The Murderer's Tale

Chapter 2: A Chance Encounter

"Sometimes… your closest friend is your worst enemy."

--Jason Fong

Turdas, Sun's Dusk, 16, 3E 421

I killed my father and a Dark Brotherhood Speaker has asked me to join them. I killed my father and a Dark Brotherhood Speaker has asked me to join them. I killed my father…

The same thought had repeated itself in Lucien's head even as he rested near the Nibenay Basin, impatiently tossing a shiny red apple between both of his hands, waiting for the pangs of hunger to kick in so that he could eat, without feeling like a pig. Angrily, staring into the blazes of the fire he had started, Lucien reminded himself that LaCroix manor was also aflame, and it would soon be reduced to burning, crispy ashes.

Because as LaCroix Manor became destroyed, so did the life Lucien used to lead as Lucas LaCroix, and as a phoenix rose from the ashes, Lucien Lachance rose from the ashes of Lucas LaCroix. This was Lucien's rebirth… as a killer, as a pawn for the Dark Brotherhood's "Unholy Matron". With a fleeting sense of glee in his heart, Lucien wondered how his father felt, as his father burned in hell.

"Betrayed, probably." Was the thing that came to Lucien's mind first. And he smirked. "Well, he betrayed me first by killing mum. He deserves that sense of betrayal that haunted me for most of my childhood."

In truth, Lucien didn't dislike his father.

No, he hated his father.

When Lucien was seven, his mother, a pretty, red-haired woman by the name of Lettie LaCroix nee Brelleg had mysteriously disappeared. Lucien had thought nothing very mysterious of it at first. As a child, he had heard many stories of mothers just up and abandoning their children if they were very bad. So at that time, Lucien had just assumed it was his fault.

How very wrong he was.

One night, on a Morndas just like the one today: Snowy, cloudy, Lucien's father, Erik had come home in a drunken stupor from the Newlands Lodge, like he usually did, and sat himself on one of the velvet couches in LaCroix Manor. Lucien was also there however, reading a book and snacking on a piece of mutton.

The mead had loosened Erik LaCroix's tongue considerably. So it was then, slurring and swearing and spitting at his eldest and only son, that Erik LaCroix had spoken the single sentence that defined his fate. One sentence, just one, had made Lucien hate his father more than he could ever hate anything in Tamriel,

"I killed yer mum." Erik LaCroix whispered, his voice slurred from copious amounts of mead. His pale green eyes searched Lucien's dark brown for a moment, and, satisfied with the horrified look on Lucien's face, leaned backwards into the velvet couch, snatching a tumbler of Tamika Wine from the floor beside the couch.

It was then, that Lucien's hatred and disgust for his father began.

It was then, that Lucien plotted revenge.

And, Lucien thought, leaning against the crook of a tree so he was more comfortable, it was also then that the Dark Brotherhood marked him as a possible inductee. As the pangs of hunger finally reached his stomach, Lucien took a bite out of the shiny red apple, and nestled into the crook of the tree so he could settle and sleep underneath the constellations above.

And, for some reason, The Shadow shone more brightly in the sky than any other constellation. The Shadow lighted a path to assassin-hood, so that the young, dark-haired teenager below would know that The Shadow was watching out for him, waiting for dawn so Lucien could plan to end a life.

---X---X---X---X---X---X---

Lielle Brigette moved swiftly through the decrepit inside of the Abandoned House in Cheydinhal. A mass of scrolls and papers were in her arms as she pressed a hand to the sanguine glow of The Black Door. A voice, icy and dry as fresh parchment, rang through the hall in which Lielle and the door sat,

"What… is the color, of night?" The Black Door asked, as Lielle struggled to keep the rolls of parchment in her arms.

"Sanguine, my brother." (No, Black obviously. Lielle thought sarcastically to herself) Lielle answered, muttering it under her angry breath. Sometimes, the Breton Nightblade thought the door purposely gave her a hard time, as she knew the spirit encased within The Black Door knew the robes of the Black Hand well.

Nevertheless, The Black Door swung open wide and spoke once more, the voice sending chills down Lielle's spine,

"Welcome… home."

