A moonless night blanketed the land, and all that dwelt in its darkness awoke and scurried about. One opportunistic dunmer chose this night to leave the city to engage in a hobby she had not been able to enjoy for months: dungeon diving. But this time she did it out of necessity, for all her funds were poured into weapons, armor, and potions- if it wasn't for the complimentary bed and food she would be considered homeless. Nevertheless she was starved of something that made her body and soul ache all over, but what was even more excruciating was not knowing what made her feel that way. She did know that it was time to move on from the Imperial Arena, where the 'Champion of Cyrodiil' ('Hero of Kvatch' / 'The One that Closed the Oblivion Gates' / etc) faded out of existence, making way for the 'Grand Champion of the Arena', which seemed like a prestigious title to most, but it was time for something else... something more... something that she could hold dear in her heart and feel truly dedicated to. What was the word she was looking for to describe the feeling she had that compelled her to find a new place in her world? Perhaps 'a belonging'? What ever it was, it had to involve a sword. She was not a craftsman, a bard, a cook, a shopkeeper (Heaven forbid being confined in one room for the entirety of each day!), or a farmer. She was a warrior; always had been, always will be.
After a few hours passed, and the Alyeid ruins of Vilverin were cleared of bandits and loot, she got a fire going and curled up in a bedroll she brought with her. And what fortune- she found enough wine and mead lying around the camp to ease her into a restful sleep. But she would not depend on it this night. In the wilderness she did not hear the ongoing sound of crashing metal and whispering among other combatants. Crickets, owls, and wolves supplied the ambiance. Malkhai remembered why she fancied her early years, when she severed herself from town for weeks to experience everything that the wilds had to offer. Sure it was lonely at times, but it was quiet... and she answered to no one but herself.
How did I become so dependent on gold to survive? She wondered. I lived for ten years without a single coin once, taking all I needed from the land. One is not poor because he is without money...he is poor because he doesn't know how to survive without it. By the Heavens, that is what I've been reduced to!
As her mind drifted into yesterdayland she nodded off into a deep sleep. But she would not find rest the entire night; she awoke to the sound of soft footsteps in the pathways of black shadows, made by someone who thought his approach was undetected. Malkhai's elven ears picked up what common-man's could not. But she did not react right away. She waited until the sound stopped at the end of her bed.
The shadowy figure, who believed she was in a deep sleep, was not prepared to be tripped onto his back and pinned to the ground under her body.
"Who the hell are you...and what's yer business!" Malkhai bellowed, pushing the blade of her sword against his neck and grabbing him by the hair around the back of his head. He was wearing a black garb and hood that she'd seen on others before, on more than one occassion.
"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer." He answered with a calm and lulling voice, and hardly seemed phased by the predicament he was in. "That's good, you'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."
"I'll let'cha propose as long as I know you aren't gonna make any stupid moves against me... if ya do, the spray of your blood will be the last thing you see!" She growled, giving the blade a push to make sure he took her seriously. And yet, aside from an airy grunt he barely acknowledged the danger he was in. In fact, he gave her a warm smile. But it was forced to hide the fact that his heart was pounding wildly against his rib cage, his breathing was unsteady, and drops of nervous sweat emerged on his skin... all of which the insightful dunmer noted.
"My name is Lucien LaChance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood... and I am not here to harm you in any way, so if it's not too much to ask... can we please have a more civilized conversation that does not involve your sword at my throat...or your awkward position above my hips?"
"I suppose we can." Keeping a wary glare at him, she dismounted the Speaker and rose to her feet. She maintained a defensive stance, sheathing her sword but keeping a firm grip on the handle. "Dark Brotherhood huh... I know about you people all too w... wait, did you call me a murderer?"
"Yes. You are a killer... a taker of life... a harvester of souls." He continued as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Your work, your death-craft, pleases the Night Mother...whom has arranged for me to come to you... with an offering."
Malkhai went silent for a moment, staring at him with a stunned look on her face. Then a belly-full of laughter erupted and shattered the stillness of the evening. The way it echoed all around them, it sounded as though the walls of the ruins were laughing with her. "Are you sure you have the right dunmer? I'm no such thing!" She continued to chuckle, wandering over to the fireplace to warm herself.
"No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise."
