Reconquers: Legends of the Accolytes

Chapter 1

The skiff rocked gently in the waves under the wooden dock. It was getting dark, the sun was sinking gradually behind the horizon, sending streaks of color across the water and onto the city. Ausin did not take note of this, however. He had more important business to attend to.
He counted 3 guards on the dock, 4 more up on the walkway up to the city. To a untrained eye, none of them appeared to be armed further than the standard sword and massive round shield. However, Austin was not an untrained eye. He recognized how the fading light glimmered off their dark leather belts. Throwing daggers, seven each. Mortas's captains all carried a set, and were trained to take out an enemy with them from several yards away.
The bard motioned for him to follow. They climbed off the skiff and on to the walkway.
"This is where I leave you." The bard whispered. "May our winding paths cross again. May Aethersa guide your way."
Austin ignored the religious farewell, but he nodded politely. He removed his mage's cloak, strapped his academy rapier to his back, and replaced the garment. Not that the thing could do a thing against the guards' heavy armor. Austin knew he was well trained, but he didn't stand a chance against Mortas's officers.
He hugged the cobblestone wall and shifted silently over to the grate. The tunnel was dark, but it was his only way into the city. Squeezing between the bars, he reviewed the plan in his head. Find your way into the aqueducts. Follow them to the pub. Find this, Kreb. Regaining his balance and brushing himself off, he walked ccasually into the dark corridor.
Austin gasped for breath as he reached the surface of the duct. Elnsera was famous for it's complex waterways, but he never knew the extent they were utilized. The entire city ran on hydraulics, the artificers constanlty working to keep it functioning. Nonetheless, he had made it into the city. Pulling himself up out of the stone tunnel, he looked out on a city below. He was in some sort of guard tower. Through the stain glass window, he saw the fountain at the center of town. From every direction, canals branched out from the center fountain. The complex webs of canals seemed to break off to every building. Every bar, every machination in the town, powered by one central mechanism. It was a stunning sight, seeing the famous Promenade with his own eyes.
He shook his head and took a deep breath. There will be time to sightsee later. He quickly scanned the room. Besides the abundance of conplex steam powered machinery along the walls, there was a desk in the middle of the room. On it were blueprints for something that, frankly, Austin didn't care about. He yanked open the desk drawers. He found a couple quils and a bottle of ink, loose nuts and cogs, and a small double bladed sheath knife. He pocketed the knife, and walked over to the wooden door.
He heard footsteps. Something wasn't right. The guards weren't supposed to be patroling the ducts at this hour. Austin took a deep breath, he'd practiced this.
Austin had always had a light step. The rich and powerful have their heavy armor and personal leigons to protect them. They can go off, solve their petty personal issues with the hundreds of knights at their disposal. They can line up in complex formations and flanks. The peasants, however ironically, had a much more deadly weapon, originating from the very thing that made them weak. That weapon was Stealth. Guerilla tactics.
In one quick leap, he found himself on the other side of the door, by its hinges. The academy training hadn't failed him thus far. He sat in silence until he heard keys rattle in the lock. He took a deep breath and reached into the cloak pocket, feeling the cold metal in his hand.
An artifer pushed the door open, took a single step into the room, and, to his surprise, found the door slamming back into him. Austin wrapped his right arm around the artificer's neck, and whispered a single word into his ear. He pressed the metal in his hand against the man's neck. "Sleep..." The artificer was was clay in Austin's hands. The man instantly was knocked into a coma.
Such a nifty little trick, thought Austin. Unclenching his fist, he looked down at the pendant in in his palm. The small charm was gold, with a large Æ insrcibed on the center. He had had the charm as long as he could remember; he believed it was a family heirloom of sorts. Regardless of the magic locket's origin, Austin pulled many a prank during his time with it in the academy.
Soon after, his cloak began to work its magic. The cloak and charm were binded, thanks to a simple little enchantment. His robes glowed a bright white, and as Austin pulled the hood over his head, it was replaced by a simple cloth outfit. A leather toolbelt now fit loosely around his waist, a pair of bronze goggles pulled up onto his wavy dirty blonde hair. An artifer's uniform: A perfect disguise.
It occurred to him that he didn't have much time before the artificer woke back up. Sidestepping out of the door that was so conveniently unlocked for him, he made his way down to the steps. His plan was executed prefectly.

Still avoiding interactions with guards, he made his way to the Promenade. Although it was late, the streets still were alive with activity. Children playing, bards strumming various stringed instruments, artaisians practicing their craft. Austin found it quite humbling: everyone there just going about their daily lives. Ignorant of what came next. Unsure of what everyone else was doing. Just going about their own tasks.
His mood began to shift after pushing through crowds for a solid 30 minutes. He turned countless corridors, backtracked, asked for directions. His searches led him to a small neiborhood on the outskirts of the town. Identical wooden cottages were lined among either side of the cobblestone road, wet from rain. In the very middle of the street, there seemed to be an opening between the houses. A black sheep among the rest of the village, the pub was a run down establishment; a small, cheap lot that served as a humble testament to simple buisnesses trying to find their way in a booming industrial city. Above the door hung a small, driftwood sign. Eve's End Pub.
As the unoiled copper hinged of the door swung open, Austin realized he wasn't entering at the pub at an optimal time. Funny thing about pubs. Austin thought. No matter how inviting one appears from the outside, they never tend to be very respectable inside.