Beta'd by Mega Lorandto

I am employed again.

Yeah.

My eyes fluttered open, face suddenly contorting at a rather copper-y scent. The worn linens of my bed fell away from my lean torso as I sat up, glancing around my room.

Nothing looked amiss other than the fact that Grimmolf was no where to be seen. Not a single trace of the mountain-like man. Hell, not even his scent!

Actually...where was everyone's scents?

And their heartbeats?

My mouth seemed a lot drier now as I moved my lone blanket aside and stood, moving towards my door. However, the closer I got, a sinking feeling got deeper and heavier in my stomach. It continued until it formed a pit that must have went all the way to the center of the Nirn.

The doorknob clicked open easily, not even remotely hinting at what lay ahead.

"Hello..?" I called weakly into the corridor. My voice echoed so far that it ended up echoing back to me.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

The only sound filling the space around me was the sound of my own bare footsteps. My hand reached out to the wall as I walked, fingers tracing a path along the mortar between each brick. It was a small measure of comfort.

I reached the rooms of the women with some more striding in silence. My knuckled rapped softly on the wood of a room, alerting potential occupants to my arrival. Yet, when I went to open it, I hesitated. What if I saw something I didn't like? Like the source of this copper-y smell?

It took me awhile to realize I had just been staring at the handle with my hand hovering near it to actually open it.

No one.

Why had I even done that? I would be able to hear their heartbeat!

With the absurdity of my action following me, the weight was lifted just a bit.

'Whyyyyy...' A disembodied voice called out. It was a high-pitched cry that dragged on until it tapered out into a whisper.

"What?" I replied almost instantly. It took a moment for the discomfort to set in.

Y'know, in all the media I had consumed, I could thing of no cases where hearing voices was a purely good thing.

As I continued, a heavy wave of the copper scent hit me. What was that? Like an animal, I sniffed the air, the substance coming to mind with a short delay, 'Blood.'

Why had that taken so long to click?

And why did it smell like blood?

My pace increased tenfold, passing like a shadow as I shot through the halls at top speed. The stench of blood only got stronger. Following it led me to the throne room where something horrifying lay.

Blood.

So much blood.

I stood paralyzed in the side door as my gaze swept side-to-side. Images of dismembered corpses seared themselves on my brain. Faces frozen in expressions of fear and pain met my own. Every single one was the visage of one of the many people occupying the fort. Jaws were sheered off, eyeballs popped out, flesh torn asunder. There was a head stabbed down onto each wall sconce like some sort of macabre trophy of war. Organs were strewn about as if a child had come in and swished everything around.

My knees buckled, throwing me down onto my hands and knees. Blood splashed up, coating my hands and spraying onto my face. My hands shook as my breathing became erratic. The feeling of a belt tightening around my chest forced my breaths to come faster and far shallower.

What was this?

Oh, a panic attack.

"Beautiful, is it not?" A cruel but smooth voice called to me from the throne. How had I not seen the one occupying it?

A cough left my lips as I tried to greedily suck in air out of habit. Why was I so bothered? I was a vampire! I don't need to breathe. Looking back down at my quivering hands revealed...oh.

My skin was no longer the pale grey, but a pale peach tone. Long, willowy fingers crept away from my smooth palms. They were weak and sickly. I braced myself on the floor with my hands and attempted to stand, but found my legs just would not listen. Without the automatic corrections, my balance failed and I keeled over on my side, forced to crane my neck up at the person on the throne and lay my cheek in blood of those I had rescued.

"I made them beautiful, you know. By my own hands." It continued. The sight before me was just as revolting as the bodies tossed around.

The thing on the throne held up the severed head of Sirilda daintily on the tips of its clawed fingers. Her face was twisted up in an expression of surprise and...hurt. Not physical, but emotional. Like betrayal.

The worst part though was the face the thing wore.

It was my own.

Or the Changeling's at least.

Regardless of how one considers the ownership, it was a spitting image of me. A mirror image if you will.

Its lips broke out into an easy-going grin, but his eyes told a different story. They were cold and calculating, much like that of a predator.

