(AN: I think i may have said this before in an earlier author's note. Lethia was introduced in the very first story The Dragonborn and the Lioness, where Crixus spared her life in the Forgotten Vale. Her role was very minor then and still so in The Dragon and the Bear [and for obvious reasons, she didn't appear in the next issue], but she returns here, having been schooled in the Common Tongue by Calcelmo of Markarth, at Crixus' request.)

(As with the last three stories, I finally got to throw something into this one that is a callback to something funny that i have experienced. I would have been much more into RPGs beyond PC and consoles if i knew the rules by which they were played. It seems to me that, in my mind at least, there was this great RPG rulebook that was written sometime during the 60s and 70s [when Lord of the Rings was really popular], that has all the knowledge of how to play a role-playing game. This book has since been lost, and the RPG community refuses to write another rulebook because they already have the rules memorized and those who must ask for the rules are "noobs.")


Return to Skingrad

"You're not being careful," the Grey Fox whispered behind Crixus' ear. "If I were a guard, you'd be dead by now."

"I see," Crixus replied, relieved to hear who the newcomer really was. "Did you find your friend?"

"Yes," the Grey Fox replied. "Jauffre is behind me. We're getting out now."

"Then release me," Crixus stated. "And we'll follow on behind."

"'We?'" asked the Grey Fox. Crixus gestured to Titus. "You never told me that you had business here."

"Maybe I do," Crixus replied. "But it won't interfere with your business. He's not staying with us."

The Grey Fox removed her knife from Crixus' throat. "If he falls behind, we leave him." With that, she turned and made her way back the way she had gone, a short, brown-haired boy in prison rags following on after her. Crixus and Titus fell in behind her, running all the way back up into the prison yard and darting into the little storage room. Titus and Jauffre were slower than those who led them, but they were inside presently. Once they believed themselves to be safely within, the Grey Fox took a rope and, climbing onto a pile of crates, leaped onto the top of the outer wall of the Bastion in one bound. She then send down the rope for them to climb atop. Jauffre was up first and Crixus was amazed at the speed the young boy demonstrated in clambering up the rope without any knots or hand-holds. Once he climbed atop, Crixus sent Titus up next: the older man, by reason of his weaker joints, went slower than the young Breton.

"Prison break!" Crixus heard the voice of a guard shout nearby. Instantly he turned around and saw a guard on the other side of the courtyard, looking at him.

"Shite!" Crixus swore as a bell began to ring in the Bastion.

"Stop whining and climb up here!" the Grey Fox shouted.

Crixus didn't wait for Titus to climb all the way up the rope, but seized onto the end with him still on it and began trying to pull himself up. Unfortunately, the Grey Fox, who was holding the rope, had not the upper body strength of a Legionnaire and so almost fell over with holding the weight of two men. Pushed between letting go and falling herself, she let go of the rope and sent Titus and Crixus back down into the storage yard of the prison.

"Great!" Crixus shouted back. "You fucked it up for us!"

"Focus!" the Grey Fox retorted. "Now is not the time. You have to escape. I'll meet back with you later."

Crixus tried to make a witty comeback, but the Grey Fox had already disappeared over the wall. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned about to see a guard rushing towards the storage room. But no sooner had he entered when Titus, seizing the rope that had fallen down with them, slung it around the guard's neck and twisted the two ends into a tight noose. He squeezed tightly until the guard's eyes rolled back into his skull and he slumped down. Once he fell, Titus seized his weapon.

"No!" Crixus shouted. "We'll get out without killing anyone."

"Well fuck that!" Titus retorted. "I thought you were all about killing."

"We don't just kill indiscriminately," Crixus began. "We kill the right people, those who we're supposed to ki..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Titus shouted. "Does this look like the time for an argument? Get us a way out of here, you can whine later!"

Crixus turned his attention back to the wall, muttering underneath his breath: "Fucking arse-holes, always b*tching me out. They're probably all laughing at me behind their backs, thinking 'oh, what a fool he is! He knows nothing!' I'll show all of those cunts how much I truly know and who the fucking fools are here!"

To his dismay, the wall was much higher than it appeared to be. The boots the Grey Fox was wearing made her jump higher than any human or beast-folk were capable, certainly greater than he himself could accomplish. The tiles also were smooth and flat, with no hand-hold or chimney to anchor the rope. Thus forced into a corner, he found himself cursing and hating on everyone. He cursed the Grey Fox for leaving him there to fend for himself, though he knew in his heart that it was his fault that he was in this predicament. He should have been more watchful, else the guards wouldn't have noticed them; and he shouldn't have leaped onto the rope before Titus reached the top.

