Chapter II: A Dark Night
Frostcrag Spire…
23 Frost Fall 4E21
Aywin paused for a moment and took a sip from her glass. The Khajitt took this opportunity to say something which, apparently, had been bothering him.
"This event happened almost fifty years ago. You say you were there?" He asked.
"That is correct," Aywin replied.
"But I can see my companion's question, Milady. You look far too young. I would imagine you to be maybe thirty," the Bosmer said.
Aywin giggled. "Why thank you. But no I am… well let's leave it I am older than that. I have been graced with youthful looks partly by my race and environment, partly, I'll not deny, by my own prodigious magical skill, and mostly by a rather special arrangement I had made many years ago. Perhaps I will delve into that later."
"I'd like to know where you got this home of yours. It's the most remarkable building I've seen, and I've been to the Imperial City!" The Nord laughed.
As though she had plucked the thoughts from his mind a moment before he addressed them, Aywin opened a small chest beside her bookshelf and pulled out a small scroll which was addressed to her.
"I had received this letter from a dear friend of my fathers. He was my Godfather. He had learned of my magical abilities during this story I am telling you and saw fit to leave it to me when he passed on," Aywin smiled, and tugged at the note as if reliving a fond memory. "But I rattle on. The night is growing darker and we have not even begun my story."
"Yes. I find it rather odd. I do not yet see the connection between these people," The Bosmer noted.
"In due time," Aywin replied. And with that, she opened the book once more.
Cheydinhal Mage's Guild…
27 Last Seed, 3E433
The parting at the Bruma Mage's Guild had been sad. Jeanne had spoken what Alessia considered to be rather boastful words about how the Arcane University would take her recommendation especially serious, and how Alessia should "not forget me when you've completed your training".
Volanaro and J'skar put on brave faces, Selena had given Alessia perhaps the longest hug she'd ever received, but in the end, she finally found her way out the door and down the long, winding Silver Road through the Jerall Mountains and the Heartland.
Her journey had been comparatively safe. She had run into nothing more dangerous than a wolf, which was surprising, given that bandits usually prowled the road at night.
This was not so much luck as the fact that she had chanced upon an Imperial Legion soldier who was astonished to see a girl as young as her wandering the Imperium at this time of night.
"Mara preserve us! Are you trying to get yourself killed!" The soldier had shouted before insisting on escorting her safely to Cheydinhal.
She was relieved by this. The journey had been much shorter on horseback.
Her admiration at the city of Cheydinhal was endless. Just as Bruma had much Nordic influence in their architecture, Cheydinhal preferred the sloped roofs and pointed steeples of Dunmer design. While Bruma had dwellings built partially underground to conserve heat, Cheydinhal folk like their buildings tall and sky-bound.
But no difference struck her so suddenly as when she arrived at the Cheydinhal Mage's Guild. Everybody here was so difference. There was a much more serious atmosphere, and it did not help that many of the people there were much older than Alessia.
She saw a man with knotted gray hair looking over some gems and decided to approach him.
"Um… excuse me?" She asked tentatively.
The man looked her up and down. Alessia realized how dirty the road had made her brown linens and shirt.
"Hm? Falcar, Mage's Guild. You must be an Associate," the man snapped impatiently. "Well what do you want? Don't tell me you're here for a recommendation."
Alessia stepped back and rubbed her arms uncomfortably. "Well… uh… yes, Sir. I was."
Falcar sighed, rubbed his eyes and then nodded. "Very well. I might be able to think of something for you. There was particular Ring of Burden I was testing some time ago. Another stupid Associate somehow got his hands on it, and managed to misplace it. If I didn't know better, I'd say he purposely tossed it down the well behind the hall. Why he would do such a thing is beyond me."
Alessia nodded. "Oh… well."
Falcar plowed on, ignoring her hesitance.
"You will retrieve this ring for me. Should you manage to do so, I shall consider sending a recommendation to the University. The well is locked, so you'll need the key. Deetsan should have a copy of it. She's the Argonian woman. Should be up in the living quarters. Now get moving."
Alessia wasted no time in putting distance between herself and Falcar who she had now determined she thoroughly did not like. She headed up two small flights of stairs to find herself in a top-floor room filled with beds, tables and bookshelves, all arranged neatly around a roaring fireplace.
Deetsan sat in a chair, and it seemed as though she was the only one here at the moment.
"Excuse me. Are you Deetsan?" Alessia asked.
"Yes," Deetsan nodded. "You must be an Associate."
"Alessia," Alessia nodded, bowing slightly. "I'm from Bruma."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. But if you are looking for a recommendation you should be speaking with Falcar," Deetsan explained.
Alessia explained the task she had been given. Deetsan looked around her, seeming to check whether or not Falcar was within earshot and then, in a hushed voice she began to speak.
"If I didn't know better I'd say he's trying to get you killed! He gave poor Vidkun the same task, and we never saw him again. I'm reasonably sure there's a connection. Of course, I can't prove it. You be careful. I'd hate to lose another useful Associate."
