It was early noon, as a big brown horse slowly trotted over a hilltop. The sun played with the horse's light coloured mane and tale, almost blending it with the flax, which grew along the Gold Road. Caman held his breath a moment, letting his gaze wander over the view that unfolded in front of him. The landscape opened up, revealing rolling hills, golden coloured grass, wild wheat and flax gently swaying in the light breeze that carried the smell of salt and sea. In the distance, the ocean sparkled like a carpet of diamonds and beyond that, the mountains of Valenwood rose like an ominous shadow. Caman raised his nose into the wind and inhaled deeply. He really hoped that Modryn would assign him back here again soon. Back to this gem of a city, that was so unlike his hometown back in Morrowind. Maybe that was the reason he liked it there so much. He sighed deeply, asking himself for the umpteenth time, how he could have let himself get involved in the affairs of assassins, especially since he had vowed to keep away from them. Caman's gaze grew distant, while his thoughts returned once more to his home in Vvardenfell.
He had always been the odd child, the Outlander child. True, an Altmer child to a Dunmer woman could only be described as odd. And even though his mother was dirt poor and worked as a prostitute in Suran to support her little family, he had only fond memories of his childhood. It was then and there that he had met a shy, introverted but very rich Dunmer boy, only two years his senior. A boy who had become his best friend. And still was. A smile stretched his lips, while he remembered all the adventures he had with Sorilkad as a child. How often they had played the game of bandit and legionnaire, went exploring the nearby caves and tombs and got themselves into trouble. Maybe it was because of those times they had together, that he had allowed himself to be dragged into this mess. And who knew, maybe there was still a good adventure ahead of him.
Caman shook his head slightly to get out of the daze of his memories, while the city gate came closer.

Assassins...

He thought with a regretful sigh. His mother had warned him time and time again, that he would end up as a criminal. He always had a tendency for violent behaviour and his mother had been right in the end. He landed himself more than once in prison. After he was forced to leave Vvardenfell he had tried to get better, tried to earn his money with honest work. This had made his mother very proud, and she was proud of him until her dying breath. But now it seems that his past had finally caught up with him. He sighed again. Trouble always seemed to find him in some way or another.

Oh well...

he thought,

If I can cut some of these Brotherhood thugs apart then be my guest.

With his mouth set in a grim line, he picked up the reins and let his brown steed canter. He thundered down the road and jumped off Nerevar's back right in front of the Horse Whisperer Stables and handed the reins over to the stable hand.
The Imperial on guard duty rolled his eyes, as the Altmer sauntered past him and called out:

"Hey, Verhane! Do us all a favour, don't start a bar fight!"

The elf chuckled.

"Ah now come on. I thought you had fun last time."

The sour look he got from the guard made him laugh even louder.

That lazy bastard can count himself lucky, that I don't intend to stay long. Can't leave Sorilkad alone with that Cyrodiil S'wit too long, now can I?

He thought before he raised his right hand over his heart and said in a mocking tone of voice:

"I'll be good I promise."

He still chuckled while he stopped in the middle of the town plaza. Rubbing his hands together he looked around.

"Now, where might that little fetcher be."

He mumbled. At this time of day, the place was surprisingly void of life. For a moment the Altmer was tempted to crash in the guild hall but decided otherwise. He wasn't here for official business and staying at the guild might raise some questions. Especially since he hadn't told Modryn where he was going. Right now, he wanted to find Lucien's little thief friend and he would not find him standing right in the town centre. So he slowly made his way down to the harbour and entered the Flowing Bowl.
The doors fell shut behind the tall elf with the fiery hair and for a moment every conversation in the room died down, all eyes set on the warrior. Verhane let his green eyes wander around, letting them linger on every face for a second before finally meeting the gaze of a broad-shouldered Nord. A smirk appeared on Caman's face. Immediately the big Nord jumped up with such force that his chair slid backwards and fell.

