PROLOGUE

Hides-His-Eyes stood over the three graves, sighing. These were the graves of the best friends he'd ever had: Galmir, Jean Ence, and Vog. Laying a bouquet of flowers on each grave, he slowly sauntered back to the hovel on the Imperial City Waterfront.

The house was in complete disarray, and had the stench of death: Hides-His-Eyes hadn't bothered to clean the mess he had made obtaining this house. He was merely squatting here, having killed the previous owner of the house. He had been a rugged Imperial, keeping his house neat and tidy. He was also a competent fighter; Hides-His-Eyes had been surprised about that fact when killing him.

The Imperial had carried a poisoned dagger, but had seemed to have forgotten the fact that Hides-His-Eyes, like all Argonians, was immune to poison. When the Imperial had stabbed him, Hides-His-Eyes had laughed and hissed, "We're immune to poison," and drew his sword. He hacked down the Imperial, then threw objects on the body to cover it.

That had been three weeks ago. The day he lost his friends occurred over three years ago. Hides-His-Eyes had been stumbling through those years in a blank stupor, too depressed to do anything. It was all he could do to drag himself out of bed every morning, eat a few stale pieces of bread, and occasionally go out to the Market District to buy things he wanted or needed.

When he went out, he had to wear a hood. Everyone knew the name "Hides-His-Eyes," and everyone, even the average citizen passing by, would run up and relentlessly punch him, and occasionally even try and shank him with a rusty dagger if they recognized him. When that happened, he fled back to the Waterfront via the sewers. He had had a few camps set up within the sewers, so he stayed down there for a couple days, waited until night, and sneaked back up to the Waterfront, and entered his house.

He couldn't go on living like this. He was alone, bitter, and hated by everyone. He wondered how he hadn't been killed yet. He was always bored to tears in his home, for he had read and reread every book he owned. He was too nervous to dispose of the dead body, for fear that someone might see him. He was too nervous to go out in public. He was too nervous to keep on living.

He reached for the rusty old dagger he had owned for so long. He held it in his hand, contemplating life and death. He reached a conclusion.

He brought the dagger up to his neck, and made a quick slit. He fell to the ground, his blood soaking into the floor and bedsheets. At last, he was free.

CHAPTER 1

Eight years ago...

"Dammit!" Galmir muttered as his lockpick broke. He was attempting to break into The Feed Bag, where he could pilfer a few bare necessities to get by for another few days. He was dirt poor: his middle class clothes had been taken from various crates and barrels around the Market District. His only weapon, a battered, rusty iron dagger, had been found by a huge stroke of luck near one of the beggar's bedrolls. He called it "Shank," and it had admirably performed this duty on several people and animals.

He rarely had a bed to sleep in, so he'd slept just about everywhere else. Under trees, in doorways, anywhere. Once or twice he had climbed down into the Sewers and slept there. There were rats and goblins and mud crabs, but nothing he and Shank couldn't handle. Occasionally a few of the goblins carried a meager amount of septims, which he spent quickly on basic food.

He rarely slept in the Sewers, but other than that, they were his domain. He knew the most essential routes by heart. He could steal a few things from the Market District, then run down to the Sewers, remember one of his routes, and pop out in the Talos Plaza District. He mostly stole food, but also stole the occasional book. He enjoyed reading and could reread any of the four books he had stolen over time over and over again.

He was down to his last lockpick. "Please, please..." he murmured. He heard the click, meaning the lock had been picked. He thanked the gods, unsheathed Shank, and crept into the store.

He had robbed the store before, and always stole the exact same things: three apples, two loaves of bread, and two potatoes. He opened the cupboard and took these things, and put them in a crudely stitched pack he had made a few months ago. He quietly closed the cupboard.

He thought he heard footsteps upstairs. His heart skipped a beat. The proprietor, Delos Fandas, took burglars very seriously, and reported every single one, even if they had only stolen a fork.

Being a Bosmer, Galmir was adept at sneaking and hiding. He crept to the little wall that blocked the view of the basement door, and hid there. He waited for what seemed like hours for the footsteps to stop.

When they finally ended, Galmir sneaked back out into the open. It was a late Turdas night, with almost no one on the streets. Good. This was an easy theft. He inconspicuously walked down a back alley, uncovered the manhole, and hopped down into the Sewers.

