Chapter 2
Three days had passed before Wesk arrived in Cheydinhal. He walked along its cobbled paths, watching as lowly beggars asked for money from the richer folk, and the guards making their rounds. Cheydinhal had a meadow feeling to it, with trees arching above clean ponds, bridges hovering above them. He was admiring the beauty when a small child came up to him.
The child was a dark elf, with the usual ash grey skin and dark red eyes. He looked about six years old, and had short, unruly auburn hair. He wore the clothes of a beggar, showing many dark and foul smelling stains. "Spare a bite to eat, kind sir?" Wesk grinned at the small beggar and reached in his bag to pull out a small, greenish apple. He watched as the young boy's eyes instantly drifted to the apple and stayed there, his mouth practically watering.
Wesk handed the boy the apple, patted him on the head and merely said "enjoy" before walking off. He had taken only ten steps before hearing the sound of a small body falling on cobbled roads. Wesk grinned as he walked along, thinking about how useful and fun poisoned apples were. One bite into it and your fate was sealed. His thoughts were disrupted when he heard the shouts of dismay coming from the boy's body. The shouting was coming from an older woman, a Dunmer, most likely the boy's mother. She was crying over his body, asking why and pounding her fist onto his chest in a useless effort to bring him back. Wesk chuckled once more before continuing on his way.
Wesk soon found himself in front the old abandoned house that Lucien had sent him to. He walked past a broken old stone fence; its stones now pebbles littering the street. He looked around before opening up the broken, burnt door, its hinges squealing a bit. He stepped inside to see a small living room littered with trash, old, now rotting books, broken bottles, chairs missing legs, and glass from the windows. His gaze drifted to the doors that probably lead to the basement.
When he opened the doors, a familiar stench came rushing at him. It was the stench of death. Wesk found the basement with no light, dark as a midnight sky. He took a near by torch and using a simple flare spell, lit it and watched as light now filled a circle around him. As he explored the basement, he watched as the light danced on the old broken bottles that littered a wine rack. Rats scurried over his feet and into hidden crevices as he walked over the dusty concrete. He soon found an archway about the size of a door with a path behind it leading into the earth.
As Wesk followed the path, his gaze drifted to the ground where he saw the bones of the deceased littering the ground, some still dripping with fresh blood. His walk came to a stop when he found a rather large door, covered in ancient pictures. At the bottom, a woman stood with five little figures, which Wesk guessed to be children, kneeled at her feet. At the top was a menacing looking skull with blood red energy painted around it. He barely placed his palm on it before a voice quietly whispered in his ear. "What is the color of night?" was the question posed by the door, to which Wesk answered "Sanguine, my brother."
The door silently opened and beyond the door, Wesk could see a dimly lit room with pillars holding up the ceiling and posters bearing the sign of the brotherhood. Wesk stepped in and again came the voice. "Welcome…home." Yes, he was finally home. In the distance Wesk could see a small female Argonian, wearing a black suit tailored for assassins. As he walked towards her, he could see her looking him over, judging him. He remembered at once who this was: Ocheeva, a friend of his from his Shadowscale training days.
"Welcome Brother, welcome! Lucien had told me about you. I wish I could get to know you better but I'm afraid I have important issues to deal with. Oh, before I go, I have a gift for you. It is a suit made to enhance your assassination skills." She handed him a folded black suit, similar to what she was wearing and a hood on top. "When you're ready for your first assignment, report to Vicente Valtieri. Please excuse me, and once again welcome to your new family." She briefly nodded to him and walked off to one of the two doors that were on his left and right.
As Wesk walked around he remembered what Lucien had said. Ocheeva didn't remember him. He didn't really blame her though, as he had gotten taller, and his scales had become black as he matured. He was so deep in his thinking that he hadn't noticed he had wondered into the living quarters of the Sanctuary. He sat down on an empty bed that had a letter resting on the pillow. It was from Lucien to Wesk, once again welcoming him into the family and hoping Wesk would become a valued member of the family. A few more things lye near the note: A quiver of steel arrows, a black bow, and a pair of steel daggers. He discarded the message and started to strip off his old clothing, and put on his new suit, strapping the daggers to his waist. It fitted him perfectly, and he noticed it was more of a trench coat than a suit. He tried on the hood and felt secure while wearing it. He took a nearby bowl, poured some water into it, and briefly gazed at his reflection before muttering "looking good…"
He laid down and relaxed on the bed, letting his mind wander. He was soon distracted by a young girl who was sitting on the opposite bed looking curiously at him. "What?" Wesk muttered to her only to receive a smile in return. He assumed her to be fifteen. She wore a black robe that hung loosely over her thin frame. She was what the soft skins considered beautiful; her hair was long and black, covering half of her face. He could tell by her dark blue eyes she was a Breton. Her skin was a pale white, yet it added to her beauty. Her face was gaunt with signs of hunger, but it wasn't too noticeable. Wesk assumed she was skilled at skulking in the shadows for he hadn't heard he come in.
"Well? Do you want something girl?" Wesk was annoyed by this girl yet also curious. "No not really. You're the new guy right?" She waited until he nodded yes before continuing. "I'm Samara. It's nice to meet you." Wesk muttered a thank you before trying to get back to his thoughts. He was once again disturbed by Samara when she continued to stare at him. She suddenly flicked him on his snout and softly giggled. Wesk jumped up immediately and was about to draw his dagger when he noticed it wasn't there. He looked down at his sheath then back at Samara. She was holding his dagger in midair and twirling it around, her eyes fixated on it. Her hands rested on her lap…
"Looking for this?" Wesk knew what this girl was at that moment. "A psychic are we? Great…" Samara giggled once more before handing the dagger back to Wesk. "You need to control that temper. Well I'm gonna go now. If you need anything, just ask." She smiled warmly at Wesk before skipping off. Wesk merely stared after her before muttering "Soft skins…"
