Author's Note: I have nothing to say except that I am proud of this chapter, not only because I decided to upload this as soon as it was done being edited (though I'm sure some mistakes slipped by-do tell me if you spot some mistakes) but because THIS is what I've been wanting to write ever since beginning this fic the second time around.

Yeah, so very proud.

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Chapter 14: Promises Best Kept

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Children ran among the snow covered cobblestone streets, laughing as they played their game of chase. A few Nords were enjoying a bottle of ale by themselves, huddled in a corner. The only people seeing—and noticing—the Emperor's escort party were the guards. So soon they have forgotten their saviours, Josephus thought grimly. He glanced to his right, and for once was delighted to see a familiar statue where the figure was holding up a bow that might have been dramatised on the 'breathtaking' factor. At least they built a statue of me.

He watched as Martin called a man armoured in chainmail with the Bruma sigil on the cuirass. "Inform the Countess of the Emperor's arrival. I seek an audience with the lady in her throne room."

Upon glancing at the red ruby resting on Martin's chest, the man—he looked barely sixteen, once Josephus paid closer inspection—scampered off to the direction of the castle. Any faster and he might have slipped on the melting ice. Josephus suppressed a chuckle at the thought. Laughing like a mad man was not something he would do now—especially so soon after their so-called grand arrival in the wintery city.

"I admit," Martin murmured to his friend, "I expected a few of the citizens to turn their heads and bow before their Emperor, as arrogant as that might sound."

Josephus gave a shrug. "I suppose that's a fair expectation, seeing as you lead an army to stop the Great Gate destroying the city."

The Emperor did not hide his shudder at the memory. "But I still let it open. I let it open long enough so that their captain of the guard had to fall. I don't doubt that the Countess will have a word or two in the matter. Maybe with fake kindness and patience."

"She's not the type."

"M'lord!" a voice called out. It was the guard who had delivered the message to the Countess. "The Countess will be pleased if you would see her now. In the th-throne room. Erm... she's granted you an audience. M-m'lord."

Josephus snorted louder than he should have at the boy's stuttering. Martin looked at him with a glare, which Josephus only replied with an innocent smile. "Thank you, my good man. I shall leave you to your duties, then."

"It's my pleasure. To serve, I mean, m'lord." Without even bowing or doing any show of a humble thanks for the compliment, the boy immediately ran back down and was lost in the alleys of the tightly knit wooden houses of Nordic architecture. He did not even slip on the melting ice.

Jauffre looked at the boy strangely. "He did not even address you properly, Sire."

Josephus turned to see the old man. Jauffre had been silent since they left the temple, never complaining about the cold weather, the danger that they would face, not even when his horse was stubborn over a rock that was in the mare's way and it panicked irrationally. Not forgetting that it almost threw the old man back, of course. Almost.

The Emperor, however, did not seem to acknowledge Jauffre's words. "Come." Martin lead the men towards the castle gates. Just for a small moment, though, Josephus saw Martin clenching his hand into a fist and then releasing it again. He repeated this action until the two guards standing in front of the castle gates opened the way for them to enter the Great Hall.

When outside Martin was freezing to death, inside the Great Hall was surprisingly warm despite the lack of a furnace inside the room. He moved his numb fingers, though he felt the sweat on his palms and tried to inconspicuously dry them off on his coat. The yellow rug on the floor dried off the ice that had stuck to his shoes, leaving marks of water droplets on the fabric. He asked himself if he was truly ready to face the Countess and decided yes, he probably was. He quickly moved on and entered the throne room at the end of the hall.

"Sire." Countess Narina Carvain rose from her throne, stepping down a few steps of stairs so that she was leveled with Martin. She curtseyed deeply, the skirt of her blue dress flowing behind her. "It is a great honour to meet you once more."

Martin nodded uncertainly. Now that the circumstance to meet the Countess was not to discuss of a coming war, he did not know exactly what to say. "Stand, my lady."

The Countess did so after just a second of hesitation. Her eyes seemed to search Martin's face of an explanation of his arrival. "And what is it that my Emperor requires, that he calls upon the Countess of Bruma?" Her voice was still the diplomatic tone she used back in the Chapel of Talos. It seemed that she had not changed at all, actually... save for the darker shadows under her eyes.

