"What will it take?!" I shouted, pounding my closed fist onto the wooden table. Karnwyr tipped his head querulously and set his chin on my thigh before whining. On the other hand, Bishop was entirely unfazed and continued to drink. The music around us did not halt, though the air was noticeably tenser than when I'd first arrived.
"You can't save everyone, princess," Bishop commented uncaringly, eyeing his empty mug as though considering buying another round.
"But that's four!" I pointed to the new flyer made by Viola Giordano. "The girl he killed right in front of us, Isabella, Fjotli Cruel-Sea, and Friga Shatter-Shield. Like I said... what will it take?!" This time, eyes turned to me, perhaps troubled by my tone, or more likely my anger. While the second floor of Candlehearth Hall was more open than our rented room, it was also less private. At this point, though, I didn't care. Most regular patrons knew I'd been tracking the Butcher. I leaned forward and pressed my fingers to my temples.
Bishop sighed and kicked at my leg. "He keeps striking when you're unwary." I gave him an unimpressed look.
"No, really?" I drawled. Bishop's face turned sour.
"Maybe you need to use bait." I frowned at his suggestion.
"Viola Giordano seems quite certain he'll go after her." Bishop let out a snort at my comment, followed by a short bout of coughing. An amused expression graced his handsome face.
"From what I can tell, princess, the Butcher is going after young and beautiful women." He gestured to me, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest again. "And that woman's got so many wrinkles I'm surprised she's still walking." He traced the grain of the table for a moment before continuing. "Someone's delusional. You're going to need someone other than a batshit-crazy elderly wench if you want bait." Self-preservation screamed for me to deny it, though I quashed it down in favor of contemplation.
"He wants me," I murmured, "so I might be enough." At last, the ranger appeared troubled but didn't say a word. "Think you can handle this?" I looked Bishop in the eye and lowered my voice. "If I put myself in a compromising position, the Butcher'll have to take that chance." I plucked at the cracked skin on my lip and continued to think. "If I go out unarmed and without Karnwyr to defend me-" Karnwyr gave a tiny bark as though disagreeing with what I'd said. With a smile, I went on. "-Then he won't be able to resist."
Bishop scratched at his chin. "I'll only have a small window of time to perform a daring rescue, ladyship." I rolled my eyes. "But are you sure?" he asked dubiously, pursing his lips. "One wrong move, and you're dead." I paused, my heart starting to beat faster.
"If I pull this off," I began slowly, "then who knows how many people I'll save?"
"And if you fail?" A long silence followed.
I straightened up and ignored the pitter-patter of my heart as it beat with fear. "I won't," I stated boldly. "I can't." The ranger watched me for a few seconds before sighing.
"All right, princess. What's the plan?"
...
"Back up," I whispered, knowing Bishop could hear me. My swords had been left in the inn, but Bishop had lent me his dagger for the time being. It was hidden inside my armor, just so that I wasn't entirely at the Butcher's mercy. "If he sees you and Karnwyr, it's over." The sky was dark, just a sliver of a moon hanging above. The stars looked cold and distant, and I suppressed a shiver. This was it. If I didn't succeed, I was dead. And where would I go, once I'd-
A small footstep scraped against the stone. I quit thinking and started paying attention, muscles tensing up. I feigned ignorance and slowly padded down Windhelm's streets, pretending to be out for a midnight walk. The steps continued to come closer, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my ranger companion tensing up with his bow drawn. Of course, he'd heard it, too. He was a practiced hunter.
I whirled around to face the killer, ready to defend myself and hold him down for Bishop to shoot. A fearful squeal stopped me from tackling the person at the last moment. It wasn't anyone I'd peg as the killer whatsoever. It was the server girl, Susanna, from Candlehearth Hall. She was clearly terrified and held up her hands. I slumped my shoulders in a mixture of disappointment and relief.
"Sorry," I muttered, stepping aside and allowing her to pass. Susanna remained where she was for a moment and shot me a reproachful look before hurrying away. I faced Bishop and shrugged my shoulders helplessly. The Butcher was still out there.
