(AN: Now we are introducing everyone's second favorite minor character [aside from Aela and Serana] and much more of the Dark Brotherhood quest-line. Speaking of which, some reviewers were upset that, in the chapter "The Music of Life", Astrid came off as kind of cold. Well, when i made her appear in The Dragonborn and the Lioness, her depiction was based heavily off of that of the lead character from Sophie Treadwell's play Machinal: someone who spurned faith and spirituality because it condemned what made her feel good. That was just what i got from it, and that was what i applied to Astrid to flesh out her character, aside from what else we see in the game. But she's not a total dick to Crixus, as we shall see in this chapter.)
(Also, half-way through "Through the Snows of Spring", i mistakenly called Eridor "Eribor" and nobody caught it. Also, did i ever once refer to Crixus in this story as "Eirik"? Because my brother is on a rampage through this story, erasing everything i've done about Crixus for his pro-Imperial white-washed version of The Dragon of the South and he claims that i called Crixus "Eirik" twice in the first two chapters, but i just went through those chapters and didn't see it once.)
(Warning, there is some iffy material in this chapter that is probably not for the faint of heart.)
Accords of Madness
Crixus spent little time at Helgen, for the town was small, quaint and boring: he believed everything the Viscount of Bruma had told about this backwater hovel. Once his wounds were bound and treated and his boots warmed, Crixus shod himself and assayed to continue his journey. Hadvar had a horse brought to him which would speed him on his journey.
The rest of the day was uneventful as Crixus wound his way through the snow-clad crags below the Throat of the World and into the evergreen forests of Falkreath. Going west, Crixus knew that he could likely arrive at the place he knew as the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary by evening.
But, as it was, Crixus underestimated the width of the hold of Falkreath and it was nighttime when he arrived at the town of Falkreath. Spending a few septims at the Dead Man's Drink, the local tavern, he quietly slept the night away. Though Falkreath was of sufficient size, it seemed to not be nearly as inviting as the other towns: not enough women to lay and the beer was piny, more so than Vilod's wine spiced with juniper.
When the morning dawned, bright and early, Crixus left, had a light breakfast, then continued on his way down the road leading westward out of town. He found the place just fine enough, though there was a wooden wagon sitting in the glade just outside of the door by the black pool. The door opened when his hand touched the stone and he passed into the Sanctuary. But this time it was very bright, with torches and candles in the niches. As he passed down the stairs into the room where he had met the other members of the Dark Brotherhood, he heard several voices talking. There was one he did not recognize: a man with a slight Colovian accent who seemed to stammer and speak rapidly at times.
"S-Surely you can see the good in this, huh?" the newcomer asked. "T-The Night Mother is mother to us all! It is her voice we follow, her-her will that guides us. Remember the Tenets! The Tenets! Yes, the Tenets! 'Never dishonor the Night Mother' is the first, the first tenet! Would you disobey the Tenets and risk...punishment?"
"Keep talking, little man!" a thick Nordic voice growled. "We'll see just who gets punished!"
"Oh shut up, you old war-dog," grumbled a haggard Colovian voice. "This man has had a long journey, we can at least be civil. Cheydinhal, was it?"
"Yes, yes, Cheydinhal!" the newcomer stammered. "It was a long journey. Long, hard, and lonely, so lonely."
"Master Cicero," the old voice stated. "For my part, I am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived at our humble sanctuary. Your coming will be a welcome return to tradition."
"Yes, yes, of course!" the odd one named Cicero returned. "Oh, yes! What a kind and-and wise wizard you are! Sure to win the Lady's favor!"
"Hmph," Crixus heard Astrid's voice speak up. "So it's settled then? Cicero and the Night Mother will stay here. The rest of you will show him the respect he deserves as Keeper." Crixus strained his ears to hear what she said next. "Isn't that right, Arnbjorn?" The old Nord growled in response. "Dismissed!"
Crixus stepped out from behind the side of the stairwell where he was hiding and joined the others as they made their way back to their places. Astrid, he saw, was speaking with someone dressed in a crimson jester's outfit, complete with a harlequin hat with silver bells on the tails.
"Let's keep one thing straight, clown," Astrid seethed. "Night Mother or not, I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Is that understood?"
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Cicero. "Of course, absolutely! P-Perfectly, mistress. You're the boss!"
Astrid groaned, then turned about to see Crixus approach. Her behavior changed like night and day. She approached him with something of a smile on her face and placed one hand upon Crixus' shoulder in a familial gesture.
"Welcome back, brother," she grinned. "I trust you've done your best to spread the word of Sithis to the people?"
"Of course," Crixus replied. "I'll tell you all about what happened."
