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 11, 4E1
Cleaver's face looked stern as he concentrated on the contents of the chest infront of his bed, which was filled with all sorts of assassin trinkets from what I could see, from grappling hooks to arrows. It really made me realize what a beginner I was, and what a rich art assassination really was; my chest didn't contain half as much, just some gold and a few lock-picks. I was slightly annoyed that he'd dived into an activity which required so much concentration on his part in the middle of our conversation, especially when he didn't seem to understand my questions in the first place.
"But I mean what will they call it when they make another branch? What kind of hand has six fingers?" I asked, looking straight at him as if making sure not to give him another opportunity to escape the conversation. His response was slightly delayed, due to the fact that his mind was only half in the conversation. He took a lockpick from his chest and put it in his pocket.
"I suppose you could always say the Listener is the palm, and each sanctuary, a finger." He had a good point, but his tone seemed irritatingly serious to what I thought would be a whimsically flowing conversation. I felt slightly embarrassed.
"I must get going now." he added after picking up the last of his supplies "May you walk always in the shadow of Sithis, dear sister."
"Right, tell Captain Leland I said 'hi'." I replied, feeling slightly foolish afterwards seeing how seriously Cleaver took everything. Still, I was glad he was carrying out the contract to kill that annoying little captain of the Cheydinhal guard.
I brought my attention back to cleaning my dagger. I wondered how I ever managed to clean this thing. No matter what substance I used, it just seemed to smear itself on the surface destroying every inch of reflectivity, or it would, at best, cloud the usual reflection. Of course, it would be blood stained again soon enough, but I really didn't have anything better to do.
It wasn't long afterwards that I heard the doors open. I didn't lift my eyes, and just wondered who it was, but I could hear they were approaching me. No clanking metal, so it wasn't Gogron. I could see something dark out of the corner of my eyes, where I'd guess someone's legs would be. That meant it probably wasn't M'raaj-Dar. I looked up, and saw Vincenti Valteri.
"Fights-up-close, if I may have a moment of your time?" He asked.
"Sure, what is it?" I said, putting down the dagger, immediately losing interest.
"I have a contract that needs fulfillment. Your proper execution of Baenlin bodes well for your future, so I've come to trust your professionalism. However, this contract requires an expert in infiltration. Are you ready?"
"Infiltration? Sure, sounds perfect." I replied. Infiltration was what I was used to more than anything else.
"As always you fail to disappoint me." I wondered briefly how I should feel about the odd comment "Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth. He thinks he's safe in prison in the Imperial City prison. He is tragically mistaken." Vincenti said, his fanged mouth forming a grin. Hearing any spirited words coming from the mouth of my family members did wonders to get me revved up for a mission. "About six months ago a prisoner escaped the Imperial prison through a secret set of tunnels connected to the city sewer system. Since then the grate has been tightly locked, but I'm sure you can pick it opened."
"A sewer...ah...great." I said in a sarcastic but friendly manner. "Where's the grate exactly?"
"On the hill which the city rests on, under the prison itself. I'm sure you recall what the capital looks like." He replied, he was right. I was already eager to put my agility and mental abilities to into a passionate testing ground.
"You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the prison guards. Keep that in mind, as the client is a very...influential figure." Vincenti replied.
"Right. What about these secret tunnels?"
"Finding your way should be fairly intuitive. Just stay in the section of the sewers above which the prison lies and look for an entrance to a brick tunnel. That brick tunnel will lead you to an empty cell, across from your target." Then Vincenti gave a look as if he was in a second of strenuous thought and then added "However, I'm not sure exactly what kind of hostilities you might encounter on your way to Dreth's cell. I suggest you prepare for the worst."
"Got it." I replied "Don't worry, I can handle this."
"Oh and one more thing." Vincenti said, spitting out the words quickly "Your pay for this contract will be doubled if you manage to free another prisoner: an Imperial by the name of Claudius Arcadia. He should be able to escape through the route you entered. With the intelligence our client provided us, it should be a relatively easy escape." I was partially relieved to be able to dispel the boredom that was weighing down on my mind at the moment, which had been starting to frustrate me.
