Another change of the guard. Their tabards bore the imperial insignia, and represented the prime of imperial military might. A whole day had gone by as she observed their movements closely. Though there clearly was a certain amount of uncertainty, their changing of guard followed a defined pattern. She descended the wet trunk of the tree she had been watching from. The ground was soggy from the heavy rainfall, and cold wind made the whole experience even more miserable. Infiltrating the place seemed to be easy, but something felt off about the whole idea.

Before they had left Varsylos, had passed on to them a set of records and notes to be handed over to their mistress. During the ride back, Carys had read through the files and though she had refused to share any of the details despite constant pestering… It was clear not everything was as it should be. Shortly after returning home, she had been sent out on her own to enter the small garrison building in front of her. Though the darkness kept her hidden, she decided that attempting the front gate would be a bad idea. The guards were professionals, and though she had her advantages, she judged them insufficient. The alternative plan was overall more attractive. By orchestrating a series of smaller cave-ins in the sewer system beneath the garrison, she could access the prison cells without any other sort of initial trouble. She nodded to herself and quietly slid down the wet trunk of the tree, down to the muddy street below. Few people would go out at night, and even fewer in bad weather. A few scattered people, hurriedly walking, keeping their hoods pulled well down over their eyes. She headed over to one of the nearby maintenance holes servicing the fountains running the length of the square. A quiet moment later and she was climbing down the ladder towards the bottom. What struck first was the smell of putrid filth. The mix of rot, decay and refuse from the world of plenty above. After having been above ground so long, the stench caught her off-guard, but she quickly accustomed. She almost felt at home. Having reached the door leading into the sewer proper, her mind began to work hard on the matter of the sewer cats. Running into a squad would most certainly kill her. She placed her ear to the door, and listened for the familiar sloshing of feet walking in the water. Nothing seemed to be moving beyond the door so she reached for the handle.

She froze just in time. Through the door, she could hear the familiar sound of boots wading through muck flooded filth. The sloshing revealed the presence of at least five people. All armed, but not armored beyond her means to take out. Having gone unnoticed until practically on top of her, they were undoubtedly hunters on the prowl. Waiting in dead silence, the wading boots soon disappeared somewhere down the tunnel. She gave them a little more time before quietly pushing the old door open, the hinges creaking painfully from disuse. One of the great advantages, but also problems with the imperial city were the multitude of buried pagan ruins being used to support the city. Layers upon layers of ruins from ages past all shoved into the ground, and built upon. One such ruin ran beneath the garrison building. According to Rein whom sounded especially familiar with the area, an old pagan temple ruin laid close by to her objective. His instructions at the back of her mind, she traced along the tunnel until she reached what seemed like a dead end. She put on the diving mask, and unceremoniously climbed into the fetid water. She drew breath, and dived. The fading light of the re-lit torches shining even into the fatty water like an eerie green curtain. Remains littered the bottom. Everything from bottles to bones. A few corpses hung in the slop, the composition of the water already having started to dissolve the flesh and fat into the muck.

Running out of breath, she emerged just in time and climbed out of the water, struggling to do so under the sheer weight of the dead tissue, waste, gore and filth collecting in bags in her clothes. She loosened her clothes to let the wave of utter horrid flow away, a few partially rotten fingers floating away. The tunnel she now found herself in seemed to be under maintenance. The bricks were largely in place, and the non-cluttered grates allowed comparatively clean rainwater to flow into the tunnel. Even the torches placed along the walls burnt brightly. She placed herself under one of the particularly large floods of water, and waited as the sticky gunk on her skin flowed away. Along another stream, she suddenly saw the water change color from a largely brown, but watery, to orange. Some bloated drunk above had clearly had enough, and was probably blowing chunks into the drain, and for some reason, it did not seem to stop.

Having washed herself as best she could, she continued down the tunnel. Further down it began to branch, and she could hear voices coming from one of the paths.

“So how far until it’s all done?”

“Don’t worry chief, we’ll get it done by tomorrow morning… The rainfall is softening up the ground a fair bit though.”

“Good. Being down here unpleasant enough without the hunters and whatever else.”

“By the way. We came across old ruins on the left path… Should we report it?”

“If you really feel like losing an arm for paganism… Go right ahead.”

She visualized the map in her mind and it made sense. She continued a little bit further down the left tunnel and soon arrived at a hole in the wall. Inside the hole was the temple. She was getting closer.