Lucien walked out of the wood early in the morning. It was cold, yet he did not dare to light a fire. The smoke might draw unwanted attention. He held a small rabbit in his hand, not much but enough to quench his hunger a little. The last week had been quiet, still he grew restless the longer he stayed in the cottage. This was not right. Non of this was right. He should not hide away while someone was killing off the members of his family. Every day he spend there, he had to fight the urge to ride to Cheydinhal and make sure his Sanctuary was safe. He should be out there to investigate. It just could not be that there weren't any clues at all.
He cursed under his breath and walked up to the front door. In the stable Shadowmere whinnied and pounded her foot on the ground.
"Getting restless too, hm, old girl?"
He mumbled and opened the door. He walked through the sparsely furnished living area and put the rabbit on a table ready to skin it, as a frown appeared on his face. He turned towards the door.
I could have sworn I locked the door upon leavin...
He thought. His heartbeat picked up a little as he looked around the room. He wasn't able to see anything, yet something felt very wrong. Swiftly he went over and made sure the door was locked now. Again he looked around the room. The small cottage suddenly felt crowded. And he felt like a rabbit in a trap.
Maybe I'm getting paranoid.
The tried to reason with himself, while he drew his dagger and went for his meal again. He did not make it, as he was hit by the brunt force of a lightning spell. It threw him across the room and smacked him into the wooden wall so hard, the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He slid down and lay on the floor convulsing. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness were two darked robed figures stepping towards him.
Two riders thundered over the Imperial Bridge towards the city. Their horses were sweating and steaming in the chill morning air, as they arrived after little more than an hours ride from Chorrol. The riders stabled them at the Chestnut Handy Stables and made their way into the city.
The tall, red-haired Altmer adjusted his massive Claymore he had strapped to his back and looked around the Talos Plaza, before turning towards his Dunmeri companion.
"So. Don't you think, it's time to tell me, what's going on?"
Sorilkad, who was clad in a guar-leather robe, shot him a glare from the side.
"I need some informations."
Caman Verhane stopped and turned the Dark Elf around on his shoulder.
"You've got to be kidding me. You dragged me out of the Guild Hall at this ghastly hour for informations? Who, in all Oblivion, ripped your skull apart and crapped on your brain?"
The Dunmer's scowl deepened as he tried to stare the Altmer down with an angry glare. But Caman, a battle hardened warrior, did not back down. He just narrowed his bright green eyes and raised an eyebrow.
"Well? I'm waiting."
"Fine!"
Sorilkad growled.
"A friend is in need of assistance. Someone's killing members of his family."
Caman shrugged.
"And?"
The Dunmer rolled his eyes.
"And he has no clue who's done it? Who ever is murdering them, does not leave a trace."
The warrior shrugged again, tracing the scarred edges if his left ear. Or at least what was left of it, since it was cut of almost completely.
"Keep out of that shit! Sounds like your friend upset someone, who contacted the Dark Brotherhood."
The Dark Elf, cocked his head sideways. His friend would most likely rip every assassin, he got his hands on apart. He hated them with the whole of his heart.
"I wont get myself involved. I will just look for some informations and give them to him. Nothing more."
Caman kept staring at his friend, the tribal tattoo on his forehead only darkening the scowl. Finally he held his hands out at his side and said in a frustrated tone.
"Fine. Have your wish. But first you'll by me a nice little lunch and tell me who your informant is."
The Dunmer blinked and walked past the tall mer.
"You never change, do you?"
He led the way to the Market District and a short time later they sat in "The Feed Back", with Caman happily chewing away on his beef.
"So."
He said between bites.
"Who are you looking for?"
Sorilkad took a sip from his tea, regarding his companion with raised eyebrows. He knew this Altmer for a few decades now, he had actually met him back in Vvardenfell and joining the Fighter's Guild did nothing to improve his manners.
"Heniele Millelle."
He answered. A grin appeared on Caman's face.
"Breton? Hope she's pretty."
