'That looks beautiful… How much is it?'

'You have good taste, it's one of my finest pieces yet. That comes for five hundred gold.'

'Five hundred? What's the gem in the middle? A piece of malachite?'

'No, it's an emerald, one of the best I ever had. It's absolutely flawless.'

'Three hundred.'

'Five hundred, I said.'

'Three hundred and fifty. It's no malachite, and the stone was surely purchased from around here.'

'Seventy-five?'

'Three hundred and seventy-five it is, then.'

'You Imperials are good at bartering. It's–'

There was a sudden commotion coming from behind them, then the world around them seemed to become a waking nightmare all of a sudden. There was a scream, right behind Margret, and a freezing grip blocked her body while she wondered what was happening. She heard the twang of an arrow being released, then a loud cry, followed by the hiss of the projectile flying through the air.

Eventually, a deafening shriek of agony echoed through the walls of the City of Stone.

'I die for my… people…' mumbled the dying man in his last breath.

Margaret turned and saw a dark-haired man, wielding a dagger, lying on the ground; a small trickle of blood was flowing in between the stone slabs of the street; the fletching of an arrow emerged from the nape of his neck. His white worker shirt was splattered with red. The hand that held the dagger was stretched, as if trying to reach for something. Margaret realized that the sought something was probably her throat.

In the midst of the chaos around her, people screaming and running everywhere, she caught the glimpse of a dark figure far back, against the wall. He stood tall, perfectly still and focused; he held an elven bow in his left hand, recolored dark grey instead of the strange yellow Moonstone tend to retain. His face was covered by a black hood and a dark cowl, and nothing could be seen of it aside from his red eyes. He moved nimbly down into the streets.

Margret lost sight of him as soon as a city guard appeared and shoved her aside. Not too gently either.

'By the gods, the Forsworn are here in the city!' a woman cried.

A large crowd was piling in front of the market, trying to see what was happening. A group of guards had arrived on the spot and kept the people away, swords in hand. Two of them went closer to the body and bend over it, perhaps analyzing it.

'Everyone, stay back!' the soldier ordered. 'The Markarth City Guard has this all under control, there are no Forsworn here!'

Margret got a little farther from the mob, trying to breathe. She was still shocked and had little to no real understanding of what was happening, beside that her life had just been saved. She looked at the wall again, but her shadowy savior was nowhere in sight.

The doors of the inn opened wide. A man wearing a white shirt and black trousers, most likely a worker, ran in.

'Hide, people! There's a massacre on the streets!'

A wave of commotion ran through those sitting all around the tavern as the man stumbled and fell to the ground; he stood up and then fell again. He crumbled on the counter, where two Nords grabbed him by the armpits and made him stand up.

'What is happening, Divines' sake?' asked a man from the rear of the inn.

'The Forsworn attacked a woman in the streets!' panted the man, barely breathing.

'The situation is completely under control,' said a city guard entering. 'Don't listen to that man. A madman attacked a free citizen of the Empire and he paid his life for it.'

'The guards intervening in a brawl between normal people? That's a new one,' muttered a man behind the counter, distant enough from the guard not to be heard.

Muiri just scowled and looked away. Death, death, always death. Was there a place where people didn't murder each other every single day? No, it wasn't likely. Even all that shouting just annoyed her; nothing more could have scared her, and certainty not more massacre and more blood. Every day more and more people died at the hands of the Forsworn. She didn't care if they did it outside or inside the city.

While slowly turning her attention back to the guard and the man debating, she caught a glimpse of a shadow in a darkened corner, staring at her. She felt a shiver going down her spine, but she ignored it and continued watching the main center of attention.

'There was bloodshed out there! And you did nothing! Someone else has to do it!' cried the man.

'How do you dare say something like this? The city guard took down the armed man. If everyone else would have done it, then it would be murder. A serious crime,' replied the guard.

'You did absolutely nothing! Do you hear me, by Talos, do you hear me?'

The guard grabbed him by the waist and whistled. One of his comrades came in a second later, and helped his mate seizing the man, who fought desperately; he threw punches in all directions, kicked everything around him aside from his opponents' legs, and shrieked terribly.

'You are guilty of treason, insult to a soldier and of believing in Talos. To the cell with you, and you'll regret this when the Thalmor get their hands of you.'

The crowd both in and outside the inn was staring nervously at the scene. The guards dragged the screaming man away by force, while other soldiers covered them as they went up through the street. Two more closed the door of the tavern shut, and a heavy silence filled the whole place.

Muiri listened as everybody gathered in small groups and began discussing about what had happened, but her gaze was fixed on the shadow she saw leaning against the wall: it was now moving towards her, not taking his eyes off her. He approached slowly and sat down next to her, calmly, without greeting or even taking his hood or face mask off.

'Why are you looking at me like that?' she asked, feeling a bit uneasy.

The stranger folded his arms and looked at her intently before answering. When he did, he did it in a dark, glacial tone. 'The Dark Brotherhood has come, Muiri.'

She almost chocked as she tried to answer, not even bothering wondering how he could know her name. The words "Dark Brotherhood" just wiped away the vast majority of her thoughts. A glimmer of hope shone so brightly in her mind that it pushed away every bad feeling she had.

'The Dark Brother… Oh… My goodness, you are really here,' she said, hesitating. 'The Black Sacrament… It actually worked?'

'Obviously,' replied the assassin. His cold tone had a strange, soothing note; his inner tranquility calmed her at the same time. 'Now, tell me what you need.'

'What I need?' she hissed. Her rage started boiling in her veins again. 'What I need it for Alain Dufont to die. I want him hunted down and murdered like the dog he is.'

