Author's Note: Oh, finally, chapter 4 is here. :B Critiques are strongly requested, for this chapter especially. Again, enjoy.
Disclaimer: Oblivion © Bethesda.
'Banus,' Lucien breathed. 'How did you get here?'
'Lucien, listen,' he said. 'I left the Black Hand. Trust me - I'm not here to kill you.'
Upon hearing these words, Ysuran came out of his hiding place and faced Banus. Could it be true?, he wondered. Or a trap?
'Ha! Left the Black Hand?', Lucien jeered. 'Like I'll believe that. You tracked me down – that is proof enough that you're here to get rid of me.'
'Well, ah,' he said, bashful, 'it appears that way... and you are definitely more suspect now, but please, I swear on my life I'm telling the truth! I'm done with the Brotherhood...I couldn't care less if you were the traitor.'
Lucien raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised at this statement.
'Really, now?' He made a sour face. 'Then you are also a traitor. Get out of my face!' He pushed Banus out the doorway, slammed it shut and locked it.
'Wh...' Ysuran trailed off, confused. 'Wait, wait! What in Oblivion was that all about?'
'He doesn't care who the traitor is, eh? Hmph. That coward, thinks he can leave us whenever it's convenient. No less a traitor than Bellamont.' He didn't heed his Silencer. All the while, Banus was silent outside the house.
'Lucien! Let him in, won't you? He'll go mad out there for all we know,' he pleaded.
'Leave whatever soft spots you have behind, Ysuran,' he said. 'He may not want to kill me, but he dishonours the Brotherhood. We must go.'
'We should give him a chance, at least.'
'No.'
'Please?'
Lucien closed his eyes and grunted. He didn't feel like dealing with this.
'You're very impertinent lately, Silencer. Fine. Do what you will with him - I'm leaving.'
The Dunmer frowned. 'Leaving?'
'Oh, relax,' he grumbled. 'Just...visiting someone. I'll return later.' He left through the side door, mounted his horse, and galloped off to Sithis knows where.
Ysuran was a bit disgruntled. Why was it that Lucien seemed so two-sided? One moment, he would be very pleasant. Patient, even. The next, he'd be fuming and spitting insults. What was that?, he wondered. He waved it off, though, and made his way to the front door.
He opened it and, surely enough, Banus remained, waiting patiently.
'Uh. Hello again,' he said. 'He isn't too angry, I hope?' Ysuran looked at him, smirking slightly.
'He's gone, for now. Don't worry about him. Come in,' he ordered. 'We should talk.' It felt strange, Ysuran thought, commanding his superior...but oddly satisfying. His smile broadened.
Banus nodded and entered the house. He looked a bit shaken for some reason. Ysuran regarded his kinsman with sympathy – Banus' eyes showed little emotion, but they were not the eyes of a liar. Yes, he partially hated Banus for killing – at least, attempting to kill - his master...but he had hope for him. At least, he wanted to.
He settled down onto the floor, where Banus sat across from him. It would be an interesting talk, he imagined.
'So, then...' Ysuran started, 'I'd just like to – ah, establish something.'
'Oh. Go ahead.' Banus folded his hands onto his lap, trying to get comfortable.
'Concerning the traitor. Who do you think it is?' Banus seemed puzzled.
'Well, everything points to Lucien...I would like to believe he isn't, but...I can't imagine anyone else...' he trailed off. He thought of Arquen, and how he had suspected her before, but now he wasn't so sure. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking.
'Well, he isn't. It's Bellamont.'
Banus' head snapped up in shock.
'Bellamont?'
'Yes. Have a look at this.' He tossed the blood-stained diary into Banus' hands, and after he read it, incredulous, Ysuran explained everything – about Mathieu's nightmarish hideaway, about Lucien's first contract, about his plan to escape the Black Hand... Banus felt sick.
'Mathieu!...How could he? All these years, he lied to us? Gods, I- he was like a big brother to me...' he had a hard time finding the right words. He stared at the pages of the diary, unable to believe that Bellamont was the author of the disturbing ramblings.
when in the snow I like to lie and fold my arms and wait to die...
