After half of the day passed, Lucien and Serana arrived by Fast Travel to Markarth Stables, where the sun had already set.
"So... she ended up coming here anyways." Serana scratched her chin as she stared at the stone palisade before them.
"I suppose they'll be waiting at the Silver-Blood Inn." Lucien proposed as he took the first steps ahead. "Let's go there."
Serana and Lucien headed up the stone steps and passed through into the city. Lucien guided Serana towards the inn while she stood looking around, admiring her surroundings.
"Wow, this is such a big city... and so enclosed." Serana noted as she looked at the stonework surrounding her. "Just by that alone I could see why Cura isn't such a big fan of this city." The air was tight and moist, and a gloomy atmosphere dominated the region. Serana could feel the presence of Daedra in every square inch in this land.
As soon as they entered the inn, they were immediately waved over by Inigo, who sat adjacent from Cura, who was sleeping on two chairs, lain horizontally across them with her head and shoulders on one and the rest of her body on the second, curled in a fetal position.
Serana took a moment to order an Ale from the bar, and Lucien leaned against the fireplace. "Inigo, are you going to wake her up? Or will I?"
Inigo chuckled. "What do you have in mind?"
"I know an easy way to get her up. It won't take long at all." Lucien smirked.
"Go for it, my friend!" Inigo deviously encouraged.
Lucien nodded and snuck up from behind Cura, and quickly pulled the second chair out from under her, causing half her body to slip.
"What the-?!" the Dragonborn snapped awake as she dropped to the floor.
Immediately Inigo snorted and covered the wide grin on his face with two hands.
Lucien laughed at her confusion as Cura began to look around frantically before noticing the chair between him and herself. "Ugh, don't do that!" Cura snapped at him.
Lucien stopped laughing. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Candle. Won't be doing that again."
"No, you won't." Cura sneered as she stood straight up and dusted herself off. She walked past the Imperial and located Serana at the bar and approached her to join her.
"Rest well?" Serana cracked humorously after having witnessed the display.
"Almost." Cura sighed as she rubbed her eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Serana took a sip of Mead. "Pretty... good, actually. Better than I thought I would with everything that happened."
Cura gave her a consolatory smile. "Good, that's good. I'm sure in time it will get easier."
Lucien and Inigo joined them.
"That's good to hear, Serana." Lucien remarked. "I will admit I was a little worried about you in the aftermath, but you seem to be taking it well."
"That is because she is a trooper!" Inigo exclaimed amicably. "And in the end she did the right thing. That helps, too."
Serana hated all the sappy talk; she just wanted to move on from that point in her life.
"Fair enough." Lucien commented.
"So, what are you still doing here?" Serana changed the subject and inquired of Cura.
"Inigo discovered an interesting story about the spirit of a Spell Knight of the Crypt of the Heart here in the Reach. I want to do some investigating, like the writer of this journal had." Cura held up the book.
"I guess that's what we're doing now?" Serana asked.
"Has the sun set yet?" Cura wanted to verify.
"Yes." Serana stated.
"Then let's head over to the bridge over the Karth." Cura immediately pulled back her seat and headed to the door.
The group exited the despaired city and took to the stone path into the green hills. Walking under the shroud of night, only faint howls of wolves and chirping of crickets could be heard.
"So... is there any particular reason why you took such an interest in this Spell Knight?" Serana asked out of curiosity as the group walked the dark green fields.
"Because they're from High Rock, of course!" Cura enthused as though the answer were obvious.
Inigo grinned widely. He loved being right.
"You're so cute. You remind me of those children who want to be closer to their favourite parent, and so try to be exactly like them." Serana laughed with amusement. "Usually it happens if their parents are from different races; they often identify closely with the race of their favoured parent."
"I can concur." Inigo remarked. He felt partial towards both Argonians and Khajiits due to his upbringing.
Lucien, however was full Imperial stock. He only saw differences between Colovian and Nibenese cultures.
"What do you mean?" Cura asked.
"You're trying to be like Carcette." Serana laughed. "Look at yourself; a Vigilant, first of all, who chose to major in Restoration magic above all else, who has a somewhat bossy attitude - no offense, and wants to be closer to the Bretons than either of her actual ethnic backgrounds. I think we all know who your idol is."
Cura gave it some thought. She hadn't considered it vividly before, but having it all spelled out to her like that was eye-opening. "Wow... I guess I am similar to Carcette in some ways..."
"And your names also begin with 'C'! A-ha!" Inigo pointed at her in a 'gotcha' moment, unveiling the conspiracy.
"And they're both blonde." Lucien pointed out. "And both favour Apprentice Robes and Steel Plate armour. And blunt weapons."
"Can you stop?" Cura chastised her allies. "If you keep going far enough, you'll get to how we both breathe air."
"Oh, how did we ever overlook such an obvious detail!" Lucien exclaimed jokingly.
"We need a new magnifying glass, I think!" Inigo joked along as the two laughed.
"Really..." Cura was growing irritable.
"I see a bridge over a river up ahead!" Serana pointed to the stonework linking two lands together.
