A/N: Here we go.

Nierembergia

Summary: She hated vampires after the Hall of the Vigilants burned. Joining the Dawnguard to eradicate every last bloodsucker made sense. Finding out that there was more to the vampires' schemes wasn't part of her plan for revenge, but they'll burn just the same.

*Chapter 4*

The carriage ride to Markarth took two weeks, and Elise was grateful to see the City of Stone loom in the distance. The carriage rocked and rattled, making sleep almost impossible, and the Breton finally understood how dangerous a lack of any rest could be. Especially in the Reach; most of it was outlaw country, with the Forsworn hiding in the mountains and preying on unlucky travelers. Some mercenaries enjoyed the danger, more than happy to go axe-to-axe with a bunch of daedra-worshipping savages to earn their gold. Unfortunately, in the Reach, the Forsworn were about as prevalent as flies. You just couldn't get rid of them all. For every one killed, two more took its place.

"It's almost poetic," Agmaer mumbled.

"Do not say that." Elise fixed him with an arctic glare, rooting through her knapsack to keep her hands busy and out of the cold. "We haven't gotten much sleep, this blasted carriage rattles, and my back has never been sorer. There is nothing poetic about this place."

"Was just trying to make some small talk. You've given me nothing but angry looks since we passed Whiterun," the blond man muttered, shouldering his own pack. "It's weird."

Elise rolled her eyes and peered over the edge of the carriage, squinting her eyes against the wind. Powerful gales rushed down the mountain range in front of them and she shivered, drawing her cloak tight around her body. The scarf she picked up in Riften's general goods store covered her chin and jaw, so she was much warmer than Agmaer was. He didn't even bring a cloak with him and she had to ask. "Are you not cold?"

"No, not really." Agmaer grinned cheekily. "Us Nords are used to the cold. The colder it is, the better we fight." He ran a thumb over the blond stubble that had begun to grow along his jaw. Rough it was, but rugged it was not. Elise personally thought it was adorable, though she didn't think it would be much of a winner with most women. "Also helps the beards grow thicker. Not that this is much of one."

Poor lad. He'd grow into it eventually. He was her age and spent most of his life as a farmhand from what she gathered. She had listened to his stories about his prior life during their journey to the Reach, and of course she had asked him why a farm boy wanted to become a vampire hunter when he could have just as easily become a soldier. Agmaer said he did it because he felt as though he had two choices. Either be afraid of the night or go out and do something about it. His father was apparently against all of it, saying he'd get himself killed just trying to find the fort. Agmaer went anyway, and she knew the rest.

The carriage rocked and teetered over a bridge, a mountain river weaving underneath. On the left was a squat of buildings and further beyond a mine. To the right, a single farm spanning thirty acres across and surrounded by a stone wall on the edge of the property. The carriage driver looked over his shoulder at the two Dawnguard agents, guiding the carriage into Markarth's stables. "We're here. I don't know what business you have here, but be careful. Markarth is very mistrusting of outsiders and run by the Silver-Blood family. Most of the property in the Reach is owned by them and they own Cidhna Mine, the worst prison in Skyrim. One snap of their fingers, and they'll throw you down there for life."

"Noted." Elise hopped down from the carriage once it came to a halt. Agmaer landed beside her and he whistled in appreciation as he looked at Markarth's towering walls and spires. She elbowed him in the side, fixing him with a sharp look. "Appreciate the sights later. We're here on business, not a tour."

"Yes, mother."

Elise briefly wondered if Isran would complain all that much if Agmaer were to suddenly suffer a case of drowning in Lake Honrich on the way back. She then asked herself if she cared all that much.

As she walked in line with her assigned partner up the steps of Markarth, Elise could feel many eyes on her. For a capital city, it felt oddly quiet, and the blonde woman felt herself tensing up. Something was off and her instincts screamed at her that she was being watched. Quick glances around showed her many guards stationed strategically to rain arrow fire on her if she made the slightest move that seemed hostile. Two were on a watchtower to her left with bows ready; four guarded the main gate with an assortment of weaponry, most of them designed for crushing and breaking bone as opposed to cutting and slashing. Five patrolled the top gate, all archers, and Elise sent Agmaer a glance.

"Not exactly a welcome reception," the Nord man muttered. "What gives?"

