Footman
Tycondrius and Zenon warily eyed the human that approached them, a young boy wearing vibrantly-colored clothing. A greeter of sorts?
The boy revealed a sleazy grin of crooked teeth, "How about I give you a tour of the place! See the sights! Live the history that is Port City Silva! Just 8 silver slugs, gentle sirs!"
Tycon looked around the busy main road, merchant wagons and various peoples walking by. No one was paying their group any special attention. He did notice a few street performers... along with more than a few people carefully watching the crowd-- pickpockets, likely.
He surmised that the young person who approached them preyed on travelers. But would he be useful or was he merely another street thief?
Zenon crossed his arms, "Well, 8 silver doesn't sound so bad..."
Tycon glared at his companion. 8 silver? That was a brazen robbery. And the sun was bright in the sky, the child's con clear to see.