Getting Through Customs

In a shadowy corner of a bar, a lone man watched people with nervous eyes. He scanned the room, looking at each person in turn. True, he had only done so moments before. Nothing had changed since he last looked at everyone in the room. But he was nervous.

He had put up a notice some days ago looking for hired help. People who weren't afraid to do things a little off-the-book. That tended to attract unsavory folks. But he couldn't do it himself. He didn't like relying on complete strangers. But circumstances had forced his hand.

Lambert takes another drink. Just water, nothing alcoholic. The job was going to be tonight. He needed all the focus he could get. In a few hours it would be completely dark outside. That is when he and his hired help would move. He wished there wouldn't be any bloodshed. But he knew what they said about wishes, too.

They should be here soon. They knew who to look for. What to say. He shouldn't be so nervous, but the only thing that could soothe his nerves he wasn't drinking.

Alaine walked into the tavern's main room, pulling off the hood of her cloak as she looked around, making her armor visible, if not her weapons. Her cloak dripped onto the floor, soaking wet from the rain. But, considering the job, rain was probably a good thing. Erased pesky things like footprints -and- hampered visibility.

The mercenary walked to the bar and asked, "What's the strongest liquor you have?"

"Uh... You sure you want to try it? Green Faerie ain't for folks with light stomachs," the bartender warned her. He set down the glass he'd been polishing as he looked at the mercenary.

"Look, I've had anything and everything," Alaine said, smiling. "Spring of the Devil took eight shots to get me drunk. I think I can handle a little faerie drink."

"...If you insist, ma'am," he gave in, grabbing a scotch glass and conjuring three ice cubes. He then took a bottle with green liquid, filled the glass, and handed it to her.

Alaine paid the man, and then looked for her client, knowing him to be in the bar. She was correct, finding him in the corner. The swordswoman walked over to him and sat down at his booth. "Lambert Caulier, correct? My name's Alaine, and I'm here about the job," she whispered, just as a clash of thunder boomed.

That was a good trick with the lightning. Almost like she planned the whole thing out. But that was silly. Nature was a capricious thing. Unless she had a mage outside, it was unlikely-

Wait, why was he even thinking about this? He was over-analyzing the situation. "That I am." Lambert said to the green tonic drinker. He was a little concerned she was drinking before a job. That could have negative effects going forward. "Is it customary to drink before a job?" He was honestly curious. He had no knowledge of what it meant to be a mercenary. Perhaps it was an accepted practice.

Lambert's eyes wandered through the bar again. Did only one person respond to his request? One would... suffice, he supposed. But he hoped for more. His brow furrowed as though he were deep in thought. Or maybe he was just trying to get a good look at a trio of lasses at the bar counter.

Baron decided that enough time had passes in hiding... mostly because it was too damn hot with his cloak on, which he decided to remove the hood of from his head. Maybe it was time for a vacation sometime soon, to go somewhere like Ylisse or someplace hot like Plegia and just stay for a few months, at least to increase his durability in heat. But on second thought, that would make him more susceptible to the cold of Regna Ferox. No matter, it was time that he look for whoever hired him.

Well, whoever hired someone to hire Baron would be more accurate. Baron really was curious about all of the mercenary-like jobs he was getting, but he wasn't bothered too much. As tensions between countries got higher, people became more desperate for those who could do the job right, which happened to be Baron. As cursory as his sweep of the room was, Baron didn't need any help in finding his client. He continuously looked around the room cautiously and quickly, as if he seemed on edge and frightened. That happened to be a small part of the real reason that Baron noticed them as fast as he did, and with a smirk he stood from his stool. He stretched his back and loosened his pants a little; sitting for a very long time tended to grow uncomfortable and felt awkward when you stood up.

Baron walked toward the familiar face, and almost seemed to have conjured himself from the shadows when he put his arm on her shoulder. "Well well, fancy meeting you here," Baron whispered, chuckling a little.

Maggie slunk into the bar, feeling rather displeased with the world. Not only had she been all but abandoned by the mercenary company that she had traveled across the country with, but now, it was also raining. That was inconvenient. Back at home, in such weather, Maggie would never have considered going on a hunt this night unless things were unusually desperate. Not only was it remarkably unpleasant to walk through (the young woman could already feel the moisture trying to soak into the thick, heavy fabric), it'd likely lessen her talents with her bow considerably if this 'job' took place outside.

Speaking of the job... the details had been rather vague. Sketchy. And, for that matter, she couldn't even be sure she knew all of the specifications of it correctly - as she couldn't read, Maggie had gotten a local to take care of that for her. She wasn't really interested in fighting Ylissian soldiers, corrupt border-guards or not, but the application had mentioned being 'adept at avoiding fights.' That was something she was good at - years of hunting experience had graced her with a stealthy step.