"I am marching towards the Imperial City." He gestured towards the small party of men around him. "While we were eager to leave as soon as we can, we appear to be short in supplies, and we only have so many Blades in the temple..." Martin trailed off, and he counted three heartbeats before the Countess even moved her head.

She cocked her head to the right, considering her Emperor's words. "Are you," she asked, still uncertain, "asking for my castle's hospitality?"

"I... did not say that." Gods, why did her words shock me more than it should have? "I only ask you to spare a few men to escort me to the capital. I did not ask leave to be a guest in your—"

"Forgive me for interrupting, Sire," she cut off, eyeing the men behind him. Martin dared to look at the Blades and found them slightly worse for wear. Though the only battered, dented sword in the bunch was Josephus. "It seems to me that some of your men could use a rest. And it would be such a strange sight to see the Emperor and his men to stay at Olaf's Tap and Tack." She smiled slightly, but it was hard to tell under the dim lights in the hall.

"The Countess has a point, Sire," Josephus said, having the grace to stifle a yawn. "We need all the energy we can preserve if we want to make it to the city by nightfall."

"Our hero sees the truth of my words." The Countess turned to Josephus, her smile finally visible. "My, it seems as if it has been an eternity since we have last seen each other, Hero. I trust that you have gained the Amulet of Kings with no trouble at all?"

Martin wanted to cringe at the implication of her words, or the slight insult in her wording, but thankfully Josephus took it as a jest. "You flatter me, my lady. If somebody had warned me of the dangers I faced, I would have gone believing I can conquer the whole universe, prepared for anything. Thankfully our Emperor's description of Paradise was straying from the truth. Well, it was a Paradise to be sure—all the colours and flowers, you wouldn't even believe it yourself—"

His words are nonsensical. Before Josephus could spew out even more, Martin quickly stepped forward. "I think I believe your words to be true, now, my lady, for my friend has not slept for a whole day and his fatigue has taken a toll on him. Very well. We will stay in your castle until this afternoon, no more than that. Will it be too much of a hassle for your servants to prepare a room for our Hero, and probably food? He has not eaten much, either."

"It will be no trouble, if it means helping the Emperor claim his rightful throne." She softly called for her herald, whispering to him a few things that Martin could not hear. Finally, though, she pulled away and said, "If you would so kindly show the Saviour of Bruma to his rooms, I would be grateful, Tolgan."

"Very well, my lady," the Nord named Tolgan replied, walking towards Josephus. "If you will, sir?"

"I'll take my leave, then, Sire. My lady." He looked at the other Blades and smiled at them. A few actually cared to look, while others were looking forward and not regarding their fellow Blade... though he saw Cyrus was hiding a smirk. "Lead on, Tolgan."

When the two had left the hall though a door beside the throne, the Countess turned back to Martin. "You mentioned supplies and men, Sire?"

Uncertainly, Martin nodded. "Yes. I understand that after the Oblivion invasion a few weeks ago..." he paused, not knowing if it was necessary to broach the topic. But the Countess showed no change in emotion, so he continued. "I understand that you may be lacking in a few soldiers and city guards. And the loss of the captain of the guard is no light matter—"

"It is not, you are correct, Sire." She turned to look at the Blades behind him. "I believe the guard barracks have a few spare beds that your men can use, actually. Maybe they could rest there, now?"

The sudden change of subject puzzled him, but he caught on eventually. She wanted to talk in private. "I agree, my lady."

This time she called for the nearest guard and asked him to show the Blades the guard barracks. When they were all escorted out, the Countess sighed heavily and sat back on her throne. I have no thrones here, Martin thought darkly, she means to show that she holds control over Bruma.

"Ever since the battle of Bruma ended, there are a few more common folk signing up for the city guards. But they are just that, Sire. Common folk. Farmers from the greener areas, mercenaries who gave up on their old life, citizens, boys..." She bowed her head, looking down at the floor. "These few people who will replace the many that fell on the battle. And they are guards, not soldiers, not knights, not fighters. They do not fight like those on the battlefields, and they are untrained."

Martin stepped closer to the throne. "My lady, while I understand your predicament, it is no more than one and a half day's ride to the Imperial City. If I—When I arrive to claim my throne there, I will dispatch as many Imperial legions as I could to Bruma as replacement for your soldiers, as is necessary."