"I had a real good time making them this way." It laughed, leaning forwards to Sirilda's face, capturing her lips in a seemingly passionate kiss. My gut twisted in revulsion as I watched helplessly. I couldn't even speak. My lungs were struggling to even get the barest whispers of air into them. After a few disgusting moments, it let her head careen back without the support of his fingers and tumble off the throne and roll in the sea of blood with a dull splash.

My vision flashed as I looked down at my legs, mentally screaming for them to just FUCKING WORK to no avail. My previous clothes were replaced with a familiar hospital gown. I was completely defenseless. I couldn't act in any meaningful capacity.

The scoff of the thing on the throne attracted my gaze back, "Is the little boy scared?" It stood, revealing a king's purple robe. It was stereotypically ornate with leopard print skin and gold jewelry, "Might you cry?"

A burning sensation built up around my eyes. Anger roared beneath my skin, but that was just it: it was trapped. Useless. Disabled. Stinging tears burned their way down my face out of sheer frustration. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help anything at this point. It was useless.

The smug face in front of me came to a stop, crouching down, "Pathetic."

I couldn't stop its hand as it reached for my face, obscuring my vision before everything faded to black.

My body shot up, head snapping around to analyze my surroundings. The room was empty sans Grimmolf who was standing resolutely next to the door, warhammer head-down on the floor. Relief flooded my panicked body near instantly as I spotted him.

"That was quite the start, Angel." Grimmolf noted conversationally.

I slowly sat back down, easing my way into the bed.

"Turns out I dream."

I couldn't see Grimmolf, but I heard his armor shifting, "Oh? And what of?"

If it had been just an odd dream like turning into a unicorn, I'd tell him, but I hesitated. It felt too...personal. Some theories floated around my mind, but none of them quite lined up. Regardless, I don't think I'd like to share.

What did it mean?

"Things." I responded vaguely, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

With a short delay, Grimmolf responded, "I see."

And with that, we descended into silence, leaving me in my thoughts. Until there was a knock at the door at least.

It was a light knock, as if the person either didn't or couldn't put much power into it. I leaned towards the former. The heartbeat on the other side was steady and the breathing in the normal rhythm. They were perfectly calm. Y'know, the opposite of how I was just a moment ago.

"Thaion! You up? I have news!" The voice of Itarus called through the door. He knocked again just after finishing his words.

"Let him in, Grimmolf." The soft clank of armor rang out as the mountain of a man moved to the door and opened it to another companion of mine. The thin man stepped in, looking at me with a broad grin.

I sat up again, meeting his gaze, "What is this news you bring?"

He took in a deep breath before speaking.

"There's a little girl at the gate." He stretched out wide for a moment before continuing, "Says she needs to speak to you and goes by uh...Babat? Babette? Something along those lines. Didn't listen to closely to her."

I raised my eyebrow. Babette, huh? That meant someone put out a contract on me, but how? I couldn't think of anyone who knew my name and also wanted to kill me. Everyone whose tried is dead or serving me in the case of those former Fighters Guild members. Even so, I chuckled at Itarus's blatant dismissal at what is likely one of the most talented assassins in Skyrim at the moment. She had something like three hundred years of experience.

"I see. I'll be right there." I replied, moving the blanket aside. I searched for my shoes and slid them on.

'They were cleaned.' I noted with mild interest. Not a speck of blood was on them. Nor on my pants which were folded neatly on the nightstand next to me. I donned the clothing and stepped out, Itarus and Grimmolf following behind me.

I dropped my transformation, allowing my wings free from the biological illusion. It felt nice. Though, people had to squeeze by me in the halls thanks to them. I didn't care too much though. It was a guilty pleasure of mine really.

"They're quite pretty." Itarus complimented, gaze fixed on my wings.

The little bit of sarcasm escaped before I could help myself, "So I've been told."

"Yeah, by me." My smaller companion replied like the snap of a bowstring.

All three of us chuckled lightly as I lead us to the main door of the fort. The moonlight was shining down, covering the fort in a radiant hue of light. It was full tonight.

Along the walls were men in full armor wielding crossbows and bows. All manner of melee weapons were strapped to their hips and shields on their backs. A handful of women in furs stood with them. They made conversation, watching the area carefully. At the gate a small group was staring carefully at something on the other side. Well, someone.

