Chapter 4: They Know Their Doom

"…'Lorkhan had found the Aedric weakness. While each rebel was, by their separate nature, immeasurable, they were, through jealousy and vanity, also separate from each other. They were also unwilling to go back to the nothing of before. So while they ruled their false dominions, Lorkhan filled the void with a myriad of new ideas. These ideas were legion. Soon it seemed that Lorkhan had a dominion of his own, with slaves and everlasting imperfection ns, and he seemed, for all the world, like an Aedra' –"

"'Thus did he present himself as such to the demon Anui-El and the Eight Givers: as a friend,'" Rasi'Mar finished for me.

I lowered the book and looked down at the back of his hood. A half-smirk crawled its way onto a corner of my mouth.

"I didn't think you'd have this memorized," I stated while withholding a chuckle. "Nor did I take you for a cultist. Why do you have this on you, anyway?"

He took a few steps before answering, which seemed to be the norm for him.

"It's not mine. It must have been the soldier's," he answered. "Toss it. Ludicrous nonsense from a delusional author."

Of course I didn't actually throw it aside. Rather, I returned the work to its original pouch latched to the saddlebags. "It seems you have an opinion on this, too. And that you understand it. Care to share?"

"Hmf," he grunted.

I didn't press him. If he was religious, it seemed like a conversation that would have to wait until we had reached our destination, wherever that ultimately led us. Yet…

"It suggests that Shezzar created the world under orders of Sithis to destroy the Gods," he unexpectedly explained. "And by using trickery, the Gods crafted their own demise."

"Aha, so you are as educated as I postulated initially," I said smugly. "Well, at least in this area. Do you know mathematics?" Naturally, he didn't answer this. Whether or not he knew what this meant was up for debate, but I surmised that his silence was more to the effect of having no interest in that line of conversation. So instead, I reverted back to the previous subject. "What makes these ideas ludicrous?"

As if I was given the keys to a lock no one could even begin to understand, the Argonian answered almost on cue. Uncertainty in my choice once again bubbled its way to the surface, but I let it reside to hear his answer.

"We enjoy connecting things that have little relevance with each other together, simply so we can have a better understanding of the world around us," he said.

I glanced up in thought. I was reminded of the article back at the Bloated Float, and then at how I kept thinking about it. I shook my head.

"I see."

Despite Rasi'Mar's initial aversion towards walking to the western banks of the Province, he ultimately decided that being seen with an obviously stolen Imperial Legion horse was not the best idea. So it was that we decided to avoid the roads altogether and cut straight through the Great Forest, giving us some of the most gorgeous scenery I had ever bore witness to. The towers of wooden greenery collected in the sky, providing the land enough shade to be appealing but not too much as to overcast below in a cloak of darkness. Through the cracks of the canopy I could see the vibrant, blue of the heavens and the white, afternoon sun; all of which once again pointed passionately at how perfect the landscape was. Straight out of a storybook.

Whether out of gentleman-like obligation or the need to experience these wonders personally, though, Rasi'Mar decided to allow me the full back of the equine and walk himself, leading in front. Indeed, this meant we were going at a slower pace, but he didn't seem to be tied down to a deadline any longer. A deadline, as I was reminded, that only existed because of his quenched revenge.

"So… I believe you mentioned that you'd tell me your story, Rasi'Mar, once you've murdered the men that apparently sought you harm," I said, assuming of course that they did in fact seek him harm. "I'd really like to know how an escaped prisoner is knowledgeable in religious affairs."

He turned his head back at me. "Are you insinuating that the two are mutually exclusive?" he asked. The statement was not what threw me off-guard – it was the coyness with which he used to say it. I could almost hear a smirk. The Argonian turned back. "I jest. And I believe I said I would tell you when the job is complete."

"I thought you killed Maric."

"Maric was not my only concern."

"Heh, I guess this was to be expected… knowing everything about you was not in our deal," I shrugged, defeated. But once again my companion sought to disarm me, perhaps now to play with my expectations.

"However," he started. "That part of my life is over. Killing Maric was personal. Killing my last target…" he paused, pushing a shrub aside so the horse could pass through unhindered, "…is business.

"I wasn't aware that ending someone's life could be anything other than personal," I suggested. "Isn't murder more intimate than sex?"

Rasi'Mar shrugged.

I shrugged too.

"So okay, then, if Maric is no longer holding you back…"

He sighed. I took the gesture as a way to compose himself.

"I was born in 411. My father was a count," he started. Of course I immediately had questions.

"An Argonian lord? I thought you said you were born in Cyrodiil, not the Black Marsh."

Rasi'Mar shook his head. "Notice that I said 'count', not lord," he corrected. "He was an Imperial. I was adopted. I never knew my actual parents."

"Ah… I see. Continue."

