Casualties

"Has a thief gotten in?" Vendil Severin called to his wife and daughter and sent them to check the home for missing valuables.

Teldryn pressed himself flat to the floor beneath the bed, terrified that at any moment the suspected spy would discover him. He watched the booted feet walk across the room, stopping next to the bed. Two sets of footsteps headed away from the room as the women spread out to search the rest of the house.

Vendil however, knelt and began clearing away a hidden safe, tucked behind several large baskets in the shadow of a bookcase. He opened it, looking over the contents, muttering in relief to find it all still there.

Teldryn understood several things in rapid order. First, that he would never have found the safe in his search. He had not been so thorough as to pull things away from the walls to look behind them. Secondly, that Severin must have had the key on him. Third, that Severin was holding the evidence he needed. And last of all, that he was well and truly screwed. He had no plan.

The safe was open and the documentation he needed was within reach and he couldn't move without making enough noise to have the whole Redoran Guard brought down on him.

But he couldn't stay here, either. And if Vendil closed the safe again….

He shifted slightly to get a better line of sight on the feet next to the bed. He called up an ice spike spell and took careful aim.

It all went to Oblivion after that.

Vendil didn't scream right away. Between the cold and the shock he staggered back and fell with his mouth open in horror, clutching at his leg. Teldryn scrambled out from under the bed, grabbed the papers, and turned to run, only to slam into Mirri, who at the sight of Vendil on the floor, drew her daggers and attacked. Her shrieks brought Tilisu, who joined in.

Apparently, they weren't the sort of family who called the guards.

Teldryn did his best to duck and run for it, but a dagger slipped through the seam of his armor into his hip and another coming in towards his face made it necessary to defend.

His hesitation to inflict any lasting harm ended when he heard Tilisu scream something about vengeance for the Ulens.

Clutching the papers close, he drew his blade and cleared a path to the door. He didn't stop running until he tripped over a trama root and nearly sprawled face first into the road. There was no outcry from the manor, nor any pursuit. Hip throbbing, the sticky trickle of blood soaking beneath his clothes, he limped, coughing, over to the torchlight surrounded by a living halo of bugs and had a look at what he had managed to grab, praying it would be what he needed.

It was.

He headed to Arano's office. Vendil Ulen would be the councilor's problem now. He wasn't cut out for this spying around business. He clenched his hands into fists, Tilisu's blood still caked on his gloves. He hadn't stopped to check if they were alive or dead as he'd torn up the steps to escape. In a straight up fight, or guarding someone, he didn't hesitate. Everyone involved knew the score. And he had never been in the habit of dwelling on it after.

But this? This had been someone's home. When he had gone in, he hadn't known if they were guilty of anything or not. He had attacked before he had found that out for certain. He had probably killed two people tonight. This had been different. Dirty, guilty, in a way he wasn't accustomed to. He didn't like it.

He wondered if the altmer had ever gotten caught; had ever needed to kill anyone to escape. Ceirin wasn't a bad person. Teldryn had trouble reconciling the mer he knew with the sneak-in-the-shadows idea of thief in his mind with the experience he had just had.

Heading back to the Netch and drinking his pay for this job was rising on his list of ways to spend the rest of his evening.

As it turned out, his evening was far from over. The Second Councilor took a look at the letters he had recovered. Captain Veleth was brought in. His best guards were assigned to make the arrest.

They soon returned to report that Tilisu had been found dead in the house and Vendil had been seen fleeing towards the remains of Ashfallow Citadel with someone who matched Mirri's description. Seeing as how all that land was owned by the Severins, it was understood that they might well have some unpleasant surprises set up there for anyone who came after them.

Which was how, as the sky lightened into morning, Teldryn found himself marching out to assist in the arrest alongside a squad of guards at the councilor's behest. It was the last place he wanted to be. He regretted not making more of a fuss over his hip, then perhaps the healer would have given him an excuse not to go.

Arriving at the citadel, they were ambushed first thing.

Morag Tong, by the look of the armor.

The first three guards died taking the stairs. The rest broke down the door and headed in to get the fugitives. Teldryn followed along, teeth clenched against the dread that rose up in his chest.

And the day only got worse.

Once inside, the halls were an obstacle course of traps and more Morag Tong. They pressed forward, fighting their way through, while the scout went ahead to try and clear the traps.

From the extent of the set up and the lived in state of the rooms, it was clear the Ulens had been building a foothold here for weeks, if not months. Teldryn and the remaining guards exchanged looks. There had been an active cell of assassins some five miles out from Raven Rock and no one had known. As bad as it was, it could have been much, much, worse.

As they cleared room after room, Teldryn fell into the routine of it. There was a system, it was familiar, one point of sense in a chaotic situation. It was not dissimilar to how he and Ceirin had cleared their way through tombs of draugr. Other employers in the past had used similar tactics. His confidence began to rise. Perhaps this would all turn out alright.

Then another guard died discovering a trap the scout had missed.

They followed a blood trail to find the scout with his throat cut.

The pace slowed after that.

They navigated their way one step at a time around the remaining spike traps, over pressure plates and through another side room where he once again had to fight for his life against Mirri and her daggers. She got him again, this time in the side. The blade went deep and left a feverish, buzzing sensation in its wake that slowly began to spread beneath his skin.

Poison.

He struck out with the pommel of his sword and when she reeled back, stunned and clutching her broken face, he killed her.

This time he checked to be sure.

After, he leaned in the doorway for a moment to catch his breath, letting the cracked aged-darkened beams support him. He felt ill; flushed and dizzy. His muscles began to cramp. Whatever she had chosen to coat her blades with, it worked fast.

He was almost out of time.

In the final room, Vendil Ulen was waiting for them.