The young assassin stabled his horse at the Horse Whisperer Stables. His fierce black mare stood out amongst the white horses up like a sore thumb, but his mare needed rest and food. It was still early noon, he had plenty of time to investigate his targets whereabouts and plan ahead for every possibility. He was wearing a dark green shirt and laced pants, so he would not raise any suspicions amongst the citizens.

After looking around for a while, he booked a room at a harbour-side tavern, before he found himself a nice quiet spot near the lighthouse. He sat on a big rock, letting his feet dangle into the foaming sea below him. For a while he just enjoyed the salty wind playing with his hair, the sun on his face and the smell of the sea below. Ever since he joined the Dark Brotherhood half a year ago, he was pretty much confined to Cheydinhal and it was nice to get out of the windy town at the foot of the Valus Mountains. For a while he was content with watching the flight of the seagulls and the ships at sea, before he finally pulled out his contract. His target was a Breton woman by the name of Bella Montée. He took a deep breath and packed his parchment away and slowly got up.

Turns out, she was very easy to find. Rumours of her were all over the town, and the young Dark Brotherhood murderer quickly learned, that she was in a nasty divorce. If only she knew how nasty the divorce would get for her. He grinned and scouted out her house, a small one storey building right next and a little behind the Mages Guild. Satisfied he smiled and made his way back to The Flowing Bowl, where he ordered himself something to eat. By nightfall he finally changed into his shrouded armour and snuck out of the tavern through a window on the backside of the building. Quietly as a ghost he crept up to Montèe's house and entered it through a window on the first floor. He found himself in a small room. By the furniture he judged it to be a child's room. Silently he made his way downstairs...

...and didn't find her. He cursed under his breath. Seems like he had to wait for her to come home. Quickly he left the house, the same way he had come in and pulled himself up on the roof. There, cloaked in an invisibility spell, he watched the street, his excitement rising with every minute that ticked by. A little past midnight she finally came home. Swaying slightly as she unlocked the door, she made her way inside. Young Lucien on the roof smiled, while he let go of his spell. With her being this drunk, it would be rather easy to remove her from existence. On nimble feet he climbed down from the roof and through the open window beneath. A moment he stood in the dark room and listened. Slow unsteady footsteps climbed up the stairs. He drew his dagger and pressed himself flat against the wall behind the door. Moments later the footsteps stopped and the door was pushed open. She never saw him coming, as his hand clamped down in her hair, pulling her head back, while he drew his dagger over her throat with such ferocity, that the sharp blade went right through flesh, vertebrae and tendons. Bella Montèe's body collapsed on the floor with a low thud, while the young murderer still held her head in his hand. Still smiling he let it fall on the floor carelessly and stepped over to the empty bed, cleaning his dagger on the sheet. Young Lucien Lachance left the house through the front door, without ever noticing the five year old boy lying underneath the bed, frozen to the spot by terror.

Lucien stirred in his sleep, before he woke with a start. He sat up and immediately regretted that motion, as pain shot through his abdomen. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pressed him down on the mattress. Lucien looked up right into fierce green eyes. He tensed and opened his mouth, but the Altmer pressing him down hissed.

"Shut it, Imperial or I shove something down your gob!"

A deep frown appeared on Lucien's face and he hissed back.

"Where is Sorilkad?"

He demanded to know. The Altmer straightened up and pointed over to the fireplace. Lucien followed that motion with his eyes. Sorilkad was passed out on a chair, feet propped up on another one.

"Let him sleep. He's been fussing over you, ever since we found you."

The Altmer said, his voice low. Lucien understood and relaxed, taking a closer look at the High Elf. He looked like a pretty tough guy, face littered with scars and messed up ears, lean but muscular stature. If he would have to guess, then this guy was whether an adventurer or from the Fighters Guild.

"So you are a friend of Sorilkad's?"

Lucien whispered, his voice still hoarse. The elf nodded.

"Damn right I am."

The mer's green eyes narrowed dangerously, while he regarded Lucien with a cold gaze.

"And by Hircine, if you hurt him, I'll hunt you little assassin scum down and strangle you with your fucking guts."

Lucien's stared back at the tall mer with his own gaze darkening in anger.

"That wont be necessary, Caman."

Both men turned to the sound of a gravelly tired voice behind them. The High Elf rose and stepped close to the smaller mer.

"I hope so for your own sake, Soril."

Sorilkad nodded.

"Don't worry, he can be trusted."

The Altmer huffed and walked over to the fireplace, watching the Dunmer, who had already turned his attention towards the bed. Sorilkad settled at Lucien's bedside. For a long moment the Dark Elf observed Lucien silently.

"How are you feeling."

Sorilkad finally asked with his normal scowl and gruff demeanour, but couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

"Awful."

