Chapter One: Do It Yourself
Tressa dragged her feet through the sloshy snow of Dawnstar's inner street. She had just arrived back by cart from a supply trip for The Sanctuary.
Her attire wasn't much use for this cold, even if it did cover every inch of her person.
From the top of her head, to the soles of her feet, every bit of her was hidden from identity.
Aside from the assumptions of her feminine form, nothing else but her short stature stood to tell her tale.
…If one wasn't very astutely observant…
Quite honestly, her attire itself was a little bit more than too telling of her occupation.
An outfit screaming "I kill people in the dead of night" or maybe even "I kill people in broad daylight"…
Her body wore from neck to foot, black cloth but clad in more vital areas with red armored leather, such as over her chest and abdomen, wrists and forearms, upper back and spread from the kidneys to the sides of her hip, sides of her thighs, and covered her shins and ankles.
On her head was mostly covered with a red shawl like hood.
And on her face a mask.
A close enough inspection would reveal it to be of a stitched together concoction.
A leather mouth wrap with an encompassing head wrap, and fire goggles, so dark one had to wonder how she saw out, as no one could at all see in.
For someone so hidden, it all practically screamed, "KEEP AN EYE ON ME!"
Or perhaps maybe she was just a person who loved red and black…
And shrouding every inch of body…
To the folks of Dawnstar, however, they knew her as a savior from their nightmares.
And so, they turned a blind eye to whatever her shroud screamed otherwise.
The few that did toss glances her way, only did so to the humor of her muffled expletives.
She was loudly grumbling beneath her mask, at the piercing cold and annoyed with being tasked with the job that she had been.
Which wasn't anything but her fault, as she had volunteered herself for it.
She had wanted some fresh air and something to do, since Mother hadn't given her a task for a week now.
Nazir was being stingy lately with giving the initiates all the low priority contracts.
He had been promising he'd give her a high contract if they got one, but they haven't gotten one…
It wasn't concerning.
There were still slumps in their call to duty sometimes, as they were still rebuilding their reputation in the undermarket, but Tressa was still going to pout about it regardless.
She took up this supply task to ease her stir a little, but she didn't realize she'd have to go so out of her way until it was too late.
She could have turned back and told everyone to get it their damn self, sure, but she was stubborn even at her own cost.
Besides, a little break outside the Sanctuary was indeed what she wanted, so she turned her list into a quest and told herself not to set foot back in Dawnstar until she got everything on that paper.
It took her five days to gather everything, especially since one of Nazir's requests was a cooking ingredient that was out of season.
She went on a wild goose chase for the thing but finally managed to find it. She had to wonder if he only added it as one of his, often dry, attempts at joking.
His cooking wasn't dry, at least, so he better use the damn thing and make a marvelous dish for her effort.
She was actually quite proud it only took her five days to travel, get everything—especially Nazir's damn vegetable-, and get back.
Tressa was always quite happy with the confidence boost completing long winded quests gave her, even if she was grumbling in annoyance now.
The high of completion, though, had worn off by the time she arrived back at Dawnstar on the horse cart.
She probably could have gotten back even faster if she had ridden Shadowmere, but he was a big horse and she has always had trouble reigning any horse with her small stature.
She didn't want to keep falling off or slipping the reign on this whole adventure and take even longer getting back.
She'd been meaning to ask Cicero to teach her how to ride better, as he is a surprisingly good rider despite his also small stature.
At least it was surprising to her. She figured it had to be hard for anybody close to the ground like the two of them.
She'd be devastated if tiny Babette was an elite wrangler, but she's never seen Babette ride and she didn't want to see any mocking display until she herself could wrangle a damn mount.
Just on the chance that Babette could trot circles around her.
Tressa kept trudging through the slosh, her backpack brimming full of the list.
Icy particles of the ocean mist were tapping upon the lens of her mask as she got closer to the shoreline.
She soon rounded the outcrop of rocks that blocked their Sanctuary door from obvious view.