"Please do," she returned. "We all love to hear about a good killing. Listen, the last time you were here I was short with you. I did not mean to be that way. You must understand that, as leader, I won't have anyone usurping my authority or demeaning what we do."
"I understand," Crixus nodded.
"People say that murder is wrong," Astrid continued. "But was it any more right when my uncle tried to fuck me?"
"I wouldn't say so," Crixus returned.
"Good, I knew there was a reason I chose you," Astrid stated. "But here with the Dark Brotherhood, it's different. Out there people look at you strangely if you love killing. But it's the one thing that makes me happy, the one thing that feels good. Does that make it bad if it brings me such happiness?"
"Hardly," Crixus added.
Astrid laughed as she slapped Crixus' shoulder. "You're going to fit right in, and that's good. We're a family here, and we'll take good care of you if you're loyal."
Crixus chuckled. "Why are you telling me this?"
Astrid looked over her shoulder at the jester, then leaned in. "Because of Cicero and the Night Mother. They represent a return to the old ways, one that is best left buried in the shadows of the past. Where were the Tenets when the corsairs sacked the Wayrest Sanctuary? Adhering to a bunch of cryptic bullshit written on old stone didn't help us survive: I did. We're the last bastion of the Dark Brotherhood because I didn't keep to some old religious rites. I'm not sure what that jester thinks, bringing that box here, but this is my Sanctuary."
"As you say," Crixus returned.
Astrid departed while Crixus began his search for Nazir: if he hadn't learned about his successful missions, he was about to learn. In the same meeting room, the others began to gather around the little vampire girl Babbette who began a descriptive recounting of one of her most favorite kills. Crixus thought about joining them when suddenly the jester Cicero appeared before him.
"Brother in darkness!" he greeted. "Yes, you were not here with the others. Perhaps you will be more welcoming than the 'mistress' and her lapdog."
"Maybe," Crixus evasively replied.
"It-It was so lonely on the boat-ride from Cheydinhal to Skyrim," Cicero continued. "Nothing but the silence, always the silence. Driving poor Cicero insane. Even in this land, there was nothing but silence. Cicero had no one. Then there was that pesky farmer: rather dumb for a fellow Colovian. Tried to put Cicero in prison, he did. But Cicero escaped, he did. But the farmer didn't escape, nor did his fat, ugly wife. Ooh, so many knife wounds."
"You killed them?" Crixus asked.
"First Tenet of the Dark Brotherhood:" quoth Cicero. "'Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.'" Crixus nodded, but the jester seemed bemused as he craned his thin, squinting eyes towards Crixus.
"What?" he asked.
"Cicero has seen many who have walked under the shadow of the Night Mother," Cicero replied. "Many different kinds of killers. But you, you have seen much death, haven't you? Caused quite a bit of it yourself, I would imagine. Few come here who have anything to lose, yet your acceptance shows much about you."
"How can I accept anything I barely know?" Crixus asked.
"Oh, well then Cicero will educate you!" exclaimed the jester as he pulled up a chair for himself, then proceeded to give it to Crixus while he paced around the chair like a little child. "There are five tenets of the Dark Brotherhood, five simple laws which govern what we do. The first one is 'Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.' The second one is 'Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.'" For a moment Cicero paused, a vacant expression on his face.
"What is it now?" Crixus asked.
"So many..." Cicero mused aloud. "So many abandoned us. So many walked away from the shadows. And where is judgment?"
"If you're talking about Sithis," Crixus began, but the jester spun around on his heel.
"Do not dishonor Sithis!" he exclaimed.
"Let me guess, to do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis?" Crixus asked.
"It-It's no joke!" Cicero continued. "Sithis is nothing to shake one's nose at. You see, Sithis is not a god like the Divines or a demon like the Daedra, nor does it have a plane of Oblivion dedicated to it. We call him the 'Father' of our order, but Sithis is neither male nor female. Sithis is everything and nothing. It is and-and is not at the same time. It is into the arms of Sithis where those who walk the path of the Dark Brotherhood go when they die, for all things become nothing in the end."
"Uh-huh," Crixus mused. "That seems logical. And what about those who dishonor Sithis?"
"They also become nothing," Cicero stated.
"That's rather fair, actually," Crixus commented. "No Aetherius or Oblivion or sovereign-guard, just nothing: a sweet release from the evils of life." Cicero smiled. "So, what are the other tenets?"
"Hmm? Oh, oh, the Tenets! Yes!" Cicero stammered, going back on his laps around Crixus' chair. "The third: 'Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.' Number four: 'Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.' Finally, there is the last one. 'Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so...'"