'It's all insanity. Pure madness.' The other nodded sadly.
'Yes. He even kept his mother's head- made a shrine out of it. He was sick... is sick.'
'Oh. Oh, that's...' Banus looked like he was about to cry. If there was one thing the two had in common, it was their bouts of emotion.
Ysuran didn't regard Banus as an enemy any longer at this point; he rather felt for him. It seemed that he was good friends with Mathieu – which was unfortunate, seeing as they'd be killing him sooner or later- and Banus bore no ill will towards him or Lucien, he saw that much. He was only doing what he was supposed to. Just following orders... Ysuran pondered something then.
'These are the consequences, then...' His eyes appeared very blank, Banus noted.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean, of being what we are. Killers.'
Banus stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
'When I joined, I thought there was no downside to being an assassin. Easy money, interesting people. The thrill. But sometimes it's not that simple. It can be so depressing...'
Banus thought Ysuran was being rather odd, but answered accordingly.
'Well, I suppose...at least, I'm not too sure what you mean, Brother...'
'I mean,' he replied, 'the sadness that sets into your soul when you're forced to kill a friend. Have you experienced that? When you have the feeling a Divine other than Sithis is watching you, condemning you, for what you've done. When the ghosts of the fallen taunt you - they scream silently in your ears at night...'
An awkward silence fell upon the room. Banus didn't know what to say.
'I...I might have, but nothing like you described- oh.' He realized then what Ysuran meant, and felt a wash of remorse. 'Are you referring to the...the Purification?'
Ysuran pursed his lips and nodded.
'A prime example...I'd gotten so close to everyone there. Vicente, Ocheeva, Gogron...even M'raaj-Dar. It's just- is it really worth it, you know? The internal struggling?'
Both had become very morose. Banus understood his kinsman's feelings now – he had felt those emotions before. For a long time, a voice in his head told him to leave the Brotherhood for that very reason, to avoid the pain, the evil. He never heeded it, of course.
'I don't know,' he finally replied. 'Maybe. Or... I don't think so. Could be we're just weak at heart, my friend... at least, for assassins.'
'Damn...we're terrible Dunmers,' Ysuran joked, trying to lighten up the mood. Banus laughed, then another awkward silence ensued.
'Listen,' Banus finally said, 'I can only hope you aren't angry with me. You know, about thinking Lucien was...'
'Ah, nevermind that...you had no way of knowing, Banus. It's not as if he's really dead.' Ysuran gave him a genuine smile. The other nodded, grateful for his forgiveness. Ysuran finally resumed the interrogation.
'So, how did you find us? I mean, you didn't come here by accident...'
'Uh, no, that I didn't,' he admitted. 'See, when I discovered Lucien was alive, I figured I could do one of two things: one, tell Arquen about it and stick with the Brotherhood. Two, join you and quit. Obviously, I chose the latter. So I just followed Shadowmere's tracks, I didn't know I'd find Lucien here. I came looking for you.'
'I see. But, for me?', asked Ysuran. 'Why?' Banus shrugged.
'You're the only person I wanted to stick with, I guess. You're a Dunmer. You're Lucien's Silencer. I don't have anyone else,' he finished with a sigh. He seemed very confused, to Ysuran at least.
'Either way, you could say I'm 'on your side'. If anyone attacks you or Lucien, I will fight them.'
'Thank you, Banus. That means a lot to me,' Ysuran said. He still couldn't be one hundred percent sure of Banus' honesty, but he gratefully accepted his offer.
'But what will you do now? With your life, I mean,' Ysuran asked.
'I haven't thought about it. I suppose only time will tell, Brother- er, if I can still call you 'Brother'...'
'Hm. I see,' said Ysuran, lacking anything better to say.
Moments later, Banus yawned and rose from his spot, stretching his arms.
'Well, my friend, I'm off to bed. Damn tired,' he said.
'All right.' Ysuran gestured to a far corner in the room. 'You can sleep in the bedroll over there.'
Banus nodded and thanked him. After that, all was quiet, and Ysuran sat on the floor alone. It didn't take long for him to become restless.
