To put it simply First Emissary Elenwen was furious. She sat in a small, though well appointed, office in the embassy which had, until recently belonged to one of her senior justicars. That elf was missing and presumed dead, likely consumed by the inferno that had so immolated one of the embassy buildings that it had collapsed in on itself, down to the deepest sub basement. Only a still smoldering crater was left of both the building and Elenwen's office suite.

She sat, glaring across the too small desk at the wall beyond, only her iron control keeping her from lashing out. This was untenable! An attack during one of her parties, during what was supposed to be a show of strength! This was a great loss of face for the Thalmor here in Skyrim.

They had only one witness, he had been found unconscious and severely beaten, but still alive. He was fortunate enough to have been dragged out only minutes before the building was set ablaze. Even he had had little of value to add. Two women and a man. All hooded with no identifying features revealed. The only thing that had stood out from his account was the size of the man. She had her suspicions, mainly because she, like Julianos, did not play with dice, and did not believe in coincidence.

Yes, there were many large men in Skyrim. But there was one large man who she believed had recently butchered several of her justicars. He was also responsible for a certain strengthening of Whiterun's position as a neutral party. Jarl Ulfrich seemed to be taking additional time to consider his move on Whiterun Hold. Frankly, it would not do. This civil war was ideal for the Dominion. Yes they had won the war, but the sad truth was that Elenwen was concerned if they could win the next one. Altmer were long lived beings, with a life span 3 or more times longer than that of a very long lived man, but commensurately they had a lower birth rate as well. Yes, the Dominion had won. But the Empire had recovered.

This new Thane was a distraction and an unnecessary wrinkle to an already less than ideal situation. All that aside, the intelligence that her agents had gathered on the man was disturbing to say the least. Elenwen narrowed her eyes, yes, it would be simpler to remove the issue from play all together. However this was not something that she wanted the hand of the Thalmor to be directly involved in. Elenwen smiled a pointed and vicious smile. No, this would be best handled by… third party experts.

Elenwen let out a cruel chuckle as she penned the missive. She had heard rumors of Whiterun's new thane. More to the point her network had brought her word that there was a faction of the Vigil of Stendarr that believed the man had some form of divine blessing or possibly was in some manner divine himself. She scoffed at the mere thought. These Nords were so primitive at times, willing to cast the label of divinity at anything without an immediate and obvious explanation. It was no wonder that they clung so tightly to the dead myth of Talos in this backwater province.

She was keen to see another bit of Skyrim superstition put to the blade. Let them all see how blessed or divine this jumped up brute really was when he was found knifed or poisoned. Blessed Eight but Elenwen hated this place. At first the appointment to First Emissary had seemed like such an advancement for her career and in truth it was but she didn't anticipate how bloody insupportable it would be to be constantly hobnobbing about with the nords.

Elenwen completed her letter with a flourish and, of course, no signature. "Ciralinde!" she called.

A robed thalmor woman appeared nearly instantaneously, "Yes, First Emissary?"

Elenwen gestured vaguely with the finished letter, "See that this is delivered to our acquaintances near Falkreath." The other woman took the letter with a bow and left the room quietly, shutting the door after her. Elenwen steepled her fingers and sat considering the broader scope of things. It was only a matter of time before the war began again. If the broader Thalmor government was not already sending out provocateurs and saboteurs it was time to begin laying the groundwork. Another great war was inevitable. She only hoped that those in positions of power still had the stomach to do what was necessary.


A chill wind ripped through the wilds above Dragon Bridge, rushing over the drifts of snow and sending trails of crystalline flakes dancing into the air. Kratos stood perched on a rocky crag overlooking the steep decline from the mountain into the valley and town of Dragon Bridge below.

The justicars had been dogged in their determination but ultimately ineffective. They had been unable to catch up to Kratos and Lydia as they had fled and in their rush the altmer had been ill-prepared for an extended trek through the frigid and inhospitable mountains of Skyrim. The natives of the tropical and temperate Summerset Isle were simply poorly suited for the brutal cold.

Kratos breathed deep the alpine air, closing his eyes as he did and exhaled slowly. He gazed out again over the monumental vista before him. These high places of the world called to him. There was a stillness and beauty that seemed to be unique to such places. He understood why that being, a daedra, had her place of power in the area.

