The sun shone brightly over Cheydinhal on this cold autumn morning. And while there was no cloud in the sky, a cold wind blew down from the snow-crested mountains. Despite the cold, a young Breton man lay in the grass just outside the city walls. Not too far away to get attacked by wildlife but far enough not to be seen by the archers on the city walls.
His pale blue eyes stared at the sky without really seeing it. No. His sight was turned inside. He was quite pleased with his scheme turning out so nicely. Vicente Valtieri was locked away for good and he was sure that the vampire would never get out of the prison. Not alive. He still had to tell his family the sad news.
His hand wandered down and disappeared into his pants. He already was aroused by the thought of the torture Vicente would face at the hands of Indarys. He knew the count wasn't too fond of having a sanctuary in his city, despite him having turned to the Brotherhood in the past. He gently stroked himself, turning his thoughts away from the vampire and towards more pleasurable things. He was now in a position, he could go against the other members of the Black Hand as well. He would kill them all, including the Listener and then they would perform an ancient ritual and summon the Night Mother. This would be his hour to shine.
Who shall be the first to go. Arquen or Alval? I hate that two mer.
He thought while biting his lower lip in pleasure.
I think the first one to go is Alval. Arquen may serve me still.
He stroked harder.
And serve me she will.
Arquen had a way to tease men with her female attributes. He had seen it first hand when they had tortured Lachance. She would not tease him. Oh no. He would make sure, that she screamed for him. Screamed his name and begged him, while he would force himself upon her again and again. He would punish her in every way possible. He would fuck her up that pretty tight ass of hers. A pleasured moan escaped his lips, while he tightened his hand around his shaft enough, that it would hurt him. His other hand massaged and pinched his balls. His back arched up as he neared his climax and he turned to the side, spilling his seed into the grass while giving a small pained cry through clenched teeth. Panting he rolled away from the sullied ground and on his stomach. He liked the feeling of the cool grass against his still hot member. For a while he just lay there, his mind blank and watched the ants crawl about in the grass. The chill of Frost Fall began to creep through his this linen clothes, but he didn't care.
"Are you finished?"
Mathieu did not look up, but sighed, crushing an ant beneath his finger.
"Yes, mother."
Slowly the young Breton rolled on his back and laced his pants up.
"You have to get working. They will not kill themselves while you fool around in the dirt!"
Mathieu sat up and brushed his short wavy hair back.
"It's all right, mother. It's almost over. I'm close, so very close."
Mother nodded in approval.
"You have made good progress, my sweet little son. After all those years!"
"How long have we struggled? How long have we waited?"
He asked his mother, but she didn't need to reply.
"Too long, I know."
Bellamont answered himself. There was a moment of silence.
"It's been long since you have visited me."
His mother said.
"Will you come home? I miss you, Mathieu. Our home is so empty without you."
Mathieu looked to the ground with sad eyes.
"I can't, not at the moment. First I have to kill them all. But it's almost over. I promise."
His mother smiled sadly.
"I know my sweet little Mathieu. And now go. They are waiting for you in the Sanctuary."
Mathieu got up slowly and straightened his common clothes out, making his way back to the city. He passed the guards, passed the inns, no one spared him a second glance. No one even started to suspect, that a member of the feared Dark Brotherhood just had passed them by. Finally, he reached the abandoned house and with a careful look around he snuck in, climbing the stairs up to the upper level. There he stripped out of his brown linen shirt and into the Black Hand Robe. Pulling his hood up, he straightened his posture and with a regal air around him, he made his way down into the Sanctuary.
He found the members of this Sanctuary sitting together at the dinner table. A steaming pot was placed in the middle of the table, though nobody seemed to be happy about the food and the plates were still empty. A smirk tucked at the corners of his mouth, as he realised that sweet Antionetta had been cooking again. He quickly hid his smirk behind a stern mask, while he neared the table. Antionetta looked up, a smile lighting her features.
