"This 'sanity' you speak of. Is it just insanity with fancy shoes on? You're all just one very bad lie away from joining the party then!"
- Sheogorath
Bann-Je, or probably better put Squints his Eye, had disappeared behind the obscene door several minutes ago. Do'Ravier and Sharza were both staring in its direction, eyes glowing an eerie white as their detect life spells gave them heightened perceptions. For everyone else, it was a matter of simply waiting which was not a very easy thing to do considering they were all nervous. The Argonian had insisted on going in by himself and the lack of communication, even noise, was disconcerting.
Though it did not stop Do'Ravier and Sharza from growling at each other.
"Talking like them, Do'Ravier? You always were a paw licker." Sharza chided.
"Life gets easier if you take some measures to match them. You might impress them." Do'Ravier defended, neither taking their eyes off the door.
"Bah, they will always look down on Khajiit no matter what you do."
"Maybe if you didn't play into bad stereotypes, that would help too."
"Enough you two, focus." Claudia scolded, sighing in frustration that she still had to mother them all.
She concentrated on the door as well. The passage must have gone deep underground because she was having a hard time listening to their heartbeats. Even Bann-Je's was becoming harder to pick out. Nonetheless, she had to make sure not to seem too engrossed. Everyone else may have been talking about their secrets but she was not about to tell them about her new abilities, especially after a run in with the vampires. She was at least grateful she could still come out in the sun.
"I pray your friend is still alright down there." Matthias murmured.
"He's fine." Claudia replied quickly.
Maybe she shouldn't have sounded so confident.
His master once told him that a fight among assassins was a dance of steel and shadow, wind and weapons, deceit and murder. He had warned such fights were probably the most dangerous because if you were fighting an assassin, that meant you had not gotten the jump on them and ended their lives before they could react That in turn meant two highly trained killers would be locked in combat and then it generally fell to whoever had the better training or was more creative.
And here he was in a lair of trained killers.
The inside was dark, sparse candles barely providing enough illumination. His forked tongue flicking rapidly, the Argonian knew there would be quite a few of them in here. The problem was that this was their habitation, their scents were everywhere. He could not be too certain of their exact number.
But he did spot one idly leaning along the stony walls of the tunnel. The assassin was lazily sharpening one of his daggers. While he was focused on his weapons, Squints his Eye let loose a throwing dagger, the blade barely making a sound as its point buried in the victim's neck. The Argonian caught the shocked, dying man before he could let out a cry, carefully stuffing him off in a corner in the shadows as he became a corpse.
Barely any blood had fallen in the lighted parts of the floor. He continued.
He could smell their scents getting stronger. He still had no idea how many of them were in here but they were getting close. He was nearing their main quarters as the lit candles were getting more numerous though it could hardly be called "bright" down here. In fact, he could see shadows moving in the distance. He was closing in on a room...
And someone was approaching him.
Keeping to the shadows but not breaking his pace, Squints his Eye reached for one of the four daggers on his belt, the second one on the right this time. Each of these four daggers were coated in a different poison and only he knew which one was which. The particular one he pulled held a toxin that would kill within seconds, even if the cut it made was only a flesh wound. More importantly, it shut down most of the victim's senses and produced a calming effect, making them very complacent.
He lashed from the darkness, jabbing the blade into the hapless victim, in this case an Orc. The larger man immediately placed a hand on his wound, nicely covering the bloodied area while Squints his Eye firmly turned the Orc around and gave him a deft push. The Orc willingly obeyed, oblivious to all around him, not realizing the few steps he was taking would be his last.
The Orc's companions immediately knew something was wrong when he staggered into the room. They were even more surprised when he dropped into a heap on the floor. With all their eyes on him, they did not noticed the shadow that leaped into the room, smoky, conjured blades flashing, until it was too late.
"He's taking a long time." Matthias murmured as the group continued to wait.
"Don't rush him." Sibylla retorted.
