Author's Note: The only thing in this story that I invented myself is most dialogue, and the character Elthir. All the rest belongs to Bethesda and anyone else who worked on The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion. I just wrote out a story for one of the quests.
Whodunit?
Elthir drew his cloak closer around him as the wind picked up and the rain worsened; it wouldn't do to show up with his clothes soaked through to the skin. Bad first impressions, you know, and this was one of those occasions he did not want to make any mistakes on.
Any.
He could see Summitmist Manor in the distance. While it was a beautiful house, it did not stand out any more than the countless other manors and upper class dwellings all over Skingrad. The rich city truly looked beautiful in this stormy weather, the many windows on the houses shining brightly through the gloom from the torches and hearth fires lit within.
Summitmist Manor had no windows, but that suited Elthir just fine. Windows were just another way for one to escape, and that was against his mission protocol.
"You've been invited to a party!" Ocheeva, his contract giver and dear friend had told him.
"The host wanted this to be a party to remember. Apparently, he has heard of our…natural talent for entertainment."
"What must I do, Ocheeva?" Elthir had asked.
"Go to the Summitmist Manor in Skingrad on the twelfth day of Heartfire at midday." She had told him.
"Make sure that this is a party none of the guests will ever forget."
As one of the highest ranking assassins in that particular Dark Brotherhood sanctuary, Elthir accepted this contract without further question. Ocheeva informed him that the Nord man Fafnir, from the land of Skyrim, would debrief him more when the time came.
As Elthir drew nearer to the Manor, he could see Fafnir standing at the door with his enormous, sloppy excuse for a weapon war hammer strapped to his back. Elthir had nothing against Nords, but did not believe they belonged in the Dark Brotherhood. As massive and muscular as orcs, they lacked any kind of stealth ability, and their brutish, bloodthirsty nature stamped out any form of subtlety. They could not be bothered to lie in wait and take in the beauty of the moment just before the kill. They could not be bothered to hone their skills with a bow or learn the art of the blade for efficient, precise kills.
Instead, they threw all skill and art aside and charged in like a raging minotaur, destroying everything in their path, and bashing their victims and any other unlucky souls in the vicinity to bits with a war hammer or cleaving them into many pieces with an enormous battle axe. If given a bow, a Nord would probably simply snap it in half and gut his victim with the jagged, broken end.
No, these brutes did not belong in the Dark Brotherhood at all.
"How goes it, friend?" Elthir jumped as he realized the deep voice was speaking to him. Looking up, he realized he had arrived at the Manor while lost in thought, without noticing.
"A bit jumpy before a contract, are we?" Fafnir asked with a slightly amused tone in his voice.
Being a Bosmer, a wood elf from the land of Valenwood standing no more than five feet tall, Fafnir towered over him.
"No." Elthir replied. "Just…thinking things over."
"Well, think about the task at hand, you're going to need your wits if you're going to take care of this whole job unarmed."
"I am armed quite well enough, thank you." Elthir stated, showing the elf made, crescent shaped silver dagger he kept sheathed in a special pocket inside his formal regalia. He was already annoyed with this conversation.
"Calm down, friend, I was just having a bit of fun with you. You get the fun job, after all. I just clean up after you."
"I promise not to give you much to clean up. My kills tend to be more…exact."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Fafnir asked, moving closer to Elthir and looking down at him, attempting to intimidate. Unshakeable, Elthir stood his ground.
"Meaning I don't leave entrails or broken bits of bone lying around."
"And what fun is a quick slash to the throat? If I were given the contract, the place would be a slaughter house. You wouldn't be able to tell the short ones from the tall ones or the elves from the men." Fafnir said slowly, with a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Brother, do you truly know nothing of the art of stealth? Can you not see how precious the moment just before the slaying is, the beauty of it all in the last few moments of one's life?"
"…Nope, I just enjoy the bashing and repainting of the walls and floor and anything else the poor guy happens to be standing near."