Sorilkad sighed with an onset of slight frustration and buried his face in his cup again.
"Yeah Breton. But I wouldn't get your hopes high."
An Imperial waitress approached them to ask if everything was alright. A bright smile lit up Caman's even features as he pulled her on his lap in a quick motion.
"Would be better with a sweetheart like you by my side."
The woman struggled and slapped him across the face, causing him to let go and hurried to get behind the counter.
"I love it, when they are playing hard to get."
He said before he turned towards his Dunmeri friend. The mage had buried his head in his hands in embarrassment, eyeing the other mer through his fingers.
"Verhane, you'll get yourself in trouble one day."
The grin of the elf's face widened.
"My dear Sorilkad, take a good look at me. Do I look like I'm afraid of trouble?"
Sorilkad raised his gaze, studying his opposite's face closely. Caman looked quite different from the average High Elf. He was tall and muscular. His body was covered in a fair amount of scars and tattoos. His most prominent features however were found in his face. A tribal tattoo on his forehead, piercing green eyes and bright red hair pulled up in a high pony-tale, fringy bangs hanging into his face. His face was as well littered with small white scars. And then there were his ears. One missing completely, being cut shorter than a human's. The other one had a huge piece missing in the middle.
"If you were a bit more careful, you would at least have a full set of ears..."
He Dunmer finally commented. Caman chuckled.
"Fuck off, Malur."
He said, taking a bit swig of beer.
"So, how does she look like?"
He then changed back to their task at hand. Sorilkad shrugged.
"I don't know."
The Altmer rolled his eyes.
"Aw, come on, Soril. Do you at least know where she lives?"
"Yes, basically."
For a moment the High Elf froze, regarding his companion with an incredulous look.
"Basically? We have to ask around then?"
Sighing, Sorilkad Malur emptied his cup, it was time to tell Caman his plan. Well part of it, any ways.
"No. We'll find her easily tonight."
"Tonight? TONIGHT?"
Caman almost choked on his beer.
"You dragged me here this early, when your... date... is tonight? Oh by Molag Bal's balls! Sorilkad, what where you thinking! You really expect me to hang around this snobby city and kick one's heels?"
The Dunmer glared over the table.
"I have some shopping to do. You can stay here for all I care. Just don't get yourself wasted."
Caman leaned back in his seat, glancing over at the bar maid.
"Oh I think I'll have some fun then."
The Dunmer stood up with a swift motion, an angry glow in his eyes.
"N'chow ohn adur ot hla s'wit!"
He growled in his deep gravelly voice, causing the Altmer to laugh out loudly.
"Juohn, dealha."
Sorilkad left the Feed Bag muttering under his breath, leaving behind a smiling Caman.
Lucien jolted awake as a bucket of freezing cold water was doused over his head. He gasped and sputtered from the shock, while looking around in a slight state of panic. He was still in Harm's Folly, seated in the middle of the living space on a wooden chair. He was naked and bound so tightly, he already felt his hands tingle from lack of circulation. Involuntary shivers from the cold shook his body, as he finally looked up right into a set of cold hazel eyes.
"Arquen..."
His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. It didn't bode well, that she was here. Not well at all. He looked around. Beside her stood a young Breton male, he knew too well. Mathieu Bellamont. He had been a member of his Cheydinhal Sanctuary until he became Silencer. Arquen smiled at him sweetly and positioned himself between his legs. She trailed her gloved fingers over his cheek, before she lifted his chin.
"Hello Lucien."
Her voice was almost sultry, but there was a cruel undertone as well.
"So good we finally found you. Didn't take you for a woodsman."
She chatted away, while her hands trailed over his twitching pectoral muscles.
"We really need to talk."
She straightened herself and turned away from him.
"Arquen. It is not like..."
He started in his rich low voice, but was cut off by the tall woman.
"Oh but it is, Lucien. Don't try to fool me. You are going to tell me why you betrayed us."
Her voice had turned as cold as ice.
"I am not the traitor!"
Lucien said as calmly as possible. She turned, a cruel smile on her lips.