A scream echoed through the streets, making me jump in surprise. Bishop darted toward the noise without hesitation, unaffected by the sudden shriek. I gathered myself quickly and followed the ranger to the scene. My heart dropped as soon as I saw the crimson splatter on the snow and staining the stone floor. "Fuck!" I shouted, kicking the nearby wall as Bishop bent over the body. "Fuck!"
"Keep it down!" Bishop hissed, glaring furiously. "Gods, woman!"
I opened my mouth for a snarky response but was interrupted almost instantly. "Halt! You there!" Bishop and I turned our heads simultaneously to see two guards running our way. A group of people was already gathering in the cemetery along with us, watching the scene unfold.
The guards ignored me and headed straight for Bishop, bent over the body. "You can't escape us this time, Butcher!" Realization struck me, and I bolted over to stand in front of him.
"No, no! It's not him!" I insisted, holding out my arms. "He's been helping me try to catch the real Butcher!" The first guard looked past me, clenching his warhammer tightly.
"Sorry, lass," he growled, "but this is all the proof we need. Who else could have gotten here so quickly?" I searched for words, but for once, none were forthcoming. I swallowed and tried again, this time using persuasion.
"He can't be the killer," I said gently, touching the male guard's shoulder. "He's been with me this whole time. Why would I lie?" The guard looked me up and down, unimpressed.
"Don't try your honeyed words on me, Imperial," he griped. Nodding to his companion, the other guard moved forward and grasped Bishop's arm roughly. "To the prison with you, Butcher." I could only watch, horrified, as they tried carting him away. Bishop, of course being Bishop, wasn't about to go quietly.
He writhed about furiously, forcing the second guard to grab him. "Let me go, you bastards!" he demanded, swinging and trying to hit his captors. He shot me an angry glare as well, one that spoke volumes. "Should've just left without you, ladyship." He returned his attention to the guards. "I'm not the goddamn killer, you fucking idiots!" I put my face into my palms, knowing he wasn't helping the situation.
The guards did not reply, remaining silent while they carted the hateful ranger away. I stared at them helplessly, then down to Karnwyr, who peered at me with intelligent yellow eyes before loping off after his master.
I eyed Susanna's body, cut and mutilated. Poor girl. A helpless feeling settled over me. I'd let four more people die, and now Bishop had been taken away, the blame forced upon him. Finding a way to prove his innocence would be difficult enough. Still, I couldn't give up.
Three others stood around Susanna's body, all looking regretful and scared. "Always sad when someone has to die," a white-haired man announced with a frown. "At least the killer's finally been caught."
"It wasn't him," I snapped, stomping towards the man. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, though he didn't respond. "Bishop was helping me. He didn't even have to help me, but he did anyway."
The man shrugged my insistence off. "Apologies, madam. But if I had to guess, I'd say you were being tricked." I couldn't spout everything to this man, so I had to bite my tongue and storm away before I beat him into the ground. An irritated screech flew through my clenched teeth, and I punched the wall without thinking. Of course, I regretted it as soon as I did so, cradling my now-injured hand.
I swore again, shaking my fist and inspecting it for any severe injuries. It didn't look like I'd broken anything, but I was still furious. I leaned against the wall with a deep sigh, trying to process everything. Less than a minute was all it had taken for everything to go horribly wrong.
...
My mind was blank as I sat at the bar, head pressed down on the wood. The grains were leaving marks on my skin, no doubt. I had no idea what to do at this point. Every plan I'd come up with failed, and even a day later, I hadn't figured anything out. All I'd done was make a bigger mess to clean up.
"Another round?" the Dunmer queried, leaning against the wall as he stared. I didn't say a word, only nodded miserably. I wasn't much of a drinker, but the New Gnisis Cornerclub was better than Candlehearth Hall. I'd always preferred sujamma to mead anyways. It must've been that Dark Elf blood in my veins, however distant.
The barkeep refilled my mug, and I reached into my pocket to fiddle with my septims before producing two and tossing them to the Dark Elf. He put the coins away before leaning on the counter, concern in his scarlet eyes. "Are you all right, Alessia?" I jolted my head up, immediately wary.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" I queried suspiciously, setting my mug of sujamma down. The Dunmer lifted an eyebrow, clearly confused by my line of questioning.
