POORLY KEPT SECRETS
Valentine
With the exception of the two Blades, who had left them yet again after delivering the wanted posters to find Delphine's contacts, the group sat at the table farthest from the door at The Old Sail Inn. Katjaa and Arenar sat in the darkest corner of that table with their hoods up over their faces. Valentine had suggested the inn, telling them all that it had a firm policy of not serving Thalmor. And though that was true, he also mentioned it since the owner was under the protection of the Thieves Guild, and would think twice before reporting the fugitives to the authorities.
He was taken by surprise when his advice had been followed. Ever since Kynesgrove, he'd felt even less accepted by the group as a whole than before. The Blades, who were clearly mistrustful of everyone, were skeptical of him the most; having had a dagger pressed against Sven's throat in their first meeting didn't help anything. Arenar's suspicious glares had worsened for a while, but now they were a little less frequent. And now Lydia was constantly eyeing him when she thought he wasn't looking for reasons he didn't quite know. Not hostilely, as with Arenar and the Blades, but they were stares nonetheless.
What caused this sudden shift in trust? Valentine guessed that it either had something or everything to do with the ghost of Lucien Lachance. He never gave a good explanation as to how he ended up with a Spectral Assassin as a bodyguard, but that was because no one ever asked. I'd probably lie anyway.
Lachance had called him "Listener." Could that have given me away? It wasn't exactly common knowledge who or what a Listener was, so there was a chance that his secret was still a secret. But the group he was traveling with was made up of some smart people; if they didn't add two-and-two together and get four yet, they soon would.
Just because he had more eyes watching him than he was used to didn't mean that Valentine had no one left to depend on. Katjaa was still on his side despite his recent past. Rimion was a good man, one Valentine considered a good friend, though he wondered how their relationship would change if the Arch-Mage found out about his time as an assassin or his current profession as Guildmaster.
Valentine couldn't get a reading on Kole. Either the Harbinger didn't know about his past, or did and didn't care as much as anyone else. The Companions and the Thieves Guild—and the Dark Brotherhood, for that matter—worked on opposite sides of the law, but that didn't mean they couldn't work together for the greater good. At least Dog seems to like me. He probably knows I would have given him a better name.
"Why haven't we seen these before?" Katjaa asked, gesturing to the folded wanted posted in the center of the table.
"For the exact same reason that Ulfric Stormcloak is wanted by the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion," Lydia explained. "And, substantially, why you two are wanted as well."
Despite the situation, both she and Rimion were glowing. They were so close to each other she practically sat on his lap. Considering the sounds they've been making all night every night, this wouldn't be the first time she's been sitting on his lap.
She continued once the drinks they'd ordered were brought to them. "Without a High King to issue warrants for arrests, the Jarls have been, for the most part, only handling the crimes committed in their own holds. The Empire and, unfortunately, the Thalmor, have a substantial amount of power in Skyrim, but the Jarls technically don't have to report to them; anything either groups wants to have done will require a great deal of gold or respect."
Valentine smiled. A major reason for the Thieves Guild prospering was due to the death of the High King. The local handling of crimes, rather than the full-blown searches that were the norm, made getting away with a huge payday much easier.
It did make him wonder if part of him was responsible for the current affairs. Taking the fight to the Empire like he did, back when he was an assassin, could have inspired Ulfric Stormcloak to do the same. Ulfric has always been rebellious though; if I am responsible for anything, it's that this happened sooner rather than later.
"Even if these had been in the other holds," Kole said, "only those loyal to the Empire would try to stop you. And even then, if you were to show them you are the Dragonborn, they're Nordic nature would stop them from turning either of you in. Especially in the settlements that have been attacked by dragons."
"Except Ivarstead," Rimion countered. "The people there might be a tad bit spiteful."
"Solitude is the most Cyrodiilic city in Skyrim," Lydia said. "So the Empire loyalists are going to be abundant here. I'm not sure even sure the 'I'm the Dragonborn' excuse will work here; we all saw what happened to Roggvir, and all he did was open a gate."
