1.03

Cord stayed away from the main roads in the city despite his run-in with the robbers. He would never make it to his goal if someone were to recognise him. It was unlikely that many people other than the King's Guard would have his description, or even expect him to be here in the capital, but it paid to be cautious. If he was recognised it would be virtually impossible to put his plan into action.
His current route was leading him toward the inner wall of the city, and until he reached that he would easily remain in the shadows. The inner part of the city would be a different matter. It was well-lit and well-patrolled by the City Guard. He would need to be very careful.
Cord continued to drift through the shadows of the alleys, making sure not to let any unfriendly eyes see him. If he was attacked again, he was sure that it would not escape notice.
He stopped at the end of an alley that opened onto the broad road that led to the Inner South Gate and peered around the corner. There were several guards posted at the gate, and Cord could hear faint sounds of conversation coming from the guardhouse on the other side of the wall. At least the guards seemed to be in a relaxed mood. That would help.
Cord took a skin of cheap whiskey from his waist and poured some whisky on his tunic. He lifted the skin to his mouth and poured it into his mouth until he felt some flow down his chin. He kept the liquid in his mouth while he undid a second skin from his waist. The second skin held some very expensive and rare 'ulat' whisky made in Mardun far to the north. Holding a skin in each hand he spat out the whisky in his mouth, satisfied that by now he must stink of alcohol. He had fine enough clothes on for a merchant, but smelled as if he had been celebrating most of the day. Cord hoped that the balance was right. He needed the Guard to believe he was no threat, but not view him as a drunk that needed to be thrown in a cell for the night. Taking a breath, Cord stumbled into the road...