Kratos had felt the daedra as he and Lydia had trekked through the rough, high country in their escape from the embassy and their pursuers. It was not an entirely accurate metaphor, but their awarenesses had brushed up against one another. Kratos had sensed her curiosity and perhaps… an invitation? Kratos let out a snort. He had ignored her, but it did bear thought. He may need more information on these beings if conflict was inevitable. He was not certain, however, that it was inevitable. His brow furrowed as he remembered Sanguine's abduction of Lydia, perhaps not inevitable with this unknown daedra. His sense of this being was significantly different than the oily, cloying, and sickly sweet essence of Sanguine.

Kratos raised one hand and scratched at his beard idly. Perhaps the elf mage would know more of this being lurking in the mountains of Solitude. It was possible that she was not set against Kratos, and also possible that she was not as distasteful as Sanguine. He glanced back to see Lydia poring over one of the dossiers from the embassy. His eyes narrowed slightly, he had thought that they had all gone with the dragonborn. No matter. Kratos looked back out over the vista and returned to his meditations.

Lydia was behind him, further from the ledge and was intently examining the leatherbound dossier. This was the first time they had had much time to rest as they were confident that they had well and truly shaken their pursuers. She skimmed the first page quickly. She was right! This was a Thalmor intelligence dossier on Kratos himself. "Kratos…" she said slowly, eyes still glued to the pages. She looked up upon hearing an inquisitive rumble. Kratos was looking back at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "They have a file on you. They've been keeping an eye on you."

Kratos merely snorted disdainfully, "As they should. Perhaps they are not entirely incompetent." and turned back to examine the view once more. Lydia sat, looking at his back, waiting for him to say something else. She felt odd reading something that was, by its nature, very invasive to someone she knew, like an invasion of privacy. Of course with Kratos it was always better simply to ask.

She cleared her throat, "Do you care if I read it?

"I do not." he rumbled. Lydia hesitated a moment before shrugging minutely and began to read. She was almost immediately interrupted, "Read carefully. If there are hints of informants or traitors we must know."

She winced at the thought, "I can't imagine that anyone of our people would betray us to the Thalmor."

Kratos nodded slowly, still looking out over the valley, "Indeed. That is what makes it betrayal." A chill which had nothing to do with the mountain air went down her spine at those words. For all that she was almost certainly the person on this plane of existence who knew him best there was still so much that she didn't know about Kratos. Those words and the weight behind them underscored that for a bleak moment. She shook off the feeling and returned to her examination of the dossier.

Name: Kratos

Surname: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Race: Assumed to be Nord

Height: 6'10"

Weight: ~350lbs

Primary directive: Observation and assessment

Subject was abruptly made thane of a holding in Whiterun Hold following his participation in slaying a dragon.

Rumors circulate that the subject was primarily responsible for killing the beast. Eyewitness accounts have been difficult to collect. Soldiers present have been consistently reticent to discuss the events at the western watchtower.

Note: Possible that Jarl Balgruuf issued a directive to suppress discussion of the events. Motive unknown.

Subject took possession of Havverfjord holding and immediately rooted out bandits that had been operating in the area. Subject has begun to train soldiers. Their training regimen is abnormal but appears to be effective (see addendum A). The holding appears to be undergoing significant economic growth as well.

Initial assessment: Subject is an unknown. Recommend providing catalyst event to garner additional information.

The following pages were a form requesting authorization to send a party of justicars to find or fabricate Talos worshippers in Havverfjord and the authorization itself, signed by the first emissary. Lydia shook her head, marveling at the gall of the Thalmor, but she couldn't help the small wry smile that formed on her lips when she continued reading and saw the report on finding the broken remains of those justicars. She shook her head in a kind of wonder at the recklessness of their actions. Though she supposed that she couldn't really blame them. Afterall how on Nirn could they know what they were dealing with? They had no idea that they had inadvertently poked at a god just to see how he would react.

Lydia continued to read, following Kratos' directive to try to read between the lines and assess where the Thalmor were actually getting their information from. It was strange for her to read of events where she had been present examined from the perspective of the suspicious Thalmor agents. Fortunately, to her eyes at least, it did not look like they were any informants or agents of the Thalmor placed close to them. The dossier relied on hearsay and rumor, something that was constantly critiqued in the reports. Havverfjord after all was a small and tight knit community that had become extremely loyal to their new thane.

