Mid Year 25, 4E1
(Fights-up-close): Elven Gardens District, Imperial City
Since I was detecting no life inside Lorkmir's house, I knew what the next step was, but I didn't like it. It was time to go in and investigate that house.
I looked over my shoulder, though even that decision worried me, as I knew I would look somewhat suspicious if someone saw me acting so jittery infront of the locked door. Thankfully, I didn't see anyone, but even at this hour it seemed plausible I could get spotted by a guard in a big city like this, and I knew it was too early to use my Shadow power.
I could feel every system of my body turn to full speed as I shuffled through my pocket to find the lock-pick. I stuck the pick in the lock and positioned my body in the way best to cover up what I was doing from potential onlookers.
I rattled the tiny mechanisms of the lock. I couldn't help but feel sickeningly nervous about it, though, as this was the first time I'd picked a lock in public. If the law caught me, chances of getting a way were next to nothing. This city was practically a fort.
There was a moment of blissful relief when the door finally clicked open. It was a noise as satisfying as opening a bottle on a hot Mid Year day. I noticed how much the occurrence had accelerated my heart rate.
I closed the door behind me, feeling victorious, then took time to survey the house.
It didn't look particularly welcoming. Cob webs were abundant, as were broken containers, with their contents spilling onto the floor. There wasn't a single place you could look in the house that wasn't noticeably marred. Faenlian certainly seemed like a fitting person to occupy it. Other than my footsteps, the house was silent. But somewhere, there must have been some clue about who I was dealing with. Some more information to construct my decisions with.
I walked over to the table. So far there was nothing nefarious about the house, despite the fact that it was certainly unwelcoming. I looked around for any piece of information that might tip the balance of my decision.
On the table was a half eaten meal, and two very small bottles. I picked one up, rolling it through my hands. It was light-weight, and a surface most likely of glass. Was this the skooma? Was I holding the illegal drug in my hands? The vials were far too small to contain any sort of refreshment. Yes, I must have been holding the dangerous and mind-mushing power of skooma in my hand. The size of the vial emphasized its potency. My mind was rushing with curiosity, maybe even astonishment at how much drinking the small vial could shift me on the roads of fate. There was an odd temptation to drink it, almost to prove my own free will. I imagined an odd thrill I'd get from such a radical act. But I let logic guide me and quickly put it down; undergoing the change of leaving the sanctuary was making my mind run in all sorts of crazy directions. Just like my physical being, my thoughts were wondering in all sorts of crazy places after being taken out of the my safe haven.
It was odd that someone living in such a rich and secure city would simply desert their house, but the rocky room seemed as lonely and unkept as a cave. I could safely assume this wasn't what the other countless houses in the Elven gardens district looked like.
I opened the door to the basement. I magically adjusted my eyes to the darkness. From what I could see, standing atop the steps, it was in similar disarray, only more so. It was as if a fight had occurred there. The silence seemed be tauntingly unbroken. I walked down the steps, and could feel a gaze upon my back. Though it was mostly for my own comfort, I swiftly turned around, imagining my arm might fly around to hit whatever mysterious stalker was there, but that did not happen. There was just something eerie about the place. The same feeling I had when I entered the Dark brotherhood hide-out for the first time, when my life was still unburdened by sad thoughts and hard decisions. When I always met the next day with certainty and rode through it in peace. How did I look at it all back then? I couldn't quite remember.
I trotted down the stairs and turned the corner. Through my colorless but bright night eye vision, I could see something mysterious on the basement floor, though most of it seemed to be hidden by the kegs which obscured my view. Whatever was on the floor seemed rounded, to have a shine, and be pretty much flat. My mind rushed through a bunch of bizarre ideas of what I might be looking at.
I tried to ignore the feeling that something was going on behind my back where ever I turned, and walked deeper into the basement.
As I came closer I realized the source of the substance; there was a corpse on the floor with a knife stuck solidly in its back. The substance was blood.
Above, I heard the door upstairs open. The emotional charge, making me feel awake and powerful, even at a guttural level, came back. This time, however, it pointed me in a clear direction. Goes-in-heavy had diluted and corrupted my memories. I wanted to believe him if only so I wouldn't need to confront the blunt and infuriating truth that he was indeed a cowardly traitor. He was just another person knowingly perverting the ideas of justice behind a mask of heroism, like the Legion, to escape the need to deal with scum like Faenlian. I'd been genuinely manipulated. He'd raise doubts in my mind that never should have come about. It was time to complete the contract.