"You wondered how I became as educated as I am," he said. "Well, that's why. I was a privileged child with nothing but written works to keep me occupied."

"You didn't have any friends?" I asked, once again interrupting. Instead of getting irritated, he turned his head to face me again. I had learned not to expect irritation from him.

"I was an Argonian with the same benefits as an Imperial noble. It was implied that I would eventually take the throne as part of my inheritance, seeing as the count had no other kin." This time he did smile, although it was dripping with hollowness. "How many parents would want their children to befriend me?"

"Mm," I sounded sympathetically. He turned forward.

"No, I was lonely. But not unhappy. Bored, yes, but I understood the fortune I had in the life I lived. It's why I read. Not necessarily to keep me busy, but to make something of the luck I was given," he said.

"A kid with no friends that enjoyed being quiet and learning. Sounds like the makings of a serial killer."

"Probably," he concurred for some odd reason. "Although, I like to believe that my behavior was solely influenced by my dad –" He paused as if he had made some social faux pas. "…By my adopted father."

"You can say dad," I reassured without much thought.

He remained silent for the next few seconds.

"That was my life until I turned ten," he continued. I cocked my head. "Then Maric and his bandits raided the castle."

"Ah." While it was wrong, I did feel a tinge of unearned satisfaction of knowing the name before the context of the story. Pieces were suddenly coming together.

"This isn't why I wanted revenge, though," he suddenly said, and I noticed that he was looking at me again. Apparently my feelings were enough to be plastered across my face. I frowned as the pieces disassembled once more. "Although I was kidnapped. Typical reason. Ransom. As a child I understood their plight, even if I regarded them as idiots."

"Not that idiotic if they were somehow all able to sneak into a castle," I pointed out.

"That was Maric," he said. "He and two others were the ones who kidnapped me. It was planned. At least, as far as I knew. He never told me how exactly he did it; although to be fair, I never asked. I didn't care."

I held my chin. "Hold on. If they took you for ransom…"

"How did I end up staying with them? I'll again point to Maric," he explained. "On the same night I was kidnapped I attempted to make my escape, and ended up killing one of his men."

"At such a young age. How did that feel?" I asked.

Rasi'Mar then stopped. I wondered if I had inquired a little too personally, but then remembered my faith in his temperance. So it was that he remained consistent. A little too consistent.

"I was young. I wasn't strong. The dagger didn't go through her skull as easily as I expected, but said expectations came from years of reading about people who have already killed. At least I was aware of the technique –"

"Er… I meant emotionally," I flinched.

Rasi'Mar opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and continued to walk. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"To be more specific, I don't remember. I wasn't thinking about my emotions at the time. I just knew I had to escape," he explained. "But he caught me. He had expected that I would attempt to leave, but he didn't know I'd have the resolve to kill the one guarding me. The others opted to punish me there – not to kill me, as that would mean losing their cut – but to send me back with missing limbs. Maric, however dissuaded them."

"He became sympathetic? That quickly?"

"No. He actually found the situation funny. He explained to his group that if a child of ten years was capable of killing one of twenty or beyond, then he didn't want them in his company. Following that he decided to use me as a way of thinning his ranks, to ensure both loyalty and skill. A test. I managed to kill three more of his people before he decided that they were all worthless, and as punishment, he wasn't going to ransom me, thus deny their pay."

"Okay…" I started, suddenly having a lot of questions. I stuck with one, however. "You said it yourself; you were weak. How could you murder, let alone fight, three fully grown men?"

He paused in thought again.

"I don't know. It seems ridiculous. They just seemed…" Rasi'Mar trailed here, almost as if he was lost in his own reminiscence. "…Like they were idiots. They fumbled, flailed, swung randomly, followed only where I was at the time rather than where I was going to be. They made it obvious I was their only target so I knew where their focus was. In hindsight I probably should have killed them all and returned home."

"So why didn't you?" I asked.

"Maric."

Once again silence pervaded the forest for many seconds before he continued.

"I didn't know then why he traveled with any of those idiots. The longer I stayed with him, the more I watched them fail at nearly every task they were given. Maric had to pull everyone's weight. I didn't understand. Maybe that's why I stayed; I wanted to comprehend what was happening in his head. Everyone but him was an idiot. I wanted to know why."

"Seems rather selfish of you to keep your dad waiting like that," I boldly stated. But again, he didn't take this as personally as he probably should have.

"It was," he admitted. "There came a day when I was allowed to return home. When I was allowed to choose the course of my life – to return to my previous existence, or the one I was forced into."

"And you chose the latter. Why?" I asked. The moment I did, though, I realized how presumptuous the question was. I judged his character based on the idea that he was still a bandit. "Sorry…" I muttered under my breath. However, he visibly shrugged.

"Shame, most likely. I was with Maric for six years before I was allowed that choice. And several after that. How was I supposed to tell him why I never returned?" he asked. "So I turned away and returned to my new life."

