A/N: And so, over a year and a half since the end of Blood and Steel, you finally get the start of the Oblivion Dark Brotherhood fic I always promised my readers. It IS set in the Blood and Steel universe, so it's helpful if you've read that first, but not essential. I'll extrapolate more in the ending Author's Note, but for now I'll tell you that I intend to be going through the DB questline while adding my own original twists on things. Updates are likely to be variable (read: slow), but, as ever, leaving a review is highly desirable; it helps me improve and encourages me to write the next chapter faster. And now, I'll let you get on with reading.
Chapter One: Blood on the Road
The moons were shining brightly on Anvil; the sky was clear of cloud but the first chills of autumn could be felt on the sea wind that buffeted the harbour. Despite the sun having set three hours previously, there was much activity on the docks, mostly consisting of drunken sailors looking for the nearest brawl. The creaking of worn hulls filled the air; recent storms had not been kind to seafarers, and the prevailing economic uncertainty meant there was little money to repair their ailing vessels. Even so, sailors always managed to find coin to spend on drink and women, and the various inns and taverns lining the waterfront insured there was always a place to spend it. The rest of the city had seen a sharp drop in crime since Hieronymus Lex had become Guard Captain a few months ago, but the docks at night were still avoided by all but the most intrepid guard patrols.
Celendil breathed deeply as he walked along the main street of the harbour, the salty tang of the sea breeze mingling with the sweat of burly men eager to forget their worries after a hard day's work. He was barely five feet tall, and his small frame allowed the Bosmer to nimbly dodge around the drunken sailors who might otherwise have trodden on him. His well-cut linen tunic was simple and functional; it would help stave off the heat of the jungles of Valenwood, but nothing that would alert a thief to the potential of money to be made. A leather jerkin protected his chest and back, and a hand casually resting on his dirk warned off any that might attempt to take advantage of the lone elf out of sight of the guards.
Edging around a fight between a group of Nord sailors and some belligerent dock workers, the Wood Elf found himself smiling. Anvil had never changed, not since the first time he'd come here as an innocent seventeen year-old. He was seventy-six now, and he had learned that while there was much in life that was always changing, there was also much that would always stay the same. Emperors came and went, dynasties rose and fell, but life for the common people went on. He and his brother had lost almost everything in the Oblivion Crisis, but they had simply squared their shoulders and kept going.
His destination was one of the smaller taverns of the Waterfront called the Flowing Bowl. It wasn't the biggest or the best place to stay, but it offered value for money and good food, and they'd always enjoyed a good relationship with the proprietors, Bosmeri twins Caenlorn and Maenlorn. The privacy to conduct legally ambiguous business dealings was a bonus. Skirting around another brawl, he swung open the door to the tavern and slipped inside, a wave of heat and noise washing over him.
Brushing his shoulder-length auburn hair out of his face, Celendil smiled as he looked around. The fire roaring in the hearth illuminated the spacious common room, which was nearly filled with regulars and the usual suspects. His eyes swept the tables, passing over the sailors and dock workers, lingering slightly on those he didn't recognise: a few robed Altmer; three Imperials who had the look of merchants about them; a pair of armoured Redguards; a gang of Nords who were already drunk; a pair of Khajiit that looked like they were on edge.
He walked past them all and sat down at a table in the far corner from the door where he could observe most of the common room. Settling back in his chair and smiling as the tension eased from his back, he motioned for a barmaid to bring him his usual before finally turning to look at the other occupant of the table.
His older brother Enthor resembled him in numerous ways; piercing blue eyes that missed little were set in a pale narrow face that rarely smiled, and his auburn hair was scraped back into a tight braid that hung to his waist. A scar stretched across his cheek and he was missing part of his earlobe, a reminder of the arrow that had almost ended his life in one of the many battles he'd fought to protect his wagons. His clothing was embroidered linen with touches of lace at the cuffs; he'd dressed much more extravagantly in the past, before they'd lost nearly everything to rampaging Daedra in the Oblivion Crisis. The only greeting he offered his kin was a brief nod.
