Chapter 12 - Welcome Home
The day began to pierce the dense canopy of the forest as the horse finally came to a halt, rousing Aventus from his stupor. The boy dismounted the immense steed, shivering in the cold and damp air of the dawning morning. Looking around, he noticed that they were in a shaded hollow, below the path, where a stagnant and dark pond spread out, faintly reflecting the emerging light. Nearby, a rock formation created a sort of natural cavity. Inside, a wall at the back of the cave piqued his curiosity: enigmatic carvings were etched into the stone, emerging from the darkness like ghosts. He felt a light pressure on his shoulder: Astrid, who had quietly dismounted, was silently urging him to follow her towards the rocks. Reluctantly advancing, he cast one last glance back; the horse had vanished, as if absorbed by the morning mist.
Guided by Astrid into the growing shadow of the cavity, Aventus was struck by the vision that unfolded before him. The cave, which he had initially taken for a simple crevice, actually housed a massive stone door. This door seemed the work of a disturbed mind, a grim bas-relief where a gigantic skull dominated the scene, its empty eye sockets staring at the newcomers with spectral intensity. Around the skull, grotesque figures and macabre symbols contorted in the stone, as if the door itself were a portal from a nightmare.
Aventus couldn't help but think that it all had a theatrical air, a sort of folkloric display worthy of stories meant to frighten children. Yet, the oppressive atmosphere and the wind's whispers through the carvings chilled him to the bone. As they approached, a cavernous voice imbued with echoes emerged from nowhere, or perhaps from the door itself: "What is the music of life?"
Astrid, unperturbed, responded with a solemnity that contrasted with the absurdity of the situation: "Silence, my brother."
With growing apprehension, Aventus followed Astrid through the opening that seemed to animate with a life of its own, responding to the ritual phrase with a low groan as the stone moved. He expected someone to appear, a guardian of this sanctuary or a spirit trapped in the rock, but there was nothing. Only the silence of a corridor carved into the rock, gently sloping downwards, dimly lit by torches. A silence that seemed almost too thick, as if it were laden with untold stories.
The corridor opened into a maze of underground rooms, caverns bearing the scars of human hands that had shaped them into habitable spaces. Once the work of natural forces, these caves had been meticulously sculpted and arranged with a care for comfort that contrasted with their raw origins. Sparse torches dispensed a dim but sufficient light to navigate through this labyrinth of shadows. A few old banners, placed here and there on the walls, bore the imprint of a black hand. The mark of the Brotherhood, Astrid informed him.
They entered a spacious hall where an oddly warm atmosphere reigned despite the ambient darkness. Worn rugs covered the floor, and the flickering torchlight seemed to dance in rhythm with the lively conversation. A disparate group of people stood there, some standing, others leaning against a natural pillar, and still others crouched. Aventus immediately felt the striking contrast between the place's gloomy ambiance and the palpable camaraderie binding these individuals.
A massive Nord, whose scars testified to a life of violence, burst out laughing, a raw sound that seemed to make the walls themselves tremble. Crouched next to him, an Argonian—those lizard-like men native to Black Marsh—with gleaming green scales, shared his gaiety, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"And you, Festus, how about your last mission?" asked the Argonian. The Nord, with a hint of derision, added, "Oh yes, please, old man. Regale us with your sorcery exploits..."
The one named Festus was indeed, to Aventus, an old man. A skinny man with sparse white hair, but whose bright eyes reflected great vitality of spirit. With amused arrogance, he replied, "Ah, foolish youngsters. Always mocking the experienced and brilliant men. My mission went very well, mind you. I had the chance to experiment with a new spell, something I've been working on in my spare time. I was this close to completely turning that priest inside out. Quite messy!"
General hilarity ensued, before Festus threw back at the Nord, "What about you, Arnbjorn, how did your last mission go? A Khajiit merchant, wasn't it?"
"Oh, a big dog chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" came a childlike voice that surprised Aventus. A few laughs erupted from Festus, the Argonian, and a Redguard with a fine black beard, but Arnbjorn growled, "I am not adorable! It wasn't funny, and it wasn't a merchant. It was a Khajiit monk, a master of the Whispering Claw. But now he's dead... and I have a new loincloth!"