"You were here a week or two ago, don't you remember?" I paused, racking my brain for the memory. I pursed my lips and shook my head.
"Afraid not."
"Hmm..." He straightened up. "I'm Ambarys. Does that ring any bells for you?" I didn't reply. "That's a shame. I thought you'd have remembered the Cornerclub."
I bit my lip and continued to think. "By chance," I began, "was it last Middas?" That had been the day I'd fought with Bishop, a bit over a week ago. Ambarys nodded rapidly in response.
"You remember, sera?"
"No, but I don't remember much from that day at all. A few days later, I found out from Bis- from my friend that I'd likely been drugged." At this reveal, Ambarys appeared troubled.
"Is that so?" He scratched his chin. "Not many of us were in the inn, and I can't think of any patrons who would have done something like that." He sniffed. "Even Rolff was there, and even though he's a troublemaker, he's all bark and no bite. Besides, you beat him well enough that I doubt he'd want to go at you again." I laughed inwardly at the thought of me teaching that ignorant Nord a lesson, but the enjoyment was all too temporary. The weight of my situation once again set heavy down on my chest.
I set my head back down on the counter. "Figures," I mumbled through my mess of black hair. "Back to square one." No sooner had I spoken did I feel a nudge against my calf. I turned my head just enough to see Karnwyr with his fur standing on end. He gave an insistent yip and sat down. He managed to convey both irritation and impatience. "What's going on, buddy?" Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ambarys backing away against the wall. Of course, Karnwyr was a wolf. Most folks wouldn't respond too positively.
Karnwyr gave an urgent bark and nipped at my leg. I watched him trot away, clearly intending for me to follow. What other option did I have but to do so?
He led me to the scene of the most recent murder: the graveyard. Susanna's body was gone, but the snow was still disturbed. I almost tripped over the wolf when he stopped rather suddenly, nearly sending me skidding across the icy pavement. Karnwyr sniffed at the ground and barked again. He was no stupid dog.
He pawed at a bloodstain on the street, whining. I knelt and felt at the blood. Judging from its color and dry texture, I guessed it was less than a week old. I let the gears in my mind turn. "Karnwyr?" The red wolf wagged his tail sadly and looked up at me. "Can you see if there are others?" He barked quickly and put his nose to the ground, sniffing and searching. Not for the first time was I amazed at how Karnwyr seemed able to understand anything Bishop and I might have said.
I trailed behind the wolf as he followed a scent down the street, the occasional bloodstain passing us. He'd followed it up to a large wooden house a minute or two later. It looked cozy from the outside, but there was a negative feeling I just couldn't shake, one that clung to the back of my mind. The air was thick with magic, dark magic. Necromancy.
With a deep breath for courage, I pulled at the handle. Of course, it was locked. Uttering yet another curse, I started to look for another way in. The back of the house was pressed against the city walls, so there was no secondary door. My inspection continued for a bit longer before my gaze wandered to the second floor. A window on the upper level was cracked. It wouldn't be too difficult to break that to get in. However, the climb wouldn't exactly be a piece of cake.
I looked down to Karnwyr, his yellow eyes watching me questioningly. If something was in there, I wouldn't have him to help me. "Well," I said to myself, "if I can escape the Deadlands alone, I can handle whatever's in there alone, too." There were ledges and pockets on the house that would provide good holds if I could just reach them.
I filled my lungs and backed up, preparing to scale the wooden building. Digging my feet into the snow, I sprinted towards the house and ran up the wall just a few steps. Just as I felt the forward force vanishing, I grasped a ledge from a balcony before I fell. Swinging about wildly, I groaned as I pulled myself up.
I wasted no time scaling up the roof, the horizontal slats making it far more manageable. Despite nearly slipping once or twice, I made it to the cracked window. Testing it with my foot, I determined that it would undoubtedly make noise if I simply shoved my way through. After a moment of contemplation, I carefully set myself on the ledge and pressed at the glass. It creaked loudly, and the cracks shifted ever so slightly. I nearly threw myself off with that tiny bit of movement, and pivoting myself, I pushed the window again. The crack, luckily, was all the way through. Though it wouldn't be easy to open it without shattering it, I could catch the glass before it fell if I moved quickly.
