[Previously]
Valemir's eastern district surrendered to shadow as the last street lamps were extinguished for the night. Unlike the perpetually illuminated noble quarters, here darkness was allowed its sovereignty, cloaking activities best left unwitnessed by imperial authorities. Rain-slicked cobblestones reflected fragmentary moonlight as a solitary figure navigated the labyrinthine passages with practiced ease.
The man wore a black cloak with silver thread embroidery that caught what little light existed—not an error of judgment but a deliberate signal to those who knew what to look for. A wolf-headed cane tapped rhythmically against the stones, the sound oddly muffled in the dense night air. Most would notice the vertical scar bisecting his right eyebrow before registering his otherwise unremarkable features—another intentional distraction that drew attention from the calculating intelligence in his eyes.
