Vicente Valtieri sat in the corner of the common area of Cheydinhal sanctuary, a book in his hands. The gaze of his pale red eyes however was blank as he gazed into the void. A shadow had fallen over this sanctuary. The old vampire could feel it in his bones, that there was something amiss. He sighed, finally closing the book, he was not able to read and put it away. He had warned Lucien to be careful and hide away. Vicente did not want to think about what they had done to his friend, but he could very well imagine it. He hoped, that his death had come easy for the Imperial. Hoped, he was now resting at their Dread Father's feet with pride. Sithis would know, that his child had been loyal until the end.

He shook his head with yet another heavy sigh and watched the Dark Guardian shuffle around. Ever since their new Speaker arrived, the very air had turned cold and depressing and even the undead guardian seemed to feel it. The skeleton walked around with his sword half raised, head swinging from side to side, as if its empty eyesockets were searching for something. Vicente rubbed his fingers over his eyes. He needed to get out of here, do something.

I should try to look into this matter.

He thought.

It cannot be that Lucien's name is sullied by this horrible accusation. Slowly he stood up and started pacing. He had watched Bellamont carefully the last few days. He was doing good with the women in the Sanctuary. Especially Antionetta seemed to be impressed by his subtle attempts of wooing her. And to his utter disappointment, Bellamont lies started to corrupt their hearts and they already started to question Lachance's motives.

Night Mother guide us...

He sent a silent prayer to their unholy matron. If he wasn't bound by the tenets he would like to break Bellamont's scrawny little neck.

The noise of a shutting door caught his attention and he looked up. Ocheeva walked out the training room and gave Vicente a friendly smile. He returned it with a graceful nod. The Argonian stopped in her tracks before she turned towards the Executioner.

"Vicente. What's wrong. I haven't seen you this worried in a long time."

He shook his head, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words. Finally he said with a half shrug.

"I am worried, Ocheeva. And to be honest, in my twohundered years in this Sanctuary I never have been this afraid of our safety."

And incredulous look crossed her eyes and she led him into her room. After locking the door, she turned towards the vampire.

"Vicente, please. If our Sanctuary is in danger, then you need to share your thoughts with me."

His gaze flickered and dropped to the floor. With a deep breath he said.

"It's Bellamont. I don't trust him."

Ocheeva crossed her arms over her chest and regarded the old assassin with a long stern look. Finally she sighed, saying.

"You should give him a chance."

His face darkened.

"A chance? Why should I? He's prancing around here like he owns this place."

"He does own this place, Vicente. He is our Speaker now."

The vampire threw his hands into the air and hissed.

"Lachance is our speaker. He has always been loyal to his family!"

He could hear her move behind him, and moments later a cool hand touched his shoulder.

"Vicente, you have to accept that Lucien is dead. There is no coming back from that."

She paused and looked to the ground.

"You know he has been like a father to my brother and me. I grief for him. But he has betrayed us, Vicente, that I cannot forgive."

Vicente whirled around, his eyes wide with anger.

"WHAT? You actually believe what Bellamont told us? He is trying to rip our family apart!"

The Argonian shook her head.

"Vicente, calm down. I looked into it. Boudicca's grave is exactly where Mathieu said it was. And the method of killing was his handwriting, you know that as well as I do."

She paused, fixing her eyes to Vicente's.

"This is evidence that simply cannot be ignored. You know that as much as do I."

The Breton looked to the ground. There was nothing he could say against that. He couldn't tell her, that he had met Lucien bend over the corpse. It would only raise more suspicion and maybe even endanger him. But still he felt that something was greatly wrong about Bellamont.

"Vicente."

Ocheeva's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I know that you never have been fond of Mathieu. And the move he pulled on you was low. But he is our Speaker now. You should let go of your anger."

Vicente walked up to the Argonian until their noses almost touched. With a very low and dangerously calm voice he said.

"I'm not angry, Ocheeva. I'm absolutely furious."

With that he walked over to the door and unlocked it. Before he opened it however he turned towards her again, and with the same voice he said.

"Mark my words, Ocheeva. If Bellamont stays here, we are all doomed. It's just a matter of time until our members here start dying."