As he often claimed about the Nords, his own actions were exactly what he believed others to be thinking about him. And that made him hate them all the more: how dare they think anything about him but the greatest! That was precisely the reason why he hated being open with people: they would judge him and mock him and belittle his great accomplishments.

"Titus, get up here!" Crixus shouted.

"There's too many of them!" Titus retorted. "If I leave now, they'll overwhelm us."

"Get your arse over here, old man!" Crixus shouted. "And bring the rope with you!"

Moments later, Titus was climbing atop the boxes to where Crixus stood.

"Stand here," Crixus said, pointing to the wall. "Hold out your hands and I'll try to leap up onto the roof. I'll take the rope with me and swing you up once I'm there. Are you ready?"

"Just a moment," Titus shouted as he swung at one of the guards with the sword he had taken. After three clashes, he kicked the guard's helmet, then threw the sword into another and turned back to Crixus, an eager smile on his face. "Now I am."

He then stood with his back to the wall, with hands held out. Crixus put his foot into Titus' hands and pushed himself up as best he could. Yet even with all of his Legion training and acrobatic skill, he found that he was only able to reach the top of the wall by the tips of his fingers. Yet he had the upper body strength and, exerting all of his force, he managed to slide one whole hand onto the tiles, then another, then his forearm, then two forearms. Afterwards it was only a matter of moments before he pulled himself onto the roof and heaved the rope back to Titus, holding onto his end for dear life. Titus scrambled up the rope, his feet walking upon the wall, as fast as he could go. Once they were both up, Crixus and he leaped off the wall and onto the awning of a nearby house, then came crashing down into a cart full of melons.

As soon as pursuit was heard from the Bastion gates behind them and to their right, they brushed themselves off and went off running down the street.

"Go!" Crixus shouted. "Hide yourself, throw them off. We will see each other again, tomorrow night if you choose so. Go, now!"

At this, they parted, with Crixus ducking into a dark alley to hide from pursuit. As he was running through, the Grey Fox leaped down from the roof and sneaked up behind him. His blood still pumping with the thrill of the chase, instinct made Crixus turn and face his opponent.

"You traitorous b*tch," Crixus retorted. "Leave me there to fucking die like that. I thought we had a deal!"

"We do," the Grey Fox stated. "And I'm considering ending that deal if you keep up with your complaints and insults. You weren't being careful: you almost got us killed by trying to jump onto the rope. I can't carry both of you."

"Fuck you, I am always careful!" Crixus returned. "But what about you, huh? Why did you run?"

"Are you really this dense?" the Grey Fox asked. "I'm the Grey Fox, for Divines' sake! I'm the most wanted criminal in all of Tamriel! I can't be seen by anyone, especially the guards. And the way you were behaving today, care seems to be something you put to very little light."

"Never had these problems before," Crixus stated.

"Exercise caution next time," the Grey Fox replied.

"Is there going to be a next time?" Crixus asked. "What about your threat to end our deal?"

The Grey Fox sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong about you. You may not be ready for dangerous trials."

"I'm ready for whatever you can..."

"Clearly you're not," the Grey Fox stated. "You lack the discipline of your uniform. We can't be spending ten minutes of every mission to hear you complain about it all the way."

"Hey, I would have gotten the job done, either way," Crixus stated. "And I don't need you acting all condescending towards me. I deserve respect, dammit!"

"Why, because you were in the Legion?" the Grey Fox asked.

"Yes!" Crixus shouted, his blood rising up to his cheeks. It angered him to be around someone who was provoking him in the same manner as he had provoked others. As with all faults, those that were the greatest in Crixus were those that he hated the most in others. And what made matters worse was that she was his best bet to receive money he needed to return to Skingrad.

"Well, this isn't the Red Legion, it's the city streets of the Capital," said the Grey Fox. "Here you earn respect the hard way: it isn't handed to you. Now, if you want my help, you're going to have to play by my rules from here on out. That means you keep your mouth shut and do as I say. Your pride is going to get us all killed. Now then..." From the pouch on her side, the Grey Fox threw Crixus a small bag that jingled with coins as he caught it.

"A hundred septims," said the Grey Fox. "Your first payment for your services. Sloppy, yes, but we escaped and Jauffre is safe."

"Where is he?" Crixus asked.

"Hiding back with the others," she replied. "Now, we better make ourselves scarce as well."

