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As we watched she managed to skilfully disarm one of her opponents, flicking his katana away with the gleaming edge of Dragonbane and knocking him to his back. The other Blade, stepping in to strike missed entirely as Viconia gracefully flipped off the ground with her free hand, ducking under the strike and sweeping the second Blade off her feet as well. All three stopped at the end of the practice and I could see Viconia’s hair flowing in the breeze as she fought bareheaded, panting with the exertion and sweating even in the cold mountain air.
The numbers of Blades in the fortress had grown over the previous fortnight and now over fifty of them moved and training and ate within the heated halls. They slept, trained and rotated on sentry duty over the valleys below, ensuring that nothing and no one would approach unannounced. Messengers from below would come up almost several times a day, saddlebags brimming with messages and notes from agents scattered throughout the Empire for Jauffre’s eyes. The Grandmaster of the Blades easily knew more of what was occurring throughout the Empire than a dozen or more members of the Elder Council.
What snippets of information we heard or were provided were troubling. In the wake of the murders of the Emperor and his heirs, unrest was increasingly building throughout the Empire. Plots, both imaginary and real were being investigated and fingers pointed in all directions at those deemed responsible. The destruction of an entire city at the claws and teeth of daedra certainly didn’t help the situation and soon accusing eyes were glancing in the direction of Summerset Isle and Red Mountain. Both the Altmer and the great houses of Morrowind were the racially obvious choices for intrigue and consorting with daedra but from what Jauffre had gleaned from the reports of hundreds of agents, both the Altmer and Dunmer were just as confused and concerned as the Empire was. Neither province wanted the full might of the Imperial Legion arrayed against them in retaliation for perceived crimes and as far as anyone could tell they too were actively seeking those responsible with almost undue haste.
The list of suspects seemed to be dwindling rapidly but Jauffre’s mood in particular was souring as day after day. Hundreds of messages and notes from other Blades did little more than strike names from the list of those potentially responsible. As of yet there was no clue on who exactly was the guilty party. While the days lengthened and winter approached with no progress on finding the assassins the Empire slowly began to decay.
The Elder Council was stagnated and wracked with indecision. Where they should’ve been choosing a leader to take over in the growing crisis they instead bickered and jostled for power and position amongst themselves. Individual counts, dukes, kings and rulers politicked and quarrelled, spent favours like septims and backstabbed each other figuratively and in at least one case literally. No one was rising to claim the throne or even take proper stewardship of it due to the fact that nearly everyone else on the council was reaching for the same goal with their hands so firmly planted on the rungs of power their feet were free to kick at those below. The only individual who seemed to be above the petty power mongering was High Councillor Ocato who’s pleas for a unified Empire was consistently being shouted down by the others.
And everywhere the cracks were forming. Blackmarsh, ever fractious and brought into the empire with treaty and diplomacy was already looking to secede. Now that the firm rule of the Emperor was no longer holding them back against the depravations of Dunmer Slavers of House Dres the beginning of a militia or resistance was beginning to take shape. The Dunmer themselves were already squabbling despite Lord Vivec’s attempts to control the unruly houses. The wounds of the Nerevarine’s return and the fall of Dagoth Ur was still fresh in the minds with only a few years passing since the fall of the sixth house. In faraway places like Highrock, the Orcish Strongholds were already finding themselves in renewed fighting and raids against the encroachment of the Bretons.
The threads were unravelling and what was worse, the armoured might of the Legions remained behind the stone walls of their fortresses and did nothing. Some even going as far as reducing the number of patrols throughout the countryside. Without the authority of the Emperor or someone nominated to lead in his stead the Legions sat idle and no one, not even local governors and members of the Council could order the Legions to quell the growing discontent. Banditry and animal attacks were already on the rise in just a few weeks of idleness. The mightiest military that had ever existed in the history of Tamriel seemed fated to slowly rot and rust away behind walls while the Empire fell apart around them.
So I found myself becoming increasingly interested in training and learning my new skills and abilities just that little bit more with every passing day. Under the tutelage of the Blades I knew I was growing even more lethal with a sword until I could my own against some of the best within the Empire. It was at the point where Belisarius and I began to spar again that one of the newest recruits to the order came hurriedly from the interior of the Great Hall and approached the training square.
"Viconia, Kaius. The Grandmaster requests your presence."
I narrowly parried a strike from Belisarius’ blade centimetres from my throat and he nodded in the recruit’s direction. "Best you don’t keep the old man waiting." He said simply, sheathing his sword in the same liquid movement that I doubted I could ever match.
