Neron, chapter 3

Part III: New Motives

Neron made his way through the darkness of the Cyrodiil sewers heading in what he guessed was a southern direction towards the outer wall of the city. He moved slowly and carefully along a narrow stone walkway always keeping his hand on the damp wall as a guide-a dip in the brown sewer water would only make his shoulder wound worse. The assassin stopped after stumbling upon a ladder and decided he had walked far enough. Ascending the latter was the easy part, pushing the solid steel door open above him strained what was left of his strength. After several attempts he managed to heave the door open and hoist himself out onto the street. Neron lay on the stone road for a few seconds, his shoulder throbbing with each beat of his heart. When he finally resolved to get up and continue he saw, much to his amazement, a healers shop that remained open through the night.

The dark elf stumbled into the establishment and collapsed onto the carpeted reception room floor. A graying Imperial ambled out of a back room to investigate the sound. Seeing Neron on the floor bleeding, the healer quickly moved to his side to help the assassin to his feet and usher him to a room with a bed.

"Looks like you've had a little trouble there, son," said the Imperial as he helped Neron onto a bed.

Nerons words were slurred and his sentences fragmented. "Valyas... she... with the sword... no money..."

"Heh, woman, never know what they'll do next. Just lay still son, I'll have you healed in no time." The Imperial uttered a healing spell and the effects went to work on Neron's shoulder, closing up the wound and repairing the damage inside within seconds. The assassin's eyes focused for the first time in hours as he gazed up at the old healer. His blue eyes had kindness in them and the lines around them showed that he had laughed a lot during his life. Laughter, it seems, is never far from someone noble-someone with honor. They wear their laugh lines as a badge, a symbol of a well-lived life.

"Don't worry about payment, the first one is free. My name is Julius and, obviously, I am a healer."

"My name is Neron," why did I tell him my name? The assassin thought, Julius seemed to exude an air of trustworthiness that was easy to get caught in. He is an Imperial, he can't be trusted, right? Are not all Imperials a plague on this land? Don't they all secretly hate us?

The confused look on Neron's face gave him away. "You're not used to being around Imperials? From your accent I'd venture a guess that you aren't from Cyrodiil." Julius stated.

Neron was surprised at his intuitiveness, "Not kind Imperials, no. I live..." Neron caught himself and also gave away his profession.

"An assassin?" Julius asked.

"How did you..." Neron started.

Julius finished his sentence, "Know?" He chuckled. "Son, you might as well hold up a sign. You're wearing Dark Brotherhood armor, you seemed concerned that you told me you're name and you don't want to say where you live." Julius seemed amused at his own findings and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He looked more like a wise sage than an old Imperial healer. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I think you should get out of that business though, use your talent for good instead of for money and fame. I probably won't sway you, I'm just an old rambling man, but at least it will give you something to think about on your way home." Julius said with a warm smile that only someone that had lived a good life can give.

"I will think about that, thank you for your help." Neron said, truthfully. "I think it's time I went on my way."

Neron stood, renewed by the healing spell, and made his way to the door followed by Julius. "Stay clear of crazy woman now," Julius said as Neron headed for the door.

The assassin grunted, "I wish it was that easy."

Neron opened the door and walked out into the night. The city was quiet except for the occasional dog, cat, or drunk wandering the street. The guarded gate leading out of the city posed a problem, Neron was a wanted man now and a dispatch had certainly reached these guards. He found a passing drunk and cornered him.

"Excuse me, good sir, would you be willing to do me a favor?" Neron asked

"Eh? Flavor? I don't like those new drinks, no sir, give me ale or give me death, that's what I say," said the inebriated citizen. He seemed to be a somewhat wealthy Breton with expensive clothes that smelled of tavern smoke and cheap ale, a strange combination for someone seemingly well off.

Neron tried a new tactic, "I will trade you the armor I'm wearing," He said holding his hands out to let the drunk get a look at the Dark Brotherhood cloth, "for your clothes and that ale you're carrying." The Breton tried to look intently at the armor as if it would do a trick any moment now. The drunk citizen blinked and shook his head to clear his vision. The Breton then started howling with laughter, his eyes watered and he put a hand on Neron's shoulder to steady himself. His laughing stopped as abruptly as it had started.

"Sure, sure, I'll trade you. In my day, back when I was young like you, I collected rocks; you don't have any rocks do you?"

Neron shook his head.

"Pity..." The drunk mumbled incoherently.

Neron traded clothes with the Breton and bid him farewell. He could hear him laughing and rambling as he approached the gate leading out of the city. Neron took a long drink of ale and spilled some on his clothes. He walked in unsure, jerky motions towards the guards, tripping a few times and nearly running into a building. It was all an act, but it worked, the guards stopped him as he neared the gate.

"Whoa there citizen, what's your business here?" The guard said slowly to the drunken Dark Elf.

Neron gave a toothy, drunk grin, "I was jus' goin' out huntin' sirs." He held up his short blade and toasting the guards with his bottle of ale before taking another drink. "I can hunt with the best of 'em for sure. I can out-hunt YOU even." He said, stabbing a shaky finger at the guard. "I can prove it; I'll go right now an' catch me the biggest nix hound you've never seen." Neron threw his arms out to his sides to show how big the nix hound would be, he stumbled back with the gesture to convince the guards.

