The sky was covered with clouds. The gentle sound of rain drops hitting the cobble stone streets of Caerd was all the people heard. The torches couldn’t be lit, so darkness cloaked the city. Darkness was all the people saw. They could not see the thief, in his black sweater on the chilly night. They could not hear the soft crunching sound as the stone of the twelve-foot tall wall was crushed under the blade of a subtle black knife. Not even the dozens of guards which patrolled Charles University neither heard nor saw the thief, and the thief loved it. The moon was nowhere to be seen, as were the stars. The blanket of clouds had done there part, and they had done it well. The thief pulled the knife out of the stone and, with a grunt, plunged it into the stone above where it had been. This was no feat of the thief, but of the knifes themselves, forged of incredibly strong adamantine steel and honed to the sharpest point possible.