A/N : This is my first story on FanFictionNet, so I might make some mistake. If you have something in mind, please tell me. Hope you enjoy this story. :D
(Recently made some changes in this chapter as I don't really like the previous version.)
Jo'masha once again took a glance through the blurry, iced window. It was still the same view; tedious pine trees covered in everlasting snow dashed before his eyes, indicating that the cab was moving at a constant pace. The snow fell relentlessly from the gloomy sky, adding more pile to the humps on the side of the poor-lit road. It was already three hours, and he started to wonder if the horses had turned into snails. A six-hour trip from Solitude to Dawnstar would've been considered exceptional for an ordinary carriage, but he was using the express cab then. That wasn't a good pace for an exclusive carriage. Not to mention about how stressing his current case was. Exasperated, he laid his melon-sized head back on his palms and stretched his long legs to the edge of the opposite seat. They accidentally bumped to his sister's foot. She glanced at him.
"Sorry, sister," he said. His voice was rough, but also as soothing as the finest moon sugar; a typical feature of his feline folk.
"Rhika doesn't mind," she replied, and her gaze was returned to her book. She had jonquil yellow eyes, like her brother, and also shared the same brown fur of his. The only difference between the two was her hair. She had crude, short chocolate hair grown on her entire scalp, leaving her ears sticking out.
He recognized the book. "The Tale of the Dragonborn …" he hummed.
"Masha knows this book?"
His brows curved. "Oh, do I know. It's a contraband," he said with a plain tone. "Where did you get that?"
Rhika pulled a little smile. "This one won't tell, for Masha will do them harm," he replied. "Besides, why is it illegal to read a classic epic?"
The male one released a mocking chuckle, "A classic epic ... Sister, do throw that book away. It harms your apperception."
She closed her book. "Then, what should Rhika read?"
He tended his whisker, "Well ... Try Dulinir the Slayer. It's—"
His sister cut him, "That book is terrible."
He paused. "How so?"
Rhika sighed, "Aside than the fact that it's aimed to spread another Thalmor doctrine, it has neither purpose of entertainment, nor to—if there is any—portray an epic. It clearly is an insult for classic literature."
Her brother closed his eyes, saying, "Said a novice Thalmor Inspector." He took a pause. "Seriously, I'll burn all of your contraband books once we're done with this case."
She smiled. "Rhika would like to see Masha try," she offered, before sinking back to her book.
Silence came back in and he could hear the horses clacking their shoes on the road. It sounded like music, with random notes and rhythm, yet measured pattern.
His impatience was actually quite understandable. For years, he'd been dealing with many homicide cases and it had been imperative for him to get to the scene before it gets contaminated, or before the victim's body rots. Though, his current case didn't involve any corpse whatsoever, which was very odd that his intendant had sent him for investigation. Not that he didn't have the knack for his current case, but he just didn't like it and preferred the homicide investigation as his specialization. A clerk in Dawnstar had reported several anomalies in the arsenal account, and a significant amount of firepowder and firearms had gone "missing" from their inventory. There was an assumption of Thieves Guild and/or local authority being involved, but it was worth more investigation before jumping to any conclusions.
"Rhika is glad being with Masha," she began, breaking the long silence. "Compared to Rhika's previous associates, Masha isn't that bad."
Jo'masha turned his eyes on her. "Is that so?" A concerned frown formed on his forehead.
"Yes. They acted just normal when they were face to face with Rhika, but they called Rhika childish and useless behind her back," she explained. "They really underestimated Khajiits' hearing capability," she added.
Jo'masha rose slightly from his seat. "Name them, sister. I'll make sure those scumbags won't be able to shit for months. Literally!"
Rhika managed a giggle. "No need," she said. "They're not worth Masha's attention."
"Of course they're worth my attention," he sighed.
"It's okay," she assured him. "Rhika can handle it herself, with less violence."
Jo'masha stared for a moment, before releasing a scoff and going back to his docile state. "Whatever," he laid back, turning his eyes to the outside of the window.
His sister only delivered a smile. Her smile, as always, worked wonders on his temper.
Thixei had many names. As a hatchling, his parents called him Utaish; a final hope. His hatch had been the last shot for his parents to turn their life downside-up, as their fortune had been ravaged in a bloody raid, a couple of days before his hatch. Their prayer had finally answered. He was favored by his intendants, earning the name "Sahtelel", which literally meant "Star Child" in Jel. But the name "Thixei" slurred all by itself, as if it spawned from thin air. There was a rumor; a mysterious Argonian, widely believed to be a farm-born lizard. Spares no witnesses, he executes his missions efficiently, with no flaw can be perceived even by the most careful eyes in Black Marsh. People who claim to be the survivors of his rampage whisper his name. Thixei. The Eye of a Snake.
He scoffed at that cheap Inn-dweller gossip and thought that they exaggerated it a little bit. But, still, he liked the name and kept it as a trophy.
He always hated outsiders. They kept coming back like rats. Countless efforts had made by An-Xileel to keep them away; from intimidating blackmails to direct termination. It was as if they had no bits of vengeance or dismay against the lizardfolk, and let it all slide like nothing had happened. Such nobles, he thought to himself. With a grunt, he shifted the old chair and walked away from those rabbles.
His pale green scale reflected the orange dim light of a lantern next to the doorframe. The door swung open, and the sun immediately bombarded him with its blinding lights. The effect wore off after a while, and then he could see the beautiful panorama of Blackrose slums. The sky was clear, with few clouds floating over his head and he had a clear vision of horizon. Below the horizon, outside the wall, was a dense green jungle, virtually looked like the head of broccoli stretched to the whole field of view. He leaned his arms on the railing.
Someone tapped softly on his shoulder. It was a female Argonian with scales of tangelo orange. Thixei quickly recognized her as one of the Organism agent, judging from her covertly outfit with a jet black cloak covering her from shoulders to knees. "Operative Utaish?" she asked, slurring her murky reptilian feature.
"In person," Thixei replied.
She raised her gloved hand to her chest, "An honor to meet you," she said. "I am here to deliver a message. Your eyes only." From her pouch, she took a letter, sealed with red wax.
Thixei took the letter and broke the seal. Carefully, his gaze travelled across the letter. "Xhuth …" he swore. He was going to ask the agent regarding his order, but—as expected—she was already gone by then.
He'd been dealt with serious jobs before this one, but his targets weren't so significant back then. They mostly comprised of some penny-ante aristocrats who had opposed the An-Xileel cause. It was a direct letter from The Organism and was approved by the moots. He was tasked to terminate Chancellor Saloril, the second most powerful person in Tamriel.