A tall man stood at the South Village docks, surveying the horizon under the wide brim of his hat. The boarding axe attached to his belt swayed in the breeze, being only secured on by a loop of golden thread, stolen from one of his voyages. Also swaying about were the various decorations attached to his waistcoat and gloves, along with his multiple belts fastened around his waist and chest. One would wonder how the man was not cold, standing there in the moonlight, with only a thin shirt and baggy, flared pants. That man was William Hayden Barclay, known by most as Weasel Savage, veteran pirate and man of the sea, now turned mercenary. The smallest belt that hung around his shoulder, with a cuboid leather bag attached to it, held his book of targets. All of the names had already been checked off, and he was on his way to the Inn at the Edge of the World to get a drink, before heading to the Naughty Nymph - he had business there and was requested to be in the cellar at sundown. He took one deep breath in, before setting off with casual paces towards the Inn.

Once he had arrived at the Inn, he sat down at a table near the entrance, casually flicking through his book as he waited for his usual. He was no stranger to the bar maid, so all he needed to do was signal and she'd get to work on a whiskey. His book clapped shut as the mug was set down on the table, and he grabbed it by the handle, downing it in one. He left the mug, nodding to the maid. She came over, lifting it up and taking the gold coins underneath, stuffing it down the top part of her dress. Then, she went on her usual course, traversing around all the tables and picking up empty mugs, taking any tips that came her way.

William walked towards the Naughty Nymph, pushing past the drunkards and various other people that were out at this time of night. A couple women fluttered their fans at him, and he bowed to them, causing squeals of joy and cries of "he looked at me!". A gruff man stopped him as he headed for the cellar, and Savage slapped some coins down in his hand, before the man stepped aside and allowed him to continue. He jogged down the stairs, and walked over to the corner of the cellar, sitting down at a desk and laying his book open on it. He examined all the other people down there, putting his legs up and waiting for his first customer.