Fredas, 4:49 PM, 29th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary
Some assassins in the Dark Brotherhood saw fit to play right into everyone's idea of who they were. Skulking in the shadows, waving daggers around. Festus Krex didn't understand how they could be so crude. There was so much more joy to be had in destroying a person's body with a well-placed burst of magic.
But it was more than that, really. No one feared the Dark Brotherhood anymore. Quite a many people barely even knew of them. And this was for a very simple reason: they had been adrift. They had been for years now. Picking up little contracts wherever they heard about them, earning a handful of septims for kills that should have brought them a fortune. The Dark Brotherhood was meant to be more than this.
As far as Festus was concerned, the return of the Night Mother was a welcome change of pace.
And he was no fool. He had not lived to this venerable old age by being clueless to the goings-on around him. When that babbling lunatic Cicero had come to their front door with the Night Mother's coffin in tow, things around here had changed. Already, Festus could see the assassins of the Dark Brotherhood dividing into two sides. One side wanted things to stay the way they were, with Astrid as the Brotherhood's ultimate leader. Festus himself was on the opposing side.
It was partly a practical issue. The Dark Brotherhood's claim to fame was that anyone could arrange a contract with them simply by performing the Black Sacrament. The Night Mother would detect the ritual, wherever it was performed, and relay it to them through whichever assassin she chose as her Listener. A clever system, courtesy of the grace of Sithis. But not very much use if the Night Mother wasn't even in their sanctuary. There was no way to know for sure, but Festus suspected they were hearing of only one in every ten contracts people attempted to set up with them. Small wonder they were left scrounging all the time.
But it was also a matter of principle. All the contracts in the world were no use if the Brotherhood carried on as it was. Even before the Night Mother had arrived, Astrid had declared her word as law, beyond the Five Tenets themselves. The Five Tenets. Festus had known them by heart for many years.
Never dishonor the Night Mother. Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do any of these things was to invoke the wrath of Sithis.
Astrid thought herself more powerful than the Night Mother. Festus still followed Astrid's word for the time being, of course, but everyone in the Brotherhood knew that this wouldn't last forever.
The Night Mother's coffin had been standing wide open in their sanctuary for over three weeks now. It was the strangest thing. And not because the coffin was a ten-foot iron sarcophagus that could have withstood a total cave-in, or because it kept the Night Mother's dried-up corpse in a standing position. That fool Cicero had been babbling about how vital it was that he took care of the Night Mother's body, and then after the first week, he'd simply left.
Over the past two weeks, no one had dared to go near the coffin. Even Festus himself wanted to give it a wide berth. For some reason, it was even more foreboding without Cicero standing watch over it. Any time anyone asked Astrid what they were going to do, the answer was always the same: Respect the Night Mother's remains, and wait for their Keeper to return.
Astrid probably would have loved nothing more than to take the oh-so-respected Night Mother and dump her in the pond outside, coffin and all. But besides that the coffin was too heavy, she seemed to have some other plans. She was waiting for Cicero to come back, and no one knew why. Festus didn't like it. The Dark Brotherhood didn't exist to be host to power struggles or political intrigue. It existed to solve such struggles. Generally with a healthy dose of violence.
And amid this all, in the Keeper's absence, they'd received news that the dragons had returned to Skyrim. Festus was darkly amused by how little a reaction that had gotten out of anyone. Their collective logic seemed to be, unless someone put a price on the World-Eater's head, they had no business getting involved. Not that this was one best left to the heroes. Not that any bounty would probably end up paying for their own burial. Just that no one had told them to step in.
Festus enjoyed the imagery of one of these dagger-swinging sneaky types trying to get the drop on a dragon. It almost made him want to set up a fake contract just to see how spectacularly his own Dark Brothers and Sisters would fail to complete it. But that would violate the fifth of the Five Tenets, of course, and unlike some people, he paid actual attention to those.
When Cicero did come back, Festus was busy in the laboratory, experimenting with his stock of alchemy reagents. He might have actually failed to notice the Keeper's return at all, except that it was marked by a voice from the main cavern shrieking, "Who is that?!"
Now, this Festus had to see.
He hurried his way out to the cavern with surprising speed for a man his age. A talent borne of a lifetime of running for it after incinerating his targets in broad daylight. But he still expected that he'd be the last to arrive out there. The last he'd checked, everyone else was already in the cavern.
Besides himself, and counting Cicero, there were seven active members of the Dark Brotherhood. Arnbjorn and Babette were out handling contracts right now, so for the moment, this number was five. But in the cavern, there were six.
A boy, probably a Nord, probably no older than ten or eleven. Standing right there by Cicero's side. The poor child looked petrified.
No one had noticed Festus yet. For the moment, he hung back and watched.
"He is a guest! A guest of the Dark Brotherhood's hospitality!" Cicero was babbling and squealing like normal. "The Night Mother, she would demand it! She would demand, oh yes, she would demand that we treat him well! Our honored guest, heehee!"
