For a few moments after the scene had unfolded, the whole tavern was frozen in shock. Then, all hell broke loose.
The serving girl began to weep uncontrollably as she kneeled over the colovian's charred corpse. The reveling nords had long since ceased their merriment and were shouting angrily at each other to make some kind of action, though none were quite sure what to do. The smell of burned flesh and the sight of a charred body was clearly too much for the bartender, who began heaving his guts into a bucket in the corner.
Tedryn himself could do nothing but sit and stare at the horrible sight in front of him, too shocked to even react. A member of the Imperial Watch, having heard the commotion from nearby, burst into the tavern brandishing his sword. He stopped when he saw the body, and his eyes widened in horror before turning to anger.
"What in oblivion has happened here? Who is responsible?"
When nobody answered immediately, he became even angrier.
"Answer me!", he yelled, and pointed his sword at one of the nords.
"An elf…he killed him", he stammered, his body shaking slightly. The soldier glanced around the room and set his gaze upon Tedryn, still seated at the bar. "No, not that kind. The short ones", the nord added, sensing his thoughts.
"Where is he now?"
"There were two of them, they ran off"
The soldier sighed, sheathed his sword and removed his helmet, placing it on an empty table.
"Alright," he began defeatedly. "I'm going to need to take a statement from everyone present"
It was much later in the evening before Tedryn was permitted to go home. It was a curiously warm night, but a cool breeze from the west made it rather comfortable. As he walked hastily through the eerily dark streets, his mind thought back to the events of the evening. What could drive someone to kill so callously? He remembered the way the bosmer looked after he had set the man ablaze. His expression was not one of horror or guilt, as one would expect from a creature of empathy and compassion, but rather one of cold-hearted indifference. It was as if the killing meant absolutely nothing to him; as if it was little more than a minor inconvenience.
As he entered the waterfront district, and his mind played the scene over and over, his fist began to clench and his heart filled with rage. Who were they to decide the fate of someone's life? Did they dare consider themselves masters of destiny, puppeteers of fate? Of course each man, mer and beast decides his own fate to some extent, but their lives are ultimately in the hands of the gods, not of each other. To take another life is not merely abhorrent, it is blasphemy at its heart.
His mind was so distracted by these thoughts that he almost failed to notice two small silhouettes sneaking hurriedly between some buildings to his left. He slowed his pace, and sure enough, heard muffled footsteps drifting off down an alleyway.
Now, Tedryn was by no means a courageous dunmer. His heart yearned for fame and adventure, but most days he was about as brave as a rat in a goblin den. On this particular day however, all of his pent up anger and rage led to him making what was arguably one of the worst decisions of his life.
He moved quickly but quietly down the alley, taking care not to step on any sticks or pieces of glass, as he followed the sound of the footsteps ahead of him. Momentarily he would catch brief glimpses of the figures when partings in the buildings allowed for trickles of moonlight to break through the darkness, but this was not enough for him to determine whether they were the two he suspected.
After some time, the two figures turned a blind corner, and Tedryn waited briefly before following. A moment later they stopped, and he quickly ducked behind a large pile of nets, barrels and other fishing equipment. He didn't dare peak out from behind his cover, but heard what sounded like three knocks on a wooden door followed by the sound of it slowly creaking open.
"You're late", a male voice said in what was clearly an altmeri accent.
"We were… delayed", came the reply. Tedryn recognized it as the voice of the shorter one, the bosmer who had killed the colovian.
"Come inside, quickly", said the altmer and the door closed quietly after the two had stepped in.
Now, Tedryn was intrigued. Why was this altmer meeting with two bosmer murderers in the middle of the night? His mind raced nearly as fast as his heart, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Slowly, he peaked out from behind his makeshift cover, and confident that he was out of sight, he creeped up to the door and placed his ear to it.
"Would any of you gentlemen like something to eat?" It was the altmer, his voice heavily muffled behind the door but still faintly audible.
"No, thank you…already…beef…had a…on…grandfather…not sure…", it was the taller bosmer, but he spoke so faintly that Tedryn could hardly make out any of what he was saying. Something else was said, and all three elves laughed.
"So," began the altmer, "tell me about your 'delay', if you will". Again the reply was inaudible, but it was followed by a long pause.
