The International
04-10-11, 08:39 PM
The trick to successfully evading pursuit was to go against all logic. Vespasian knew this as he casually strolled down the busiest street of Radasanth. Logic told him to run from his pursuers as fast as his feet would carry him. Better yet he could commandeer a horse and gain great distance. While he may have had a chance to get away using these two strategies, the distressed civilians would chant their disapproval of his brazen ways. His knowledge as a seasoned covert operative told him to blend in by walking only slightly faster than everyone else and to move with the current of Human activity as it flowed like a river of life between the Bazaar, the Red Lamp District, and the Citadel.
Another logical mistake was to hide, but if he were found he would surely be killed. All but an antisocial thirty percent of the city’s people were here as the tangerine sun retreated behind the horizon either leaving the Bazaar as it closed up shop and relocating to the Red Lamp District for a drink or a ‘good time’ or to the bloody but honorable spectacle of the Citadel. Staying here, amongst the pedestrians in their humid and somewhat putrid density was the safest place for Vespasian until he could make a better move. He didn’t even have to look back at his pursuers. They were making such a ruckus attempting to get to him that the good people of the city expressed their displeasure by grunting and yelling. They weren’t getting any closer to him, but he had to end this eventually.
His solution came in the form of the legendary Citadel. The ziggurat towered above every other structure in the city, and in the retreating sunset it was a golden sanctuary for the covert operative. He smiled as he turned and calmly climbed its seemingly endless flight of stairs. His enemies weren’t far behind, but they managed to slow themselves down by running over an old lady on the street. He glanced back at the three of them and grinned as he passed under the oversized archway. The vast earthen marble atrium bounced even the lightest footstep off its tall walls to cause an echo. As much as Vespasian enjoyed the idea of a full on battle without consequences, he would never in his right mind come here as a spy unless he absolutely had to. In his lifetime he would encounter countless nameless henchmen, hit men, and hired guns, most of which will have tested their mettle here. Therefore it was wise to stay out of this place.
This was an exception to the rule, however, and he could use the monks to help him get away. He knew one would promptly greet him within thirty seconds. “Good evening, sir.”… Like Aleraran clockwork. “Would you care to do battle in one of our arenas today?”
Vespasian halted and turned to the bald monk who greeted him from his right. “Why yes. I’d like quite a challenge, someone who’s likely to defeat me.” He said as he gave a smug smile. The monk nodded and led him down a seemingly endless void of a hallway. “Have you guys ever considered opening a restaurant? Your service is impeccable.”
The pair made their way down a hall that wasn’t much less populated than outside. The added benefit here was that almost everyone was armed, so if his enemies decided to do something here they would be severely reprimanded. As they stopped at a great stone door Vespasian reached into his simple white tunic to pull out a violet diamond. The jewel of Alerar’s late Queen Valsharess was his lifeline to his family, but he only dared to communicate with one, Ludivine. She’d be the only one who wouldn’t judge him for using the Citadel the way he was about to. He didn’t speak. He simply pinched the flawless diamond and pictured her. The black sheep of the family would simply know, and ‘feel’ where he was.
As the monk heaved open the heavy door three black cloaked figures turned the corner. Vespasian responded by raising his hands in a quizzical gesture. “Sorry, gentlemen. I already have an opponent for this battle.” He quickly turned to the monk with wide brown eyes of urgency and a hushed tone that nonetheless coincided. “You do already have an opponent for me right?”
“One moment.” The monk cocked his head back and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. “Now you do, but he retains the privilege of creating your arena. Simply step in and keep walking.”
“My pleasure.” The young spy said as his white tunic and black pants barely kept up with him as he rushed into the room. His steps began to echo as the light from the hallway disappeared. He knew that as long as he was here he was safe despite the fact that he was likely to get his ass handed to him. That, however, was a part of the plan.
Another logical mistake was to hide, but if he were found he would surely be killed. All but an antisocial thirty percent of the city’s people were here as the tangerine sun retreated behind the horizon either leaving the Bazaar as it closed up shop and relocating to the Red Lamp District for a drink or a ‘good time’ or to the bloody but honorable spectacle of the Citadel. Staying here, amongst the pedestrians in their humid and somewhat putrid density was the safest place for Vespasian until he could make a better move. He didn’t even have to look back at his pursuers. They were making such a ruckus attempting to get to him that the good people of the city expressed their displeasure by grunting and yelling. They weren’t getting any closer to him, but he had to end this eventually.
His solution came in the form of the legendary Citadel. The ziggurat towered above every other structure in the city, and in the retreating sunset it was a golden sanctuary for the covert operative. He smiled as he turned and calmly climbed its seemingly endless flight of stairs. His enemies weren’t far behind, but they managed to slow themselves down by running over an old lady on the street. He glanced back at the three of them and grinned as he passed under the oversized archway. The vast earthen marble atrium bounced even the lightest footstep off its tall walls to cause an echo. As much as Vespasian enjoyed the idea of a full on battle without consequences, he would never in his right mind come here as a spy unless he absolutely had to. In his lifetime he would encounter countless nameless henchmen, hit men, and hired guns, most of which will have tested their mettle here. Therefore it was wise to stay out of this place.
This was an exception to the rule, however, and he could use the monks to help him get away. He knew one would promptly greet him within thirty seconds. “Good evening, sir.”… Like Aleraran clockwork. “Would you care to do battle in one of our arenas today?”
Vespasian halted and turned to the bald monk who greeted him from his right. “Why yes. I’d like quite a challenge, someone who’s likely to defeat me.” He said as he gave a smug smile. The monk nodded and led him down a seemingly endless void of a hallway. “Have you guys ever considered opening a restaurant? Your service is impeccable.”
The pair made their way down a hall that wasn’t much less populated than outside. The added benefit here was that almost everyone was armed, so if his enemies decided to do something here they would be severely reprimanded. As they stopped at a great stone door Vespasian reached into his simple white tunic to pull out a violet diamond. The jewel of Alerar’s late Queen Valsharess was his lifeline to his family, but he only dared to communicate with one, Ludivine. She’d be the only one who wouldn’t judge him for using the Citadel the way he was about to. He didn’t speak. He simply pinched the flawless diamond and pictured her. The black sheep of the family would simply know, and ‘feel’ where he was.
As the monk heaved open the heavy door three black cloaked figures turned the corner. Vespasian responded by raising his hands in a quizzical gesture. “Sorry, gentlemen. I already have an opponent for this battle.” He quickly turned to the monk with wide brown eyes of urgency and a hushed tone that nonetheless coincided. “You do already have an opponent for me right?”
“One moment.” The monk cocked his head back and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. “Now you do, but he retains the privilege of creating your arena. Simply step in and keep walking.”
“My pleasure.” The young spy said as his white tunic and black pants barely kept up with him as he rushed into the room. His steps began to echo as the light from the hallway disappeared. He knew that as long as he was here he was safe despite the fact that he was likely to get his ass handed to him. That, however, was a part of the plan.