Chapter 32: Surprised

Astrid awoke to the bustle of what she presumed was morning, given the fact that she had no immediate way of knowing. She examined the sleeping quarters for any signs of another sibling, before quickly slipping out of her night gown and into the plain, black robes she'd grown accustomed to wearing for the time being. The smooth, silky vibrations of Zirath's voice echoed through a nearby passageway, alerting her to the fact that some sort of meeting was taking place. Without wasting a moment, she pattered hurriedly down said passageway, hoping she hadn't missed out on anything of importance.

Astrid abruptly entered the large, open cavern, causing her fellow assassins' heads to turn in distraction.

"Ah, good morning, dear Astrid." Zirath greeted, his velvety voice amplified by their surroundings, and sounding much like royalty to her ears.

Feeling all eyes on her, Astrid cleared her throat. "I...didn't mean to be so late." she replied, feeling strangely apologetic in his presence.

"No worries. I have merely begun..." he spoke, a slight look of deviousness crawling across his sharp features.

"What's so damned wonderful about this family again?" Festus blurted out, his arms crossed in his usual stance of annoyance.

"Why, that is a very good question, brother. As I have stated before, they have plenty of criminals in their midst at any given time, and that means plenty of connections - eyes and ears to observe, and of course, mouths to relay much-needed information. Not to mention, when illegal businesses are being run, bloodshed is as routine as a man's morning supper. It is their company that we must keep, for we will obtain many contracts from these people." Zirath explained, as Astrid heard Arnbjorn grunt in obvious disapproval.

"If they're so great, then where are all these contracts?" Arnbjorn challenged, folding his arms in a stance much like Festus Krex himself. Astrid began to feel that strange tension growing in the air once more.

"Watch your tone." Zirath warned Arnbjorn, his voice suddenly lowering and growing bitterly cold. He glared into Arnbjorn's eyes as a brief moment of deathly silence filled the area. Seeming immediately aware of his demeanor, he cleared his throat and promptly lightened his tone once more. "Brother, it is not that I shall return with large amounts of contracts at any given moment, but that by negotiating with these persons I shall obtain a steady source. Numbers may not pour in, but a steady trickle is better than nothing, correct?" Zirath questioned his audience.

"Well, I don't see why in Talos' trousers any of us are surprised!" Festus growled, shooting a look toward Arnbjorn. "This is the province of Skyrim we are talking about. It's a bloody disaster, if you ask me! It's full of weak ale and even weaker minds! Everything is either scarce, filthy, or poor in this cursed part of Tamriel, so I don't see why our contracts or loot would be easy to obtain in all this wretched mess! Most of the miserable beggars in these parts probably don't have enough coin to keep their asses clean, let alone hire an assassin!"

Astrid watched the strange argument unfold, allured by the mystery of it all. Were contracts really so difficult to obtain in Skyrim? Who was right in all of this?

"Oh yeah?" Arnbjorn growled, taking a step toward Festus. "If that's the case, then why are all those damned sellswords getting so much business?"

"If the life of a sellsword is one you preferred, then you would have remained a sellsword." Zirath interjected, his demeanor remaining curiously calm. Astrid watched as the two bickering assassins turned their attention back to their leader. "Festus has a very considerable point. We are living in a land of growing civil unrest. Wages are meager and souls are quite poor. Not to mention, those sellswords you speak so fondly of are careless. They care not for allegiance, for loyalty, or for family. They are not secretive, nor are they bound by shadow and darkness as are we. Many take petty bounty jobs from Jarls. Of course, many others fight for the same job, and many of those men die. We, however, do not bow to any Jarls, Emperors, or High Kings. We may have fewer contracts because of this, but we also live to keep our heads on our shoulders. Tell me, whelp, do you want gold, life, or both?" Zirath raised an eyebrow, looking to Arnbjorn, who Astrid could tell was clearly holding his tongue.

"So you're telling me that life is hard here, and that's the excuse? Life is hard everywhere, and yet some people still have coin in spite of it." Arnbjorn replied in a manner of what seemed to be forced calmness.

Zirath snickered, before turning away. "You will learn one day. You are young still...Now, moving onto the actual contracts..." he began, with a slightly dismissive tone. "For now, there are only two..." Zirath announced, and though his demeanor remained quite controlled, his eyes seemed to dare anyone to argue with this fact. "And, technically, there will only be one, as I will be using the other for my own purposes..." he declared, causing the assassins to look to each other in confusion.

"So we get one gods forsaken contract from all those days on the road? That's it?" Arnbjorn spat, clearly enraged.

"You speak before I inform you of my true purpose, and that purpose, I assure you, will benefit one of you greatly..." Zirath replied, his eyes fixating on Astrid, somehow causing her insides to tingle from his piercing gaze. "Now," he continued, clearing his throat. "Who will take it? Join together if you must..."