"That's horrible!" Alessia gasped. "But… what am I supposed to do?"
"Don't fret," Deetsan explained. She handed over a small iron key. "Here's the key to the well. Tell me. How skilled are you in Alteration?"
Alessia explained all she knew. Alteration was the college of Magicka that involved the changing of the physical state of any matter. Master wizards had used it to lighten loads, strengthen themselves, burden their enemies and even allow themselves to walk on water or breathe underneath it.
"And so you shall," Deetsan explained. "You can cast an underwater breathing charm and a load lightening charm, correct?"
Alessia nodded.
"Well then that should be all you will need," Deetsan explained.
"Load lightening? But it's only a ring…"
"From what I've heard of Falcar's ring, it will come in handy, I assure you," Deetsan said.
Alessia nodded and made her way around to the back of the guild hall. The well was a solitary object, nothing very special about it. A large metal grate had been placed over it and locked in place. Alessia took the key and opened the grate with it.
She glanced around to see that nobody was watching, removed her shirt and skirt and dove down into the icy water. She focused on the image of a fish and conjured a spell of underwater breathing. This was the first relief she had. The water flowed through her lungs as natural as though she had gills. She was shocked to see that the well did not go straight down but opened into what looked like a small room.
And in front of her eyes was a dead body.
She gasped and let out a strangled scream. She bit her lip fighting back tears as the lifeless body bounced against the top of the room. She saw on its hand a small black ring. Alessia removed the ring and sunk to the bottom of the well. The ring was unbelievably heavy. In horror she realized that her hand was trapped under the ring.
How is this possible? She wondered. The ring had not kept the remains of what she was now sure was Vidkun from floating to the top. Perhaps the ring responded only to the living. Perhaps that was its dangerous secret.
Her panic had cost her concentration to suffer and she now realized she could no longer breathe. She had to close her eyes and think.
Calm down, Alessia. Solve one problem at a time. First, I need to breathe.
She thought of the fish again. Perfect scales, swimming gracefully in the water, breathing through its gills…
And she could breathe again. She took several satisfying gulps of the cool water and then looked carefully at her predicament.
Okay. Now we have to lighten this load…
She thought carefully for a moment. Weight and matter were all relative. In the end it did not matter what this ring weighed, it still took up the same mass. So what if the ring weighed 100 pounds. 150? It mattered not.
And with a small glowing mist emanating from her hand, she found the ring suddenly light as a feather. She let out a victorious pounding of her fist and swam back up to the surface.
Her arrival back in the guild hall was met with more sadness than she had expected, however. She was not surprised at Deetsan's reaction to the sad fate of Vidkun, but she had learned that Falcar had fled.
"He left shortly after sending you down the well. He must have been planning this all day!" Deetsan cursed. She noticed Alessia still holding the ring. "Oh just throw that anywhere. It doesn't matter. Falcar has fled. What could-"
"Deetsan!" A woman shouted, rushing up to her from the basement.
"What is it, Eilonwy?" Deetsan asked.
"I went to search Falcar's room like you asked and…."
"And? And what?" Deetsan demanded.
Eilowny pulled two dark black gems out of her pocket. Alessia was not certain what the significance of this was, but it was clear that it was an evil thing.
"Black Soul Gems!" Deetsan cursed. "I must make a report of this to the Council!"
She turned to Alessia.
"Alessia, I am so sorry. We could have gotten you killed. But I see you have managed to preserve yourself. I will write a recommendation to the Council for you. I think, under the circumstances, it will suffice," Deetsan explained.
Alessia bowed and then retired to her bed for the night. She felt her self somehow lucky that the illusion had shattered so soon. Being a Guild Mage was not going to be easy.
Cheydinhal Fighter's Guild…
27 Last Seed 3E433
The Cheydinhal Fighter's Guild was run by a foul-tempered Orc named Burz gro-Khash. It had taken Davion most of the night to show up here and before he'd even had a chance to sit down Burz was bossing him around.
"Hey! You looking for work meat?" Burz demanded. "I've got something for you. We need a weapons shipment delivered to the Desolate Mine northwest of here. That's your job."
And without a moment's notice, Burz dropped a sack in front of Davion. Inside was a longsword, war hammer and bow with a small quiver of arrows. Davion didn't have time to protest. No time to explain that he was exhausted and had no armor. Burz shuffled him out the door with a hearty "Move your ass, boot!"
And so Davion marched out of the gates of Cheydinhal and into the wilderness. He passed through the forest and followed a small valley between two large hills. This had been the right path and he found the entrance to the mine in a small forest clearing.
A short distance into the cave he saw a campfire, with three armored soldiers standing around it. The woman stood in the back, barking orders at the other two. He cleared his throat, not wanting to startle them. They turned towards him and the woman smiled.
"You must be the reinforcement from the guild! Good. I hope you brought some weapons for us," she pointed at Davion's bag.
