Koenig picked up a piece of the venison Hannah and Dietricha had been sharing, ignoring the utensils in favor of his dirty fingers. He took a bite and masticated noisily while waving to a waitress. The frumpy looking woman came over looking skeptical.

“Be a good lass and fetch us some bread and ale,” he instructed, making a broad sweep to indicate the table. He pinched her rump as she turned away and was rewarded with a venomous look. Hannah mouthed ‘put it on the watch’ over Koenig’s shoulder, delighted to get out of having to pay for her dinner.

“O’right,” Koenig continued, pausing to swallow a mouthful of chewed meat. He reached for one of the wine glasses to wash it down but both Hannah and Dietricha snatched their goblets away. Koenig gave them a wounded look and the picked up the bottle and took a drink from the neck.
 
“Oh where are my manners!?” he exclaimed, lowering the bottle and licking the last few dregs of wine from the top.

“It is a mystery,” Hannah put in dryly, draining her own goblet and waving to the overworked waitress to bring another bottle of claret.

“This ‘ere is Hannah Fischer, despite all appearances she’s a sharp one.” The compliment left Hannah to taken aback to frame an insult and Koenig plunged onwards into the verbal breach.

“Hannah, this is Sir Torm Kaufen..kriger..hemier…dorf?” Koenig stumbled onwards uncertainly, his grip on the Middenlander’s name clearly tenuous. “Lets say Sir Torm of the White Wolves.”
 
“Charmed,” Hannah put in, rolling her eyes at Koenig for Torm’s benefit in what she hoped was a comeradely fashion.
 
“And this is Mortess Dietricha who is also here for some reason,” Koenig put in with a pointed glance at Hannah who heroically refused to rise to the bait.

“Slow day in Morrs Garden,” the white haired priestess said demurely.

“Which leads us into how we don’t want it getting a lot bloody busier in Morr’s little patch of dirt,” Koenig segwayed neatly. He paused for a moment as the serving girl returned with four circular loaves of yeasty bread with a pot of churned butter and a trencher of pungently spiced stew. Hannah flicked her a gold Imperial which the woman snatched from the air, bit and made vanish into her bodice with a deftness that any duelist would be proud of.
 
“I think its fair to say that we are all aware that our devout Sigmarites and our fierce Ulrician’s are not exactly seeing eye to eye,” Koenig explained.

“Truly the Watch has its finger on the pulse of the city,” Hannah observed dryly, tearing into her bread and dipping a hunk of it into the savory stew. Koenig ignored the comment with regal disdain.

“Now for the tricky bit,” Koenig admitted, the jocular bruiser fading into the concerned watchman.

“I think someone is deliberately stirring the pot,” he confided, reaching into his jacket to produce two small press papers. One bore in large type, ‘Are Ulrician’s Loyal’, the other ‘Middenland Pushes for Secession’. Hannah leaned over to examine the crumpled flyer.

“Judging by the type they might have come off the same press,” Hannah observed. It was Koenig’s turn to feign astonishment.

“I didn’t know you could read Fischer, blimey and here I thought you spent all your time drinking and shooting people.”

“I’m branching out,” she admitted, lifting a flagon of ale to her lips.

“Unfortunately there are too many people in the watch that might come down one way or the other, so I need some people who are… neutral I suppose is the word, to look into it.”

“Hannah here knows everyone who is everyone in Altdorf on account of owing them all money,” Koenig explained. Hannah lifted her tankard in salute to a fair point.

“And because of recent … lets say theological opinions she has shared, neither side takes her too seriously.” Hannah blushed slightly at that hoping that Torm hadn’t yet heard of her drunken rant.

“Unfortunately, everyone who meets her is overcome with the immediate desire to murder her on account of the fact she cant seem to shut her oh so clever mouth. Sir Torm here, it can be hoped, can prevent such justifiable homicide.”

“Homicide? And he accuses me of reading?” Hannah stuck in, but Koenig plowed on.

“Sir Torm here can open doors with the Ulricians as well as stop some well meaning citizen from stoving in Hannah’s head with a paving stone. Between the two of you we might just be able to get to the bottom of this without burning down the capital,” the watch captain concluded, looking very somber at the prospect.

“Or worse.”