"If you arrive and claim your throne." Narina glared at him, all sign of courtesy gone. "It is a cold world out there, Martin Septim. Do you think it is I who suffer from the guards' lowering quality? It is Bruma itself." She stood up once more, glaring down at him. "While you were in Cloud Ruler Temple, protected by your Blades, some bold looters have decided they will find luck from the men's corpses down in the valley. But they do not stop on looting and making a profit of them; they turned to banditry. They have been a nuisance to my people and to the travelers going through the county. And these so-called guards are not doing anything to help, even with strict orders from their countess. They have no discipline, no sense of duty. I cannot give them to you, yet I cannot give my good men away, too, because what will that leave me?"

She has a point, but I am not asking much from her. "I only ask for a handful of your men, my lady, no more than four would suffice. I do not ask for another full army like last time."

"Four good men." The Countess crossed her arms, looking at him through narrow eyes. "Do you know how the crime rate has increased ever since Captain Burd fell in battle?"

Martin had no answer for that.

"Losing a captain of the guard isn't a burden. Replacing one with another much able man is." She scowled, taking the smallest step forward. Her voice was only the slightest bit raised, but Martin could feel the power behind it. "If you do not even know how badly the closest city to you has fared, how will you rule over eight others?" Narina frowned, stepping down to look at him in eye level. "I do not doubt your competence. That has been settled the second I met you in the chapel." She lowered her voice until only he could hear her, stepping so close to him that if anyone was a witness to this meeting, they might have misunderstood their closeness as something intimate. "Yet we both know that your people will doubt you if you cannot protect them."

She looked down to his neck, where the red ruby was resting. In her eyes, the jewel looked much like a still fire, and it almost remained there even after she looked back at his ocean blue eyes. "Martin Septim, I say with deep regret that I cannot lend out my hand at this moment. I cannot fully help you in this battle."

Tolgan knocked on the thick spruce door once and appeared a second later. The Countess stepped away from Martin and turned towards her herald, never looking like she had spoken words that were difficult for her to say. "Ah, Sire, I believe this discussion must continue in a later time. You must be weary. How about you join me for the noon's meal in an hour? We can discuss this predicament even further then, I'm sure."

When Linne woke up, she was frightened of her surroundings—the dimly lit room, the banners hanging from the walls showing a black hand print, the alien stone walls, and the damp air—before she remembered the events of last night. And so she was assured it was not a dream. She was a member of the Dark Brotherhood.

The first person to greet her in the morning was Ocheeva, who also handed her a uniform. "Forgive me, sister, but this is the smallest size we have. I am sure you will grow into it."

In the end, her gloves were always slipping off, the toe of her boots had to be stuffed with pieces of cloth at the toes so that her feet could walk normally in them, and her hood covered her eyes. She took the hood off, though, because she didn't need it right now. She was only meeting Vicente, and if she was not good enough to receive her first contract, she could spend the rest of the day building her muscle to better hold her dagger.

Truthfully, she had nicked away one of her sister's daggers after Niera stored them inside the chest in front of her bed—or what Linne assumed was Niera's bed. Then again, why put your weapons in other people's containers?—when nobody was inside the room. Niera won't miss the slightly dented blade, after all. She had five other, better daggers.

When she went out to the hall, she spotted an Orc and a Bosmer chatting with each other. "You are such a brute, Gogron!" the Bosmer said, her laughter filling the hall. She had a quiver of arrows strapped on her back, along with her bow. "Though that's expected of an Orc like you. Brutish, large," she giggled before continuing, "loud!"

"And you elves are much too slippery to be—" When he spotted Linne, he smiled widely, though his friend the Bosmer had a hint of a flush on her cheeks. "Ah, the newest member! Ocheeva couldn't stop talking about you! My, you're so small—even smaller than Telaendril here, if she won't take any offense!"

Linne smiled at Gogron, and then to Telaendril, who did not look at all offended by Gogron's joke. "I guess my small size is a bit unfortunate; my armour's not even trying to cling onto me, even after I clasped it the tightest it could get."

"You will grow into it, trust me. I was not quite smaller than you when I first joined the brotherhood, and I know how difficult fitting on the armour is. Yet a small body is a quick one, and harder to hit," Telaendril remarked. "Unlike Gogron here, we don't have to wear clanking iron to protect ourselves."

