His current client was a slightly plump, hazel eyed merchant from inland. What set him apart, however, from the stonecutters, loaners and dyers was his lack of jewelry and practical attire, with a simple, black blouse that wouldn't extend past the hips, mountaineering boots, and cloak inlaid with chainmail.
"Hophen, how delightful to see you. I sure hope finding this hideout did not take too long."
"It would be delightful indeed, were we under different circumstances, sir Master Key. And yes, I had to circle these woods for two hours straight before I could find the markings, but I believe that's a small price to pay for not being followed, is it not?"
"Quite astute. And please, call me Gabe."
Hophen was a veteran soldier in his fifties. After retiring because of a bad knee (these arrows, man) he set up shop around his father's smith, specializing in broadswords and maces. Things were going well for decades, until recently, the local governor began hiking the taxes on weapons and demanding smith permits. The only way to circumvent the tax was to sell to the noble's men directly. Thus, he was slowly amassing quite a militia. The Mistwalkers had had their eyes on his activity for quite some months, but got pushed to strike just yesterday, by Hophen's generous offering. Beyond that, Galio had some quite... good intel on this man, and the benefits he might bring long term.
Hophen closed in for a hand-shake. As Galio took it, he swiftly relaxed his pupils and gazed around the room. Radiating weakly in infrared, two lightsplitting Mistwalkers were stationed in the corners by the only exit. "Humph, typical of Raoul." thought Galio. "When that avaricious sack of shite says he can spare two to five men, be sure he's adding the last part just for flavor."
Sitting down both his guest and himself, Galio unceremoniously fished for a ring from an inner pocket and placed it in front of the veteran-merchant. Solid gold, it held the crest of his governor. "Couldn't expect any less from you. Well done." Hophen nodded, placing a sizeable purse on the table. "Just curious, if you may be inclined to share some of your trade secrets, but how did you do it? His security was airtight - thanks in no little respect to the cache of weapons and mercenaries he's been collecting." Galio grinned. "Do you know what the difference is between a mercenary and an assassin, Hoph?" "No, what is it, sir Master K... Gabe?" Larger grin. "One of them is also quite the botanist."
After a short while, understanding dawned on the smith's face, followed by disbelief. "Food poison? But... the Lord has multiple tasters." "Potentiation." Galio revealed, as if from nowhere, three small vials of clear liquid. "One goes into the bread, another into the pork, the last into the wine. You eat the pork, you're slightly dizzy. You eat the bread, you're slightly lightsick. You drink the wine, you're slightly nauseated. You eat all three, you die. The more tasters, the better - they sample each separately, and there's less collateral damage." "Quite impressive exposition. It is no wonder they call you the best of the best." "Why, thank you, Hoph. Unfortunately, even the best of the best have things they cannot do. As you may very well know, there are things that lurk this Earth that laugh in the face of poison."
Galio could not read emotion from body heat, as some of his comrades, but Hophen's panicked face left no room for wonder. "What do you imply, Gabe?" "You were a soldier; I am well aware of this fact. A vanguard, even. You must know the difference between the vanguard and regular troops, right, veteran?" "Yes, quite so." Hophen sighed, defeated. Galio opened the purse, carefully split the coin inside in half, and handed one of the piles back to his client. "You have seen things, Hophen. Things you might never want to recall. Things that wake you up at night with a cold sweat. Things that make you wonder how come you made it out alive after all these years of service." With each sentence, Hophen slumped more and more in his chair, finally giving in. "Fine. What do you wish of me?"
With a victorious smile, Galio made a small gesture with his left hand, instructing the other two Mistwalkers to leave. This time, he'd be getting what he wanted without the use of force. "Hophen. Tell me all you know about the undead - and how to destroy them."