"Forget it." Elthir said, exasperated. He was done exchanging pointless banter with this barbaric oaf.
"Just tell me the situation."
"Well, as you know, there's five guests, each of whom has wounded our client and their host in some way. How was not specified, we're just hired to do the killing. Anyways, you'll all be locked in there until one of you finds a chest full of gold that also has the key in it.
"Obviously, there's no chest, no gold, and you'll have they only key, but they don't know that. When you've done your piece, just open the door and walk out, and I'll clean up after you."
Fafnir, still looking gloomy for getting the boring part of this job, handed Elthir the key.
"I may be a while." Elthir said. "I want to have fun with this."
"Hmph," Fafnir grumbled. "fun…I'm sure it'll be a blast with that cooking knife of yours."
Not bothering to respond, Elthir opened the door to the Summitmist Manor to meet his new victims. Almost immediately, he was greeted by an elderly woman, a Breton he guessed. She looked mostly human, though being part elf herself, she was just a bit shorter than Elthir.
"Ah! And the sixth house guest finally arrives! We've just been glancing around a bit, but now we can really get this party underway." She said, sounding excited. "But before we begin, may I be so bold as to ask you who you are?"
Elthir immediately knew that this woman would be very easily manipulated. Putting on his most charming, slightly devilish smile, he leaned in closer and motioned for her to do the same.
"I'm an assassin, hired to kill you all." He whispered.
"OH hahaha!" She laughed. "Oh I love a good joke, a sense of humor will just make our time here that much more enjoyable."
You have no idea, old woman. Elthir thought.
"My name is Elthir, and I am just as confounded by who our anonymous host might be as the rest of you are. But for now, why don't we get this party underway?"
"Fantastic idea, I'll tell the others."
"Wait, before you go," Elthir said "why don't you tell me about yourself and the other guests?"
"Well," the woman said, obviously flattered. "My name is Matilde Petit, I'm a Breton noble by birth. Not much else to say about me. Primo Antonius is one of the other guests, an Imperial noble I believe. You will like him, he is very good natured, though, beware that filthy Dunmer, Dovesi Dran. She's always eyeing young Primo, stalking him really. The little floozy…"
Elthir was amused by this. Of course a Breton would be jealous of a Dunmer, especially a younger one. Being elves, though normal human height, unlike the Bosmer or the half-race Bretons, with their dark grayish blue skin, they were beautiful. And the fact that one fancied a man that poor Matilde never stood a chance with, it was not surprising.
"What of this 'Nels the Naughty'?" Elthir asked, pretending there was nothing wrong with hating a whole race out of jealousy.
"Oh by the Nine Divines, he is the most disgusting man I have ever met. A dirty, drunken Nord. Loud, rude, and obnoxious with some of the most off color humor I have had the misfortune of hearing. Though, he does have his eye on the Dunmer a lot of the time. Even for a drunk, I don't know what he sees in her.
"And Neville is last. I don't know much about him other than he is a former soldier in the Imperial Legion and that he's had several quarrels with Nels since he's been here."
"Thank you, Matilde." Elthir said, giving a polite bow and putting that charming smile back on his face.
"If
you'll excuse me, I wish to speak with several of the other
guests."
"Of course, Elthir. I will begin looking then. Good
luck!"
"And to you as well."
Elthir saw a very well dressed Imperial man poking around shelves near a door that looked like it could lead to a basement. Being fairly well dressed himself, he was confident he would make a good impression on this man, and approached him.
"Primo Antonius?" Elthir asked, extending an arm for a friendly handshake.
"My name is Elthir. Looks like I'm the sixth house guest."
"Primo Antonius it is." Said Primo, taking Elthir's arm.
"What do you make of the place so far?" Elthir asked.
"Oh, it's enormous! It almost rivals my own manor! That chest could be anywhere. As to our anonymous host, I have no idea who it could be. Of course I have many upper class friends and acquaintances who could afford a place like this. Judging by your dress, I suppose you are in a similar state?"
