Boyd smiled uneasily as the conversation progressed as had been roughly scripted. He admired his colleagues up north, they certainly understood the game better than he ever had, but this was by nature capital duty. He opened one of the many sliding drawers of his desk and withdrew an evenly folded letter, sealed by crimson wax and stamped with the mark of grand marshal Wolcott, a cheeky representation of a long-tailed marmot from his family's coat of arms. Boyd broke the seal by hand and unfurled the letter before his eyes before laying it on the table for review. It was the plant letter not detailing his exact instructions, but rather a potential proposal to Alec Cross. "The crown proposes an initial payment to the order of gold bullion in the equivalence of 300,000 Arcarti silvers for the securement of services from one Alec Cross, recognized lord of the Reins." He read expertly although he seemed to be a little parched. In truth there was quite some resentment for trusting a foreigner but, if the whisperings he heard through his friends in the military were true, the intent of the hire wasn't necessarily suppression but securing foreign interest in Arcartus. Whatever their game was, he read on. "Following acceptance of the contract, a monthly payment of fifty thousand, in silvers directly, is to be made until the expiration of the contract, which is to be extended at the will of both parties five days before the end of each month. There is significant legal jargon here, mister Cross, as is the nature of this country, but you may read freely of the letter in the understanding that we wish to groom transparency and trust in this partnership."

The last time she'd been in the capital had been as a refugee fresh out of Lachne. It was refreshing to see that the place was just as miserable as she'd left it. Maria Trinan meandered through the city streets towards the capital offices, knowing that was where she'd eventually be needed and finding nothing else to pass the time. She wondered where her officer staff was, after all, she'd cut them loose with few exceptions seeing as they were only here to escort one Alec Cross. She'd heard the stories, and what little she knew about the man didn't excite her for his stay in the country. Before she could begin to brood about the vulture, truly come to pick carrion, the branch office appeared around a corner. She was, by now, soaked to the bone and was grateful for the imposing building's shelter, even if the smell of paperwork was already intolerable. She had one of her own to retrieve, though. The captain roamed the halls, leaving a trail of rainwater from her slowly drying green jacket. The Ranier she was looking for turned out to be where she'd expected. So they haven't moved Boyd's office yet, she recalled a time she had to sit and listen to the man speak about enlistment practices, and shuddered. Announced by the clatter of bootheels over the marble stone, she approached Milo, nodding but keeping her hands in her jacket's pockets. "Milo," she said, her form of a greeting. "What's he like?"