Viconia disentangled herself from her own practice session, leaving her sparring partners to continue on against each other and making our way up the short steps towards the oaken doorway. We had spent little time together since our arrival but there was still that strange layer of familiarity between us from the few weeks as travelling companions.
We entered the hall and made our way quickly through the carved hallways to the officers’ quarters and where Jauffre made his study. The pile of messages and written sheets of parchment were strewn across the desk that he was habitually seated behind. Every so often one of the recruits would be seen with armfuls as they went to dispose of the irrelevant in the fireplace. From this simply decorated room Jauffre commanded the entire espionage network of the Empire, the sprawling spiders web of information that began with his quill and inkpot and lead to the handful of spymasters in each province. Each spymaster commanded a small force of Blades and each Blade would have their own tiny network of informants, spies and snitches in every walk of life and at every level of power. As I looked at the old, weary looking Grandmaster I doubted that there wasn’t a single spoken or written word throughout the Empire that didn’t find itself reported to a member of the order. From the lowest beggar to the mightiest Lord there was nothing that happened in Tamriel without finding itself on a report to one of the Emperor’s soldier-spies.
He looked up as we entered, the muffled sound of our armour barely echoing in carved stone rooms. It looked as though he had barely slept since our rapid journey from the priory but his mind was no less sharp for that.
"Ah. Grab a seat you two." He motioned to the several seats that were placed seemingly at random throughout his office. A barely slept in bed lay pressed to the far wall but other than it, the desk and the chairs there was nothing in the room other than piles of written parchment. "I have news regarding our mutual enemies."
Our attention was immediately gained and we took up seats facing him. Wordlessly Martin appeared in the doorway and took up a seat as well against the wall, a pair of books that he had obviously been studying in his hands.
"We have finally managed to track those responsible not only for the death of the Emperor and his sons, but also for the attack on the Priory and the destruction of Kvatch."
Seeing that he had both our undivided attentions he continued, shuffling a few of the sheets out of the way and leaning back in his chair. "They call themselves the Mythic Dawn and they are a cult who worships Mehrunes Dagon."
"Mehrunes Dagon?" Viconia asked, and we all realised that she was unfamiliar of the gods and demons of the surface world.
"The Daedric Prince of destruction, bloodshed and betrayal. You both have been to his realm when you closed that portal and as far as what we can tell these cultists are seeking to turn all of Mundus into the same. So you better than anyone understands what fate lays in store for us if they manage to succeed."
I swore under my breath. "But how in Oblivion’s name do they hope to achieve something like that?"
Martin spoke up this time, looking almost as tired as Jauffre and I realised that he had been working just as hard as the aged spy. "By killing the Emperor and stopping the Dragonfires burning for the first time in history."
"That sounds absurdly simple."
There was a sigh from Martin and he rubbed his eyes. "Unfortunately in theory it is. In practice though you would have to kill the entire line of the Emperors and ensure that a coronation couldn’t take place to relight the Dragonfires. With the loss of the Amulet of Kings there is no way that the ritual could work, even if myself or some other suitable leader could be found."
"The Amulet of Kings," He continued. "is old. Exceedingly old. Saint Alessia was granted it by Akatosh who, as the legends and stories go placed a piece of his soul and bound it together with hers to forge the central stone. Since then the blood and soul of every reigning Emperor is apparently bound in the Amulet and strengthens not only the covenant between men and Akatosh, but also strengthens the barriers between our world and the realm of Oblivion."
"So this bond is now broken with no way to renew it unless we can find the Amulet."
"Exactly. On top of that it is the only thing at this time that could stop the Empire from fracturing apart and war breaking out. Only those of Septim Blood or suitable to rule can wear the Amulet and as such only someone wearing the Amulet will be able to be unanimously recognised by the Elder Council. That we believe is the only way to stop their squabbling long enough to stop wars between the provinces."
"So how does this assist in these daedra worshippers in bringing about the end of the world?" Viconia’s interest was flashing behind her eyes now and I felt uncomfortable with the way she seemed entranced at the darker side of magicka.
"The barriers are already weakening, gradually decaying from the level they have been reinforced to over the past millennia. Oblivion Portals such as the ones that destroyed Kvatch have been known to be possible, but never for anything longer than a few minutes at most. With the barrier decaying conjurers are going to be able to summon creatures for longer, and soon even the most ill-prepared mage is going to be able to conjure the worst Oblivion has to offer without the slightest effort. Kvatch is going to be the beginning and little more than an introduction to the horrors that await us."
