Cura lightly stirred that morning, waking up in her large, comfortable goat-pelted bed and sat upright. With a mighty stretch, she groaned and pushed herself up off of the gentle mattress. It was the most comfortable bed she had ever lain in. It almost felt indulgent, to an extent.
Being a gift from the Shatter-Shields, it was a luxurious home, after all. One fit for Nobility.
It was hard for Cura to realize that fact: she was Nobility, now. In three of Skyrim's holds: in Hjaalmarch, Whiterun, and Windhelm, she was Thane. She had the ear of at least three of the Jarls. It was quite an honour, and one she would cherish. It made her proud of what she had managed to accomplish throughout her journey.
She walked up to a washbasin on the west side of her room and cupped two handfuls of water and a cloth. She splashed her face with the water and dried herself off.
Realizing herself to be indecent, Cura quickly donned a blue set of fur-lined Fine Robes and a floppy Fine hat, with Fine black leather boots for a day on the town. She took her Amulet of Stendarr and went down to her knees in morning prayer. It was always important to start a day off on the right foot, after all.
As Cura headed down the stairs, she was greeted by her Housecarl, Calder.
"Good morning to you, my Thane." Calder greeted her. "I've gotten an invitation for you, from the Jarl himself."
"Jarl Ulfric wishes to see me?" Cura asked.
"Aye, you're summoned for breakfast at the Palace of the Kings." Calder expressed with a lilting voice, seeming very impressed. "But you have to go alone. The Jarl wants to speak to you, and you alone."
Cura nodded in response. "All right. Tell the others when they wake up, all right?"
"As you wish." Calder bowed as Cura headed past him. She wasn't about to wait for the others to wake in the guest room; she knew Ulfric wasn't a patient man.
It was strange to get a small taste of normalcy, after all she and her friends had undergone. These moments of peace would be cherished, as being in Skyrim surely meant that they would not last very long.
This was Cura's third day in Windhelm since they arrived after the great battle against Harkon, and Cura very much enjoyed the rest and relaxation. Serana appeared to be doing much better after their battle, but Cura still wanted to make sure she was well. At the moment, the Vampiress was resting in the basement come the sunrise. She was still trying to adjust to life in modern Skyrim, herself, and Cura would allow her to do so at her own pace.
Cura was still recuperating from the weariness left over from Harkon's poison, and battle fatigue.
Inigo and Lucien too were enjoying the time off, now able to stretch and rest their legs from the constant scuffles they'd gone through. Inigo, of course, helped lighten the mood over the last couple of supper nights, spinning outlandish tales of spy chickens and murderous rabbits.
Cura walked through the stone alleyways and ran into Nilsine Shatter-Shield, who was heading out towards the market Square.
"Ah, good morning, Cura! Doing well?" Nilsine greeted her.
"I'm doing well. How have you been?" Cura asked.
"Can't complain. See you around." Nilsine bowed as they reached the fork in the road and she ascended the stairs as Cura walked through the cemetery.
"See you around." Cura parroted with a smile as she continued onwards to the Palace of the Kings.
Cura was feeling better, though still quite sore from her previous engagements. She hoped to mask it well in front of her father.
She was a Stormcloak, after all. The desire to appear strong at all times was in her veins.
As Cura passed the rampart, one of the guards in blue spoke to her. "I hear those vampires have finally calmed down, thanks to you and the Dawnguard! Good work."
Cura smiled as she walked past him. "Thank you."
She opened the large, ornate doors and headed inside the Palace.
Within, Jorleif the steward was waiting for her. "Ah, Thane Cura. A pleasure to see you. The Jarl is waiting for you upstairs in his chambers. Best not keep him waiting."
Cura nodded and headed through the main hall, through the western war room, and through the door, and up the old stone steps.
Many great men wandered these halls over the millennia. It felt like a privilege, just to breath the same air as them.
Cura made it to the too floor and headed through the hall, and past the patrolling guards rather casually before entering Ulfric Stormcloak's own chambers.
"Ah, Thane Cura. Pull up a seat." Ulfric invited her over to his private table where he had a nice meal prepared, consisting of Venison chops, Steamed Mudcrab legs, cheese wheels, Nord Mead, and Salmon Steaks.
