My apologies on the delays. Personal issues are pretty much worked out.

Chapter 10: The Scum of the Rich

Saleg was sitting at yet another bar. Business this time, rather than pleasure. This one was a lot better than his usual place at the South Wall. Better drinks, comfortable stools, better music from a bard who wasn't just a shameless drunk playing a trashy lute he found in the dumpster. The whores touring the place were of a higher quality, too. Probably lacking whatever the latest crotch-rot was. He was waiting, as he had done for the past week, for his contact who was supposedly known for trolling this place. Over the past week though, he hadn't come in. It was starting to get ridiculous and Saleg was about to give up and find him and damn the damage done to his cover.

Just then, a strong, middle aged Imperial came walking through the door. Saleg was wowed by the quality of Caius' description of the man, if that truly was Hasphat. The man walked up to the bar, ordered some shein, and started feeling up one of the whores. Saleg remembered Nine-Toes' instructions on how to remain unnoticed and sidled up to the stool next to Hasphat.

He waited until the man's drink was just about empty, then ordered a drink for both he and the Imperial. The man turned toward him. It was amazing what a full glass can do to a man's disposition. He slapped Saleg on the shoulder, obviously geared up for a night of paying for his drinks.

"Hasphat Antabolis?" Saleg asked.

"Who's asking?" the Cyrodiil replied. Oh yeah, Saleg thought to himself, this is my guy.

"I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. Swap some knowledge."

"Oh really?" Hasphat responded. "And just what knowledge would you be willing to offer?"

"Simply the fact that I am a friend of Cosades."

"Ah. So when you say you want to swap knowledge…"

Saleg finished his thought. "…I mean my favor and your information."

"Sure, I got something that might be worth a little information. Might just. And it should give me enough time to dip my wick in some of these pretty little things too," he said, slapping one of the whores on the butt as she went by. To her credit, she simply turned, gave him a seductive looking smile she had probably been working on in the mirror all day at least, and went on by. Saleg was disgusted by the whole act. But ever the actor, he kept up the façade, even as Hasphat was blatantly screaming across the bar how he was going to enjoy tying her to bed. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do. He was curious at just what circumstance had originally brought Caius and Hasphat to the same place at the same time. He shook his head clear of his thoughts and tried to contain his disgust.

"What's the task, Hasphat?" he said, a little more emotion going into the statement than he had hoped. Hasphat didn't even notice.

"Well," he started, "on top of being a history buff, I'm also a collector of certain goods that some might consider a little below the level. Might even be considered illegal. Laws are made to get in a man's way after all." He wiped the snot from his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Saleg was starting to get angry at every man who had ever called the poor classless, shameless scum of Nirn. Seeing this supposed high-class individual instilled in him a great pride in growing up poor. If this was how the rich acted, well, he was happy he picked a house on the other side of town. "But then again, I hear you have a healthy disrespect of the law yourself. Probably beat up poor Cosades in order to get my name."

He silently thanked Nine-Toes for his advice back at Caius' home. "I don't have any problem solving troubles outside of the normal legal boundaries, if that's what you're asking."

Hasphat laughed. "That's what I wanted to hear! Barkeep! Another round for me and my friend here." The keep slipped up and filled their glasses yet again. Hasphat waited until he slid back down before starting again. "Heard of a Dwemer ruin not far from 'ere. Called Arkngthand. Some excavation project or the other headed up there. I'm looking for a particular piece, rumored to be down there in the depths of the place. It's a small box, brown, called a Dwemer puzzle box. You bring me that box, I tell you what you need to know. 'Till then, I'm gonna try and bag me another whore." He spit across the bar before walking up and making a pass at woman who looked awfully familiar. Saleg had had enough, of Hasphat and his own memories. He muttered something unintelligible and left the bar.

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Saleg wandered the streets of the city, trolling for yet another client. Julienne was sick, too sick to work, and all the prostitutes, male and female, were working even more in order to get money to help her out. Some, Saleg included, were risking even more, drugging and robbing some clients that they didn't think were going to be around to try to get retribution. It had always been the rule of the streets that you did all you could to help out those in need. He didn't play at being noble. Other people had what he needed, so he would take it. He didn't try to justify it beyond that.

He had walked into one of the hotspots for clients, and noted immediately at least four women and two other men working the same bar. Not enough competition to warrant changing areas for the night. He saw one Redguard woman he guessed was down on her luck just enough to warrant picking up a whore and made his move. He introduced himself as a connoisseur of sorts and peppered his speech with just enough hints to keep her comfortable, but make sure he was clear on exactly where he was going. He figured her for an out-of-towner, and when she said how she was due to return to the next town over in a couple of days, the trap was set.

After he had done his job, he made a quick work of slipping the sleeping drug into her glass of water on the nightstand. He returned later to rob her of almost everything she owned, leaving her with a simple set of clothes and enough drakes to get her a carriage to her destination. He had made a lot that night. Before he left her, as he always did, he turned and gave her one last kiss on the cheek. Had he only known that, years later, he would see her again in the far-flung province of Morrowind, and that she would be whoring here, he might have left her with something more than just the clothes in the closet and a carriage ride. He wondered whether things could have gone differently, or if fate would have brought her here anyways