"From one professional to another, are you proud of that number? The individuals meant little to you, obviously. I'm no saint, I understand that much. But you sound quite pleased with the amount of blood on your hands. Can't say I expect much better of your sort though." He held absolutely no respect for nobility of any variety whether they held much power or not. They were antithetical to everything he knew, everything he understood about the world. Not to mention they always caused him a lot of irritating trouble. Perhaps that was among the reasons why he targeted high profile people when he wanted to do a job, or to outright humiliate someone. 

Rohaan had become increasingly aware of a shift in Valdemar's expression, a growing smugness. Interesting. He had a few guesses as to what he could be so pleased about, but one theory needed a little more testing. With an even, unrevealing face, Rohaan looked into Valdemar's eyes as he picked up his cup again and drank from it. "I do want it in writing. I didn't make it this far in life by trusting murderers and scoundrels at their words. The trap you set doesn't help your case, either. We're not friends, Valdemar. Verbal agreements are for deciding who pays the bar tab next, not the liberation of my people. And if some lucky bastard actually manages to assassinate you before I'm through, I want some vague proof we ever made this deal." 

The deal itself he thought about for a while in silence, pondering the counter offer over the ale in his hands. So, the man had a bastard daughter. Evidently he wanted her back desperately, or Rohaan wouldn't be here right now. He debated whether or not Valdemar wanted her so he could exterminate her, sweep that embarrassment under the rug before it got to be a wild rumor. But...no. He actually got the sense Karl cared about her, for as much as Rohaan guessed he cared about anyone but himself. Sure, there was a fortress involved apparently, but no one could infiltrate like Rohaan Ja'aisen. That's likely why he'd been chosen, though whether Karl considered it or not, Rohaan also had a better ability than most to protect the girl on the road. And he would too, regardless of whether Valdemar wanted her dead or alive. There was an opportunity there he'd be unwise not to exploit.

A flask was set on the table, and Karl finally played his hand, looking pointedly at Rohaan's cup. As one might expect him to, he spit out the ale in a sudden burst. Except Rohaan absolutely had his wits about him, and he very intentionally and with great accuracy aimed for Valdemar's face, spraying the Emperor. He took the flask (though decidedly with less urgency than a man in his position ought to be expected to) grumbling, [I]"Jakhai!"[/I] The language was unfamiliar but it was evidently some kind of curse. Rohaan opened it and...sniffed it first. He locked eyes with Valdemar as a slow smile spread across his lips. Rohaan suddenly broke, bursting into a wheezing, wild, manic laughter. It was the vokurian's turn to shed a few tears of laughter as he outright howled, slapping the table with an open palm. It took a long time for him to master himself again, and even then, he was barely suppressing a chuckle still. He took a big swig of the whiskey in the flask. "I just had the distinct pleasure of spitting ale in the face of the Emperor of Man. Moon and stars, that was an opportunity I'm glad I didn't pass up. Hoo!" He wiped his eyes, then spread his arms wide. "That's it! My career has peaked! I can retire in peace!" he joked. "Ah, Tevira's Tits, I hope some bard makes that a song somewhere, I really do." 

He took another sip of the whiskey, nodding appreciatively at the quality. "I had a notion you'd got some scheme or other. But to be honest, I really doubted you'd go through with poisoning. I mean, what, you're gonna drag me out here, give me this elaborate proposal just to poison me? I don't think so. And maybe you would, for whatever reason. I thought you might actually do it, and that was a risk I was willing to take. But then you set down the 'antidote' right in front of me. C'mon now, where's the risk in that? It might also be good to note for the future that Vokurians don't poison as easily as you frail folk. I might look human, but I assure you, I'm not. It takes different stuff to do the job proper, and most unlearned attempts just make us sick. Miserably so, yes, but not dead. Didn't think that would benefit you either. You need an elite for this job, not a vomiting wretch. But good show, Valdemar, you had me going for a moment there." 

Rohaan leaned back, still holding the flask of whiskey. "Anyway, I was about to call your terms unreasonable until you specified that she can be brought back dead. I can't guarantee what happens on the road, and if she gets sick and keels over that ain't my fault. Gored by a boar, struck by lightning...But I don't want to haul a dead body all that way, so I'll at least [I]try[/I] to keep her alive..." He was grinning, but his stare had a dangerous glint. "But before we finalize all this..." The scruffy blonde sitting before Valdemar changed his appearance as smoothly and quickly as if he'd cast off a jacket. The man looking back at the Emperor was no longer Rohaan Ja'aisen. It was a perfect copy of himself, with the one exception being his eyes and the small spots of crusted silver where he'd pulled especially violently at the [I]ishun-tai[/I]. "I've got to wonder..." It was his voice too. "You don't strike me as much of an archer...so why the one glove?" He pinched a fold of the supple leather at the fingertip, giving it the faintest of tugs without actually removing it, taunting him. "Should I find out...?"