Cura cordially pulled out a chair and sat at the table, same time as Ulfric had. "It's my honour to accept your summons, my Jarl." she bowed her head.
"Eat." Ulfric gestured towards the food. "Take what you like. I have quite a diverse spread here."
Cura decided to take for herself a small piece of cheese, a Mead, and a piece of the Venison, to the Jarl's surprise.
"Don't eat much?" Ulfric couldn't comprehend her actions here. She was seated directly across from royalty, but would not indulge herself with this much food available?
Cura shook her head. "I don't need to eat all that much. It would be too much for me."
She was raised by the Vigil, after all. They probably weren't fully stocked with food every day of the year.
Ulfric shrugged. "So... I heard that you had a hand at ending the Vampire menace."
Cura nodded. "It was painful, but necessary."
"If Morthal and Whiterun weren't in my way I could march over to Solitude and take it over right now if I desired it, thanks to the vampires." Ulfric mused.
"I..." Cura was uncertain of how to continue the topic. "I suppose, but wouldn't it be a bad look by Nord customs? To just take over a land without combatting them yourself for it?"
"When I did combat them myself, they branded me a criminal." Ulfric stated. "Maybe even Oblivion itself wants the Stormcloaks to win."
If that were the case, then it would only mean they were on the wrong side of history, as far as the Mythic Dawn's attempt to overthrow the empire proved.
"It would be best to avoid Daedric Influence, if possible." Cura told him. "It never leads anywhere good - and Talos himself would never approve."
Ulfric nodded in agreement as soon as she brought their god's name into it. "You're right. I have no intention of entertaining those fiends. It would lead to dishonour, at best."
They were silent for a moment, and then he continued. "Just like it would be dishonourable for a Nord to have relations with an Elf."
Cura understood. "You invited me here to bribe me and ensure my silence, I suppose."
Ulfric stated at her blankly.
"You don't need to do that. I wouldn't." Cura reassured him. "I have no desire to see conflict in this province worsen."
"I called you here for another reason." Ulfric stated. "I wanted you to know where you stood in Skyrim." He stood up from his chair and closed his door, and turned around. Pacing the floor, he began: "You are my only heir. If Windhelm falls, I will release a statement concerning your true identity. You must pledge your allegiance to the Empire before then, so that my bloodline may remain on the throne."
"Side with the Empire?" Cura raised a concern. She was not supposed to take a side in this conflict either way, as it was not her fight. Her fight was with the Dragons, and the Daedra, and the more supernatural forces at work.
"If the gods favour my troops, I will elect to spare and pardon you, as High King." Ulfric informed her. "You are more than just the Dragonborn; you are my daughter."
He approached her softly and held her face in both hands as he revealed a side of himself she had never imagined possible.
"The line of Ysgramor must continue to sit on this throne, no matter what."
"And... how will the Nords react should this be revealed?" Cura asked, in the event of an Imperial victory.
"They will be furious. It goes without saying." Ulfric warned her. "But I will be dead and gone already, should that be the case."
They wouldn't be able to catch him on it.
Cura looked a little perturbed.
"That won't be for the immediate future, however. We're currently facing a stalemate over Whiterun and with the Dragons, it's made transportation difficult." Ulfric explained. "But, I'll see what my scouts next report. Now, let's enjoy our breakfast, shall we?"
Cura nodded and took a bite of Venison. For the next couple of hours she sat with Ulfric and enjoyed her breakfast.
After a cordial parting, Cura left the Palace of the Kings and headed through the main city, and around the Candlehearth Hall.
Inigo and Lucien could be seen talking on the side of the building.
When the pair noticed Cura, they waved to her.
"Good morning, Candle!" Lucien exclaimed joyfully.
"Did you sleep well, my friend?" Inigo asked.
"About as well as can be expected." Cura shrugged.
"That's good to hear!" Inigo seemed elated.
"Did you enjoy your breakfast with the great and terrible Ulfric Stormcloak?" Lucien asked. "I'm curious; I hear talk that he's a man of poetry. Is that true?"
"Well, he certainly has a flair for the dramatic." Cura admitted.
"Did he really Shout the High King to pieces with his voice?" Lucien asked. "I thought you were the only one who could do that."
"Anybody could learn the Thu'um if they dedicate enough time to training in it. But most people only learn one Shout in their lifetime." Cura explained, based upon what the Greybeards told her.
