Sun's Height 14

(Fights-up-close): The Orange road

After nibbling off the last bits of sweetness, I decided it was enough and threw the apple core to the side. It disappeared into the grass.

Like my breakfast, I'd eaten my lunch on the road. They weren't hearty meals, but enough to relieve my hunger. I wiped my sticky fingers onto the pouch by my side.

The day was clear and sunny, bringing out the diverse colors of the Cyrodiillic country side. The grass and trees were a healthy green. The temperature was a comfortable warm. On top of all that, I was still with the Dark Brotherhood with suspicions washed clean from my mind. It all mixed together as a nice glazing of happiness over the day.

Yet even watching the scenery could only provide something to do for so long. Now that lunch was done I was thinking of things to do to keep occupied during the ride to Bruma. I tried to remember what was in the pouch at my side.

The book. The one that I found by "Scar-tail's" side. As the thought hit me, it tore a hole in the security blanketing my mind. I could feel the coarseness of that time coming back again.

I'd seen my next contract, and it restored my faith in the Dark Brotherhood. Still, knowing I was avoiding simple information dampened that feeling of certainty. And I knew my disloyal thoughts would come back when times got rough again...that's what had really spurred them in the first place. If I could finish this book, and all the other books Goes-in-heavy had read, and still come to the conclusion I was on the right side, I might be able to lock the uncertainties forever.

But was even thinking about something like this after I'd made my decision to stay loyal just needlessly chipping away at my mental security? Now that I'd seen all the proof I needed to believe I was on the right side, shouldn't I start moving my thoughts forwards, not backwards? Why should I believe an anonymous author's word?

Yes. I would save the book for when I felt doubtful again. In the meantime...

Then I noticed I was coming up on a T-junction. The road ahead was slanted upwards.

The warmth wouldn't last all day, as I'd be climbing the Jerall mountains soon, but at least it was Sun's Height.

Taking a soothing ride down the sunlit path, no longer hungry, and with peace of mind was a euphoric sensation. For once, it was the words I can relax which wrung in my head.

I was now converging on a sloping T-junction. I had traveled the path ahead to the Jerall mountains to kill the old man, Baenlin or whatever his name was, but now I was seeing it from an interesting new angle. It was a neat sensation to come back to this same path.

When I made it to the T-junction I turned my horse to the left, North to the mountains.

Up ahead I could see someone on foot moving towards me. It was a reminder of how lucky I was to have a horse to speed up my travels. The figure was a mix of blue and red, but I couldn't make out any details yet.

I didn't want to stare at him, so I wondered where I should put my eyes. Keeping them anywhere for too long would cause suspicion. I wondered if he was trying to avoid eye contact too. I looked briefly down at my horse's mane, thinking more about how I'd find Alval Uvani in Bruma. I couldn't seem to provoke a very fluent or productive stream of thought, though.

I looked back up ahead. Now I could see him clearer. I could make out the contrast between his skin, clothing, and hair perfectly. His skin was a light blue. His hair was a reddish brown, put back in an odd hairstyle which made his hair-line look triangular. A Dark Elf.

I glanced off to the endless greenery of the forest to my left. The shadows of the trees under the mid-day sun cast a pattern nearly as intricate as the forest floor itself, almost overriding it. Flowers, grass, and shrubbery alike carpeted the ground. Unlike the tribal territory, it was always easy to see what territory belonged to nature, and what areas belonged to people here.

I glanced back in the direction I was riding. Then I noticed something coming out of the bushes up ahead. A man baring a mace. He was clad in leather armor. He never turned towards me, but instead looked at the Dunmer walking in the opposite direction. In fact he might have been unaware of my presence. I stopped my horse.

In a combative stance, he stood firmly in front of the traveler. He was clearly a highwayman, but from my angle I couldn't see exactly what was happening. Even so, I had no doubt the man was a bandit.

The unexpected break in the peacefulness of the day was taken a step further in one surprising moment. The highwayman became engulfed in a powerful burst of flames in a sound like roaring wind which quickly, but at some indeterminate point, took every bit of life from him. In ugly contrast with the emotional force of the kill, his body, now completely ashen, fell back without resistance and took on a less recognizable form as the ash came to rest against the ground. Once a man, now nothing but filth on the path.

