A Doom Driven Hero: Chapter 37 – A Killer of Kings
Marcus and Commander Maro's son, Gaius Maro, met at Dragonbridge. The Penitus Oculatus had given him a small following of three men, meaning that with Marcus added, they were a group of five. Gaius spent a lot of time organizing his lists, and making sure he had everything he needed. Marcus also noticed that Commander Maro passed a letter to his son, just as they were about to leave.
"Take care, son..." Commander Maro said in a low voice, unheard to all but Marcus and Gaius. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"You worry too much, father," Gaius replied. "I'm just inspecting security, not charging off into battle. Plus we've got the Dragonborn with us. There's hardly much that can go wrong."
"When you're dealing with the emperor's safety, anything can go wrong. Go to the cities, make your observations, and come back safely."
Gaius nodded, embracing his father briefly, before returning to his stoic, straight-and-narrow soldier stature, and walking down to the group of men. The three other agents were strapping on their weapons, and shouldering packs of provisions. Marcus kept all of his in enchanted pouches, designed to carry more than normal.
"So, what's the goal here?" Marcus asked once the agents were all ready. "Your father only told me so much."
Gaius nodded firmly. "We're to visit the three cities that the Emperor is most likely to visit on his trip here. Markarth, Whiterun, and Solitude. We'll save Solitude for last, seeing as we know he'll be there."
"Why doesn't the Emperor just tell you where he's going? Or you just tell him some places are off-limits?"
The man shifted somewhat uncomfortably. "The… The Emperor has been rather reclusive of late. Refuses to see all but a select few people, and rarely informs us of his movements."
"That… is rather odd." Marcus nodded, a faint hint of a frown on his face. "One would've thought… nevermind. I suppose that just makes what we have to do all the more important."
"Yes, of course." Gaius composed himself, standing a little straighter. He turned to face the three men he'd brought with him. "Let's move out, men."
On the road, Marcus spoke with Gaius at intervals. Markarth was a strategic location, economically and geographically, and thus the Penitus Oculatus thought the Emperor may want to deepen Imperial roots there, especially now that Thonar Silverblood had been mysteriously murdered.
Marcus kept quiet when that was brought up.
Whiterun was important as a trade location, and the Emperor might want to sway Balgruuf's neutrality toward the Empire now that the Civil War wasn't an immediate threat.
And Solitude, because that'd be where the Emperor would dock in his ship, and would most likely spend a fair bit of time there.
Marcus wasn't entirely sure what he'd bring to the table in terms of observing potential sources of danger, but Gaius insisted he'd be useful. According to him, one doesn't fight through caves and ruins without a firm knowledge of traps and ambush locations. Marcus didn't know if this qualified him more than any other Penitus Oculatus agent, but kept quiet for the most part. He still didn't know why the Emperor deemed coming to Skyrim necessary, let alone going and visiting cities around the province. That just seemed like asking for trouble.
The road to Markarth was peaceful. One of the men remarked about the lack of forsworn in the area, and there were a couple pointed glances at Marcus. A few minutes later, another one of the men asked him a question.
He enquired, "I thought the armour you wore was made of Dragonbones?"
Marcus nodded. "I have an armour set that's made of Dragonbone, yes, but I don't wear it all the time."
"Why not?" Another one of the men asked.
"It's a lot of hassle. It takes a full 30 minutes to put on, and attracts a lot of attention. It also gets tiring wearing if after any duration longer than a day. I enchanted the hell out of it to make it lighter, but when it originally weighed as much as a horse, there's only so much I can do, you know?"
"I understand," Gaius chimed in from up front. "My father thought along the same lines when he commissioned our own armour. He wanted something light, but heavy enough to protect us."
"Exactly," Marcus nodded. "The stuff I'm wearing right now isn't what I'd like to go to war in, but it serves well enough."
One of them looked Marcus up and down. "Doesn't look too protective though… mostly just leather, and a few dragonscales on the shoulders and legs, I think."
Marcus stopped walking and faced the man. Reaching up, he pulled the collar on his curiass down a little bit, revealing the glint of dark metal underneath.
"Looks can be deceiving," Marcus said with a sly smile.
"What's that?" The soldier stepped forward, peering closely at the chainmail underneath.
"A pain in the ass to craft," Marcus replied. "It's a chainmail made out of ebony. Light enough to not hinder movement, but strong enough to protect against basic weaponry."
"Damn..." The third soldier whispered. "You don't fuck around."
Marcus grinned at him, a smile with plenty of teeth showing. "I wouldn't be alive if I did."
They lapsed into silence once more, continuing on toward the city.
It took them another day, and they made it to the city just after morning. Gaius spent most of the following day walking through the city, making small markings on a notebook he carried. The soldiers looked bored, while Marcus tried to maintain a blank, analytical expression. The city was smaller, these days. With the extermination of the Namira cult, and the various deaths caused by Madonach and Thonar Silverblood, the city had only just started to recollect itself.
As night fell, the group walked into the inn, and Gaius asked the innkeeper to get three rooms. One for himself, one for his three men, and one for the Marcus.
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the conspicuous party, but took the gold and didn't say anything, apart from informing them of the menu for that night, and requesting they didn't cause trouble.
Marcus pulled Gaius aside just before he went to his room. "Will you be safe in your own room? If these assassins can infiltrate Solitude, they'd be able to get inside Markarth."
Gaius smiled. "I'm hardly a priority target, Dragonborn. We will be fine, I promise you."
Marcus looked down, and sighed, before nodding. "Ok. I hope you're right."
The night passed quietly. Marcus headed to his room early in the night, and had a chased a fitfull sleep for the next 8 hours. He kept having bad dreams, watching the events of the wedding play over and over in his mind, except this time, the arrow wasn't hindered as it struck Vittoria down.
Marcus awoke to see the sun shining through the window in his room. He climbed out of his uncomfortable, stone bed, and headed into the main inn room. The other three soldiers were already up and about, sitting in front of the campfire. The stone walls and floors of Markarth tended to get cold during the night, so the fire was almost always lit.