The smallest piece moved under my gentle touch, moving inward at the top. The bottom remained stubbornly stuck, and a breath of exasperation escaped my lips. I noticed rather quickly that the ebony chainmail I wore would cause issues with noise, and with an inner groan, I removed it before going any further with the glass.
This would take longer than I'd thought, and the cold setting into my bones was borderline painful. Though the time I had to take was excruciatingly long, I managed to remove enough glass to be able to slip through. Instead of focusing on how miserably cold I was just stuck in my tunic, I'd become hyperfixated on my task and rescuing not only Bishop but also any future Butcher victims.
Taking a deep breath of the icy-cold air, I jumped headfirst through the window. I had to stifle a cry of pain as a sharp bit of glass scraped my back from the window, then the pieces on the floor dug into my skin as I rolled. I watched the crimson blood stain my arms and midriff, and the wet feeling on my back let me know I'd indeed been cut from there as well. After a moment of contemplation, I bit my tongue to avoid a vicious curse as I elected to tend to the wounds first.
My eyes scanned the room, and upon seeing a bed, I prepared to step towards it. Testing the wooden floor, I deduced that there were no loose boards or poorly-placed nails that would creak or clatter. Even so, I kept my movements small and slow until I reached the mattress. I still had to be cautious even after getting to the bed.
Removing the glass was a chore. My arm turned out to be the easiest, only two pieces having gotten stuck. My stomach was a little more complicated, as I couldn't see it very well and there being no mirror nearby to help. The worst was my back. I didn't know whether or not glass had gotten lodged in my skin, but I couldn't exactly jab haphazardly to find out.
For the next quarter-hour, I fidgeted with the wound on my back before, at last, extricating a few shattered pieces. Determining there were no more took another five minutes, and I was finally free to bind myself.
Using Bishop's knife, I cut a strip of the blanket below me to bind my still-bleeding cuts. To my credit, they weren't deep enough to be life-threatening, but leaving them open would still be idiotic. My mind wandered for a moment to the ranger and the need to save him from the prisons. What had elapsed since he'd been taken away was a mystery, but if it was anything like when I'd been dragged off by Imperial City guards, it wasn't good.
Focus, I told my mind, shaking myself out of my reverie. With a quick few knots, my cuts were bound, and I was ready to go again. After due consideration, I ascertained that it would be more detrimental to retrieve my armor from outside the window. Not only would bringing it through the glass be difficult without making noise, but I also wouldn't be able to walk around without being heard either. Then again, no armor meant less defense. If an arrow or knife came out of nowhere, I'd likely be dead before hitting the ground.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and bit my lip, hating my uncertainty. The bruises from my lip-biting split, spilling a small stream of blood over my tongue. Not for the first time did I reprimand myself and resolve to stop.
Forcing my attention back to the present, I started to scan the room for any clues.
A light layer of dust covered most surfaces, so I figured it had been a while since anyone had been up on the second floor. What was below was the enigma here, and it was all too likely that it would be dangerous. Keeping my moves silent was slightly difficult around the glass pieces as I retrieved my swords from outside. It wasn't easy, but they were slim enough to slip through without creating a din.
Taking the utmost care, I tentatively chose my steps, avoiding any that looked even the slightest bit loose. Whether it was luck or skill, I managed to make it down the stairs without issue. It was clear from my surroundings that this was the murderer's lair. Did he live here? Or was he walking around Windhelm as an average citizen at this moment, hiding in plain sight?
I started to inspect everything in the front room that seemed even the slightest bit noticeable. The furniture all around had been upturned and set in odd positions, thrown aside without a care. There was, however, a nearby chest with bloodstains covering the wood. Curiosity drove me to try the latch. Again, Lady Luck was on my side as it opened easily, unburdened by a lock.
Inside was simple, just a leatherbound book and a few septims. It didn't seem important, so I started to shut the chest. At the last moment, my eyes picked out the book again. It had dark stains on it, nearly imperceptible in the dim light. When I retrieved it, a shiver went through me. This book had seen dark things. When I finished looking over it, I undid the tie and opened it.
As soon as I saw its contents, I almost wished I hadn't.