He opened the bag and the three grabbed weapons. The woman took the bow, the large Orc to her left took the hammer and an elf to her right took the sword.
"Alright. Our job is to clear this mine of goblins. You need to help too!" The woman explained.
Davion couldn't believe it! He'd barely made it here. But with no other option except onward, he lifted his claymore and rushed into battle.
Goblins were pesky and persistent, but a threat they were not; if one knew how to fight. The goblins rushed at the four with brainless animosity and they were cut, smashed and shot down with little more than the effort to draw their weapons. Davion himself sliced down the goblin chieftain.
"Excellent!" The woman cried. "That should be all of them. You, go talk to Burz and let him know that we've completed our mission. We'll stay here to clean up."
Davion nodded, eager to get some shut-eye.
He returned and found himself once again being instantly chewed out by Burz.
"Haven't you taken care of that weapons shipment?" Burz cursed. "Those weapons won't deliver themselves!"
"It's done!" Davion shouted. "The mine is cleared of goblins and everybody is safe."
Burz's attitude changed quite dramatically. "Really? You cleared the mine and there were no casualties? That's better than I expected of you."
And without another word, he handed Davion a small sack filled with gold. His first payment.
"You should go see Azzan in Anvil. I think he needs some work from you," Burz said. He saw the look in Davion's eyes. "But you should probably get some sleep first."
Imperial City Waterfront…
28 Last Seed 3E433
R'darra had changed out of her flax tunic and green skirt and changed into a rough pair of leather armor that she had stolen a few months ago. She had been advised by her beggar friend that it might be prudent to wear a little protection.
And so her steel dagger at her hip, she carefully moved behind the old Dareloth house where she saw a torch light flickering. It was exactly midnight.
The redguard holding the torch eyed her suspiciously. Standing next to him was an Argonian who R'darra had never seen before and a young woman named Methredel whom R'darra was sure she'd seen before at least once.
"Do I know you?" The redguard asked.
"I was told to come here by Ka'sis," R'darra explained.
"Ah yes," The redguard nodded, now smiling. "Another scoundrel who has spent their time eluding the Guard. You must be interested in joining the Thieve's Guild."
R'darra was amazed. To the best of her recollection the Thieve's Guild, the mysterious group of ne'er-do-wells who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, under the watchful eye of the mysterious Grey Fox, was nothing more than a story. And yet here was this man claiming to permit her to join.
"The Thieve's Guild is not a myth. We are followers of the Gray Fox and I am his Doyen. Merely by finding me you have passed the first test," and now this man was speaking to the group at large. "Hm. It's unusual for us to have three potential candidates for membership, so let's make it a bit of a contest."
The Argonian whined. "That's not fair!"
The redguard ignored this. "Methredel you know the rules."
"Yes Armand," Methredel nodded.
"Well for Amusei and the newcomer, let me state this clearly. Whoever brings me the diary of Amantius Allectus before sunrise will be the winner."
For a simple task of thieving, it seemed there were a great number of details and complications. Amantius lived somewhere in the city (R'darra happened to know he lived in the Temple District) and the diary could only be claimed by one of them. They could not kill Amantius or attack each other. This much was obvious.
"Anyways, go on," Armand ordered.
Methredel and Amusei ran off in the direction of town and R'darra felt compelled to do the same. The first district next to the Waterfront happened to be the Temple District. Methredel seemed confident that he lived in this area as well, but she didn't know what R'darra knew.
R'darra had not even a month ago, paid a visit to Allectus's house to steal some food from his well stocked pantry. Making a shimmy down a side-street, clear out of the view of the night watch, she picked the lock to his house door and was in within moments.
Allectus was already asleep. She could hear his robust snores from down on the ground level. She saw a desk over near a window and took her chances with it. Sure enough, inside lay his diary. She decided to sneak a peek at what he had written, and it was some of the most disturbing words she'd ever read.
Apparently Allectus spent much of his time devising terrible abominations of alchemy and herbology, creating a vampiric breed of plants he called "Drinkers". R'darra shivered and made her way back to the Waterfront.
"Too easy," She sighed, handing the book to Armand.
Armand smiled. "Hah. Well done. You have earned the right to join the Thieve's Guild!"
"Fantastic!" R'darra nodded. "So what do I do now?"
Inn of Ill Omen…
28 Last Seed 3E433
Azeg-Rael's escape from the Leyawin County jail was almost too easy. The journey north to the Inn of Ill Omen was a fairly uneventful one, especially for this time of night.
The Inn itself was a rather shabby looking place. A simple two-story wooden building with a tasteful sign hanging above its door.
The sign had a picture, or rather the silhouette, of a raven that seemed to always be looking down on Azeg-Rael. Perhaps it was paranoia.
After taking a sip of water from the nearby well he entered the Inn.
The Nord behind the bar exclaimed, "Well I'll be a spotted Snow Bear! A customer. Manheim Maulhand, owner and proprietor."
"I am interested in a room for the night," Azeg-Rael said.
