43 2/3

"Ah, but I do have one more gift." Holding up one hand, he'd turn it about to show his palm and the back of his hand before waving his fingers lightly. With a flick of his wrist, he closed his hand suddenly and then open it to reveal a gold coin to the girl.

"You did magic! Also…that's a gold dragon, we could buy…anything with that!" She'd glance at the coin and the old man's face, who'd nod show she could take it. Snatching the coin, she'd flip it about in her little hands, rubbing the worn markings across it.

"Right there you hold the real power of Lords and Kings, young Merry." Zarin chuckled as he'd carefully lift her off his lap and to stand on the ground. "Guard that coin closely for the day you'll need it."

"I will uncle Zarin!" She'd give a big thankful hug to him before glancing around to look for Doric, yet the knight had seemingly slipped away when she was busy with the alchemist. "Where did he go?"

"Ser Doric has traveled long on foot, little one." Marcus explained as he'd ruffle her messy hair lightly with one hand. "He needs rest and is quite shy despite his size."

The girl frowned, seeming disappointed. "Can I see him later?" A sudden idea came to mind as she'd unwrap the honey nut treat. With a little effort, she broke off a piece and handed it to her father. "Can you at least give this to him? Unless he…has an oath to not eat treats…"

"Heh, doubt he has taken one of those. I'll be sure to give it to him during the meeting." He promised as he took the piece from her.

Beaming, she'd give a happy hug to her father before Sandra moved up beside her. "Enough excitement for the night. Time, we get your room cleaned up before bed."

Merry gave a small nod before taking her mother's hand, letting her guide her to back to her own room, though she'd give a parting wave to everyone.

Ogatto chuckled after Sandra and her daughter were gone. "Nice to see such innocence. Never thought I'd see you play the family 'uncle', Zarin."

"I'm not that cold and heartless Ogatto." The old man scoffed as he'd pace around the bar, picking up his drink which he had set aside. "I did wish to have kids of my own. Alas…my work has kept that future from me."

"You…being a family man?" The Dothraki laughed deeply before taking a drink from his mug. "I can't see that from you, considering how ruthless you can be."

"Life has taught us all to be that way…why else did I pick everyone to be a Grim." Zarin calmly stated, the chilling fact making the Dothraki silent. "Yet philosophy and morality can debated later…we do have a meeting to start."

"We're still missing two." Marcus muttered. "I'd prefer that 'he' was excluded though…"

"Oh how touching of you Marcus." A faint voice chuckled out, making the Northerner glance about to see a dark cloaked man lodged back in one of the nearby booths. The cloak hood was pulled low over the man's head, though he tilted his head to just reveal his piercing green eyes. The man was clean shaven, revealing that along his left jaw and cheek there was deep long scarring, rough as if his face had been dashed across jagged rocks. It deformed his face slightly, giving it a sunken look to a degree, though it didn't muddle his speech in the slightest. The scarred man was at least into his early thirties, though his faded wound made him look slightly older. He was dressed in dark colored leathers, light agile armor suitable for his discrete line of work considering his slim toned build. Laid across the table was a black wooden bow and a quiver full of wicked barbed arrows. "I hope you didn't mind me lurking about. Didn't want to ruin the moment for your kid." He chuckled as he'd kick his boots up onto the table, stretching his body out in his seat.

"When did you get here?" Marcus questioned in annoyance, while Garm gave a warning snarl to him.

The Shadow just shrugged. "You should have noticed me sooner really. Seems you and your pet are getting soft over the years." His gaze looked over to Zarin. "Is there any point in keeping him around?"

For a moment, Marcus seemed ready to snap out, Zarin raising a hand up to silence the Northerner. "Marcus was the first of us and I trust him above all else. You will show him respect Shadow."

The assassin bowed his head slightly, no doubt to hide his annoyed expression. "As you wish." Shifting up, he'd get up from his seat in one fluid movement, along with snatching up his laid-out weapons with one hand. "So where is our last Grim? Is she trying to arrive fashionably late as always?"

