In the tavern, on a stool a green-haired boy sat up. He peered around with a purposefully dumb expression on his face. "Waz all tha' ruckus?" Sanctus asked of no one in particular. He caught sight of the three mercenaries confronting a man outside. "Hey, Mercss!" He called out, his accent thick and his s slurred "Don't cha' think, three on wan iss alittle unfair?" He recognized the tactician, but he didn't show it. "And you're makin' so much noise itss hard to drink in peace. He paused as if to think. "And pick on ssomeone your own ssize while you're at it." He watched the man flee. and an idea occurred to him. He lifted his tankard to drink but it was empty, he looked at as if in surprise and asked the bartender for a refill. "I think you've had enough sir." Was his reply. "Really? Darn." He set his tankard down and pretended to stumble out.

	As soon as he left the place behind he ducked into an alley way and followed the mercs and the tactician. He lost them a few times, but he had a good guess of where they where going. He stopped in the crowd close them. But far enough that he was just another face.