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Submitted By: Loren
All Characters Involved: Loren, Sarendor

Submitted Log

Loren's hand moves like it does every day, the same monotonous motion of dipping the quill into the ink and signing his name to the bottom of the piece of paper. Unlike every other day though, today's duty doesn't end with the setting sun or the two stacks of paper finally becoming one complete stack or even when the ink well is dry. Loren's assistant, an aging man of an almost unheard of 85 summers takes the final paper sprinkles some sand over the ink to help it dry and placing it on the stack with all the others before nodding. "With that my Lord, I will be taking these to where they need to be. Good day." He says, like he says every day. And Loren replies, as always, "Good Day Jenson, I will see you again tomorrow." Right before the old man bows and leaves the large conference room. Loren turns to look at the guard by the door, an Elite of Damodred. Unusual for today that an Elite is standing personal guard on the Conference room, but today is not the usual day. "Is he here yet?" To which the guard nods and saying quickly, "Yes, my Lord." A small smile creases Loren's lips as he says, "Well then, show him in." As the guard turns around to open the door to admit the guest for today Loren's smile straightens and his face returns to its stoic pose famous in Daes De'mar. [Loren]

For a few seconds after the door opens nothing happens, no one entering the room, a pause where near silence holds. Finally, a moment later, a slender man dressed in deep black silks that hang loosely about his person strides through the open doorway, his pale blue orbs moving over the guard as he walks past, a small smirk curving up his lips upwards. He walks past the man, his direction certain and determined, walking up towards Loren, stopping about five paces before he reaches the Lord. He offers a small bow, his waste bending in the slightest, lowering his head while keeping those pale blue orbs on the man's face. His right hand raises to the brim of his hat as he makes his motions, tipping the hat as he says, "G'day m'lord Loren." His words are twisted and slurred in that Illianer accent of his. He stands straight after a second, his hands falling by his side. [Sarendor]

A short man hurries from a small tray table off to the side with two goblets and a small pitcher of wine. He quickly sets a goblet by Lord Loren's right hand and fills it before moving over by Sarendor and setting the other goblet down on the table and quickly filling it as well before sliding a chair out and indicating for the slender man to have a seat. Bowing slightly he takes the tray and what is left of the wine and moves back to where he was waiting before. Lord Loren's right hand begins to slide his finger around the base of the goblet as he studies the other man for a moment. "Good day, if what I hear is true it seems you have quite a reputation for yourself. Then again if you didn't I wouldn't be talking to you." He says with a jovial tone. [Loren]

Sarendor allows his eyes to move to the servant as he rushes forward, that hawk-like gaze following the man until he backs off once more. He moves afterwards to sit in the chair, dropping himself comfortably in the cushioned seat, leaning back comfortably. He looks at the goblet offered to him for a second, but once Loren speaks he turns his entire attention to him. After a second he nods to the man, "I could say much the same of you, Loren." He arches an eyebrow after he says the man's name, spreading his hands, his tone somewhat apologetic, yet curious as he continues, "Do ye mind if I call you Loren, m'lord?"

Loren frowns slightly, his eyes narrow as he looks across the table to the assassin. "I don't mind at all as long as you don't mind forgetting about ever working for me again and never seeing a single penny of what I was going to pay you. If you're going to work for me, then you will show me the respect I deserve as Lord of Damodred." As the last words were uttered Loren becomes more animate even poking his finger into the table top to emphasize "deserve as Lord of Damodred." Taking a deep breath he leans back into the chair and takes a sip from the wine goblet. Letting the taste of it swirl in his mouth before swallowing and returning his attention to the young man. "What will it be, will you be civil in my house and talk business or will I have my Elites show you out at sword point?"

Sarendor loses the smirk that was on his face at the man's words, assuming a set of facial expressions that show almost no expression one way or another. He nods once in response to the man's words, his voice no longer playful, "Of course, m'Lord, I do apologize for my actions." He leans back in his chair, reaching out with his left hand and takes up the goblet that was set out before him, swirling it once before he raises the gilded cup to his lips and takes a sip of the wine. After swallowing he continues, "I do no wish to continue our meeting as such, m'lord."

Loren grasps the wine glass before standing up and starts to walk back and forth slowly behind his chair. His eyes staring off to the rafters as he thinks to himself and slowly shakes his head. "I'm glad you made that decision." He says after a couple minutes of silent pacing. "I have need of someone of your talents. As you no doubt have assumed since you are here before me. I need someone to stir up some trouble in the house of Riatin. There is a lordling there that is turning the position of houses into a laughing stock. He throws balls and galas and invites even the lesser nobles. I went to one, you were there, and they were all over me like flies. If he is allowed to continue such antics then the lesser nobles might think something of themselves, might think they even have a right to the throne when my uncle dies. I will not have it. I don't know what he's doing, but the way he's playing Daes De'mar will ruin all the top houses in the end. He must be eliminated." As the last Word is said Loren rotates to face Sarendor and slams the goblet down on the table hard enough that the crystal shatters. The serving man from the side rushes up with the wine tray and a towel, carefully washing Loren's hand and then pouring another glass before moving back to his spot. All the while Loren continues as though nothing happened. "I don't care how its done, as long as no one will suspect me and its done. I would like to see it accomplished and I'm willing to put out 3 gold marks for it to be done."

Sarendor never allows the man to leave his sights, those pale blue orbs of his following the man as he starts pacing. Never once does he allow his emotions to show, his face remaining as blank and still as a stone. But, at the man's offer he slips up, just once, blinking incredulously. He shakes his head after a second, able to regain his composure, "Nay, that will no do. You speak of someone that shakes the very base of Daes Dae'mar and then offer that? I do no be a low rent hand for hire."