"Last I spoke with Snake; she had gone south to Dorne for personal matters and for a special assignment." Zarin answered back. "If my sources are correct though, she has been seen around King's Landing not long before Lord Stark's fateful trial, so she'll have found my message for this meeting." With a small shrug, he'd move towards one of the long tables set in the middle of the hall. "For now, we'll begin once Doric has taken care of his personal needs."

"Ugh…I swear if he spends the next hour praying to the bloody Seven." The Shadow grumbled as he'd follow the alchemist to the chosen table, picking out a chair which he leaned back in before kicking his feet up onto the table like before.

"We all have our habits Shadow. The knight's traditions may seem pointless to you and me, but you have to respect his dedication to them along with the fact he's unwavering in battle." Ogatto commented, picking a seat across from the assassin.

The Shadow gave a grunt, seeming disinterested on the topic already as he'd take out a specialized sharpening knife and a small pouch which he set on the table. Digging into it, he'd take out an arrowhead which he'd start to sharpen, along with shaping serrated grooves as well. This just showed one of the assassin's first steps in creating his cruel and lethal weapons.

Marcus took a seat beside Ogatto while Zarin took his place at the table end to overlook everyone. Garm moved to lay between the Northerner and Dothraki, the Blood Rider having one hand go down to scratch the half-wolf's head. The alchemist riffled through his pack, taking out his black leather-bound journal, a large detailed map of Westeros and the coast of Essos along with a stack of tied up papers. By now Sandra had returned from tucking Merry to bed, setting out the group's drinks and dinner. She did look to the Shadow who only glanced at her, giving him a cold look showing she didn't welcome his company. The assassin didn't seem to care the slightest though, continuing shaping his arrowheads.

"So how was the road northward?" Marcus questioned Ogatto have a moment of silence. "I take you were ahead of the Lannister soldiers."

"Pretty much. We could see Lannister forces already marching in when we took some time to scout. Seems the 'Lord Regent' has been quick to get his forces entrenched in, though he'll no doubt be getting the Riverland Lords on edge."

"Lord Tywin knows he's outnumbered…but considering his history, he no doubt has a solid plan in mind to even the odds."

"So who are you betting on winning?"

"Heh…would it be wrong that I favor the North? You know how my people get when someone pisses us off."

Ogatto gave a deep laugh and nodded in agreement. "Having seen how you fight…I can say you make a fair point."

"This war won't be that simple friends, especially with us doing our work in the background." Zarin muttered, the old man busy writing in his journal. "This is the right time…the moment all of us have been waiting for."

Before anything could said, a door slammed from the guest rooms, followed by the deep step of Doric. The knight walked into the hall, still fully dressed in that heavy armor as he'd move for the table. He did pause though to grab one of the larger chairs set around, made of thick wood and reinforced with metal even. Setting it down to be beside the Shadow, he'd sit down which drew a low creak from the chair, showing even it strained under his weight. There was a short pause as all gazes were on Doric who'd glance over to Zarin.

"Shall we begin?" He simply asked.

The alchemist nodded before he'd slide over the pile of sheets, which on closer inspection were official notices ranging from the public declarations Lord Eddard had given, listed bounties and official decrees from the last few weeks. "First, a review of the last month. For one I will be open to the fact that I and Ogatto were involved on the attack on the late King Robert a month ago during his hunt."

"Heard about that one." Marcus muttered. "The notices claimed it was 'Targaryen loyalists' who were striking out in the name of Daenerys and Viserys."

"Be hard to plan such a move for the brother considering he's been dead for quite a while." Doric remarked, drawing curious looks from the others. "Last I heard he threatened his sister in Vaes Dothrak, drew a sword before Khal Drogo himself."

Ogatto grinned at the news. "Oh this is going to be good. Drogo always was creative with his executions."

"From what I heard, Viserys got the crown he wanted…being a pot full melted gold poured on his head."

The Blood Rider laughed out while the Shadow chuckled a bit in sadistic amusement. "Serves the entitled brat. Bet everyone wanted him dead." The assassin muttered.

"One Targaryen left at least." Marcus muttered, showing he too had little love for the exiled royals.

"An interesting bit of news." Zarin crossed a name out in his journal before writing a bit more. "What else is there to share?"