Now I could see the traveler again. He seemed unphased. I didn't really feel bad for the highwayman, but the display really disturbed me for some reason, and I wished I hadn't seen it. I'd never seen someone use destruction magic so effectively...and I never would have suspected him to be such an amazing mage. I wasn't sure how I should react, and I was nervous because of that.

I could now make out the facial features of the traveler. His face was slightly wrinkled. Something on his sleeve caught his attention. He began viciously trying to rub it off. As he got closer I could see it was an ashy spot on his clothing. The bandit's ashes. I shuddered.

On his back I noticed a large backpack. Suddenly it added up. A middle-aged Dunmer, carrying a heavy load, on foot, with amazing skill in destruction magic. That was one of the targets: Alval Uvani.

But it seemed a bit gung-ho even with all the evidence to attack him right yet. I wasn't eager to kill him just yet. I needed some confirmation he was my target. Until then, I wouldn't want to plunge right into my tasks. My heart was pounding now, analyzing it all. Was there anything else I know about him? Is there any way the law will know I did it?

If it was him, I had a very small window of opportunity.

With a bit of courage, I pushed out the question right before he could walk by.

"Excuse me, are you Alval Uvani?" I asked him. He shot a frightening glare at me.

"How do you know my name? What do you want with me?" He asked, his tone conveying he demanded an answer. I had confirmed he was indeed the target but, remembering the highwayman, I felt a brief spurt of fear.

"I...I heard about you." I said, not even sure where I was going to take this at first "I heard you're...a great merchant."

His face was contorted in a look of unjustified anger and disgust, examining me as if I was the most vilely fascinating thing in the world. Immediately, the feelings were shared. "A great merchant?" Then, he threw his hands into the air "I have no time for your pathetic attempts at small talk! Now walk away, before I get nasty!"

Unprovoked hostility. The mark of evil. Now I could safely assume he deserved this. I could feel unwavering enthusiasm for this assignment.

I immediately turned away back to the path and got my horse moving again. I had every intention to comply. I didn't feel infuriated or uncertain, because I knew I would be killing him soon enough. I felt secure.

This was a very straight path. It would be hard to lose him. It would also be hard to lose my enthusiasm now. His rude words filled me with a just and unholy passion clean and pure as ever.

But as my horse trotted forward, I noticed that I couldn't think of a plan to kill Alval that sounded safe. No matter how much I strained my mind it would seem he would hear me coming and be able to take me out like he took out the highwayman, whose "body" I was now passing. His armor and dwarven bow and arrows were preserved, but other than that he was just a pile of ash.

With half-hearted feelings and confused thoughts, I wondered if should dismount now just to make sure I wouldn't lose him, seek him out later in Balmora, or wait until we were likely out of the each other's views to turn around and see if I could locate him again on the paths. The decision wasn't easy. In fact, this wasn't a good environment for an assassination, especially for someone named after her tendency to prefer to take down her targets with close range weaponry.

Then it clicked with me. The bandit's bow! I might be able to make a take down before he could hear me coming.

I gauged he was far enough away to not hear me dismount.

I landed softly on the ground and glanced at my target. He was still walking South. He was oblivious to the meaningful changes occurring behind his back. I began walking towards the ashen-body, reflecting on the speed and effectiveness all the systems of his body were abruptly halted with: it could happen to me if I missed the shot, so I needed to make it count.

I moved a bit closer. I slowly brought my hand down to the bow to see if it was too hot to grasp. There was still some warmth radiating from it.

I glanced nervously back at my target. I would certainly look suspicious if he saw me, but he was still fixed on the South.

I kicked the bow a small ways from the "body". A gust of wind came by, rattling the leaves on the tress and blowing a gray ash cloud Eastward. I cringed with the creepy-crawly sensation as it stirred up some ash, thinking about what it would have been like if I had been in its path. In the mean time, the bow still rolled down the hill. I silently prayed to Sithis it would stop rolling soon enough so it wouldn't catch the Dark Elf's attention. To my blissful relief, he remained oblivious

I walk towards the new location of the bow. Another gust of wind came from the West. I was just glad it wasn't blowing the ashes my way. That would be endlessly creepy.

When I'd made it, I let my hand hover over the bow again. When my fingers were only about a couple of inches away from it, I could feel its warmth. In a flash, I touched with my fingers and then quickly thrust them back. There was no pain. The bow was still hot, but not a blistering kind of hot.

I picked up the bow and, again, glanced at the merchant. Despite the almost clumsy nature of all that I was doing, I still might be able to take him by surprise. Now, to get those arrows.