"Farewell," the vampire said cheerfully. I lifted myself from my bed, which I had been sitting on. Prepare for the worst. It occurred to me that probably meant paying M'raaj-Dar a visit to buy some supplies. Something I wasn't eager to do.
Of course, memory of him both reawakened anger and filled me with tension. Our first hostile encounter hadn't been our last, and I couldn't help but fantasize sneaking up on him and plunging my knife into his back the way I'd done with so many others; how difficult he could make the simple act of buying assassin gear. It was odd, now that I thought about it that there were so few people in this branch of the brotherhood, that I could only buy gear from him. It might have been better that the brotherhood was smaller, so people like him couldn't disappear into the crowd before I could seek retaliation, but I pictured the brotherhood being bigger.
The tension grew as I made my way closer to the training room. An odd kind of coldness was shooting through my arms.
I hated this man not only for his rudeness, but also for how stressful he made such simple tasks, and how he tainted so many aspects of the normally whimsical family atmosphere.
But it wasn't my only source of worry. There was also "Scar-tail"'s disappearance, which also made the comradery here feel less heartfelt than it should have. These two people were the reasons I felt somewhat reserved about getting too comfortable with anyone here, everyone reminded me of the issues I had with them. I liked the others, but it just wasn't the same; I didn't feel like any relationship could be as deep with people who I'd only know for about two weeks, especially when I was getting used to the idea of losing a friend.
In the training room, I saw Ocheeva and Telandril not far from the door. They seemed to be parting upon my entry, as if having finished the conversation. A welcome excuse to delay, given that I actually had something on my mind to ask Stabber. I knew my window of opportunity to ask her a question and still make it seem a casual affair was closing with every step should took.
"Stabber, can I ask you a question?" I said, seizing the opportunity with a bit of willpower, pushing the words out of my mouth. She turned and stopped to face me and, more to my surprise, so did Telandril.
"Of course, Fights-up-close." She said, her facial expression showing concern. Shadowscales weren't known for asking question, and the worry, though it was about M'raaj-Dar, was probably evident in my voice. Again, I felt a bit silly, seeing my question wasn't as serious or important as Ocheeva's concern seemed to justly warrant.
"Despite all I learned about this organization, I expected the Cyrodiil branch to have more members. Are all the branches this small?" I didn't particularly like how the words felt rolling off my tongue. It seemed like a dumb question to ask when she might have been busy, even though it was on my mind. My mind was racing through the words afterwards, scolding me.
"Yes, well, we've had some tragedies in the recent years, and, oddly, our recruitment here seems to be low recently. I'm not sure about the other sanctuaries but I..." She stopped, as if unsure whether to continue, but seemed to decide it was too late to turn back "I've heard some talk. This past year, in another sanctuary, some family members have been found..." she again stopped, but this time her pause was shorter "murdered." The words sent shockwaves through my body, and I felt a childish urge to look over my shoulders.
"Murdered? Within the sanctuaries?" I, now fully drawn into the conversation, inquired.
"Well, I don't know all the details." Ocheeva replied, noticing the subject was about to change, I became extra self-conscious. "Either way, I heard you talking with Vincenti." My eyes were darting around now, trying to find a good resting place as she spoke, not trying to stay one place too long, "I'm presuming he told you about the contract we assigned you; No Dark Brother or Sister has successfully infiltrated the Imperial City prison in the last three-hundred years. This will truly be a test of your abilities. None the less, what he says is true: those secret tunnels will prove useful." She had obviously changed the subject for a reason, which made the topic seem all that more uncomfortable, but I played along.
"Can't be worse than Fort Swampmoth, right?" I said, but I'd almost forgotten the note I'd started the conversation on with Ocheeva's mention of the murder within our ranks. "I mean, all I need to do is get through the sewers, into the secret tunnels, pick the lock to the cell I arrive in, then pick the one to Dreth's cell and stab him."
Telandril came into the conversation a bit after those words.
"This prisoner, why give him a chance to escape or fight back? Pierce his heart with an arrow right through the bars. Quick and easy."
"An arrow? They call me Fights-up-close for a reason." Then realized she wouldn't know what my name translated to in Cyrodiillic. I thought about how to best explain what my name meant; A literal translation wouldn't make nearly as much sense. "Its Argonian for 'fights up close'. And trust me, they don't take guesses when they give us our names."