"He hasn't failed us yet but you must give him time." Claudia agreed.
Secretly, she was growing a little concerned herself. While she could not be too sure, she was still hearing heartbeats coming from beyond those doors. However, the noise of their rhythms were slowly becoming quieter and quieter. The fact that they were being snuffed out one by one could only mean that their Argonian friend was still doing his job. Still, that left out a lot of information that they could not know. Had he been injured? Was his strength failing? Was he outnumbered? These were things she could not know. But those heartbeats were growing quieter and quieter...
And suddenly, there was one. But was it Bann-Je or someone else?
Out here, in the event that something had gone wrong, Claudia knew they would have an advantage. Beyond these doors any Dark Brotherhood assassin, wounded or not, would be at a disadvantage to five people just waiting for that door to move. It had to be Bann-Je...but what if it wasn't?
"Someone is coming." Do'Ravier announced, his detect life spell coming to good use.
Claudia already had an arrow notched.
...And Bann-Je stumbled through the door. The Argonian was covered in blood, too much of it to be his own. Nonetheless, it was clear the assassin was in some sort of distress. He was certainly winded to be sure.
"What's wrong?" Claudia asked, immediately stepping up to him.
"The whole group down there...killed. Got stabbed, though." Bann-Je admitted hoarsely, one hand clutching a red spot on his stomach.
"Shouldn't be fatal, at least it should not have nicked anything too important. Used a healing spell...but my head..." Bann-Je's eyes were clenched shut as if he was in pain.
Do'Ravier gently pushed Claudia aside to take a closer look at his friend. He noticed that the Argonian clutched a wayward knife in his other hand but for now the Khajiit decided to ignore that. He would probably need to look at that knife later though, especially if it was the weapon that had caused this wound.
"Head hurts?" Do'Ravier asked.
"Like I have a fever." Bann-Je growled.
"It might be- oh gods, your eyes!" Do'Ravier gasped.
Bann-Je's normally yellow eyes had turned blood red.
"Matthias, help me carry him back to the cathedral. He needs immediate medical attention." the Khajiit ordered.
"Belay that, I got him." Sibylla declared, immediately hoisting the weakened Argonian over her shoulder while shoving Head Reaper into Sharza's paws.
"I might like you, but if you get any ideas and go skulking off with that I'll cut off your tail, cat." Sibylla warned.
Matthias, relieved of his duty, watched the others leave before turning back towards the door. He studied it for a moment and then made sure it would not sure by propping a heavy boulder in the threshold. He hurried back to join the group. Bann-Je need medical attention, he was not oblivious to that. However, while their work was ending his was just beginning. He was going to need more Inquisition officials. If this Dark Brotherhood den had been cleared then did that mean...there was probably only one more left in all the northern provinces...
Do'Ravier and the dedicated healers found themselves in an interesting situation for the next two days. Bann-Je was bedridden and swearing with every other breath that the poison in his veins was neither elaborate nor fatal. Do'Ravier agreed with the healers that the reason the Argonian was not in any worse condition was because of his peak physical condition. Unfortunately, it did not change the fact that his head was hot to the touch with a burning fever. So great was it that it hurt his eyes to open them, overloading colors and movement so that it was painful to see.
"You need to tell me, are you absolutely sure this isn't some type of exotic poison in your bloodstream?" Do'Ravier asked, sitting next to his bedridden friend.
Bann-Je, a sack of snow and frostsalts sitting atop his head, just let out an unimpressed snort.
"I'm certain. Some assassins will probably cover their blades in some filth and call it a poisoned blade. It could be a combination of anything unimaginative; a dab into the bowels of a dead corpse, some smearing of feces, you get the idea." Bann-Je grunted through his pain.
"I've done some research and I can't get anything that looks like this, other than just some really bad infection. In the meantime, all we can do is continue treating you with healing spells and antivenom potions." Do'Ravier explained.
"I"ll be fine."
"Can you open your eyes?"
