A glance to the pool and then the tattered. Hand found brandied goblet once more.

Dancer's words sought to provoke yet there were no buyers. This worried and reassured in equal measure. The mercenary knew shadowed guards lay hidden among the revelry. He'd probably make it as far as the foyer before being cut down. Odds were against him but not entirely out of reach. Most wouldn't have seen themselves from the seat without being skewered.

"Chopra is a man of habit as most rich cunts are," the Sixth started explain. "He holes up in an estate just off Murderer's Row. You'd a better chance of dragging the Mansa down to dunes before getting Chopra there." Dancer somehow suspected the masked man would understand the impossibility. "But this isn't the Empire and pride goes both ways."

Sensing the old man liked theatrics, the mercenary pointed just beyond him to the north. "He's got real business with Korokat of the Steel Reserve. Can't say what they're exactly into together but probably involves some serious coin. Otherwise they wouldn't meet every thrice-day at the Lilted Lilly."

That bit of information didn't come from a guild or source. The gods them-fucking-selves couldn't have stumbled upon it. No, It'd cost the Sixth two dumb snares and all his bloody wits to attain this. Bit of brandy and breasts wasn't going to lead him astray
 
"The Lilted Lilly," the Prince repeated from beneath the metal of his mask. His head had not changed position, almost as if the darkness of the abyss that made up the eyes of his mask were fixed upon the mercenary. "I know of this place. Enough to know that there are more than Chopra and the Steel Reserve that do their business there. Unseen hands oversee that operation. Discreet. Quiet. Plentiful as well. A reach that extends across the Free States."

A cause for pause, but no more. There were more important things to worry about outside of running afoul a few criminals. Things that moved within his soul and made him forget the feeling of fear. Perhaps that made him a fool or perhaps that made him dangerous. To the outsider, there might be no difference at all. The Prince rose from his seat and nodded at the old man in the pool. The Big Man nodded at one of the shadows the Sixth had been so worried about and another man came out holding a sack of coin. The latter half of his payment.

"Fair pay for fair work, Bladedancer. You've gone above and beyond."
 
"Aye, I'd wager there's more than meets the eye." Not my problem though, he didn't add. Free States was home to enough fuckery as is, last thing it needed was shadow games. 'Course the Empire refused to die so games were going to be played long after the mercenary was dead. Best he could do was try to avoid stepping in shit too often.

A man appeared with a very healthy purse of coin. Enough that even the Sixth would have trouble blowing it all away in one night.

"Won't argue that. But this-" He bounced his pay in palm, "makes for mighty motivation."

With that the Sixth got to his feet and started back the way he came. "First round's on me if you take that bastard's head. I wish you luck." No point in the mercenary staying around any longer now that business was done.
 
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