Crixus nodded, then followed the Grey Fox as she went further into the alley. For a moment he looked back over his shoulder: not at the streets, but further westward, towards the wine fields of Skingrad. He feared that his companions were in dire straights: after all, they certainly couldn't survive without him, he wanted to believe.


There was a furious knock on the door of their apartment in the Blackberry Hall. Immediately Boderic, Petruvius and Casmar were roused and came to the door. The Redguard had arrived the day after Boderic found Larth in the fields south of Blackberry Hall, and, after relating to them what had happened east of Skingrad on the eaves of the Great Forest, he was permitted to remain with them until Crixus returned and judged him worthy of joining their new knightly orders. Again there was a knock at the door, furious and determined. Peering out through a crack in the wood, Petruvius crept back towards the bed and roused Larth, Lethia and Viator.

"Imperial soldiers," he whispered.

"Hmm?" Viator muttered. "What the fuck do they want?"

"I don't know," Petruvius replied.

"If it's the Empire," Boderic stated. "Then we should open the doors to them. We have nothing to hide."

"Actually we do," Petruvius said, throwing Lethia her cloak, which she had placed on the edge of her bed earlier that evening.

"Then get her out of here safely," Boderic insisted. "We'll stay behind and face whatever the guards want of us."

"Fuck that!" Viator grumbled.

"Shh!" hissed Casmar. "We can't be too loud!"

"This is your final warning, scum!" the guards beyond the door demanded. "Open up or we'll break the door down and take you by force!"

"No time!" hissed Boderic. At this, he stood up and approached Casmar, who stood at the door, then announced: "We will open the door to you!" The young Imperial knight unlocked the door and pulled it back. Immediately, the room was crowded with soldiers in the armor of the Imperial Legion. At their head was a Penitus Oculatus agent, wearing such armor as Petruvius had seen Commander Severus Maro and his troops wear.

We're in trouble, he thought to himself. Obvious, of course, from being raided in the dead of the night, but more so if the Penitus Oculatus were involved.

"Take them to the other rooms, separately," the Oculati ordered the soldiers around him.

"Why are you doing this?" Petruvius asked. "What crime have we committed?"

"Silence, scum!" the Oculati shouted. At this, one of the guards struck Petruvius in the chest.

"I appeal to the Elder Council," Boderic stated. "To-to the Emperor if he will hear me!"

"And which Emperor might that be, traitor?" asked the Oculati.

"This is unjust!" Boderic retorted. "Abducting private citizens from their beds in the dead of the night!"

"The Thalmor did such to their enemies in Skyrim," Petruvius added.

"Silence, all of you!" shouted the Oculati. At an order from him, Boderic and Petruvius were struck. "The Empire does what it pleases to whoever it pleases!" He then turned to Boderic. "And as for your plea..." He spat in the young knight's face. "As traitors to the Elder Council and the Empire, you have no rights. Take them away, now!"

Without their weapons, they were seized by the soldiers and dragged into the hallway. The entire hallway was lined with soldiers. At a word from the Oculati, they entered six rooms and forced their occupants out of their rooms. These were then forced out of the hallway until seven empty rooms remained. The Oculati ordered his men to begin searching the one the six had been taken from and to deposit one of their captives in each of the six rooms that had recently been cleared. Once they were inside, the doors were locked behind them and they were left alone.

Petruvius quietly went to the wall that would be nearest to one of the other rooms and gently knocked upon it. There came no response. Frustrated, he leaned his back against the wall and waited. Never in all of his wildest dreams did he ever imagine being targeted by the Imperial Legion or the Penitus Oculatus. As far as he knew, none of them had done anything particularly illegal, not in the sense that it would be construed as high treason. As in Skyrim, the Cyrodilic counties each had their own legal system and crimes of one county could not be held against one in another county. Therefore it would have to be something very serious to call out the Legion and the Oculatus.

Time dragged on and on. At least twenty minutes passed, after which the door was opened and the guards dragged Petruvius back into the main room. To his surprise, he saw the Oculati sitting at the table, pouring Colovian brandy for himself. He looked as if he was waiting for him.

"Have a seat, Silenius," said the Oculati, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

"How do you know my name?" Petruvius asked.

"The Penitus Oculatus know everything about everyone," quoth the Oculati. "Especially about those suspected of high treason."

"High treason?" Petruvius asked. "We're not traitors. We've never been anything but loyal to the Empire and the..."