"Probably not as many friends as you, but yes I have a fair few whom it could be. What do you make of some of the other guests?"
"Well, I…I…" Primo stammered, all of a sudden becoming very nervous and fidgety.
"Well…
if I may confide something in you friend, I find Dovesi Dran…simply
intoxicating. I have never in my life met such a beautiful woman. She
is the most striking Dunmer I have met in my life, and in my travels
I have seen many-a-fetching woman. May I be so bold as to ask you a
favor, friend?"
Elthir smiled, knowing what was coming.
"Of course I could, Primo." Elthir warmly said.
"Okay…well…if you speak to her…could you…put in a good word for me? Please?" Primo asked, almost shaking from nervousness now.
"Of course. You may consider it done."
"Okay!" Primo stated, rather too loudly, but looking enormously relieved.
"Well, I'll just be…just be…I don't know. Elsewhere. I'll be looking for the chest elsewhere."
"We shall speak later then, if you're not too busy with your new lady friend." Elthir turned a sly smile.
"Yes…yes, yes of course." Primo stumbled away slowly back to his corner near the shelves rather drunkenly with a dreamy smile on his face."
This was going to be quite an interesting party indeed. Seeing that Matilde was busy looking under chairs in the living area, Elthir decided to meet the rest of the guests. He could hear yelling coming from upstairs, probably the dining area. He quickly made his way to the stairs then walked up them slowly so as not to disturb the two. He wanted to see how this played out.
Too late though, it seemed. Elthir saw a very angry man with black, curly hair and reddish brown skin, a Redguard from the land of Hammerfell by the looks of him. He didn't even look at Elthir, and Elthir decided to give him time to cool off before approaching him. Making his way up the last few steps, he saw a Nord in the dining area drinking from a half empty brandy bottle looking angry, but not quite as much so as the Redguard he had just passed.
"You must be the sixth guest." The man grunted, his words a bit slurred from the drink.
"You must be Nels the Naughty." Elthir guessed.
"Ha!" the man laughed, relaxing a bit.
"I got that name a few years ago. I was drunk, and there was this tavern wench…anyway, just call me Nels."
"Nels, may I ask what your quarrel with the Redguard was about?" Elthir asked, treading carefully. He had to choose the right words to get the truth without angering the man.
"Oh Neville? He's just another haughty old veteran from the Imperial Legion with that 'I was in the army and that makes me Emperor' attitude. He tried to tell me off for drinking during a party and I wouldn't have it. Maybe I was a bit too offensive…oh well. What's done is done."
"That it is. No need to worry, I will go try to calm him down for you. What kind of a party would it be with an angry swordsman?" Elthir jested.
"Ha!" Nels laughed again. "Go tell that fetcher what for. I'll be here if you need me."
Elthir smiled and turned away to make his way again down the stairs when he saw a young Dunmer woman who had been listening in on the argument and then the conversation after, trying to look like she was searching for the chest on a shelf of antiques.
"Eavesdropping, are we?" Elthir asked, again with that charming smile on his face. The lady nearly jumped through the roof.
"Wha! Nonono…I mean…well…I'm sorry…" She seemed genuinely embarrassed.
"No need for apologies my lady, no need at all. I understand." Elthir told her. He wanted to stay on her good side.
"Oh, yes…well, I'm sorry anyway. You must be our sixth guest." She said.
"That I am. My name is Elthir, and you must be Dovesi Dran. I have heard much about you from elderly Matilde Petit."
"Yes well, you would. I don't think she likes me very much. I don't think she likes Dunmer as a whole, to be honest. Well if she's going to be like that, fine by me. I just won't go near her and we'll both be happy."
"What do you make of the man Nels was arguing with, Neville I think his name is?" Elthir asked, again, carefully choosing his words.
"Don't even get me started on the Imperial Legion." Dovesi suddenly became very angry, but not at Elthir he could tell.
"Those pigs invaded Morrowind! Invaded my homeland! They just marched in and declared rule over it, can you believe that! I don't care how many years ago it was, I hate the Legion and all it stands for."
