Prologue

He slipped his hand out of his coat pocket and leisurely counted the necessary coinage. With a jovial slam he placed the three coppers on the counter top, not disturbing the gentle buzz of the pub. Lifting his glass he gazed at the warm, topaz glow of the beverage, letting it swirl in his hands for a moment. Then, with a sense of finality, he emptied the cup.

His face tensed momentarily. He could not stand the taste, but that wasn't the reason he drank, it wasn't the reason anybody drank, not here at the Feed Bag. Anybody with any coin could find something to fill a glass here. Naturally, it would be cheap stuff, but he didn't mind. That, after all, wasn't the reason he drank.

Getting up, he nodded his thanks to the barkeep who nodded in reply, busily polishing an already glistening glass. He pulled his coat tighter around his body; it was a cold night out.

Outside it was as quiet as it was desolate. The only sound came from the grinding of his leather boots as they carried him across the cobbled streets of the Imperial City. He breathed out a smoky sigh, digging his hands deeper into his coat-pockets. It was nights like these that made him feel alive; he didn't mind the cold, in fact he preferred it. He was, after all, a Nord straight out of Skyrim, the land where one had to drink at all three mealtimes just to stay warm.

Or so the stereotypic gossip of folk around here went. He shook his head at the garbage that was often discussed over a bottle of booze. The latest was of the dreaded Dark Brotherhood; a group of cold-hearted killers that followed Sithis. He wasn't too worried about them. As long as they didn't interfere in his business he would not meddle in theirs.

Passing through the large, wooden gates that led out of the market district he gazed up at the magnificent central tower of the Imperial City. It took his breath away every time he walked past. He found it odd how after four years of being an inhabitant of the city, he still had no clue as to what went on behind some of its walls. It's probably better not to know, he thought, after all, his father had always told him that knowledge only brings trouble, "So learn, my son, but be careful not to show how much you know."

"Wouldn't it be better, then, not to learn, dad?" would be the reply which earned a smile and a, "Maybe, son... maybe."

A shadow disappearing around a corner jolted him out of his reverie. His hairs stood on end as he looked around, his hand searching frantically for the knife at his belt. Hearing nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat, he continued at a quickened pace, firmly grasping the hilt of his blade. It was a pathetic piece of metal really; more suited to peeling an apple than self-defence. He didn't care though. If someone tried some funny business now he would do some serious damage.

He relaxed a little as he approached the gate leading to the Talos Plaza District. The guards greeted him and let him through.

The cold moon lit his path as he hastened past the other worldly statue of a dragon that stood as an eternal sentinel in the centre of the district. The sight of it sent a chill down his spine, even though he approached it from behind.

The next gate would take him to the Temple District and then he would enter the Harbour where he would be safe, however, when he reached the gate leading to the Harbour he realised that something was wrong. There were no guards stationed. He turned slowly only to find that the ever-present patrolling guards were absent.

Oh, shit. There was a dark figure leaning casually against a pillar looking straight at him. He flung himself at the door, frantically shaking it, willing the wooden barrier to open, but, try as he might, it was locked tight.

Spinning around, he ran from the shadowy character that had begun making his way slowly towards him. Looking back, he saw the figure stop to watch him run. He swung his head forward moments before he ran solidly into a second figure that shoved him to the ground. Jumping up, he drew his knife and moved into a fighting stance.

"You know our laws, Nord. We aren't murderers" said the first figure.

"Get back, bastard!" he warned.

"The Grey Fox isn't happy, Nord. There have been a number of thefts reported in the Guild and, according to our sources, you've been rather busy of late."

"I've had nothing to do with it, you fool! You've got no bloody evidence!"

"We don't need evidence, Nord. This isn't the Fighters Guild. You knew that when you signed up."

"So if you can't kill me, what the heck do you do to suspect lawbreakers?"

"You know as well as any one that we have... influence with the Imperial Guard. A word from us and you'll be serving time in the Imperial Prison for who knows how long. It all depends on what we accuse you of, naturally." Although he could not see his face, he sensed the smile as it emanated from under the hood.

"You bastards" he whispered.

"Sorry wha-?"

He moved quickly, shoving the small blade through a gap in the man's armour. Ducking under the swing of the second man's sabre he manoeuvred behind the dying body of the man he had stabbed, using him as a living shield. After letting him take a few blows from his accomplice, he tossed the hacked up carcass onto the other man, knocking him to the floor. As quick as a Mountain Lion the Nord was upon him, viciously stabbing until long after the man had stopped struggling.

Breathing hard he stood up, throwing the knife from him. Turning around, he ripped his gaze from the grizzly sight of his handiwork. He had the strange feeling that someone was watching him, but this feeling was quickly replaced by another. Trying to calm himself and he struggled to suppress the rising feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. In his state he failed to notice a guard with a torch approach him from the temple.

"Hey! What's going on here? You there, get on your knees now!"

Turning around slowly his eyes turned to the guard but his gaze was unfocused. He staggered and dropped, but he lost consciousness before he hit the ground as his body fell into a spasmic fit.