A middle-aged gentleman

“Yes,” Riolta replied, looking at the figure who had addressed her, “what is it?”
The figure before her was a man dressed in an expensive-looking but soberly styled suit, with a small cape in the same dull grey colour as the suit, and a cane in his right hand.

“It would be most convenient if you were to discuss a certain matter with me, shall we do so in your room?”

The man opened the door to Riolta’s suite, a door which she could have sworn that she had locked just a few seconds ago, and motioned for her to step back inside it.
“Alright.” Riolta did her best to sound suave and cool as she followed the stranger’s lead, moving across her room after having entered and seating herself in a luxurious couch by one of the large windows.

“So,” Riolta spoke to the man as he limped over to sit down in a chair opposite to her, the man using the cane as support for his stale right leg, “what is the nature of the matter which you seek to discuss, and who the hells are you?”

“Two very good questions, I admit, and I shall do my best to answer them in an articulate but brief manner. I am Redmond, and I am here firstly to congratulate you on the successes you’ve had with the bow, and to express my admiration for your ability and your aim.”

Redmond leaned back in the chair and moved his right hand over the hairless line of his jaw, his pale grey eyes seeming to observe Riolta as he went on speaking.

“But secondly, and more importantly, I’m here to offer you a job or rather, a mission.”

“Well,” Riolta remained unimpressed by Redmond’s fancy talking, “if you actually held any knowledge of my successes and abilities as a bowman you should be aware of the fact that I have no need for gold. And even if I did have such a need, I’m far too competent at what I do to be **** to risk my life in return for profits.”

“My dear,” Redmond offered Riolta a weak smile, the man seeming completely unflustered by her sluttish appearance, his gaze remaining steadily aimed at her face, rather than at her impressive bosom, “there are, as I hope that you know, more to life than gold.”

“Such as?” Riolta asked, offering Redmond a smile which she hoped would come across as both calm and alluring.

“Miss Snow, I shall be blunt,” Redmond said; a faint smile showing on his handsome face, “you are accomplished, by all means, but only in the way of a craftswoman. There is nothing grand or heroic about what you have done. As such, you may have money and you may have fame, but you will never have power. As of now, you can only expect to enter the noble circles of Tharros as a guest at best and as a dancing bear at worst.”

“And is that really so bad?” Riolta replied, doing her best to hide the fact that Redmond’s word had caused her to feel insulted.

“No, and many would be more than content with having what you have. You, however, hold higher ambitions than that, I suspect.”

“Cut to the chase,” Riolta cut in, “what is it that you’re offering?”

“I’m offering a means by which you can make yourself a name, a proper figure of power and influence.”

“In other words, you want me to do something for you; something that will get me noticed and will get you something that you want as well?”

“An excellent summary.” Redmond said, rising from the chair, “may I take you out to dinner, where we can discuss this matter to its full extent?”

After a brief moment of silence, Riolta replied “Certainly”, and rose up to her feet.
Ten minutes later, the two were placed in the VIP room of the hotel’s restaurant, which offered them the privacy needed to discuss the mission.

Carving off a slice from his well-done steak, Redmond washed it down with a sip of claret, and then seemed prepared to inform Riolta just what it was that he wanted her to do.