I'm bored, he complained to himself. He didn't feel like sleeping, but there was nothing he particularly wanted to do, either. So he practised a few Mysticism spells to pass the time, but then remembered a newly acquired power of his. He smiled mischievously, glad he'd visited the Shivering Isles.
He tried to summon Haskill, but to his chagrin, he didn't appear.
Damn it...I can't summon him outside of the Isles, he remembered.
Ysuran groaned. When he needed him the most, he couldn't be there. How ironic.
He tried again and again to summon him, hoping that maybe -just maybe- Haskill might heed his call and show up. Somehow...
Miraculously, though, after the umpteeth time, Haskill's tall, black-clad form appeared before Ysuran.
'By Sithis! Finally!' Ysuran yelled, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Haskill seemed slightly bothered, but was his usual, expressionless self in seconds.
'It seems that my Lord has, for some reason, allowed me to appear here,' he said. 'How...gratuitous of Him.'
'It's because he likes me,' Ysuran replied, smiling again.
'Don't flatter yourself. My Lord simply willed it to happen, because it pleased Him to do so; although I doubt that you could even remotely comprehend the power He possesses.' Ysuran chuckled at Haskill's ever-constant condescension. Others would detest it; he found it funny.
'Nevermind, Haskill. I wanted to ask you a question regarding my current endeavor,' he said with a mock accent.
'Oh. How glib of you. I don't appreciate your blatant attempt to imitate me-' he sighed wearily- 'but go right ahead.'
'Ha! Okay. See, I need to track down this bastard of a Breton -he's given me a lot of trouble, to put it charitably- but he could be anywhere. Can you tell me where I should look?'
'Ah, I see,' the other said. 'I will give you this clue, then: Within the central city, there lies a place where lightest and darkest cross paths, but the darkest of them all will soon find its way to you. Then will you find the man you seek. Act on that knowledge wisely; and use your brain, if you have one, to think on it.'
Ysuran didn't like riddles much, but appreciated the fact that Haskill was able to help at all.
'I will, Haskill. Thank you for your wisdom.'
'Oh, no. No need to thank me, I had a ball, I can assure you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my duties; the new arrivals won't go mad all by themselves.' With that, a puff of black smoke engulfed him, and he disappeared. Haskill could never know just how funny he really was, Ysuran thought.
'Within the central city, there lies a place where lightest and darkest cross paths, but the darkest of them all will soon find its way to you...' he repeated to himself.
The only part he could decipher at the moment was the first; obviously, it referred to the Imperial City. So he was in the Imperial City? He pondered over the other two parts; he had the feeling he had gotten it for a moment, but then realized a hole in his logic and dismissed the idea. With every moment of racking his brain, he became more and more irritated. Finally, he gave up and yelled:
'Where in Oblivion do the light and dark cross paths?' He covered his mouth then, remembering a sleeping Banus in the corner, but it was too late; he was already sitting up in his bed, staring at Ysuran.
'...Do you...ah, need help with something?', he asked sheepishly.
'No, no. No,' he replied. 'I've just got, uh, a lot on my mind. Sorry to have woken you. Go on, get back to sleep.'
Banus gave him a final look of weariness, but did as he was told and dozed off.
'Gods,' he whispered, 'either I'm terribly stupid or Haskill is a genius.' He wanted to believe the latter...but he had his doubts.
He mustered all his thoughts, trying to piece together even a slightly plausible answer to the riddle. Then he wondered: What would Lucien think?
And very suddenly, as if on command, a frantic LaChance barged through the front door with utmost speed. He advanced toward his Silencer and gripped his shoulders.
'You're coming with me. Right now.'
The outburst woke Banus yet again, who was clearly irritated.
'What?', Ysuran asked, bemused. 'Where? Have you found something?'
'Indeed I have!', he replied. 'Bellamont is in the Imperial City. I saw him speaking with Belisarius just outside the Market District. Now hurry, before we lose them!'
The Silencer's eyes widened. Uncanny, he thought.
'I'll go with you,' Banus blurted.