Bann-Je grunted unwillingly at that request but nonetheless opened his eyes. Do'Ravier had to keep himself from reacting. The Argonian's eyes were still blood red, not a single hint of their natural yellow. It was jarring but the Khajiit did not see if there was any way they could remedy that. They were hoping it would go away with the fever.
"Can you still see?" Do'Ravier asked.
"Yes, but it hurts." Bann-Je grumbled, shutting his eyes again.
"All right. Get some rest, friend."
The Khajiit left the place only to bump into Claudia. It was clear that she was interested in Bann-Je's condition although she had her arms full. The babe that everyone had finally relented and taking to calling Skib in Bann-Je's example occupied one of her arms. The other were clutching a mass of papers. A little girl was also at her heels. Do'Ravier decided she was probably one of the latest children from the city in need of aid. She could have been an orphan or her parents were missing. There were lots of those sad stories.
"Just have to take these two back with the other children. We really need to open an orphanage or something. How is Bann-Je?" Claudia asked breathlessly.
"No better but no worse." Do'Ravier admitted.
"Kitty, kitty, kitty!" the little girl giggled, chasing after Do'Ravier's swishing tail.
"This one is a Khajiit, not cat, at least not in the proper sense." Do'Ravier corrected.
"Kitty!" she laughed.
"I think it's about time we got going. Thanks for updating me." Claudia said quickly, collecting her things and leading the girl away.
Do'Ravier continued until he heard raised voices and squabbling. He did not not immediately recognize one of them. The other was more quickly deduced since it was the very same voice that had scolded him so many times. It was Archon Tacitus.
Curious, he followed the sounds of shouting and found Sibylla in the process. The two nodded to each other but both immediately saw in each other's eyes they they were on the same endeavor. Archon Tacitus was not a man known to yell nor lose his temper. Something was very wrong.
Both strode into the main sanctuary to spot Archon Tacitus with a stern look and his arms crossed in front of him in an unwelcoming stance. It appeared that his aggravators were two Thalmor. Sibylla immediately scowled at the sight but Do'Ravier remained patient. Both tried not to get too close, only approaching so that they could hear. The Khajiit's good ear swiveled so that it could fully capture the conversation. His paralyzed one made a hearty effort and half succeeded.
"We have had to detain at least nine people in this last week on charges of Talos worship. That is an excessively high number, Archon. Are your people not doing your duty in properly educating them?" A Thalmor wizard demanded.
Neither Sibylla nor Do'Ravier had seen him before, but they did recognize the soldier next to him. It was Alaviera. She was wearing an emotionless mask.
"The Cathedral has always taught the faithful as we have been instructed and in accordance with the White-Gold Concordate." Archon Tacitus defended.
"The high number of people we've had to incarcerate seems to suggest otherwise."
"If I might be so bold, those numbers only suggest your suspicions, not the actual numbers."
"Was that defiance, Archon?"
"No, that was opinion. Truthfully, the Thalmor presence is a divisive issue in the Empire and very controversial. Where there is controversy, you will find people willing to rebel for the sake of rebelling. Perhaps you should find a different approach, Thalmor." Archon Tacitus replied firmly.
"There can be no other alternative approach. These superstitious barbarians must be brought under our heel. As for you, I suspect you and your priests are not being firm enough in your duties. I will be reporting this to my commander." the wizard announced before promptly leaving.
The Archon took a deep breath as if reminding himself of his priestly office and shook his head. Washing his hands of the matter, and already looking quite calm, he left himself.
"These Thalmor, I swear they're getting more aggressive every day." Sibylla grumbled.
"Give it time. They're just going through the motions." Do'Ravier replied.
"Sir Gervald tells me it seems like there's a squad of them on every other street. I'm telling you, they're up to something." she insisted.
"Thalmor love their outside appearances. This is just posturing." Do'Ravier dismissed.
"Is that how you learned to deal with them in Elsweyr? Just stick your head in the sand and pretend nothing was happening?" Sibylla snapped.