Of course, it was nothing compared to what she did when she saw who was standing in the middle of the Common Room, watching Lielle with resigned eyes. Lielle dropped the rolls of parchment in shock and cursed loudly as the parchments scattered across the flagstone floors.

"Watch your tongue, Speaker Brigette," Listener Vicente Valtieri said, shooting the Breton a toothy smile as she regarded the vampire darkly. Lielle bent to retrieve the rolls of parchment, mumbling angrily under her breath. Vicente's smile widened,

"Really? I do not think I would make good 'leather boots', Brigette, as you so bluntly mumbled. I cannot turn into bats, you see."

Picking up the last of the scrolls, Lielle glared at the Listener, her dark brown eyes narrowing, reflecting the flames from one of the torch brackets. This was when Lielle couldn't help but notice that the Common Room was empty, a strange thing indeed. Vicente's smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come,

"I've sent the rest of the Sanctuary on Contracts so we may speak privately. Black Hand business, after all."

Lielle nodded, and gestured with her head to the rolls of parchment in her arms, "I must give these to Uvani first. Business is booming, you could say." And with that, Lielle slunk past Vicente, her cloak billowing at her heels.

"Actually, Brigette, you can give them to me." And Lielle stopped, turned on her heel and looked at Vicente quizzically.

"Last I checked, Listener Valtieri, Alval Uvani was the Executioner for the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, not you." Vicente turned round to look at Lielle with a smirk on his gaunt, pale features.

"This matter is why I came to speak with you, Brigette." Seeing that Vicente was finally getting to the point of his little visit, Lielle stared back at him and gave a curt nod, granting him leave to continue.

"I have retired from my duties as Listener, Brigette."

Lielle's face was shocked, and her mouth parted slightly.

"B-But you've been the Listener for a century! You cannot retire now, since you've been Listener, business has been better than ever!"

Vicente nodded and crossed his arms, sighing,

"I have been Listener for a century. This is precisely why I have retired, and this is more convenient anyway, as Speaker Ungolim has decided to take Uvani as his Silencer."

Lielle snorted, "Good for him." Lielle had always disliked both of them. And the two of them together…. Ugh, that only spelt trouble. "So, you will be Cheydinhal's Executioner for now?" Lielle inquired, looking straight into Vicente's ruby eyes. Vicente smiled, revealing two pointy, sharp fangs,

"Indeed. Bashnag gro-Muzgob is more than capable of handling the Listener duties."

Lielle's eyebrow twitched and she stifled a dark laugh. Instead, she quipped sarcastically,

"Oh yes, that great big green moron is more than capable of doing anything that doesn't require holding a quill. Unless that quill happens to be a tool for picking one's nose…" To Lielle's surprise, Vicente laughed and stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

"Indeed, now, give me those papers, I have Contracts to set up for… our newest initiate."

---X----X---X---X---X---X---X---

The sun had just risen above the hills when Lucien had continued his way down the Blue Road. He mentally chided himself for not stealing a horse on his… flight from Cheydinhal. It would've cut the tip to the Imperial City by quite a few hours, and it most certainly wouldn't have been as tiring as the hike Lucien was taking at the moment.

Above, birds beat their wings and cawed, circling the area around the Nibenay Basin and Lucien froze, standing stock still… something had frightened the birds…

Something alive.

Unsheathing the silver dagger on his hip, Lucien continued to walk along the road, concealing the dagger within his robes as his ears searched for any more movement besides the sound of cawing from the birds above. It was then, that a twig snapped somewhere in the forest, and a little Breton boy fled from the shadows of the trees and stood behind Lucien, clutching to Lucien's pant leg.

Lucien was frozen, and he stared at the boy. Dark brown eyes met mud-colored, and the boy mouthed,

"Help."

"Oi! You there, pretty boy!"

Lucien snapped his head to look at the second figure that rose from the shadows of the trees. It was a Khajiit Highwayman, and he looked pretty angry, with his ears flat against his head, his claws flashing out. It seemed that this Khajiit abandoned weapons, and opted for his own… natural uses. Lucien stepped protectively in front of the young boy, who quivered in his boots.

