This is my first submission to . I encourage you to leave a review, although I'll be a bit less inclined to take you seriously if you just insult my work with no suggestions for improvement. Please, if you see something wrong or think I can do something better, let me know. Just don't insult what I've written without cause, please.
Kiera.
That was the only name she had ever known. No surname to speak of. Odd, that one should think of these things in the middle of a blizzard.
Her armor, while excellent for assassination and espionage, was failing miserably to keep her alive through the storm. She could feel the cold creeping into her bones, threatening to make her lose consciousness even now. 'So much for my Nord heritage…' was all she could think as she looked upon what could be her salvation…or her death. The giant's camp about fifty yards away had never looked so inviting. She had passed by it multiple times on her trips through the plains, but had always maintained a respectful distance.
Kiera was an excellent warrior, and a skilled tactician…arguably one of the best in Tamriel, let alone Skyrim. The fact that no one knew this was both a point of pride and sadness in her eyes. It meant that she had performed her duty well, but she longed for recognition. 'None of that will matter if I can't make it through the night.' Even so, giants were not something she could face in her condition. She'd be lucky if her sword would even come free of her scabbard at the moment. There were two in the camp. Time was running out. She made a decision. 'Suppose I'll go say hello…'
She stood from her place in the snow, instantly feeling the blast of arctic wind coming from north of High Hrothgar. The giants still had not noticed her, despite how close she was. Visibility was becoming poorer by the minute. She walked slowly, despite how badly she wanted to sprint to the bonfire and share in the warmth that the giants were enjoying even now.
She drew closer and closer, until she was a mere ten yards away. Finally, the one on the opposite side of the fire noticed her. He stood surprisingly fast for a creature that size and raised his club, clearly ready to defend himself from the human wearing dark armor. Kiera held her hands up quickly, desperately hoping that it communicated that she did not intend to fight. By now, the other giant was watching as well. She slowly, carefully, unbuckled her sword from her belt and thrust the end of the scabbard into the snow. She still had several knives strapped to her person, but nothing that the beasts could see.
'They also wouldn't be much of a threat to them anyway…' she thought darkly.
She was truly at their mercy now.
At least the cold was starting to abate now that she was closer to the bonfire. The first giant looked at her in what could only be described as a curious fashion. Kiera pointed at the fire, then made the motion of rubbing her arms, trying to indicate that she was cold. Whether the giants understood the message or not, they seemed calm enough to lower their weapons. They put their clubs down and sat by the fire once more. She sat at a careful distance from the one who had reacted first. The warmth from the fire was quickly seeping into her skin. After a few moments she could feel her fingers and her toes once more.
She was grateful that the giants were being generous hosts. They appeared to have lost interest in her. One had gone to sleep near the fire, his humongous form stretched out against the mountainside near where the camp was placed. She quietly stretched out herself. 'That is the very last time I do not have a full kit waiting after a job…' Kiera was normally a very careful predator. She never went too close, never revealed herself, until it was time to act. It had served her well thus far. No one knew who she was, and even her face was a mystery. The problem, however, was that her latest job had not gone as planned. As she closed her eyes, it all seemed to hit her in a rush…everything that had gone wrong…
The White-Gold Concordant had not been received well by the citizens of Bruma. Many of them considered themselves more a part of Skyrim than Cyrodiil. Few were courageous enough to stand up to the Thalmor that made it a point to insult Talos on their way through, and many of them were either killed by Thalmor magic, or taken away never to be seen again. Kiera had been contacted by an individual whose brother had been taken to face Thalmor 'justice'.
She had been hired through an intermediary and the advance half of her payment had been left in a dead drop a short distance outside the city. The payment had been quite generous. Ten thousand gold pieces to eliminate one man. She rarely came across such opportunities as an independent 'contractor'. She often wondered what it would have been like had she been part of the Dark Brotherhood…but they had been gone for years. People with her particular skill set were kept exceedingly busy in the aftermath of a war that had left behind many bitter political and personal disagreements that were not yet resolved.
Kiera reasoned that Bruma would be the perfect city in which to eliminate the Thalmor inquisitor on his way to the Imperial City. Everything had gone according to plan. She had obtained his itinerary while he was leaving Valenwood. He had been a few days late returning from his 'diplomatic mission' to Skyrim. All that really meant, if one believed the rumors, was that he had been there trying to root out groups of Talos worshipers. It was the perfect assignment for the son of a powerful diplomat in the Aldmeri Dominion. High profile, elves saw it as a religious duty, with the added bonus of such a duty taking place within the purview of military service. Had he lived through this and a few other missions like it, he would have been well placed to move up a good amount in the hierarchy.
Unfortunately, his overzealous nature resulted in his death quite prematurely.
Kiera had placed the perfect bait. The inquisitor had been young, prone to going out to the local taverns looking for trouble…or a maiden who would swoon for a Thalmor lieutenant. Falion was his name. She had been working in the Jerall View Inn for a few weeks as part of her cover, establishing credibility and so forth. She was young, pretty, and quickly became a favorite among the rowdy Nord patrons, despite her rather quiet, polite disposition…and her eyes. Her eyes were what made her distinctive. They were the pale blue of thin ice in the dead of winter, with slits for pupils. They were like the eyes of a wolf closing in for a kill. Her white hair was also rather strange for a woman so young, but it was not unheard of.
She was a Nord, no question there. What everyone wondered was what other heritage she had inherited along the way.
Falion and his guards were out one night looking for citizens to harass, perhaps forcing an arrest or two. Kiera had been watching him steadily for a week, waiting for an opportunity to separate him from his entourage. She knew that it had to be soon. Even a spoiled brat like this one could not stretch out his visit forever. They were at the Inn, when the young elf began to drink. Apparently it was to be his last evening in Bruma, and he sought to make the patrons in the bar miserable one last time before he left. Kiera was the only one brave enough to serve his table, and for good reason. She was threatened with execution and imprisonment every time she returned with more mead…along with other, unspoken threats. Kiera had made it a point to keep her alter ego relatively unknown, but she herself simply could not hide.
She was beautiful, with curves that a noblewoman would have murdered for, a voice that could have performed in the presence of the emperor, and her pale skin was as perfect as that of a marble sculpture. The fact that she could kill a man in a nearly infinite number of ways was hidden behind this vision, something she relied on to keep her nature secret.