"Verhane! Showing your ugly face here, was the last mistake you've made!"

The pirate spat, puffing his chest out and walked around the table towards the still smirking High Elf. On his way, he snatched up a mead bottle and smashed the end off on another table.

"And don't think you can hide behind that big sword of yours."

The Nord hissed with menace. Caman only chuckled calmly.

"I don't need my sword for you, Rigmor. Vermin is meant to be crushed beneath the boot."

Rigmor's eyes flared in anger and he attacked like a bull, head lowered and broken bottle raised. Caman waited patiently for the right moment, and with a swift move, he sidestepped his attacker, sending him crashing into the wall with a good shove to the back. The bottle shattered into a million pieces at the impact, while the huge Nord shook himself, before turning back to the still smirking elf. Caman had unstrapped his great sword and leant it against a table, taking a secure stand and raising his fists. His light green eyes glinted coldly as he waited for the other man to attack. They clashed with a dull thud and the Nord's hand closed around the collar of Verhane's leather armour, yet the elf managed to grip one of Rigmor's wrists and use the arm as a lever. He turned the wrist on the extended arm and with a quick kick to the gut he send the Nord to the floor. Rigmor rolled away from the mer, who for the first time actively attacked. He ducked under Caman's fist, grabbed his arm on wrist and elbow and with a pull he send the mer flying to the ground. Caman quickly got up on his knees, but the massive Nord already was over him, pulling him up and grabbed him into a tight headlock. That was enough for Caman, and he finally let his anger guide him. He grabbed the Nord by one arm and quickly bend down, throwing the bigger, heavier male over his shoulder. Again Rigmor rolled off and got to his feet, but hesitated a moment. Something in the mer's gaze had changed. The eyes had darkened and pure uncontrolled rage was barely hidden behind them. And then Caman attacked, breaking through the Nord's defences and hitting him straight in the chest with the flat hand. The wind was knocked out of Rigmor's lungs and he had to bend down a bit to ease the pain in his chest. Yet Caman did not relent. He curled his arm around the Nord's neck while his other hand gripped him by the belt. In his rage, he was able to lift the Nord high up and slam him to the ground with ease. Dazed Rigmor stayed down a moment, a moment he waited too long. Caman grabbed his right wrist and bend the arm on the back while grabbing the man on his shirt's collar lifting him up only to twirl around on his heel and send Rigmor flying into the counter. The bottles swayed yet stayed in place, while the Nord got up. Growling he attacked again with a kick to Caman's side. The mer, however, caught his foot and locked it tightly to his side, bringing his own foot behind the Nord's leg and sending him down with another shove to the chest. Rigmor landed on his back with such force, that all air was pushed out of his lungs. Before he was able to regain his breath, the mer put a boot on his throat, leaning over his defeated opponent with a triumphant grin. Rigmor grabbed Caman's ankle, trying to through the elf off balance, but the elf only laughed haughtily. Putting more pressure on his foot with every heart beat, Caman watched the Nord's face turning from red to purple, while his body flailed around in the feeble attempt to get free.

"See."

He said calmly.

"Crushed beneath my boot."

Caman paused, straightening himself while putting, even more, pressure on the man's throat. Beneath him the Nord breathed stertorously, tears streaming out of his already bloodshot eyes. Nobody else seemed interested in fighting Caman, all just stared at the tall Altmer, who had put the tavern's strongest fighter to the ground without breaking a sweat. Slowly he put his foot away from Rigmor's throat who sucked air in greedy gulps and walked over to his sword.

"Word of advice, Rigmor."

He said, strapping the claymore to his back, before turning to the Nord. Rigmor sat on his knees, rubbing his nearly crushed sore throat.

"You're going to buy me a chicken and then leave."

The Nord got up shakingly.

"Fuck you, Verhane!"

He spat. Smiling the mer walked up to the Nord until their bodies almost touched and locked his gaze to Rigmor's bloodshot eyes. Rigmor looked away.