"STOP! OR FACE THE JARL'S JUSTICE!" city guards rushed past the group and headed towards the marketplace.
Cura and her allies immediately exchanged glances and followed the guards, wanting to see what was going on.
When they reached the market, in broad daylight, a green Argonian wearing red and black Dark Brotherhood armour stood over a corpse with a bloodied Daedric dagger.
Cura angled herself to see what occurred, and with horror, found Nilsine Shatter-Shield beneath his feet bleeding on the cold stone pavement, her flower basket dropped to the side as she clenched her stomach in agony.
Torbjorn and Tova stood there in horror as the assailant fled past the blacksmith workshop. The Shatter-Shield patriarch gave chase with a greatsword in hands.
Cura was furious. Without a weapon in her hands, she rushed past the guards and attempted to attack the lizard through interception.
"You scaly bastard!" Torbjorn shouted with rage as he swung his sword at the lizard man, who dodged the attack, only to be grabbed by Cura.
"Release me." the Argonian hissed calmly as he planted his dagger under Cura's ribcage, causing her to release him due to the sharp pain.
He slipped past the city guards, who were firing arrows after him, and one snagged him in the lower abdomen.
Cura cast a Healing Spell on herself and took a sword from the blacksmith's bench.
Inigo fired an arrow at the lizard, catching his tail before he climbed up the city wall.
Cura gave chase as the wretched assassin leapt the wall, pushing open the city gate.
She stood out in the howling white winds and looked around, steel sword gripped in two hands, trying to locate the attacker.
Suddenly, something dropped down on her from above and a sharp pain embedded into her right shoulder.
The Argonian hid on the wall above her and leapt down, driving her into the stone bridge.
Cura felt scrambled as she pulled herself up, and witnessed the lizard carving a bloody path through the guards who pursued him from outside the city.
The Dragonborn wasn't going to give up that easily, however. "WULD NA KEST!" she blasted forward at lightning speed and tackled the assassin. She wrapped her hands around his throat and began to squeeze with her draconian strength.
The lizard stabbed her in the stomach several times, but she only continued to apply pressure.
Claws gripped her as and tore at her fine robes and flesh underneath, scratching repeatedly for escape, but slowly grew weaker and weaker.
Cura removed a hand and punched the lizard in the face as he attempted to resist, stunning him and easing his journey into Sithis' realm.
"My friend!" Inigo's voice came from some distance away, approaching her.
"Why did you kill her?!" Cura shouted at the snake in her grasp. "What did that family ever do to you?"
As the lizard wheezed, he spat blood from his throat. "Muiri... requested... it..." with one final squeak, he ceased.
"Muiri? Who's Muiri?' Cura asked, to no avail. The lizard's life escaped through her fingers and his eyes dimmed. Cura slowly released him and stood up, shaking lightly as her breath rose in a thick mist.
Inigo stared at the dead assassin. "Well, I don't think he had much to say."
"Maybe the Shatter-Shields will know who that is." Cura wondered as she turned and headed back into the city.
Tova was desperately trying to help her daughter remain stable as panicked tears flowed out from her eyes.
Cura quickly rushed over to their side and laid hands on Nilsine, and cast a Healing Spell on her, closing the near-fatal wound.
Torbjorn pushed upwards his brow and exhaled in deep relief.
Nilsine groaned painfully as Cura guided her back onto a sitting position.
"Th-thank you, Cura..." Nilsine expressed gratitude as her mother pulled her into a tight embrace.
"First Friga, and now the gods want to take Nilsine from us?" Torbjorn was confounded.
"Not the gods; someone named 'Muiri', according to the assassin." Cura stated.
"Muiri?" Nilsine's eyes widened with great devastation. "That's not possible! She was my best friend!"
"That conniving bitch was never your friend!" Tova protested angrily.
Cura exchanged glances with Inigo and Lucien before turning back to the family. "So... I take it things didn't end well relationship-wise between your family and her?"
"Muiri was working with another thieving Breton - no offense, of course -" Torbjorn raised a hand in Cura's direction to exclude her of racial guilt. "- named Alain Dufont."
After all, this Breton just saved his daughter's life, and had brought comfort to their clan in their time of mourning.