"I might feel hurt by that comment, but my iron's protecting me." Laughter rose in the hall once more. "Anyway, do you think we'll have another welcoming feast?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Linne asked, puzzled. Niera never mentioned anything about a welcoming feast. Taking the title into thought, though, it probably had something to do with Linne's initiation into the brotherhood. I just hope it isn't that special of an occasion, and too much of a trouble. Gods-Sithis, imagine what that would have been like.

"It's an unofficial tradition us residents of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary do," said Telaendril, by way of explanation. "It's only started since Antoinetta's arrival, though, and only because she insisted she would cook for all of us. I think we had a lad join us only to die in his first contract because of all the ale he drank the night before. Poor sod."

Gogron laughed once more. "I remember that boy! His face was pink in the evening, green in the morning and a mix of both when he received the contract from Vicente." He laughed again, and Linne had to wonder if he was actually really a member of the Dark Brotherhood because he contrasted very much with the others she had met.

"But obviously you have things to do than to chat with us, don't you, Linne?" Telaendril asked. Linne was surprised as to how she knew her name, but Ocheeva probably told them already.

"Yes, I need to go to Vicente." She turned to look at the hall. "Yet I don't know where he is."

"In his chambers, most likely. In these hours he keeps to himself and read. I suppose that schedule was interrupted when Ocheeva visited him this morning, though." Telaendril pointed down to the corridor, to the set of double doors that was visible to them. "That's her room. Vicente's room is at the far end; you need only follow the corridor when it turns."

Linne nodded in thanks. "I'll be taking my leave, then."

She had barely walked away when the Bosmer spoke again. "Dear," called Telaendril, which made Linne turn back to her. Linne raised an eyebrow as a question. "I... think it will be best if you ignore Vicente's true nature. You don't need to be afraid of him."

Not knowing just how to exactly respond to that, she turned back and went on her way down the corridor. True nature? It was then that she remembered the words Niera and Teinaava exchanged last night. Even when she was exhausted, she felt as if there was something they were hiding from her. I suppose I'll be finding out soon, she thought. Still, it did nothing to ease her.

When she stopped in front of the end of the corridor, a set of double doors greeted her. She could hear a slow, quiet murmuring from behind the wood, but maybe that was just her imagination. Maybe the hallways were so silent that her head made a sound in her mind.

She broke the silence by knocking twice on the door. She waited for a few seconds, then knocked again, this time thrice. Finally, there came an answer. "Come in," said a man—Breton, by his accent—whose voice was muffled from behind the doors. Gathering her nerves, she grabbed hold of the door's handle and pushed it open.

"I'm told to see you—"

Her sentence stopped midway. Staring back at her, with bright red eyes, gaunt, hollow cheeks, and a dangerously calm demeanor, was a vampire. As much as his smile was friendly, and definitely not the type you wear when you see food on your plate, it was decidedly worse, somehow. His calmness, clashing greatly with his vampirism, yet suiting him, frightened Linne the worst.

It was a long stretch of silence before she spoke again. "I'm right to presume you are Vicente?"

He nodded slowly. "The one and only in this Sanctuary." When Linne kept her silence, he sighed. "Does my appearance deter you from speaking, Linne?"

The fact that he knew her name also frightened her. "A bit... though I shouldn't be too surprised. I've had my guesses." That was blunt, Linne. But there was nothing else she could say to soften her words, that she knew.

Thankfully, though, Vicente did not look the least bit offended, as if he was used to hearing those words. "There is no reason to fear me. The Tenets prevent me to harm any of my dark brothers and sisters. I am rather known to follow the Tenets, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Linne was relieved by his words, yet uncertain if she should quickly believe them. She scratched a non-existing itch behind her neck and tried to think of what to say. "What's... going to happen now, then?"

"Usually, a new member would have the system of how the Brotherhood works explained to them. I don't doubt that Niera has more than once explained this to you," he set down his book, for once breaking eye contact with Linne, and then looked at her once more as he stood up, "and many other things that a member should not tell an outsider?"

She saw through the mask of Vicente's calmness, and heard the dangerous quiet in his tone instead. She gulped. "She only told me a little bit. That was only this... last night, I think, shortly after I arrived. Ocheeva too. They explained how contracts are given and received..." She trailed off as she remembered the vague explanation Ocheeva had given her.

Vicente was silent for a moment, and then he held a hand out for her. "Come closer. I need to inspect your sword arm."