Cura took heed and ran ahead to closer observe, and walked onto the bridge itself.
She looked around for any paranormal signs, but found none so far. And that was when it caught her eye: a red mountain flower lain on the sidewall of the bridge, overlooking the Karth river.
Somebody came by recently to pay their respects.
Cura took the flower and examined its freshness; it was beginning to wither, so it had to have been at least a few days ago.
"C-Candle?" Lucien called her attention shakily, prompting Cura to turn around to see a ghostly man looming behind her.
Cura was startled for a moment, but the ghost merely stood still. He was a Breton in wispy ebony-forged armour of High Rock origin, shrouded in white mist. Only the ghastly sound of his breathing could be heard.
"Are you the Spell Knight Simon?" Cura asked the phantom.
The ghost somberly nodded. "My... heart... darkness..." He held a hand to his chest. "help... me... help... Daenella... the coven... my heart... is consumed... in fire... so much fire... ;hurk!;" He clenched his chest and seethed deeply as scorchingpain consumed his eternal soul.
Cura nodded. "Of course I will! Just lead the way."
The Spell Knight vanished and rematerialized somewhere further up the trail and beckoned Cura and her friends, who began to follow him.
Inigo was shocked. "My friend the Ghost whisperer!"
"He sounded as though he was in pain." Serana observed. "I didn't think spirits could feel anything."
"I'm certain they can." Cura stated. "Guilt, despair... we can feel those things within our souls. A soul without a body feels this anguish whether attached or not. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if black magic could cause a soul to feel the physical pain inflicted upon its original body... or heart."
"So... we are essentially a ghost in a machine?" Lucien mused old philosophical texts he had read at the Arcane University.
"More than that. We are ghosts woven into elaborate machinations. Every inch of us is both our body and our soul." Cura mused. "And that is precisely why Soul Trapping is so heinous. You are tearing the very fabric of creation to cast a Soul into a small, crystalline cage. And then..."
"Into the Soul Cairn." Serana finished her sentiment. "It really is a horrible thing. And that reminds me; I think I'm going back there to inform mother of the news. She can finally come out and breathe fresh air again."
Cura nodded. "That would be very good."
"I'll bet she's worried sick about me." Serana wondered. "I guess she'll be happy to know that you kept your promise, too." She looked at Cura as they continued past the large bluffs and into an open clearing where a fenced-off Orc stronghold could be seen to their west.
The ghost led them up the bluff to where a large tower stood. There were Forsworn there who saw the ghost and then the group, and immediately leapt on the offensive, firing arrows.
Cura splintered the arrows directed at her with her shield and protected her friends by standing at the front guard as a walking steel wall.
Inigo clipped one through the forehead with his ebony arrow, killing the brute, and Lucien cast a lightning spell at another, which, due to the foe's Bretonic heritage, did almost nothing.
Serana raised the dead Forsworn, arrow still embedded in his head, and sent him to attack his allies.
Cura finished the fight with a vicious smack to the last one's head.
The group stood there in silence as the Spell Knight's ghost pointed to one of the dead Forsworn. "Letter... he has a letter... Daenella..." He then proceeded to walk towards a burial mound beneath a Shrine of Mara, and vanished.
Though it was dark, Inigo and Serana could both see many dead Spell Knight's, who fell trying to avenge their fallen brother.
Cura read the note aloud;
"We've killed the traitor and given the knight's heart to the mother. She's gone back to Karthspire to perform the ritual.
We'll stand watch until she returns, and drain the blood of any knights who interfere."
"I guess they went through with it." Lucien cringed when he held out his torch and cast light upon the corpses strewn about.
"We have to stop whatever it is they're planning! Let's go!" Cura hurried towards the slope and planted her feet in the soil, allowing herself to slide down the hill.
"I guess your friendship with the Forsworn ends here." Inigo stated. "Karthspire camp is where the entrance to Sky Haven Temple is."
Cura knew this, and knew also that it would make life that much more difficult if she caught the ire of the Forsworn as well. She had enough enemies already. They headed down many hills and crags, and winded the path down from Soljud's Sinkhole. They could see the landmark of Sky Haven Temple high up into the cloud layer off in the distance, and Cura surmised that they were coming close.
Cura had an idea. She looked up to the heavens. "STRUN BAH QO!"
Immediately, the sky filled with dark clouds and a storm brewed. With the raging weather, the Forsworn would no doubt duck for cover, allowing her and her allies to take care of business unnoticed.
Approaching the camp from the cliffs above, the first thing Cura saw was a shrine of sorts below where three witches in black robes seemingly finished conducting a dark ritual on a blackened human heart held on a brazier before the Daedric altar of Hircine.
A Hagraven instructed the witches and they obeyed her without question. She wore around her neck the emblem of Jephre.
The Beldama Wyrd coven, here in Skyrim! It was one of those things that needed to be seen to believed. Though, that wouldn't matter either which way, because Cura had the feeling that she was going to strike them down.
That Hagraven was the Ward mother, ordering them around. They were performing a dark ritual of sorts, or had just completed it; it was hard to truly say.
