Ajax was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a scaredy-cat and so he strolled around town with the confident, easy saunter of one that knew himself indestructible, doing absolutely nothing to hide his incredibly conspicuous presence. In fact, he was chewing on a drumstick and occasionally taking sips off a wineskin he had purchased with what little currency he had in a local dive of ill-repute. Some might call it overconfidence, but he had grown comfortable around the dangers of the world by clashing with them from an early age. Armed with nothing, he had become a champion fighter, a well known adventurer in many lands and had survived much in the process.

Ajax had, in fact, been one of the first to arrive in town and perhaps the first that the servant, a small man with the bearing of a mistreated pet, had directed towards the isolated house that spoke to him of riches and some measure of power. Not that he cared much about that. He was set in his ways after his harsh life, and his ways said that after a boring journey for a cryptic summons, from someone he knew nothing about to boot, he had to eat and drink. Then it would be business time, unless more merriment was to be found from the host. They could wait, and chances were they needed him more than he needed them.

He wondered not how they had found him for he was a very easy man to find, no matter where he went. Tall, muscular, obviously foreign, lover of revelry and incredibly dangerous when upset, it was a matter of following the rumors and the trail of havok that typically accompanied him. Whether he consciously tried to call attention to himself or not, few could say. But he was quite certain that anyone that needed anything dead and had heard of him would seek him out, as had happened plenty before. And if anyone sought to set a trap for him in a strange continent he had only recently arrived to, well, it was their problem.

And so, taking his time and taking stock of the village, the kind of large and fairly miserable settlement with little to see that he had spent more days than he cared to count in, he made his way to the house following the given path, soon crossing the open outer gate. Whether he saw the hooded figure trying to remain as unnoticed as possible in a place with few spots to hide none could say and he simply wouldn't care. Few had his grit, after all, he was used to it. Thinking nothing of it, he took the door knocker in hand and loudly banged on the wooden inner gate. A couple times too many and a bit too hard.