Do'Ravier said nothing.
"I'm suppose to join Gervald for a walk tomorrow morning. I'll ask him what he thinks about it." Sibylla grumbled.
It was sunset when Sibylla decided to have dinner at the tavern. Gervald announced that he would be off on a quest for that day. There was word of bandits east of the city and he wanted to investigate. The guards were undermanned and were more than willing to pass that assignment to a capable looking knight errant. He promised her he would return in the morning regardless of what would happen.
She smiled when she saw Sharza enter and take the seat next to her.
"The gods blessed Sharza with sharp eyes and it would be most rude not to use them. Sharza has spied you with a handsome knight with very shiny armor. There is something special between you two, no?" Sharza teased.
"You could say that, yes." Sibylla admitted.
"We could work an arrangement. You want this knight and Sharza wants his shiny armor. You get him out of it and Sharza will find a way to sell it" the Khajiit suggested.
"Stop it. You're as mischievous as Do'Ravier claims."
"Is it so terrible to enjoy how you make a living?"
"It's not exactly a, ah, recognized trade, Sharza."
"No? Are you sure? There is plenty of trading to be had once the acquiring is done."
"You're terrible." Sibylla rolled her eyes with a smile.
"Not the worse thing Sharza has been called. But you must tell this one, does it seem that there are a lot of stuffy elves in snappish clothing going around?" Sharza whispered.
"You're not the only one to mention that, Sharza." Sibylla murmured grudgingly.
"So troublesome. So many eyes. And they make those around them ornery. It makes my work harder." the Khajiit grumbled malcontently with her heavy accent.
"Do'Ravier seems to suggest that we simply put up with them. Yet you are both Khajiits who grew up in Corinth under the Aldemeri. Is there a reason for this difference in opinion?" Sibylla asked.
"Ah, Do'Ravier is probably the wiser of us two. Sharza is smart like the book worm but not elderly like him. It is not as fun, being that way." Sharza shrugged with a roguish grin.
"I believe it."
Bann-Je's sleep had been fitful and full of nightmares. The dreams had been full of voices, mostly Squints his Eye and Bann-Je arguing and shouting. The Argonian could not make sense of all that they were saying and at some point in between he started to feel that both voices were growing a little concerned. There was some dark wisdom to that. If he were to die, both of them would go away too. He was certain neither wanted that.
"You, back in your hole. There is nothing to kill here. Must straighten sheets later. Too many sweats, can't count them all."
"The night, it is dark. It is good to kill in this time. Could end our suffering."
"You are mad. This is not fatal. Would make too much of a mess. I could not do that. Would have to stab the throat three times. May not have the strength to finish. It would be maddening to die with an unfinished task."
"Die regretting and unfinished task? You are the mad one, non-killer. All die regretting something unfinished, including living. Must make this quick. We could concoct a mystery poison and down it."
"Too annoying. Would have to throw more than three doses of everything but not of the same number. Would drive us mad."
"Would drive YOU mad."
He woke up with a gasp. It was dim though a few candles were lit. He could see that he was in the infirmary though the growing shadows suggested that night was coming. Bann-Je immediately could tell that something was wrong. His fever was gone, he felt as if nothing had happened and it did not hurt to open his eyes. But something was very wrong.
He was seeing in black and white and shades of gray. Color had gone out of his world. He tried rubbing his eyes but that did not change anything. He believed that his eyesight was still sharp and nothing else was amiss but that did not change the fact that he could not see color.
This is sad.
Bann-Je's eyes widened and he could feel Squints his Eye stand in shock from whichever dark corner of his mind that he hid when he was not in use. Neither of them recognized that voice before. There was another voice in his head. He had a new voice where they had just been two.
He got up from his bed and paced three times back and forth on the floor.