"Oh I had hoped you play that game. Mathieu if you would be so kind?"
The young man's lips stretched into a smile, as he walked over to a table and picked out a pair of tongs. His eyes gleamed cruelly as he grabbed Lucien's right hand, and broke his little and ring finger. The Imperial bit his lips, but couldn't help to grunt out as pain shot through his arm.
"Why did you betray us?"
Arquen asked again.
"I am not the traitor. Someone tries to frame me."
Lucien hissed through clenched teeth. Almost disappointed, Arquen shook her head and made a sign to the Breton. This time he broke Lucien's middle and index finger. He revelled in the sound of snapping bones, Lucien's laboured breaths and grunts, as he tried not to let his pain show through. This was far better than he had ever imagined.
"Enjoy yourself my sweet little son."
His mother whispered into his ear.
"Do you take me for a fool?"
Mathieu heard Arquen snap, which brought his attention back to the tall Altmer.
"You have killed Shaleez. Her throat slit like with all the others. This is your handiwork Lucien."
Lucien blinked in surprise.
"She is dead?"
Arquen's scowl deepened, yet she remained silent. The snap, with which his right thumb broke echoed loudly through the cabin.
"I had no idea! Arquen. You have to believe me, I have always been...argh!"
This time he could not prevent letting out a pained cry, as his other little finger snapped snapped. Then his ring finger followed and stayed being bend back to the wrist.
"You stubborn sod. You betrayed us and still you have the balls to lie in my face?"
Arquen hissed.
"I am NOT lying."
Lucien growled, as he finally felt anger rising. A growl, that turned into a hiss, as two more fingers snapped.
"I have always been loyal to our Dread Father!"
Arquen sighed and turned towards Bellamont.
"What shall we do with him?"
Mathieu smiled wickedly, as he clamped his hand around Lucien's face and forced the Imperial to look up.
"Oh we could pull his teeth out next."
He let go of Lucien's face and opened the pliers, before he put Lucien's private parts between its jaws. He applied just enough pressure to make the older male gasp and flinch.
"Or we could take his balls."
The Altmer woman cocked her head to the side, as if considering that suggestion.
"Hm..."
She pursed her lips tapping her index finger against them, while Bellamont increased the pressure a bit more. Despite the cold, Lucien began to sweat and he pulled on the ropes holding him desperately. The raw material bit into his skin, yet did not come loose.
"No. Not yet."
She finally said and as the pliers disappeared the Imperial breathed deeply. The High Elf stepped over to the captured Speaker and cupped his face.
"You've always been a handsome man, you know that? Of course you do. I bet the ladies in your Sanctuary would do everything for you."
She bend down and gently bit his lower lip. She could feel him tense.
"I bet they would all be happy to warm your bed."
Her lips ever so lightly touched his.
"Why did you kill Boudicca?"
She whispered and straightened up.
"What?"
Lucien looked at her in shock.
"How did you find out..."
As soon as those words left his mouth, he knew that he made a mistake. He could see it in her eyes, that she caught his mistake too.
"Oh? No denying this time? Looks like we made progress."
Lucien growled in frustration, pressing his eyes shut a moment.
"Arquen. I did NOT kill her. I...found her."
The Altmer chuckled and walked over to Bellamont. She put her slender hand on the young males shoulder and said loud enough for Lucien to hear.
"Lets mess his face up a little."
Bellamont nodded and stepped in front of the bound assassin. Lucien looked up, meeting the gaze of cold cruel eyes. He could see the bloodlust in them. And then the pliers connected with his cheek, so hard that he felt his cheekbone shatter. His head flew to the side, and a moment stars danced before his eyes, while he felt blood run down his neck from a cut that ran across his cheek to his mouth. Arquen's voice sounded muffled somewhere next to him.
"Mathieu. Try and not kill him instantly."
He was pushed back into his seat by a pair of strong hands. Slowly he raised his eyes to look into Mathieu's face, before spitting a load of blood into the Breton's face. Bellamont chuckled, licking the blood from his lips excitedly, as he beat the Imperial again and again until he lost consciousness.
