Chapter 3: Splitting paths
Lake Rumare, northern coast.
I didn’t look back nor did I slow my steps but I was already starting to doubt my decision. The old man had spirit, I gave him that. But spirit would not prevent his death. He was old, too old really. Even if the knives could be kept from his throat, time would finish the job sooner or later. I feared it would be sooner. I shook away my concerns. There was no going back now. I’d given him his choice and if I took it back now, it would make the offer meaningless. Besides, there were more pressing concerns. I would just have to trust him to keep his wits about him. He’d survived plenty of attempts on his life. He’d be fine, if he kept from sight. Though I did wonder what became of the Bosmer. She didn’t seem like the type who would tag along with them, and even less likely to follow me. I worried a little. I worried, although I knew that I could not afford to spent time looking for her.
I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were meant to chain my hands behind my back during relocation from one cell to another, something which had never happened. Now, they would merely draw unwanted attention to myself. I focussed on them and they broke apart, splashing in the wet sand. I scrubbed some sand over them with a toe. It wasn’t the perfect hidingplace, but it would do. Next up were my clothes. They were the standard prisonergarb, cheap, rough and very eyecatching in their own way. I had no need for them, but till I got something better to wear, I would be stuck with them. I cared little for physical discomfort after decades behind bars, but simple decency kept me from ditching the crude rags. So I decided that my first step was to obtain replacements.
But where to find them? There were several options open to me. The light of a building shone to my left. It was probably a tavern. Last stop before the Imperial City, it’s sign might say. I could sneak in there and steal them. However, my goal was the Imperial City, not the last stop before it. I had no desire to waste time. The night would end shortly and with it, the wheel of gossip would begin to spin. I wished to be at the city by that time. That, and stealing was not something I approved off, even less so if there was a more satisfying solution available. That solution lay at the walls of the city. I followed the edge of the lake towards the bridge I remembered. There wasn’t much time, so I alternated between running and walking. If I skipped across the lake directly, I would greatly shorten the distance I needed to travel. But, the wandering torches on top of the wall alerted me to nighttime patrols. It wouldn’t do me much good if they saw something running across the water.
Lake Rumare, eastern side.
The Bosmer rose up to the surface and took her first breath of air since the last half an hour. The hills in the distance seemed to be ablaze, a sign that the sun would rise within minutes.
“Brrr, the water’s really cold here. Takes all the fun out of swimming.” She complained to herself as she looked around at the island she was on. There wsn’t much to see. It mas mostly a collection of sand, some grey rocks and shrubbery. There was a shack a stonesthrow from where she was standing. Next to the shack, a crude wooden pier extended into the lake. A rowboat bobbed on the shallow waves at the end of a short rope.
She took a few steps towards the shack, then stopped. It was the boat’s shadow underwater which had drawn her here, but she couldn’t see any light coming from behind the shack’s lone window. Perhaps it was abandoned? She shivered. She didn’t have much of a choice. If she couldn’t dry up soon, she would surely catch a cold. And the best chance for drying up was this shack. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
There was no answer, so she knocked again, and again. Still no answer. The only sound was the buzzing of crickets and the singing of frogs. Seeing no other way out, she tried the doorbolt.
“Besides, if this place is empty, it might actually be better. I don’t want to explain why I’m swimming in a lake at night. I don’t think swimming is a common hobby around here.” She thought. The door opened easily and without a sound, which seemed odd with the rundown appearance of the shack. If she’d looked closer though, she would have noticed that the door’s hinges were made of wood, not iron, and they’d been greased extensively.
Now that the door was open, she could hear some irregular snoring.
“So there is someone here. And asleep as well.” The first beam of sunlight pierced the window and shone on the slumbering person’s feet. Carefully, the Bosmer went in and reached for the person’s shoulder. She couldn’t tell gender or anything, as everything was hidden under the blankets except for the feet. But the feet were old and wrinkled and she expected the rest of the person to be similarly old. She’d planned to simply ask if she could borrow a towel or something similar, but she felt uneasy about waking up someone.
She hesitated for a moment before pulling her hand back.
“It would be rude for a stranger to disturb someone in his own house.” She looked around and found a grey blanket hanging on a fishingline near the window. She took it off the line and examined it. It had a rough texture and smelled like fish, but it seemed dry. Granted, everything in the shack smelled like fish. It was the first time she’d noticed the smell. She wrapped it around herself and sat down in a corner.
“I’ll make sure to thank that person, when he or she wakes up. Hmm, fish, smells like home.” The smell made her drowsy and she dozed off.
Cyrodiil, Waterfront.
The Redguard sailors were entertaining themselves with a song while unloading a shipment of crates. The song went about a sailor whose ship crashed. He was saved by a nymph who succumbed to the man’s charms and the story proceeded in a predictable manner.
“Excuse me!” A voice shouted from the dock. The cargomaster signalled the crew to keep working before he leaned on the handrails flanking the deck. Belwo him, he saw an Altmer in a blue robe standing next to the unloaded crates. For a moment the Redguard worried about his cargo, but he saw to his satisfaction that a Legionnaire patrol was nearby. There was no risk.
“Yes, can I help you, sir?!” He shouted back. The Altmer waved and gestured at the crates.
“I just noticed that sleeve sticking out from under the lid. Would you happen to be shipping clothes?” He asked. The Redguard nodded.
“Hold on, I’m coming down.” He shouted, waited for a pair of sailors carrying a crate to pass, then walked over the plank himself.
“Yes, we are shipping clothes. May I ask you for the reason of this interest?” He asked at a more conventional volume now that he was standing right next to the Altmer.
“Always be polite to people in robes. You never know if he’s a fireball-happy mage.” He thought to himself.
The Altmer touched the sleeve sticking out of one of the crates.
“Yes. My master, who works at the university, has run into a slight problem. He was conducting some experiments in his lab, with unfortunate results. I have been sent to aquire a new garb for him.” He explained as he inspected the silk. The cargomaster scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Ah, right. Did you check the market? This shipment is meant for a clothesstore there.” He commented.
“I already tried, yet the store is still closed at this hour. My master prefers to have his new garb before breakfast, when he must show himself to the apprentices. In his hurry, he sent me off without the means for a monetary compensation.” The Altmer said.
“I see. That’s a bit of a shame. Now I suppose you want a set of clothes from these crates?” The Redguard asked.
“That would be correct.” The Altmer replied with a nod.
“Hmm, now don’t get me wrong. I would be pleased to help you out, but I can’t just do it without getting anything in return. I’m sorry, but I’m not the captain of this ship, only the cargomaster. That, and there is still a quota we must reach.” The cargomaster answered.
The Altmer thought it over for a moment.
“Then perhaps, may I present you an offer?” He inquired. The Redguard shrugged.
“Please, go ahead.”
“Beyond being the master’s servant, I am also an advanced apprentice at the university. While I cannot vouch for my talents to be as sophisticated as that of a master, I am willing to give this ship my protection, in exchange for a single set of garb. I am quite certain that rarely does the actual number of items shipped equal the number of items in the quota.” It didn’t take long for the Redguard to make up his mind. He was almost surprised himself at how quickly he accepted the offer. Almost.
“A fine deal. We always carry extras in case we lose a crate during a storm. Agreed.”
The Altmer waved his hands into a multitude of aracane gestures as magicka whizzed about him in a mad storm. Then the particles streamed off and seeped into the hull, the sails, the ropes, the mast, even the lanterns at the bow and stern. Visibly, the ship rose at least half a metre out of the waves.
“I have lightened your vessel. With this, it will sail faster than before, and be able to carry more cargo before sinking.” The Altmer spoke. The Redguard gestured at the crates.
“Please, all yours. Let me pop the lid.” He said.
The Altmer selected an exquisite robe of white linen, with a matching sash and decorated by sewn in figures of golden threads. He then gave his thanks and walked away in the direction of the university with his precious load.
Lake Rumare, fisherman’s shack.
“And who might you be?” I opened my eyes with a snap. The shack’s owner stood bent over me. He was a guy, which would have worried me after the last few days. Only he was old where the others were not. The fire in his blood had been extinguished by the years.
“Ah, I’m really sorry! You see, I was really wet and so I thought I would go in and ask if I could borrow a towel. Only, you were asleep and I figured it would be rude to wake you up. Really sorry!” I apologized. I looked down at the blanket I’d wrapped myself in. It wasn’t wet, more like moist. The old man smiled friendly.
“No need to fear, my dear. If you’re wet, nothing’s better than a warm blanket, a crackling fire and a good old bowl of fish-soup. It’s a shame you had to miss out on two of these things.” He said. I gave him a smile of my own and cast off the blanket.
“Thank you! If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask! I can cook, I can clean, and do various other household chores!” I offered. His face paled and his smile fell.
“Excuse me?” I mumbled. The old man recomposed himself but he’d taken his distance, and his voice was a lot more collected when he talked to me again.
“Say, you wouldn’t be willing to tell me where you got those manacles, would you?”
I didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to stare at the wooden boards that made up the floor.
“I’d rather not. It’s kinda embarrassing.” I whispered. I then realized why he was so interested. He thought I was a murderer! Why else would I be wearing those things, I did got chained to the wall with them once. I blamed my lack of experience with prisons and criminals in general for not picking up the context in a heartbeat.
“You see, I was in this garden up in the big city. Nobody was around, it was late and it looked like a nice soft place to sleep. Next thing I know, this walking collection of Iron shows up and drags me to this cold place under the ground. It was really creepy there!” I nearly tripped over my tongue in my rush to explain.
“Vagrancy? Is that all? You got arrested for vagrancy?” The old man seemed positively relieved.
“Err, is that the word for sleeping in the wrong place? If so, that’s it.” I answered.
“I see. Bloody Legionnaires, never had much love for them. Now don’t get me wrong, they keep all the real scum off of our streets, but sometimes they’re just a bit too eager to serve and protect, if you know what I mean. And they threw you out without giving your own clothes back and taking off those manacles, crazy. They’re really slipping. Back in my days….Oh my, now I really sound as if I’m some old coot with half a foot in his grave. Nevermind that.” He said.
“Anyway, why don’t you stick around for a while? I’ve got some bread in the cupboard. Why don’t we have breakfast first? I’m sure you must be hungry. I’ve heard that prison meals are not very nutritious.”
