Dar'Saro stopped in his tracks, shocked. Stuttering, he says, "The Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Yes, Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion." The Nord sighs, then continues. "I would have rather not gotten involved with this pointless war, but I cannot ignore a contract from the Night Mother." The pair resume walking before Dar'Saro speaks up again after a few moments of silence.
"The Imperials will win the war, and Skyrim will fall under control of the Aldmeri Dominion if you carry out with this contract, no?"
"Aye, that's what I fear," the Dragonborn replies, a grave tone to his thick accent. "But I have no doubt that someone will eventually make a contract against the high ranks of the Aldmeri Dominion. My only concern is if there's an assassin, or group of assassins, skilled enough to pull off an something like that. Hell, I don't even know if the two of us are capable of pulling this off."
Dar'Saro adopted a look of concern on his face. This mission could potentially be a suicide mission for him. He understood that the moment he found out Ulfric was the target. But the Listener having doubts? This increased the cat's worries.
"Surely the Night Mother knows how dangerous this mission is, no?" Dar'Saro pauses for a moment. "Why would she risk her Listener's life, hmm?"
"The Night Mother puts more faith in me than she should," he replies. "I've almost gotten myself killed on plenty of her 'special' missions, and she knows it. Sometimes I wonder if she's trying to get me killed. Perhaps she wants me to join her and the Dread Father in the Void."
The conversation soon grows silent. After a few hours, the encroach upon the gates of Windhelm. Dread washes over the odd pair as they pause the entrance to the city. They could both die, and they both know it.