"Ah yes. We got plenty of rooms if you want one. Ain't nobody staying here these days 'cept old Rufio," Manheim chuckled.
"Did you say Rufio?" Azeg-Rael asked.
"He's an old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, it's almost like he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab and keeps to himself. His room is downstairs in those private quarters. You can pay him a visit if you like, but don't expect a warm welcome," Manheim explained.
Azeg-Rael chuckled appreciatively. Here this man was unwittingly giving Azeg-Rael everything he needed. He paid for a room and then noticed an Imperial Legion Forester giving him a nasty look.
"Do I know you?" Azeg-Rael asked.
"Why were you interested in Rufio?" The Forester asked.
"Curiosity is not a crime, is it?" Azeg-Rael chuckled darkly.
The Forester raised his bow. "I'll be back in an hour. We can have a nice chat then."
And with that the Forester left.
Azeg-Rael was no fool. His cover was blown, and this forester was no doubt off to go find the nearest Imperial Legion soldier. It didn't matter to him. An hour was more than enough time to do what he'd come here to do.
Making his way down the trapdoor to the aforementioned "private quarters" he found what was little more than a cellar, with two rooms beside. Azeg-Rael doubled-checked to make sure nobody was near him and he opened the door to Rufio's room.
The fool. It wasn't even locked.
Rufio's room was considerably large for an inn room. And yet it was also fairly bare. Nothing but a bed, drawers and desk with a few wall hangings. The extra space made it seem especially open.
A lantern had been left on. Poor Rufio had been too scared to sleep in the dark. This was it. The moment that would change Azeg-Rael's life forever.
Rufio, the tired old man, lay on his bed sound asleep. Almost waiting for this. Too easy.
Azeg-Rael snuck behind his back, leaned in slowly onto the bed. Azeg-Rael was certain that Rufio was now awake. There was a bitter hopeless sob that was being repressed. Rufio was, perhaps, telling himself that this was a nightmare. That he would wake up in the morning and it will all have been a dream.
What could this man possibly have lived for to make his last few hours so desperate? It didn't matter to Azeg-Rael. Rufio made no attempt to defend himself, and merely uttered a defeated gasp as the Blade of Woe found its mark in his back.
Azeg-Rael had no desire to stay any longer. The deed was done. He hurried out of the inn, Manheim shouting something about having already paid him for a room, and he made his way down the road and through the forests.
Not even a half-mile down the road he found a much nicer establishment, complete with a hay roof and two stories. A sign declared the place Faregyl Inn. With an establishment like this so close it was no wonder that the Inn of Ill Omen was doing so poorly.
Azeg-Rael handed out another ten septims, the last of his money, to the innkeeper and went straight up to his room. As he shut his door he felt that same cool presence behind him.
He turned around to the area behind the door and saw Lucien Lachance leaning against the wall.
"So, the deed is done," Lachance smiled. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family."
Azeg-Rael bowed slightly. "My life for the Brotherhood."
"Indeed," Lucien said, his voice darkening slightly. "For the murder of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink."
"So, now what?" Azeg-Rael asked.
"As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."
"I understand," Azeg-Rael nodded.
"Good. We must now take our leave of each other. I'll be following your progress. Welcome to the family."
Castle Leyawin…
28 Last Seed 3E433
It was well after midnight when Borin gro-Kromlock and Mazoga arrived back at the Castle. Mazoga insisted on following Borin back to the Count's quarters.
The Count was just preparing to lie down for bed when he noticed Borin and Mazoga.
"Oh! Borin. Did you… um?" Count Caro looked hesitantly at Mazoga.
Borin explained about what they had done, Mazoga filling in embellishing details where she thought necessary. Count Caro smiled.
"Such vengeance is a noble deed. And I have a fitting reward. How would you two like to become knights-errant?"
"Knight-Errant!" Mazoga gasped. "That's like a special kinda knight isn't it?"
Count Caro laughed genially and continued. "I have created a chivalric order of the White Stallion. Find and kill the leader of the Black Bow Bandits, an Orc named Black Brugo, and you will be inducted into this order."
"Black Brugo?" Mazoga asked. "I know him. Another thug I used to have to deal with. He's got a hideout in an Ayleid ruin north of here; Telepe. If we hurry we should be able to catch Black Brugo as he picks up his cut of their earnings."
"Your servant," Borin nodded to the Count as the two of them rushed once more out of the castle.
Telepe was not too far from Leyawin at all. It was a small white marble structure with a door that lead down underground, as was the case with most Ayleid ruins. Anthropologically speaking it was never quite understood why the Ayleids insisted on building structures so far underground, but it had been something of a style.
There was a campsite directly outside. Mazoga put her hand up. Borin stopped and Mazoga turned to him, with one finger over her lips.
There was a group of three bandits having a discussion over the campfire.
"This is our cut for this evening," one bandit said.
"What is this?" An Orc, ostensibly Black Brugo, shouted. "This is half of what you gave me last night."
"It's getting harder. The Watch is onto us and Mogens never showed up."
