Mid Year 30, 4E1

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil, Docks

I needed somewhere with plenty of privacy. No Inn would work, but I had little else to do other than wander. But I wasn't worried, I had plenty of time to wander. I had spent years wandering, plotting, planning, calculating, holding in anger, feeling moments of ecstacy and pain as my confidence waxed and waned. It was nothing new.

It wasn't the first time I visited this pretty town, and the seagull's cry combined with the lap of the waves against the shore added to it. The docks area was filled with other rattles and cries. Yet nothing could relax me now. My heart was pumping, and I was ready to destroy anything that got in my way. That's how I always felt when my thoughts were free to drift, to come back to that horrible night. And those countless other horrible nights when I acted in kind.

Then the memory of killing Blanchard hit me. It hit me hard. I grabbed my stomach and grimaced, like the memories carried their own physical force.

"But they have no reason to suspect you, don't you see?" I had barely noticed I was talking to myself, so absorbed in the memories. The anger, the guilt, the humiliation, the tension. I ignored the odd stares I was getting and kept walking. There was an odd urge to fidget as I did though.

The sun was soaking my skin as I walked, the sky was clear and blue, but a vacancy of problems in the present only brought back the problems of the past. I had countless fantasies about challenging and outdoing these assassins the way I'd outdone so many victims during my carrier: I wanted to combine what had become my two greatest passions through my mind-warping time in the Dark brotherhood. I'd developed a passion for the assassination of both the guilty and innocent, a passion I knew I shouldn't have, but one which had become strong. I was changing into one of them. I had pushed myself so hard to pretend I'd sometimes forgotten if I was fighting for or against them, fighting for right or wrong, or what my past was.

But there was something worse they'd burned into me: a deep fear of the criminal underworld, and even some affections for the assassins themselves, because it was so much easier than holding on to this anger. But were the affections real? I'd tried not to feel any real ties to anyone since Mother died, but I couldn't remember what those ties felt like now, after so many years, so I didn't know if I was truly feeling them. I knew they'd all die eventually, and that didn't bother me. No, it wasn't real. I'd provided myself with false justifications for what they did, but that only created false love. The old "me" was simply dormant and, though it would take some courage, I'd bring him back soon enough. Return myself to a worthy human being. Demonstrate the effects of my unwavering effort. Make my name feared in their minds. Show them I had a goal that would not be hindered by fear or compassion; If there was one good thing that had yet come out of this, it was that I'd been hardened. Fluently capable of dealing and receiving the most gruesome atrocities. The one thing I was proud of.

I thought it might be time to ask one of the locals what they knew about a place to stay, though it took quite a lot of effort to tug my thoughts out of revenge and put them where they logically belonged. When I was so emotionally charged, logic became harder to recognize.

First I'd need to decide how I would phrase the question. 'Can you tell me where I can sleep and still get a bit of privacy?' sounded suspicious. However, nothing else was coming to me. I stopped and thought. Then it came to me, a seemingly riskless way of asking. 'I think all the Inns are full, can you tell me where I can sleep'? 'I think' was the key. That was my trick, I never said anything truly incriminating. Whether it was paranoia, I didn't know, but it guaranteed my safety.

I felt no worries asking that question. I was satisfied with my progress. We're doing it, Mother.

Everyone on the docks seemed to be busy, and except for an older Nordic man, his hair a light-brown, leaning on a post and gazing at the light house.

I slowly approached him, wondering exactly when to break the silence. For a moment, I stood next to him, gazing at the light-house as well, but trying keeping him in the corner of my eye. I was hoping he'd say the first words, so I could seem casual enough.

Finally he looked over at me, "Aye," he said, and I pretended he'd taken me out of train of thought. His left eye was covered in a thick, milky white cloud, actually making me feel slightly uncomfortable at first, but then prompting an odd fascination. "I'm Ulfgar Fog-eye, master of that Lighthouse." He said, pointing a veiny hand at the building in calm satisfaction. "Visit the light house any time. Fine view of the town and harbor."

