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(( 10 Firstfall, South Wall "market", Early evening -- @Magnus ))
By this point, Ferren had gotten real used to the sprawl that stretched past the South Wall.
The people had been there so long that there was a little bit of everything. Homes (sort of), shops (sort of), an apothecary (sort of), and even a couple taverns (sort of). Mostly he went as Guard Captain, checking in on the patrols when something was reported, or going down there himself after he was technically off duty, just to make sure things were as okay as they could be.
They hadn't been okay lately, though, and Ferren had to figure out something to do about it. Ser Grim was breathing down his neck, hounding him about getting more of a guard presence, but Ferren was still firm about the fact that it would only make things worse. Of course, lack of guards hadn't exactly made things better. He'd gotten word that a few people--most of them not seeming all that affiliated with Highever--were causing trouble for trouble's sake. Making things harder for everybody and making it seem a lot less safe.
Guards posted at every corner wasn't going to help that. Ferren wasn't even sure if he could help it, but he was determined to try. In this case, that meant approaching things just as himself. Outside of some chainmail worn under his shirt--because he didn't much care for the idea of getting stabbed--he'd left his uniform at home. His hammer, too. He still had the dagger tucked into his belt, and if things got hairy he always had his fists. For now, though, the trouble he was looking for wasn't Guard Captain trouble. Not yet, anyway.
One of his men had a hunch about somebody who'd been involved with the most recent stir-up. A big brute of a man with one hell of a powerful punch, and the style and form to suggest he'd been trained by somebody, instead of just scraping by on the streets with only his bared knuckles to keep him safe. Ferren had asked around--pretty easy, considering the guy was tall, well-built, and had a lot of tattoos--and found out the man's name was Magnus.
That was all he'd really needed to know. Well, that and which of the (sort of) taverns he was most likely to be at. Ferren headed there with a plan that wasn't exactly half-baked, but that definitely wouldn't pass Cavagh's muster. He could've maybe gotten away with arresting the man and learning more about who he was working with that way, but there wasn't any reason for it. That and Ferren wasn't going to set a precedent for arresting people he hadn't actually seen commit a crime.
Walking into the tavern, he tried not to notice the fact that it was shoddily built. Maybe it wasn't in danger of coming down any time soon, but if a bad storm whipped up the coast... Well. He'd have to get some supplies out here, sooner rather than later. Since that wasn't where his focus needed to be, though, he scanned the area, spotting the man in question at the bar.
Tall, tattooed, and built like a scrappier brawler, he was hard to miss. Ferren took the empty space a few seats down from the man, not wanting to crowd him, and hailed the woman tending bar. She gave him a look that said she definitely knew who he was, but Ferren just flashed her a grin and handed over some copper in exchange for an ale. He took a sip before saying anything to the man sitting near him.
"It's Magnus, right? What I've been told, anyway. Which, y'know, might not count for a lot."
By this point, Ferren had gotten real used to the sprawl that stretched past the South Wall.
The people had been there so long that there was a little bit of everything. Homes (sort of), shops (sort of), an apothecary (sort of), and even a couple taverns (sort of). Mostly he went as Guard Captain, checking in on the patrols when something was reported, or going down there himself after he was technically off duty, just to make sure things were as okay as they could be.
They hadn't been okay lately, though, and Ferren had to figure out something to do about it. Ser Grim was breathing down his neck, hounding him about getting more of a guard presence, but Ferren was still firm about the fact that it would only make things worse. Of course, lack of guards hadn't exactly made things better. He'd gotten word that a few people--most of them not seeming all that affiliated with Highever--were causing trouble for trouble's sake. Making things harder for everybody and making it seem a lot less safe.
Guards posted at every corner wasn't going to help that. Ferren wasn't even sure if he could help it, but he was determined to try. In this case, that meant approaching things just as himself. Outside of some chainmail worn under his shirt--because he didn't much care for the idea of getting stabbed--he'd left his uniform at home. His hammer, too. He still had the dagger tucked into his belt, and if things got hairy he always had his fists. For now, though, the trouble he was looking for wasn't Guard Captain trouble. Not yet, anyway.
One of his men had a hunch about somebody who'd been involved with the most recent stir-up. A big brute of a man with one hell of a powerful punch, and the style and form to suggest he'd been trained by somebody, instead of just scraping by on the streets with only his bared knuckles to keep him safe. Ferren had asked around--pretty easy, considering the guy was tall, well-built, and had a lot of tattoos--and found out the man's name was Magnus.
That was all he'd really needed to know. Well, that and which of the (sort of) taverns he was most likely to be at. Ferren headed there with a plan that wasn't exactly half-baked, but that definitely wouldn't pass Cavagh's muster. He could've maybe gotten away with arresting the man and learning more about who he was working with that way, but there wasn't any reason for it. That and Ferren wasn't going to set a precedent for arresting people he hadn't actually seen commit a crime.
Walking into the tavern, he tried not to notice the fact that it was shoddily built. Maybe it wasn't in danger of coming down any time soon, but if a bad storm whipped up the coast... Well. He'd have to get some supplies out here, sooner rather than later. Since that wasn't where his focus needed to be, though, he scanned the area, spotting the man in question at the bar.
Tall, tattooed, and built like a scrappier brawler, he was hard to miss. Ferren took the empty space a few seats down from the man, not wanting to crowd him, and hailed the woman tending bar. She gave him a look that said she definitely knew who he was, but Ferren just flashed her a grin and handed over some copper in exchange for an ale. He took a sip before saying anything to the man sitting near him.
"It's Magnus, right? What I've been told, anyway. Which, y'know, might not count for a lot."
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