"Ah, I suppose I should not question the infinite wisdom the Night Mother!" Lucien was not particularly pleased with the sarcasm he detected in Malkhai's voice as she spoke about his Matron, but his patience pushed his irritation of this transgression aside. For did he not also think lightly of their Lady in the beginning? "So let's say I am what you call me... what does that mean? What do you want?"
"I want to give you an opportunity to join our rather unique family. We could use someone like you. You kill without pity or remorse... and... you are a very skilled warrior." Lucien rubbed the area around his throat that Malkhai's blade was pressed up against. "Don't deny it, Ms. Ale'Zandre. It is known that when your sword slices through your enemies, you are as cold as the wind that sweeps over the Throat of the World. You're told to kill...and then you kill- as simple as that. You are without an iota of hesitation and your conscience is not burdened."
"So you want to recruit me? I would assume that my previous career would give you plenty of reason to kill me instead, Speaker."
"On the contrary... an Arena Combatant receives praises from the Brotherhood!"
"A comb... oh...ah... so that's what this is about. Surely, Mr. LaChance... I can't be a murderer because of that!" She continued to laugh, falling back into a chair next to the fire. "It's the Arena! I kill others that give myself and the Council consent for me to attack, and they are prepared for it. I don't sneak into their bedrooms at night and kill them in their sleep!"
"Ah, but 'how' and 'why' does not matter. It is the fact that you are willing to kill... and do so without guilt. And... what is the difference between 'combatant' and 'murderer' anyway? Either one takes life, and despite the opponent's willingness to participate in the event they truly do not wish for their lives to be forfeit, and they fight fiercely to sustain it. And, in most cases, your opponents are not in their situations by choice; most of them are forced to be there... thrown into the middle of a crowd that anticipates his savage death. 'Authorization'... that is the difference...the only difference. The Council blesses the event... blesses you with the go-ahead to take life."
"I admit... I think you make a good point. But if there is no difference between the two... why should I join the Brotherhood? If I can find in your ranks what I find in the arena, why should I bother?"
"At the end of the day, even if you receive the roar of applause after every kill, you can't ignore that hollowness within... that searing, biting, gnawing feeling of needing something more than a meal and a place to sleep... more than gold and all the fame that Cyrodiil can shower upon you. And it's something you haven't had in a very long time... is it not?"
"That 'something'... all this time I couldn't figure out what it was..." Malkhai replied, with surrender in her tone. Somehow this dark stranger knew so much about her... and though she kept a fearless front, it frightened her to the core. "I still don't know."
"What ever it is... perhaps you will find it here... in the caring and loving arms of the Family."
"Perhaps. So, what if I said 'yes'... where do we go from here? What must I do?"
"I understand that this may require a lot of consideration. I will give you some time to make your choice... but here is how you will decide: On the Green Road, a few miles north of Bravil, lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio... if you kill him, your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete."
"Why does Rufio have to die?"
"Is that important?"
"I'm just curious. Maybe it will help me figure out how to go about killing him."
"He is wanted for the murder and rape of a young woman in Bravil. He's been on the run for years, sleeping his days away at the inn. He believes he has illuded the law... but he did not count on the Dark Brotherhood learning of this fact. Is this not... right up your alley?"
"Good... gracious how did you know about that! Whose been talking to you anyway?"
He flashed a warm grin, which is all Malkhai could see on his face after he pulled the hood back over his head. He ignored that question, truthfully uncertain of what she was referring to, but delighted that he had grabbed her full attention. "Should you decide to accept this contract and complete it in full, then sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more... bearing the love of your new family."
"Come now, Mr. LaChance. Revealing yourself may be a tad inappropriate without at least taking me out to dinner and a stage show first...unless that is the stage show." Malkhai chuckled.
Lucien responded with cold silence. His grin broke into a crooked line. He experienced mixed feelings of amusement and irritation, but was not ready to award her laughter. He wanted her to know that she owed the Black Hand more respect than that.
"Here. Take this with you. It is a gift from me to you... a taste of the many rewards you shall receive for your quality of service and loyalty. I pray it will influence your decision... because you will never find anywhere else the wondrous things that the Dark Brotherhood has to offer."
Lucien presented an ebony dagger in his hands, which caught the light of the campfire. Malkhai could tell it was new- no scratches or blood stains anywhere, and it smelled fresh from the fire used to forge it. To a warrior this was a tempting sight, and as she reached for it Lucien continued. "It is a virgin blade... and thirsts for blood."