"Quite understandable, my lady. Quite understandable." Elthir consoled her.
"What do you think of some of the others?"
"Well…" Dovesi stammered, suddenly getting nervous. Elthir smiled. This looked familiar, and he could tell where it was going.
"To tell you the truth, I…have a bit…well much more than a bit…but I have a thing for Primo. He is everything. Handsome, wealthy, good natured, all too good for a girl like me…I don't have a chance."
Elthir chuckled.
"Well, to tell YOU the truth, my lady, I have spoken with Primo, and he has said the same thing about you, and has asked me to give you a good word for him."
"Oh!" Dovesi looked delighted and very nervous.
"Well, that is fantastic news! Now, what…what do you think I should do? Should I confront him? Or should I just be myself and act casual?"
"I would suggest waiting for him in the sleeping quarters upstairs."
"Oh my! Well…I did think of that. You don't think it's too forward?"
"Oh, not at all my lady." Elthir winked at her. "I'll inform him when next I speak to him."
"Okay! Well, I'll just be…just be waiting upstairs then! Thank you, Elthir. I will not forget this." With that, she turned away and went to the door that led to the stairs that would take her up to the living quarters.
That was the last piece he needed. Elthir's plan was set. He had no intention of telling Primo where Dovesi was…at least not yet. He turned towards the stairs with the intention of speaking with Neville next, even though he didn't need to. But at the foot of the stairs, was approached by Matilde Petit.
"Hello again, young Elthir! I trust you are enjoying your time?"
"Very much, Matilde, thank you. And yourself?"
"Oh it's alright, but I know I'm going to kick myself if I don't get that gold. Say, I was thinking. What would you say to a kind of alliance? If one of us finds the gold, we could split it half and half, we would both be very well off indeed!"
"An alliance…" Elthir said slowly, pretending to be deep in thought.
"That sounds just…perfect."
"Wonderful!"
Matilde exclaimed. "Have you any ideas on where to start looking
for the chest?"
"Hmm." Elthir pretended to be deep in
thought again.
"I should think it would be in the basement, that will obviously be the least explored area of the house. It is dark, cluttered, the perfect hiding space."
"Wonderful!" Matilde exclaimed again. "I shall go to look there then! Let me know if you find anything!" And she went towards where Primo Antonius stood earlier, searching through the shelf, and she went through the door.
Elthir turned and saw Primo walking around still in a daze near the stairs, and Neville having a drink in the living area. Thankfully, neither of them realized he was there. He waited a few minutes to ensure that Matilde would be busy when he went to her.
After the few minutes passed, Elthir made sure that neither Primo nor Neville took notice of him, and quietly slipped through the basement door. It was quite dark down there, but after years of being an assassin, Elthir's eyes were very accustomed to the dark, and he could see almost as well if there were a torch on every wall. He saw Matilde going through one of the many large crates of clutter sitting on the stone floor. She must have heard his footsteps and looked up.
"Oh hello, my friend. Haven't found anything yet, have you?" She asked.
"I'm afraid not, Matilde." Elthir said, adding a defeated tone to his voice.
"Now don't lose hope yet dear! With both of us looking together, there's no way anyone else will find it before us." She moved forward and reached out to straighten Elthir's collar a bit.
"We musn't give up yet, there's still so many places to look!"
"I suppose you're right." Elthir said, and reached into his robes and withdrew his blade.
"Now that's the spirit! What is that for, dear?" Matilde asked, noticing his weapon. Without a word, Elthir brought his arm up and made a clean slice through her neck. He watched the beauty of the moment. The dark droplets of blood flinging away from the wound in the direction the blade was traveling, the crimson gleam of the bloody weapon in the dim light, and the shocked look on Matilde's face as she realized what had just happened.
Matilde began to fall forward, but Elthir caught her. Being careful not to get any blood on himself, he lowered her gently to the ground to lie on her back, and cradled her head in his arms.
