A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.
Mid Year 2, 4E1
Each step reminded me what a luxury still having Mr. Lachance's horse would have been. Each step took me such a shorter distance, and with it came just a bit more exhaustion. It was one of the better places to walk, the path between Cheydinhal and the Capital, but I didn't appreciate needing four hours of incessant walking, which didn't include the other parts of my journey. My legs were now aching.
I was close to the city of Cheydinhal, but I began thinking about the money I'd be receiving for the contract. The average cost of a horse, from my experiences in Gideon, was about 1000 septims. Though I was never told exactly how much this particular contract payed, I knew the usual contract payed a couple-hundred. I had a disheartening epiphany; I'd probably need at least four more contracts completed to get a horse, but when I factored in covering the costs of the materials, it would likely require more. That meant at least eight more long journeys. And even so, those five contracts would be spent making the future contracts easier, not really spent for my own enjoyment, as I had recklessly assumed they would be.
But as a passed yet another large, moss covered rock that flanked the path, someone caught my attention. A khajiit in leather armor, holding a metal mace which shined in the sunlight, casting its own little sun, with its own rays. His face and method of approach both did not bode well for what our encounter would be like. None the less, I stood my ground, my posture and facial expression unflinching knowing I always had my special gift to fall back, and an ego to maintain.
The scowl did not disappear from his face, he extended his free hand. "Your money, or your life?" He asked in an accented voice, no doubt confident (and wrong) to think he knew my answer. In terms of physique, weaponry, and protective gear, I was severely outmatched, but I still had my unseen advantage. He didn't even take the precaution to get close to me. That would be his last mistake.
I pushed the inner charge onto the surface of my body, channeling it appropriately, making myself as good as gone to him.
His eye's briefly widened in surprise. I took a few steps back to allow him less of an idea of exactly where I was, an important tactic.
"Shadow," he said, almost under his breath. He tried to resolve the fight by swinging blindly in front of himself, but met only with air. None the less, he had no other options, so I couldn't call him foolish. I filled with glee and satisfaction at watching my own trickery succeed. I could have escaped and continued walking, but he'd cross the line, and I needed to compensate to push things back into their rightful places.
"This one knows you are still there, so just...come on out." He said, using the makeshift term of 'come on out' to request I force the charge on my body to dissipate. He constantly waved his head back and forth, his arms primed to swing, his eyes primed to spot, and his mind filtering through everything he saw for a disturbance that could reveal my presence. I could see his panic. Our emotional states would remain opposites until he died.
I had been trained for years in the art of concealment not only within the shrouding of cover and shadows, but within the shrouding of the Shadow's magicka. I slowly and carefully, maintaining the distance between us, tried to circle around him. Once I did that, I could unsheathe my dagger, approach ,and plunge it into the back of his throat.
"Hey!" He cried out, his attention snapping towards my direction. I froze instantly, hoping with every second he'd turn away and discard the idea he was actually staring at me. I began to tense as I waited, feeling my muscles tighten around every inch of the inside of my body. Thankfully, some movement to his left, no doubt caused by wind, caught his attention. The paranoia a Shadowscale could invoke was what we truly loved to flaunt. It was what we did best.
I continued to move , taking every step with care, and imagining how the pressure of my foot impact the ground. I gently reached for my dagger, then began to pull it back. I was no where near where he thought I was. The fine art of deception in action, glorifying me and my employers.
As I got within range, he swung himself around, but it was too late, my dagger was already headed towards his throat. I withdrew it after it had gone as deep as it could, and he made a very unhealthy sounding gurgling noise, helpless even to express his pain, tumbling to the ground. Just another obstacle to overcome in the path I pledged to live my life by, the only one I promised I'd ever know: one of clearly drawn lines, and no arbitrary decisions to declare mercy, everlasting strength above all temptations and emotions, and, ultimately, undieing dedication to justice.
I briefly checked behind more shoulders for any approaching legionaries incase of the small chance I might look like the murder, and saw none. I knelt down beside the body. The fur around his neck was turning red, his eyes caught in an ever-lasting gaze. Strapped to his side was a sack. I took it off of him, and examined it. Its bottom was bumpy, it jingled, and was heavy for its size. No doubt the gold of others who had complied or died was contained within it. I, of course, took the bag with me. Karma had gone full circle, without any anomalies. The crime, the punishment, and the reward for the punisher, and a reward she needed more than anyone who traveled the paths. It was all so comforting. I could feel at peace. Better than that, in fact, it gave me something to smile about.
I decided to pick up his mace as well, guessing I could sell it for a significant amount of gold.