"Sure is. I give you my thanks, Mr. LaChance... and please... accept my apology for threatening to split yer wig." A short and whispery chuckle was finally shaken out of him.
"I've experienced worse reactions...trust me."
"Well then... if you're heading out... here's a little someth'n for the road."
Malkhai grabbed a bag of sweets and tossed it to him. As Lucien caught it in one hand, he was overwhelmed with a strange familiarity, reminded of a kind gesture that he'd experienced once before. Malkhai could only see the warm smile returning, not his brown eyes filling up with an emotion he was not used to having.
"I'll be seeing you soon. Take care of yourself 'til then...Brother." Malkhai concluded with a wink.
"Thank you." Was all he said before vanishing from sight.
The very next morning, Malkhai was set to do exactly what Lucien told her to do. It was either chase after a new horizon or return to the Arena. She knew what awaited her in the latter; a cold, dingy, unwelcoming place that smelled of old blood, sweat, mildew, and polish. The feeling of being adored... but never really loved. The promise of riches that were, however, spent on weapons and armor... leaving her barely enough for food and nothing for shelter. She found a promise of love and respect in Lucien's warm voice, returning to her heart the knowledge of hope. Perhaps she would find the same comfort amid this 'family' he spoke of. They're assassins, yes... but they may at least be more honest and genuine.
I know why I am doing this... it's because I've done it countless times before. I wonder why I am getting nervous about it. Uriel told me to kill... so I killed. Now Lucien tells me to kill and I will kill... but I'm uneasy about it. Perhaps it is because, no more than a year ago, being in the position I was in I could never consider joining the Dark Brotherhood! Then again, at that time I actually believed those I was associated with had a sense of honor and duty.
But whose to say they do? We'll see, I suppose.
Oh...and I jumped on it. Before he left I called him 'Brother', and that pretty much sounds like a made deal there. Why did I do that! I have a weakness for imperials, methinks.
It was a long and dangerous road from Vilveren to the Inn of Ill Omen. She made stops along the way, still torn between deciding to kill Rufio and leaving him be. But a whisper in her heart compelled her to continue on the road that snaked to the south, bringing her closer to the deed that would bring a new beginning to her life. Her mind was not telling her feet to keep walking; it was something else that possessed them and forced her onward, even though she was still not sure what she was really going to do once she got there. The new and unknown was as frightening as it was alluring. She was haunted in her dreams by Lucien's voice as he urged her to "fulfill her destiny"... to "be family"... to "know a love that is deep and sincere". The closer she got to the inn, the more intense and vivid her dreams became... to the point where she could swear she felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke into her ear... and his gloved hand as it gently brushed her snow-white hair out of her face.
But then... the last night before her arrival she heard another voice intervene; a strange, twisted, old woman's voice. "My child... my child... come listen to your Mother... and behold your Father..."
"By the Heavens what is going on. What are these things that keep entering my mind when I am sleeping!" Malkhai screamed into the night air after waking up once again in a cold sweat, feeling mentally violated. "Who are you people! Why must you invade my dreams!"
She gathered herself after a few moments of panicking... "I'm loosing my mind... I'm getting paranoid. Pull yourself together, Malkhai... or they'll send you packing to the Shivering Isles."
"Hey there, welcome! What can I getcha, m'lady?" Asked Manheim Maulhand behind the counter of the Inn of Ill Oman.
"Well..." Malkhai began, thinking for a moment about how she could coax Maulhand to reveal the exact whereabouts of Rufio in a way that was not suspicious. And then it hit her... and she was internally tickled by her idea. "We have a two-thirty-five situation. Do you know what I mean?"
"A... good lord are you a..."
"Yes... please keep it down. It's important that my cover is not blown. So give me what I need to know."
"Of course well... um... we aren't getting a lot of business this time of the year, but we've got a man downstairs whose been stay'n here a long time. I think he may be a shady type, but he's been so good about pay'n me I keep my nose out of his business. Is that why you are here? What's he done?"
"I can't disclose that information... what you need to know is that if you cooperate with me and let me do my job there will be no problems... and I will make sure that you are compensated should anything...go wrong."
