[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220412/0eb207390f4e0e6834fc87bf2ad93afa.png[/img][/center][hr]
Don't cause problems for the House (read: make sure all witnesses are effectively silenced) and remember to bring back a head. Seemed simple enough. One of his colleagues-to-be - yet another aetherborn, the tingle in the back of his skull supplied before Aleka confirmed it - helpfully demonstrated the procedure for turning in a contract almost on cue. If Ceolfric didn't know any better, he'd say it was planned, but not even Cerric seemed up to that level of pointless theatrics. 

Aleka's offer earned a scrutinizing glare from the bandit. If he were to seek mentorship, he always assumed it would only be found at the end of a gnarled, discordant string of fate ripped from hated Azaiza's loom; some entity borne to this plane on the designs of a dusty grimoire who intended to barter knowledge for souls, not a local apothecary. His was the power of kings and concubines alike, true, but  what could a common shopkeeper possibly have to show him? Cerric said it best, aetheric prowess was forged at the end of a blade. Ceolfric managed to rip his eyes away from Aleka long enough to raise a scarred brow at the bard. Hopefully these alleged stories inspired more awe than a description of her occupation, though he wasn't exactly holding his breath. Maybe the woman could provide a useful trick or two to make the tedious parts of his job more tolerable. The House doubtlessly frowned upon wanton slaughter in pursuit of a contract and he lacked the manpower this far south to simply hold an entire town hostage for the sake of finding one man anyway.

Things were simpler when the laws of men didn't apply to him.

The return of the servant who'd carried the books away reclaimed Ceolfric's attention, if only out of sheer curiosity. It wasn't surprising that his lordship hadn't deigned to greet them despite being in attendance, street rabble that they were, but for Freckles of all people to catch his eye was unexpected. Was it simply the novelty of being the odd man out? The only (alleged) mundane mortal among a pack of aether-blessed demigods? By Ceolfric's measure, that should've only made him less worthy of attention. Did Mystaleth spot some incongruency in his story? If he'd lie about the glowing dots on his face, surely he could lie about something else, but to be caught so easily by a complete stranger was as pathetic as it was unlikely. Then again, it wasn't a stretch to assume his senses were even sharper than Ceolfric's and he simply noted the disparity between five aetherborn entering and only four being recorded.

He looked again to Lilann to see if the fate that had befallen her brother - no, he supposed to couldn't be related, given their differing stories of origin - had unduly stolen her attention away from whatever tavern tales this serpent oil saleswoman must've inspired for Aleka to mention it. Instead, it seemed the teenager was vying for her attention now. Lady M? As in Mystraleth? Did he miss something? Was Vivian the lord's wife? He didn't see anything strange about her conduct, in any case. Tainted drew glances quite a bit, as far as Ceolfric was aware.

[color=AA4A44]"More importantly,"[/color] Ceolfric tacked on to Ermes' inquiry, [color=AA4A44]"Do you know the story on this Agitha character? Preferrably without the ridiculous embellishments thrown on by whomever told you the tale."[/color] Maybe he'd be pleasantly surprised and learn this woman had cultivated a merchant empire through mass mind control of the local Red Fern producers or founded her alchemy business on potions brewed from the blood of dragons she'd slain in single combat.

[hr][@McMolly]