"You aren't much one to be talking about subtlety, my friend. Ah, but you are correct. I have not told you my name."
Hugo laughs. A small hatch opens in the darkness, letting through a sliver of light. From the other side, a voice recites something in some long-dead tongue.
"Quid ridetis cum pugno sanguinis?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that on account of my guest. Its me, open up."
There is some muttering. After a moment, the door opens, revealing a dimly-lit cellar beyond, which contains several shady-looking people. Several doors lead off into the darkness. From the faint smell emanating from one of them, you guess it is connected to the sewers. Hugo steps into the room, turns about, and spreads his arms in welcome.
"Isn't this nice? Welcome, my friend, to the sanctuary of the Bleeding Fists. I am your host, Hugo van Vissersdorp; master artist. These burly gentlemen are here to provide protection should negotiations go sour, but really, what is the chance of that? Now, refreshments and entertainment. Snap to it, thugs."
The thugs in question roll their eyes, but the wine is brought forth, and one of them takes out a small stringed instrument, upon which he plays a jolly tune.
"Light, yes, they are a right civilized bunch once you get to know them. Not, as you say, a bunch of lowlife criminals with no drive or motivation. No, we have ulterior motives here. The Bleeding Fists are the largest gang in this city, and the most feared and respected. And this embassy- or more specifically, these areas beneath the embassy- serve as their safehouse. Diplomatic immunity means we can keep the guards out without being questioned, and the frankly ingenious design of the various secret passageways means that even if someone got in, they wouldn't be able to find anything incriminating.
And which nation is so cold-blooded as to allow criminals to use their embassy as a base of operations? Why, the glorious empire of Hactur, of course! I kid, they're nice folks. Technically I'm an honorary citizen, for the purpose of running this place."
Hugo pours himself another glass of wine.
"So that's who we are. Powerful, ambitious, and quite organized. Now, obviously we don't tell this sort of thing to random strangers. Or anyone at all who isn't a trusted member of the Bleeding Fists or the embassy structure. But I figure there's no way you will reject our offer, and even if you did- you seem like someone who knows to keep what he knows to himself.
Ah, right. The offer. You want to work as an assassin, and eventually create an assassins guild. You were intending to offer your services, I understand, to the crown? Let me tell you for free that doing so would get you killed. Good queen Laythe does not understand the way the world works. If she heard there was a man offering assassination services walking around Talama, she would have you thrown into the Arena faster than you could say Moon-cursed Psychobitch.
No, the Queen does not take kindly to that sort of thing. Not at all. We, however, are much more open to experimentation. I'm sure that we could find use for an assassin or two every now and then. Yes, I can think of a few people who the world would be better of without. And in exchange for these services... well, there's the refuge of the embassy- a wonderful place to lie low should there be trouble with the guards. There's the support of the Bleeding Fist, should you ever need a little brute force to do your work. Of course, there would be money. But most importantly, I feel, we can let you start your "Assassins' Guild" right away. You can recruit from the Fists- I'm sure some of them have the finesse needed for your more elegant lifestyle- and use the embassy as a temporary HQ. We wouldn't really care what you did or who you worked for, so long as you didn't actively work against us- just having the favour of a bunch of highly trained assassins would be reward enough."
"So, what do you say? Does this offer interest you?"