Clara leaned forward, her voice low and urgent. "Alright, Nightstalker, here's how we get you in. Joseph's holding another one of his 'feasts' tomorrow night."
Zellrid's eye narrowed. "The ones where street children disappear?"
Clara nodded grimly. "The very same. But here's our opening - every midnight, like clockwork, they dispose of the... leftovers."
"Charming," Zellrid grunted. "Go on."
"There's a canal that runs beneath the palace," Clara continued. "They dump the waste through a steel door that leads straight to the river. If you can time it right, you could slip in when they're making the drop."
Zellrid frowned. "Steel door sounds like a problem."
A sly smile crossed Clara's face. "That's where this comes in." She produced a strange-looking arrow. "One of my people managed to swipe this from the palace armory. It's got a mechanism that can jam the door open for a few precious seconds."
"Hmm," Zellrid mused, examining the arrow. "Clever. But how do I get from the canal to Joseph?"
"I've got a man on the inside," Clara replied. "The cook's assistant, Tobias. He's been working with us for months. Once you're in, he'll guide you to Joseph's chambers."
Zellrid raised an eyebrow. "And I can trust this Tobias?"
Clara's expression hardened. "Joseph killed his sister. Trust me, he wants that bastard dead as much as any of us."
"Fair enough," Zellrid conceded. "So I crawl through shit, find the cook, then confront a possibly demonic madman in his own lair. Sounds like a typical Tuesday."
Clara didn't laugh at the joke. "This is serious, Zellrid. Joseph's not just some noble you can intimidate or bribe. He's..."
"A monster," Zellrid finished. "I know. I've hunted monsters before."
"Not like this," Clara insisted. "Promise me you'll be careful. We need you to succeed. The whole city needs you to succeed."
Zellrid's face softened slightly. "I'll do what needs to be done, Clara. You have my word."
—--24 hours passed—--
A thick, low-lying mist enveloped Senura, shrouding the Duke's palace in a ghostly haze. In the depths of the kitchen, two servants wrestled with a colossal, foul-smelling bin.
"Bloody hell, Gus," the younger one wheezed. "What's His Lordship been feeding these nobles? Lead?"
Gus, a grizzled veteran of palace service, grunted as he shouldered his end of the bin. "Best not to ask, lad. In this place, ignorance is more than bliss—it's survival."
They shuffled towards the canal entrance, the younger servant wrinkling his nose at the stench. "Still, this reeks worse than usual. You don't think—"
"I don't think," Gus cut him off sharply. "And neither should you if you want to keep your head attached to your shoulders."
As they approached the steel door, a shadow detached itself from the rooftop across the canal. Zellrid crouched, knocking the strange arrow Clara had given him. His red eye narrowed, focusing on the mechanism that would soon reveal itself.
Back at the door, Gus fumbled with a large key. "Alright, on three. One, two—"
"Wait!" the younger servant yelped. "Did you hear that?"
Gus paused, listening. The night was silent save for the gentle lapping of water in the canal. "Hear what?"
"I could've sworn I heard... never mind. Let's just get this over with."
Gus shook his head, muttering about jumpy youngsters. He turned the key, and with a groan, the steel door began to swing open.
On the rooftop, Zellrid's muscles tensed. Time seemed to slow as he released the arrow, watching its arc through the air with his enhanced vision.
The servants were too preoccupied with their grisly task to notice the quiet 'thunk' as the arrow lodged itself in the door's mechanism.
"Hurry up, lad," Gus grunted, tipping the bin. "Sooner we're done, sooner we can forget this whole nasty business."
As the 'leftovers' splashed into the canal, Zellrid made his move. Silent as a shadow, he slipped from the rooftop and into the fetid water, his face a mask of grimness.
The younger servant shuddered as he helped Gus close the door. "Is it just me, or did it not shut all the way?"
Gus squinted at the door. "Blasted thing's always been temperamental. Give it a good shove, will you?"
With lightning speed, Zellrid closed the distance. His fist connected with Gus's temple, dropping the older man instantly.
Before the younger servant could even cry out, Zellrid's other hand clamped over his mouth, a precise strike to the back of the head silencing him.
Zellrid caught both men as they fell, lowering them quietly to the ground. He quickly bound and gagged them, ensuring they wouldn't raise an alarm.
With the servants taken care of, Zellrid turned his attention to the door. He inserted the key Gus had dropped, swinging it open with a groan. The stench that wafted out was overwhelming.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the drip of water. "The things I do for a contract."
Steeling himself, Zellrid slipped through the door and into the narrow passage beyond, every sense on high alert.
As he emerged from the sewage into a dimly lit kitchen storage room, Zellrid allowed himself a grim smile.
Zellrid crept through the dimly lit storage room, the stench of decay clung to him, as his hand rested on the hilt of his black blade, ready to draw at a moment's notice.
As he approached the kitchen proper, voices drifted from beyond. Zellrid pressed himself against the wall, his enhanced hearing picking up the conversation.
"...another successful feast," a pompous voice declared. "Lord Joseph will be pleased."
"Indeed," another replied, a tremor of fear evident. "Though I worry about the... supplies. We're running low on—"
"Hush!" the first voice snapped. "Such matters are not for idle gossip. Now, get back to work. The cleaning won't do itself."
Zellrid's jaw clenched, his grip tightening on his sword. "Hmm," he grunted softly, his gravelly voice barely audible.
As the kitchen staff bustled about their grisly work, Zellrid caught sight of a young man whose nervous glances and fidgeting hands set him apart. 'Tobias,' he thought, recalling Clara's description of her inside man.
Seizing a moment when the others were distracted, Zellrid emerged from his hiding spot. In two swift strides, he was behind Tobias, one hand clasped over the young man's mouth to stifle any cry of surprise.
"Don't scream," Zellrid growled, his voice low and menacing. "I'm here about Joseph. Clara sent me."
Tobias's eyes widened in recognition, and he nodded frantically. Zellrid released him, and Tobias let out a shaky breath.
"Y-you're the N-nightstalker," Tobias stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think... I mean, I hoped, but..."
"Save it," Zellrid cut him off. "I need to get to Joseph. Now."
Tobias nodded, visibly trembling. "F-follow me. I'll... I'll say you're here to deal with our rat problem."