"Thanks." I said trying to sound casual, then, pretending like I'd almost forgotten to ask, added "Oh, maybe I can rent out a room in there. I think all the Inns are full."

He gave a grandfatherly, toothy smile "Sure. You don't mind the cellar right? I'll give it to you for 10 gold a night. Whadya you say?" The offer sounded honest enough, as did the man himself. I'd found my new home for now, but, like with everything else, I couldn't become attached to it.

(Fights-up-close): Dark brotherhood sanctuary, Cheydinhal

"Fights-up-close." Ocheeva said, in a quiet voice, almost sounding concerned. Once she got my attention, she beckoned me into her office. I actually couldn't help but get a bit nervous. Ever since Goes-in-heavy's defection, I tended to get apprehensive at that tone of voice. Once we were in a place of privacy, however, she broke into a smile.

"I think its time you attend your first party." She said, her voice half normal, half whisper"You've been invited to one." She said. I had no idea what she meant, but I was relieved. It seemed safe to conclude I wouldn't hear any bad news for another day or so. She seemed so full of personality, yet I could hardly remember her being that way as Shadowscale. What little I saw of her, that is. "Of course, you'll be killing the other guests. Are you ready to attend?"

"Sure." I responded. There wasn't anything else I was in the mood to do, and I felt almost trapped in the sanctuary, like I'd waste away if I didn't find something to take my mind off its usual course of moping.

"Splendid." She said slowly, as if savoring the word "You must go to the city of Skingrad, where you will find a large house called 'Summitmist manor'. There you will meet up with five very unlucky guests." She spoke slowly and clearly "In order to receive the bonus you must eliminate all the guests secretly. One by one. If anyone sees you committing murder, the bonus is forfeit." Then she explained the details "The guests believe there is a chest of gold hidden in the manor, and have agreed to be locked inside until one of them finds it. In fact, they believe that the key to the house is hidden inside the chest, and that only by satisfying their greed will they be allowed to leave. Poor fools." She said, sounding slightly amused at the blunt yet appropriate brutality of the idea. So much as hearing her label the targets as greedy, however, felt good. Ever little bit helped me feel more confident in the cause. "Of course, there is no chest of gold. The guests will find no key. When you arrive the doors will be locked behind you, as everyone expects." Actually a very complicated assignment, but it didn't sound as dangerous as usual. "Only when all the guests lie dead will you be free to leave. Now go. Have fun." She said. It actually felt kind of neat to be involved in such a complex contract. But there was something else satisfying about that conversation: she'd told me quite a bit about the situation, something Goes-in-heavy said would never happen. Sometimes it seemed almost like I'd dreamed his defection up.

I hoped Ocheeva didn't get the impression I was taking advantage of her generosity of information, but I decide to ask something anyway.

"One by one, with no witnesses? Just curious, but why can't I take them down all at once?" I asked.

"We need you to act as not only an assassin, but also an agent of terror and grief. The guests will be in constant fear if they are uncertain of each other, and it will provide you with a tactical advantage. You see, each guest, at some point in the past, wronged their mysterious host, a retired member of the Black Hand. Now he's hired us to exact revenge." I felt exhilarated and spirited to sweep away the last of the uncertainties in my mind. I once again remembered the days when I could plow through assignments with passion and confidence.

"Got it." I replied, feeling in harmony once again with the Dark brotherhood.

"The other guests are waiting, you should get going." Ocheeva said. I turned to leave her office.

Since Goes-in-heavy's death, my assignments all seemed to be perfectly justified. His defection remained a bitter mystery. I still didn't know what corruption possessed and so quickly changed him into only a shallow resemblance of the friend I used to know. My life had become only a vague shadow of what it used to be as well, but maybe I could find peace. Maybe one day I could remember the passionate yearning I felt to serve in the Dark brotherhood, that distinct charm I was looking forward to, and use that knowledge to savor my current experience.