Inside the bar, she sat on one of the many stools that lined it. Declining anything but water, she looked around the room, her eyes settling on a rag-tag group of people in one of the corners. The other patrons seemed to be locals, while they had a different look about them. Of course she could be just making assumptions, but, Maggie had something of a gut feeling on this, and those usually turned out right.

She'd wait to approach those three - just to make sure of who they were. Maggie didn't fancy making a fool of herself if they turned out to be the wrong people.

Alaine jumped, nearly coughing some absinthe onto the table. "Shit!" she choked, coughing some of the strong liquor out of her nose. However, the mercenary knew who it was. The assassin who helped her with those sods in that old fort. "I will stab you... next time you... surprise me when I'm... drinking!" she sputtered, coughing as she spoke. At last, the drink was out, and Alaine patted Baron's hand. "Yes yes, I see you, too," Alaine greeted him, "Baron. Have a seat." Alaine scooted down on the booth's bench.

The mercenary drank again, and then answered her client's question. "My custom. One hard drink, most often small, like a shot or something on the rocks, before every job. If I decide I want more after the job, that's just me."

'If there was ever any proof of human greed being the same everywhere, that'd be it.' Nekirom hid his irritation behind a tight-jawed smile. It hadn't been easy keeping his cool when both sides of the border had chosen to deny passage, especially when the two fellows he'd been working with had even less patience and acceptance for military corruption than he did, but Nekirom had managed to drag all three of them away from the border guards before any punches could get thrown around.

Instead of starting a fight, he'd found a job offer hanging from a notice board, which thankfully lead to a tavern of all places. A tavern was a good place for his men; good for them to drink their anger away and vent their frustrations on drunkards and willing women. The fact that their employer was supposed to be slumming around in the building was just a plus.

"Oi, you two get started without me." Nekirom pointed them to the bartender with a wave of his hand. They each had their own coinpurses, and knew not to go too overboard. He eyed the room until he spied a woman, dark-haired and freckled, with her eyes focused on a single table in the corner of the room. Perfect. "Just keeps your eyes and ears open."

He nodded to their replies and started over towards the group of three in the corner, his fist tight on the copy of the notice he'd scribbled down from the notice board. A tall, black-haired man in standard night-and-daggers garb, next to an armored redhead woman in a cloak, with the both of them in the line of thin, redheaded man, likely the employer considering the physiques of the other two. He stepped up the table, veering to the side of the dagger-man and cloaked woman, taking up the other half of the corner's space with his armored form.

"Take it you're Caulier, then?" Nekirom fished into his pocket and dropped his copy of the notice on the table. He eyed the other two at the table, taking in their faces as best he could, then turned back to the thin man. "Two of mine and me, at your gold's beckon. Though, if you're needing to get past those damn border-men, getting through will cost extra."

"Indeed I am." Lambert gestured for the armored man to take a seat. Another man appeared, for lack of a better word. He seemed to know the woman, which was nice for him. If his hired goons knew each other, then they would have a better chance of getting along with each other.

"I'm a little surprised I got this many. The flyer was a little vague, to say the least." Lambert rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "If this is everyone, then I think I'll begin discussions of the job. But first, introductions. If we are to be working together, then we should be cordial."

"As you know, I'm Lamber Caulier. I am a merchant by trade. When crossing the border into Plegia, my goods were seized by the border patrol. Even worse, they sent me back here, to Ylisse. Now I cannot cross the border at all! Without any help from the border patrol, you are my last resort." Lambert leaned back in his seat. "Now, obviously, I have no means to pay you at the moment. Which is why you may take whatever your hands lay upon when we raid the seized goods storage of both nations."

Lambert was silent for a moment. "Excepting body parts." He murmured, glancing at Alaine. "Not going to make that mistake..."

Maggie listened, from her position at the bar, as the man named Caulier explained the job and introduced himself. It was good that he seemed friendly enough. She wasn't that interested in working for some sort of taskmaster for any length of time, but, she didn't approve of what seemed to be the way he was intending to pay them. Stealing goods? The young woman had been sympathetic to his plight when she had heard that he himself was a merchant, but to think he'd freely offer them the cargo of other people who had likely been in the same situation... That put a bad taste in her mouth.

Maybe he wasn't the sort of person Maggie wanted to be working for. But, what real choice did she have? Perhaps, if she went along with the crew, she'd be able to persuade him and the other mercenaries not to ruin the fortunes of some unrelated people. And if not, well... she would figure something else out along the way.

She finished her glass of water, quietly thanked the innkeeper, and approached the table. "I'm Maggie Markin," she spoke slowly, so as to not make her rural accent as prevalent as it would be otherwise (people were judged for that, sometimes, she had discovered). "I'm here for the job too."