She noted she could still hear the dragon in the far distance.
It was out there five days ago when she left.
Tressa's grumblings of the list, the cold, and the icy mist obstructing her vision shifted then to complaining about the Dragonborn needing to do his own work too.
She idly wondered if the rumors she heard on her travels, about him being amongst the Thieves Guild, were true.
She could very possibly run into him while fencing goods and tell him to get his lazy ass back to work slaying these damn dragons, so she didn't have to reroute around them and slow her travels even furth--
"What are you whining about now?" a child's voice startled Tressa.
"Babette! Sithis sake!" Tressa huffed and sighed away her startle, "You could start with a hello."
She now saw the unchild crouched near a snowberry bush and plucking the red fruit from its branches.
"Hi, Listener," the little vampire deadpanned, though a sly little smirk was present at the corner of her mouth. "We thought you we're dead," she added.
Tressa had nearly passed her, attempting to ignore the little vicious victory, but now the short girl turned to the even shorter girl.
"Huh?" was all the muffled out as the Listener quizzically titled her head.
"Yeah, I mean," Babette explained, "You have been gone for days. We thought maybe the dragon flew over and ate you."
"Seriously?"
"If you were gone any longer, yes."
Tressa quickly swung the backpack from her back to hold out in front of the unchild as if presenting her with all the answer she needed.
"Did you all forget," Tressa still vocalize the answer, "the novel of a list you sent me out with?"
Babette shrugged her shoulders and began to head towards the Sanctuary door, satisfied with her litter satchel of berries in hand.
"Town's right there," she replied.
Tressa tilted her head again, quite dramatically this time for effect.
"Town's right the-Town's right there?!" Tressa repeated back in exasperation.
She yanked the list from her bag and held it out as if THIS now was the answer to all things.
"Do you know what all is on here?!" the shrouded girl hissed from beneath her mask, "I swear I almost had to go all the way to Elsweyr…Certainly had to go ELSEWHERE."
"I know you wrote down," Babette replied uninterested and unbothered, "my request for lavender and some pine thrush eggs. Did you get them?"
Tressa was frozen in her stance.
She was probably highly annoyed at the unchild, but it was impossible to read a covered face.
She finally swung the arm holding the list down and mockingly answered, "Yes, I got them, little grandma."
Babette grinned.
"Thank you, Listener," she said with finally a bit of peppiness, to which Tressa nodded with sarcastic enthusiasm.
She and Babette headed to the door together then.
The others inside didn't pay much attention to the sound of the main entry door slamming, as they knew it was just Babette returning indoors.
The chatter of the Listener chiding the unchild, however, began to echo into the main chamber and grabbed their attention.
Babette had riled Tressa up again by teasing her about having gotten startled earlier…
"Jump scares don't count!" Tressa argued, "I'm telling you, YOU didn't scare me!"
"You jump at everything," Babette was heard reminding.
"No! No I do not!" Tressa retorted, "And that doesn't mean-"
Tressa was then proven a liar when unfortunately but well timed, she was quite startled upon entering the main chamber's upper level.
The loud shout approached frighteningly fast from her right, from the resting place of the Night Mother's sarcophagus, and nearly sent Tressa reeling back into the Sanctuary's foyer.
"LISTENEEER!" the high pitched squeal screeched as their jester clad Keeper rang out in his rapid approach to the two entering.
Tressa bounced herself back from the back peddle into the door frame, and it was obvious she was forcibly trying to convince her hands not to take her daggers to the approaching threat.
It was just Cicero…
Though most people, even those within the Sanctuary, might claim his very existence a threat, he was not so to Tressa.
As much as this startle might have made Tressa a threat to him…
The rattled Listener heard Babette snickering and she turned on the unchild.
"Jump scares don't count, damn it!" Tressa snapped.
The jester, now upon them, was unloading every bit of his apparent concern that had simmered and boiled and erupted over during those five days of wondering over the whereabouts of the Listener.
