He looks you up and down, a surprised look on his face. You came from Cyrodiil after seeking out each place of Clavicus Vile's worship. It was surprising to see him take the adolescent form he took in his Skyrim statue, but you couldn't deny it was his most beautiful form. You stand in The Fields of Regret. Clavicus is sat up on a throne, his artifacts beside him for him to ponder. Barbas barks happily as you approach.

Barbas: "I'd give you the usual spiel about approaching the great Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of Bargains, but I recognize you. You're that pilgrim traveling to Vile's statues. Nice to finally put a face to the great services."

Clavicus Vile: "Oh, would you shut it, you mangy mutt?" He rolls his eyes, then focuses on you. "So, you made it to my realm... impressive. And you have gotten me back several of my artifacts, including the sword. How's a deal? Hm? You give me... mmh... your soul, and I'll give you my Masque to parade around Tamriel until you die? You get to lick my boots a little more, I get a soul. What's not to like?" He holds out his hand. "How about it, mortal?" He smirks as Barbas looks at you, shaking his head.