"When I was leaving there had been news that Khal Drogo had died." Doric answered back.

"No! How…how did that happen!?" Ogatto snapped out, standing up suddenly from his seat. "There is no one in all of Essos who could best Drogo!"

The Shadow had a curious look in his eyes, having never seen the Blood Rider react in such a way. "What, were you two tentmates or something?" He jested.

"I was one of his Blood Riders if you have forgotten." The Dothraki growled, making that mocking look quickly fade from the assassin. "Even before he had become a Khal, I rode loyally with him and saw just how unmatched he was in battle."

"From what I had heard he had gotten an infected wound, though how that happened I do not know. It was not properly treated and thus he died. His horde had disbanded, and his wife Daenerys disappeared into the Red Wastes."

Ogatto trembled in anger, growling in frustration as he'd slam both fists to the table and mutter in Dothraki. Everyone but Zarin was confused over what he was saying, but the alchemist spoke up.

"You can calm yourself Ogatto." The old man calmly spoke.

The Dothraki gave a sharp look to the alchemist, almost seeming ready to lash out at him. "You don't understand. He was my people's greatest potential…having the cunning and open mind to bring us to a new era!"

"Then why did he abandon you then?" Zarin calmly stated, making the Dothraki's expression of anger quickly fade.

"It is not that simple."

"I can imagine that friend." Marcus muttered back, making the tribal warrior glance to him. "You've never told me the full story of your past despite all our years working together. Perhaps it's time to tell it to us."

"Oh this is going to be good." The Shadow chuckled.

Ogatto was silent, fingers tapping across the tabletop tensely. Zarin would give a deep sigh and spoke up. "While it would be good for all of us to share our pasts openly, we can't let that distract right now." The calmly spoke out. "Let's save our stories for another time."

After a moment, the Dothraki gave a short nod of agreement before sitting down, giving a sigh as he'd calm down for now.

"Ugh…spoil sport…" The Shadow grumbled before resuming his arrow sharpening.

"So going back on the opening topic, I have to ask who hired you to kill the king?" Marcus questioned, getting the meeting back on track.

"Five gold dragons on Queen Cersei." The Shadow quickly threw out with a smirk, drawing a few glances. "What? If there is anyone who has more reason to get fat Robert murdered, it'd be her."

"If we were betting, you'd be right Shadow, Cersei Lannister hired us using a squire from her family. The assassination had to be set up to look like a Targaryen loyalist attack during his hunt, something to pin on the two over in Essos. Course that meant having to get a bunch of amateur sellswords instead of some professionals considering we had only a few days before the hunt."

"Why did you take the request then? Seemed below your usual standards." Marcus questioned. "Out of all of us I know you disliked Robert the most, yet even you wouldn't make an attempt without being certain you'd succeed."

Zarin gave a small chilling grin before nodding. "You'd be right. If I had wanted Robert dead that day it would have been simple to just blowing up his tent or slipping poison into his wine. Cersei thought she was being cunning with her plan…so short sighted." The old man had one hand stroke along his short beard. "What interested me though was a secondary request she had, killing Geralt of Rivia."

"The Witcher, Westeros newest most wanted?" The Shadow had a greedy look hint his eyes as he'd draw out a wanted poster, with a roughly accurate drawing of the scarred warrior. "Wanted dead or alive for…well…practically every crime I can think of. Course what makes this bounty worthwhile is the twenty thousand gold dragons."

"Seven, that's a fortune indeed." Marcus muttered.

"Considering that grand escape from King's Landing and breaking that brat's hand, I'm surprised it isn't more." The Shadow chuckled a bit. "Anyway, I take Geralt made your assassination attempt complicated?"

Zarin nodded in response before he'd detail the events of the attack, from how they had been signaled by the Lannister squire, to wiping out the guards with a barrage of arrows and the following battle. Considering his honed memory, Zarin had no trouble detailed every aspect of Geralt's adaptive sword technique and other weapons such as bombs much like his own.

"I knew the best chance to…eliminating him was to get him into a situation where his guard be down. Lucky, the sellswords were fearful enough to surrender, giving me a perfect chance to throw a bomb between them."