"Speaker Bellamont. You're back. Would you like to eat with us?"
The Speaker inclined his head slightly.
"Dear Sister, as much as I would love to sit with you, I have more pressing matters to attend too."
He paused, positioning himself at the head of the table. With his cold blue gaze, he looked from face to face, until he rested his eyes on Ocheeva.
"You may have noticed, that Vicente has not returned from his contract."
Again a pause for dramatic reasons. He had their rapt attention, worried faces all turned towards him.
"It has come to the attention of the Black Hand, that Valtieri had been captured by the City Watch."
"By the Legion?"
Ocheeva exclaimed in both shock and surprise. It was hard to imagine, that her old wise brother would let himself get captured so easily. Vicente was strong, smart and the most experienced assassin she knew of.
"By Sithis! When? Maybe we could ..."
"He's dead by now!"
Bellamont cut the Argonian off with an icy tone.
"He got himself captured. And he failed to kill his target. I will not waste any talent or resources on such a failure. Have I made myself clear?"
He pierced his gaze into Ocheeva's eyes. She looked down at her hands and silence hung heavily over the dining table.
"The Legion has a way to deal with vampires. Luckily, I myself was able to finish the job and send the target's soul to the Void."
Bellamont finished. He straightened himself and with his emotionless, steely blue eyes he looked around. None of his brothers and sisters even dared to look into his eyes. He smirked.
"Now, if you please excuse me, I have work to do."
He turned towards the door, but before he walked out, he stopped again, looking back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Antionetta."
The young Breton turned towards him, her eyes already glassy from hardly suppressed tears. Tears, he would make sure would soon flow.
"You brothers may not have the balls to tell you this, but before anyone gets poisoned, please do us all the favour and stop cooking. Not only does it smell rancid, but it is utterly inedible. You better should concentrate on what you are good at. Gossip for example."
With that, the Speaker left without another glance back. He didn't need to look back though, he could already hear her stifled sobs. Moments later a door slammed, as Antionetta fled to the living quarters and flung herself on the bed, hugging her pillow tightly. Telaendril soon followed her sister to comfort her. Slowly, with clenched fists Gogron stood up, looking down at Ocheeva.
"I need to hurt something, Sister. Don't expect me back too soon."
The giant Orc rumbled and stormed off, leaving the Argonian twins, a pissed Khajiit and an unhappy Dunmer behind. Ghost sighed heavily.
"I don't like that guy."
He said in a low voice, earning a fierce nod from the Khajiit, who normally would do all to oppose the Dunmer. Ocheeva shook her head.
"Don't let him hear that, Ghost. He is our Speaker after all. He could see that as insubordination."
She paused a moment, as Ghost stood up. There was a sinking feeling in her guts and not for the first time since her argument with Vicente, she asked herself if the vampire had been right. Had she been jumping to conclusions hastily? Lucien had never been this harsh to them. Not that he could, but one had to give him a good reason to get nasty.
"I'll keep it in mind."
Ghost said to his superior, pulling her out of her thoughts and added with a saddened expression.
"Still it feels like this family is falling apart."
Ocheeva looked at the young mer with sympathy. She knew, how much this family meant to him. He had been so happy when they accepted him into their sanctuary like a long lost brother and now everything had changed so much. But she could not give him any comfort since she felt the same. She only nodded and watched him leave. She could only imagine, that he would overkill their practise dummy, to vent his frustration. Beside the Argonian M'raaj-Dar flattened his ears to his head and bared his long sharp fangs in a sneer.
"That hairless ape is right, you know? That Speaker does not care for our family."
His tongue flicked out and over his nose.
"And he smells foul."
"Oh, M'raaj-Dar."
Ocheeva said in a scolding tone of voice but received only a toothy grin.
"Maybe M'raaj-Dar should make a potion to make him smell better."
He said before he stood up and left as well, leaving only Teinaava behind. His gaze fixed Ocheeva.