Night had fallen and the Imperial City had gone quiet. Only few people were on the street this late at night and every now and then a lone Guard was patrolling the streets. Two lone figures were walking through the rows of gravestones in the Palace District.
"I don't understand."
Caman whispered, looking around with watchful eyes.
"Why would your informant want to meet with you here? On a sodding graveyard of all places."
Sorilkad glared over his shoulder, yet walked on without giving an answer. The Altmer frowned, having the feeling that Malur was not telling him the whole truth.
Is his informant a bloody thief or something?
He wondered. The Dunmer stopped in front of a crypt and looked around. His red eyes had an eerie glow to them, as he finally turned back to the door and opened it with a spell. He ushered the warrior inside and quickly followed, before closing the door. As he turned, Caman blocked the way down, arms crossed over his chest.
"Here? You want to meet your informant in a grave? What do you need me for anyway? Afraid a corpse jump you?"
Sorilkad's brows furrowed together.
"I tell you when we find her. But get ready for a fight. You know what horrors lurk in crypts."
"And you can't cope with a shitty little wraith alone? Have you learned anything, mage?"
The warrior asked, yet unsheathed his impressing sword. Slowly they made their way down into the crypt and walked the rows of coffins. Against their fears there were no zombies, skeletons or even ghosts.
"Well at least the legion is doing something right..."
Caman mumbled, as he followed the Dunmer. Finally Sorilkad stopped in front of a coffin and ran his hand over the dusty name plate.
"Ah, there she is."
He said and turned to his friend.
"Help me with the lid."
For a moment the Altmer's had a dumbfounded look on his face, but then it darkened in anger.
"What in all Oblivion! You drag me into the Imperial City to dig out a grave?"
The warrior shouted.
"Have you lost your mind you S'wit? That place is crawling with guards. The fucking palace is just a stone's throw away from this stinking cryp! When they catch us in here, they'll hang us by the morning!"
The Dunmer rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Caman. How long do we know each other?"
The High Elf did not answer, but lowered his gaze. He had suspected, that Sorilkad was trying something illegal.
"If you don't want the guards down here, then you best shut up and help me with that coffin. I'll be quick, I promise!"
The warrior sighed and leaned his claymore against another coffin. He and the Dunmer went back a long way and he had learned to trust him. And he knew of his interest in necromancy, so he really shouldn't be that surprised.
They pushed the lid down of the coffin. The smell that emerged made the High Elf stepped back with disgust and cover his mouth and nose.
"By the nine. How do you deal with that smell?"
A small smile tucked at the Dunmer's lips.
"You'll get used to it."
He paused and looked down at the corpse. She was still in a rather good state, though signs of decomposition were visible. She looked bloated and discoloured, flesh started to slip from her fingers. He raised an eyebrow, as he saw the massive cut across her throat. Whoever did that to the woman did it with enough rage to drag the blade over the spine, leaving deep marks on the bone. Sorilkad Malur straightened and unlaced his Guar-leather robe. He folded it away on another coffin, now displaying a light dark blue robe. On his chest was the red skull with the crossed skeletal arms, the guild emblem of the necromancers.
"I trust you watch over my back, while I concentrate on my spell."
Caman nodded with a grim expression and picked up his claymore, before positioning himself.
Sorilkad closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing his magicka. It charged the air around him, making his hair stand on end. He held his hands out over the corpse and began to mumble a spell. His hands began to glow in a greenish light that engulfed the body. Sorilkad's being expanded reached into the void. And then the corpse's eyes snapped open emitting the same green glow, as Sorilkad's. Slowly she said up and turned towards the necromancer.
"Yes master?"
Henelie asked with an almost otherworldly sound to her voice. The Dunmer nodded.
"Do you know how you died?"
The corpse nodded, raising her bloated rotting hand to her neck.
"He slit my throat."
"He? Do you know who did it?"
