The boat thumps against the shore silently as I, Camille Westbrook, set foot on the shore. I can see it off in the distance, the palatial manor estate of the Grand Marshal isn't too far off now. It had been days since I had heard a single thing from the FRA, let alone anyone else in the greater movement. Maybe the Imperial Government was right, maybe the Resistance was dead, maybe the movement had been buried under a sea of black leather boots. There was really only one way to be certain.

My legs feel weak as I come to the outskirts of the Manor, the opulence sickening as I lay eyes on the stables, the guards, the regal nature of it all. With each step, I can feel the evil that emanates from the place grow stronger and stronger, the camera draped around my neck thumping against my chest with each step. The lens comes into focus as I snap a shot of the manor from the exterior, the crisp sound of the shutters opening and closing as the picture snapped. In the distance I can hear a girl wailing, probably from the opposite side of the manor. Maybe she was a slave, maybe she was a free-woman...It was impossible to know. The wail might not have even been one of fear but enjoyment. Things like that were always unclear this far away.

I needed to get closer.

The Countryside was peaceful this far out of the cities of the Empire. Even with the woman wailing in the distance, it wasn't difficult for me to concentrate on the task at hand. The Guards were pre-occupied this late at night. Sure, some were attentive and doing their jobs, while others enjoyed the perks of their position in the house. Particularly with the servant-girls dressed like maids. Evidently, they were a fan favorite.

As I slid open the door, I knew there was no turning back...I had to kill the Grand Marshal.