The following story takes place at the end of Sun's Dawn and the beginning of First Seed 4E-182.

The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda. No Copyright infringement intended.


Prologue

The rain fell down lightly from the dull grey sky. For the workers that meant a cold wet day of work, for the elderly Cyrodilic man, it meant they would fall behind further their original schedule.

It didn't bother him though, not as much as it would have done in the past anyway. For one thing, he didn't have a buyer for this great ship, or a contractor. So there was no deadline to worry about. This project was for him, and him alone.

He stepped inside, into warmth of the large-sized house that lay near the vast dry dock. Outside the Breton city of Daggerfall.

He entered the large main room, finding the dark-haired Malthar sat on the large cushion backed bench, waiting for him.

"Achilles," the young Breton said, a concerned look on his face. "You said you wanted to talk, I've been here for a while. Everything okay?"

The elderly man decided to get straight to the point. "I need you to head to Jehanna."

Malthar didn't hide his surprise. "Why?"

"My dreams," Achilles informed him. "I need you to wait for those that are in my dreams."

The young Breton shook his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "You know that I am loyal to you, but heading off to Jehanna, a place I've never been, to wait for your dreams to show up is just-"

"Stupid?" Achilles finished off.

"How long would you even want me to stay there?" Malthar asked him.

"I do not know," the elderly Cyrodilic man admitted. "I know they will be there, I have seen it. I would ask that you stay till they arrive, but I know that is asking too much."

"It is, I'm sorry."

"I would ask you to stay for five months then, at least."

"five!?" Malthar asked in shock. "That's a long time, I'm not sure I could even afford to stay there for that amount of time."

Achilles smiled wistfully. He knew Malthar would go, even if it was simply out of loyalty for the old man. Achilles had been great friends with Malthar's whole family back in Cyrodiil, and he had seen the young Breton grow up. When war had come to the Empire, Malthar's parents had told the retired Achilles to take their son away to High Rock, far away from all of the fighting. Unfortunately things had turned out badly, and Malthar's family were lost in the war. Now, getting on six years later, Malthar was a fine man who was on the cusp of being twenty years old.

"I will pay your way," Achilles told him. "You need not worry about that."

"Do I go alone?" Malthar asked.

Achilles shook his head. "Take who you want with you. Just make sure they are willing to go for such a long period."

"I will."

The elderly man smiled, knowing it the one he would ask would most likely be Cassiopia, a young Cyrodilic woman who Malthar had a fancy for. "Give it a week to prepare," Achilles told him.

"A week," Malthar repeated solemnly.

Achilles knew the young man didn't understand. Truth was he didn't need to, at least not yet.


Chapter I

Rasha, a dark golden brown furred, long-haired elven like Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit, had heard what the Thalmor judiciary had just told her. Yet she had the feeling that he was keeping something hidden, and in essence lying to her. She hated not having all the information at hand, and it played heavily on her mind.

She smoothed a crease in the front of her armoured dark blue robe uncomfortably, wondering what their true motives were.

"Is there a problem?" the dark blonde judiciary asked. He was standing tall behind the small desk, that lay at the back of the room. His tone oozed clear arrogance and the utmost contempt for her.

His attitude was most inappropriate, though not unexpected. While she hadn't dealt with the Thalmor directly before, she had dealt with numerous Altmer. What she had found, was that they usually spoke down to her, as if she was nothing but an animal. Then again, she'd noticed Altmer arrogance when they were talking to anyone who wasn't golden-skinned.

"I do not understand," she began, her accent and way of speaking more Nibenese-Cyrodilic than anything Elsweyr. "You say that the target is dangerous and needs removing as soon as possible?"

"That is correct."

"Okay, but what is her crime?"

"The details should not concern you, as you're a simple assassin."

"Bounty hunter," Rasha corrected.

The judiciary folded his arms and frowned. He then proceeded, ignoring her correction. "You are an assassin, your job is to assassinate. Not ask questions about motives. Your incessant questions will not get you more than you need. It should not matter who she is, only that there is a price on her head."

"It's just that I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't, you stupid creature!" he snapped. "Now go to Winterhold and kill her, that is all we ask. You will be rewarded for this greatly." He then smiled at her, a cruel malevolent smile that made him look almost daedric. It was clear to her that whatever he was thinking about, it was giving him great pleasure.

"Anything else?" she asked, trying to hide her unease. Rasha knew she should have fled as soon as she had overheard the Aldmeri guards at the gates talking about them having to throw people down into the troll cave when they refused the head judiciary. She had suspected at the time that it was just idle banter, tell tales that only had some basis in fact. Now she wasn't quite so sure. If she refused him, would she find herself thrown into some troll pit to be mauled to death? By the way he was smiling it was a real possibility.