Information, of course, did slip out but it was always in whispered and unsubstantiated rumor. Lydia snorted softly, to be fair, if a woodcutter had told her that he had heard of a man who tore a hole in the open air with his bare hands and jumped through, she wouldn't have believed him either. The truth ironically was their best defense. It was so outlandish as to be unbelievable and in Lydia's mind the Thalmor would simply never accept it. How could they accept that a god from beyond Nirn was walking around Skyrim?

She did see one heavily redacted report that was submitted to the First Emissary which seemed to be toying with the idea that Kratos was some new kind of being from Aetherius. The report mentioned an internal document from the Vigil of Stendarr that put forward the idea that Kratos was aedric in origin. It was difficult to tell too much as good sized portions of the text had been redacted with heavy swipes of ink. However it was safe to say that this was not something the Altmer were seriously considering. The following report was essentially a retraction and apology for the prior submission, noting that a new case agent had been assigned to oversee the process, one not prone to indulging "flights of Nordic superstition."

The dossier showed that the Thalmor were growing more and more perturbed by Kratos over time. In particular they focused on his growing core of elite soldiers, expanding influence in Whiterun Hold and his confrontations with Ulfrich and the stormcloaks. There were several filed opinions that more significant "measures" were appropriate as he had been identified as a threat to "stated regional objectives."

Lydia looked up as a shadow fell across her and the dossier. Kratos came and sat down next to her. He gestured to the dossier with a jerk of his chin, "What does it say?"

Lydia let out a sigh, before a shadow of a smile tugged at the edge of her lips, "Well… they do not like you, my thane." Kratos let out a snort, turning to look at her and she could see the humor glinting in his eyes.

His voice was dead pan, "I assumed. But what do they say in their… papers?"

Lydia looked back to the dossier, "They know as much as anyone, my thane. They have gathered all of the common information about you." She looked up at him again, "They believe you killed the justicars though they do not have proof. Moreover they generally see you as an impediment to their goals for the region." Her eyes narrowed, "My impression from the progression of reports is that you are becoming a sufficient impediment that they may consider trying to move against you somehow. Maybe some attempt to get Jarl Balgruuf to strip you of your title, or reduce your influence in the hold." She hesitated momentarily, "I wouldn't put an attempt on your life out of the question either."

Kratos let out another snort, "They are welcome to try. I do not care about these elves or their plans. What are these goals of theirs that I somehow impede?"

Lydia shrugged, her face puzzled, "They do not say here." Her brow wrinkled in thought, "It could be as simple as they don't know what to make of you and don't want to take a chance." She blew out a gusty breath, "Far be it from me to understand the twisted maze that is the Thalmor. There is something you should know though. There is a report here that says that someone in the Vigil of Stendarr put forward the idea that you are an aedric being. The Thalmor of course disregard that as nonsense." Lydia let out a bemused chuckle, "They came across the truth but can't bring themselves to recognize it."

Kratos nodded slowly, "Good. But what of our people?"

Lydia shook her head, "Nothing I read there leads me to believe that we have a turncoat or informer in our ranks. Only general rumor and hearsay here." She let out a laugh, "I don't think that anyone of ours would turn on us. Also I think that Lars and his boys would gut anyone who tried. The man worships you, Kratos." At her words Kratos, who was already standing still as a statue, somehow seemed to stiffen even more.

Lydia's brows drew together in concern when he murmured, almost inaudibly, "I know. I can feel it." After a moment's pause he shook his head and turned to look out over the valley again. He scratched at his beard before speaking again, "Good. That is good." He turned back to Lydia and walked up, extending his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, "Come. It is time we left. We should get back to Havverfjord."


"Halt!" Kratos boomed and instinctively both groups did exactly that, harkening to a voice of pure command. Kratos stood with a party of his soldiers. They were green troops, unproven on the battlefield, and they needed field experience. He had many such men these days as following Balgruuf's directive he, or rather his retainers, had begun to recruit aggressively. The need for combat experience is what had led them to this camp in the wilds. Kratos had heard that a group of brigands was heading south through Whiterun hold, likely making for Falkreath, and saw it as an opportunity for his newer recruits.

Now here they stood, the place where they had tracked the criminals from their latest attack. Kratos, Lydia, and his men arrayed in a semi circle, pinning a camp of bandits back against a steep escarpment in the foothills of southern Whiterun Hold. Kratos' voice blasted out again, "I give you one chance. Surrender or die."

One man in less dilapidated equipment stepped forward and raising his weapon shouted back, "You'll never take us alive!"