The pile of ashes now looked considerably less human after what the wind had done to it. Hopefully, the gusts had cooled the scene down a bit as well.

Feeling real and in the moment, I made my way to the pile of ash once again. I enjoyed the feeling of the solid power of the bow in my hand. I would be glad when I could get some ammunition and finally put one more odd in favor of me for this uncertain procedure. I hovered my hand over the arrows.

I gauged it was safe to grab an arrow. I quickly tapped one with my finger just to be sure. I was right. Though they were still hot, they weren't going to burn me.

I wrapped my hand around an arrow, careful not to touch any more metal than I needed to, and pulled it out of the case.

I turned back to Uvani one last time. I could still take him unawares. I primed the bow for the shot. I pressed the metal forward and pulled the string back.

As I peered through the sights, however, steadying my hand and getting the arch right seemed like a daunting task. Right now, my hands were quivering slightly. It would have been a lot better if I knew I could afford multiple shots: a lot less stressful. But no, my first shot would be my only shot.

Instead, I gradually brought the bow and the string back together, letting my two fists slowly meet each other until the arrow gently fell to the ground. It bounced briefly before I picked it up again.

I decided to close in. I needed to make my one shot count.

(Learns-fast): Chorrol

I had never been to the Colovian West before, but what I'd seen so far was leaving a nice impression. The city of Chorrol was bright, friendly, and cheerful. Its exotic beauty helped me forget about some my troubles early, but now I was getting closer to an area marked by my enemy, and I had never totally forgotten the contest of wits I'd gotten involved in. It marred the otherwise serene nature of the town. Lucien Lachance's presence in my mind was growing greater. It was his frightening powers that had devoured one of our Shadowscales for his own means.

The dead drop was supposedly by "The Great Oak", but we'd only recently gotten pointed in the right direction. We were heading towards the tree right now. From what I could see, it was crowded. Citizens gossiping about stupid petty affairs. What made the situation so annoying is that they were getting in the way of our mission more than any Legion patrol or warmongering tribe ever could. If they saw me taking a letter out from the bushes, they'd be suspicious. Still, with the stakes so high, we couldn't delay any longer.

My heart began pounding, getting back into the mentality of this war Lucien didn't even know he was fighting.

As we got closer to the "Great Oak", which didn't look much different than any of the other trees in Cyrodiil, I began to survey the crowd:

Standing in the immediate area was a guard, though in contrast to his tough equipment he was chatting it up with another citizen in a laid-back manner. A tall man with a bow, and a finned girl (though I knew she wasn't Fights-up-close) were also present. Though none of them were watching me at the moment, I didn't know how long it would take me to find the dead drop in there, so there was still an all-too-prevalent risk of them seeing me fishing through the bushes.

"Just go with the flow." I muttered to the Shadowscales behind me without turning my head. I headed to the gathering place of the towns folk to pretend to relax just like them. When in Cyrodiil...

I found an empty bench, made cool and dark by the shade, and sat down on it. I tucked my tail tightly against my thigh. The other Shadowscales followed suit with silent obedience.

It was good to see that even with his time in Cyrodiil, Cleaver could still be docile and obedient in my presence. It allowed me to be enthusiastic about this. He was setting a good example for Surveys-from-above.

I turned my head to the right to scan the bushes next to us for some kind abnormality: A bit of off-white coloring that might be the parchment the dead drop was written on. But even as I looked in the micro-forest that was the area beneath the bushes, I could see nothing. I supposed it stood to reason, though. If I could see the dead drop letter from here, Lachance wouldn't have been very good at hiding it. I shouldn't expect the secrets of the Dark Brotherhood to be unraveled easily.

I needed to think of an excuse to search at least one of the bushes more thoroughly. As the birds chirped, the leaves ruffled softly, and the town's folk chatted, I was planning for a serious matter. We were the odd ones here in so many different ways.

I couldn't look suspicious, that's all I knew.

Then I had an idea.

I jammed my hands into my pocket, the cloth compartment tightened by the way I was sitting, and managed to pull out a Cyrodiillic coin.

I began a tossing game of sorts, throwing it up in the air to an unimpressive height and letting it land in my palm a few times. At an arbitrary point in time, I broke the pattern, purposely slapping the coin to the side, in the direction of a row of bushes.