"Yes, that is only your main target. We have a second target," he looked at her, his face full of malice. "Not nearly as important as the first, but still a nuisance to us."

"Who is it?"

"A Bosmer male by the name of Faldan, he is believed to be in the Gray-Quarter in the city of Windhelm."

"And what's his crime?"

"That too does not concern you."

"If I am to kill this-"

"I repeat, that it does not concern you. Just do your job!"

"Fine, anything else?"

"If you fail, you will be properly punished."

Rasha didn't like threats, especially ones that were directed at her. She didn't like to operate this way, but she was dealing with the Thalmor. What else could she expect other than malice and contempt?

Jobs recently had been scarce, especially for a bounty hunter with a conscience. There was little work in Cyrodiil, and up here most people went to the warrior guild known as Ysgramor's Companions of Jorrvaskr if they had a problem. When she had heard of a well-paying job from the Thalmor Embassy, she had jumped at the chance. Coin was low, and she had suspected that it would be a fairly straight forward job.

"Will you do as we ask?" the judiciary asked her. "Or do we find someone else?"

Rasha thought about it for a moment. If she declined, would he simply strike her down here and now? Or would he incapacitate her and do something worse?

"I accept the job," she informed him, knowing full well that she truly didn't have a choice in the matter.

The elf pulled out a piece of paper. "Sign this contract and be off." He planted the paper firmly onto the desktop with a thud, next to a fountain of ink and a quill.

She walked over to the table, and picked up the contract and began to read it in its entirety, making sure she wasn't excepting any terms hidden in the text.

The judiciary sighed with annoyance. "Just sign it, Khajiit!" he snapped.

"I am reading the contract," she said, trying to keep her own frustration at bay.

"Of course you are," he mocked before adding beneath his breath, either not knowing or not caring whether or not he could be heard. "Khajiits are only just smart enough to read."

She dug her tail hard onto the wooden floor, scraping it back and forth in annoyance. The contract seemed not to have anything hidden away in the text, it seemed legitimate, despite the very fact it lacked the crimes the targets had committed. That simple truth did nothing to calm her misgivings about the bounty, it only made her feel worse.

Rasha sighed loudly before she gripped the quill and dipped its tip into the inkwell. She signed the paper reluctantly with her signature.

The Thalmor snatched it back and pointed to the door. "Leave now!" he barked.

"Do I not get a copy?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "In my experience, notes and contracts on assassins are a bad idea. Of course my superiors would have me write out a note as though it were a shopping list, given to a young naïve. But they complicate matters if one is caught or killed."

"I see."

"Now go!"

She did so, happy just to get out of there. Now wished that she hadn't heeded their call, and allowed someone else to sign their life away instead. Coming here had been a mistake, it was too late now though, she had signed the contract and now she had to see it through, or it could easily be her name on the next one.

Rasha made her way out of the Thalmor Embassy that lay in the Haafingar mountain range, near the capital city of Skyrim. She pulled up her hood over her long brown hair, and long furry elven-like ears.

It was just before noon, early in the month of First Seed. She wanted to get to Solitude and gather what she would need for the trip, early tomorrow morning. Being a Khajiit was both a benefit and a curse. She would be able to cover more ground than most others, but she was also more susceptible to the harsh weather, and that would make her job all the more harder.

The Khajiit headed through the gates, leaving the newly established embassy behind her. She was glad to be out of there. Another minute in that place full of those ignorant, self loving narcissists and she would have found herself slitting her own throat.

Perhaps she still would, if things didn't go well.


The fortress city of Solitude, stood proud on the natural arch. The rocky overhang shielded the city docks from the harsh winds that came in from the Sea of Ghosts to the north.

As she approached the city, Rasha heard the distinct sound of music over the high stone walls. It was only when she entered through the large main gates of the province capital, that she was greeted by the clear sounds of instruments playing, a harmonic male and female voice singing, the crowd clapping in time with the beat.

She looked to her right, to see a group of people watching two Redguard bards. They were standing on a stone platform next to the outer wall near the entrance. The male was playing a lute, while the female was playing two elevated drums set up on stands next to each other, one large and deep, the other, a lighter and more conventional drum.

Rasha stopped and watched them perform, she had the time and she wanted to hear the music.

It was unusual to see two bards playing in concert, they tended to prefer to be alone, unless of course it was for someone important, or for a festival or something. Perhaps it was an ego thing. Whatever it was, these two appeared to like playing together, complementing each other perfectly, her beats setting up the tempo, while his fingers flew across the frets of the eight stringed instrument, giving the emotion.

His ability to play the lute, outshone anyone she had ever heard before. He was going beyond the simply plucking of the same few chords and was actually doing some very skilled, technical playing.

