On island one hundred and ninety-one, in a dark tavern illuminated only by the few candles sparsely placed in the hall.
An anxious middle-aged soldier was conversing with a hooded figure as they sat at a table in the back of the room.
"Please, you must understand! The captain is looking for moles like he has never done before! After the assassination on island one hundred and fifty-eight, every legal faction is keeping its attention on all of us! I can't give you the reports about the shipments of the next month."
The soldier pleaded the hooded figure, he looked pitiful and even scared when he said those words.
The hooded figure was, of course, Noah.
That was the last of his missions, it had taken him an entire day to complete the other four and he was now doing his best to convince the soldier in front of him to sell the information about the provisions that the continent sent to its representatives in the archipelago.