"That remains to be seen," the Oculati stated. "Now then, Silenius Petruvius, you will remain silent and speak only when spoken to: is that clear?" Petruvius nodded. "Very good. Now, let us begin. Your name is Silenius Petruvius, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct," Petruvius replied.

"Describe your relation to one Servius Crixus," the Oculati queried.

"I am his servant," Petruvius said. "He joined the Imperial Legion in Skyrim and I was sent to serve him when he became Legate. His tasks often took him away from Solitude and I was..."

"That's enough," dismissed the Oculati. "Now then, he has been charged with high treason. Is this so?" Petruvius was about to speak, but the Oculati held up his hand. "Before you speak, let me remind you that, as his servant, you will be held accountable for his crime when he is found and tried if you know of his culpability and withhold that from us. Should you choose to cooperate, you will not be held accountable for anything in this matter and all charges against you in the courts of the counties will be dropped."

"Servius Crixus," Petruvius replied. "Is the last person to do anything treasonous. He is the most loyal man the Empire ever had the privilege of..."

"I see, I see," nodded the Oculati. "You are loyal to your master, that is commendable. What is even more laudable is loyalty to your ultimate master, the Emperor. Now, then, what is it that you and your master are doing here in Skingrad?"

"I don't know," Petruvius answered. "My master's council is his own and he does not reveal his mind to us until the moment of action. He has been missing for many months and I know not where he went."

"Do you have any idea when he might be back?" asked the interrogator.

"No, sir," Petruvius shook his head.

The Oculati looked him over with a scrutinizing eye of disbelief. Petruvius noted this and realized that, no matter what he said, his opponent likely believed him to be guilty beforehand. After a few such moments in silence, the Oculati nodded then called for his soldiers.

"Take him back to his cell," he ordered. "Then once he's secure within, bring up the next one."

Petruvius was carried out of the room and thrown back into the one that had been emptied for them. Once again he was thrown inside and the door was closed and locked behind him from without. Another twenty minutes passed, after which the door was unlocked and opened. The guards ushered Petruvius out into the hallway and back into his room. To his surprise, he saw that the others were there with him. Once they were inside, he rose to his feet and called to the Oculati.

"What is this?"

"You're free to go," the Oculati said with a clever, knowing grin on his face.

"But why then did..."

"Silence, fool!" the Oculati retorted. He slammed the door in Petruvius' face, then, just outside, they could hear the troops making their way out of the hallway. Within a minute and a half, the hallway was once again quiet.

"What happened to you all?" Petruvius asked the others. "What did he ask you?"

"Only what we knew," Casmar replied. "Which, granted, is very little."

"I don't trust them," Lethia added. "Especially that they know what I am."

"There should be no reason to be afraid," Boderic assured them.

"Don't be so fucking naive," Viator retorted.

"I'm not naive," Boderic replied. "I only say that we have nothing to hide. Crixus is acting on the Emperor's orders, we are not traitors. If this were indeed a case of unjustness, then I would be the first to rise up in our defense."

"And what about you, beast-fucker?" Viator asked, turning to Larth. "You haven't said a word since those soldiers left."

"So?" Larth asked.

"So," Viator replied. "One might think you've got something to hide."

"I'm not hiding anything," Larth shook his bald head.

"That's exactly what you'd say," Viator noted. "If you were hiding something."

"Viator, stop this at once!" Petruvius demanded.

"Or what, you'll cry?" Viator retorted.

"You've been nothing but suspicious of him since the day he joined us," Petruvius returned.

"Yes, that's true," added Boderic.

"Maybe because there's good fucking reason?" Viator asked. "He's one of them beast-fuckers, he is. I still don't believe he won't turn us into them the next chance he gets."

"I will not!" Larth retorted.

"Mark my words," Viator stated, ignoring Larth's retort. "That bald little beast-fucker is trouble."

"Consider your words marked," Casmar replied. "For now, however, we will wait. We will wait until this Crixus of yours returns."

"Perhaps," Boderic stated. "Though there is something I would like for us to consider."


Five days had passed since the break-in to the Imperial Bastion and much had happened with Servius Crixus in the Imperial City. After the break-in, when he finally returned to Aelina's safe-house and found her unmasked, he forgot who he was angry with: she, however, did not. As he was in a difficult situation, where he needed to work with her in order to regain the money she had stolen, he sighed and bore her frustration. It did not last and she, after having spoken her mind, gave him some food she had managed to score and told him that he could continue working with her.

"After I fucked up so badly?" Crixus grumbled.