"You are going to buy me a fucking chicken and an ale!"

Caman said dangerously calm while curling his fingers into Rigmor's collar, pulling him even closer.

"Are we clear, Rigmor?"

The Nord nodded hastily, while Caman still fixed him with his cold green eyes. Then suddenly the elf let go and patted the bigger man on the cheek.

"Good boy!"

Almost carelessly the Altmer walked up to the bar and took his seat there. The barkeep shot him a scolding look, which Caman rewarded with a bright smile.

"Chicken and Ale, please!"

He said in his most pleasant voice.

"My friend here pays."

Maenlorn's eyes shot over to Rigmor, who only nodded, before leaving the tavern. With a sigh, he got Caman what he wanted, casually asking.

"How long are you going to stay Verhane?"

The Altmer shrugged, taking a big bite out of his chicken.

"Not long...Man. I'm starving!"

He said while chewing. The Bosmer nodded, obviously relieved by the information. He was about to turn as Caman asked:

"You don't happen to know a little Dunmer thief by the name of Shadow?"

Maenlorn froze. If he withheld the information, Caman surely would take his tavern apart, as soon as he found out what he wanted. Slowly he turned and looked up to the tall mer. He found the cold green eyes resting on him, but before he could answer, Caman said with a knowing smile.

"Just tell me when he comes here. I won't cause you any trouble, I promise."

The Bosmer sighed.

"You ARE trouble, Verhane. He'll be here tonight."

With a smirk, the Altmer raised the ale to his lips and took a big swig. He left the tavern shortly after he finished his meal, much to Maenlorn's relieve.

Night fell over Anvil and one lone Dunmer silently crept through the streets of the harbourside town. A chill wind blew from down from the land and brought the smell winter with it. Shadow pulled the black cape tighter around his slender frame, while he walked briskly towards the great gate dividing the harbour from the rest of the town. Shadow liked this town and though it was full of pirates and thieves he seldom got in trouble. And some even were a little scared of him, be it from his eerie purple eyes or his scarred face he did not know. He took a deep breath in. It had become a daily ritual to go into the Flowing Bowl by nightfall. There he could get the newest rumours while enjoying a drink and a meal.
He tilted his head a little to the side, as he spied an Altmer in a fine cape coming down the main road.

Looks like a traveller, who just arrived at the harbour.

Shadow's nimble fingers twitched a little. He liked snobby Altmer, they always carried good money with them. And other goods. A smile lit up his features.

Surely a mage.

He squinted his eyes a little and took a closer look at the High Elf. The dark cape was rimmed by a bordure with golden embroidery. He had the hood deep in his face and his head bowed down, which made it impossible for the young Dunmer to see his features. Still, Shadow smelled easy money with the High Elf and took a good look around. The guards were far away on the main gate and he knew the back alleys good enough for a quick escape. He took a deep breath and slowed down, while he watched the Altmer pass by Newheim the Portley's house. Only a couple of steps separated them, and Shadow was about to bump into the tall elf. He intended to grab his purse in the commotion and then make a beeline for the Flowing Bowl. However, as he made contact with the Altmer he was in for an unpleasant surprise. In a quick move, the tall mer grabbed the young Dunmer by the collar and dragged him into the dark alley between Newheim's and Pinarus Inventius' home. There Shadow found himself pressed against the wall, held up by the collar, his feet dangling in the air. Calmly the Altmer put his hood back, revealing a high pony tale with unruly bangs of flaming red hair. Green eyes looked coldly into Shadow's purple once.

"Next time you try to steal my purse I'll break your fingers, you little sod. Very slowly."

The elf said in a calm collected voice.

"I...I'm sorry."

The Dunmer stammered, earning a smile from the High Elf.

"Shadow, hm?"

Caman asked casually, letting the young man down, who paled at the sound of his own name. It was then that Shadow realised that this was no mage and their run in was no mere coincidence. The tall mer wore a fine set of hardened leather armour over a chainmail shirt, with steel shoulder guards and gauntlets. A frown appeared on the young man's face, getting a suspicion of who might have sent that mer.