“Oh, thank you!” I answered. When I saw the bread, I was not so thankfull anymore. It was stale, very salty and it looked like green moss was beginning to grow out of places.
“This sure isn’t how the baker makes them at home. Oh well, it would be rude to refuse now.” I thought and forced myself to eat a loaf and actually look as if I enjoyed it.
“Ugh, this thing’s harder than a rock. Brings a whole new aspect to the etiquette lessons the teachers stamped into me. Never thought I would apply them while eating bread while alone with some guy in a shack. Never thought I would be alone with a guy for that matter. If dad found out, he would raise a navy just to chop off his head. So I’m not going to tell him or anyone.” I thought while eating. The thinking was the real thing that kept me focussed. I barely tasted the bread. That was probably a good thing.
Once we were done, we sat down outside the door to warm up in the morning sun. The old man tied a line with a hook to a fishingrod and shoved the leftover crumbs into a bucket to use as bait.
“You’re a fisherman?” I asked. The man had regained his smile. It was a good smile, made me feel all warm inside. Not in a romantic way, but in the same way I felt when my father smiled at me.
“It’s what I do. It’s easy and I make enough money out of it to make a living. I won’t be a rich man, but there’s little I need to buy anyway.” He said. I shielded my eyes from the sun and gazed across the lake at the hills.
“Need help?” I inquired after a while. He looked up from his fishingrod.
“You’d like to fish? I only have one rod.” He replied.
“Well, I learned how to fish back home. But I don’t need a rod for it.” I answered. Again he smiled.
“Then what do you use? A spear?” I shook my head.
“A net? They’re good if you’re after big loads, bigger than my boat can handle.” Again I shook my head.
“With your bare hands?” This time, I nodded. He laughed.
For a moment, I felt insulted but I soon realized he wasn’t mocking me.
“Ah, that brings back memories. I used to fish with my hands. Now, I can’t keep up with them and have to rely on a rod. So you want to fish?” He said. Again I nodded.
“Well then, let’s get onboard and push off. I know a rich spot.”
He was stronger than he looked. The rowboat wasn’t exactly the lightest or the most streamlined affair and the paddles weren’t much to speak about either. But he still managed to push that, himself, the fishing equipment and me, all at a decent pace.
“It occurred to me that we haven’t made the introductions yet. I’m Delmar Tunius, fisherman.” He said with that fatherly tone. My, I was really beginning to like him. Now that was a first for this continent. Oh, there was that gold-skinned one, but he was too cold to really like. And after he just slaughtered…I sighed and shook off the thought. I didn’t want to think about it. I smiled at him before he could read my thoughts.
“Maorlatta Orgnum, merchant.” I answered and then bit my tongue. I wasn’t much of a merchant. No money, no decent clothes, no company or goods.
“Though I guess I’m reduced to begging now.” I added.
Delmar shook a finger.
“Let me give you a bit of advice, Maorlatta….mind if I call you that?” He stopped himself. I giggled.
“Sure. Why not?” He resumed rowing again.
“Never resort to begging. A septim a day can keep you alive, but without dignity, you’re nothing. Look at me, I’m barely better than a beggar, but I don’t beg. I fish, I make my living through that. I don’t sit in a corner and ask passersby for money. If you want to get anywhere in this live, you have to do it yourself. Don’t be a parasite. I’ve seen many beggars who could be fine workers, if they weren’t too lazy….Ah, look at me, going on and on. I think you got my point after the first four words.”
Cyrodiil, palace.
The Altmer examined his new garb for the last time as he leaned against the marble walls that encircled the palace. Admittedly, he could have simply maintained the illusion on his prison-outfit, but that would allow a margin of error he wasn’t going to risk. He could claim without any arrogance whatsoever that his skill at the art of deception was possibly among the greatest in the world, the source of legends. Yet, for all he was, he was not flawless. Wearing an actual outfit suited to the job was still preferable to an elaborate illusion.
He removed a loose thread and straightened out the last wrinkle when the sun burst over the walls. The Altmer took a deep breath and turned his eyes towards the golden doors of the palace. Now, the doors opened without the slightest sound and a dozen guards walked out, each wearing the stylized silver armour with the golden dragon-crest that was the mark of the palace-guard. The guards split up in pairs, moving out along the street. At regular intervals, one pair would stop and turn to face each other. They would raise their silver Claymores over the street as an arch. When the last pair had taken up position, the Altmer moved away from the wall.
An idle part of his mind observed the purely symbolic guards. They were no slouch in combat, certainly. In fact, they were rated amongs the greatest the continent had to offer. Their strength couldn’t be questioned either. They had trained years, just so they could stand perfectly still with their Claymores for six hours, not a simple feat. But still, their positioning was rather inefficient for a true guard. But that was why there were the normal guards patrolling the streets just beyond the ceremonial path. If there was trouble of sufficient magnitude to warrant their attention, a guard merely had to call and a dozen expertly skilled warriors would jump to his aid.
The Altmer remembered that the palace guards were Blades as well, high-ranking ones. The only reason why they weren’t wearing the lighter and more functional Blade armour was again symbolic. The perfectly polished plates reflected every last ray of sunlight, making the guards look less like mortal men and more like immortal dragons burning with devotion.
Just when the Altmer had begun to walk, a small group of pages dressed in white came out of the palace. Fear was evident on their face and in the way they had to force themselves not to run. As they hurried past him, the Altmer turned and began to follow. None of them noticed their party had gained a new member, so focussed were they on their task. The fact that he practically looked as if he was one of them helped. He had chosen his robe well.
“Right on schedule.”
Lake Rumare
I dangled a toe in the water. Now that the sun was shining, albeit it still hung pretty low in the sky, the water had heated up considerably. It was almost comfortable now. Delmar stopped rowing and pulled the oars back into the boat. He then took the fishingrod and pierced a worm on the hook.
“Alright, here we are. Now let’s go fishing. Keep an eye out for Slaughterfish.” He said. I carefully got up and rolled over the edge into the water. The boat barely rolled when I shifted my weight.
The water flooding into my nose was cold and I sneezed, which made a few bubbles shoot out of my nostrils.
“Brrr…still cold.” I said when I resurfaced. Delmar had dropped his rod and leaned over the edge of the boat.
“Just what are you doing?! You jumped in? I thought when you talked about using your hands you were going to grab any passing fish while sitting in the boat.” He stammered. I shrugged.
“I’m used to swimming.” I answered.
Delmar picked up his rod again with a sigh.
“But wasn’t the whole reason you sneaked into my home because you wanted to get dry?” He asked. Oops, should have remembered that. Well, too late now.
“Sorry.” I whispered. The old guy shook his head and leaned back.
“Oh, whatever. It is not as if I need the blankets myself. Just don’t go too far and stay away from the Slaughterfish. Those scaly bastards are really something.” He warned me. I waved and dove underwater.
I was about halfway to the bottom when instinct kicked in and I began to alter the water around me, splitting it into water and air. The air I would breathe while the water I spit out.
“Ok, I can stay underwater for half an hour. Let’s see. Where is a nice fish? I need a big one, for myself. I can’t fish till I’ve taken care of this.” I thought and began to swim around in circles, using both legs and arms to push myself forward at a decent clip.
The water was crystal-clear and I would have been able to see all the way to the other side, if my vision wasn’t so blurry underwater. My eyesight was still good enough to see a vague bronze shape hiding among some weeds, though. Curious, I turned towards it and sped up. It too turned and sped up as well, incredibly so. From near motionless, it had gone to match my speed, and then even triple it! All in less than a heartbeat. I could see it open its maw and reveal a set of really long teeth.
“Stay away from the Slaughterfish.” So this was a Slaughterfish? It looked worthy of its name. All muscle and teeth, and quick to boot. I knew I should turn away and get back to the boat or at least hide in the nearest patch of weeds, but I didn’t.
Instead, I kicked out with a foot and stopped. I couldn’t practically outrun it and at the distance it was, it would get to me in about five seconds, far too short for me to find a place to hide. There was no thinking going on in my mind, no feelings of panic or even a slight hint of apprehension. Instead, I felt…..hungry. And the hunger made me stop and wait for it.
Just as it was about to reach me, the Slaughterfish slowed down and shook its head from side to side in confusion. My body reacted naturally and pounced. One hand tightened around its tail, the other clamped that ugly maw shut. I gouged out its eyes with my fingers in the process. This wasn’t fishing anymore. This was simply about devouring or being devoured. In this case, I was the one who did the devouring, biting where its heart had to be. I gobbled a lump my mouth could barely hold and swallowed the whole thing without chewing, scales, bones, blood, half a heart and even a lot of water.
After that first bite, the fish died nearly instantaneously and I came back to my senses. A feeling of revulsion was the first I got, next was the more sober thought that I should swim somewhere else. With all the blood the Slaughterfish was leaking, I wouldn’t be surprised if another would come looking for an easy meal. I swam away and settled down behind a rock. My memories of what had just happened were rather blurry, but I still understood most of it. I’d gone too long without a real meal, and I had just felt the consequences. The rat I caught in the cell hadn’t been much. It had nearly been as starved as I’d been. I felt better now, though.
I looked at my hand, which seemed transparent. It was the reason why the Slaughterfish had gotten confused and slowed down enough for me to grab it. It was interesting, and scary, how much instinct could control my actions. I thought of taking on my natural colour again as a form of defiance but after a second I changed my decision. If my camouflage was good enough to fool one of those monsters up close, it was good enough to keep them from hunting me in the first place. I blew out a few bubbles and left the rock. Finding some smaller fish to drop off at the boat was what I wanted to do right now. Preferably ones without any teeth.
Cyrodiil, Ocato’s office.
“Lord! Lord!” Ocato looked up at the sudden sound with an irritated expression. He instantly smoothed his expression down to one of stoic calm and scolded himself for showing weakness, even if it had only been for a mere moment.
“Yes? What matter would be so important that it is necessary to disturb a chancellor of the Council?” He asked in a dry monotone.
The pages all fidgeted about nervously and Ocato picked up a demeanor of considerate attention.
“Lord, we come here with important news.” One of them, an Imperial in his late forties, said. Ocato gestured for the man to continue.
