Joseph, merchant (Solo?) (Let me know if you want in and we can do something)

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The busy marketplace rang with cries from shopkeepers, crowding nearly too close in the streets of Scara Brae, now bustling with people late in the morning. Joseph’s voice rang out in the throng, calling for the passersby to see his wares.

“Here you go gentlemen!” he yelled, standing on a stool and shaking a piece of red cloth. “This is the finest silk from elvish weavers, sure to impress the ladies, and at prices like these, you can still take her somewhere nice for the night!” A couple of potential customers let out hearty laughs at that one. He smiled wide, knowing that his words made people feel at ease. When people began to turn their heads away, he started up again, calling out his wares.

By midday, he had sold a good amount of product. He enjoyed the merchant life, it let him see the world, all it’s races and cultures. It was slow going at the moment, most people were looking for food to eat or other goods on other streets. He sat down, holding a ream of fabric and calling out to people, usually around noon they came by every few minutes. His eyes locked on a young man with tousled blond hair, wearing clothes that betrayed him as lower middle class, but Joseph had been around enough people of different walks to know he wasn’t as he appeared. For one, his face was too clean and shaven, and he walked just a bit too tall, like a man who won first prize in a race. Joseph pinned him as a noble; and nobles only meant one thing, money. He called out a bit.

“Hey you! Young man, have you ever felt linen from Raieria? It is the smoothest thing you’ve-” He interrupted Joseph’s sales pitch with a harsh shushing sound. He spoke with the telltale accent of nobility.

“Listen I don’t have much time here, do you have any, Salvarian cotton?”

The barest hint of a smile touched the edges of his lips for a second when he heard those two words. There was, of course, no such thing as Salvarian cotton, but what passed for it went for a lot of money. Joseph leaned back in his stool and pulled out a spool of ordinary thread. “Why of course, my good man, I only carry the finest wares, you know!” He held out the spool, exchanging it for a bag of coin, a big contract, if he was right. The young man spoke again in hushed tones.

“Listen, I need this done fast, and if you double cross me, I’ll-” Joseph clapped him on the shoulder, hard.

“I’m sure it’ll be everything you heard about!” He dropped his voice to a much lower tone, pulling him close. “Now get out of here before somebody notices you.” He pushed the young man away and called after him, wishing him well. He fondled the bag full of money for a second before slipping it into the small bag on his back. Inside would be a name, and other necessary details, as well as a time and place. It would be half now, and half after he’d made the kill. The store was a front, and though it made a bit of money and he enjoyed it, his skills as an assassin made him real money. He dared not peek at the bag now, but he wondered what it had in store for him. Perhaps he would visit that tavern he’d heard about after he knocked off for the evening, Heavy Hearth Inn, was it?