Malakos hadn’t noticed the rain earlier while in the building, the light drizzle barely noticeable to those inside. Yet now he was hanging precipitously from the third-floor window, only a thin ledge separating him from a dive into the stone paved street below. Of worry was the increasing severity of the storm, both wind and rain becoming more pronounced. With the ledge soaked and the gaping wound on his back, Malakos could be seen struggling to remain upright. Using every ounce of strength to keep from falling, pressing against the wall as he slid along.

Retia’s Embrace was built to maximize space; thus, it was constructed in a square shape, and rooms did not have balconies. Instead, it had a central area with staircases rising from both ends inside the building, while a tiled roof hung overhead. All of which was fine for the purpose it served, but a terrible position for Malakos to be in. His only hope lay in the insulae across the street, and this sector of the city, the ignored parts.

At this moment though it played to Malakos’s benefit, because only the new and central parts of the city had incorporated the building guidelines established during the Scholar’s time upon the Council. What that meant in this case was the buildings were almost pressing up against one another, some more than others, and generally tighter alleyways with less open space on streets. For Malakos this was his way out if he could slide across the ledge, shimmy down to the second floor and from there jump across onto the roof of the neighboring insula.

No two insula were the same and the neighboring one was shorter, had less floors, in addition to an open space above the first floor, a tiled area for residents to relax. A reminder of a bygone era, a time when attempts were made to revitalize the area, all of which was brought to a halt when the Noble Council took control. The history mattered little for Malakos’s purposes, all that mattered was that the placement and design of the building provided an escape route.

A loud crash erupted from the proprietress’s room, seconds later a loud yell rung out followed by a cloaked figure flying out the window. The same window he had escaped through a minute earlier, Malakos watched as the assassin plummeted down screaming as he went before hitting the ground with an audible splat. One wrong move and that would be him but going into the building would be a death sentence with that thing in there, as long as he could get away while it was distracted then he could live.

Malakos winced as he extended his right arm trying to grab hold of the cracks in the wall, blood dripping down his back staining his clothes. The wetness of the stone threatened his grip, each movement a struggle, the threat of death hovering overhead. Even as his body’s strength waned, Malakos continued his slow and steady descent, his focus on one of the rooms on the second floor, its shutters slightly ajar.

As he was descending and a few feet away from his objective, a sprinkle or dust and small stones rained down upon his head. Turning his attention upward Malakos noticed one of the assassins at around the same time as the man noticed him. The man’s eyes wandered from the edge of the ledge, followed the handholds along the wall, and then the target they had originally come for, the wound on his back as well as the slow speed of his descent. Sensing an opportunity, the man started to rapidly descend toward the wounded Malakos, dagger in hand.

Understanding that he couldn’t outpace the fast-approaching enemy, he instead decided to gamble on his reflexes, reflexes honed over decades, in training and war. Unsheathing his knife, Malakos desperately carved his own path directly above the open window. Turning his attention back towards the assassin he noticed he was only a few handholds away and would be on him in less than a minute.

Taking a deep breath Malakos calmed his beating heart, concentrated on the moment, ignoring even the enemy who had his arm outstretched ready to plunge his dagger forward. In those few seconds, just before the assassin struck out, he released his hold on the wall, allowing himself to plummet towards the street.

He fell for a brief second or two before his left arm struck out with every ounce of strength he could muster, the knife plunging through the linen center of the wooden shutters. The knife caught, slicing through before impacting against the wooden frame. Malakos grunted in pain as the already strained muscles tore from the excessive strain.

Pulling himself up Malakos entered the room through the open shutter, as opposed to entering through the very same hole he had just cut open. The couple on the other side of window were completely dumbfounded and at a loss for words, confusion appearing to be their response to the intruder bleeding all over their floor. It was only when they noticed the stained knife in his hand that they slowly edged towards the entrance to the room.

