[color=yellow][b]Itherae[/b][/color]

[center][h2]The Job[/h2][/center]

“Move,” a quiet voice whispered, the sound of foots hitting stone muffled by snow as winter came to stay in the northern reaches of the Empire. Six men moved through the streets and alleys of Tarnsburg, moving towards their objective with as much silence as they could. Each wore heavy clothing, helping to block out the freezing temperatures of the night. Tydeus was one of the agents the [i]Triple I[/i] had sent to attack to factory, knowing full well there was no guard or civilian who would be put in the middle of the night while winter checked in. His blackened locks showed under a small cap, yet any other facial features other than his dark brown eyes shown due to the scarf wrapped firmly around his head.

Their target was in sight as they rounded the corner, the Styrworks factory which had fueled the Tyrian war machine against their brothers in Itherae. It must be taken down, a message must be sent that no one was safe by a promise that a rogue wolf had made to his blind followers. Tydeus took the lead checking if the area was clear before signaling for his compatriots to follow him, before attempting to open the door. He took out a lock picking kit before setting to work, though he was making good progress, a much larger man ushered Tydeus to the side before kicking the door. It had barely budged, but the larger man did it once more, then twice, then a third before the door caved in. 

The six rushed inside and rushed to get the supplies they had brought into position, the place would go up like a bonfire. “This is too easy,” another agent chimed in, the other laughing in delight as they quickly finished their work. “Well boys, you know what they say, if you can't kill the wolf, wound him,” the same agent stated before lighting a match and setting fire to the place. They ran out and turned to watch the building quickly turn into a malfunctioning oven, no artillery pieces would be made here. 

They all laughed and hollered their success to the world before running off into the night, back to the outpost in which they had come. “I can't believe how smoothly that went,” one laughed to Tydeus, Giles, nudging the him.

“Yeah, hard to believe, but I bet the public’s reaction will be much better,” Tydeus said nonchalantly, opening the door to the shared bunk room. He sat on his bed, getting his boots off and unwrapping himself of the heavy clothing. “You know, the tavern isn't far from here, we could go grab a pint for our victory,” he said to the others.

“No, we need to stay and wait for another attack, we can celebrate when we are free, Ty,” Giles said, stretching. “Besides, we wouldn't want to spoil the public’s fun, let them get over the shock of it first!,” the large man laughed before laying in his own bed. He had fallen asleep almost instantaneously, dreams of freedom coming to his mind.

Yet, Tydeus could not sleep, being a man born in Tyro-Redania, he did not know what to do with his life once the war ended. If the Republic lost then he would likely be found and executed for treason, yet if they won then he may be separated from his Tyrian wife who was residing in Aetoria. That was his dilemma, a fact he would have to cope with, keeping his second life hidden from her for as long as he could. The only reason he had joined the [i]Triple I[/i] was to be apart of something where he wouldn't be treated any different from another man. It was hard to say, but after the murder of one of his close friends over year ago, it was hard to be in favor of the Empire. 

Slowly he drifted into a dreamless slumber, wanting nothing more than to have the best of both worlds.