The carriage was hardly full. Not many people traveled the roads these days. The driver urged the horse forward slow and steady on the uneven road. Veria sat patiently in the back. Her Dark Brotherhood armor was concealed by a long cloak that she had drawn up tightly around her body. She kept her head low to prevent the wind from disturbing the fur-trimmed hood. Without looking up, she could tell they were passing through the Reach. The road had become rough, and frequently rose and fell with the uneven terrain.
The carriage driver stopped by Markarth, where he picked up two more passengers bound for Solitude. Veria glanced quickly up at them as they took a seat across from her. It was a Nord couple, dressed for travel in cloaks with no hoods and a small satchel of coin tied to the man's belt. They weren't wealthy, not enough to own their own carriage at least, but they looked well-off enough to afford taking a trip to Solitude. Shopkeepers or owners of an inn, Veria guessed. When they sat down, the woman offered Veria a polite smile and nodded her head in silent greeting. Veria returned the gesture and maintained the silence. From what little conversation they made, Veria discerned they were on their way to visit a friend who's husband had taken ill.
They spoke less and less as they drew closer to Solitude, and while Veria didn't mind listening to the idle chatter of common folk, she was thankful for the silence. The sounds of road, of the forests and mountain air, were soothing. She let her mind go still, and remained in meditation until the carriage came to a halt.
"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen," the driver said. "Watch your step as you go. The road up to the city gate is rather steep."
Veria stepped down and inhaled deeply. She stood tall and erect, her shoulders back and face tilted downward slightly. Her cloak cascaded down from her shoulders in a straight line. She was like a shadow, floating over the ground, noticed by almost no one. She released her breath and started up the road.
The contract said her contact would be waiting in the Winking Skeever. It was a man by the name of Rudnar. He had no residence in Solitude, according to what information Veria was given about him. He had been renting out a room at the inn for a few weeks now.
When she entered the city, Veria took no time to admire it. It was a beautiful city indeed, especially in the starlight. But the darkness wouldn't last forever, and Veria was eager for a fresh kill. She went straight to the Winking Skeever.
As she entered, the inn owner looked up from his work cleaning the counter and greeted her.
"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend!" he said. As she approached him, he continued. "We have warm beds and warm food. What will it be?"
The man had a genuine smile on his face. He seemed truly happy for Veria's visit. He would likely have been happy if anyone had walked through his door, but Veria couldn't help but be flattered all the same. This was not the time to be sultry, though, so she kept it to herself. As an agent of the Brotherhood, she maintained a shaded exterior, and did not yield to her desire to smile back at him.
Quietly enough so she might not be overheard, she asked, "I seek a man called Rudnar."
His warm and welcoming presence fractured slightly at her tone. It was always amusing to see men intimidated by her. "Ah yes," He said. "Rudnar. Good patron, that man. Keeps mostly to himself, but a decent enough fellow. He's been here for a few weeks now. As long as he keeps paying, he's welcome to stay longer. His room is on the second floor, directly across from the stairs."
Veria turned and headed towards the stairs, but the innkeeper stopped her and asked, "You won't be causing any trouble now, will you?"
She turned and watched him fall silent at the sight of the void in her eyes. When she answered, she did so quietly, but with an innocence that he could not deny. "Of course not," she said. "Rudnar has been waiting for me."
The innkeeper nodded and and returned to cleaning the counter. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to the room was shut, but unlocked. She pushed her way into the room like a snake into a rabbit's den. She was as silent as a whisper, and she closed the door behind her just as quietly. None of the patrons of the inn were aware that anyone had entered the room, but the man inside was already awake, waiting for her.
He sat in a chair in the corner opposite the bed. A single candle illuminated his form. He must have been at least fifteen years older than Veria, but she could detect strong arms beneath his simple commoner's clothing. His face was weathered, but had not yet started to wither with the passing of years. His beard was cropped short and sported a deep black color with flecks of gray near the roots. A thin scar traveled from the corner of his left eye to the depths on the hair on his jaw. This man had seen battles. What was he doing here, living out of a tavern?
"Is... is it you?" He said. "You've come to hear my contract?"
Veria nodded once and stepped forward. "What is it you ask of the Dark Brotherhood?" she said.
"I want you to kill someone for me, obviously. As you can probably tell, I've seen a lot of the battlefield. Just a few years ago I was serving in the Imperial army. I was...relieved of duty rather suddenly. But when I returned home I found my wife had...died. She had fallen ill and had no one to take care of her. It wasn't until later that I found out she was poisoned by a man named Balfun. He fled and attempted to allude me. He changed his name and made a new life for himself. Somehow got his hands on a house by the Blue Palace." His eyes darkened and fury pierced his tone. "I want you to sneak into that house and kill him. Make it painful, if you can. I want him to suffer."
