Inner Voices

He sat quietly in the pre-dawn dark, the surface of the desk he worked at lit by the faintly pulsing glow of a power supply the size of his fist that sat above the stack of papers.

Each such paper was a well of information, the physical embodiment of the Professional’s attention to detail. On one side, a top-down sketch of the layout of each Thread’s home, ranging from a room within an inn to a respectably large manor with small, neat notations: Total number, number of guards, how well trained they were, how they were equipped, what their experience was, and what shifts they worked in. He noted how many slept at their employer’s home, how many were nestled amongst the day-to-day servants as a contingency for the unwary.

Lastly, any and each potential warding glyph or aura generator was marked clearly along with its purpose, if it had to deactivate for recharging and how often, the times of day and how long each lasted.