Alaine noticed the two newcomers to the little booth gathering. Let me see, me, Baron, this armored guy, two others, and this Maggie person, and it'll be six of us. Seven if I count our employer. Alaine looked around, noticing two men in armor at the bar, downing their tankards like they depended on it. Of course, the tankards were about gallon-sized, so it wasn't all immediately down their gullets. If they continued like that, however, they would be getting mighty drunk mighty soon.

"Hey, you, what'syourname in armor, those two yours?" She gestured at Nekirom's men with her thumb over her shoulder. She then turned to Maggie and said, "Nice to meet you, Maggie. I'm Alaine."

Nekirom turned and snorted at the sight of his men well on their way to getting drunk, but didn't call to stop them. They knew their own responsibilities, as well as the consequences if their tongues or arms got too loose. Careless words and careless swords both served to bring about the same end; execution delivered personally from his own axes for having the gall to put their mission at risk.

"Nekirom." He offered to the table, following the women's introductions. "And job accepted. Mine need to be gettin' down east anyway."

Baron felt weird for having been hired to be hired, but he quickly rubbed away the thought. "It may be best that you don't know me, although one of you happens to know already." It was only safe, because people that knew him sometimes ran the risk of horrible fates if they were not strong enough to fight them. Regardless, he crossed his arms, sat back, and waited for the group to shove off.

"Alright, I'll just call you Bart." Lambert said after the Baron had refused to give his name. Ordinarily he'd call him something silly or outrageous, but since this was a business relationship he decided to hold back on that sort of thing. "With that out of the way, I'd like to direct your attention to those three fine women I've been ogling all night."

Lambert pointed toward the bar counter. On one end were three fine women dressed in standard Ylisse pegasus knight attire. It wasn't unusual for the border guard to pop in for a drink after-hours, so their presence was not a strange sight. "I've been doing some snooping, you see. Turns out their captain is of the particularly shady sort. She's been communicating with someone on the Plegian border guard and they occasionally meet to parley and barter goods. Goods they've seized from hard-working people like me."

"The basic plan is this. Those three girls still need to grab all the bartering goods from storage. So, simply, we'll tail them. When they leave, we can raid the storage. Then follow them to the exchange, lay low for a bit, then follow the Plegians back. When they're done securing their stuff, we go in and take it. Pretty simple, really. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one, Caulier." Nekirom leaned back in his chair and glared over at the Ylissean knights. They were sprightly little things, really; they probably had to ride Ylisse's scrawny, prettier-than-dangerous pegasi because they'd be ineffective warriors in any other form. One of them glanced his way; he gave her a practiced appreciated look up and down, ensuring she didn't keep looking at him.

"Amateurs." Nekirom snorted, then turned back to the table. "What's the call on kills? Lay out yer rules on behavior 'fore we get worked up."

"Well..." Lambert thought about it for a bit. "Preferably, I'd like to avoid fighting. Not very good at it myself, which is why you guys are my insurance. If things go bad, you'll be there to protect me."

"Now, if you have some moral qualms with killing... first, I gotta say you're in the wrong business. Otherwise, I don't know... just disable them or something? Actually, it would be pretty funny is the patrols found a bunch of unconscious Plegians and Ylisse tied up together!" Lambert chuckled a bit.

Maggie nodded at Alaine and Nekirom. They seemed like serviceable people - friendly enough, even if Maggie didn't really approve of drinking before work. The other man, meanwhile, with the long black hair was much less more unsettling. What kind of a man refused to give his name to his fellow coworkers? Maggie gave him a looking over while Lambert answered Nekirom's question. She'd have to keep an eye on that one.

"How are we to follow them to their exchange if we're to raid their stocks after they leave for it?" she asked, speaking slowly and carefully. She supposed she could track them, as long as they didn't make use of their pegasi and fly to their meeting. Maggie couldn't really track flying horses unless they were molting. If pegasi molted. Maggie wasn't really certain - she didn't have much experience with the beasts.

"They aren't departing directly from their partly ill-gotten stock room." Lambert clarified. "It would look pretty suspicious if there was a cart full of confiscated things sitting out there, you know." They would just have to play it by ear. Even if they did lose the Ylissans, it shouldn't be too hard to track a cart. "Either way, alerting the guard will screw this whole plan over, so I don't plan on staying there longer than necessary."

"Any other questions? If you must know anything, now is the best time for me to answer."

"I'm good. Job's simple enough," Alaine said, finishing her absinthe and setting the glass down. She looked none the worse for wear even though it was the second most powerful alcohol she had ever tasted. The mercenary eyed the pegasus knights, smiled, and then asked, "When do we start?"