“And what would this news be?” He asked at the same time.
“The Emperor, he is nowhere to be found within the palace. Servants are searching every chamber, but as of yet, they have not been succesfull.” The page continued after a short pause.
Ocato leaned back in his seat and glanced at the papers on his desk without seeing them.
“I see.” He muttered, addressing no one in particular. He looked up at the ornate clock hanging on the wall.
“Within the hour, the citizens shall flow to the palace to present their needs and issues to our liege.” He added. He calmly began to fold the papers and stack them into a pile which he then shoved to a corner of his desk. Once he was done, he stood up.
“Last night, men entered the palace with criminal intentions. The palace guard was, surprisingly, ineffective to prevent entry. As according to protocol in such an event, the Emperor was roused from his slumber and escorted to the Imperial prison where he would hide till the culprits had been caught and detained. You will find our liege there. Now go there and tell him that the threat has passed. I shall go to the palace and take his place till the moment of his return.” He ordered and watched the pages filter out of the door. Once they’d all left, he walked out himself.
Ocato had scarcely fled the office, or the air in a corner shimmered before settling into the form of a tall Altmer with grey curls reaching to his shoulders, dressed in a white robe similar to that of the pages, yet differing in the details. The Altmer leaned out beyond the doorway and peered down the hall before closing and locking the door. If any of Ocato’s houseservants came this way, they would find the door locked and assume that Ocato wished the room to remain undisturbed so that he could continue his work where he had left off upon his return. Or so the Altmer hoped.
He moved through the room slowly, with barely a sound. The first item he inspected was the stack of paper forms Ocato had left on his desk. It was about the organization of a festival next month, nothing that merited the Altmer’s interest. He placed the papers back in the position Ocato had put them, making sure he maintained the right order.
Next, he moved to a bookrack running along a sidewall. His finger skimmed over the titles till he found the one he had been looking for.
‘Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 431’
The Altmer placed the book down upon the desk and sat down. The first page confirmed what he’d expected. The numbers in it were about the money Ocato had donated to various organizations and individuals, on behalf of Uriel Septim VII. None of the numbers would appear in the official reports found at the palace.
He picked up an empty sheet of paper, as well as a new quill and bottle of ink. Ocato, the Altmer assumed, wouldn’t miss either since it wasn’t his task to look after the stock. The servants meanwhile, would assume Ocato had taken the items with him to the palace and would replenish the stock without a word. The Altmer allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he began to take notes of the more noteworthy reports. Reports of unusual events, or those that stood out due to their regularity. It wasn’t long till a pattern grew.
3E 403: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Cluson Alkad’ 8054 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Aran Geydar’ 531 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Rajn Treesap’ 531 septims
3E 403: Outfitting of Blade operatives with forged Legion equipment. 3067 septims
3E 404: Financial gift to Thieves guild infiltrant, for the purpose of aquiring a decommissioned navy vessel through illegitimate channels. 5400 septims
3E 404: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 404: Financial agreement with individual ‘Redriz Valerus.’ 16807 septims.
The Altmer tapped the paper at the last line and whistled softly. That was a lot of money for just a single agreement. He continued running down the list.
3E 404: Mage-copy designated ‘Luper Alkad’, inserted. Original placed in stasis. Financial agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual Redriz Valerus. 6000 septims.
Again the Altmer paused. So this Valerus had apparently been a mage, hired by the palace to forge a copy of a certain person. Then after his work had been done, Valerus had been silenced.
“Something important is going on here, but I don’t know what. I should keep my eye on this.” He thought.
3E 405: monetary gift to merchant-vessel ‘Blue Serpent’. 2400 septims
3E 405: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 405: Expenditure at Cyrodiil quality arms. 1 Elven Claymore. 1750 septims
He rechecked to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere.
“A single Claymore? Odd.”
3E 405: enchantment-costs for Elven Claymore. 7080 septims.
Surprisingly, the next few years were devoid of anything interesting, except for the regular
gift to the Kvatch temple, which was starting to stand out. Then, at 3E 427, the Altmer found something interesting again, even moreso since he knew the importance of this date.
3E 427: Agreement with Mage guild for memory-wipe of individual ‘Luper Alkad’. New memories implanted. 25970 septims.
3E 427: Prison-files altered. Silencing money paid. 4500 septims.
3E 427: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 429: Agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual ‘Luper Alkad’ 30000 septims.
3E 429: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 430: Financial gift to Dark Brotherhood for base reconstruction in Mournhold. 3300 septims
3E 430: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 431: Payment to Dark Brotherhood to cease threats of murder Uriel Septim VII. Hunt for individual ‘Luper Alkad’ cancelled. 20000 septims.
3E 431: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
The Altmer stopped writing. He had what he’d been looking for, pretty much. The Kvatch temple really stood out. Why, he didn’t know. What was more important, was the fact that there had been a noticeable peak in the number of Dark Brotherhood agreements in the year before. Then there was what he called the ‘Alkad’-case. He wondered what that was about. It seemed as if the matter had been resolved, pretty much. Though the amount of funds that case had siphoned over the years was incredible.
“To survive the Dark Brotherhood for two years and actually make the order so desperate it threatens the emperor just to have the hunt cancelled. I should keep an eye out for rumours regarding this man. He could be a threat.”
The Altmer folded up the paper, closed the bottle of ink and tucked everything he’d used in his pockets. He then unlocked the door, placed the key where he’d found it. Finally, he vanished into thin air.
Lake Rumare
The silvery blur tried to escape one hand but ran right into the other. I held on tight to keep it from escaping as I swam back to the boat where I dropped it into a waiting bucket. That was the fifth. Delmar pursed his lips as he looked at his own bucket.
“Just one here. I miss my youth. A rod just isn’t such a quick method.” He said and then grinned.
“Though on the other hand, I was one stressed out kiddo back in the days. Nowadays, I’m much more relaxed. Not a bad change.” He added. I could see he was still somewhat jealous though, despite his best attempts at making jokes. I dove back underwater without a word.
Two minutes of swimming later, I ran into another Slaughterfish. I steered clear of it and hid behind rocks as much as I could, despite the camouflage. Those buggers were starting to annoy me, really. I just couldn’t relax with those things around. I peeked up over the rock and saw that it was tearing through a school of frantic fish. It didn’t even kill just one. No, it tried to kill everything that moved and then only ate like two of the dozen dead fish. It made me mad, to see that waste. It also made me wonder how this ecosystem could possibly support such a stupid predator.
“Seriously. Everything else must breed like crazy just to keep up.”
I sighed and went the other way. Last trip, I’d noticed a school of fish just to the northwest, near the bank. It wasn’t the one that had been ripped apart by the Slaughterfish. I could tell cause they were different breeds. When I found the school, I settled down at the bottom of the lake near some weeds and waited for them to come. Judging by their swimming pattern, they probably fed on smaller creatures which in turn hid among the weeds, like the clump I was sitting next to. All I had to do was wait till they ventured over here on their own.
When the school arrived, I didn’t strike instantly. Instead, I kept waiting while trying to appear like just another rock, a trick made easier by turning my skin into grey with a gravely appearance. One fish went to investigate the cracks between my fingers. The moment it dipped its snouth into my cupped hands, I closed them and then waited till the rest of the school had moved on. Unlike the other predators around, I only took what I needed and allowed the rest to live and reproduce.
With the sixth fish in my hand, I made my way back to the boat, where I could see the hook of Delmar’s fishing rod floating in the water. It was still pristine. The worm hadn’t even been nibbled on. That was rather odd, considering the Slaughterfish I kept seeing everywhere. Then again, those big teeth weren’t really usefull for feeding on something as small as a worm.
As I looked at the dangling hook, I began to feel bad for some reason. I tried to ignore it but as I looked at the fish in my hands, I realized why I felt that way. I felt bad because Delmar had generally been nice to me and here I was, upstaging him at what he did best. Sure, it wasn’t really a competition, but it could be that he felt that way. He tried not to show it, but it made him feel uneasy. Maybe he really felt old, and considered it a bad thing.
I impaled the fish’s lips on the hook, closed the mouth around the worm and then gave a little tug before moving away from the boat. Making someone younger was beyond my abilities, but I could still comfort him, in my own way.
Cyrodiil, market
“Please, sir. If you have as few as a single coin to spare, I could eat today.” The beggar pleaded. The Altmer stopped and looked down at the scrawny Breton. One corner of his lips twitched upward as he dug in a pocket of his robe. His hand retrieved a coin and flipped it up in the air. The beggar caught the coin with surprising dexterity and rubbed the face on it. He quickly tucked the septim in his own pocket and bowed.
“Many thanks, kind sir. May you be blessed by the sixth golden dragon’s shade.” The Breton quipped, bowed again and sauntered off.
The Altmer continued walking across the market as if he’d already forgotten about his encounter with the beggar.
“Sixth golden dragon’s shade. Temple district, at the area cast in shadows at the setting sun.” He concluded after giving the riddle a moment of thought. The other corner of his mouth rose as well.
“I am somewhat surprised at finding that particular coin to still be in use, even after nearly half a century. Uriel, I had hoped you would become a bit more paranoid after that incident.” The smile turned sour.
“If you are this naïve in handling your intelligence, I hope you are much more considerate in choosing your hiding place.” For a moment, the smile returned.
“On the other hand, this sort of naivety must have provoked overconfidence within your enemies. If so, it should not be such a difficult task to find them.”
He took advantage of the fact that Cyrodiil was a circular city by simply following the road till he’d reached the temple district. From there, he began to circle the temple that gave the district its name. While circling, he stood still often and pretended to admire the beautifully sculpted marble. In reality however, he used these moments to study those around him. No one appeared to have any particular interest in him, which reassured him.
The spot the beggar had indicated turned out to be one of many benches, placed near a tree and some distance from the path. The Altmer walked over to it and sat down, instinctively shifting into a position that made it seem as if he was merely resting, or enjoying the sun on his face. Now that he was seated, he noticed why this bench was so well-suited for secret meetings. While in plain sight, the nearby temple bent the wind in such a way that it was impossible to listen in on a soft conversation being held by those sitting on the bench.