"I will go to meet her." I said to my companions as soon as I was clear of the building. My mighty wings stretched out wide before sweeping downwards, generating large amounts of lift. I lifted off the ground and meandered forwards, not in any rush.

Sure enough, the little girl in question was in fact waiting there, bundled in warm winter clothing. Of course, she didn't need them. Vampires didn't care about what temperature it was.

The surprise on her face was evident despite her attempt to hide it. She did well, but my enhanced vision easily picked out the details of her facial expression.

I lowered to the ground in front of her, shirtless in the snow. I'd wear one but my wings would tear it.

'Interesting.' I thought as I sniffed the air. The stench of chemicals came quite strongly from her. Probably undetectable to a normal person, but it was easily for me. That and the scent of fear. Pure, unbridled fear.

She probably couldn't smell me from up in the air, but now I was right in front of her, she could no doubt figure out that I was also a vampire and more than likely a Volkihar one at that. I noted the tensing of her body as she almost went to stumble back but caught herself. Her act as an innocent child was rapidly falling apart. Either she wasn't informed of me properly or she didn't believe it.

"Babette, right?" I opened with a welcoming smile. It was warm like a hearth. My tone was joyful and politely curious.

She nodded, schooling her features. I'd bet she thinks I hadn't noticed since I didn't immediately kill her. A stupidly risky bet that she has most definitely lost.

"Yes, Great Angel. I heard you perform miracles and needed your help." Her voice was perfect. She sounded exactly like a child desperate for help. I looked her over, noting that she was over a head shorter than me.

I leaned down a bit to look her in her eyes. I was certain that she saw my fangs as I spoke. "Of course. Anyone in need is welcome here, my dear. Come, let me bring you inside." I answered, holding my hand out.

She took it slowly. As soon as she did, the gates swung open just enough for us to slip in before they slammed shut.

Looking at her face was a bit odd. She looked a lot like her in-game counterpart, just...more detailed. I could see every pore, every hair, every twitch of a facial muscle, and every movement of her eyes. I found it pretty amusing honestly.

Especially since I intended to kill her out of sight of any would-be observers.

I walked with her, holding her hand all the while. The people in the courtyard yielded for us easily, nodding their heads in respect to me. Babette seemed to get more nervous with each passing moment. Seems she's starting to realize she could be in over her head here.

My two companions joined me as I stepped into the fort and navigated to the throne room.

Within a number of women went about, crossing through the different doors along the walls and simply doing their jobs.

About halfway through, Inigo appeared in one of the doors. His eyes widened and his hand went instinctively to his sword until I spotted him, giving him a knowing look. He didn't want to listen evidently, but listened. As casually as he could given the fact that another vampire was gripping my hand, he walked up behind me. The trio fell into a sort of guard formation, escorting me to my throne. I let go of Babette's hand as I reached it, sitting down and leaving her at the base of the dais. Itarus and Inigo stood behind her while Grimmolf stood on my left, warhammer head-down on the floor.

"Now, child, pour your worries out to me. I am here to listen." I urged soothingly, giving my best sympathetic look.

Babette instantly launched into her story, "Oh, it's my mother, Great Angel. She's incredibly sick. She ate some shellfish and got cholera..." She teared up a bit. I even saw a few tear drops move down her face.

"W-we...we can't afford a healer. I had to walk all the way here alone to beg for your help, Great Angel." She finished, dropping down to her knees and lowering her head.

That was quite the story. Relatively believable too if it were for the fact that my fort was quite literally thirty-two miles down the rode from the closest settlement. No child was walking that in any condition, much less heavy snow with natural predators.

Ignoring the flaws in her tale, I leaned forwards, elbow on my knee with my head resting in my hand. I simply sat like that with a bemused smirk on my lips. We all sat in silence for perhaps forty seconds until she slowly raised her head up to look at me. I could see her face shift from that of a desperate child to a frightened assassin. Someone who knew they had been had.

"I know what you are, Babette." I said simply, observing her reaction as she tried to back away only to bump into Grimmolf. She seemed startled despite the man having been there since the start, "You're a vampire. One of a feral strain, no? Your scent is...how would I put this..?"

Inigo chimed in, "Weak. Unworthy."

I snapped my fingers. "Precisely. Weak."

