Attached to this particular visitor, the impish shadow hounding his heels appears more like a snivelling minion than an object of terror. It makes mockery of his face whenever he turns his attention to it, smile splitting its shadowy countenance before the fog can obscure the sneering grin from view. Atticus Vedici pays it little mind. If that is the price he is to pay to keep on living after his execution, it seems the gods have demanded only a pittance.

He'll pay it gladly.

The locals of the city give him a wide berth as he makes his careful exploration of the streets and markets, following the sound of gossip towards the waterfront to where the Narrakra remains moored after her mysterious ordeal. There is only so close that he can venture without arousing suspicion, but he is a frequent enough visitor that anyone with a keen eye would take notice of him.