Knowing his brother detested wasting time with small talk, Celendil got right to the point. "Bad news. The Fighters Guild is badly overstretched at the moment, what with all the banditry everywhere. They can only offer us one Guildsman as escort, and even then he'd have to turn back after a day."
Enthor grunted. "Darius and Jarek are useless for anything more complicated than moving goods or whipping horses. I can fight, but I am no warrior. We cannot rely on only you to protect us all the way to the City, Celendil. You should have pressed the Guild harder."
Celendil snorted. "Cheer up, Sourguts. The night is young yet. I'll bet we can find mercenaries around. At least the roads aren't as bad as they were forty years ago."
"Yet. We might be down to just one wagon, but those bandits will still rip it apart looking for gold or women." The merchant looked into his tankard and grimaced before drinking. He was used to better fare.
"Well, I'll keep looking. You're sure we're ready to go at the crack of dawn?" A slightly contemptuous look was the only answer he needed. "Right. And you're sure we won't stop at Kvatch?"
Enthor's eyebrows drew down. "We will stop at Skingrad to break the journey. I see no reason to tire the horses dragging the wagon up that mountainside just to visit a broken, decrepit city and haul it all the way back down again in the morning. There is nothing in Kvatch for us. Nothing. Now stop wasting time and find us protection."
Celendil sighed, drumming his fingers on the table as the barmaid arrived with his beer. He grabbed it and took a few gulps before looking around the tavern, casting his trained eye over the unfamiliar patrons and assessing them. His attention was drawn to the Redguards as one of them rose from her seat and walked over to their table. "I have good hearing," she explained. "You're looking for hired help?"
The younger Bosmer raised an eyebrow as he looked her over. She was of average height and build for a Redguard, with a confident demeanour and a way of standing that reminded him of a coiled spring, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Her skin was light brown with a reddish tint, but the most obvious thing that caught the eye was the well-fitting white chitin armour that covered her from neck to toe; it was rarely seen outside Morrowind. She seemed young, mid-twenties at most, but Celendil could tell she had experience merely from looking into her dark brown eyes; she had seen battle, that was certain. No scars marred her round face; no doubt she would consider it a failure on her part if a blade got close enough to mark her skin or armour. Her black hair was neatly arranged in a row of thin braids that hung to her shoulder blades. "My brother and me can be good bodyguards, for the right price." A smile plucked at her full lips as she casually rested a hand on the sabre at her hip.
"What kind of price?" asked Celendil, leaning forward and examining the row of knives hanging from her belt before retuning his gaze to her eyes.
"That would depend on what your profits are. Wouldn't want to drive you out of business now, would we?" The Redguard slowly eased herself down on the seat opposite them.
"Everyone working for me gets paid in percentages," said Enthor, his voice crisp and businesslike as usual. "You will be no exception. We have one wagon, going to the Imperial City."
"Sounds like all you need is me and my brother. We're very good at what we do." Her voice was sultry, tempting. "I just hope you're a good merchant with good profits. We're all in this to make money, after all..."
"Do not question my business acumen. Do you both have horses?"
"We do. How long will you take to reach the City?"
"Nine days if all goes well, including a brief stop in Skingrad. I will offer each of you three percent of the profits."
She threw back her head and laughed. "Yeah, I had you down as being a stingy sod. Six percent each, and you'll live to pay us."
Celendil winced. Someone as tight-fisted as his brother would never let over a tenth of the profits out of his hand willingly, and he was already paying Darius and Jarek two percent each. "The bandits aren't nearly as bad between Skingrad and the City," he put in. "We don't really need you after that."
She grinned, flashing her brilliant white teeth. "Only takes a single raid to ruin your whole life."
Enthor stopped grinding his teeth for long enough to open his mouth. "Five percent each. If you will not take that, then you can stop wasting our time."