He was so hungry, he took out an apple and ate it right there. He hadn't eaten for two days, and gobbled this one down hungrily. He followed the route to the Talos Plaza District. Still almost no one about. He found an alley that wasn't occupied by a beggar, laid his pack down as a pillow, and slept.

The first thing Galmir felt when he woke was the hard ground. That's funny, he thought. I remember using my pack as a pillow. He stood up, and looked down. His pack was gone! He spat out a curse. He narrowed it down to two options: either a random thief stole it, or a beggar took it. If it was the former, there was almost no chance of recovering it. If it was the latter, then he stood a chance.

He paid a visit to all the beggars' bedrolls; no pack. He had a feeling that whichever beggar took it, they wouldn't have left it at their bedroll. Galmir had spent the night in the Talos Plaza District, so he searched for No-Coins Draninus, the beggar of the district. He was standing in the plaza, harassing passersby for a septim or two.

Galmir approached him. "Excuse me, sir," he said. Draninus turned.

"Please. I ain't got nothin' to eat," Draninus complained.

"Right," replied Galmir, tossing him a precious coin. "Have you by any chance seen a crudely made pack with bread, apples, and potatoes inside of it?"

"Why, no I haven't. Are you missing it?"

"Yes, I am. Are you sure you haven't seen it?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure. Now, please get out of my way," Draninus said curtly. As he turned and walked away, something caught Galmir's eye. His pack was tied to the back of the beggar's knee. That bastard! he thought. He lurked behind Draninus, quietly stalking him back to his camp.

Draninus had lay down on his bedroll. Galmir let him sleep for a couple hours, then violently kicked him in the stomach. He groaned, and got up. "What in Oblivion's name was that for?!" he moaned.

"That's for stealing a pack with all of the possessions I own in it, and then had the nerve to lie about it to my face!" Galmir hissed. He pulled out Shank.

"Wha...what are you doing?" Draninus stammered.

Galmir said nothing, only intensifying Draninus's fears. "P..please, put that away," he stuttered. Galmir had decided that this was enough suffering, and drove Shank into the old beggar's throat. Draninus crumpled immediately, dead.

Galmir cleaned Shank on the beggar's tattered clothes, untied his pack from his leg, and retrieved the coin he had given the beggar. "There we go," he muttered to himself. He turned around, and his heart froze.

"Stop! You have violated the law!" the Imperial Guardsman shouted at him. "You lack the funds to pay this off, so it's off to jail for you!"

Galmir deliberated for a few moments. He could resist arrest and flee down to the Sewers, but at least a few guards would undoubtedly follow him. He had no way of actually leaving the Imperial City via the Sewers, but he supposed that enough looping around the routes he did know would be sufficient for the guards to give up looking for him. He could then lay low in the Sewers for a while, and it would be safe to come out after perhaps a week.

"I won't come with you," Galmir said defiantly. The guard was genuinely surprised, then his face turned to anger.

"Then pay with your blood!" he shouted, and drew his sword.

The guard made a wild swing at Galmir, who dodged it, then made a mad dash to the Sewer entrance. At the plaza, there were probably four or five guards chasing after him, but he didn't care. He quickly found the manhole, threw the lid aside, and leapt down into the Sewers.

He didn't even bother to run down the stairs; he jumped off from the top. The fall jarred his bones, but he quickly shook it off and ran. He could hear the guards climbing down the ladder. Casting aside all reason, he bolted in the opposite direction.

Within minutes he was lost, and the guards' footsteps drew ever closer. Scared out of his mind, he bolted down a long hallway, but about a third of the way down, he crashed into something.

WHAM! He fell to the ground. Shank fell out of its sheath. He had collided into an Argonian. The Argonian wore no shirt or shoes, and only a battered pair of tan linens.

"Who're--" Galmir started, but the Argonian brought a scaly finger to his lips.

"Shhh! I'll get you through this!" he hissed. He took Shank, deftly made a small cut on his arm, daubed it with his fingers, made Galmir lie down spread eagle, put bloodstains on Galmir's shirt, then laid Shank in his hand.

"Play dead!" the Argonian instructed. Galmir did so.

The guards ran into the room where Galmir and the Argonian were. They noticed Galmir's apparently lifeless body, the bloodstains on his shirt, and the dagger with fresh blood dripping off it.

"Damn! Suicide!" one guard cursed. "Well, there's no point in punishing a corpse. Let's get out of here." The guards sheathed their weapons, and departed the Sewers.