As I continued walking, I looked into the contents of the bag. It was filled with all sorts of objects, but with one prominent consistency. Shiny and sparkling metals and minerals, mostly in the form of septims. No doubt I could sort them out when I got back to the sanctuary.
Each step became slightly more strenuous as I began to climb a familiar hill. I knew I was close to the city walls. As I rose, I could see the turrets of the city wall. I had to wonder what the Imperials feared so much. Tribal invasion? An attack from another nation? None of that would seem to be a threat here. The walls looked sturdier and harder to penetrate than those of Gideon, or Stormhold. They had about half of the threats to protect themselves from, yet their constructions seemed to have twice the effort, if not more.
I approached the entrance, not making eye contact with the guard. I always felt tense when I was near them, and it always made me remember their pompous attitude towards a cause they barely fought for. They claimed to serve in the name of justice, but constantly set up arbitrary borders to their duties, seemingly for their own comfort. Captain Tussuad, for example, would still be alive and enjoying his ill-gotten goods if not for the Dark Brotherhood's superior dedication. Their uniforms seemed like affronts, fooling citizens they were the best justice had to offer.
I entered the city, planning to head to the March Rider to sell the mace I'd picked up. Fortunately for me, that shop was near the entrance to the city, as were the Inns. It occurred to me the cleverness of such a design.
The streets seemed almost deserted again as I walked down them. Only the guards and an occasional horse-drawn carriage seemed to walk the streets, as if the town was under some kind of heavy-duty military occupation.
I climbed the few stairs that separated the shop from the side-walk, and opened the door. I approached the owner.
"The March Rider sells and repairs armor and weapons. Can I help you? I'm Tertia Viducia." She said. I held out the mace before speaking, noticing how heavy it was when I tried to lift it with one arm. Pain started to form, so I held the mace in a casual fashion once again.
"What do you think is a fair price for this?" I said, her eyes shifting down towards the mace I was holding.
"Hmmm..." she said, her eyes remaining in place "Fifty septims?" she said, her tone making it clearly a suggestion "How does that sound?"
For all I knew, one of us was being completely suckered. I had a very basic idea of the price range for these sorts of weapons, but that was it. In Argonia, we were supposed to turn over all equipment to the armory. Her face and voice seemed pure and honest, although you could never truly tell.
"Deal." I said. My mind racing a second later about the transaction. She reached into the bag of coins she kept nearby and sorted out a combination of coins that added up to fifty septims.
She took the mace from my right hand, and I took the five 10-septim coins from hers, satisfied with the transaction. I felt like I'd made a good trade. Even if that was a cheap price to sell the mace for, it was still worth ten good meals, and thinking about it that way made the transaction far more satisfying. I exited the shop, nearly walking into a long-haired, scowling, guard Captain.
"Get out of my way before I have you slapped in irons!" He commanded. I, instinctually, took a step back. He was a bit on the short side, but his audacity more than compensated to make him intimidating. He continued walking, but his words came back to me instantly, accompanied by offense. I watched as he turned the corner. I did my best to drill it into my memory, because I knew now was not the time to consider such things. But the words stuck, as did a picture of the moment.
I walked across the river, but no matter how many times I convinced myself I needed to stop thinking about it, his words came back. Think about it in the name of justice. One side of me said, while the other told me Your superiors know when and how justice needs your abilities, so if you want to help that cause, you should concentrate on talking to them. Then part of me would search for arguments to back up the first side fruitlessly, which nagged at me as I approached the abandoned house, feeling utterly frustrated both that I couldn't drop the subject, and that it was sullying my normally cheerful situation in the first place, making my previous priorities feel half-hearted.
I looked over my shoulder again as I near the abandon house. As usual, no one was watching me. I strode into the house, this time with confidence, finding it somewhat funny to remember how frightened I'd originally been. The macabre nature of the house no longer symbolized the forces against me, but the forces allied with me, and that made me feel safe, not vulnerable. None the less, to avoid any accidents, I carefully channeled magicka into my eyes, adjusting my vision to the darkness as I walked down the creaky steps, dodging and weaving past cob-webs now and then.
I walked through that mysterious cave, to the glowing door. I still wondered how this whole sanctuary came to be. But it brought on fascination, not fear, because it reinforced the claim that I was on the side of the mighty and powerful.
I rattled the handle, then spoke "It's me, Feekaava-Taakeeus" I could hear footsteps, muffled through the stone. The door opened, and I was greeted by Tienaava, hooded as usual.
"It fills my heart with warmth to see you again, sister!" He said cheerfully, holding the door opened for me. I couldn't contain my smile.
"Hey," I replied simply, feeling oddly guilty that I couldn't match that greeting "Do you know where Vincenti Valteri is?"