"Where's Gaius?" Marcus asked.
"Probably still in bed," one of the soldiers replied. "We tend not to bother him. He does things in his own time."
"Shouldn't he be up at the same time you are? He's got a lot of work to do, from what I gather."
Another one of the soldiers shrugged. "Probably, but… he gets special treatment in the Oculatus, his father being the commander and all. We just keep our heads down."
Marcus frowned, "I'll go wake him up. The sun's risen, so time's wasting."
The men shrugged collectively, continuing to chew on their plain breakfast.
Marcus headed up the stairs at the edge of the building up to Gaius' room. He knocked at the door.
"Gaius? Are you awake?"
No answer.
Marcus repeated, a little more loudly. "Can you hear me? Are you up?"
Still no answer.
Marcus gave the door a few loud thumps. "Gaius, are you alright?" he called out.
A sound came from the other side of the door. The sound of metal grating against stone. The clatter of a few pebbles. The hairs on the back of Marcus' neck raised. Something wasn't right. He tested the door a little, finding it locked hard. He could pick it, but something told him he needed to act fast.
Normally, kicking open a metal door wasn't an easy feat, but Marcus had grown to have surprising strength in his limbs over the last few months. Taking a step back, Marcus darted forward and kicked the door in the centre, where the catch connecting the two metal frames would be on the other side. The door shook. Marcus took another step back, and kicked it again. The door broke into two, the lock on the other side shattered.
Marcus burst into the room, to find Gaius on the floor, his throat cut and the majority of the blood in his body in a pool around him. The window was open, the grate that had covered it was pulled out and laid to the side, explaining the noise Marcus heard.
"No..." Marcus ran over to the side of Gaius, his face growing stricken. "No no no no no…"
Nothing. No pulse, no breathing. The blood Marcus was kneeling in was still warm, though. The killer can't be far off. Determination set into his heart, and he clenched his jaw.
He ran over to the window, seeing the marketplace just in front of Markarth's main gate. Running through the crowd, was an argonian in black and red leather armour. It matched the same style of the armour Marcus had seen the assassin in Solitude wear.
He knew he had moments to act. Gaius was dead, and his killer was escaping. Marcus had left his weapons in his room, and the guards behind him had no clue what happened. Going and grabbing his gear, or informing the other agents, would mean the killer could escape.
Thinking quickly, and making a gamble, Marcus ran forward and jumped out the window, using 'Become Ethereal' to negate the fall, and sprinting through the crowd. People screamed as they saw the ethereal man shoving them aside, but no-one hindered him. Marcus burst out of the crowd, then ran out the gate after the assassin.
Marcus chased after the assassin for a long time. The argonian was agile, and knew he was being followed. As such, Marcus lost track of him a several times in the reach. As night fell, Marcus did his best to continue following, but he simply couldn't maintain contact with the argonian, and lost sight of him before long.
In the end, Marcus opted for a slower approach, carefully examining the tracks he knew were there, and following them. Borgahk had taught him well enough, and the fast-moving nature of his prey meant that their tracks weren't being concealed.
Marcus followed those tracks out of the Reach, through Whiterun hold, and into the Pale. He lost track of the killer as soon as he hit the snow, because as with much of Skyrim, it was snowing heavily. The tracks would've been obscured minutes after they were made, and Marcus figured he was a few hours behind his target at least.
He instead headed to Nightgate Inn, which was relatively close by to where he'd last seen the tracks. The assassin would either have passed through there, or at least stopped to grab some supplies. Marcus knew the argonian couldn't have stopped for camp, or rested at all, or eaten anything, because neither had he, and they'd seemed to remain the same distance apart.
Marcus got to Nightgate Inn just as morning broke, a full 24 hours after he'd discovered Gaius' body. Goodness knew how the soldiers had reacted. They might even suspect Marcus of committing the murder, given how he'd run off instantly. Still, he couldn't worry about that now.
Nightgate Inn looked peaceful in the morning light. The sun glinted on the snow, like the ground was inlaid with little jewels. Marcus entered the inn, seeing three people with large brown cloaks that stretched to the floor sitting at one bench, talking quietly to each other. They didn't turn to look at him as he entered, but their dialogue paused for a moment.
The bartender wasn't in sight. Marcus walked up to the counter and tapped it loudly. No response. The bartender must be downstairs in the cellar, fetching more mead or something. Marcus didn't know how long he'd be down there, but he didn't want to wait. The killer wasn't here, clearly, but he might've passed through, and that meant that the innkeeper would know when, and in what direction. Marcus couldn't afford to wait.
He headed downstairs, stepping down the into the gloomy light of the cellar. He walked past the barrels, calling out. Nothing. The place seemed deserted.
Marcus heard a set of footsteps above him. Three, by the sounds of it, walking across to the counter. He frowned, that was… unusual.
Then Marcus heard another sound, a rasping noise. The sound of a man breathing harshly and raggedly. Marcus got a distinct feeling something was very, very wrong. He ran towards the source of the breathing, and found an orc behind one of the larger barrels, a knife wound in his stomach. He wasn't dead, but he certainly wasn't going anywhere.
He didn't look like an innkeep, with his very wealthy-looking clothes, and the smooth skin on his hands. The orc's eyes fluttered deliriously. He'd lost a fair bit of blood. Marcus heard the sound of three people walking down the cellar steps, and his heart went cold as his mind connected the dots.
He glanced back at the mortally wounded orc, then towards the steps leading out of the cellar. "That's not good… that's not good at all..."
The Innkeeper was probably dead, hidden somewhere else. Marcus didn't know who this orc was, but he was most likely the only other patron in the inn when the three assassins had entered. The same three assassins that were walking down the steps to him, right now. The argonian must've met up with 'backup' as it where, on his way to a different objective.
Now Marcus was in a dark room, hidden away from the rest of the world, without any weapons, facing three skilled opponents. Great.
