[i]4th of Midyear - Mid-Morning
Salosoix Hawkford’s Residence[/i]

The middle-aged Breton had started his day as he always did - by watching the sun rise over Gilane and enjoying tea. While the day started as it always did, his morning ritual brought him less pleasure - and it had been that way since the evening of the 2nd when his daughter and arrived at his Hammerfell home in a state. His mind was addled with terrible thoughts, and as he sat at his desk, he took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses with a small cloth. 

He had sent for two of his daughter’s companions - Jaraleet the Argonian, and Gregor. He imagined they would be arriving soon with his favoured guard Zhaib. It had been at least an hour since Zhaib had left in pursuit of the two mysterious men. Salosoix was very much looking forward to meeting them, and had set out two chairs at his table for his guests. 

The usual incense was burning in the corner, and his handmaiden was floating around to make sure the place was clear and tidy. The entire room had a magenta glow, and was decorated in turquoise, teal, and cerulean colours - flecks of shiny gold highlighting the furniture. In a word, the room was opulent - brimming with his many treasures. It was a cave of wonders. He smiled to himself as his eyes traversed the room, and then he heard the door open; his guests had arrived. 

He rose from his seat - he wore some basic linens underneath a cloak that was far grander - a velvet in a deep emerald green hue - the collar high and grazing his square jawline, his once ash-blonde hair was now grey and slicked back - cut to chin length. His expression was stern as his guests entered. 

The more eager of the two to meet Raelynn’s father, Gregor, stepped into the room first. He had been tempted to dress up for the occasion and break out his all-black battledress, but it would have made traveling through the city much more of a hassle (as the guards would be on the lookout for an outfit fitting that description). So, Gregor was dressed in his new clothes instead. He cast an appreciative glance at the resplendent interior, but very swiftly focused his gaze on the man in front of him. Salasoix’s green cloak immediately made him regret his decision. “Sir,” the Imperial said and bowed respectfully all the same. “It is a pleasure to finally meet with you.”

“I concur as well, it's a pleasure to finally meet your Mr. Hawkford.” Jaraleet said as he entered after Gregor, bowing respectfully towards the elder Breton and letting his gaze cover the room in a brief second before turning his attention towards the head of the Hawkford family once more.  

“Please, gentleman. There is no need for formalities - call me Sal.” The Breton man said, in a pleasant tone, only a half smile played upon his lips as he eyed up the two arrivals over the top of his spectacles. Paying particular attention to the Imperial. He took his seat once more, and with a wave of his hand he beckoned them to sit in their respective seats. “The pleasure is all mine, or at least it will be if we can come to an arrangement this morning.” He did not mince his words, nor did he bother with further small talk. His warm tone had subsided and was replaced by one far more pressing.

He leaned back into his seat and raised a hand - clicking his fingers to grab the attention of his Redguard handmaiden. “Rhoka?, Rhoka!” he expressed impatiently until she scurried to his desk to meet him, “can you please get some refreshments for our guests - anything they’d like”. He glanced over at Gregor and Jaraleet with his half-smile again. 

“Just some cold water for me, thank you,” Gregor said. It was shaping up to be another hot day. He noticed how Salasoix paid extra close attention to him -- no surprises there -- and made an effort to meet the Breton's gaze levelly and to return his half-smile with one of his own. He could immediately see how this man had raised a daughter like Raelynn. He was authoritative and his demeanor demanded respect. With no intentions of doing anything to avoid meeting expectations, Gregor waited patiently while Jaraleet placed his order and for Salasoix to explain his desires. 

“I will have come cold water as well, thank you very much.” Jaraleet replied before turning his attention to Salasoix once more. It hadn't escaped the Argonian’s attention the way that the elder Hawkford paid extra attention to his Imperial companion but, he supposed, that made sense given the...closeness between him and Salasoix’s daughter. “Well, what is that you wish to talk with us about?” The assassin asked, wondering what was the reason that the old Breton had summoned him and Gregor to his Gilane residence. 

“Just water? How exciting for you both - Rhoka, do as our guests request, and why don't you bring some of that Knafeh too?” Jaraleet was bold, he liked it. He turned his head and gave a smile to him, taking a deep breath before he began to speak, “well my dear daughter seems to believe that you two are the most physically capable in your party. I trust my daughter's judgment…” his eyes moved from Jaraleet to Gregor, where he proceeded to look him over from above the spectacles again, “...sometimes.” He chuckled dryly before leaning forwards, elbows on the desk and his hands meeting each other in front of his face as he exhaled. “I have work for capable men -- and before you ask, yes you will be adequately compensated.”

He dropped his hands and got to his feet, moving to a drawer at the back of the room and plucking out two green velvet coin purses. “Two hundred and fifty septims each, of which you will receive fifty today -- a deposit if you will.” He moved back to his desk, letting the two purses hit the desk as he dropped them. The hefty weight clunking against the mahogany. He hoped it would grab their attention. His own eyes even seemed the glisten at the sound. As he took his seat, he spilled out some of the coins onto the desk in front of him and began slowly and methodically counting. “This mission is very important to me, boys. I require you to keep this one to yourselves…”

His voice grew cold and he met both of their eyes with his - an icy blue that matched Raelynn’s exactly. “It seems that our Dwemer overlord has been inviting undesirables to this beautiful city…” He slid the pile of fifty septims to Jaraleet first, before turning to count from the second coin purse. “Nasty little creatures who stalk the innocent in the night… Not very good now, is it?” He asked with a weary sigh, coins clinking in one hand, fingers strumming against the desk in the other. The air around him grew tense until Rhoka arrived to break it with a pitcher of ice water, glasses, and a pastry selection.