I violently spat a curse and Jauffre nodded with agreement.
"How long are we looking at before all hell literally breaks loose?"
Jauffre and Martin shared a glance that did nothing to sate the growing fear in my belly. "About eighteen months. Two years at the very most." Martin eventually replied. "Once the barriers are broken, the creatures of Oblivion will flood into this world and Mundus will simply become part of that accursed realm."
"So we find the Amulet, get you to the Temple of the One and relight the Dragonfires to save the world?"
"You make it sound overly simple but yes, that’s the general plan."
Viconia and I shared a look and I could see the burning hunger of the awaiting challenge in her gaze. "Where do we come into all this? We’re not spies and I’ve never been good at unravelling mysteries."
"Lucky for you, you don’t have to worry about investigating these cultists. The entire might of the Blades is currently searching for them wherever they may try to hide and thankfully we have been given our best lead in the Imperial City. Young Baurus; the survivor of the Emperor’s bodyguards has managed to unearth a cell of them operating within the City and has requested help in dealing with them as well as tracking down their primary base of operations."
"And you need us to help him find them?"
Jauffre’s head shook. "I’m not sending you there to investigate... I’m sending you to exterminate. Normally I would rely on the Imperial Watch or the Legion for these sort of activities but without the support of the Elder Council my authority is hindered. There are too few of us to spare in this initial phase but once you have burned out the cult within the Imperial City I will be able to send a handful of Blades to assist you in dealing with their main lair."
Over the next few hours the four of us plotted and discussed what was to come. Viconia and I were to travel to the Imperial City and meet Baurus within a Boarding House in the Elven Gardens District. One of the many hundreds of safe houses scattered throughout the Empire it was here that Baurus had been living and working from since the Emperor’s death. To be able to track down a handful of individuals in the largest city in the world was true testament to not just his dedication but his skill. Now with promising leads he needed assistance in tracking down and burning the cult out with force and Viconia and I were the only ones available to do so on such short notice. We sat within Jauffre’s study for a time, before retiring to make our arrangements for the short journey in the morning. Even on foot it was a short travel south to the city but as time was of the essence and despite my misgivings and desire not to find myself in the saddle again we would travel by horse.
As the journey was short we didn’t take much, leaving with little more than our armour, weapons and clothes and carrying very little food and water. Jauffre had provided us with a fairly substantial amount of septims to pay for lodging and supplies while within the city for however long that it might take. Once we had assisted Baurus and hopefully located the whereabouts of either the cult’s primary home or the Amulet of Kings we were to relay the location back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Upon receiving word of our success Jauffre would send a larger team of Blades to assist us in destroying the cult and retrieving the Amulet.
The plan was simple but simple plans always seemed to work better and had higher chances of success. Once morning broke over the horizon Viconia and I said our farewells and began the trek to the south. Neither of us were impressed with riding again, our bodies remembering all too well the agony of the journey through the darkness after the destruction of the Priory. We rode steadily, making good time and even managing to stay in an inn in the town of Bleakers Way for the evening. It was a surprisingly pleasant journey in comparison to the previous weeks of endless walking through forests, hills and plains and after such an introduction to travelling by horse the gentle canter that we managed turned a three-day journey into an overnight one.
As the waters of Lake Rumare drew closer so did the towering, sprawling majesty of the Imperial City. Gleaming walls of white stone and marble rose spectacularly into the sky and I watched with a grin at Viconia’s open expression of astonishment as we boarded one of the many barges to cross the calm waters of the lake. Our horses were left with one of stables that dotted the waters edge, their stone walls sturdy and well-built despite appearing positively crude in comparison to the Ayleid-made city on the island. A quick haggle with the bargemen, answering the questions from the usual assortment of tariffs and customs officials ensuring that no good went untaxed soon ensured that we were on board the boat and making our way to the City itself.
The Imperial City was unlike anything to be found in all of Tamriel, and judging from Viconia’s expression; in the Underdark as well. A curtain wall six kilometres in diameter and thirty metres tall, formed a perfect circle that carved out a section in the island it was built into. However as we drew closer to the northern bank of the island our eyes were drawn upwards at the enormous spear of white marble and stone that pierced the heavens. White Gold Tower, made by the hands of the long dead Ayleids towered above everything and could been seen for hundreds of kilometres in all directions. Hundreds of metres tall and a hundred wide at the base it was figuratively and literally the heart of the Cyrodiilic Empire. Within the spire lay the theatre and the hundreds of seats where the Elder Council met, the Imperial Palace in which every Emperor and his family had lived and the temple of the Moth Priests and their enormous collection of priceless Elder Scrolls. There was more concentrated power within those stones than could be found anywhere else in the Empire and as such attracted countless thousands like moths to a candle.