At last, well into the night, the young elf looked as though he was restless enough to leave. His personal guard had long since retired upstairs. They had reasoned that he could hold his own against the townsfolk long enough for them to intervene. It was at that moment that Kiera made her move. She knew the young elf was watching as she left the Inn to return to the house where she had rented a room. Before she went out into the cold, she placed more bait in front of him. She carefully removed the Talos amulet she had placed in her bosom earlier that evening, and kissed as if in reverence before walking into the night.
The streets were dark, and it was cold. There were only a few guards about, and many of them dared not venture too far from the warmth of their towers at the edge of the city. She saw only a single torch during her trip home. 'Perfect…' she thought, relishing what was to come. Kiera took no pleasure in death. Murder was simply a means for her to survive, and live a very wealthy lifestyle in the process. But marks like the young inquisitor…she had no qualms removing them from the world. They did more harm than they would ever repay. She heard him long before he even grew close. He was making no effort to hide his presence. 'Probably too much mead…' she thought. At last, he grabbed her, throwing her to the cold street in the snow. She could have rolled and come up ready to fight, but in order to keep this quiet; she knew that she would have to endure some abuse.
He kicked her while she was down. There was hardly any weight behind them from a professional perspective…he had no traction on the snowy ground, and his inebriated state was only furthering his ineffectiveness. At last he picked her up, and slammed her against the stone wall that formed the second level of the city.
"Well, what have we here? It's dangerous to walk home alone this late…you should know better. And what's that around your neck? I wonder, could it be…"
He put one hand around her neck, and with the other, began to paw her cleavage under the ruse of looking for the amulet…not that he was subtle about it.
"Shame for one so pretty to go to the dungeons…for something as petty as religion."
Kiera hated his accent, his face, the way he practically spit all over her with every word. The mead on his breath did nothing to ease her disgust. He withdrew the amulet from her chest, and held it up in front of them both.
"As I suspected…that Inn is nothing but a den of Talos worshippers, isn't it my dear? What say, after I'm finished with you, I go back and take them all away? But first, you should know something about the Thalmor. When we come upon you on our own, we are encouraged to exercise our own… discretion."
She could see the lust in his eyes, the darkness that lurked there, waiting to be unleashed. She had drawn him in, now it was time to spring the trap.
Before Falion could make the move to rip her dress, she struck. Her legs clamped around his waist like a python, preventing his escape. A dagger appeared from within the folds of her tunic, gleaming in the moonlight with the promise of swift, uncompromising retribution upon the blade. She pierced his heart through the back of his ribcage; the look of surprise on his face would have looked pitiful had he not been planning to violate her only a moment earlier. Her other hand brought up another, shorter blade, and with it, severed the arteries and veins in his neck, along with his vocal cords.
It would have doused her in blood, had his heart not already stopped beating a second earlier. She planted her feet as the elf died without a sound. She withdrew the blade from his back, and immediately wiped the blades off on his tunic. With that, it was time to make her escape…or it would have been. By some incredible misfortune, one of his guards had come looking for him.
She stood there, frozen for a moment. It was one of the only times in her life that she had hesitated. Hesitation meant death. She saw the look of comprehension on his face, the ominous glow from his hand as he called upon his magic. She started to call upon her own as she raised the larger dagger in her right hand once more, sprinting as fast as the snowy ground would allow. It wasn't fast enough. With a thunderous crack, he released the lightning spell, missing her by an inch. The second strike came, more accurate this time, but it was caught by the ward from her left hand. She cursed under her breath as the ward crumpled and failed, but it had bought her the time she needed.
She pounced like a panther, knocking him to the ground before piercing his eye with the blade, killing him as instantly as she had killed his master. But the damage was done. More torches were beginning to pile out of the guardhouse, all of them looking for the source of the disturbance. It would not be long before they discovered the bodies, and that she had left the Inn at almost the same time as Falion. That would be all the evidence they needed. She would have to move quickly.
She ran to the house in the poorer district of Bruma, and jumped in through the window to her room. She looked around the room with a sigh. 'I've never once had to leave in such a hurry…I hope I can come back for some more of this eventually…' There were many things in the room that were valuable…various tunics and dresses with the special folds and sleeves for weapon concealment, a set of armor that she would lament parting with, poisons for both combat and assassination, various gems for use as currency where Septims were…not exactly welcome. The one thing that she simply could not leave behind was her sword.
It was almost as beautiful as the woman that wielded it. The blade was polished to a mirror sheen, thin enough to slip through a pair of ribs, but strong enough to cut through daedric plate mail. Four feet long, the blade dropped into a cross guard inlaid with gold, with a sapphire encrusted in the pommel of the hilt. The guard had never once failed to protect her, and the blade had felled many an enemy seeking to harm her, whether they were human, elven, or monstrous.
It had many enchantments laid upon it during its forging. It would never grow dull from use, and it would take nothing short of a blow from a Daedric Lord to so much as scratch the blade. All of that aside, it was also the only thing she had left from her parents. She had never known them, and it was the closest she would ever come to having them near her. Such a magnificent blade implied that they had once been quite wealthy indeed…but she had long since given up any hope of reclaiming a long lost noble name. It simply wasn't to be. The scabbard was gorgeous as well. The lip was polished steel just like the blade, with dark leather forming the shell of it. An engraving in white lettering read 'Unslaad Viintaas Tuz'. She had never learned what it meant. At the end of the scabbard was another piece of steel to form the edge. It was her prized possession…death would be preferable to losing it.
Now that she held it, she felt whole once more.
She grabbed enough gold and gemstones to barter passage wherever she needed to go, placed them in the pouches on her belt, and removed herself from the building. The main gate was out of the question, they would have it blocked soon if they hadn't already. She headed for one of the many drainage ducts out of the city. Her traveling cloak was wrapped tightly around her, concealing the black armor she wore. It was thick leather treated with many dyes to make it as black as night, quiet as a whisper, and light enough to dodge any attack heavy enough to penetrate it. It hugged her curves closely, ensuring not a single errant movement or wayward strike.
It had a belt with pouches for poisons, gold, restorative potions, bandages, and a place for her sword to sit comfortably on her side or her back. Ordinarily there would be a quiver and at bow on her back, but she had not brought one for this assignment. Bracers on her wrists concealed a mechanism that held ten throwing knives each. With a flick of her wrist, she would be able to engage any enemy attempting to flee with ease. On her thighs were armor moldings that held sheaths for short swords. A cowl covered her face, and a hood concealed her white hair. They would probably know that she had been the one who eliminated the elf and his bodyguard, but in case they didn't she wasn't going to make it any easier.