He tapped his knees with his fingers, while whistling a simple tune. It wasn’t long till an Imperial came to his bench and sat down. The Altmer observed the man from the corner of his eyes.
“Thick beard obscuring his lips, clothes of a commoner, no fancy jewellery, bag with letters. A courier, and apparently a contact.” He deduced. The Imperial stretched his entire body and jawned.
“Ah, nice weather today, isn’t it? Makes me just want to sit here and take a nap, rather than delivering the mail.” He said casually.
“Indeed.” The Altmer concurred. The courier grinned.
“Forgive me, but I am going to take a break now, sir Elf.” He laughed. Still laughing, he somehow managed to sneak a whisper among his howls.
“How can the Blades serve the Empire today?”
The Altmer cupped his hands and appeared to inspect his fingernails. Hidden from sight by his fingers, the air turned a vague violet and began to vibrate, creating sounds that resembled a voice.
“There was an assassination attempt on our liege last night. I have been ordered to conduct an investigation outside the official channels. What information do the Blades have?” The voice asked. The Blade cocked his eyebrows, a barely noticeable sign of being impressed by the subtle use of magicka.
The man took an apple out of his bag and took a bite.
“One or more assassins entered the prison compound. Killed all the guards and prisoners. Signs of a large-scale summon. We also found a previously unknown tunnel in prisonblock V which led to the sealed off foundations. Foundations are flooded and Argonian operatives are exploring it at this moment. It appears that our liege has been kidnapped and then been taken through the foundations. Either that, or he has been slain.” The Blade kept his face in a perfectly pleased and relaxed expression throughout. The Altmer on the other hand cultivated an impassive one that was fitting for a high-ranking mage, noble, or just an Altmer with his head in the clouds.
“I see. How can I enter the prison compound?” He asked.
“Tell them this. ‘I came to visit a friend for I fear that last night’s weather might have given him a cold. If I were to donate, would you give him a coat to wear?’ Show them a coin just like the one you gave the beggar.” The courier stretched again and got up, still chewing on his apple.
“Well, I’ve got to get going or the boss will get mad. Hope you’ll find your tongue again.” He said before walking away.
“Damn elves. Indeed, is that all they can say? Hmph, so much for the superior breed.” He grumbled. The Altmer leaned back and now truly enjoyed the sun. He would have to wait for a while in order to avoid suspicion anyway.
Lake Rumare
“Won’t you just look at this. I haven’t caught this many fish in years.” Delmar’s voice was calm and composed, but I could still feel he was absolutely brimming with excitement. There was a grand total of fourteen fish in the bucket, not a bad catch for an hour of two of honest work.
“Maybe I’m a good luck spirit.” I joked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. I swear, I just had to throw out the line and another fish would bite it.” Delmar laughed and took the oars. With a quick sweep, he changed heading and pushed the boat off towards the city at the center of the lake.
“Um, aren’t we going back to the shack and skin those fish?” I asked.
“I’ll get to that later, but first I figured I would take you to a certain person.” The old man replied.
“Certain person?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but the fact remained that we’d only met this morning. I just wasn’t ready to follow his lead without knowing where he was taking me. So I had to ask.
“Well, I have to admit I don’t know his name. I never even met him.” Delmar added. That didn’t really explain anything.
“So uh….It’s not that I don’t trust you, but why are we going to meet a guy you’ve never met before and whose name you don’t even know?” I muttered slowly and jabbed a finger at the bucket of fish.
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s because he would give you a good deal on raw fish.”
Delmar shook his head.
“You’re a nosy one, I give you that. But, you’re right. He won’t give me a good deal on raw fish. Rather, he isn’t even a trader. Well, not an open trader. He deals in…goods of debatable legitimacy.” He explained. The explanation made me frown.
“We’re going to meet a thief?” I inquired with a hint of disgust. The fisherman seemed surprised.
“You have something against the thieves guild?” He asked. The open disbelief he put in his words was too much for me so I turned to look out over the water.
“I don’t like people who steal. And I definitely don’t like an organization with the sole purpose of taking other people’s possessions. I just don’t.”
I could still see Delmar’s reflection in the water. It was as if I hadn’t averted my gaze at all.
“Hmm, I don’t really think much about the guild myself. But it honestly could be worse. At least the thieves guild doesn’t count any murderers among its members. I’ve heard that any member who crosses that line is given over to the guards.” He mumbled, talking more to himself than to me. I blinked and spun back to face the old man directly.
“You mean there is an actual organization of murderers here?!” I screamed.
The change in his expression was frightening. No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that he was frightened, and it rubbed off on me.
“Quiet! It’s not something you should bring up. What if they hear?” He whispered urgently and his eyes fled from side to side. I looked from side to side as well, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Why was he so scared all of a sudden? Did he have the superstitious belief that people knew it if you spoke about them? Or did he think that there was a murderer hiding behind every bush, ready to kill anyone who brought up the subject? But whether he was superstitious or not, that didn’t change the apparent fact that there was an organization of murderers.
“Murderers and thieves, banding together. This land is a sinhole.” I thought.
After a couple of minutes, Delmar had managed to relax somewhat.
“Why won’t the guards deal with that?” I asked all of a sudden. I bit my tongue right afterwards. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring that up again, just when the old fella had calmed down a bit.
“Deal with what?” Delmar asked.
“You know, crime. This thieves guild…and the other one.” I shrugged. I had already brought it up, might as well go on with it.
Delmar let the oars rest for a moment and looked over his shoulder at the city-walls that were quite close now.
“Trust me, they tried. They tried, held a raid every day, unannounced. But somehow, the thieves would always know and be gone before the guards arrived, only to return mere moments after they’d returned to the barracks. As for the other…” He got nervous again and licked his lips.
“Look, I’ll tell you this, but after that I really want you to never talk about it again. It’s for your own good. You understand, Maorlatta?”
I nodded. With a sigh of relief, Delmar picked up the oars again.
“The other…guild. There are stories about it. It’s members are like shadows, like ghosts, the worshippers of a terrible god with an unsatiable bloodthirst. They can move unseen and even if caught, they’ll turn to mist and vanish. The only clue to the guilds existence are the victims found the following morning, always drained of blood. But…they say you can summon them with some sort of evil ritual and no matter where you are, one will come.” He whispered, his eyes shifting back and forth.
“And that is that. Now I’ll hear none of it ever again.” He finished in a louder voice. Looking past him, I could see a rickety wooden pier. It looked as if we were there.
His story about the murderers felt like one big superstitious falsehood after another. But one part kept with me.
“Drained of blood. That reminds me.”
We landed at the pier and I jumped out with the rope. I quickly tied it around the pole and then doublechecked the knot to make sure the boat wouldn’t unravel it and drift away.
“You must have done that before.” Delmar noted dryly. I stretched my back and looked up at the walls.
“Well, grandfather wants me to become a perfect member of the family, father thinks it is good if I’m a bit more practical.” I said. I grinned.
“Though he isn’t that practical himself.” I added.
The old man picked up the bucket and stepped out onto the dock as well.
“Well, I can hear you’ve enjoyed your youth.” He spoke.
“It was fun, usually. I didn’t like all of it.” I replied.
“Oh, like what?” Delmar inquired. He moved towards a small door built into the wall and I followed.
“You know, education on subjects I’ll never have to deal with. How to lead the family for example. I’m like sixty-fourth in the line of inheritance.” I said with a casual shrug. I thought nothing of it, but he did.
“Line of inheritance? What are you, a noble?” He asked as if it was a big deal.
I thought for a moment before I came up with a good answer.
“Well, my family is reasonably wealthy and has a bit of social influence in the area. But it’s not as if we rule this continent. Knowing who is in charge if the old man dies is considered to be very important by most of us.” I said half-jokingly.
“But as I said, I’m sixty-fourth in line. My position won’t change when that happens, which probably won’t happen for the next few generations. So it’s nothing I should worry about.”
I cut off my monologue. Delmar had gotten awfully tense.
“Next few generations. That must be nice.” He muttered to himself so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it. It did make me frown.
“That must be nice? What’s so nice about grandfather dying?” I thought angrily for a moment. Then I figured it out.
“Oh, he was reminded of the fact that he’ll die in a few generations as well. I mean, how old is Delmar? Threehundred and a half? Must be. Any younger and he wouldn’t be so wrinkled.” It made me feel bad. Why did I constantly have to make him sad or frightened?
The door led to a dark alley. Wet cobblestones, some brown grub smeared on the walls, a couple of rats dashing away as soon as we got near. It was kind of spooky.
”It didn’t look this dirty on the outside.” I mumbled.
“I know. That’s what most people say the first time they look beyond the plazas, the temple and Nobleman’s street. Cyrodiil is beautiful on the outside but on the inside, it’s just as with people. Nothing’s ever perfect. I try to avoid this place, not enough guards here.” Delmar concurred. That reminded me.
“About that trader we were going to meet. We got a bit sidetracked, so I still don’t know why exactly we’re going to meet him.” I said.
“Since the prison was rather negligent, I figured we had to free you of those manacles and the uniform ourselves. Our trader happens to be experienced in this area.” He finally managed to give me his reasons. I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were heavy, bruised my skin and right now, rather wet. I would love to be rid of them. Same thing with the clothes, they itched. Though getting rid of that brought new complications.
“How do I pay? I don’t have any money.”
Delmar fought to hold back a frown. He did not succeed, obviously.
“I’ll probably have to work as an informant for a while.” He said after a moment. I frowned as well.
“Informant? Look, I appreciate the lengths you go to help me, but you shouldn’t consort with criminals any more than the absolute minimum. Besides, we just met this morning. I’m practically a stranger for you.” I pointed out and took hold of one of his sleeves.
“Come on, let’s go back to the boat. I’ll grab a sharp rock and see if I can force the lock or something.”
Delmar stopped and gave me a reassuring smile.
“It’s nice to see that you worry about me, but it is alright. I just want to do this. Besides, informant duty is risk-free and nothing big. I’ll just have to report on rumours and keep an eye on any boats coming past my shack at night. That’s all. And if the lock on those manacles could easily be forced with a rock, it wouldn’t be good enough for the prison. You need an expert to get those open.” He said. I sighed and let go of his sleeve.
“Oh, alright. But don’t go do anything you don’t want to.” I replied.