Elise sighed. "It's because I'm a Breton." She said it loudly, just to make sure the two guards stationed by the watchtower could hear her. She noticed them tensing and hid a smirk. You're not as subtle as you think. Anyone with an open set of eyes could tell that this is a formation designed to intimidate. Fear tactics don't work.

At Agmaer's confused look, she explained further, just as loud as before. "They'll falsely assume that anyone who's a Breton is automatically a Reachman, despite me being born in High Rock." She scoffed dismissively. "If they spent half as much time fighting those savages as they did harassing strangers, they might have actually begun to cull their numbers."

That got one of the guards angry. Elise watched him out of the corner of his eye, about to move towards her and his hand straying towards his quiver. His partner stopped him, yanking him back and ordering him back into line, and Elise felt all the more satisfied at the burning glare sent her way.

Agmaer wasn't blind, nor was he stupid. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elise denied. She approached the main gate to Markarth with a swagger in her step, giving her best saccharine smile to the guards in front of them. They eyed her weapons suspiciously and she smiled sweetly. "Is there a problem, gentlemen? Or are you hoping I'll give you a good time? Because I'm not like that."

One guard pushed the others away with his hammer, letting it rest over his shoulder. "What's your business in Markarth?"

Agmaer opened his mouth to say something when Elise's elbow buried itself in his gut. He choked and the guard looked at him in suspicion, Elise smiling innocently.

"I'm here to speak with Calcelmo, Court Wizard of Markarth," she answered, voice dripping with sincerity. It technically wasn't a lie; they did need to see Calcelmo to get an idea as to where the hell Sorine was. The last thing they needed was the Silver-Bloods getting curious about why they were looking for her. Isran said Sorine would be a target thanks to her knowledge and skills, and their mission was best kept a secret. You never know who could be listening. Best to mislead them for now. If they see me talking with Calcelmo, that'll put an end to their paranoia.

The guard looked at Agmaer, unimpressed. "Is this true?" Okay, maybe her ability to lie wasn't that great.

Note to self, dial back the sweetness.

"Yeah it is," Agmaer answered. "I hear he's the man to speak to if you have any questions about the dwarves."

"Aye, you got that right. Funny old altmer, but he's a good man. Honest men like him are hard to find around these parts." Of course the guard would let them in if a Nord was the one telling the truth. Bloody superstitious nonsense. They weren't even trying to be subtle about it. "You keep your wits about you; you never know when another one of those savage natives will try and put a shiv in your back."

Markarth had its own troubles, it seemed. None of which were her business and when the guards parted to let them through, she reminded her partner of that. "We're here for one thing and one thing only. Just talk to Calcelmo and that's it."

Inside the bronze gates of Markarth, Elise could see just how striking the city truly was. As the capital of the Reach, it was by far the largest city on the west end of Skyrim and home to most of province's silver mines. Markarth was a bustling, lively capital city, with vendors trying to sell goods, drunken laughter coming from the pub, and the smell of smelting metal wafting from the city's mine/prison. It was a new experience, and the moment was ruined by the soft shlick of a knife being drawn. Agmaer had heard it too, whirling around to see a man with a dagger drawn ready to plunge into the back of an unaware Imperial woman shopping at a jewelry stall.

Elise's hand was reaching for her hammer, unsure if she should do something, and Agmaer cried out a warning. "BEHIND YOU!"

The woman turned, saw the man rushing her with a dagger, and screamed.

Elise cursed. She was too far, out of range, and wouldn't be able to do anything to stop the murder from happening. The guards were roaring with rage and unleashing arrows, but they wouldn't hit their target before this bastard's dagger plunged into his victim's back. For a moment, the world seemed to blink; a bright red light flashed out of the corner of Elise's eye, and the would-be murder stumbled. His mouth was open in a silent cry of shock and he managed to take a few steps before he fell in half, cut through at the waist. Blood showered onto the Imperial woman and she fell back into the welcoming arms of the jewelry vendor, clutching her chest and sobbing fitfully.

The newcomer and one responsible was a tall redhaired woman in a long blue coat, left open to show a light grey tunic underneath. Her black trousers were leather and padded on the sides for extra protection, and her dark blue boots reached her knees. One hand held a black scabbard; the other a beautifully crafted Akaviri-style sword coated in blood. The woman seemed remarkably calm despite the panicked screams of the people who saw a man get cut in half and she flicked the blood off of her sword before sheathing it. Among the crowd, a single word whispered above all others.