Telandril shrugged, her expression now a bit more solemn, and I felt I'd been a bit aggressive with my words, maybe because I'd had other things on my mind. It made me feel all the more guilty when she took it so submissively
"Maybe you're right. I guess bringing one bow and one arrow wouldn't hurt too much." Then looked at one of the dummies, discomfort from the conversation starting to wrap itself around me. I regretted ever starting it; it was all to delay my encounter with M'raaj-Dar. I wondered if Telandril had a good idea, though, with the arrow suggestion. Still, I couldn't feel strongly either way, not now at least. The thoughts were just too scattered. I tried to analyze her words as I walked, but none of my conclusions seemed to stick.
I continued toward M'raaj-Dar, pushing myself through every step. He was casting magical spells at one of the target boards again, chilling the nearby air. Frost damage no doubt, or "hypo-thermal damage" as Manual of Spellcraft called it. Intense but unexplainable stimulus seemed to be flowing through every muscle of my body as I got close to him, knowing the encounter would be another war of words. It was nice to be reminded he had to sell all the supplies, though.
M'raaj-Dar stopped his spell casting and, looked at me. "Get away from me." He said, a perfect example of the hollow shell of rudeness he tried to make himself look like around me.
"No way, M'raaj, sell me something: Ocheeva's orders." I said. He didn't even respond, he just kicked the bag towards me. I'd ultimately got what I asked for, so I didn't want to push him any further and possibly lose the ground I gained. I walked over, though my mind wasn't on the contents of the bag, it was on him, I didn't feel comfortable being so close to him. Right now the training room felt more like a war ground than a practice room. I shuffled through the bag, though I was paying a lot less attention to the contents than it appeared. There was something odd though. Three apples were in the bag.
"By Sithis!" He said abruptly, pushing me a little further, adding to the destructive energy flowing through my veins "I don't have all day! Hurry it up." I removed one of the apples from the bag and held it up to him.
"Maybe if you explained to me what this is doing here, I would." I asked, trying to make my tone sound scornful.
"It's a p...apple. Don't you get hungry on your assignments, or did your ten years of training teach you how survive without food?" I could tell he was trying to cross the line again as best he could with the little time he had to think of a witty remark. But there was something else he was trying to pull, I knew, something worse. I wasn't going to keep my anger helplessly locked up beneath the surface
"There's more free food in the cabinets then you could fit in that entire bag, idiot. What aren't you telling me?"
I lifted my head, anticipating what his retaliation would be against the verbal attack. Instead he just rolled his eyes "Just pick your trinkets and go." In truth, I was somewhat relieved he had let me have the last insult. It was a refreshing change from the normal flow of our conversation.
I continued searching the bag. I knew he was watching me carefully, and I was concentrating on his presence just as much, but I was also becoming extra self-conscious, and tried to keep my sorting methodical, trying to put some degree of intelligence in every move. I didn't want to look like an idiot by coming all this way to not buy anything, so I picked up a cheap bow and an arrow. I held it up to his face.
"How much will this cost me?" I said, holding both to his face.
"One-hundred septims, at least." He said. The words hit me hard. That would be a significant dent in what I'd work towards. It was instinctual reaction to demand lower.
"Should I see what Ocheeva thinks about all this?" I asked, refusing any form of submission.
"Sixty septims. No lower." He said. As long as I was ahead, I didn't see reason to push further. I bent down and gently placed the bow and arrow on the floor, then reached into my pocket, feeling the for six 10-septim coins. These constant financial set-backs were getting frustrating. None the less, I trickled the six coins into his open palm.
"You ripped me off blind, I hope you're happy with yourself." He responded as I picked up the bow. Anger was brewing inside me, doubled by the fact that he dared to play the 'good-guy' in all this, but nothing truly clever flowed into my head, and that just caused deeper anger.
"I am." I responded bitterly. As I walked away with the new bow and just a single arrow, I found my mind still stuck in the conversation even though I knew practicing archery was more important. I found myself satisfied with it overall, though my adrenaline was still flowing, and I was still feeling combative.
I went over to the target range, but my mind was flowing with the images and words of the conversation, not the assassination. I knew I had to prove him wrong, and this contract was my next step, but I wished for quicker results.