Cura could only look on in fascination before Inigo took a sneak shot, firing an exploding bolt of fire at the raven woman.
When the bolt hit her, one of the witches caught fire and began to scream, but was drowned out by the heavy rain and lightning.
A stray bolt struck one of the others, killing her instantly.
The Ward mother fired a powerful fireball at the cliff, nearly hitting Cura. Thankfully, the Breton held up Spellbreaker, and blocked the fireball.
Cura decided to keep the high ground. She took Auriel's Bow off her back and aimed a Sunhallowed Arrow at the Ward mother and released it upon the witch, sticking her with a burning strike in the chest.
The Hagraven grasped at her chest as she fell to her knees and perished with laboured breath.
Lucien shot one of the witches in the back as she attempted to flee into the camp, and killed her on the spot.
"Wow, nice shot, Lucien!" Inigo expressed.
"Wow! I hit her! I actually hit her!" the Imperial scholar exclaimed in surprise. "I guess that training paid off."
Serana flew down on top of the last one and impaled the panicked sorceress through the chest with her ebony dagger after dodging a Firebolt.
Cura slid down the cliff and walked over to the cursed heart in the brazier.
Suddenly, the ghost of a witch woman with long hair and Beldama face tattoos manifested before her and placed her wispy hands over her beloved's heart. "Please... don't destroy him..." her sadness was almost palpable. "they have already done enough..."
Cura turned her face to see the dead white-haired Beldama witch lain across the slab of rock before the Daedric altar, covered in blood with lacerated wrists and throat. She then looked at the specter before her, recognizing her to be the very same woman. "Are you Daenella?" Cura asked her to be certain.
The ghost nodded as tears fell from her ethereal eyes. "Vigilant... please, please help Simon! We never... asked for any of this..."
Serana approached and looked at the heart. She noted the thick, congealed black blood seeping like sludge out of mangled arteries and pulsating with dark energy as it continued to beat, even outside of its owner's chest. "Yeah... it's badly tainted, but maybe all is not lost. I can still sense human blood in it."
Cura turned to look at Lucien and Inigo, who joined them in ogling the corrupted human heart.
"This is some dark magic, for sure. But I don't know much on the topic of deep curses." Lucien cringed at the mere thought of it. "I think this is more your area of expertise, Candle."
"It is like looking at a wrinkled prune lathered in blood pudding." Inigo cringed when he looked at the condemned organ.
Cura nodded. "But first, what kind of curse is this?" she asked Daenella directly. "I can see that it's Daedric."
"Hircine's curse... they believed I betrayed the coven, and so they condemned my love... his heart must be cleansed before being returned to his body, or... Oblivion waits for him..." Daenella explained with a shaking voice.
Cura nodded and gently took the organ into her hands. "I'll bring it to a Shrine, and petition one of the Divines. Stendarr could lift the curse."
"There isn't a Shrine to Stendarr for miles, though." Lucien stated. "We're in the middle of the Reach."
"There is no time... he must be cleansed within the hour, or my love's soul shall be damned..." Daenella wept as she cupped her face in her hands.
"I saw a Shrine to Mara." Serana stated. "Near the tower on top of that cliff, where the Forsworn attacked us. On top of a burial mound."
Daenella nodded. "His brothers intended to lift the curse before the coven caught up with them... please, you must lift it! There isn't much time! Please, save my love!"
"I will!" Cura nodded and quickly began to climb the rocks, slipping on the mud periodically as she pried after the stones to ascend the cliff.
A bolt of lightning hit the ground near Lucien, but Serana quickly tackled him out of the way.
Inigo made it to the top first and pulled Cura up. "The best thing about being a giant, bipedal cat is having claws that can grip firmly into the ground!" he laughed.
"Being a vampire is better, because I can avoid the sludge altogether!" Serana said as she flew up with Lucien in tow.
Cura wasted no time. When the group came together, she Fast Travelled them to the tower and gravesite.
The lightning illuminated the area with a great flash as it struck the tower. Falling debris nearly hit the group, but they hurried out of its way.
Cura could see the gravesite: a stone altar with the Shrine of Mara, just as Serana said, placed above it beside an Iron Shield. There was an open grave, and a dead man lay there with his chest torn open.
"You must purify me first... I beg of you..." the man's ghost emerged once more, and stood beside Cura as the heavy downpour drenched the area. "Do not return my condemned heart to my body... or I will be thrust into Oblivion."
Cura shook her head. "Don't worry; I'm here to help." She placed the blackened heart before the Shrine of Mara, the Goddess of Love. "Lady Mara, I beseech you: purify the heart of the man before you, impart upon him your loving embrace and grant rest to his tormented soul." She bowed her head and sunk to her knees as she petitioned the holy mother.
"Your request shall be made reality, my child." came an ethereal, divine voice that spoke into Cura's own heart. She could feel the familiar warmth of Mara surround her. It did not take long for her to be called to Mara's service again, it seemed. Though, now she was calling upon Mara's service instead.
