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<span class="mu-i">“All of us. And not just us, word is the Lorne boys and even the Suns are going to get a piece of the pie. And it don’t sound like there ain’t enough pie to go around. Our new employer, or co-employer I guess, has got a lot of coin to go around. I’m talkin’ deep purses, friend. Trust me.”</span> The hardbitten Cantônian mercenary leans in closer, demonstrating his skills in multitasking by scratching his arse with his left hand and letting out a fart at the same time. His right hand gratefully grasps the next tankard you hand him. <span class="mu-i">“Deep. Royal kinda deep.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“A lot of money to be made in a big campaign like the one your describing.”</span> You indicate enough interest for Percy to keep up his recruiting attempts, implying that you’d like to see action to work your way up the ranks. <span class="mu-i">“When are we talking?”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“Not right now at any rate. Pit, maybe not even this year. I got people in the Lornes who say they’ve got business in the Frozen Straits, somewhere up in the north past Fallavon.”</span> Far north Montbrun? That’s House Norwache territory. You make a mental note of that little intel nugget. It doesn’t seem connected to the Faction, at least so far as you can see. But it could prove useful to House Rabe, and if nothing else the truth of that claim would help cement the validity of the rest of this information. <span class="mu-i">“An’ I hear them Suns is still wrapped up in a bunch of contracts on the east coast.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“Pascae?”</span> The Crown Prince envisages a major campaign in the future. Not immediate, maybe not for years if the Free Company’s are being encouraged to wrap up their various contracts and recruit. But the where is critical. <span class="mu-i">“Would the Bastards be going there too?”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“Nah. Well, maybe yes. I shouldn’t be telling you this but there’s some big stink on in the big city right now, Port whatsit… Big payers are nervous, looking for a little muscle to keep the wolfs at the door, know what I’m saying?”</span> Percy shrugs and nearly slips off his stool. When he recovers his balance he is presently surprised to see another mug of ale placed before him. <span class="mu-i">“Oh you’re a gent right enough. Maybe we’ll *hic* dip our toe in if the pay is right. But nah, I reckon the big one is gonna be Eashterner than that. Way Easht...”</span>
A subtle warning chitter sounds as a well-dressed man brushes behind you. You glance over your shoulder and quickly look away. It’s the Captain-General Lorenzo of the Golden Suns, one of the few mercs present that you You’re surprised Lady Soutsworth recognised the scent from the Duke Pascae’s Ball. You begin to make your excuses to your informative drinking companion, but it seems Percy of Darbyshire has let the drink get the better of him. Many of the other Bastards are in a similar state of inebriation, none of them comment on your departure as you discretely head upstairs to your room and dwell on the revelations of tonight.
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