The Redguard chuckled and stretched out her hand. "From here to the Imperial City. Five percent."
Celendil raised an eyebrow. "And your brother doesn't get a say in this?"
"You seem to be trusting your brother to be doing all the negotiating." She smiled as Enthor suspiciously gripped her hand for a mere second before releasing it. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow at dawn," replied Enthor, picking up his tankard. "We will be at the stables. Ask for Enthor and Celendil if you need directions. Do not be late."
The Redguard's smile widened as she sprang out of her chair. "I'm sure it'll be a pleasure. My name's Nadia, by the way, and the hulking brute over there is Trevon." She pointed to the table she'd come from; sitting there was a Redguard who Celendil assumed was her brother. At her gesture he rose and walked over to stand beside her, staring down at the Bosmer with narrowed eyes.
He was only a few inches taller than his sister, but much broader, clad in full plate armour that was tinted a dull blue with a jet-black raven prominently embossed across the breastplate. The similarities to Nadia were obvious – the same eyes, the same rounded face – but his features had a harder, more determined cast to them. His black hair was gathered in a single thick braid that hung to his elbow, and a neatly-trimmed beard decorated his lower face. A steel shield, scarred and pitted from heavy usage, was slung from his back, and a heavy falchion hung from a belt of steel links around his waist. "You don't look so rich," he said, his voice deep and guttural. "You're sure they're worth it, Nadia?"
"Only fools show off their wealth in times like this," cut in Celendil, pointedly not looking in his brother's direction. "We have gold. The only thing in question is your reliability."
Trevon's eyes were cold as they met his. "We'll be there," he grunted. He spun on his heel and headed for the stairs leading to the upper levels, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
"Don't mind him. He's not the friendly sort." Nadia smiled at her brother's retreating back before looking between the two Bosmer. "Are there any other members of your group?"
"Two Imperial lackeys," replied Celendil, standing and stretching. "They're not good for much. That's why we need you to help us." He motioned his head towards the two unstrung bows behind their chairs to make sure she knew they weren't completely helpless. "Tomorrow at dawn, at the stables. Don't be late."
She grinned. "If we say we'll do something, we'll do it. See you in the morning." The mercenary turned and sauntered off after her brother. Celendil watched her go, swigging the last dregs of beer from his tankard.
"Did you see the raven on his armour?" asked Enthor, as if anyone with eyes could have missed it. "We will have to be even more cautious than usual with these two."
"Not everyone wearing a raven is a thief or a liar. Some just like the design. He might not even have heard of Nocturnal." Celendil tossed a septim onto the table for the barmaid to collect later. "Either way, I'm heading to bed. Given that we won't be trusting them to hold a watch alone, I'll need all the sleep I can get right now."
"I do not trust them within ten feet of the wagon. Or us. It is like hiring lions to protect us from wolves. But we have little choice, if the Guild will not help us. I trust no mercenary."
"You don't trust anyone, Sourguts."
"I trust you." Enthor looked into his brother's eyes and paused. "And I trusted my wife. You are the only people I have ever trusted. No one else."
Celendil returned the merchant's gaze; for the briefest second his temper flared, and he felt nothing but contempt for the tight-fisted, uncaring, emotionless wretch sat before him. "And you wonder why she left," he muttered, his voice full of scorn.
"No. I know why she left. But there is nothing more to say about the matter, with you or anyone." Enthor made a dismissive gesture. "Go and get your sleep. You were right. You will need it."
The younger Bosmer sighed, shaking his head as he turned towards the stairs. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. It would be a long week. But he would endure. He always had.
The last rays of the sun faded from the sky as the large wagon trundled east along the Gold Road. Enthor regarded the approaching darkness with a mixture of relief and anxiety; it had been a long day but it would be an even longer night. Their slow progress meant they were halfway between the Brina Cross Inn and the Gottshaw Inn, and it was too risky to push on in darkness; it would aid the bandits and increase the risk of breaking a wheel. The forest was still sparse this close to the coast, but there was more than enough cover for them if they got off the road.
