Lysander made sure that he was not being watched before continuing with his contingency plan. He pulled his hood firmly over his head and, tucking his weapons into his belt, stepped out of the confines of the guild courtyard and into the busy streets of the city. 

His destination was not far; less than a mile down the street from the Guild entrance was Blood Moon, an infamous pub popular with some of the lower denizens of the city. He made his way warily down the road, eyeing each passerby with quiet suspicion. After ensuring that he was not followed, he pushed aside the wooden door to the pub, which was riddled with decorations. 

The inside of the pub was a stark contrast to the quiet street. Colored lamps bathed the main hall with dazzling light, and loud yet muffled music echoed from some unknown location. Lysander kept his hood low as he scanned the crowded tables. All over the pub there were seedy merchants, brawling mercenaries and courtesans selling their wares. After several moments, he spotted a table in the corner above which the lamp had been put out. He approached and took note of the seated patron; a hooded man wearing the traditional garb of a warrior monk. 

Lysander reached the table and sat down. He spoke without introduction.

"Pray for me, brother."

"I pray for peace," came the reply, seeming almost relieved. The man tilted his head and in the dim light Lysander confirmed his identity. He was not yet old, though the gleam in his eye had long ago been replaced by the steely glint of a soldier. His features were angular, and a scar on his jutted chin served as evidence attesting to his person. The scar, the lamp and the passcode were enough to put Lysander at peace.

"What news do you bring, Quintus?" Lysander asked, keeping his voice low. 

"Your men are restless. They are upset about your discharge, and Legion Command knows it. I think they will remain loyal to you through this, but it would be wise to retain doubt. Also, I've intercepted a message between two of the councilors." He glanced over his shoulder warily before continuing. "It seems that they intend to report your death prematurely to put down the unrest. Nevertheless, I expect they will send more assassins." 

Lysander nodded. It was as he expected. Quintus Valerius had been one of his most trusted men during many of his campaigns abroad, and now served as a spy in the Legion. Lysander trusted his word above all else. Quintus cleared his throat and glanced around nervously.

"I'm afraid that's all I have from now. I will send a trustworthy courier with any news I can report. Where are you staying?"

"The guild Oculus. For now, at least. The entrance is between here and the Academy."

Quintus nodded affirmation and stood. "Good luck, Captain." Lysander remained silent, and Quintus exited the pub. Lysander remained seated, leaving several minutes between their departures for safety.