Vern stomped down the stairs to the storage space on the [i]Mountaintaker[/i] which housed, among the assorting things any military ship had in stock, the Falcons. They were unusual airships, of a kind that weren't seen anywhere else, small and easily carried on the larger vessel. The storage was mostly abandoned, except for one man standing next to the prepped Falcon that Vern was meaning to commandeer. It was the most powerful man in the empire, as of six hours ago. 

"My Lord Steward," Vern managed to keep his voice calm. The Nectar kept his mind working a step ahead, keeping him from making a fool of himself. But it seemed Steward Marcus was equally prepared. 

"Dispense," he said simply, holding a hand up. "You're going after Yllicus. Just remember where your loyalties lie... and take this," he held out a package wrapped in oilcloth as he walked to the stairs. Vern took it and watched the Steward ascend. How did he know? Vern could make a few guesses. Spies, whether in the tavern, or here in the ship. Maybe he just guessed. As Vern stepped onto the Falcon, he unwrapped the cloth, and saw the shimmering handle of a sword...