Lucien was about to protest, but Ysuran gave him a look that said No, it's fine, he's with us. The Imperial nodded knowingly and turned on his heels.
Knowing there was no time for any explanations, Ysuran raced out the cabin, dragging Banus along with him, and climbed onto Lucien's horse. Mostly, he was just happy to breathe fresh air, but the idea of finally getting that detestable leech was endlessly satisfying.
His thoughts drifted toward Haskill's riddle. It didn't need to be solved anymore, really, but the sights that surrounded him were decidedly more unstimulating.
'Where lightest and darkest cross paths, but the darkest of them all will find its way to you...'
Ysuran pursed his lips, and figured that the term lightest and darkest could be referring to people... his eyebrows formed into frustrated knots. The highest and the lowest... the risen... the fallen. Servants of the Gods, and defiers of the Gods? Gods...Guards. And prisoners...The Prison District.
Oh.
Of course.
Ysuran kicked himself mentally; he should have been able to figure that out, at least. But the darkest of them all? Who was the dar-
...Oh.
Murderers were awfully low on the light and dark scale, he figured. Especially life-long, remorseless murderers. So that's what Haskill meant?
Why couldn't he just tell me Lucien would bring the news? He thought with great exasperation. Haskill, Ysuran noticed, was unnecessarily cryptic, for some reason...
Before he knew it, they had reached the city.
Lucien signaled for him and Banus to dismount, casting Chameleon on himself and the other two as they did so. They rushed inside the Prison District just in time to see Mathieu and Belisarius approach the Imperial Legion Office.
'There they are,' Ysuran said.
'For Sithis' sake, be quiet,' Lucien scolded, whispering. He rummaged through his pocket, and pulled out a pink, translucent bottle. He took a sip from it, then passed it to Ysuran.
'Drink this,' he commanded. 'Banus, you, too. Quickly!'
Knowing not to question Lucien when he sounded so urgent, Ysuran drank from the bottle and instantly felt drained of his energy. He passed it to Banus, who drank with equal dissatisfaction.
'What in Oblivion is that sewage?' Ysuran asked Lucien, disliking the effects of the potion.
'Tch. It's not sewage. It's a serum to weaken your life energy. It prevents any life detection spells from picking up your presence, due to the drastic decrease in your pulse. I brewed it a little while ago,' he said, a hint of smugness in his voice.
'I didn't know such a thing existed.' Banus frowned. 'But isn't that dangerous?'
'It can be, if you experience sudden shock. But you need to make sure that doesn't happen. So be aware. Be vigilant.'
The two Dunmer nodded and followed Lucien.
They shadowed their target's every move, stealthy, enveloped in the night's forgiving blackness. Ysuran saw Mathieu and -Belisarius, he supposed- confront a few guards, and was a bit surprised as the two proceeded to slash their throats. He watched, feeling one half disgusted, the other half a sort of sick pleasure.
Seeing Mathieu finally enter the Legion Offices, Ysuran got up to follow, but Lucien pushed him down into a patch of grass.
'Ow,' he complained.
'Don't follow them inside. We will wait here,' he said.
'But why not just confront him?'
'Just do as I say, Silencer.' Ysuran grunted, but obeyed. Banus shifted uncomfortably in his spot, glancing at his kinsman for but a moment, then directed his full attention toward the now closed door of the office.
And so they waited.
'Here we are, my Brother.'
Yes...
It was very dark outside when Mathieu and Belisarius reached the Legion Compound. The trip there was fairly smooth, though some of the guards were quite a hindrance - saying things like, 'this is a restricted area', or 'no civilians allowed at this hour'. But they were able to...negotiate with them. Three of them lay sprawled on the ground, blood splattered all over their necks, and the two assassins knew that it would only be a matter of time before the other guards noticed. They made haste.
'Are you sure the list is kept here? It seems a bit too...conspicuous,' Belisarius said.
'It goes to show how sloppy the Imperial Guard is,' Mathieu replied with a snort. 'But...yes, I am sure.'