"Fine, you go show us citizen. Move Along."

As he stumbled through the open gate he continued his act, "Uriel Spetim hisself will give me a medal. Don't go stealin' it now."

Neron moved in a drunken stupor until he was out of view of the guards, he was pleased with his performance and smiled to himself as he walked along the road waiting for a caravan to pass. An hour later, as the first rays of sunshine marked the beginning of a new day, he was picked up by another Dark Elf heading to Morrowind. Once he arrived he found a boat going back to Vvardenfell.

During the ride to his home island he mused on what Julius had said. Maybe he should settle down, give up the assassin business. If an Imperial in Cyrodiil could show kindness to a wounded Dark Elf assassin then Neron could do anything, including live an honest life. Maybe he could even get married, slow down, Neron, one step at a time. Valyas would be the last person he killed, with that traitor's death he would give up his career, however lucrative it may be. No, I will hunt assassins, I will put fear into the hearts of the fearless. Before he got to that he had other business to attend to, Dranas would want to know what happened with the mission. He wouldn't be happy.

Neron stepped off the boat onto his native land, Imperial guards were patrolling the area but he didn't mind as much now. The Dark Elf went immediately to Seyda Neen to change his clothes and wash the smell of ale off his body. With a fresh set of clothes hanging from his powerful frame and a short blade sheathed at his side, Neron made his way to the outskirts of Pelagiad, an Imperial city complete with a fort for the Legion. Dranas had his base of operations there and would be expecting Neron to show up-he had spies that reported the activities of his assassins.

Neron didn't bother knocking on the door; he swung it open and stepped inside. Immediately he sensed a hostile atmosphere, a feeling he usually only got on missions. He went on alert as a guard escorted him into a back room where Dranas was sitting behind a desk waiting for him. Neron sat across from his Dark Elf Employer.

"Neron." He said in cold greeting.

The Assassin became more uneasy, "Look Dranas, it's not my fault. They knew I was coming before I even got there. Valyas is a Blade, she works for the Emperor."

Dranas waved his hand to cut him off. "I don't care who she is or who she works for. Your assignment was to eliminate Uriel Septim and you failed, no one fails me and lives, Neron, not even my best assassin."

At the conclusion of his threat the door behind Neron opened and six Dark Brotherhood assassins spilled into the room with blades drawn. They stood behind the blue-gray skinned Dark Elf waiting for orders.

Nerons eyes narrowed, "Don't do something you'll regret, Dranas." He said with enough venom to kill a city.

"You're a good assassin, Neron, but there will be more like you. Take him." He commanded.

Neron wouldn't go easily; he jumped up onto the desk in front of him and pushed off, flipping backwards over the group of assassins. In mid-jump he unsheathed his short sword in one quick motion. Landing behind the group he grabbed the nearest black clad lackey and put the blade to his throat. Neron backed closer to the open door, nobody moved.

"Drop it," he commanded his hostage. The Dark Brotherhood assassin obliged and dropped his blade to the floor. Neron thought about leaving them and running through the door but decided to make an example out of the situation, an example Dranas wouldn't soon forget.

The master assassin pushed his hostage forward towards the group as a diversion. It worked; two of the six assassins caught their comrade. Neron took the opportunity to sheath his short blade deep into the chest of the nearest assassin. He cried out in pain before slumping to the ground in a pool of blood. Before the body had hit the ground Neron had removed the head of another. Two down, four to go. By now the assassins had regrouped, the hostage scooped up his blade and swung powerfully at Neron. He was nimble enough to dodge the attack and smash the hilt of his blade into the face of the Dark Brotherhood member. The assassin grunted and reeled, giving Neron enough time to deal with another attacker.

A couple parried swings later and another of Dranas assassins was lying in a pool of his own blood. Neron leapt onto the desk and jumped over the swing of another enemy. He landed behind the black clad citizen and put his arm around the cloth encased neck. With a powerful jerk and a satisfying snap of bones the assassin went limp. The body fell to the ground as Neron slashed at one of the last two assassins. The strike cut his chest deeply and splattered blood on the walls but didn't kill the lackey. Nerons next strike removed the arm holding the short blade, the assassin screamed. The Dark Elf moved in and put his short blade through the chest of the Dark Brotherhood member, ending his misery. The last assassin had the sense to flee the room; he was not going to end up like the rest of his comrades at the hands of this... this god.

Neron let him go, turning his attention to the unarmed Dranas. He strode up to the shaking Dark Elf and grabbed him by the neck.

"So this is it, then? It's my time is it?" Asked the frightened employer.

Neron smiled wickedly and put his blade to the neck of his former boss, "No..."

Dranas breathed a sigh of relief-prematurely.

"Not yet, I will kill you someday, but not today, and not tomorrow. You will live in fear for a while; I will be a constant shadow looming out on the horizon. Every morning when you wake up you will wonder if today is the day. Every night you will fear the shadows that were so innocent to you yesterday." Neron released his grip and sheathed his sword.

Dranas swallowed hard and rubbed his neck as the assassin left the room. Arrogant fool.
Dranas had work to do; Neron would pay with what he valued most.

Neron knew what Dranas would do next. I have to get to her, I have to warn her, Neron commanded himself.

(c)2005 Sir Radont