"Obviously that didn't work." Marcus remarked. "But I know you never miss when it comes to using your explosives and other concoctions effectively, so this Geralt must've some trick to survive."

"More than just a trick really." Zarin paused as he'd look over at his fellow Grims. "Tell me, do you believe in the possibility of magic?"

"I've seen my mix of wisemen, witches and warlocks in Essos. Most are frauds who know how to fool people with the same knowledge you have…though at times I've seen some do unexplainable if minor things." Ogatto answered. "One group I can say has true power be the Faceless Men, though perhaps their perfect and deadly reputation makes them seem that way."

Doric simply nodded in agreement with the Dothraki's answer, though said nothing.

"Heh, seem my share of so-called mages and the like, all claiming to be untouchable. Turns out they aren't, at least when I'm one testing them." The Shadow darkly chuckled.

Soon all gazes were on Marcus who was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed as he was deep in thought. "I'm not a superstitious man, despite what most think of Northerners. Between the myths of the Old Gods and the oddities I've seen in Essos…" He'd shrug. "Anything is possible. However I only trust what I can see with my own two eyes."

Zarin nodded, seeming pleased hearing his companions' opinions. "Then I will admit, this Witcher has some real magical power about him. Before the explosion I saw a him flex his fingers in a certain manner before a shimmer of light showed around him. Whatever it was shielded him from the blast which should have ripped him apart like the sellswords. The blast still flung him far, doing little more than bruising him. In a few moments he was back on his feet and seemed only winded."

"Seems more like luck was on his side that day." The Shadow remarked, seeming to let his arrogant habits get the better of him.

"Careful Shadow. Talk that foolish to our leader and he'll have to add another scar to what's left of your face." A smooth female voice spoke, her tone having an exotic accent hinting her words. All gazes looked in that direction to see their final guest, a lone slender figure dressed in a tanned wrap around cloak of Dornish style standing in the shadowy door way of the inn.

"Ugh…why does half the group need to sneak in. Ever heard of knocking?" Marcus grumbled in a guff jest.

The woman gave a charming chuckle hearing the innkeeper's joke before walking out into the light. Her skin was revealed to be a deep olive color, an obvious sign of her being from the exotic kingdom of the far south. Sliding back her hood, letting the group see her short cut black hair and her fair face fully. She was a woman nearing her thirties, face having sharply shaped jawline and nose, giving her a graceful appearance. There were faint hints of a scar at the lower right of her jaw and cheek, the skin being a lightly color there, though it did little to mar her beauty. What was most striking were her deep dark blue eyes, making her gaze seem nearly black in color. Under that cloak, she wore a fine set of scale like leather armor, custom fitted to shape over her slender figure and alluring curves. While the chest piece was short sleeved, she had plain colored silken clothing underneath for comfort and light protection. It was easy to tell that she was at peak fitness for her age, her body toned to have the perfect balance of strength and agility. In her right hand, she carried a long staff wrapped completely in tanned leather, though the pointed end hinted it wasn't a normal walking stick.

"We live dangerous lives, good Marcus. Even here I had to consider the possibility of a trap." The Dornish woman answered back, approaching the Northerner before gently caressing his bearded cheek. "Still, it is nice to see you after so many years…seeing all of you in fact."

Ogatto gave a small chuckle as he'd get up from his seat and move towards the woman, his strong arms wrapping around her waist to draw her close against him. "Hmm, I can say it's been torturous for me. You should have let me come with you."

"I know you'd follow me to the ends of the world my dear Blood Rider, however this was a personal matter for me." She'd lean in to steal a short passionate kiss with the man, easing the Dothraki's imposing image for that moment as he returned it.

"Ugh…get a room you two…" The Shadow muttered, rolling his eyes slightly.

"We very well might. Don't be jealous now Shadow." The Dorne woman teased as she'd move over to Ser Doric, the grey armored knight standing to greet her. "And how has my knight of stone been after so long."

"The same as always Lady Ayla, following my duties and vows." He formally answered, giving a short bow with what freedom his heavy armor allowed. "Have your travels been safe? You aren't welcome in Dorne after all."

