Morn
The assassin hated Xavier, at least the other one had shown strength, this man simply negotiated the conversation. Besides, it was obvious there was a problem with the Callitrix, other wise he would be talking to Aaron.
Sighing, Morn strode out of the Hall, the boys specifications had irritated him, half because he knew he'd done a shabby job and half because no one criticized Morn, those who did were dead.
He would get back somehow.
The Exile village was nothing special, not much more than a large town ringed by wooden spikes. In the east corner lay the market place, were the merchants boasted their wares. The Empire had banned trade here, but it hardly stopped the constant flow of traders. To the west, the Exiles built their homes, a large cluster of strong stone and wooden houses, built to weather the frequent blizzards. Finally, there was the Hall, accompanied by a scattering of Taverns and Inns, this served as the meeting place and residency of the Exile politicians for indeed the Exiles needed a political presence, more so now than ever.
Morn swept into a nearby Inn, somewhat eager to get out of the cold. Xavier said he would have a job for him, well, he couldn't wait, Morn had relatively nothing to do in the village other than visit the traveling brawlers, often taking part in the competition. Sadly, the brawlers had just left, leaving Morn to sit in the Taverns, watching, listening.
It was going to be a long day.
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