The moment he realized that he had to join the prominent assassins guild, The Dark Brotherhood, Ivan came to the conclusion that it was the workings of Garren. Knowing this, he abided so and prioritized himself to find a way to contact them directly. Perhaps since his Uncle Garren, is their listener, maybe he would let him in.

Garren gave him directions as how to reach their base of operations. Hidden in the great forests of Falkreath, one of the nine holds in Skyrim, was the Brotherhood's last refuge in all of Tamriel. Ivan finally arrived at the entrance, guarded by a tall black door. On this door was a huge skull with a dark inky handprint branded onto the forehead. Below this skull was what appeared to be a skeleton laying against a wall looking at three five other smaller skulls. One of them on the top had a dagger impaled into it. Ivan then proceeded to 'knock' on the door.

"What is the music, of life?" asked a dark, raspy voice. The sound reverberated against the walls of the stone cave. The door had just talked to him, posing a question. He decided he should answer it, and thought for a moment. He had some options for an answer, but didn't think they would work out well. Then with a reassuring deep breath he answered, "Silence, my brother."

And then, there was silence. The air quieted down and it felt like as if time had either slowed or stopped. A rush of excitement and curiosity washed over him as he heard the door creep open with dust and cobwebs falling to the ground. Finally the door stopped moving and Ivan saw a dark stairwell leading down into the earth. Again there was a moment of silence, making Ivan think what his next move should be. A strangely familiar chill swept around him as the voice whispered once more, "Welcome, home."

Ivan then descended down the stairs, leading him to red cloth banners printed with the same inky handprint that he saw on the door. This led him to the assumption that this 'Black Hand' was the insignia for the Dark Brotherhood. As he dived the steps he began to notice with each step he took, that this was no mere cave but an ancient bastion dedicated to the primitive art of murder. Most of the wall architecture looked hundreds, if not thousands of years old.

Eventually he arrived at the bottom floor, and there before him was another door, this one being made of wood and iron. He pushed it open and entered another room. From his view he could see many things of that filled the otherwise empty room; a desk covered in maps with daggers marking specific locations, bookshelves filled with all sorts of literature, more shelves holding other trinkets and oddities such as skulls and alchemical instruments, and armor mannequins. Leaning against the desk was a wrinkled man garbed in black and red cloth with both sides of him printing The Black Hand insignia. His eyes glinted with years of experience as well as some ignorance.

"Stop right there! Who dares to invade our Sanctuary? Speak," the man said sternly, arming himself with a pair of Ebony twin daggers as he looked up at the shrouded figure lurking in the darkness. As the young vampire stepped from the shadows and revealed his face, the elder noticed Ivan's facial features—His gaunt, pale face and cold glowing eyes glared with hunger. His jet black hair hang down to his shoulders, and his regal goatee covered his upper and lower lips perfectly—and gasped in shock.

"You," he said . "So you're the lad Garren spoke about. I'm Festus Krex, one of the more elderly members of this Sanctuary. Take a seat then." The man gestured to a nearby bench that they would sit on.

Ivan simply nodded in understanding as he took a seat on the bench. "Much obliged, Mr. Krex. I am Ivan Drakul, sent by a distant relative of mine. It fits a man such as him to be one of your organizations best assassins I suppose, being a skillful Vampire and all," he said, withdrawing a note from his pocket. It was a sealed envelope. "I was told to give you this."

Festus took the envelope and nodded curtly, "Thank you. This will explain a lot, won't it?

"More than you think," Ivan replied with a smirk. "Now, let us get down to business, shall we?"

The elderly man nodded in fair agreement, "Yes, time is a precious thing after-all." He lead him to the same desk he saw earlier and pointed a specific part of the map, in the southern direction the hold of Markarth. "The Black Sacrament has been completed in the city of Markarth, Ivan. Your target is Thonar Silver-Blood, Patriarch of the ruling family. It is a special assignment that your Uncle thought you would find... pleasure in completing."

As Festus continued to detail Ivan in what would be his first contract, he decided it would be time to inquire his understanding on the matter, "Eliminating the Silver-Blood Family's Patron will put quite a dent in Markarth's reputation. I will take great, personal pleasure in relieving him of his duty, while keeping the Forsworn in check." He gave off a humorous, yet sickening grin that revealed his fangs.

With a sigh of annoyance, though not specifically directed at Ivan, Festus nodded in accordance. "Exactly! Now, don't get yourself killed out there. If what Garren says is true, you could be quite the addition to our family, Ivan." He had hope for him, he could sense promise in him so he held for both Ivan, and his Listener.

"Oh don't worry," Ivan replied sternly. "I will return, dear Festus. Soon, our family will be back in business, you wait and see." Ivan then walked towards the door leading to the staircase and with one last glance back at Festus, he ascended up to the surface and began his life in the Dark Brotherhood.