Cities such as Anvil and Leyawiin could lay claim to being the largest cities in Cyrodiil and even the wider empire with over a 120,000 souls living in and around their walls. Far away Daggerfall too had claim to a massive population of an estimated 110,000 but they were nothing to the incomprehensible numbers on City Isle. Over a million men, mer and beastfolk made the Imperial City and the rest of the Island their home, their numbers spilling out from the neat circular districts and their architecturally pleasing designs. Houses, apartments, workshops, warehouses, huts and shanty’s crowded over every inch of land and even out onto the water. They jostled against each other, leaning and growing, rising multiple stories into the air in vain attempts to match the sheer scale of the ancient Ayleid structures countless generations of men had claimed within. Made of brick, stones, wood and plaster the buildings outside created a distinct opposite impression of the perfect organisation of the structures inside, growing and shifting like mould as streets and blocks shifted and moved over the centuries.
Only the most affluent and well-off could live within the city walls for any period of time. The wealthy could afford to rent apartments within the Elven Gardens or Talos Plaza Districts but only the most exceedingly rich could ever possibly hope to own anything more within the walls. Even inheritance was no guarantee of being able to own even the smallest of buildings, houses or apartments, where the shifting price of the tiniest piece of property ensured that Counts and members of the Elder Council had to take deep looks into their purses in contemplation before making purchases.
But the Imperial City was the heart of the Empire, the city where-all-roads-led. The sprawling multitudes and the secured trade routes both by land and sea by the might of the Legion and Imperial Navy ensured that goods from throughout Tamriel could be found within its bustling marketplaces. Arms and armour from orcish smiths sat alongside silks from the depths of Blackmarsh, spices from Elsweyr, furs from Skyrim and alchemical ingredients from Valenwood. Ebony hewn from the heart of Vvardenfell was fashioned by expert smiths into the greatest of crafts, and silver and gold from Highrock was combined with gems and precious stones from the Summerset Isles before being paraded by the wealthy and powerful of the city. Anything could be found at a price in such a place, but as with all great collections of power and money those who coveted it with hungry eyes could also be found.
Outside of the walls, the powerful and wealthy held little sway as the thousands who called the city their home were born, raised, matured, had families, grew old and died. Many would live their entire lives in the shadow of White Gold Tower, never leaving the Isle and the bustling throngs that swarmed over it. Within such a place and despite the constant vigil and actions of the Imperial Watch crime was rampant and every nook and cranny was home to the penniless, destitute and desperate. In darkened corners cutthroats and cutpurses plied their trades and smugglers and thieves made use of the millennia old sewers and tunnels that ate their way into the rock beneath the flagstones. Gangs would prowl the streets in various shades of legitimacy and legality. Some were little more than animals that the Watch put down without hesitation and others, while not the most honest of groups still seemed to have more honour than those seated in the Elder Council. Daedra worshippers, slavers, pilgrims, freemen, guildsmen, citizens and numerous others lived within the closely-packed streets and houses, going about their lives as they ate, slept, made love, celebrated, raised families and died in various ways. Most would possibly never travel further than the City Isle itself and would undoubtedly be cremated or laid to rest within a few hundred metres of their birthplace.
It was this world within a world that Viconia and I soon found ourselves in, the press of bodies heavy around us as we moved in our full armour and feeling uneasy with the sudden press of the crowds after so long within the wilds of Cyrodiil. Viconia was full of wonder at such a place even as she recoiled from the mass of people and the sheer bustling, overwhelming nature of it. The sights, smells, and sounds overlapped and were mixed together until barely any semblance of order remained. Even despite our appearances; Viconia’s beauty, ebony skin and white hair, and my own tall, armoured and scarred visage barely even warranted a glance from the population of the City. Those teeming thousands were so used to the multitudes from throughout the bounds of the Empire that we were able to effortlessly disappear in plain sight.
