Sun's Height 1, 4E1
A/N: Well, here we are: The Whodunit quest. Yeah, yeah, I know this has been written about countless times, but I think the way it impacts the main character's mind is ultimately important to the story. Sorry if this chapter seems confusing. Since the character herself is confused (I guess you could say) in this chapter, it was a bit hard to demonstrate this with out making the chapter a bit hard to read.
Anyway, this chapter has undergone minor revisions since I released the last chapter of this story. Revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and the author's notes of unrevised chapters.
(Fights-up-close): Skingrad
My first time in the Colovian West certainly was leaving a good impression. Skingrad was a nice town, filled with towering buildings and cobble stone pathways. The layout was a bit confusing, and it had taken me a bit longer than I'd have liked to find Summitmist Manor, but I was finally heading in the right direction.
The territory Skingrad was built on, like the Imperial city, was warped beyond recognition. You could hardly recognize Nirn below all the pathways and buildings.
With every step closer to Summitmist manner, the thrill got greater: both the tension at the risk and the glee that I was doing a truly interesting contract. I decided a true guest would probably be feeling the same kind of excitement, though for different reasons, so I didn't let that feeling bother me.
I checked once again to make sure my dagger was concealed completely. I had been repeatedly shifting my clothing around to best cover it up as best as possible, as I knew even a sliver of it showing would have devastating effects on my mission. Not to mention it killed the mindset I was trying to create for myself.
Once I saw the doorman, I knew I had indeed been heading in the right direction. I stepped into the shaded area between the street and the doors.
"So, the last guest finally arrives." He said as I approached "First, I'll tell you what I told the others. You go in, I lock the door. You don't come out 'til its all over." I smiled at the double meaning the words held.
"Now," he continued excitedly "I'll tell you what I didn't tell everyone else. We have the same mother, you and I, and she wants you to have this!" He brought a clenched fist forward and, in an almost ceremonious way, presented a key "It's the key to the house!" I picked it up from his outstretched palm, "I guess someone has filled you in on all the other details. Kill all the guests, then leave, right?" In a tone that was strikingly casual for someone who wasn't in uniform.
"One by one?" I inquired.
"Yeah. Well, you'd better get in there. Time to mingle!" He said with an invigorating enthusiasm, stepping aside and gesturing me towards the door, as I was now the most important part of this. I opened the door, the outdoor air meeting with that of the mansion, then quickly closed it. Shortly after it was closed, I heard it lock. Here it started.
There was an old woman standing on the carpet near the door with a rather dour look on her face, her hands folded on her lap. I could tell I wasn't going to like her already.
"So, the sixth guest finally arrives." She said. Her voice had an accent I couldn't quite decide the region of, and her tone sounded almost scornful "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting? It seems like an age!" Letting her displeasure slip out mercilessly into her voice. She was very old, so I supposed I shouldn't be surprised to hear her scold me like a kid. Still, I didn't appreciate anyone other than my employers trying to talk to me like I was in some lower world. I said nothing. I'd have to be careful not to give anyone a reason to hate me.
Soon enough she smiled as she made an obvious attempt to shift the conversation to a friendlier tone "In any event, we're all stuck here together. The rest of us have already traded introductions. I'm Matilde Petit. The others are Nels the Naughty, Neville, Dovesi Dran, and Primo Antonius." Nels the Naughty? I thought, finding it a bit odd to hear her pronounce it just like others. "Now who might you be? Please, tell us a little bit about yourself." She said, in an almost guilt inducing politeness now. An obvious attempt to compensate her previous demonstrations of frustration.
"I...uh..." then I realized I hadn't thought about what to say if this question came up beforehand. I continued to try to buy time by saying a bunch of vague and common words, mixed with indications of thought. Then I nervously laughed, hoping that pretending to see the humor in all this would make me look less stupid. But it would have helped my ego if Matilde laughed with me, which she didn't. She just got more serious.
"Yes...well, anyway. Now that we're here, I guess we can really start looking. I'd wish you good luck, but I wouldn't really mean it." She said, her tone humorless, bringing us back to square one. I couldn't help but feel slightly angry, my mind rushing to point out every little fault in her.
She turned to walk back upstairs, though my thoughts remained in the conversation. I was reflecting on the potential consequences such a suspicious introduction could have, staring into the vast world of possible problems that might arise once suspicions began to emerge.
I tried to think of some back story for myself incase someone asked me those kinds of questions again.
Then something interrupted my train of thought. There were two other guests who'd just emerged from the basement. The Dark Elf girl in front was already approaching me, all smiles, with a boy who I hadn't had time to get a good look at behind her. I put my luggage down before looking up once again to meet their eyes.