Lucien answered truthfully, then added with a wry smile.

"Like a necromancer turned me inside out."

The scowl on Sorilkad's face deepened.

"Actually I was trying to bind your soul to a scroll. Would be funny to summon you at will, as a Spectral Assassin so to say."

Lucien blinked and stared at the Dunmer, not sure if he had made a joke or not.

"Ass."

Sorilkad chuckled.

"You're welcome, S'wit."

The Elf let his red eyes wander over the Imperials body once more.

"You have some pretty messed up friends, you know that Lucien?"

A sour look appeared on the assassin's face, as he remembered the torture he was put through and he raised a hand to his face. His fingers looked pretty normal again, so he tried to move them. They were still a little stiff and sorey, but so felt his whole body.

"How long have I been out?"

Sorilkad shrugged.

"A little more than a week."

Lucien's eyebrows shot up and struggled to sit up, but was pressed down firmly.

"What? Over a week? I need to go..."

"You need to stay down!"

Sorilkad growled darkly.

"But..."

The look the Dark Elf gave him, was enough to shut the hardy assassin up. Sorilkad drew the blanket back.

"You are still not healed. Something I tend to change now."

His gaze met with Lucien's.

"Brace yourself, this is not going to be pleasant."

The Dunmer warned his friend, while he removed the bandage from the wound. A green glowing ball appeared in his left hand. Again their eyes met and Sorilkad's held an almost apologetic look. Lucien took a deep breath and tried to relax, but in a matter of seconds his face contorted with pain and he pressed his eyes shut, as Sorilkad pressed his hand down.

The loud cracking of a whip echoed through the hallways of Cheydinhal Castle Dungeon. It noise was followed by an unearthly growl. Count Andel Indarys stood proud and tall in front of his naked prisoner. Again the whip cracked like thunder.

"You can end this."

The count said with a calculating calm voice.

"Just tell me about the Dark Brotherhood."

The count only earned an angry snarl with bared fangs and a murderous glare.

Indarys sighed, shaking his head, while the whip cracked again and again, always followed by pained hisses and angered growls.

"I know, you are an assassin."

"I'm a vampire!"

Vicente snarled back with bared fangs.

"I was hung...argh!"

He was cut off by the cracking of the whip and the sharp pain that followed the sound.

"Don't play that game. I know you exactly what you are."

Indarys paused, walking up to the chained up and badly beaten vampire. For a moment they stared each other.

"I received a tip, that poor Nedaren was … how do you call it... scheduled for execution."

Vicente's pale red eyes widened ever so slightly. He had felt that something was wrong about the contract he received. Now he knew. He was right all along, Bellamont was going to pick them off one by one.

"I had a deal with one of your spokesman. Never kill inside the walls of my city. You broke the contract. So now tell me. I want the names of all the members here in my city."

Vicente closed his eyes and for a brief moment he was tempted to give Bellamont's name away. But he dismissed the thought quickly. He had been loyal to the Brotherhood for two hundred years, he would die loyal. His eyes snapped open, Indarys was still only a couple of inches away. Too far from him to bite, but not far enough. The mixture of blood and saliva hit Count Indarys right in his face. The Dunmer glared at the vampire before he turned away.

"Take our... guest...to his cell."

He said to the Imperial guards, who had hauled Vicente from the house to the dungeon. The count opened the door and was about to leave, but stopped as a thought came to his mind.

"But make sure to give him the sunny cell."

Vicente tried to struggle, as they hauled him away into the cell. He tried to break free or at least inflict some damage on them. But the Imperial guards in their heavy iron armour overpowered him easily. Moments later he found himself alone. He drew a shaky breath in, not so much because he needed the air, it was more the need to calm himself down. If he went feral it would not help him in any way. He looked around. The cell was small and dank, with one single barred window high up in the wall. There was already a square of light on the floor and the wall. Wearily he looked towards the window. The sun would wander away from his direction, meaning the light would come to him. Uneasy he shifted, pulling on the chains. Too sturdy to break free and too short to move far.

Vicente Valtieri closed his eyes in defeat. He had been outsmarted, went into the trap Bellamont send him in blindly. He should have listened to his feeling that something wasn't right and now he was running out of options. Well he had three options left. Burn to death in the sun, starve or being killed. Vicente leant his raw burning back against the rough wall behind him and sighed deeply as a strong sense of desperation washed over him. He had failed on so many levels. He had failed Lucien, had failed to keep his brothers and sisters safe. And he felt incredibly stupid. The old vampire wanted to sit down, but his chains were too short for that too. A dark growl escaped his lips. If he would ever get out of here, he would exact his revenge in the bloodiest way possible.