Flashing the silver dagger from his robes, Lucien sneered,

"What do you want from this child? Can you not see he obviously has no money?" Indeed, the younger boy was dressed in rags and was carrying a basket of food that he had obviously stolen from the Highwayman. Unfortunately, Lucien's eyebrows stitched together as the boy's grip tightened, the boy was caught.

The Khajiit flexed his claws and the two assailants began to circle each other, as if they were wolves prepared to tear each other a part. The Khajiit rasped, licking his sharp teeth with a flat tongue,

"Give me the boy so I can cut off his hands… thievery is not… tolerated. You should know this, nobleman."

Gold eyes met dark brown, and Lucien bristled at being called nobleman. Chuckling, Lucien quipped,

"A nobleman no more… but I am a murderer."

The adrenaline rush was great. The Khajiit's eyes widened as Lucien pounced forward, moving smoothly as if he were one with his dagger, the small boy had stepped back a bit, and clutched the stolen basket to his little chest.

The two assailants were flung to the ground as Lucien slashed at the Khajiit's shoulder, cutting tawny fur with ease. Lucien hissed as the Khajiit's claws slashed open his stomach and he stepped off of the Khajiit, scrabbling into the small boy as he clutched his torn stomach. Angrily, Lucien jumped forward, and brought the knife across the Khajiit's throat, slashing the jugular vein. As a result, blood erupted onto Lucien's pale features, and he fell onto the floor alongside the Khajiit.

The Khajiit was dead, even before his muscular body hit the ground, and Lucien watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the boy dropped the basket of food and ran towards him. The boy crouched beside him and placed his hands on Lucien's torn stomach, muttering under his breath, the incantation for The Heal Minor Wounds Spell.

In what seemed like seconds, Lucien smiled as he felt the warmth of mending wounds and sat up. Mud-colored eyes met dark brown once more, and the boy grinned.

"Thanks! I didn't know what could've 'appened if that big oaf got me!" He flicked his head towards the dead body of the Khajiit, scattering golden brown strands over his tan skin. Lucien coughed and chuckled,

"Perhaps this will teach you not to steal…" Lucien looked at the boy for a name, and the boy's mouth went into a little, comical 'o' shape.

"Oh!" The Breton boy said, grinning. "My name's Mathieu! Mathieu Bellamont! I'm from Anvil, you know, but me mum wanted to visit the Nibenay Basin to… y'know…"

Mathieu's face looked grim and he looked away,

"Get away from me dad… ta get away from all that... y'know…"

Lucien looked away as well. He could easily relate to that, so he said quietly,

"Yeah… I know."

Mathieu turned his head to look back at Lucien, a wide grin on his boyish face,

"Hey! You never told me your name! So, Mr…"

"Lachance. Lucien Lachance."

"Right," Mathieu looked at him quizzically, and Lucien knew he was wondering why an Imperial had a Breton name. Well, Lucien wasn't going to tell him a thing.

"So, Mr. Lachance, do you need a horse, me mum has an extra one. Found this pretty palomino in the woods one day, you see… And, well, it's the least I can give you for keepin' me outta trouble." Mathieu shot a heated glare at the Khajiit again.

Lucien's eyebrows retreated into his bangs and he almost hugged Mathieu. Lucien grinned and Mathieu grinned back, clutching his ragged knees with both hands.

"I'd love that, Mathieu!"

---X---X---X---X---X---X---X---

And so, the plot thickens.

Thanx to all those who reviewed! And Miss Lieress, I miss Divine too, very terribly much. But this story's got me eyes now, so I can't do much.

HINTS

There is a hint to one of this story's biggest plot twists, you just have to find it. :-D HINT: It's an anagram.

REFERENCES

Lucien and Mathieu- One of the things I swore when I started writing this story was that Mathieu was to meet Lucien before his mother's murder. And thus, the scene where Mathieu is attacked by a Khajiit Highwayman was born. Somehow, I like this idea, and this isn't the end of Mathieu in this story. He's a clever little kid that pops up now and then, and Lucien is going to make a lot of visits to Anvil in the near future.

English phrases- Yes, me, mum, oaf… lots of English phrases. ME LIKE .