Kratos' voice resounded across the area, "No. I will not." He turned to Lydia. "Redhand, see to it." The bandits began to scramble, snatching weapons and forming up. Lydia immediately started barking orders and the slaughter began in short order. Despite how new the soldiers were, they had still been put through a brutal and rigorous training regiment by Kratos and Lydia and had been living and working with professional soldiers the entire time. The group of assorted bandits and highwaymen accustomed to robbing farmers and the odd traveling merchant were entirely unprepared for the wave of steel crashing down on them.

Kratos ignored the battle entirely and turned to go walking slowly away. The result was a foregone conclusion. All that remained was to formalize it with blood. He stopped at the edge of the clearing and stood pondering, ignoring the clash of steel and the screams of the dying behind him. It had not been overly long since he and Lydia had broken into and burned down a portion of the Thalmor Embassy. A few days ago they had received word from the dragonborn regarding the stolen intelligence. Agatha, the housekeeper, had found the note slipped under the kitchen door of the longhouse when she awoke one morning and had immediately brought it to Kratos.

The letter had been unsigned and curt but the sender and the message had been clear enough. "Our friends in Haafingar had no information. Chasing down another lead. Will contact you when I have more." Unfortunate. Kratos' brows drew together, the entire situation was irritating. He could crush his foes, lead men to victory, and win wars. Research and chasing rumors were not his strength and he recognized that.

Kratos drew his mind back to the present moment when he heard Lydia's familiar steps approach from behind. He turned his head to look at her as she stood beside him, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively.

She shrugged, "They're green, but they are improving. It's not as if this was much of a test. These roving bands are large enough or dangerous enough for that." She paused for a moment, considering the situation, "To be fair I think that this has more to do with our expectations than anything. They are soldiers and I would hold them up against any others across the various holds." She shook her head and smiled ruefully, "But they are not our veterans."

Kratos nodded, "They will be. But your point is well taken." He scratched at his beard, "Casualties?"

Lydia made a dismissive gesture with one hand, "Minor injuries only. Against riffraff like this?" She scoffed, "If one of ours had been dumb enough to die, I'd drag them back from Sovngarde so I could kill them myself! Dying in some bandit scuffle…"

Lydia smiled when Kratos let out a huff, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. Her grin broadened. He may as well have thrown back his head and laughed. She knew what that meant. It was good to see him laugh. Or at least what counted as a laugh for him. She knew that the lack of progress and the embassy turning into a dead end had been frustrating for her thane.

Kratos looked down at Lydia, "Well done as always, girl." She saw the corners of his eyes crinkle, and she smiled back as he smiled with his eyes. He laid a hand on her shoulder, "Form them up. It's time we returned." Lydia reached up and gave his hand a squeeze before turning back to the soldiers, her face becoming hard and businesslike again. After a moment's assessment she began shouting orders and organizing the soldiers for their return trip.

Their return trip went quickly, much faster than their departure as they did not have to have any care in following tracks. Kratos and his contingent arrived back in Havverfjord after being on the road for only two days. As they approached the longhouse, Lydia touched Kratos on the shoulder, "I will settle the men, my thane, and then meet you inside." Kratos merely nodded and thumped up the steps and through the door.

No sooner had he entered than a warm voice called, "Back already, thane?" Agatha, Kratos' self appointed housekeeper swept into the room. The little gray haired woman smiled at him before clucking, "Tch, you're all dusty from the road. here, go sit down at the table and I'll bring you a basin to freshen up, yes?"

Kratos nodded to her, "My thanks, Agatha. Yes." He went into the great hall and sat in his customary chair. It was humorous to him that this woman had decided to run the household and couldn't help but try to mother him to some degree. He knew that Lydia and the rest of his retainers found it funny as well. To Kratos though he saw the simple honor in the woman.

She was without guile and simply went about doing good, not caring very much about rand or station, simply seeing a need and filling it. Thomas had told him that Agatha had marched in one day, said that the state of the longhouse was getting to be a disgrace and that she simply wouldn't have it any more, so she was moving in and was going to take care of things from now on. Oh, and dinner would be served at 7:00. Kratos had respected her boldness and competence and she had been a fixture of the house ever since. Every meal had come through her kitchen and had been a step up from sending someone to the inn each night for food. She had proudly told him in the past that she didn't let anything, food or drink, through those kitchen doors that she hadn't tasted and made sure was good enough for his table.

