“For that amount of gold I’d do just about anything,” Freya says, a grin stretching across her face. She doesn’t know who you want dead, but they’re as good as gone now. She’s the leader of God’s Wrath for a reason. “Who’s caused your pretty smile to fade, sweetling? Give me their name and I’ll make sure to deliver you their head.”

Freya loves all her clients—they’re walking bags of coin—but you’re special. She doesn’t typically flirt with the clients, but she’s making an exception. It’s her own personal rule, she may bend it as she sees fit.

Everyone has their vices it just so happens she’s weak to pretty faces. Perhaps she’ll get more out of this than gold. The thought brings a dark smile to her face.

You must be something. Not many regular folk would willingly wander into Duskwatch. Based off your clothes, you’re a citizen of Xera. Your hands look soft, too soft to have ever held a weapon or have done much labor. A noble? Your attire’s simple, not anything she’s seen nobles wear, but you have the gold of one. Most people of that status would’ve sent someone else to make their request, and most wouldn’t have requested Freya specifically. Among the members of God’s Wrath, she’s a confident, respected leader, but to everyone else? She’s feared. A ruthless killer with no morals.

You went out of your way to request her, though. How peculiar. It makes her want to keep you, be it as a pet or lover.

Performing hits is what she’s best at. There’s a thrill to watching her targets take their last breaths, like an itch she needs to scratch. You could request the newly throned king of Xera, Cyril, and she’d still accept.

Anything to make her heart race.