Deft hands wrapped the bolt of gossamer cloth around some tall posts planted in the ground, finishing the airy canopy he'd frame his 'stage' with. Lydin's thoughts, in contrast, were centered around the weight of his purse - conviction and virtue could wait until after he recited her Light's praises for a not insignificant sum of coin. "Pilgrims" had been more generous of late with the festival drawing near, and he intended to capitalize fully on their light spirits. For these travelers, the murky days only served to brighten Mastrix's scales, and their hearts (and alms) went out to any the quaint performers who confirmed this. From these speculations of future riches, Lydin's attention was brought back to the security of his current wealth by an attempted robbery right on the step of his just-finished stand.
Though the first part of the conversation before him was washed out by the growing din of the crowd, but Lydin glanced up from tuning his instrument upon hearing a familiar verse. It was a risky move the man took, and the elf wasn't keen to join in on the bet before Aries' cards were down. He made busy for a moment while the two conversed. Unable to feign tuning much longer, he plucked a reference note and intoned the second, more aggressive half of the pass:
"Fight as traitors 'gainst our law,
Or try our betters to disgrace,
Die, blackguard, by silver maw!
Alone in Mastrix's fireplace."
"Welcome, friend, to Mastrixenburg. Might I remark how wonderful it is to see others rejoicing in the light of Her blessings?" Lydin felt himself gagging on the words as they came out, but he kept a joyous demeanor and tapped lightly on the strings as he spoke to keep appearances. "It is a most unrefined verse, I must say, but redeemed by its subject nonetheless." There could be no mistaking their intentions now; both travelers clearly understood each other. Really, it was both pleasant and unnerving to participate in such flagrant display of disloyalty. Such thinly veiled words did not fall lightly on observant ears, but it was a sign of the changing mood of the city that no one stopped to question the two unusual figures exchanging pleasantries in the street. Lydin, for his part, looked like he belonged in the scene, but the hardened - what were they, bandits? Treasure hunters? Or maybe their motivations were more noble... regardless, they stood out like... well, like two dark hooded figures in a mass of gaily garbed celebrants. There wasn't much metaphorical about it.
"I think I know the place you speak of, Aliat. It so happens a hold a room there, if the two of you should like to retire...? Lydin Saervell, by the way, and a great pleasure to meet you."