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Cidhna Mine was an underground forced labor camp where the Silver-Blood family used convicts to extract silver from the mountains that define the border between Skyrim and Highrock. One simple truth dominates existence in the mines: If you are there, you are dead. Over years of malnutrition and black-lung, your body accepts this fact and you become extra rations for those still desperate enough to have hope. I'm guessing I was there for a month, but I could be wrong. Time has little meaning in the tunnels as your body atrophies under the weight of malnutrition, the dark, and ceaseless back breaking labor.
I don't remember many details of my time in that sunless pit. I do remember that the Forsworn dominated the politics of the prisoners. Even the Nords caught in the mine joined them for protection. I got to learn about the deeds of Jarl Ulfric in Markarth from people who had witnessed his brutal crackdown: Fathers watching their children die before going into the mine. Nords who had accepted Forsworn lordship and gone on with their lives instead of resisting unto death being executed or exiled here for treason. Ordinary men dragged away without charge or trial in the night. The worship of their own gods strictly forbidden, a heresy to be punished with slavery. That final crime was all too familiar to me. People wanted the man responsible for this to rule Skyrim? I tried asking them if all that somehow justified the subsequent violence, but the hate went far beyond that. All that mattered was how many Nords they could bring with them before someone finally killed them.
Eventually I was able to put together a shiv from a rag and a broken pickaxe and used the needle-thin metal to force the lock on the door to Madanach's cell. The 'King-in-Rags' was sitting at a desk, writing a note in a cozy room lit by an expensive oil lantern. "So the Silver-Bloods' killer comes to me at last," Madanach remarked as he finished his note and turned to face me. "What's it like? Being locked down here like an animal in a cage?"
I shrugged and sat on his bed, "I've done it to so many people that I feel like it's life balancing itself out."
The king seemed to like my reply. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "Heh, why do you fight lad? Why do you do this?" Madanach demanded with a surprising degree of dignity for a ruined man living in a cave.
"This is your regicide. How about you tell me why you fight instead?"
Madanach shot out of his chair, his withered face dark with rage, "Why do I fight? I fight for the men I've held dying in my arms! I fight for their wives and children whose names I heard whispered with last breaths! I fight for those who sought to make a home in the lands of their ancestors, only to find their country filled with foreigners calling it their own! I fight for a people impoverished to pay the debts of a kingdom too weak to rule itself; yet brands us criminals for wanting to rule ourselves! I fight because it's all the Forsworn have left! I fight so all the fighting that I've already done hasn't been for nothing!"
The old man paced away from me for a moment, calming himself down. "Now answer me," he demanded again.
I remained sitting on the foot of the king's small bed, contemplating the shiv I was about to use to end Madanach's life. "I fight because I am a servant," I replied quietly. "I fight for the people who place their trust in me. I fight because a man in a market was so afraid for his unborn child that he begged a stranger to help him," I stood and wrapped my arm around the king's sunken shoulders and sinewy neck, "I fight because people like you exist!"
As my shiv sank into Madanach's heart I held him close, feeling his struggling fingers weaken against me. By degrees he became heavy in my arms, his chest still and skin cold.
My murder complete, I easily found the communication tunnel Madanach had been using to run messages out of the mine. Once in the light of the free world again, I found Thonar waiting for me. "My contacts within the mine tell me you took care of Madanach for me," he said. "I made sure Jarl Igmund learned of it. He's pardoned you and made you a thane. Argis the Bulwark has been assigned to you as housecarl. And I've arranged for Vilindrel Hall to become yours."
As far as bribes go, people have tried to buy me off with less, but I still couldn't find it in me to thank him. "Do me a favor Thonar; use your wealth and power for something more than this horseshit," I told him.
"You're welcome, Thane." Thonar said and walked away to leave me amazed and furious at how skillfully I had been played.