Survivor's guilt crept over Valentine. He'd murdered many people when he was with the Dark Brotherhood; among his more notable targets were Commander Gaius and his son Gaius, Vittoria Vici, and Amaund Motierre. If Roggvir was publicly beheaded for his minor action, I couldn't even begin to imagine what my punishment would be, or how worse they'd be if I had killed the Emperor too.
He downed his drink in one gulp, hoping that the alcohol would take his problems away.
"How are Katjaa and I going to get around the city then?" Arenar asked. "I don't want to be locked up in a room for however long we plan to be here, and a hood can only do so much to hide your face."
"I might have a solution to that," Rimion said. "A magical one, of course. I could enchant tools for you two; powerful Illusion and Alteration magic should be able to cosmetically alter your appearances. Only a well-trained mage would be able to see past the deception, but he'd have to actively want to."
Valentine chuckled dryly. "I doubt we'll run into any powerful mages here in Solitude... home of the Thalmor Embassy."
Arenar ignored his comment. "How long would it take you to do this?"
Rimion shrugged. "It depends on a couple factors. Enchantments this powerful would require grand soul gems, and those aren't too common outside of the College. And they're usually very expensive. Once I had the gems, I'd still need a couple days to do the job right. No, Arenar; I wouldn't advice rushing me. Doing the magic wrong could have some... unexpected side effects."
"I can get you the soul gems by tonight," Valentine said. He knew a woman—a magically inclined woman—in the city that would be able to provide the gems. For her sake, they'd better be free. Else I might let slip her little secret to the Jarlessa.
The stare he got from Arenar, and the fact that Lydia was looking at everything but him, all but confirmed for Valentine that they knew something about him. Exactly what, he couldn't determine, but it was enough to know that his secrets weren't exactly secret anymore.
Rimion nodded. "Good. Hopefully Delphine will get in touch with her contacts and get us a way into the Thalmor Embassy by the time I'm done."
"In the meantime," Katjaa said, "I think we should split up. Stay in separate inns. We don't want the Empire or Thalmor to capture either me or Arenar, but we certainly don't want us both to be taken."
Valentine suggested another inn under the Thieves Guild's protection. "The Ancient Oak Inn might have some cheap rooms available, if you mention my name. It's on the other side of the city, so that should put plenty of distance between us."
The group decided over the next few minutes who would go where. Katjaa would be staying at The Old Sail Inn, and with her would be Valentine, Lydia, and Rimion. The Blades, Kole and Dog, and Arenar would hide out at The Ancient Oak Inn until the rings Rimion would enchant were complete. Valentine suspected the Blades, once they returned, would argue against them being away from the Dragonborn. Katjaa probably just wants a break from Delphine. Arenar didn't seem too broken up about being away from Valentine.
Everyone ate together at the recommendation of Valentine, as the food at The Ancient Oak Inn, though inexpensive, was not near the quality of their currently location. Once their stomachs were full to bursting, half the group gathered their things and prepared to make the journey to the second inn.
While the others said their temporary goodbyes, Valentine managed to pull Arenar aside. He attempted to slide his Nightingale mask into the Imperial's hands. "This should keep you from being discovered. Might attract an eye or two, but no one will say anything.
Arenar just looked at the mask for a while, eventually turning his eyes to Valentine. "I don't think so."
He attempted to walk away but Valentine moved into his path. "What's your problem?" Valentine asked him.
Arenar leaned in and whispered threateningly in his ear, "Listen up thief, and listen well, for I will not repeat this. It is only because you are the brother of my love that I do not run you through here and now. If you ever do anything to harm Katjaa or anyone else in the group, my leniency on your existence will end. Your guild can come for vengeance if they wish. I will be waiting."
Before Valentine could say anything, Arenar walked away.
"Your boyfriend is going to kill me," Valentine said.
Katjaa jumped with a start. For good reason, as she hadn't known he was there. "What?" she exclaimed in a slightly agitated tone.