"My Listener!" he practically squeak in stress, "Sweet Mother's mercy! We thought you were dead! Eaten by that dragon! Worried absolutely crazy! Cicero was this close to gutting that dragon himself and fishing you from his belly! We can't lose our Listener, Listener! No! No! No! We waited sooo long for one. So long. And sooo long for you to return from your little quest!"
"LITTLE quest?!" Tressa squawked back and flung her arms up in exasperation, "What is with you lot and forgetting the massive book of groceries you sent me for! I had to go far and wide for you people!"
"Far?" Cicero looked at her with question.
"Yeah. Far," Tressa nodded.
The jester's eyes darted as if through the wall then back to her.
"What?" the girl asked impatiently.
"Town's right there," he said, just the same as Babette had done.
The Listener dropped her arms in dramatic fashion and leaned back to let loose the pure agitation in a loud, frustrated sigh.
"Dread Father, give me strength!" she growled and straightened up.
She pointed her finger accusingly between the jester and vampire, "You all did this to me on purpose, didn't you?!"
The accused two both shook their heads in unison.
Tressa responded by putting her hands to her hips and the inhale that could be heard from within her mask indicated she wanted to berate them more, and fiercely, but the deep voice of a Redguard piped up from the stairs of the common area.
"So, you finally return," Nazir said from his station of leaning on the support beam at the top of the stairs
Tressa whipped around, so quickly abandoning her berating of Babette and Cicero, to instead point an angry finger at Nazir and berate him instead.
"Oh no! Nuh uh! By Gods, don't you start too," she lit into him, "And I swear! I SWEAR! If you ask what took me so long or say 'towns right there', I am going to set this backpack on fire and THROW IT IN SOMEBODY'S FACE!"
Nazir held up a hand and waved limply in acknowledgment.
"Alright, Listener," he said calmly, though half amused, "I hear you. Calm down now. I was only going to say that I'm glad you didn't become dragon chow for the sake of my vegetables."
Tressa growled to that and fished those requested vegetables from her bag.
She threw them quite vigorously at Nazir, who almost fumbled the catch, caught it, laughed a bit under his breath before proceeding to head back down to the commons.
"Thank you, Listener," he said as he descended the stairs. The Listener's response was merely a huff.
Tressa's masked eyes then locked on to Cicero.
He returned her covered gaze with a raised brow in question, "Hmm?"
A click of tongue was heard under the Listener's mask.
"Oh, don't 'hmm' me like you don't know," she replied and retrieved his requested item from her pack now too, "Here's your damn oil."
Cicero smiled greatly at her as he clasped both hands around her hand and the vial.
"Oh, thank you, dear Listener! Thank you!" he said ecstatically, with what seemed to be genuine gratefulness, but his over enthusiasm sometimes rubbed her as brazen cheekiness.
She definitely knew sarcasm was frequent to leave his tongue.
Usually, she did actually find good humor in this, but her only response this time was an unamused "Eh."
"Oh! Mother thanks you too!" Cicero added her to the gratitude, seeing as it was to aid the Night Mother directly.
Tressa decided to be cheeky herself, whether Cicero had intended to be or not, and she said, "Oh, how would YOU know? I'm the Listener…She can only, and should, tell me her damn self."
Her last comment changed Cicero's expression immediately to one she unfortunately knew too well.
He was about to rebuke her fiercely for such a heinous comment.
So…she leaned to the side as if she heard the voice of the Night Mother calling from behind him.
"Oh my, she just did!" Tressa exclaimed in a false tone of shock, "What a sweet, kind Mother! Of course you're welcome! You shouldn't even HAVE to thank me for ANYTHING. Not ANYTHING. Nothing I ever do for you. Ever!"
Cicero didn't look the least bit convinced, or amused, and a tense silence fell on the moment…
But he then released his hands from the grip he had been holding on hers and snatched the vial of oil as he did so.
"Thank you, Listener," he said again, but his tone was clearly sardonic now. He turned heel; however, and walked away.
