Regis held up his target with both hands.
Even with both arms stretched out, the cloth was still sagging.
"A giant's underwear. So this is what mobilized an entire guild of assassins."
He held it closer to his face to study it.
There were more features than what he could glean from afar.
He recognized the textile. A special plant material that grew only in the capital of Herdial.
Sturdier and more flexible. Reserved only for elite warriors.
Wires threaded into the cloth for extra durability. Rune etched platings weaved below the first surface.
He recognizes some of them.
Mana resistance. Weight runes. Telekinetic runes.
"A secret design perhaps. It clearly could not be produced en masse."
The smell of cheap soap.
His nose twitched.
A faint unfamiliar smell. Yet one which he felt that he recognized from very long ago.
It was not poisonous.
Out of impulse, he took a deep sniff.
It was musty and repulsive.
"Urk. It's a piece of underwear alright. What am I thinking?"
He mounted it over his neck, wearing it like a cape. It was too massive to fit inside his satchel.
Shadow meld.
A thin layer of smog covered the white cloth, blending in with the rest of his suit.
The smell tickles his nostrils. He felt his crotch acting up again.
"Mmm…! Mind fumes… must resist."
Pat! He slammed his chest with his fist.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs to full.
The musty smell. It smells bad. But it smells good.
He took another deep breath.
His bulge grew.
He punched himself.
But the smell is still good.
He punched himself.
Another deep breath.
He forcefully clears his mind.
It was a core element of a shadeborn's training.
The smell was still strong.
Images of the silver giant he caught a glimpse of earlier flashes through his mind.
He doesn't know why.
Her overwhelming strength. Just like the smell.
His bulge was not getting smaller.
The smell was getting better and better with each breath.
Wham! As a last resort, he clapped his bulge with both arms.
He dropped to his knees as his ivory berries screamed in pain.
Not even the legendary tears of Herda could avail him.
Breathe in. Breathe out. The pain did not subside. It felt numb.
Breathe in. Breathe out. His nerves had calmed. His breathing was stable.
He stood up.
"Security sure is rough. Who even uses these nowadays. They don't work if a woman assassin shows up."
He looked down at the assassin whom he knocked out.
"Too bad you're not a shadeborn."
Ignoring his exposed part, Regis proceeded to loot him.
A handful of tranquilizer darts. Two smoke bombs.
The vials cannot be taken as it would be foolish to drink potions one does not know the contents of.
Most importantly, a working grapple hook.
"Not bad. Looks like their funding isn't on par with their skill.
"Hey! Have you seen the new boy? He hasn't come back from patrol."
Voices started coming from outside.
A shadow left the haystack.
The streets of Escher were as lively as ever.
It seemed to get noisier as the night went on.
Merchants were shouting their wares.
The drunken huddled along the sides, mugs still in their hands.
The assassin blended into the crowd. The cloth draped over him appeared like a festive dress.
"Mmm…! Something smells." He accidentally brushed against a man.
The latter turned around and found the figure had disappeared.
A flower necklace in the ground. Regis picked it up and wore it.
There was a merchant stand selling sticks.
The assassin walked up to it.
"Welcome Sir! Fancy a smoke? They were freshly rolled in the capital and hopped on the earliest train here."
"Not bad." Regis rolled his fingers along the row of sticks.
"You have good taste sir! Take your pick. Though I'd say none of them would be anything short of the highest quality."
He reached for his pouch on his belt.
"Sh*t. I forgot I'm on a mission."
"Ah! Welcome! How's the festivities going for you!"
A group of men approached the stand and began browsing the ware as the merchant welcomed them.
"Now sir. Have you- huh!?" He turned back to the hooded figure who vanished into thin air.
Puff*.
"Ah, that's the stuff. Nothing special. Just the good old herbs that grow everywhere. Hits the spot all the same."
He took another puff.
"The smell on this. I hope the smoke smell cover that. Not that the drunk would notice it."
He walked into a narrow street. The crowd was shoulder to shoulder.
The sizzling pan sound of street side eateries. The singing of bards.
"Hmm… did I sense something?" He lifted his head.
There was nothing but the empty roof tops, the ceiling of the level above, the vines along the tall columns and the vast empty space in between.
He squeezed through the crowd.
"Hey! Watch it!" He bumped into a burly man. The stench of ale thick in his breath.
"Huh!? Sniff* What's with your outfit? It smells like used underwear! Hic*"
He quickly made it out of the narrow alleyway.
He stopped to take stock of his surroundings.
The hearthstone keeper presence had gotten tighter. Not least due to the mass attack earlier.
But it's not uncommon for additional patrols just to deal with the drunken mob.
Puff*.
"I must be imagining it. This has been a tough night. The exit is just the level below. Maybe I can even sleep in an inn now that things have died down."
He locked his fingers together behind his head and used it as a cushion.
The stick was running out of herbs. He only dared to pinch one due to the heightened security.
"Other than the weird smell, I don't think I'll stand out from a bunch of festive goers. Yawn. I guess I'll be back at my hideout before day break."
He stopped. Something felt off.
Shadow clone.
As he walked past an alleyway, he released a copy of himself.
He constantly glanced up at the roof tops. The night was completely still.
He couldn't use his mana sense as he would alert the hearthstone keepers.
A detour back onto the main street. The narrow way straight down would lead to the secret passage faster.
Shadow clone. He and the clone disappeared in different directions into the crowd moving in a mess in either direction.
He was on an upwards slope in a direction away from the exit point.
There was another fork up ahead.
Shadow clone. Another split.
He squeezed through the crowd, reaching a pillar of vines and looked over the ledge.
There was nothing amiss other than the festive air.
"I'm overthinking it." He took a final puff and crumpled the stick and threw it along the walk way.
He looked down over the ledge. The exit point directly opposite from the foot of the pillar.
Shadow dash.