Astrid was standing right in front of the Keeper and his boy. Her arms were folded. She had her back to Festus. She said, "What are you doing, Cicero? Is this a joke?"
"A joke? No!" Cicero's voice dropped into a hysterical growl. "No, Cicero is not making a joke! This is required of us! The Night Mother—"
"Enough about the Night Mother," Astrid snapped. "You've brought an uninitiated boy into our sanctuary. Explain why."
Cicero went back to his high-pitched sing-song voice. "It is very simple, so simple, you only need to see! The boy was attacked! By bandits!" He cried out the word 'bandits' like they were his arch-nemesis in life. "Cicero had a choice! And he chose to give the boy another chance! I beg of you, mistress, wouldn't you do the same?"
"Probably not, no," said Astrid. That got a laugh out of the other assassins.
Festus didn't believe for a second that Cicero had rescued this boy out of the goodness of his heart. Astrid likely didn't either. But for lack of any better explanation, there was no choice but to play along.
"But a chance! A chance is all Cicero asks! You must listen, pay heed to the Keeper! Cicero begs you."
This was getting a little unsettling, even for Cicero. He was pleading with Astrid. He, the one who had started this whole struggle for power. Something was amiss here.
Who was this boy?
"Aventus," said Astrid.
The boy replied, "Yes?"
That answered that question, then.
Festus did not recognize this Aventus boy from anywhere in his travels. He was just another of Skyrim's endless horde of children. Clearly, Cicero knew something about him that no one else did. But what?
Astrid asked, "How old are you?"
"Ten," said Aventus.
"How did a boy like you end up being attacked by bandits?"
"Uh…" Aventus stammered wordlessly for a moment. "I… I was on the road to Falkreath, and we were attacked. The wagon we were on. I was getting out of Riften, because I—"
"Please, mistress, you must be gentle," Cicero cut in. "The boy is tired! A long, wretched journey, and you greet him with questions? Where is the hospitality?! You must let him rest!" His voice suddenly turned plaintive. "That is all I ask of you...!"
Astrid sighed visibly. "So be it. Aventus, I'm sure your time on the road was quite hard for you. We don't normally have… Guests, but there's an empty bed you can use. Please follow me."
Aventus numbly walked across to Astrid, who put an arm around him.
"Cicero, wait here," said Astrid. "I'll talk to you in a moment."
Veezara and Gabriella came up behind Cicero before he could do anything. They didn't accost him physically, but they were standing very close by. Too close by, in fact.
As Astrid began to lead the boy away, Festus felt something he felt very rarely these days. He felt the stabbing jolt of a sudden realization. He should have realized this instantly. He was such a foolish old man! There was only one reason an overzealous Keeper like Cicero would take interest in some common boy. And Astrid, power-hungry Astrid, she was leading that boy out of everyone else's sight.
Going by the look on Cicero's face, he was having the exact same thought. But the Keeper didn't say a word. He was raising his hands in front of him, flexing his fingers. Preparing to draw his daggers.
For a split second, Festus felt as though the fate of the entire Brotherhood rested upon his shoulders. If he didn't act now—
"Hey! Hello there, boy!" Festus called out cheerfully, then started walking slowly towards them all. "A newcomer, eh? Haven't had one of those in a long while!"
Everyone turned around to look at him, with varying expressions. Most of the assassins didn't seem to care. Astrid looked distinctly annoyed. Cicero was as hard to read as ever. He could have been relieved, or furious. No way of knowing. But Astrid and Aventus had stopped, and that was what counted.
"Hello," Aventus said weakly.
Festus hurried his way over with as much dignity as an old man could muster. "You must have had quite a trip here!" He was smiling convincingly enough, he thought. He wasn't sure if Astrid was buying it. "On behalf of us all, I'd like to bid you welcome to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary."
"… Thanks."
Astrid had stepped back. Cicero was walking back over to the boy, slowly. That was good. Festus really didn't care to watch Dark Brothers and Sisters killing each other. All he had to do was keep talking.
But he couldn't believe this. In the span of a few seconds, Cicero and Astrid had very nearly entered a fight to the death, and then it was like nothing had happened. Festus had known that Cicero's presence was causing tension in the Brotherhood, but not to this degree of severity.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to get ahead of myself. We know so little about you. I don't suppose you're here to join our ranks?"
Aventus frowned. "You're assassins. I read about you."
"That's not a no," Festus grinned crookedly.
"I know," said Aventus.
That got a surprised look out of Astrid. And everyone else, for that matter, except for Cicero, who simply folded his arms and smiled.
"Well, young or old, any potential initiate deserves some degree of, uh…" Festus was just ten or so feet away from Aventus now. He gestured with an empty hand. "What's the word I'm looking for?"
Astrid was looking at him like he'd forgotten to put on any clothes today. She said, "The last I recall, Festus, it's my decision whether anyone joins."
"Oh, Astrid," Festus said mock-impatiently, "are you worried about having a child in our ranks? That didn't stop anyone with Babette."
"Babette is three hundred years old!"
