Three Virgins Fountain

[Horas]

A small fountain built to honor an ancient Sea Lord's daughters.

[Horas]

Quentyn and Bannen arrive, and begin asking around for Tyrone.

[The Stranger]

Near the fountain, they see a small line of people, all waiting in front of a small wooden table, with folding legs. Behind the table sits a small, wiry man, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties. Two bravos stand on either side of him. He is currently speaking to an older woman, with a bent back. She leans over to whisper to him, after which he hands the woman a small pouch.

[Horas]

Quentyn and Bannen get in line, waiting for the others to move out of the way.

[The Stranger]

The line moves quickly. Some times the man, who Quentyn at this point has come to assume is Tyrone hears the person whisper and gives them a bag of coin, or else he whispers to them, and gives them a bag of coin.

Eventually Quentyn and Bannen step up to the table. Tyrone looked up at the two "Sellswords" curiously,

"How may I help you?" He replied.

[Horas]

"You're Tyrone?" Quentyn asks. "Bec Waters," he indicates himself. "Bors Halberd," he jabs a thumb in Bannen's direction.

"Barkeep at Vic's Chance seemed to think you were hiring fighting men who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. That true?"

[The Stranger]

"That's certainly true. Now the question is to whether or not I should hire you. Your lack of honesty is a good sign that you are the kind of men who don't go blabbing to everyone they meet. So that," Tyrone emphasized with a stubby finger, "goes in the plus column. Although generally the type of men who do this sort of work, have a kind of desperation. They are not the kind of men who can afford to book ships to sail them directly from King's Landing to Braavos. And might book them to sail out again, without my job being completed. And that would be very distressing to me."

[Horas]

Quentyn grunts. "Truth is, Tyrone, we didn't take a ship all the way to this island just to ask you for a job. We heard there was a war being fought, and Braavos was paying well for swords. Guess not." He spits to the side. "But I'll tell you this. You can hire your desperate gutter weasels, or you can hire men who know how to kill. That's your choice."

Bannen looks bored, unable to understand the conversation. "Tell him I'm better than all of his men put together. I could kill any one of them in thirty seconds, tops. Say that in Braavosi."

Quentyn glances at Tyrone to see if the man understood Westerosi.

[The Stranger]

Tyrone gave no indication of understanding what Bannen said. In fact, he fails to look at the man at all.

"Gutter weasels? No," Tyrone chuckled, "I think not, although the image itself is most amusing."

[Horas]

Quentyn shrugs. "Not to insult the integrity of your, ah, organization, but men who are desperate usually aren't men who are skilled, in my experience. Now I don't know what sort of work you boys are doing exactly, but I suspect there's some sort of advantage to bringing in a couple of folks who don't have any ties in the city. Off the map, if you will."

[The Stranger]

"Ah... yes. You are quite right. Enough with gutter weasels, what I need is a gutter dragon," Tyrone said, giving Quentyn a knowing look.

"As you are not the kind of man who is need of gold and silver, let's discuss your fee for this bit of work. What DO you need?"

[Horas]

"Tell him I could kill any two of 'em at once. Maybe three. I bet that nervous little fucker on the left has never even stabbed anyone before," Bannen interjects again.

Quentyn ignores him. "Every man needs gold and silver," he grins easily, "But it isn't polite to haggle on the price right out on the street, now is it? I promise my price gets lower with every ale you feed me, and Bors tends to get quieter, so it's a double win."

[The Stranger]

"I do all my business here." Tyrone replied, "A busy city square is louder and harder to eavesdrop then a quiet alehouse, you may speak freely and no one will hear you. Provided of course, you speak relatively softly," he glanced at Bannen for the first time, as if just noticing the sound the man was making.

[Horas]

Quentyn considers that for a moment. The man was obviously well connected; Quentyn had not yet been in the city for a day, and already his disguise was blown. One of the ship's crew must have known who he was and reported to Tyrone, Quentyn decided. Even so, Quentyn did not drop the mannerisms of his disguise.

"We are looking for an old friend of ours, goes by the name of Tomas Thatcher, or at least he used to. You've heard of him, maybe? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, as we say in Westeros."

[The Stranger]

"I can indeed tell you what I know about this man, in exchange for doing this job. The name is Sarina Tregario. She is the eldest daughter of Lord Herod Tregario, who is the foremost investor in the Iron Bank. He loves his daughter dearly, and if something were to happen to her, he would be a broken man," Tyrone explained, "he adores her, and she is rarely permitted to leave the family manse..."