It took a moment, but Serana, Inigo, and Lucien could see a blue light consume the corrupted heart. As waves of energy swam its circumference, shadow was being cast out and the dried, gnarled veins began to moisten and flow once more with human blood.
"Cura, now! Quickly!" Serana shouted over the violent winds.
Cura immediately took the heart and placed it inside of Simon Rodayne's chest, and a gentle light enveloped his body. The open cavity began to seal up as muscles and flesh were sewn back together like a quilt under the blue light.
The storm, too, vanished, leaving silent and moist air.
Cura sat upright and exhaled. "Did... did it work?"
When she looked up, she saw the spirits of Daenella and Simon embracing one another.
"My love... oh, my love! You are free now!" Daenella exclaimed through joyful tears as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"We will never be apart again..." Simon held her closely, closing his arms around her back.
Serana helped Cura stand and Lucien noticed something out of the ordinary: the Spell Knight armour set the ghost was wearing before now manifested itself around the grave, in tangible form.
"Candle, look! The armour... it's right there! It just appeared right around you!" Lucien called attention to the anomaly.
"It is my gift to you, kind lady." Simon informed her. "May the Ebony Armour of the Spell Knight serve you faithfully as it had me."
Cura was honoured. She leaned down to pick up the Cuirass of the Spell Knight and examined it thoughtfully. "Thank you... I'll put it to good use, I promise." She assured him.
With that final parting, Daenella and Simon Rodayne levitated into the sky, and vanished into the pure white light of eternity, where they would spend their eternal lives in happiness without fear of judgment or scorn from their peers.
A Spell Knight from the Crypt of Hearts, and a witch from the Beldama Wyrd; setting aside their beliefs and creeds out of love for one another.
Love is truly a fickle beast, as Cura understood all too well at this point.
Her thoughts turned to Ulfric and Elenwen, and she understood. "Sometimes our blasted hearts just do as they want." Cura scoffed as she walked behind the adjacent tower and changed her Dawnguard armour for the superior Ebony Spell Knight armour. Stepping out, she turned to her friends and held out her arms, and twirled around to show off the new armour from all sides. "How do I look? Is it... all right?"
Serana gave it a moment's thought. "Not bad at all, Cura. Though, I'll be honest; black, gold and purple don't compliment you that much." She shrugged.
"Do not listen to her, my friend! It looks good on you! And it totally does not make your behind look bigger at all!" Inigo tried to show reluctant optimism on his friend's behalf.
Cura immediately titled herself around to look and see for herself, which caused Inigo and Lucien to cackle.
"Well, it doesn't matter if it does or not." Cura tried to brush it off as she threw her Apprentice Robes of Restoration over the armour. "I can feel the magickal energy surround me as I wear it. This armour will be very useful, especially for my next destination!" She pocketed the other pieces of the armour, placing them within her bag.
"So... now that that's dealt with, what do you plan to do next, Candle?" Lucien asked as his chuckles finally subsided.
"I'm joining the College of Winterhold." Cura confessed. "Serana and I held the conversation on it while you two were playing games in Auriel's Chantry."
Serana confirmed it. "You know, I've heard that Winterhold is a large, bustling city. At least, it was back in my time."
"Not anymore, unfortunately." Lucien interjected. "I hear that a cataclysm destroyed it all, except a few houses and the College. Now everybody casts blame onto the mages for it. Quite sad, really."
"Watch yourself there, Lucien." Inigo told him. "Do not openly side with the mages in the Nord city. They will flay you."
"Oh, please. Like they won't see us going inside the College anyways." Lucien crossed his arms.
"At any rate, I've got to tell the Battle-Borns about the situation with Muiri." Cura stated. "And then, we depart for Winterhold."
"All right, let's get going, then." Serana ushered them along.
That evening, when Cura and her allies returned to Windhelm, she visited the Battle-Borns at their houses and explained to them what occurred at Markarth. Muiri was the patron of the assassin, but it was done out of pure stupidity above all else. Apparently, she hadn't expected the Black Sacrament to yield any results and sent the assassin on his way because of fear and obligation.
As expected, the family was not pleased with this, and Torbjorn was fast to speak. "That little bitch. After all we've done for her, this is how she repays us?"
"She was angry about your driving her out of Windhelm." Cura explained. "She went way too far, but she loved you all, and felt very betrayed over the whole thing with Alain Dufont. Her spite was bred after a long time of brooding and tears. I don't condone her actions, and I know you certainly won't forgive her, but you still have a right to know the intent behind it all."
Nilsine looked the saddest of them all. "So, that's it, then. It's just so hard to accept. First Friga was killed, then Muiri brought that thief into our house, and then the argument... and now she hates me for it enough to have me assassinated."
"I don't think it's you she hates, Nilsine." Cura proposed. "It was Tova who she wanted to injure the most by having you killed."
The Shatter-Shield matriarch crossed her arms and huffed. "Vindictive little witch! All she's done is bring us misery!"
"With all due respect, that was Alain Dufont, at first." Cura stated. "Muiri really had no idea that he was a bandit. He's dead now, it seems, though."