It was quite the sight to behold, by the way the two of them kept peering into each the other's eyes, it was clear that they were in love, something that regretfully was an enigma to Rasha. It was not a mystery as to why she had as of yet, not found it however.

To fall in love, one must allow themselves to get close to others. She maintained a separation between her and everyone else, never remaining anywhere long enough to form any kind of relationship with anyone. As friends, or anything else.

Soon they were finished. The two bowed while the crowd applauded, Rasha found herself joining in, her face radiant with a wide joyful smile.

The male Redguard, held the lute over his head in triumph, placing his right, free hand, over the female's shoulder. "We thank you for coming out on this fine winters afternoon, to see us perform. We do it to brighten your day."

Rasha took this moment to leave the two bards behind. She headed to the inn, that lay just across the way. She would spend the night there, as she had done the previous night before she had made her way up to the embassy. Tomorrow would be the start of a long journey, and she had to be well rested before she embarked on it.

Journeying through Skyrim was always perilous, with dangerous animals. Always lurking, ready to ambush the unwary traveller. It made the trip that much more interesting and strangely enticing to her.

She loved the danger, that was why she had become a bounty hunter in the first place. wherever there was a price on someone's head, she went to collect. She didn't always accept a bounty however. If she thought that the person was in fact innocent and the bounty unfair, then she had always refused.

Not this time though.

Unfortunately she had now signed a contract with the Thalmor, and that meant she would have to see it through. Otherwise she could easily find that her life was forfeit also.

She sat down at a small wooden table inside the inn, and listened while a single male bard, sang and played his lute flatly, emotionless, not feeling the words that he sung. It was quite the disappointment compared to the amazing performance outside. She ignored him, putting his words out of her mind as she took out her glass dagger and felt its edge.

It needed sharpening on one side. She would ensure that it was done before she went anywhere else. She would ask the blacksmith, if it were possible for her to use his grind-wheel later on. For now though, a warm meal to warm her belly was in order.

A young man approached her, he was wearing a basic tunic and pants with a rag looped through his belt.

"Hello," she greeted.

"Good afternoon. Was just wondering if you'd like anything?"

Yes, what have you got on the menu?"

"A bit of everything, though it you want something easy and hot, we have pies."

"Well I'll have one of those then, surprise me with what kind."

"Alright, I'll be back shortly."

The man left for a few moments, returning with a nice hot pie in hand.

He placed it down onto the table. "There you go," he said. "That'll be five gold."

Rasha reached into her coin purse and gave him the gold. The man left her as she dug her knife and fork into it, cutting herself a slice. She placed it in her mouth. There was the distinct taste of horker meat, meaning it was a probably a horker meat pie.

She tucked into her meal, eating it slowly, savouring every texture, flavour, until it was all devoured.

She sat back content. It wasn't everyday she got such an enjoyable meal, though when she did, it was always an experience worth repeating. Not right away, as that would diminish its meaning and impact, but in a few months when she had almost forgotten what it was like. She sat there for a while, allowing herself to properly digest the food.

"You look like an adventurer," a male accented voice said to her.

She looked around to see a Nord with dark, long hair, dressed in some old iron armour sit opposite her. She scowled, hoping he'd get the hint and move off. Unfortunately he didn't.

"If you want a Spellsword to accompany you, just say the word. With a two-hundred septim gold payment, I'll follow you to any cave, any old ruin and protect you from the evil hordes."

Rasha felt insulted. "You think I need protection?" she asked him disgustedly.

"Hmnn," he said. "Perhaps I need to work on that delivery."

"All I want is to sit here in peace. I have no want or need for a mercenary."

"I'm a sword for hire and need to sell myself. Have any ideas?" he asked her.

"Yes, for you to go away and leave me be."

He seemed to ignore her. "Belrand is the name, and if you want backup out there, then I can deal with blade or spell," he advertised. "Does that sound better?" he asked her. "Is that a better sales pitch?"

"How about you leave me alone and go annoy someone else, or I'll slit your throat." She bared her teeth. "How's that for a sales pitch!?"

He stood up, his eyebrows raised. "Okay, sure," he said. "No need for that, just trying to be friendly."

To her joy he left her and sat at a table across the room. She would sit here for a while longer, then she would see about getting her blade sharpened and acquiring some supplies.

After an hour or so, Rasha found herself outside at the Blacksmith, that lay elevated just outside the grounds of Castle Dour. The smith agreed to allow her to use his grind stone, though as she sharpened it, he decided to initiate dialogue, much to her disdain.

"That's the blade you want to sharpen?" he asked incredulously looking at her dagger. "I can sell you a proper one if you'd like."

"This blade does me well."