"Yeah, you're welcome," Tressa replied, relieved, but she then mumbled childishly under her breath as he furthered away, "...where's your sense of humor, you grumpy frumpy funny man?"
The jester may or may not have heard her, and if he did, he showed great restraint by only pausing for the slightest of a moment and then continued on with a peppy hum.
The Listener paid him no mind anyway and was now descending the stairs to the common area.
"Oi, you guys! Kor! Aphid!" she called down to the young men, two Nords and of the somewhat new initiates, seated at the meal table.
They were brothers who had actually earned their invitation into the Dark Brotherhood when a high contract was "stolen" from Tressa herself by the two.
Aphid was the older brother, and he was incredibly tall Nord—and not just by Tressa's short standards, he actually was very towering. He had to be seven foot tall to Tressa's flat five foot height.
He was nearly as skinny as he was tall, but he had a broad chest and shoulders that did him favor not to look too fragile.
His outfit was modest.
His top consisted of a long sleeve dark blue tunic, with a slightly even darker blue leather gorget with dull red trim, draping over and protecting his neck, shoulders, and chest. Yet over that still, he also wore a richly red…scarf? Shawl?... Tressa wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it, too, was tied and rested around his neck and shoulders.
He wore a thick leather belt around his waist, which held up his dark brown pants, but they were so well fitted, the belt was probably more to hook his satchels from.
The only other form of wear that could be considered armor, was his dark blue leather gloves and leather boots.
He wore nothing atop his head, aside his rusty colored choppy hair.
Despite his height being quite eye catching, it was his butchered hair that could be more drawing.
It was unevenly cut, one side draping further down his head than the other, and the entire back side short to his head.
Tressa thought it an odd cut, but who was she to judge aesthetics…even if he had a somewhat equally unruly, but short, dark beard lining his jaw.
His eyes, though, she had to admit she quite liked.
Strikingly light blue, one would be able to see that sky peering at them no matter how cloudy.
She imagined he could utilize their piercingly striking color to be either persuasive or intimidating on a whim.
But as to whether anything else but his height was intimidating, his attire hid the certainties of knowing what lean muscle might be hiding in his lankiness.
He being an expert archer, however, was probably tell enough that he had adequate strength in the arms.
Not that he needed any more muscle than for that, as his younger brother made up for any brawn he lacked.
Kor didn't stand as high as Aphid, but he still stood higher than anyone else in the Sanctuary at six foot six.
Tressa knew for sure that she was the perfect height for head butting him right under the chest, in the diaphragm, when she had weeks previously collided right into him on a clumsy dash around a corner.
A little embarrassing for them both, sure, but Tressa was very thankful afterwards that it wasn't Aphid she had ran into, because with his height, she did not want to think about what section of him she would have collided.
But she had been surprised she so winded the younger brother, as running into him was like running into a wall.
Kor had the brawn, that was for certain.
His upper half was well shaped with a healthy thick of muscles, his waist trimmed inwards but was certainly not as narrow as his brother's.
His hips held his sturdy frame well, a job shared with his equally sturdy legs.
He was a contrast from his brother in not only this, but style of wear.
Kor's attire consisted of a loose fitting sleeveless cotton shirt, a light blue-grey in color with a gold yellow trim around the arm and neck holes, and light brown linen pants.
He donned almost nothing in the way of armor, aside from his leather calf boots.
Tressa knew him to have two pairs of gloves. One pair was a bit casual with its plain brown leather and trim of animal fur.
The other sufficed as his other bit of armor.
It was made of a thicker leather and had an iron plate to cover his forearm and back of hand.
She's seen him wear them when he trains in his hand-to-hand combat in the training hall.
Though she's not so sure it's him training or just boyish enjoyment of the absolute demolishment to the practice dummies his iron clad punches explodes asunder.
She'd seen how much damage he could do to living persons too. About as explosive, but with eruptions of blood instead of straw…
But hand to hand wasn't his only combat skill, as he was quite handy as well with his two hefty swords.