"'Is to invoke the wrath of Sithis,'" Crixus finished.
"Yes, exactly!" Cicero exclaimed. "You and I are going to get along just fine."
Crixus nodded, then turned his attention to the main group. The little vampire girl was finishing up her story of her most favorite kill.
"'Please, mister! You just have to help me!'" Babbette bemoaned. "'My mother and father are dead and I'm so alone and afraid!' Then this Dunmer creep comes walking up, an older fellow with a shake in his voice. 'Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie?'" The others burst into fits of laughter.
"Very good impression!" the Argonian Vee-Zara stated. "Now go on to the next part."
"Okay, okay," Babbette continued. "'Oh yes, please, mister! I'm so very hungry!' Then he's all 'Come along, my sweetie. I know a way to the candy shop, just through this dark alley.' And then he takes me into this dark alley, thinking that I'm some wide-eyed, precocious six-year-old who'll believe anything he says. I follow him up till the end and he starts making his move on me. 'My, it's so dark down here!' I exclaim fearfully. 'Oh, but you are so very beautiful. What a lovely smile, your t...argh!'" Babbette then proceeded to imitate an elderly Dunmer having his neck torn apart by a precocious-looking vampire child, complete with screams and cries for mercy. Those gathered around her exploded into peels of laughter.
"Oh, Babbette!" Gabriella gasped. "You are just so wicked!"
"I'm good at what I do!" she replied.
Crixus rose up from where he was sitting and approached the little vampire.
"Oh, Crixus, there you are!" she exclaimed. "Did you get what I asked for?"
"Most of it," Crixus stated. "But the shop was out of nightshade, deathbells and there was no Jarrin root." He then proceeded to remove his back-pack and take out all that he had purchased from Elgrim's Elixirs. Babbette examined the things and nodded in approval.
"Everything appears to be in order," she said. "Though we're still low on the other things. Ugh, I'll talk to Astrid about the Jarrin root. It is hard to come by, after all."
"I know," Crixus nodded. Just as he was about to say 'So is everything in Black Marsh', he suddenly spun around and threw a knife at something in the shadows. There was a cry and moments later out walked Nazir, still looking at where Crixus' dagger had fallen.
"Next time you try to sneak up on me," Crixus stated. "That's going through your heart."
"Don't take offense," Nazir replied. "It was only a test. Stealth is a skill every agent of the Dark Brotherhood should cultivate. Now, tell me what happened."
"Beitild is dead," Crixus began. "I disguised myself as a miner and snuck into the mines outside of Dawnstar. I pretended that I found gold and had her brought over immediately. The moment she wasn't looking, I slit her throat and buried her under the rubble I had been digging up."
Nazir chuckled. "I hear the mining business is extremely cutthroat. That's a good hundred septims right there. What about the others?"
"Ennodius, the paranoid fool at Anga's Mill," Crixus stated. "Was also an easy one. He was asleep and I turned his mill on. When he came to investigate, I shoved his face into the running mill-saw. You should have seen it, there was blood everywhere."
Once again, Nazir let out a low, unsettling chuckle through his pearly-white grin. "Those splinters and nails and saws can be quite deadly. Glad to see you were careful for yourself." Though he said nothing, the others were gathering around behind him and Crixus, eagerly listening to his reports.
"The last one was even more of a challenge," Crixus continued. "The dilapidated shite-hole he was sleeping in creaked more than the walkways of Riften. The bastard thought he heard something and awoke in a cold sweat. When he asked who was there, I told him 'I am Sithis and I am here to do the work of Sithis!'"
"No way!" Babbette exclaimed. "That's unbelievably cool!"
"Must have made the old Nord piss himself," hissed Vee-Zara.
"Hmm," Nazir mused, turning to Crixus with a grim expression on his face. "Congratulations. You slaughtered an emaciated beggar in cold blood." Crixus looked at him strangely. From all of his other responses and those from the others, he did not expect this response.
Then, suddenly, Nazir's smile widened and he burst into laughter.
"The look on your face!" Gabriella exclaimed.
"It was like this!" Babbette stated, her face taking on the exaggerated expression of one shocked beyond belief.
"So Astrid was right in choosing you," Nazir gasped after his long, hearty laugh. "I hear she has something for you, but if you really want to prove your skill, there is something I would like to add."
"What's that?" Crixus asked.
"There is one contract which some of our other assassins keep failing," Nazir continued. "It's someone here in Falkreath. A vampire named Hern at Half-Moon Mill. You might have seen it on your way up here. Hern has been living there, attempting to blend into human society for several years. He's never far from his female companion Hert, also a vampire. The contract is on him, but you'll probably have to face her as well. So for Sithis' sake, watch yourself."