The centuries-old vampire tried to jump up only for me to lash out, hand on her neck. Her hands flashed into her coat, revealing some type of dagger that shone in the light with a purple oil on the blade in her right hand. She tried to bring it down onto my arm before I grabbed the offending limp.

My companions moved as well, Grimmolf grabbing her other arm and holding it back. As he began to struggle to hold the limb, Itarus lunged forwards, stabbing his dagger straight into the pectoralis major tendon. Her arm went slack near instantly. Inigo moved forwards, drawing his sword with some sort of quick-draw technique that looked straight out of a samurai movie and swung forwards, separating her left forearm from the rest of her at the elbow. The limb tumbled in the air until it landed behind her.

"Now, my question is this: who placed a contract on my head, Babette?" The warmth of my tone was no where to be seen. Instead, it was callous indifference. As if I couldn't be bothered one way or another.

She groaned, trying to curl up and cradle her elbow. Of course, she couldn't given the position she was in.

"You could tell me here, or I could end your miserable life and go slay all of your twisted little family, slowly." My tone turned more mockingly sympathetic, "What would poor Astrid think when I tell her you told me exactly where to find your torture fantasy chamber of a home? After all, it would be the only answer. How else would I know that the music of life is silence, my brother?"

Her face went from severe pain to unabashed horror in an instant.

"H-how?! HOW?" She screamed, struggling in my grip. I increased the pressure on her neck little bit by bit, smirk growing on my face.

"I have my ways." I responded vaguely, "Now, tell me who placed it or I will make good on my promise."

Her face was conflicted. I could see it plainly. She wanted to preserve her family, but at the same time, the contract was what came first.

I brought up my other hand and moved towards her face, "Y'know, I was never a doctor, so it would be messy," My fingers traced a path around her eyes, leaving faint white trails behind from my pointed nails, "but I could always start removing things, Babette."

My companions remained silent as I attempted to force the assassin to confess.

"Or..." I hummed, calling upon my sanguine magic.

Level-up notifications appeared in the corner of my vision as [Dark Artistry] activated on the centuries-old vampire. Her eyes bulged as blood leaked out from the corners of her eyes, trails steadily pouring out from her ears, mouth, and nose as well. All in all, it was actually extremely disturbing to see on the face of a child. I struggled to keep my stomach from rolling. The only saving grace was the knowledge this psycho was literally older than everyone in this fort and she had killed more than even I had, in far more twisted ways too.

She cried out with a gurgling choking sound. Honestly, I was a bit surprised that the power worked on other vampires. Handy.

"PFARL OFH PFHINPERHOLH!" She coughed, blood coming out in little sprays, one such spray landing on my hand. My eyes traced the arc of the life liquid, observing its state. It was thick and dark, like it was packed to the brim with nutrients. Probably was.

Jarl of Winterhold though? That meant he knew of at least my name and that I was responsible for impeding the sex slave trade in this area. Actually, I probably did some serious damage. This facility had a number of women.

Still though, the reminder that someone of such stature was so...depraved made my blood positively boil.

An idea came to mind though. If he wanted to play it that way, then that way we shall play.

I released my hold on Babette, letting her drop to the floor in a heap, coughing violently. The bruise on her neck was beginning to form. Seems her regeneration was far weaker than mine. Such a thing wouldn't have even formed.

"I'll tell you what, Babette." I began, rising from my throne, "I will give you a rather handsome reward in exchange for a favor. Think of it as...a swapping of gifts between friends."

She turned her terrified gaze to me. Her scent was rife with fear.

And a little pee it seemed.

"You never return here. Nor do any of your companions come for me or anyone associated with me." I said with one hand, "And you go and kill the Jarl's wife. Make it messy. The bloodier the better."

My other hand came up, my tone making me feel like a sleazy car salesman, "For that, I will refrain from giving the exact location of your sanctuary to the Imperials. Surely they'd be interested, no?"

Babette nodded rapidly, clawing her way away from me as quickly as she could while practically drowning in her own blood. In a puff of smoke, her form shifted to that of a small flying mammal. Itarus's dagger clattered to the stone floor without a body to stay in.

'A bat?' I wondered as said bat darted away. I could hear her right until she went out the main door and up into the sky. From there, the near silent flaps of her wings were lost in the howling winds of the night.

