A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revision since the final chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.
Mid Year 5, 4E1
(Fights-up-close): The Silver Road
The changing elevation was the most annoying thing about Cyrodiil. It made distances always seem longer than they looked on the map. That was the main reason I felt so hungry now. I'd under-estimated the time I'd be walking; I expected I'd arrive in Bruma just in time for lunch, but I was at least two hours off with my estimation.
This was the last place you'd expect to find a finned person like myself; Mountains, cold air, the smell of pine, and far from the Southern coasts.
I continued walking, my legs aching, having to push myself higher into the mountains with every step. Traveling to Bruma was a fascinating adventure, but a very tiresome one, and getting such an awful sleep at the "Roxey Inn" didn't help. It really made me see what a great deal Witsetutsi, Caro lover though she may be, had given me with her ten septim room. At least it was Mid Year, so Bruma was comfortably cool. I'd heard it could get painfully cold during the other half of the year.
I reflected on my assignment as I struggled up the hill. It was a very mysterious assignment. For some reason, the killing was supposed to look like an accident, but Stabber told me that if I was spotted, I should eliminate the target by any means. I'd lose this "bonus", whatever it was, but the contract would be considered fulfilled. Most of these words still didn't have a firm meaning in my mind. Of course, it must have played into a larger plan, one that was intricate and quite an accomplishment to make, but what kind of plan I couldn't tell. My target was an old man, Baenlin, a "wood elf". That's what Telandril called herself, so I supposed I had somewhat of an idea of what I was looking for; still, despite the miraculous fact that I could identify my soft-skin friends in a crowd, the rest all looked the same to me.
I noticed a destroyed Oblivion gate in the distance to my left. I was naturally interested in inspecting it.
It was rumored you could still find daedric plants, and even daedra themselves, at these sites. Still, it was about half a year ago that Mehrunes Dagon learned a lesson about treading on Sithis' turf, so naturally I doubted both rumors.
I stepped slightly off the path to observe the massive stone spikes. They were coated in a shiny-red mineral, red as blood. Their tips were sharp as daggers. They captured the essence of violence perfectly. But not swift, selective death. Clumsy, indiscriminate destruction.
Thankfully, Argonia had seen very little of the Oblivion Crisis.
I approached the ruins. It was neat to think I was in the presence of something which supposedly came from Oblivion itself. I'd previously only been able to catch glimpses of these things. I touched one of the stone columns. It felt like any other stone on Nirn, but I none the less soaked up the ambience of the ruin, reminding myself what I was touching.
I stepped over some of the stone between the two spikes, inspecting the ground. But as I suspected, there was nothing left in the ruins but the ruins themselves.
I turned and went back to walking the path after that small detour.
I wasn't really sure which was worse, four hours walking through a totally uncivilized section of swamp, or six and a half hours of walking up hills and mountains. If it wasn't for the sense of adventure and stark beauty of climbing my first mountain, I would have easily preferred the former.
Thankfully, the terrain was getting gradually more level. That reduced the stress on my legs.
I could see an odd sight in the distance. There were jagged protrusions on the horizon. They seemed like nothing more than dull colors in pointy formations, which I was unable to match with any word or other sensual concepts at the time, but my mind raced to find an answer to exactly what I was looking at.
Then I realized I was looking at other mountains, ones at a higher elevation. Oddly, there was no plant life on them...strange. There were sure some interesting sights outside of Argonia. I got that dreamy feeling again, the one I had when I first entered Leyawiin; my travels through Cyrodiil were certainly breath-taking, even if tedious at times.
The sky was crisp and blue as could be, but even now I couldn't see the promising and inviting sign of city walls or even the turrets. When I did, I would be overjoyed to have a place indoors to sit and rest. But it was possible I was nearer to the city than I thought, because I was still elevating.
A spark of hope was set off in my mind as I saw some orderly stone protrusions as I walked further up the path. Slowly more came into view from the top-down, and until I could see they were the turrets of city walls, interrupting nature's vast and comparatively empty landscape with the seemingly super-natural Imperial constructions. After seeing only nature's work for so long, I got the same feeling I did when I first saw Leyawiin.