Cura waited for a bit more elaboration. "A thieving Breton? What did they steal?" she asked.
"Aegisbane, our family Warhammer. It happened not long ago, after our Friga was killed." Torbjorn took a moment of pride as he remembered the beauty of the weapon. "The rat tricked Nilsine into going to the Market so that her boyfriend could creep into our house and take it."
Nilsine shook her head. "No - you overreacted! He used her!"
"Umm... no offense, but should you really be defending the woman who wanted you dead?" Lucien pointed out the strangeness of it all.
Nilsine looked away sadly and began to tear up. "Why? Why would she do this? Muiri..." The Nord woman's heart was broken at the sheer thought of it all. It felt as if thorns mangled themselves around her chest at such bitter betrayal.
"We have to tell the guard. I want guards outside our house!" Tova exclaimed as she helped her precious daughter up.
"I'll find this Muiri." Cura promised. "Any information you have would be helpful." truly, the Shatter-Shields were her friends. Cura would be willing to do anything to ensure theirs, and the people of the city's protection.
"Last I heard, she was living in Markarth." Nilsine stated as she massaged the former wounded spot on her stomach.
Oh.
Markarth.
Cura flinched as she thought back to the horrid city, and she looked at Inigo.
"Well, they should be friendlier now, I guess." Inigo tried to make light of it and shrugged.
"All right. I'll see what I can do." Cura sighed and turned around. As she began to walk towards her house, she spoke to Lucien. "If Serana wakes by the evening and we're not back yet, the both of you can meet us in Markarth, all right?"
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Lucien said with a friendly salute.
After returning to her house and taking up her gear, it took a dizzying Fast Travel, Cura and Inigo found themselves at the front gate of Markarth, in front of the Silver Blood Inn, the Trade House, and the Marketplace.
The city was calm, and people seemed to be going about their business. Cura headed inside the Silver-Blood Inn to inquire about the suspect while Inigo crept away.
"Come on in. The Silver-Blood Inn has plenty of strong drink and clean rooms." came Klepper, the Nord barkeep's voice.
As Cura approached the counter he seemed to briefly recognize her, but maintained his business impartiality. "If I can't get you something, I'm sure my wife will bellow at me until I can."
His wife, Frabbi, seemed to sneer as she swept near the fireplace and heard this.
Cura sat at the bar counter and ordered herself a Mead. In this city, she definitely needed it.
A drunken Breton beside her leaned in too close for comfort. "Eyyy, ye're a cute one, ain't ya? Are you busy later?"
"All day, every day." Cura asserted as she took a sip.
"Ever tried Sujamma? That's some real stuff." the drunk snickered.
"Cosnach, leave her be." Klepper, the barman suggested. "She looks like one of the priesthood of Stendarr, but I hear she was with the Forsworn."
"Oh, really? A little rose with thorns, huh?" Cosnach stretched his arm back and pulled her towards him slyly, promoting Cura to throw his arm off her.
The belligerent drunk scoffed in irritation. "What, you don't like me? Am I not good enough for you? I can be really nice, if you just gimme a chance..."
Cura took her Mead and stood up from her seat, and took a seat on the opposing bar counter.
"All the wood furniture in this inn is rotting to the core. Do you know why that is, Kleppr?" Frabbi antagonized him as she plucked a splinter off the bar counter.
Kleppr rolled his eyes. "I don't know, my darling wife. I assume you're going to tell me?"
"It's rotten because the wood is cheap and it's soaked with ale! Now we'll have to replace all the furniture before bugs set in." Frabbi expressed very loudly, snapping Cura out of her thoughtspace.
Kleppr was irritated, but tried to keep a straight face. "Don't worry, my love. Just show the bugs your adoring face, and they'll scurry away in complete fear in no time."
Frabbi sneered and walked out to one of the rooms. "You're an idiot, Kleppr. Why did I ever marry you?"
Kleppr muttered back the second she stepped out of the room. "Not a day goes by I don't ask that question myself, my dear."
Cura had to focus on the task at hand. Taking another sip, she opened up. "Do you know a woman named 'Muiri'?" She asked him directly.
"Muiri? She works for old lady Bothela at the Hag's Cure." Kleppr shrugged as he wiped off a used tankard.