"Against what, rabbits?" he retorted. "I have some fine steel swords for sale, good ones, not a week out of the forge. Made by myself. Not as good as Skyforge steel, but then what is?"

"I do not want, nor need a sword."

The smith gave in. "Each to their, own I guess," he said, as he made his way over to the workbench and began hammering away at a piece of dented steel Imperial armour, trying to get it back into shape.

A few moments later she rose up from the grindstone, satisfied with her dagger's newly formed edge. She pondered briefly on what her next blade should be after this one. With every sharpening, the blade grew smaller, more fragile. Soon, she would have to replace it.

Orcish was too jagged, too imprecise and messy. Ebony was not well-balanced and too heavy. Anything else just wasn't durable enough for her needs. The best had always been glass in her eyes. Light weight, sharp, strong and precise. Tempered well and it was a handy tool, that would last years if maintained properly just as the one she currently used had.

Her current blade was her first and she had a sentimental attachment to it, but it was nearing the end of its useful life. Perhaps she would save it for decoration for when she finally retired.

Whatever she decided, it would have to wait. Right now, she had to focus on the task ahead.


The next morning, Rasha picked up some needed supplies from the general store. After having a brief verbal exchange with the shopkeeper, she headed out of the city gates.

She decided that instead of going the whole way on foot, she would head to Windhelm by carriage, remove her first target and then from there she would travel north on foot to Winterhold.

She would be silent like the night. Hidden away, listening, waiting to strike without so much as a sound. If it went well, no one would know she was even there, apart from the body she left behind of course, and if things went badly, then she would find herself dead. Her general combat skill was pitiful, as she relied on stealth to catch her targets unaware, with either a blow to knock them unconscious for capture, or a quick slit of the throat in order to kill. It all depended on what the contract required.

She waved to the carriage driver to get his attention, as he seemed to be off in his own little world. He looked down at her and waved back, almost comically.

"I can take you to any of the capitals," he informed her. "Though I can take you other places if you give me a small fortune."

"I would like to go to Windhelm," she told him.

The driver gave her a sidelong look, as a pained expression crossed his face. "You sure you want to go there?" he asked her.

"Yes, I will not be staying there for long."

"Good, because ever since Ulfric took over after his father's death, the attitude to outsiders has fallen somewhat to the bad side accommodating. Not to say that it was all that great before, but you'd think that Ysgramor's city would-"

"I have heard of this issue. It is of no consequence to me," Rasha interrupted, not wanting to hear an entire speech on the matter.

"Alright, that'll be twenty gold then."

Rasha reached into her coin purse and gave him the gold. She climbed in the back and made herself comfortable.

"Good weather," he said. "Nice day for a trip to the stone city."

Moments later they were off, unfortunately the driver decided to start speaking, reminding Rasha why she liked to travel alone.

"Solitude is a nice city, yes?" he asked her.

"It is built in a foolish spot," she responded truthfully.

"What do you mean?"

"The far side of the arch will eventually erode to a point where it can no longer support the weight that lays upon it. The city will then collapse into the sea."

"Y'mean like Winterhold?"

"The sea is very powerful, erosion happens slowly. Slowly enough for people not to notice."

"I guess so," he said. "So what is your business in Windhelm?"

"I have no business there," she said simply.

"Oh, I just thought that."

"I am not staying, I will be moving on from there."

"Oh, alright then," the driver said, a hint of disappointment in his voice at her lack of willingness to talk. "Moving onward into Morrowind?" he asked. "Not much there but ash."

"I'm not going to Morrowind."

"Oh, okay," he said.

"Do you mind if I rest while on the trip?" she questioned hoping that he would take the hint to shut up.

"Oh no of course not. Take a nap if you want."

"Thank you."

"Just to let you know, our first stop will be in Dragon Bridge."

"How long till we're there?" she asked.

"Well it's a few miles away yet, so you just rest."

"Thank you."

The driver stopped talking to her, and she was grateful. She just hoped he would remain so for the rest of the trip.

It didn't.

Dragon Bridge came far too soon, and the driver began to speak to her once again, while he fed his horse and checked the wheels.

He told of their next stop in Rorikstead, then of the next stop in Whiterun after that, then about the long journey to Windhelm after. Then he began speaking of his family, all while Rasha nodded, pretending to listen to his inane prattle.

He thought he was interesting, but in truth he was far from it. She had a brief respite as she found the outhouse, but soon she was back and he started up once again, his mouth never-ceasing to wag.

Soon they were off again, and he refused to stop talking. She simply ignored him. He didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he didn't care. All she knew was that she wouldn't make the mistake of taking a carriage again.

But that was what she had said the last time she had taken one.

Updated 26/03/2014