For some, the Silver Wolf Inn was a temporary respite from the cold, from hunger and from thirst. For Tenedos, it was his local. It was all of the above, plus the most valuable place to find information and hired hands in abundance.

He would need both for the job in hand.

The fire place occupied the centre of a cleared out part of the tavern’s vault, and the man was far enough away from the main bulk of tables and patrons to be concealed by the shadows. As some weather beaten punters entered the tavern and sat around their ale, their coats soaked from a hellish night in the rain and their tired faces illuminated by the flickers of the dancing flames, they talked in hushed tones. Tenedos’s eyes and ears took in as much as they could, filtering through the idle chatter to pick up on any hook he could deem relevant to his task whilst he waited patiently for his chicken order to cook on a spit in the kitchen.

Won’t be long now. Can always tell the hired hands from the norms in here; always the first to speak, and often the loudest. I just need to find someone with empty pockets and a weapon; nothing intricate.

Sat back in his seat, Tenedos peered out from underneath his hood and allowed his eyes to settle on one particular figure through the crowd. Although it now felt like a lifetime ago, the face stuck with him. Those unmistakable golden eyes. The white coat.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris?

He was extremely surprised and curious to see his former commander in Scara Brae, as Tenedos understood that the Telgradian had disappeared after the destruction of Whitevale. The former Reaver now knew where to. He turned his head away, staring blankly into the fire as Shinsou began berating some jumped up prick for his advances on a young – whatever she was. Even though there was no way of Shinsou remembering a rank and file soldier like him, Tenedos couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact just in case. He, after all, had been there that night, at Whitevale. He knew that something terrible had happened, and that Durandel and Arius had caused it. He hadn’t taken part in the attack in Concordia Forest, against the orders of the turncoat Durandel and the dark wizard Arius, but Tenedos knew what had followed. He could only imagine what the Telgradian had suffered at his hands.

The former reaver was mulling over it all as a dainty voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Your meat, sir?”

A chargrilled chicken breast fell onto a plate from the makeshift wooden griddle in front of him. As the waitress left, he sunk his teeth into the tender, juicy meat. Vita and Mors, the Falchions that Durandel had gifted him, lay at his feet and the flawless steel of their blades glimmered in the fire. Eventually, Tenedos threw a bare chicken bone into the flames, and turned his head at the mention of a name from where Shinsou was standing.

Augustus…

As he carefully repositioned a jug of honey mead he had into his palm, listening as intently as possible to the source of the name, the tavern door batted open. Through it walked what he presumed was a man, but in reality a walking piece of steel. The man within took a bag from within his armour and held it within his plated fist. A greatsword was sheathed at his hip, the armoured titan flung the first untied sack at the bar. The canvas thing spilled out, spreading its golden contents all over the wood.

Jackpot.

Tenedos smiled to himself. Now, the hard work would begin.