"The only people who care about me visiting my home Kingdom would be my family. I know how to avoid their attention; else I'd be enjoying a dusty prison cell or the headsmen axe." She replied before looking to Zarin. The alchemist had been silent as she'd greet her fellow Grims, though the old man had a fond look to the woman and a small welcoming smile.

"It's been a long time indeed Ayla." He'd shift up in his seat to give a warm hug to her, getting even an affection kiss to the cheek from her. "It's good you arrived, though I imagine you have been listening in for a while."

She'd nod in response before pulling up a chair to sit between Zarin and Ogatto. "I was curious to see what you all thought about this Witcher and recent events. Overall it seems this is the right moment to bring some real change to Westeros."

"Glad you agree. I value your insight when it comes to politics and without you we won't be able to bring true unity and freedom to this divided country." Zarin stood up from his seat, riffling through his red robes for a moment to take a small item out, though kept it hidden in his grasp. "Of course we do have some formality to do now that we're all gathered."

"Ugh…do we have to? The Shadow argued. "We know our titles and roles already. Why bother?"

"Formality and discipline. Traits you lack Shadow." Doric calmly stated, drawing an annoyed growl from the assassin.

"This may very well be our last meeting as Grims. Can't hurt to follow one tradition we have." Marcus added.

"Fine. Then let's get it over with." The Shadow reached into a pocket hidden in his leather garb, taking out a worn gold dragon coin, the metal black and having no luster to it. "The Grim of Shadows." He simply muttered, setting the coin on the Westerlands region.

"Will you ever bother saying your real name during that?" Ogatto questioned.

"No."

The blunt answer had the Dothraki shrug before taking out his own trinket, an ivory piece carved in the shape of a horse head. "Ogatto the exiled. Grim of the Red Wastes." He'd set his piece on edge of Essos.

Marcus had his turn now, taking out a weirwood carving of a snarling wolf head similar to House Stark symbol. "Marcus Ryen of the North. The Grim of the Hunt." He stated before setting his piece on the North.

Doric was next as he'd take out a piece of chiseled obsidian hidden around his neck; the piece shaped like a clenched fist. "Ser Doric of the Black Isle. The Grim of Stone." He spoke in that deep even voice before setting his piece on the Stormlands.

Alya took out a bronze pendent she had tucked around her neck, the symbol being a red sun with a spear pierced though it. "Alya Sand, exile of the Sand Snakes. The Grim of Vipers." Her piece was then settled on Dorne.

Then lastly was Zarin, who drew a black wood trinket shaped like a skull. "Zarin, the Red Alchemist. The Grim of Schemes." He'd lastly set his piece on top of King's Landing, a faint smile hinting his lips. "Let us continue our meeting then now that formality is done." Everyone sat down once more before the alchemist continued to speak. "Now there is one matter I wish to ask of you Shadow. Considering Robert's and Eddard's deaths, I want to know if you had a hand in them. I know you were in King's Landing at the time and their…passing is fitting of your skills."

"Well I can say I didn't get a chance to target Robert, though I know who killed the fat bastard. In fact, his killer was the same person who hired me to assassinate Eddard Stark." The Shadow answer, his tone having a calm boastfulness to it.

Across from him Marcus gave a low growl of anger. "You shouldn't be proud of that. If there was a good lord in this land Eddard was the one. He cared about the people and could have been more useful alive."

"If he was such a good person then why does he let the likes of the Boltons rule in the North? He was a soft Warden, too fearful to take action after the Rebellion." The Shadow countered back.

For a moment Marcus seemed ready to lunge at the man, making Ogatto place one hand on the Northerner's shoulder to keep him in his seat. Garm below the table growled a bit, only amusing the assassin.

"Enough arguing you two." Zarin spoke up, stopping any more argument. "I understand you have a respect and sense of loyalty to Eddard; however Shadow does have a point. Eddard was doomed to die, be it from his sudden execution, in the chaos of his rescue attempt or by some other means."

"Maybe…" Marcus muttered, still having a hateful glare at the assassin. "So you hired you then? Tell me that at least."

