Leon listened to Breck outline the general plan, ignoring his glares. He was sure he was violating some kind of protocol, speaking out of turn like that, but Lord Hastlon had not required an ability to be polite or follow military etiquette as part of his request for aid. Besides, needling someone was usually the best way to see their true nature, and Breck seemed to be exactly what he seemed. A thug in shiny armor, but one smart enough to understand how to coordinate other thugs and get results. A man worth keeping in one's service.

He wondered if volunteering for a particular assignment would get him anywhere, but Breck seemed like the type to have already scribbled up a plan and would die before anyone else changed it. Again, not a bad trait to have in a sergeant or lieutenant of one's private military. It was a shame that Leon had already decided that staying near him or the city guard was the least likely route to getting anything worthwhile done in the city.

Leon muttered a prayer of thanks to Mask when Breck mentioned that their assignments would be decided now. Solo work or in a team, he didn't care as long as it took him away from this camp. Safety was the enemy of foresight. It dulled the senses and made you second guess what your instincts screamed at you. One by one the hirelings moved forward, receiving a sealed letter with from one of a few stacks as they approached Breck. Leon took his with a half-smile, which likely irritated Breck, but chose to say nothing as he walked away and opened the letter.

The instructions inside were to meet the remainder of the 'team' at the bank of a river directly south of the encampment in one hour. Once the hour elapsed, they were to pay a ferryman to take them across to the south side of the bank and enter the city from there to make contact with the Talons, the established thieves guild. From there, the orders became very vague, citing that they should 'establish if such an organization can be of use in liberating Scardale and act appropriately to bring them into the fold or disrupt their operations for the eventual campaign for the south side of the city'. Leon chuckled as he read it. He liked simple plans. It meant there was room for him to work his own magic into the mix. He returned to the tent, packing up his belongings and slinging the backpack over his shoulder as he headed south to the river bank.

He arrived fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. At first, he was tempted to hide in the shadows of the trees and watch the gathering point, but he knew it would be likely that other shadowy individuals had been selected for this 'team'. Someone would have to go out into the open in order to stick their neck out first and gather the others. It may as well be him.

Leon donned his mask, moving to a spot on the riverbank where the reeds had been frequently crushed. A clear sign that a boat or raft of some kind stopped here often. He looked out over the river, it's deceptively calm surface hiding a rush of water below that would shove any careless man into a series of rapids further downstream that would leave him a broken and bloody mess. He set his pack down, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his longsword and shield to an easier draw position in case of trouble. 

When the rest of the team arrived, he would introduce himself by his first name and offer that he had some command of magic and was a fair hand with a longsword and shield, underplaying the talents he had displayed in the ambush.