Remton was as seats of empires usually were; well protected, crowded and endlessly large. But it had it's drawbacks for the likes of Svetlana and Rouen. The plentiful soldiers and guards that seemed to lurk at every corner were no strangers to extorting what they could, especially out of other commoners. They were armed and had the unshaken trust of their superiors. That was all they needed. A simple grab of somones forearm, the mention of the word silver, and most of them just coughed up whatever shinies they had. In the mind of a military man, this was easy peasy. Nothing but a noble would make them hestitate.
So as an effect of Rouen and Svetlana exploring the city while waiting for Lokenth, they were a lot poorer than they used to be.
After some hours they realized they couldn't afford being out on the chilly and cold-hearted streets anymore and ran for good ol' Boatman's. They walked in, words thrown back and forth between them. Everything was significantly louder than last time they were there. As they came in the bartender stared at them and whispered something to the young woman next to him. The woman put one foot in front of the other and one blink later she had vanished.
They sat down at a corner table and Rouen ordered them an ale each. A cold drink in a warm place sure beats lukewarm threats in a cold one, he told Svetlana, and she just nodded. After hours and hours in the city, she felt like she was out of both words and silver. But some sign of excitement could still be seen in the small smile she still managed to uphold. Rouen was even more eager but did a pretty good job of not showing it.
They looked around the place, old wooden tables with plenty of signatures carved into them. A consequence of years of silent service. When their eyes returned to their own table, the ale was already there and so was a man. It had to be Lokenth. It just had to be.
