"I need volumes three and four." Phintias looked at him, eyebrows furrowed at the interruption, and he got the feeling he wasn't getting any favors.
"I happen to have volume three on hand," Phintias started, words slow and calculated. "But I am afraid it is a special order. Already paid for by another customer. Sorry."
The Breton narrowed his eyes. "How much is he paying for it?" He questioned, starting to search for the small sack of money in his bag. "I bet I can top it."
Now those eyebrows were raised, and he just looked kind of amused. "I'm afraid that I can't tell you that. Customer discretion, and all."
He finally pulled the sack out, hearing the coins clink against each other. He knew Phintias could hear it, too, and was glad that Baurus had refused to leave him without any septims.
"Well," he compensated, setting the bag on the counter. "Do you think you could tell me who's buying volume three, at the very least?" When Phintias took too long to consider, he stressed the point. "I'll give you money! Just for a name. Don't you like money?"
The merchant had a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue, he was sure, but he took the whole bag nonetheless. The Breton wanted to object to that but it had already disappeared behind the counter, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get it back either way.
Phintias finally faced him. "Again, I'm sorry I couldn't help you," he said, looking almost mournful. "Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if it was gone when he came to pick it up."
His attention spiked at the information. "Is this Gwinas coming to pick it up today, by any chance?"
Phintias just gave him an all-knowing look, gesturing to one of the seats in the back. He sighed, thanking him, and sat down in the corner.
He didn't know how long he had waited when Gwinas finally came, an elf in silky red robes and a generally snobbish expression. He watched the two talk for a moment, the precious velvet book being exchanged between them, and forced himself to wait until Gwinas had left.
Giving a pointed look at the store owner as he stood, he followed the elf outside. Not knowing exactly what to do at this point, he approached Gwinas, planting a smile on his face.
"Hello," he greeted, and the elf stopped to look at him. "Could I, um, have that book you're carrying?"
His features immediately morphed into an angry expression, the elf bristling as the request. "Have you been following me?" He demanded, not giving him the time to answer. "Leave me alone! That book is mine!"
He winced, the high-pitched voice murder to his ears. "Tell me about the Mythic Dawn cult," he decided, taking a different approach.
Gwinas seemed shocked at that. "The Mythic Dawn cult? Are you-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about! I don't know anything about any cult."
He scowled. "Don't play stupid," he said, and the act dropped.
"Very well," Gwinas relented. "I can see you are familiar with Mankar Camoran's 'Commentaries.'" He waited for the elf to continue, which he did. "I know that daedric cults are not quite the thing socially, but that's just foolish prejudice and superstition. For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, daedric worship holds many rewards."
His fists clenched at the other's ignorance. "They killed the Emperor, you fool!" Several people looked their way but didn't comment, the elf's olive skin flushing pale at his words.
"What?" He spluttered, eyes twitching, and it probably would have been humorous were he in a better mood. "The Mythic Dawn were the ones-"
"Yes," he grit out, foot tapping impatiently.
"You have to believe me," he begged. "I truly had no idea. I mean, I knew they were a daedric cult. Mankar Camoran's views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even- but to murder the Emperor? Mara preserve us!"
He needed to cut this short before some of the guards decided to eavesdrop. "Listen," he told Gwinas, who was starting to hyperventilate, aiming to calm him down. "Could I just have the book?"
"Yes, of course!" He exclaimed, all but shoving the volume in his face. He took it gingerly, tucking it under his arm as Gwinas kept speaking. "I don't want anyone to think I had anything to do with their insane plot."
He smiled then, going for a reassuring expression and testing how much he could push his luck. "I need the fourth book as well."
"You can only get volume four directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn," he informed the Breton, appearing regretful. "I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself."
He pulled out a slip of paper from one of the inside flaps of his elegant robe, handing it over. "Here, take this note they gave me," he explained. "It tells you where to go. I don't want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn."
He unfolded the paper gently, only to be greeted by more words he couldn't read. The Breton tucked it into his pocket, looking up to say his thanks to the elf, but Gwinas had already been lost to the crowd.
He found Baurus leaning against some crates directly outside Luther Broad's, skillfully observing the area. The Blade sent him a wide smile as he approached, speaking first.
"You're not easy to get a hold of," he teased, coming closer. "What have you learned?"