Celendil, Trevon and Nadia had circled the wagon on their horses all day, and the mercenaries had earned their pay once already by driving off a determined group of bandits that had pounced shortly after noon. The Redguards were clearly experienced and capable, their feats only matched by Enthor's growing distrust of them. His position on the seat of the wagon alongside Darius and Jarek meant he couldn't move away whenever Nadia pulled up alongside to engage him in conversation, which was often. She had barely stopped talking to him or Celendil all day, and while most of her chatter was banal and annoying, he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was probing for information.
His usual paranoia was only increased by the glimpses of bandits sighted through the trees, peering at the wagon before deciding that the risk was too great. More than once the two Bosmer had sent arrows their way to send a message, but for the most part they had rationed their ammunition. They would need it for the long night to come, where darkness would embolden even the most cowardly of thieves. He gave the signal to stop. Jarek pulled on the reins and the four cart horses jolted to a halt.
Standing up on the seat, Enthor gazed off to the side of the road. "We will camp here for the night," he announced. "Celendil, go and find a suitable clearing. Jarek, follow him." He grabbed his bow and jumped down to the road, peering into the trees. Trevon pulled up beside him, glancing down from his powerful black stallion. His dark blue cloak and armour helped them both blend into the night in a way that made the Wood Elf feel uncomfortable.
"The night hides many things," he said. "I'll circle round to make sure we're not disturbed." Before the Bosmer could reply he had dug in his heels and ridden off into the night, man and horse both blending in with the shadows. Enthor grimaced and turned to watch the wagon make its cautious way off the road, thankful for the hard-packed earth that was so unlike the soft soils of Valenwood. He followed it, keeping an arrow nocked; there was no doubt that the darkness hid more than one outlaw.
Ten minutes later, Darius and Jarek had lit torches and were securing the wagon for the night as Celendil and Nadia made camp. Enthor patrolled the perimeter of the clearing they'd chosen, looking around suspiciously. They were quite far from the road, hidden from it completely by a thick grove of trees. To the north the forest was more sparse, presenting them with a view of the plains bathed in moonlight. The merchant looked up at the moons just in time to see a thick bank of cloud drift in front of Masser. He shivered; the nights were getting colder.
"Are you cold?" asked Nadia from directly behind him. He spun and stared at her, not quite believing that he had failed to hear an armoured mercenary sneaking up behind him. She wore a slight smirk as she folded her arms. "Hearing not what it used to be? Getting a bit old?"
"My hearing will still be perfect half a century from now. You cannot say the same." He rammed his arrow back into its quiver and slung his bow onto his back. "Is the campsite secure?"
"As secure as it'll ever be. Trevon's scaring the shit out of any bandit close enough to bother us, I'll wager. He'll be back soon." She threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him over to the campfire that Celendil was building, ignoring his grunts of disapproval. "So, how's the watch shift going to work?"
He shrugged out of her grasp and went to lean against a tree on the opposite side of the clearing to the wagon, ensuring he could see everything of importance. "You and Celendil will take the first shift. Then Darius and Jarek. Last will be Trevon and I."
The Redguard moved to lean further around on the same tree as him, ensuring he had to twist his head to keep her in sight. "Sounds fair to me. You got any meat you want to roast when Cel finally gets his fire going?" She raised a hand to brush back a braid that had fallen across her face. A chill wind gusted across the clearing.
"I have-" Enthor was cut off as every torch they had lit was suddenly snuffed out, plunging them into darkness. He blinked rapidly to try to force his eyes to adjust, reaching for his bow. Celendil rose from tending the unlit campfire, turning towards the wagon, hand going to his sword.