Valentine had waited until Arenar's group left the inn to approach his sister. And even then he had to wait a few hours later, since he obviously couldn't bring it up in front of Rimion and Lydia. At last he got his chance when Katjaa finally decided to remove her traveling attire, except for the cloak and hood, and store it with the rest of her stuff in her room. He was still in his Nightingale armor, so she wouldn't have known he was there unless she'd invited him in.
He closed the door behind him and then slumped down into the resting chair across from the single bed in the room. "Arenar knows about me being a part of the Thieves Guild. And, believe it or not, he's not too fond of thieves." He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "I've not a clue how he found out."
Looking up, he saw Katjaa's worrisome expression. He understood immediately.
"You told him." It wasn't a question, as Valentine already knew the answer.
"I told him the truth about me," Katjaa said quietly, "and our family. There was no way to tell him without revealing you, too."
Valentine squeezed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. He knew he had no reason to be upset with her. She's allowed to entrust whatever she wants to the man she loves. But he still didn't feel entirely comfortable with being threatened by a man who seemed likely to kill him without a second thought.
"He'd been suspicious about you since the day you showed up," Katjaa said. "Even if I hadn't told him, I'm sure he would have figured it out."
Valentine looked at her, confused. "What did I do to tip him off? Was it Lachance?"
"No. He's got no idea about you and the Brotherhood."
He allowed himself to relax a little after hearing that. At least some things can remain secret.
"Arenar told me, that day you formally met everyone in Morthal, that he recognized your armor as that of a Nightingale. Apparently he'd encountered them and the Thieves Guild a number of times."
"That doesn't make any sense," Valentine said, mostly to himself. "He's got the appearance of a mercenary, or a sell-sword. And not a very wealthy one at that. Why would the guild go after him at all, let alone more than once?"
Katjaa shook her head. "I'm not sure. I'd thought the same thing when he told me, but I don't think he was lying."
"He had to have been lying, Kat," Valentine said. "Nocturnal only has three Nightingales at a given time in Nirn. And if he's as young as he looks, then the only Nightingales he could have encountered were from the Skyrim chapter. One of the Nightingales from twenty years ago is still one today, and she's never mentioned failing to rob the same lone man more than once."
"I can still read people, Max, even if I'd stopped making a career out of it. And Arenar's a terrible liar. I'd know if he wasn't telling the truth." She still looked distressed, as if she'd failed convincing herself of the same thing. "Maybe Nocturnal has more Nightingales than she lets on."
Giving her the benefit of the doubt, Valentine shrugged. "That's possible. It is in the Daedras' nature to lie and use mortals, even the more benevolent ones like Nocturnal and Azura."
A question popped into his head. "You didn't tell him about... the other thing, did you?"
She hesitated, and then shook her head. "Arenar doesn't know, but I told Lydia everything."
So that explains the stares I've gotten from her. "I'd suspect as such."
"You don't have to worry," Katjaa said, "about her telling anyone. As her thane, she is under strict instructions not to mention anything. Nords take their oaths very seriously, you know."
Valentine smiled. "Many things become revealed between bed sheets; it won't be long before Lydia tells Rimion."
"She won't."
"I wish I had your confidence."
Since he still had a few hours before he could go blackmail his contact for grand soul gems, Valentine decided to work on his novel.
Writing often helped him release stress, and it was a great way to confess the worst of his many sins. Valentine would never be able to atone for all the people he'd killed, both good and bad, but it was nice to know others would someday be able to carry his burden. Even if they think it's just fiction.
He didn't bother to remove his armor. His contact knew his name but nothing else; the Nightingale mask would hide his face better than his shrouded hood ever could, and there was no reason to not wear the rest of his ensemble. Unlike other armor he'd had over the years, this armor shaped from darkness was quite comfortable to lounge in.
The main room of The Old Sail Inn was practically empty. Katjaa had resigned to her room when business had started to pick up, and had remained once everyone who came in only for a drink was gone. Rimion was out searching for an enchanting table that he could use once he got the soul gems. Lydia went with him, and was also on the search for a new shield to replace the one that'd been shredded to pieces in Kynesgrove.
