Leon took his gold and tied it to his belt without even bothering to count it. Gold was useful, it could open doors, loosen tongues, and encourage daggers to strike where there weren't any before. It was a tool, like his sword, and he treated it as such. Making his way around the crowd, he wondered how many of them would try to slip away during the night now that they had received their up front payment. It's a shame the reward for deserters was too low to be of interest to him, some quick spell work along the most likely escape routes would net him a tiny profit he imagined.

He stopped by the two mercenaries who seemed to think themselves too good for their coin. "A word of advice from a man of faith, even if it isn't a faith of your own," he said, "always take the gold. It does no good sitting in that box. And if you spread it among the needier citizens it could buy them bread and water for another month. Or perhaps you could use it to ensure some of the loyalty of the more... shiny-things motivated among us. Or you could indulge yourself for one night. No judgement here."

Actually, he judged them quite a lot by their refusal to take the gold. There were only ever two reasons to turn down gold. Either you were so powerful that your skill with a blade or talent with magic exceeded any possible threat that could come up against you... or you were an idiot. The shadows did not long suffer idiots to live. Pride without the power to back it up was just suicidal.

Leon followed along to the series of tents set aside for the use of the mercenaries. Although normally an assigned sleeping place would never have worked for him for fear of waking up with a dagger running across his throat, the tents were small enough that his warding magic should be able to alert him of unwelcome guests. Still, if the opportunity presented itself he would have to see about quietly switching with another person. He secured his gear in the trunk in his tent, taking only his armor, weapons, mask, and a much smaller, more easily concealable bag of gold for any incidental exchanges he might need to make before sleeping tonight. 

In the few hours he had before curfew, he wandered around the camp, noting the routes of access, how many ways in and our of the camp there were for a single person or as many as a dozen people, and where battle supplies like arrows and pitch were stored. The guards were well disciplined, but some innocent sounding questions and a few palms greased with coin for the purposes of buying themselves a drink later on and he developed a rough idea of the guard practices around camp. Breck ran a smooth operation, one that only talented thieves would have a chance of taking advantage of. Leon also tried to find a polite way of getting more information about their upcoming tasks, but it seemed only Breck himself knew the answer to that question, and he wasn't taking visitors. At least not the likes of Leon, anyways.

A bit disappointed that there wasn't any real trouble, Leon returned to the tent and went through his nightly routing, stripping his armor and cleaning it, caring for his longsword and shield, and speaking the secrets he had gleaned to his diety in his nightly prayers before tracing another warding circle along the inside of the tent and going to sleep.