((And so the revolution begins.))
The city of Andrysel was abuzz with activity. Merchants prepared their wares in the pre-dawn gloom while orphan children began a long days work for scraps of food or gold from their harsh masters. The last of the nights drunkards were still lay in the gutters, an unsightly obstacle best avoided by those with somewhere to be. As the sun continued to rise over the horizon and the castle spires, twisted shadows cloaked the market squares like the claws of a feral beast.
It was just a normal morning for the capital and it's citizens but for one small factor. Today Rael was not seen amongst the throng of people. He had no time to barter for a lavish breakfast of eels and turnips, instead the would-be assassin was content with a stale hunk of bread and some old cheese he had found in his cupboard that morning. As he sat at his old, scorch marked table he re-read the small slip of paper for the hundredth time. It had only a name and a place upon it but to Rael it was the most important thing he had ever read.
Garrian Valachi. 203 Crown Lane.
With a smirk Rael remarked to himself that the address on the paper was provided only because this was his first target, not that he really needed it. Valachi was a well known name to those who had run the streets in their youth. A harsh man, Valachi was the most prominent of the capitals merchants, favoured by the crown for his lavish parties and large donations. As a result he could get away with doing whatever he pleased, from tax dodging to experimenting with dark magic. It was the latter that had got the attention of the Andrysel underworld.
The merchant would boast about his almost supernaturally loyal workers and a bit of digging into his actions led the underworld to one conclusion.
Garrian Valachi had a relic of his own, or at least part of one, and was using it to dominate the minds his 'staff'. That was something that the city would not tolerate. And it seemed Rael had been chosen to put an end to it.