As Dar'epha departed for Whiterun at great speed, Vialas was making her way to the wedding of Asgeir Snow-Shod and Vittoria Vici, the Emperor's cousin.
Vialas had bought some fancy clothes at Radiant Raiment, so as to better blend in with the crowd at the reception. Dark Brotherhood armour tended to stand out, she'd noticed. The shop owner, however, had been so insufferably uppity and condescending, she'd considered murdering her where she stood. At length, she reasoned that a dead clothing merchant would most likely blow her cover. Besides, Astrid disliked unnecessary mess. And a mess it certainly would have been, Vialas thought, if the imaginings in her head were anything to go by.
And so instead she was calmly pacing across the courtyard of Castle Dour, towards the Temple of the Divines. The fancy clothes were almost unbearable, the sleeves were too loose, the skirts got in the way, and the low neckline drew glances from every man and many women that she passed. The skirts had one benefit, however: an easy place to keep her knife. But if Babette's information was correct, then she wouldn't need it anyway.
Veezara had expressed interest in accompanying her on this mission, but he had still not returned from his contract by the time she had to leave and so, she went alone. She could have done with the companionship, although she would never admit it, perhaps even to herself. With Festus never having returned from the contract to kill the Dragonborn's wife, they had assumed the worst: that he had failed against considerable odds, presumably killed by the Dragonborn herself. And Cicero was still making everyone in the Sanctuary uneasy with his rants and gibberings. They could ill afford any failure; as the Listener, Vialas did not intend to let them down.
Passing under the stone arch, she entered the small courtyard in front of the Temple, where the wedding reception was being held. Benches had been set up, with much extravagant food and drink. A bard, no doubt hired from the local college full of the damn creatures, sang twee songs on her lute. The bride and groom sat on two chairs directly opposite the door to the Temple, where they had just been married. Well-dressed guests milled around, consuming tripe and talking nonsense. Vialas would be glad to put her mark on this detestable occasion.
Vittoria Vici was speaking to the crowd. "Please, enjoy the festivities," she said. "My day is your day! Eat, drink, make merry. We're all friends here." The crowd did not appear entirely convinced, but carried on making respectfully dull chit-chat nonetheless. Vialas strode over to one of the tables for the sake of appearances. If this went as planned, nobody would have any reason to suspect her, or indeed think there had been a murder at all. An old gargoyle, a dilapidated castle. A tragic accident.
She glanced up at the gargoyle in question. Old stone, dark grey like its surrounds, a hideous face etched upon it. And it fortuitously hung right above the balcony where the bride and groom would give their speeches. Astrid had promised a bonus if Vialas killed them during their speech, and she intended to collect.
She poured herself a goblet of wine and drained it quickly. A robed priest caught her eye from across the courtyard and started to make his way towards her. Cursing the Divines under her breath, she poured some more wine, her previous compunctions about drinking on the job forgotten.
"Greetings, and blessings of the eight Divines be upon you," said the priest, sneaking a glance at her cleavage. "I don't believe I've seen you in Solitude before. Are you here especially for the wedding?"
Vialas did her best to eliminate her Morrowind accent, adopting the tone instead of a Cyrodiil native. "Why, yes," she said. "My husband and I came straight from the Imperial City. He's a member of the Elder Council, don't you know. Trying to curry favour with the Emperor by attending his cousin's wedding, already being here when he arrives, you know how internal politics are: such a drag." She took a delicate sip of wine, as befitting a lady of her station. She was quite pleased with her little act; the others would appreciate this story upon her return to the Sanctuary.
The priest flubbed a few words as he struggled to absorb all the rapidly-delivered information. "You . . . the Emperor's coming to Skyrim?" He said it just loud enough that several people nearby had to pretend not to become suddenly interested in their conversation. The Emperor was indeed coming—was in fact already well on his way—but the journey was highly confidential, known only to his innermost court and guards. And to the Dark Brotherhood.
"Oh, of course," continued Vialas, relishing the extra audience. "He was so sorry he couldn't be here, but he'll arrive soon enough. That reminds me: he sent a little gift along with us. I'll have to present it myself, my husband's caught a nasty case of Bone Break Fever from this province of yours, simply doesn't have the stamina to get out of bed. A convenient reversal," she said, leaning in close to the priest, "as he usually doesn't have the stamina in bed. Now if you'll excuse me."
And with that, she drifted away, leaving behind a confused and somewhat overwhelmed priest.
She found the Temple of the Divines empty, and drained the rest of her wine. No time to waste now, she thought. She ran lightly up the stairs to the right, clutching her skirts in her fists, following directions that Gabriella had been kind enough to provide. If only she could see her in this get-up! Finding the door she sought, she creaked it open, anticipating patrolling guards, but there were none. On the upper stone walkway, she was able to see the reception down below and the married couple moving towards their own stairs to the balcony.
Keeping low, she moved quickly along the battlements to the loose gargoyle. Wishing she hadn't drunk the wine quite so fast, she positioned herself behind the stone figure, peering down to be ready for her opportune moment. A moment that would live in infamy if she got it perfect.
The bride and groom appeared on the balcony below, the former throwing her arms wide to begin her speech, gaining the crowd's full attention. She never got a single word out. Heaving her weight into the stone, Vialas dislodged the gargoyle. It toppled down, landing with a thud, crushing the bride and sending the groom reeling back. Unfortunately for Vialas, with the stone dislodged, she was now clearly visible to the horrified wedding party.
"Murder!" shouted someone. "The bride's been murdered!"
Vialas swore, turning to sprint for an exit as the guards started to climb various stairs towards her, drawing bows for a killing shot. But as she turned, she found herself face-to-face with Arnbjorn, dressed in only a loincloth.
"Nice outfit," he said with a grin. "Plenty of places to conceal dangerous things."
"I can handle this myself!" she exclaimed, her red eyes glinting.
Arnbjorn shrugged. "Astrid's orders. Besides, looks like you could use a little distraction. Now go!"
His body began to tremble and spasm. Vialas, realising instantly what he was doing, ran. At the corner she turned back for a moment. The guards, along with quite a few irate wedding guests, were converging on Arnbjorn, now crouching, his muscles bulging and twisting. A maniacal laugh descended into a howl as his face started to lengthen. His body swelled in size, now covered with thick brown fur. His powerful arms lashed out and the guards realised what they were dealing with: a werewolf.
Vialas would have loved to stay and watch him cause chaos, but she had to leave. Running again, she rounded more corners and crossed the walkway that spanned over the border between the market and housing districts of Solitude. The tower at the end of the walkway had a spiral stairs, and she took it down three steps at a time. She exploded through the door at the bottom, into the open air, facing the bay under the Solitude arch.
Smoothing down her dress and fixing her short black hair, she moved off at a stately walk towards the stables. Just a noblewoman out for a morning stroll, she thought, unable to keep the grin off her face. Yet another successful contract for the Dark Brotherhood. Their work would be known.