"Go wrong? By Sheogorath's cheese sticks, it must be worse than I thought! I won't be in trouble for letting him stay here would I?"
"You won't be as long as you do not intervene. And do not breathe a word of this to the public. What ever happens let me take care of it... and...don't worry about the mess."
"M...mess... oh dear."
With her back turned, a wicked smile stretched across Malkhai's face. She was empowered by a treasure-trove of knowledge that she acquired over many years; of secret codes and passwords used to gain access to many things in Tamriel that would remain forever untouched by those who did not know them.
Because she gave Manheim three numbers she was free to kill, and it did not matter if Rufio saw his doom approach and screamed at the top of his lungs. Manheim believed that Malkhai was a member of the Imperial Legion. Guards would not be called to help Rufio and the knowledge of his violent end would not spread beyond the inn.
Think of the pain he caused the woman. Think of the suffering her family would endure for the rest of their lives... think of that night when this sick son of a bitch would not take 'no' for an answer and proceeded to... f...faaaaaaaaaaagh! Malkhai thought, fueling herself with the fire of empathy to evoke her desire to strike.
Malkhai kicked Rufio out of his bed and growled: "Get up you worthless sack a'crap!"
"Wha...wh...whaaa!" Rufio clumsily crawled back into a corner. "Who are you! What's going on! What do y..."
"You know very well who I am and what I am here for. You, Rufio! You sick barrel o'troll spunk! You don't know what the word 'no' means do you? DO YOU, YA LITTLE TURD!"
"N...Oh...oh Gods no..."
"Or maybe you do... maybe that word has a meaning when you say it! Ya sure as hell don't give a crap when others use it! Especially when it comes from the lips of women whose flowers you are too eager to ravage!"
"Oh.. my...oh...n... please don't hurt me! I'll do what you want, I will go with you to prison, I will... I'm sorry, I regret what I've done I just.. .please!"
"Hmmf. 'Oh please.. please don't! Please don't!' When you heard those words ring in your ears did you heed them! Ya sure didn't, so why the hell should I spare you Rufio? Why shouldn't I respond with the same lack of restraint?"
"Because.. I have gold! Lots of gold! I'll give it all to you."
"Gold won't cut it... nothing will cut it... except the forfeiture of your life. Prepare to meet the fate you sealed yourself, Rufio!"
"N...no.. NAAAGagagaghaGgrgrgllll."
As his last breath bubbled through the blood that oozed out of his throat, Malkhai slowly exhaled, releasing all the tension from her system. Once she drew in breath again, she found a state of mind that she always turned to after a kill. To a cold, hard, numb place that received all her worries and cares... all of her concerns for the consequences of taking a humans lives. Once she dragged those thoughts there, she left them to rot and fade out of existence, as if Rufio was no different than the trolls and bears she contested with in the fierce arctic tundra. No different than the mountain lions and wolves that would make her their prey if she did not kill them first.
Malkhai was true to her word. She cleaned up the mess and gave Manheim gold for a new bed. "Sorry for the ruckus, Manheim. I'm not supposed to say anything but Rufio was a rapist. You know what the penalty is for that, right?"
"Yes."
"Just doing my duty... I hope you understand."
"I do."
"Good... well good luck to you and your business. I shall send people your way, alright? I'll put in a good word for ya."
"Oh...well...thank you, ma'am. That would help out a lot."
"Farewell, citizen."
Malkhai wanted to laugh. Holding it all back and keeping her serious face from cracking into a wicked expression pained her to tears- the muscles around her face were sore from all the laughter that bumped and pushed beneath her solemn face.
He freak'n fell for the whole thing. I sure hope to what ever being truly watches over me... that many more people involved in my future contracts are that gullible!
Malkhai still thought it unsafe to rest at his inn, so she continued on south, down the Green Road that took her to Bravil. There, at Silverhome on the Water she used what remained of her gold to rent a good room that had a tub so that she could soak and wash away the blood and warm her aching muscles.
A sensation crawled into Malkhai, making her ill and uneasy. For the first time she was ordered to kill a man without the blessings of an official authoritative figure whose duty was to be the decider of fates in Cyrodiil. She received this order from a member of the Dark Brotherhood... the very same organization that was once, ironically, what her party hunted on an occasion. Once upon a time, not too long ago, she was given the order to kill anyone seen wearing their garbs or in possession of an item with the symbol of Sithis. This was not simply a new horizon for her- it was complete inversion.