"Oh, I wouldn't call you a complete fuck up," Aelina replied. "How you got into the Bastion was certainly impressive. And I would be lying if I said you're horrible company." She then added with a sly grin. "At least when you're not b*tching anyone out."

Afterwards, Crixus ate very little while Aelina described their next job: interrupting a Thieves Guild deal and making off with the gold without being spotted. Crixus liked this job less than the other, since it would put him at odds with the Guild, but he accepted nonetheless. Part of him wanted to know where Brynjolf was, if not in Riften, and why he was not connecting with the Cyrodilic Thieves Guild. Surely he could use his influence as the Guild Master to get some changes made.

That evening Crixus dreamed. It was like the same dreams as before, yet, for some reason, they were not as powerful or disturbing as before. He could hear a voice whispering afar off in the north: the voice of the Night Mother.

"The Sanctuary in Cheydinhal lies in ruins," she spoke. "But you, Listener, who have long shut your ears against my commands, will now hear me and obey. Find your way through the depths of the earth and reclaim the lost."

No other dreams or visions haunted Crixus' sleep that night. In the morning, after a short breakfast, Aelina and Crixus departed on their next task. This one was markedly easier than the last: all they had to do was shadow a Thieves Guild member and follow him to his customer. After the deal was made, they were to pick the pocket of the Guilder once he had left the transaction and the purchase was made. With one this task might have been performed easily enough, but with two people it was stupidly simple. Once the transaction was made, Crixus - who was not known by name or face among the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil - distracted the thief while Aelina picked his pocket. After he left, septims lighter and none the wiser, the two thieves could hardly contain the laughter within. Crixus' bonus today was two hundred septims.

That evening, Crixus went to the Hestra Tavern. To his surprise, Titus was there waiting for him in the corner, quieting sipping ale. Crixus joined him and told him a little concerning the Dark Brotherhood.

"And you want me to join your league of assassins?" asked Titus.

"Yes," Crixus nodded. "You have a killer instinct, the lust of death. You will be the first of a new order of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Alright," Titus returned. "So what do I do? Is there some kind of initiation through blood that I have to do?"

"Yes and no," Crixus replied. "I want you to go to Newland Hall in the western half of Cheydinhal and wait for me there. As for a blood-rite, that you've already paid. Now go, and when I come to Cheydinhal, there you shall be brought into the fold in verity. But for now, I have many others to bring in to this dark gathering: you are but the first."

Most of these words were either true or exaggerations. Newland Hall was in Cheydinhal, and that would give him a reason to go there beyond merely the Black-Briar Family and the Thieves Guild. He had seen something about a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Cheydinhal while reading through Cicero's journal, and the words of the last night seemed to speak truth to those words. He resolved that he would start there, as sending hopefuls off into the frozen wasteland of the Pale would be nothing short of suicide, especially during the autumn and winter months. The wisest course of action would be to rebuild the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

The next several days followed in a flash, with days spent doing jobs with the Grey Fox or picking the pockets of beggars, merchants, thieves and the blind. During this time, Crixus' spirits lifted somewhat. He had still not yet had sexual relations with anyone outside of his own mind, but he at least had drink every night and the thrill of thievery to keep his mind occupied. The month of Heartfire waned away like the wick of a candle and Frostfall had now come. The days were less balmy and the nights were getting longer, but the cold had yet to settle into the Rumaran Isle upon which sat the great Imperial Capital.

It was also about this time that Crixus began to feel an itching in his feet to be back on the road again. So it was that, during their evening meal, Crixus was more quiet than usual, sipping his brandy while Aelina watched him.

"You haven't said a word since you started eating," she said. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" Crixus asked. "Well, yes. But I've been doing a bit of thinking lately, and I feel that the time has come for me to head out west to Cheydinhal. You've been very generous with these jobs and we've done very well: I now have enough money to make us financially secure for a good long while. But, well..." He sighed, wondering how much he should let this woman in on.

"Go on," she urged.

"I have my own things to do," Crixus stated. "And these things require my immediate presence and attention, for the people I traffic with are so dense and ignorant that they couldn't possibly survive without me."

"You certainly have a high opinion of yourself," Aelina noted. "Though, I should think, not without good reason. Despite the Bastion incident, you're certainly skilled at sneaking, tracking and pickpocketing and your archery is indeed matchless. But where will you be going?"

"East to Skingrad," Crixus stated. "Then, I suppose, to Chorrol after my business there is done."

"Chorrol?" Aelina queried, her interest piqued. "You're going to Chorrol?"

"Eventually," Crixus returned. "Why? What's there that interests you?"