She moved quickly, soundlessly through the sleeping city. Due to the lack of a bow and arrows, she had opted to put her sword on her back. It was partially concealed by her cloak, but the pommel was exposed for easy access. She finally saw the grate…along with bad news. A guard was already there, apparently patrolling the area as a precaution. Kiera weighed her options. The longer she remained in the city, the greater her chance of being discovered. Her decision made, she flicked her wrist. A blade jumped into her hand, and she threw it with the ease of someone who had made the motion hundreds of times.
The blade sung through the air before the knife handle struck him in the temple, knocking him unconscious. She rarely killed anyone other than the target. It just seemed…unprofessional. Unnecessary. She retrieved the blade where it had fallen, opened the grate, and launched herself inside. It was a tight fit, and she found herself crawling the last few feet, her sword threatening to tap against the edge of the tunnel giving her away.
Thankfully, the end was in sight.
She tried to open the small grate at the end. It would not budge. Time had corroded the steel, and the fact that the water inside the drains hadn't frozen too long ago probably hadn't helped matters any. She couldn't go back the way she came. It was time to get creative. She called upon her magic once more. Flames appeared in the palm of her hand, and she started to melt the ice around the grate. She just hoped there weren't any guardsmen outside yet to witness light coming from one of the drainage culverts.
It took a very long few minutes, but she finally managed to thaw it out enough to move. Of course, when it did move, it was with all the noise of a castle falling to the ground. No sooner had she reached the ground when she heard voices from the ramparts to open the gates. She ran for the stables with all the speed that her body would allow. She quickly stole a horse with no saddle, and fled north into the night.
Her escape hadn't been a total loss. The original plan had been to leave for Skyrim in the wee hours of the morning. The body probably wouldn't have even been discovered until the guards did their usual rounds. On the other hand, the original plan called for time to properly pack her possessions and leave in the supply cart headed for Falkreath. From there she could have easily made it to Riften, the one place in Tamriel she actually called home. It was quiet if you knew which Thieves' Guild members to bribe, she had a long standing arrangement with the Black-Briars, and the Jarl did not even know her name. It was more or less perfect.
Everything was going well. Her inner thighs were sore and bruised from riding bareback, but that could not be helped. She had managed to make a bridle from some of the rope in her pack, so at least she could lead the animal around. Then…trouble. She'd heard the news of the rebellion raging all through Skyrim, but she had not anticipated there being an enormous skirmish happening upon her return to Falkreath. It did not look good for the…Stormcloaks. That's what the rebels were calling themselves.
They were more or less surrounded. She thought about helping them…after all, being Nords, they were technically her kinsman. But kin and family meant very little to her. It's probably best if I don't get involved…' Not a moment too soon, she heard voices behind her.
"We appear to have it well in hand don't we boys…and what's this? Who're you?"
She turned to the man who had spoken, and her heart sank. No fewer than thirty men were facing her. If she had been fresh, she would have looked at such a battle as a challenge. With a little sword work, magic, and the foul play that one picks up from a lifetime of never playing fair, it might have been fun.
Her circumstances, sadly, were not so optimistic. She'd been riding for the better part of a day and a half. She was tired. Slow. The horse was played out as well. It was unlikely she could even outrun them on horseback. There was only one option from a tactical point of view. She was going to have play along with just about whatever they had in mind until a better opportunity presented itself. 'Thank Talos I removed my hood earlier…I probably look suspicious enough as it is…'
The men were all wearing Imperial Battle dress. She counted among them swordsmen, archers, skirmishers, and a scout. It was more or less a full platoon.
"You going to answer my question, or do I have to get rough?"
The man looked agitated, and had drawn his sword. Based on the fact that he had thirty men with him, not a single one of which looked like he had seen any action today, it would be wise to give him an answer promptly.
"I'm merely a traveler from Cyrodiil. I am on my way to Riften."
It was just enough of the truth to be both vague, and completely reasonable. Hopefully it would be enough.
"Look at her eyes! No normal woman has eyes like that Sergeant. She's a witch I'll bet! Or perhaps a Necromancer!"
With that, she knew it was over. She would be taken in, one way or the other, and probably would not be given an opportunity to explain herself. Based on the fact that it sounded as though the battle behind her was all but finished, she couldn't count on that for a distraction.
"You know Soldier, you're right. Where did you get such pretty eyes missy? Are you half elf perhaps? Or are you a mage, or necromancer, like Rurik here believes?"
This one would be tough to talk her way out of.
"I do not know. I never knew my parents. But I am no mage. Just a woman travelling to Riften."
The leader of the platoon was clearly unconvinced.
"I see. Now perhaps you can explain why a traveler, such as yourself, has no saddle, nor a proper bridle for her horse? And where are your supplies m'lady? Another thing that strikes me as odd, is that I've never seen a woman travelling with such a nice sword on her back. You want to know what I think? I think you're a Stormcloak courier, or perhaps even an Officer. Who knows with you Nords and your ridiculous traditions. MEN! Restrain her!"
She had no choice but to allow herself to be restrained. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her pouches were searched. Her gold and gems were pocketed by the soldiers. 'I sincerely doubt that will find its way into the hands of whoever is in charge here…' Much to her chagrin, the Sergeant took her sword in its scabbard, and began to march her towards the main Imperial encampment.
The men had their fun with her, groping her breasts and her ass roughly. She forced herself to stay quiet. It's not as though you haven't gone through it before…' Along the way, they continued to pick her body clean, removing the short swords strapped to her thighs, throwing her poisons away and keeping the potions and bandages for themselves. By the time they reached the camp, all she had left were the knives in her bracers…and the magic that she was too tired to use.
The man in charge of the unit ordered them to stay put for a moment. Kiera was grateful for the respite. She had been hoping for some time to rest in Falkreath before she'd known about what was happening. She heard the man shout two names on his way to what she could only assume was the command tent.
"General Tullius! Legate Rikke! We've captured a Stormcloak spy!"
Two figures emerged from the makeshift command center. One was a middle-aged man in full Imperial Battle Armor, with a sword almost as ornate as her own, and steel gray hair. That, combined with his Imperial features, gave the impression that while he may not look like much, this was not a man to be trifled with. The Legate's appearance, however, was even more surprising. She had the stature and size that could only be associated with a Nord, even though her skin had become tanned on her long campaigns in the southern regions of the empire. She looked tough, but not as formidable as the General.