"Thank you. That's all I needed to know." Cura finished downing her Mead and pulled herself up off the counter.
She would rather make this a short trip than spend any more time in this dung pile of a city than she had to.
While Cura spoke with the barkeep, Inigo snooped around one of the guest rooms, he noticed an interesting book titled: "The Crypt of the Heart - Draft", and peeked inside.
"Crypt of the Heart
by Ariana Dumas
A tale of a spell-knight's haunting
When it comes to tales of bravery and valor, few have a greater claim than the Knightly Orders of High Rock. Like the Knights of the Rose in Wayrest, many serve as royal guardians and protectors of the realm. It is through their defense of king and country that their fame resounds.
Yet others swear an oath of a different kind. Not bound by the walls of their kingdom, they scour the hills in search of Reachmen, witches, and Forsworn, pledging to deliver justice where savagery and chaos rule.
One such group refers to themselves as the Order of the Crypt. At first glance, the name might seem ironic, but the Crypt of Hearts they swore to protect went beyond the underground chamber in Shornhelm. The knights pledged to protect the hearts entombed in all of us, lest they be replaced with the briars of the unholy.
Yet despite the air of nobility they carried, in the Reach these knights were known by a different name; The War Mages of Shornhelm. For they gave no mercy to the wicked, and the land they tread was riven with scars made of fire and sword.
Why the knights chose to extend beyond the kingdom is a matter of debate. Much of it can be traced to a blood feud, and the death of a knight named Simon Rodayne. Tricked by the witch Daenalla, a Sister of the Beldama Coven, his heart was stolen and replaced with a briarheart. In retaliation, his acolytes drove the coven further and further east, killing any Reachmen who would dare give them quarter.
Yet in huts small and muddy with smoke, the oral histories tell a different story. They say Simon gave his heart willingly to the witch, and together they fled the wrath of both their clans, knowing they would receive neither understanding nor forgiveness.
When Simon died, Daenalla returned his heart to him, and buried him at the altar where they wed. Such was the pain of her loss that she wept from the Morning to the Evening Star, until her tears flooded the canyon below and became one with the river Karth.
To this day, Simon's ghost is said to haunt the pass below his grave, watching over the river which bears his beloved's tears.
Whether any of that is true or simply the embellishments of history, none can say with certainty. However, it is worth noting that the grave itself exists. Whether the heart inside belongs to Simon or another, is a question for its keeper."
"Hmm... maybe Cura will find this most interesting!" Inigo mused with intrigue. Cura had, after all, expressed a desire to see High Rock, or learn more about the home of the Bretons on many occasions. This would bring a smile to her face, to be certain. Or... perhaps send a chill down her spine, considering how the text ended. Regardless, since they were in the Reach, maybe finding clues about the story would fascinate her.
When Inigo walked out to the main area of the Inn, Cura was already gone. She could never just sit still in this city, could she? Inigo scoffed to himself. This nearly reminded him of the time when he and Lydia argued at the Inn and she left to find Cura... and never returned,
Inigo figured it would be best if he stayed at the Inn, so Cura would know where he was.
Cura exited the inn and headed through the city. Memories flooded her mind of blood flooding these stone steps. The red fluid covered every step and the wild winds and rains ravaged the city. At the time, Cura had given in to her wrath; allowed it to consume her. She became the storm.
And the worst part of it, was that Molag Bal was watching. Watching, and laughing.
Nothing pleased the fiend more than to witness a virtuous person commit great atrocities. Though, Cura had been questioning her claim to virtue more and more. As she always said, it began at Helgen. With the first life she had taken, that Stormcloak Soldier who wanted to kill her and Hadvar.
Blood on the steel.
That was Cura's first kill. And, like Hadvar predicted, it had become easier. Much, much easier. And that was no longer beginning to concern Cura. Though, the fact that it no longer concerned her raised her eyebrows. Was she broken? Was she numb? Was her conscience seared?
No excuse could ever put to rest what she had done here in Markarth. She knew the gods have forgiven her, but her guilt remained.
Though, with the Silver-Blood family's lesser influence, the air felt a little lighter in the city.
After crossing the long stone bridge and arcing around past the Cidhna mine - Cura's least favourite dungeon in Tamriel, and the only one she'd ever been consigned to, she found the Hag's Cure hidden within the stone walls, up a flight of stairs.