With that he walked out, followed by the still stunned Argonian. As he entered the common area he was met by Bellamont. The young Breton regarded him with a cold look.

"Ah Valtieri, here you are. I would like to have a talk with you. Please join me in my office."

He did not wait for the vampire to acknowledge him and thus he missed the portentous look Vicente shot Ocheeva.

Minutes later the vampire was faced with his new Speaker, who sat at his desk, a stack of scrolls in front of him. He motioned to the vampire to sit down, but the Vicente just ignored him. The smile on Bellamont's face diminished a little.

"Please, sit down."

He said, his voice cool but not unfriendly. Valtieri walked up to the desk.

"I prefer to stand."

Bellamont leant back with a smile, the vampire was not able to read.

"Very well then."

He said, pressing his fingertips together in front if his face.

"I have summoned you here, Valtieri, because I have a contract to you."

The vampire looked up with a hard gaze in his eyes.

"A contract?"

He asked.

"Where, in Anvil that I burn to death on my way there?"

The smile on Bellamont's face widened.

"You are aware, that I am your Speaker?"

The young Breton stood up and rounded the table, closing down their distance until they nearly touched each other. Bellamont looked down at the smaller older male.

"Talking like this could be regarded as treachery. You don't want me to get the impression, that you are involved with the betrayal of your beloved Lachance, do you?"

Vicente had to bit back a remark, he already had on the tip of his tongue, but the stare he gave him was murderous. Bellamont patted his cheek and turned back to the desk.

"But don't worry, I'll make sure, you learn some lessons in respect. But now back to the contract. It is actually one here in Cheydinhal. Your target is a Dunmer farmer by the name of Llevana Nedaren. Apparently she had dealings with the Orum gang."

Vicente raised an eyebrow. He knew, that this gang of local Skooma dealers had rented a room in her basement. Maybe she had stuck her nose to deep into their business.

"It should be no problem for an experienced member such as yourself to sneak into her house and kill a harmless farmer."

Bellamont continued holding out a scroll to the vampire. Suspiciously Vicente took the scroll and skimmed through it. The contract seemed legit, yet it felt like something was wrong with it. Maybe the way, Bellamont had praised his skill, too sarcastic for the vampire's liking. He folded it up and nodded, before turning to leave. He just had to be careful. Behind him, Mathieu Bellamont's gaze turned deadly and an evil grin tugged the corners of his mouth up. As soon as the vampire was out of earshot he said, his voice dripping of venom.

"Good riddance to you, Valtieri!

"We need to fucking move!"

Caman insisted leaning against the door, watching his Dunmeri friend, who took care of Lucien's wounds. The Dark Elf sighed.

"We can't as long as his wound is open."

Caman through his hands up in the air in an frustrated guesture.

"Than close that bloody thing! You did it before!"

"Yes, and look what happened. He got an infection."

Caman was about to bark back a snarky reply, but was cut short by a loud groan coming from the Imperial. His face contorted in pain, twisting his head from side to side. Sorilkad's blood red eyes narrowed at the man, while he soaked a cloth in cold water. With a drawn out breath, he sat down beside his friend and put the folded, dripping cloth on Lucien's forehead, while keeping him still at the same time. Lucien struggled more, and Sorilkad leaned his whole bodyweight on the Imperial's upper body.

"Another fit?"

The Dunmer heard Caman ask from behind, who had grabbed Lucien's legs to keep him down and stop him from hurting himself further.

"I don't know. This seems... different."

Sorilkad answered, frown deepening.

Lucien slowly arose from the blissful unawareness his unconsciousness had kept him in. Memories came flooding back. Before his inner eye he saw Arquen with her cold, hungry eyes and murderous smile, heard her lustful tone, as she ordered Bellamont to break Lucien's fingers. And like his memories came back, so did his pain. Panic filled him, that his torture still wasn't over. He tried to struggle free, but couldn't move, his hands and feet were restrained. He felt like he could not breathe, a heavy weight pressed down on his chest. He pressed his eyes shut as tightly as possible and bit his lips so hard, it started to bleed. He knew, he needed to calm down. Knew, he needed to think clearly. He tried to breathe in deeply, but winched as hot searing pain shot through his whole torso. He couldn't help but groan out in agony.