The other chuckled, and proceeded to pick the lock. His pick broke a couple of times, but the third try was successful. He opened the door carefully, and the two of them entered, the light from the moon above gradating into shadow.
We're getting so close.
It was even darker in the office, the only light coming through a small window in the back of the room. Detect Life told Mathieu that he and his companion were the only ones there.
Perfect...
'Mathieu, some light, if you will.'
'Ah- yes, of course...' He whispered the word 'lucius' -which, to his displeasure, reminded him of that bloody LaChance- and a sizeable circle of green light enclosed the two. Belisarius nodded in thanks and continued towards the desk.
Oh, oh...Mother, I can hardly wait!
Belisarius searched each drawer quickly yet efficiently, eager to exit the place, but found nothing except many blank sheets of parchment and a severed finger... ah - Adamus Phillida's finger. The arse totally deserved it, he thought, but then focused on retrieving the document. Once more, he rummaged through the drawers, to no avail. He turned to Mathieu, confused, but barely uttered a syllable before he felt a sharp, although not-quite-sensible pain pierce his chest, the force of the blow making him fall onto his back. His eyes became watery, and dark clouds of Gods knows what appeared in his peripheral vision. Blood rose up his oesophagus and into his mouth, where it tasted sweet. Rusty. Unmistakably blood. Fear gripped him - his end was approaching. It was over. He knew it, and Mathieu's barbarian look of insanity only intensified this feeling. He leaned over Belisarius, grinning like a wolf might.
'M...Ma-!'
'Killkillkillkilldiediedie,' he whispered maniacally as he repeatedly plunged his dagger again and again and again into various places on Belisarius' body. With each stab it felt like another hundred years of pain, but Belisarius did not scream. He could not. Mathieu had torn up his throat. It burned; oh, like the fires of Oblivion it burned agonizingly. Everywhere. He somehow felt hot and cold at the same time, both shocked and unsurprised...a state of horrific ambivalence...
It seemed like hours before Mathieu finally stopped. The clatter of his dagger on the floor rang in Belisarius' ears, clear as day. Belisarius could feel Mathieu's shaky breath on his face; toxic. He watched with great difficulty as his former Brother pocketed his dagger, covered in blood and sinew and who knows what else, smiling down on him.
'Mathieu...Y-you are...' He whispered, or at least, attempted to.
'Yes, my friend,' Mathieu replied, a look of sick excitement gleaming in his eyes. 'I am.' He turned on his heels and left the room, closing the door with a clak, like a confirmation of his impending doom.
The sheer anguish of each individual cut made Belisarius want to bite his tongue off. His eyes had become totally obscured by the strange blackness clouding his pupils, although his conscience remained intact.
I...he was right...Ysuran was right...The traitor lives...Sithis, spare us...
He felt the water coating his eyes begin to roll down his face, merging with the pooling blood at the base of his head. His breathing, raspy and forced, slowed down overtime. The pain all over his body now seemed both dull and excruciating... and distant. A sudden awareness befell him, that being of his loneliness – and he panicked.
No! I cannot, not alone...Arquen, Banus...Lucien, please...I don't want to die here, I don't want...I want...
And he died, his soul drifting off into the Void.
When Mathieu emerged from the office, alone, the three hooded men looked at each other.
'...Belisarius,' Banus whispered. 'Where is Belisarius?'
Ysuran's face was very grim. They all knew what had become of Belisarius, but they daren't say the words.
'The bastard,' Lucien spat. 'The damn bastard!'
'What do we do?' Banus asked.
'Banus,' he sighed, 'you get inside the office. Confirm that Belisarius is actually dead. Silencer, you'll wait here as my backup. I will-'
'No,' Ysuran interrupted with a fury that surprised even himself. 'I'll do it. I'll fucking kill him.' He could feel his rage pulsating within his veins, just waiting to be unleashed upon that sorry son of a...
The Imperial stared at him with thoughtful eyes. He glanced over to Mathieu for a split second, then looked at Ysuran again.
'You want to dispose of him, then, Silencer?'
He didn't answer. The look in his eye said all that needed to be said; Lucien smirked, and said:
'Go.'
He went.
