Chapter Six: Carelessness
My modest living was made as a barmaid at a fancy inn. I chopped off the majority of my lengthy hair, my clothes were cheap, but seldom plain, and I decorated my little home to its fullest capacity. The city-goers were less judgmental of my unique appearance. Perhaps it was simply because no one had the time to take a good look at anyone in the massive crowds that littered the streets. Even the nobles sneered at my less-than-extravagant clothes, rather than my light lavender skin and tiny pointed ears. I was still paranoid about Katriah letting her guards loose to find me in revenge, so I took upon myself a new name: Azadeh. According to the book I had read in castle Ebonheart's library, it was Dwemer for "One who is free." The name was fitting. As far as my keepers in Morrowind knew, I didn't have a last name. I could still be a Sentinelle, not like I took much pride in it. Speaking of Morrowind, never once did I imagine myself going back there. Even the parades and celebrations dedicated to the Nerevarine weren't tempting enough to go back and visit. I simply listened for the news of my homeland that slowly trickled into Cyrodiil.
In the meantime, I'd walk to the Arcane University in search of Martin. Everyday I'd walk up the stairs, then back and forth between the two gates that lead into the private sector of the compound. Of course, he wasn't there. At least not yet, I hoped. My persistence caught the attention of several students there. They could be found sitting in a circle on the grass, all in green apprentice's robes, huddling over their books and scrolls. Whispers could be heard when I walked by "Look! There she is again," they'd say. "The searching maiden is wearing that necklace again. What's the occasion?" I just smiled and looked towards the gates, searching for my dear friend. Yes, my obsession was to the point that onlookers gave me a nickname.
"Ma'am." A sweet sounding voice said behind me. I turned around to face a tiny Bosmer girl dressed in green robes, and I nodded at her in acknowledgement. "You're here every day. You walk along the plaza entrance looking between the gates to no avail. Why?"
"I'm simply here for someone." The girl raised her eyebrows at me, unsatisfied with my answer. I sighed before continuing. "Tell me, young Bosmer, do you know a man around my age… Oh about twenty-eight, thick brown hair and blue eyes. A blue darker than mine." Her ears perked up as she stared into my eyes for reference, intrigued by my question. A spark of knowledge on the subject flickered in her eyes for the slightest of moments.
"Does the mystery man have a name?"
"Martin." I said.
"Oh." The Bosmer's voice lowered in the near grumble. "Why would you be looking for the likes of him?" These words left me confused. Had he done something wrong? Something huge must have happened with him for a common student of the guild to have such a sour disposition on the subject.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"You don't know?" Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You should just not go looking for him anymore." And she swiftly walked away.
"What in the gods' name…" I whispered under my breath. "Don't lose faith, Decie." After that encounter I never crossed the walkway to the Arcane University again.
I regret taking my luck for granted. I assumed that I could get away with anything, seeing that I could easily skip out on tasks at work and sneak silver out of the kitchen at the inn I worked in. Little did I know theft was much harder to achieve outside the hotel. Admittedly, I was full of myself. The experience I gained from sneaking around the castle guards in Ebonheart topped off my theft skills from work and was enough to convince me that I could get away with anything.
Money was running a little bit low and my fence wasn't around to sell off my stolen silver. Rain peppered my cloak as I walked down an alley through the arboretum on a solemn Loredas during Rain's Hand. I pondered idea of getting a second job, or doing something honest. But such ideas were soon erased. The sight that lay before me was all too tempting to not take advantage of.
A young, well dressed, Altmer was fussing with his cloak under the large gazebo. I recognized him as one of the patrons at the inn's bar. I didn't even know his name or what famous family he was from, but his social status was flamboyantly obvious. I labeled him as a prestigious child, sticking his nose up at anyone who makes a cent less than him… Not that he actually worked for any of his gold coins, I'm sure. I sat on a soaked bench gazing at the young man. His chocolate colored hair was oiled back, hardly visible under his beautiful fur coat. I hid my hands under my oversized cloak to shelter them from the cold as I fondled the handle of my dagger, identical to the dagger I stole in Ebonheart. I kept it with me wherever I went for the sake of nostalgia and protection. How hard could it be to get that fool into a secluded area then rob the bastard? It's not like losing a coin purse would matter to him.
The man gracefully walked away from the gazebo, and towards the palace graveyard. I quietly followed him, my footsteps muted under the now heavy rain and wind. He weaved between grave stones until he reached a corner between a family mausoleum and the city wall. The area was overgrown with ill-looking trees and moss. I stood still as a statue behind a large shrub, inspecting the man.