She stopped, restraining herself from crying even though hot tears were filling her eyes. Meanwhile the assassin stayed perfectly silent, and did not utter a single word or shifted a single inch.

'I didn't know it when we were… with each other, but Alain is actually the leader of a band of cutthroats. Bandits,' she finally continued. 'They're hold up in some old Dwarven ruin, Raldbthar; it's near Windhelm, they use it as their base and it's where they stage their raids. I want you to go to that ruin, find Alain Dufont, and kill him. I don't care about his friends, do whatever you want with them, but Alain has to die!'

The Dark Brother nodded slowly.

'It will be done,' he whispered.

'Excellent,' said the woman, relieved. 'Once Alain is dead I'll pay you, in gold. I've saved up a bit, I hope that will do. But…' she continued, and after trying to stay silent she surrendered and spit the rest out. 'There is one more thing, if you're interested.'

'I'm listening.'

'If you can, I want you to kill someone else, as well. You don't have to, not as part of our deal, but if you do… I'll pay you even more,' she said in one breath. 'It's Nilsine Shatter-Shield, in Windhlem. If Nilsine dies too… I'll make it worth your while.'

Muiri stayed silent, out of words. She said more than her mind was able to bear. She thought about what to say to the assassin for several weeks, but now that he came she forgot all the things she wanted to say, and even forgot to keep perfectly severe. The Dark Brother, on the other hand, was exactly what she would have wanted to be in that moment: calm and cool.

'You hold a particular grudge against these two, do you?' asked the assassin.

She was quite shocked by that sentence. She never expected him to get down to personal matters, and was unsure if that was a good thing or not.

'I do.'

'Tell me the full story, then. Why do you want Alain dead?'

She shouldn't have, but couldn't resist. She wanted to speak, she needed to speak.

'I went to Windhelm to see the Shatter-Shields, they were old and dear friends and… in mourning. Friga was killed recently, murdered. I met Alain then, in a tavern while I was drinking my sadness away. He was handsome, and charming… He said I was the "beautiful lily" of his dreams. He made all the pain just go away. But it was all lies…' she muttered, struggling again against her boiling tears. 'Alain used me. He ruined my name, destroyed my friendship with the Shatter-Shields… Do you know why Alain was in Windhelm?'

No, but you're going to tell me, aren't you? Azrael thought.

'He heard about Friga's murder,' continued Muiri, answering her own rhetorical question. 'He wanted to befriend her family in their grief, and rob them blind! Alail used me to get close to my friends, and now they all think I'm some kind of… monster!' And, with a last, desperate breath, she added: 'Alain Dufont took my life, and now I'm taking his.'

The Dunmer looked at her for a second, analyzing every shift in her expression. He stayed quiet to a little bit more, giving her time. A fair exchange… he thought, raising his head a little. Only then he continued.

'And Nilsine Shatter-Shield? Why must she die?' he asked.

'Don't you see? I was like a daughter to Tova!'

Well, I do not. Firstly I have no clue of what your relation was with them, and secondly… you just named someone I didn't know before. She ought to be the mother most likely, reasoned the Elf.

'And… A sister to Nilsine and Friga. But the family refuses to believe my innocence, no matter what I say. Couldn't they understand that I was used? That I was grieving for Friga too?' she sobbed. 'No, they treated me like garbage, threw me away. With Nilsine dead, maybe Tova will realize what she's lost, maybe she will see I was as much of a daughter as the others. And if not… may she drown in her own tears.'

This sounds more like one of those killings that Babette said I should do "without thinking". It's totally stupid, killing the other daughter of a mother that lost her first one just to… Nevermind, "do those without thinking". That not-quite-young child certainly knows how the world goes.

Azrael raised from the chair, looking at the door.

'Anything else?' he asked, without turning.

'I… I planned to kill Alain myself. Nilsine too. But lost my nerve… I even brewed a special poison, Lotus Extract; maybe you could use it?'

She handed the Dunmer two phials filled of a dark green substance; he grabbed them and looked at them for a second before slipping them into the bandoliers on his chest.

'Just coat your weapon with it and then… You maybe get the idea,' Muiri finished.

She bowed her head, unable to resist longer. Hot tears were flowing onto her cheeks, she tasted the saline water on her lips. A short sob escaped her, but she suppressed the next one with stoic determination. She wiped the tears away and looked up again.

But the assassin was no longer there.

She looked around, sweeping her gaze across the inn. Nothing. There were people whispering, probably still talking about the events from earlier. That attack could have been on anyone's lips for days, if not weeks. She didn't care though. All she cared about was the assassin, but he wasn't in sight. She couldn't tell exactly how much time she had looked down, but it didn't seem enough for someone to completely disappear.

'Are you well?' asked a woman, coming towards her.

'I… I think so,' muttered Muiri. 'It's just… I was talking to someone, and he left. I… Didn't even see or heard him going away.'

'The hooded one, by chance?'

'How… How do you know? Were you spying?'

'No, I was looking for him. He just saved my life from certain death, out there in the street.'

'Oh…' gasped Muiri. 'You were the one attacked!'

'That I am,' answered the woman. 'He saved my life: shot an arrow right between the madman's shoulders and took him down. I would be a corpse if not for him, but he left. I wanted at least to thank him, but he didn't give me the chance. Was he looking for you?'

'He… kind of was, yes.'

'What did he want from you?'

'That's private.'

'Fine by me. And… what's your name, girl?'

'Muiri.'

'Would you please do me a favor?'

Muiri smiled darkly, recalling the assassin's phase and repeating it: 'I'm listening.'

'Will that stranger come back to you?'

'Without doubt.'

'Then, if you could, I wanted you to thank him on my behalf. I'll be leaving in a few days, and I don't know if he'll be back by the time, so… Would you do this for me?'

'I will.'