Jonathan Amsel was in his quarters when the Shadow Wolf knocked at the door. The Beta of the Soot Wovles didn't inquire who was knocking, he simply opened the door. He was confident that no one but the Shadow Wolf would be coming at this hour. At least, he was confident that, if they did, he'd have a knife in their back before they could open their mouths to say 'hello.'
But, as it was, he was correct. He usually was.
"Evening, boss," the Shadow Wolf greeted. "Just back from Ketra, of all places. I went down there with the scouting pack... Well, but that's not the point."
"Well, he have to stay knowledgable about our little kid sibling neighbor to the south," the Canis Lupus said casually, pouring the Shadow Wolf a drink. He liked to put people at ease. Amsel listened intently to the story of that new "Shadow Wolf," Torak, and his exploits in the slave market. This was too much. For Amsel's purposes, Torak couldn't have arrived at a better time. And putting him directly under that bitch of a new Red Jackal? Well, Amsel had to hand it to Rufus... It was genius.
For him, that was. Amsel thought, of course, that it was otherwise a farce. But for his purposes, a farce would do just fine.
"But the interesting thing was," the Shadow Wolf continued, "between dropping all those bombs, he also dropped a handful of envelopes. Sealed ones. Official looking. Now, I didn't get a chance to read them, but... Well, we all know he was an assassin. And we Shadow Wolves all know that the Red Jackal told him explicitly that he wasn't to keep being one. Well... what else could they be?"
Amsel raised his eyebrow. "And did you get them? Or are you just going to tease me with guessing?"
"Nah, that Spot got there first. You know the one? Cute thing, long black hair and -" he cut himself off after a look from the Beta. "Well anyway, she mostly does thieving stuff, but she's a Shadow Wolf for Akello, too."
"I know who Spot is," he said to move the Wolf along.
"I guess she was sent to follow Torak. But she got to the letters before I could. I think I would have beat her back to Arca, but she can't be too far behind me. My guess is she'll go straight to Akello with them. She's got funny loyalties, that one. She ought to come to you, what with Rufus being gone, but..."
Amsel held up a hand. "That's no worry. That's fine. In fact, maybe you can give her something for me, when she gets in? One more letter to deliver to the Red Jackal."
Amsel know Akello's style. She wasn't sympathetic to direct disobedience with her own Bloods, but from Torak, who had killed his way into the Guild. Well, the man's life was in Amsel's hands now, surely. Without intervention, he was fairly sure the perhaps-not-so-former assassin would be dead by morning. So Jonathan walked over to his desk, drawing out paper and a quill. On it he wrote the short order:
Torak too valuable. Discipline him however you wish, but do not kill him. Rufus won't look kindly on discarded tools when he returns.
- Canis Lupus
He folded and sealed the paper and handed it over to the Shadow Wolf to be delivered.
After sending off the Shadow Wolf, Amsel made his way into the Den and into the bar. He wasn't an intimidating looking man. Of average height and lithe build, Jonathan Amsel didn't look the part of a criminal. He had boyish good looks and and a trustworthy face, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Amsel was friendly, disarmingly so, and rarely proud. He was known to be something of a 'yes man' to Rufus. He was smart and strong and respected for it, but he was seen as something more of a loyal hound dog than a wolf with his eyes on the alpha spot.
He spotted the Lone Wolf, who m he knew by sight and name, but hadn't met yet, and moved to join him at the bar. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, pulling a stool up next to Kassom. "Not that often that one actually sets sights on the phantom Lone Wolf," he added with a grin. He ordered a strong ale from Alko, then turned back to Kassom. "Not sure you're going to have much luck setting sights on the lovely Zahi Akello, either," he offered. He made a point to always speak flatteringly of people, if a little tongue in cheek. And, given his position, this wasn't exactly out of line. "I think she's rather got her hands full lately."