Lake Rumare, northern coast.
I didn’t look back nor did I slow my steps but I was already starting to doubt my decision. The old man had spirit, I gave him that. But spirit would not prevent his death. He was old, too old really. Even if the knives could be kept from his throat, time would finish the job sooner or later. I feared it would be sooner. I shook away my concerns. There was no going back now. I’d given him his choice and if I took it back now, it would make the offer meaningless. Besides, there were more pressing concerns. I would just have to trust him to keep his wits about him. He’d survived plenty of attempts on his life. He’d be fine, if he kept from sight. Though I did wonder what became of the Bosmer. She didn’t seem like the type who would tag along with them, and even less likely to follow me. I worried a little. I worried, although I knew that I could not afford to spent time looking for her.
I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were meant to chain my hands behind my back during relocation from one cell to another, something which had never happened. Now, they would merely draw unwanted attention to myself. I focussed on them and they broke apart, splashing in the wet sand. I scrubbed some sand over them with a toe. It wasn’t the perfect hidingplace, but it would do. Next up were my clothes. They were the standard prisonergarb, cheap, rough and very eyecatching in their own way. I had no need for them, but till I got something better to wear, I would be stuck with them. I cared little for physical discomfort after decades behind bars, but simple decency kept me from ditching the crude rags. So I decided that my first step was to obtain replacements.
But where to find them? There were several options open to me. The light of a building shone to my left. It was probably a tavern. Last stop before the Imperial City, it’s sign might say. I could sneak in there and steal them. However, my goal was the Imperial City, not the last stop before it. I had no desire to waste time. The night would end shortly and with it, the wheel of gossip would begin to spin. I wished to be at the city by that time. That, and stealing was not something I approved off, even less so if there was a more satisfying solution available. That solution lay at the walls of the city. I followed the edge of the lake towards the bridge I remembered. There wasn’t much time, so I alternated between running and walking. If I skipped across the lake directly, I would greatly shorten the distance I needed to travel. But, the wandering torches on top of the wall alerted me to nighttime patrols. It wouldn’t do me much good if they saw something running across the water.
Lake Rumare, eastern side.
The Bosmer rose up to the surface and took her first breath of air since the last half an hour. The hills in the distance seemed to be ablaze, a sign that the sun would rise within minutes.
“Brrr, the water’s really cold here. Takes all the fun out of swimming.” She complained to herself as she looked around at the island she was on. There wsn’t much to see. It mas mostly a collection of sand, some grey rocks and shrubbery. There was a shack a stonesthrow from where she was standing. Next to the shack, a crude wooden pier extended into the lake. A rowboat bobbed on the shallow waves at the end of a short rope.
She took a few steps towards the shack, then stopped. It was the boat’s shadow underwater which had drawn her here, but she couldn’t see any light coming from behind the shack’s lone window. Perhaps it was abandoned? She shivered. She didn’t have much of a choice. If she couldn’t dry up soon, she would surely catch a cold. And the best chance for drying up was this shack. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
There was no answer, so she knocked again, and again. Still no answer. The only sound was the buzzing of crickets and the singing of frogs. Seeing no other way out, she tried the doorbolt.
“Besides, if this place is empty, it might actually be better. I don’t want to explain why I’m swimming in a lake at night. I don’t think swimming is a common hobby around here.” She thought. The door opened easily and without a sound, which seemed odd with the rundown appearance of the shack. If she’d looked closer though, she would have noticed that the door’s hinges were made of wood, not iron, and they’d been greased extensively.
Now that the door was open, she could hear some irregular snoring.
“So there is someone here. And asleep as well.” The first beam of sunlight pierced the window and shone on the slumbering person’s feet. Carefully, the Bosmer went in and reached for the person’s shoulder. She couldn’t tell gender or anything, as everything was hidden under the blankets except for the feet. But the feet were old and wrinkled and she expected the rest of the person to be similarly old. She’d planned to simply ask if she could borrow a towel or something similar, but she felt uneasy about waking up someone.
She hesitated for a moment before pulling her hand back.
“It would be rude for a stranger to disturb someone in his own house.” She looked around and found a grey blanket hanging on a fishingline near the window. She took it off the line and examined it. It had a rough texture and smelled like fish, but it seemed dry. Granted, everything in the shack smelled like fish. It was the first time she’d noticed the smell. She wrapped it around herself and sat down in a corner.
“I’ll make sure to thank that person, when he or she wakes up. Hmm, fish, smells like home.” The smell made her drowsy and she dozed off.
Cyrodiil, Waterfront.
The Redguard sailors were entertaining themselves with a song while unloading a shipment of crates. The song went about a sailor whose ship crashed. He was saved by a nymph who succumbed to the man’s charms and the story proceeded in a predictable manner.
“Excuse me!” A voice shouted from the dock. The cargomaster signalled the crew to keep working before he leaned on the handrails flanking the deck. Belwo him, he saw an Altmer in a blue robe standing next to the unloaded crates. For a moment the Redguard worried about his cargo, but he saw to his satisfaction that a Legionnaire patrol was nearby. There was no risk.
“Yes, can I help you, sir?!” He shouted back. The Altmer waved and gestured at the crates.
“I just noticed that sleeve sticking out from under the lid. Would you happen to be shipping clothes?” He asked. The Redguard nodded.
“Hold on, I’m coming down.” He shouted, waited for a pair of sailors carrying a crate to pass, then walked over the plank himself.
“Yes, we are shipping clothes. May I ask you for the reason of this interest?” He asked at a more conventional volume now that he was standing right next to the Altmer.
“Always be polite to people in robes. You never know if he’s a fireball-happy mage.” He thought to himself.
The Altmer touched the sleeve sticking out of one of the crates.
“Yes. My master, who works at the university, has run into a slight problem. He was conducting some experiments in his lab, with unfortunate results. I have been sent to aquire a new garb for him.” He explained as he inspected the silk. The cargomaster scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Ah, right. Did you check the market? This shipment is meant for a clothesstore there.” He commented.
“I already tried, yet the store is still closed at this hour. My master prefers to have his new garb before breakfast, when he must show himself to the apprentices. In his hurry, he sent me off without the means for a monetary compensation.” The Altmer said.
“I see. That’s a bit of a shame. Now I suppose you want a set of clothes from these crates?” The Redguard asked.
“That would be correct.” The Altmer replied with a nod.
“Hmm, now don’t get me wrong. I would be pleased to help you out, but I can’t just do it without getting anything in return. I’m sorry, but I’m not the captain of this ship, only the cargomaster. That, and there is still a quota we must reach.” The cargomaster answered.
The Altmer thought it over for a moment.
“Then perhaps, may I present you an offer?” He inquired. The Redguard shrugged.
“Please, go ahead.”
“Beyond being the master’s servant, I am also an advanced apprentice at the university. While I cannot vouch for my talents to be as sophisticated as that of a master, I am willing to give this ship my protection, in exchange for a single set of garb. I am quite certain that rarely does the actual number of items shipped equal the number of items in the quota.” It didn’t take long for the Redguard to make up his mind. He was almost surprised himself at how quickly he accepted the offer. Almost.
“A fine deal. We always carry extras in case we lose a crate during a storm. Agreed.”
The Altmer waved his hands into a multitude of aracane gestures as magicka whizzed about him in a mad storm. Then the particles streamed off and seeped into the hull, the sails, the ropes, the mast, even the lanterns at the bow and stern. Visibly, the ship rose at least half a metre out of the waves.
“I have lightened your vessel. With this, it will sail faster than before, and be able to carry more cargo before sinking.” The Altmer spoke. The Redguard gestured at the crates.
“Please, all yours. Let me pop the lid.” He said.
The Altmer selected an exquisite robe of white linen, with a matching sash and decorated by sewn in figures of golden threads. He then gave his thanks and walked away in the direction of the university with his precious load.
Lake Rumare, fisherman’s shack.
“And who might you be?” I opened my eyes with a snap. The shack’s owner stood bent over me. He was a guy, which would have worried me after the last few days. Only he was old where the others were not. The fire in his blood had been extinguished by the years.
“Ah, I’m really sorry! You see, I was really wet and so I thought I would go in and ask if I could borrow a towel. Only, you were asleep and I figured it would be rude to wake you up. Really sorry!” I apologized. I looked down at the blanket I’d wrapped myself in. It wasn’t wet, more like moist. The old man smiled friendly.
“No need to fear, my dear. If you’re wet, nothing’s better than a warm blanket, a crackling fire and a good old bowl of fish-soup. It’s a shame you had to miss out on two of these things.” He said. I gave him a smile of my own and cast off the blanket.
“Thank you! If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask! I can cook, I can clean, and do various other household chores!” I offered. His face paled and his smile fell.
“Excuse me?” I mumbled. The old man recomposed himself but he’d taken his distance, and his voice was a lot more collected when he talked to me again.
“Say, you wouldn’t be willing to tell me where you got those manacles, would you?”
I didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to stare at the wooden boards that made up the floor.
“I’d rather not. It’s kinda embarrassing.” I whispered. I then realized why he was so interested. He thought I was a murderer! Why else would I be wearing those things, I did got chained to the wall with them once. I blamed my lack of experience with prisons and criminals in general for not picking up the context in a heartbeat.
“You see, I was in this garden up in the big city. Nobody was around, it was late and it looked like a nice soft place to sleep. Next thing I know, this walking collection of Iron shows up and drags me to this cold place under the ground. It was really creepy there!” I nearly tripped over my tongue in my rush to explain.
“Vagrancy? Is that all? You got arrested for vagrancy?” The old man seemed positively relieved.
“Err, is that the word for sleeping in the wrong place? If so, that’s it.” I answered.
“I see. Bloody Legionnaires, never had much love for them. Now don’t get me wrong, they keep all the real scum off of our streets, but sometimes they’re just a bit too eager to serve and protect, if you know what I mean. And they threw you out without giving your own clothes back and taking off those manacles, crazy. They’re really slipping. Back in my days….Oh my, now I really sound as if I’m some old coot with half a foot in his grave. Nevermind that.” He said.
“Anyway, why don’t you stick around for a while? I’ve got some bread in the cupboard. Why don’t we have breakfast first? I’m sure you must be hungry. I’ve heard that prison meals are not very nutritious.”
