Chapter 3 – Arrangements for a Pardon
She walked with a purpose through the Imperial city, eyes inspecting the face of every single man she passed. Her dreams continued to haunt her every night, the voice of the man continued to play through her mind. Her dependence on finding the voice had rapidly become more than curiosity. It was an obsession. She had to find the man who could save Cyrodiil, and she had to help him. She had to prove to everyone she was strong enough to make it on her own, that she wasn't the child Uvani continued to call her. People looked to her as a powerful dreamer, a powerful woman to guide them yet when she brought warnings of a bad future they laughed her away, until another older dreamer came with the exact same dream. Then they praised the older dreamer, leaving her out to dry. She was not about to have that. The streets were busy and filled with life, people rushing down white stone streets. It was beautiful, elegant buildings that appeared like white gold. She continued along the street, hunting for a clue of the man's existence.
"Drunken Murder transferred to Imperial city prison. Do we want this scum in our city? Read it here!" A booming voice called out loudly. A man was standing with papers, offering them to every man and woman that walked past. Nobody seemed interested in the least, although some just took the paper offered to them for some reason or another. She was intrigued. The assassin moved closer, keeping her hood pulled up her body caved in. She was the image of shyness as she stepped up, standing close to the man offering papers. He smelt horrible, like he had been bathing stagnant water for most of his life. Her eyes teared up as she made a story in her mind. He smelt bad, and he wore no shoes. He was a beggar from the waterfront, hired to sell papers in the market district. She stood patiently before him, waiting for the man to notice her.
"Why hello young lady, care for the latest news?" the man asked, revealing broken teeth as he spoke. She lowered her brows slightly, pouting at the man. Everyone mistook her for young. Everyone called her a child. She was sick of it, yet at the same time she knew it was an advantage. She smiled sweetly, aware the man could probably see the bottom half of her face. When the man smiled back she knew she had him. She kept the cheerful youth on display as she took the parchment from his hands, accepting it calmly.
"Who is this about?" she asked simply. Something told her to question, gave her the urge to know more. She couldn't explain it but every sense sung with each word she spoke. Her curiosity was so intense she was almost shaking, her excitement flooding her veins and her lust for knowledge unshakable. Undeniable. Insatiable.
"Ragnar. He was a somwhat known trouble maker, but he was the good sort under it all. He went around helping people without charge, and beating down idiots who mouthed off. He was a typical Skyrim lad. He'd drink, hit on married women and beat down the jealous husbands, then pack up and head to the next city and do it all over again. There's a legend that he saw an old woman carrying her wares home and he stopped to help her. Next thing a thief came and tried to steal her coin purse. Well Ragnar hammered the thief's head in, threw the skimp over his shoulder and continued to carry the old lady's shopping home. By the time he got to The Barracks the Thief was confessing to everyone passing by to try and get away from the damned brute. Poor sod" The man answered her question, shaking his head after a few moments. Her interest was piqued. The man sounded like a brute alright, but his heroics caught her attention. So did the man's choice of words.
"Why poor sod?" She inquired. She crossed her arms, holding them against her body as she listened to the man. Her casual interest caught nobody's attention, but it seemed to make the man's day. She could tell he needed the money he would be paid for this job. She assumed he had to get rid of all the parchment he had been given. She looked to the bag slung over his shoulder, and saw it was mostly full. She began to contemplate whether she should make herself stand out and offer him some coin.
"He was arrested years ago. Apparently he murdered some Breton at the Inn of III Omen. The idiot was so bloody drunk he couldn't remember what he had done that night, besides hit on some mysterious girl, and get lucky. Found him naked in the Breton's room with blood all over him and a dagger in hand. Then he had some note for the Dark Brotherhood. Evidence was so against him they simply locked him away and didn't investigate." The man continued onwards, missing her quick movement to her coin purse. She would feed him for a few nights with a few coins she didn't need, but it was also a risk. She could turn a blind eye to the poor, it was part of her training but something about this man and this situation encouraged her to use her heart instead of her head.
"Is there a picture of him?" She asked without thinking. The man nodded and offered another piece of paper to her. She reached out, taking the paper cautiously. She offered a few coins to the man, watching his eyes come alight with joy as his trembling hands reached for the coins. She didn't wait for his thank you; she simply walked away towards the shadows. Shadows were safety, they provided cover and they represented a place where she could gather her thoughts. Once in the shadows she leaned against one of the walls, relaxing as the cool of the stone reached through her armor and touched her flesh. It was calm, soothing from the heat of the sun beating down and the close packed people. The market wasn't unpleasantly packed, rather is was busier than she was used to. She always grew hot when in crowds of people, as if she absorbed their body heat and stored it. Like the embers of a campfire being the base of all heat, so it was with the assassin and crowds. She sighed, looking down towards the parchment.
He was a hairy man, with a large shaggy beard hanging from his face, giving him an animalistic look. His hair on his head was hacked, as if it had been chopped up when he went to prison. His features were square, although his cheeks seemed angled. His cheekbones were low and wide, fitting well with his large, pointed nose. His lips were large rosebuds under the thick layer of hair. His eyes were the most captivating thing about him. Neither small nor large they seemed utterly perfect on his face. Something about them appeared gentle in the drawing; although she wasn't sure whether that was the artist or the man. From the way his shoulders and neck were scribbled in he was a large, tall man, with good muscle definition.
"That's him" She whispered to herself, staring at the picture for a few more seconds before she lowered the parchment, rolling it up and storing it in one of her pockets. She walked out towards the market with a new sense of purpose. She was hunting for some civilian clothes. Clothes that would attract attention. She would need to play the game to free this man from prison.
