Sunday, Oct. 4th, early AM
An undisclosed location within the City of Feldaren
The man on this side of the magic mirror was nondescript – his features were neither particularly old nor young, and otherwise thoroughly ordinary. At 174cm, he was a bit below average height for someone of the younger generation, but it matched the gray which was creeping into his brown hair. He could have been any of millions of men within the Empire of Feldaren, which was exactly how he wanted to appear.
In his line of work, it paid to be as forgettable as possible, and with magic he had easily crafted his image to match. If he were working in another place, he could easily have looked like the locals there, at least if they were human. The same for the name he used here - Paul Jekanis – a common enough English first name and an extremely common Old Imperial last name would blend in anywhere on this continent, especially in Feldaren, without sounding like a placeholder name.
The man he was speaking to on the other side of the magic mirror was his client, and he was anything but non-descript. His client was wearing a very formal and old-fashioned suit with an almost military cut and had shock of unfashionably-long blonde hair, which stood out for a man his age. Through the mirror, one couldn’t tell his height, but Paul knew from when they’d met - a long while ago, now - that the man stood half a head taller than he did.
“I’m disappointed to hear you’ve made no progress in your mission,” said his client, his lips curling into a sneer.
“We must be patient,” said Paul. “Patience is necessary. The number of individuals under nineteen in this city is... considerable.”
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The client's eyes flashed with irritation, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Patience be damned. Surely there aren't many who fit the profile. If my country falls to civil war, our plans will be left to the fortuna da guerra.”
“Your concern is noted, and my master has ordered us to serve you,” said Paul, although he left unsaid within reason, and so long as our interest align, went unsaid.
“Understanding my concern hasn’t gotten you any closer to clearing up that loose end!” The client's voice rose, his face reddening.
“We have eliminated several leads already. One at great cost indeed. Is your intelligence reliable?
The client drew himself up, his posture rigid, and nearly bringing his face out of the frame. “We’ve gone over this before.” After a long sigh, the client settled himself down and continued, “I’ve told you what we confirmed that much before they closed off my other source, and what is supposition. As for the other details, I’ve been watching our royal family for decades; they are highly predictable.”
“If you want us to act more openly, it’s your risk and not ours,” said Paul.
Frustration etched deep lines into the client's features. “Hang the risk; the odds for my neck in a civil war are no better than if this affair becomes public. Fulfill your contract, by any means necessary.”
“That will be done. May your goddess’s fortune smile upon us.”
His client gave him a last, withering look, his eyes brimming with contempt, before abruptly severing the connection.
Paul stared at the now-blank mirror, his ordinarily impassive features creased with a frown. The pressure was mounting, and with it, the risk of exposure. He'd have to move quickly now, but hastiness could lead to mistakes – mistakes that could jeopardize his client, and Paul’s position with his master. He’d been the one to suggest working with this client in the first place. With a quiet sigh, he turned away from the mirror. It was time to brief Brinna and Sten on their new priorities.