"Is there something you are not telling me, Sister?"
He said after a long moment of silence. Her gaze dropped down to her hands once more.
"Before Vicente left he said something to me."
She paused, trying to recall the conversation she had with the vampire shortly before he left.
"He was worried for our safety. He felt like Bellamont was ripping our family apart."
Her brother nodded.
"As does Ghost. And M'raarj-Dar apparently. Ocheeva, we live through a hard time. First Lucien's betrayal and now Vicente's death. It's hard for all of us to adjust to our situation."
His twin sister sighed heavily.
"I know. I basically said the same to Vicente not so long ago... and I always trusted the Black Hand and the decisions they made."
"But?"
Her brother asked, leaning forward, to allow his sister to lower her voice even more.
"But...I'm not so sure anymore. Vicente... he gave me a warning before he left for that contract. He told me, that if Bellamont stays, our members will start dying. Well, I knew he wasn't very fond of Bellamont to start with, but now... oh Teinaava, I just don't know what to think."
Again she paused, her gaze fixed to her brother's.
"He was fiercely loyal to Lucien, defending him to the end. And I'm beginning to think the same. Do you think there could be some truth in Vicente's words?"
Teinaava took a deep breath in and opened his mouth.
"You should choose your next words with extreme care."
The Argonian twins jumped up and turned towards the door. There Mathieu stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The black robe and hood made him look even more menacing than he already was. He straightened and took some slowly measured steps towards them, his blue eyes shining with a cold gleam.
"I am beginning to think, you two are planning a mutiny."
Their eyes widened in horror.
"Oh no, my Speaker."
Ocheeva said.
"We were just discussing..."
"I know what you were discussing, I've heard everything. Don't take me for a fool."
Mathieu closed the distance to the Sanctuary's overseer, who started to back up against the wall.
"Please, leave her, we didn't mean you any disrespect."
Teinaava tried to defend his sister but received only a shove to the chest, that let him stumble a few steps back.
"You shut up!"
Bellamont hissed and grabbed Ocheeva's chin.
"And you! I will let slip that by for now. But make no mistake Ocheeva. If I hear you speak that way ever again, I will exile you and your brother from here. Permanently."
Bellamont's voice was little more than a venomous hiss. A shiver ran through Ocheeva's body. She could imagine what her Speaker meant by permanently.
A cruel smile appeared on Mathieu's face, as he pressed his body against the Argonian. He could feel her terror.
"Are you afraid of me?"
He asked in a gleeful tone. Ocheeva did not answer.
"You should better be. I am not like Lucien. Heed my warning."
He looked over to her brother.
"Both of you. I have no problem in turning you two into a suitcase if I feel you are disloyal!"
He stopped again, taking a deep breath in, trying to smell their fear.
"And now out of my sight!"
He growled, letting go of Ocheeva. The Argonians swiftly made for the door, but Bellamont held them back with an afterthought.
"Oh, Teinaava. It saddens me to inform you, but you are demoted to the rank of Eliminator. You should get some contracts done to rise again."
Ocheeva turned, while her brother just stared at their Speaker speechless.
"You can't do this! He did nothing wrong!"
Bellamont's gaze darkened.
"You dare to talk back to your Speaker? You want me to demote him further? To Slayer maybe?"
She shook her head.
"Then shut up and get out of my sight."
They left immediately, thus not being able to see the cruel smile lighting up Bellamont's features. Getting to this Sanctuary was even better than he imagined, he enjoyed himself way too much. He poured himself a glass of wine.
Those two just gave me a reason to write a Purification request.
Still smiling he went into his room and sat down at his desk. First, he needed to write a letter to Arquen however. He just needed her assistance.
And she will be of assistance, but just not like she thinks it will.