That allowed Valentine to find a cozy place by the fire. He dragged a small table from his rented room next to his chair, to place his drink and inkwell on. The innkeeper didn't say anything about it; whether it was because it didn't bother her or because he was the head of the organization she paid protection money too, he didn't know. In his glass was Firebrand Wine. Drinking aided, rather than hindered, his ability to recall his feelings at the time of each assassination.
He skimmed the last entry he'd made to recall where he'd last stopped. Taking a sip of his beverage, he dipped the quill into the inkwell and began writing what was the turning point in his assassin career.
Valentine stood outside Emperor's private chambers. He wiped the sweat from his brow, unsure why he was so nervous of what waited on the other side of the door. Nothing he'd encountered on the ship had slowed him down, and yet he was worried by what he would find. Would it Titus Mede be alone in there, having expected the men and women of the Penitus Oculatus to protect him from any and all threats? Or were the best of his guard in there, waiting for the tired assassin to come at them with everything he had?
He placed his hand on the door knob... but he didn't turn it. He couldn't. Valentine didn't want to be here anymore than the Emperor did, if the man knew what was going on. But he couldn't just walk—and then swim—away from the boat. Not as long as the Emperor still lived. Astrid's last wish, other than to put her down, was for him to finish the contract, and to restore the Dark Brotherhood to its former glory.
Though he could have never told her, in fear that her husband the werewolf would rip her in half, he loved her too much to disobey any order she'd ever given him. His attraction to her had been one of the few reasons that, once he had found the location of the Thieves Guild, he hadn't stayed in the underground of Riften. It had torn him apart, killing her in the name of Sithis—a being he didn't even believe in. In spite of what she'd done, betraying him in an attempt to save the Brotherhood, his feelings hadn't changed.
"For you, Astrid," Valentine whispered to himself in a pained voice. And then he opened the door.
The room beyond it was what he expected. All four walls were decorated with pretty but meaningless things. Swords that had never cut down a man; armor that had never stopped a blade. Several bookshelves were lined with literary works of varying importance and topics. Some of which, judging by the dust on them, hadn't been touched in a long time. Chests and drawers likely containing the many fancy wardrobes the Emperor owned. Banners with the Imperial Dragon, insignia of a shrinking Empire, hung from posts in several areas. Either side of the room had closed doors leading to parts of the Emperor's private chambers.
Valentine had been trained to spot everything in his environment with great detail. The skill had served him well, back in the days when he was a thief, in order to pick out the tiny valuables that he could make off with.
Sitting at his desk, situated opposite of the door in front of windows that gave a great view of the water, was Titus Mede II. A hairline that had receded long ago left his grey hair, though neatly trimmed like his small beard, covering only half his head. His dark purple robes were, not surprisingly, in pristine condition. All in all, he looked much like the decoy that Valentine had killed while undercover as the Gourmet. Though that was obviously the point.
He had his hands lay folded on his desk. In fact, there was not a single weapon on him. Nor was there one on his desk, though there were two large goblets on it. The one closest the Emperor was filled to the top; the other was as empty as the chair in front of the desk. Titus looked... calm, which disturbed Valentine a small amount.
The door opened behind Valentine. He looked over his shoulder to see that Rimion had returned. The Arch-Mage waved at him so Valentine did the same. He took this pause to take another sip of his wine before returning to his memoir. He recalled the words spoken by the Emperor and himself as best he could.
"Commander Maro is dead, I imagine?" Emperor Mede asked with a strong, even voice. Valentine nodded. "A shame, but nothing I didn't warn him about. You can't stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could."
The Emperor gestured to the empty seat. Not sensing a trap of any kind, and wanting to get off his feet, Valentine crept slowly the chair and sank into it. He couldn't help himself for sighing in comfort; crouching in the shadows causes strain on one's back after so much time, and he'd been doing it for several hours today.
A smile appeared on the Emperor's face. Creepy, Valentine thought. "Comfortable, is it not?"