"I heard something," he warned, peering out into the darkness. "Darius? Jarek?" No answer. The Bosmer's sword rasped from his scabbard. Enthor nocked an arrow to his bow. Beside him, he heard Nadia draw one of her daggers. "For the love of Y'ffre, what-"
The darkness beside him seemed to ripple. Enthor tried to shout a warning, only to find himself choking on his own blood as Nadia rammed a dagger into his ribs. He dropped his bow and frantically tried to reach his own sword, but she grabbed his arm and shoved him to his knees. She gripped his hair in her free hand and wrenched his head back. "You'll want to watch this," she whispered in his ear.
Celendil had turned towards them, raising his sword. Behind him the night seemed to come alive, the darkness shifting as it revealed Trevon stepping forward, his heavy falchion punching through the Wood Elf's spine. Celendil twisted as he fell, somehow keeping hold of his sword, but the Redguard kicked it out of his hand and pinned him to the ground with his boot. The Bosmer reached for his dirk, only for the treacherous mercenary to hack through his shoulder. Enthor could only watch in helpless horror as the bloody blade rose once more.
"Too bad he tried to deny his fate," remarked Nadia, tightening her grip on his skull. "My brother can be such an artist when he wants to be." The merchant tried to respond, to fight back, but his strength was fading rapidly, drained from him by some kind of spell. Trevon's falchion tore through Celendil's chest. His brother jerked once then lay still, blank eyes gazing up at the night sky.
"Their two pet Imperials are dead," said Trevon, sounding like he was merely commenting on the weather as he examined the blood staining his weapon. "Are you going to take your time with that one?"
"I've already punctured a lung and drained much of his strength. He's not long for this world." Nadia reached down and wrenched her dagger from Enthor's ribcage before letting him topple forward onto the dry grass. He lacked the strength to do anything but stare up at his murderer, her features nearly indistinguishable in the gloom. "It's a fine night for killing, isn't it?"
"The Daughter of Twilight has blessed us. I'll start digging their grave. You search the wagon when you're done with him."
Nadia grinned and kicked the helpless merchant onto his back, kneeling beside him and holding up the dagger coated with his blood for him to examine. "You know, Enthor, you tried to save as much as you could, spend as little as you could, squeeze an extra septim out of everything..." Her smile widened, baring her teeth. "Doesn't really seem worth all that much now, does it?"
A weak rasp was all he could muster in reply; his sight was rapidly dimming.
"Shame, really. You're probably older than I'll ever be, and yet, you've never really lived. Life's about pleasure, about enjoying yourself. Maybe you and your brother can have an argument when you meet him in... well, wherever you'll end up." She rammed the dagger into his chest. The last thing Enthor would ever see was his murderer's smile as she watched him die.
The wagon was missing almost half its planks before Nadia finally found what she was looking for; a large, heavy sack that clinked when she dragged it out of its hiding place under the wagon's floor. Grunting at its weight, she heaved it to the ground before lightly jumping down and examining the complex knot. Catching her tongue between her teeth, she removed her gauntlets and set to work, deftly unravelling the knot until the rope came loose in her hands. Forcing open the neck of the sack, she turned it upside down and watched gleefully as several heavy bags fell out, clinking loudly as they hit the grass.
"Looks like we've struck gold!" she called over to her brother, who had dragged the four bodies over to the shallow grave he was digging. They had no torches lit but the spells he was maintaining on both of them ensured they could see as well as in daylight. A grunt was her only answer as she started to work on the knot of one of the smaller bags. This one didn't take so long and soon she was able to open the neck as far as the drawstrings would allow. She put her hand in, immersing it in the coins, pushed deeper. It wasn't until her arm was almost completely submerged up to the shoulder that she was finally able to clutch the fabric on the other side of the bag. A delighted smile spread across her face.
"Trevon! It's even better than I thought! Told you my eye was good!" She stood and laughed up at the night sky. "We're rich!"
"Great," came the gruff response. "Now come over here and help me bury them." They were both speaking Yoku, as they always did when alone; even if anyone could overhear, they wouldn't have any idea what was being said.
