This is how one hunts.
One needs to equip tools. Tools do not make the hunter, but they provide the facility to surpass oneself. I don my caestus: the leather and metal straps that glove the hand. Mine are adorned with blades and spikes and were my brother’s gift to me. It’s fitting that I use them now.
When one hunts something more powerful than oneself, fear becomes a great beast that stalks you in its turn. Recognise your fear but practise detachment and equanimity; your mind must be free to focus on the tasks at hand.
Set aside reservations; you are a hunter with a role in society. You are paid well. 30 pieces of silver is often an adequate security for me. Yes, he is my brother, but he threatens this fine city amongst the clouds. There is no passage to our home here, no matter the depth of his search, the extent of his threats.
Alabaster is a soft stone; I remember Gabriel, when he first put on the mask, complaining about the care needed to avoid scratching its surface. The claws of my caestus easily cut through the alabaster of his mask, the only resistance coming from the parting of flesh and the catching of blade on bone.
Your heart may scream against your actions — it is a hunter’s task to ignore that shout, to bring to bear all of one’s skill upon one’s prey. Sorrow and shock do not serve you well when you need to act — they must be put aside, ignored, until you’re free to hide your sight behind tears.
Payment in full only comes upon successful completion of the hunt. There is no place for a failed hunter.