"Sleep now, Matilde Petit." He said in a low, soothing voice. "It will all be over soon."
Matilde Petit couldn't reply due to the slicing of her vocal chords, but looked at him with terrified eyes. She coughed up a bit of blood once, then her eyes saw no more. Elthir lowered her head to the ground, wiped his blade off on her blouse, and stood up. Now, with her dead and the stage set, he had to find a way to get her body noticed without looking suspicious himself. He glanced around and saw that many of the crates in the basement were stacked. They looked heavy…
He made his way to a three crate stack, stood up on the crate behind it, and pushed the middle crate in the stack off. Both the middle and the top crate crashed to the ground with an enormous clatter. That surely got someone's attention. Sure enough, Elthir could hear running footsteps on the floor above his head. With someone on their way, he didn't have much time to find a hiding place. He jumped from crate to crate until he reached another stack of three near the door. He got behind it just in time to hear the basement door burst open and someone run down the stairs.
"What in the name of Oblivion is going on down here?" The voice didn't sound familiar, but it sounded deep. It had to be Neville, the Redguard. Elthir considered killing him here, but decided against it. The yelling would have attracted more people. Without waiting for him to discover the body, Elthir slipped out from behind the crates, leaped to the stairs behind Neville and landed quietly, without being seen. That accomplished, he quickly padded up the stairs to the dining area of the house. He would make an appearance in the basement soon enough.
Thankfully, when he made it to the living area, Primo was nowhere to be seen. He ran up the stairs to the dining area and saw Primo and Nels in conversation. Nels was holding a different bottle, the first one laying empty on the floor next to his chair. His speech seemed to be slightly more slurred, and his voice was louder than it should have been. Elthir took a seat at the table with the pair, and filled a goblet of mead for himself. He did not intend to drink it, he just wanted to look casual for what was about to come.
Sure enough, moments after Elthir set the opened bottle of mead down on the table, his glass full, they all heard yelling coming from the basement.
"GOD'S BLOOD! MURDER!" came from the basement. Elthir and Primo jumped to their feet and bolted towards the stairs, Nels following, but very clumsily. Half drunk, he tripped at the top of the stairs, and down he and Primo went. Elthir jumped the last few steps to the ground and helped them both up. That over with, they all three ran to the still open basement door, and ran down the stairs. Primo graciously allowed Nels to go first this time, but there was not another mishap.
Elthir stepped in front of Nels at the foot of the stairs and walked towards Neville, who was kneeling down on the floor looking at something.
"What have you found, Neville?" he asked. Neville said nothing. Elthir looked at the body, faked shock, and faked it very well.
"By the Nine Divines, what's happened here!?" This seemed to get Neville's attention.
"I'm not sure. I heard a loud crash as I was searching for the chest in the living area, so I came down here to inspect, and I just found a body. It's the Breton, Matilde Petit. Her throat's been cut."
After the shock had worn off and they foursome went back upstairs, Elthir was anxious to put the next part of his plan into action. Primo was now staying close to Nels, who was drinking himself into a stupor. Neville had retrieved his sword from his private chest in one of the sleeping quarters upstairs, and now had it strapped to his hip. This was a problem. Elthir would have to find a way to sneak up on him. Since they were alone together, he spoke to Neville.
"Do you have any ideas on who the murderer might be?" He asked him.
"I have three real suspects. At the top of my list is the drunken Nord upstairs, though that could just be my prejudice talking. I despise barbarians, especially ones who spend every day of their life stumbling around, rambling incoherently, and would do anything for a bit of gold. Next on the list is young Primo Antonius. He's filthy rich, what reason does he have to be here? A chest of gold would be no more than a bit of spending money to him. My third suspect is you. You're pretty well off yourself, aren't you? Tell me, what would a chest full of gold be to you? How do I know you're not an assassin?"
This one was sharp, he would have to be taken care of next. That was fine, he wasn't part of the plan.