"Red."

A huntsman. The guards not even bothering to question her all but confirmed it. She was clearly known in Markarth, for people looked at her in a mix of awe and respect.

Markarth has its own huntsman patrolling the city? Or just luck? It wasn't her business and she pulled Agmaer away from the crowd, heading up to Understone Keep. Agmaer shot her a quizzical look and she sighed. "Say what's on your mind."

"I was thinking the Dawnguard could really use someone like that." He gestured to the crowd behind them. "A huntsman that skilled could cut through vampires like butter."

"It was an unarmored target and he had no idea she was coming." Elise couldn't help the sarcastic tone of voice. "Much skill." She wasn't blind enough to see his angle; a huntsman was typically stronger than the average sellsword and made their living hunting down the most dangerous of bandits and monsters. A fighter like that would become one of the Dawnguard's best.

And yet for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on, she felt uneasy. Something about Markarth set her on edge, and it wasn't just because she saw an attempted murder get cut brutally short. It felt as though hundreds of prying eyes were stalking her every movement and she shuddered. "We'll run it by Isran once we drag Sorine's sorry backside back to Dayspring Canyon. But not until then. I'd really prefer to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Nervous?"

"Uneasy. Something about this place just doesn't feel right. I just hope Calcelmo is more welcoming than the rest of the city."

Red Veneshield didn't think of herself as a complicated woman. She was easy-going, relatively relaxed, and liked to have a stiff drink after a job was done. She fought monsters and Forsworn whenever they disturbed the lives of Markarth's citizens, liked men (about as much as men apparently didn't like her) and taught the local smithy's apprentice, Tacitus, the art of iaido, a form of swordsmanship popular during the Akaviri conquest of Skyrim in the First Era. Just normal Tirdas things.

And yet, she found herself having complicated feelings about those two who came into the city in time to see her in action. Red wasn't going to phrase it like that, otherwise Tacitus was going to come to the wrong conclusions so fast she'd find herself sandwiched between the two newcomers before the week was up. He liked to think he was a funny bastard.

The blond man was nice to look at. Even if he looked young and inexperienced in battle, he had the muscle mass of someone used to working long hours and carried a set of heavy armor well. A strange war-axe with a sun carved into the side dangled from his hip and he was handsome for a Nord, but it was the very dangerous Breton woman alongside him that really got Red's attention.

Blonde hair tied into a bun with several bangs across her face and a matching set of heavy armor, more akin to a steel coat than anything. A small pouch was fixed to her hip belt and across her back she carried a warhammer with the same sun emblem as her companion's axe. Unlike the man with her, her movements were slower and nuanced, akin to the way a Cyrodiilic mountain lion stalked its prey. She knew she was being watched and mapping out the best exits in case of an ambush, even though Red was far enough that there was no possible way either of them could see the faint flicker of the huntsman's Invisibility spell. They're here for something. And let's be honest, if someone has business in Markarth and they're going to the jarl's palace, Calcelmo is the man to talk to. Barely anyone asks for Jarl Igmund. She rolled her eyes.

Normally, Red wouldn't think anything of it. Markarth was famous for its dwemer museum, run by Calcelmo himself. All of the displays were dwarven artifacts uncovered from the excavation of Nchuand-Zel, the dwarven city underneath Understone Keep, and tourists would come and go as they pleased. But the attack she thwarted earlier revealed a conspiracy plot against the city, and Red's suspicions were on full alert. Can't make the mistake of interrogating them. Whoever is behind this mess in Markarth could get away if they turn out innocent.

Red sighed as her spell wore off and she stepped back into the shadows cast by Markarth's towers, her blue coat flapping behind her. "Just you and me, old friend." She smiled at the sheathed Akaviri katana in her hand, leaping down from her perch and disappearing into Markarth's streets, going to the city's tavern for a stiff drink. "Just like the good days."

The life of a huntsman wasn't always exciting. Sometimes, it was really just a glorified spying mission. Red wasn't enough of an idiot to think the attack was unprovoked. The victim of the attack in the marketplace had an aura that screamed, 'outsider', and the guards seemed a little too eager to get rid of the body she left behind. That was enough to rouse her suspicions that there was foul play at work in the city she called her home.

