He eyed her, turning from his view. For a moment, a flicker of irritation came back into his gaze, before he nodded. He dug in his pocket- an actual pocket- and pulled out a token. Flicking it at her, he said, "That'll get you access to the armory. The blacksmith works there, so anything you get will be put on the royal coffers. Try not to get a masterwork- they're too expensive. Show that token to get whatever. Likewise, show it to my contacts. I'll let them know you're out there- just wait in one of the less reputable taverns, and they'll make contact."

Then he went back to his door, opened it after unlocking, and waved a passing servant over. "Full meal, here." The servant bowed, and scurried away. He watched her retreating figure, pondering for a moment about why they were born into such a life, and never, ever rebel. Never fought back. He didn't understand it.

He closed the door, leaving it unlocked, and turned back to his assassin. "Kill the Jarl quietly, if you can. As if he died in his sleep, with no cause, nothing. People will catch on when everyone that crosses me die in the middle of the sleep, exactly three days later, don'tcha think? And what about rumors? You mean the thing where I bought you as a slave, stripped everything off you and tossed you in my bed in nothing but a single piece of underwear? The weirdest thing right now is that you're confident and walking, not beaten and crawling." He walked over towards his wardrobe again, throwing on another brown shirt- he seemed to favor the dull and utilitarian.