Upon further inspection Malakos noticed the naked man was none other than the very same escort who had propositioned him earlier in the main hall. “I guess you play for both teams… that’s fine. Word of advice you and your lady friend need to get out of this building. Like right now! Tell everyone you pass and get as many people as you can away from here.” Understandably the man did not take the news well, particularly when it would impact his income for the evening.

“Who do you think you are, barging in here and demanding-” The male escort did not get to finish his sentence as the assassin kicked in the window shutters and entering the room. “Hurry and go now!” Both man and woman did not need to be told twice as the hooded man rushed forward swinging his dagger. Malakos focused on dodging, using the bed and other objects as projectiles to distract or inhibit his opponent.

Tossing a chair across the room, Malakos charged toward the assailant. The chair barely did anything other than block the man’s visual line of sight for a second or two, a second that Malakos made full use of. His left shoulder slammed into the assassin, ramming him into the wall, but he was unable to follow up with a stab because of his almost immobile right arm and shoulder. Opting instead to lash out with his right leg, the strike landing directly onto the left side of the man’s face, causing his head to fall to the ground.

There was little time to waste as the battle on the third floor could have already been over and the monster might have been combing the rooms on this floor. Malakos didn’t spare another thought for the assassin and rushed towards the window, leaping from the second floor towards the open space atop the neighboring structure. He floated through the air, arms stretched forward, legs slightly bent, and back arched outward.

Malakos slammed into the tiled floor, barely having avoided the railing. He had managed to minimize the blow, allowing his training to take over and rolling his body upon impact, spreading the force across his body. His tattered and injured state left him sprawled on the soaked tiles, body refusing to stand and body shaking from exertion.

“Can’t stop here, got to keep moving… Breathe in… Breath out… Keep calm and don’t rush yourself. Anxiety and impatience are the road to failure. Just envision the battlefield, this is war… if I hesitate and lose focus, I die… I don’t want to die… not yet… need revenge for Ati.” Malakos tilted his body to the left, mumbling to himself as he struggled to stand. At this point he had lost a considerable amount of blood, with the earlier exertion taking its toll.

Malakos took one last glance at the Retia’s Embrace before turning away. A few feet away was a withered portico shielding an old frayed wooden door from the incoming rain. The whole setup illuminated by a glow lamp, its soft green light providing some focus in the dark. A glow lamp was essential for cities and homes, the luminescent moss provided a cheap and easily sourced source of illumination. Fires were better in terms of their range of illumination, but glow lamps were much cheaper, while the moss could be cultivated anywhere with adequate moisture, dirt, and sunlight.

“The glow from the moss is always so enchanting… All those times Ati and I would spend growing them in the basement. Scraping every last talen to build that place…” Malakos bowed his head underneath the lamp, water dripping onto the ground below.

Just as he was reaching for the door to check if it was locked there was a muffled crash. When Malakos turned what greeted him was the same assassin he had left in the room. Luckily, he looked a little worse for the wear, he was clearly struggling to stand, and his knees were wobbly, likely from the impact. Not wishing to repeat the chase, Malakos made his decision and charged forward with his knife, aiming to strike while the enemy was in a weakened state like himself.

Yet, the moment before the two made contact, Malakos threw his knife toward the assassin. The man defended reflexively, swatting away the dangerous projectile, but left himself open. Knowing that his strength was waning, and that he would not be capable of holding in a knife fight with his immobile right arm, he chose the one option he had left. Charging headfirst into the man and pushing the man over the edge of the roof while his stance was still unstable.

Realizing Malakos’s plan too late, the assassin lashed out stabbing him in the shoulder, but that was all the time he had as the two men went plummeting over the railing. There was a loud crash as the two hit a couple of crates piled next to the wall, with the assassin taking the full force of the impact. His neck lay twisted, shards of wood lodged deep in his back, with blood pouring from the wounds. Malakos lay immobile next to him, his eyes flickering, trying to stay open. As much as he tried, he couldn’t do much more than lay there, soaking in that flooded street, desperately trying to stay awake.