As Cura entered the weathered old shop, an old Breton woman with white hair and dark tattoos on her face greeted her. "The Hag's Cure is here for all your discreet needs... I have potions for disease, love sickness, irritating children..."
Cura furrowed her brows at the last of the list, but the old lady continued. "A little bit of old Reach magic can cure whatever ills you..."
"I will take a look around." Cura said as she walked around the shop to look at the shelves and the potions displayed therein.
The old lady looked to her assistant, who was shifting about before the alchemy table. A younger Breton woman with short, brown hair.
"Stop moping about, girl. Tears won't change what you've done." the old woman chastised her.
The younger woman sobbed. "I was such a fool. How could I let him use me like that?"
"We all get used, dear. It's living with it that makes you a woman." the elder expressed as she watched Cura browsing her store off in the distance.
"Bothela, I have a question..." the young woman petitioned.
Bothela tilted her head. "You want to know a secret of mine, young girl? The most effective poison to kill a man? A potion to make others fall in love, perhaps?"
The assistant shook her head. "I was actually just wondering if you had any family..."
Bothela leaned back. "Oh. Oh, I see..."
Cura was listening in as she looked around. She had suspicion of the assistant, but wanted to be entirely certain.
The assistant apologized. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't..."
Bothela confessed shamefully. "I have one. A nephew. He was in prison for being a member of the Forsworn. They really do break an old woman's heart. So many friends, so many kin, all lost trying to rebuild a past that was over long ago."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize." the assistant tried to sympathize.
Bothela shook her head. "Don't be. We all make mistakes."
"The "Hag's Cure." That's a unique name." Cura remarked as she looked around at the carved stone hobble around her, and even looked up the stairs to see if someone was potentially hiding there.
"Comes with living to a ripe old age, people start thinking there's something magical about you. Then, the insults." The old lady recounted years of the same superstitious treatment volleyed her way for many years. Though, she brushed it off light-heartedly. "Still, a little knowledge of plants and potions can get you by. Not that anyone likes to admit buying things from you."
"I'm sure many people don't like to admit purchasing, or rather, hiring from ones perceived as dubious by the public." Cura tried to drop a hint.
"Dubious? Why, no, dear. The most dubious thing I have here is a vial of Falmer Blood Elixir, brought in from Riften a couple of years ago." Bothela laughed. "Works wonders for men with... romantic issues. Or, there's also my Stallion Potion - but we don't openly talk about that."
Cura shook her head. "I know someone in Markarth who hired someone to express her bitter feelings for her." She glared at Bothela's assistant. "Very bitter feelings. The kind we don't openly talk about in public, either."
The assistant noticed Cura's piercing green eyes. "W-why are you looking at me like that?"
Bothela squinted her aged eyes and recognized the Amulet of Stendarr on Cura's chest and returned to her assistant. "What have you done, Muiri?"
"You performed the Black Sacrament and contacted the Dark Brotherhood, and ordered the death of Nilsine Shatter-Shield." Cura called her out. "You'd best not try to lie. The lizard choked out your name as I strangled him."
Muiri immediately went pale and looked around, and noticed the very disappointed look on her Mentor's face. "I..." She then sunk shamefully. "I did, but it's a long story."
"You'd best explain, fast." Cura threatened her with a hand on her mace's handle. "What you've done is inexcusable."
Bothela shook her head with disapproval. "Does this have to do with that man who used you?"
Muiri immediately began to fly into light panic as she began to try and explain herself to both her mentor and the Vigilant before her. "I went to Windhelm to see the Shatter-Shields. They were old and dear friends, and... in mourning. Friga was killed recently. Murdered..." She shivered when she recalled the horrific event. "I met Alain in the tavern, while I was... drinking my sadness away. He was handsome, and charming. He said I was the "beautiful lily" of his dreams. Alain made all the pain just... go away. But it was all lies! Alain used me. He ruined my name, destroyed my friendship with the Shatter-Shields..." she choked down a sob as her vision blurred from the inner turmoil that consumed her. "Do you know why Alain was in Windhelm? He heard about Friga's murder. He wanted to befriend the family, in their grief... and rob them blind. Alain used me to get close to my friends. And now they all think I'm some kind of... monster. Alain Dufont took my life. And now I'm taking his."