"Why?" Crixus asked.
"As I may have said before," Babbette interjected. "Vampires are rather strong. Some of the stronger ones I've encountered can bash a full grown man's face in with one swipe of their hands. Me? I can leave some very deep wounds, but I'm not nearly that strong."
"No," Crixus returned, speaking to Nazir. "I mean why does this Hern have to die?"
"Does it matter?" Nazir asked. "The Dark Brotherhood gets a contract, we fulfill it. That's just how it goes."
"You're not going to cite the Third Tenet of the Dark Brotherhood at me?" Crixus asked.
Nazir grumbled, then cast a suspicious glare at Cicero, then made his way into the hall where he and Crixus had met before: the stone dining hall. After casting a glance at Babbette, who gestured with her little head for him to follow him, Crixus walked on after Nazir. Inside, Nazir shut the door behind them and turned to Crixus.
"I overheard you and the clown talking to each other," Nazir stated.
"So?" Crixus asked. "What is it to you?"
"Personally?" Nazir asked. "I don't like mimes, minstrels, thespians, acrobats, jugglers, troubadours or tumblers. Flutists give me a headache, and I particularly hate jesters. I'm also not fond the corpses of old women, but for the Night Mother I'll make an exception. But Astrid is the only mistress we serve: you would do well to remember that."
"I see," Crixus nodded.
"Now then," Nazir continued. "Let's go find Astrid and she'll give you your first real challenge. I hear this one is rather complicated."
"You do know that I might not be able to tend to all of them at once?" Crixus asked.
"Oh, I know," Nazir nodded. "And we'll be waiting eagerly for news of your success. But for now, go find Astrid."
"Uh-huh," Crixus nodded. He then proceeded to the door, then turned around to Nazir. "Wait a minute, corpse of old women?"
"Ask your new friend about it," Nazir stoically replied as he vanished into the shadows of the dimly-lit dining hall.
Crixus decided that he would remain in the Sanctuary overnight and be on his way by morning. There was much to accomplish and he had his duty to the Thieves Guild as well. But while the others went about their way, Crixus paced about the Sanctuary in thought. Though he could have found excuses for Beitild and Narfi's deaths, Ennodius did not seem to warrant death. He was just a paranoid Imperial miller: why did he deserve to die? The thought had never occurred to him until he was told to take on a vampire. From what he had learned from Nazir, the vampire was in hiding. For all he knew, he was just trying to stay out of everyone's way, not harming anyone. Why did he deserve to die along with an angry Nord and a beggarly Nord?
But Crixus was not permitted to spend much time alone. Cicero seemed to be hovering around him like a fly, constantly sparking up conversation or at least trying to do so. Most of his talk centered around what happened in Cheydinhal, in the old Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. From this Crixus learned that the Dark Brotherhood had fallen on hard times. The position of Keeper had only been lately instilled, what with the rapidly deteriorating state of the Night Mother.
"So," Crixus finally asked. "Just what exactly is the Night Mother?"
"Oh ho ho," Cicero chuckled. "That is a tale. Many rumors abound about who 'Sweet Mother' is whom those who preform the Sacrament must pray to in order to bring death to those unworthy to live. Some say she is Mephala, others say she was a member of the Thieves Guild or the Morag Tong. B-but the one that I like the most tells of her as a Dunmer who was visited in her chambers by Sithis. That story tells of her being a Morag Tong assassin, who barely escaped survival when the Akaviri Potentate was slain. As the Morag Tong were being annihilated from greater Tamriel, this Dunmer woman, living in Bravil, began to hear the voice of Sithis. One night he visited her and, over the next two years, she bore five children to Lord Sithis."
"Something came from nothing?" Crixus asked. "Yeah, I'll believe that. Go on."
"Then," Cicero chuckled. "Sithis told the woman to kill her five children, ranging from two years old to newborn. And she did it!" Cicero broke into laughter. "Much better to get the little ones before they're exposed to such a gray, dreary, silent world." Once again the jester seemed to disappear, gazing at the stone wall of the Sanctuary in deathlike silence.
"So what happened then?" Crixus asked.
"What? Oh, yes, the Night Mother!" Cicero exclaimed. "Well, the people of Bravil locked her in her house and burned it down about her ears. Killing children was something they found simply such an affront to decency that they forewent a trial and skipped straight to the execution."
"That's only the Imperial way," Crixus stated. "Guilty until proven innocent."
"But the joke was on them!" Cicero exclaimed, bursting into laughter. "No, you see? Because some busy-body was rifling through her ruins when he heard her voice, speaking to him just as Cicero speaks to you now. He became the First Listener of the Dark Brotherhood."