Another image came back to his mind. He saw himself staring up at Arquen, who laughed at him, while he had his own entrails in his hands. He groaned, forcing his breath to calm down. It was then he noticed, that he wasn't alone. He got aware of the two sets of hands, clamping around his upper arms and legs. And someone spoke to him constantly in a deep soft voice. Though he could not understand the words, he understood the intentions. He was spoken to like a father would speak to a sick child and he indeed calmed down. He listened to the melodic foreign language and slowly his sore muscles relaxed and his pain subsided a little. The hands on his legs disappeared, as did the pressure on his chest.

"Lucien, binthi kol lo! Ohn ayuli!"

The words sank in and slowly he opened his eyes. He had to blink a couple of times. The room he lay in was only dimly lit by a couple of candles, yet the orange glow was so bright, it made his eyes water. He looked around. A shadow towered over him, glowing red dots were the eyes should be. Lucien swallowed and willed his vision to clear up. The shadow slowly took shape as his hazy mind added more and more details. He recognized long ravenblack hair, that was shaved off on one side of the head. Long pointy ears and a greyish blue skin, with red tattoos on one side. And blood red eyes, that looked down at him with concern and relieve.

Lucien opened his mouth, but now words would come out. His throat felt raw and he had the taste of blood in his mouth.

"Iru. Ouaji isk! "

The Dunmer said still in his native language and held a glass against the Imperial's dry lips. The healing potion tasted terrible but Lucien swallowed obediently. He could feel the potion take effect, as it slightly burned its way down. Again he tried to speak and this time, with great effort, he was able too.

"So...Soril,"

He managed, his voice hoarse and alien to his ears.

"Why...you here?"

A deep frown appeared on Sorilkad's even features, as his eyes scanned Lucien's face.

"I'm here to safe your sorry little ass."

He paused a moment, before adding.

"S'wit!"

A smile tugged on Lucien's lips, while his eyes began to drift shut. Moments later he was fast asleep again. Carefully Sorilkad touched his forehead and for the first time, since he had found his friend he dared to hope that every thing would be fine. The fever had finally gone down. He turned towards Caman and got a cup shoved into his hand. The Altmer pointed towards the chair in front of the fire place.

"You! Rest! I'll wake you when he wakes up!"

It was already late night when Vicente Valtieri left the Sanctuary through the secret doorway. Pushing the grit up, he carefully peeked over the rim of the old well. Everything was quiet, which was no surprise. Cheydinhal had always been a nice little town. Silently he walked through the streets, and though he was alone he preferred to stay hidden in the shadows. He hadn't fed in a while now, Bellamont had not giving him a chance to go out. He would need to feed on his target. He sighed.

Oh Lucien you fool! How could you get yourself captured. I taught you better!

He thought, not for the first time. His level of frustration rose every time his thoughts would return to his former Speaker. He had lost so many good Speakers over the years now, it was depressing.

And ever since Bellamont had appeared in their sanctuary, he felt that something was amiss. It was like Bellamont brought along a darkness, that threatened to corrupt his brothers and sisters. He could not explain it, and apparently could not talk to anybody about it, but he felt like they were all in danger. He shook his head.

Lucien told me to keep the Sanctuary safe. How am I supposed to keep them safe, when nobody listens to me? Sithis help us, this will not end well.

He took a deep breath, he had arrived at Nedaren's house. Another careful look around. No one in sight. He crouched down and tried the handle. He raised an eyebrow, as he found it the door unlocked. Even if Cheydinhal was a quiet town, nobody would leave their front door unlocked. Silently he drew his blade and opened the door, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. His instincts told him, that something was not quite right, yet a contract was a contract. With his senses on high alert he snuck into the living room as the door behind him suddenly fell shut. He whirled around, abandoning his crouched stance. He growled darkly and gripped his sword so tightly, his knuckles cracked. Yet he had no hope in coming out of this mess alive, but he would not go down without a fight.