Agatha bustled in and set out a basin of water and a couple of towels for him to freshen up. She set them out on the sideboard for him and then turned back to him, hands on her hips, "Well, thane, I'll bring you some wine as well. That should take the taste of the road out of your mouth. Thomas has some correspondence for you as well. I'll fetch the letters. I dare say the wine will help those go down smoother as well." Without waiting for his reply left the room, still very quick on her feet for her age.

Kratos looked after her for a moment, before letting out a little huff and going over to the side board. He dipped his hands into the basin, sluicing off before wetting one of the cloths and wiping down his head and neck, cleaning off the dust of the road. He was just finishing up when she came back into the room carrying a tray. She set it down at his place, "Here are the letters and your wine, my thane." She smiled at him almost conspiratorially, "There's a lovely eidar cheese I picked up this morning in the market, a nice crusty bread and some jazbay grapes. Just a little something to keep body soul together for a big man like you."

Kratos gave her a nod and an affirmative rumble after which she smiled, turned, and left the room. He took his place at the table and sat motionless for a time, looking at the tray before him. His lip curled slightly at the letters. Surely all things in which he had no interest. This was the downside of command, dealing with mundane and oftentimes political matters. Putting it off for at least a few moments more, he tore off a crust of bread and spread it with some soft cheese. Goat, maybe. With chives.

Letting out a deep exhale, Kratos broke open one of the letters and began scanning it quickly. With a derisive snort he tossed the letter to the side. Some invitation from a thane up in the Pale for various drivel with obviously shoehorned in mentions of the man's daughter. Kratos poured a generous serving of wine into his tankard. This would be trying. He took a long pull from his tankard and opened the next letter. This one at least was somewhat interesting. A proposal from a merchant regarding supplies necessary for the town. Better handled by Thomas, however, so Kratos set it aside for further review and continued working through the missives.

Abruptly Kratos stiffened. Something was wrong. He rocketed to his feet so quickly that the force of it overturned his chair and sent it skidding along the floor behind him. He sprinted through the longhouse, his feet thundering along the floorboards. Not slowing enough to take a corner properly, he bounced off a wall with a resounding thud, jolting a wall hanging from its moorings. In scant seconds he was in the kitchens.

Agatha lay on the floor. Her precise grey bun now half undone, strands of hair across her face and unseeing eyes. Her body was contorted, every muscle tense in a horrible rigor. Kratos paused for a fraction of a second before his voice shook the building, "Lydia! Aranea! To me!" That done, Kratos knelt and gently turned her over onto her back. He slowly brushed the hair back from her face and gently closed her eyes.

Lydia burst into the kitchen, sword drawn, when she took in the scene she let out a gasp, "Divines!" The sword drooped in her hand. "Kratos… what has happened?" Aranea entered then at a run as well, a hand flying to her mouth.

Kratos straightened and looked over at them a snarl on his face, "A poisoner. A coward."

Aranea took a slight step forward, her hands already beginning to shine with magicka, "My thane, have you been poisoned?"

Kratos let out a bark, "Yes. It is irrelevant and will do nothing." Aranea slowly lowered her hands, their light dimming. Kratos looked down at Agatha, his face softening, and said quietly, "She served nothing without checking its quality. A poor repayment for a dutiful woman." He looked back up at the others, "The poisoner is likely gone. Even so. Lydia, take a detachment, question all strangers in the town. Detain them if you are not satisfied." He took a step towards her, "Do not just listen," he reached up and gently tapped her temple twice, "but hear."

Lydia nodded her understanding, consciously reaching out with her other sense for the feeling of Kratos' presence. Her face was hard and grim, "It will be done. If they are here still, I will find them." Lydia turned and dashed from the room.

Kratos returned his attention to Aranea, "The wine was poisoned. Examine my cup in the hall. Glean what you can. The assassin is likely gone. We will need some trace to hunt them back to their lair." Aranea nodded slowly and went to the main hall, leaving Kratos alone with the body. He looked down at her for a minute, silence reigning in the room. "So frail." He blew out a breath and then bent, scooping up the body easily. He took her to the small room in the longhouse that was hers and laid her on her crisply made bed. He went to the door but paused looking back at her, "Duty for duty." he said bowing his head to her.