Red's spare hand slipped under her coat and she chewed her lip, thinking. Everyone knows that the Silver-Blood family are really the ones in control. The guards won't make an arrest without their say-so. Even though the Treasury House is open, getting an audience with Thonar Silver-Blood is easier said than done with the civil war going on. For all I know, he'll try to accuse me of being an Imperial spy and throw my sorry arse in Cidhna Mine. Thonar was enough of a twat to try and pull that nonsense if he thought Red was poking her nose into his business.

Red doubted it could work; even if Thonar tried to sully her name and reputation, the jarl had recognized her as the lone reason why the excavation into Nchuand-Zel could proceed, cutting down the falmer infesting the ruins and locating the journals of a missing excavation team. She had made too big of a name for herself as a huntsman. Most of Markarth knew her, or rather her reputation for being especially deadly in a fight. Her enchanted Akaviri sword, Yamato, cut through enemies like a hot knife through butter; that wasn't adding in her own prowess in illusion magic. Thonar would have to be incredibly stupid to charge me for anything when I've done more for the city than his family has. The citizens would revolt. It wouldn't be the first time Markarth had its populace divided; the Markarth Incident was one such example. Red couldn't blame the Nords for being bitter towards anyone who was loyal to the Empire. She may have been an Imperial herself, but she agreed with the Stormcloaks' ideals, that every man and woman should be free to choose their own destiny and fight for what they believe in.

The Empire could have won if they kept pushing. The Redguards kicked the Dominion out of Hammerfell; why can't professional soldiers do the same?

Bloody politics.

Red entered the Silver-Blood Inn (no guesses as to who owned the ruddy place) and the balding man working the counter looked up as she approached. He recognized her and gave her a welcoming smile, revealing a mouth with several missing teeth. Kleppr, the manager of the inn and an old-timer around these parts. "Ah, Red. How nice it is to see you. Your usual?"

"Please." Red took a seat next to a drunk wearing hide armor, patiently waiting for Kleppr to grab a bottle of Black-Briar mead from under the counter. The drunk leered over at her, sizing her up, and Red fixed him with a glare. Her sheathed Yamato came up and the drunk moved to the far back of the tavern, not wanting to tangle with Markarth's resident huntsman.

The barkeep handed her a bottle of mead and gold coins were tossed the other way. The bottle tipped back, and the world suddenly made a lot more sense. "I take it you heard about the mess in the marketplace?"

"Aye. Heard you cut the bastard in half." Kleppr snorted. "Whole damn world is going crazy. If it isn't the Thalmor looking for Talos worshippers, it's the damn Forsworn causing chaos. You don't like the Nords, fine. But dedicating your entire life to killing them? That's just stupid. Not like those daedra-worshipping savages have any brains among them."

"You're a Nord yourself."

"I am. And I'll be the first to admit that the ones running this city are cowardly disgraces who only know how to lie, cheat, steal, and murder honest people. They should be ashamed of themselves. Such behavior is unfit for a man who calls himself a Nord." The wisest words to ever leave Kleppr's mouth.

Red took a glance around, looking for anyone who might be listening in to her conversation. The tavern was quiet; the only ones inside were Kleppr, his wife and children, Red herself, the drunk from earlier, and the woman who was attacked. Red narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, making her observations. For someone who was just attacked, she's incredibly calm. No shakes. No nervous twitching. It's as if she wasn't even fazed or surprised.

It was enough to rouse her suspicion of the woman and Red stood up from her stool, drink in hand and making her way over to her. The woman looked up from her own beverage as the huntsman approached, and to the average citizen she didn't stand out much. Short, cropped hair, blue dress, inquisitive eyes, and an elven dagger laying across her lap. She maybe in her late twenties to early thirties, and when Red took a seat across from her she sighed. "Thanks for saving me earlier."

"It's my job. What are you doing in Markarth?" Red asked.

"Visiting some family, that's all," the woman said too quickly.

"Riiiiiight." Red finished her mead with a roll of her eyes. "I'll pretend to believe that. Your hands are calloused, meaning you're used to holding and using a weapon. The only Imperial in this city besides me is Tacitus, and his family is all the way in the Imperial City. Not just that, but the way you're acting. Any normal person would be shaking after an attempt on their life. You treated it like an everyday occurrence."

