The mid-morning sun glinted off the pond. A flotilla of ducks was dispersed through it, chasing thrown bread from children, whilst the occasional swan sailed past, idling in bored regality and plucking at the reeds. Passersby were infrequent, but the park was still busy for the ending of the week, and the foot traffic sporadic.

He sat down on the bench, and gazed at the view. Next to him, the man in the suit reading the newspaper turned a page. Neither looked at one another and no acknowledgement was given, but the man immediately began to speak.

"You are late, Nero."

He gave a low rumble, of irritation and defiance both. "You would rather I be identified? Caught?"

"I would rather you be less careless and more punctual." The reply was measured, but with an acerbic note of caution to it. "If only you were more like-"

"Spare me," Nero interrupted, not caring to hear the incoming lecture. "Why did we come here?" He drew a breath, a contemptuous angry lungful of air. "Being around so many of these ... people ... it incenses me. Their hubris, their self-interest; it is revolting. It urges me to their destruction."

"We are here," murmured the man, "because all that I have learned tells me this town is where our future will be realised." He turned another page, browsing the local herald with a mild curiosity. "However, you will be pleased to know your next task will take you away some distance, at least temporarily." A hand went into a pocket, and then a slip of paper was placed between them. "On good authority, I have the exact location of the incantation."

Nero took it, and pocketed it himself. The implication was clear, and a keen hungry grin widened, his mood lifting. "The incantation. Oh, yes." His perpetual anger was turning to thirst, the idea of acting openly too appealing to ignore. "You wish me to steal it from under the enemy's nose?"

"Steal it. Copy it. Burn the place down for all I care. Just make sure you are not captured and that you return with the whole thing, start to finish."

"Of that you may be sure," he growled, "for I could never ruin such an honour."

"Good. This piece is essential and the opportunities have become slim, so you must not fail." The man in the suit stood, folding his newspaper and with not a word more, walked away out of the park.

The incantation.

The time was getting closer.