"What? You idiot! Didn't you bother looking for him?" Brugo demanded.
Suddenly a Bosmer carrying a long black bow ran up from the bayside. "Brugo! Brugo! Mogens! Mogens and his team are dead!"
"What?" A Khajitt shouted. "How can that be? Who knew where he was?"
"That Argonian hunter, Weebum-Na!" The Bosmer gasped. "He's been hunting in that area. He must have alerted the Watch."
"He'll pay with his blood!" Brugo shouted.
"That's quite enough!" Mazoga called out, walking down the hill and signaling Borin to do the same.
Brugo looked up at Mazoga and smiled. "Mazoga! Long time no see! And we could sure use a hand like yours now!"
Borin wasn't sure what to make of this.
"You fool," Mazoga cursed. "I'm out of the game."
"What?" Brugo asked, confused. "Since when?"
"Since Mogens decided to kill Ra'vindra," Mazoga explained.
"Oh, that. That wasn't personal. It had to be done, Mazoga," Brugo said as if trying to explain something to a child. "And you shouldn't have killed Mogens. It wasn't his idea to get rid of Ra'vindra."
"What?" Mazoga gasped, a drop of sweat running down her forehead.
"I approved the final kill order. Sorry, but her sudden attack of ethics was too risky for the group," Brugo grinned evilly.
"You… you bastard!" Mazoga shouted, rushing at Brugo with her longsword drawn.
Borin once again found himself in the midst of a fight that he had no stake in, but one thing was for certain. If they intended to move against Weebum-Na they were no friend of his. He smashed the Bosmer in the face with his warhammer and sent him flying back against one of the pillars. The Khajitt was a much trickier target however. He jumped from side to side constantly dodging Borin's strikes.
"You'll never hit me going that slow, Orc," The Khajitt grinned evilly.
Mazoga gasped in pain as an arrow hit her in the shoulder. Borin looked up and saw a bowman hiding on top of the ruins. The Khajitt took this opportunity and rushed in with his dagger. Borin grabbed the Khajitt's wrist and broke it in a single twist and then smashed his head into the ground with his foot.
Mazoga and Brugo were locked at blades.
"You should have just dropped your attitude and helped us Mazoga," Brugo laughed. "You and I could have had a few more good hunts together."
"You son of a bitch!" Mazoga shouted, breaking their lock and swinging in at Brugo, who dodged deftly.
The Breton archer did not see Borin coming from behind as he crept up around the hillside. He was still trying to get a good shot on Mazoga without hitting Brugo.
"Hey loose-drawers," Borin cajoled.
The Breton turned in shock to see Borin standing right behind him.
"Boo," Borin grinned as he shoved him off the top of the ruins. His body landed with a mundane thunk as it hit one of the pillars.
"Just give up already," Brugo goaded. "Die with dignity, unlike your Khajitt friend."
"To hell with you!" Mazoga shouted.
And in an instant, Brugo let his guard down. As the Breton hit the pillar next to him, he turned his head for a split second. It was all the time Mazoga needed to make the final decapitating slice across Brugo's neck.
Borin ran down the hill to Mazoga's side.
"Mazoga. Are you alright?" Borin asked.
"I'm fine…" Mazoga nodded, forcing back tears. "We're true knights now, right? Come on. Let's go."
Back at Castle Leyawin, Marius Caro was in unusual cheer, even for having been woken up so late at night.
"And so I do hereby name you both Knights-Errant of the White Stallion," The Count entomed, reading from a small hastily prepared scroll. "Mazoga if you would kindly wait in the hall for Borin. I wish to have a private word with him."
Mazoga nodded, smiled at Borin and left the Count's private quarters. Count Caro looked at Borin seriously. "You have remarkable skill as a warrior. I name you a knight gladly, but for all the service you have provided me I feel you are deserving of a more lucrative career."
"How's that, Milord?" Borin asked.
"Have you ever heard of the Imperial City Arena?"
Hackdirt Settlement…
28 Last Seed 3E433
For being only a few hours south of Chorrol, Hackdirt had an eerie, "middle-of-nowhere" feel to it. Surrounded by the massive oaks of the Great Forest, you could not tell that it was even part of the rest of Imperium. Secluded, isolated. And Will had a funny feeling that was how the residents liked it.
Nobody in town was at their homes or shops. The latter did not confuse Will so much at this time of night. What made the situation eerie was the fact that everybody was huddled into a chapel at the far side of the settlement.
As he opened the door he was greeted by annoyed hisses and vague muttered threats.
A woman walked up to him. "I suggest you leave stranger. You ain't welcome here."
"I'm here looking for Dar-Ma," Will said, raising his hands in apology. "I'll leave after I pick her up."
"Oh that Argonian swindler? Ha! The girl never even showed up. She was supposed to deliver some stores to me but the shipment never came. You tell Seed-Neeus I'll want half off on the next shipment," the woman cursed.
Will shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry for the intrusion folks. I'll leave now."
