Author's Note: Join me for another late night poke in the brain by my muse.
The Morag Tong are one of theoretically many groups in service to Mephala. Most known on Morrowind, they serve the web-spinner by performing necessary murder without disruption of 'the web' as a whole. One way to think of them is as the black ops members of a strongly spiritual society. At various times they have been active outside of Morrowind. Members of many of the races of men or mer may of course join this unique brotherhood for their own reasons.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own any of the wondrous creations of Bethesda Softworks or Zenimax Online, however I certainly lay claim to misspellings, mistakes, tweaks, spells and characters of my own invention
~~Observation~~
Nellas Riverthorne slipped among the gathered men and mer at the Guild of Family and Personal Finances as easily as she might have moved among the wilds of her homeland. Wood or city, there were always herds, always prey. Always work to do. Of a sort.
Finely dressed customers, mostly mer, streamed back and forth. This building held not only the bank, but the cannonreeve's offices, the royal apartments for when any of the family were in town and much of the administration offices for Vulkhel Guard's port and city official's offices.
She had explored this place upon arrival; it would never do to be in a new hunting ground and not be familiar with the territory. The upper floor held mostly lower ranking employees diligently preparing for the immanent royal visit, some servants and a few officers of the Guard. The ground floor was awash in a steady flow of customers to the Guild. Most of them were well-to-do altmer. There were a few bosmer, and occasionally a kajiit.
Few registered the red-haired bosmer, and of those who did, only one gave her a second glance.
She felt the energy of his regard like she would have noted the attention of an alpha wolf. Shifting position slightly as if bored and tired, she moved just enough to bring him into her field of vision.
He was tall, even for an altmer. Broad shoulders, dark garb and a pale unblinking gaze that marked him as a predator. More than that, as a predator comfortable being a predator. His silver hair was kept rather short, but seemed to move in the still air, shifting in a wind that wasn't physically present.
Customers of the guild hall flowed around him. Not the way they brushed past her, oblivious to the small bosmer. No, in his case as if they just happened to turn away. A blond noblewoman gestured to her armored hireling as she walked past. A fussy Bosmer bureaucrat became obsessed with the laces of his tunic. A dark furred kajiit in gold and silver armor abruptly unfolded a parchment and checked it. It was as if coming within a few yards of him seemed to trigger memory of some urgent concern which precluded a greeting.
Nellas noted that the bodyguard's hand wavered near his weapon. The bosmer's hand trembled as he re-checked his tunic. The kajiit's claws pierced the bottom right section of the parchment.
Interesting, she thought to herself. She made a mental note to find him again after her errand was finished.
Eventually she made her way close to the head of the line. In front of her was an altmer who seemed to spend most of the wait murmuring polite greetings to passing customers. Her tone was mostly light, but occasionally there was an undercurrent of something more intense. Most of those greeted with a little extra intensity tended to flush or look down as they passed on. Nellas found herself curious about the reactions.
In front of her, the red-garbed coinclerk looked up from her chair to greet the altmer in line ahead of Nellas.
"Auri-el knows I'm here to serve-"
The customer in question stepped forward into the personal space of the banker. "Hello Arawe." She said in a low voice, and reached out to trace the line of the coin clerk's jaw.
The gentle caress stopped Arawe's comments and brought a flush of red to the altmer's cheek as she tilted her head up to meet the gaze of the customer. Once she looked up, she froze, barely breathing and her breath seemed to catch.
Nellas couldn't help but note the contrast. The shy banker; porcelain skin, pale brown hair in a careful bun and wide hazel eyes. The quietly confident speaker wore snug fitting leather armor that left her arms free, and a hood that kept her face shadowed. Her skin was a golden color that made Nellas think of the lost Chimer. She had a staff slung across her back, and two well-worn axes at her waist. Visible along her upper arms were shimmering tattoos that marked her as a member of the Order of the Dragon.
A warrior. Perhaps another predator. Although what she seemed to want this time seemed more personal than mere combat.
Nellas watched as the customer waited another beat before moving her hand away from Arawe's cheek. The flustered employee looked nervously around, and Nellas made sure to just happen to be looking down.