I studied him for a handful of minutes as he remained silent. He seemed to know that I wanted to ask a question.

"You're very analytical about your emotional responses," I said after a short exhale.

"I suppose," he answered sheepishly. "I guess I just don't lend much thought to it."

This was concurrent with his childhood; he was detached from the outside world, thus it made sense that he'd be equally detached from what was inside as well. How could he know otherwise? Perhaps this was the reason for his patience and appetite for listening – he knew no other course of action. No wonder this Maric fellow kept him around.

"You mentioned that you didn't know why he traveled with those other bandits," I brought up. "Are you implying that you know now?"

Despite any revelation I just made, there was a noticeable coldness that seemed to exude from his being upon asking the question. I suspected then that this led into his quest for revenge.

"…Among banditry… Maric partook in a lot of dungeon exploration. He was intelligent enough to know that the black market was not the only possibility to make money. Treasure seekers would often buy the commodities we would find in tombs, buried keeps, and most of all, Ayleid ruins."

Vilverin. Now it began to make sense.

"Despite Maric's intelligence, though, he was not the only one of that caliber. Thus others too realized the value of such markets, and thus we had many rivals. One of which was the mercenary band hired out by the renowned collector residing in the Imperial City…" he explained. "The High Elf named Umbacano."

I glanced to the side. "The name sounds familiar."

"To the East Empire Company? I'm not surprised. I'd imagine he'd use their services in one way or another. Regardless, he was obviously not completely legitimate. And this was apparent when he'd try to have us killed when we raided a ruin that contained something he wanted. We would sell the very commodities he intended to keep for himself. He was a collector – not a businessman. And it didn't take the genius of Maric to realize that there was an opportunity here waiting to be taken advantage of."

I didn't say anything when he paused at this point. He let out a long sigh, and I was only able to hazard a guess as to what he was about to say.

"Maric brokered a deal with Umbacano," he explained. "We'd do one job for him, and after that we'd stay out of his territory and he ours. And it was at this point Maric slipped up."

"I could have assumed as much. I'd be surprised if a collector actually gave up their future finds," I said.

"Given the people Maric surrounded himself with, I wasn't surprised no one warned him. Still, I didn't understand why he didn't anticipate betrayal. It seemed obvious to me at the time; why bother doing a job in the first place? As expected, Umbcano led us into a trap. Yet it wasn't to kill us. No, the Altmer was smart; he knew of Maric's prowess, but most importantly, his reputation. No doubt the Legion would have wanted him detained."

I said nothing. The way he spoke about these events made it seem like they were obvious to everyone and thus insignificant; thus I had to really push myself to pay attention to every detail. His droll was not helping.

"We all should have been executed that day. Or at the very least, imprisoned," he said. "Instead… instead I figured out at that moment why he was with those idiots." He paused. "Once more Maric brokered a deal. This time, though, it wasn't to avoid bloodshed. In exchange for his lifelong service under Umbacano's name, Maric gave all of us to the Legion. We weren't his company. We were his scapegoats. Pawns."

"…And that's why you were in prison," I said, finally figuring it out.

"Yes. I killed him because he used me, and because I had finally understood his mindset. He was scum. He was selfish. And he was an idiot," Rasi'Mar bitterly said.

"So Vilverin…"

"Was the ruin where I was betrayed. Those bandits were Maric's. The statuette was what Umbacano had us look for."

"And Anvil…"

"Maric had all of our belongings fenced. We're going to Anvil to get them back," he explained. "Specifically, my scimitar."

"And then…?"

"I kill Umbacano."

Silence again. This time for many minutes.

"So we're going back to the Imperial City after we get your sword?" I asked, if only to break the tension.

"Yes."

"I see."

My companion stopped. He turned back to regard me. Oddly enough, his expression was one of sympathy.

"You don't have to follow anymore," he said. "Part of why I told you this was to scare you off. These are my sins to carry. You're an actual citizen. You shouldn't associate…"

"I'm following you so I can save my sister," I said immediately. A soft breeze carried through the foliage, warm enough to be considered dreamlike and comforting. I stared at him long and hard before continuing. "I don't need your pity, Rasi'Mar. I know what I'm doing."

His eyes lingered on me after I made my declaration. It wasn't the intimate setting I was hoping for, but perhaps that was to be saved for the details. He then turned around, but before he continued his gait I swung off the horse.

"Let me walk for a bit. You sit," I said.

He kept his gaze forward for a moment, but then silently obeyed. He climbed the stolen horse.

"Anvil isn't our immediate destination," he then said as I started leading. "I wanted… I want to stop by my home first."

I didn't let him see it, but I let a small smile play across my face.

"You haven't told me what city it was, yet."

He looked ahead.

"Kvatch."