I sat back down on my throne, propping my leg up on my other and hummed in thought.

"Burn the arm outside. Leave nothing but ash." I said to Itarus who nodded. He stepped over to said arm and picked it up gingerly, like it was a bomb that could go off any moment.

"You draw a lot of attention." Inigo hummed, tapping both his foot and his fingers. Clearly his nerves were quite frayed from being that close to a vampire.

My question was how Grimmolf managed to hold her arm in place that long? She was a feral vampire, yes, but were they really that weak?

"I'm quite the likeable guy. What can I say?" The joke formed easily.

Inigo snorted, "Was she not attempting to assassinate you?"

I shrugged with a wry grin, "Some people show their admiration in odd ways."

My khajiit companion shook his head like one would when told a particularly bad pun.

Regardless, my thoughts turned to my future plans. I wasn't really sure how to get at the Jarl before, but since he made a direct move on me, I would have to figure out a more permanent solution. If I had Babette kill him, then he'd simply be replaced. But his wife? Now that was a power move. It showed him I could have had him killed right then and there. That he wasn't safe and that I knew what he'd done.

Now, what did nobles listen to?

I mulled over ideas for a moment before I came to a conclusion, 'Power.'

I needed to accumulate power. Not just physically or mentally, but socially. Currently I would probably considered a bandit of some kind. Albeit a pretty dangerous one, but a bandit regardless. But if I gained control of several important businesses vital to the city's function? That would grant me leverage. A lot of it actually.

Good thing I had a nice amount of cash to my name. Could probably buy out a failing business and transform it.

To what though?

While a mercenary company was certainly an option, I'd get competition from the Adventurer's Guild. That wasn't an option. What I needed was some sort of niche that I could get the whole town to depend on. Something like...well, a drug basically. Something they either couldn't or felt like they couldn't live without.

Or a miracle tech...

My fingers drummed on the arm of the stone throne. What did I know about?

I knew the very basics of firearms. Powder behind a filler made a projectile go out at high speeds. Though, that brought the disadvantage of it being used against my forces. Can't have that. Not now at least.

But what of steam power? As far as I could recall, no one but the Dwemer used steam in any serious capacity. That allowed them to create technological marvels that even stood up in my old life. While nothing that couldn't be replicated, they had ideas that were definitely worth exploring. That and getting access to their metal-crafting methods would surely put all of the people under my command in exceptional equipment. But how would I go about that?

Lore pages leapt out at me in my mind, but few offered much help. Though, an interview I found via a thread on a forum might help. I had read it quite awhile ago, in fact, probably more than three years prior to now, so the details were fuzzy. If I recalled correctly, a human man of unspecified origin (or maybe I just didn't remember) informed an interviewer that a number of Dwemer had their souls absorbed by the Anumidum, the Dwemer's attempt at creating a god. This led a number of people to theorize that all Dwarven metal was crafted with souls within. Combining that with tonal architecture and that led to that thread's conclusion.

The Dwemer used tonal architecture to 'program' the metal with certain characteristics and the soul somehow enables it to function properly. This explains why reforged Dwarven metal isn't anywhere close to what it is described as. It should be better than any equipment sans Ebony realistically, but instead is something akin to somewhat better steel.

Now the issue became getting hold of such techniques. Or what would probably be easier; taking over a Dwemer ruin and locating a forge.

That though, was quite the under-taking that my people and I weren't ready for. It would be a step to take later. For now, I needed a more...simple solution. Fighting Dwemer automata sounded a bit too risky for now.

My thoughts drifted to the city itself, most notably its massive amounts of imports. It was a trade hub. Not just for processed goods either. I recalled the mine I had passed with the caravan back before I turned into a vampire. One of the miners had been holding what looked like a chunk of raw silver. Now that was valuable. Something I could easily turn into a monopoly with careful management.

With that, I stood from my throne, 'And I can..."convince" the owner of the mine to sell it to me cheaply.'

"I will be going out for awhile. Hopefully when I return, I'll be the proud new owner of a mine outside of the city." I said to my remaining companions.

"Would you like us to accompany you then? Perhaps having some muscle would lend credence to your stature." Inigo suggested, stepping a bit closer to me to emphasize his point. Grimmolf wordlessly hefted his warhammer and followed suit, stepping over to my side.