Tullius looked her over for a moment. "It doesn't matter. We've captured Ulfric Stormcloak. This 'rebellion' is over. Put her with the others. We are proceeding to Helgen for the execution. She will meet the eight divines once we arrive along with the rest of the traitors."
With those words, her blood ran cold. Not only had she been given no chance to dispute the man's claim, she had been lumped in with a rebellion she had no part of. She couldn't help but notice the irony. 'All the people I've killed, good and bad, for coin and for survival, and I'm going to be beheaded for something I'm innocent of…' She almost smiled at the thought. She still had her bracers, and her magic to rely on. Surely an opportunity would present itself. It was a few hours to Helgen after all. Or at least there might have been a chance, had the Sergeant not seen fit to give her a parting gift.
"Into the cart with you! Hurry up!"
She felt something hit her head…and her world went black.
When she opened her eyes, it was quite the unwelcome sight. Her hands were still bound behind her, and she was lying in the floor of the cart. One of the Stormcloak soldiers looked at her with concern.
"Good. You're finally awake. That sergeant obviously wasn't fond of you. Here, let me help you."
Even though his hands were bound as well, at least they had done him the courtesy of tying them in front of him. He grabbed her arm and hoisted her onto the bench in the cart. She could feel her head throbbing with every turn of the wheel. Kiera surmised from the position of the sun that it had been several hours since she had lost consciousness. She had arrived in Falkreath in the early morning. It was probably two or three hours after mid-day. I'm surprised we haven't reached Helgen already…so much for my escape plan. One of the other men in the cart was complaining…something about being caught up with the Stormcloaks while trying to steal a horse. 'Sounds familiar…' The other man in the cart was bound and gagged for some reason. If they wanted us quiet, why not gag all of us? Why him?
His clothes were fine, much nicer than anyone else she'd seen, Imperial or Stormcloak. She thought perhaps he might be a Stormcloak general, until she got an introduction from the man who had helped her up.
"…watch your tongue! You're talking to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King of Skyrim!"
'Well…looks like I found the man responsible for my troubles without even having to look.' She tried to take in as much of the surrounding area as she could, desperate for any details that would aid in an escape attempt. Her head was still throbbing from the blow to her head earlier. The other occupants of the cart continued to make conversation. Before she had finished getting her bearings, they went around the last bend before Helgen came into view. Kiera had run out of time.
Imperial soldiers had the town more or less surrounded. There was no way for her to get away now. Even if she managed to get out of the cart, remove the bindings that were behind her back, reclaim her sword, and find a horse, she was so tired she probably wouldn't make it more than a few miles. Kiera had never really given up in her entire career. She'd faced massive contingents of guards, fortresses full of summoned daedra and mages, and not once had she thought it was a hopeless or insurmountable situation. 'Guess there's a first time for everything…'
The cart stopped, and all of her fellow occupants stepped out, with her following with her head hung low. Her bracers were inaccessible, and she had enough stamina for perhaps one or two spells. It wouldn't be nearly enough. The Imperial with the list of prisoners slowly called names. Ralof was finally called. Kiera knew she would be next. At least the one with the lists seemed sympathetic. Ralof went to wait with the others near the headsman's block.
"And who, are you?"
"I am Kiera of Riften. I am no Stormcloak spy. Just a traveller going to Riften. Please, I have nothing to do with this rebellion. I was taken upon my arrival to Falkreath during the conclusion of the battle."
The soldier seemed to consider this. He looked at the list in front of him once more. "Captain, what do we do? It might be true. She's not on the list."
The woman behind him in the plumed helmet gave her a scornful look and said, "Everyone in the cart goes to the headsman's block. No exceptions."
The soldier looked almost as disappointed as Kiera felt. "I'm sorry kinsman. You picked a very bad time to return. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."
'That doesn't exactly bring me much comfort…' As she reached the crowd waiting for the headsman's block, she heard it for the first time. The sound made her blood run cold. It was the sound that had plagued her dreams for years, the sound of an ancient beast that had no business haunting the world of men. She hoped she had imagined it, until the headsman asked what it was. Tullius angrily dismissed it as nothing, and demanded that they continue. The priest began her prayer, shortly before the first warrior near the block shouted for them to get on with the execution. Odd, that a man should desire his death so quickly.
The headsman raised his axe, and just like that, the first man died. His head thudded into the basket beneath the block with a sickening noise. The Captain kicked his body aside, before pointing at Kiera.
"The nord in the black armor! Forward!"
Now it was too late. Kiera thought about running. After the man who tried that earlier had been cut down by archers, she knew it was pointless. Kiera bowed her head, and stepped forward. The Captain took hold of her shoulder, pushed her to her knees, and to the block. She turned her head, and looked at the sky for what she thought would be the last time. The headsman started to raise his axe, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.
The black form disappeared behind the keep…right as the headsman reached the top of his swing, it landed. Time seemed to freeze. It was him, the nightmarish form that had haunted Kiera's dreams since she was a child. A black dragon, with a crown of horns, wings like the night sky, and eyes that gleamed with the color of blood and fire. Then, all hell broke loose.
The headsman had been knocked to the ground by the dragon's landing. Then, the dragon roared, and the sky exploded in fire. Meteors began to fall as he released another roar like a thunderclap that knocked Kiera off the block. She struggled to her feet with her hands still bound, as she saw the man who had stolen her sword.
The army around him had descended into chaos. She ran at him, thinking of nothing but the fact that if she was to die, she would do so with her sword in hand. Her shoulder rammed into him, knocking him to the ground. She kicked him in the fork of his legs while he was down. He abandoned hope of reclaiming his feet, going into the fetal position. She kneeled down, grabbing her sword behind her back with some difficulty. 'Maybe I'll make it out of here alive after all…'
She saw Ralof, the man who had been speaking with her in the cart, frantically gesturing for her to follow him into the keep. Kiera considered it for a moment, but thought that it might do more harm than good to be further associated with the Stormcloaks. Instead, she began running through the wreckage of houses on the edge of the city. She found a section of a house that was still mostly intact, and decided it was time to rid herself of the irksome bindings that held her hands. She unsheathed her sword behind her back, propping it between the wall and her shoulder blades. The blade cut through the rope effortlessly, finally freeing her. She quickly stood, put her sword on her back, and began a mad dash to escape the meteor storm raining down on the village.