"Damn, that obvious?" The woman winced. "I must be losing my touch. How did you work all of that out so quickly?"

"I'm a huntsman and Markarth is my home as much as any Nord's. If there is a plot against the city like I suspect, then it is my duty to protect the people from it at all costs. No matter what the price may be."

"If only there were more of your types around here." The woman smiled bitterly. "I'm one of General Tullius' agents, sent her to investigate rumors of corruption amongst the city's guards and the Silver-Blood family. You already know what they own, and I don't have to tell you that Cidhna Mine is the toughest jail in Skyrim. I was looking to buy the deed or even steal it if needed, but things here don't seem to run like the way I expected. Mark my words, Thonar Silver-Blood was behind the attack."

Red fished out the note she had taken from the body out of her coat. Invisibility really was a ridiculously powerful spell, letting her rummage through the pockets of a dead body and finding the clue that tipped her off. "This has instructions to kill you, from someone called, 'N'. Any idea who this could be?"

"No." The Imperial spy shook her head. "I have no idea, but the attacker... he was a Reachman, was he not? Most of the locals tend to live in an awful place called the Warrens. If anyone would know who N is, it would be one of them."

Red knew the place. It was the worst living space in all of Skyrim, home to only the weak, lame, crippled, or ill. Disease and rats plagued the inhabitants, and it wasn't the most welcoming neighborhood. The people who lived in the terrible slums were mistrusting of anyone not a Reachman, and they had a particularly powerful hatred towards the Nords from when Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted them out of the city. The bitter resentment between Nords and Forsworn ran deep to this day. An Imperial going into the Warrens would invoke the same reaction; there was no love lost between the Empire and the Forsworn, not after the Forsworn took over Markarth when the Empire was occupied with the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion.

The Warrens it is. I hope there isn't anything more to this mess beyond the Forsworn. The Forsworn were relatively easy to deal with for her; one slice of Yamato was usually all it took to put one of the savages down for good. Can't believe this is what I've been reduced to. I'm a huntsman, dammit, not a private investigator.

First the Civil War, then the Hall of the Vigilants burning, and now the Forsworn openly attacking citizens? The entire world was going nuts. A lead was a lead though and she knew where to start her search. I don't care who is responsible. They won't be escaping justice.

After all, it was a huntsman's duty to protect the people, from threats within and outside, no matter who they may be.

Actually getting an audience with Calcelmo was much easier than Elise expected. She assumed that she would have to wait for two hours while the jarl and his housecarl made sure she wasn't a villain looking to steal any of Calcelmo's discoveries, but a single question posed to one of the keep's guards pointed her and Agmaer in the right direction without a hassle. Probably more out of respect for their armaments than anything.

Calcelmo was an old altmer, and the noise of their armor alerted him to their approach. He looked up from an enchanting table and sighed in exasperation. "What in the blazes are you doing here? I'm not looking for any new guards."

"Good, because that's not why we're here." Elise met his gaze head-on. "We're looking for someone. A Breton woman by the name of Sorine Jurard. An enthusiast of the dwemer, weapons in particular from what I hear. Seeing as you are the leading expert on the falmer and dwemer, I figured you would know anything about dwarven ruins in the Reach." It was more Isran's words than her own, but details weren't important.

"Sorine..." Calcelmo frowned, having to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. "I remember her. Quite a clever young woman. I believe she was heading towards a set of dwarven constructs to the northeast, past what is now known as Deep Folk Crossing. She was convinced that the entrance to the dwemer city of Bthar-zel was out that way. She came to me about two months ago asking for maps of all the old dwarven cities. I provided them and I haven't seen her since. That's all I know."

"Do you have a map we could use?" Agmaer asked.

"I do." Calcelmo nodded and looked over to the other altmer quietly brewing a potion. "Aicantar! I need a map of the Reach."

The younger altmer jumped, the elder's bark startling him. He nearly spilt the potion he was brewing and he let out a dejected sigh, pausing his work. "Yes, uncle."

It was the same tone of voice Agmaer hit Elise with earlier. The blond Nord snickered away, leaning back to avoid an elbow to the gut. "I thought court wizards didn't typically take apprentices."