Nadia set the enchanted bag down carefully and moved over to help him. Using the shovel they'd found in the wagon, he'd dug a narrow trench just deep and wide enough to hold four bodies without any limbs poking out. She leaned down and grabbed the ankles of one of the Imperials; her brother grabbed his wrists and they slung him into the pit. A prickling on the back of her neck made her frown; she spun and examined the forest around them, but there was nothing visible.
"What is it?" asked Trevon, moving to stand beside her, his hand resting on his falchion.
"Feels like we're being watched." She cast a spell of life detection and looked around. The only life forms within the radius of her spell were a few small creatures, probably foxes or rabbits. "There's no one else here, but..." she shrugged, hoping the sensation would go away.
"All the more reason to finish quickly." He kicked the other Imperial into the pit, leaning in to make sure he was pressed firmly down against the earth. "Hurry up."
Nadia shook her head and stooped to help him throw what remained of Celendil into the grave. One of his arms fell off as he hit the bodies below him; she picked it up and tucked it under his corpse. "Are you sure they're all going to be fully covered?" she asked. Her only response was a surly look indicating that she should know better than to ask such a question. She laughed and slapped her brother on the pauldron before moving over to grab Enthor's wrists.
The Bosmer's eyes were still open. A mixture of horror and regret was evident on his face. "You know, I think he might have been lying when he said he didn't have any other family," she noted as they shoved him into the grave. A grunt was her response as Trevon picked up the shovel and started throwing earth over the bodies. She moved around the trench, making sure any loose limbs were safely tucked inside, periodically looking up and scanning their surroundings, but there were no new life forms within range. The feeling of being watched was slowly fading, but it still made her uncomfortable. "Don't you feel that itch at the back of your neck, like you're being watched?" she asked her brother.
"What I feel is time passing. We should be away from here as soon as possible."
Nadia nodded, pursing her lips as she helped him smooth the soil over the grave. It wouldn't take long for any investigators to find the bodies, but at least it was better than leaving them out in the open. Within a week they would be out of Cyrodiil anyway. With the amount of gold they'd stolen they could live easily for a long time in whatever part of the Empire they chose to visit next. As soon as the earth had some semblance of disguise about it, she moved over to the enchanted bags, stuffing them back into the sack and pulling the drawstrings tight. "Didn't I tell you this Wood Elf was a good mark?" Her brother made a non-committal grunt as he started cutting the cart horses free. She laughed. "Come on, now, admit my eye struck gold this time."
"All right. You did good. Well done. Job's not over yet." He finished chopping through the wagon harness and slapped the horses, sending them fleeing from the immobile wagon at a canter.
"Yeah, you need to put those shoulders to work and carry this to our horses." Nadia whistled and her horse, a sleek gelding named Whisper, obediently trotted up. "Better put it on him; Farstrider can barely take the weight of your fat arse and armour, let alone this on top."
Trevon snorted. "At least he doesn't take fright at an owl hooting." He heaved the bulging sack across his shoulders, staggering only slightly under the weight before placing it as gently as he could behind Whisper's saddle. "You'd better make sure this doesn't fall off."
Nadia chuckled. "If it did, I know you'd find it when you and your fat stallion are catching up long behind us." She helped him secure their prize to the saddle. "We're headed to the Gottshaw Inn, I take it?"
"It's far enough away to be safe, and I'd rather we both get sleep this night." He checked the tautness of the ropes before heading over to his own horse, looking around to make sure they'd left nothing behind that would point an incriminating finger at two Redguard adventurers. Satisfied, he swung himself into his saddle in one deft move, patting the neck of his stallion and adjusting his cloak.
"No bandits within range right now," commented Nadia as she mounted Whisper, her life detection spell wearing off. "Hopefully they'll not be stupid enough to bother with us two moving quickly through the night." She whispered encouragement in her horse's ear as she turned him towards the road. "We ready?"