“Thank you dear,” he said sharply, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “Oh and Rhoka? Can you do a better job of cleaning the walls…” The redguard woman bowed her head and scurried off again. “As I was saying - fucking undesirables.” 

That was cause for Gregor to sit up even straighter. He had come from a reasonably wealthy background but life on the road was rough and he hadn’t exactly come into a lot of money lately. Two hundred and fifty septims was a very significant sum of money to him in the current state of his financial affairs. “Undesirables,” Gregor repeated and cleared his throat. “Do I take this to mean criminals, sir? Or something worse? I have plenty of experience either way. Vampires, bandits, necromancers, murderers -- it’s all the same to me,” he said matter-of-factly. It could be construed as a boast, but Gregor merely wanted his potential employer to know the full range of his abilities and previous encounters. He tried to ignore that he was speaking to Raelynn’s father. Business was business. 

“Fantastic, bravo,” he said with a smile as a laugh escaped him. He turned to face Jaraleet with a shit-eating grin, “perhaps you would like to recite your resume of achievements, too, Argonian!” He delighted in potentially embarrassing this man in front of his colleague. His laughter quickly dropped and his expression changed entirely - cold and incredibly serious, “the kind of verminous scum that would hurt even innocent women and children, Gregor. Criminal enough for you?”

Gregor shifted in his seat and an almost imperceptible frown appeared on his face. “Quite,” he said tersely. 

Jaraleet chuckled softly at Salasoix’s words, but his mood changed as quickly as that of the head of the Hawkford family. “I would have no problems taking on this task for you, sir.” He said, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “Tell me the name, and location, of our target and it will be done.” The assassin said, his voice now serious as the topic had seemed to return to the work that Salasoix had in mind for them. 

“That's what I like to hear.” Sal said in a resonant voice, “if you are both to partake in this mission I require your word that you will follow my instruction to the letter… Don't think I didn't hear about the capture mission. Quite catastrophic…” He lifted his own glass to his lips, and continued counting out Gregor's coins with his free hand. “Mark my words, if either of you fuck this one up…” A dark laugh was spat into the glass at his lips, “I will not be quite as forgiving as the Poncy Man. So it is a good job that my instructions are clear.” 

Annoyed, Gregor opened his mouth against his better judgement. “As I recall, the problem with the capture mission was that the target died. You are sending us to kill people now. So, I don’t think that’s something you should worry about.”

He placed his glass back down onto the table, twisting it in its spot just so - as if to make it sit in a specific way. Once he was satisfied he raised his eyes to the mouthy Imperial, about ready to chastise him there and then. He narrowed his eyes and drew a breath, holding a stare upon Gregor. “You're right,” he softened into his seat and placed the last coin on the pile of septims for Gregor’s deposit before sliding it over to him, a friendly smile replacing the previous expression. “I just need you both to understand that the stakes are high, at least to me anyway. I've heard some tales of a sordid creature… a filthy Khajiit who has some rather grotesque methods. These are his henchman if my information is to be correct.” He waited with a smirk to watch the penny drop, and for Gregor to bite onto the hook.

Too hungry for blood to be cautious and wary, Gregor tore into the hook like a shark does to horkers. “I see,” he said, but the intensity in his gaze betrayed his emotions. “They will die, to be sure, but is there no chance that they know more about where this Khajiit makes his lair?”

“You get ahead of yourself,” he purred from his side of the desk, his eyes moving to Jaraleet with another playful grin, “is he always this impatient? Does he know nothing of planning?” With his hands now free he strummed his fingers against his desk and laughed dryly once more. “Gregor, Gregor… I want to get his attention and draw him out of his cesspool and into the light of day.” Sal’s head tilted to the side and he brought his hands together. “Missing henchmen will get his attention and slow down the sepsis he is spreading.” 

“You'll do only as I ask, nothing more, nothing less. Are we on the same page?” 

“I understand.” Jaraleet said, his voice firm and resolute. He could understand what Salasoix was asking of him and Gregor, it was after all what he had been molded all of his life to be. A tool of murder. One that was, ultimately, disposable if the situation called for it. “I understand,” he repeated, taking a second to look at Gregor. “What is needed of us, what is expected of us. The job will be done.” 

Taking the Argonian’s cue, Gregor kept his thoughts to himself. Salasoix was his employer now, he would have to do what was demanded of him. “Nothing more, nothing less,” Gregor echoed, his voice flat.

The Breton opened a drawer from his side of the desk and removed a rolled parchment from within, handing it to Jaraleet. “The location is marked on the map, you will be there and ready at sunset on the fifth, that's tomorrow evening - no earlier and no later.” He had another drink from his glass, obsessively placing it in the same manner as he had before, “dispose of the men quickly. Oh, and when I say dispose… Leave no trace of their bodies. I want it to look like they were never even there.”

He brought his hands back into a point, elbows on the desk and a smile on his face. “I will have your payments dropped off so you don't have to come back and we can pretend this never happened.” 

Jaraleet nodded as he took the rolled parchment from Salasoix’s hands. “I understand sir.” He replied. He could easily understand what was asked of him, and that brought him a sense of comfort and familiarity that had been sorely lacking in the last couple of months. It seemed as if, for a second, he was back in Argonia taking orders from his An-Xileel handlers. “We will accomplish our mission.” The Argonian said resolutely before turning to look at Gregor. “Shall we leave?” He asked his Imperial companion, knowing that there was nothing else to be discussed. They had their mission parameters and that was all they needed to complete their mission.