"You're not from the town's guard. What do you want from me?"

"Straight to the point. I love that. Just information."

Shadow huffed turning away from the warrior.

"Forget it! I'm no snitch! Go get your information from someone else!"

He started to walk back to the main road, but Caman's hand clamped down on his neck hard, making Shadow wince in pain, as he raised his shoulders in reflex. Moments later he was shoved against the wall with such force, that his head banged against the stone painfully.

"I think I haven't made myself clear. I want some fucking information and I want them from you!"

Shadow gulped down his initial shock, letting his anger show through.

"Well too bad! I don't have any! Now let me go, or I'll call the guards!"

As if on cue both mer could pick up the heavy footfalls of a guard coming from the harbour. Shadow's eyes glimmered with an unspoken warning and he drew in a deep breath. Caman only smirked and before the smaller elf could react, he grabbed the Dunmer by the throat and lifted him into the air with one hand. Shadow gasped for air and tried to pry the fingers away, while he flailed around with his legs helplessly.

"Scream."

Caman said dryly.

"If you can."

Shadow tried to scream, tried to attract the guard's attention, but he could not get more out of his tight throat than a pained little moan. The guard passed by without noticing the two figures in the dark alleyway between the two houses. As soon as Caman was sure, that the guard was out of earshot, he let the Dunmer down to the ground again, loosening the grip around his throat only enough to allow him to breathe and speak.

"I was told, you were difficult to work with."

Caman continued with a chilling cold voice.

"That you had the tendency to talk back."

Shadow's eyes widened slightly, as a bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Who told you?"

He asked, his voice a bit hoarse already.

"Your friend Lucien send me."

"I don't know anyone by the name of Lucien! You have the wrong guy. Leave me alone already!"

A cruel smile tugged on the High Elf's lips, while he slowly drew his sharp Elven dagger out. He could feel Shadow swallow and a fine sheen of sweat coated the dark skinned mer's forehead. He traced the scars across the Dunmer's face lightly with the tip of his blade.

"No?"

Caman asked, trailing the blade over Shadow's jawbone and rested it under his chin.

"Now let me tell you something you little sod! Each time you lie to me, I'll add another scar to those two."

Caman paused, fixing his green eyes to the smaller mer's ones.

"Or maybe I cut an ear off. So let's try again. Your friend, Lucien, the once who messed your fucking ugly face up send me. You understand now?"

Shadow nodded hastily.

"Of course...that Imperial..."

"Right. That Imperial. I believe we can talk now like reasonable people? It would be a shame if I had to tell that Imperial, your were killed...accidentally."

The way the Altmer emphasised the last sentence made a shiver run down Shadow's spine and again the Dunmer nodded. Caman slowly released his grip on the throat. Shadow's posture slumped, while he rubbed his aching throat. His gaze flickered to the Altmer, who was staring down at him with bloodlust in his eyes. Shadow sunk deeper into his cape, shivering.

"What do you want to know?"

He finally asked, his voice flat.

"I'm looking for a Breton weirdo. Clad in black mostly. Heard anything?"

Shadow's gaze wandered to the floor, while he frantically searched his memory. And then he remembered a rumour, he had heard a while back.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Caman raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, maybe? I don't need no fucking maybes, you donkey! Spit it out already!"

Shadow seemed to shrink even more.

"I heard Ulfgar Fog-Eye talk about renting out his basement. Didn't say to whom, but he is not overly happy with his lodger. As far as I remember, he complained about strange noises coming from the basement. And a putrid smell."

Caman frowned, putting his dagger back into his sheath.

"The lighthouse keeper? Hm... "

He rubbed his chin in thought, before patting Shadow's cheek with an almost cheerful smile.

"Alright, S'wit. I'll check your story out. If it leads me to a dead end, I'll visit you again."

