Corbeau sat inside a luxurious carriage. He did not know much about these things, but it was clear to him that this carriage was quite expensive. From the dark and shiny wood which he knew did not come from a Skyrim tree, to the golden decorations on the doors and the soft crimson fabric of the seats, everything seemed to be of exquisite quality. He most appreciated such a comfortable ride after the cold and damp cell he had spent the last week or so in.<br/><br/>Just as he thought he'd catch up on sleep during this comfortable journey, the woman across from him initiated conversation. Although annoyed at first, Jacques found her comment about the prison food quite amusing, and so decided a little chit-chat to pass the time wouldn't be such a bad thing.<br/><br/>"Haha, indeed. I couldn't even tell what that vile goo was made of, by sight<em>or</em>taste! I'm Jacques Corbeau... The Riddleblade. Or that's what I like to call myself, anyway. It sounds better than 'dirty-fighting illusionist,' right?"<br/><br/>He turned his head towards the window, looking at the snowy mountains in the distance.<br/><br/>"So, sorceress Sandra... What do you think of this Reaver? Personally, I don't mind doing this job for him. But at the same time, I've got my eye on him. He's  rich, and the law is much too flexible for the rich."