"Less talking. More riding." Trevon booted Farstrider past her. She followed, the two of them making their way carefully through the trees until they reached the Gold Road. It was clear in both directions. They turned east and spurred their horses to a canter, leaving the scene of their latest slaughter far behind them.
Just over an hour later, they arrived at the Gottshaw Inn, a small two-storey building with a tile roof and a welcoming glow lighting the windows. There was no ostler on duty in the adjacent stables, so they settled their horses themselves. Nadia cast a Feather spell on the sack of gold, enabling Trevon to easily take it off Whisper and tuck it under his arm. He dispelled the Night Eye spells and they walked into the Inn, pausing just inside the doorway for their eyes to adjust.
The common room was small and sparsely populated; two Imperial Guardsmen were drinking at a tiny table tucked away in a corner, and a few lone travellers were keeping to themselves. A fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth, and the Bosmer standing behind the bar offered them a small smile as they walked up. Bosmer, thought Nadia grimly. I've had enough of Bosmer for one day.
"Well met, travellers," he said, greeting them enthusiastically. "Don't get too many through here now that the roads are so dangerous. Can I offer you rooms for the night? A meal?"
"Just the one room between us," replied Nadia, giving him one of her most charming smiles. "And something to wet our throats, but the journey's tired us. We won't be long before retiring."
"Of course, of course. That'll be ten gold for the night." She dug into her belt pouch and found the requisite coins. "Thank you. Your room is up the stairs, first on the right. I'm Foroch; feel free to call on me if you need anything." His gaze flitted towards Trevon for a second before swiftly dropping to the bar. She didn't blame him; her brother was an intimidating sight at the best of times.
"We'll have two ales. Make them quick." Trevon turned from the bar and walked over to the table in the far corner from the Guardsmen, the old timbers creaking under his boots. Unclasping his cloak, he threw it over the back of his chair before settling down in it, ignoring the protests of the aged wood. "This place seems secure enough," he said, switching to Yoku as Nadia joined him.
"Better than camping by the road and having to keep watch," she agreed, neatly folding her cloak and laying it on the chair next to her.
"So, where next? From what you've been saying, we've got enough gold to get by for a few months."
She laughed, tugging off her gauntlets. "We could live like kings for a few months, though that might be a bit suspicious." The Redguard leaned back in her chair, smiling at the man across from her. "We could go back to Morrowind. We've never been to Vvardenfell."
He gave a slight shake of his head. "Word has it there might be trouble brewing between Helseth and the Nerevarine. A civil war might be exciting, but I'd rather not get too caught up in it." Their drinks arrived, Foroch placing a mug of ale in front of each of them before bobbing a quick bow and walking backwards away from them.
Nadia picked up her ale and sipped at it. A cheap, thick brew, but better than nothing. "How about paying a visit back home? I hear they're organising Orc hunts in the Dragontails." A fierce grin crept across her face. "No easy prey, them."
"Depends on the Orc. What about Skyrim?"
She snorted. "Please. It's already autumn now. I'm not one for spending a winter shivering in front of the fire while the Nords drink mead and laugh at you."
"The Rift doesn't get it so bad in winter. It's somewhere to consider."
"True enough. Guess we'd better be heading east tomorrow anyway." She gulped down some more of her ale and grimaced. "Barely worth paying for." She flicked a couple of septims onto the table and rose. "The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner we leave tomorrow. You coming?"
He shoved his chair back and stood. "I wouldn't want to trigger your wards. Let's see how many lice the bed has."
They received a nervous nod from Foroch as they swept past the bar. The other patrons barely looked up from their drinks. Ignoring the protests of the rickety stairs, the two Redguards reached the upper level and pushed open the first door they came to on their right.
