It was a grim night, the kind that wrapped itself around you like a shroud. The tavern was full, bursting with life and noise. The floorboards creaked under Jarlaxle's weight as he tugged a chair back and sat down with a flourish. In the shadowy corner, Artemis leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes peering through the narrow gap of the wooden window.

Outside, the golden light of the tavern lanterns spilled out, illuminating a scene of revelry. Drunken tieflings stumbled past vendor stalls, cloaked figures led their horses through the bustling yard.

Inside, the door creaked open almost imperceptibly, but Artemis noticed. He always did. Your entrance was nearly silent, like a ghost slipping into the room. Jarlaxle's grin widened at the sight of you, his loyal mercenary from Bregan D'aerthe.

"Ah, right on time," Jarlaxle said, his voice dripping with charisma. "I trust the mission was successful?"

You pulled down your cloak, letting it fall over your shoulders as you placed a heavy pouch of coins on the table. "The noble paid well for the information," you replied, your voice steady. "And for a few mouths to be permanently shut."

Jarlaxle chuckled, the sound rich and full of mirth. "Excellent."

You exchanged a look with Artemis, a moment of silent understanding passing between you. Jarlaxle began counting the coins, his fingers deftly moving over the glinting gold. The silence between you and Artemis was heavy with unspoken words. You both had come close to the same fate, your lives intertwined by more than just mutual acquaintance.

You flashed a grin at Artemis, always the star, while he remained the steadfast moon, or perhaps a stone—unyielding, enduring. His personality, stoic and resolute, contrasted sharply with your own flamboyance.

"How was the city?" Artemis asked, his voice a low rumble, breaking the silence.

"Full of secrets and opportunities," you replied, your grin widening. "And nobles with deep pockets."

Jarlaxle chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Indeed"