She grinned and shook my hand vigorously. She was overflowing with friendliness, flaunting it like a work of art.
"Hello, I'm Dovesi! I'm very pleased to meet you! Now that you're here we can really start looking for that gold!" She said, obviously more optimistic than Matilde. "What I mean to say is, before you arrived, we only really glanced around a bit. Now that we're all officially here, we can look in earnest!" She spoke in a very bubbly manner.
"Hi," I said "I'm Swims-the-Shore." Though the words felt oddly out of shape in my mouth. I wasn't used to using my code name.
Either way, I was glad she didn't pry any deeper. I didn't ask anything more about her in case it might give her the idea to do the same.
It was almost discomforting she was so friendly. I needed some flaw in their personalities to latch onto when blame started to get thrown around. That, and it would make it harder to hate her. Regardless, their kindness couldn't get in the way of this contract's completion; I knew better than to let my instinct of sympathy invade my reason. People could fool others with kindness: I was living proof of that.
Then, for a flash, something in my mind told me I could continue that train of thought and discover more. I tried to search for that pathway deeper into the subjects before someone interrupted.
A third guest, a late teenager in silky, regally colored and intricately designed robes spoke up "So, you finally showed up." He said, Dovesi turning to him with seemingly genuine interest "It's about time. People of my station are not accustomed to waiting." He stated in a firm, non-aggressive but also humorless manner, moving his tongue properly to each letter, showing their contrast
"Yeah, sorry about that." I replied "It's a long story." I'd have to get used to vague answers.
"Well, either way, here we all are. Its funny how money can bring people together, don't you think?" He replied, with a friendly smile. Funny money would bring someone like you here. He was obviously rich.
"Heh, yeah." I responded "I didn't get your name, by the way."
"Primo Antonius." He responded, "It's a regal name, from a rather regal family. Indeed, my father owns more property than the entire East Empire company." He said the last words in an annoyingly non-chalante manner. Maybe these people won't be so hard to hate, I thought, my initial spirit coming back. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to search the basement." He said, adjusting his layered robes slightly.
They glided behind him as he headed towards the same door he came out of. Dovesi followed. I was sensing something between them, and was genuinely curious to see what they were like in private. After all, it was hard to imagine them searching down their together without socializing.
Now that I was alone on the ground floor, I became deep in thought. Already, for some reason, I felt tense, and felt like I had already come off as moronic as I recalled my own words. My thoughts were replaying the conversation for a small amount of time, but it wasn't long before the silence was broken as I heard more footsteps upstairs, followed by a deep, Cyrodiillic voice.
"So, Nord. If you find the gold, what will you spend it on? Wait, let me guess, a sleazy whore, and a nice new battle axe! Am I right?" Whoever it was obviously waited for privacy to make his mean spirited remark, even though he was mistaken that no one was around to hear. Clearly a coward.
"No," said another deep, Nordicly accented voice "I'm going to open a tavern. Not that I'd welcome any of your patronage. No Imperial Legion pigs allowed inside, you see. You Legion types tend to stink up a place." I was glad glee to see a fight already. Nothing was so satisfying as hearing your enemies tare each other apart, while you watched safely from a distance, listening to karma at work.
"A tavern?" The other voice asked eagerly, then burst out into hearty laughter "Oh I should have known! Leave it to a barbarian to spend an entire chest full of gold on beer and mead! How pathetic!" Enjoying the words in his own arrogant sadism.
"You can call me barbarian. It's the truth, and I'm proud of the fact. But you call me pathetic again, and I'll show you just how barbaric I am." Already it looked like the fight was teetering on the verge of violence. Adrenaline began to fill my body as I waited for the next words, genuinely immersed in what I was listening to.
"With every word you speak you're just proving me right, Nord. Your kind has contributed nothing to the Empire and never will!" Unfortunately, the legionary managed to cleverly work his away around violence without backing down.
The Nord laughed, akin to the way his tavern idea was laughed at. Poetic justice. "My kind, as you like to call us, are plenty happy serving our own needs while your useless 'Empire' crumbles down around you!" It was an obvious low blow, and anticipation was brewing inside me. I was sure I could create some real epic moments between the guests. 'Serving our own needs' sounded vaguely selfish, which helped to reassure me of my mission. I was eager to hear the response.
"Your words border on treason." The legionary said accusingly, in a quiet voice that quickly became louder "You will respect the Empire and you will respect the memory of our dear Emperor!" His last words were yelled so loud I couldn't contain a mysterious urge to smile. Another opportunity for bloodshed, and the whole house had probably heard him. I waited eagerly. As exhausting as the journey had been, I now felt more awake and energetic than ever, and felt more than ready to join the war in some way.