"They say a famous bandit lives in Fort Ash," Aelina replied. "One who's said to be descended of the infamous Ghar'jumo the Bandit, who was the companion of the Hero of Kvatch."

"So?" Crixus asked. "What's so amazing about a bandit with a famous ancestor?"

"He might prove useful in my line of work," Aelina stated. "Besides, all things considered, I rather enjoy having you around. I'd hate to see that end."

"But what about your work?" Crixus asked.

"What about it?" she replied. "Tanis and Talas can take care of Jauffre while I'm away."

"Who are Tanis and Talas?" Crixus asked. The names were familiar, but Crixus could not, for the life of him, remember when or where he last heard those names spoken.

"Twin Bosmer brothers," Aelina stated. "They're both so alike, they took up a career as thieves. Now they work as informants for me, passing information from the Thieves Guild to my ears."

"A dangerous line of work," Crixus nodded.

"But necessary," Aelina added. "So, then, enough beating around the bush. Can I come with you to Chorrol or must I make my own way there?"

"No, no," Crixus chuckled. "I, also, have enjoyed your company. A lot better than the arse-holes I'm forced to travel with most of the time."

"Then it's settled," Aelina replied. "I'll go with you as far as Chorrol. After that..." She grinned slyly. "Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?"


They stayed up for a few minutes more, during which they discussed their plan. They would leave the city at first light, then make their way along the Gold Road westward until they reached the outskirts of Skingrad, where they would turn north and go around until they reached Blackberry Hall. Aelina would not sleep that night, for she had to find where she left Greyhart.

"What's Greyhart?" Crixus asked.

"She's my horse," Aelina stated. "Interesting story about her, though. Bought her from a Bosmer trader in the Ocato Plaza. He told me she had been raised by spriggans in the forests of Valenwood and was blessed by their power. I'm not sure I believe his story, but she is faster than any horse I've ever ridden or seen ridden." She then turned to Crixus. "Except for yours. By the way, what happened to your horse? The last I saw, it had fallen into Lake Rumare. Surely you need a new horse."

"Oh, there's no need of that, Aelina," Crixus replied, shaking his head. "My horse is indeed special, and no little swim in a great lake will be his end."

So it was that Crixus spent the night in her little one-room safe-house alone. As per her instructions, he locked the doors once she left and made sure all the food had been put away. But this night he dreamed, yet this time his dream was very strange. Instead of going anywhere or doing anything, he found himself reading through the book which he had stolen from the Synod. His hands were turning the pages swiftly, looking specifically for the words inside it. Over and over again, the phrase 'the Tower' seemed to appear everywhere he turned. However, there never seemed to be anything describing what 'the Tower' was. It seemed as though the author of Mysticism assumed that the reader knew what 'the Tower' was and that no description or definition, even so little as a vague paraphrasing, was necessary.

Who knows what this 'Tower' could be? Crixus' own mind thought.

There came suddenly into his mind, as if from a distant memory he himself had forgotten, the name 'the Wanderer.' Was there a connection between 'the Wanderer' and 'the Tower?' Certainly he did not know, but he needed to know. It was imperative that he discover what it meant, this 'Tower', and how to escape...

There was a knock on the door and immediately Crixus was roused from sleep. It was morning and the sun was starting to creep through the cracks in the door and the blinds on the little window. Wearily Crixus rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and moved to unfasten the locks. Once they were all undone, Aelina entered the room and opened up the storage space under the floor, removing some food for their journey. She removed very little and only that which would keep for a long journey on the open road.

Meanwhile, Crixus girded his loins for the journey. He had only his book and the bag of coins he had earned, as well as Severus' letters. This in addition to his black traveling gear made for a very swift preparation. Once they were all together, Aelina plucked up the Cowl of the Grey Fox and the two of them walked out of the house. Aelina locked the door behind them while Crixus watched as a bald Dunmer walked up behind a blond woman and began stabbing her over and over in the side. She screamed, then, bleeding out, collapsed to the ground. All eyes turned towards the altercation: Crixus, meanwhile, threw his hood down over his head to conceal who he was as the Dunmer raised his hands, one still holding the knife, and cried out, "Kill and rape every human you see! Death to the n'wahs!"

At once, a riot broke out, with Dunmer, men and women, attacking any human in sight. Those who were not killed screamed and ran into their homes, shutting the doors behind them before the rioters could kill them as well.