The solution to these thoughts was what she liked to call "Liquid Apathy", which was mead, beer, wine, or anything else that had similar effects on her mind. It was a bad idea to nurse her mead while lying in the tub, but the usually-wise dunmer was too desperate for mental peace to consider the danger of it. Before too long the bottle was empty and so was the place where her cares used to be. She smiled, thought happily about the possibilities that awaited her in what Lucien called 'family'... and then sank under water after nodding off to sleep.
Someone entered her room, with a calm and light pace at first... but then it hastened when that person noticed her head was under water. Without hesitation he pulled Malkhai out of the tub and placed her on the floor. She was not breathing.
Few people of this feudal time knew how to clear lungs of water and help a person to breathe again, but seasoned assassins had full knowledge of the human body. In a funny twist, knowing how to kill also meant knowing how to save. So he effortlessly resuscitated her.
Malkhai coughed up water and struggled to take in breath again.
"What is it with you dark elves and water... is it me or do they just not mix well?" She heard her rescuer say... and once he spoke to her she was sure it was Lucien, who kept to his word about visiting her again. As he sat her up he happened to notice a row of letters and numbers tattooed on her left shoulder: 'ALE3E393'. But he didn't bother to question her about it- tattoos were not an important subject at the time.
"I eegh...cagh.." Malkhai tried to reply but her throat burned from coughing so hard. She turned her head to the side as her body struggled for more air.
"Easy." Lucien purred, grabbing a towel and covering her up. "So... the deed is done."
"Yeah... ho...h..huuu-chaaaghg..."
"How do I know this? Heh... you'll find that the Dark Brotherhood knows many things. Don't try to talk right now... just concentrate on relaxing and breathing. And... do remember that the next time you decide to be in or near any body of water... keep the alcohol well away from yourself."
Malkhai smiled, wanting to laugh but knew she'd only cough if she allowed it. In the Speaker's arms, for the first time in her life, she found an overpowering sense of security in them, but couldn't for the life of her figure out how that was possible.
"Rufio lies dead... you did well. I'd like to know how you managed to convince the innkeeper to be cool and quiet about his demise but... that story can wait. I welcome you into our family, Dear Sister."
Malkhai smiled, feeling the effects of the mead take hold of her again, making her eyelids heavy and her mind fluffy.
"This d's't... feel real... is this all real life?" She asked.
Lucien rolled his eyes. "Yes it's real life. You're still intoxicated."
"Good... I hope yer real c'ze...yer so nice.. n't m'ny p...pe...ple are nice t'me. Owyn w's such'n asshole... talk s'more... you talk nice."
After another eye roll and a long sigh Lucien continued. "Anyway... I oversee a particular group of family members in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. You've been to that little town before, right?"
Malkhai nodded with a cheesy grin on her face. She wrapped a finger around the diamond-shaped pendent on his robe and stared at it the way a cat stares at all dangling things. Lucien ignored it and continued.
"Then you would know of the abandoned house located on the eastern wall...enter this house, down into what remains of the basement, and at the end of the tunnel is the Black Door. You will be asked a question...answer thusly... 'Sanguine my Brother'."
"Sanguine... m'brudder."
"I do hope you remember all of this."
"Sanguine...m'... brooooother...y'know I had br'ter once. Long... time'go. Be nice...f'I could...'gain... br...o..."
Malkhai drifted once again into a heavy sleep. Lucien scooped her up in his careful arms, placed her on the bed, and respectively pulled the warm covers over her before leaving in the inn.
The next morning, Malkhai woke up in a fog. As she reluctantly sat up in bed, she searched her mind for a memory of last night. The chilly air of a winter approaching seeped through the cracks around the window and brushed her skin, reminding her that she was still wearing nothing but a towel, which worried her at first. Malkhai drank often, but never enough to get herself involved in promiscuous activities.
"Good...gravy what in Oblivion happened!" She groaned. "Eastern...wall... abandoned... house...Sanguine... m... oh crap."
Waves of both relief and embarrassment swept over her. Relief that she didn't get her drunken ass in trouble, but she remembered the silly things she mumbled while Lucien was trying to get an important message across. And on top of that she was as bare as a crow hatchling!