"Heh, gladly. Petyr Baelish 'Littlefinger', Lord of the Fingers and current Master of Coin. A minor lord who has made some quite impressive grabs for power and riches. I also believe he planned Robert's poisoning as well."

"And how did you figure that out?"

"Simple, I bluffed and saw how he reacted. 'We know what you did' is a perfect line to get the cowardly and guilty to cringe."

"Then I'll be sure to get some real answers from him if I ever meet the man." Marcus muttered darkly, showing for the first time in quite a while, a vicious side to him few rarely saw.

Zarin glanced over his journal for a moment, seeming curious about Littlefinger. "He has his ties in money lending and minor criminal sources. Quite well informed, though quiet by the looks of it." He'd write down something into the log before speaking. "We'll keep an eye on him. He could be useful or a risk to our great goals."

"So then, what will be our roles during this civil war? I know that you and Alya will no doubt have work to do in King's Landing and then farther south within Dorne." Doric calmly questioned.

"You'd be correct. It's time we put our decades of connections and influence to full use." His gaze moved to Alya, who had a small knowing smile across her fair lips. "Do you have enough support with the nobles of Dorne?"

"Enough sway after all these years. I have plenty of eyes and ears within Sunspear, enough to know of my father's and uncle's plans." She'd give a small smirk as she'd lean over the table, eyeing the map closely. "They focus on petty vengeance over what happened to my aunt twenty years ago. I'll admit their plans are cunning, though to delay for so long shows they are overcautious to take action."

"Thankfully Dorne will soon have a new leader with the will and ambition the kingdom has lacked for so long." The alchemist commented back before looking back to the rest of his companions. "As for the rest of you, you'll all remain within the Riverlands. There are plenty of matters to take care of for both the Lannisters, Tullys and the Starks once they begin to make their first moves. However the Witcher is to be a priority for us."

"Do you want him dead?" The Shadow questioned as he looked over his copy of the Witcher's dossier.

"No, I want him alive. His value is beyond anything you can imagine. However you cannot simply rush against him, since we do not know fully of what he is capable of."

"So spying then, makes sense considering." Marcus muttered as he'd look over the map. "He'll no doubt take a role on the warfront in time. Plenty of chances to see what he can do."

"He'll be a worthy challenge indeed." Doric added, nodding his helmeted head slightly.

"Study every aspect of him, learn who his allies are, what possible weakness be they physically or mentally. I expect steady reports on whatever is learned along with his actions across the region. When I feel we are ready, we will attack as one and outmatch him like we have against countless others."

"I hope it is soon then." Ogatto said with a grin, a wild thrill just hinting his gaze.

Marcus nodded, though there was a troubled look hinted his gruff face. "Zarin, there is one local matter I wish to talk about…involving someone I ran into about a week back." The alchemist gave a curious look before nodding to let the Northerner continue. "I ran into a young man when I was getting supplies for the Three Kegs, a bright lad from Raventree Hall named Hadrian Rivers. He alone, escaped an attack on a search party he was with."

The name shared had a rare show of surprise in the older man's eyes, which he quickly hid as he'd glance his gaze down in thought. "Interesting…what exactly happened."

"The boy was sent with a House knight and soldiers to investigate rumors of small villages and travelers disappearing within the last month. Heard of the gossip myself early on myself, thinking it was simply bandits or people leaving early when the whispers of war were heard." Marcus had a serious look as he'd stare right into man's calm gaze. "His group headed to High Heart, an old ritual site you no doubt studied in the past. When the search party neared, he claimed they were attacked by trio of…witches."

Ogatto and the Shadow both gave low chuckles of amusement at the claim, though Alya and Doric seemed curious. Zarin's expression didn't change though, remaining neutral yet attentive. "So a trio of witches. How exactly did they kill off such a well-armed group?" He calmly questioned.

Marcus detailed Hadrian's full story about the encounter, hiding nothing when he spoke about the more magical aspects the boy had seen. He'd continue on to include the attack they had also faced against the ghoul, which even he admitted had been a close call considering the creature's fierce and unnatural nature. By now the assassin and Dothraki had stopped their low jesting, both knowing that Marcus wasn't one to lie or exaggerate.