He reached down and channeled a very powerful burst of restoration magic through the orc. He coughed up a fair bit of blood, and promptly slipped into unconsciousness, but Marcus knew he'd survive. Orcs were tough like that.
Marcus slipped out from behind the barrels, and into the centre of the gloomy cellar. The three people walking down the stairs were revealed. One was the argonian, and the other two were men wearing full-face cowls.
The argonian stepped forward, flanked by his two 'associates'. He cracked his knuckles, while the others got rolled their shoulders and readied themselves. The argonian growled. "You're going to pay for the murder of our brother in Solitude. We're going to make this slow..."
Marcus flexed his fingers, before curling them into fists. He didn't like going old-fashioned.
"You should know," Marcus said calmly. "He killed himself."
"What?" one of the cowled men stepped forward. "How?"
"He picked a fight with me."
And with those parting words, Marcus threw himself forward, charging for the middle of the group. The three weren't expecting this, as they believed they had the initiative as the outnumbering party, so were caught off guard for a moment or two.
Marcus punched the argonian on the snout, and then kicked him in the stomach to knock him back a pace. He then raised his left arm to block a roundhouse from the assassin to his left, before punching the man in the gut. The third assassin on his right landed a kick in Marcus' exposed right ribs, so Marcus lashed out with his right elbow to hit the man's jaw. The dragonscale armour covering Marcus' right arm cracked against the man's face, and broke several teeth.
The left assassin had recovered from Marcus' gut punch, and grabbed Marcus' exposed left arm and twisted it into a grip, attempting to get the arm into an awkward position, then crack it over his shoulder.
Marcus reacted fast, and promptly headbutted the assassin as he took a step closer. The man staggered backwards a pace, relinquishing Marcus' arm. By this point, the argonian had also recovered from the powerful first combo, and lunged forward with his clawed hands for Marcus' face.
Marcus didn't have much magic left after healing the orc from near-death, but had enough for a few basic combat spells. He outstretched his right hand and blasted an impact lightning bolt directly into the face of the argonian, giving him a minor burn and launching him backwards again. The third assassin lunged out with another kick, slamming into Marcus' right ribs again, bruising them badly.
Need to slow them down… Marcus thought, mind racing quickly.
He leapt backwards, gaining a metre or two of breathing room. As the third assassin ran forward to follow up with his kick, Marcus shouted at him.
"Iiz, Slen Nus!"
The speeding ring of frost enveloped the assassin, effectively freezing him solid. Chunks of ice formed all over his body, and he toppled over and skidded across the ground.
The second assassin ran forward at Marcus, drawing a thin-bladed dagger. The argonian was just behind him.
The second assassin leapt into the air and brought the dagger down, intent on burying it through Marcus' collarbone. The young man darted backward, the dagger arcing past his face. He lashed out with a kick into the man's solar plexus, doubling him over. The argonian attacked Marcus from the right, and raked a clawed hand across his face, drawing three lines of blood across his cheek. Marcus staggered back again, before blocking the second clawed hand aiming for his neck. He pushed the offending scaly arms away, before throwing a left and right hook into the argonian's face, then leaping upwards to drive his knee into the lizard's jaw as a finisher to the combo. The argonian's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell to the floor, cracking his head against the hard stone floor.
But Marcus had left his back to the second assassin, who promptly used that as an opportunity to bury his dagger into the young man's lower back. Marcus grunted harshly in pain, reeling away. The dagger had almost gone straight into his spinal cord, but had instead deflected painfully against one of his vertebrae, and dug itself into the muscle around it instead.
The assassin seemed to be smiling at the wound he inflicted, his eyes glowing with malice. Marcus gritted his teeth in pain, before reaching behind him and painfully ripping the dagger out of his back with his left hand.
The assassin lunged forward, but Marcus, despite his injury, was faster. Bending over, he dodged to the left so that the assassin's roundhouse punch went sailing just over his head. Marcus then reached up with his right hand to grasp the man's shoulder, then buried the dagger he held in his left hand into the man's back, angled upwards so it slid between his ribs and pierced his heart. The assassin let out a gasp, his hands grasping loosely at Marcus' arms. A second or two later, he went limp, and Marcus pulled out the dagger.
A shattering sound filled the air as the third assassin, the one Marcus shouted at, was released from his icy confines as the Thu'um wore off. He desperately tried to get to his feet, but Marcus didn't let him. He quickly channeled some restoration magic through him using the last of his magicka, just to seal up the hole in his back. Then, spinning the dagger to hold it by the blade, Marcus flung the weapon at the man. It sunk itself into his neck, and killed him a few seconds later.
The argonian didn't look to be in good shape, with a small pool of blood around his head. When he fell down, he must've cracked his skull against the stone. He was probably never going to wake up, but Marcus didn't take chances. Crouching down, he gave the argonian's head a good wrench to snap his neck, then stood back up and looked at his handiwork.
"Not bad..." Marcus breathed out in a tired huff. "Not bad."
He walked over to the side of the room to grab the injured orc. He'd probably need a little more medical attention.
Marcus sat out on the porch of the Inn, rubbing his hands together. The orc was laid out in front of him in the recovery position. He'd healed the orc as much as he could, and was just waiting for the guy to wake up. Marcus wanted to know why the assassins had decided to stick around, and not just ambush Marcus on the road. Plus, he wanted to make sure the orc would recover. With the dark brotherhood, there was always the chance they had used poisons.
A few minutes later, the orc started coughing, and gradually slipped back into the world of the living.
He sat up, rubbing his head, and looked up at Marcus. "Where… who are you?"
Marcus replied. "I'm the guy that saved your life and killed the people who tried to end it."
The orc looked down at his chest, the wound all sealed up. "Then… I'm in your debt." A moment of thought passed, then the orc's face lit up with horror. "Wait! No! The letter!"
The orc quickly searched his pockets, his face getting more stricken with each moment. He tried to heave himself up, but Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder to slow him down.
"Woah, easy," Marcus said, "What's the matter? You're not in any more danger."