"Oops." I muttered, trying to find a balance between actually acting and corniness, but realizing instantly that I wasn't the best actor.

I got up from the bench looked in the direction of the bush. The coin was plainly in view for me, but I made a point of crouching down and rapidly feeling through the areas of the bushes I couldn't see. I patted the ground a few times. After a few seconds I knew there was nothing in that area. I picked up the coin again and starting tossing it like before, this time making my way to the bush on the opposite side of the bench.

I knew this might already be looking suspicious in its own way, so I dearly hoped the next bush was concealing the dead drop.

This time, I threw the coin forward, then sharply whispered an Argonian profanity. The coin fell into the bush and out of sight. If they didn't catch on to the fact that I was up to something I probably looked like an idiot by now, so I couldn't wait to get this over with.

I once again crouched down and began feeling through the shrubbery. I patted my hand frantically in the area beneath the bushes.

Almost immediately I began to panic, not getting anything. How many more times will I have to do this? What if she's already taken the dead drop? Yet in the next second my hand was patting something other than stone or earth. It was paper. I worked my fingers around it and pulled the parchment from under its hiding place.

The success brought me a spurt of euphoria. I had a secret document of the enemy in my hand. My plan had worked. After brushing some loose specs of dirt off I began to read it. Now to find out what else Lucien was arrogant enough to think he could get away with:

If you are reading this, the Draconis family is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as a Silencer has just begun.

For this contract, you will be given four targets simultaneously who you may eliminate in any order you chose.

Your first target is a traveling, middle-aged, Dark Elf merchant by the name of Alval Uvani. Uvani is a well-respected tradesman back in his native Morrowind, but his business often takes him very far from home. Therein lies the problem. Alval Uvani's wife, a resident of House Redoran territory, has become disillusioned with her husband's repeated, extended absences and wishes to dissolve their marriage, and has sought the Dark Brotherhood's assistance.

Alval Uvani spends a significant amount of his time in the city Balmora in Morrowind, taking advantage of the thriving Hlaaluu economy there. However, we have reason to believe he may be here in Cyrodiil as you read this, in the city of Bruma. You may wish to hurry there at once. Be aware, however, that because he is forced to travel alone on foot to the farthest reaches of the Empire, Uvani has learned to defend himself. He is a master of the Destruction school of Magicka, and is no stranger to killing.

Your next target is a savage Nord barbarian, living alone and exposed at a small campsite on the summit of Gnoll Mountain. This barbarian, Havilstein Hoar-Blood by name, savagely butchered the chieftain of a mead hall on the island of Solstheim. The chieftain's sister has forgone the Nord custom of extracting the monetary retribution of wergild, and instead wants Hoar-Blood to pay with his life. You, dear Silencer, will help put her family at peace.

You are to go to Gnoll Mountain, locate Havilstein Hoar-Blood, and send his soul to Sithis. Havilstein Hoar-Blood is more swine than man and deserves to die quivering like an animal.

I turned over the page.

For your third target, you must journey to the Flooded Mine, North of the city of Bravil. There you will find Shaleez, an Argonian hunter who was banished from her village near the Black Marsh/Morrowind border for the brutal murder of a Dark Elven family. Relatives of the murdered family members have located Shaleez, and demand retribution. And, since the assignment is a bit far for Morrowind's Morag Tong to handle, the Dark Brotherhood has been commissioned to perform the elimination.

Be warned, Silencer! Shaleez is a skilled and deadly hunter, and will fight like the desperate fugitive she is.

Your final, and possibly most important target is a Wood Elf named Ungolim, who resides in the city of Bravil. Bravil is also home to an ancient statue known as the Lucky Old Lady. It is seen as a symbol of good luck and prosperity, and the fools of Bravil often speak to the statue and wish for good tidings. Every night, poor lovestruck Ungolim visits the Lady and pleads desperately for the heart of a young maiden. This maiden is married, and her husband has learned of Ungolim's affection for his bride. He fears the competition, it would seem, and has commissioned the Dark Brotherhood to help in the matter.

You must go to Bravil, locate Ungolim, and kill him. The Wood Elf owns a house in the city, but he spends his days securely locked inside. I recommend you lie in wait at the Lucky Old Lady statue, and then eliminate Ungolim when he arrives for his nightly visit. He's generally there between the hours of 6:00 PM and 1:00 AM.

