Entering the crowded tavern, it took a massive degree of self restraint for the nobleman not to sneer or stare at the motley assortment of cut-throats and thieves gathered. Keeping his movements as passive as possible he made his way to the bar, his eyes alert to the money changing hands in dark corners, threats of violence exchanged around the fireside. The barman glanced up at him and smiled, an old scar across his lips making for a gruesome sight. His voice proved as uncouth and abrasive as his surroundings.
“How ken I help ya m’lord?” The nobleman responded to the question quietly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword
“I am in need of a cloak, for someone at the palace” the barman nodded cheerfully and thumbed at a door near the back of the room
“Talk t’ the brothers” The nobleman forced his way through the crowd and slipped through the door, passing into a dim and silent room. The nobleman barely had time to look around the room before he was grabbed from behind.