There was a moment of silence.
"A brother of mine. I met him outside the city. We talked."
A disturbance threatened to pull her soul from his grip and for a moment Sorilkad struggled.
"What was his name?"
"Can't remember. Was part of Cheydinhal, but relocated."
The Dunmer frowned.
"Located to where."
"To Leyawiin."
Sorilkad blinked, as sweat ran into his eyes.
"You need to remember his name!"
The corps stared at him of a long moment, then she opened her mouth. Sorilkad strained to keep her with him.
"His name was Breton origin..."
She started.
"It … was..."
And then her soul slipped from his grip, the green glow faded away and she collapsed back into the coffin. Sorilkad closed his eyes in exhaustion and swayed, as his suddenly grew dizzy. And then strong hands steadied him.
"N'chow! You don't look so good."
Caman said concerned, as he caught his friend. It took the Dunmer a almost half an hour to regain his composure. His magicka was drained and his heart was beating like he had been running for hours. As he was finally able to stand on his own he turned towards his leather robe and got dressed.
"Caman. I need to seek out my friend. He needs this information."
A deep frown appeared on the Altmer's face.
A brother of mine.
He recalled the dead woman's words. Something felt wrong about the way she said that.
Relocated to Leyawiin.
A watched his Dunmeri friend with a concerned look.
Oh Soril, what have you gotten yourself into?
Caman Verhane shook his head, as he made his decision.
"I'm coming with you."
The mage turned with a surprised look and opened his mouth, but Caman held his hand up to silence him.
"Don't try to talk me out of it. I think you will need my help."
A smile appeared on the Dark Elf's tired features.
"Thank you. Now lets hurry. The sooner we get to him, the better,"
He came to to a searing pain running down his back. He tried to jerk away, but his effort was only rewarded by more pain. Lucien looked up, his wrists were tied together and he was dangling from a hook in the ceiling. A movement in front of him caught his attention. He blinked, one eye almost completely swollen shut. Arquen stood in front of him smiling, while he felt Bellamont's presence behind him.
"Oh you are awake. I was really worried, we killed you already."
She closed thier distance and he could feel the fabric of her robe brush against his skin.
"You know. You are terrible at hiding. We could locate you so, so easily. All we had to do was ask around in the Roxey Inn. You should teach your horse some manners..."
She stopped and trailed a dagger lightly down his chest.
"Where have we been?"
She continued in a causal tone of voice.
"Oh. Right. Why did you betray us?"
Lucien shook his head, he had known her for more than 15 years. They had worked together hand in hand. Went on difficult contracts together. He just could not understand why she would not even let him talk out. She did not even give him a chance to defend himself. But he was never one to give up easily.
"Arquen, think about it! If I was the traitor, I wouldn't make it so obvious! I would cover up my traces, don't you think?"
For a moment the Altmer just stared into Lucien's already beaten face. For a moment he hoped, that he finally talked some sense into his fellow assassin. But that moment passed, as she signalled Mathieu to continue the torture. The Breton smiled wickedly and drew his blade over Lucien's exposed back again and again, till it felt raw, like it was set on fire. Lucien gritted his teeth together and tried to breath through the pain, not giving them the satisfaction to scream. He waited till his pain had subsided a bit, before trying again.
"Arquen, please just lis..."
He was cut off, as she slapped a scroll across his bleeding face.
"Still trying to wind your way out like the worm you are."
Her voice was rich of malice, while she slowly unrolled the parchment.
"Let me read that to you."
She took a deep breath.
"Your target is a High Elf whore named Arquen. She has been difficult to locate, but you might try asking around the Grey Mare in Chorrol and the
Bridge Inn in Cheydinhal. Arquen is a skilled fighter and will not be eliminated easily."
She stopped and looked into Lucien's eyes.
"Sound familiar?"
He blinked, shaking his head.
"A contract?"
He asked. The Altmer lost it. She slapped him across the face. Hard.
"Don't dare play dumb!"
She screamed, shoving the parchment in his face.
