Isabella pulled the hood of her coat up and tucked her hair back beneath it as she left the castle walls and made her way into the city proper. She was tired of sitting around and waiting for word about Chritina, it was not how things should be done. She was supposed to be protected; she was supposed to be rescued. She was not supposed to have to wait for a nation to get word of whether she lived or died and pay out some ransom. That was not the way to show the strength of a nation or the resolve of the royal family. It showed weakness and passiveness, two things that the nation could not risk. 

	The city was bustling with activity as trade came in from all over the lands to the capital. Isabella could tell by the look in the peoples eyes that the kidnapping had been kept quiet from the general population and none of them were even aware what had happened. Though if they had known would it truly have matter to them? It did not affect them directly, there was no loss to them if Chritina was never returned or if she was. As long as trade continued and the city flourished they would be none the wiser and could care less. 

	For Isabella, it was not that easy. She had been Chritinas confidant since they were young, they did everything together and Isabella blamed herself for her kidnapping. Since it was her fault in her minds eye, it was her job to make sure that Chritina was returned to the safety of the castle. Further and further she pushed into the city. She ignored the Lords and Ladies with their finery, the traders trying to make a gold piece. Further she pushed into the depths and heart of the city; to the darker side where those that they spoke not of resided - The whores, the brigands, the thieves. If anyone knew anything, it would be these people. Rumors ran rampant in such areas for in areas they felt safe they felt they could brag of their escapades. 

	Night was drawing near and the darkest of the folk of the capital would be out in force, working in the shadows to make their next score. Isabella blended in well around these folk for she did not wear the colors of the crown and did not flaunt her position. Her attire was drab and dark like the rest and she carried herself like the skill assassin she was and not a child of privilege who had been raised behind the walls of safety the castle provided. 

	Pushing a stout man out of her way and shoving him into the wall she lithely moved into the Dark Tavern of Night and found a place in the corner, out of the way of the rest of the patrons that would soon visit as night claimed the city from the day. There she would wait and watch for a time, see who would enter, who would leave and what information she could remove from drunken slovenly tongues. Resting back in a chair, it squeaked softly beneath her feathers weight as she crossed her ankles beneath the table and her arms over her chest. She watched.