And when feeling like he maybe could do with some extra armor, he was proficient with a sword and shield.
He wore nothing upon his head, like his brother, unless one counted the numerous…numerous braids.
For unlike his brother, Kor had extraordinarily long hair. Golden blond.
He almost always wore it up, with a bun or two rolled at the back of his head, vertically stacked, and many braids cascading down below them.
Usually the ends still reached his mid upper back, even with the buns having coiled the length as much as they could.
He apparently was adverse to cutting his hair, all except his wispy bangs that seemed to add even more youthfulness to his already rather youthful face.
Another contrast to his brother, for compared to Aphid's mature visage—and honestly he looked perpetually tired--, Kor was bright and perpetually spring.
His blue eyes may not have been as light and piercing as Aphid's, but they held a liveliness that said he could be ready for a tussle or bar jig at a moment's notice.
Under his left eye were two dark moles, vertically apart from each other that, coupled with all the freckles that displayed about any where he had skin showing, seemed to only make his overall youthful spunk more prevalent.
One might assume he was a take charge and run ahead kind of guy, but he was much more prone to being his older brother's shadow—even if his mouth could run off time to time.
Aphid, though, was clearly the charge of the two of them.
The older brother was a very calm and well mannered sort compared to Kor's youthful rambunctious, but the moment that rambunctious towed a line too closely, it was clear the lanky fellow had a knack for getting that muscle to sit on down and fast.
Both the brothers were sitting down at the moment though, side by side at the dining table, though neither one was eating.
Aphid was writing something on paper, or perhaps demonstrating some written lesson to Kor, as the younger brother was observing in clear boredom.
Tressa descended the stairs leading down to that area, and she rattled that bag in her hand as she held it up in a beckon for their attention.
"I got your shite!" she said,shaking the pack, "Aphid, I hope you're okay with damaged goods, because I dropped the damn thing SO. MANY. TIMES."
Her rattling of bag and tongue completely ceased, however, just as she stepped on the last step.
The brothers looked mildly perplexed at her frozen status and were just about to ask her what was the matter, but she spoke up again and revealed the answer to their silent question.
"Urgh, of course," Tressa tossed her head back in frustration, "As soon as I-Coming, Mother!"
The Listener had heard the unholy call…
Inconveniently as always…
Tressa shook her head and tossed the bag onto the table.
The careless toss knocked utensils and empty tankards on to the two men, but they didn't seem to mind.
They've been here long enough now to know the girl's mannerism.
Kor, though, did scramble to save his mead cup from spilling on Aphid's paper.
Tressa threw her hands up and began ascending the stairs.
"Either take the rest to everyone else," she said annoyed, "or tell them their shite's on the table. I don't care which. Just do it yourself."
Kor's mumbling comment of hoping it's not a bag full of dragon dung made her snicker a bit, but she made sure to stomp loudly upon the steps so no one could hear it. Everyone needed to know she was clearly agitated with them.
Tressa made it back atop and rounded to the Night Mother. Couldn't the crone wait until feet were rested…and warmed…
Cicero was there, of course, and just getting done putting the vial Tressa obtained for him inside a satchel of supplies he kept behind the sarcophagus.
He stood, and having heard Tressa call out from below a moment ago, he knew why she had come back up.
He did an exaggerated bow and wave of his arm as he stepped aside and leaned upon the wall in wait.
The Listener made no indication whether she found it funny or not and stood before their revered Mother to await instruction.
Cicero watched as Tressa swayed her head a little here and there and gave a tilt, something he learned was a habit of hers to indicate she was listening to whoever spoke at length to her.
Odd though, that she gave it here. He's witnessed her listening to Her many times, and it was never so…lengthy…
After that unusual lengthy moment, Tressa stepped back and gave only a statement of, "Huh."
"Huh?" Cicero mimicked in a question, "…Why huh, Listener?"