"You know this is inexcusable, Fillin. And you, Abros, will be reprimanded especially". Once again an inaudible reply, but the tone was quite nervous.
"Follow me downstairs, gentlemen". There was the sound of an interior door opening, then closing, and then total silence. Tedryn sighed, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet. Whether bravely or stupidly, he was now driven by primal intrigue. 'Curiosity killed the khajiit' was not a well-known phrase back home.
He quietly followed the perimeter of the small wooden shack around until he came across what he was looking for. A cellar door, unlocked, stuck up out of the earth ever-so invitingly. Very, very slowly, he inched open the door so as not to make a sound and peeked inside. A ladder led down to a spacious basement, the part of which he could see was cluttered with crates and boxes. For now, it seemed, the room was empty. For gods-know what reason, he took a deep breath, looked behind him once more, and slowly descended the ladder into the cellar, closing the door behind him.
The basement smelled heavily of mold and mildew, and Tedryn wondered whether he might contract some kind of illness just by breathing the air down there. Looking around as he descended the ladder, he noticed that the side of the room opposite the crates and boxes was extremely strange. The walls were decorated by strange black banners with golden trims, the likes of which he had never seen before, and a large banner in the center of the wall read: Udhendras Tamrielae. The most bizarre feature of all was the huge stone pillar, surrounded by red candles and adorned with nightshade petals and what appeared to be dried blood. He positioned himself behind one of the larger crates, and not a moment too soon, as the three elves descended the stairs in silence.
The elves stood around the stone pillar without saying a word for quite some time, before the altmer finally spoke.
"Your failure cannot be tolerated, Abros"
"I understand, sir, but please-"
"Silence. The plan will not be successful if you bring attention to us and our cause. Our prince can only aid us as long as we show competence", the altmer said calmly but sternly. As he turned around and began to pace in Tedryn's direction, the dunmer quickly ducked back behind the crate and silently prayed he hadn't been seen. When the altmer turned and slowly paced back in the opposite direction, it seemed his prayers had been answered.
"There is only one possible recourse. In order to see the plan brought to fulfillment, we must appease our prince". The altmer drew a knife from under his belt.
"No, Mithril, wait", Abros pleaded as the altmer grabbed him by his shirt and forced him up against the stone pillar.
"Prince of plots, deceiver of nations, queen of shadows! I call upon you, Lord Boethiah, to bear witness to this honourable sacrifice in your name!"
Abros cried and silently begged for mercy, but this was apparently in vain. Mithril raised his knife to the sky, and then slit the wood elf open from ribcage to waist, his intestines among other organs spilling to the ground before his limp body fell upon them. Fillin stared unmoving upon his dead comrade, afraid even to blink for fear of what fate might befall him.
Mithril wiped clean his knife on the stone altar and turned to face the other bosmer.
"Mourn not your fallen friend, Fillin, but revel in the glory of the age to come! We are close to realizing the plan, and soon the day will dawn when all of Tamriel once again bows to elvenkind!"
Tedryn had been able to observe all of this owing to an advantageous position, and could barely contain a gasp when Mithril had gutted the poor bosmer like a fish. He may have been a cold-hearted murderer, but nobody deserved the fate he had just witnessed.
"Come now, Fillin, there are many preparations yet to be made", Mithril exclaimed with a touch of glee. Tedryn waited for the two to ascend the stairs and close the door before he let out a heavy sigh. He glanced over to Abros' dead body but could hardly bare to look at it without feeling sick. Wondering what on Nirn he had gotten himself into, he climbed back up the ladder with every intention to go home and try to forget the incident entirely. Tomorrow he would go to work like normal, as if the whole thing had never happened. Indeed, it seems plausible that that is exactly what would have happened, had everything gone according to plan. But once he had climbed the ladder and opened the cellar door, he encountered something he had dearly prayed he wouldn't.
"Hello, friend", Mithril grinned menacingly. "Enjoy the show?"
Thanks for reading chapter 2, I hope you enjoyed it as much as the first. Apologies for such a late update, I have been overseas, but I'm definitely looking forward to writing a third chapter for everyone if you liked this one! Just leave me a review and tell me what you think :)