As he was walking out they resumed an odd sort of sermon. Something that Will had never seen before and he hoped sincerely that he would never hear again. But as he exited the chapel, he was accosted by a man.
"My house!" He demanded. "Quickly!"
"What are you on about?" Will asked, reaching for his mace.
"It's about Dar-Ma! But it's not safe to talk here."
Not sure what to make of this, he decided to follow this man. As they entered his house, he began talking at a mile a minute.
"Look, I don't have much time. I have to get to the Gathering before I'm missed," the man sighed.
"Who are you and where's Dar-Ma?" Will demanded.
"My name is Jiv. Please, you must believe me. I didn't know what they were planning," the man sighed. "They want to bring back the Deep Ones. I thought I did too, but… she's so innocent. They've got her down in the caverns. They're going to sacrifice her, you understand? You've got to save her!"
Will was confused, but all he knew was that Dar-Ma was in trouble and this man was trying to help. He opened a trapdoor and then ran out his front door on his way to the Chapel.
Will climbed down into the basement of this mans house and realized quickly that it was a large cavern system.
"This is promising," Will groaned, lighting a torch.
As soon as he did he heard scuffling feet in the distance.
"Damn it, I'm a merchant. How'd I get into this crap?" Will sighed. Using his free hand to lift his mace, he walked down one promising looking chamber where he saw firelight emanating from.
This new chamber had a large central fire with four men huddled around it. They wore sack cloth pants and nothing else, but carried identical spiked clubs.
"Once we sacrifice the Argonian, the blood price will be appeased. Soon the Deep Ones will return to us," One man said.
"Etira was right. She said they would provide us with a sacrifice soon and see how our patience was rewarded!" Another exclaimed.
Over in a corner, Will saw Dar-Ma stuck behind a cell door. She was furiously trying to pick the lock. Will felt a bit of pride in her; even in this hopeless situation she wasn't about to give up.
"Okay that's enough!" Will shouted, walking calmly into the chamber.
"Who are you?" One of the men shouted.
"Look, I don't mind wacky cults, alright. But I'm also a merchant and you killing one of my clients daughters is bad for business. So I'm just gonna take her and we'll be leaving your nice town," Will smiled.
"You think you can defy the Deep Ones?"
Will shrugged his shoulders. "Look son, I don't like to brag, but I used to Bounce for the Foc's'le back in Anvil. If I can knock out sailors, a couple of underfed, underclothed miscreants won't put a dent in me." Will set his torch and Mace on the ground. "I don't like using that thing anyways. Come on, now let's see what you've got."
One of the men charged. Will grabbed his club with his bare hands, the small spikes seeming to do nothing against his tough Nordic skin. He removed it from the man's hand and beat him over the head with it. Will then chucked the club aside and raised his arms once more.
"Okay. Next please," Will mocked.
The remaining three all charged at once. Will dodged their clubs and grabbed the middle one by his throat. He picked him up and slammed him headfirst on the cavern ground. The other two struck at the same time, their clubs hitting him on both sides, but Will just laughed.
"Please guys, I could train bears. Those puny sticks aren't gonna harm me," Will chuckled. He picked them both up and threw them against the wall, knocking them out cold. "Thank you. Come again."
"Amazing!" Dar-Ma exclaimed.
Will took a key off of the man he'd knocked out with his own club and unlocked the cell door.
"Come on. I'd rather not outstay my welcome here," Will nodded.
After finding Dar-Ma's paint horse Blossom they headed back to Chorrol, where Dar-Ma was greeted with an immensely enthusiastic hug. When Will explained what had happened to both Seed-Neeus and a guard that had been visiting her, Seed-Neeus gasped.
"But I've been doing business with Hackdirt for years!" Seed-Neeus gasped.
"Doesn't matter," the guard said. "Kidnapping is a crime and it sounds like that wasn't the worst thing that had in store for her. I'll be sending a squad to round up the people of Hackdirt." The guard then turned to Will. "You know, the Countess has been looking for somebody like you. You should go see her before you head out, merchant."
Will sighed. He was, after all, only a humble merchant.
Shrine of Vaermina…
28 Last Seed 3E433
It was midnight when Cierra returned to the Shrine of Vaermina, near Lake Poppad. She had been told that an offering of a black soul gem must be made and as fortune would have it, she saw an Argonian Mage disposing of some in a lone gulch behind Cheydinhal. She kept one, attached it to a letter and sent it via carrier pidgeon, presumably to the Arcane University.
Cierra knew of the danger of these gems, and only took the one required for her offering.
And as she presented it to the Shrine of Vaermina, the statue spoke within her mind.
"Ah, we meet again mortal. For we have met before, whether you know it or not. When you mutter in your sleep, you speak to me. When you waken wet with sweat, you have just left my house. I dwell in your dreams. I savor your nightmares. Now, you will serve me."
Vaermina explained that a wizard named Arkved had dragged one of her artifacts, the Orb of Vaermina into the waking world. He was keeping that Orb in his tower and Vaermina wanted it back.