“Oh, thank you!” I answered. When I saw the bread, I was not so thankfull anymore. It was stale, very salty and it looked like green moss was beginning to grow out of places.
“This sure isn’t how the baker makes them at home. Oh well, it would be rude to refuse now.” I thought and forced myself to eat a loaf and actually look as if I enjoyed it.
“Ugh, this thing’s harder than a rock. Brings a whole new aspect to the etiquette lessons the teachers stamped into me. Never thought I would apply them while eating bread while alone with some guy in a shack. Never thought I would be alone with a guy for that matter. If dad found out, he would raise a navy just to chop off his head. So I’m not going to tell him or anyone.” I thought while eating. The thinking was the real thing that kept me focussed. I barely tasted the bread. That was probably a good thing.
Once we were done, we sat down outside the door to warm up in the morning sun. The old man tied a line with a hook to a fishingrod and shoved the leftover crumbs into a bucket to use as bait.
“You’re a fisherman?” I asked. The man had regained his smile. It was a good smile, made me feel all warm inside. Not in a romantic way, but in the same way I felt when my father smiled at me.
“It’s what I do. It’s easy and I make enough money out of it to make a living. I won’t be a rich man, but there’s little I need to buy anyway.” He said. I shielded my eyes from the sun and gazed across the lake at the hills.
“Need help?” I inquired after a while. He looked up from his fishingrod.
“You’d like to fish? I only have one rod.” He replied.
“Well, I learned how to fish back home. But I don’t need a rod for it.” I answered. Again he smiled.
“Then what do you use? A spear?” I shook my head.
“A net? They’re good if you’re after big loads, bigger than my boat can handle.” Again I shook my head.
“With your bare hands?” This time, I nodded. He laughed.
For a moment, I felt insulted but I soon realized he wasn’t mocking me.
“Ah, that brings back memories. I used to fish with my hands. Now, I can’t keep up with them and have to rely on a rod. So you want to fish?” He said. Again I nodded.
“Well then, let’s get onboard and push off. I know a rich spot.”
He was stronger than he looked. The rowboat wasn’t exactly the lightest or the most streamlined affair and the paddles weren’t much to speak about either. But he still managed to push that, himself, the fishing equipment and me, all at a decent pace.
“It occurred to me that we haven’t made the introductions yet. I’m Delmar Tunius, fisherman.” He said with that fatherly tone. My, I was really beginning to like him. Now that was a first for this continent. Oh, there was that gold-skinned one, but he was too cold to really like. And after he just slaughtered…I sighed and shook off the thought. I didn’t want to think about it. I smiled at him before he could read my thoughts.
“Maorlatta Orgnum, merchant.” I answered and then bit my tongue. I wasn’t much of a merchant. No money, no decent clothes, no company or goods.
“Though I guess I’m reduced to begging now.” I added.
Delmar shook a finger.
“Let me give you a bit of advice, Maorlatta….mind if I call you that?” He stopped himself. I giggled.
“Sure. Why not?” He resumed rowing again.
“Never resort to begging. A septim a day can keep you alive, but without dignity, you’re nothing. Look at me, I’m barely better than a beggar, but I don’t beg. I fish, I make my living through that. I don’t sit in a corner and ask passersby for money. If you want to get anywhere in this live, you have to do it yourself. Don’t be a parasite. I’ve seen many beggars who could be fine workers, if they weren’t too lazy….Ah, look at me, going on and on. I think you got my point after the first four words.”
Cyrodiil, palace.
The Altmer examined his new garb for the last time as he leaned against the marble walls that encircled the palace. Admittedly, he could have simply maintained the illusion on his prison-outfit, but that would allow a margin of error he wasn’t going to risk. He could claim without any arrogance whatsoever that his skill at the art of deception was possibly among the greatest in the world, the source of legends. Yet, for all he was, he was not flawless. Wearing an actual outfit suited to the job was still preferable to an elaborate illusion.
He removed a loose thread and straightened out the last wrinkle when the sun burst over the walls. The Altmer took a deep breath and turned his eyes towards the golden doors of the palace. Now, the doors opened without the slightest sound and a dozen guards walked out, each wearing the stylized silver armour with the golden dragon-crest that was the mark of the palace-guard. The guards split up in pairs, moving out along the street. At regular intervals, one pair would stop and turn to face each other. They would raise their silver Claymores over the street as an arch. When the last pair had taken up position, the Altmer moved away from the wall.
An idle part of his mind observed the purely symbolic guards. They were no slouch in combat, certainly. In fact, they were rated amongs the greatest the continent had to offer. Their strength couldn’t be questioned either. They had trained years, just so they could stand perfectly still with their Claymores for six hours, not a simple feat. But still, their positioning was rather inefficient for a true guard. But that was why there were the normal guards patrolling the streets just beyond the ceremonial path. If there was trouble of sufficient magnitude to warrant their attention, a guard merely had to call and a dozen expertly skilled warriors would jump to his aid.
The Altmer remembered that the palace guards were Blades as well, high-ranking ones. The only reason why they weren’t wearing the lighter and more functional Blade armour was again symbolic. The perfectly polished plates reflected every last ray of sunlight, making the guards look less like mortal men and more like immortal dragons burning with devotion.
Just when the Altmer had begun to walk, a small group of pages dressed in white came out of the palace. Fear was evident on their face and in the way they had to force themselves not to run. As they hurried past him, the Altmer turned and began to follow. None of them noticed their party had gained a new member, so focussed were they on their task. The fact that he practically looked as if he was one of them helped. He had chosen his robe well.
“Right on schedule.”
Lake Rumare
I dangled a toe in the water. Now that the sun was shining, albeit it still hung pretty low in the sky, the water had heated up considerably. It was almost comfortable now. Delmar stopped rowing and pulled the oars back into the boat. He then took the fishingrod and pierced a worm on the hook.
“Alright, here we are. Now let’s go fishing. Keep an eye out for Slaughterfish.” He said. I carefully got up and rolled over the edge into the water. The boat barely rolled when I shifted my weight.
The water flooding into my nose was cold and I sneezed, which made a few bubbles shoot out of my nostrils.
“Brrr…still cold.” I said when I resurfaced. Delmar had dropped his rod and leaned over the edge of the boat.
“Just what are you doing?! You jumped in? I thought when you talked about using your hands you were going to grab any passing fish while sitting in the boat.” He stammered. I shrugged.
“I’m used to swimming.” I answered.
Delmar picked up his rod again with a sigh.
“But wasn’t the whole reason you sneaked into my home because you wanted to get dry?” He asked. Oops, should have remembered that. Well, too late now.
“Sorry.” I whispered. The old guy shook his head and leaned back.
“Oh, whatever. It is not as if I need the blankets myself. Just don’t go too far and stay away from the Slaughterfish. Those scaly bastards are really something.” He warned me. I waved and dove underwater.
I was about halfway to the bottom when instinct kicked in and I began to alter the water around me, splitting it into water and air. The air I would breathe while the water I spit out.
“Ok, I can stay underwater for half an hour. Let’s see. Where is a nice fish? I need a big one, for myself. I can’t fish till I’ve taken care of this.” I thought and began to swim around in circles, using both legs and arms to push myself forward at a decent clip.
The water was crystal-clear and I would have been able to see all the way to the other side, if my vision wasn’t so blurry underwater. My eyesight was still good enough to see a vague bronze shape hiding among some weeds, though. Curious, I turned towards it and sped up. It too turned and sped up as well, incredibly so. From near motionless, it had gone to match my speed, and then even triple it! All in less than a heartbeat. I could see it open its maw and reveal a set of really long teeth.
“Stay away from the Slaughterfish.” So this was a Slaughterfish? It looked worthy of its name. All muscle and teeth, and quick to boot. I knew I should turn away and get back to the boat or at least hide in the nearest patch of weeds, but I didn’t.
Instead, I kicked out with a foot and stopped. I couldn’t practically outrun it and at the distance it was, it would get to me in about five seconds, far too short for me to find a place to hide. There was no thinking going on in my mind, no feelings of panic or even a slight hint of apprehension. Instead, I felt…..hungry. And the hunger made me stop and wait for it.
Just as it was about to reach me, the Slaughterfish slowed down and shook its head from side to side in confusion. My body reacted naturally and pounced. One hand tightened around its tail, the other clamped that ugly maw shut. I gouged out its eyes with my fingers in the process. This wasn’t fishing anymore. This was simply about devouring or being devoured. In this case, I was the one who did the devouring, biting where its heart had to be. I gobbled a lump my mouth could barely hold and swallowed the whole thing without chewing, scales, bones, blood, half a heart and even a lot of water.
After that first bite, the fish died nearly instantaneously and I came back to my senses. A feeling of revulsion was the first I got, next was the more sober thought that I should swim somewhere else. With all the blood the Slaughterfish was leaking, I wouldn’t be surprised if another would come looking for an easy meal. I swam away and settled down behind a rock. My memories of what had just happened were rather blurry, but I still understood most of it. I’d gone too long without a real meal, and I had just felt the consequences. The rat I caught in the cell hadn’t been much. It had nearly been as starved as I’d been. I felt better now, though.
I looked at my hand, which seemed transparent. It was the reason why the Slaughterfish had gotten confused and slowed down enough for me to grab it. It was interesting, and scary, how much instinct could control my actions. I thought of taking on my natural colour again as a form of defiance but after a second I changed my decision. If my camouflage was good enough to fool one of those monsters up close, it was good enough to keep them from hunting me in the first place. I blew out a few bubbles and left the rock. Finding some smaller fish to drop off at the boat was what I wanted to do right now. Preferably ones without any teeth.
Cyrodiil, Ocato’s office.
“Lord! Lord!” Ocato looked up at the sudden sound with an irritated expression. He instantly smoothed his expression down to one of stoic calm and scolded himself for showing weakness, even if it had only been for a mere moment.
“Yes? What matter would be so important that it is necessary to disturb a chancellor of the Council?” He asked in a dry monotone.
The pages all fidgeted about nervously and Ocato picked up a demeanor of considerate attention.
“Lord, we come here with important news.” One of them, an Imperial in his late forties, said. Ocato gestured for the man to continue.
