Through eyes made anew Lucien saw the law and those who were entrusted to uphold it in a different way. The world was not black and white like before, but various shades of gray. Being a soldier of the empire was no different than anyone else that took a life- the only difference between a guard and a murderer was 'sanctification'. If Uriel commanded his legion to wage war against men of another empire, or ordered an executioner to behead a criminal, it was not murder... because he told them to do it.

So what it truly meant to be 'guilty' or 'innocent' was what Lucien pondered all evening long, unable to keep his focus on the straight path. All his life he refrained from stealing when he was desperate for necessities, attacking people when they wronged him in some dire way, and leaving it up to those on high to ensure adequate justice was served... and what were some of them doing? Concocting excuses for crimes they punished others for when they stole, killed, raped... taking advantage of the people in every way possible. Law meant nothing anymore. Law was a joke... a word that was used to make the oblivious sheep of the empire feel secure or controlled. And virtue; not a single man was sinless. All fell in some way or another. All were guilty in the eyes of the Divine- of what varied. But if the Divine damned not the soldiers that were commanded to slay, then what did that really say about an ordinary citizen doing the same? Especially when it is in the name of a balanced system that its lords neglected.
But it no longer mattered to him what the Divine approved or disapproved of. He didn't care anymore. In fact he wondered if they existed at all. Perhaps there were forces at work that he could not see, but his patience and trust in them were diminishing.

"It's obvious that I mean nothing to you... and that Aaron didn't either." Lucien mumbled aloud as he soaked his desk in long hours of work, scribbling plans on paper. For seven weeks Lucien had devised a plan for how he would strike down all three targets in one night. He knew that it wouldn't be long before the legion noticed a missing soldier, and as soon as it was discovered that the soldier was killed everyone would be on high alert. It was better that everyone was caught unaware. "Everything I did, or did not do, meant nothing. We're just a bunch of marionettes dancing and screwing around for your amusement... that's pretty much it, isn't it? If not well... you sure have a bad way of showing how much you 'love' your devoted servants."
Lucien's soul was pulled two ways; by the belief that the Divine abandoned them and by the belief that the ever-so sinful nature of mankind was the true culprit.

"I'll tell you this...I find myself uncertain about many things right now... except for one thing. I'm tired of just praying for the right thing to be done. I'm just going to do it myself."

Dante Augustas, Silas G. Bachius, Julias Rexton. He thought as he prepared for the hunt the way he always did, with the exception of praying to the Nine; burning special incense to flush away apprehensions, going over the plans again in his head for an hour, and drinking liquid manna to keep hunger satisfied and body free of fatigue for the entire night. None of you will see the sun of tomorrow.

Silas G. Bachius had his lineage to thank for not being thrown out into the gutters with nothing but the clothes on this back. With a captain as a father and a woman of noble birth as a mother he had a safety net ready for him to fall into every time he found himself on the ledge. Never once did the legionnaire foresee the impending consequence for being a careless half-wit with a short temper. Now, on the surface he shined and sparkled like every awe-inspiring legionnaire was supposed to. His morals and manners were a reflection of his armor- buffed and polished enough to have a high mirror shine. He excused his obnoxious behavior by saying that he was passionate about his duty. Merelle, the original owner of Stonewall Shields didn't think so when he saw an item in her shop that he liked but couldn't afford to buy. His bartering methods were a tad unorthodox, since he threatened to have her arrested if she didn't just give it to him. Since Tamriel had to follow the 'Three Witnesses' law no one could simply report him without proof. Silas knew this and took full advantage of it everywhere he went. (And as you may recall, he would not be the first person to do this)

At the Merchant's Inn he sealed his fate when he gave away his hour of duty and where he was ordered to patrol- or loot it, in reality.

Ten o'clock in the evening. The first hour of a pitch-black sky. How perfect.

It would not be the first time Silas was obliviously stalked by LaChance. He wanted to know what places he regularly chose to loot so that he would know where to strike the legionnaire. The hot spot, between the hours of 10:00 and 12:00, was a storage facility at the Waterfront District. Imports from exotic lands that most only read about beckon his greedy heart. With what seemed like too much excitement he'd pry the crates open and dig through the packing as though they were birthday gifts.

The weather was favorable for the hunter- stormy skies sailed beneath the moon, casting darker shadows about the land. It allowed him to pick the lock of the storage room and enter undetected by the guardsman. Patience was an important trait for hunters, and that is what Lucien had. Anxiety pinched him, but he wouldn't let it do more than that.

Except when, in a dead-quiet room where the slightest pin drop could be heard, the sound of the lock being tampered with filled the room. It pierced his heart and made it beat ten times faster.

And yet he did not budge. Whether he succeeded or not rested on how well he maintained his focus on what he had to do; acting too soon or too late would be costly.

How will I know it really is him and not someone else who really is here to check on things. Maybe a guardsman really did see me and wanted to...

The Legionnaire that hastily entered and closed the door behind him went straight for the cargo box in front of him, prying it open with his sword. No doubt that it was Silas, especially when the light of the window high above allowed just enough light of a barely-shining moon touch his face. Lucien had memorized that unforgettable toad-like mug at the inn.