…
"Come on, big boy. Just one little drink wouldn't hurt" She purred, running her finger down the man's nose. The aging Imperial's eyes fluttered as she stroked his face, feeling his grimy skin beneath her fingertips. He was greasy and sweaty, something that she would usually avoid. As it was she avoided men and women when it came to emotional connections, it only led to heartache. Still, when the job required that she was a sexual predator, or the sweet innocent maiden waiting for true love then she would play the part, and she would play it well. She had been trained to play every single role in the world. From the insane beggar to the richest noble woman, if the role was required to kill a target then she would adopt the nature, personify her character and she would kill without hesitation or remorse.
"Well. Maybe I can have one drink with a charming young woman such as yourself" The man said, reaching around to grab her hind quarters. He gave her buttocks a rather harsh squeeze, one which made her yelp in surprise. Of course, it was the role she was playing. The seductive little maid. She giggled. It was a sound that sounded so fake to her ears she almost vomited. The man seemed happy however, as he gave her another squeeze and pulled her closer with a chuckle. She let the man pull her closer, let him think she enjoyed his company. She leaned past his head slowly, ensuring he got a good view of her breasts as she reached for the wine she had brought. She quickly grabbed the powder and dropped it into the wine, knowing she was not only drugging the man but herself as well. He would likely not remember this day, not without the antidote which she had taken already. The powder would not affect her with the antidote in her system, but it would most certainly affect the man.
"I hope you like red wine, I know I do" she continued with another giggle. She knew she was playing the part well enough, but it still made her feel sick to the stomach. If something went wrong here she might be forced into something worse than her harmless teasing. She wore a short dress, one that left a lot of skin bare. She had also left some of the dress unstrung, revealing an almost shameful amount of cleavage. Of course it had worked a charm. The Imperial Warden hadn't even asked what a maid was doing coming to clean his office, he had just let her in and watched her clean his office with a wolfish grin. She had engaged him in playful small talk, slowly guiding the conversation to the point where he announced his wife had just bore him a son. She had ignored her personal feeling of disgust and played the celebrating maiden. He didn't even seem suspicious that she had just happened to have wine among her belongings. He had been too interested in her body to realise she was planning something.
"I hope you like my personally brewed wine. It's white" he grunted softly, sliding his hands along her ribcage as he took a deep breath in. He was savouring the hunt, savouring what he thought would be his prize. She despised the act even more, but she allowed her body to appear as if she enjoyed his touch. She leaned back, making sure to run as must of her body along him as possible. He shuddered as she leaned back, looking at him through her lashes. She battered them as she offered a mug to him. He took it in one hand, wrapping his other around her waist. She was pulled onto his lap, and she could feel the cold steel of his armor against his buttocks and the back of her legs. She poured the wine into the mug carefully, her eyes watching for the powder. When she saw it lingering in the bottom of the bottle she cursed to herself. She would not be able to get him to drink that, not before he wanted more than teasing. As he went to raise his mug to his lips she realised she still had the powder between her fingers. Her hand shot out, landing over the cup. As she pushed it down she parted her fingers, letting the powder fall into the liquid.
"Wait. A toast. To your son, may he be as strapping as his father" She said with a perfect battering of her eyelids. The man's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened, a look of lust and desire claiming him as he hastily raised the mug to his lips and gulped it down. She raised her own mug to her lips, smiling as she took a sip of the wine that had just helped her free a hero. The man lowered his mug, then gazed into her eyes. He leaned closer, expecting to claim a kiss from her. She leaned back, taking a lock of his moustache in her fingers and twisting it.
"Don't forget to sign all your documents, handsome. I'd hate to distract you from your work" The man grunted, turning to the documents. He quickly began signing them without looking, which made her smile softly. She hid her smile by licking her lips, looking intently at the documents. Of course the man misread her interest, and only hurried to continue pleasing the young maiden he was sure would be in his bed by the end of each page. In his haste to please her he neglected to read the documents, including the two she had slid into the pile. They were not together; instead she had slid them in randomly so she wouldn't know when he was signing them. That meant her facial expression and body language wouldn't change. She would grow more excited the closer he got to the end of the pile, and whatever reason the Warden put to that excitement was entirely his own.
"Now you're my bitch" he growled as he finished, turning and expecting her to give him the love her body had been promising the entire time. He leaned in to claim her, ignoring everything but her lips. The moment she smelt his foul, alcohol tinged breath she tensed, reaching her hand up to the back of his head. In a flash she spun away from him, leaping off his lap and slamming him down face first into the corner of his desk. It only took one hit, but it was enough to silence him. He fell to the ground with a thud. She winced, hearing the guards beginning to unlock the door. With seconds to think she did the first thing that came to mind, she pulled her dress open further. She then sat over the man, pulling his body up so his head was on her chest. The guards opened the door for a moment, saw the scene and hurriedly closed the door.
"I told you I prefer Red wine, pig" She growled down at the body as she threw him backwards. She quickly tore the dress off, moving to her packs. In a few minutes she had her leather armor back on, and the dress was stuffed into her pack. She quickly reached for the documents, shuffling through them until she found the two she wanted. A pardon for crimes committed against Cyrodiil and A signed document for the release of a prisoners belongings to a loved one. She quickly poured the bottle of wine all over the man's armor, then dropped the bottle beside his hand. In a few hours someone would find him and assume he had fallen after being drunk. Nobody would be any the wiser. Except maybe his wife, if any of the guards decided to tell her about her husband's infidelity.