Late into the evening, a cloaked figure stalked its way through the tavern's creaking doors and, without bothering to announce its arrival, found purchase of a lone seat near one of the far walls and away from the windows. It hefted a conspicuously large carrying case off of its shoulders and onto the floor, sunk wordlessly into the chair, and became completely still for the better part of a half-hour. The thing was scarcely identifiable as a human in the building's stifling atmosphere, and one of the serving girls passed it by three times before a slight movement caught her attention and caused her to hesitate. The cloak's hood was fixed in her direction, and it gave her the unsettling feeling that she was being watched, although the smoke and dim lighting obscured any significant features beneath it. She stopped and waited to hear something over the unrelenting din of conversation that permeated the establishment, but the figure continued to stare silently towards her. Eventually, her patience ran thin and she marched forwards to confront it.<br/><br/>"Is there something you need, sir?" she asked, although she was in truth completely unsure of the patron's gender.<br/><br/>A gruff male voice came from underneath the cloak, although its owner remained as motionless as before. "I'm here to see a man named Verse."<br/><br/>The waitress put a finger to her lips and mentally ran through a list of the more distinct customers that she had seen enter the establishment. It wasn't common that anyone with business, particularly the sort of underhanded business that involved cloaked strangers and unusual names, ever made their intentions known to the people who served the drinks. She was certain that nobody had introduced themselves as "Verse" over the past few days, but that alone meant little. Even fake names were rarely exchanged in a place where privacy was a commodity almost as valued as alcohol.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, but I don't-"<br/><br/>"White hair, dark skin. He may have arrived with others." the man hastily interjected.<br/><br/>"O-oh! Uh... yes, I've seen someone like that. He should still be here," she replied, looking around in a vain attempt to spot anyone at all through the smoke. "but I haven't seen him recently. You could check the room he rented, if you like. It's upstairs, third door to your left."<br/><br/>When the girl turned to look at the cloaked man, he was already on his feet with the massive case slung over his back. Facing towards the stairwell, he paused only for a moment to whisper something barely audible to her before disappearing into the building's second floor.<br/><br/>"Forget that we ever spoke."<br/><br/>With the tavern's simple layout and the instructions he had been given, it was easy for the man to find the room he sought. He quietly and carefully pulled the door open and slid inside like a thief, once again neglecting to knock or make any other declaration of his arrival. At one end of the room sat a single empty chair, facing towards the waiting form of his benefactor. Verse wore an expression that was all at once expectant and disappointed, and he wasted no time in putting words to both feelings.<br/><br/>"You came back." he said, pausing for a moment to let the statement sink in. "Alone."<br/><br/>"You told me to bring him in by today. I'm here to tell you that he doesn't<span style="font-style: italic">exist</span>. The Wraith of the Darmlands is a fairy tale - a pretty little scam that has the natives so scared that they'll pay triple what they offer just to keep believing in it."<br/><br/>"How can you be so sure?", Verse prodded, unsatisfied with the answer. "Someone has to be profiting from the idea."<br/><br/>"Aye.<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>did. Mercenary work's not my profession of choice, as you well know, but I put on that awful mask and suddenly I'm committing robbery of a different sort altogether. The dupes nearly wet themselves lookin' at me." He chuckled. "Good thing too, else they might've caught on to the fact that I was nearly doing the same at the thought of 'em running me through for demanding so much coin.<span style="font-style: italic">Five times</span>I got away with it, and there weren't a single ghost chasing me down like you said there'd be. In fact..." he paused, rummaging through the folds of his cloak to retrieve a wax-sealed letter before sending it sliding across the dusty floor. "You can have this back."<br/><br/>Verse bent down to pick up the envelope and recognized it immediately. He had written it himself, and save for some dirt and a mild wearing of the paper, it was in the exact same state as it had been when he first handed it off to the nameless thief sitting in front of him. He turned it over in his hands thoughtfully, letting his disappointment steadily grow. The message had gone unread.<br/><br/>"You didn't<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>expect him to show up, did you boss?" the man continued. "What they say about him... it can't be done. At best, I'd have found another fake just like myself."<br/><br/>"I suppose... that it was too much to hope for." Verse sighed, tucking the letter into one of his pockets. "The others are in another room at the end of the hall. Thank you for your trouble."<br/><br/>The cloaked man nodded, stood up, and as if to mock his employer's courtesy, performed a long and exaggerated bow which nearly caused him to stumble from the heavy load upon his back. When he exited into the hallway, he paused for a moment to examine himself both inside and out, running a gloved hand across the contours of his face. He was the sort of unpleasant person who seemed to hate feeling welcome, who spat at the idea of decency and enjoyed doing so. He had no reputation to call his own and a face which would be forgotten by everyone who saw it. A man who valued anonymity above his own humanity.<br/><br/>...So he reminded himself. The faÃ§ade was nothing less than an insult to his talents, but it could be forgiven in light of what he had been asked to do. If Verse wanted a kingdom destroyed from the inside, the Wraith would gladly become the poison which killed it. Smiling ever so slightly through his latest mask, he slipped inside the room where his colleagues-to-be were waiting, threw down his case, and immediately took up a seat at their table.<br/><br/>"Carry on," he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I'm on Verse's payroll too."