Peek: Job Satisfaction

The ashen elf wonders how he came to this point.  He ponders as he gathers the chalice and wine bottle from his victim's night stand, replacing them with untainted ones from his bag.  His employer will want proof, and it's supposed to look as though the rotund noble simply died in his sleep.  It's not that far from the truth.  He just needed a little... help, that's all.

When he first tried his hands at this profession, it was just a grand way to make coin.  Even with his first job, however, he still had professional standards.  The first is a clean severance.  While he isn't one to send prayers to the Raven, he's also not one to delay the appointments with the godly corvid.  There's simply no point in making the meeting more painful than needed.  If an employer wants something more than a life, they should hire a spy, not an assassin.

As he quietly makes his exit, relying on his knowledge affinity to help him avoid the various guard patrols, his mind wanders back to the simple fact that the job has become... not quite *boring*, but certainly not satisfying.  Perhaps it's how irregular business is.  Starting out, it felt like everyone with a single drop of nobility in their veins would seek him or others like him to empty said nobility from their rivals.

Now... well, it's not like there are significantly fewer nobles, nor are they really any more noble than when he was younger.  No, the simple fact is that he has become too good.  While he can charge a king's ransom to ransom a king, most offers take their business elsewhere as they feel it's simply beneath him to even show the offer.

Too much down time.  Practicing and training can only keep his attention for so long.  He needs something to actually do.  He shakes his head as me makes the dead drop and collects the rest of his payment from the false side of the rain barrel in the alley.  Perhaps he should retire?

The thought seems like madness, especially with his age.  He's a bit too old to be starting a new profession, and definitely too young to retire.  Still... considering his profession, very few ever live long enough to reach the classic retirement age.

What new career should he pursue?  The thought seems to summon a shadow behind him, and without needing to think, he smoothly turns and hurls a fan of daggers at the presence.

Said presence is wearing simple, if well-kept, servant's clothing, and produces a handkerchief as the daggers fly.  As if wiping dust from the air, he plucks the deadly steel from its course, then holds the hand forward, open, the daggers neatly arranged on the thin cloth.

"Apologies, sir.  If sir would like to try again, please do.  Otherwise, might I offer some guidance?"

The ashen elf takes in the threat standing before him.  A troll, holding himself as the perfect image of a servant of some kind.  The ashen elf will drink the poisoned wine before he buys that for one more instant.  Still... his presence is confusing.  To be able to counter his attack like that... he's severely outclassed.  If the troll wanted him dead, he would be, he has no doubt about that.

"What do you want?" he tries, still on high alert around the enigma in servant's clothes.

The troll gives him a small smile and a tilt of the head.  "I'm here for what you want, sir: a new path, a change of career."

The elf's eyes narrow.  "How do you know that?"

A small smile answers him.  "You are hardly the only one with the knowledge affinity.  For those who have been in this business long enough, they don't even need it to see the signs of one who wishes for something else."

The elf can't help but flinch as the troll produces a small silver tray, and watches in confusion as the cloth with the daggers is set upon it, along with a sealed envelope.

"I would humbly suggest sir consider the letter properly.  It may seem a radical change in business... but the skillsets have a shocking amount of overlap."  He smiles as he sets the small tray atop a trashcan in the alleyway.  "And between us, I find the job much more rewarding.  You may find similar, sir.  Good day."

With that, the troll turns on his heel and walks out of the alley, leaving the ashen elf with far more questions than a single letter could possibly answer.  He warrirly gathers his knives and even the tray and cloth, finding them to be of significant quality, and deliberates on the letter.

He opens it with his knife, not trusting there to be no poisoned needles hiding in the wax.  As he reads, he sees the offered answer to his conundrum, and gains many more questions.  The offer makes no sense, at least at first.  The brief description of the offer at least lays bare the purpose of the job: a hidden bodyguard.  Who better to protect someone from an assassin than an assassin?

Still... could he learn to be a butler?