Normally Valentine didn't get a chance to speak to his targets, since he'd tried never to be detected by them. Since that was unavoidable with the Emperor, Valentine nodded after a long pause. "I can't begin to image what your chair must feel like, if it was made for an emperor."
"Actually quite similar," said Titus Mede. "I see no reason why, in a civil discussion, both parties can't sit in seats of similar quality."
"This discussion is far from civil. I have to admit... I am surprised not to find more of your guards in here."
"I figured that it did not matter where they stood." The Emperor's face grew grim. "The assassin's death is the only thing that can stop the Dark Brotherhood from achieving their kill. And you've proved quite hard to kill; the men and women aboard this ship were destined to die by your hand, and nothing I could have done would stop it."
"You've proven quite hard to kill as well, your Majesty."
A weak chuckled passed his lips. "It seems we do have something in common." He took a long drink from his goblet. "Do you want any?" he asked, pointing to the other cup.
Valentine shook his head. "Drinking on the job is a distraction. I have to be ready for anything, and being sober makes that easier."
"More for me, I suppose." Titus finished off the drink and then refilled it with a bottle he'd had sitting on the floor. As he did so he asked, "so who betrayed me, if I may ask? I have my suspicions, but assuming is not a trait I would wish to pick up now, in the last few moments of my life."
There was no reason not to tell him. The Emperor seemed nice enough, which made Valentine feel that much worse for not flinging a dagger into the man's head the second he entered the room. "Amaund Motierre. A member of the Elder Council, I believe."
"You are correct. And so was I."
The goblet was emptied of its contents yet again, but this time it was rested on the desktop and left alone. Emperor Mede refolded his hands and returned his attention to Valentine.
"You and I have a date with destiny. But so it is with assassins and emperors, hmm? Yes, I must die. I know enough about your organization that you cannot leave a contract incomplete, else risk the wrath of... Sithis, I believe. You must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. But I wonder... would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?"
Valentine couldn't quite grasp what was going on. Here he was, Emperor Titus Mede II, ruler of the once great Empire of man and mer and the bestial races... giving up. Accepting his fate. Not trying at all to stop or at least slow the assassin sent to end his life. Valentine hadn't accepted a drink because he'd expected it to be poisoned, but now he wasn't so sure.
"Are you not going to fight for your life?" he asked the Emperor. "Do you not want to live?"
"I am an old man," said Titus Mede. "My son will take the throne once I've passed, which wouldn't be too many years from now even if you hadn't intervened. I hope that he will have what it takes when the Thalmor return. Maybe he can do what I can't: unite a nation."
Emperor Titus Mede II stood and faced the window. "When you go to collect your money from Amaund for my assassination, I would appreciate if you would kill him. Would you do me this kindness?"
Valentine was still stunned by the man's belief that he had no chance to live. Sure, Valentine was good at what he did—not something he bragged about on a regular basis, but it was true—but that didn't mean that a man with great wit and will could not overcome him.
And then something unbelievable happened. Valentine no longer saw Titus Mede standing by the window. He saw himself. Forever trapped in his role as Listener. Forever forced to take the lives of the people of Skyrim, just because he was unsure of what the Thieves Guild would do if he came to them on hand and knee. Forever longing for the woman that he could have never had.
Titus Mede stared across the water, waiting for a response. Or a dagger to his throat. And he waited. Minutes passed. At last he couldn't stay still any longer. He turned to face the assassin that had come for him. "What are you—?"
The chair that had helped the assassin was empty. The assassin was gone. And Titus Mede was still alive.
"What are you writing?"
Valentine almost jumped out of his skin. He'd been so involved in his writing, so involved in the feelings he'd forced himself to forget, that he'd not noticed Rimion approach him.
"Nothing," he said in a tight voice. He closed the book when Rimion got closer, not wanting him to read it. "Just... my thoughts on recent events."
Rimion smiled. "Don't worry; I won't tell the others that you have a diary. Don't want you looking less manly by writing in one."
