Sun's Height 15, 4E1

(Learns-fast): Falcrenth

Despite being referred to as the Falcrenth sanctuary, I remembered being told it was a bit outside of the city walls, in a long-ago burnt down village. Still, it was a convenient name.

The sanctuary was actually a bit North of the city. Appearantely I'd be able to enter through a well. This was all knowledge I never expected to use and was glad I remembered it all these years.

Right now, however, I had decided to cut through the city to get there. It looked a lot like Bruma, but with a bit more ruggedness, both in the buildings and the citizens themselves. It was like a whole different world here when compared to Black Marsh. After all my time in these new and exotic locations, I knew Black Marsh would never feel the same. I'd been to Cheydinhal plenty of times, but I'd never travel to the North or West of that area.

I was endlessly anxious to show the Black Hand this dead drop. Probably the strenuous walk was the only reason I was able to sleep last night.

(Fights-up-close): Gnoll mountains

Even in the month of Sun's Height, it seemed incredibly cold on the peaks of the Gnoll mountains. Worse, it was windy, and the gusts of wind were making my arms feel fuzzy, losing the acuteness of sensation there. The breeze seemed to pierce right through my clothing. Snow blew like cold sand onto my face, making my eyes water, its beauty having long worn off on me. Since there were no mountains in Argonia, I had possessed no idea of what I'd been in for when I started climbing.

I had expected it was going Northward that made Bruma so much colder. I figured I wouldn't have to reoutfit myself to climb up here, but I was starting to get the idea elevation could make a place colder too.

Right now I envied the non-Argonians. I would have loved to have a head full of hair. I knew it required a ton of maintenance, and that it made person hygiene a living hell, but all that would hardly have been a concern now. It was cold.

On top of the cold, I was really starting to feel the steep climb up this mountain. My legs ached. Though I thought I could feel the muscles getting firmer as I walked, it wasn't like I needed anymore physical training.

My target must have been prepared for this kind of weather. He might have some warm clothing. The perfect motivation to kill him.

As I thrust my legs, I made it to yet another peak. The visibility wasn't great anywhere in the Gnoll mountains, given that the wind was constantly stirring up snow to cover the distance, so I was using every opportunity to survey the distance I could.

This time, however, I thought I could see a spot of orange light through the flurry of snow. A campfire? It wasn't far all that far away. My target? Probably. I didn't know who else would camp up here.

The wind continued to blast me, as if it was infuriated by my presence. It made odd, eerie noises through the mountains. But this discomfort looked like it might be over soon.

I began walking in the direction of the light. At this point it was so loud from the roaring wind and fogged by snow I wasn't even concerned with stealth. It felt more like I was journeying towards my target than sneaking up on him.

As the fire took better focus, I could also see a human silhouette through the flurries. The roar of the wind muffled pretty much all sound, though.

The movements of the silhouette suggested he had smaller matters on his mind. None the less, as I walked, I moved to the left where I could approach him from behind.

Walking diagonally leftwards, I got closer and closer, his form becoming more precise. His figure was bulky, likely because he was heavily protected from the cold. He seemed to be cooking coming over the fire. I could even begin to smell it. Smoky and meaty, it awoke my hunger. After I killed him, I'd make sure not to let it go to waste.

The more I walked the better I could make out his equipment. He was wearing fur armor. He'd laid down a mace next to his side. A barbarian by Cyrodiillic standards, and, for me, a target that made me feel a bit more at home after dealing with all the savages in the inner swamps.

As I got closer and at better angle, the wind was becoming more of a friend than an enemy. Its noisy howls were concealing my footsteps.

I was now within arms' reach of Hoar-blood's back. The problem was, his back was armored. His fur helmet even seemed to cover the back of his neck. Though he was oblivious to my presence, going on about his petty affairs, he was already causing me difficulty. The only way to kill him seemed awkward, and that would be to bring my knife infront of his neck and pull back.

Armor: childishly simple yet frustratingly effective.

I wasn't eager for a direct confrontation, which is probably what I'd get if I made my way into his field of view.