By all accounts, Ungolim is a deadly archer and a fearless opponent. Be vigilant, and bring the Wood Elf down! You must not fail!

When all four targets are rotting, journey to the city of Anvil. Your dead drop is in a barrel located behind the statue in the pond. As is standard, your reward and next contract will be waiting.

Alval Uvani, Havilstein Hoar-blood, Shaleez, Ungolimn. Alval Uvani. I had definitely heard that name before, but as of now I was having trouble pinning it to a source.

Then it dawned on me: Speaker Uvani! The one who trained the Shadowscales of the Helstrom sanctuary. He was to Morrowind what Lucien Lachance was to Cyrodiil, what Arquen was to Skyrim and what Belisarius Arius was to High Rock. I had spoken to some of them when we were running relatively low on Shadowscales in the Gideon sanctuary.

Fights-up-close was definitely duped. At once a new kind of destructive energy and eagerness to progress with the plan filled me, but the bitterness was gone.

I didn't know who the others were, but this was proof-positive Lucien was up to no good. He was blatantly endangering the Dark Brotherhood. He had the name of a Speaker on his hit list, and was deceiving a Shadowscale to do it.

My hand began to quiver as I held the paper. Adrenaline began to fill every nook and cranny of my body. My enemy and his crimes were so blatantly clear, yet so was the way to stop him. I no longer felt angry or violated. I felt energized and eager to put a stop to this.

The surge of emotion was amazing. It almost made me wonder if I had believed my own theories when I first came to Cyrodiil, if I had been true to myself, because I felt so much better now that I knew I was completely right.

I reluctantly took my eyes from the letter, so engrossed by it, and conjured up a plan. Ideally would be to contact Alval Uvani himself. The dead drop suggested he might be in Bruma. On the other hand, the quickest sanctuary to get to so we could alert the Black Hand and muster up some real power would be the Skyrim sanctuary in Falcrenth. Given that the path to Skyrim would bring us very close to Bruma anyway, it would seem like we could take small detour to Bruma to check for Uvani without losing much time. He would no doubt be staying at an Inn, so we'd just have to ask the Inn owners in the city.

It was time to go up North. We needed to show this to Black Hand. Finding our agent for interrogation was now a secondary priority.

I felt like starting the journey at that very instant. I'd explain the situation to the Shadowscales on the way there.

(Fights-up-close): The Silver Road

There was a spurt of immense satisfaction as the arrow hit right on target with a force solid enough to knock him forward. With an arrow right through his torso, he began tumbling down the path.

He was the play thing of greater forces. I wasn't sure exactly when he died, but I knew the hit had done its job.

When he finally made his way to more level ground he stopped rolling. His body became a frozen shot of death.

For a merchant, he wasn't carrying much luggage, but I decided it would be a good idea to search his corpse anyway.

I began creeping towards the corpse. The fields were wide open, the sun was shining brightly, and it was great weather to be outdoors; the absolute last place I expected to make a take down. Naturally I swerved my head left and right as I walked just to make sure no one was watching through the vast greenery, but I had this lush hill all to myself as far as I could see. The birds and Sithis were my only witnesses.

When I made my way to the corpse I went right for the leather bag attached to the strap on his shoulder. I removed it from his still body. I looked up one more time, and then checked its contents.

In it was actually a diverse and seemingly random assortment of food and alcohol and a handful of lockpicks. It seemed odd, but I decided to shrug it off. I removed the lock picks and set the bag down.

I looked ahead to the shimmering lake and massive stone structure that was the Imperial city. There was still no one watching, so I settled my eyes back down on the cobble stone road again.

I reached into the pockets of his goofy-looking bright red pants. They were relatively shallow, and I soon felt the cold metal of coins in my hand. Dragging my clenched fist out of his pocket, I opened it in the sunlight to see exactly what he'd had on him.

In my palm were eight single-septim coins, four ten-septim coins, and one fifty-septim coin. I put the numbers together in my head briefly: 8 + 40 48. 48 + 50... 98.

I pocketed the cash in a moment of satisfaction.

Turning and walking North once again I realized it was time to start thinking about some of my other targets. I wished I hadn't dropped the dead drop now, but I could still recall the location of my targets: There was Halstien Hoar-blood in the Gnoll Mountains, Shaleez in the Flooded Mine outside Bravil, and Ungolim in that city. Since I was already heading North, I decided Halstien, or whatever his name exactly was, would be my next target.