"So, that's our target?" muttered Mosca staring at the dingy warehouse.
"Your target, yes," answered Gregory, hands in his pockets.
Mosca stared at the ramshackle construction for a moment longer, and sighed. "I'm almost insulted, Gentleman."
"You shouldn't be," said Gregory. "Lumber is nine-tenths of what they look for here. Some of that lumber gets used to build ships. Which then get taken to Ys, filled with lumber. To build more ships."
Mosca blinked. "That has to be the most bizarre construction chain I've ever heard of..."
Gregory shrugged. "Oh, it's actually how things tended to go around here, normally," he noted. "Only... on strong-tea."
Mosca shook his head. "I know I shouldn't have had a cup of that..." He pointed at Gregory. " 'Oh, it's just gives you an edge for a while'! Ha! I was jumping around for the entire night!"
"Not discussing that now, Mosca," said Gregory.
"Well, when are we?" asked Mosca.
"Not now," replied Gregory. He pointed to the warehouse. "Now--the finest way to get the trust and attention of the Bellringers is to show we're in the game, same as them. And the finest way to do that is to start hurting what the Prince's Men are looking for. So, we burn down that warehouse..."
"Right," said Mosca, stepping forward. "Give me a moment, and you'll be watching a merry blaze."
"No, no!" said Gregory, placing his arm before his fellow. "Not now! We need to do it in a way that really hurts them. Tomorrow night, they'll put the entire week's worth of lumber in there. That's when we burn it down!"
Mosca raised an eyebrow. "Won't there be guards around then?"
"Not many," answered Gregory. "And there's a plan for that."
Mosca stared at the lieutenant balefully. "So I'm just to trust in that, when you have me rush out to set fire to this, at night?" Gregory smiled and nodded. Mosca stared a moment longer, then turned and kicked a rock.