He raised an excellent point. Having my own guards, one being a noted adventurer would certainly make me look like I mattered, "You raise a good point. I'll adopt some sort of form and find some decent looking clothes. Inigo, go find the bag of holding in my room and pack in as much gold as you deem fit. Meet me at the main gate and we'll set off."

"Yes, I will meet you there." Inigo said, acknowledging me with a nod before walking off into a side door and disappearing from view.

Slowly, I pivoted to Grimmolf, face blank, "What do fancy people wear exactly?"

The man merely chuckled in amusement at my cluelessness.

I looked at the mirror in one of the many unoccupied bedroom's dressers. I had decided to transform into a Dunmer I had seen in the town with the Argonians selling their alcohol. He looked similar to the Altmer but with more brute-ish features almost alongside the typical ashen grey skin and fire red eyes. I was also rather short for an elf, being maybe five foot and eight inches tall. Maybe my sense of height was warped, but that felt a bit short.

My clothes looked a lot like the typical noble clothes found in Skyrim. I wore a purple tunic with golden threads forming the seams. The sleeves at the upper arms were bulbous and puffy with a lot of folds. Over top of it was a black corset that doubled as a sort of vest. Around my waist was a black leather belt with gold studs in a line going all the way around complete with a shiny buckle. Finishing off the top was a coat with brown fur on the inside and red cloth on the outside. The collar curled outwards producing a large, fluffy collar that was quite warm.

The bottoms were tights in the same shade of red as the coat with brown leather slippers that had golden buckles for fitting.

All in all, I looked like any old fancy asshat.

Perfect.

"Good picks. This should make me look fancy enough, right?" I questioned in the snobby voice elves typically used.

Grimmolf tilted his head a bit before replying, "Stand a bit straighter, no, arch your back more. Yeah, like that. Tilt your chin up a bit more like you're looking down at something."

"How about now?" I questioned, following his advice to the letter.

"Perfect." He said with an approving nod.

I smoothed down the vest a bit before stepping away, carefully holding my posture as instructed, "Inigo should be ready by now. We're going to go meet up with him then head off to a mine outside the city. There we'll either buy control of it from the owner or...'convince' them to hand it over to us. Either way, we're going to leave there with ownership of it- one way or another."

It took roughly four hours, but we finally arrived at the mine. It was an inlet in the mountain face with all sorts of pulleys, pallets, and carts filled to the brim with what seemed to be iron. Though, I did spot a few that had silver mixed in. Seems my observation was correct.

Workers gave a wide berth from me and my companions, probably wary of my nice clothes and the weapons my companions wielded. I slipped through the crowd, sparing glances here and there.

Every single worker was positively filthy and disturbingly thin. It was like they hardly ate a thing. In fact, some looked downright emaciated.

And all they had for the cold were tunics!

That didn't seem to bother the few men in chainmail and furs. Private security I'd wager. That and an Argonian man at the entrance to the mine. There was a whip at his hip and a dagger on the other. He wore a thick fur coat that definitely kept him nice and comfy in the harsh Skyrim climate. Currently, he was punching the living shit out of some poor khajiit who was curled up in the fetal position.

'Inhumane.' Was my first thought. Seems I'd have to majorly bump up their wages.

Eventually I came to a stop in front of a stone building that was carved into the mountainside; just like the mine itself. Except this one looked like professionals had put some serious effort into building it. The windows were ornate and the door was a solid wood with a dark lacquer applied to it. Within I could hear a man shouting at someone. Something about not getting any leave for a family funeral.

Dickhead boss: check.

I stepped up to the door and pushed it open, falling into my persona as a noble's representative.

My eyes immediately locked with a chubby Breton man with black hair sitting behind a large oak desk that was painted in the same lacquer as the door. A heart burned heartily in the corner behind the man. A large bear rug dominated the middle of the floor while several bookcases ran along the walls. A handful of items such as ornate swords and spears were displayed proudly on plaques above tables that held their own display cases.

Wait, was that a Nordic pickaxe? That was a serious rarity! How the hell had these guys encountered one?

Definitely taking that for myself.

Turning my eyes back to the man, I put on my best "I am better than you and I know it" look I could.

