Chapter 3
The ground vibrated from the heavy footfalls of the guards coming to investigate the commotion. Again, I slid into the water and moved quickly under the deck, paranoid that it would be one of the first places they would check.
Iona must have been out or in her room downstairs. Fortunately, upon regaining entry into the house, there was no one present to see my current state. I quickly returned my bow to its usual position and stripped off my sodden clothes.
I was slightly concerned that Iona was nowhere to be seen. If I could enter so easily then there was no telling who else may find their way into my humble and private abode. I suppose it was a trade-off. It'd potentially be more dangerous having her aware of my movements.
As soon as I had changed, and rung most of the water out of my hair, I scrubbed my clothes to be rid of the blood. Luckily, I had a few domestic potions that made the task easier and with better results. I was hopeless with potions, or cooking for that matter, but Iona was resourceful and saw that certain items were constantly stocked. All evidence and all connections had to be erased.
The following evening, once all the commotion had died down and I reclaimed some well needed sleep, I made my way to the Ragged Flagon. By now, Brynjolf and Vex should have heard the news and, unless they had encountered any troubles, returned.
"By the Nine! We were wondering what happened to you," Rune said as I entered the chamber.
"Were you worried?" I asked with a grin.
"Of course not," responded Devin. I feigned a gasp to which he added, "We knew you'd be fine."
"Finely chopped," I said. "It was a close call."
"Grin, are you alright?" Brynjolf questioned as he entered. Vex was beside him, her expression tense.
"I'm fine. I killed the assassin, but then I had to escape from Windhelm," I said.
"Who was the kid?" Vex asked.
"What kid?" I returned.
"The one who delivered the letter," she explained. I internally sighed with relief.
"Ah, yes, he helped me find another escape route and delivered the letter for me," I informed them.
"Why would he do that?" Brynjolf asked with a perplexed frown.
"I have my ways," I decided to be cryptic.
"He won't cause us any problems?" Vex's hint of a threat was not purely my paranoia because even Mallory shifted slightly at her words.
"I expect not. Do not worry," was all I could say. She stared at me for a moment before turning away.
"Have you heard about the old headmistress yet? Arrow straight through the face," Rune told me with wide eyes.
"Rune, we have more important matters to discuss," Brynjolf calmly told him. Rune decided not to make any further comments on the topic, noting the edge of urgency.
"So you killed the assassin. Did anything else happen?" Bryjolf questioned me.
"I had very little time. I just grabbed my dagger and ran," I stated honestly. "What happened whilst I was away?"
"Vex caught one assassin, but we had not realised there were two. We did not expect you to encounter anyone. I also found the contractor. We will not have to worry about them again," Brynjolf told me.
"There was a lot of drama when they found your body, but it became even more intense after they found mine. I had hidden the corpse, to buy us a little time, but it appears that was unnecessary because they were already on full alert by the time I was finished. I don't know what would've happened if we hadn't escaped in time," Vex said. I grimaced, realising the peril I had placed the pair of them in. "But they'll have to try a lot harder if they honestly want to capture us."
"I'll toast to that. We're bloody brilliant," Mallory joked as he raised his ale and took a deep drink. I chuckled, but chose not to indulge. I felt guilty for being a coward and running away.
The next morning, I requested an audience with the Jarl, Laila Law-Giver. I had to wait several hours before she could receive me, but, fortunately, I didn't have any other pressing matters to attend to. The Guild was still trying to settle down after all of the recent drama, getting back into old routines and habits.
"And, what was it that you wanted to see me about?" the Jarl asked. She leaned forward, her fingers pressed together as she waited for me to speak.
"I have been made aware of the circumstances at the Honorhall orphanage," I said.
"Yes, quite a tragedy. What of it?" She asked.
"I would like to request that the orphanage fall more under your . . . personal care. The children have recounted, and there are several witnesses to validate their claims, that they have been significantly abused. I believe this was because Grelod the Kind had been left purely to her own devices and the safety of the children became jeopardised as a consequence," I stated.
"I must say that I am surprised. You're usually more of a jester, often with a brazen retort, yet you come to enquire about some orphan children and their wellbeing. Why are you so interested in what happens to them?" She said. There was a glimmer of intrigue in her frosted eyes. I withheld the desire to rise to her bait and provide a decent quip, choosing to smirk instead and nod at her fair appraisal.
"Believe me, I agree with you that my behaviour is uncharacteristic, but my request is genuine. At first I ignored those children and sent them away, but eventually they wore me down," I then laughed. "In the end they had me answering questions, teaching them basic skills and retelling adventures I had buried away. I think even I would consider it too heartless to then have no interest in what became of them."
