Salim flinched at the mention of his failing. The roar of the bloodthirsty crowd deafened him, and he shuffled nervously in his place. The rope dug itself into his neck, somehow wrought painfully tight even for him. He was out one night, with a few elder monks in the tavern. They had run short on coin, and were already very deep in debt to the Vicaria City Mafia, so Salim, in his sleep addled brain, deduced that the church must have plenty of cash reserves in it's lower vaults. This, combined with the fact that any priest had access to the lower vaults, led Salim to the inevitable conclusion that the church was being weighed down by all those heavy metals and the best show of piety would be to relief the coffers of such burdens.

"Wait, my sir," he whispered to the executioner, just before his outstretched hand was about to reach the lever, sending all of them to an airless death. The next part of the plan is dependent upon the executioner being more corrupt than the preacher appeared to be. "Do you like being wealthy?" There was no response, but the hand did slowly retract from the lever. This was a good start. Salim looked over at the priest, who was being distracted by the man on the far right. Hearing no response from either the executioner or the preacher, he continued. "I have friends in very high places. Simply by not killing me, thus sparing you work, I will consequently owe you, and I always pay in untraceable cash. Interesting, yes?" Having said his part, Salim waited with bated breath for the executioner's response.