A lone rider clad in black had passed by the fair city of Cheydinhal and followed the steep road up into the Valus Mountains. On this road, just a little northeast of Cheydinhal lay the crumbled remains of an Imperial fort. Once an important keep to the Legion the ruin was now infested by rotting guardians.
Lucien Lachance bend his head backwards and slightly to the side, earning a loud crack. He sighed heavily, for once yearning for the looming silence inside the decaying walls. He had travelled the whole night and most of the day and was more than just a little way worn.
I'm getting to old for this...
he mused bitterly, reaching forward and gently petting his mare's sweaty neck. Fifteen years ago, when he was just newly announced Speaker, he would have laughed at such a journey. Again he sighed heavily, his thoughts returning to the young Dunmer he recruited in the night. The mer showed potential, yet Lucien was not to happy about the elf's attitude. This could be the cause of trouble, if he chose to fulfil his contract. And somehow Lucien knew, that he would. Perhaps not today but in the week to come.
Well, I'll deal with that later.
The Imperial thought, finally pushing all thoughts about that elf aside. He had never tolerated troublemakers in his Sanctuary and he was experienced enough to deal properly with a lack of manners.
Besides, there are more pressing things, that need the attention of the Black Hand.
He concluded as he rounded the last corner. He passed the broken archway, as Shadowmere threw her head up in alarm. Beneath his black hood, his eyes widened a bit in surprise.
"What in the name of Sithis..."
He hissed through clenched teeth, as he gave the dapple grey gelding, who was peacefully grazing in the fort's yard a good look over. Big horse, well fed and well groomed he noted, as he hopped from Shadowmere's back and gently caressed her nose.
"Looks like we have a visitor, old girl."
He stated the obvious, before he turned towards the big wooden portal and pushed it open.
"I hate visitors!"
He hissed under his breath and melted into the shadows of the ruins hallway.
"Especially the unannounced once!"
Every once in a while an adventurer would find their way into his private lair. A nuisance, especially taking care of the body afterwards. Normally he would just threw them into the wild. Here were enough wolves and mountain lions around to take care of any body. Still, he was a secretive man and he was not very fond of such occurrences.
For a moment he stood perfectly still, his dagger at the ready and listened. Down, in the hall he could hear the shuffling of the dark guardians. Beneath his hood, he raised an eyebrow and slowly made his way to the opening. As far as he could see, his guardians were all accounted for. Unusual, since adventurers had the nasty habit of destroying them. He made his way past the walking skeleton and down the trap riddled hallways.
No body...
he wondered silently and with each step he took, his anger grew. Whoever found his way into his lair, was careful to evade the traps. Silently as the shadows surrounding him, he reached the end of the long hallway. There he stopped for a moment, fully engulfed by darkness. The iron gate, that kept his dark guardians out of his living quarters had been opened and torches and candles were lit. The assassin gridded his teeth together in sheer anger, while fantasising about killing that little maggot, who had the balls to break into his home.
He snug closer until he was finally able to see the intruder. A slender Dunmer was sitting at his desk, between stags of contracts. His long ravenblack hair was combed to the right, to reveal a shaved skull with red tattoos circling the left side of his face. Ashlander tradition, Lucien noted.
The dark elf had his chin propped up on one arm and played with Lucien's Blade of Woe, clearly bored out of his mind, while he sat there waiting.
With an angry growl, Lucien stepped out of the shadows.
"What in all Oblivion are you doing here!"
Lachance growled. It was not a question, more a demand, yet the Dunmer seemed utterly unimpressed by the sudden appearance of the murderer and the chilling tone in his voice. He stabbed the Blade of Woe in a map of Cyrodiil and slowly raised the gaze of his blood-red eyes to Lucien.
"A hello wouldn't kill you, Cyrodiil S'wit!"
The elf retorted in a deep gravelly voice, his face as unamused as Lucien's. The Imperial's frown deepened, as he raised the hand, that still clutched the dagger.
"Maybe. But I know what would kill you!"
For a brief moment the mage only glared at him, reminding Lachance of one of his fellow Speakers. But unlike the hotheaded Uvani, this Dunmer finally leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.
"Fine,"
he grumbled with a sigh of resignation.
"That blind fool Raminus has send me to the Dark Fissure."
Lucien stopped unlacing his over garments and shot the mage a sideways glance. The Dark Fissure was a cave south of Cheydinhal, about a two hour ride from Fort Farragut.
A dark shadow flashed over the Dunmer's face and his voice lowered to almost a feral growl as he continued.
"To...investigate...some necromancers."
With a slight smile, Lucien folded his clothes neatly up, now proudly displaying the dark red hand print on his black robes.
"And you don't intend to go there,"
he concluded finally turning to face Sorilkad Malur.
"Still practising?"
The conjurer of the mages guild let out a dry humourless laugh.
"Ha! Right under Archmage Traven's nose! Though I need to be much more careful these days."
Sorilkad finally stood up, straightening his light blue robes out and stepped around the desk.
The scowl on Sorilkad's face only deepened, as he eyed Lucien suspiciously.
"But it would appear, as if I'm not the only one that needs to exercise a lot more care in his job, now would it, Lucien?"
Sorilkad's remark earned him a sour look from the assassin.
"In my line of work, one has always to be careful, Sorilkad. You know that."
The Dunmer mage nodded.
"Still, Lucien. I've heard your guild is having some serious... troubles... lately."
At this, the Imperial's head snapped up, his eyes darkening in an unspoken warning.
"Trouble? I don't know what you're talking about."
His voice was low, yet rolled of ominously from the ancient walls.
"No?"
Sorilkad asked, his red eyes narrowed.
"Dead assassins showing up all over Cyrodiil? All brothers and sisters of yours. Doesn't ring a bell? Don't take me for a fool, Lucien!"
Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats, until the Imperial turned away, shoulders slightly slumped.
"Oh this is bad. With news already this widely spread, the Dark Brotherhood will loose its reputation. Besides the Black Hand has no clue, who is murdering our members. We've considered the Morag Tong, but ruled them out already."
The mage nodded, his gaze turned to the floor in thought.
"Ever considered that the problem may lie within your own ranks?"
At this Lucien turned, an incredulous look in his dark brown eyes.
"A traitor? Here? No! This is my Sanctuary! I know these people, I've brought most of them into the Dark Brotherhood myself. And some are even like children to me. I know, they would never betray me!"
Sorilkad sighed. He had anticipated such a reaction. The Dark Brotherhood was after all a tight knit community and Lucien was more than loyal to his friends. A trait, the Dunmer really liked about the assassin. Slowly the slender elf closed their distance and put a comforting hand on his friends shoulder.
"Another sanctuary maybe? Someone who might hold a grudge against your guild?"
He offered, knowing the thought had already crossed the Imperial's mind. He could see it in his eyes.
"But why?"
Lucien's troubled gaze searched the Dunmer's face, but Sorilkad only shrugged.
"That is for you to find out."
He squeezed the other males shoulder a last time reassuringly, before he headed over to the rope ladder leading to a secret entry.
"Maybe you should turn towards the Thieves Guild. They have eyes and ears in every city."
Lucien only nodded thoughtfully. The elf grabbed the rope ladder and put one foot on it, but before he pulled him up he stopped.
"Oh and by the way. I left some potions in your cabinet, you'll surely find useful."
He was rewarded with a rare smile and a nod. For a moment Sorilkad's eyes grew soft as he muttered.
"Tear miragag'har ohn, muthsera."
And then the Dunmer was gone, leaving Lucien Lachance to the silence and his own dark thoughts.