Two riders just passed the ruins of Fort Urasek and turned onto the Blue Road. They rode in silence for a long while, ever since they hit the Red Ring Road. The direct way from Harm's Folly to Roland Jenseric's cabin would have saved them a couple of hours, but they opted against a ride through the wilderness. Too dangerous, especially in their weakened state. Sorilkad Malur's glance wandered sideways to the Imperial. The set of armour suited him, but he could see his friend was struggling. He looked pale and sweaty, his breath laboured.
"It isn't far anymore."
The Dunmer broke their silence, trying to reassure his friend, but only earned a glare from the other man.
"You should be glad, that we did not cross path with another Legion Soldier. He'd demote you on the spot to administrative work. I'm sure you would do great behind a desk."
Lucien's gaze beneath his Legion helmet darkened.
"Are you done mocking me?
Sorilkad's lips stretched into a thin smile.
"No. Not yet. You really look like you enjoy ..."
"Shut up, Soril!"
Lucien growled darkly, grasping the reins tighter than he intended to. As a response, Shadowmere threw her head back and nearly bucked the Imperial off her back. While Lucien clung to her neck, he could hear the deep raspy chuckle of his friend behind him.
"I can see why you are wearing robes all the time! Damn it, Cyrodiil, an adventurer you are not."
Said Imperial turned towards the Dark Elf.
"I want to see you in heavy armour!"
He snapped, earning a smile from his friend.
"Believe it or not. When I lived in Sadrith Mora I was not only trained in magic but in melee combat as well, including armour and short sword."
Sorilkad paused, squinting his eyes a little.
"Just hold up a little longer, it isn't far anymore."
"You said that already."
Came the retort through clenched teeth. The Dunmer cocked his head to the side. He could see that Lucien did not only struggle under the unused weight of the armour. He looked like he was close to passing out. And pretty much in need of a healing session as soon as possible. Malur knew they were close. Only a bit up the road and then into a dirt road.
"You think you could manage a short gallop?"
A groan was enough to answer the Dunmer's question and he shook his head. He should have granted Lucien a little more time to recover. This did not bode well.
Half an hour later they arrived at the little cabin. Sorilkad jumped from his horses back with the elegance that was native to his race and hurried over to his Imperial friend who slumped down from his horses back. Luckily the Dunmer was fast enough to catch him before he could land ungracefully on the floor. Lucien leant heavily on the slender mer, clutching his stomach in pain. Sorilkad led him inside and helped him sit down on a chair. Lucien took his helmet off, his messy sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. A deep frown formed on Sorilkad's face, touching his hand to the Imperial's forehead. His skin felt cold and clammy. He shook his head, mumbling under his breath and began to loosen the fastenings of the heavy armour. Lucien closed his eyes, he was too exhausted to resist his friend.
"I'll need to check your wound. You should lay down."
"Can't I just rest a little?"
Lucien asked, but the Dunmer shook his head no.
"I need to be sure, you don't look good."
Lucien sighed.
"I don't feel good."
Sorilkad helped his friend to his feet once more and led him over to the bed. Lucien closed his eyes in anticipation, as the Dunmer's hand lit up with the green glow of a spell. His friend wasn't a healer, he was a Necromancer by trait and he was trained in Vvardenfell. Sorilkad's magic was more primal than his own native Cyrodilian spells. He had to grip the sheets, as Sorilkad's spell burned its way through his stomach and along the recently healed wounds. It was like they were all opened a new and lit on fire. He groaned in pain and tried to get up, but Sorilkad held him down with his free hand. For a slender mage, he was surprisingly strong. But he had not to struggle long and to his relieve Lucien soon black out. A smile appeared on his face and he drew his hand back, letting go of his magic. His friend was fine, sore still and exhausted but no sign of infection in his body. The Dark Elf stood up and walked outside to stable the horses before he got some water. He was sure the Imperial would be hungry when he woke up. And while Lucien still had to recover from his major blood loss he also had some training to do, if he wanted to pose as a convincing Legion Soldier.