They all looked weak, the whole lot of them. But beggars weren’t choosers.

“Aye,” the scruffy old man said lifting his gaze up to the youth before him. Solomon eyed up his potential henchmen and the others he caught peering from across the bar, they didn't look like much. With a free hand he began caressing his burly beard contemplating how to go about detailing his plans. Discretion was key in these types of situations. “The Dour Garrison.”

“The prison on the west coast?” the young redhead asked.

“Yeah, the garrison is built into the side of the Cliffs of Nor.” Solomon continued. “The Dour Saints and their leader Raphael Constantine are currently the one operating the prison.”

“Oh I’ve heard of them, didn’t they stave off the invasion along our western front?” the youth said as he pulled out the chair opposite of Solomon. He politely offered a spare tankard rich with ale to the older man who in turn accepted.

“That’s right.” He answered as he took a hefty swig of ale. “Two of my men are locked up inside.” The scruffy man lied through his grinning teeth. But this was more convincing than just ‘I’m going off of a rumor’. The youth raised an eye brow, he was suspicious but not detoured.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked.

“Aye,” Solomon answered as he sipped deeply of his ale. “A good one at that.” While Solomon might have been a scoundrel he wasn’t a fool. The Dour guards weren’t idiots and this wouldn’t be a simple task, but he only needed a few men. A few pawns to sacrifice should the moment arise.

“Let me hear it.”

“I can’t, not yet.”

“If you’re looking help this isn’t the way to get It.” the youth insisted.

“You’ll know soon enough,” the burly man said with a wicked grin. “Besides your only the help, nothing more.”

“Wait, what!?” the youth quickly spat. “What do you mean nothing more, what games are you trying to play?”

“Boy,” Solomon grunted in the deepest voice he could muster while slamming his tankard on the table between them. “I don’t even know who you are, or who your friends are.” He began to glare at the boy’s brothers watching from near the bar. The redhead’s brothers must have gotten worried because Soloman noted that everyone had placed their hands gently on the hilts of their weapons.

“Think twice old man,” the youth said. “I’m more interested in getting payed then starting a fight. Besides by the way your parading around here pandering to everyone you're desperate.” He was right, but what the youth didn't know was that all he needed from them were to play there part and this was perfect. After a tense moment the older man gently reached for his belt.

“A bit now, then the rest later.” Solomon relented as he lopped a sack of coin at the boy. “Divide your coin however you like, I’m only paying for four men.”

Please let at least one of these jackasses be competent.