Laughter echoed again in the hall where conviviality and cruelty mingled. Standing apart from this strangeness, Aventus was shaken, on the edge of fear and fascination. The nonchalance with which these individuals spoke of death and their blatant disdain for their victims terrified him, urging him to flee urgently, just as he had wanted to flee Astrid in the cabin. Yet, he perceived in their exchanges an almost fraternal camaraderie that gave the group a deceptively welcoming air.
"Ha ha ha! Babette, tell us the candy story!" exclaimed the Argonian.
The response came from the childlike voice. Aventus was again disconcerted to realize it belonged to a little girl who seemed even younger than him. Yet, her gaze and demeanor betrayed an unexpected maturity.
"Alright, alright, Veesara," she said, raising a hand in a calming gesture, tempering the Argonian's excitement. "So, here's the story! 'Oh, you're such a pretty little girl. Would the little darling like a candy? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?'"
She narrated her story by mimicking the sugary voice of an old man with dubious intentions. Aventus couldn't help but shiver, easily imagining the dark designs of this man.
"Oh yes, please, kind sir! My mommy and daddy left me all alone, and I'm so hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy store, through this alley!"
The feigned naivety of her response, so well played, troubled Aventus. Who was this girl who wielded the art of manipulation with such ease?
"Oh yes, very well, very well," she continued, changing her voice again to that of the supposed benefactor. "It's dark here, isn't it? Oh, but you are so beautiful, such a lovely smile. Your teeth... your teeth! No! Aggghh!"
The collective laughter that followed was both amused and sinister. Aventus, still standing apart, watched the scene, a thought slowly germinating in his mind. Babette's tale was as macabre as the others, but it carried a trace of justice. She had eliminated a man with malicious intentions, likely even dangerous for children like him. This act, in its twisted logic, seemed almost... sensible. If lives had to be taken, perhaps it should be those of the monsters lurking in the shadows. After all, that was why he had tried to invoke the Dark Brotherhood so fervently. To make Grelod disappear, for the good of everyone at the orphanage. A resolution began to form in his mind, a guiding line that would steer his actions within this shadowy fraternity. He would join them to target those who truly deserved it.
Astrid stepped forward, capturing the group's attention with a gesture of her hand. "Brothers and sisters, we have a new guest among us." Her voice, strong and clear, silenced the conversations and all eyes turned to Aventus.
Silence fell over the hall as the boy felt dozens of eyes weighing on him. He tried not to let his anxiety show, recalling the events in the cabin with a hint of pride despite everything.
"This is the young man who performed the Black Sacrament with such perseverance," Astrid continued. "And today, he has repaid a debt to our family in a rather... unexpected way. A debt that wasn't even originally his."
She added this detail with a disapproving look at Festus Krex. The old man with sparkling eyes spoke with a malice-tinged confidence. "Yes, I was supposed to bring back the Nord boy, but this one..." He paused, his piercing gaze locking onto Aventus. "I sensed he had a place among us. A soul more... suited to our needs. That Hunfen seemed too upright, a spirit too noble, too 'clear' for our family."
Astrid nodded slowly, a subtle smile on her lips. "Festus often has strange intuitions, but it seems his choice was wise. After all, Aventus has shown he can face death without hesitation."
The members of the Brotherhood began to murmur among themselves, some with skepticism, others with undisguised curiosity. Aventus felt the weight of their attention, a mix of scrutiny and calculation. Arnbjorn, the scarred and imposing Nord, approached and looked down at Aventus, his hard eyes analyzing every detail. "He's a kid, by Sithis! How can he hope to do our work?" he growled.
Babette, the girl with the strangely mature demeanor, also approached, her mischievous eyes fixed on Aventus. "He may be young," she said in a soft voice that betrayed sharp intelligence, "but age is just a number. It's the heart that counts, and his... seems promising."
Veezara gave an approving hiss. "Argonians born under the Shadow sign are trained in assassination from birth, and are already perfectly capable at his age," he added. "All he needs is intensive training."