"And what of Muiri?" Tova sneered. "I hope you embedded that mace in her forehead!"
"I was going to, but there was enough blood flowing through Markarth." Cura stated. "She's going to spend the rest of her days as an indentured servant, and then Cidhna Mine."
"Cidhna Mine..." Torbjorn muttered. "Good. Good, that's better than I'd hoped! Good for her!" He popped the cork off his bottle of ale and leaned back in his seat before the hearth. "Thanks for everything, Cura.
"Yes, thank you." Tova parroted. She patted her daughter on the head. "Muiri will never send for your life again. This is good news." She stood up from her seat and walked towards the kitchen to grab some food.
Nilsine looked to Cura. "I still can't believe she would do that to me... we were such good friends. Since we were children... she was like a sister to me!"
"Don't fret too much on it, Nilsine." Cura tried to comfort her. "Just take it easy and try to think of the good things; not of the fearful."
"The fearful is all there is these days." Torbjorn admitted as he sucked back his ale.
"Maybe Friga is the lucky one..." Nilsine muttered as she placed her hands on her face and leaned forward in her seat.
Cura stood up from her seat. "Well, I'll be off. It's going to be a busy time ahead."
"Of course. And here, Cura; for doing us a service." Torbjorn handed her a coin pouch containing 400 septims. "Thanks again for helping us."
Cura accepted it graciously as she headed to the door. "You're very welcome. Take care of yourselves."
She left the Shatter-Shield estate and headed to her house next door. Suddenly, a Courier came running towards her. "I've been looking for you. Got something to deliver. Your hands only." He reached into his duffle bag. "Hmm... let's see here..."
"Oh? Who is it from?" Cura asked.
"I don't know. Some creepy fella in a black hood." the Courier gingerly handed her a folded slip of paper. "Looks like that's it. Gotta go!" He waved to her as he ran off to continue on his route.
Cura raised an eyebrow and unfolded the sheet of paper. What she saw within was chilling. It was simply a picture of a black hand with a large hole in the center of the palm with text underneath that read: "We know"
Cura pocketed the note and sighed. "Great, more fan mail." She clicked her tongue and unlocked her front door and entered.
Who would send such a mysterious note? Who wanted a piece of her now?
It was silent in Hjerim, and Calder was the only one present in the living quarters, sweeping the floors. "Ah, my Thane - your friends have fallen asleep. Do you wish for me to wake them?"
"No, no, let them rest." Cura told him. "In fact, I'm going to rest for a while, myself."
"Of course, my Thane. Good rest to you." Calder bowed his head as Cura walked past him, and he continued to sweep the floors.
Cura was tired and removed her armour and robes and fell into her wonderful bed. Oh, how she loved it! It was too large for one person, but it was too comfortable to complain about the excess space. It was certainly a big upgrade from her tiny room in the Hall of the Vigilant's cellar.
The Hall of the Vigilant...
Cura remembered that little shack fondly. It was still just so surreal to imagine it a crumbled ruin set ablaze. And it hurt. A lot. She had many memories of that place. Many fun nights by the hearth, days training, many prayers said, many books read...
All up in smoke.
Cura felt like she was living in a strange dream. Maybe she died against that Ice Wraith like Hilde did, and this was all a big, elaborate Death Vision? Maybe Lydia, Inigo, Lucien, and Serana were all just dream friends?
No. She could feel everything clearly.
Cura was most certainly alive, and awake. This was her reality now.
And it was surprisingly nice.
She tucked herself under the goat-fur lined covers and shuffled side-to-side as she shifted into a more comfortable resting position, laying on her right side. The silence filled the air, and her muscles were aching lightly. She could feel a light throbbing in her right thigh, and soreness remained on her left cheek, from where Harkon had dealt a nasty blow during their duel four days ago.
Four days ago.
It was only four days ago?
No... don't think. Just sleep.
Cura had to clear her mind first if she would slumber. After a few hours of thinking about Vigilant Tolan; wondering how he was doing following the defeat of the Vampires, about Isran; if he was at peace, though somehow doubting it, and about Carcette; how was she faring in the cage? Was she all right in there? - Cura slowly reconciled to herself that everything was going to be fine, and that some things were just outside of her control.
Cura closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Something didn't feel right. Her vision was hazy, but Cura slowly began to see again. The floor beneath her was cold, and a draft was blowing in from the door to her left. The smell of rotten blood permeated the air, nauseating her.
"Sleep well?" came a voice from somewhere above her. The voice sounded like a woman's, and was wispy, and very dark. She lilted as she asked the question, almost teasing the Dragonborn.
"Huh... what..." Cura placed a hand on her head and shook it about as she came to her senses. She realized, as well, that she was in her night gown; unsuited to combat. Touching her colalrbone, she was thankful to find her Amulet of Stendarr still hugging her neck. Whoever brought her here had no interest in stealing it, at the very least. "Where am I?"
"Does it matter? You're warm, dry... and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for Veezara." a woman wearing black and red Dark Brotherhood armour sat atop a dresser in the southwest corner of the small shack.
