The commodious cellar under the Griffin's Porch that was previously filled with barrels of ale and wine had now been turned into a storage for spears, swords, crossbows and mail shirts. This particular tavern that for the past decade had served as a den for daring gamblers, ruffians, muggers and swindlers alike was now housing the most sought-after criminals in the entire Kingdom. It was in this same place that those men and women branded as the anarchists by the Crown lingered to hatch their plans, all the while they chugged down copious amounts of meat, bread, cheese and booze.
"That went better than we've anticipated," Franco remarked with enthusiasm as the door was slammed shut by the proprietress of the Green Wenches Inn. "They promised to lend us fifty sellswords in exchange of only a quarter portion of the loot when we sack the Winter District of the city. That's quite the bargain."
