60 A.U.D, The Northern Continent of Grimeford.

The port town of R'ileigh, Northeast of Valeryn.

The hooded figure paces steadily through the busy market street. The face is hidden almost entirely under the hood, so that only the lips may be seen. The figure arrives at an inn on a corner street. They look around to see if anyone is following them. Their nerves are calmed, as, to them, no one seems to be, and they enter.

The inn's rooms, upstairs, are visible from the ground floor through a void in the center of the first floor, rounded by a staircase. The bar on the ground floor isn't very lively today, and only a few came to have a drink or two, the rest seem to just enjoy talking.

The figure heads to the counter, where a young, dark-skinned, dark-haired man tends the bar. They take their seat, and signal to the bartender, via a small, forced cough, to come to their side of the counter. The barman takes the hint and leaves the man on the other end of the counter to meet them.

"Howdy." The bartender says out loud, to the hearing of the other man.

"I'd like a glass of water." The figure says lightly, while still to the hearing of the man at the other end. The voice carries with it, a hint of femininity.

"One glass, coming right up." the bartender replies, his eyes darting around to see if anyone is noting his actions, as well as the young, hooded figure across from him. He fetches them a glass of water and keeps it on the counter. The man at the other end gets up and takes his leave, wishing the barman a good day.

"You too." He answers.

With him gone, there is no one else at the counter. The figure promptly drops their hood, to reveal a young female, somewhere in the age range of the barman. Her hair is silvery gray and her eyes, an icy blue.

"I've gotten the necessary funds for the travel gear. Where's the customer?" She asks.

"He's in the backroom. Waiting for the contact. I hope you remember the plan." The barman replies, cleaning up the dirty mugs with a piece of cloth.

"I wouldn't forget it, boss." she says, taking off the hooded cloak and leaving it on the counter, before walking past him to the backroom.

"I do pray you weren't followed here, Ely." He says as she walks into the backroom.

The bar's backroom is more or less a smaller extension of the bar. There are seats and benches all around, and it is faintly lit up by a few lanterns in it, with a small but wide window on the west facade, allowing for light to penetrate into the space, and providing a view into the market street, even though it's just their lower bodies, and mostly feet, as the backroom is beneath the ground floor.

The girl walks in and sees three people; two on one bench near the door, and one, sitting alone at the far end of the room, a dark corner, lit up by one of the few lanterns in the room. This one is a fairly old man, clearly past his fifties. His hair is shaven, and his eyes are sunken. His clothing, at first glance seems common, but in actuality is made of expensive fabrics, a luxury that the common man in this area cannot afford. An obvious show of fear, as aristocrats wouldn't dare walk into the domains of the common without military support, and still hope to walk out freely and without harm. Especially NOT in this part of Grimeford.

The girl walks up to the man and sits across from him. She taps on the table and the man responds by tapping on the table as well.

"Your request. Mercenary business." The girl says.

"You must be a member of the Band of Roses." the man responds, his voice shaking.

"Astute."

"Please. You have to help me!" He starts.

"Calm down, old man. I got the memo. you wouldn't come to a mercenary band if you could help yourself."

"My daughter..." He means to continue but is cut short.

"Yes, she was kidnapped and taken hostage by a certain group of individuals. You want us to rescue her..."

"Yes. my men were killed halfway through the chase and before I get any help from Elios, it will be far too late for her."

"Where do you think that group could've taken her?"

"I'm not exactly sure..." He looks away for a second and returns to face her gaze. "Last I heard, my men were killed on the bluff of Carnegie."

The girl stops to think. "Carnegie...How long ago was this?"

"Almost three days ago. Why? Is that too long ago?"

"Carnegie is a fork town. They could either be headed to Nuwait or The Stones. One would take far longer than the other. Nuwait is about three more days from Carnegie, and The Stones would only take a day and a half, assuming they haven't taken any breaks or detours. However, if the latter were to be the case, then, undertaking this would be a suicidal revenge mission and not a rescue."

The man looks downcast. "So, if they took her through The Stones, she'd be dead before you could get to her?"

"Not necessarily." The Bartender's voice goes behind the girl, and she turns to see him, holding her cloak and wearing one of his own.

"Boss... The Bar." she says to him.

"Lyse spotted a bunch of clergymen headed to this place about five miles away. We're leaving to join Gav and Montie at the town square." He whispers.