"Oh don't get your linens in a bunch! You have no authority in this house or anywhere else! You're not even in the Legion anymore." The other man replied, now clearly dominating the verbal battle. It was nice to see the person who didn't strike first get the advantage, even when they were both marked men.
"Even so I still serve the Empire in my heart and will not abide such talk! Now walk away from me, barbarian, or you'll live to regret your arrogance."
"Pbft. I was done with you anyway." The Nord said, cleverly working his way around the threat just like the legionary. "I can only talk to an ex-Legion pig for so long before my ears start bleeding. Besides, I need a drink." He ended his words in laughter, something I was a bit disappointed to hear, but seeing conflict sprout up so quickly was certainly exciting. I could hear the legionary walking away. No doubt I could create a sort of chaos in this house worthy of a story book.
I realized I needed to stop with vague fantasy: I needed an actual procedure.
I began to think about it all with cold logic. I'd want someone I could pin the murder on, which would both decrease the danger to me and increase it to another guest.
I could hear a door open and close. So far, one of the two I'd heard quarreling seemed like the person who I should pin the murder on. Kill one and blame the other. The other three guests would be my tools against the remaining of the two quarrelers, but I needed to take advantage of the hate while it was still simmering, because they weren't like me. They'd drop the issue as soon as the emotional motivation was gone; just like everyone else who deserved their fates. None the less, being rushed in an assignment wasn't something I liked.
It seemed like a good time to start heading upstairs, though I didn't quite want to get involved in the conflict just yet.
I prepared my own facade as I walked towards the leftward of the two stair cases leading to the next floor. I'd need to keep my words concise, unbiased, and touch on topics other than the fight to avoid sounding like a rabble rouser. Either way, I was glad that the fight gave me some material to work with. Once they gave me a place to start, I knew I could carry this as far as I wanted.
As I walked up the stairs, I started pretending I was just what they thought I was: a harmless guest. I'd chat it up with the guests a bit, just like the rest.
It seemed like a pretty cosmopolitian crowd, which should be interesting. Like with any Shadowscale transfering here, any classes on language, history, current events, and cultural sensitivity were limited to my homeland or Cyrodiil, so I had a lot I could learn here.
I turned left to see the dining area. There was round table with enough chairs for the guests, myself included, with sweet rolls and beverages already set out. Immediately my stomach started to feel empty. The Nord was unscrewing a beer, straining his hand until he finally got the cap off, then quickly pouring the liquid into a mug. I walked towards the table, planning on grabbing a sweetroll to seem more casual. The man was drinking the beer like it was medicine, gulping it down quickly between a few gasps for breath.
I picked up a sweetroll and took a bite, pretending not to be thinking about him at all. The sweet roll was actually pretty good. It was fluffy, not too dry, and with very sweet glazing. He sure was providing well for the people he wanted dead. I purposely chewed it slowly, staring at the painting on the wall.
There were windows at the front of the dining area, letting in the bright afternoon light, shooting columns of illumination at a painting on the wall, making countless sparkling dust particles visible. To think that was all that was in the air I was breathing right now...
Finally the Nord acknowledged me, after wiping his mouth from his very quick and intense drinking.
"Well hello there." he said in way that seemed a bit too...forward "Nels is the name. Some call me naughty, but don't you believe it." He continued in rather goofy manner, then laughed. It was odd he'd managed to be so cheery, even after the rather brutal verbal confrontation.
"Uh, hi Nels." I said, already feeling slightly uncomfortable around him. He seemed to sense what I was feeling.
"Ah, don't let the name fool you. I had a bit too much mead a few years back, and there was this tavern wench...anyway, just call me Nels." Oddly enough, he was likable.
I felt confident about bringing up the fight now that he seemed welcoming enough, if only to hear more about the legionary.
"So, I guess someone from the legion is here. Don't let him get to you." I said. Once I shifted the conversation to feuds and rivalry, I could become effective.
Nels smile vanished. Bringing him back into the conversation, he rolled his eyes and snorted.
"Neville? Once an Imperial Legion bulldog, always an Imperial Legion bulldog." Already I could see the objective of this contract starting to come alive. It was happening much faster than I expected. I had spent almost no time confined to solitary planning, and very little time watching for glimmers of hope, suppressing urges to kill. Nels continued "I've seen his kind before; Care about laws and regulations, not people." Surprisingly, Nels had expressed my thoughts about the legion better than I could. I couldn't bring myself to reply anything else, but I wouldn't mind playing friendly-house-guest towards him a bit longer.
"Exactly." I said. I had become so immersed in the conversation, I almost forgot the sweetroll in my hand. I took another bite, though it was purposely shallow.
