Puddles formed on the muddy streets, people rushed by each other, hiding from the rain under their cloaks and coats. None noticed the woman using her cloak to cover her arm.
She had practice going unnoticed.
Her shoulder ached in the rain, it always did. She could feel the storm coming, a dull ache in the hours before the first drops would fall. The price of the gift given to her by her lord.
The woman walked towards the building the legion had commandeered, stepping into an alley nearby. She gave the immediate area a look. The upcoming holiday distracted the legion. She didn't anticipate anyone being nearby. Good fortune, for her and them.
She moved her cloak, stretching her arms experimentally, before leaping up easily to the second story and opening a window to slip inside. Taking a moment to close the window behind her, she made her way towards the main offices.
Her eyes scanned the desks, looking at correspondences. Useless drivel, like most legionary communications. She took the time to note the important details; positions of ships, rebuilding efforts after certain raids, and their theories on where “The Betrayer’s” forces were. She tucked a few of the letters into her cloak, before stepping to the desk she had been looking for.
A map. Several maps, all annotated. Legion positions, their numbers, the number of church support in the region. The amount of people they needed to protect.
The perfect tool for planning. She stowed these safely in her cloak as well. Walking over to one of the candles, she pulled out her firestarter to begin lighting it. The small flame fizzled, the damp of the day making the process difficult.
“Who’s there?” A voice called out from the hallway.
She froze. Had someone seen her come in? What took them so long to arrive if that were the case?
She looked towards the doorway and cursed. From the window to the desk was a trail of muddy footprints, clear as day. She hadn't considered it to cause an issue, since the entire place would be rubble by the time anyone could have noticed.
A stupid mistake, but one that could easily be rectified.
The door opened and the guard peered in. He didn't even get a chance to scream. Claws flashed, slashing his throat, panicked eyes looking up as he fell.
The demon didn't even let him hit the floor. She caught him, lowering him to the ground gently. No point in risking other guards investigating. She doubted any of his friends would hear the gurgling croaks of his death rattle.
Stepping over to the lantern the guard had been holding, she picked it up, smiled, and set it on the table next to the man. Then she simply tipped it over onto the papers on that desk. Her smile widened as the flames hit the oil of the lantern, burning hotter and faster.
No one noticed a young woman in a cloak leaving the rainy town. People came and went every day.
Afterall, she had practice going unnoticed.