"No!" the orc looked around desperately. "They… there was four of them, and one of them took my letter of invite to the Emperor's reception in Solitude! He'd be headed there now!"
"Wait, what?" Marcus frowned. "The Emperor is still coming to Skyrim? After everything that's happened? His cousin's attempted murder, then the assassination of a captain of his personal guard?"
The orc nodded quickly. "With my invitation, they'll be able to get into the Castle Dour kitchen, and kill him."
"Wait..." Marcus rubbed his forehead. "Slow down, why does the invitation get them into the kitchens?"
"I'm…" the orc looked down, thinking quickly, before coming to a reluctant conclusion. "Because I'm the Gourmet… My name is Balagog. When I heard the Emperor might be coming to Skyrim, I offered to cook for him."
"You're... the Gourmet?" Marcus asked disbelievingly.
"Yes, I am," Balagog looked frustrated. "Now release me, I must go warn them."
"You're in no shape to do so," Marcus shook his head. "Head to Whiterun, and see the healers at the Temple of Kynareth. I can travel faster, I'll head to Solitude. How much of a head start did the fourth assassin get? What did he look like?"
The Gourmet thought for a moment. "He was an older man, wrinkled face. He left as soon as the argonian came into the inn. They were going to finish me off, but apparently something dangerous was heading their way, so they dragged me to the cellar and went to wait in ambush."
"I see." Marcus nodded. That explained a few things. "Ok. You get going, take it slow. You should get to Whiterun just before nightfall. Let them know Marcus sent you, and you should be fine."
"I… ok." Balagog nodded. "Promise me you'll get to Solitude fast. I don't want my reputation to be tarnished by this."
Marcus shook his head. "No promises, but I'll go as fast as I can."
Then he set off, at a brisk jog, making a beeline for Solitude."
Marcus ended up being too slow. He arrived in Solitude a day late. As soon as he got into the city, the entire place was abuzz with rumors and hearsay about the events of the last night. Apparently the Emperor had stayed at the upper levels of Castle Dour, and something bad had happened. Someone had died, apparently.
Marcus, not wanting to base his information off simple rumour, headed straight for Castle Dour. There were a lot of soldiers moving around. As soon as he headed inside, he found a large group of Penitus Oculatus agents moving about in the lobby area. Commander Maro was there.
As soon as the Commander saw Marcus, his face twisted to one of anger. But the look vanished a fraction of a second later, so fast Marcus wasn't even sure it had been there in the first place.
"The fake Gourmet has already been here, hasn't he?"
Maro looked at Marcus, and frowned. "Yes. He infiltrated the castle and poisoned the meal for the Emperor's body double."
Marcus visibly relaxed. "Ok… I guess that's a silver lining. The Emperor didn't actually die."
"Now..." Maro stepped forward, his voice growing dangerously low. "Where the hell were you? Why weren't you around when my son died? Where were you when the Emperor nearly got poisoned?"
Marcus was taken aback slightly by the Commander's angrier tone, but didn't take it to heart. The guy had just lost his son. So Marcus outlined the past events of the few days, starting with Marcus finding Gaius and chasing after his killer. Maro looked bitter, but accepted the account.
"What you've said makes sense," The commander said slowly. "It matches what my men have reported anyway. Shame you couldn't have been more helpful, but I guess you've got an opportunity to correct that, now."
"What do you mean?"
"The assassin that poisoned the Emperor's double. We caught him as he tried to flee. Some older man with a penchant for destruction magic. He pressed him with questions, and under the right… 'circumstances' he gave us answers."
Marcus frowned. "You tortured him?"
Commander Maro looked back challengingly. "Yes, we tortured him. We crushed his fingers and cut his face, and when we got the information we needed, we killed him."
Marcus' facial features darkened. "You should've waited. I would've been able to get him to talk, without such brutality."
"Don't tell me you pity those animals? In any event, how were we supposed to know where you were?" Maro shot back. "You vanished! We did what we had to, and it worked. We now have the location of the Dark Brotherhood's Sanctuary. We're going to finish this, for good."
The man took a step forward, intruding a smidgen too far into Marcus' personal space. "Now… are you going to grow up, and come help us remove the mess you could've helped us avoid, or are you going to stay here and sulk at the harshness of the real world?"
Marcus' eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped forward to directly stare into Maro's eyes. The commander was forced to look back, feeling unnerved under the unwavering gaze of those bright burning orbs. Up close, they seemed fiery, almost. Maro took a step back.
"Do not belittle me," Marcus said, his voice low and harsh, "I will come and assist you, for the good of Tamriel, but do not mistake my compliance for servitude. A Dragon serves no-one, and you'd do well to remember that."
Commander Maro looked back furiously, but kept quiet. "Very well..." he said in a grating tone. "My men retrieved your weapons and put them in the other room. Get your affairs in order, we move out at midday. You won't be my problem for much longer."
Marcus nodded, and walked out of the lobby area.
Marcus got sick of waiting for the Penitus Oculatus to get ready. For an elite Imperial faction of soldiers, they sure took their time to get their shit together. Gathering weapons, roll calls, provisions for the trip, charting routes, everything.
He was waiting outside Castle Dour, but decided to walk back inside and check how soon they'd depart. He saw a lot of soldiers moving around, but it was hard to tell when they'd be moving. Marcus walked toward a small cluster of agents in one corner. While it was hard to tell over the noise of various people performing various tasks, Marcus made out a few words as he approached.
"- Apparently the stuff was really expensive. Maro doesn't want to take chances with this one."
"Dunno where he gets the money to obtain things like that, I just wish he'd throw a little more in my direction."
"I know, I'd have thought – quiet..."
The group of soldiers looked up as they saw Marcus approaching, and stopped talking.
"I thought you were waiting outside?" one of them asked.
"Got sick of waiting," Marcus replied. "When will you lot be ready?"
They exchanged a glance. "30 minutes, I think."
Marcus sighed, and nodded. At least he knew now. He turned and walked back outside, not paying anymore mind to the conversation snippet he'd heard.