"Right," Crixus mused. "Well, I rather liked that story. Much more interesting than all of these Nord fables. Oh, by the way, just what is the job of the Keeper?"
"The Keeper, that's me!" Cicero continued. "Well, as I was mentioning about the falling away of the Dark Brotherhood, her body began to deteriorate. So the position of Keeper was made to keep her body intact so she could continue to speak to the Listener." Once again Cicero zoned out and gazed at the floor.
"Wait a minute," Crixus spoke up. "If I remember correctly, the Akaviri Potentate was assassinated in the Second Era, almost a thousand years ago. Are you telling me that the Night Mother's body has survived for a thousand years? How is that even possible?"
"Magic," Cicero replied. "Sithis and a lot of oil. Into all of those hard to reach places."
Crixus took a step back from Cicero. In Mournhold, the locals hated necromancy. It was not uncommon to hear in the corner-clubs foul tales of necromancers resurrecting the corpses of ancestors to make love to them. Whether or not these were true was something Crixus did not concern himself with: mostly the Dunmer said this to stir up anti-necromantic prejudice. But to actually be in the presence of one was something that even Crixus could not properly stomach.
At that point, Crixus decided that he should seek out Astrid. He went back the way he had come, towards the antechamber at the beginning of the Sanctuary, hoping that she was waiting for him there. As he passed on his way there, he saw a large wooden box leaning up on its small end against the wall of the main room. For a moment he wondered what was in there, but then he heard Astrid's voice calling him.
"There you are," she greeted. "Finished talking to that blathering fool?"
"I would say so," Crixus returned.
"Good, we have work to do," Astrid continued. "You've done well for yourself. But now it's time for something else, something more important. You must go to the city of Markarth and speak with a woman named Muiri. She's the apothecary's assistant at the Hag's Cure. She's been running her mouth, something about an ex-lover she wants killed. Apparently she's already performed the Black Sacrament, so just talk to her, set up the contract and carry it out."
"Anything else?" Crixus asked.
"Just do whatever she wishes," Astrid stated. "Be professional, represent us well and get the job done. Oh, since this is your first contract, you'll get to keep whatever Muiri pays. Should be substantial, they usually are."
"Hmm," Crixus mused. "So what about all of those kills I took from Nazir? Those didn't count as contracts at all?"
"You got those from him," Astrid clarified. "This one comes from me, and that makes it all the more important. Now carry it out, for I shall be watching."
Crixus nodded. He had a long night of planning and preparation ahead of him, as well as things he had to do for the Empire and the Thieves Guild. He still had doubts about this vampire contract, but even more so, he found Astrid's words a little unnerving. Crixus held both Imperial and Dunmer tradition of Mournhold in high regard: unlike Nord traditions of violence, bigotry and imperialistic expansionism, Imperial tradition was one of honor, duty, loyalty to one's country and the eternal quest for knowledge. Even though Dunmer tradition included slavery, legalized assassination, aristocratic snobbery and the same kind of bigotry which he found repulsive in Nords, in Crixus' mind those 'disdainful' traditions were excusable because they were Dunmer and they hadn't tried to overthrow all of Tamriel.
In his mind, if the traditions were good, they deserved to be kept. As he had heard from Cicero, the Five Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood were good tenets: obey your superiors and be nice to your brothers and sisters. Simple rules, but they made all the difference in making the Dark Brotherhood more than just a bunch of murderers like the Companions or the Morag Tong. Astrid's words, however, her insistence on her personal value and authority over even the fabled Night Mother of the Dark Brotherhood and these worthy tenets...
Crixus began to wonder if Astrid could be trusted at all.
(AN: Something that bothers me about the Dark Brotherhood quest-line: if Cicero is coming from Cheydinhal to Falkreath, why is he in Whiterun? Especially if you get executed if you try to cross the border. So i had it that Cicero came by boat, which is why he went south through Whiterun to Falkreath.)
(Oh, one think i want to ask of my readers: is Crixus competent enough for you? I mean, my brother got upset that apparently i made Crixus 'completely inept', even though he successfully killed Grelod without being detected while walking across the rafters at Honorhall Orphanage, made an impossible shot during the Loud and Clear mission, successfully sneaked past all of the guards and much more. In my previous stories, the readers were upset that Eirik was basically so awesome that no challenge was enough to be daunting [which led to me trying to up the ante, which led to everyone abandoning him for Crixus], so i want to give Crixus a challenge. He does not use the Voice to shout down everything in his way, therefore Skyrim will not be a walk in the park for him, that is intentional!)