From the floor of the great hall, he could just make out the dotting of signatures carved into the support beams. It was said to be a veritable who's who of alumni, as only the greatest managed to get all the way up there. That was rarely confirmed for the same reason.

With another aimless Hogswatch break upon him, Jonathan had decided that it was only fitting for him to be up there as well. The decision was, of course, the easy part. There were no clear handholds, no stable decorations, and the only thing close to a resting point was a very thin bit of moulding about 2/3 of the way up. Nobody had seemed to even have driven knives into the walls to help them climb, or at least they'd covered it up if they had. But, more importantly, there was a section just for those who'd made it up without resorting to tools.

A challenge that had a challenge on top of it. Perfect.

At least, he'd thought that a few hours back.

Jonathan sat against the wall with his copy of Twurp's Peerage. He was supposed to study on his breaks (like the one his now-icing shoulder demanded right then), but all he seemed to be able to do was to stare down the molding. It wasn't as if he wasn't good at running walls, he'd scaled ones taller and slicker than this. But somehow the moulding stayed just past the point of a good grip.

Absentmindedly, he began to map out the room in his notebook. He couldn't climb the corner, it was too tall to keep that up. Couldn't get enough momentum to run the wall far enough, and would the moulding even hold his weight if he managed?

The eye highlighted nearly invisible signs of repair that had been done over the years.

The boys that tried it probably had fortunes behind them to fix it up.

"Any chance they were just a lot heavier than me?"

Doubtful.

"So there's no way it'll hold me?"

Most likely.

"Would have been nice to bring up before I hurt my shoulder."

You tend not to listen when you get your mind set on things.

Jonathan paused. "Fair, but you could have tried at least."

So what other ways do you have?

"Could use the corner."

Momentum problem, still. And besides, the real names are too far away from that.

"Get in through the window."

You'd have to break it, and you don't have the cash for that repair, either.

Jonathan flipped to another page of sketches. "Could try the flue system. Guess these old buildings are just filled with them. And that and that-" He pointed at the respective, barred outlets. "Are likely connected somewhere."

That's a much better idea. But you're thinking too small if you're stopping at the rafters.

"You think?"

You could get anywhere. Bet you could be in the head office in a few minutes.

He paused. "That would definitely be interesting."

Soon as you get that carving out of your system.

"It's against the rules, though," Jonathan said, dismissively, as he stood up to stretch.

The eye's colors swirled irritably. Seriously?

He rolled his shoulder to test for pain, then began to work his arms. "No students are allowed in the head office without invitation and/or escort."

Is there a bloody rule about just checking out the fireplace?

Jonathan took his time to slowly bend back until his hands were on the ground. He finally said, "No, I suppose there's not."

Then we're agreed?

"Yes."

Good, fine. The eye huffed, but settled in. Have you decided who you're going to write the inhumation paper about, at least?

"Who's the least boring, you mean? No." He straightened back up. "I'm over halfway through, and so far it's just a bunch of nobles with similar guard and grounds setups. Most of them don't even have a little training, half of them aren't even suspected to wear any kind of armor." He near spat the last part. "Once you get past the guards, it'd be hard not to over-kill them."

Aren't there relatives of Death himself in there?

Jonathan perked up as he bent forward to touch the ground again. "Are there? I didn't get that far, I don't think."

Should be plenty interesting once you are.

"Sounds like." He slid into a split on the floor, and leafed through the book. "There they are. Adopted and an assistant... And a daughter. Probably have decent defenses around them at least."

Most likely.

"Definitely more fun," he agreed as he decided he was plenty loosened up. He crouched beside the low flue and made quick work of undoing the grate. He slipped inside, replaced the grate, and headed up.

The Guild, ever determined to show off its wealth, had been designed to heat as evenly as possible. That meant there were far more paths in the walls than normal. Considering none of the porters were thin or flexible enough to really get inside, and the idea of sending an outside chimney sweep into the inner workings of the Guild would be scandalous, many weren't even barred for risk of clogging.

Jonathan, meanwhile, slid through them smoothly. It really did seem that he could get anywhere, which was a bizarre oversight. Too convenient, really, and he slowed down to examine for poison darts or booby traps. But there weren't any.

It was just a rather glaring oversight, and Jonathan didn't know how he felt about it. Men he held in such high esteem really should be better than that...

But, he supposed, he also needed to learn from their failings. And an Assassin who didn't take advantage of a gift like this was a poor, and soon to be dead, one.

He peeked out of the grate, and grinned when he found the ceiling beams. It was loose, even, so he certainly wasn't the first who's figured out this weakness. Probably some of the greats, who'd been mum about letting anyone who'd fix this issue know about it. In that tradition, he wouldn't either.

Jonathan climbed onto the beam and fitted the grate back into place.

He let his legs dangle for a bit, and sat in awe of how high up he was. The stone patterns on the dance floor were beautiful. How many others had the chance to appreciate it like this...

Get on with it.

"Yeah, yeah." He took his knife out of its holster, hooked his knees on the board, and swung down. As he pulled his upper body up, he noted the sheer number of names from his textbooks casually lining the beam.

The Patrician himself had carved his name up here, and Jonathan ran his fingertips over the marks. Naturally, he'd have to put his right under that. He just needed to move over a bit...

His leg slipped, and he started to fall.

Jonathan scrambled for anything to grab. His foot found a hold, and he used it to kick off and pulled himself back up on the beam. He scurried to press back against the wall. It was only when his breathing and heart slowed down that he could appreciate how badly his shoulder hurt again.

He hissed, rubbed it, and thought, "Thanks."

Hm?

"For the lift up. There's nothing there otherwise. It has to be you."

The colors swirled as the glow died down. I can't do it often, so don't rely on it. Just finish and let's go.

With more caution, Jonathan went back down where he wanted, carved his name just below 'Vetanari', and headed back through the grate.

"Let's find that fireplace."

Now you're talking.