"Aicantar is my nephew," Calcelmo replied. "I'll make an exception for family. Especially a bright young lad like him." The old altmer suddenly looked over to Elise slyly. "He is single and could use a hard woman like yourself in his life, if only to keep his head straight."

Elise choked on air.

Agmaer howled with laughter.

"Oh. Are you not interested in men? Well, to each their own. It's not my place to judge."

Elise looked up to the ceiling for salvation. A lot of stone, bits of dwarven metal poking through, and Agmaer's laughter echoing around, but no answers or help. Who in Oblivion did I kill to deserve this?

"Agmaer, if you don't shut up, I'm throwing you into a river," she threatened He stopped laughing and Elise turned her glare to the old altmer trying and failing to hide his amusement. "And no, I'm not interested. I'm not looking for romance with anyone. So please, stop with that."

"I'm merely jesting with you, my dear." Calcelmo chortled.

"Yeah well... don't." The blonde woman huffed. "Is there any place I can grab a drink without ten guards giving me dirty looks?"

"In Markarth?" Calcelmo's eyebrows rose.

Elise pondered on that before conceding his point. "...fair enough. What the hell is even going on here?"

"No idea. I'm too wrapped up in the excavation. I scarcely leave the keep these days."

Judging by how pale his green skin was, Elise could fully believe that. He definitely hadn't seen sunlight in a long time. "There was a huntsman in the market. Who is she?"

"Huntsman? Oh, you must mean Red Veneshield. She's lived here for nigh on ten years. If nothing, she's efficient in her work. Has a 'whatever it takes to finish the job' attitude. She's usually out in the Reach hunting Forsworn. I've seen a lot of mercenaries and huntsmen in my life, but never one who specializes in her form of bladework. Seeing her in action is a treat."

Sure, if one could call cutting a man in half with one swing a treat. The man didn't process what happened to him until he took a step forward. Even the sharpest blades meet resistance eventually. Her attack went clean through.

We're definitely going to ask Isran about trying to recruit her.

Aicantar returned with a map in hand, panting slightly. "Here uncle. Map of the Reach."

"Thank you. Now go finish that potion. I'll lend you a hand with the enchantments after."

Aicantar went back to the alchemy table and the map was handed over to the two Dawnguard agents. Calcelmo drew forth a quill from his robes and marked a spot in the northeast with a small 'x'. "This is where Deep Folk Crossing is. To get to here, you'll need to hike through the mountainside. There's a mountain trail just next to the Salvius Farm outside the city. Follow that up and keep moving northeast, past Bthardamz until you come across a tributary of the Karth River. Can't miss it; it's a raging waterfall. Sorine was heading to the other side of it and the crossing should get you over no problem. From there, you're on your own. I shouldn't have to warn you that the Reach is a very dangerous place, but I'll do so anyway. One small misstep could lead to your doom. The Reach may be beautiful, but for Divines' sake, don't get lost in it. Keep your wits about you. Skyrim's getting dangerous."

"Wasn't it always?" Agmaer mumbled under his breath.

"Thank you for the help." Elise glared at Agmaer. "We won't keep you from your studies any longer."

"Always a pleasure, my dear."

Elise left the old man to his work, Agmaer in tow behind her. "That was easier than I expected," he said once they were out of the keep. "I thought we would have a hard time even getting a word in."

"He wasn't someone to beat around the bush. I figured he'd appreciate someone getting straight to the point for once instead of dodging the question. No-nonsense types like him are easy to understand." Elise looked at the map and the route Calcelmo had so helpfully drawn for them, watching her step as she descended the steep stairs and back down into the residential district of Markarth. "If what we're looking at is true, it's about a four-day journey from the city. I don't know about you, but I'd really like to leave this place as soon as possible." Camping in the wilderness was much more preferable than spending a night in Markarth.

"I agree," Agmaer said. Even though he grinned, he looked as tired as Elise felt. "There is something here that just isn't right. I've never seen guards stalk someone's every move like this before. You'd think the Dark Brotherhood was planning an assassination on the jarl with how paranoid they are. Makes me think they're hiding something they really don't want anyone to know. At least Riften you can predict for the guards to be a little dirty."

