The guildmaster dropped two large satchels onto the table with enough force to make the coins inside them jingle. "I have an idea," he smiled with a toothless grin. "Why don't I just kill you and keep the gold to myself?"
Steady, Lance told himself.
The guildmaster's tone was jovial, suggesting a mere joke amongst two professionals who traded in death. The greedy glint in his eyes told otherwise.
Lance decided to laugh as befitting a joke, just a notch over the top for added politeness. Eyes straight. Don't fidget.
Slightly puzzled, the guildmaster echoed the laugh, which bought Lance a few seconds to reassess the situation.
Two bodyguards. One standing beside the table, alert, the other behind on a chair. Sitting behind the desk puts the guildmaster at a tactical disadvantage. Probable: at least one blade hidden under the desk.
"You won't do that," Lance stated with feigned confidence.
"Oh? Don't we both murder people for a living?"
Lance laughed once again. "Indeed." His keen, trained senses guided his attention towards the feeling of air moving over his skin. A draft! His hearing revealed muffled breathing nearby.
Eavesdroppers? Unlikely. This is the kind of meeting you bring backup to. Sliding doors? No access. Revolving doors? Not enough draft. Holes for blowpipes with poison darts?.. Shit.
"I'm an assassin," Lance said. "Arguably the best in the land, considering I vanquished the Emperor despite his corrupt magics. You, on the other hand, are a businessman, surely looking out for your best interest. Is that not the reason why we're underground, shielded from prying eyes and turbulent storms alike?"
"Are you saying I'm a coward?"
"Not at all." Just implying it.
The guildmaster untied one of the sacks. "So I am a businessman." He grabbed a handful, raised his hand, and let the gold coins fall back into the sack with a steady, melodious tingle. "Is this not in my best interest?"
The walls breathe heavily because he's afraid. I can work with that, but let's try greed first. "Two sacks of gold... I thought you were more ambitious."
The guildmaster shrugged. "Gold is good."
"We've done quite a lot of business together, isn't that so? With my reputation on the rise, imagine all the gold you'll be getting from future contacts. There's no shortage of mages to be killed; I bet you already have offers." Thinking about mages irritated Lance - unless the thoughts were about planning to kill them, in which case it soothed him.
"We have offers, true. Big money."
"It wouldn't befit a businessman to throw all that gold away. Honor among thieves is born out of self-interest, is it not?"
It was the guildmaster's turn to laugh. "You seem to understand tradecraft, but do you understand the human psyche? Being well-known can bring fame as well as infamy... can you see where I'm going with this?"
Lance could. Since it was always risky to walk around with carriable riches, Lance was prepared to leave half the gold for 'investment and safekeeping' - a not too voluntary contribution to the guild which at least bought some influence. I guess that option will no longer work. "Please, do explain."
"Well, mages are a bloodthirsty lot, you know that. They're not business-savvy like you and I. Some recognize fame as an opportunity and seek to hire you to eliminate the competition. Others fear your infamy: they see an unknown threat with a proven record of penetrating magical defenses - and they would pay even more not to deal with that risk directly." He grinned, his greed more apparent. "Of course, I'm telling you this for your own safety."
"Naturally," Lance nodded. "I appreciate your concern."
The guildmaster leaned forward. "You see, if something were to happen to you, I would be unable to protect you. In fact, your mere presence here brings danger to my people."
Lance resisted an urge to swallow. "Don't worry, I seek no protection." Confidence! The only reason I'm not dead yet is because he's afraid of me. "I'll be leaving soon... With my two sacks of gold."
The guildmaster tapped his fingers on the table, and tightened his stained lips.
Lance locked his eyes onto his adversary's. Indecision and fear. He's feeling naked - but it's not in his personality to lash out when cornered. "The thing is, I'd kill mages and anyone who stands in my way solely for the pleasure. Needless to say, I've gotten pretty good at it. I hate them much more than you love gold."
Under the weight of Lance's stare, the guildmaster leaned away.
Lance continued, louder, speaking to the others as well. "I'm told the ripples from my battle with the Emperor were felt even here. You know the feeling: starting as goose bumps and pinprickles in the brain, it constricts and expands, like an energy storm inside your stomach. Your awareness becomes superimposed over your body and not one with it. Makes you want to puke, doesn't it?"
"I have a strong stomach..." He mumbled.
"Imagine how it was for me, battling the most powerful person in the world, matching his corrupt magics that shook the very reality around us with strength and precision!" Lance laughed maniacally. "And finally emerging victorious, unharmed by foul spells!" Let rumors instill fear and build my legend.
The guildmaster didn't laugh.
Assassinating the Emperor wasn't easy, but extensive preparation, graceful stealth and a single, anatomically precise backstab was what brought success. No battle took place - the Emperor started throwing mighty spells around only after receiving the fatal wound. It's sad that they buy into their own myth of invincibility. Lance couldn't even remember how he got out - his memory was a blur colored by a long, persistent wail: "I don't want to die!" After the final explosion, he recalled looking back at the castle which was shimmering like a desert mirage. Had anyone survived, following the trail of repeatedly expunged stomach-contents would have been easy.
Lance buried the truth deep. "I think exposure to all that turbulent magic affected me." Deception worked best when he could convince himself the lie was a truth coming from the core of his being. "I've become immune to it, just as I'm immune to the poisons coursing in my veins. Occasionally, in battle... time stands still for me and I move with unnatural speed - when time flows again, my enemies just drop dead." The fabrication felt unnervingly true.
The guildmaster tensed, then gulped. Betrayed by his own pheromones, he tried to avert his gaze.
"As I said, I appreciate your concern." Lance stood up, causing a shiver to run through the nearby bodyguard. "However, I don't need your men, nor the weapon hidden under your desk, nor the foul-breathed blowpipers crouching inside the walls to help me hunt down my enemies and vanquish them to oblivion."
The look on the guildmaster's face was the same as on refugees from energy storms; the rug of their reality has been pulled out from under them. No wonder mages and politicians find such power intoxicating.
Lance leaned over the desk, and took the two large satchels with one hand. "May you live to see your business prosper," he whispered, and backed out of the room without breaking eye contact.
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