"Um," he started, pulling out the note. "Why don't you take this?" He held it up to the Reguard, watching as his eyes scanned the paper swiftly.
"This just might be the break we were looking for," he told the other, irises bright from the afternoon sun. "Good work."
He nodded, not exactly on the same page, watching as a flame sparked between Baurus' fingers and caught on the paper. "We need to find the fourth book, then," he said, letting the ashy remains of the letter fall to the ground. "If Tar-Meena is right, we can use these books to locate the Mythic Dawn's hidden shrine."
He started walking down the road, calling behind his shoulder. "Let's go!" He ordered, and the Breton scrambled after him. In a quieter tone, Baurus added, "I know that part of the sewers well. Just follow me."
He frowned slightly but didn't comment, watching for where they were going. The Blade led him across the street and through a small alley, pausing at a concealed sewer grate. Baurus opened up the top and slipped down easily, helping the Breton down and closing the hatch back up.
The inside was dark and cold, sending a shiver down his spine. It was built like the sewers underneath the Imperial Prison, sharing the same scent, and he had to resist the sudden need to choke on the rotten air.
He had to grab the wall for support to descend the stairs, eyes still adjusting to the change of atmosphere. Baurus lit a flame in his hands, providing some light, and the Breton pulled some wood off of one of the broken crates in the corner to fashion as a torch.
It ignited brilliantly, flooding the space with a warm orange glow. He held the torch a small ways behind Baurus, letting the other lead them through the compacted halls. They came across a couple of mudcrabs guarding the next room, the Blade killing them swiftly and heading on through the dungeon.
It continued like this for a little while, the only serious enemies being a few goblins, and the Breton was sure to grab one of their steel bows to replace his own rusty iron one. Baurus didn't seem to be tiring and he had only needed to step in and help a few times, his pockets gradually filling with gold found in miscellaneous chests along the way.
They finally stopped, journey ending outside a large iron door placed near a set of stairs. Baurus turned to him, voice low.
"Alright," he said, seemingly bracing himself for something. "The room with the table is just through this door. I always wondered who put it there."
He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, assuming this is where the Sponsor had set up the meeting. "I happen to know that if you go up the stairs there, you can get a vantage point on the meeting room."
He waited patiently for Baurus to get to his point, listening for something yet unsaid. "I think I'd better be the one to handle the meeting," he admitted. "You'll be my back-up. Keep watch from above in case of trouble."
"Are you sure?" He asked, squinting as the torch light flickered measly, flame getting lost in dead wood. He had the feeling that Baurus wore a somewhat determined expression.
"Yes, it should be me," he answered, tone solemn. "I have a blood debt to repay those Mythic Dawn assassins. Besides, I've trained for this kind of thing my whole life."
He knew the feeling of having an obligation; the reason he was even here was because the Amulet of Kings had been stolen on his account. "Alright," the Breton agreed. "I'll cover you."
"Good," was the reply, and he sounded relieved. "Remember, we must not leave here without the book. It's our best chance of finding the Amulet."
"I'm ready when you are." Baurus took a deep breath.
"Listen. I may not survive this. But if I don't, you must. You must recover the book and find the Amulet of Kings."
He was a little surprised at the serious tone to Baurus' voice, of the trust. He wanted to tell the other about how he messed up, he really did, but it wasn't the time nor place.
He sighed. "I understand," he told the other, a little warmness creeping into his words. "We'll do this together."
"I'm glad to have you at my side," Baurus said, and the sentence made his heart skip a beat. "Okay. Let's go."
Baurus gave him a pat on the back as he headed out the door, the Breton in turn sending him a grin and climbing up the stairs. He opened the door as quietly as possible, stepping cautiously onto the walkway and kneeling in the corner. It was only Baurus at the small table, face illuminated by the single candle, and he sent the Blade a wave when he was sure he was in his line of vision. He received a nod in return, Baurus taking a seat on a hard wooden chair.
The Breton pulled the bow out of his bag as they waited, lining up the assortment of arrows he had collected in his brief travels. He stared at the bow with a sort of reserved wonder- he knew enough about the object to know how to hold it and how to shoot, but he was yet to grasp the aiming bit.