Though tired and tempted to return to the warm sheets, dawn was on the eastern slopes and surely the innkeeper wouldn't want her to stay longer without paying extra gold, which Malkhai did not have. All she had left was the loot from Vilverin, and the amount of gold she was given for those items was just enough to get her to Cheydinhaal.
She crossed the lake, traveled north on the Yellow Road, and then east on the Blue Road. It was no less perilous than the roads she took to get to the Inn of Ill Omen. It seemed like the entire world was out to get her; animals, monsters, bandits, and wizards alike. By the time she arrived in Cheydinhal she was exhausted from it all and prayed that the Sanctuary would have a place to rest her tired and aching body.
She managed to remember the instructions Lucien gave her, so after making her way through the Abandoned House and to the Black Door, she heard an unearthly voice speak to her:
"What... is the Color... of Night?"
Malkhai gulped and found herself momentarily distracted by the carvings on the door. She couldn't make sense of it- what appeared to be a woman and several babies, beneath a skull.
"Sanguine, My Brother." She called out, keeping her eyes affixed on the artwork. Her heart skipped a beat and she backed away in a flash when she heard the heavy metallic sound of the door opening for her.
"Welcome... home." It said again.
"Um... thank you?" Malkhai muttered, stepping lightly into the Sanctuary.
I still feel like I don't belong here. I feel like an intruder or spy because of past ties... I wonder if they know about it. She thought.
"Welcome! Welcome!" She heard a hoarse voice call out from the end of the hallway that opened up into a large room. It was an Argonian woman that gave her a greeting she was not used to receiving from people she just met. Owyn called her a 'pigdog' and was ready to spit on her face if she uttered a single word he did not approve of. "You must be the new Sister that Lucien told us about! Ah the words he used to describe you did no justice... what a pretty thing you are."
Malkhai blushed so much it made her cheeks sore. She brought a hand up to the scar that ran along the left side of her face. No one ever talked about her like that. For years she was described as an expert survivalist, warrior, and wilderness guide. She was one of the bravest, strongest, wittiest, and most out-spoken dunmer that belches and farts like a Nord and loves the crisp cold air of Skyrim just as much as one would... but pretty?
Malkhai giggled. "OH heh...um thanks."
"I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just happy to receive a new family member! We haven't had a dunmer sister here since Viveen... Sithis rest her sweet soul."
"Vi...Viveen?" Malkhai felt sick when she heard that name.
"She was our Sanctuary Mother before Lucien became our Father... but..well that's not important now. Oh there are so many stories that everyone here will eagerly tell... but we need to get you settled in first. Here... take these... they're issued to all our brothers and sisters. When you need to be sneaky, these will help you remain unseen in the shadows."
"That's lovely...thank you so much um..."
"Oh forgive me. I am Ocheeva. When Lucien is away I am in charge of maintaining the Sanctuary and ensuring the well-being of all our family members here."
"A second in command, sort-of-speak."
"Exactly. Yes. Alright then, I should give you the tour of the place... we'll...start with the training room. Right this way, Sister."
Malkhai smiled at the word that was repeatedly used to address her; 'Sister'. It had been decades since the last time anyone called her that. She followed Ocheeva into the Main Hall, and from there made a left turn into another room that seemed to have everything she would need to practice and increase her skills.
"As you can see we have targets, dummies, and... we try provide a regular supply of weapons like swords, axes, arrows, and bows but... sometimes our funds are a bit dry so we cannot always guarantee it... but we try. You can come in here any time and do what ever you like... don't ever worry about doing too much damage to the the targets and dummies because that's what they're there for. We have plenty of replacements. Oh there's M'raaj-Dar practicing his spells. M'raaj, come over here and meet our new sister."
M'raaj flashed his teeth and a sharp scowl at Malkhai. The dunmer simply raised a brow. "My name is Malkhai Ale'Zandre. A pleasure to meet you, M'raaj." She said, with some false intentions of being polite, but she was actually showing the khajiit she was not phased or intimidated by that stink-greeting.
M'raaj growled and went back to throwing spells at one of the targets.
"M'raaj... don't be rude!" Ocheeva barked.
"I don't believe that I am obligated by the Tenets to like the new associate or give her sugary words!" He retorted, not bothering to look over his shoulder a second time. "I am, however... obligated to trade with you when you ask me to...y'smelly ape... so I'll put up with that. But don't think for a moment that you can get anything more than that from me."