"Can always count a thief to be untrustworthy." Elise nodded along. "You're smarter than most give you credit for."

"What, you think I'm an idiot?" Agmaer asked despairingly.

"No." Elise said.

Agmaer perked up.

"I know you're an idiot."

The blond man groaned into his fist. "Son of a bitch..."

Pain blossomed in Red's shoulder as she skidded along the ground. Instincts ordered her to ignore the pain and she rolled to her feet and kicked off the walls to sidestep a battleaxe aimed for her head. It sank deep into stone and its wielder roared in frustration as he tried to tug it out. She landed behind her attacker in a crouch, and Yamato sang as it left its scabbard. Enchanted steel sliced through banded iron armor with a flash of lightning, drawing blood and forcing out a cry of pain. The man stumbled forward, axe still stuck in stone, and Red sliced up the man's back, twirling and cutting his right arm off with her follow-through slash. The flesh was charred from electrical burns and his arm thudded to the floor.

An agonized howl tore itself from the man's throat and Red kicked him onto his back, putting all of her weight on him to keep him from wriggling away and holding Yamato to his neck. "Who sent you?" she snarled.

The man glared hatefully at her and spat at her.

"Wrong answer." Yamato left the man's neck, only to come down through his left hand. The man howled with pain and Red made sure to twist her sword in before yanking it out. "Now try again, or you'll find yourself less of a man than you were prior to your poor decision to attack me. You know who I am. You're just another Forsworn to be added to my kill list. Who sent you?"

"N-nepos the Nose! He knew you were investigating. Told me to silence you! If anyone is to blame, it's him!" The man struggled under her boots, only to freeze as Yamato came down to his throat. He looked up at the redhaired Imperial holding it, and panic set in. "B-but I've told you everything..."

"You did. But you're also a Forsworn and tried to murder me. I don't think the jarl would complain too much about finding your head on his doorstep."

The man didn't have time to scream before a swipe of her wrist separated his head from his body. She stepped off the corpse, shook the blood off of her sword, and slid it back into its scabbard. Nepos the Nose. I know that name. So it's him who's behind all of this?

Red had to admit, she didn't think the old man had it in him. One small lead turned into this whole mess.

She had gone down to the Warrens to inspect the room of the man she cut down in the marketplace, and as she expected the natives weren't too pleased to have an Imperial in their midst. A healthy dose of respect for her being a huntsman eventually granted her entry, and picking the lock to the Reachman's room wasn't too difficult. The rooms of the Warrens were as filthy as the main hall, and after rooting through the trash of the bastard's room she found another note from 'N', telling him to refrain from killing any Nords for a time. Now she knew who N was.

She hadn't begun investigating Thonar Silver-Blood, but he was definitely up to something. Is he working with the Forsworn? How?

Red left the Warrens pondering on that, only to stop when she saw ten guards with weapons drawn. Oh dear. It looks like I wasn't as subtle as I thought. She angled her hip, holding Yamato in a defensive stance and ready to draw at a moment's notice. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"You've been poking your nose into the wrong person's business," the one in the middle snarled. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to silence witnesses? Nothing but work, work, work all the time." He laughed at Red's shocked expression. "Oh yes, that little Imperial spy of Tullius's is dead. As the last person seen with her, it's all too easy to pin her murder on you. Now, come quietly. You're going to rot in Cidhna Mine."

"You and what army?" Red asked with a scoff. "Do you seriously think anyone here is going to believe you?" She laughed back at them, shaking her head. "I'm not remotely the only one who suspected something was wrong with that attack in the marketplace. They noticed how eager you were to dispose of that body too. Me disappearing after thwarting the initial assassination will all but confirm it."

Another ten guards appeared as reinforcements, bringing the count up to twenty.

"Again, you and what army?" Red grinned cockily.

"Funny. I'll enjoy making you bend in the mines."

"Kinky." Red pushed her thumb against the hilt of her Akaviri sword, baring a few inches of enchanted and tempered steel. "You know, I really should have expected Thonar would be a dirty rat in bed with the Forsworn. But answer one question: do you really think you can take me on? Even with twenty of you?"

A greatsword came crashing down, slamming into Yamato's scabbard. The man, fully expecting to topple her with the powerful blow, stared back in shock as Red held her ground, the scabbard not even damaged from the blow and held overhead. The huntsman grinned savagely and pushed back.