Standing at the center of these hardened assassins, Aventus felt a strange warmth fill his chest. They were killers, shadows living outside the laws of men, but in their voices and gazes, there was something almost... brotherly. As if to emphasize this feeling, he felt Astrid's hand rest on his shoulder. "He has potential," she concluded, "and our family has always needed fresh blood."
The decision was made, and Aventus understood that he had crossed a point of no return. The Dark Brotherhood was now his new family, for better or for worse.
oOo
The days that followed were a dizzying plunge into the dark art of assassination for Aventus. Babette, with her childlike stature and innocent smile, turned out to be a ruthless and clever tutor. She confided in him one evening, as they sat apart from the others, her darkest secret.
"You know, I'm not really a child. Well, not in the way you think," she said with a conspiratorial wink. "I'm over three hundred years old. Getting bitten by a vampire at ten does that sort of thing."
Aventus, surprised, accepted this revelation with more fascination than disgust. "So you're... a vampire yourself?"
"Exactly," she replied, laughing softly. "It gives me a few... advantages in our line of work."
Throughout their conversations, under the secret veil of darkness, Aventus confided in Babette about the conflict that gnawed at him. If he had to embrace the path of assassination, he wanted his blade to serve a cause that, in his eyes, held a certain nobility. He aspired to choose his contracts with discernment, to be the instrument of a darker justice, one that would strike those who, according to his own morality, truly deserved it.
"I don't want to kill innocents," he said, his voice charged with intense conviction. "If I have to become an assassin, I want to be one who goes after those who do harm, like Grelod!"
Babette, listening, raised an amused eyebrow before her expression turned serious. "That's a noble intention, Aventus, but morality is a path strewn with pitfalls. Believe me, after three centuries, I've learned that purity is an ideal as elusive as my kind under the midday sun."
"But I could at least try, couldn't I?" insisted Aventus, seeking a hint of agreement in her gaze.
The vampire nodded gently. "Maybe. But remember, in our family, the Black Sacrament is sacred. When a contract is made, we don't judge; we execute. It's the will of the Night Mother, and our personal desires must never outweigh the song of the darkness."
"And what if the contract isn't just?" Aventus asked, his voice tinged with a deep worry. "What if the target hasn't done anything wrong?"
"Justice, my young friend, is as changing as the seasons. What you see as an act of cruelty, another may see as a deliverance. Our role is not to weigh ethics but to weave silence."
Aventus listened, absorbing every word. He understood Babette's underlying warning: a Dark Brotherhood assassin couldn't afford the luxury of moral selectivity. Yet, deep within him, a small voice clung to the hope of a world where darkness could sometimes serve the light, even if it was just a flickering glow in the eternal night.
The training was demanding. Babette taught him how to lure prey, how to evoke empathy or desire, and then strike at the most opportune moment. "He'll come close to you, to feast on you. That's when you can attack," she liked to repeat. After several days practicing on mannequins and running through elaborate scenarios, Aventus felt his skills grow. He learned quickly, absorbing each lesson like a sponge, each night ending a bit more seasoned, a bit sharper. Finally, the moment came when Astrid deemed him ready for his first assignment. She summoned him to her chamber, a dark room adorned with enigmatic symbols and flickering candles.
"Aventus, the time has come to put into practice what you've learned so far," she declared, her piercing gaze locked onto his. "Your first mission is simple and carefully chosen to align with your... particular inclinations." A mysterious smile played on her lips as she handed him a scroll sealed with the mark of the Black Hand.
"You will visit a man, an apparently harmless recluse, but one who hides less than savory inclinations," Astrid continued, her smile taking on a predatory edge. "He will find a lost young boy far too tempting to resist... welcoming with open arms."
Aventus nodded, a new fire burning in his eyes. This mission transcended mere work; it was an opportunity to test his new philosophy, to strike where he deemed necessary.
Switching her role from leader to concerned mother, Astrid donned a worn cloak and a rough canvas hood. "We will travel to Falkreath. I'll pass you off as my son, whom I'm sending to visit his grandfather in Riften. The route passes near your target's home. I trust you to know what to do next."
The twilight enveloped the world in its veil, and in its shadow, Aventus followed Astrid out of the sanctuary, armed with his burgeoning skills and a thirst for dark justice. He was both innocence and vengeance, ready to face the darkness that awaited.