Galmir remained motionless. He wondered if they had intentionally left one guard down in the Sewers to check for foul play. He remained in the pose for a couple of hours until the Argonian hissed, "Get up! You're safe now."

Galmir got up, sheathed Shank, and turned to the mysterious Argonian. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Hides-His-Eyes," the Argonian said. "The Sewers are my home. I rarely venture up into the city."

"Well," Galmir replied. "I'm considered a fugitive in this city. I'm planning to leave and not return for a while. Could you show me a way out of the city limits via the Sewers?"

"Yes, I can. Follow me." Hides-His-Eyes headed back the way Galmir had come. Galmir closely followed him. Hides-His-Eyes was very swift, and he struggled to keep up.

At last, they reached the sewer grate that led outside the Imperial City. "Here you are," Hides-His-Eyes said. Galmir had been thinking something the whole trek here, and decided now was good opportunity to share it.

"Would you... would you like to come with me?" he asked nervously. Hides-His-Eyes was surprised.

"Why?" he wondered.

"I'd be lonely, and it seems lonely living in these sewers for your entire life."

"I don't know if I'd be accustomed to living in such a wide open space. Down here I'm perfectly safe. Out there... I don't know."

"We'd be able to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Please, I've only just met you, but I feel that we have the potential to become lifelong friends."

Hides-His-Eyes hesitated for a few moments. Galmir could tell he was genuinely debating whether to stay or depart. Finally, he looked Galmir in the eye.

"Okay," he said. "I'll go with you."

Galmir smiled. He opened the big grate, and they stepped outside into the wide open land of Cyrodiil.

CHAPTER 2

Galmir and Hides-His-Eyes shielded their eyes from the blinding sunlight. When it was no longer painful to have their eyes open, they looked around their surroundings. A rotten dock, a part of Lake Rumare, and old, crumbling Ayleid ruins across the lake.

"What should we do?" Hides-His-Eyes asked.

"Well, we could go to the Ayleid ruins, there's bound to be things to do there," Galmir replied. He tore off this shirt and shoes, and tossed them aside. It was likely that he wouldn't be coming back to retrieve them. He made sure Shank was sheathed tightly, and that the sheath stayed on his frayed belt. He dived in the water, with Hides-His-Eyes right behind him.

Galmir knew how to swim, but not very well; he was struggling three-fourths of the way through. Hides-His-Eyes, being an Argonian, was perfectly suited for water: he could even breathe it!

At last, they reached the other side of the lake. They sat and rested for about an hour. "Should we investigate the ruins?" Hides-His-Eyes asked.

"Hmm... okay," Galmir said. "But do you even have a weapon?"

"Sadly, I do not. I am slightly trained in the art of unarmed combat, but that will not get me far. I hope we can find one for me."

They walked to the clearing made by the ruined marble of the Ayleid ruins. They saw a campfire, and two bandits clad in fur armor tending to it. Galmir and Hides-His-Eyes quickly ducked behind a fallen pillar.

"What should we do about them?" Galmir whispered.

"I don't know. But I would like a weapon, particularly a bow. And one of them seems to have one," Hides-His-Eyes replied. "Give me your dagger."

"But... why?"

"I can sneak up on the bow-wielding bandit and get a sneak attack in, take his bow, and toss your blade back to you. You have to trust me."

"Wouldn't I be better suited to that, being a Bosmer?"

Hides-His-Eyes pondered this. "Yes, I suppose you're right, but by Azura, please be careful!"

Galmir silently drew Shank out of its sheath. He crept around the perimeter of the campfire, trying to pinpoint a good position to strike. He overheard bits and pieces of the bandits' conversation.

"But Nachael, it's an Ayleid ruin. There could be untold riches in its depths," the bandit wielding an iron shortsword protested.

"No. These ruins have been picked clean centuries ago. There's nothing down there except mud crabs and rats," the other bandit, a Redguard apparently named Nachael and wielding a bow, replied.

"But... but... you're not even the leader! You have no authority whether we stay here or leave!"

"I'm allowed to have my own opinion, even if it clashes with the leader's," Nachael calmly replied. Galmir admired his patience and firmness. If this Redguard wasn't a bandit who attacked anyone not in their group on sight, he would have attempted to become friendly with him.

"You're just impossible," the other bandit muttered, and stalked off.