"Where is Vincenti, you ask? I last saw him in the dining area." Tienaava replied.
"Thanks," I said, eager to compensate his kindness, and began walking towards that room. At this hour, the sanctuary was full. Everyone was up, but it was a bit too early to start contracts, at least ones within adjacent cities.
I excitedly anticipated Vincenti's reaction to my success. Right now, I was blissful: I was in a place where I could feel safe and proud of who I was, and comfort that there were others like me, both in belief and spirit. A place where I could get rest. I had a material reward awaiting me, as well as the bandit's bag to look into. Still, exactly what he'd think of my performance wasn't clear. I didn't know what the brotherhood looked for. I had succeeded, but I still tensed a bit as I wondered exactly what he would think of my manner of execution.
As I approached the sleeping/dining area, I could hear Vincenti's voice, though he was obviously not talking to me. "I'm just glad you came out of it all unscathed. Not that I doubted your abilities, M'raaj, but you know me, I worry."
I kept my footsteps soft as I entered. Curious enough to not want to end the conversation, but not willing to appear sneaky in front of either of them if I were to get caught.
"Yes, well" the khajiit, who was apparently named M'raaj replied "I'll be sure to check for next time."
Vincenti Valteri seemed to take notice of me, and curiously looked to his right, then signaled I give him a moment. I stopped, waiting.
"Excuse me, brother, I have someone to attend to. " He smiled once more at M'raaj, a sight which made me feel slightly angry, but somewhat helpless in the current situation as memories of the guard outside of the March Rider also came back to me. Looking a bit more serious, he looked at me again, got up from his chair, and beckoned me towards the door.
He closed the door to the sleeping/dining room once we were both in the hallways.
"Its done." I said, before he turned to face me again. He smiled, exposing his fangs, his sort burst of seriousness seemingly over.
"So, the pirate has been eliminated? Excellent. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased." His voice seemed slightly quiet for a normal conversation, but his words were music to my ears. He took out a sack of coins from his pocket, and I grasped it with my free-hand. His review of my performance had been simple, but that was satisfying enough. "Here is the payment for your first contract." There would be a lot to look forward to with so many riches in my hand, but I had an urge to shift the conversation to 'M'raaj'. I had every intention to put myself back in the battlefield, as I was prepared this time.
"M'raaj, the khajiit I mean, does he give you any trouble?" Grasping on an opportunity to talk about him without appearing whiney or feisty Vincenti's expression changed to one of genuine concern.
"M'raaj-Dar? Oh, don't let him get to you. He has a problem with all Shadowscales."
"Really?" I said "Has he given the others, Tienaava and Ocheeva, any trouble?"
Vincenti wasn't really sure whether to speak or laugh first "He wouldn't be selling supplies right now if he hadn't." I felt better not being alone, and hearing why Ocheeva made him sell supplies already felt like a victory.
"Smart move." I said, referring to Ocheeva, enjoying the image of M'raaj...-Dar losing to Stabber in a war of pride. However, I then began to wonder how Vincenti Valteri viewed the situation, and felt slightly embarrassed. He seemed nice to M'raaj-Dar, and indifference in a conflict between two friends always angered me. None the less, I found his words comforting, somehow. As I was lost in thought which seemed to be getting nowhere, I noticed I'd been silent for quite some time.
"Sithis be with you, Sister." He said, once again opening the doors to return to his previous conversation. I wondered briefly if M'raaj-Dar might have genuinely thought Shadowscales were "outsiders", not children of Sithis. But it was such a baseless claim, I had to assume there was another motive.
Shadowscales and frustrating uncertainty, it seemed familiar. Then the thought came back to me, hitting me hard. Goes-in-heavy was still nowhere to be found. The length of his absence had already pushed beyond the threshold of my beliefs. Every second was another opportunity to get my hopes up, and feel frustrated at the seemingly logic-defying event of his disappearance. Was this some game of Sithis? I would have been grateful with any kind of closure at this point, to have something I could submit to, but there had still been no word as to what happened to him. For me there was just an urge to submit to super-natural forces arrayed against me I knew couldn't truly be at work.
I knew there were other things to be done: For one, count up how much gold I'd found on that highwayman, but my passion was elsewhere. I went back to the main room, finding myself a free chair and table.
I poured the various riches onto the table, briefly worried they might spill off as I seemed to lose control of the flow, and then began counting the value of septims it contained. With each one I counted, I moved it over to the other side of the table.
1...2...3...13...14...15...16...26. But I was distracted, and operating slowly and unsteadily. I was bombarded with other emotional drives that seemed to be undeterred by logic.