He poked at the fire with a stick, in his own reality, while I kept my breaths shallow and tried to think of what to do. My reality was much more intense than his.

Hoar-blood put the stick he was using back on the snow. The thin wisps of smoke on its orange- glowing tip were quickly carried away with the snow, and the bright orange glow faded as well. Hoar-blood went back to just watching the fire.

The best idea I could think of so far would simply be to grab him around the eyes and jerk his head back, then slit his throat. If I did it quickly enough, I could avoid a direct confrontation. If not, things would soon get a lot more complicated.

I tried to mentally prepare myself. The idea made me tense. I just wanted to wait for a moment of relative calm.

Breaking my own bounds of cowardess, I grasped my hand around his head, the violently jerked it back. He let out a deep and frantic yell before I slit his throat with one clean cut, then stepped back as he fell backwards off his chair, now in a storm of panic. His clumsy armored hands grasped around his throat and he rolled on his side to turn to me, a look of terror before his life faded. The wound began slowly dyeing the snow red.

The wind continued to glow, playing with what little bits of his long hair drooped beneath his helmet. Everything else continued, but now the world had one less injustice in it. I had done the world a little bit of right. I'd done my duty. I'd won a small victory in the endless war I'd enlisted in.

Though Hoar-blood had assimilated with the harsh lifelessness and deathly cold here, I was finally finding my way to warmth as I sat by his fire in his seat. I felt euphoric to find a source of warmth.

The smell of the meat combined with all the hard work had awoken a savage hunger in me. Its smokey, succulent smell, and even the tiny crackling of the bubbling grease that seemed to be soaking it didn't bypass my senses in the least. It just looked like it needed a little longer to roast.

My stomach made an odd, high pitched moan as I waited. It was nice to be warm, but at the same time the wait for the meal was killing me. Since there were no mountains in Argonia, I'd had no idea what I'd been in for when I came up here.

I did managed to make one decision as I sat there waiting, however: once I was finished with this assignment, I'd go right back to Bruma. I wanted a good night's sleep before I began to head South, the location of my next targets.

(Learns-fast): Outside of Falcrenth

Now out in the vast, rolling country side, I could see the burnt village up ahead. The charred skeletons of the buildings were still standing, as were several planks. There was enough reminense of the past to allow the place to act as a good spot for concealing darker activities, but enough destruction to, apparently, deter anyone from rebuilding this village.

To the citizens of Falcrenth it was probably little else than a bad memory or a scrap in the countryside. To us, it was so much more. We could finally put an end to Lucien Lachance and look like heros in the Dark Brotherhood's eyes. It was exhilarating. It put me in a state of passion, energy, and lucidity I hadn't felt in years. Decades, even.

As we walked towards the village, I was fantasizing about apprehending Lachance with the Black Hand. I was imagining my victory in an impassioned struggle as we worked together to bring him down. No doubt they'd want him executed and, at this point, I would have loved to do the honors, and say something really deep, terse, and intelligent right before he died, just like in the books. It was childish, I knew, and chances are when I got there it would never happen that way, but moments like this made me different. That, and there wasn't much else I could think about as we did all this walking.

I had to pull myself back to reality when we made our way to the village grounds and could see the well in the center of town.

The irregular shapes and excellent hiding spots in these ruins could translate into some pretty creepy scenarios, but I supposed this burnt village wasn't as eerie as the abandoned house idea. Either way, it was certainly a lot more subtle.

I made my way over to the well, already beginning to imagine the secrets this village held underneath it. The mark of death the fire left was only the beginning. What was beneath the village was far more lethal.

Soon we were right infront of the well. The anticipation wrapped around me tightly.

I curled my fingers around the strip of cold black metal in the grating above the well, then lifted it open with a metallic creak. The well looked about 15 feet deep, but there was a ladder to climb down the floor of the well.

"C'mon." I told the Shadowscales behind me "You can provide useful testimony."

I climbed onto the edge of the well, grabbed a rung, took my feet off the stone edge and let them dangle in the air until they could find their own wrung. It was an awkward way to enter this sanctuary, but the entrances to Dark Brotherhood territory were usually unwelcoming.