"I guess you do."

"Kill her!"

Red spun around a clumsy swing of a claymore and shoved him back into his friends. Yamato sprung free, blade sparking as it tore through the light leather armor of one. His body didn't even get a chance to hit the floor before it was sheathed again, the huntsman grinning. "Still want to play?"

An arrow aimed for her face sank into Yamato's scabbard and Red launched herself forward. She spun and unsheathed her sword in the same movement, becoming a whirlwind that slashed through armor and flesh alike. The scabbard was knocked out of her hand and she allowed it, snapping her fingers and vanishing into thin air, ducking and rolling under heavy weapon swings.

"Halt!" one roared. "She's invisible! Look around! Find her!"

The armed men formed a semi-circle around those who had fallen, and the Imperial dove for her scabbard. Rolling to her feet outside the perimeter, her eyes burned as her magic let loose. The world turned red for the briefest of moments, trapping the men in an illusion. Red launched herself into their midst, the bright red flash of horizontal light being their only warning. The illusion shattered like glass, and Red stood up, sheathing her blade.

Bodies exploded into chunks behind her.

"So uncivilized."

Red picked up the sound of footsteps approaching and she gripped her blade, ready to fight if needed. Her illusion magic swam out, ready to trap another platoon of Thonar Silver-Blood's corrupt guards, only to freeze. It was the two she had seen going to the keep, and her stance eased up though she didn't take her hand off her weapon.

The blonde woman was even younger than she looked from a distance, possibly a decade and a half Red's junior. The man with her wasn't much older. They stared at her, then at the chunks of flesh and fallen weapons behind her. With her blue coat stained red with blood, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

"This isn't as bad as it looks?" Red tried.

The blonde woman continued to stare at the body parts.

Right. If they could tell something was wrong with Markarth from their first visit, they're not dumb enough to believe anything Thonar says. It's that lying rat's word against a huntsman. Not a good look for him to try and get rid of me. Hell, the locals would storm the Treasury House and slaughter him in the streets if they found out he was a traitor.

There were plenty of people, Reachmen and Nord alike, who would love to see Thonar's head roll off the chopping block. It'll be a good day when Thonar falls. He's done a lot of harm to a lot of decent folk, and they're not the type to forgive and forget. Skyrim's brand of justice was unusual. The province hadn't completely broken away from Imperial rule, meaning many holds still followed the laws set down by the Empire, meaning that anyone with a complaint had to report it and 'let the officials handle it'. Really, it was just a fancy way of saying nothing about it would be done. Cities that had closer ties to the Stormcloak Rebellion, like Windhelm, had more of 'an eye for an eye' approach to their justice.

Markarth's jarl may have been loyal to the Empire, but he would be furious if he heard that Thonar was working alongside the Forsworn. The Silver-Blood family would be disgraced.

The blond Nord man broke the uneasy silence with an awkward chuckle. "Soo... is there a reason why almost two dozen men wearing Markarth guard uniforms are literally cut into pieces behind you?"

Yes. Yes, there was.

"I don't suppose I could share the riveting tale in the tavern?" Red asked.

The two blonds shared a glance and the woman motioned back towards the keep. Red heard an angry roar that sounded like an infuriated bear storming towards the Warrens and she winced. "Point taken. You mind if a huntsman comes along with you until the heat dies down?"

"Um..." The man looked at his partner nervously.

"As long as you pull your own," the blonde woman answered. "We have a schedule to make. I don't suppose you know of any other way out of the city? I doubt the guards are going to let you use the main gate."

Red laughed, letting illusion magic dance along her fingertips. "I think I'll be just fine. The name's Red. Red Veneshield." She held out a hand. "Huntsman and a hit with the fine gentlemen." She winked at the blond man.

He choked on air, blushing.

His partner let out a satisfied cackle. "Call me Elise. This is Agmaer. Oi, Agmaer! Eyes up!"

Agmaer's treacherous gaze left Red's chest and the Imperial woman winked again, blowing a kiss off of two fingers. Adorable.

Being chased out of Markarth wasn't so bad after all if she had someone this innocent to tease.

A/N: And that's all. Next time, we're off into the beautiful wilderness of the Reach. Yes, Red's Yamato is *that* Yamato.