Veria nodded. "Which house?"
"It's Proudspire Manor, next to the Bard's College." He took out a coin purse and handed it to Veria. "400 coins," he said. "I'll give you the rest once the job is done."
Without another word, Veria pocketed the gold and left the man to stew in his own vengeance. Such contracts were common. Hate made people turn to even the most taboo of things.
With dawn hours away, Veria wasted no time in honing in on her target. She shed her cloak and stashed it in a bush of Nightshade. It would only get in her way. Proudspire Manor was easy enough to find, and with no shortage of back alleys and shadowy corners, Veria had no trouble becoming invisible. Patrolling guardsmen were easy enough to sneak by. Getting into Proudspire would be another matter. She found a back door, locked of course.
Child's play, she thought, pulling out her lock picks. As she pulled and prodded inside the mechanism she recalled the first time Tulian taught her to pick locks. She picked it up quickly and practiced constantly when he brought her to the Brotherhood. She had long since mastered the craft, and had the door to Proudspire Manor open in a matter of seconds.
She slipped inside and dissolved into the darkness. There were no candles to light the room, and as Veria's eyes adjusted to the darkness she noticed something amiss. The place smelled musty and stagnant, like no one had lived in it for a long time. In the gloom she could see dust floating in the air. A man was supposed to be living here? Squinting, she could make out a faint orange glow cascading down the stairs. Someone had a candle lit upstairs. It was likely the man hadn't had the time to furnish the place yet, or the funds.
She climbed the stairs, careful not to let them squeak under her weight. She crept into the room, finding it almost bare save for a clean table and a man. The table held a plate of bread and cheese along with a single candle. The man sat facing away from Veria, hunched over like he was reading a book in the candlelight. She unsheathed her dagger and approached him, a target already in her sights. Slitting his throat would be slow, like Rudnar wanted, but also be quiet enough not to attract attention.
When Veria was but a breath away from him, she struck. In one swift movement, she rose, gathered the man's scalp in her fist and yanked his head backward. She brought the dagger to his throat, and stopped. The man's eyes gazed up at her, veiled with mist. He was cold, and had likely been dead for many hours.
"What in Obliv-"
Thwap
Veria lurched forward, catching herself on the table. An arrow had been buried into the leather armor between her shoulders. Thankfully, her armor was thick and only the very tip of the arrow found its way through. At most it merely scraped at her skin.
She righted herself and spun around. At the top of the stairs was the shape of a woman with a hunting bow in her hand. She was slight, with the build of a ranger. No match for one skilled in closer combat.
Veria dislodged the arrow in her back and lunged forward, dagger in hand, but was stopped mid-stride when a large hand suddenly enveloped her face. She was thrown backward into the ground. When she regained her senses, she saw a large, muscular man standing over her. His foot pressed heavily into her shoulder. She tried to stab his thigh with her dagger, but he swatted it away like one does with a fly. It clattered to the corner of the room, and Veria was left defenseless.
She struggled beneath the man's weight, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
"Don't struggle," he said in a voice like tumbling boulders. "You'll only make things worse for yourself." As he spoke, the woman walked to the windowsill and lit a candle that stood there. As the warm glow cast itself across the room, Veria got a better look at her assailants.
The woman had fair skin and a rounded Breton face. The man that stood over her was an Orc. His grayish green skin was pulled snugly around firm, toned muscles. A war hammer hung across his back. He would have no trouble snapping Vera's neck if she attacked him.
The sound of creaking on the steps caused the Orc to glance away. In this moment Veria made a grab for a dagger that hung from his belt, but she underestimated just how fast he was.
He grabbed her wrist with one hand and struck her head with the other.
Veria's mind was blurred and the room spun. In frustration, the Orc lifted her by the neck of her armor and pulled his fist back for another punch.
"Stop," came a voice from the stairs.
Through black, clouded vision Veria squinted to see who it was. The Orc very suddenly dropped her, and she crumpled against the floor. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the fog. Blinking, the candlelit room came back into focus, and she saw who the third person was.
"Rudnar," she said. He glanced at her, but she said nothing more.
He looked back to his comrades. "Perhaps you two should wait downstairs," he said. "I'd like a moment with our friend here."
