Greirat was sitting, rotting alone in a dark cell. He perked as he heard footsteps approaching and he looked to the locked door. "Ahh, you're no jailer are you? No, no, you're from far away. And judging by the bell... You must be some of that unkindled ash." He cleared his throat and approached, holding out a ring to the stranger. "Remarkable, if that's true, then I have a favour to ask. Below the High Wall is a musty little town. Not the home of any lord, just a very old settlement of Undead." He pulled his hand back as he spoke. Greirat was hopeful, but he tried not to show much of it. "An old woman, Loretta, lives there. Please give her this ring. I- I am not asking for charity. In fa- in fact if you do this for me... I'll be sure to repay you in kind. I-I may be a petty thief, but I've more wits than most royalty. What do you say, then?" He subconsciously reached for his knife. He wondered how the woman would react after she received the knife. He wished he could've been there to see...