In a corner of the Crossroads Inn, two figures were conversing in whispers. One seemed to be a bulky thug, a belt of knives across his chest and a morningstar slung over his back. The other was a diminutive yet somehow intimidating figure hooded in black.
"Did you get him?" the figure started.
"What do you think?" the bulky thug replied.
"Yes. Or. No."
"Yes. Of course I got him."
"Proof?"
The thug stood up and abruptly threw two daggers of delicate make and stained to the hilt in blood onto the table, alarming a few guests.
"His own bodyguards' daggers?"
"What do you think they are?"
The hood gave a slight chuckle. "Brave man. The chief will be pleased. Now, I'm sure he'd like to have one o' these trinkets." He removed one dagger from the table and pocketed it. "Meanwhile, keep the other one."
"My man." The thug slid the other dagger into his belt.
"Alright, mate. Go enjoy yourself. We'll inform you of anything new." With that, the hood threw a bulging bag of gold onto the table, stood up and left. The thug greedily grabbed it, a 'tricksy' smile abreast his face.