Hannah heaved a put upon sigh as Koenig dropped the coins in front of the knight. After all they had been through together! The watch Captain stood up, leaning on his scarred knuckles and making the table creak alarmingly. His craggy face was, for once, deadly serious.

“Do me a fava, try not to muck this up and get ‘alf the city burned down around our ears.” and with that he was gone. Hannah reached for the gold but Torm, without hurrying, picked up the purse and tucked it into his armor. Not very sporting.
 
“What we really should do is lay low till morning, try not to touch off any trouble,” Hannah put in hopefully. Neither Torm nor Dietricha looked particularly convinced. 
 
“Fine,” Hannah sighed resignedly, knocking back the last of her wine and flipping the serving girl a coin that fetched her a smile.

“But we need to make a stop first.”
 
The garret on Rose Street was a small attic room atop a pawn broker. The trio were greeted at the door by Olev, an evil looking Kislivite who sometimes worked as a bouncer. He was an old friend of the owner and obviously had decided to spend his night making sure that any looting was kept away from Salvia’ Sundries. 
“You bring problem,” he said sulkily as he glared at Torm.

“No problem, just have to run up to my room and get a few things,” Hannah explained patiently.

“If anyone see wolf, make problem,” Olev continued stubbornly.

“And the longer we stand out here in the street the more likely that someone will see him,” Hannah continued. Olev was a little simple, but he had a good heart.

“Ok, ok,” he huffed and pulled open the door. Hannah lead her companions up a set of rickety stairs to her room. It was a cramped but clean space. A bed, a battered desk, a cupboard and some shelves with a few books and nick nacks. A small ceramic furnace, just a couple of nested bowls for melting lead sat in one corner. Its chief attraction was its view. Due to various accidents of geography Salvia’s sundry was the highest building above the long slop down to Docklands. Moonlight glinted on hundreds of tile roofs and the glow of hearth fires flickered in the tops of chimneys. The Reik itself was a distant silver strip, its edges deformed by docks and wharves. 
 
“It’s gorgeous,” Dietricha exclaimed, gazing out over the tableau of Altdorf by night. She reached in and lifted a wine decanter, finding it to her mild surprise, to be filled with lead shavings.

“Well not exactly the circumstances I was hoping to bring you here under,” Hannah muttered as she stepped across the threshold, bending down to pick up up a handful of letters, several marked with wax seals, that had been slipped under the door. She deposited them on the desk and then bent down and dragged a heavy chest from beneath her bed. It was finer than anything else she owned dark wood inbuilt with a heavy dwarven lock. She produced a key and unlocked it, lifting the lid and fossicking about inside. One by one she produced four heavy pistols, simple things but well made, placing each on the bed. Next came a long belt of dull leather, festooned with loops and buckles. Finally she took a powder horn from the chest and methodically added a pinch of powder to the frisson of each pistol before snapping them closed.


"Now I'm ready," she declared, tucking each of the pistols into its holster before turning to the big Middenlander.

"What do you think Sir Knight? Ready to go poking around dark streets filled with blood thirsty fanatics?"