The orc tried to protest, but was silenced with a steely look from Rudnar. Without another word he and the woman left, and Rudnar stood alone in front of Veria.
He had replaced his common clothing with a worn but well-polished set of steel armor. Veria cursed herself for not seeing through his facade in the tavern. She stood, and he waited patiently.
"You've made a grave mistake, Rudnar," she said. "Is that even your name?"
"It is," he nodded. "You may call me that if you wish,"
"I will call you nothing, because that is what you will be." She crossed her arms and let the shadows fall across her shoulders. "You have threatened the Dark Brotherhood. This is not a thing we take lightly."
"You're unarmed," Rudnar said. "I stand between you and the only exit. I'm strong enough to break your bones in my hands." He took three steps toward her, but she stood her ground. "You should be more worried about yourself right now." He continued toward her, but she didn't even twitch. When he stood close enough to feel his breath on her forehead, she asked, "What do you want?"
"I want you to tell me where your family is hiding."
Veria laughed. "Hiding?" she said. "The Dark Brotherhood doesn't hide. We look out from every shadow, and listen for the Sacrament."
Rudnar gripped Veria's forearm and yanked her sideways. When her leg flared out to keep her balance, he landed a solid kick just above her knee. There was sickening crack, and she collapsed which a shriek.
He kept hold of her arm and let her gasp for a moment before yanking her back upright. She nearly fell, but his hands gripped her shoulders like iron, keeping her up.
Veria's heart pumped blood through her veins at ten times the normal rate. Her leg felt like it was ablaze, and she clenched her teeth to keep from whimpering.
"That wasn't an answer," Rudnar said. "One more time, my dear. Where is the Dark Brotherhood hiding?"
Veria's lip curled, revealing her clenched teeth. He'd keep this up as long as he had to, she knew it. But it didn't matter how much pain he'd inflict on her. She'd never betray her family. At least, she hoped not.
"Where?" he asked again, this time with a growl and a violent shake.
"Rot in Oblivion," Veria answered.
Rudnar threw her across the room. She collided with the wall and fell limp in the far corner of the room. There was a window on the wall above her. An escape route, potentially, but only if she could get a few free moments. Rudnar was already standing over her.
"I hate this part of my job," he said. "It would be so much easier for everyone if you would just cooperate." He squatted down and angled her chin so that he could look at her face. "Tell me where they are."
Veria buried any emotion that tried to bubble its way into her voice, and she banished all fear from her face. "No," she said simply. It was no surprise to her that this earned her back handed strike across the mouth. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't wearing gauntlets.
"Maybe we should start with something a little simpler," he said calmly. "Tell me your name. Where are you from?"
"Are you trying to torture me or sleep with me?" Veria said through waves of pain.
"Just your name, then."
With her broken lip conveniently filling her mouth with blood, she saw no better opportunity than that moment to spit on his face. Rudnar flinched and stood, wiping the red of the bridge of his nose. He stomped firmly into her side, and she felt one of her ribs fracture.
Veria choked out a cry of pain, and she clenched her fists in an attempt to contain it. She spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor and said, "Careful. Can't answer your questions if I pass out."
"We have all night," he grumbled. His voice was venomous, in an attempt to scare her, no doubt. But she could detect frustration in his tone as well, and fought the urge to smile.
Suddenly a shout came from the bottom of the stairs. It was the orc. "Rudnar!" he yelled. "We have a problem!"
Rudnar quickly turned and shouted down the stairs, "What is it?"
Before he finished the question, Veria was already halfway out the window. When he saw her escaping and sprinted to catch her, it was already too late. She fell to a balcony, too close to the edge. With her good leg she tried to slow her falling speed on the railing before plummeting past it to the ground. It was impossible to contain a small yell of pain when she collided with the dirt. The wind was knocked right out of her, but she had no time to regain her breath.
Veria forced herself up and hobbled as fast as she could down the road. The window had dropped her into the alley behind the house. This was good. No guards to get in her way. However, there were also very few escape routes, and she had no time. The mercenaries were no doubt on their way, and Veria could barely walk properly. Her only hope was that whatever problem they had would delay them just enough to let her slip away.
There was not a moment to waste. Veria sprinted, as much as she could with a broken leg, to the next house over and slipped into the courtyard. She dove into the hedges and made her way for the street. When Rudnar and his company came running down the street in pursuit, Veria had already slipped into the sewer hole in the middle of the road. She replaced it neatly over her head, and she felt Rudnar's boots tread over it, unaware. It was like she was never there at all.