He reached for something in his pocket, and turned to face the wall. I leaned around the shrub to get a better look, but it was no use. His head tilted back in pleasure, letting his guard down, and dropped his arm to his side to reveal a skooma pipe in his left hand. Hah! That kid can't appreciate his extravagant life of pissing off barmaids and spending all he pleases, so he sneaks out to go smoke skooma in a cemetery!
The corners of my lips turned up at the pitiful sight while my eyes locked onto him I walked around the shrub, still hidden from any guards. I pulled out my dagger and held it out towards the oblivious Altmer.
"Well, well." I began. He turned around in a gasp as he dropped his skooma pipe, letting it shatter upon hitting the ground. "Since when do rich little boys like you have to stoop so low?"
"You… You know… I know-" He stuttered.
"Yes, you know me." I grinned. "And I also know that whatever family you come from would be oh so disgraced by finding out that their son is a skooma addict."
"But I'm not!" His denial-filled voice rang out.
"Publicly, no, my dear." I continued. "But you can afford to keep that under wraps, for a sum of cash." He gulped as he glanced down at his bulging coin purse.
"I… uhh…" The boy wearily glanced around before he shouted, "GUARDS!" My grin was swept off my face as I instinctively sunk the dagger into his chest in an instant. Blood covered my light green tunic and hands. His body drooped up against the wall when I pushed him away from me. I had to avoid the guards at all costs. I wrapped my large cloak around me and over my tunic and ran from the scene. The Imperial Watch didn't know where the boy's shout had come from because the wind and rain distorted everything.
As I walked away from the grave yard and back to the Arboretum I could hear the clinking of armor from the guards rushing towards the scene. They questioned everyone in the area, and it would soon be my turn. I only glared at the cobblestone surfaced below me as I walked with my arms holding my cloak around me.
This scene was all too familiar. Remember when I said that I couldn't picture myself in that crazed Khajiit's place? How I was sure that I would NEVER be in such a ridiculous position? How could I be so stupid? Do we not learn from history's mistakes? A history book shouldn't be needed to know this nonsense! I was in that cat's place, but it didn't answer "Why?" Why did I stoop so low to do such a thing? Why didn't I just wait for my damn fence to show up again? I had heard rumors that the Dark Brotherhood recruited assassins by looking for heartless murderers. Would they come to my rescue? Would I be forever in their debt, forced to live the life of an assassin?
"Citizen," A guard's voice came from behind me. This was it. I turned around to face him.
"Yes, good sir?" I asked in monotone.
"What are you hiding under your cloak?"
"Nothing, I'm just cold." He inspected me in suspicion.
"Someone was just killed a matter of minutes ago. I've been ordered to search anyone suspicious."
"I understand." I sorrowfully said. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I don't think he could see them because my face was already soaked from the rain.
"Let go of your cloak." He said. I hesitated. I didn't want this. Why? Why did I kill that kid? It wasn't worth it! All for an extra bit of coin?
I let my arms drop to my sides, revealing my green tunic stained with the crimson-red blood of the Altmer I had slain. The rest of the night was a blur. I remember chains, shouting, and being thrown onto a dirt floor, an iron gate shutting me in. I was all alone in a cold prison cell. My fate was to be decided in a matter of weeks and it wasn't looking good. I was to be put to death for a pointless, cold blooded, murder. No one had to tell me that; my bloody fate was so obvious.
The days turned into weeks. The only interaction with any other living being besides the guards was with Valen, a stuck up Dunmer, whom always had something awful to say. "Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash. How sad." He'd say. "What are you anyway? An Imperial-Elf mutt? You look like the corpse of a Bosmer." I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, but only sorrow filled my vocal cords. I had no snappy retort.
Eventually, I was given a cellmate named Bendu. We seldom talked to each other and sat on opposite sides of our small cell. But when he did talk, it was only about why we were here in prison. More like how he didn't know why he was here, and how I counted down my final days. Bendu was tossed in here in a state of being so drunk that he could hardly move. I pitied him for not have been given an explanation to his long sentence here, for it seemed awfully long for mere public intoxication.
And so we waited. We waited for news of our fate or freedom.
Author's Note: For those who are really into Elder Scrolls lore, you may recognize the name Bendu… As in "Bendu Olo," an early ruler of Anvil. (Correct me if I'm wrong)