[img]https://i.imgur.com/mNKEjuV.jpg[/img]
[h1]Guillan - Upper District, Dusk[/h1]
[h2]Lautrec[/h2]
[indent]   Lautrec was carefully observing a mansion from a dark alley situated to the north, connecting a side street to the main one. It was the same mansion he had put under scrutiny for a whole week now, learning the schedules of the guards and servants hired to protect and maintain it. The mansion’s windows all faced east and west, so he was not in danger of being noticed unless someone deliberately leaned out and looked in his direction. As such, he was leisurely sitting on top of an empty barrel, chewing on a piece of sausage he had swiped earlier during the day from a market stall.[/indent]
[indent]   He saw the candles being lit by the butler, as he was making the rounds around the mansion. A quick glance down at the main door revealed two house guards talking. It seemed like one of them came to relieve the other of his shift. Oh, how he adored people who did not slack off. It made his job so much easier.[/indent]
[indent]   He knew that patience was the key, so he snuggled into his barrel-chair and leaned against the wall of the alley. The sausage he had been chewing on was now reduced to a stub, so he threw the small remains behind him. Anyone in their right mind knew that food should never be eaten completely, or you’d be making a statement that it wasn’t worth anything but the excrement you’d make out of it. He wasn’t that ungrateful and paid the respects that were due.[/indent]
[indent]   Slowly the stillness and quiet of the night settled over the streets. It was never fully still or quiet in a city this large, but the Upper District had the luxury of relative silence compared to the rest. As time passed, the light from the windows of the mansion were starting to dim and eventually fade. The candles had burned their course, and would be replaced by a fresh batch next day. It was slowly time for action. He got off the barrel and stretched extensively, trying to warm up every fiber of his muscle.[/indent] 
[indent]Once he was done with stretching, Lautrec started tracing a pattern in the air with his left hand, while he stomped with his right foot in a specific rhythm. The pattern and the rhythm would change depending on a number of circumstances that were obvious to all but the ignorant. Tonight’s robbery would require a double-tap, pause, tap rhythm of course, without forgetting to spin occasionally. A solid two minutes passed as he repeated the ritual until he was satisfied and finally made his way towards the mansion.[/indent]
[indent]   The front guard had moved in-doors by now, but Lautrec did not go towards the door, as he circled around the mansion. There was a window on the eastern side which was always kept open to let the fresh air in. The shutters weren’t raised enough so that a grown man could fit through, but he had dealt with these types before. The winch that locked the shutter in place could be bypassed if you knew where to apply a little bit of pressure with a thin rod. He just so happened to have such a rod on him, and knew where to apply the pressure...[/indent]
[indent]   As he got underneath the first floor window, he ran up the wall and pushed off against it in an attempt to jump higher than he normally could have. As he did so, his hands quickly found purchase in a rather convenient piece of decoration in the shape of a gargoyle. Well, convenient for him. As he dangled down from it, he started swaying left and right in a pendulum motion, and after gaining some momentum he let go of the gargoyle as he was swaying to the right, and using his newfound momentum reached the windowsill he had been aiming for.[/indent]
[indent]   With a pull, Lautrec found himself in upholding his weight with his down stretched arms, planted firmly on the small ledge. As he did so, he slid his left leg inside the opening, and was now in an awkward position where one of his legs was inside the house, his hip pressed hard against the shutters, and the rest of his body was still outside. He twisted his leg in a position so that the inside part of the windowsill was wedged between his calf and his thigh, and kept himself from falling.[/indent]
[indent]   With what seemed like practiced movement, he removed the thin rod from where it has been sheathed on his belt and then started fumbling around with trying to bypass the winch. He knew exactly what to do, but it proved to be much more difficult to do in practice, than in theory. He could feel his left leg going numb from the weight he was placing on it, and his frustration was making his hands sweat, essentially making the whole work harder.[/indent]
[indent]   With a last spurt of effort he somehow managed to unwedge the locking mechanism, and the shutters gave way. Climbing in, he lay down on the floor and just rested, panting for air from the strenuous effort he exerted. He breathed some life into his numb leg with a series of exercises and winced knowing how sore it would become later on. After a short amount of time had passed, he got up and summoned Willow, his guardian spirit to guide him.[/indent]