Heratio clutched the coin in his hand. A single coin of significant value, it would take him months to earn that from just working as Augustus’ bodyguard. He had already saved up about the equivalent of a gilden in venti, stashed away in a nook near where he slept. In addition, he had the items he stole from Giovannus. Together, it was enough for him, if he desired, to leave the city and find some new beginning somewhere else.

He watched the sun setting as he walked through the city, the sky a tapestry of reds and oranges. The night would fall soon and the streets would empty. It was dangerous to walk alone at night, even without the looming threat of Augustus’ brother. Thieves, murderers, and gangs would come out and search for prey under cover of darkness. Once the streets were emptier, it would become obvious if someone were following him, that is when he would start making his way to his destination. For now, he walked a circuitous route, a mindless walk that let his thoughts wander.

Normally, he wouldn’t even think of betraying Augustus. But his life was on the line. He had braved death for him before, but this time was different. To go into battle, with a sword in your hand was one thing but to be at the mercy of a court, to lack control completely over your fate, caused a much greater fear in him. By staying he would be reliant on Augustus to save him from the court, and he had to ask himself how much he believed in his master.

The light began to fade. The lightkeepers were out on the main streets, walking along with a very long pole with a flame at the end, lighting each lantern as they passed it. Heratio watched them from an alleyway while double-checking his light armor. The faint light from the street lanterns would last a while, serving as a warning to any stranglers still in the streets to return home. Eventually, even they would burn out and true darkness would envelop the city. It was time, at last, to head toward Figaro’s apartment that was nearby the Fighter’s Guild.

He checked over his shoulder repeatedly and each time he confirmed no one there. It wasn’t long before he reached the five-story tall building where Figaro lived. It was off the main street, through an empty alleyway. He went straight for the front door of the complex but it was already barricaded. Heratio knew no one would come to answer a knock at this time of day.

Figaro lived on the fifth floor where the rent was cheaper. The first and second floors of these buildings were usually occupied by families. Figaro lived alone, so he had the luxury of not caring about all the stairs to and from his front door. This would have been easier if he lived on the first floor, thought Heratio.

He stepped back from the building and looked up at the windows. A few windows were open, from them the flicker of light from the hearth inside emanated. Others windows were shut, just having the outline of light that escaped through the cracks of the window doors. Which one was Figaro’s? Heratio couldn’t be sure, he had only been here a couple of times, and it was far in the past. For all Heratio knew, Figaro had moved somewhere else. He would try, nonetheless, to do what was ordered. At least then he could return home and say so to Augustus, the one who gave him this seemingly insurmountable task. Or, he could walk over to the docks and find some ship preparing to leave the city.

He decided on a window, whether it be Figaro’s or not, and started throwing pebbles at the open window. Even if it wasn’t Figaro’s, they might point him to the right window. It took a few shots before he hit his target. Nothing happened. He threw a few more and hit the target with ease now that his body had memorized the motion of the throw. Finally, a head peeked out the window. All Heratio could see was a black form without details.

Before calling out, he checked from side to side, making sure the alleyway was empty. “Figaro?” Heratio asked.

“Heratio?” The man asked back.

“Come down here and let me in.”

“At this time of day?”

“Just do it.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down shortly.”

The figure disappeared from the window. As he waited for the door to be unbarricaded, Heratio leaned against the wall of the building looking out to the main street. He saw a couple of figures pass without lingering. The alleyway remained empty. After a short time, he heard the piece of wood that barricaded the door being removed, and the door opened slightly.

“What is this about?” Asked Figaro from the slightly open door.

“You need to leave the city.”

“Why?”

“Let me in,” Heratio said, putting his hand against the door and pushing against it.

The door didn’t budge, Figaro kept it fixed in place. “You just wait outside for now. Why do I need to leave the city?”

“Keppe was caught. He has been tortured and sentenced to death for crimes against the Castellian family.”

“You expect me to just leave this city? I’ve lived here for years.”

“Yes, I expect you to leave tonight. Get your things. If you come with me tonight I’ll pay for the voyage. Otherwise, you can simply wait for your death.”

There was a moment of silence as Figaro thought it over. “Fine, I'll leave. But just give me the coin to pay for the voyage and I’ll handle it myself. I’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”

“No. You need to come with me, I need you to take me to Bantam. I don’t know where he lives. I’ll pay for both your voyages.”

Heratio, still with his hand against the door, felt Figaro pushing to close it. “It’s too dangerous to go out at night. We can do this in the morning.”

“The night is better. We don’t want people to know what we are doing, or what we are doing.”

“Listen to me Heratio. I will leave Venocia, I promise you that. But I won’t be going anywhere with you tonight. I won’t be alone with you in some dark alley so that you can slit my throat.” The force trying to close the door pushed harder, but Heratio continued to hold it at bay.

“Then at least tell me where to find Bantam. He needs warning, too.”

“He’s probably spending the night with his whore. It’s the brothel next to the Fighter’s Guild, The Blue Rose.”

“Thank you and good luck with leaving the city.” Heratio released his hand from the door, allowing it to shut. He heard the barricade being put in place again in a rush, the piece of wood though didn’t slide into place. Figaro had shaky hands, he was afraid. Good, thought Heratio, all the more motivation to leave.

Heratio scanned the alley again, still empty. He moved again, this time toward the Fighter’s Guild. It wasn’t far, just along the adjacent street where it wasn’t as dark as the alleyway. Once he got within sight of the guild and the brothel he stopped to assess their surroundings.

They were both still open, light shining from their windows and the murmur of noise coming from their interiors. The Fighter’s Guild served as a tavern and inn, so fighters could drink and sleep off their drunkenness without having to walk the city streets. Some fighters would even just walk next door to the brother to spend the night there. Because of its reliable patronage, The Blue Rose managed to have some of the best whores in the city, comparable even with the brothels in more affluent neighborhoods.

Heratio stood across the street, watching and waiting, and thinking. If Bantam were in The Blue Rose, he could easily have been followed. It could be an ambush. His hand made its way back into his pocket and clutched again onto the gilden Augustus had trusted him with. He didn’t have to pay for Figaro’s voyage, and he had alerted him to leave. If he and Figaro vanished tomorrow, would Giovannus have anything to use against Augustus? It was tempting, the docks weren’t that far away.

He crossed the street, passing by The Blue Rose. He entered the alley beside it and went to the back door and knocked. It was the entryway if you needed to be discreet. Some men had wives with families of enough reputation or power that they couldn’t be seen entering a brothel, so this back entry was set up for them. Heratio had never used it personally but knew of its existence.

A man of large stature opened the door. He looked Heratio over, seeing his armor and weapon.

“Who are you? You from the Fighter’s Guild?” Asked the man.

“Yes, I’m Cronus, a fighter from the guild. I’m looking to have a fine evening.”

“We can provide you with that. But we don’t allow weapons inside.”

“Can I put them aside somewhere?”

“Yes, come into the foyer.”

Heratio stepped inside to the first room. To the side was a grid of drawers. At the large man’s instructions, Heratio disarmed himself, placing his saber and knife in the specified drawer. Then he was patted down until the man was satisfied.

“Alright, this way.”