yes, Master, and bounded off, scurrying down an alley and out of sight.

Rezkin rounded a corner and then ducked through an abandoned building. He eventually made his way to the rooftops. He had been followed out of the Serpent Guildhouse, as he would have expected with any decent nefarious organization. His pursuer was reasonably Skilled, but the more qualified warrior easily lost him after a few moments. Rezkin had yet to encounter anyone in this city who was a Master in any Skill, although from the rumors and reports, Adsden may be close to mastery of Stealth Invasion, especially with his particularly advantageous talent with ward manipulation.

The silent warrior slipped over rooftops and through alleys. He was now in Wolf Pack territory, but since it was near midday, most of the guild would be pick pocketing in the market or sleeping—not that Rezkin was particularly concerned. It was time for him to check up on the progress with the marquis, and to do that he had to make his way to the more affluent part of the city, where the noble kept a grandiose estate.

Marquis Addercroft spent far more time in the city than many of his counterparts who preferred to maintain their own lands. Addercroft preferred the luxuries provided by the constant influx of migrants and trade goods. His affection for young, beautiful women was what got him into trouble in the first place. While most noblemen steered clear of causing too many problems with the young women of the peerage, preferring to encourage maids, tavern wenches, and other desperate or impressionable commoners into their beds, Addercroft had been unable to keep his hands off the daughter of another marquis.

The young woman, a mere fifteen years of age, had stayed as a guest in his home, about six years prior, when the marquis forced himself on the virginal girl. The poor girl did not succumb to the older man’s advances willingly, and the marquis was a bit too rough. In the end, young Lillian—Lilly to her family—was secretly buried in her snow-white nightgown stained with the blood of her deflowering and the slice across her throat.