Caman grabbed his collar again and lifted him to his eye-level with ease.

"If you lied to me, I'll rape your fucking corpse!"

With a shove, he finally let go of Shadow, who scrambled away a couple of feet, yet did not dare to run away. Caman turned towards the smaller Dunmer.

"What are you waiting for? Get the fuck out of my sight!"

Shadow nodded and hastily made a beeline for the harbour gate. He did not stop, did not look back until he arrived at the Flowing Bowl. There he ordered a bottle of mead and sat down at the bar, where he gulped the bottle down in two big sips. Maenlorn watched the young Dunmer silently before he grabbed a bottle of Sujamma from under the bar and poured the sad mer a shot glass. Putting it in front of Shadow he smiled

"Let me guess. Verhane got to you?"

Shadow looked up with surprise.

"Who?"

"Big guy, red hair, tattooed face, messed up ears?"

Maenlorn provided. Shadow nodded.

"So that's his . He was sent by an old... friend."

Unconsciously he rubbed over his scarred cheek, while the Bosmer sighed.

"I don't know what kind of trouble you got yourself into, kid. And I don't know about your old friend. But stay clear of Verhane. He is a violent man."

Shadow laughed dryly.

"I noticed... How did you know?"

Maenlorn sighed.

"He was asking for you, after almost killing Rigmor."

Shadow's eyes went wide. He knew Rigmor, big bulky Nord, no one really liked to mess with. That guy was strong as a bull.

"That Altmer did what?"

The short Bosmer filled Shadow's glass again.

"Flung him around like a puppet. For a moment I thought he would kill him. Poor Rigmor still got a sore throat. He's barely able to talk."

The young Dunmer swallowed uncomfortably and rubbed over his own throat with an unconscious move.

"Gee. What is that guy's problem?"

The barkeep shrugged and turned to wash out some mugs.

"I don't know, and I don't care. He pays for his drinks, and the Fighters Guild keeps him busy most of the time."

Shadow nodded and emptied his glass, before leaving the tavern. He felt like he needed rest early.

Caman left Anvil through the main gate, as soon as he got the information and got Nerevar from the stables. He packed his cloak into the saddlebacks. He would not need any obscuring clothes for what he had in mind. A short while later he stopped his horse on the hillside overlooking the Anvil Harbour. The lighthouse stood there like a finger raised in warning, the fire burning in the top giving it an ominous halo in the dark. A frown appeared on Caman's forehead. A feeling of foreboding struck him, a feeling that he actually might be on the right track and that something dark and evil has taken residence in the old lighthouse. He could see that this was a very old building. Anvil was an old town, but this lighthouse seemed to be here ever since the harbour was built. He shook the feeling off, he can't allow himself to be led by feelings, especially since he had some work to do. His childhood friend was in need of his services. He dug his feet lightly into the flanks of his horse and the big brown steed calmly made his way down the steep footpath leading to the lighthouse.
The foreboding feeling did not go away and as the High Elf stood in front of the towering building, an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. For a brief moment, Caman considered speaking to Ulfgar and pressing the basement key from the keeper. But in the end, he went straight to the basement door, not wanting any unwanted attention. He wasn't so sure that Ulfgar would keep his mouth shut, so best he didn't know at all. The High Elf looked around one final time. No guards, everything was quiet. At this time of night, the town seemed almost deserted. He smirked, dropping down on one knee and pulled his lockpicks out of his hidden pocket in his belt. With a few practised hand movements, he heard the satisfying click of an opening lock. His smirk turned into a triumphant one and slowly he stood up. As he reached for the doorknob however his gaze fell on the sandstone basement of the massive lighthouse building. Caman raised an eyebrow in surprise, while he ran his hand over the massive quarter next to him, to brush dirt and sediment off. There, almost washed out by wind and rain was a tiny hand print, carved into the soft stone.