"The Dark Brotherhood..." Cura's eyes widened momentarily. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd try to kill me again."
"If I were trying to kill you I would have slit your throat. Instead, I brought you here." the woman explained, growing tired of this little game.
"So, this is about 'Veezara', then?" Cura asked.
"Yes, you killed one of my compatriots." the assassin explained. "Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Not many warriors out there can honestly say they suffocated an Argonian Shadowscale to death outside of a crowded city. Well done."
Cura was confounded. Many scenarios where this could lead ran through her mind, but she had to speak up regardless. "So, why have you brought me here? What have you to gain?"
"Can't two women talk in peace?" the assassin said with a dark laugh. "I brought you here because there would be no distractions, and I thought you'd be more agreeable to my proposition without any witnesses around."
"Proposition?" Cura asked as the word hung in the air above her.
The assassin pulled down her hood and mask, and revealed herself to be a blonde Nord woman with hair styled very similarly in style to Cura's. Her piercing eyes bore into the Breton's soul as she dropped down from the wardrobe and walked right up to her, unafraid. "My name is Astrid. I'm the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, which I'm sure you've guessed."
Cura's mouth hung open for a moment, and she forced it closed.
Astrid.
That was the woman who the Assassins' Notes were signed by. The assassins who have been hunting her down sporadically since her days in Whiterun. Cura clenched her fist amd bit her lower lip.
"I propose a truce. Between the Dark Brotherhood and the Dragonborn." Astrid extended her hand for a shake. "You've shown the world what carnage you're capable of when you led the charge on the Volkihar Court. Very impressive, I must admit."
"A truce?" Cura repeated, uncertain as to where this was leading.
"Yes, my dear." Astrid said. "I will expunge your record; take you off our contracts list, and you will no longer be a target. And you won't need to come down to our Sanctuary and slaughter us."
Pride overcame Cura and she scoffed with amusement. "And the catch is...?"
"Why do you assume there's a catch?" Astrid questioned her judgment.
"There is always a catch." Cura said firmly. "What is the catch?"
Atrid smiled and placed a hand around Cura's back and on her right shoulder as she turned her around to face the back end of the abandoned shack. There, she saw three people, bound and on their knees with execution hoods tied around their heads. As Cura looked on befuddled, Astrid resumed. "Well now. Funny you should ask. These are my guests. I've "collected" them from... well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But... which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe... and admire."
If for nothing else, Cura had to admire the amount of effort the assassin had to go through to rig this up, even if she was about to protest it.
Cura wrested herself out of Astrid's grasp and spun around defensively. "Are you insane?! I'm not performing an assassination!"
"Why not?" Astrid asked. "You effectively assassinated the Lord of the Volkihar Clan on a contract."
"That's entirely different!" Cura exclaimed. "He was..."
"A vampire, right? You don't seem to have any qualms with keeping one around as a friend, though." Astrid stated the honest truth.
"No... no, that's different!" Cura explained. "Harkon was evil! He needed to go!"
"And one of these people can be seen as evil, as well. In fact, most of our contracts are on people who have done someone wrong." Astrid explained. "Whether it be a bandit who stole a warhammer, or a necromancer summoning Daedra, can you honestly claim the Vigil is much different from us? Your lot kill people all the time. It almost makes me want to reconsider my position as an assassin. Being a Vigilant must be far more interesting these days."
"Daedra summoners deserve what they get, because they bring it upon themselves!" Cura expressed.
"Morality really is subjective when you want it to be." Astrid smirked.
Cura paused for a moment. It was true; she had already killed many people. She was not innocent, herself. Perhaps even some of the guards in Markarth were only doing their jobs to support their families, but she killed them just the same.
And she did kill Vampires on contract, like Movarth Piquine. But that was for the good of Morthal.
With a sigh, Cura turned again to Astrid. "No... you're right. We've been known to kill for Stendarr, as much as you kill for Sithis. But we don't kill for money; we kill if it's necessary for the protection of Tamriel. That is where we're different."
Astrid leaned against the western wall and crossed her arms. She placed a dagger on the floor and slid it over towards Cura, and its hilt hit her big toe. "I can't promise you that one of them isn't a Daedra worshipper, but one of them is certainly a wicked person. I'll let you decide."
Cura wasn't having it. "Are you serious? I'll have no part of this insanity."
"Now that is a shame. But what you fail to realize is that you involved yourself in this "insanity" when you took Veezara's life out in the fields of Eastmarch. You made your choice. Now it's time to face the consequences of your actions. You don't leave this shack until someone dies."
Cura closed her eyes. "This is madness..."
"I'll cut right to it." Astrid decided to reiterate. "You owe the Dark Brotherhood a life. I've come to collect. One of these poor sods has a contract out on their life. Which one is it? Any idea? Make your choice. Make your kill. And you get to walk away, and we all get to live in peace again."
Cura exhaled. "All right, I'll do it. I'll kill one of them." As much as she resented it, she didn't want to live the rest of her life with the Dark Brotherhood constantly attacking her.