Kratos walked into the hall and saw Aranea working at the table. She had a satchel next to her and various items strewn about her from gemstones, strange knick knacks to fluted glass tubes and vials, alembics and other alchemical equipment. "When will we know something?" he asked without preamble.

Aranea didn't look up from her work, keeping her crimson eyes focused on the vial she was heating, "It will take a few hours. What I can tell you now will not be new information or particularly helpful." She removed the vial from the magical flame she had conjured, "The poison is incredibly potent. This was made by someone with true skill, a master of the art. They didn't want to take chances." She ran a hand back through her hair, "What I can't tell you is what ingredients were used. I imagine that will give us some clue as to the provenance of the poison, or at least a lead to follow."

Kratos nodded, "Good. Do what you can." He paused for a moment before continuing, "If you need anything else, tell me. I will get it. I want them found."

Aranea nodded, "For now, no. I will let you know if that changes. I have always kept my kit well stocked." She shrugged, "I expanded it only recently… I fear… I fear I misinterpreted something. That I saw but did not understand. I know gazing into the shifting twilight of Moonshadow is difficult but.."

Kratos' voice cut her off, "No. Blame lies with the hand that did this and the voice that ordered it." He caught her eyes and his voice softened, "Your guilt is purposeless. You carry only the weight of your own actions" Kratos turned to go, stalking out of the room, but called over his shoulder, "Tell me when you learn something."

It was a few hours later that they gathered again in the great hall. Kratos and his retainers sat around the table, the spirit in the room was oppressive, filled with Kratos' anger. He stood at the head of the table, palms on its surface as he leaned against it. "Lydia. What have you learned?"

Lydia looked to him from her place at his right hand and hesitated for a moment before clearing her throat, "Unfortunately, not much. No one in the town recalls any strangers of note over the past few days." She rubbed at her forehead, "Of course this is presuming that the poison was placed in recent days and not weeks or even months ago."

Aranea interjected, "If I may?" Kratos nodded at her to continue, "I examined the bottle. Agatha did not keep large stores of that particular wine in the longhouse. I spoke to Thomas to confirm this, but Agatha would take trips to the inn a few times a week to restock rather than stock up." She paused briefly looking down, "I think she enjoyed the trips."

Lydia blew out a gusty breath, "Well thank the Divines for small favors. The poison would have to be placed in the last two days then. No assassin would risk poisoning a bottle at the inn." She looked around the table, "The wine has grown more popular in the town and now is drunk… well if not frequently, at least often enough that poisoning a bottle at the inn would have no guarantee of making it here. It would be much more likely to be consumed by one of the townsfolk and that would destroy the element of surprise." She folded her arms and shook her head, "An assassin would not risk it."

She continued, "However that still leaves us with very little. No one that stuck out has passed through. Only the normal merchants and travelers. Either they were never noticed or they are still in town." Lydia looked down at the table, "The soldiers and I will continue to investigate but as now.. I have little to offer. I am sorry, my thane."

Kratos shook his head, "This was well done. I would not expect the assassin to leave a trace. It is no fault of yours." He turned his attention back to Aranea, "What of the poison? And the body?"

Aranea held up a vial containing a small amount of dark liquid, "I believe that I have isolated the poison. It is a distillation of crimson nirnroot, river betty scales and emperor parasol moss. along with general alchemical reagents." She paused looking at the vial for a moment, "This is a virulent poison." She looked at Kratos, "I suppose I should not be surprised that you are unaffected but… any of us would have died in minutes. And I know of no antidote that would counter such a toxin."

Thomas spoke up, "I have never heard of such ingredients," he gestured aimlessly, "aside from the river betty of course. I assume they are rare."

Aranea nodded solemnly, "Extremely." She paused, swallowing, "I do not have concrete evidence but…" she trailed off staring at the vial in her hand.

"Speak."

Aranea looked at Kratos, brow furrowed, "I believe there is only one organization in Skyrim that would have the stealth, resources and alchemical expertise for such an undertaking. Also there is the fact that you are a thane - a prominent one - in a major hold with the favor of your jarl. No random bandit or rogue did this."

"Aranea." Kratos' voice was firm, "A name."

"I believe it was the Dark Brotherhood, Kratos."

Kratos' hand clenched into a fist and his voice was low and dark, "Then they have made an enemy."


AN: This did take a bit of time to get out but hopefully it was worth the wait. Big thanks to every for reading and especially to those who review. Specific feedback really is like gold to me.

Stay safe out there everyone.