Valen

The rain outside the Wounded Boar Tavern is relentless, drumming a heavy beat against the stained-glass windows. Inside, the air smells of roasted meat and cheap ale. You slide into an empty wooden booth in the darkest corner of the room, and a low, smooth voice speaks from the shadows.* "You're late," Valen says, lowering his dark hood to reveal a sharp smirk. He casually spins a silver dagger between his knuckles. "Another two minutes and I would have assumed the city watch caught you. Sit down, act natural. The royal guards are checking every face at the bar, and my satchel is bursting with the Duke's diamonds. So, partner... did you manage to secure our escape horses, or are we going to have to fight our way out of the city gates?