Loren shakes his head and looks down at the lad, "Look boy, I know you know how to barter and negotiate a price. I set low, you counter with something high and we go from there. None of this light forsaken 'try again' you're too low stuff. It may work with someone else but it won't work with me. Give me your insultingly high value and then let us continue." He says gruffly before taking a swig from his new wine goblet. As the wine slides down his throat he places the goblet back on the table and puts his left hand on the back of his chair.

Sarendor shakes his head at the man's words, arching an eyebrow at the man's words, the only thing upon his face changing from that stony gaze. He moves his eyes to where the man just smashed the wine glass, over to the servant for a second, taking in the sight of all the intricacies of the room, then back to the face of the Lord of the Manor. "30 gold marks, or equivalent treasures. Andoran weight." He says this precisely.

Loren waves his right hand in front of his face and shakes his head, "Get your heart off the Andoran weight. This is Cairhien, you will be paid with Cairhienin coin." He pauses for a moment as though considering a number, but from his mannerisms its easy to determine the next value was already figured out. "I'll give you 10."

Sarendor shakes his head a bit, though the corners of his lips have curved up in the slightest bit, yet not enough that it is readily apparent. To the trained eye he would seem to be enjoying this, something that he does not get to do every day. Quickly after the other man's words he responds, as precise as before, "Cairhienin it is then, 20."

Loren picks up his goblet and starts to pace, taking a sip periodically over the span of a few minutes as he works over the prices in his head. Though people who look closely and know what to look for would have seen that he showed no surprise over the 20 marks, nor to the acquiescence to the Cairhienin coin. As well they could see that even though he appears to be thinking for a few minutes the next amount has already been planned. "13 and not a penny more."

Sarendor sits in the seat for a long moment, watching the man carefully, those baby blue orbs of his following his every motion, almost inspecting him and seeming to be watching for something as of yet unseen. No movement other than his head and eyes following Loren go on for a while, a dead silence falling over the room. Finally, he speaks, his words coming out easily, flowing in that southerner accent, "I do be sorry, m'lord. But I will not accept that. You broker a hard deal, but I stand firm on 20 gold marks and I will no budge."

Loren shrugs slightly and his head shakes from side to side, before his mouth opens to speak in a normal tone as though he expected such a tactic from the other man. "Well then, if you are not willing to go below 20 coins then we are at an impasse. I was willing to go to 15, but I will save us both the time and effort of extending this negotiation any further since you are so adamant about 20." A quick hand motion starts his Elite guard opening the door.

Sarendor shakes his head a bit, standing from his seat when the door opens behind of him. "Obviously, we can no agree here. And to think, I do favor your men." He shakes his head a bit as he looks at the man, placing the goblet of wine back upon the table now, sliding it towards the center of the table. "Maybe we can profit off each other in the future, m'Lord, but I will no cut me own throat to save what you hold dear."

Loren shrugs softly and shakes his head, "So be it. I had hoped we would come to an amicable agreement, but I see I shall have to call upon someone else to do the task. Maybe the Golden Hound would be interested in my gold. I will make sure you are treated gently as you leave." As the last words are being spoken the Elite opens the door completely and stands ready to escort Sarendor out.

Sarendor arches an eyebrow at the man's words, shaking his head as he hears them. "Then, shall our paths cross again in the future, m'lord. Until then, may you fair well on your search. I do only hope that I should fair as well on mine." He makes the same bow to the man as the one when he had entered, tipping his hat to the man at the bottom of his courtesy for the Lord. When he stands straight from this he turns, looking towards the Elite of the Guardsmen, nodding as he motions to the door, beginning to make his way out of the conference room.

Loren motions to his servant saying loudly enough to be overheard, "send a courier with the letter for the Golden Hound. And have my dinner ready for me in my quarters. I will be retiring early tonight." Lord Loren doesn't acknowledge the other man, or even look at him again as he picks up the goblet of wine and swirls the it in his hand gently sipping it.

Sarendor makes his way to the doorway, looking at the Elite of the man for a moment, hearing the man's words about the Golden Hound once more, causing him to stop in his tracks. He holds up a single hand to the guard, telling him to pause from his removal of the room for just another moment. He speaks at first without turning to face the Lord, "The Golden Hound would no accept such low wages, should he do it all himself." He continues holding his hand to the guard, turning to look back at the Lord, taking two steps back forward towards him, "Yet, you do ask me to do so with only 15 gold marks? That will no cover what I'll have to pay for assistance. This do no be a one man job, as you well know." He shakes his head, his tone continuing in that emotionless voice of his, even with the accent slurring his words.

Loren downs the rest of the goblet in one gulp, a sighing breath escapes his lips with a small shaking of his head. Loudly, with a voice of command an authority that carries in the large room he says, "Very well. You better not disappoint me. You will get 5 marks now to entice the assistance you need and 15 more once I have confirmation of the death of a certain young lordling. Speak with Jenson on the way out he will have your 5 gold marks ready." Just outside the door, the old man Jenson stands with a knowing smile on his face with a small pouch making a slight tink-tink-tink sound as he holds it up.

Sarendor nods at the man's words, a true smile upon his face for the first time since he has walked in the door. "I will make sure to no do so, m'Lord. It has been enjoyable, as always, Lord Damodred." With that he gives another bow, this time slightly more intricate, then turns to head fully out the door this time, turning to accept the pouch of coin before heading further down the hallway.