Since my mind was basically empty as to how to continue this very useful situation, I made a point of chewing for a while. I was glad to finally find someone who shared my feelings for the legion; I had more than enough feelings to vent and felt more than a little lonely in that area. Or no, I was glad to see an uneasiness I could manipulated to my advantage. Already I'd tried so hard to pretend I was another guest, I was starting to forget the difference between reality and make-believe.
I turned back to the painting, letting Nels take his time to find his next words. Meanwhile, my mind was rushing with all sorts of bizarre fantasies that were an odd mix of violent stories I'd read about and realistic depictions of how to turn the house against Neville. Which, I noticed, didn't sound like a very Imperial name, oddly enough.
I wondered what Nels was doing during this silence. A slight ache was building up in my neck, so I decide to stretch it out, purposely in a way that would grant me a quick glance at Nels. I threw my head to the left and brought it around with some small but satisfying cracks. When I glanced at Nels, though, I was slightly...saddened to see his smile had not returned.
It was not long after that he finally spoke again "Well, I better start looking, that gold's not going to find itself." He said, immediately moving random objects on the nearest shelf. He seemed distracted.
Distracted. That meant opportunity. It was a gift from Sithis, but it felt like a curse right now.
I had to think fast: I'd already decided I'd need to kill Nels or Neville, but Nels seemed rather kind. Heck, I was starting to like Nels, and forcing justice without passion was horribly difficult. Still, I'd made a pledge to myself; I couldn't be deceived by kindness. People could be phony, and if I wanted to fully protect myself from lies I'd need to push emotion aside.
But how should this factor into my decision of who to kill and who to blame? I tried to imagine it in raw calculation. It was a slow and tedious process, but it made everything a lot more sure and coming to a conclusion a lot more satisfying. If I could, I wanted to give Nels the more pleasant side of this ordeal.
Whoever got killed would not have to deal with getting blamed. But obviously getting killed wouldn't be too pleasant either. But they'd all have to die, so getting killed inevitably happened to both, meaning I shouldn't even take that into consideration. So the only remaining factor is the blame. So yes, that puts the idea of killing Nels first ahead because he wouldn't have to deal with the blame. Is that right? Yes, your last epiphany was about the blame, so that was the deciding factor, so it leads to Nels. Is that right? Why would your last epiphany be the right one?
By Sithis, was making a decision always this hard? Why were more and more questions coming by the second? Why did I need to work out every drop of logic? They seemed like ridiculous questions, but they were dulling my confidence to a point where I almost forgot what decision I was thinking over. I tried to shut out the nagging voice in my head. But was I shunning logic this way? I was trying grasp at reason and rationality, but my thoughts seemed to be getting harder and harder to grab at the more I thought.
Purely on will-power I began the procedure for the kill, while my thoughts flew past me. Was I guilty of ignoring truth, though? No, I'd proved that I had to kill Nels first already. I had to push the doubt aside. There was one more thing I needed to check before making the kill, however.
I looked up at the ceiling and pushed the internal bickering aside without reflecting further so I could use my "detect life" spell. As I did, bizarre patterns of shading on the ceiling became more and more apparent, until I could see them in definite shapes. Yes, two people were upstairs. They were both on opposite corners. This was indeed the opportune moment.
But then one more question popped up: should I use my Shadow power before the kill? The answer was no, I needed to save it for the inevitable time when the guests would begin crowding together. Once I stabbed him, I'd just have to run down one flight of stairs and come up the adjacent set.
My arms filled with an almost numb sensation as I knew I was about to do a daring deed. Nels was distracted as he shuffled through the shelves. I just had to hope the others heard the verbal fight.
I slowly took the dagger from its hiding place. Then, for a second, I just stood there. But there was nothing standing in my way other than my own corrupted thoughts. Each second was just a test of courage, the one area of the soul free from all other influences. Failing that test was not an option.
I threw my arm towards his back. Once the dagger was in flight, I knew I'd broken through an emotional barrier. My will had conquered my feeling. I got a tingling sensation realizing it had now sealed my first kill.
The knife stabbed through his back with brutal fluency, followed by a loud cry of pain and panic. I immediately removed the knife and, in a light, half leaping, half running kind of movement on the tips of my toes, made my way to the steps and down the stairs.
Already I could hear the doors upstairs swing open, slamming with a noise as loud and violent as Nels' cry of pain. I purposely made my steps louder as I went back up the second flight of stairs, concealing my dagger on the way.
When I made it up again, I could already see the backs of two heads. Neville, and, closer to the stairs, Matilde. I could only wonder what their facial expressions were. For now, they were still in stunned silence.