High above the buildings of the wicked slums, in a tower that was originally constructed as a watchtower for the King's gaurds, but had since been abandoned, a young criminal examined a small bottle. There was no door to the tower, windows too far up to be seen through. In the criminal's hands rested a long, thin vile with a tiny jewel on top. He screwed open the small lid, but instead of doing anything with it, the masked young man set it on a creaking wooden table, earning a delicate clinking sound. His tall grey boots made soft, unnoticeable noises as he walked across the uneven stone flooring casually. 

William lifted a shimmering silver knife from the sill of a tall window and cautiously ran his finger around the inside of the handle, where there was a hole that led to the base of the blade. 

Taking a few steps towards the table, still examining the light blade and balancing it on his slender fingertips. William lifted the vile off the table and slid it into the small hole in the hilt of the dagger, nodding his head and tossing the knife back and forth between his hands. If he wasn't wearing a mask, his wicked smile would be obvious.

The night fell over the slums, which in any other place would mean the falling of the daytime activity. Of course, if the slums were any other place, that would be true. But it wasn't. It was the hub of criminal activity in the kingdom, where everyone was always looking over their shoulder. The people there ranged from petty crooks to well known killers like the masked man, who was now loading up his figure with weapons of every kind.

Small pellets, that would explode into dark colored smoke and little, flickering flames wherever they landed on the ground.

A light, wood-and-steel revolver that the young, masked man had stolen from a member of the king's navy without his notice. The finest that was available at the time, quick and functional.

And of course, several poison-tipped needles, a small file of refill poison, and the beautiful knife that he had just come into possession of, that silver beauty, with the vile of poison inside. William knew it was bound to become one of his favorites.

He threw himself out the largest window, metal blades sliding out of his boots and out of the wraps around his wrists that he promptly jabbed into the wall and climbed down silently into the hustle of the town. People silenced as he walked by, sacred of what he could do to them. No one that had seen his face had ever lived.

William had caught wind that one of the King's mages would be coming through the slums on his way to chase after some fairytale, so he figured that they would have some valuables on them. He slid down an alley that looked out on the main road through the slums, the obvious path to chooses for a Mage, the safest and the least likely place to get mugged. His dark eyes peered out the alley, nearly all the was visible of his frame.