But as the day progressed and the square of bright sunshine came closer and closer, he let go of this thought as well and by the late afternoon he was clinging desperately to the sturdy chains, his toes barely touching the ground, while he twisted his body away from the light. It took him a while until he noticed that he was watched by the count. Vicente's gaze snapped up as he heard the heavy iron door creak open. Indarys stepped into the cell and stopped right in the light, regarding the struggling vampire with an aloof arrogant gaze.

"I see you enjoy your stay."

He finally said, his voice rich with sarcasm. Vicente only glared at the Dunmer but chose to remain silent. A slight frown appeared on Indarys face.

"I am not an evil man, vampire."

His tone was a calm coolness, that caught Vicente's attention.

"I don't want you see tortured and struggling. I could end your suffering. Just tell me what I want to know and I will show mercy on you."

Vicente's gaze never wavered as he listened to the Dark Elf. Silence hung between them like a heavy cloak for along moment.

"Never."

The Breton finally snarled with bared fangs. Count Indarys raised his eyebrows and in that same calm collected voice he said.

"Very well."

He left, without even a single glance back, leaving the naked beaten vampire to his struggling.

Night fell and the orange glow of a fire lit the windows of Harm's Folly. Three man had gathered around the fireplace, each holding a steaming pot of stew. They all ate in silence, each dwelt on their own dark thoughts. And even though it was quite a simple and light meal, Lucien enjoyed it a lot, especially since he hadn't eaten in quite a while. He shouldn't be alive in the first place to enjoy anything. His gaze fixed to the fire, he chewed on a piece of rabbit meat.

I'll kill that Altmer bitch...

He thought darkly, still images flashed before his eyes. Images of his horrific injury. Never had he felt so helpless before. And still he hurt where his muscles had been cut, even though the Dunmeri mage had finally closed the wound.

"What are you going to do now?"

Sorilkad's deep voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. Lucien shrugged, shoving the spoon back into the stew.

"I really don't know. I can't go back to Cheydinhal. Not at the moment."

The tall warrior beside him nodded grimly.

"But we cannot stay here. I can't stretch it enough. We need to fucking move!"

Sorilkad shook his head in deep thought. He knew that as well, but where should they go. To the Mages Guild? He highly doubted it, that any Guild would let a civilian crash in their hall.

"If the Black Hand finds out I'm still alive, they will be in hot pursuit in no time."

Lucien said, still watching the flames dance.

"And there is still that traitor in our ranks. I have to find him, before he kills us all."

He ran his index finger over the light pink scar that trailed from his left collarbone all the way down his sternum, where Arquen had wanted to cut his heart out.

"Sadly I don't even know where to start looking for the traitor."

He ended, putting his bowl away and settling back on the chair. The Imperial looked up in time to see the mer share a meaningful glance. Lucien frowned, fixing Sorilkad with a stern look.

"Why exactly are you here?"

He asked the Dunmer. Caman huffed and drew in a deep breath, opening his mouth for an witty reply, but was stopped by Sorilkad.

"Your visit at the Arcane University and your story had me intrigued so much, I decided to look into the death's."

Lucien's eyebrows went up and suddenly he remembered the dream he had of the Night Mother.

You made your necromancer friend look into the matter.

He could hear her soft voice in his mind again. His interest was sparked and he leaned forward, elbows heavy in his thighs.

"And what did you find out? And how?"

"Well,"

Sorilkad started, turning his gaze towards the flames, while searching for the right words. The oranges light gave his red eyes an eerie glow.

"You have told me about this female assassin."

Lucien nodded.

"Heniele, yes."

"I...I went to her and asked her."

The Imperial's eyes widened ever so slightly.

"You did what?"

"He raised her from the dead. Fucking creep show, let me tell ya."

Caman interjected. Lucien looked from mer to mer in absolute disbelieve.

"You resurrected her?"

"Right in that sodding Imperial City. That Dunmer has some serious balls to pull that move under the guards noses."

The High Elf grinned widely at his dark skinned friend. Sorilkad sighed, his gaze meeting Lucien's.

"I couldn't keep her soul long in her body, but she told me at least some things, you might find interesting."

The Dunmer stood up and took their bowls away before returning with three goblets and a bottle of Tamika's West Weald wine, he had found in the cabin. He filled their glasses before he settled down. All the while Lucien was watching silently.

"Now, Sorilkad, what did you find out. Did she give you a name?"

"No. Sadly not. Her answers had been cryptic. She told me that she met a brother outside the city and that they talked before he slit her throat."

The Dunmer paused taking a sip from his wineglass, trying to recall the events. He raised the gaze of his blood-red eyes to Lucien's brown ones.

"But she told me, her murderer has once been a member of your Sanctuary, but was relocated to Leyawiin."

Again he paused a moment.

"Does that ring a bell?"