"This is your handwriting!"
The Imperial looked at the parchment in surprise and disbelieve.
"It is my handwriting. But I did not write it!"
She stepped back, shaking her head in disbelieve. She had no words for this level of denial. If it weren't so obvious, she actually could have believed in his innocence.
"Mathieu hold him. I don't want him to flinch away, when I carve his heart out."
"Yes Speaker."
Lucien felt the Breton's breath hot on his ear, felt his body press against his own firmly, as he snaked one arm around the Imperial's stomach. Arquen turned away to pic out a sharp knife used to skin deer.
"You know, Cheydinhal will be mine, when your gone."
The Breton whispered in his ear, before liking it. Lucien shivered involuntary. And then he felt the hardness pressed between his butt cheeks. Bellamont groped at him.
"I wonder if sweet Antionetta is any good in bed."
Mathieu rubbed himself against his former Speaker. Lucien's eyes widened and he looked up. His hands were bloody, his fingers sticking in almost every direction. He wriggled his hands around in the ropes, trying to loose them. He had to get free. Had to fight back.
"No matter though. I will fuck her bloody."
Lucien's angry growl turned into a gasp, as Bellamont thrust his hip forward, pushing his erection hard against the Imperial.
"I'll kill you, Mathieu!"
Lucien hissed through clenched teeth, but the Breton only laughed.
"You are in no position to utter threats."
Lachance looked up, one hand had almost slipped out of the rope. At this moment Arquen returned to him and he found himself wedged between their bodies. She dragged her knife across his chest, cutting deep into the pectoral muscle. Lucien closed his eyes and tensed every aching muscle.
"Night Mother grand me strength."
He muttered and pulled, while simultaneously kicking his legs out in front. He hit Arquen's chest with his feet, pushing her away, while his hands came loose. He collapsed down, taking a surprised Bellamont with him. Despite his injuries, he managed to scrambled up and gave Mathieu a good kick to his groin, before pulling the sword out of the Breton's sheath. Bellamont curled into a tight ball crying out in pain. One down, but Lucien was sure that he would have a hard time fighting the Altmer, especially since he was barely able to get a grip on the sword's handle, his broken fingers refused to curl around the hilt properly. He had to try though, if he only could get out and to Shadowmere. She would take him away swiftly.
He turned, barely able to block the Altmer's blade. His whole body felt sore and with a swollen shut eye, he had trouble with the depth perception. He swung at her...and missed. Arquen evaded his blade easily, dance around him and swiped out her sharp knife. She hit her mark.
Lucien stopped looking down at his stomach. His sword clattered to the ground, as he desperately tried to keep his intestines from falling out. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide in disbelieve. His hands started to shake as his back connected with the wooden wall and shock slowly set in. His guts felt so warm and slippery in his hands. His helpless gaze searched Arquen's face, but there was nothing there but satisfaction. His knees buckled and Lucien slid down the wall. He could feel his strength leaving him with every heartbeat. Arquen crouched down in front of him, and pulled his bowls out a bit more.
"Oh Lucien. You are a naughty boy."
She lifted his chin and was about to cut his throat, as a coughing and spitting Mathieu got to his feet
"Wait, Speaker."
She turned towards the Breton, who clutched his privates tightly in his hands. His face was bright red and a vein on his forehead was so prominent, Arquen thought it might pop.
"Don't make it so easy for him. Let him suffer."
The woman gave Lucien a last good glance over, before she stood. Lucien's head slumped forward, he was barely able to keep his eyes open, yet he fought to stay awake. Hoped somebody would come to his aid, against all odds.
"You are right."
Her voice came from far away.
"He's dead anyway. Now come, Speaker Bellamont. I'm hungry, lets spend the night at the Inn."
Lucien Lachance was vaguely aware that they left the room. Barely aware that he was alone. He looked at his bloodied mutilated hands, at his intestines he held in his lap. There was no hope left. Barely any fight left in him. Soon he would kneel at his Dread Father's side. He closed his eyes and waited.