Storwolos took a breath and began to brief those of his men whom he had not already introduced to their scouting mission. Six men gathered in a small group around him, and walked with him for a short while.
“All of this, the bosses told me bit by bit, and it seems the more important facts only the more important people knew. Whatever, we are to scout the ruins of an old city in the north. Some of you may have heard of it, it once was a big city of the western men, at the Greyflood. It is possible that there are still remnants of goods or equipment left which can be helpful for our great cause.”
Before Storwolos could continue, some interjected, “Don’t you think those ruins are plundered enough already? And how are we to take anything with us with so few men anyway, and no horses?”
“The White Hand knows more about that place than you do,” Storwolos replied, “and he ordered me on this mission. We are not looking for treasure or booty of that kind. The Wise Man himself related to me what he wants us to look for and retrieve if possible. Since the latest events, I believe I best keep this to myself until we’re there. I trust all of you fine men, but we never know when the strawheads may ambush us again in their sneaky way.”
“About those riders whom you fought, Storwolos, do you think they are following us?” – “Into the heart of our and the White Hand’s power? What for? No, they may be sneaky, but they aren’t fools. Besides, they’re far too afraid of us even if those riders had personal reasons or high orders. Just relax. This is going to be a quiet walk there and back, with some searching of rubble in the middle, no more, I promise.”
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