|
Several hours had passed. Several uneventful hours... Altair thought sourly. The thief wasn't sure what he was hoping for. Maybe a distressed guard, or some sense of panic overtaking their defenses. This wasn't the case though to his dismay. What is keeping things from unraveling? From his contacts, he knew of Gerald, who was currently wounded, his wife who Altair seriously doubted was holding up well, and then his young daughter. He contemplated the possible ransom money he could get from kidnapping her.
Stretching, he left his perch and went in search of food. Avoiding the main taverns, he went down alleyways that lead to a small building. Smoke hung heavily in the room and conversations were held in harsh whispers. Suspicious stares took in the young man as he made his way to the bar counter. "I need ale and whatever food you're serving today." The large bald bartender grunted in response as he lazily prepared the meal.
Altair sat with his shoulders hunched as he began to write on parchment. He wrote in detail what his surveying had gained so far, which was pathetically small. Drumming his fingers on the counter, he started to formulate a plan on how to break in. Before long a sketch on the manor had been constructed with possible entries and exits. His thoughts were disrupted as the bartender roughly sat the stew and ale next to him. Folding the parchment away, he smiled to himself, pleased with his plan that he would execute tonight. The bartender eyed the thief warily, noticing the cold smile.
|