"I admit, a chest of gold would not be much to me. I am just as interested in who our host might be as the rest of you." Elthir explained, once more choosing his words very carefully.
"Well that remains to be seen. And I've got a funny feeling about this anonymous host of ours."
Elthir looked around to make sure no one was watching. Dovesi still waited upstairs, and Primo was still in the dining area with Nels. Taking probably the only opportunity he was going to get, he slipped his hand inside his secret pocket and withdrew the dagger, but kept it hidden in his left hand with the blade up his sleeve so Neville wouldn't see it.
As soon as Neville turned away, Elthir slowly pulled the dagger from his sleeve with his right hand and quickly thrust it into the back of his neck, being careful to sever the vocal chords before he could cry out and give Elthir away. He pulled the dagger free, then thrust it again through the middle of Neville's back where his heart was. The man was dead before Elthir caught him and lowered him slowly and quietly to the ground, again making sure not to get any blood on himself. As soon as he wiped the blood off his blade on Neville's trousers, he made his way up the stairs to the dining area where Primo sat shaking and Neville sat drinking more than ever. At least three empty bottles lay at his feet. He was in the process of draining the glass that Elthir had earlier filled. Elthir pretended not to notice and reached for another glass and the open bottle of mead.
As he did so, he also reached into another secret pocket in his garments and withdrew a tiny, pinky toe sized vial of crystal clear liquid he had obtained from one of his contacts in the alchemy branch of the Imperial City Mage's Guild Arcane University. He had been saving it for a special occasion, and this was one such occasion. He uncapped it under the table and dribbled a bit of it onto the cork of the mead bottle. After he filled the goblet, he put the cork back onto the bottle.
"Oi dun put that back on." Nels said, his speech slurred and sloppy more than ever.
"I waz juss gonna fill up mah goblet up agin."
Pretending to look distraught from Matilde's death, he handed Nels the bottle. The drops of poison would have already fallen into the mead inside the bottle. Nels tried to pull the cap back out, and after failing, he smashed the top of the bottle against the table, breaking the top off. He didn't bother to pour it into another cup, he just drank it straight from the bottle. He downed the whole thing in one long drink. Nels smiled stupidly for a minute, then turned a chalk white color, fell out of his chair, and crashed to the floor, dead.
Seeming to snap back to attention, Primo looked down at him, thinking he was just passed out.
"Filthy drunk." He muttered. "I'm worried about Dovesi, where could my love be?"
Elthir pretended to be surprised.
"Oh…" He said. "I think I just saw her downstairs with Neville."
"I'll go check on the pair of them then, I suppose." Primo said sullenly, and walked downstairs. Elthir smiled again, and waited a moment. He dumped his glass of mead on Nels's corpse, and sat back down. Several seconds later, he heard a loud scream come from the living area.
I guess Neville's been found. Elthir quickly erased his smile and ran downstairs again.
"What!? What!? What is it!?" He yelled.
"It's Neville!" Primo screamed, seeming to lose control of his voice. He pointed towards the space where Elthir had just minutes before murdered the Redguard.
Elthir let out a low groan.
"Come, Primo." He said in a low voice. "There's nothing we can do for him. Come have a drink, and then let's try to find a way out of this slaughter house."
"Yes…" Primo said. "Yes, a drink is what I need. A drink… A drink…" When they got back to the dining area, Primo looked down at Nels again.
"I suppose we should move this oaf somewhere." Primo said, then he screamed as he looked at Nels's face, where blood was trickling out of his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"He didn't pass out!" Primo was almost losing control now.
"He was poisoned! Poisoned by the assassin! How could we have left him here!? This was our fault! We should have watched over him!"
"Primo, where is Dovesi?" Elthir asked.
"I don't know, you said she was…oh no." Primo said as he realized what Elthir was getting at.
"You…You can't possibly think she would do this! I mean…look at her…"
"All I'm saying is that she has been absent while every murder was taking place, and she was the last one Neville was with before he was killed, and was nowhere to be found when we went to check on him. Nels was just fine. Passed out, but fine nonetheless. We left him, and he was dead when we came back."