"Later, then." The warrior's soft comment held a wealth of promise, and brought another wave of pink to the coin clerk's cheeks. "If you'll open my access, I'll just deposit a few items."
Walking away, the warrior seemed perfectly aware that she was for that moment the complete center of Arawe's attention.
Before anyone else noticed, Nellas stepped forward. "I'd like to access my guild account number one."
Arawe efficiently opened a portal keyed to Nellas, and the Bosmer reached into it. As agreed, an appropriately heavy pouch of coin and a single piece of paper had been transferred, and she took possession of them. As she unfolded the parchment, it tingled against her fingers. There was time only to read the name that was written in brownish ink before it crumbled to dust.
Faritaale Larethus.
She smiled. It was always a pleasure to work for someone who followed the old traditions. She wondered just how completely traditional this contract would be.
~~Meeting~~
Under the light of Jora and Jode, Nellas slowly climbed the vine-adorned outer wall of the Fighting Guild of Tamriel. While she could have worked her way along the interior, she rather preferred to take advantage of the view during the climb. Sometimes a different perspective would reveal someting that could prove valuable later.
Once on the balcony, she made her careful way into the upper hallway. The scents of exercise, roast pork, and weapon oil came to her; had she somehow not known where she was, it would have been instantly obvious.
She made her way to the steward's rooms. The lock was little trouble, and there were only minimal wards. Either Aicessar was not careful enough about warding his rooms, or he only wanted to delay any intruder, the better to deal with them himself. She suspected the latter.
Once inside the room, the faintest of snores told her that he was asleep.
Trusting, foolish, or perhaps he'd simply a long and tiring day? She ghosted through the room to stand beside his bed.
He lay on his back, his right hand still under his pillow. There would be a blade there. His beard was trimmed short, his head kept bald. The covers had slid down, revealing a scarred and muscled torso. Even in sleep, his face was lined with care. As she watched, he frowned, and murmured something.
Silently she moved forward.
~~Confirmation~~
Aciessar of the house of Jorius woke abruptly. He could feel the point of a blade just under his chin, expertly placed so that only a single movement could send it into his brain. His right hand clutched nothing but pillow; the blade he kept near him at night had been removed. He forced himself to lay still, absolutely still. With skill like this, had the intruder wanted him dead, his body would already be cooling.
The moons cast enough light so that he looked up into the shadowed eyes of a slender figure who leaned over him. He could see just enough of a silhouette to know she must be female. No scent. No sound. Nothing but the cool prick of blade to his neck to let him know this was not a dream.
"Greetings, Aicessar." A feminine voice with an accent said she had come from Valenwood. "I come to hear your reasons for ending the thread of Faritaale's fate."
He relaxed, and responded as the ritual required. "A weed has arisen from the garden. I call a Forester to set this right."
"Faritaale's charge?"
"Honorable service to her queen."
"Faritaale's betrayal?"
"Murder of the innocent. Conspiracy to dethrone the Queen. A failed attempt to cast the blame on a stranger."
The point of the blade moved away from his skin. The slender silhouette leant closer. A veil of hair fell forward, and for just a moment he was face to face with the agent he'd summoned. He couldn't truly see her, but he could feel the intensity of her regard. Gentle breath warmed his cheeks.
"The contract is accepted in the traditional way."
He had just a moment to realize he wasn't sure how to reply.
Soft lips pressed against his.
He startled, and might have said something, but the slight parting of his lips seemed to serve as an invitation, and she deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth as completely as she'd previously explored his rooms.
Perhaps it was reaction to the late night, the adrenaline from having a blade held to his throat or the fact that even as a silhouette of shadow, she was undeniably attractive; his body reacted to her.
She chuckled, a suggestive sound low in her throat, and then moved slightly to press her lips against his forehead. "Not yet, oh guardian of honor. That would compromise the contract. But we shall meet again."
He closed his eyes, and tried to calm his breathing.
When he opened them, the room was empty.
~~Onward, Then~~
Outside, Nellas licked her lips as she made her way back down the vines. Auridon was proving to be an interesting place.
Time to finish her examination of the Larethus clan home. Faritaale awaited.