Sorilkad asked. Lucien's eyes widened, as he finally pieced all the clues together. It all made sense now. The Night Mother's words, his dream, everything. Beside him the tall Altmer chuckled.

"He, judging from that dumbfounded look, it does ring a bell."

A curious gleam lighted his green eyes, as he regarded the assassin.

"Tell me Imperial. Who is your traitor, I'd love to slice that bloody amateur open."

Lucien did not react, to deeply in his thoughts. Only when Sorilkad touched his shoulder he looked up.

"Lucien, share your thoughts with us."

The Dunmer said in his calm dark voice. Lucien ran his fingers through his long dark hair, twisting the ends around his fingers.

"It's Bellamont."

Lucien finally stated, his voice dripping venom. He emptied his wine and stood up.

"I need to go to Cheydinhal! He's now in charge of my sanctuary."

The Imperial declared, reaching for his dark robe, but was stopped by Sorilkad.

"And do what? Serve yourself on a silver platter? Do you have any evidence against him?"

Lucien froze, glaring at his friend.

"This is something personal, Sorilkad. I've brought him into the Brotherhood, I'll end his stay. Permanently."

The Dark Elf shrugged.

"Maybe. But just think for a moment. It's your word against his and all the evidence point to you. What do you think will happen. Who will they believe more?"

Sorilkad paused.

"Do you really think they will take the word of a Necromancer as evidence? Especially one, who has no further connection to the Dark Brotherhood, than being the traitor's friend?"

Sorilkad grabbed the Imperial by the arm and led him back to the fire. With a determined tone of voice he said.

"Not sit down, and tell us what you know about him. And maybe we'll figure something out."

Grudgingly the assassin obliged. His friend was right. He had nothing.

"Why did you get that bloody sod into your Brotherhood in the first place?"

Caman, who was silently watching the whole time asked. Lucien inhaled deeply.

"Nearly fifteen years ago, I was sent to recruit a boy, who had caught the attention of the Night Mother. He had killed his father in cold blood. I was met by a young Breton boy no older than fifteen years of age. What struck me as odd, was that cold calculating look he gave me. Like he was always planning and plotting. Always watching me, when we met. I embraced him into my Sanctuary like a brother regardless."

Caman raised an eyebrow.

"You have any clue, why he holds a grudge against you?"

Lucien's gaze turned absent as thought back to the dream he had.

"Maybe."

He started, ruffling his hair thoughtfully.

"One of my first contracts was to murder a Breton woman. I hadn't had much information about her, only a name. But rumours in town had it that she was in a nasty divorce and were fighting over their child. I killed her of course, cut off her head with one blow."

Again he stopped, asking himself how he could have been so stupid. So blind.

"And what was her name?"

Sorilkad asked.

"Bella Montèe,"

the Imperial sight.

"Hm,"

Caman grunted.

"That Breton bugger is a fucking genius. Taking on his mother's name."

The Altmer filled his glass again, casually saying:

"Kill a boy's mother and vengeance festers in the son. Where did she live?"

Lucien regarded the Altmer with a long cold look. That mer's attitude was slowly getting to him.

"Anvil."

He finally answered. Caman nodded, emptying his cup, before he stood and got his cape.

"What are you doing?"

Sorilkad asked.

"I'll go to Anvil. I bet, he has a secret hideout there."

The High Elf stopped, fetching a bundle and put it at Lucien's feet.

"You two relocate in the morning. There is a little cabin along the Blue Road. The guy it belonged to died unfortunately. You can stay there safely."

Sorilkad nodded.

"You have to go right now?"

"Of course. Anvil is quite a ride. Don't worry, Soril, I'll be fine."

The elf turned towards the Imperial and handed him a piece of paper.

"Mark my words Imperial! Sorilkad's been through much thank to you! If you mess this shit up, I'll kill you, resurrect and kill you again! Understood?"

Lucien nodded grimly, thinking of some painful way to get that attitude out of that mouthy mer.

"Good!"

Caman continued.

"And remember. Lucien Lachance is dead. This is your new identity."

The assassin raised an eyebrow and unfolded the piece of paper. It was transfer request for an Imperial Legion Soldier to Cheydinhal.

"Hope you like heavy armour, Marsus Tullius."

The Imperials gaze turned suspicious as he bend down to the bundle and opened it.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

He exclaimed. Both mer chuckled light heartedly before they exchanged a warrior's hug.

"Stay safe Malur."

Caman said, while pulling his cloak around his shoulders and strapping the claymore to his back.

"You watch him, Tullius."

Lucien nodded, still with a sour look on his face. Before the Altmer disappeared into the night, Lucien held him back.

"If you need information, look for a young Dunmer thief in Anvil. Dark skin, white hair, purple eyes, goes by the name of Shadow. He works for me."

Caman nodded and left Harm's Folly.