The man looked over me for a few moments, his face beet-red out of anger at the worker before he waved his hand, "Out. We'll discuss this later. Back to work!"

The miner, a small, terribly skinny Nord woman scampered away, careful to avoid touching me or my companions.

"My good sir, what brings you here to my humble mine?" The man said in some attempt at flattery, standing promptly to introduce himself with a hand out towards me, "Jvor Iverson, me and my family own this mine."

I swept forwards calmly, accepting his hand, "Nalhas Gavorom, representative of a noble in Winterhold." I pulled that name straight out of my ass.

Jvor's eyes narrowed with interest as he sat back down, his potbelly catching on the edge of the desk briefly, "Hoh? And what might he want with me? Who is this man?" He questioned, gesturing to a lone seat in front of the desk. It was a dark brown leather with silver studs embedded into the surface, pushing the material into the back of the seat and forming an interesting pattern.

I took the seat gracefully, pulling my coat up a bit so it didn't get caught beneath me and stretch out, "He would prefer to remain anonymous by personal preference. Just know he owns a number of businesses in the town and is looking to expand his influence by purchasing your establishment."

The man's chubby, flat face twisted up in some expression of irritation, "So, he's so much of a coward that he can't even face me?" He jumped up and jabbed an accusatory finger at me, "Pah! I'll have no dealings with a coward! OUT!"

Well...there goes my initial plan.

I sighed as I stood, towering over the relatively short man. He seemed to wilt for a moment before screaming again, "OUT!"

"You see, I wasn't sent here with the intention of taking 'no' as an answer, pig." I replied, my own hand shooting out and grabbing Jvor's. His face almost instantly turned to pain as he keeled forwards, catching himself on his desk. Papers flew off the table and an inkwell tilted over, pouring the substance within all over the green mat on the top that I assumed was for writing. He rapidly began to scream as I wrenched his wrist upwards, unnaturally twisting. I let go as I did, tossing him back into his chair and flipping it over.

Grimmolf moved from my side to the door, keeping it closed as there was a pounding at the door. Seems the guards heard the pig squeal.

"I'll reiterate; I have come to purchase your mine. Accept the offer or I will kill you and take it by force." I continued, stepping around the desk. It was then that I spotted some sort of safe within the desk. It was built into it.

"FINE! FINE! JUST DON'T HURT ME!" He cried, cradling his broken wrist.

I knelt down at the desk and pushed my finger straight into the iron lock. The metal groaned in protest briefly until I broke the lock, allowing the little door to swing open. Within was a simple set of papers.

"This is a deed, no?" I questioned, holding the papers up as I stood. Jvor nodded quickly, "Then sign it over to me. Now."

The pounding at the door intensified. A voice called through the door in the typical raspy tone of an Argonian, "JVOR? LET ME IN DAMN IT!"

Jvor scrambled out of his fallen chair, looking quickly between me and the door.

I immediately caught on, "Don't think about it. I easily snapped your wrist. How easy do you think it'd be for me to crush your neck?"

That seemed to correct his behavior. He cautiously approached the desk where I placed the documents and grabbed a quill from the floor. He accepted it in his non-broken hand and quickly put it to the paper.

"Put the name Thaion down. That is the name my lord goes by." I instructed, a hand coming to rest on the back of Jvor's neck as he complied, "And who is at the door? Might that be the mine foreman?"

He nodded shakily, "Yes, Reemus. I hired him when he was-"

"Thank you." I interrupted, jerking my hand to the side suddenly, snapping Jvor's neck in one smooth motion. I allowed the fresh corpse to fall with a loud thump.

I looked to Grimmolf who was still at the door, holding it closed with one hand, "Let him in. Inigo, kill him when Grimmolf shuts the door."

The door clicked open after both acknowledged me with a nod. The one I presumed was Reemus stumbled forwards as he went to pound on the door again. He looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on me behind Jvor's messied desk, looking at him with a blank expression.

"WHO-" He began until the door slammed shut and Inigo was upon him. His ebony sword came out in a flash and found purchase in the lizard's neck. The blade sliced cleanly through, producing a small arc of blood as the head tumbled off and rolled across the floor. The foreman's body also fell with a dull thump, blood now pooling out onto my wooden floor.