We threaded our way through the streets and through the enormous gatehouse on the North Eastern side where the pristine path lead from the Imperial Prison to the central ring around the base of White Gold Tower. The four gates located around the walls were heavily crowded by buildings built up over the centuries but their major thoroughfares were kept open to ensure that the flow of traffic and people never slowed. Each gate served as entrance and route to the major points on the isle; the North Eastern gate lead to the Imperial Prison and the Headquarters of the Legion, the South East to the Arcane University and the home of the Mages Guild. The South West led to the enormous city docks where dozens of ships ranging from enormous barges and caravels built for lengthy journeys at sea moored alongside smaller galleys and cogs for the river trade. The three smaller gates however were utterly insignificant in scale to the Western gate, where its mouth opened directly onto the ancient bridge connecting the City to the Mainland and the town of Weye on the Western Shore. An almost impossible feat of engineering, the ancient stone bridge was over two kilometres in length and wide enough that an entire legion could march across in columns of fifty men abreast.
While the docks brought in trade from throughout the Empire, the Bridge brought uncountable tonnes of food and supplies from the counties of Cyrodiil, each bag and wagon ensuring that famine and starvation was only barely held at bay for the city. It took almost the entire harvests of counties Cheydinhal, Bravil, Kvatch and Anvil just to keep the populace fed enough to stop starvation and death, and food convoys would travel from as far away as Hammerfell and northern Elsweyr to feed the city of thousands. Such a titanic undertaking not only seemed possible but happened with such prodigious ease and regularity that a mass starvation or famine hadn’t occurred on the Isle for over 600 years.
It was in this place of teeming numbers and appearance of a humanoid anthill that Viconia and I had come to find and kill a tiny nest of a dozen or more. Such a task should have been impossible but simply served to show the incredible skill and ability of the Empire’s spies.
Our destination was a seemingly innocuous affair in a city of wonders. While fastidiously maintained by a literal army of street sweepers and cleaners there was no hiding the fact that this particular series of streets within the Elven Gardens district were rougher than most. It was the little details of weather beaten signs hanging in the breeze, the taste of soot from cooking fires and hearths and the sudden sensation and appearance of a layer of grime coating every wall and surface from uncountable years of habitation. The crowds appeared to be rougher than the usual passers-by threading their way through the Temple or Arena districts with their gardens, temples to the Nine and collections of theatres, upper class taverns and bathhouses. Instead there were other hard-bitten adventurers, sell swords, mercenaries, tradesmen, labourers and those who relied on such individuals for their own trades. Bawdyhouses, low-rate bathhouses, taverns, inns and other various houses of ill repute could be found at every turn of the head, as well as bunkhouses, boarding houses and comparatively cheaper apartments compared to the rest of the city. Almost every bodily desire was catered for, and the further one delved into the back alleys and darkened corridors the more and more hedonistic of desires could be sated.
It was here that we found the Boarding house run by an associate of the Blades and that possibly provided the only safe house for the members of the order in the entire city. Solidly built and smelling of unwashed bodies and stale alcohol there was little to recommend to the place. However, in an area frequented by the more roughest of individuals Viconia and I were able to travel and move freely and without suspicion. Our own appearances were perfectly suited for such a place and even as we pushed our way inside no one but the owner standing behind the bar bothered to even look up at us for more than a second.
Until the early hours of the evening we waited within the dining room of the boarding house, having arranged for individual rooms and resting comfortably. The advice from Jauffre was to arrive, make ourselves known and simply wait for Baurus to show himself before rendering whatever assistance we could. Luther Broad was a well-built slab of muscle that was slowly wasting into fat from the years of running the boarding house. Thick wrestler’s arms, trunks of legs and a bullish neck despite the balding head ringed with grey hair ensured that rarely anyone caused issues within his business. If they did they soon found themselves vacating the premises and only if they were lucky he’d open the door first before throwing them out into the street.
We settled in and made ourselves at home, shedding most of our equipment in our rooms and remaining in the dining area near the lit hearth that left the room somewhat stuffy from the temperature. From the chill of the southern Jerals it was a pleasant experience despite how I kept myself armoured while I sat at the bar, sipping Colovian Brandy and wishing for a mug of Vvardenfell Matze. While staying for any period of time within a city I rarely drank water, and despite the unique and efficient plumbing and aqueducts of the Imperial City I wasn’t going to take my chances drinking anything that wasn’t alcohol or boiled repeatedly.