Kiera could still hear the dragon razing Helgen to the ground behind her. She had run faster a few times in her life, but not often. She didn't stop until she was miles away. She had no clue where she was…northeast of Helgen in the forest as best she could tell. She was winded, tired, and had just been attacked by a horror from ancient times that could apparently call down the wrath of the gods upon Skyrim. She fell the ground, closed her eyes, and slept.
When she awoke, there was snow falling. She tried to move, only to find that she was incredibly stiff. 'Guess that's what I get for committing a murder and then riding for nearly two days…the run from certain death probably didn't help either.' She surveyed her surroundings. She was confident that she could make it to Riften in a few days if she could make it back to the road. She could find food and water along the way. Hunting with magic was messy, but doable. Water wouldn't be hard to come by. The plains between High Hrothgar and Riften had rivers aplenty, not to mention the snow would provide as well.
A day and a half later of traveling towards Riften, here she was.
The storm raged on through the night and most of the day. One of the giants she shared the camp with fed the bonfire by ripping up one of the trees near the camp, feeding it to the flames section by section. Finally, at dusk on the day after, the storm abated. Fresh snow covered the plains remaining between her and Riften, and while it was cold, it was bearable. Kiera looked at the giants who had been her hosts, bowed, and retrieved her sword. The walk to Riften took another two days.
The city guardsmen at the goods looked at her with recognition. "Those are some odd garments m'lady. Particularly for the assistant of an apothecary."
"Please, just let me through. I've had quite the long journey."
"Very well. Be careful m'lady. There have been some dangerous folk sighted near the city. Rumor has it they were vampires, or perhaps…Dark Brotherhood. Some think both."
Kiera laughed for the first time in days. It was a beautiful sound, like birds chirping as the sun came over the horizon. "Don't be absurd. The Dark Brotherhood hasn't been seen in years."
"Just warning you m'lady. If you have plans to leave the city, be cautious."
The city was still asleep when she made her way to her home, one of the small cabins in the riverbeds running through the city. Elgrim, Hafjorg and Ingun wouldn't even be at the shop yet…and staying away from her "day job" for a hot meal and a good night's sleep sounded heavenly. She unlocked the wrought iron door that she had installed after it had been broken into the first time.
Her home appeared simple, which was the primary goal. It was designed to look as though it had nothing of value, when the truth was anything but. The bed concealed an entrance to a room that contained thousands of septims, gemstones, short swords, daggers, bows, and more armor alike and different what she had taken with her. She moved the bed aside with a grunt, and went inside her armory. She took off the various weapon belts and buckles, before inspecting her sword for any signs of damage, not that there would be. It was simply a habit from before she had known about the eldritch enchantments that had been placed upon the weapon. After she was satisfied that everything was as it should be, she placed her weapon on its stand.
She removed her armor and placed it upon the shelf in the corner, and climbed up the ladder into the house proper. She closed the trapdoor, and pushed the bed back over it before collapsing into sleep. Her dreams were plagued by the black dragon, and whispers of soldiers, dark shapes and a voice like thunder approaching to destroy the sons and daughters of Skyrim. She woke in the middle of the day, covered in a cold sweat. Her silver hair fell around her shoulders as the cool air made her shiver and draw her legs up to her chest. 'That's enough sleep for one day…'
Kiera quietly dressed without lighting the hearth. Despite the fact that she'd been asleep for the last six hours, it hadn't been what one would call comfortable sleep. She wanted to return to the bearskin blankets almost immediately after stepping outside her door. After locking the door, she headed to the Bee and Barb. Keerava was a tad abrasive, but a good soul. She never turned any away but those associated with the Thieves' Guild. She had no patience for a washed up organization that did nothing but attempt to thieve and extort their way through all of Skyrim. Kiera knew that there were rumors that a young Breton was shaking up the organization with the possibility of rebuilding what had been lost, but she had heard it before. No one could say for sure.
After a hot meal, she headed for Elgrim's Elixirs. It was a job that was always open to her, no matter how brief or lengthy her time in town. Elgrim and Hafjorg had always been very kind to Kiera, who had been a mere nine winters old when she first arrived in Riften. She had nothing to her name but a sword and a few gold coins saved over years spent scrounging around different cities in Skyrim.
She had narrowly avoided encounters with slavers, and men who would have used her in far worse ways than simple labor. Kiera had delighted in repaying them for taking her in by learning their trade and working for them until she had discovered her true calling in the sword. Now she worked for them whenever she was in town free of charge. It wasn't as though she needed the money. Now that Ingun Black-Briar had begun learning the trade as well, Kiera always helped Hafjorg by taking responsibility for her training. She could make potions and elixirs that would save others and help the elderly just as well as she could concoct poisons that would still the heart and slow the mind.
What intrigued Kiera about Ingun was that she was as far removed from her mother as was possible to be. Maven was cunning, power hungry and utterly ruthless in her desire to be Jarl of Riften. Ingun was sweet, innocent, and genuine in her desire to help others and learn the potion trade. Kiera was committed to help her learn the trade as a way of attempting at least some balance against what she did for her true living. Most of the people she'd killed were wicked, but the relative innocents weighed on her conscience heavily. Business was business, but that didn't mean one should enjoy the unpleasant parts of it.
After a full day at the shop, Kiera put her hood up, and went to the Temple of Mara. She walked past the illuminated front doors around back to the cemetery. Very few knew about this secret entrance to the Thieves' Guild. The crypt set into the back of the temple had a diamond shaped engraving on the casket that when pressed, revealed a stairwell to the cistern of the Ragged Flagon, where the Thieves' Guild in Skyrim had been doing business for decades. It was a sorry sight now though. Few members remained, and Tonilia was the only reliable source for equipment in the guild. Delvin Mallory was the one she was here to see though. Kiera had originally intended to be his protégé, but found that assassination paid far better than burglary. Delvin and the others wouldn't do it because it would mean expulsion from the guild, but to her that mattered very little.
Delvin had been the one who handled and sought contracts for Kiera for the last four years since she had finished her tutelage. Brynolf had helped her with some of the less refined aspects of stealth, such as distractions and an escape route. Vex had taught her how to move as quietly as a ghost, and pick any lock that stood in her way.
"Good evening Delvin. That last contract was a bit more difficult than originally anticipated. Did the client at least complete the payment?"