LaChance entered the storage room an hour before Silas was expected to so that he could prepare the area. For it would not be the blade of his sword that would end his life, but that which the glutton desired for. LaChance had loosened the bolts that kept a storage rack secured to the wall. He tied one end of a rope to the top and held the other end in his tight grasp. Once the unsuspecting Silas wandered onto the exact spot that LaChance wanted him to be in, the hunter pulled the rope. The rack, with over 1,000 lbs worth of imports, came crashing down on Silas. The staggering weight of it crushed and killed him instantly.

Any ordinary person would jump up and shout for joy over his success, but all LaChance dared to do was take in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale with a low growl. A satisfied smile emerged before he stood up from behind the crates he was hiding behind, untied the rope from the rack, and made a careful exit through the door.

Lucien feared the good chance of a guardsman walking by and hearing the crash that would draw them in to inspect. But so far luck was on his side, for no one was in sight. He could use his spell of invisibility, but because it could be used only once a day he decided that it was for emergency use only.

He looked over his shoulder with a tingling dread that a guardsman he didn't see through the thick mist of a rainy night saw him leave the storage room. But it appeared that there were no witnesses- the street even appeared abandoned. But then he stiffened when he saw a legionnaire walking from the other direction. He could barely make out the figure but he recognized the sound- the pace and the clunky metal feet taking long, proud steps... unmistakable. If he ran it would give the legionnaire reason to be suspicious, but by staying there he would be associated with the incident in the storage room once Silas's body was discovered. Remaining calm, he started walking casually down the street but he couldn't avoid passing the legionnaire.

"Good evening, imperial." The legionnaire greeted on her way by. It was a soldier unlike any kind he'd seen before and she didn't look like the sort that frequently visited the city. Her armor spoke of loyalty to the Septim rule and her place in a special unit. It also spoke of a long history of battles, bearing old scrapes and scratches from foes that made the mistake of choosing her as their target. The ornate design on the uniform that was unique in most ways to the standard legionnaire armor suggested that she was a high-ranking officer of some sort. Her face was half-covered by a mask, but seeing the color of her skin was enough for him to identify her race. How rare it was for a dunmer to be in imperial armor of any sort. "Nice evening isn't it?"

"For most." Lucien replied, keeping his head low.

Only the lower half of her face could be seen, but he was able to see the smile, which assured him that she was not suspicious of anything. A brown hood shadowed the majority of Lucien's face, and normally that would raise flags, but it was assumed that he wore it to keep the rain off of him. "Sorry to hear that. What's troubling you?"

Lucien stopped in his tracks but did not turn around right away. "Why so concerned?" He asked.
The legionnaire shrugged. "Maybe I'm bored and eager for a conversation. It's what we do to get our mind off of how much pain we're in from standing at attention for two hours straight, marching, attention, marching..."
"But yer not."
"Not now, no... I was... and I'm still cramped up from it. Doesn't help that it's in ceremonial armor. I'm used to something more comfortable and less noisy." The dunmer sighed as she stretched. "So... It's about what happened in town... isn't it?"

Lucien just sighed, shifting a bit before finally turning around, but he kept his head low. He didn't have to answer- as a member of a naturally intuitive race she read him perfectly.

"I know I can't stop thinking about it... sure makes me see things differently." She added.
"Oh? Were you here when all hell broke loose?"
"No. But... it's all people ever talk about right now. Great Divine, even the children... what the hell kinda demon took over their minds and made 'em go crazy like that?"

The legionnaire shook the gloom out of her head. She then pulled a handful of chocolates out of her pouch, which were nearly stuffed with them, and held it up to Lucien's view. "Here. I'm sorry that I can't offer anything more- even a lieutenant's salary sucks. But they're pretty damn tasty- maybe it will sweet'n yer day."

Lucien raised a brow, taken aback by her generous offer. For the first time in weeks a chuckle filled his chest as he took the candy out of her hand. "I... think it will... thank you. Heh. Wh'r kirnd of leg'naire are ya anrway?" He asked with his mouth stuffed with a couple pieces already. Chocolate was a rare delicacy in the Imperial City. He could recall only two other times in his life that he was able to enjoy it. But to keep morale up, and to make up for the seemingly unending stress of serving as soldier, it wasn't uncommon to find bowls full of special treats all throughout the barracks. "Giving out candy. You should be one of those chapel people that give teddies to orphans and sing songs for the elderly."

The dunmer laughed.

"Maybe I will when I'm nearing a thousand! Thanks for the suggestion. Though I don't do this often... just had that random-act-of-kindness itch in me when I felt bad fer ya. Do try to have a good night, dear. And... see you around."
Indeed, it didn't seem like much to the officer... but it was enough to, for one brief moment, prolong the forming of ice around his heart.

There are good men and women among them... but that's not going to change my mind. He thought... or prayed if he yet believed that someone was listening. It's time for the next guilty man... Dante Augustas.

(END OF PART II)