When my feet touched the stone floor of the well I released my grip on the rungs and turned to see what this room at the bottom of the well looked like. In the meantime, the other two were still climbing.

The room ahead was small, and appeared to be half-way between a man-made structure and a cave.

I took a step forward into the room as the other Shadowscales climbed down behind me. The floor was tiled, and some areas covered in bricks, but its structure seemed to be subject to nature's will. The bricks and tiles seemed like nothing more than an attempt to mask nature's dominance here.

I turned to my left to see another set of rungs attached to one of the rag-tag brick walls. Obviously it didn't lead back up to the village, so it was definitely the entrance to the sanctuary.

When I heard the final set of feet hit the floor I knew it was time to ascend the other ladder.

I put my hands on the cold, metal rungs, not really sure what I would find when I made it to the top.

I only had to climb about half as many rungs as the first when I found myself face to face with a door much like the one in Cheydinhal, except a bit less flashy. I propped myself up onto this new ground. Now it was like I was in another secret little world, which was true enough. It didn't feel like dried well, a village, or even Skyrim anymore.

I banged the metal knocker hard against the stone door. As I waited for someone to answer, I put my hand near my pocket which was bulging with the crumpled dead drop note. My heart was pounding as I waited. I was charged up to finally show the Black Hand Lucien's true nature. I felt like I could hardly keep still. My path was wonderfully clear now. All other thoughts were pushed aside.

As I heard the muffled footsteps approaching the door I answered the question before it could be asked "Sanguine, my brother." I had an animalistic fixation on my goal as it got so close.

The heavy stone door rumbled its way opened. The opener was a tall, somewhat unkept-looking woman.

She spoke in thick Nordic accent "You know the password. As mistress of this sanctuary I will grant you the privilege of my ear, but if you do not have legitimate business with the Dark Brotherhood your time with me will be up very shortly." She said in arrogant dryness, bringing her hand to her sheath.

"Save the attitude," I said, already thinking of the ways this could play out if she gave us a hard time "I've got important news for Speaker Arquen. The Dark Brotherhood has a traitor in its ranks."

I took the crumpled paper out my pocket and flattened it a bit, and then handed it to her. After she grabbed it I asked "Any of these names look familiar to you?"

She scanned the paper, probably bringing her ego down to its appropriate size as she came to feel the weight of what I'd come to profess. She didn't reply at first. She was absorbed by the mysterious dead drop. I could hear the naive joys of the Skyrim sanctuary coming from behind her, but she was completely silent. On her face I could see an encroaching astonishment. It was coming upon her gradually, slowly, and gently, but coming none the less, and hopefully allowing her to see the importance of my visit.

Finally she took her icy blue eyes from the paper. "Havilstien Hoar-blood. He is already dead..." then, after a small delay as if overcoming some emotional obstacle "...but a great assassin while he lived, and certainly a loyal member of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Dead? When did this happen?" I asked. Did Fights-up-close do the job? It couldn't be. I'd only...

"He was killed years ago. He was on a special assignment for our Speaker, Arquen." She looked down at the letter again briefly and rubbed her armored foot against the ground, softening either because of her memory of Hoar-blood's death, or because she realized she was dealing with a force greater than her. "Alright, your find is intriguing. I will show you to Speaker Arquen's sanctuary. You will discuss the rest with her."

Without giving us another glance, some reminense of her haughtiness still noticeable, she walked towards the ladder and began climbing down it. This is what I wanted: to meet with the high level officials so they couldn't continue living in their artificial world of cocky carelessness.

When she made it to the bottom, I followed. As I descended, I was glad to finally have a solid cause, a known enemy, and a clear benefit awaiting me

We repeated the process up the next ladder. This was progress. Soon the truth would be clear, the menaces defeated, the arrogant humblized, misunderstandings dissolved, and the dedicated glorified, ultimately leading to a more trustworthy relationship between our organizations and a Dark Brotherhood that was a bit more allegiant to us.

Now we were in the burnt village again. I followed the mistress towards the remains of one of the larger burnt buildings. She was beginning to head through a ruined alley.

I wasn't exactly sure what the original purpose of the building we were walking by was. Little more than the floor was left on ground level.