Valentine sniffed loudly. "I prefer the term 'journal.'"
"I would to, if I owned a diary."
The vampire sunk her teeth deep into the thrall she'd made out of the prisoner. Being under her magical influence, he did not cry out like anyone else would as she drank his blood. Valentine winced when it happened, though from his shadowy corner he could not be seen. At least Babette had the decency to drink her blood from a mug instead of in this... barbaric fashion.
Valentine had no reason to help the man. He was her thrall, so in this state any attempt to free him would be pointless. And he knew that this vampire only drank the blood of the more serious offenders; someone brought in due to disorderly conduct or pissing in the street wouldn't end up suffering like this. Still, it was a disturbing sight to see. I wonder if she would have done this to Arenar, considering the long list of crimes he had in Whiterun not too long ago.
The loud slurping sound stopped, and the vampire sent the thrall back to his sleeping mattress in the cell. She'd healed his wound, preventing him from contracting the disease she was a carrier for, but he would wake up from the spell with an extreme pain in his neck.
As she stepped out of the cell, wiping her red mouth with a handkerchief, the torch light illuminated her face. She was a Breton who, due to her condition, would appear youthful forever. Her eyes should have been a yellowish-orange, though it was possible that she had an enchantment on her similar to what Rimion was planning for Katjaa and Arenar.
Sybille Stentor, court mage of Jarlessa Elsif the Fair.
Valentine and her went back a ways. She was an acquaintance of Babette, the 300-year-old vampire assassin who would never grow out of her child's body. One of the few survivors of the Penitus Oculatus attack on the Falkreath Sanctuary. Valentine first met her by doing one of the few non-assassination jobs he did when he was still officially the Listener; Sybille had contracted him to clear out a cove of vampires that were threatening to expose her.
Funny how I plan to do the same.
She raised the hood of her generic robes and started for the door to leave the holding area. Valentine emerged from the darkness, cutting her off halfway.
Sybille paused but gave no impression of being worried. "Who are you?" she asked coolly.
"Valentine."
She nodded, frowning slightly. "Babette mentioned that you were no longer with the Brotherhood. That, if I were to ever see you again, I should rip the flesh from your bones."
"Will you?" he asked.
"I'm not sure." She moved a little closer, but Valentine stood his ground. "Babette and I had a bit of a falling out when the new Listener took over."
"There's a new Listener?" Valentine had expected the Night Mother to eventually replace him, but it hadn't even been two years since he left the guild. "Please don't tell me it's that fool Cicero."
"I'm don't know who he is, or possibly who she is, but rumor has it that the Listener's twice as ruthless as you ever were."
"Then I guess there's a chance it is Cicero." I knew I should have cut that jester's throat!
"If you're not here about a contract," said Sybille, "then why are you here?"
"I have to cash in my favor."
She arched a brow. "And how do I owe you anything?"
"If not for me killing the other bloodsuckers that decided to check out Solitude, the Jarlessa would have ordered your execution. I'm the only reason that you're still the court wizard."
Sybille laughed. She made no effort to remain quiet about it, as if she'd forgotten all about the reason she'd come down here and why she should be trying to remain undetected. "I could have handled that personally. I only had you do it because Babette urged me to. You simply saved me time. And I recall paying you, so there's no favor I have to repay you for."
"All I want are two grand soul gems," Valentine told her. "Fully charged ones. Surely you have some lying around, not being used."
Her brown eyes studied him for a moment. "I suppose," she muttered, "if I don't give them to you, you will employ blackmail to get them."
Valentine grinned under his mask, failing to realize that she couldn't see it. "It's been so long, yet you still know me so well."
She sighed. "Fine. But I will not take another threat from you lightly. I could also use another drink." She walked around him and through the now open doorway. "Follow me. And be quiet."
"I can do quiet," he said.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Arcane48, Raptor Zero One, Zikarn Krais, Ranger Army, Nuclearwullfs, Guest, Leopara, Winter's Sentinel, trninjakiller, and DJROB91 for reviewing.