Astrid watched Zirath's eyes, which seemed to keep her strangely silent. His gaze lingered on her, as a slight smirk crawled across his lips, silently telling her that she was making a wise decision in doing so.

Festus and Babette both shrugged, looking to each other in quiet agreement.

"I wouldn't mind going on the hunt again. What do you say?" Babette looked to the old mage, who sighed, nodding in what seemed to be disinterest.

"Might as well. It'll get me outta this dump for a few days." Festus grumbled, now looking to Arnbjorn. "Well? You tagging along or what?"

"I'd rather stay. By the time the coin is split three ways, we'll be lucky to have any to damned gold left to spare." Arnbjorn growled, looking back to Zirath. "And that's before you get your cut..." he muttered, yet Zirath seemed to pay little mind to his ranting.

"Very well, brother." Zirath proceeded. "You can remain here. Perhaps Nazir will finally return from his contract and keep you company."

Astrid watched as the room suddenly fell quiet, and a worried look appeared on Babette's tiny features. "I do hope he returns. He's been gone for some time now. Exactly where did he go?"

"He had quite a way to venture, dear sister. His target dwelled in Windhelm. Any day now he should return. Of course, should he not..." Zirath replied, his voice trailing off as his mind wondered. He paced about a few steps before finishing the thought. "Unfortunately, only the strongest survive. Such is not only the way of the Dark Brotherhood itself, but such is an unspoken rule of life. Hopefully, our dear brother will prove himself quite strong, and will return unscathed. Of course, if fate proves otherwise, then we have no choice but to move on..." he finished, as Babette shot a look of concern to Festus, who sighed tiredly in return.

"I thought our dark ways were supposed to keep our heads on our shoulders..." Arnbjorn challenged, glaring into Zirath's eyes.

"And they will, if Nazir adheres to them. Our brother is a skilled young man - born of the crystal sands of Hammerfell. He is light on his feet and quick with his blade. If Sithis wills it, he shall return home. I wouldn't be so loose with my tongue when it comes to our ways, if I were you, brother..." Zirath warned, pacing closer to Arnbjorn. "That will be enough on these matters, for now. Astrid..." he turned his gaze back onto her, as she felt that familiar, icy prickle travel up her spine.

"Yes?" she raised her brow, noting that Arnbjorn's expression had instantly changed from anger to one of concern.

"You are the newest member of our family. You have successfully completed your first contract and proven yourself more than worthy of a higher level of training. That is what I shall bestow upon you, my sister. I want you to come with me tonight. We'll be leaving for the city of Dawnstar. The climate there is cold and brutal, and the journey will take days. I'll meet with you later for details." he informed, his silky voice becoming more stern and formal.

Astrid nodded briefly, trying her best to remain calm, despite the intensity of the excitement growing inside of her. She had to admit, she found herself to be completely surprised by Zirath's plans. Her eyes then moved briefly to Arnbjorn, who simply averted his worried eyes from her own. A slight pang of guilt welled up in her chest as she realized that he wasn't pleased in the least with this particular situation. Of course, she promptly reminded herself that this wasn't her doing in the first place. Zirath was her leader, and this would be a splendid opportunity to observe him in action, to soak up his every detail, and to possibly learn more about her enigmatic leader.

"Wouldn't it make sense for one of us to be training her? At least we could profit from the contract, given we don't have many in the first place. You get your cut either way..." Arnbjorn questioned, yet again. Astrid began to grow uneasy, fearing that one to many harsh words would have less than pleasant results between the two assassins. Of course, that emotion was then followed by a more pleasant sensation when she realized that Arnbjorn himself seemed to want to train her. Astrid simply remained silent, fighting the urge to smile in reaction to Arnbjorn's words.

Suddenly, Zirath's smooth disposition vanished, leaving the atmosphere feeling cold and empty around her. "The last time you were alone with our sister, you failed to teach her anything of value. She returned in a state of inebriation. I'll allow every assassin in this sanctuary to teach her before I'll allow you. Now, enough of this. Our meeting has ceased. Carry on with your day, brothers and sisters." he half-growled, the level of intimidation in his voice enough to cause Astrid's skin to crawl.

Astrid simply watched, as Zirath slowly paced back into the shadows leading to his quarters. As soon as he was out of the area, the heavy feeling in the atmosphere began to lighten, and she and Arnbjorn were the only two remaining in the large room.

She turned back to Arnbjorn, who was simply standing in one spot, staring a hole through the passageway that Zirath had previously exited.

"Is everything alright?" she asked him, hoping to break the awkward silence that now filled their surroundings.

"Just be careful around that guy." Arnbjorn stated bluntly.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. He is our leader." Astrid replied, hoping to reassure him that she'd likely be unharmed.

"He may be our leader, but I sure as shit don't trust him." Arnbjorn growled, beginning to walk away. "Just watch your back."