I shrugged impassively. I sort of expected something more, but to be fair, he seemed to be more of a bully than any type of real fighter.

"Toss the bodies outside in a snow drift and burn them there." I instructed my companions who set to work, Grimmolf grabbing the body of Reemus and Inigo grabbing his severed head. I opened the door for them to the security surrounding the door.

Silence.

Behind them was a crowd of workers who didn't seem to quite process what was in front of them. The foreman was...well, quite dead.

I stepped out in front of them, my hands steepled, "Greetings! As of now, your security contract is official terminated. Please leave the premises. I do not wish to take action against you all."

They looked amongst themselves. Without coin, there was really no point. Especially not in trying to protect a mine that couldn't pay them. Slowly, the armored men disbanded and kind of just...walked off towards town. Smart choice.

This left the crowd of workers and my companions who were slipping away to dispose of the corpses.

"As for you all, what might your current pay rate be?" I questioned, pointing to the crowd.

"Fifty iron septims a day!" A voice called out from the crowd. I guesstimated them to be about one hundred in total. To avoid them immediately darting to town to spill the beans of my takeover, I'd need to do what I do best: appeal to the needy.

I hummed, looking up as if in thought. I put on a pretty decent show of considering my next words, "I will quadruple that rate if you continue to work for me and do not share what you have seen here. All you know is that I have bought the mine in the name of my lord, understand?"

Yet again, silence met me.

Until silence slowly broke into scattered clapping. A few people began shouting praises, even approaching me. The crowd surged forwards, eager to embrace me.

"Woah! Easy now!" I called over the crowd as I was lifted off my feet and paraded around like some sort of hero.

'I suppose I am in away.' I mused as they cheered for me. They carried me on their shoulders like so many of their burdens, yet I was a source of hope for them. I was not a burden, but a savior. Like...an angel.

Eventually, they set me down, still surrounding me. Some were even tearing up.

I coughed to clear my throat before speaking once more, "Now, who has the expertise to replace the former mine foreman after his...sudden and unfortunate departure?"

A round of dark chuckles went through the group before a large orc woman stepped forward. She was broad, almost as broad as Grimmolf and definitely just as muscled. She was a few inches shorter than him though. Her hands were rough and callous while her face was quite slim and angular, kind of like an elf actually. She was relatively pretty to be honest.

"I do." She said simply, her voice a bit on the deeper side.

I reached forwards, grabbing her hand in a handshake, "Congratulations on your new promotion. And you are..?"

"Urzoth." She grunted, a bit perturbed by the unexpected strength of my hands. I'd need to be more careful in the future with that. It'd be unfortunate if I crushed someone's hand by mistake.

"Urzoth, a fine name." I looked to the rest of the workers, "Get back to work then. I'll have your pay for today dispensed soon at the promised rate. Then you may leave early to be with your families."

Scattered cheers rang out for a moment before they complied, Urzoth stayed by me, standing awkwardly.

I turned to her, a warm smile on my face, "Now then, I don't know much about running a mine, so I'll leave that to you. I just have some questions."

She raised her eyebrow slowly. Probably didn't expect such freedom in running the mine.

"First, who all buys the silver from this mine in Winterhold?" That one I'd need to address quickly. By securing private contracts for severely under priced exchanges, I can undercut the competition. That way, their company moves out of the city or I can buy out local competition.

Urzoth hummed briefly, scratching her chin, "Not really anyone yet. We've only had the silver for a little bit. Currently we're trying to see if its a small vein or if we can actually turn it into a real product to sell at a constant rate. No point in setting up deals if its a tiny vein that goes dry in a week. But as far as I know, we're the only mine native to Winterhold that has silver."

That meant that everyone was likely importing silver from out of town. I could very easily sell for ridiculously low rates due to my proximity to the town. That meant people like the Silver-Bloods would have no choice but to leave. I'd wager they're the primary exporters for the city.

"Excellent. That is your top priority. Get that sorted immediately. My own private security will be here in the coming days to protect you and your workers."

I walked away promptly after that, snow crunching under my feet as I stalked off into the snow. While things were going amazing, the thought of my nightmare weighed heavily on my mind.

What did it mean?

This and that y'all.

Love you guys. You make this special for me.

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