"Fair enough." Malkhai answered, understanding that for some unknown reason he made up his mind about whether or not he liked Malkhai before he even met her. She was certain that it had something to do with the way the dunmer of Morrowind treated the Khajiit. She represented them all in his eyes, even though Malkhai was anything but a patriot of her ancestors' homeland. Perhaps in time M'raaj would come to know the dunmer that is, in spirit and mind, more nord than elf.
With a frustrated sigh Ocheeva directed Malkhai to the other room across the Main Hall.
"This is the Living Quarters; where you can enjoy the comforts of a warm, soft, clean bed... and plenty of fresh food and drinks... all complements of the Black Hand. Our Sanctuary Father replenishes once a week, so while we welcome you to help yourself to the supplies... we kindly ask you not to horde it all."
Malkhai chuckled and nodded.
"Hail! Our new Sister!" Cried a husky voice from behind. Malkhai jumped and spun around, seeing an orc dressed head-to-toe in heavy armor. "Oh I'm sorry I scared ya, hahhahaaha!"
"You just surprised me." Malkhai smiled. "Hello...my name is Malkhai Ale'Zandre... it's nice to meet you... two." Malkhai saw the wood elf standing right next to him.
"The name's Gogron... and this here's Telendril. Nice t'finally meet the dunmer that Lucien's been talking about. Hey, how'd you earn that?"
"Earn what?"
"That scar."
"Oh uh... a legionnaire gave it to me." Was all she said.
"Wow, so you fought a legionnaire huh? Did ya run him through? Gut him like a fish?"
"Yeah... he's dead."
"Haha! I'm impressed most folk here who run into their likes don't live to tell about it. You must be a tough cookie."
Malkhai touched her scar again as her smile faded somewhat.
"Hey don't feel embarrassed about it. Scars are stories... trophies... reminders that we've been through some kinda hell and survived it. Be proud."
The smile returned. "Guess yer right. Thanks Gogron."
The dunmer was eager to know Telendril's story, but Ocheeva guided her out of the Living Quarters and down another hallway.
"Here's my quarters... then the next room down is reserved for Lucien when he decides to stay here- though he's only used that room twice in ten years. When he's not kept busy by the Black Hand, whom often sends him to all sorts of different places in Tamriel, he'll keep to himself in his own place of dwelling. He's such a dedicated member of Brotherhood... I don't know if he ever spares much time for his own personal interests."
Ocheeva pointed to the hallway off to the right. "Privies and washrooms are down there. We have a fire pit so you can have hot water for the tubs."
At the end of the hallway and through the pair of doors of the last room, Malkhai was greeted with another surprise. There was a Breton man sitting at a table, so captivated by the book he was reading it took him longer than a second to realize the two were standing before him. Once he did turn his head up, Malkhai saw his blood-red eyes.
"Oh... you're the new associate aren't you?" He said with the same warmth in his voice that the others had. He stood up to formally introduce himself. "Pleased to meet you... I am Vicente Valtierie... do not be disturbed by my appearance. I assure you that no harm will come to you."
"And nice to meet you, Mr. Valtierie. My name is Malkhai Ale'Zandre... and I'm not disturbed at the least. Let's just say I have met a friendly and well-behaved vampire once before and I hold no prejudice against your kind."
"I appreciate it."
"I believe this concludes the tour of our Sanctuary... if you have questions feel free to ask us or any other associates, I am sure they... well... all but that ill-tempered feline... will be glad to help you."
"Thank you, Ocheeva." Malkhai said with a nod and a smile.
"For now Vicente will handle your contracts. I will leave you for now so that he can explain the details."
As Ocheeva left the room Malkhai turned to Vicente, ready to hear what he had to say.
"Of course, what Ocheeva did not mention was that you can pick up a contract when ever you are ready. You can relax, rest up, spend some time with family or friends... and when you feel up to it you come see me. Although...I can't give you a contract right now... there are some important things that LaChance himself wants to go over with you. He said that you were not exactly in the uh...right state of mind the last time."
"Ugh..." Malkhai again remembered her drunkenness. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"Nothing in detail. LaChance is a very respectful man... he wouldn't say anything about anyone that would embarrass them."
"Well that's good."