"She's too small to fit into our uniform, that's what counts." Seeing Aventus' confusion, Festus changed his focus. "Babette is one of our long-time members. She looks to be about your age, but appearances can be deceiving. She's actually a vampire."
Aventus stared at him silently.
"She's not in right now," Festus said.
"You have a vampire."
"We have a vampire, a werewolf, a crazy jester," Festus nodded to Cicero, who didn't react, "a tamed frostbite spider, a secret door, and a whole lot of other things too. We're the Dark Brotherhood. Those whose tendencies make them unwelcome in their own walks of life—they're welcome here. That's what we are, boy. Outcasts who look after each other."
Aventus looked from Festus, to Cicero, to Astrid, then back to Festus. "I'm sorry. This all sounds good, but I really… Really don't understand what I'm doing here. Can someone please explain this to me?"
"I think I know what this is about. If it's all right with you, Astrid—and you, Cicero—I propose we settle this right now. " Festus smiled. "So, Aventus. Have you ever seen a dead body?"
Three minutes later, everyone was assembled in the chamber overlooking the cavern. This was where the Night Mother's coffin had been left. There was a great big red stained glass window on one wall here, and normally it would have offered a decent view of the cavern below, but Cicero had seen fit to put his iron monstrosity directly in the way. Now, instead of the red-tinted view, Festus was looking upon an ancient, desiccated corpse.
The Night Mother. Less than a carcass, more than a skeleton. There was skin, but it was gray and papery, and there was seemingly no flesh beneath. And that was only where it began. Her body was only upright because it had been tied in place with ropes around her middle. She wore an ancient cloth burial shroud, or at least part of one. It served little more than to protect some semblance of modesty. Her emaciated arms were curled around herself, as though to keep herself warm. Her head was tilted over so far that it was practically touching her left shoulder. Her lips were gone. While her teeth were all where they belonged, the mouth around them was a huge, featureless hole. And her eyes. There were no eyes in her head. There were only sunken circular pits.
Cicero had been keeping this body preserved and intact for who knew how many years. All things considered, he'd done a decent job.
Curiously, Aventus was not at all disturbed by the sight. Any Dark Brother or Sister would think nothing of an old corpse like this one, but a ten-year-old boy from the outside? That was another story. Still, he sat down in front of the coffin with all the rapt attention of a child at storytime.
Everyone else was gathered around in a loose sort of semicircle. Astrid had her arms folded impatient. Cicero was practically bouncing, he was so excited. The others looked like they weren't sure what to expect. For his own part, Festus had high hopes. But until something happened, he wasn't going to start celebrating.
"We'll give it a little while," said Astrid. "But if the Night Mother isn't talking, I want this boy out of here. You didn't tell him the password, did you, Cicero?"
"Silence!" Cicero hissed. "Please, mistress! We must let! The Night Mother! Focus."
"Oh, come now. Our talking isn't going to do anything. The Night Mother's 'focus' isn't deterred by her being dead."
Forget the Night Mother, Festus thought. What about Aventus? How was he supposed to pay attention with these two bickering on and on? Thankfully, Cicero did not see fit to reply to that remark. The seconds stretched on in total silence. Aventus was staring intently at the Night Mother's body. If there was some kind of exchange taking place right now, he was the only living being in he room who could hear it.
A minute passed. The assassins were starting to glance at each other. No one seemed to want to interrupt, but this was taking a while.
All of a sudden, Aventus turned and looked up at Cicero. He didn't say a word. His face was white as a sheet.
"What is it?" Cicero asked. "Sweet boy, what is it?"
"The Night Mother spoke to me," Aventus said quietly. "I'm the Listener."
Festus wasn't sure what brought it on, but all the Dark Brothers and Sisters in the room suddenly decided to respond by cheering. Even Astrid smiled.
"Cicero is so glad!" He certainly looked glad. He looked like he was practically about to start tearing his own hair out, he was so glad. "So long! So long, Cicero wished the Night Mother would speak, and she has! She has, she has, she has!"
So it was true. Aventus Aretino was chosen by the Night Mother to be the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Festus was sure that Astrid had suspected the same thing. He supposed not everyone wanted to do the same thing with this news. Particularly seeing as they'd already established that Astrid wanted the boy out of the picture. Permanently.
"Wait," Astrid said. "How did you know?"
"Cicero had a feeling! An instinct. Cicero crossed paths with the wagon, and saw the boy, Aventus Aretino, and realized, this was the one! This is the one! Hail Sithis! Praise Sithis! The Night Mother has spoken!"
Astrid ignored him. "Aventus. Relax. It's just a spooky communing sort of thing. You're fine."
"No, it's… It's not that," said Aventus. "She wants you to go speak to someone to arrange a contract. I know this person. I mean, I heard about this person."
"Who?"
Aventus took a breath and then said, "Maven Black-Briar."
I'm noticing that the chapters pertaining to the Dark Brotherhood are taking extra long for me to write. I wonder if this is connected to my pretty much never doing their questline when I play through Skyrim.