Crouching high on a slate rooftop, a cloaked figure huddled behind a soot-stained chimney. He carefully peeked over the stone ledge, his gaze cast downward toward the bustling thoroughfare, locked intently on the armory's entrance.
Ulrich had just entered the shop with his entourage, but moments later, he had stepped back out alone. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he had simply vanished into a narrow street.
The spy had completely lost his track.
"Damn it… where did he go?" He muttered to himself, scanning the sea of heads below.
He hesitated, torn between holding his vantage point to see if Ulrich would reappear or descending to chase after him. Already, cold sweat was beading at his temples. Earlier, when Ulrich had abruptly stopped in the street and cast that piercing gaze up toward the roof, it was as if the man had seen right through the shadows. The memory of those dark eyes sent a sharp, icy chill racing down the spy's spine.
Was it just a coincidence?