Rather reluctantly, Linne stepped forward and gave Vicente her right arm for observing. Then she realised she was still wearing a gauntlet. "One moment," she said, unclasping the gauntlet off her hand. There was a sheen of sweat on her arm, and she realised how hot it was inside the armour, even though it was cold in the Sanctuary.

Vicente took a good look at the non-existing muscles on her arm, and then held it. His hands are cold. Well, of course, he's a living corpse. The fact made her shiver, but thankfully Vicente did not notice, or pretended not to notice.

"Have you killed before?" he asked, looking back at Linne, releasing her arm. There was disappointment in Vicente's eyes, the red around his pupil telling her as much.

"Yes," she answered, giving no other explanation. If Vicente figured that she had only killed a few rats (and you can count how many with only one hand), a scamp once, and that was only yesterday, when will he ever give her a contract? A part of her still wished for nothing else but a few weeks of time before she could be truly sent out to a contract. It was all too much to take in at once. She hose to be completely honest. "Only once, though. I... I'm not that good with a dagger, yet, but I promise I will get better with time and use."

The vampire tilted his head slightly as he considered Linne's words. "You promise now, sister, but what will you say if your first contracts ends with your life? I do not mean to scare you, I am merely giving you food for thought. If I send out an inexperienced assassin, even for the simplest of contracts... it will not do." He shook his head. "I don't mean any offense, but I can't give you any contracts for now. After weeks of training, perhaps, and showing your skills, you can return and we will negotiate."

Linne kept quiet, though deep down she was relieved that she won't be sent with a contract too soon. She tried to act disappointed. "Negotiate? Not surely giving me a contract, you mean?"

Vicente was silent for a moment, then nodded. "However, I think a demonstration of your talents will be necessary. This afternoon, meet me in the training room. We can spar lightly, there."

Frozen in fear, Linne swallowed the lump in her throat. "Spar?"

"With wooden weapons, Linne," he said, smiling. "Don't be afraid. Though the art of assassination requires stealth as a primary skill, I think that learning to defend yourself with a weapon is utterly necessary. I will not be harsh with you when we train, so there will be no need to be scared. Unless I still intimidate you."

"I... yes," she agreed after some thought. Sparring would not be too bad. She could finally learn to wield a weapon, even if it was wooden, and the worst scenario that could have happened was her embarrassing herself in front of Vicente and the other members. Yet they have to understand that she was still young, like most of them when they entered the brotherhood. Sithis, I don't think I need to think about that too much. She took a deep breath before continuing her reply. "I am not much intimidated by you, now." What are you saying? Of course you're still afraid of him. "It's just the way they spoke about you. Why do they keep your true nature a secret from new recruits if they will find out anyway?"

Vicente chuckled. "A curious one. Or an honest one? Nevertheless, you are correct. Why must we delay their discovery of my condition? Well, if you knew I was a vampire right after you joined, and with the knowledge that I will give you your future contracts, will you still come to see me for an inspection? Or to receive contracts?"

He pulled a chair out for her, and she sat down. Vicente sat on the one he was previously sitting on before Linne entered the room. "Linne, you must know that secrets are what has made the Dark Brotherhood as it is now. Do you think we would be dismissed as merely a myth, so as to not attract unwanted suspicion, if we did not keep ourselves a secret from everybody else?"

"No, I don't suppose we would," she said. How many times have I heard "You must know" these days? she thought. You've got a lot to learn, her sister said. Perhaps it was true.

"I'm glad you think so. I am not quite troubled if new members knew I was a vampire before meeting me directly, yet I don't want them to be uncomfortable knowing what I am." He smiled once more. "Or to strangers, who I am."

Linne looked at him, though she herself was not sure what to make of the vampire in front of her. "So it is better for them to be confused, puzzled, lost in thought? Than to know what you are?"

"You understand perfectly, Linne." He paused, looking at her in the eyes. This time, she was resolved to not flinch away, and that seemed to satisfy the vampire for he smiled, if only a small one. A small, fond one. "For a moment, you were almost like your sister. She's quite analytical." He stood up and walked over to the doors. "And where else to learn that trait than from me?" He opened one of them and gestured. "This afternoon, in the training room. I will wait for your attendance there."

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While I edited this chapter, I also spent a bit of time writing up chapter fifteen. A bit.

It's a special treat if you kind of appreciate Martin's point of view in this chapter.