Moist and gray fog, a thickened blanket covering the Imperial City, made it difficult for Kenrick to find the Elven Gardens District – more importantly Luther Broad's and the undercover Blades member. The ashen stone walls hadn't helped much, their appearance blending in far too well with the murky pall. Too, the early morning chatter rising throughout the haze, echoing from wall to wall, was nearly enough to overwhelm him in choosing the right direction.
Kenrick wondered to himself, amidst the misty mire, how it was he had survived everything thus far. He was only a farmer's son nearly three months ago, and already he had fought in battles against ruthless enemies, all do to his "skill"? What skill? The greatest thing he had learned from farming was how to plow and sow seeds. Rarely had he even held a blade, the only one ever being his father's sword from his youthful days. Though, could it be hereditary? He hadn't known his mother much, but only vague images of her from his early childhood.
His mother – her darker skin, while not quite the rich brown of a Redguard's, still held that air of one such as their females. He remembered her eyes, dark and mysterious, but ever loving. Then why had she left him? He hadn't remembered them ever betraying her wording. Even as a child, he knew she loved him. Perhaps she was part Redguard, and her warrior's prowess flowed through him. Maybe she left to battle some terrible menace, fighting valiantly to the end.
His father, Caen, never talked as if he resented her leaving, but rather spoke of it as a noble thing. Maybe she was a warrior. Kenrick remembered her name, Karlirah. Surprised, he never thought about it much, but her name was even Redguard. It all came into focus. His talents came from the blood that flowed through him, the blood of a warrior, born naturally into combat. Yet, he felt as though he couldn't place it all on his heritage.
Maybe his life was aided by other means. Perhaps there was some divine calling over his life. While it all sounded foolish to his earthen ears, his spirit told him otherwise. The divines must have helped him, aided him, protected him. There was no other explanation. His heritage, while there, was too small to bring about such courage in him. It was that moment in Kenrick's life he had ever considered the possibility of such beings.
Though, all thoughts halted of everything as he finally found the familiar sign of Luther Broad's Boarding House. The inside, while small and mostly barren, save a few settled souls, contained a sense of security – a protective atmosphere. A man behind the counter, his tonsured head leaned over the counter as he conversed with a dark-skinned man, the darkened face familiar in appearance to Kenrick. The balding man, obviously the proprietor Luther Broad, stared from the corner of his eye at the boy as he walked over. The dark-skinned man, a Redguard, too looked at him from the corner of his eye, and then widened them as he recognized what they now accurately perceived.
As Kenrick approached, the Redguard subtly motioned for him to sit down. Kenrick looked at him confused, but did as ordered. The man's voice, as well was familiar, and Kenrick recognized it.
"Bau – Baurus?"
"Hey kid, check out that man in the back corner." Kenrick did his best to as inconspicuously as possible survey the man. A familiar scar stretched across his left eye. It was the same man who stalked Kenrick during his first days in the city.
Baurus motioned for his attention again, and whispered as quietly as possible. "I'm going to get up in a second. This guy has been following me all day, and he should follow me as I descend down to the basement. When he does, you follow him." Kenrick nodded.
Baurus rose from the studded stool and, just as he said, the scarred man followed him down to the basement. Luther nodded his head at Kenrick, motioning him to hurry. And the momeny Kenrick opened the door he witnessed the man's uniform change with a puff of magical yellow mist, his new outfit a set of crimson armor, the mysterious assassins' attire.
Quickly unsheathing his silver blade, the unified metallic rasps of both his and Baurus' weapons removed from their scabbards, momentarily rang in Kenrick's ears. Together the pair made short work of the menace, equally showing the same prowess like a pair matched blades. And with another yellow plume the crimson armor disappeared.
Baurus exhaled a sigh of relief. "I am glad to see you, by the way. You just caught me at a bad time." Baurus smiled wide, indeed excited that Kenrick had survived. "I've heard talk, Kenrick… is the heir safe?" Kenrick nodded, only increasing the intensity of Baurus' smile. "Thank Talos he lives! Martin they say? This is great news. I've been searching for clues on this mysterious cult. Check this bastard's body for any proof of my discoveries, won't you?"
Kenrick bent down, grabbing the man's satchel and relieved it of a rather hefty book. "Mankar Cameron's Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes: Volume I" Kenrick read aloud as he looked over its cover.
This red leather-bound book, the strange lettering marring its surface, confirmed Baurus suspicions. "The Mythic Dawn," Baurus whispered.
Kenrick started at this, remembering back to his previous visit in the Imperial City. The incompetent fool's incoherent grammar resounded back the sudden memory: Meethek Don!
Baurus continued after briefly inquiring about the remembrance, with which Kenrick hastily recounted his adventure. "Anyways, they're a cult devoted to the Daedric Prince, Mehrunes Dagon." Baurus took it from Kenrick, studying its text. After several minutes Baurus told Kenrick about an Argonian Daedric Cult philosopher, Tar-Meena. "She's the one who might know what next to do with this information, and help solve this mystery. She's worked with us before. Just say Baurus sends you. She'll know what to do."
Kenrick nodded and bound away with glee, excited that the mysterious veil of his father's murderers was now uncovered. Those bastards shall surely suffer for the pain they've caused me!