"Monsters and crones. I'd call anyone else mad, but I know better than to say that to you." The Shadow sighed.

"This can be a troublesome matter." Alya added before looking to Zarin. "Perhaps the others can investigate this High Heart, learn just who these 'witches' are."

"They can easily be a wild card to the coming war, magic or not." The alchemist muttered, pausing for a moment in thought. "If you feel this is worth looking into, I will respect your choice, though don't take any risks."

"Heh, we all know better than to rush off against an unknown enemy. We'll be cautious and be sure to report what we find." However before anything else could be said, Garm shifted from where he lay, his head snapping to the entrance way of the inn hall. The half-wolf growled deeply, making everyone look to the heavy doorways. "We have company it seems. You did lock the door behind you when you snuck in right?" The innkeeper questioned Alya.

"Of course."

There soon be a hard knock on the inn door, which repeated after a long pause, though stronger this time. The Grims gave odd looks to each other, except for Zarin who seemed relaxed in his seat. "Marcus…let them in."

"More of wondering who is 'them'." The Northerner questioned before there was another round of heavy knocking and muffled voices outside. "Wait, did you let someone follow you?"

"A loose end. Trust me on this Marcus."

Giving a small growl of annoyance, he'd glance to the bar where Sandra was, the woman having a concerned look as the knocking and yelling grew. "Sandra, go to our rooms and lock the doors up. You know what to do if trouble comes."

The woman sighed, seeming annoyed at what was happening, yet understood as she'd nod. "Be safe then…" She'd move to head to the right side of the hall and to the private rooms but stopped to quickly speak out. "Also I swear if you make a mess of the hall…I expect all of you to clean it up!" With that warning given, she'd slam the door shut.

"Quite the woman you have Marcus." The Shadow chuckled in a mocking manner.

"You best heed her warning. That woman will thrash you, assassin or not." The innkeeper warned before there was a bang at the door.

"OPEN THE FUCK UP!" An annoyed voice yelled outside, piercing through the thick wooden door.

Sighing, Marcus gave one last stern look to Zarin, but the old man had a small amused smirk on his face. Making sure he had his trusty hunting knife tucked away under his work apron, Marcus hurried to the door. "Who are you? Can't you see we're closed?" He spoke out through the door, though he'd move to shift a wooden piece to look through a hidden peephole outside. With the sun low it was hard to see, though he could see it was a group of men dressed a variety of differing armor and sheathed weapons.

"Just a group of sellswords needing a quick meal and drink for the road." The man at the front spoke out, a gaunt scruffy man with a crooked grin. "So you can let us in and get a few coins for your trouble…or we kick this door down."

"Alright alright…" Marcus muttered, working the locks to open the doorway. He was on guard as he had one hand close to his knife, but the mercenaries didn't try to attack him as the filed in. There were fourteen men who were from all parts of the world as the innkeeper recognized differing Westerosi, Dothraki and from varying Free Cities. Each had different dyes coloring their armor and hair to represent their homeland or culture, making them a quite colorful bunch. What was notable though was the band all of them had shown off on their arms, shoulder or chest, a small white patch with a black goat with red horns being their banner mark. "Brave Companions…" He whispered, just being overheard by the group leader, who up close was in fact a Northerner.

"Hah, glad to see someone recognize us." The man chuckled before slinging one arm around Marcus's shoulder, partly tugging the innkeeper into the hall. It took Marcus a lot of self-control to not twist the man's limb off of him. "Surprised to see a fellow kinsman so far south, much less an innkeeper in this corner of the Riverlands."

"Life is full of surprises." Marcus muttered, obviously not amused though the sellsword either didn't notice or care.

The man's chuckling, though it was cut short when he saw Marcus's companions standing or sitting at the central table. "Well well well…seems the circus has come to town." The rest of the men laughed at the jest, though none of the Grims showed any amusement.

Doric would tense up when he saw the black goat emblem on the men, a low grumbling coming from him "Bloody Mummers…murdering scum…"