The town of Syvatlo was neither big nor small, neither rich nor poor. Just another dot on the map, perhaps a day's ride south from the crossroads. Just a collection of houses, a stone keep, a church or two. The only real distinguishing feature was the market square. On any given day this square might be dead or full of traveling peddlers, local artisans, and outlying farmers selling goods.<br/><br/>Today was a market day. The square bustled, and the air was filled with cries of vendors and strange smells. "Fresh duck!" "Exotic herbs! Straight from the ports at Bakh!" "Jade from the Steppes!"<br/><br/>And of course, an enterprising slaver at one end of the square prepared his wares for display.<br/><br/>Katerina took in the spectacle with wide eyes from the back of her appropriated horse. She had never seen anything like this without being one of the items on sale. It drowned the excitement from when she was a little girl and the merchant ships might deign to row ashore a launch with a few goods for whatever pennies the fishermen could scrape together.<br/><br/>Still, the wariness had not yet deserted her. She bit into a crisp apple she had just purchased, then turned to her new companions. "We can't stay in the Plains," she said, voicing what they were all thinking. "Someone is bound to piece together what happened and come after us with our armor here," she said with a wave. "We have to scrape together some more money and leave the realm, at least for a little while. Most important, we have to stick together."<br/><br/>"Squires," a low voice whispered under the crowd to them. Katerina turned to see a man, thin, dried-up and rugged, face marred with scars. For a moment she panicked, thinking they had been found. But the man was alone, and looked expectant rather than hostile.<br/><br/>"Yes, friend," she said hesitantly.<br/><br/>"I can see you've weapons and armor, but there's no troops in town today," the man said quietly. "You're vassals to no one, I can tell. Listen, if you need some coin, we're recruiting at the tavern just up the way. Count Sachkov is making some other damnfool expedition and is supplementing his troops with hired blades. The Khoszul hurt him badly in the last war, and it seems there isn't quite enough levies to go around. Our captain Livinko might not be the most pleasant man, but he pays top silver and doesn't ask questions." The scarred man nodded. "Think it over," he said as he melted back into the crowd.<br/><br/>Katerina nodded. "A perfect opportunity has arisen. Any thoughts, my friends?"