"Indeed he did. 5,000 septims. No small price. Not to mention, you've got more work available. This one should be a bit simpler politically, but if you don't do it correctly it will result in no end to trouble. You have been hired to find and kill a vampire in Whiterun."
"You don't say? It should make for a nice change of pace. How much is the offer?"
"7,000. Not bad for a little local work. Shall I pass it along that you accept?"
"Don't let it be known that I have for a week. I need some time to recuperate after that last job."
"Whatever you say. I wouldn't wait too long. You know how vampires are. Filthy murderers."
She thought about it for a moment. With a heavy sigh she said, "Alright. I'll leave in two days. After that though, I'm doing nothing else for a month."
That seemed to amuse him. "Alright lass. Leave prepared. I have a feeling this one isn't going to be easy."
After she received the details, she left to return home. She cast a small fire spell to light the hearth, and made a stew. She ate quietly while trying to remember the last time she had killed a vampire for a contract. She had killed three or four that had attacked her on the road between Solitude in Whiterun. They had been frenzied. After she had killed them, it was evident from a little examination that they had not fed in days or even weeks.
Those were hardly a challenge. If she had been hired to kill one, there were several possibilities. One, it was a powerful vampire who had been successful at concealing itself and the individual behind the job had tracked it, but had not the skills or means to identify or kill it. Two, only one had been spotted, but a small group had established themselves nearby. Three, a vampire hunter had tracked it, identified it, but did not want to take the risk of killing it alone. The third option begged the question, if it had been tracked and identified by the party offering the job, how much were they being compensated that they could offer her 7,000 septims for what was at most three or four days of work? 'I guess I'll find out in three days…'
The following two days were exactly what she needed. They were quiet, peaceful, and she managed to have one night of restful sleep. She woke up the morning she was to leave. Her silver hair lay in a halo on the on the padded fur beneath her. The bearskin blanket kept her warm even though the hearth had gone out early the night before…and Ingun slept peacefully beside her. Maven did not know that her daughter had slept with Kiera several times in between her visits to other cities for jobs or materials for one of her many trades. Kiera had tried to keep the emphasis that it wasn't serious, but she often wondered what Ingun would do if she ended it if and when she found one she truly desired to be with in more than a physical sense.
Kiera had never really desired a serious romantic partner. She simply didn't trust anyone enough thus far to let them know what made her tick, her motivations…much less what she did to make her money. After her experiences with men from when she was young, they simply weren't an option. She could never trust them. She had been with only three women in her twenty two winters. The first had actually been for a job in Cyrodiil. She had slept with the unhappy, drunk wife of a corrupt noble in Chorrol to gain access to the man's bedchamber. He had been pleasantly surprised given what had awaited him in his bed…and unpleasantly surprised to discover his wife had been drugged, and the woman who had done it had a dagger beneath the pillow.
The second had been when she was living in Solitude. A young woman had been training for knighthood there. Kiera had been training also, learning how to better use the sword, paying for the lessons with the money she had already obtained from a few low-risk jobs. Jordis was her name. They had helped each other through the hardships of training, and things had progressed naturally. When her training was finished, Jordis had said goodbye with almost no fuss. Kiera had no desire to rekindle things, but she still checked on her when she was in Solitude for a job. By all accounts, she was one of the best housecarls for Lady Elisif and her husband High King Torygg. She was happy to see her onetime friend and lover doing well in what she had wanted. But that wasn't a path Kiera could follow. It was too peaceful, too stagnant. Time moved on.
She watched Ingun's chest rise and fall with her breathing. After determining that she was indeed still in a deep sleep, Kiera quietly withdrew herself from the bed. She dressed in the dark silently, putting the necessary essentials in her pouches. Poisons, potions, a new set of bracers for her knives, a short sword on her right thigh, and her sword on her left hip. This time, a bow would be necessary. Sneaking up on a vampire is nearly impossible, even for someone with as much experience as she had.
Her ebony bow had seen a lot of use in the few years since she had made it, but she had practiced good upkeep, and it was battle-ready any time. She inspected the arrows. She had 24 total in one quiver, enough to stop a small army of any enemy foolish enough to charge her from a distance. She heard a small sigh from the bed. Ingun had turned over in her sleep, baring her breasts to the cold air. The notion of returning to bed was tempting, but in the end, Kiera decided against it. Her rations were packed, and she was ready to depart. Kiera stepped over to the bed and pulled the covers up over Ingun before gently kissing her on the forehead, and left.
Riften was quiet in the morning. She walked through the streets, hoping the guards would forgive her for looking like a walking armory. They couldn't see the bracers and the short sword beneath the heavy cloak she wore, but her garb was hardly what your average citizen or even hunter would wear. She passed the guardsmen at the front gate. They were tired from a full shift, and let her through with barely a look. Kiera saw supplies being loaded on the carts that left almost daily for Whiterun. She was pleased that this contract would bring her there. Despite being the unofficial center of trade in Skyrim, it wasn't a city she had the chance to visit for any length of time for the most part. People wanted their dirty deeds performed in the backwater of the swamps near Solitude, or the plains between Riften and Windhelm.
"How much for an extra passenger?"
The driver looked at her. "What's your business in Whiterun missy?"
"My own."
He looked uneasy, but then he asked the only question that mattered. "You have coin?"
She held up 50 septims, and he didn't ask any more questions.
They reached Whiterun by nightfall. She got out of the cart, slightly stiff from so long without activity. She looked at the note that Delvin had given her once more. 'Apparently I'm to meet a businessman in the Bannered Mare at the corner table…how dramatic.' She put up her cowl, pulled her hood over her head, and made her way through the mass of people exiting the market as trade tapered off for the day. The Bannered Mare wasn't the fanciest tavern in Whiterun, but it was unquestionably the most popular. It was busy enough that a woman wearing a heavy cloak and a hood might attract some strange looks, but not enough to be remembered so much as a day after.
She observed the man at the corner table. It was a Redguard, and he looked extremely nervous. This was definitely who she was here to meet. His clothes were fine, and he definitely hadn't traveled here in a supply cart. He had ordered no drink, was acting odd, and had obviously been here for some time. By trying to remain inconspicuous, he had actually made himself more noticeable. 'I hope this man actually delivers the other half of the payment…I hate working with amateurs.' Now that she'd confirmed that the offer was genuine, there was one last thing to do.
