Cicero leans against the railing on a stone balcony overlooking the city. He keeps his hands clasped behind his back. The wind catches his auburn hair and blows it across his face, and he simply allows it. If he closes his eyes, he can hear the city beneath him, the bustling movement of people going about their errands and their work. He knows some of them, he knows their habits and their routines. He has been watching them for months. This reconnaissance mission is about to come to a close.