"Hurry!" the Grey Fox muttered into Crixus' ear. The cowl was on the figure's head and all thought of whoever Crixus had left the house with vanished from his mind. "Let's get to the Cerunian District before this gets out of hand."

"Why aren't the guards doing anything about this?" Crixus asked.

"The guards are afraid to go into the Shield Quarter in small numbers," said the Grey Fox. "They're likely to end up wounded or worse."

"But they're the city guards!" Crixus retorted. "It's their job to keep the peace!"

"No one wants to antagonize the Dunmer," the Grey Fox replied ruefully. "Certainly not the Elder Council, who insure that the guards in the Bastion don't stir from their posts during riots. Only until the privatized guards of the Walled Approach are mobilized will uneasy peace come to the city. Come away, now: there's nothing that we can do about this. Hurry! They'll kill you if they see what you are."

But Crixus paused. He was watching intently as, just down the lane, two Dunmer were holding down another blond-haired woman - a Nord no doubt - while a third was straddling her hips. He watched and watched until the lecherous elf had his fill, then he pulled himself out and, with a cudgel, began to beat the Nord woman's face into a bloody mess. Every groan and cry of agony the elves laughed and mocked and made the third one beat her all the harder. Looking around, he saw many such actions taking place in the lane. A Redguard man being whipped raw by laughing Dunmer youth. An Imperial mother watching as elves tore her children in pieces before her eyes. Nords, men and women, being raped and brutalized in broad daylight.

In all of this, Crixus found that he was not disgusted in the least. The Dunmer deserved a means of venting their anger at the daedra for abandoning them, as well as towards the Nords for their foul treatment of them. But beyond all excuses, there was something else that made Crixus ignore his father's teachings and choose instead to heed the example of his stepmother Sedris Ulver. Watching Nords, the most powerful human race in Tamriel, be reduced to screaming, crying, whining and begging victims, pleased him inside. He turned to the Nord woman, whose face was unrecognizable, then to two Nord men, being held down and raped violently by laughing Dunmer men: a smile crept upon his face.

"Hurry! Or do you want to join them?" the Grey Fox insisted.

Crixus didn't turn away until, following the Grey Fox, the houses obscured the lane and the sight of Nords suffering was lost from view. Yet at that point, he realized something significant about himself: he enjoyed seeing them suffer. Not necessarily a new revelation, but a realization of something that had been part of him for as long as he could remember.


A little gang of boys running through the streets of Anvil. The eldest two were inseparable, though they could not be more different. The shorter one was older than the taller one. The short one had a little mop of dark brown hair and a mean-spirited face, one that had seen abuse every day for as long as he could remember. The other was leaner, with fairer skin and darker hair, but no less strong than the shorter one. Behind the little group were two others, a boy and a girl. The little boy was the brother of the short, older boy, and though he too had the same blue eyes and had seen the same abuse, he kept to himself, head held down. The girl was enamored with the exploits of the others and often went tailing after them, enjoying every moment she could in their company.

As they were patrolling the streets of Anvil, they saw someone who the little mean-spirited boy kept in his gaze. It was a Nord youth, likely a young and scrawny one: they never chose the strong ones. Without a word to each other, the little band swiftly walked towards the young Nord, with the shorter, older one stepping up before the Nord youth.

"You're new in town, ain't you?" he asked in a squeaky, childish voice that was nevertheless thick with the Colovian drawl.

"Yes," the Nord replied. "Me da moved 'ere from Bruma-town."

"What's wrong with the way you talk?" the shorter boy asked, stepping towards the Nord. "Are you cracked in the head?"

"N-No!" the boy shook, taking a step back and stopping as he bumped into the taller boy.

"Where are you goin'?" the taller boy asked.

"Please, just let me go!" the Nord begged. "I gotta make a delivery for me da! He'll be awful sore if I'm late!"

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, punk!" the shorter boy shouted, shoving the Nord back into the taller one. He shoved the Nord back to the shorter one, who shoved him again. "Look at me!"

The boy now was terrified of what the little group was doing. He looked quickly at the boy and girl standing apart, but they did nothing. The boy kept his eyes down while the girl seemed to be looking at everything around them. Only the shorter, angry-faced boy had his steel blue eyes on the poor Nord.

"What do you have here?" he asked, taking from the Nord the bag he had in his hand. As soon as he heard the jingling of gold coins in the bag, the boy's face became contorted with rage. "That's my money. What're you doin' with my money, you fucking thief?"

At this, he hit the Nord in the face with the bag, then punched him in the face, sending him doubled over and his nose bleeding.