It was a tiny, cramped cubicle with barely enough room for a single bed and a table, both rammed against one of the walls. There were some holes in the bare planks of the floor, and the small window's frame was falling apart. Trevon slammed the door shut behind them, plunging them into darkness; the illumination provided by the dark night sky outside was meagre and the candle on the table was unlit. He carefully placed the sack of gold on the floor before shoving it under the bed with his boot and throwing down the pack he'd brought from their saddlebags. "Barely any room for the bedroll," he observed. "Looks like it'll have to be you sleeping on it. I can't fit on that floor and the bed won't take both of us."
"It would if you lost some weight, you chunky oaf," she replied, poking him in the stomach as she unbuckled her belt.
"Then you'd need to find another pack mule. Help me with my armour. I can barely turn around in here."
"And whose fault is that?" She rolled her eyes but nonetheless moved to help him with the various straps of his plate armour, aided by the Night Eye spell he'd just cast on both of them. Long experience speeded the process, and soon they were both carefully piling their respective armour and weapons where they would be easily accessible. Nadia stepped up to the door and made sure it was firmly closed before starting to prepare the ward that would warn her with a loud noise should anyone pass through it. Upon completing the spell she nodded to her sibling. "Go for it, Trev."
He ran a hand down the invisible threshold, his Illusion magic masking it from magical detection. Nadia felt a slight pang of jealousy; while she was skilled with Alteration and Mysticism, she could never hope to match her brother's skill with the illusory arts; he had been born in the shadows. Upon examining the window, she concluded it was far too small to easily crawl through and the latch was jammed shut anyway. Maintaining more than one ward in her sleep was likely to give her troubled dreams in any case. She stripped to her underclothes and lay down on the bedroll, shoving a dagger under the pillow as she attempted to find a comfortable position. The bed next to her groaned under Trevon's weight as he clambered into it, releasing the Night Eye spells he was maintaining.
Nadia rolled onto her back and lay silently for a few minutes, blinking as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. An owl hooted just outside the window. "Trevon?"
A grunt emanated from the bed beside her. "What?"
"I remember, when we were little... I could never sleep until you read Goodnight Mundus to me." A grin spread across her face.
He snorted. "I know it off by heart from all the times I read it. You're grown up now, though. Apparently." The bed frame creaked as he shifted his weight. "Sweet dreams, Nadia."
She smiled as she closed her eyes. "Sleep well." The blanket was itchy against her bare skin and she could feel the hard floor through the bedroll, but the day had been tiring and she'd slept in far worse places. Within minutes she was drifting off into the peaceful oblivion of deep sleep.
Nadia woke abruptly some time later, instantly alert. Something was wrong, very wrong. Instinctively she reached out for Trevon, her hand finding his leg; she could feel the muscles tensed, ready for action. Her ward hadn't alarmed her, but somehow there was a presence in the room, watching them, studying them. As she slipped her hand under her pillow, clutching her dagger, a sense of terror gripped her. The air grew cold, dry.
From the darkness a malevolent voice spoke. "You sleep rather soundly for murderers. That's good..."
A/N: Firstly, many thanks to Rickard Steiner for proofreading this. If you're in need of a good Skyrim fic to read, head over and read his 'The Madness Challenge'.
And, secondly, I'm aware that this might well end on a cliched, overused cliffhanger, but it felt like a natural place to end the chapter for me. It's much shorter than my normal chapters, which are normally 10k+ in length, but shorter first chapters aren't anything unusual. Hopefully I've set up the start of things well enough. You'll find out more about the characters as the fic unfolds; I wanted to put my own stamp on this well-known questline, and having two protagonists rather than one seemed like one way of doing that, and there'll be other differences as well.
I'll remind you to review: you can only encourage me, and constructive criticism is always, ALWAYS welcome. Now that this first chapter is uploaded, I'll keep chugging away until I've finished the whole fic even if I get no reviews, but that'd be pretty demotivating. Any anonymous reviews will get a reply in the opening Author's Note of the next chapter. Speaking of the next chapter, hopefully I can conquer the writer's block and get it pumped out relatively soon, but you never know. Either way, let me know what you think; it's my desire to put an original spin on this already overdone tale.