"That's one creepy fucking door..." muttered a Penitus agent. Several of his comrades agreed.
Commander Maro heaved at the door, the heavy slab of stone not budging.
A raspy voice broke out on the others side. "What… is the music… of life?"
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "A talking door. That's new."
"It's obviously some riddle..." Maro said slowly, angry that another obstacle was placed between him and his vengeance. "Any idea what it means?"
Marcus perked up. "I might have an idea, on the appropriate counter-phrase, that is."
Maro gestured toward the door. "Go ahead, then."
Marcus walked up to the door, and cleared his throat.
"Fus… Ro Dah!"
The shout blasted into the door, and forced several of the hinges behind it to crack open. The remaining hinges, now bearing the strain of the entire door on their own, buckled and twisted as the iron bent under the weight.
The large black door sagged, and was now half-open. A few of the soldiers rushed in and pushed at it, heaving it the rest of the way open.
Commander Maro shot Marcus a dirty look. "Now they'll know we're coming."
Marcus shrugged. "If you had any other idea on how to get in, you should've said so."
The group moved down into the sanctuary, Marcus leading the way almost unconsciously. The other soldiers and agents didn't seem to mind. A few of them kept giving Marcus weird looks, but he ignored it. There was no way of knowing the kind of rumors people circulated about him these days, so a few ambiguous glances were to be expected.
There was a tight corridor leading down, lit with torches and decorated with plenty of blacks and reds. Marcus drew his sword, and picked up the pace. They all separated into various pathways branching out, leading to alternate rooms. Marcus kept traveling down the middle one, which seemed to be most travelled.
He came to a large open room, with several assassins waiting. Three of them had bows drawn, and the fourth carried a large battleaxe. The arrows were released at the tight doorway Marcus had entered through. He instantly ducked down, and the arrows sailed over his head and struck the unfortunate sod behind him.
Marcus reached out with his left hand and fired a chain lightning bolt. It disintegrated one of the archers, and stunned the other two. Running down the stairs and into the cavern, Marcus leapt into melee with the battle-axe wielding man, while the other two Penitus agents who'd come with him engaged the two remaining archers.
Arnbjorn raised his axe up high, and brought it down aiming for Marcus' head. Marcus dodged to the right, and as the battleaxe thudded into the ground, he sliced at the axe handle. The dragonbone blade cut through the reinforced wood, and separated the axehead from the long wooden handle. The burly nord looked with anger at the remains of his weapon. Marcus raised his hand and fired a gout of fire at him, scorching the side of Arnbjorn's face as he tried to duck away. He rolled onto the ground, writhing in pain as the flesh on his face seared.
Then the nord began to convulse, and Marcus actually paused for a moment, uncertain as to what was happening. Then fur began to grow on the man's skin, and Marcus' eyes widened. It had been a while since he'd seen that happen, but not long enough to forget what it meant.
Readying his sword, Marcus charged at the man, but got batted to the side by a large, black, furry arm, as Arnbjorn finished his transformation. Marcus skidded and rolled across the ground, but flipped himself over onto his hands and feet quick enough.
In front of him was a large werewolf, breathing heavily. He snarled as it looked at him, and began sprinting at him
Marcus didn't hesitate. He immediately breathed in deep.
"Yol, Tor Shul!"
A ring of fire flew from Marcus' mouth and slammed into the Arnbjorn. Given the werewolf's speed, it didn't have time to dodge to the side. Much of his fur caught fire, but this seemed to do little but enrage the beast.
The werewolf swiped at Marcus' head, who promptly ducked to avoid it. Arnbjorn swung again, with his other arm, and caught Marcus in the torso, raking his claws along the front of the young man's chest.
The front of his armour was torn, but the black chain shirt underneath protected him well enough. Marcus lashed out with his sword and opened up a deep cut across the werewolf's chest, before ducking underneath another swing, and rolling away to gain some distance.
Arnbjorn growled loudly, clutching his bleeding chest with one hand and staggering forward. He swiped at Marcus' head again with his free hand, but Marcus raised his sword and parried it away, while simultaneously cutting off a few fingers. The werewolf skulked back, snarling in pain. Marcus pressed forward, throwing several wide swings with his sword that forced the werewolf to dodge and keep moving backward.
He reached down and pulled out his dagger, before throwing it at Arnbjorn's head. The wolf blocked it with his good hand, so it didn't connect, but Marcus didn't expect it to. The werewolf now had its arm raised in front of its eyes, so it couldn't actually see Marcus' movements well. The young man rushed forward and gripped his sword with both hands, and plunged it through Arnbjorn's extended arm, and into his skull behind it. The werewolf groaned, then slumped downward.
Marcus ripped his sword out of the beast, and collected his dagger. The other two agents had dealt with the bowmen.
He hurried onward, moving through the rooms, coming across spiders, rooms full of poisons, torture chambers, and plenty more. He entered one room to see a dark elf woman fighting off two more agents. She impaled one with an ice spike, and then stabbed the other in the stomach with a sword. Luckily for Marcus, she had her back to him.
Reaching out with his left hand, Marcus fired an impact lightning bolt at her, which promptly knocked her off her feet into a wall. She got up quickly, showing natural finesse and speed, before launching another ice spike at Marcus.
He brought up a ward, before inhaling once more.
"Fo… Krah Diin!"
A ring of ice rushed forward and hit the approaching dark elf. Frost covered her body and she immediately fell to the ground, convulsing and shivering. Marcus walked over, flipped his sword into a two handed grip facing downward, and stabbed her through the chest.
He felt a bit of a burn in his throat from using three shouts in a few minutes, so mentally made a note not to use any more for a while.
Marcus made his way through more of the sanctuary, eventually coming to a large room that contained a long table. Inside were three Penitus agents, including Commander Maro, moving up on a young girl. She was injured, sporting wounds on her arms and shoulder. She was pinned against a wall, looking scared as the three agents slowly approached.
Marcus ran in and shouted, "What the hell are you doing?!"