Guards overlooked the city from the turrets, and it occurred to me with astonishment how much of the province they must have been able to see from up there.
Currently the Bruma was surrounded by greenery. Though it would have been fascinating to see snow for the first time, I was glad I came here in Mid Year given the temparatures I'd heard could occur in this area at that time.
As I continued to climb, I got a better idea of just how huge the city was. Bruma appeared to be larger than Cheydinal. The brick walls were epically stretched. I could see finding Baelin would be difficult, though I was told what quarter of town he lived in; Baenlin was in the North-East part of town.
I surveyed the mountainous terrain. The green planes, in an imperceptibly gradual way, forming into the bare skin of the mountains.
The city got bigger as I walked towards it, but very slowly.
(Champion of Cyrodiil): Arborwatch, Chorrol
I put my face in my hands as I leaned on the wooden desk, putting my elbows on the small area of its surface that wasn't covered by a book.
The decision was a heavy one, but just another duty I'd dedicated my time to in my unending mission of abating the injustice that nature endlessly churned out.
If you're caught, you'll get life in prison!
So what? For all I know there's almost no chance of getting caught!
Or almost everyone could be getting caught!
I'd gone through anguishingly long searches for information on the Dark Brotherhood, from the town bookstore to the Mystic Archives, trying to learn as much as I could about them before making my decision. Making a decision on ignorance was a crime, but I knew I needed time to both study and analyze; there was balance that needed to be struck, I just had no idea where that was.
If you get that prisoner killed before his release, you'll be saving lives.
But if you pay the Dark Brotherhood you'll be funding those murderers so they can kill some more.
How do you know how much money you'll be giving them? You don't know anything about their prices.
Whenever I leaned one way, my conscience pulled me the other. I hadn't had a break in thoughts on this subject since it first came to mind. I'd tried to take a break before, but something was holding me down. I couldn't take a break from this decision. I'd have to keep at it until I was done or disregard it all together, the latter being cowardly.
I hated the Black Horse Courier for giving me access to this knowledge. Knowledge meant ability, and ability meant burdens.
If I contacted the Brotherhood, not only would I be at risk with the law, but I'd be funding an organization of murderers. If I didn't contact them, I couldn't imagine how I'd be doing anything other than letting that prisoner get away with his plot. The decision was heavy. Both options sickened me. This very dilemma had made me reluctant to get out of bed this morning.
There were so many different basic pros and cons, each of which contained many components that had to examined so the points and counter-points could be weighed. Each answer brought up multiple new questions causing my thoughts on the issue to branch out into an entangled tree. Its as if I could never be satisfied.
Even with the Oblivion Crisis over, there was still so much suffering. At least with the Oblivion Crisis, the pressure of the situation and orders of Uriel, Jauffre, or Martin pressed me into a straight and narrow path. I could have never seen my current suffering coming back then. I reasonably thought that with a hellish invasion force pushed back and most of the trinkets I'd acquired in Dagon's plane sold to the Mages Guild and museums to buy myself a big house in Chorrol, my life would be comparitively joyful. I was wrong: It was my private thoughts that mattered more than anything, and I knew the cruel nature of the world. Surrounding circumstances were almost always trivial in life when compared to outlook that coated them, I'd discovered. It was the untangible way of things that mattered, and that was simply bad. I could work to change outer circumstances, but I could provide no relief for my painful epiphanies on the nature of the world. Occasionally, I'd feel split seconds of delusion, telling me this was all in my imagination or something, but then the truth would hit me with greater force.
I shook my head to get my thoughts back on track instead of wondering in the inner horrors.
I decided I needed to consult the texts some more. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with the information I had.
I turned back to the opened book:
If these earlier murders were indeed the contracted work of the Dark Brotherhood, the clients are still surprisingly hard to guess, let alone prove. Even the motives often appear unexplainable, yet in all five cases the attacks resulted in a chain reaction of death flowering from the original murder.