Kiera mouthed the words to a small illusion spell, one designed to make her eyes appear to be a very dull brown. Now she would be completely unrecognizable from her normal persona. She approached the table and sat down opposite the Redguard. "You really should try to relax. Order a drink. They probably won't have anything a man like you is used to drinking, but the mead is cheap at least."
"I will relax when I'm out of here. Am I to understand that you are the one I hired through Delvin?"
"You shouldn't drop his name so casually. A man like him has enemies. Yes, I am the one you've hired. But if you had done this before, you wouldn't even have to ask that. I'll get straight to the point then, since the validity of your claim is already in question. How do you know that the individual you've hired me to take care of is what you say they are? More importantly, what proof can you offer?"
He seemed to absorb this for a moment. "I am part of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. We have tracked a coven of vampires to this region of Skyrim, but all of our members suited to…remove the infestation are away on other assignments. We are stretched thin attempting to cleanse this plague from Tamriel. We care nothing for nations or their borders; our goal is to wipe out vampirism completely."
Kiera raised an eyebrow at this. "An ambitious goal. But you still haven't offered me any proof of this coven. What can you offer, and if you say you've tracked them, where are they?"
"I said we had tracked them to this region. All we know is that they have been slowly migrating north to Skyrim, for a purpose we have not yet discovered. As for how I know they are in the area surrounding Whiterun…I would start by checking the Hall of the Dead in the city. That should be all the proof you need. As far as locating them is concerned...the Companions are a group of local warriors that do jobs around the country. They have certain…qualities…that make them uniquely suited to finding vampires. Perhaps you could hire one of them to help you. My organization has been more than generous with our payment."
"The original payment was to eliminate one vampire for 7,000. Now that the parameters of the mission have changed, it's time for a renegotiation. You want them gone, and I don't mind doing a good deed every once in a while, but not for free. The new price is 12,000. The 3,500 in advance still stands, but you will deliver the rest to Delvin upon completion. If we do not have a deal, you do not have an assassin."
She could see his fear and anger growing throughout her speech. For a moment, she thought he would reject her terms, but after a moment he seemed to deflate. "I will send a missive for the new price, but in exchange, the vermin need to be gone before the week is out. You should know…our offering a reward is at the Jarl's request. I don't imagine he will be pleased about the change in price."
"Your backer's mood is your problem. Eliminating a coven of vampires is now mine. I'll start immediately. Meet me here at the end of the week. Whether the job is done or not, I will meet you here. If I don't meet you, you'll know that I have failed…in which case, you should write off the 3500 as a loss, and seek a new employee."
She left the table and the establishment before he could say anything else. In the short half-hour that she had been there, the streets had emptied. The Hall of the Dead was beneath the Temple of Kynareth. Kiera had a nagging feeling that she was being followed, and her instincts were rarely wrong. 'If he follows me into the hall of the dead, I'll know he's serious…'
The Hall was locked, and she didn't really have the necessary patience to wait for a priest or priestess to unlock it for her. 'I wonder what exactly I'm supposed to find…' She quickly picked the door and slipped inside. The torches were burned out, and Kiera waited for her eyes to adjust. Her unique cat-eyes had always given her an advantage over all but her Khajiit opponents. She looked overhead, jumped into the rafters, and waited for her shadow to follow her inside. His discretion left much to be desired. He pushed the door open roughly. Even if she hadn't bothered to wait, she would have been alerted by the sound.
He held a sword in his right hand, and mage fire in his left. Whatever his intentions, they obviously weren't to make peace. Despite his hasty entrance, he moved slowly. She could see his eyes dart back and forth, scanning the environment for signs of her. Kiera had made a good choice hiding in the rafters. Most people never look up. As he came closer to passing under her, she unsheathed her short sword, holding on with only one hand.
He passed under her, and she struck. She dropped from the rafters landing on his shoulders as she grabbed his throat for balance, and drove the blade down through his chest. They both fell to the hard stone floor as he screamed in pain. Kiera jumped to her feet, ready for the counterattack, but it never came. He was holding the hilt of the sword that had killed him, almost as though he intended to pull it out. Then he began to speak, his words burbling past the blood in his airway.
"So, the feeble Order Hunter has hired another to relieve him of his burden? If you were smart, you would abandon your mission. You cannot imagine our strength, our resolve, and the absolute darkness of our leader. He has lived for decades; no mortal alive can challenge him. You are on a fool's errand!"
Kiera struggled not to laugh. "Did your leader tell you that your group was unstoppable? There was clearly no motivation for him to lie. You say he's been alive for decades? I should be careful then." She laughed coldly. "Your leader was either trying to get you killed, or is more foolish than I believed possible. There are young mer who have been alive longer than your master if all he can claim are decades. I will find your group, and give them your regards…right before I silence them, just as I have silenced you."
His eyes were filled with scorn as he drew his last unliving breath. She retrieved her sword from his chest, and called up her magic. Fire flowed from her palm, reacting upon contact with his skin as his body and blood were incinerated. 'No need for anyone to know that the monsters are already within the gates…panic will help no one.' With that finished, she continued further into the hall, the mage fire in her hand providing a soft glow. She didn't need it, but it was a nice alternative to darkness.
She reached the chamber where the newly dead were kept until they could either be entombed or taken to a funeral pyre. There were three in the chamber. The first was an elderly woman, the second was a middle aged man, and at the end was a young woman. Kiera lifted the sheet from the elderly woman. There were no wounds; she had simply passed from old age. The middle aged man had died from a sword to the abdomen, perhaps some quarrel or a man who'd been returned home after dying in battle. The young woman was who she had been sent here to see then.
She pulled the sheet up…and nearly gasped and vomited at what she saw. The young lady had claw and bite marks all over her chest, thighs, and a single, cleaner bite on her neck. She must have been a victim of five or six of the animals who associated themselves with her would-be killer now in ashes near the entrance. The single bite on the neck was interesting. It was much cleaner, less frenzied than the other wounds on the body. 'Perhaps the master of this coven had his fill before throwing her to the pack. Then, they drained her dry…animals.'
She left the catacombs, and headed back to the Bannered Mare. It was still quite boisterous, but it was becoming late. Men were returning to their homes to prepare for a hard day's work in the morning. Kiera went to the bar and looked at the owner.
"I'd like to rent a room."
"10 septims per night."
She handed him 50 septims.
"Last room on the left. There's a stew in the morning if you like."
"Thank you."
She went upstairs and unlocked her room. Kiera was pleasantly surprised. The room was small, but clean. She stripped, put her armor in the provided chest, put a dagger under the pillow, and fell into sleep.
