A/N: This one-shot is for the dedicated reader who requested one about Armand Lennox. Enjoy.
"I'm a little surprised," Armand admitted, "that you asked to meet with me. You must be aware of the kind of work that I do, and how it more often than not winds up in direct opposition to your own goals." The man sitting opposite him in the dim light of a less-than-reputable tavern of Waterdeep's Dock Ward offered a wry half-smile.
"I'm aware, yes. But in this case, you're the only man for the job. We need someone who can infiltrate a underground syndicate, gain their confidence, do everything needed to ensure they trust you without reservation…and stab them in the back. The word is that you're that man." His prospective employer's face was a bland one, one that could all too easily become another face in the crowd, and be forgotten without any effort. Fitting. Armand steepled his fingers on the table, and asked quietly, "So which syndicate are we speaking of, sir? There are so many, you know, and my knowledge, though vast, does not encompass them all."
"This one is well known, more so than others." Reaching into an inner pocket, he placed a scrap of parchment on the table, and slid it over to Armand, who picked it up, and took a careful look at the symbol drawn upon it.
"I see. You're playing for high stakes. I didn't even know your people even had an interest in the Cult of the Dragon, and I thought I knew everyone that the Moonstars dealt with." The other man hid his surprise well, but it was still detectable. A long moment passed in silence before he asked gravely,
"How did you know?" Armand raised his hands modestly.
"You spoke to me earlier. I was one of those you asked for information regarding where I could be found. You recall an older dockhand you exhibited that silver pin to? Of course, one might conclude you were a Harper, but somehow I doubt that Those Who Harp would approve the plan you have just proposed to me. You are one of the Blackstaff's Moonstars, and a high-ranking one, at that, otherwise you would not have the authorization needed to negotiate this deal. You also have five subordinates in this tavern watching us, seated at the table in the other corner. Their boots are far too fine for this place." He allowed himself a small smile at the expression of astonishment that was on the Moonstar's face. "Secrets," he remarked unnecessarily, "are my business." The other man sighed.
"So I can well believe. However, this does not change the fact that we can pay well, and we still would like to acquire your services. Are you interested, or have I wasted my time?" Armand nodded once.
"I am interested. This task will take me at least two months, perhaps three. The Cult is quite secretive, and mistrusting of new members. It shouldn't be too hard. My price is five thousand gold crowns, half now, half upon completion. Yes or no?"
"Two thousand. We don't overpay." Armand considered, then began to stand up.
"Then I suppose I should be going. Thank you for your time-"
"Wait!" Armand lowered himself back into the chair, his smile having grown wicked.
"As I thought. You don't want to go to all the trouble of finding someone else, someone less discreet or effective, and it would take too much time to find a substitute that can match me. I'm here, and I'm willing to do the work. But there is a downside. I don't negotiate. You can either pay me what I ask, which I assure you is the best price you can get, or I can walk away and forget this ever happened. Your choice."
"Very well. Five thousand crowns. If you cross us, however, be warned that you won't live to enjoy it." Armand's reply was steady.
"I have no such intention. You have a deal." He offered a hand, but the Moonstar did not take it, and, scraping his chair back, left the tavern without a backwards glance, his subordinates following. A few moments passed, and Armand remained where he was. Before long, another cowled figure slipped into the chair before him. He asked without preamble, "So, did you hear all of that?" The other nodded.
"Most of it. I'm surprised they showed up. But since they did, we'll have no trouble tracking them down. My thanks for your help. We would have had a much harder time discovering those working against us without it." Armand's expression remained impassive.
"I'm sure the Cult will be pleased, yes. My money is waiting?"
"Exactly where you specified. Two thousand gold pieces." Armand rose from his seat.
"Then it would appear our business is concluded." The Cult agent turned to go, but before he had taken two steps, he felt the point of a knife pressing into his back. Armand murmured into his ear, "Unfortunately, now that I've just agreed to help infiltrate your little organization, I'll have to start with making sure you don't say anything about this deal to your superiors. I'll want them as trusting of me as possible to begin with."
"W-what are you doing? Are you mad?"
"Far from it. I merely think it unfair for you to obtain a victory over the Moonstars without them getting something in return, and I did agree to help them. You should know I always keep my word." With that, the pair exited the tavern, into the darkness of the Dock Ward, and vanished from sight.