It was slightly over a century later that the first
I began skimming, reading only a few words from each paragraph.
...obviously paid...
...higher frequency, but without the after-effects of the previous...
...means of funding, or...
...Dark Brotherhood...
...apparently in Cyrodiil...
...discovered by...
...the religious aspects...
I stopped and went back to the beginning of that paragraph. The mention of religion caught my attention, and I wondered if this might be the factor to move my anguishingly sluggish decision along.
This Imperial Legion raid allowed the deepest insight into the philosophies, methods, and even religious aspects of the Dark Brotherhood of the time. Documents detailing targets, finances, and even training schedules were present in the hide-out, but more interesting were the "sacred texts" (as the Captian referred to them) found, some of which were obviously written long before others.
What appear to be the oldest text detailed the Dark Brotherhood's reverence of Sithis (which many believe to be a synonym to 'the Void'), and their "moral obligations" to spread a state of stillness and nothingness through the world through their "deathcraft".
That was the end of the page, but the words did have an impact on me. Moral obligation to spread a state of stillness and nothingness? I had always pictured them as nothing more than amoral criminals. The word "moral" in there was surprising enough. I suddenly felt coldness prickle across my skin.
I knew this issue just got even more complicated. That sickened me. I just wanted peace now. I just wanted to close my eyes and stop all my thoughts. But that wasn't an alien feeling. I knew as long as I lived my life would be gutted of its famous and upper class potential by the obligations I put on my self. That was always the cruel way of the world, even if I hadn't seen it before. Life was naturally unjust. It was embedded in the deepest mechanics of Mundus.
All the sudden, I felt my world shift. I at once understood the Brotherhood's odd philosophies.
Now I could feel a new reason to indeed summon "a card carrying-killer" through the ritual. We had more to discuss than simply the contract. Now my choice seemed clear.
(Fights-up-close): Bruma
I entered the city. Unlike Cheydinhal, the buildings were completely wooden, and almost completely made with raw logs. It was a bit more like Gideon in that aspect. It wasn't anywhere near the time when Baelin would relax in his favorite chair, so I knew I needed to get settled.
Since it was a day and a half's journey between Cheydinhal and Bruma, I knew I'd need to find a place to sleep. I was in no rush, however, so I decided to stroll the busy streets, looking for an Inn.
It didn't take me long to decide there was something I liked about the town. Something cheerful, comforting even, despite being so far from home.
As I got a bit deeper into the town, I noticed there were three levels of side walks, and two flights of stairs to connect them. The streets appeared to be split into three levels. The lowest level seemed to consist almost completely of houses, so, seeing I wasn't likely to make any discoveries on that level, went up the stone steps. More climbing. Great. Pushing my legs with each step, I worked my way up to the mid level.
Done. Maybe now I can go easy on my legs for the rest of the day.
However, as I walked along the mid-level I saw little but shops and guild halls. A demonstration of Cyrodiil's prosperity, and an interesting one at that, but I wanted a place to rest. I wasn't ready to be tourist in this town.
I turned back so I could access the higher flight of stairs. Now this was getting frustrating, because it seemed every time I could possibly need to climb, I did. The frustration was probably amplified by my savage hunger, though.
I ascended a stone stair case once agian. At least I knew this could be my last climb for the day.
I found myself face to face with an Inn almost immediately after my ascent, fortunately. The "Jerall View". For the first time, exactly what one of those seemingly random Cyrodiillic names meant clicked in my mind. A view of the Jerall mountains. The picture of the beer mug on the sign had reawakened my thirst, so I eagerly walked towards the inn.
I opened the doors.
The first room I came upon was quite large, filled with tables and chairs, most of which were unoccupied. It made sense given the time. The publican, the bouncer, and two chatting couples were the only ones present.
I wanted to get a room now so I could have a place to put my belongings, then satisfy the ravenous hunger in me once I'd done that. It would be more than a few hours before I'd try to break into Baenlin's house.