"By the Nine…could she really have done it?" Primo said slowly, seeming to ask himself more than Elthir.
"Think about it Primo. What do you really know about this woman? She had motive to kill all the three who are dead. I believe she will kill me next. She wants the gold, and she wants to share it with you. She loves you as you love her, and she wants to kill everyone else but you, and then you can find the gold together and get out. She's actually probably already found the gold."
"I…I can't believe it. You must be right…I can't believe I'm saying it, but…we have to kill her. We have to kill that murderous wench." Primo sounded terrified at the thought.
"Sadly, I agree." Elthir said. This was working out perfectly. Primo ran downstairs, and returned a moment later with Neville's sword and his face whiter than paste.
"Do you have any idea where she might be?" He asked.
"I believe" Elthir said. "that she mentioned something about waiting for you in the sleeping quarters. She probably planned to do that after everyone else was dead. I'm betting that she poisoned all of the mead and brandy and thinks Nels and I to both be dead now. You're the only one who hasn't touched the drinks all night."
"Okay…well then…I guess we will do what we must. What will you use?" Primo asked.
"I have some gifts in the arcane arts, I can help you, but other than that I'm really no fighter." Elthir said, and he extended his hand and touched his finger to Primo's brow. Primo looked much better. Color had returned to his face, he seemed stronger and more confident, and he charged for the stairs.
What Elthir had really done was cast a small spell on him to put him into a bit of a frenzy so that he wouldn't realize what he was doing, and would be sure to finish the job before he came to his senses. Elthir took off after the madman he had just created. The pair burst through the door that led to the stairs to the sleeping quarters. Up the stairs they went, and down the hall to where the bedrooms were. Opening a door at random, Primo peaked inside. He chose right.
"Primo!" Dovesi Dran sounded delighted. "I've been waiting for you!"
"I know you have, you wench." Primo said, anger in his voice.
"What?" Dovesi's tone changed from delighted to deeply hurt. "Why would you say that to me?" Without another word, Primo ran into the room while Elthir waited outside. He heard a scream, then a chopping that sounded like a blade cutting through bone. Curious, he peaked inside the room and saw Primo brutally dismembering a very dead Dovesi Dran. His plan finally at a close, Elthir drew his crescent shaped dagger from the secret pouch in his shirt and waited patiently for Primo to finish whatever it was he was doing. Judging by what he was doing, Elthir guessed he wanted to chop off every piece of the poor Dunmer that had a joint connected to it.
Once finished, Primo stood for a moment, staring at the carnage, and then dropped the sword.
"I…don't know what came over me. That…that wasn't necessary, was it?"
"No, Primo, it wasn't." Elthir said.
"Oh well." Primo said, shaken. "What's done is done, and we're safe now. I suppose we'd better find a way out now. I don't know about you, but I don't care about the gold anymore. I never really did…I just thought this would be fun…" His voice trailed off and his eyes went to Elthir's dagger that he now held in his hand in the ready position.
"YOU!" He shouted as realization and understanding dawned on him.
"You did this! You killed all these people! You mon-" His voice was cut off as Elthir moved across the room fast as lightning and plunged the dagger directly into Primo Antonius's forehead. He pulled the dagger free, and didn't bother to catch Primo before his body fell limp to the ground with a thud.
Wiping his blade clean of blood on Primo's trousers, Elthir decided that this was his favorite piece of work. Never before had he worked his manipulation skills so perfectly, made so many quick, precise kills in such a short time. With his business finished, Elthir drew the key from his pocket and made his way to the front door, and unlocked it.
He stepped outside and felt the wind blowing and the rain coming down harder than ever. He turned to speak to Fafnir, who still stood as a sentry. He handed back the brute his key to the manor.
"I'm afraid I lied, brother." He said. "You have quite a mess to clean up in one of the bedrooms."
"Good for you." Said Fafnir, patting him on the back.