The grey, ghostly clouds glide smoothly across the moon high in the night sky. Using the darkness as a cloak, I rush across the cobbled grounds, ignoring the curious stares from the gutter children.
Families lock themselves into the false security of their homes, not wanting to believe that their beloved city is falling. They turn their backs to the paupers, and they bask in darkness, afraid that even a single candle will alert the murders and thieves to ransack their domains.
I didn't know I would be meeting up with the informants tonight. Not until I saw them. There they were, running around like loose sheep back in England, causing their little bit of destruction and then they left.
So. Naturally, I followed. My gun ready to swing down and be used, I rush through the city, following their destructive path. The ground moves quickly beneath my feet, my lungs carefully increase and decrease with the pressure of keeping up.
Ahead they slow; I see some of them now. Pushing onwards, I gain on them; I am just a hundred feet before they turn around to greet me.
"Bonjour!" I yell, above the murmurs of the group.
"Qui êtes-vous?" One of the men asks who I am.
"Chevalier." I say, walking up to them, hands up with the palms facing them.
A man from the back pushes his way through. He is of a reasonable height and quite broad, I can't see much of him due to the lack of light. However, I can see a hideous scar, illuminated by the soft lights around, etched into his face from the top of this left brow all the way down to his jaw.
"Chevalier, who?" he asks, his voice accented with a slight Spanish edge.
"Qui êtes-vous?" I ask, keeping my back straight and my eyes focusing on his.
He barks out a rough laugh, the others laugh along with him nervously, he stops suddenly and the others stop on call, only a few rouge laughs escape. "I am Victor Montez. Infamous around these parts, but not famous enough for my name to go right to King Louis himself."
I nod, bowing my head slightly in respect at the leader around these parts. The man Guillaume wanted me to see.
"Stand up, Boy." he staggers up to be closely, a faint smell of cigars and wine wafts around him. "Ahh," he says looking at a pin on my jacket. "You are one of Guillaume's men." He holds out a hand to me, I take it and he pulls me in patting my back and kissing both of my cheeks in an odd fashion. "It is a pleasure, of course."
"The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur."
He laughs, "Please, please, friend of Guillaume. Call me Victor."
"Okay, Victor." I hide the smirk that is quickly forming.
The small man moves to my side, pulling me along with his left arm. "Come come. I suppose you need to bring information to, Guillaume. We shall discuss these things elsewhere."