The Aur’elon residence was a stately building set right into the centre of Silvermoon’s commercial district. On most days, the streets were littered with brokers exchanging goods and men of business sipping tea in courtyards or tiered balconies but at the hour that Isaac approached his destination, there were few individuals still occupying the frequently busy quarter. No one seemed to be guarding the entrance to the residence but it was more than likely that there were plenty of eyes observing the vicinity from concealed locations.
 As Isaac mounted the steps and tapped his gloved knuckles audibly upon stained oaken panels, there were several extended moments in which nothing seemed to result from his action. Without the usual hired doorman standing at attention, it was quite apparent that visitors were an entirely unexpected element at this late hour. Any trained ear within Isaac’s immediate vicinity would have been able to latch onto the hasty shuffling within Ester’s home, something heavy had been knocked over and someone spoke briefly in hushed tones. A few locks slid out of place and carefully oiled hinges were put to the test as the expensive door was thrust open by eager hands.
 However, rather than the pristine appearance of the usual inhabitant, a significantly taller figure stood in the doorway. Broad shoulders and a compactly muscled form coiled indolently against the oaken frame, one powerful arm raised to hold the door open. His other hand was occupied with a cigarette, a tendril of smoke wafting from the tip as it was held loosely between two dextrous digits. Gleaming scarlet oculars peered down at the masked man standing erect at the entrance to the Aur’elon residence. A steady stream of crimson mist was seeping from the dead man’s gaze, extra particles added to the mystic airborne cocktail the moment he lays eyes upon the stringent individual standing just a short distance away. In addition, a coy smirk tugged mercilessly at the angular features of this undead creature – gradually devolving into a lop-sided grin that exposes the perfect pearly teeth lining his mouth.
 Farathis hardly had more than a few moments to give the visitor an exhaustive once-over before he cast a wily glance over his shoulder and finally conceded to allow his companion to greet their guest. Garbed in nothing but a pair of dark trousers hastily slipped on mere moments ago for the sake of his cohort’s bid for modesty, Farathis slinks into the background whilst keeping an eye on the man at the entrance – pressing the cigarette to his lips and taking a few slow drags with his streaming gaze locked onto the pairing.
 Esterius was similarly garbed but he had taken the time to pull on a shirt and slacks, even wearing a pair of unbound leather ankle boots to complete the uncharacteristically dishevelled ensemble.  Somewhat out of breath, the merchant directs his focus toward the street to determine whether or not there was more company before he settled onto the familiar shape before him.
 At length, full recognition seemed to dawn on the man and he froze momentarily whilst in the process of idly buttoning up his shirt. Polite interest was apparently the default expression he had chosen for this encounter, tugging it on out of sheer instinct. Blinking rapidly, he expertly maintained as much of his composure as possible in such a scenario, resuming the buttoning of his shirt as he addressed the visitor.
 “Forgive me, you’ve caught me at a rather inopportune moment,” the man offered this apology in his gentle, demure tones – fragile laughter ringing musically from within his slender throat as an orchestrated attempt to diffuse the situation. “You were part of Roy’s staff, correct? I seem to recall you at his side on several occasions.”