"Looks like the Brotherhood has a history with that building. Makes me wonder what' inside..."

He mumbled while pulling his sharp elven dagger out of his sheath, before opening the door as quiet as possible.
He nearly gagged at the putrid smell of rotting flesh, that hit him upon entering.

"By Mephala's tits! What is that little fucker doing in here!"

He hissed, drawing breath through his mouth while covering both nose and mouth with his free hand. It took him a while until he was able to stand the smell.

How the fuck is Sorilkad able to stand that stench...

He crept down the few stairs and came across the rotting bloated corpse of a great black dog. The stench in the little untidy and with crates and barrels littered room was almost unbearable and the humming of the flies was so loud, he abandoned sneaking around. His soft footfalls were completely drowned out by the buzzing of the insects. The Altmer turned right and was met by the grizzly sight of the naked corpse of a woman. Though decay had already reached its advanced stages, he was still able to see the damage done to her body. Especially around her private parts, while her face was mutilated beyond recognition. Caman turned away in disgust. His gaze wandered around the room, but what he saw made him sick to his stomach. There were multiple body parts strewn around the room, all of them in various stages of decomposition. Tools used for Necromancy were neatly placed on a table, on another one, a plate with an arm next to a piece of cheese caught his attention. A deep frown appeared on his face.

"Is he eating people? What the fuck is wrong with that bugger?"

He wondered out loud. As answer a deep guttural noise made him swirl around. There was another door on the far end of the room. Silently he stepped to it, his dagger tightly clenched in his fist and leant his ear against the wood. He was able to hear scratching and growling noises from the other side of the door, as well as rapid, laboured panting. The Altmer grabbed the door handle but found it locked. He quickly picked the lock and took a defensive stand before ripping the door open. A big wolflike dog jumped him with bared fangs, but Caman was able to grab the beast by the throat and press it to the floor. A quick stab to the heart and the poor tortured creature fell limp. Caman stood up with a sigh, entering the little back room with caution. It was dimly lit by a bunch of candles on a table. A thin layer of dust covering the furniture told the Altmer, that the basement had been deserted of a while now. Surely the candles were magical, like those who still burned in the ancient Ayleid ruins. He quickly realised that the traitor used this room as sort of shrine, a chair placed in front of the table. The magic candles were placed in a circle around the centrepiece of the shrine. There, placed on a silver plate was the mummified head of a female. A mixture of flowers lay around the head.
Caman straightened and put his dagger away with a disgusted sneer.

"Oh bugger."

He sighed, while letting his gaze wander further around the small room. His gaze fell on a small book bound in green leather. He cocked his head to the side, while he began to read through the journal. And while he did, his frown grew deeper and deeper.

"Well, well."

He said, slapping the book shut.

"That bloody Imperial fucked that little shits mind up pretty bad."

The elf stepped over to a cupboard, snooping through the traitor's belongings.

"At least we have found some solid evidence. Lucien will be interested in that book. And hopefully, it will be enough to get rid of that sod."

He grabbed a leather bag, he found in a barrel and stuffed the book inside, before turning to leave. In the doorway however he stopped, slowly turning back to look at the head. A big grin appeared on the Altmer's face, while he grabbed the head and stuffed it into the same bag.

"And you, old lady, are going to visit your son."

Still grinning he exited the basement.
The fresh, cool breeze blowing in from the sea was like air to a drowning person. He inhaled deeply as if he wanted to banish the foul stench out of his lungs. A faint glow already painted the night sky red as Caman finally turned his back to the lighthouse and mounted his steed. Slowly he rode through the quiet streets of Anvil, coming near the plaza in front of the main gate. There his gaze fell on the face of a familiar young Dunmer, who didn't look too thrilled about seeing Caman so soon again. A giant smile appeared on the fierce Altmer's face while he passed Shadow by.

"Stay safe, sera. Until we meet again."

He said, before passing through the gates. Moments later the sound of thundering hooves faded away in the distance.