The mistress seemed to have her eyes on the building's cellar door. The fact that the cellar door was perfectly intact made it the most conspicuous part of the building, but a basement also seemed like an intuitive location for a Speaker's sanctuary.

She took out a key and opened the cellar door, then began to descend down its steps. I noticed her face seemed to have softened as I caught one last glimpse of her before she disappeared beneath. Now it felt like we were really working together and might be able to tackle this situation. The barriers between us were falling, and soon the barriers between them and Lucien would be growing, until those walls would go to push him out of existence.

I followed down the cellar steps. They creaked and moaned in their old age as we walked down.

When I made it to the bottom, back onto a stone floor, I could see a woman in black robes sitting behind an incongruous desk in the far-right corner of the room. Just by looking at this cellar, it was clear she embraced the grotesque even more than Lucien Lachance: the floor had several human skeleton randomly scattered around on it, a wrack of sharp blades of all sizes and shapes hanging behind the desk, and it looked as if viles of blood were sitting a top of one of the many crates. I never could figure out exactly what the bizarre fancies of the Dark Brotherhood were about, but I didn't care much at the moment. I was here to finally make some progress with this whole Lachance-Crisis.

The mistress was already ahead of us

"Arquen," She said, and then handed the dead drop to the Speaker. As we walked towards the desk the mistress turned to us. "Prepare to explain yourselves." The mistress said. It was good to see, even after being betrayed by an ally I'd trusted for years, I was being helped out in the Skyrim sanctuary.

We were now standing next to the mistress, watching the reaction of Arquen as she joined us in our world of seriousness and purpose. Arquen was gradually bringing her hand to her gaping mouth as she read the words. There was naught but silence, allowing her to take in nothing but the astounding text.

She flipped the letter. Her hand was now gently covering her mouth as her world transformed around her. It was nice to finally not feel so alone in all this. With her expression, she seemed like sure-fire ally. "Oh dear." She said to herself. I began preparing my explanation.

She slowly lowered the letter, and I knew that was my que to begin explaining.

"These were dead drop targets Lucien Lachance gave to his Silencer, formerly one of my Shadowscales. So far we've identified two targets on that list as Dark Brotherhood members, alive or dead." I could see my words held a lot of significance to her.

"Havilstien Hoar-blood..." she said, her voice trailing off "he's my...I mean, he was my..." she fumbled with her words, then looked straight at the woman we'd arrived with "Saga, please allow us a moment of privacy."

She immediately complied, walking briskly out of the basement.

I looked at Arquen with anticipation. The surprise was still plastered on her face. There even seemed to be some evident distress in her expression. When we heard the cellar door shut, marking the beginning of our privacy, Arquen spoke again, now with better composure. "Hoar-blood has been my Silencer for years. You know the meaning of that position, correct? My personal assassin. Alval Uvani is one of our Speakers..." then, flipping the page over again almost as if she still didn't fully believe what she'd read "...even worse Ungolim is the Listener! If we lose the Listener we'll become like a hand with no thumb! Shaleez...she's his Silencer! Lucien Lachance wrote this, you said?" She asked, once again second guessing blatant reality

I nodded.

The breath I was about to use to speak barely made its way out of my mouth when an unexpected voice broke into the conversation. It was Cleaver. "He's done worse already..." At that moment all eyes were intently fixed on him. Though I already knew what he was referring to, I was interested to hear how he'd tell her the story, "He ordered that same agent to kill off the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary. I was forced to feign my own death in order to survive. I have no doubt every other family member was killed." He finished with a look at the floor. The memory seemed to exasperate him. I turned back to Arquen. Her shock was still evident. Finally we didn't have to keep this all to ourselves.

"My Silencer is indeed camping in Gnoll mountains, to hide from the law of Skyrim. I will send a courier to retrieve him. We can discuss how to deal with this crisis that threatens the Dark Brotherhood once he arrives." She closed the book she was reading, then with a face of genuine concern, said "You may make yourself at home in my sanctuary. I will need you to be in my proximity so I can contact you as soon as Hoar-blood arrives."