"Hold him down!" the angry boy shouted to the taller one. The taller boy seized the Nord's legs while the shorter one began kicking the Nord in the stomach and face with his boot.

"Please, don't hurt me!" begged the boy. "Let me go!"

"What you gonna do, huh?" the shorter boy demanded in between blows, repeating the words of his stepmother. "Gonna kill me and eat me?"

"Oh, gods, please, help me!" begged the Nord boy.

"Shut up!" roared the shorter boy. "Your gods don't live here!"

He continued kicking and punching, with blood now covering the little boy's fist and foot. After a good long bout, the Nord boy finally lay limp on the ground. The taller boy leaped away, his eyes fearfully darting between the limp body and his angry companion, who was gazing down at the fallen boy.

"Where's your gods now, Nord?" demanded the little boy, his face twisted into a hateful mask of rage and his eyes welling with tears. "Where are they? Let them save you!"

"Servius, please..." the little boy with eyes downcast spoke up.

"Mother-killer!" he shouted at the younger boy, then pushed him aside as he ran away. Not out of fear over the welfare of the boy. His father was always so weary, so exhausted; half the man he used to be, in fact. He never had the strength to punish him. His stepmother certainly wouldn't care, the evil b*tch. The only one he would truly worry about was Grandpa Caius, the hardest member of the family, being the captain of the city guards. But he also was older and not as harsh as before, and Uncle Gentonius would have prevailed. He would have said that they were just being boys and that he should let the boys be boys. Uncle Surius would have disapproved of the fight, but he was often away with some new pretty young thing.

But for little Servius Crixus, he did not care. All he wanted was to feel strong. He didn't have that at home, being constantly bullied and abused by his stepmother, but he would look for it outside of the home. Where he was weak there, he could be strong here.


"Come on, wake up!" he heard the Grey Fox shout.

Suddenly Crixus snapped awake from his thoughts. He was back in the Shield Quarter of the New Imperial City and the Grey Fox was standing before him, wondering why he was spacing out.

"You're not being careful again," the Grey Fox stated. "It's becoming a habit of yours."

"No, no," Crixus shook his head. "I'm my own self. I just...was lost in memories."

"Then follow me back to the real world," the Grey Fox replied.

With his mind once again on focus, Crixus followed the Grey Fox through the Shield Quarter, underneath the Walled Approach and into the Cerunian District. From there they made their way out of the city by way of the Grand Gallery, which was filled with travelers, merchants, guards and city folk on their business. Out of the Grand Gallery and upon the Weye Promenade. The Grey Fox led Crixus to the horse stables on the Weye Promenade and there he saw the grey dappled horse, Greyhart.

"Where is your horse?" asked the Grey Fox.

"Not here," Crixus cryptically replied.

"Do you plan to walk to Skingrad?" quoth the Grey Fox. "Greyhart's will be much slower if I have to carry you on her back."

"No one's carrying anyone," Crixus replied. "Just go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

"I can't wait for you," the Grey Fox retorted.

"You won't be waiting for me," Crixus stated. "Just ride on and you'll see me soon enough."

The Grey Fox sighed, then mounted Greyhart and began riding alone across the Weye Promenade. For a while she rode alone, galloping slowly. But once they left the Promenade, she would have to increase Greyhart's pace, else Skingrad would be more than just two or three days away. While she was thus passing slowly through the crowded Promenade, a black horse suddenly came riding up alongside her. Sitting atop it was Crixus, beaming from one side of his mouth to another.

"Where did you get that?" the Grey Fox asked, wonder hidden by the masked and distorted voice.

"I thought you understood the value of secrets," Crixus chuckled. "Now, then, let's get going. It'll be a long journey to Skingrad."


(AN: This actually turned out a lot shorter than I had anticipated. The whole incident with the Penitus Oculatus is interesting, though. I wonder what you all think about it. I also got to have some more "fun" with the little riot. My brother [yes, we're going there again] hates how in Skyrim, if a criminal, cultist, dragon or vampire appears in a city or town, the people will join in the fray [it means all that nice "immersion" he loves with nonessential NPCs comes back to bite him in the ass]. In my story, i have made it that the people of Skyrim do that because, well, the people have the right to bear arms in all the traditional holds. The Imperial loyalists disarm their people, officially so they can prevent another "assassination" attempt like with Ulfric, but, as we see, it turns everyone into cowards and weaklings.)

(We also see another layer of Crixus' past stripped away, in that he did absorb the hatred and evil that his stepmother brought into his family, despite his claims to the contrary.)