This is new…
She's never huh'd the Night Mother before…
Tressa turned her head towards him, but of course, Cicero couldn't read any expression she may have had under that mask.
He made a motion with his hand that could only be read as "Well? Go on?"
Tressa darted her covered face towards the Night Mother and he once more before explaining…
"Um…I think this calls for a meeting."
Cicero looked absolutely curious now and most certainly followed as they began descending the stairs to the commons together.
Tressa waved out to those below and called, "Family meeting! Except for you low ranks…Seriously clear out! Things to discuss!"
Aphid began to unquestioningly do as told…but Kor didn't.
"We're part of this family, no?" he asked, "Low or not?"
"Barely a part of," The Listener replied and waved as if shooing a fly, "Not long enough to be a part of the big grown up meetings."
Kor again ignored her shooing and pointed to the unchild shadowing behind Tressa and Cicero.
"What about that grown up?" he asked, "…Babette doesn't hold special rank aside from the oldest 'child'."
Tressa made some sort of 'pfft' sound.
"She holds lifetimes more rank than you'll ever achieve here," she retorted, "Don't question me or her. Now get out of here, before I sick my rabid merry man on you."
Cicero suddenly snapped his attention up, having been lost in curious thought.
"Hmm? What? Me?" he said, "…Did you just call Cicero rabid?...That's rude, Listener. Such a foul mood you've been in."
Tressa quick turned on him swinging her arms from him to Kor.
"No. Him. Look at the initiate. Look at this rudeness," she said, "Defying his Listen-"
"DO NOT DEFY YOUR LISTENER, YOU INSOLENT CUR!" Cicero bounded straight off the side of the stairs, leaping right next to that table and slapping the tabletop for good measure.
He startled both Kor and Tressa, the latter quickly regaining composure to try and cover it.
Kor's fear of the little man was not easily as disguised.
He held his hands up and quickly conceded.
"Okay, okay! I didn't mean nothin' by it," he said and decided it best to trot off with Aphid, who flicked him hard on the ear and scolded him quietly through clenched teeth as they trailed away.
After being sure the initiates were gone, Tressa, Cicero, Babette, and Nazir sat at the table to discuss what the Night Mother had shared with the Listener.
They all looked very curiously at Tressa. Nazir speaking up first.
"So, exactly who is so high on a kill list you needed to call upon all of us?" he asked.
Babette gasped a slight.
"Oh no, it's not the Dragonborn, is it?" she asked, "I don't want to sound faithless, but we are no where near ready to slit that throat."
Tressa shook her head.
"No…No. See, um, the thing is..," she began and seemed rather befuddled at the explanation she had to give.
She brought her hands up to the sides of her head as if in troubled thought.
There was a silent moment that hung over them waiting for her to speak…
What was so suspenseful?
Then suddenly, Tressa slammed her hands down hard on the table with a loud shout to accompany it.
All three of the others jumped from the sudden fright.
"YES!" the Tressa cheered, "YES! Finally! I got all of you! See how it feels, huh?! Huh!!"
The unchild actually hissed.
"Jump scares don't count, Listener!" Babette snapped.
Cicero had a hand to his chest and looked at the Listener with what seemed a mix of disappointment and anger.
"Listener!" he said, "Really?!...Did the Night Mother give you instructions or was this all a prank, you imp of a child!"
"Oh no no," Tressa replied, "She did. She did. I just couldn't waste a good opportunity for vengeance. I mean—you guys can't see it, but I have the biggest smile on my face now….You CAN see this, though."
She flipped them the double bird.
"Enough, already!" Nazir scolded, having grown more than tired of the shenanigans and of trying to pretend he hadn't just been clutching his chest like a frightened dame.
"Please," he said, "Stop the nonsense. What contract has the Night Mother spoken of?"
Tressa set her double bird hands down and blew a raspberry beneath her mask, but pressed the childishness no further.
"It's not a contract," she finally explained, "...It's a retrieval."