"You were aware they were being abused?" She asked. I could not read her expression. I could not determine whether I was being reprimanded for my silence which allowed Grelod to continue the abuse, the Jarl being a just ruler and intolerant of such things, or if she was trying to determine whether I had any involvement in her death.
"I was not," I simply said. "I only found out after her death, when the children were no longer afraid of her. Otherwise, they have never said a word to me about it." I chose not to tell her about the bruises or my suspicions beforehand.
"Is that so?" she pressed. My brow rose, watching her curiosity merge with her strange sense of humour.
I placed my hand over my heart in a gesture of sincerity, to which her assistant snorted unflatteringly. Laila Law-Giver batted her hand quickly to reprimand him, briefly frowning before I spoke. "I tell you the truth. Knowing what I know now, I just want to see they're given a fair chance, even if it is purely on the basis of regarding them as a future investment for the city."
"So you do have a soul," she teased. I shrugged.
"Perhaps," I said.
"If you deem it so important, why don't you take over the responsibility?" her assistant, or rather her advisor, said from beside her. Sunlight filtered in through the windows in the main hall, gleaming off of her advisor's bald head as his eyes stripped away my armour. He was dutiful, as loyal as they came, but shrewd and distinctly disliked me.
"Yes, I should forsake my training and my responsibilities in order to safeguard a group of children. Please send me updates when the next dragon moves in. I'll bring some venison to the roast," I said. I believed the acid in my tone was offset by the smile, but the widening of his eyes told me he found it more disturbing. I chose not to correct his perception.
Several months ago I slew a dragon that had chosen to nest near the city. Initially, the creature was warily tolerated. However, as its hunting ground and territory expanded the threat grew too large to ignore. Although the dragon was presented as an unobtrusive neighbour, there were covert plans to dispose of it. The secrecy was necessary in order to prevent widespread panic amongst the citizens, and I was only aware of all this because I had overheard a pair of guards discussing the matter. Being more adventurous in those days, I announced to the jarl that I would accept the challenge and departed on my quest.
To everyone's surprise, I returned intact and with evidence of my kill. No one knew how I succeeded. Thus began my reputation with the jarl. It was through several subsequent endeavours that I obtained her respect and received property as a gesture of thanks. Despite all this, only a privileged few knew of my actions. To most people I was just a merchant, and to others I was a simple thief.
"That is enough," the jarl said as she sensed an approaching argument. "Although I do not commend your tone, you are right, Peregrine. I will take what you have said into consideration."
"Thank you, my jarl," I said, tipping my head down briefly in respect.
"Are there any further matters you wish to discuss?" she asked.
"Raising the drinking limits at the inns?" I ventured with a wider grin.
"No," she told me bluntly with a narrowed gaze. Her advisor rolled his eyes in exasperation at my antics. One day she would soften up to that proposition.
"Alas, in that case, I shall be off. Blessings of the Nine upon you," I said as I began to step backwards. I turned on my heel, catching her nod of dismissal, and left through the main doors.
On the third day after the headmistress's murder I received a letter by courier. The boy seemed nervous as he passed me the note, his eyes shifting to every corner as though he was being watched, and sped off into the crowd before I could say a word of enquiry. Frowning, I opened the letter to find a handprint in black ink. There were only two words: We know. I pondered briefly on the significance of the note. It couldn't have been from the children, the print was too large, so I mused on whether it was in reference to the headmistress or the assassin in Windhelm.
I chose not to show it to the guild. I feared their response in discovering my extracurricular activities. Not only had I murdered someone, but I had responded to the request of a child. If the letter was in reference to the assassin in Windhelm, and there was a witness to my crime, then the guild would be in danger and everyone would realise I had seriously failed on a fundamental level. A thief could lack many things, but not stealth. Vex would certainly have been outraged, reprimanding me for my stupidity. I foresaw an end to my home and my companionships.
However, as the letter was addressed to me, and only those in certain circles knew of my true profession, perhaps they had not realised it was a guild related action. There was a good chance that I was the only target. Either way, I was too humiliated and cowardly to show anyone the note. If possible, I would handle the situation by myself and only reveal what I knew if necessary. I could handle an underlying threat, but not a dismissal from the guild. I chose, for the meanwhile, to ignore it. If I was fortunate, perhaps it would simply disappear. It would not have been the first time I had received a threatening letter, and not every single one of those was followed up by a physical response.
On the fifth night, the dark was a little thicker and the night a little longer.
I awoke dazed and confused, my mind thrumming and beating against the inside of my skull. Everything unpleasant bombarded me, from the constant aching in my limbs to the lingering bitterness in my mouth. I could only recall a ghastly taste, and then a long and cold fall.