Viconia found herself drawn into one of the various games being played through the room. The Boarding house seemed to be a popular place for the working classes of the City, and a glance around the room showed over two dozen individuals from a variety of trades and professions. Masons, carpenters, smiths, guildsmen, caravan hands, sellswords, tailors, street sweepers, daytalers, jewellers all mixed and intermingled to some degree despite the various races and genders. While overwhelmingly Imperial, there were Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer, Bretons and Nords and almost surprisingly a handful of Orcs, Argonians and Khajiit seated at the tables or standing near the bar. Some played dice, which seemed to fascinate Viconia especially when she realised that she was good at it. Some sat at the bar and stared into the mugs and a very small group was near the back wall, tossing daggers into a wooden board hung haphazardly and showing clear signs of a being a popular target. Such a place seemed almost like home to me, especially how except for the bearing of those around me and the lack of uniforms it could’ve passed for a Legion bar.
As the evening approached the numbers inside seemed to grow and more and more men and women of all races began to finish their shifts or duties of the day and slink into their favourite watering holes. Meals began to be served as the fifth hour tolled across the city from the dozens of chapels and churches across the isle but not for a moment did the City grow quiet. Every hour of every single day life continued. Temples filled for sermons, theatres filled with patrons and held shows, and bloodthirsty roars echoed from the Area District as fights, tournaments, jousts and duels were played out, sometimes resulting with the death of one or more involved. Taverns continued their trade of all hours of the evening and as night fell the darker aspects of entertainment came out to ply their trades. Women of the night, catamites, escorts and dealers of skooma and other narcotics would appear in the gathering shadows and no matter how much effort the Watch went to they would never be able to remove all such individuals and groups.
My thoughts were broken by the portly form of Luther sliding a pair of copper pieces across the surface of the bar with a meaty hand.
"Ere’s your change." He growled, staring at me for just long enough that I was forced to look at him for a moment.
For the second that our eyes met he frowned and darted his eyes in the direction of the door and not for a second did a single muscle move or his expression change. I hadn’t ordered or paid for a drink in over an hour and knew a message when I saw it, turning my head slightly and looking across to the entrance and seeing the handful of individuals making their way in for the night.
There was nothing about any of them that were of the slightest interest, each no different from the two dozen others that were already frequenting the dining hall and the rest of the boarding house. Mumbling some half-hearted form of response, I dragged the pair of coins over to myself, pocketing them in one of the few pouches that I still had attached to my belt and looking over the new arrivals for any traces of familiarity.
For a second my eyes alighted on the young looking Redguard, skin a dark bronze and looking no different from the dozens of other labourers that filled the city. In a second I recognised him even despite the fact that the last time I had seen him was fully dressed in his Akaviri splint mail armour and drenched in the blood of the Emperor’s assassins. Baurus looked far younger than I thought and as he made his way through the crowded dining room there was no hint of the man that was one of the few chosen to defend the Emperor.
Seemingly at random he seated himself at the bar, dragging up a stool beside me and motioning to Luther and one of the various alcoholic drinks arrayed in casks and barrels along the wall. A handful of coins appeared, and vanished into Luther’s hand before a flagon slid in front of him as though conjured.
Baurus nodded his thanks, taking a mouthful of the potent mixture frothing in his cup and seemed to talk without even moving his lips.
"I’m going to get up in a minute and walk out the back." He said, his voice travelling no further than my ears as he simply seemed to go about relaxing at the bar. "That guy in the corner wearing the brown shirt and leather boots who came in after I did will follow me. I want you to follow him..."
I swung around on my stool, looking about the room quickly and picking out the man that Baurus had spoken of. The short, grey haired Breton seemed to be intently staring at Baurus with a nervous energy that his attempts to appear relaxed did little to dissipate. To any of those in the room it appeared as though I had simply turned to see where Viconia was and upon gaining her attention motioned to my drink with a silent query of whether she wanted something herself. For a second she looked confused, head tilting slightly, eyes glancing at Baurus at my side before her yellow eyes widened at the realisation. She caught on quickly, shrugging and waving off the question in favour of continuing her dice game against the others surrounding the table where a small pile of gold and silver coins continued to grow on her side.
Turning back around I raised my own flagon and drained a sizable amount of the remainder, before making a show of wiping my chin clear of dregs on the back of my gloved hand. "Ready when you are." I breathed, placing the mostly empty flagon back on the bar.
Baurus’ voice was a whisper that no one other than me could hear in the room. I still couldn’t see any hint of his lips moving. "Good. Wait for him to follow me. I want to see what he’ll do."
He knocked back the rest of his own drink in a single, well-practiced motion, sliding the flagon and its foamy remnants across the bar and standing with all the appearance of needing to relieve himself. There was no trace of the man that I had seen in the catacombs and nothing that revealed that the young Redguard moving away from the bar was a highly trained swordsman and spy. He moved almost clumsily, tripping slightly on a raised stone in the floor before disappearing through a door leading to the Boarding House’s basement.