"I can understand that, but you hadn't needed to resort to the Dark Brotherhood." Cura grit her teeth. "You could have petitioned aid from a mercenary, or perhaps even the Companions. They deal with wanted criminals for a living."
"What I needed was for Alain Dufont to die! I wanted him hunted down and murdered like the dog he was!" Muiri spoke defensively. "I planned to kill Alain myself, you know. Nilsine, too. But lost my nerve. I even brewed a special poison, Lotus Extract."
Bothela slapped herself in the face. "So that's where my imported ingredients went! How did I not understand sooner? You... you made Lotus Extract? Are you out of your mind, dear?"
Muiri cringed. "I know... everything could have gone wrong. But it didn't! It was successful, and I handed it to the assassin."
"That's... wow." Cura rubbed the back of her neck. "You really wanted them dead. I find it hard to believe you were simply tricked by that man."
"I didn't know it when we were... with each other..." She wanted around the subject, shifting from side to side like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "...but Alain was actually the leader of a band of cutthroats. Bandits. They were all holed up in some old Dwarven ruin - Raldbthar. It's near Windhelm. They used it as their base. It was where they staged their raids. I sent the assassin there to kill him. So what?"
"Then I suppose you've gotten your wish." Cura proposed, wondering if he had been taken care of first. "The killer had just struck Nilsine in Windhelm, and had no Lotus Extract on his person, so I can only gather that it was used." Knowing the Dark Brotherhood, they were all about business. As soon as their hands had shaken, Alain Dufont's fate was sealed. "But why kill Nilsine Shatter-Shield? Why does she deserve to die?"
"Don't you see? I was like a daughter to Tova. A sister to Nilsine and Friga. But the family refuses to believe my innocence. No matter what I say. Couldn't they understand that I was used? That I was grieving for Friga, too? No... they treated me like garbage, threw me away." Muiri's pain and bitterness began to show once more; twisting her face into that of a vengeful harpy, and she choked a sob furiously. With one hand, she smacked down on the service counter, releasing some of her pent-up fury. "With Nilsine dead, maybe then Tova will realize what she's lost, hmm? Maybe then she'll see that I was just as much a daughter as the others. And if not, may she drown in her own tears."
Cura leapt over the service counter, shattering the illusion of boundaries, and shoved her against the wall. "You know what they've been through! You were friends with their daughters, and they may have acted harshly, but you know they weren't in their right minds. You must understand that!" a simmering rage overtook the Dragonborn. "All you've done was take away any chance of redeeming yourself in their eyes, you idiot. If you would have hired the Companions to defeat Alain and retrieve their Warhammer, you could have made a peace offering. But instead, you resorted to underhanded murder, and attempted to grieve a family that was suffering immensely, and even kill your best friend."
Muiri shuddered and began to weep as she was cornered. "I..."
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Cura asked her firmly. "Any idea at all, to what you have caused? You may have been innocent the first time, but now you're even worse than Alain Dufont. You tried to steal something even more precious than that heirloom. You tried to steal that family's future."
When the ramifications set in, Muiri's blood went cold. "No... it was just... I... I didn't even think they'd show up..." She almost fell to her knees as she clung to the wall for support. "I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WOULD SHOW UP!" She began to cry and held her face in her hands, and dropped to the floor. "It... it was only a fantasy! I didn't think the Black Sacrament would actually work! I... when the... when the assassin came to me, I... what was I supposed to do? Tell him I was only joking? He'd have slit my throat!"
Bothela walked up to Cura and placed a hand on her arm. "She is a foolish child. I will report her to the city guard."
"Lady Bothela!" Muiri exclaimed in horror. "No - not Cidhna Mine! Please!"
Bothela spun around to face her angrily. "Don't 'Lady Bothela' me! Your little scheme has not only caused quite a stir abroad, but has also cost me a fortune in ingredients! Jarrin Root is incredibly rare, and very difficult to cultivate! It cost me over a thousand gold! The Black Lotus, as well, was more than a thousand. You're going to pay me back for those. After that, you're going to Cidhna Mine."
"I... I can't afford that!" Muiri explained. She shifted her gaze to the Vigilant. "Please... Stendarr is about mercy, right? Please, help me..."
