Farrimond Sharf was having rather a bad day. Giving his weary feet a rest for a change, he chartered a wagon to take him up into the mountains, and paid well for the service, only for an axle to snap halfway up. Trudging the rest of the way, in the rain, he found there was no room in the inn, so he proceeded directly to the small local gaol, a single-cell affair, only to find out that the condemned man he'd been sent for to execute had been broken out by his gang the day before, ergo stiffing Farrimond of his fee.
He was about to leave this anthill town behind him when he spotted a "help wanted" notice nailed to a post. Farrimond could hardly read, but he could recognize enough of the words by their shape, "reward", "paid", and "safe" specifically, that he guessed it may be something worth his while. He walked to the largest building in town and there made his inquiries.