Commander Maro and his soldiers glanced over at him involuntarily. The young girl used this as an opportunity to dart between them and run off. She moved insanely fast… much too fast for any of the men to stop her.
"Gods dammit!" Maro shouted, before turning angrily to Marcus. "We had her! You let her get away!"
"What the hell were you doing?!" Marcus shouted, walking forward and shoving Maro backwards. "That was a kid! A goddamn child, Maro!"
"That 'child' was an assassin, as much as any of them!" Maro shouted back, gesturing wildly to the general area around him. "Why else would she have been here?"
Marcus was adamant. "I don't kill children, and I won't tolerate anyone who does."
Maro stared at Marcus angrily, as if weighing something in his mind. "Are the other sections secure?"
Marcus nodded, face still angry. "Yeah. Everything in there is dead, what about on your side?"
"Close enough to the same… just a few stragglers." Maro said, clearly distracted thinking about something else. "Which means we won't need your help anymore..."
Marcus frowned. Maro gave a barely perceptible nod to someone behind him. "What the hell is that supposed to-"
Marcus felt a searing sharp pain in his the centre of his back, followed by the cold sting of steel. He'd been stabbed.
Marcus staggered backwards, bent over and loosely grasping the weapon in his torso, eyes wide with shock. One of the agents, a captain, had snuck around him and buried a thin-bladed dagger in his back. Marcus' grip on his weapons tightened, then… loosened… involuntarily.
He felt a numbing quickly spread from his back, traveling all across his body with lightning quick speed. He fell to his knees, suddenly finding breathing alone difficult. His heart quickened in panic. Poison.
"Nice work..." Maro nodded to his Penitus Oculatus captain, before walking over to Marcus.
The young man tried to stand up, but couldn't. He felt almost the same way as he had when Karliah shot him, except it was more painful. He slowly crumpled down, lying on his side and only just managing to prop himself up slightly with one arm.
Marcus choked out a few words, "You… gasp why'd you…?"
One of the agents walked forward, frowning. "How is he still alive? The poison was promised to shut his body down in a few seconds. He should be dead."
Maro leaned over Marcus, looking down with satisfaction. "He's tougher than we gave him credit for, I guess. Not tough enough, though."
Marcus rasped. "You… fuck..."
"I'd say this isn't personal, Marcus," Maro began darkly. "But it is. You let my son die. I entrusted him into your care and you still let him get butchered. Were you unable to stop it, or did you simply not care? I guess I'll never know."
"You gasp… bastard… I never -"
Maro kicked Marcus in the side of the head to shut him up. The young man's vision blurred. "Even without that, you're still a liability. A wanton loose variable that could give rise to significant trouble for the Empire. A man with the power of Akatosh at his back… even if you were on our side you'd still be a threat."
Marcus tried to say something, but his tongue no longer obeyed his commands.
Maro continued, "The idea that you could wear the Amulet of Kings… that's caused the Imperial council a lot of debate recently alone." Maro straightened and walked off. "No… it's better this way, for everyone in the Empire. You served your purpose, and now your loose end has been tied."
The captain who'd stabbed Marcus walked up to Maro. "Shouldn't we finish him off sir?"
"No need," Maro shook his head. "Look at him. He's barely hanging on. We'll torch this place and he'll be stuck inside."
The men moved out of the room, just as Marcus' vision clouded in around him and he fell into darkness.
Fire was everywhere. Every few seconds the entire area shook and rumbled as more chunks of rocks fell into the rooms and caverns. A particularly violent shake shook the area, and Marcus staggered into the side of the corridor, clutching a torch sconce as a handhold.
He wanted to vomit, to rip his intestines out of his body and throw them away, such was the pain he was experiencing. His heart burned, and his chest convulsed regularly. His stomach broiled and ached like he'd swallowed pure venom. His muscles were weak and aching, like one would feel just after waking up, except with a cramp.
Marcus had blasted his body with as much healing magic as he could, but that only served to remove the knife wound in his back. It did nothing to remove the poisons already running through his system.
Marcus' vision pulsed with colours of red and black, his eyes looked wide and bloodshot… almost crazy-like. He could hardly breath, constantly feeling like he was trapped underwater. Yet, he could still get enough air in his lungs to move, albeit slowly.
Another tremor shook the air, and rocks tumbled down from the ceiling. The air was thick with smoke. That just made it harder to breathe.
Marcus couldn't really see where he was going. He stumbled into a room, of average size. It's only distinguishing feature was the large stained glass window, in the depiction of sithis, with a stone coffin in front of it.
Marcus tried to keep walking, but found he couldn't, and collapsed onto the floor. Something exploded elsewhere, and the entire place shook again. Marcus felt the heat on his face from the various fires in the Sanctuary filling warming the entire complex. If his mind wasn't so delirious, he would've known his time had come.
Then a voice creeped into his mind.
Closer.
Marcus heaved himself onto his hands and knees, subconsciously crawling away from the fires bursting into the room, closer to the coffin.
Yes… come to me, my Listener.
Marcus looked around, chest heaving as the smoke and fires reduced the oxygen levels in the room to almost nothing.
Come to my embrace, and you will live.
Marcus looked up at the coffin, as it slowly creaked open. A corpse was inside, of a young woman. She didn't look old, or shriveled. As pristine as the day she'd died, by the looks of it. The corpse glowed with a soft red light.
Let me save you. Come to me.
Marcus, had his mind been in the right place, would have been thoroughly shocked at the notion of a talking corpse, and even more shocked at the idea of sharing its tomb.
But in his current state, he couldn't help but obey. Marcus clambered forward, and crawled into the base of the coffin, close up against the skin of the dead woman.
Yes… my Listener… sleep.
Then the stone coffin creaked shut, just as Marcus lost consciousness again.
Marcus coughed, and fell out of the coffin into some shallow water. He opened his eyes.
He was in the main cavern, the one where he'd fought the werewolf. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but it must've been a while because the fires had died down, and he only felt halfway dead. Marcus turned and looked at the coffin he'd emerged from. He couldn't quite remember what had happened after being stabbed, but it seems that the coffin had provided him much needed protection.
