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Poet’s slumber the rest of the night was uneventful. When she awoke the next morning she catered to her morning routine of physical exercise then bathing at the Cheydinhal bath house and finally breakfast a the local Inn. The rest of the day was spent maintaining her weapons and armor. When the sun finally set upon the land, she left her bed and met in the sanctuary’s common room. Vincent was waiting, his burning yellow eyes peering up from behind a book. His long spindley fingers wrapped around a delicate quill.

“It appears that Lucien wishes for your skills, again.” Vincent said, his voice smooth and almost enchanting. “In the Imperial City. There will be a dead drop waiting for you.” Vincent added.

Poet felt herself stiffen. She had not been to the Imperial city in 2 years, and nothing but bad memories haunted that place. Vincent of course was quick to catch her hesitation. His face smiled in a wicked grin. “That is, of course, you wish to give up the contract?” he chided her. Frowning, the young Assassin simply turned her back and headed out. The Imperial City awaited her.