"Be careful, mortal," she said. "Arkved has found more than he bargained for in my Orb."
The statue's head tilted slightly to the southwest and Cierra nodded. She headed in that direction for a few hours and found the large stone tower that Vaermina described. It seemed ordinary enough from the outside, but that all changed once she entered.
The first room she entered was ordinary enough. A simple dining room with a wine rack. However when she walked into the next room something was odd. It was very bare. Nothing to set this room apart from any other.
But then the odd flicker of light caught her attention. She looked up and saw the same room from before, entirely on the ceiling. Gravity played no role as plates and cutlery stayed perfectly still on the table, not moving an inch.
Sadly, that room was merely a warm-up. The next room was something out of a hellish nightmare. Blood wept down the walls and fierce monsters roamed the hallways. Cierra cast a spell of invisibility upon herself and chose to ignore confrontation. Perhaps, in this nightmarish realm, victory was impossible.
The next room was dark, and comprised thin bridges with jagged railings connecting random islands. As far as Cierra looked she could not see any walls. How was this even possible?
The perspective of the room constantly seemed to change, but again this was all nothing. The next room had trees growing within it. This was completely impossible. Cierra let out a scream of horror as she saw bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood dripping from seemingly nowhere.
The next room was a bedroom, but everything was massive in size. Twenty men could easily have slept on the bed.
Beyond that was a room with a large crystal in the center. Cierra felt a blast of freezing air that must have come from the crystal. She saw three doors on each wall. She opened one and it opened onto a brick wall. The blast of cold hit her again. She rushed at the one at the far wall, opened it and was relieved to see a pathway.
Down the ever-shrinking pathway, she found herself in a tomb, with torn bodies lying on top of altars. She saw her own naked, mutilated corpse on one, but controlled herself. This was impossible. She saw in the midst of the tombs a small trapdoor leading down.
"Calm yourself, Cierra. This is what Vaermina meant," she said trying to control herself.
She opened the trap door and saw a room filled with burning pillars and hanging corpses.
"Come join us!" One of the corpses grinned evily, its eyes suddenly open. And the body began to swing on its rope towards Cierra. Soon all the corpses followed suit. Cierra rushed up the ladder and was now screaming. Control was impossible. This is what Vaermina loved. Absolute terror.
No hope of escape, no logic, no reason. Fleeing through the halls, completely terrified she finally stumbled upon a large ladder. She climbed up it and found herself in what might have passed for a bedroom were it not for the hellish ambience.
Arkved lay asleep in his bed while spiked claws prevented any access. She tried to rouse him, but it was useless. On a nearby desk, Cierra saw the Orb of Vaermina and a handwritten note. She read:
"There is no world so great as the world of the mind.
There is no voyager so well-traveled as the traveler in the land of dreams.
There is no abyss so deep as the well of terror that lies within each of us.
I have plumbed its depths.
I have seen the unthinkable. I am unafraid.
Even death's boundaries do not confine me.
I am the lord of limitless space and the master of place and time.
Through the doors of sleep, the universe lies waiting for me.
I will no longer wait for my dreams to carry me worlds away, to unknowable deeps, to unspeakable vastness.
I shall dwell in the House of Vaermina forever, the Orb my companion.
There is no compass to my destination, no end to my journey.
My mind is the eternal voyager, fearless and wild with wonder in the Halls of Horror."
A short distance away, she saw a crumpled piece of paper. In the same handwriting, she saw only one line:
"I shall lie here in the dark, waiting for death."
Cierra took the Orb, and suddenly she heard a scream. Arkved began to wail like a child, though still remaining fast asleep. Without the Orb, he was unable to control the nightmare's it seemed.
Cierra almost took pity upon him. But, she realized, he had brought this on himself.
She saw a door leading out into the Bay, away from this nightmare, and as the door shut behind her, she could still hear Arkved's wailing screams of absolute terror.
"Ah. My Orb is returned, and Arkved will live out the rest of his days in nightmare," Vaermina said, upon Cierra's return. "It is fitting. You have proved yourself, mortal. Take this token of my gratitude. This staff, the Skull of Corruption, is my gift to you."
Cierra lifted the staff that, like Azura's Star, appeared at her feet. The Star, she had learned, could hold the souls of defeated enemies and be used to grant magical power. This staff would, she understood, create a duplicate of any living being. Such odd magicka the Daedra were interested in.
Cierra bowed again, and took her leave.
Aleswell Settlement…
28 Last Seed 3E433
Saryn awoke from her night at the inn and gathered up her gear. She decided that, despite her hero's welcome, it would be best to head to a larger town to find some work. Looking at a map, she decided that Kvatch would be a good place to set up shop.
As she walked out of the inn she saw an Imperial man wearing sack cloth heading up the hill.
"You look like hell," Saryn said flatly to the man.
"I probably do," Ignin replied, sitting down on a log.
"I am Saryn," she said, extending a hand.
"Ignin," Ignin replied taking it and giving it a firm shake.
