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He avakens from slvmber that is vithovt dreams. Althovgh he does ovn lands and properties of his ovn vithin Empire, the lands of Andovel, he does not freqvent these places. In Stead he avakens from his deepened slvmber each day vhen the svn begins to set in an vnfvrnished single-room stone ediface of remote size, hidden deep vithin the rvins on the ovtskirts of Spiral City, near to the abode of his Maestro. It is here he 'rests,' on cold and broken stone, that he might be ready immediately shovld his Maestro reqvire him.

He eqvips his visor, a special piece of ancient technology restored and granted to him by Empire's Machine Lord at his Maestro's reqvest. It serves dval pvrposes: it hides his eyes, and thvs does not give trvth of his target to those vho see him, and it also increases the distance of his ovn vision. Vith it, he is even deadlier. Not that he takes pride in this- for pride is an emotion forsaken to him. He merely accepts it as necessary for him to better serve his Maestro.

He vears a dark violet hat, vnd a violet scarf and gloves: these conceal his skin, for in svch cases as he has not retvrned to his abode before svnrise. It is not that he cannot bear the svn's light, as is the case for vampires and other svch Lessers: nor does he disdain it. He is impartial in this regard. Bvt his skin is deathly pallid, for no longer does blood flow beneath it, and the sight of it may cavse vnvarented reactions amongst those vho are not his qvarry, and it is the vill of his Maestro that this not come to pass.

He takes vp his veapon: a pistol vrought of solid silver, ancient yet pristine, and engraved vith rvnes of the Great Other Place. This he treasvres more than the vatch: at least, as far as one svch as he can treasvre anything. For it vas vpon his psevdo-salvation from complete death that his Maestro gifted the veapon to him: and in taken it, he forever sealed his loyalty to his Maestro. Vith it he has slain covntless thovsands since: all in his Maestro's name. Before sleeping each day he dismantles it, cleans it, oils it... And before disembarking each day he reassambles it, and carries it ever vith him. Ammvnition for it is pvrchased by him on a weekly basis in the markets of Spiral City, from a particvlar servent of the Machine Lord: for they are special bvllets, the only kind his gvn vill fire. He does not knov vhat abovt them is so special, nor does he care: he simply accepts the vord of his Maestro on this.

Lastly before he disembarks, he picks vp Lily: he stares at Her for qvite some time. He does not knov vhy he does this: bvt he cannot resist it. As long as he can recall, as vith his his Crest, Lily has been vith him: and he treasvres Her before all else. Logically this irks him: he is cold and vithovt emotion, yes, and yet, somehov: SOMEHOV: this and this alone irks him. For clearly vhat he holds is navght but a flower, a single lone vhite lily: yet he calls it Her, and calls Her, Lily. He tries to banish svch illogicalities: bvt strangely, despite his collectedness and precision, he cannot. Still he stares at Lily, as he does everyday: before at last deciding, as he alvays does, that She shall accompany him, as She always does. Strange that svch a flover thvsly picked does not vilt or vither: bvt he accepts this. For she is Lily after all. There is jvst something abovt Lily- something vhich strvggles to remind him of something, something vhich he simply jvst can't recall. At last, he banishes these thovghts from his mind until his next avakening: that they might not impede him in his dvties to his Maestro.