He looked at the corpse inside the coffin. He felt the need to say something, irrationally.
"I apologize for the intrusion," Marcus said, half-bowing to the corpse.
No need, my Listener.
"Woah..." Marcus involuntarily took a step back. The delirious memory of the woman talking to him as he crawled through the sanctuary came back to him. His eyes widened with confusion and concern.
"What… what are you?"
I am the Night Mother. You are my Listener.
The name rung a bell. Marcus remembered something he'd read in a book once, about the Divines. The Night Mother was the bride of Sithis. The Listener was the vessel through which the Night Mother spoke, and thus conveyed to the Listener the requests of those who wished for an assassination.
But to Marcus, that didn't make any sense. "Why did you save me? Why am I your listener? I've helped tear apart this Brotherhood."
You are more an instrument of death than anyone in Skyrim. Your actions may seem as working against the Dark Brotherhood, you have only given it a fresh beginning.
"What… what do you mean?"
Go to Solitude, protect the Emperor on his ship, as Astrid, the leader of this disillusioned band has already departed, and you will learn the truth. After… armed with understanding, you will heed my call.
Marcus didn't understand much of what the Night Mother was saying. He didn't know why he was her Listener, or what it might mean. Nor did he know what this 'truth' was. All he knew for certain, was that the Emperor was in danger. Answers, and revenge against the Penitus Oculatus would have to wait.
Marcus physically hesitated, before turning and running out. He didn't have any weapons, he felt he'd been turned inside out, and his armour was pretty damaged, but time was of the essence.
Marcus ran through the partially collapsed tunnels, out into the open air. Night had just fallen. He needed to get to the Solitude docks fast. Only one idea came to mind. He hoped the Dragon wouldn't mind.
"Odahviing!"
Marcus jumped off Odahviing's back from a great height, and dropped into the ocean near the Solitude docks. The entire place would likely be crawling with Penitus agents, so he needed to be subtle, and a large dragon swooping down to drop him off certainly wouldn't be that.
The water was cold as Marcus hit it. He got to the underside of the Emperor's vessel, and climbed up the anchor into the ship's hold.
Dripping wet, Marcus snuck through the hold. Ideally, he'd like to find the Emperor, and get him out of the ship to a safe location. But the very idea that the Emperor was here perplexed him. The same question circled Marcus' head as he climbed over crates and walked up stairs.
Why would the Emperor come to Skyrim when there were so many assassins targeting Imperial assets and people related to him?
It just defied common sense. Perhaps now that the Penitus Oculatus believed the Dark Brotherhood to be destroyed, it might've been logical, but the Emperor had already left for Skyrim before that had ever happened. Then his own body double gets murdered, and he still decided to stick around?
It's as if he wanted to be assassinated.
Marcus came onto the lower decks, to see that most of the sailors were all dead. Those in their cots were still safe, but anyone who was awake, like a group playing cards, had been killed. No doubt the works of this final assassin.
Marcus picked up the pace, jogging through the ship until he got to the upper levels. The door to the Emperor's chambers had two dead Penitus agents on either side of it. They'd been killed very recently. Blood was still flowing out of their necks.
Marcus kicked the door open and burst into the room. A woman stood next to a regally dressed man, dagger raised to plunge into his chest. The man, who could only be the Emperor, was sitting there, eyes closed, waiting for it to happen.
Marcus flung out his right hand, orange magic curling in the palm. The red-purple dagger in the Astrid's hand flew out of her grasp into his. The woman was stunned, turning to face Marcus, giving him the perfect opportunity to bury his newly acquired blade into her throat.
Astrid gurgled, her hands grasping weakly at Marcus' firm grip on the weapon. Then her eyes closed and her arms slumped. Dead. Almost anticlimactic, if he was being honest.
Marcus dropped the weapon, and turned to face the Emperor. The old man looked stunned for a moment, then defeated.
"You're Marcus, aren't you? The Dragonborn. You saved me," Titus Mede said in a flat tone.
Marcus frowned, "You don't sound like someone should, after the fact."
Titus closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. He sat down in his chair in a heap. He looked tired, as tired as an old man could possibly look.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this..." he said.
Marcus took a step back, confusion on his face. "What? What the hell do you mean? What's going on?"
Titus looked up at Marcus with a weary glance. "It would take too long to explain."
"Then you better start now," Marcus said, his voice growing angrily. "I want to know why I've traipsed all over Skyrim, watching people die left and right, just to save an Emperor who apparently doesn't want saving."
The Emperor hesitant to explain, but the look on Marcus' face wasn't one that should be refused. The old man looked down at his hands. "Ever since the Great War ended, I've been but a scapegoat for many of the Empire's problems. The White Gold Concordat, and the part I had in signing it, has made my name a damaged icon. My successes will never overshadow my failures."
"Many within the Empire dislike you, yes," Marcus nodded. "But I don't see how dying would change that."
"You're a traveled person, Marcus. You know what it looks like when conflict is looming. The Aldmeri Dominion is gearing itself for another war, and in its current state, the Empire cannot win against it. I am chained to past transgressions… I cannot lead the Empire in a new war."
"So step down," Marcus said, exasperated, "Death isn't the simplest solution. Abdicating to a younger, more charismatic person would serve the same purpose."
"To do so, would transfer suspicion onto whomever I chose. Those in the Empire would assume the new Emperor would share my ideals and visions. Ever heard of the phrase: 'The son inherits the sins of the father'? It'd work out the same if I abdicated for anyone. Thus, only by my death at the hands of another, can I ensure that whoever takes my place doesn't inherit my tenuous political position."
"Are you saying you were the one who ordered this assassination in the first place? Set up all these little objectives to make the entire process look as natural as possible?"
Titus looked guilty, and couldn't match Marcus' gaze.
Marcus took a step forward angrily. "You let several members of your own bodyguard get murdered! If your plan went through, you would've ended up butchering your own Gods-damn cousin at her wedding! The fuck is wrong with you?!"