"So, why the sad face?" Saryn asked.
"The Emperor. He is dead," Ignin said, all color drained from his face.
The impact of what had just happened had been ebbing within his mind. As more details began to flood back he realized the severity of their current situation. The Emperor dead by some unknown assassin and only this mysterious lead to a possibility of an heir.
"You're… you're joking right?" Saryn gasped.
"He was murdered," Ignin grunted.
"What's that?" Diram asked, appearing from around a building. "Did you say the Emperor has been murdered?"
At that moment there was a cry that seemed to fall across the Imperium. The definite end of Uriel Septim's life. The word seemed to, in an instant, spread from Anvil to Cheydinhal, Bruma to Leyawin. Emperor Uriel Septim VII was dead.
"He left me a job to do. I must get to Weynon Priory," Ignin explained.
"Then I will take you there," Saryn nodded, fighting back the tears that others in the village were not so eager to. "Come. It is just south of Chorrol."
The journey through the forest pushed the already battle weary Ignin. Saryn was a much faster runner than he was and he found keeping up with her to be something of a challenge.
Weynon Priory…
28 Last Seed 3E433
The sun was rising as they made it to Weynon Priory. Saryn looked at Ignin in an uncomfortable, piercing sort of way.
"I hope we meet again," she said sullenly. "I have to head south to Kvatch. Please once you are finished your job, perhaps you could meet me down there for a glass of mead?"
Ignin nodded. "I hope we meet again as well."
Somehow mutual sorrow had sparked a friendship.
Ignin walked into the priory house. It was a quaint and humble little place, as Ignin expected of a house for monks. Jauffre sat behind a desk on the second floor, perusing a book. He looked up at Ignin, with a hint of concern.
"Yes?" He asked. "I'm Brother Jauffre. What do you want?"
"I brought you the Amulet of Kings," Ignin said, not sure whether this old man would believe him.
Jauffre had a look about him. He was old, certainly, with thinning hair and a lined face. But there was also some fiery about him. This was no helpless old man. This was a former warrior. During the escape, Baurus had mentioned a Jauffre who had been Grandmaster of the Blades. This man was undoubtedly the same.
As Ignin predicted, Jauffre did not believe him. "This cannot be. No one but the Emperor is permitted to handle the Amulet. Let me see it."
Ignin handed Jauffre the large Amulet.
"By the Nine! This IS the Amulet of Kings! Who are you? How did you get this?" Jauffre demanded.
"I don't know the first myself. All I know is that my name is Ignin and I was with the Emperor when… when he died," Ignin said.
Jauffre stood and reached for the hilt of a katana that rested by the window. "You had better explain yourself now."
Ignin told him everything that had happened in the Imperial Prison.
"As unlikely as your story sounds, I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings," Jauffre nodded, taking the Amulet from Ignin.
"What did he mean? 'Close shut the Jaws of Oblivion?'" Ignin asked.
Jauffre nodded. "His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion. The Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, is one of the lords of Oblivion. But the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers."
"How can Oblivion threaten us, then?" Ignin asked.
"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied, shaking his head. "Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an Emperor is crowned he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead, and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."
"So that is why the Emperor asked me to find his son," Ignin said.
"I am one of the few who know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades. One night Uriel called me to his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe. He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child's progress. Now it seems that this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne. If he yet lives."
"Where can I find him?"
"His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger."
Jauffre opened a chest next to his bookshelf and nodded in a "take-what-you-need" sort of way. Ignin lifted out a set of Iron Armor, Boots and Greaves. From a rack on the wall he armed himself with a Steel Longsword, Bow and War Axe, as well as a quiver of arrows. There was no telling what he would be facing, and he was determined to be prepared for everything.
Cheydinhall…
28 Last Seed 3E433
Davion awoke to the glorious sunrise and prepared himself for the long trip to Anvil. Why the two main contract branches had to be so far from each other was beyond him. As he reached the stables he saw a young Breton girl who could be barely older than 17.
"You traveling too?" Davion asked.
"Oh," Alessia exclaimed turning to face Davion. "Yes, I'm heading for the Bravil Mage's Guild."
"Bravil eh? I'm heading to Anvil myself, but I would be glad to accompany you until we part ways. Only in this day and age it's not safe for a girl to wander the roads alone," Davion nodded gravely.
Alessia laughed. Did these people not realize she was a Guild Mage and perfectly capable of protecting herself.
"Well I suppose I don't mind that. My name is Alessia, Mage's Guild."
"Ah," Davion smiled. "Davion, Fighter's Guild and your servant."
As they began walking down the road they saw a strange looking Argonian walking up to the gates. He gave them a distant nod and entered the city.
"Man. That guy looked pretty serious," Davion shivered.
Kvatch…
28 Last Seed 3E433
Saryn could not believe her eyes. Sitting on a treetop near the hilltop city of Kvatch she saw it. The town was on fire. And a short distance from the front gates was a massive fiery gate.