I do not own Oblivion or any of the regular characters that come with it. I do, however, own Jared and a few others. I would ask you t excuse me for any errors in the game's history or content. I do not know everything about it, but I will try to give you the best story possible.
888
I killed my first man at the age of thirteen. I did it out of sheer self-preservation, the desire to live. I did it for five gold pieces to buy bread for the week. It was just another beggar, a bit of life's waste living on the streets of the Imperial city with me, but what matters was that, when the blood was still wet on my hands, I cared only about the five gold pieces I had just acquired. That they were so pretty was my only thought, small and round and shiny with smears of scarlet from my kill.
I kicked the body into a gutter, peered around the corner of the alley and darted away before any guards could find me. It was dark, just before midnight, so there was no one around to see a little street urchin, covered in blood, darting from shadow to shadow. The rusty iron knife I had used to stab the child was still clutched tightly in my grubby hand as I shoved the money into the pocket of my ragged shorts.
I ran until I got to the Elven Gardens District, where I had my pitiful excuse for a bed and my few possessions. It was in a little corner near Irene Metrick's house. All I had was a small blanket and a sack with my few personal objects. It was into this sack that I thrust my bloodied knife before I snatched up my blanket and slid under it, huddling against the wall and shivering. It was in this fashion that I fell asleep and met my savior. He came to me in the night, shadow-cloaked with a voice like the wind and ravens.
I was by nature a light sleeper, so I woke when I felt someone lurking over me. I was instantly on my feet, reaching for my knife. Then a cool hand closed around my wrist and twisted it in an almost painful hold. I could see his face under his cowl, sharply cut and handsome, with sleek black hair and prominent cheekbones. I shivered in his grasp, nearly pissing myself in fear. He peered down at me, a frown creasing his pale face.
"This is not right. You are far too young…but you kill so beautifully." He released me and I crumpled to the ground, scared enough that I didn't even fidget. "What is your name, child?" He asked, his dark voice softening somewhat.
"J-Jared." I stammered in response. The man sighed and pushed back his cowl, freeing his dark hair to flow around is face.
"I am Lucien Lachance, Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. The Night Mother saw you kill and was pleased. You have been issued am invitation to join the Brotherhood, but you are young yet. Too young, I am afraid. But She wants you." Lachance paused and reached into his robe, producing something I could not quite make out in the darkness. He pressed it into my hand and closed my fingers around it. "Take this and remember. I will come for you in four years. I will offer you this choice again and then you can give me your answer. Until then, kill no one." I heard something hit the ground, and then Lucien was gone.
It took me about five minutes to move, to even turn my head. When I finally established that Lucien was gone, I opened my hand and in my palm lay a tiny purple flower, perfect and unmarred by my filth. Nightshade, I knew from a demonstration of poisons a traveling alchemist had given some time ago. Nightshade. I also found on the ground a small, black silk purse. I marveled at the sensation of the material across my rough skin before tentatively pulling the drawstrings. Within lay gold, more than I had ever seen in my entire life. I heard myself gasp quietly as I reached in and touched it, unbelieving. It made the five gold that would feed me for a week look insignificant, tiny compared to the wealth that lay within. I stared at it incredulously for several more minutes and then shoved the entire thing into the sack that held everything else. Then I sat on my blanket and considered leaving the city and going elsewhere. Kvatch wasn't too far, and it had lots of places where an urchin like me could hide. Then I decided against it. Traveling was dangerous and I was afraid, some small part of me, that if I left, the dark man Lachance would never be able to find me again. And that was that.
888
The next day the first thing I did was jump into one of the pools of water in the Garden district and scrub the blood from my skin, clothes, and knife. The water was cool against my filthy body, and it clouded red when I ducked under to clean my hair. After that was finished, I took myself off to the Market District. With my money, I bought myself a set of simple, clean clothes and changed into them in a dark alley. Then I made my way through the crowds of people confidently, my satchel over my shoulder, and went to the First Edition bookstore. I peeked in the door and then upbraided myself as an idiot. I had to be confidant. Confidant!
Behind the counter stood a man named Phintias, the proprietor of the store. He looked down at me with kindly eyes.
"How may I help you, young man?" He inquired. I fought back nervous fidgeting.
"Sir, I've come to ask you to take me on as your apprentice for a year." I said as bravely as I could. "I have money, I can pay you to take me." I said quietly, suddenly feeling very shy. Phintias looked at me very oddly, squinting for a moment. Then he shook his head and smiled.
"Of course I'll take you. You do not need to pay, I'll give you room, board, and teaching in exchange for helping me around the shop." Phintias shrugged. "I've need of assistance anyways, so you came at a good time. Come, and I'll show you to a place where you can sleep. By the way, what is your name?" Phintias asked.
"Jared," I replied. That was how I gained an apprenticeship for the next year, and a basic knowledge of how to read and write. Phintias was a kind master, tolerant of my many mistakes, patient with my ignorance. I came to respect him, and slowly the meeting with Lachance faded from my mind. I began to think it all a dream, but for when I pulled out the nightshade, dry and brittle, and stared at it for hours. I owed my life and more to the man.
At the end of my year with Phintias, he let me go with his blessings and when I told him of my desire, he wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation to Rohssan, who knew me somewhat by then. She accepted me, and taught me as well. This was the most interesting stage of my multiple apprenticeships, the only one truly worth talking about, the one that lasted two and a half years instead of the one I had originally intended.
888
It was the very first day of my apprenticeship when Rohssan when she took me into the basement and set me up on a mat on the floor.
"Since you asked, I'm going to teach you to fight, Jared. If you complain, I'll throw you out. If you give up, you can go back to Phintias and live a scholarly life. Under my tutelage, you'll be silent and do as I tell you." Rohssan was gruff, but not cruel and that day she certainly put me through my paces, teaching me the basics of hand-to-hand combat. That night, exhausted, I lay in bed in my little corner of the basement and twirled the nightshade between my fingers for hours.
888
One year into my apprenticeship, a young man walked into Rohssan's shop. The first thing I noticed about him was his hair, a lovely shade of auburn, long enough to brush his waist and tightly braided.
"How may I help you?" I asked courteously, walking around the counter and setting the broom I was holding to one side. Rohssan had left me in charge for two weeks while she traveled to Kvatch to speak with a weapon's master there.
"I'm searching for a weapon, a sword preferably, lighter than a claymore, but not a short sword either." He said. He carried an air of nobility like a cloak, held himself with an aristocratic carriage.
"Try this." I rifled through a sword rack standing against one wall of the shop until I found what I was looking for. It was a slender katana, lighter than normal ones, and nicely balanced. I handed it to him. He took it and pulled it from its sheath, the fine steel glittering softly in his hands.
"It's got a nice weight to it." He said appraisingly. "How much?" He inquired, sliding the sword back into its sheath and buckling on the baldric that went with it.
"Two hundred gold." I replied. The young nobleman reached into his pockets and withdrew a green purse. He upended it onto the counter and counted out two hundred and ten gold. I frowned and tried to push the ten extra back over, but he grinned and shoved it into my hands.
"A tip." He said, putting his purse back into his pocket. "I beg a favor in return, however." He examined me through narrowed green eyes.
"What is that?" I asked, wondering what I could offer this noble who had everything.
"Your name, if you please." He requested.
"Jared." I replied without thinking. The stranger grinned.
"Thank you Jared. You may call me Abadon." He winked and left the shop, leaving me, flummoxed, behind him.
