With arrangements being made, Cassia held onto the priestess' possessions, leaving Valva in underwear or rags only, more than many slaves they've seen were allowed to wear. Of course the picture wouldn't have been complete without the collar and leash and downcast glance of one in a life of servitude.<br/><br/>Once preparations were done, the group went out to the dirtpile called a plaza, more of a crossroads where several streets met by the Southeast city gate. As expected, a trio of individuals with walking sticks, wearing nondescript hooded brown robes arrived, talking among another as they stepped into town. One of them took a pouch from under his robe and paid the gate toll, the guard just nodding, probably familiar with these figures and their visits.<br/>Exchanging words once more they seemed to agree on something and seemed to part ways, two of them turning towards the streets, reaching to open scroll cases they carried, probably for some religious text to preach from. The third one, the one who had the coin pouch seemed to look towards the direction of the slave market where Cassia inquired.<br/><br/>If there was a time to approach them before they split up, it was now, but it would be just as easy to go for either group after they go their separate ways.