He only shrugged, grasping it in his hands and notching an arrow. The Breton waited in his position, heat racing in his chest, and he started to wish that Martin hadn't demanded that he leave his daedric greatsword at the temple. He had decided long ago that there was something reassuring about the weapon, even if it burned his hands every time he tried to wield it, and he just felt oddly disconnected without it.
The screeching of a rusty gate sounded against the silence, eyes darting to the scene below. A tall robed figure made his way to where Baurus was sitting, voice too low for him to hear. Only the Sponsor spoke, Baurus keeping his mouth firmly closed, and he faintly wondered what that note had said in the first place.
His thoughts broke as he let out a scream, a spike of ice becoming impaled into his side, the force of it knocking him over the walkway. It was made of pure Magicka, disappearing in a few seconds along with the pain, but the sudden attack left him blinking in a daze on the ground. He distinctly saw Baurus with his katana, swiping at the Sponsor with practiced ease, and heard the other two come into the room through the other passage.
The Breton forced himself to stand, miraculously only sporting an aching back, and found himself being confronted by an angry assassin. Thinking quickly, having left his arrows above in the hasty departure, he whacked the approaching enemy with the bow in his hands. The killer stumbled backwards in surprise, and he took the moment to whip out his dagger and stab the figure in the heart. He held back disgust as it crumbled to the floor, turning towards Baurus, who had finished the second intruder and was currently in battle with the Sponsor.
He crouched behind the assassin, trying to blend into the darkness. He didn't know if it actually worked, but he was able to get close enough to deliver the final blow. The elven blade dug into soft flesh and rough fabric, he and Baurus the only ones standing.
"There's three more that won't be returning to their master," Baurus snickered, and the Breton agreed, leaning down to search the Sponsor. There was a glowing ring on his corpse that intrigued him but he couldn't muster the courage to take it, only pulling out the last book from his robe and a strange looking key.
He stood, facing Baurus with a silly grin on his face, seeing the Blade wear the same expression. "We did it!" He exclaimed, any lingering injuries gone from his mind, being replaced by excitement.
They shared a laugh in the empty room, littered with the dead bodies of evil beings, and it was probably the first sound of merriment to echo in the halls for ages.
"The holy book of the Mythic Dawn," Tar-Meena said, and she sounded in absolute awe. "Supposedly written by Mehrunes Dagon himself."
"How can I find the Mythic Dawn shrine?"
She took the book gingerly from his fingers, and he let her, curious. "I understand that you are not skilled in literature," she admitted, and he had to fight down the embarrassment. "I could study this volume, see if I can find any hidden clues that might reveal the shrine's location."
He beamed at her, going through his bag and collecting the rest of the books. She took them all with ease, giving him a farewell before leaving to her study.
It was a long bath and several days later when they spoke again, the Argonian sending someone to fetch him. Tar-Meena looked a little worse for wear, probably not having slept in the past days, but he couldn't say he fared much better. There had been stories going through the city of more gates to Oblivion turning up, and he had been loosing hours over the thought.
She sent him a large smile when their eyes met, and it did some to calm his nerves. "I've been studying these volumes tremendously," she told him, a certain glint in her red irises he couldn't place. "Now, if you look at the first letter in each paragraph, they spell out a hidden message. I've only recently figured out what it says, but I haven't had much time to decipher its meaning."
"That's fine," he reassured, thrilled at the prospect of making progress. "What's the message?"
She wrote as she spoke, and it was a fruitless gesture, but thoughtful all the same. "Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun," she declared, handing him the paper. He took it in his hands, quizzical.
"Are you familiar with Green Emperor Way?" He nodded, remembering the lush gardens and ancient gravestones surrounding a pristine tower. "Perhaps something is revealed there at noon?"
He sighed through his nose at the mystery, but smiled nonetheless. "Thank you for all your help," he told her, considering. "Listen, I don't really have any use for the books anymore. Why don't you keep them?"
She stiffened. "Are you sure?" Tar-Meena questioned, seeming reluctant and yet joyous and the idea.
He stood up from the bench, shaking her hand. "I'm sure. It's been an honor, Tar-Meena."
She stood up, too, reciprocating the gesture. "And with you." Realizing something, she fixed him with an apologetic gaze. "I'm sorry, I never learned your name."
The smile turned a little sad on his face. "Yeah, neither did I," he told her, heading out the door with the hopes of fixing his mistakes.