She woke to the sound of a roar, and people screaming in the night. She recognized the sound, and threw open the window to the room, her nudity forgotten. She saw a dark shape against the sky, a winged demon come to burn the town of Whiterun. As her eyes took in the details, she noticed several things that were oddly comforting. The dragon in the sky was nowhere near as large as the one that had burned Helgen to the ground. Second, the element that spilled from its maw was not fire, but ice instead. It would still be no easy kill, but Kiera knew that she could not sit idly by while it attacked the town. 'Maybe the Jarl will reward me for aiding the defense…'
She dressed in minutes, knowing the longer she took, the bolder the beast would become. She equipped her weapons, buckled her sword belt, and strung her bow. Her arrows would prove invaluable in defeating the winged terror. She leapt out of the second story window, landing lightly on the street below. She observed the city guardsmen, many of them firing their bows at the creature, but their bows were simple sticks with the occasional longbow mixed in. Nothing of that caliber would penetrate a dragon's hide. Kiera would effectively be fighting it alone.
The beast flew close, hovering as it covered the main thoroughfare in ice, guards screaming as they succumbed to frostbite and were frozen solid in seconds. Kiera knocked an arrow, took careful aim, and fired in the upswing of its wing into the softer, flexible scales under the joint. The dragon howled in pain and fell to the ground. It looked down the street with hatred in its eyes, eyes as blue and cold as her own. Kiera slung her bow over her shoulder and drew her sword.
The dragon was completely unprepared as this human who had wounded it, dared to raise a hand against a god among men, charged. Kiera pushed past guards, jumped or rolled over fallen bodies, and grabbed a large roundshield from one of the fallen soldiers. The dragon's surprise did not last long. It reared back, preparing to try and freeze her in her tracks. She saw it coming, and evaluated her options. The roundshield would not protect her from a full frontal assault, but it might buy her a few precious seconds. She altered her course, preparing to duck onto a side street to avoid the blast.
She raised the shield as she felt the freezing wind spill from its maw. It deflected the majority of the blast, but her legs were shaking as though she had dipped them in a frozen river. She shivered for a moment, knowing she had to keep moving. She heard the dragon slamming its limbs, men screaming as its reign of terror continued on the ground. 'At least the beast's mobility is restricted for now…I'll have to move quickly.' Kiera didn't know how long that arrow would keep it on the ground. She got up, and kept running. Looking between the buildings as she ran, it looked as though the dragon had turned to engage a guard contingent coming from the other direction. They held their own, distracting the dragon quite effectively. Given long enough, they might even win, but that was not a risk she wanted to take.
Kiera had an idea. She climbed a building that was more or less right behind the beast's flank. She moved carefully, her legs still a little shaky from the dragon's attack earlier. She'd left the shield on the ground…it would just be unnecessary weight for what she had planned. The beast did not appear to be aware of her presence, continuing to bite and snap its claw in between the bouts of frost breath. 'This…is a terrible idea.'
She took a deep breath, took her sword in a two handed grip pointed downward, and leaped off the roof. She stabbed downward into the back of the dragon, inches from the spikes of bone protruding from its spine. The beast roared in pain once more, this time falling to the ground on its belly. Kiera knew better than to trust that it was dead. She was always careful when it came to animals. They could be more deceptive than men when it came to being wounded but still combat capable. She removed her sword, running along the ridge of its back toward its head until she stood above one of the eyes. It looked up at her, still alive enough to hate the one who had killed it. She raised her sword, but before she could stab into the dragon's eye, ending the fight for good, it spoke.
"Impossible…there has not been one of your kind for centuries…"
Kiera was shocked. She had assumed that the beast was mindless, and they were terrifying enough under that way of thinking. If they were intelligent, Skyrim had more to worry about than she thought. "What do you mean, one of my kind? How would you know anything of me, demon?"
The dragon appeared to be rumbling. Kiera felt even more afraid when she realized that although the beast was dying, it was laughing at her question. "I am no demon…I am a proud dragon, lord of the sky and the earth. I am Mirmulnir, and I have returned from beyond Sovnguard and time itself. You cannot stop us, for though you have brought about my death, dozens of us shall soon roam the skies, and our leader Alduin, the World-Eater, will not be so easily cowed. I curse you, Dohvakiin. Burn in the coming fire…" With those words, the colossal eye closed.
After the dragon took its last breath, Kiera hopped off the dragon to the ground. She noticed the guards were beholding her with a mix of awe and reverence. Then one of them started shouting, "Look! Look at the dragon!" Kiera turned to her foe with her sword raised, fearing the beast had tricked her. Instead, what she saw took her breath away. The dragon's scales were burning with heatless flames, withdrawing from the skeleton like smoke from a candle as they turned to vapor. As disturbing as that was, it was nothing compared to what happened next.
Kiera felt strange, as though she were being lifted into the air. She looked down and realized that it wasn't just a feeling; she was indeed being lifted into the air, bit by bit. She started to struggle, wanting to get down; she did not enjoy this feeling. The guards were slowly being pushed away from her, as though by an unseen hand. The red aura that the dragon had been giving off in death began to come towards her, seeping into her skin. When it first made contact, it was incredible. It was like she was on fire, she could fly, she could leave this world and never return, her heart racing as fast as it ever had in battle. She couldn't breathe with the power, yet she screamed in elation as she began to try and draw more of the dragon's spirit within, she wanted it all, the power overwhelming her senses. At last, she absorbed it all, and with a shockwave dropped to the ground before gazing at the stars, roaring, "FUS!"
It was as though she had released the pressure in her chest as the shout was torn from her and the blast of air was visible in the sky until it faded from view. Kiera had never felt so alive, and yet so tired now that the burst of energy had left her. The guards behind her were talking in hushed tones, saying things like, "Was that a shout?" "Did she just absorb its soul?" "Somebody inform the Jarl!"
Before she knew what was happening, two guards were helping her stand, but once she was on her feet, they weren't letting go. "Forgive us milady, but in light of what's just happened, it is our duty to take you to the Jarl. I'm sure he will be grateful, but he will also want to know what a Dragonborn is doing in Whiterun. Between you and me, however, it is a good thing you were here. We might have killed it eventually, but many of us and many innocent families would have been killed without your intervention. There's not a man here who won't vouch for you." None of that really helped put her mind at ease. 'So much for staying relatively unknown…'