It took only moments to realise I was not in my bed at Honeyside. Memories continued to resurface and I was certain that I had made it back home and gone to sleep as usual, despite being unnaturally dazed for some reason. As my eyes struggled to regain clarity, I realised everything was unfamiliar and foreign. The unpleasant dank clung to my skin, a sensation I only encountered in the north of Skyrim. Struck with shock and fear, I bolted upright and scanned the room to make sense of my situation.
My attention was initially pulled towards the three figures kneeling on the floor. Their mutterings and laments caused a chill to run down my spine and settle in the pit of my stomach. I just knew that at least one of us here would not be leaving alive.
The slightest creak of a board, barely a fraction of a movement, made me instantly turn and face the lithe figure perched on top of the battered bookcase.
"Sleep well?" the hooded figure asked mockingly.
Whilst all I could see of her in the gloom was her eyes, the voice was unmistakable. She had been the one to buy me a drink whilst at the inn. It had been bitter, which I had blamed as being a bad batch or from the bottom of the barrel, and so I exchanged it. From that point my memories became more fragmented. I knew I had spoken with her for a fair while before she left as discreetly as she had arrived.
"What? Where am I? Who are you?" I asked in quick succession. My humour was quickly dwindling as I regarded the scene with increasing anger.
"Does it matter?" she almost purred. "You're warm, dry . . . and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?" In an instant, my composure left and my eyes narrowed with disdain. Her leg swung gently, like a pendulum, but each motion increased my agitation.
"You know about that?" I finally queried, forcing a grim smile.
"Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around," she said. "Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticising. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot." She paused before continuing. "Ah, but there is a slight . . . problem."
My brow rose as I regarded her curiously, but otherwise I remained silent.
"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates," she stated. "Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill . . . that you stole. A kill you must repay."
I scoffed. "You want me to murder someone else? Who?"
"Well now. Funny you should ask." She certainly had a sick sense of humour if anything else. "If you turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've 'collected' them from . . . well, that's not really important. They're here now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But . . . which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe . . . and admire."
I remained silent and simply stared at the deluded woman.
The blood spatter around the walls indicated it had been used for such events before. It was not somewhere that I could easily escape from. Others had tried, perhaps stronger than I, and they had failed. I could even see the locked bolt in between the door and the frame, sealing us in. I had no doubt, based on her specialised armour and proclaimed profession, that she was very highly skilled. I was not in a good position, still sluggish from the drug, and she knew it. I would have been surprised if there were no wards to suppress magic. Although I had a secret weapon, one that could destroy the entire building in one hit, I would simply end up killing everyone. Although clever, I was unamused.
"Am I to take your silence as acceptance? Then you know where we stand. Make your kill, and we're square. Repayment of your debt is but a discreet knife thrust away." Whilst it was not uncommon to have debts that surpassed life, her views on the nature of killing were particularly odd.
I regarded her briefly before turning to the captives. As I approached my footfalls caused the floorboards to shudder. Sensing my closeness, they began to visibly react.
"Get this thing off me!" a woman nasally demanded. She somewhat reminded me of the headmistress, demanding and arrogant.
I strode towards the furthermost male. Although I could not see his face, covered by a tattered sack, his armour and build were distinctly Nord. My captor had certainly assembled a varied group.
"Is this about the raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honour in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn't listen! It wasn't my fault, I swear!" he rambled on.
I asked him bluntly whether someone would have paid to have him killed. Even without seeing his eyes, I could feel the fear in them.
"What?! Oh gods, I don't want to die . . ." he stuttered out.
"Just tell me, or I will kill you," I pressed on. With every second I grew more agitated, frustrated at being in a situation that was beyond my control.
"Please! I don't know! I mean, I'm a soldier and I've killed people. When I was ordered to. Maybe there were some times . . . some times I got carried away?" He began to laugh nervously. "But war is war. Right? Nobody could blame me for that. Could they?"
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"What did I do? Please, whatever it is, I'm sorry," he continued on. I sighed and walked over to the woman beside him.
"Cowards!" she chastised. "Stealing a woman from her home! For shame!"
"Who are you?" I asked.
"None of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already!" Whether foolish or bold, I could not decide. "As Mara as my witness, if I didn't have this hood on right now I would spit in your face . . ." She was feisty.
"This may sound surprising," I droned sarcastically. "Would someone pay to have you killed?"
"Excuse me?" she screeched. "What kind of question is that?"
I sighed.
"One last time. Would. Someone. Pay. To. Have. You. Killed?"