"See, I knew we could resolve this civilly. A debt owed must be repaid. You understand that. One could even call it Stendarr's Justice to repay a debt." Astrid tried to reconcile it to her. "Well, get to it then. Pick your guest, and send the poor fool to the Void. I'll give you the key to this shack, and you'll be on your way."
Cura stared at the dagger in front of her foot for a moment and then picked it up with some hesitation. She then walked over to the first hostage: a Nord man in studded fur armour shaking with fear like a child in a Daedric museum. "H-hell-hello?" He stammered and wept. "What did I do? Please, whatever it is, I'm sorry."
Cura gave it some thought. He looked able-bodied enough to have harmed someone, certainly, but he was undoubtedly timid. Meek. Fearful.
"Is this about that raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honor in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn't listen! It wasn't my fault, I swear!" the Nord prisoner pleaded. "I'm just a soldier. Killing is my job! Surely you can't fault a man for doing his job?"
Astrid continued to watch from a distance, narrowing her eyes at the Dragonborn and tracking her every movement.
Cura scratched her chin. "Who are you?"
"My name is Fultheim. I'm a soldier. Well, mercenary, really. You know, a... a sellsword. I've lived in Skyrim all my life. That's all! I'm a nobody, really. So can't you just let me go?" the fearful Nord begged.
Cura continued to question. "Would someone pay to have you killed?"
"What? Oh gods, I don't want to die..." Fultheim trembled with horror.
"Shhh... Don't be afraid. You can tell me." Cura tried to calm him down. She was, after all, standing between him and the knife, after all.
"Okay, well... I guess it's possible. I've been selling my sword arm for years now. Killed a lot of people. Could be someone wanted revenge. But... But you're not going to kill me. Right?" Fultheim tried to calm himself as he spilled the truth.
Cura was silent for a moment and walked past him, and onto the next hostage: an Imperial woman in a brown dress who was violently trying to pry the ropes off her wrists behind her back. "By the gods, when I get out of here you're dead! You hear me? Dead!" she shouted through the executioner's hood.
Cura was stunned by her ferocity. "Who are you?"
"None of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already!" the woman roared. "As Mara is my witness, if I didn't have this damned hood on right now I would spit right in your face..."
Cura exhaled. Bringing Mara into this just made it that much more gut-wrenching to the Breton. If this woman was a follower of Mara, Cura did not want to stain the dagger with her blood. She was partial to the Goddess of love and would not disrespect her this way. "I don't want to kill you, but someone might. Please, help me on this. Just tell me what I need to know. Was there anyone you've been less than... nice... to, recently?"
"I'm a woman living in Skyrim with six children and no husband. I don't have the time or patience to be 'nice.' Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right." the woman nearly boasted were she not so embittered by the fact.
Astrid's voice came from the other side of the room. She spoke loudly enough that Cura could hear her from the other side. "The anticipation is killing me. Can you figure out who has the contract? Which one will you choose?" it seemed no more than a game to her.
Cura felt sorry for the tenacious woman. Under any other circumstance, she would have given her coin to help with her struggle, but right now she was under the watchful eye of the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, and the problems that could bring were plentiful.
"You cut these bindings this minute! You hear me? You cut these bindings right now!" the woman shouted as Cura continued onwards to the final prisoner.
He was a Khajiit wearing brown Fine Robes. As soon as he heard Cura's footsteps, he spoke. "Tell you what. You release me, and I promise my associates won't hunt you down like an animal and butcher you in the street. It's a win-win."
Wonderful first impression. Cura let out an audible scoff. "Really?"
"Whoever this is, clearly we got off on the wrong foot. Ah, but no worries. This is not the first time I have been bagged and dragged." the Khajiit proposed. "Come now. Whatever the problem, we can talk about it like civilized folk. Hmm?"
"Who do you think you are?" Cura asked the cat with the great bravado.
"Ahhh... Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name in your corpse, as a reminder." the Khajiit threatened.
That was twice already. Clearly he was part of some sort of criminal group; perhaps wealthier bandits. Or poor Bandits who stole those robes from wealthier folk. More Alain Dufonts, and Stendarr knows that Skyrim was full to the brim with these deviants already. Killing Vasha would give her no love lost.
Still, she had to ask. "Would someone pay to have you killed?"
"Me? Ha! Are you serious?" the foolish Khajiit all but signed his death contract.
Astrid seemed to regain her attention just as she had begun to drift to sleep. Now this was getting interesting,
Cura, on the other hand, was growing tired of this charade and this bandit's tongue. "Answer me, or I'll paint this room with your blood!"
"Fool! Don't you get it? I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a knocked arrow on every rooftop! If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult!" Vasha hissed.
"Then you don't have to worry about looking over your shoulder any more." Cura informed him as she pressed the knife to his neck and pulled it across, causing blood to splash.
"AIYEEEEE!" the Khajiit brigand wailed as he dropped to the floor.
The Imperial woman and the Nord warrior both cried out in horror when they heard the scream.
"Oh, gods, please! Let me live! I'll do anything you want!" Fultheim wailed.