The Breton moved with almost a comical haste, rising as soon as Baurus had dropped out of sight and almost elbowing his way through the press in the room between him and the door. I watched from the corner of my eye as he moved, waiting for him to walk behind me before pushing my mostly empty flagon across the bar and catching a knowing look in Luther’s eye as I did so.
Viconia too watched our disappearance with hooded eyes, staying at her seat after I gestured to her to wait where she was. I somehow knew that if things got out of hand that she would have my back and in a place where a barroom brawl was almost guaranteed I knew that I could rely on her. Quickly but carefully I made my way to the door they had disappeared through, glancing about to see if anyone had noticed the strange goings-on before slipping through into the darkness of a stairwell.
The smell of musty damp and leaking casks and barrels of alcohol immediately hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold, the several short flights of stairs lit at every corner by a closed oil lantern where they angled away to the left. The cellar of the Boarding house was where the numerous reserves of food and alcohol were kept and where the drainage and pipes from the upper levels connected together as they fed into the sewers and tunnels beneath the city. It was cold and dark and I immediately found myself sensing trouble.
It was less than a dozen metres long but much wider, filled with rows and rows of bottle racks, stacked wine casks, and barrels of salted meats, beers, meads and other various varieties of alcohol. Of Baurus there was no sign, he somehow managing to disappear into the room with greater effectiveness than with a spell of invisibility and this was a fact that the suddenly very anxious Breton was uncomfortably aware of.
I made no sound as I stepped down from the last step and onto the cellar’s stone floor despite wearing more than thirty kilograms of armour and chainmail. My vampiric nature and the fortnight of practice moving and sneaking in my equipment at Cloud Ruler allowed me to almost materialise within the room behind the frantic Breton spy. His head snapped back to face me with an all-too-guilty expression, giving me the uncomfortable image of a deer facing down an onrushing wolf and staring at me in utter shock.
His mouth hung open for a second, realising that he was not only found out but trapped in the cellar with my armoured form between him and escape. For a moment he almost appeared to consider running or attempting to make it past me before his panic truly set in and he began to whisper short sharp syllables that felt like daggers being dragged across my flesh.
Exploding into action at the first sounds I rushed forward the few short paces between us as his daedric armour began to materialise around him with every crawling word. For a second he almost appeared to look triumphant as the familiar snarling mask consumed his face with its otherworldly appearance and an obsidian bladed dagger began to form in his hand. As he choked out the last of the conjuring spell my plated boot lashed out into his chest with a crack of broken ribs and a shattered sternum. He flopped onto his back, spreadeagled and his incantation being brutally cut away mid-breath by shards of bone piercing his lungs. Trying desperately one more time to summon his daedric arms and armour or something even worse he tried to force the words from his throat, concentrating on the magicka even as I caved in his face with my heel.
With his nose jammed through his brain the spell failed, armour fading and dissolving away like all those others Viconia and I had faced. The bloody and ruined form of the would-be assassin was left looking extremely mortal and frail in death.
Baurus appeared from between a pair of shelves containing rows of wine bottles, looking over my handiwork with some distaste at the way I had taken care of his would-be assassin. "Overkill is not something you believe in, is it?" he remarked as he saw the ruin of the man’s features.
"I’m fairly certain that if they’re dead, they can’t complain about it." I replied bitterly. "Besides, I’m not one for playing fair with daedra worshippers."
"That you are not." He strode over to me and shook my hand with gratitude. "I am glad to see you but you seem to have a knack of catching me at a bad time."
"Nothing I can do about that."
"I know, but you can help me do something about this." He motioned to the fresh corpse even as he knelt over it and began patting down pockets and sleeves. "I don’t think Luther will appreciate having to clean this up."
Motioning to the far end of the cellar he began dragging the body by the armpits. "There’s a grate down there that drops down into the sewers. Luther uses it to dispose of any meat that’s gone bad so it’s perfect for getting rid of this fellow."
Between the two of us we managed to manhandle the corpse and stuff it down the chute into the darkness beneath the city. Rats and other creatures that I didn’t particularly want to think about would not take long in disposing of the body and there would be little evidence of the man’s fate. Even if the corpse was found in the bowels of the Imperial city, it wouldn’t be the only one down there and especially wouldn’t be the first murder of the day.
