Coster sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the fireplace in front of him, and the crackling fire within. This room, however small, and the identical one next to it which Lancer occupied, had cost them fifty septims. Considering they now had only a hundred between them, it was bad news.

Then again, I can hear the rain pour down from here. Maybe fifty's not that bad, he thought.

Ever since the sun had set a few hours ago, a terrible thunderstorm had appeared. Previously – sitting outside, on the terrace of the Lodestar Inn – he'd seen hundreds of men and women hurry up and down the streets in search of shelter. From all the varied uniforms and colours they wore, the flags they held (in a somewhat uninspired fashion), and languages they spoke, he knew they were the ones who'd been waiting to see the chieftain, now giving up on the notion in the face of the storm. From where he'd sat, he could see a few lanterns being lit up on the path to the fortress, however, and presumed some had chosen to brave the storm.

It had been cold whilst he sat outside as well. Lance had commented on that before he'd retired indoors. Coster had liked it, but – right now – the warmth in his room was god-sent. Too much exposure to the outside had ended up in Coster regretting ever sitting outside at all.

He looked to his right. The door on the right side of the wall there led out to the hallway (which in turn led to the common hall). On the left side of the wall, however, was a desk, the only furniture in the room other than the bed he sat on and the closet opposite.

He was in his smallclothes, contemplating whether or not to visit the lower segment of the Hold now or… sometime in the future.

Better risk it now than risk never having another chance. He got up and walked over to the desk. He'd wrapped most of his belongings within his green hooded cloak, so he had to remove them first and then take inventory on the desk. Theoretically speaking, the more I carry the more noise I'll make… what to take then? He could smell a roast being cooked in the common hall, and hear laughs and people talking. They seem to be having a merry time… maybe they won't notice me leave; but then – when I open the door – they'll hear the rain and thunder outside, won't they?... Will they care?... Will they even remember…?

On the desk were several items. His white shirt and matching, blue leather vest. His dark green cloak. His brown leather hat. His coal black pants. His pouch, carrying sixty-five septims. Some carrots, a leek; the inn had plenty of food left, thankfully, so he'd eaten well previously. Last, an incredibly thin shiv he'd smuggled in his boots, the boots that now lay in the corner. Coster and Lance had discussed the smuggling of weapons prior to starting on their journey to Dov. It was not disallowed to enter Dov bearing arms, but they were catalogued, and the pair did not wish anyone to suspect them of… well… anything… if I'm being honest…

…what to take?

He stripped himself of his smallclothes and placed them in the closet along with his leather vest and hat. Small chance of anyone coming in, but I'd rather they didn't see an unoccupied room with only these clothes and some vegetables. He put the rest of his clothes on, keeping the cloak with the fact the dark green colour might prove to better conceal him in darkness than the whiteness of the shirt in mind. He also took his shiv and a few septims, both of which he tucked in his boot. Fifteen pieces of gold, to be exact. The rest he placed in a drawer.

Placing his ear against the door, he stood, and listened. Nothing but the noises he'd heard coming from the common hall before. He opened the door and left his room. To his left, the way to the common hall. To his right, the rest of the Inn's rooms. He turned right and went past three rooms. Reaching the final room on the left, he knocked. After hearing a creak, a sigh, and footsteps approaching from inside the room, he saw the door open.

"Coster? What brings you here?" Lance said.

"I need your help. I've decided I'll be visiting the lower keep tonight." Looking to his left, at the common hall, and making sure there was no one in view of the hallway, he continued: "I hope I haven't woken you?"

"I left you on the terrace about… what… two hours ago? Saying I'll be heading inside for some sleep. What do you think? Ah… what do you need?"

"Aye… I'm sorry. I need you to… cause a distraction."

"A distraction?"

"Yes. I need you to get the attention of the people in the common hall, so no one notices my exit."

"Why?" Lance asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you suspicious of any of them?"

"Not necessarily, but there is no reason for anyone to know a cloaked figure exited the Lodestar Inn at night – in the middle of a thunderstorm – regardless of what events might take place later on tonight."

With yet another sigh, Lance agreed.

A few minutes later, Coster was sitting in the common hall, looking at the firepit in the middle. He sat far away from most people, but was very happy to see he did not particularly stand out, not only not being the only one with a cloak, but being among several armed and armored people that stood out a lot more than he did.

Lance then finally walked in. Producing a few septims from a pouch, he approached the bar and purchased a drink from the innkeeper. Having done so, he joined a semi-circle of men. They sported all kinds of weapons and armors, but no sigil, leading Coster to assume they were mercenaries of one or another kind. Good choice… Coster thought. He couldn't quite hear what they spoke about, but – before long – Lance was frowning at one of the men and speaking louder than before.

After a tiny, signaling glance at Coster, Lance got chest to chest with one of the mercenaries.

Coster knew to get up and reposition near the door, leaning on one of the hall's many supporting beams.

Lance started speaking even louder than before, yelling loudly enough for Coster to hear him say "That so, is it?"

A shove ensued, then even more yelling. A mercenary caught Lance's arm, but Lance pushed him away, and then threw himself on him.

Nice…

Some of the people in the hall started to approach Lance and the mercenaries, now fully engaged in a fistfight, but Coster knew it was his time. He noticed some of the men in the hall had already left the inn, and followed after them.

Once outside, on the terrace, he addressed one of them – a Nord wearing steel plate – in a friendly manner.

"Looks like a right mess in there, huh?"

"Damn right, and it's only gonna get worse. If they don't clear the hall before soon, we'll be hearing about a death or two tomorrow, I think. I'd suggest you keep clear of the Inn tonight, friend. That's what I'll be doing."

With that, the Nord stepped off the terrace, and – alongside many others who did not wish to get involved or witness the fight in the inn – headed off.

Coster– after having pulled up his hood – did the same, and started towards the entrance of the lower Hold.