“And what would this news be?” He asked at the same time.
“The Emperor, he is nowhere to be found within the palace. Servants are searching every chamber, but as of yet, they have not been succesfull.” The page continued after a short pause.
Ocato leaned back in his seat and glanced at the papers on his desk without seeing them.
“I see.” He muttered, addressing no one in particular. He looked up at the ornate clock hanging on the wall.
“Within the hour, the citizens shall flow to the palace to present their needs and issues to our liege.” He added. He calmly began to fold the papers and stack them into a pile which he then shoved to a corner of his desk. Once he was done, he stood up.
“Last night, men entered the palace with criminal intentions. The palace guard was, surprisingly, ineffective to prevent entry. As according to protocol in such an event, the Emperor was roused from his slumber and escorted to the Imperial prison where he would hide till the culprits had been caught and detained. You will find our liege there. Now go there and tell him that the threat has passed. I shall go to the palace and take his place till the moment of his return.” He ordered and watched the pages filter out of the door. Once they’d all left, he walked out himself.
Ocato had scarcely fled the office, or the air in a corner shimmered before settling into the form of a tall Altmer with grey curls reaching to his shoulders, dressed in a white robe similar to that of the pages, yet differing in the details. The Altmer leaned out beyond the doorway and peered down the hall before closing and locking the door. If any of Ocato’s houseservants came this way, they would find the door locked and assume that Ocato wished the room to remain undisturbed so that he could continue his work where he had left off upon his return. Or so the Altmer hoped.
He moved through the room slowly, with barely a sound. The first item he inspected was the stack of paper forms Ocato had left on his desk. It was about the organization of a festival next month, nothing that merited the Altmer’s interest. He placed the papers back in the position Ocato had put them, making sure he maintained the right order.
Next, he moved to a bookrack running along a sidewall. His finger skimmed over the titles till he found the one he had been looking for.
‘Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 431’
The Altmer placed the book down upon the desk and sat down. The first page confirmed what he’d expected. The numbers in it were about the money Ocato had donated to various organizations and individuals, on behalf of Uriel Septim VII. None of the numbers would appear in the official reports found at the palace.
He picked up an empty sheet of paper, as well as a new quill and bottle of ink. Ocato, the Altmer assumed, wouldn’t miss either since it wasn’t his task to look after the stock. The servants meanwhile, would assume Ocato had taken the items with him to the palace and would replenish the stock without a word. The Altmer allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he began to take notes of the more noteworthy reports. Reports of unusual events, or those that stood out due to their regularity. It wasn’t long till a pattern grew.
3E 403: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Cluson Alkad’ 8054 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Aran Geydar’ 531 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Rajn Treesap’ 531 septims
3E 403: Outfitting of Blade operatives with forged Legion equipment. 3067 septims
3E 404: Financial gift to Thieves guild infiltrant, for the purpose of aquiring a decommissioned navy vessel through illegitimate channels. 5400 septims
3E 404: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 404: Financial agreement with individual ‘Redriz Valerus.’ 16807 septims.
The Altmer tapped the paper at the last line and whistled softly. That was a lot of money for just a single agreement. He continued running down the list.
3E 404: Mage-copy designated ‘Luper Alkad’, inserted. Original placed in stasis. Financial agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual Redriz Valerus. 6000 septims.
Again the Altmer paused. So this Valerus had apparently been a mage, hired by the palace to forge a copy of a certain person. Then after his work had been done, Valerus had been silenced.
“Something important is going on here, but I don’t know what. I should keep my eye on this.” He thought.
3E 405: monetary gift to merchant-vessel ‘Blue Serpent’. 2400 septims
3E 405: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 405: Expenditure at Cyrodiil quality arms. 1 Elven Claymore. 1750 septims
He rechecked to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere.
“A single Claymore? Odd.”
3E 405: enchantment-costs for Elven Claymore. 7080 septims.
Surprisingly, the next few years were devoid of anything interesting, except for the regular
gift to the Kvatch temple, which was starting to stand out. Then, at 3E 427, the Altmer found something interesting again, even moreso since he knew the importance of this date.
3E 427: Agreement with Mage guild for memory-wipe of individual ‘Luper Alkad’. New memories implanted. 25970 septims.
3E 427: Prison-files altered. Silencing money paid. 4500 septims.
3E 427: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 429: Agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual ‘Luper Alkad’ 30000 septims.
3E 429: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 430: Financial gift to Dark Brotherhood for base reconstruction in Mournhold. 3300 septims
3E 430: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 431: Payment to Dark Brotherhood to cease threats of murder Uriel Septim VII. Hunt for individual ‘Luper Alkad’ cancelled. 20000 septims.
3E 431: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
The Altmer stopped writing. He had what he’d been looking for, pretty much. The Kvatch temple really stood out. Why, he didn’t know. What was more important, was the fact that there had been a noticeable peak in the number of Dark Brotherhood agreements in the year before. Then there was what he called the ‘Alkad’-case. He wondered what that was about. It seemed as if the matter had been resolved, pretty much. Though the amount of funds that case had siphoned over the years was incredible.
“To survive the Dark Brotherhood for two years and actually make the order so desperate it threatens the emperor just to have the hunt cancelled. I should keep an eye out for rumours regarding this man. He could be a threat.”
The Altmer folded up the paper, closed the bottle of ink and tucked everything he’d used in his pockets. He then unlocked the door, placed the key where he’d found it. Finally, he vanished into thin air.
Lake Rumare
The silvery blur tried to escape one hand but ran right into the other. I held on tight to keep it from escaping as I swam back to the boat where I dropped it into a waiting bucket. That was the fifth. Delmar pursed his lips as he looked at his own bucket.
“Just one here. I miss my youth. A rod just isn’t such a quick method.” He said and then grinned.
“Though on the other hand, I was one stressed out kiddo back in the days. Nowadays, I’m much more relaxed. Not a bad change.” He added. I could see he was still somewhat jealous though, despite his best attempts at making jokes. I dove back underwater without a word.
Two minutes of swimming later, I ran into another Slaughterfish. I steered clear of it and hid behind rocks as much as I could, despite the camouflage. Those buggers were starting to annoy me, really. I just couldn’t relax with those things around. I peeked up over the rock and saw that it was tearing through a school of frantic fish. It didn’t even kill just one. No, it tried to kill everything that moved and then only ate like two of the dozen dead fish. It made me mad, to see that waste. It also made me wonder how this ecosystem could possibly support such a stupid predator.
“Seriously. Everything else must breed like crazy just to keep up.”
I sighed and went the other way. Last trip, I’d noticed a school of fish just to the northwest, near the bank. It wasn’t the one that had been ripped apart by the Slaughterfish. I could tell cause they were different breeds. When I found the school, I settled down at the bottom of the lake near some weeds and waited for them to come. Judging by their swimming pattern, they probably fed on smaller creatures which in turn hid among the weeds, like the clump I was sitting next to. All I had to do was wait till they ventured over here on their own.
When the school arrived, I didn’t strike instantly. Instead, I kept waiting while trying to appear like just another rock, a trick made easier by turning my skin into grey with a gravely appearance. One fish went to investigate the cracks between my fingers. The moment it dipped its snouth into my cupped hands, I closed them and then waited till the rest of the school had moved on. Unlike the other predators around, I only took what I needed and allowed the rest to live and reproduce.
With the sixth fish in my hand, I made my way back to the boat, where I could see the hook of Delmar’s fishing rod floating in the water. It was still pristine. The worm hadn’t even been nibbled on. That was rather odd, considering the Slaughterfish I kept seeing everywhere. Then again, those big teeth weren’t really usefull for feeding on something as small as a worm.
As I looked at the dangling hook, I began to feel bad for some reason. I tried to ignore it but as I looked at the fish in my hands, I realized why I felt that way. I felt bad because Delmar had generally been nice to me and here I was, upstaging him at what he did best. Sure, it wasn’t really a competition, but it could be that he felt that way. He tried not to show it, but it made him feel uneasy. Maybe he really felt old, and considered it a bad thing.
I impaled the fish’s lips on the hook, closed the mouth around the worm and then gave a little tug before moving away from the boat. Making someone younger was beyond my abilities, but I could still comfort him, in my own way.
Cyrodiil, market
“Please, sir. If you have as few as a single coin to spare, I could eat today.” The beggar pleaded. The Altmer stopped and looked down at the scrawny Breton. One corner of his lips twitched upward as he dug in a pocket of his robe. His hand retrieved a coin and flipped it up in the air. The beggar caught the coin with surprising dexterity and rubbed the face on it. He quickly tucked the septim in his own pocket and bowed.
“Many thanks, kind sir. May you be blessed by the sixth golden dragon’s shade.” The Breton quipped, bowed again and sauntered off.
The Altmer continued walking across the market as if he’d already forgotten about his encounter with the beggar.
“Sixth golden dragon’s shade. Temple district, at the area cast in shadows at the setting sun.” He concluded after giving the riddle a moment of thought. The other corner of his mouth rose as well.
“I am somewhat surprised at finding that particular coin to still be in use, even after nearly half a century. Uriel, I had hoped you would become a bit more paranoid after that incident.” The smile turned sour.
“If you are this naïve in handling your intelligence, I hope you are much more considerate in choosing your hiding place.” For a moment, the smile returned.
“On the other hand, this sort of naivety must have provoked overconfidence within your enemies. If so, it should not be such a difficult task to find them.”
He took advantage of the fact that Cyrodiil was a circular city by simply following the road till he’d reached the temple district. From there, he began to circle the temple that gave the district its name. While circling, he stood still often and pretended to admire the beautifully sculpted marble. In reality however, he used these moments to study those around him. No one appeared to have any particular interest in him, which reassured him.
The spot the beggar had indicated turned out to be one of many benches, placed near a tree and some distance from the path. The Altmer walked over to it and sat down, instinctively shifting into a position that made it seem as if he was merely resting, or enjoying the sun on his face. Now that he was seated, he noticed why this bench was so well-suited for secret meetings. While in plain sight, the nearby temple bent the wind in such a way that it was impossible to listen in on a soft conversation being held by those sitting on the bench.