Together Baurus and I returned back to the dining hall and Luther noticed the distinct way how three men had gone into the basement and only two had returned. He didn’t even spare a sideways glance at the two of us and provided even less of one as I nodded once to Viconia and waited for her to finish the current round of dice she was playing. Standing, and collecting her winnings she made her way across the crowded room with several more pouches of coins than what she had started with. Together the two of us followed Baurus up the stairs to the sleeping quarters and the 2nd floor where some of the longer term resident’s apartments were located. Typically, while the higher floors had better views and ventilation, most of the longer term residents lived on the 2nd and 3rd floors rather than the 4th to 6th due to the increased risk of dying if a fire broke out. Fires may have been uncommon in the Imperial City but were still a considerable risk and never far from everyone’s minds.
Without a word he motioned us inside his room, locking the door behind us and moving over to one of the several sturdy appearing cupboards built along and against the walls. Each were large enough to hide in comfortably and it didn’t surprise me when he opened one, shifted some clothing aside and pushed the false panel away before stepping through.
Carefully hidden and completely unnoticeable on the floor that it was situated a secret room had been built in the decades or centuries past. It was hidden in one of the many crawlspaces that allowed the collections of plumbing, pipework and ventilation to snake through between rooms in most Ayleid constructions. Within this space were several stacks of chests built into the walls, racks of armour, clothes, containers containing official papers and all manner of items and equipment required for the Empires spy network to operate clandestinely. If the time came however for stealth and secrecy to be put aside, the several suits of recognisable splint mail and rows of katana’s were available to outfit over a dozen blades in their full panoply of warfare.
Closing the cupboard doors and the false panel behind us I felt the tingle of magicka as the enchantments sealing the room ensured that any sound, spoken or otherwise would go no further than its confines. It was a consistent hum in the back of my mind that was felt as though preceding a headache but I knew that for the moment at least we could speak freely.
"Now that we have some privacy I guess it’s about time that I let you know exactly what is going on." he said, after introducing himself to Viconia. "This evening’s event has unfortunately pushed things over a precipice somewhat and we are now running out of time."
He motioned for us to take seats in the tiny room, Viconia lifted herself up onto a chest mounted to the wall and somehow managing to appear completely at ease but quivering with a dangerous energy at the same time. I leant against the wall next to a suit of Avakiri armour and waited for Baurus to seat at the desk in the room and begin explaining the situation.
"As Jauffre has certainly told you, the Assassins who killed the Emperor and his sons were part of a daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn. I’ve been tracking their agents in the City, but they have obviously noticed. The Imperial City so far appears to be their primary recruiting location but the members of this cult come from across Tamriel."
"Jauffre said that they were good at covering their tracks."
Nodding sombrely, he clenched his fist and began rapping his knuckles against the wood of the desk. "They are. Too damn good. Unlike most cults they don’t start as a little club banding together in the sewers or meeting for book readings or twisting sermons to suit their own interpretations. They are a lot more esoteric and far more difficult to track down as a result."
Viconia’s eyes shone in the darkness, glints of malice and strangely familiar with such situations. "How do they recruit members?"
"With these." With a heavy thump he pulled a trio of books out from a drawer and lightly dropped them on the desk. "These are the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, written by the leader of the cult; Mankar Camoran."
"I don’t understand." Viconia said, running her fingers lightly over the surface of one of the books and feeling the vellum as she lightly flicked through the pages.
"There are four of these books, together they apparently show the way to the home of the Cult, but it is extremely difficult to get all four. Books one and two are easy, and as far as any of our investigations have found there are copies in nearly every bookstore and market across the entirety of the Empire. Book three is more difficult and while there are easily thousands of the others scattered to the four winds, there are possibly only a couple of hundred of book three to be found. This is the 2nd copy I have managed to find in the entire city and I had to bribe the owner of First Edition just to get my hands on it."
"And book four?" I asked, picking one of the books up and briefly leafing through the pages and trying to discern what appeared to be the words of a madman scrawled throughout it.
"Book four can only be given by a member of the Cult, and only after you manage to find the location by translating and discerning it from the first three. An associate of mine in the Arcane University is an expert in daedric cults and has my other copy of the third book. Tar-Meena may be an argonian but she’s got a smart head on her shoulders and knows more about daedra and their worshippers than we do about breathing. Only those who have all four books can utilise them to find the hidden path and therefore prove themselves worthy to join the ranks of the cult."
"So if we get our hands on the fourth book, we can find out where their home is and then Viconia, myself and a group of Blades can go and destroy them?"
"Exactly, but hopefully retrieving the Amulet of Kings in the process. Without it all we’ve done is buy ourselves time before the end."

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