"Stendarr is also about Justice." Cura crossed her arms. "I suppose you'd best start saving your coin. You'll be paying that debt off for a while, I think. And, don't worry about the mine: once you get past the flirtatious, sex-starved inmates, tight spaces, and gaseous halls, you'll find it's not so bad."
Muiri's eyes widened in horror at this description.
Cura ignored her pleading gaze and walked over to a shelf with a few Healing Potions and Magicka Potions stacked. She took the potions off the shelf and brought them to the service counter. "I'll take these."
Bothela counted the potions and calculated the price. "185 gold, please."
Cura took out her coin purse and placed it on the counter, and began to slide out the coins, counting up to the desired amount, which Bothela bagged and pocketed. "Very good. Thanks for your business. You're a breath of fresh air next to Yngvar, I'll be honest."
"By the way, I'm curious about something..." Cura asked the old woman. "Your grandson is Odvan, isn't he?"
"Oh! You know him?" Bothela was surprised by this revelation. Then the realization hit her, with Cura remarking about Cidhna Mine earlier. "Oh! You're her... you're that Vigilant who was framed and thrown down in the mines! The one who could create violent storms with her voice! He had written me about you from the Redoubt. Thank you for freeing him." It seemed any hostility she had before melted.
Cura had no real response; her freeing him was merely circumstantial, as she would never have agreed to help any of the Forsworn under other circumstances, though she simply gave her a silent and courteous nod.
"You gave it to those Silver-Bloods really good. Good on you, lass." the old woman praised her past Muiri's bitterness. "And, thank you for being merciful to my foolish assistant." Knowing who this Breton Vigilant was, and what she was capable of, made the old woman greatly relieved by Cura's restraint in dealing with Muiri.
"Of course." Cura responded. "Now, I must be off."
Bothela walked around the counter and handed Cura what appeared to be another Healing Potion. "Here, one Plentiful Healing, on the house. I'll just add it to Muiri's tab." As soon as her assistant expressed distaste, she pointed her way. "The city guard is going to be watching you very closely, Muiri. I'm going to make sure of it."
The younger Breton held her head in her hands and walked across the room, away from the other two, and planted her forehead against the wall in exasperation. She was ruined. At this point, she wished Cura would have just planted her mace in her skull. It would have been kinder.
"Have a nice day, dear. Be careful out there." the old woman politely parted the Vigilant before turning back to her assistant. "Now, you; we're taking a trip to Understone Keep."
Muiri's gut wrenched as she unwillingly followed her mentor.
Cura returned to the Silver-Blood inn, and Inigo immediately flagged her down. "My friend! You are not covered with blood, so I take it that it went well?"
"Her employer is going to give her due justice." Cura proclaimed. "Now, let's return to Windhelm and tell the Shatter-Shields about Muiri's fate."
"Are you sure we should leave the Reach right this minute, my friend?" Inigo asked as he held up the book he had found earlier. "I think you may find this quite interesting! Maybe it is something we can do before we go back?"
Cura took the book from his hands and examined it. "The Crypt of the Heart? Oh, yes, Keeper Carcette once mentioned the Spell Knights, and the Knight of the Rose in Wayrest. They're an ancient Order dedicated to combatting the Witchmen and Forsworn, mostly." She poured over the text within and a glint of surprise shone in her eyes.
Inigo leaned forward to see her expression change, holding back his own excitement. "So, my friend, what do you say? I am sure this would interest you!"
"I think it's worth a look." Cura admitted with a smile. "If there's the prospect of potentially meeting any of them, that would be great!"
"Then it's an adventure in the making!" Inigo exclaimed joyfully. "Let us wait for Lucien and Serana, and we will have a good time!"
Cura acquiesced. "Sure, I suppose we could stay in the Reach a little longer, then."
As much as she hated Markarth, this visit wasn't as toxic as she was dreading. Though, this business with a Spell Knight haunting the river in Skyrim greatly intrigued her. She wished the Keeper were here; she would probably give her a primer on them, and maybe some insight on how to properly deal with him.
Though, now Cura would have to see for herself, she supposed.
She took a breath of air and walked over to the counter, and Inigo sat between herself and the now-sleeping Cosnach, "One Mead and one Sweetroll, please." Cura ordered from the bar.
All they had to do now was wait for the others.