It was cold that evening but at least the moon was out. The pale light reflecting off the snow illuminate the road and forest nicely. It put Sir Gervald in a good mood at least while he was on his horse. He had been gone all day and there had been no sign of the bandits he had been searching for. He was not sure if that meant he had simply gone chasing unfounded rumors or if he had missed them. He could go looking tomorrow after his walk with Sibylla. Yes, that would do.
He was looking forward to seeing her.
His horse let out a grumpy nicker, its breath coming out as large cloud of steam. Wayrest was close by. He could see its light growing larger and make out the shapes of the buildings as well. He was looking forward to getting someplace warm and out of the cold.
He heard voices.
"Unhand me you confounded elves! I have done nothing!"
"Silence. Protesting will not get you anywhere. Surely you will confess after some time with our more specialized wizards."
"Sir, perhaps should speak to him before bringing out the tools."
"You are growing too soft, Alaviera."
"It was just a suggestion, sir wizard."
Sir Gervald spurred his horse to a light trot until he found the people he heard. It had only been a short distance. What he saw confirmed his suspicions. There were three Thalmor justiciars walking in formation, a wizard at the lead who must have been in charge of the operation. Between the one taking the rear and the one in the middle was a prisoner. That man seemed to be from the middle class. His clothes were not overly fancy but they were warm and they certainly weren't rags either. He was also angry.
"Has this man committed any crime?" Sir Gervald blurted. He did not know why he had asked rightly. It was not uncommon to see Thalmor justiciars going about this business and the knight knew to let one man do his own business without troubling him. But this time...
"He is taken on accusation of worshipping Talos." the wizard snapped.
"Liar, these bloody elves. They pulled me as I came out of my own cellar." the prisoner growled.
"After you refused to let us see down there." the wizard retorted.
"You had no reason nor business." the prisoner sneered.
"That does not seem to be a good accusation, Justiciar." Gervald observed.
"You will mind your own business, knight. What would you know of Talos worshippers. Are you in league with this man?" the wizard accused.
"You have gone mad, Thalmor." Gervald declared.
"And you act like a man with something to hide." the wizard spat, hands lighting up with fire.
"Unhand that man, you do not do justly." Gervald shouted.
He only saw the wizard jab his hands toward him and suddenly the cold night became terribly hot. His horse collapsed screaming below him before its chilling cries died in a gurgle and a gasp. The wizard had burnt his mount to death. Gervald was left speechless.
But not without his wits.
Gervald charged with his mace firmly in his grasp. He had always been told that he moved remarkably quick for a man in heavy armor. He was counting on that. Whatever was going on here was no good work. He swore an oath to do good and protect the helpless. He intended to honor that oath.
It was the wizard who was caught off guard and for that his forehead caved in.
Gervald heard one of the Thalmor soldiers come after him, sword at the ready. Reacting and finding himself without a shield, Gervald shied away before letting the momentum of his mace work to his favor. He caught the Thalmor soldier in the shoulder, hearing armor and bone crunch beneath it. He wheeled for the third but the soldier brought her shield up to stop the blow.
"Stop, you foolish knight, stop!" the justiciar shouted.
"Yield!" Gervald shouted.
"Stop this madness, in the name of the Aldmeri Justiciars I order you to stop!" Alaviera hollered, her blade drawn but unused by her side.
"Throw down your weapon and y-"
Gervald felt a deep pain that he had never quite felt before burn through his inside. Behind him, the other Thalmor he had wounded had gotten up and stabbed him through one of the spaces in his armor. He found himself stabbed in the back. The pain was...excruciating but it was getting cold and he found himself growing numb.
Gervald collapsed onto the snowy ground.
"Alaviera, help me get this shoulder bound up."
"What about the knight?"
"Let him die. I've seen him around one of the priestesses at the cathedral. He killed our commander. We can use that."
It was hard to see how dark the night was rapidly getting. But that was wrong, was the moon being covered by clouds? He had to get up. He wanted to but he could not find his arms...or anything else for that matter. He suddenly realized just how tired he really was.
Gervald's last thought was of Sibylla.