Rohaan's face turned sour, but only for a moment. His expression turned to thoughtful as he studied Karl again. He spoke, and it was the first time his tone had been quieter and slow, like for once he was picking his words carefully. "Better off in slavery...? Either you know nothing of slavery, or you know nothing of me. I was raised by pirates. My needs were plenty well met, and I was and still am more free than you will ever be." He refilled his cup and in between sips, he tore at a heel of bread. Rohaan never went without food for any great length of time, but even he wasn't about to turn down a free meal.

Rohaan listened to the Emperor go on, but not without noticing the twitch of his gloved hand. Interesting. He kept his face even, though his interest had peaked. Whatever it was the Emperor wanted, it wasn't for Rohaan to do his dirty laundry. No...there was something else at work here. He suspected that the little twitches in his hand were part of the reason he was here. It had to be. Though how it was connected, he wasn't yet sure. 

The blonde laughed. "Associates is maybe a strong word. But yes, I'd imagine they would want some assurances of safety. A pity for them, they won't be so safe in the end. I'm not going to kill them, no, no. Nothing like that. But let's say they won't be able to give you much information again after I'm through with them." A thought occurred to him, and Rohaan chuckled a bit. "I've got to say though, I'm flattered. Just how many people's lives were you willing to destroy to get me? How many died for the cause? How many lives am I worth, Valdemar?" The answer didn't matter to him, Rohaan was merely taunting him. It was a subtle recognition of just how much leverage Rohaan had in this exchange, even though it might appear that he had little in comparison to the Emperor of Man. But it was also a rebuke. That kind of selfishness was deep rooted and rotten to the core.

The Emperor actually laughed at him, and for a moment he contemplated leaving the table. He didn't have time to be mocked. He'd be treated with respect or not treated with at all. But Karl explained it was more the nature of his request than the request itself. No wonder, the man likely didn't have anyone in his whole court who would speak to him so honestly. Rohaan figured that abolishing the slave trade entirely was too much to ask. It ran deep into the veins of the Empire and could not easily be excised. But Berlin taught him to negotiate, how to ask for something out of the question so the thing you really want seems more reasonable. Not that he didn't want to see the other races freed also; he truly did want an end to slavery as a practice. But he had little love for humans. The elves at least held the belief that all of nature had its place, even the things they found repugnant. Like himself. But his heart lay truly with his own people. 

"Aha! So you actually know what we call ourselves! That's more than most. Most just call us silverbloods, and the other part, like your Ca-mm, just call us demons. So you're a learned murderer, at least. Can't decide if that's better or worse..." Rohaan leaned back in his chair, resisting the urge to put his feet on the table. If he did, he'd put his filthy boots right into a wheel of soft cheese. That would be a real crime. "Liberate the Vokurians. Compensate each of them in addition to land, which we will make into our own nation. We will pay no tribute to the Empire, and will not be part of it. Give us legal right of trade. All this goes into effect on my [I]departure[/i], not my return. Now, I'm a practical man and I of all people know just how flimsy laws can be. Especially unpopular ones." His lapis eyes narrowed and his tone held a sinister edge as he continued. "But you might want to inform your people that if I ever catch someone even attempting to enslave a Vokurian ever again, I, Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen, will personally [I]eat them[/I] and have what's left of their head sent directly to your bedchambers." 

Rohaan probably wouldn't eat them. He'd done that only twice in the heat of battle and in the form of a cyradan--a small nocturnal breed of dragon that was often seen in mountainous areas or remote coastal cliffsides--and it was something of a logistical nightmare. A dragon's stomach could hold the remains of a man, but his natural stomach was obviously far too small for such a thing. The first time, he had to stay in that form until it digested, and the second time he'd managed to actually vomit it back up. He never bothered after that. But he would remove the violator's head, he would send it to the Emperor, and he would make sure that the unfortunate soul was torn to shreds while very much alive. 

"Do that, and barring any completely ridiculous request, you'll have me. Of course, I want all this in writing. Written in your hand, with your signature, and  with your seal. I can't read, not well, but I'll pick one of your men at random to read it to me, so don't try and pull anything." Rohaan glanced back down to Karl's gloved hand, then back up to his face. "But I think it's about time you told me the details of this little job. Who am I retrieving, why, and what kinds of expected obstacles am I in for?"