"I'm kneeling here with my hands bound and a sack over my head, and you have the gall to ask me that?" She sounded so surprised I pondered on whether she was deluded or not. She was clearly aware of what was happening, but seemed utterly oblivious or was feigning ignorance about where the power lied. "What do you think, genius?" she added.
As I approached the final man, a Khajiit, I heard her continue on. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I've got a home to keep and children to feed. Now let me out of here!"
Realising I was close, he began to speak. "Whoever this is, clearly we got off on the wrong foot," he appealed. "Ah, but no worries. This is not the first time I have been bagged and dragged."
Once again, I asked for a name.
"Ahhh. Vasha, at your service," he said. "Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters." At least he was honest. "Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name in your corpse, as a reminder."
Perhaps needless, I still asked, "Would someone pay to have you killed?"
"Me? Ha! Are you serious?" he said.
"Answer me," I growled. "Or I'll redecorate with your blood."
"Fool! Don't you get it? I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, an arrow on every rooftop!" His voice rose with every word. "If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult."
Vasha then changed tact, acquiring a calmer tone. "Tell you what. You release me, and I promise my associates won't hunt you down like an animal and butcher you in the street. It's a win-win."
They continued on trying to persuade me to release them, except for the woman who repeatedly hurled insults. I felt ill, and once again looked at my captor who watched me silently. All I had was a small dagger, far smaller than the sword she had sheathed.
The moral choice would have been, regardless of the consequences, to pursue and destroy Astrid. However, apart from realising the difference in our positions, she was not wholly abhorrent. Even I, who knew so little about assassins and the infamous Dark Brotherhood, was aware that assassins were necessary in a world such as ours. Great tyrants and malicious manipulators had been brought to an end by their blade. They were not perfect or saintly, doing as much harm as good, but they were an old order and a useful one.
The woman grated on my nerves, but that did not mean she deserved to die. In fact, she seemed to function more as bait. For the impulsive and short-tempered, she was an easy choice.
The blubbering soldier was a pitiful individual, but he fulfilled his purpose. A soldier was destined to die in battle or in old age, but not like this. He may not have been the bravest, and his morals were no greater than my own, but he still fulfilled his duties as a soldier.
Vasha had skills and connections. We occupied a similar niche, but he seemed less opposed to pushing the boundaries that the Thieves Guild strove to maintain. Releasing him could bring unanticipated competition and friction. He, and his companions, was a threat to the Guild. However, they would never know of me and gain my trail if there were no witnesses to direct their attention. I had to admit, though, I liked his charismatic charm and humour. He bore a similar air, a reflection of me in aspects, but I did not revel in complete debauchery and cruelty.
Sliding my dagger from its sheath I moved quietly. I would make it quick, unanticipated and almost painless.
I had chosen a difficult path, but all that was left to do was to keep moving forward.
With one swift motion, using most of my strength and my body's momentum, my blade pierced through the side of Vasha's skull. Immediately, he slumped to the floor and blood began to pool. He didn't suffer.
"Ah, that deviant Khajiit was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him," my captor praised. I immediately turned towards her, preparing for a possible attack. I had not neglected to think that she may have simply been teasing me.
I chose not to tell her that I had killed him for the Guild rather than to complete any contract.
To keep with appearances, I asked her who had the contract.
"Oh. No, no, no," she chided. "Don't you understand? All of that is irrelevant. What matters is that I ordered you to kill someone, and you obeyed." Unless I had been imagining it, I felt a nerve twitch under my eye.
"So, am I free to go?" I asked.
"Of course. And you've repaid your debt, in full. Here's the key to the shack," she said as she tossed down an old iron key. "But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level."
I frowned, unsure of what to think.
"I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my family. The Dark Brotherhood," she declared. Still struck by confusion, I blinked a little more than necessary as what she was telling me began to sink in.
"In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view," she told me. "When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: Silence, my brother. Then you're in. And your new life begins."
"I'll see you at home," she added with surety.
I could not fathom why she trusted me with such an important secret.
"You invite me to your home, but I do not even know your name," I said.
"Astrid," she simply answered. Realising that she probably knew mine, and was disinterested in telling her if she didn't, I gave her a curt nod and unlocked the door of the shack. She remained perched on the shelves, and despite having her face obscured she looked thoroughly amused.
Judging by the coordinates she had presented me, I surmised that I should be close to Falkreath, which was not an extraordinary distance away from Riften.
What I had not expected, although the shack had been fairly frigid, was the blast of a biting wind and to be surrounded by frost and snow. The vegetation was sparse and the skies were far bleaker than I recalled.
Where had that devil brought me to?