She gets up and takes her cloak from him. "What about my daughter?" The man complains.

"What is your daughter's name, kind sir? Facial features? Hair color? Height?" The Bartender queries the man.

"Her name is Zara. She's about your age and three-quarters of your height. She's got dark brown hair, same as her mother."

"Thank you for that. We'll take the job for five pounds of gold and ten platinum coins. I assume you don't have a problem with these terms?" The Bartender stares the man squarely in his eyes.

"What? Five Pounds? What do I look like? A charity?" The man protests.

"Viscount Sheffer, is it?" He says, looking away.

"Wha-?" The man is astonished that an ordinary bartender knows his name.

"Don't be too shocked now...Information isn't exactly a difficult thing to obtain. Not in this realm, at least. Now, you are under the Count of Valeryn. The city of Valeryn is the second most affluent city in Grimeford besides Lord's Bay, the capital. I need to understand which you'd rather choose, your belly, or your daughter?"

The Viscount concedes. "Fine. But bring my daughter back to me in perfect health. A scratch on her head, and the deal's off."

The Bartender turns and places his head on the forehead of the old man.

"That would be an issue, my dear Sheffer sir. You see, we are taking this job only on the suspicion that the kidnappers would need something out of your daughter. If there is any other reason as to why your daughter has been taken from you, then, chances are, she'll be dead in a ditch before we even make landfall, either at The Stones or Nuwait. Let me make this perfectly clear, you aren't paying us to save your daughter, you're simply paying us for the trouble."

He turns to the girl. "We're leaving, Elyra."

She turns and follows behind him.

"We'll send you the bill in about five business days. We expect to be paid in full." He says, as they both vanish from the backroom.

The bartender and the girl emerge from the front door of the inn, before turning into a back street and quickly navigate through alleyways and yards, ending up on the rooftop of a bakery somewhere near the middle of the town.

"Did you have to say all of that? I had it covered, you know." Elyra says.

"Well, I know you did. but it'd take too long to negotiate terms with a greedy old man like that, and we were already out of time." The barman replies.

"But the clergymen are still about five miles out-"

"That was thirty minutes ago. Even the lowest tier of the clergy is still skilled in movement-based magic, Ely. I assumed you knew that when I asked you that question earlier."

"I'm sorry, boss." she says, looking away.

"There's not much to be sorry about, Ely. Look down there." He says, pointing down to two men dressed in clergy robes, looking around the busy streets.

"They're here already?" Elyra says in shock.

"Well...It's no surprise they could try to do it. But their aura signatures are too weak. They won't catch on to us anytime soon. Not with these dampener cloaks we've got on." He says, looking at the hooded cloaks he and Elyra are wearing. "Come now, Lyse and Gav are at the square already."

They take off again, from rooftop to rooftop, silently and undetected. It isn't long until they arrive at the square, even busier than the market streets.

They drop down into one of the alleyways, before walking out stealthily and as naturally as possible.

"Well, you certainly took your time, Ryn-love. We're near the gates, next to the watermelon stall." A voice coming from the barman's wristband goes.

"We'll be there in a bit." He responds by holding the wristband to his mouth.

The two take a walk towards the specified location where there are two people seated on heavy bags and waiting. One of them is a hulking figure, hunched over. He has short black hair, cold,grey eyes and fair skin with hand scars, the other is a slender woman with fiery-red hair, emerald-green eyes and beige skin.

The large man stands up, his shirt barely containing his body. "Well, that took some time. At least we'll be leaving Grimeford soon, right, Arryn?"

"Not exactly, Gav. We'll be discussing the details when we get back on the road, but for now, where is Hector?" He speaks.

"Should be on his way; said he had a few people to 'greet' before we take our leave." the red-haired woman answers.

"And you let him go? We'll be here for hours, Lyse!" Elyra complains.

"Hey, don't blame me. He'd find a way to give me the slip no matter how you slice it. Just sit back and pray the clergymen didn't get him."

"Nah!" A voice echoes behind them. They all instantly recognize it as the voice of Montie, the missing member of the crew. He is sitting atop the gatehouse, looking on at the square.

"They'd never have the strength to actually catch me." He continues.

"Nice entrance, Montie." Lyse says, as he jumps down to meet them.

"Great, everyone's here now. So, let's grab our stuff and leave this place before we attract any unwanted attention." Arryn declares.

The group of five splits their load and they all take off from the city and onto the road.