Ha! So, the Kell of Winter seeks the aid of Taniks, the Scarred. How formal! Wasn't long ago you called me self-serving scum and spat at my banner-less armor. I might've ripped each and every one of your arms from you then. And torn off your legs for good measure.
But I sensed one day, you'd come begging for my services. Lucky I am such a vulgar mercenary after all, eh? It works in your favor now, that I hold payment above pride. Payment not just in Glimmer. In blood and battle too. No one Kell, no one house has been able to slake my thirst. No one job, either.
Though… a break-out of the Prison of Elders might come close.
But for Aksor? You ask me to pass over far-greater warriors for that impotent Archon? You think he will serve you better than Peekis, the Disavowed? Than Pirsis, Pallas-Bane? Than Calzar, than Drekthas?
You'd choose Aksor over the Shipstealer?! Eramis, who led the charge at the Final Attempt? Who hurled herself at the wretched Lightbearers, who moved so quickly I would've sworn she had eight arms? When your pathetic Winter-ones followed in her footsteps, they had to wade through the flood of life-force she left in her wake.
And still you wonder why I refuse my house-pledge. You could conquer the system, but you'd rather adhere to these arbitrary customs. Aksor belongs to Winter, and Eramis does not.
Twice my usual price. The fee is for my restraint. It will take what little I have to free Aksor over the fiercest of Eliksni fighters.