Zandelia was n working this day, instead choosing to roam the streets of Sunberth in search of pockets of information, pooled mutters of rumors and also to look into the changing face of Sunberth at the same time. It was a strange feeling that was in the air as she paced from location to location, a sense of progress – but also of intense fear. Sunberthians had an ingrained dislike of the concept of rulers, or even of just one group of people controlling the entire city. It had happened before in the past, well before her own life, and it had ended miserably for the people of the ramshackle city. As such the control of the areas of Sunberth was in a state of almost perpetually continual flux. Some days territory changed hands three times in a season, other times perhaps once a year, but it always changed.
And if I didn’t know better I’d say it was all pre-planned at any rate. Those bastards at the top know the consequences of too much power more than most after all she thought to herself as she inspected a nearby stall, selling trinkets from exotic locations, though from their poor craftsmanship and the thumb prints in the metal she guessed more likely to have come from a back alley. Probably nearby too, to keep the supplies secure and at hand.
That was enough to intrigue her to stay nearby, watching the stall make sales and reduce its stock substantially to poor fools about to go to sea after lucky charms and the like, attempts to stave off their own destruction. Not that they would even head out to sea any time soon at any rate, the docks having been cataclysmically destroyed and under repair already. No, it was hope that was the commodity bought, false or not. Still, she lingered in the crowd of another nearby stall selling fish produce, her still and enrobed form not particularly noticeable to those not expecting to see her there. She was a patient woman when she chose to be, when the time was right, and here was an opportunity to use. If she was right, if the sales were a sham, then it was something to be used for extortionate means. They were selling hope to hopeless people, people whom were a hair’s breadth from breaking and lynching another series of would-be mages.
“A dangerous game indeed” she whispered as she saw one of the stall tenders move away from the stall and down an alley way a short distance behind the stall proper. She smiled and scented blood, the electrical charge of excitement and possibility crackling through her nervous system.
She let a few moments pass before casually walking in the same direction so as to arouse no suspicion. It was not difficult really, enough people moving to and fro as to make it not unordinary for all small alleys to be in consistent use. The man was rounding the corner of a building as she entered the enclosed setting and sped up her pace so that she could put her back against the wall, peering around just enough to see him disappear into a doorway. She ran to the other side of the door so that he would not double back and pass her along his way back to the store, arousing suspicion perhaps. She waited a good long while, her muscles tensed and jaw gritted shut. Eventually, after what seemed like years, the men emerged once more, carrying a small wooden crate in front of him, cursing as he did so. That was when she ghosted against the wall and made her way to the door, her tread soft and subtle as she could make it in the mud. She paused at the door and listened, hearing nothing from within. She then closed her eyes briefly and began the process of concentrated meditation, slow at first but quicker as the seconds passed. She could feel the power dwelling within, letting it course into her eyes and fingers as she focused her sense not upon the door itself, her hand pressed to the wood, but beyond it.
Can’t feel anything she thought to herself as she used her auristic powers to search for any semblance of an aura beyond the threshold, a trick she had learnt to her satisfaction indeed. Her skill was not great, however, and she could not penetrate the room too far, perhaps enough to sense someone literally the other side of the door. Warning was warning, however, and well advised o be gathered. She let the powers dissipate slowly as she pushed herself to a full standing position and a fatigue grew within her slightly, the price she paid for information.
She opened the door cautiously and found no one beyond, light flooding the small storage place and showing a few small crates similar to the one the man had been carrying. She entered, stepping lightly and gazing around for any signs of threat. Finding none and satisfied she was alone she searched the room quickly, finding a small fireplace with assorted metal instruments she could guess the function of. She had been right, it seemed, from the stress of common metals and drops of slag around the small hearth. She chuckled and left the way she had come. It was as she was about to begin negotiations with the stall holder that someone turned her around and a familiar face hove into view.
“Kreig?? What the petch are you doing here? Where have you been you idiot? Haven’t seen you in a long time indeed!” she asked him as her memories clicked his appearance into place fully and remembrance flooded her brain.
She extended her hand for him to embrace before they began the conversation proper she knew would be coming.