Galmir knew this was his chance. He slowly crept towards Nachael, and drove the rusty blade into his back. He let out a muffled groan, and Galmir slowly laid him on the ground, and withdrew Shank. He motioned for Hides-His-Eyes to come and take the bow and quiver off the body.

The other bandit turned around. His face twisted into fury. "I'll kill you!" he shouted, drawing his sword. He lunged towards Galmir, not noticing that Hides-His-Eyes had grabbed Nachael's weapon. He fired an arrow.

It made its mark. It lodged itself in the bandit's neck. He gasped for breath, frantically trying to pull out the arrow as blood gushed down his torso. He slumped to the ground, dead.

"Check both their pockets. See if they have any gold or anything worth taking," Galmir said.

Hides-His-Eyes looted both corpses. "Let's see, they have thirty septims between them, a couple of healing potions, and a bread loaf," he called back. "Would you like the shortsword?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would," Galmir replied.

Hides-His-Eyes tossed him the sheathed sword, which Galmir caught with his left hand. He realized, however, that his "belt" was little more than a few strands of burlap, so the sword could not be strapped on.

"Hurry up," Hides-His-Eyes said.

"One minute. I need a new belt," Galmir said. He unbuckled the belt from the slain Redguard, and fastened it on his own pants. He strapped the sword and Shank on it. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Where should we go? We could go to Chorrol, to the west," Hides-His-Eyes suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea," Galmir agreed. They found a small pouch to store their septims in, and were on their way.

CHAPTER 3

After two days of traveling, Galmir and Hides-His-Eyes were at the gates of Chorrol. The guards instructed them to wait as they opened the gates, which took about three minutes. The gates swung open and they walked in.

"Wow, this is much less crowded than the Imperial City," Galmir said.

"Indeed," Hides-His-Eyes agreed. "Let's see what there is to do here."

They wandered to the north square, which seemed to be the biggest hub of activity. It was a quaint city, much bigger than some of the settlements that they had passed, but the Imperial City had to be at least twice as big as Chorrol.

They had sat on a bench to rest when they heard sounds of a scuffle inside one of the buildings. They turned to each other.

"Should we investigate?" Hides-His-Eyes asked, wide-eyed. Galmir nodded as drew his shortsword. It felt a little awkward, as he was much more used to the lighter and shorter Shank. Nonetheless, he could manage with it.

As they walked to the building where the sounds were coming from, the door opened, and a young Breton was literally thrown out. He was garbed in a dark green robe, and he had long, light brown hair. He got up and dusted himself down.

"What happened?" Galmir demanded.

"I was just expelled from the Mages Guild, on account that I "stole" an alembic," the Breton replied. "Really, I was just borrowing it, but the crazy wench insisted that I had stolen it. And who is the Mages Guild more likely to believe: myself, a lowly Apprentice, or her, the Evoker?"

"What is your name?" Hides-His-Eyes asked.

"My name is Jean Ence, former Apprentice of the Mages Guild," the Breton said, extending his hand.

Galmir shook it. "I'm Galmir, and this is Hides-His-Eyes," he said. "Tell me, do you have anywhere to go, now that you've been cast out of the Mages Guild?"

"Alas, I don't. I take it that both of you are homeless?"

Galmir and Hides-His-Eyes nodded. "How would you like to come with us? With us, you'd be free to do whatever you would like, without having to worry about the shackles of a guild's laws. Things aren't looking good at the moment, but I promise that it will get better," Galmir offered.

Jean Ence thought it over. He liked the idea of freedom, but didn't care for the fact that these two were homeless and looked very poor. He had come from a semi-wealthy family, and wouldn't like sleeping on dirt and begging for coins.

"Okay, how about this?" he said. "I'll come with you, but you have to promise me that we'll have a permanent house or camp or whatever in two months. If that is not achieved, I go."

"Okay, it's a deal," Galmir agreed. "Oh, one more thing... What was the name of the "wench" that claimed you stole her alembic?"

"Oh, her? Her name was Solea Rato," Jean Ence said. "I swear to the gods, I will have my revenge!"

"Do you have any money on you?"

"Let's see... only about a hundred septims. How about you two?"

"We have fifty septims between us," Hides-His-Eyes said.

"Okay, so we're not doing great at the moment. Let's see what else there is to do so we can make some more gold," Jean Ence suggested.

The other two jumped on this suggestion, and the three wandered around Chorrol, looking for work.