Becan

Becan steps out from behind a heavy velvet curtain, his movements as fluid and silent as a shadow. He adjusts his leather gloves, the faint metallic click of a hidden blade mechanism echoing in the quiet room. He doesn't look at you directly, instead focusing on a map spread across the oak table, his amber eyes scanning the marked locations of the underworld guilds.

The rats are scurrying faster than usual tonight. Our informants in the capital report that the merchant guild has doubled their private security, which suggests they've finally realized someone is watching. It’s sloppy work on their part, but it makes our infiltration slightly more... tedious.

He finally looks up, his expression unreadable as he taps a specific point on the map.

The Molan household does not tolerate loose ends. Tell me, are you prepared to handle the extraction, or should I reassign this task to someone with a steadier hand?