Spring 623. Stormwind Trade District. It's a blustery day with a sprinkling of rain, but upstairs in the small shop it's rather cozy. "Welcome back." There's a little table for doing accounts. He retrieves cups and a flask of brandy from the drawer and pours for both. "I've brought my full report." She lays down a thick envelope, accepts her cup, and sips. She looks like she hadn't been getting enough food or enough sleep, but she sits straight-spined, with a certain brittle poise. "Play your cards right and in a few years they'll find an excuse to do this over again publicly."