"What's happening? Damn it, what are you doing?" the Imperial screamed.
Astrid smiled with amusement as she approached Cura, who was breathing strongly. "The conniving Khajiit. Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him." She again took Cura by the back and led her to the western wall, away from prying ears.
"He was the only one I could kill with good conscience." Cura stated. "Was he the one with the contract?"
"Oh. No, no, no. Don't you understand? Guilt, innocence, right, wrong... Irrelevant. What matters is I ordered you to kill someone, and you obeyed." Astrid explained, baffling Cura.
"So... he was just a bandit." Cura stated.
"Don't focus on the who or what." Astrid stated. "Consider your debt repaid in full, and I will honour my end of the bargain: you will never again be attacked by a member of the Dark Brotherhood, and no contracts on you will be accepted."
"Fine, but let the other two go. The Nord will probably die on his own, and the mother has six children to care for. They don't deserve to lose her, too." Cura demanded as she pointed to the Imperial mother and the whimpering barbarian who remained.
"You're oddly compassionate for a killer." Astrid remarked. "You intrigue me, Dragonborn. Very much so. Here's the key to the shack." She handed Cura a dirty old steel key, which Cura clenched into a fist immediately upon reception.
Astrid walked over to the chest next to discarded cages and torture devices in the northwestern corner of the shack, and she opened it, and gestured for Cura to come over. Inside were her robes, Spell Knight armour, hood, gauntlets, boots, Elven Mace, Spellbreaker, Dawnbreaker, and Auriel's Bow and its respective quiver. "I took the liberty of bringing your things. Wouldn't want to send the Dragon off without her claws, scales, and fangs, after all."
Cura was surprised that she had that kind of foresight. She quickly suited up. "Er... thanks...?"
"Don't mention it. You're free to go on your way and play the little saviour of Skyrim with one less enemy on your tail. We're acquaintances now." Astrid said with a smile. "But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level. I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: "Silence, my brother." Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you around." She gave Cura a salute with two fingers off her forehead as she unlocked the door with her spare key and left Cura standing there, confused as to what had just happened.
Did she just offer her a place in the Dark Brotherhood?
No.
No, that was certainly not what she just said.
She wouldn't do it. No. Never.
But she just did a contract for them, technically.
No. That was by force.
She could have killed Astrid, but that would have made things far more complicated, wouldn't it?
Wouldn't it?
"You cut these bindings this minute! You hear me? You cut these bindings right now!" the Imperial woman yelled loudly, realizing that Cura was still there.
Not wanting to be recognized, Cura reached into her bag, which was still in the chest, and wore the Ebony Spell Knight helmet to obscure her face, and hid her Amulet of Stendarr. She quickly approached the Imperial woman and took the knife and cut the ropes that bound her,
"Well it's about damn time. Capturing a woman from her home, keeping her bound like an animal. Ridiculous...you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" the woman chastised her.
"You're free to go home to your children." Cura told her. "And... here." She reached into her bag and handed her the coin purse that Torbjorn had given her with 400 septims. "Here, this should help a bit."
The Imperial woman stared at the coin purse and then looked at Cura, and back to the purse, and then took it from her hands. She was just as confused as Cura was. "Don't expect a thank you for your pity." the woman sneered as she walked towards the door, which seemed to lock itself again after Astrid stepped out.
"Please! Release me! Cut my bonds!" Fultheim cried out. "If you do, I... will be immensely grateful."
Cura was already on it, kneeling down behind him and cutting the ropes. "There you are."
"Thank you! Thank you! I'll never speak of this to anyone, I promise!" Fultheim exclaimed joyously as he removed the hood from over his head, "I won't tell anyone what happened here, I swear it!"
Cura walked to the door, past the Imperial woman, and unlocked it with her key. "What city do you live in?" she asked the Imperial woman, hoping to escort her.
"I come from the city of None of your business, that's where!" the woman snapped. Clearly she didn't trust Cura, though the Breton couldn't really blame her given the circumstances.
Fultheim emerged, and Cura turned to him. "Escort her to her home safely; she has a family to think of." she stated. "And, go straight. Get a gentler job. This isn't for you."
"Oh, uh... er... of course! Of course!" Fultheim exclaimed as he joined the Imperial woman.
"What now, you big oaf?" she sneered.
"The marsh is dangerous." Fultheim told her. "Lots of mudcrabs and Chaurus... and Dragons."
"Hmph. They'd be sorry if they dealt with me in the mood I'm in!" was the last thing Cura heard the woman say to the Nord as she continued through the swamp, herself.
What a day.
At least Cura wouldn't have to worry about the Dark Brotherhood chasing her anymore, or worrying about them coming at her out of nowhere. But... join them? She could never. Sithis was a Daedra. wasn't he? Or... no. He was the Void. Padomay. Still contrary to Anu and the Aedra. But technically, part of the origin of the Et'Ada, to her understanding.
Regardless, she would not serve a god of death and murder, or call herself Sister to those who did.
Now, Winterhold. That was her goal.
What would the College have to offer?
Cura massaged her brow and readied to rejoin her friends.