Titus held his hands up in an attempt to calm the angry Dragonborn. "It would've been for the greater good, I assure you, and in any event, it doesn't matter now because that never happened. I hadn't… accounted for your presence."
"I can't believe what I'm hearing right now," Marcus said, eyes wide. He took a step away from the Emperor and paced back and forth. "The ends don't always justify the means, you know that, right?"
"It… it had to be so. A year from now, people still need to look back and see this as a delicately planned operation by a third party. To tone down the severity of this affair would risk everything. It had to look… natural."
Titus looked a little bit sad. "It was the only way to ensure whoever follows me as Emperor could possibly garner enough support to martial the Empire against the Aldmeri Dominion."
Marcus looked stunned. "You wanted to martyr yourself..."
Titus nodded somberly. "Yes… in essence, yes."
Marcus chewed his lip. "Do you really think that would work? Do you really think it'd help rally the Empire against the Dominion, in future?"
"I believe there is a good chance. As I am, old and ridden with contentious history, I could never lead the Empire against them."
Marcus thought about this for a good few moments. "Do you know who will take your place?"
"No, but I am sure the Elder Council will do a fine job of finding an adequate replacement."
Marcus reached down and picked up the dagger. He turned it over in his hands. "I've killed a lot of people to ensure your survival, you know."
Titus told him, "You only did so because you considered me valuable to the Empire and its citizens. But my death will end up being far more valuable than my survival ever could. My survival would mean every other death was in vain."
Marcus was silent. He closed his eyes.
The Emperor said shakily, "I'm afraid I will have to ask you a favour, Marcus. If you truly care for the greater good, you know what you must do."
Marcus wrapped his right hand around the hilt of the dagger, and looked up at the Emperor. "I know."
Marcus activated Nocturnal's invisibility spell, and walked out onto the deck of the Katariah. There weren't many soliders on the ship itself, most were patrolling the docks. He walked over to the edge of the ship, facing the distant marshlands of Morthal.
At a strong swim, he could make it to the other side before morning, then be far into the marshes by the time sun broke. He'd be half a province away by the time the alarm was raised. He'd be in Dawnstar by the time they mobilized a search party.
Marcus felt a little guilty. He felt as if he'd acted on the spur of the moment, and done something that might seem unwise in future, but the Emperor's words proved a decent enough comfort. The old man was right, in a way. Sometimes when something is too badly broken, it's better to throw it away and build a replacement, rather than try and fix it. There'd be a lot of political turmoil for the next month or so, but he doubted it would cause much damage. Marcus prayed what he'd done would turn out for the best.
Then he climbed over the railing, and dropped into the water.
As Marcus rested by the shoreline, close to Dawnstar. As he knelt down to wash his face with the seawater, he heard footsteps approaching. He stood up and turned, to see a Redguard and the same young girl he'd seen in the Sanctuary walking towards him.
"Easy there," the Redguard held his hands up. "We're not looking to attack you."
"You were at the Sanctuary..." Marcus stated to the girl, frowning. "You… you're both from the Brotherhood."
"We are," the girl nodded. "I'm Babette, this is Nazir."
"How did you both survive?"
Babette shrugged. "There's more than one way in and out of the Sanctuary. Those Penitus agents aren't nearly as good at confirming kills as they think they are. You should know."
Marcus crossed his arms. "Why are we talking right now? If you're with the Brotherhood, you should be trying to kill me, and vice versa."
Nazir sighed. He sounded tired, like he was done trying to make sense of what was going on. "A day ago, that'd be appropriate. But… The Night Mother has made it clear to us you're her Listener, and thus, you are the one who ought to lead us. We strayed from the teachings of Sithis under Astrid's guide, and look where that got us. We need to return to the Mother's guidance."
Babette nodded. "I also told Nazir how you saved me. If the Night Mother wishes it so, we should give you a chance. We don't have much of a choice either way, seeing as we're all that's left."
Marcus looked curious. "You want me to lead you? After everything that's happened?"
Nazir looked a token bitter. "It's not optimal, but nothing ever is. You killed some of our friends, but that might just be the price we have to pay for turning our backs on Sithis. We know you killed the Emperor as well, so the idea of our goals aligning isn't too far-fetched."
Marcus looked out at the ocean. This was… odd, yet he had a feeling he wouldn't regret this. A group of skilled assassins would be very useful under his guidance, if he infused a few morals. The Night Mother would just have to learn that Marcus wasn't ok with innocent deaths, and things might just turn out. If the Penitus Oculatus was anything to go by, there were plenty of evils in hard-to-reach places that would serve as adequate targets, should disgruntled citizens learn that there was a group out there willing to step in. And if those disgruntled citizens also learned of a ritual to contact said group...
"Hmmm..." Marcus turned back to face the pair. Let's say I agree. Where is the Night Mother now?"
"We have a place, near Dawnstar. An old Sanctuary that we can rebuild, if you're willing to lead us."
Marcus stared out at the ocean a little more, thinking hard. Then he looked back at the pair, and nodded. "Show me."
Author's Notes: They'll be a big break after this, a chronological gap of about 2-3 months, while everything in Skyrim sort of settles and Marcus gets into routine with all his guilds/factions. It'll also accommodate Marcus' final skill jump, to the point where he knows basically every Thu'um in the vanilla game, and has probably reached the level equivalent of 60 or higher. It'll also contain the trigger needed to push Marcus down a darker path… as you'll see soon enough.
Also, let me know if you guys want Cicero to be alive or not. I intentionally left him out of these chapters because I wasn't sure if he was evil enough to deem worth killing. If you want him in, I'll say he was out of the sanctuary at the time Marcus and the boys stormed in. The final section of this chapter was a bit slip-shod, but there wasn't really much I could do, in terms of such a large motive-shift for so many characters.
Dawnguard next! I've been looking forward to this for about a year now. Thanks to everyone who's been following along. Seems like this story is growing in leaps and bounds these days.
Thank you for reading.