"Once he is finished with the briefing, and I receive confirmation that you are ready, your career as an assassin shall begin."
"Sounds great. If you don't mind, Mr. Valtierie... I'm...very... tired."
"Oh I don't mind at all, dear. Go right ahead and get some sleep. There will be plenty of time for more talk later."
The very next morning, Malkhai was gradually pulled out of sleep by the little sounds her new family made as they scuttled and whispered around the Living Quarters. Her stomach cried for her to get out of bed and eat something, but the heavy sleeper wanted just a few more minutes of rest.
"I wish I can sleep that well." She heard Teneeva groan."So what's her story anyway?"
"Lucien said she was a combatant in the Imperial Arena. Not much more than that."
"Ah yes... Dragonheart. I think that's the name she used." Gogron included with his mouth stuffed with cheese.
Malkhai fought the urge to smile. They're talking about me... and they have pleasant things to say. I think I'm going to like it here. These people see so-
"Good morning, Family." He heard a familiar voice purr from the entrance.
Malkhai sprang from the bed and onto her feet, with her arms at her side, chin parallel to the floor, and in a rigid stance.
The room went quiet...and then a few people chuckled, including the man that greeted the sanctuary. It was LaChance.
"Wh...what are you doing, Ms. Ale'Zandre are y...are you standing at attention? For..me...?" Lucien began, hardly able to keep back the laughter. He was amused and flattered at the same time. "Please... relax. There is no need for that."
Malkhai relaxed her body and eyeballed him. "Sorry... I wasn't sure what we're supposed to do when a superior rank enters the room."
"Well... you could say 'Good morning' back, for starts."
"Oh... yes. Good morning, Speaker."
"What brings you here?" Gogron bellowed with a big dopey grin.
"I've brought the supplies that you need... and I'm here to help our new Sister by going over some important information."
"Don't ya do that during the second meeting?"
"Yes well... it slipped my mind this time."
Why would he say that? She wondered, surprised by his white lie.
"Get dressed and have some breakfast, Ms. Ale'Zandre. Then come meet me in the Main Hall."
"Yes-sir." She said with a nod.
Lucien left the room, with the tickle of his amusement lingering on his face and in his stomach.
"Please... have a seat right here, My Sister." Lucien said to Malkhai when she walked into the Main Hall. He had a table set up with books and papers neatly stacked on top of it.
I remember going through something like this once before... but involved a hellova lot more paper than that. She thought with a grin.
"How are you adjusting?" He asked while giving everything a careful once-over.
"So far so good. Everyone h... well most have been very kind to me."
Lucien chuckled. "Let me guess...the cat is less than welcoming."
"Yep."
"Don't take it personally. He just had a bad history with dunmers and it'll be a while before he can learn to trust them again. But if he starts going overboard... like harassing you or threatening your life... you let us know about it, alright?"
"I will, thank you."
"Well then... first things first... now that you're good and...sober..." Malkhai blushed and turned her head to the side for a moment. "I must go over the Five Tenets with you. They are the most important rules because if you fail to obey them you will evoke the wrath of Sithis. We don't want that."
"No we don't. Go on, Mr. LaChance."
"I find you etiquette most refreshing... much better than the first greeting. Anyway... You shall never kill a Dark Brother or Sister, never dishonor the Night Mother, you shall never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets, once you agree to a contract you shall not refuse to carry it out, and you shall never steal from a Dark Brother or Sister. Do you have any questions regarding that?"
"I believe those are the only questions I can think of right now. Thank you." And naturally, once it is too late to ask them, Malkhai's mind will be bulging with questions.
"I brought these over for you to go over. Anything else you may want to know about us can be found there. At least, what we are ready to disclose at the moment. There is much more but... you are a new associate. Only time and earned trust will grant you access to the rest."
"I understand. And thanks again."
"You are more than welcome, Ms. Ale'Zandre."
"You can call me Malkhai." She grinned.
"Alright then, Malkhai." He purred before standing up. "I bid you good evening and... good luck. I trust, though, that if you are as powerful as they say you are... luck will not be needed. But I wish it for you anyway. I will be following your progress. See you next week."
With those parting words, in a reverent pace, he walked out of the Sanctuary. For the first time over twenty years, Malkhai had a sense of both duty and family at the same time.
(End of Part 1)