He tapped his knees with his fingers, while whistling a simple tune. It wasn’t long till an Imperial came to his bench and sat down. The Altmer observed the man from the corner of his eyes.
“Thick beard obscuring his lips, clothes of a commoner, no fancy jewellery, bag with letters. A courier, and apparently a contact.” He deduced. The Imperial stretched his entire body and jawned.
“Ah, nice weather today, isn’t it? Makes me just want to sit here and take a nap, rather than delivering the mail.” He said casually.
“Indeed.” The Altmer concurred. The courier grinned.
“Forgive me, but I am going to take a break now, sir Elf.” He laughed. Still laughing, he somehow managed to sneak a whisper among his howls.
“How can the Blades serve the Empire today?”
The Altmer cupped his hands and appeared to inspect his fingernails. Hidden from sight by his fingers, the air turned a vague violet and began to vibrate, creating sounds that resembled a voice.
“There was an assassination attempt on our liege last night. I have been ordered to conduct an investigation outside the official channels. What information do the Blades have?” The voice asked. The Blade cocked his eyebrows, a barely noticeable sign of being impressed by the subtle use of magicka.
The man took an apple out of his bag and took a bite.
“One or more assassins entered the prison compound. Killed all the guards and prisoners. Signs of a large-scale summon. We also found a previously unknown tunnel in prisonblock V which led to the sealed off foundations. Foundations are flooded and Argonian operatives are exploring it at this moment. It appears that our liege has been kidnapped and then been taken through the foundations. Either that, or he has been slain.” The Blade kept his face in a perfectly pleased and relaxed expression throughout. The Altmer on the other hand cultivated an impassive one that was fitting for a high-ranking mage, noble, or just an Altmer with his head in the clouds.
“I see. How can I enter the prison compound?” He asked.
“Tell them this. ‘I came to visit a friend for I fear that last night’s weather might have given him a cold. If I were to donate, would you give him a coat to wear?’ Show them a coin just like the one you gave the beggar.” The courier stretched again and got up, still chewing on his apple.
“Well, I’ve got to get going or the boss will get mad. Hope you’ll find your tongue again.” He said before walking away.
“Damn elves. Indeed, is that all they can say? Hmph, so much for the superior breed.” He grumbled. The Altmer leaned back and now truly enjoyed the sun. He would have to wait for a while in order to avoid suspicion anyway.
Lake Rumare
“Won’t you just look at this. I haven’t caught this many fish in years.” Delmar’s voice was calm and composed, but I could still feel he was absolutely brimming with excitement. There was a grand total of fourteen fish in the bucket, not a bad catch for an hour of two of honest work.
“Maybe I’m a good luck spirit.” I joked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. I swear, I just had to throw out the line and another fish would bite it.” Delmar laughed and took the oars. With a quick sweep, he changed heading and pushed the boat off towards the city at the center of the lake.
“Um, aren’t we going back to the shack and skin those fish?” I asked.
“I’ll get to that later, but first I figured I would take you to a certain person.” The old man replied.
“Certain person?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but the fact remained that we’d only met this morning. I just wasn’t ready to follow his lead without knowing where he was taking me. So I had to ask.
“Well, I have to admit I don’t know his name. I never even met him.” Delmar added. That didn’t really explain anything.
“So uh….It’s not that I don’t trust you, but why are we going to meet a guy you’ve never met before and whose name you don’t even know?” I muttered slowly and jabbed a finger at the bucket of fish.
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s because he would give you a good deal on raw fish.”
Delmar shook his head.
“You’re a nosy one, I give you that. But, you’re right. He won’t give me a good deal on raw fish. Rather, he isn’t even a trader. Well, not an open trader. He deals in…goods of debatable legitimacy.” He explained. The explanation made me frown.
“We’re going to meet a thief?” I inquired with a hint of disgust. The fisherman seemed surprised.
“You have something against the thieves guild?” He asked. The open disbelief he put in his words was too much for me so I turned to look out over the water.
“I don’t like people who steal. And I definitely don’t like an organization with the sole purpose of taking other people’s possessions. I just don’t.”
I could still see Delmar’s reflection in the water. It was as if I hadn’t averted my gaze at all.
“Hmm, I don’t really think much about the guild myself. But it honestly could be worse. At least the thieves guild doesn’t count any murderers among its members. I’ve heard that any member who crosses that line is given over to the guards.” He mumbled, talking more to himself than to me. I blinked and spun back to face the old man directly.
“You mean there is an actual organization of murderers here?!” I screamed.
The change in his expression was frightening. No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that he was frightened, and it rubbed off on me.
“Quiet! It’s not something you should bring up. What if they hear?” He whispered urgently and his eyes fled from side to side. I looked from side to side as well, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Why was he so scared all of a sudden? Did he have the superstitious belief that people knew it if you spoke about them? Or did he think that there was a murderer hiding behind every bush, ready to kill anyone who brought up the subject? But whether he was superstitious or not, that didn’t change the apparent fact that there was an organization of murderers.
“Murderers and thieves, banding together. This land is a sinhole.” I thought.
After a couple of minutes, Delmar had managed to relax somewhat.
“Why won’t the guards deal with that?” I asked all of a sudden. I bit my tongue right afterwards. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring that up again, just when the old fella had calmed down a bit.
“Deal with what?” Delmar asked.
“You know, crime. This thieves guild…and the other one.” I shrugged. I had already brought it up, might as well go on with it.
Delmar let the oars rest for a moment and looked over his shoulder at the city-walls that were quite close now.
“Trust me, they tried. They tried, held a raid every day, unannounced. But somehow, the thieves would always know and be gone before the guards arrived, only to return mere moments after they’d returned to the barracks. As for the other…” He got nervous again and licked his lips.
“Look, I’ll tell you this, but after that I really want you to never talk about it again. It’s for your own good. You understand, Maorlatta?”
I nodded. With a sigh of relief, Delmar picked up the oars again.
“The other…guild. There are stories about it. It’s members are like shadows, like ghosts, the worshippers of a terrible god with an unsatiable bloodthirst. They can move unseen and even if caught, they’ll turn to mist and vanish. The only clue to the guilds existence are the victims found the following morning, always drained of blood. But…they say you can summon them with some sort of evil ritual and no matter where you are, one will come.” He whispered, his eyes shifting back and forth.
“And that is that. Now I’ll hear none of it ever again.” He finished in a louder voice. Looking past him, I could see a rickety wooden pier. It looked as if we were there.
His story about the murderers felt like one big superstitious falsehood after another. But one part kept with me.
“Drained of blood. That reminds me.”
We landed at the pier and I jumped out with the rope. I quickly tied it around the pole and then doublechecked the knot to make sure the boat wouldn’t unravel it and drift away.
“You must have done that before.” Delmar noted dryly. I stretched my back and looked up at the walls.
“Well, grandfather wants me to become a perfect member of the family, father thinks it is good if I’m a bit more practical.” I said. I grinned.
“Though he isn’t that practical himself.” I added.
The old man picked up the bucket and stepped out onto the dock as well.
“Well, I can hear you’ve enjoyed your youth.” He spoke.
“It was fun, usually. I didn’t like all of it.” I replied.
“Oh, like what?” Delmar inquired. He moved towards a small door built into the wall and I followed.
“You know, education on subjects I’ll never have to deal with. How to lead the family for example. I’m like sixty-fourth in the line of inheritance.” I said with a casual shrug. I thought nothing of it, but he did.
“Line of inheritance? What are you, a noble?” He asked as if it was a big deal.
I thought for a moment before I came up with a good answer.
“Well, my family is reasonably wealthy and has a bit of social influence in the area. But it’s not as if we rule this continent. Knowing who is in charge if the old man dies is considered to be very important by most of us.” I said half-jokingly.
“But as I said, I’m sixty-fourth in line. My position won’t change when that happens, which probably won’t happen for the next few generations. So it’s nothing I should worry about.”
I cut off my monologue. Delmar had gotten awfully tense.
“Next few generations. That must be nice.” He muttered to himself so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it. It did make me frown.
“That must be nice? What’s so nice about grandfather dying?” I thought angrily for a moment. Then I figured it out.
“Oh, he was reminded of the fact that he’ll die in a few generations as well. I mean, how old is Delmar? Threehundred and a half? Must be. Any younger and he wouldn’t be so wrinkled.” It made me feel bad. Why did I constantly have to make him sad or frightened?
The door led to a dark alley. Wet cobblestones, some brown grub smeared on the walls, a couple of rats dashing away as soon as we got near. It was kind of spooky.
”It didn’t look this dirty on the outside.” I mumbled.
“I know. That’s what most people say the first time they look beyond the plazas, the temple and Nobleman’s street. Cyrodiil is beautiful on the outside but on the inside, it’s just as with people. Nothing’s ever perfect. I try to avoid this place, not enough guards here.” Delmar concurred. That reminded me.
“About that trader we were going to meet. We got a bit sidetracked, so I still don’t know why exactly we’re going to meet him.” I said.
“Since the prison was rather negligent, I figured we had to free you of those manacles and the uniform ourselves. Our trader happens to be experienced in this area.” He finally managed to give me his reasons. I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were heavy, bruised my skin and right now, rather wet. I would love to be rid of them. Same thing with the clothes, they itched. Though getting rid of that brought new complications.
“How do I pay? I don’t have any money.”
Delmar fought to hold back a frown. He did not succeed, obviously.
“I’ll probably have to work as an informant for a while.” He said after a moment. I frowned as well.
“Informant? Look, I appreciate the lengths you go to help me, but you shouldn’t consort with criminals any more than the absolute minimum. Besides, we just met this morning. I’m practically a stranger for you.” I pointed out and took hold of one of his sleeves.
“Come on, let’s go back to the boat. I’ll grab a sharp rock and see if I can force the lock or something.”
Delmar stopped and gave me a reassuring smile.
“It’s nice to see that you worry about me, but it is alright. I just want to do this. Besides, informant duty is risk-free and nothing big. I’ll just have to report on rumours and keep an eye on any boats coming past my shack at night. That’s all. And if the lock on those manacles could easily be forced with a rock, it wouldn’t be good enough for the prison. You need an expert to get those open.” He said. I sighed and let go of his sleeve.
“Oh, alright. But don’t go do anything you don’t want to.” I replied.