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i am so impure
by i am better than orange soda
The Imperial was sitting at the table in the Sanctuary's living quarters. In nervous habit, he continued to sheath and unsheath his dagger. It was four in the morning, and the man's mind was restless. About an hour ago, the Argonian Teinaava had returned from a rather tedious contract. At the moment he was lying face down, out cold for the night. Though he wasn't exactly sure what had gone so horridly wrong on the quest, one thing the Imperial was sure about was that Teinaava was as unable to wake up as he was unable to fall asleep. Seriously the Eliminator could've probably came in clashing around in Gogron's armor while singing "Sithis is a Myth-is" and the Argonian would still not even stir.
He envied the lizard. The insomnia had been going on for at least three days now. This is what happens when Ocheeva failed to find him a new contract. It was sad really that life without murder seemed so meaningless to the man that he couldn't sleep. Unfortunately, there wasn't anybody in the Sanctuary awake to keep him occupied. Antoinetta, lying on her bed, kept stirring in her sleep and making sudden noises, like a child in a nightmare. Neither Telaendril nor Gogron were there that particular night. Talos only knew what they were off doing. Ocheeva was awake, but she was his superior and bothering her ran the risk of getting exiled. In fact the only life form there was to talk to was M'raaj-Dar, who was gritting his teeth as he sat across from the Imperial and attempted to eat his breakfast. Every once in awhile, the Khajiit would glance up and grumble under his breath something derogatory about him. The Eliminator didn't mind. He just played with the blade and stared into space.
Life in the Sanctuary had been slow for the past few weeks. Because of this boredom, the Dark siblings had begun to lash out at each other. Gogron had been extremely irritable recently, growling insults at everyone, even Telaendril. Just a couple days earlier the Eliminator had walked in on the mer, sobbing her eyes out, after a rather emotional row with the Orc. It wasn't just Gogron who was raging. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats, ready to rip the throat out of whoever next spoke to him. Sure enough, M'raaj-Dar, the sadistic bastard, had been in a rather cheery mood since this tension had swallowed up the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. It was getting ugly. The previous night at dinner Vincente had gone off on Antoinetta Marie for serving garlic with the meal again.
"What part of keep garlic off of my gods-damned plate don't you understand, you pathetic accuse for a life?" Vincente roared at the younger Breton. He was standing at the head of the table spewing fury at the girl who had made the meal and was sitting a few seats down from him. The whole table was in a hush. Nobody wanted to interfere in fear of the wrath of the raging vampire. The Imperial slowly and carefully put his fork down and did his best to remain out of the line of fire.
Antoinetta's face was flushed with silent tears. She cringed as the elder Breton hurled his plate at the wall next to her. From the opposite end of Valtieri, Ocheeva made a rather maternal noise of disapproval at the vampire's rash actions. Never before had the Sanctuary really looked as much of a family as it did in that moment. Vincente was the pushed-to-far father raging out at Antoinetta, the frightened youngest child. M'raaj-Dar was the jealous older brother who was concealing a smile at his younger sibling's fall from favoritism. Oddly enough, the Orc was acting the part of the older sibling, sitting silently, hoping that he wasn't dragged into the fight. Once Vincente finally stormed out of the room, Telaendril assumed the role of the comforting big sister trying to console the young girl who had burst into a fit of sobs.
At least this was the family scene the Imperial knew all too well. For he knew, family wasn't a fairytale. His childhood had been a series of events just like this one. Every time he played the invisible son who wanted nothing more than to stand up and throw his plate back at his father. Did he think that just because he was bigger than her he could push her around like garbage. How dare he take his anger out on that defenseless girl? Except the man kept forgetting that Antoinetta was not a defenseless little girl. She could take care of herself just fine.
"Go away!" she spat at Telaendril about fifteen minutes later once everyone else had left the Living Quarters. "I don't need you or anyone else!"
The Bosmer sighed heavily and left the room upon the younger woman's wishes. The Breton broke down weeping into her bed. The Imperial was sitting in the corner of the room reading a copy of M'raaj-Dar's Ahzirr Traajijazeri. He figured the Khajiit might not mind too much. Apparently, the young girl hadn't recognized he was there and he didn't want to chance disturbing her from her crying by leaving. As he listened to her break down, he thought about how hard it had to be. She had finally found a home after all these years of living on the streets, stealing whatever food she could. Now, it seemed like her new family didn't care about her. This had been a mindset he shared with Antoinetta. Sure most of the members to the Brotherhood called each other family, but Antoinetta and he actually saw the fellow Sanctuary Dwellers as their family. This place was their home. He imagined the pain the young girl must've felt. Just trying to empathize with her, he wanted the feeling to go away. It was terrifying. He wanted to hold the girl in his arms and let her know it would all work out. That there was method to the madness. She didn't have to be alone!
After awhile, her anguish died down and she sat on her bed, sniveling every so often. Suddenly she recognized her brother's presence.
"How long have you been here?" the girl demanded in a cold, soft voice.
He paused a second, knowing he was about to tread on thin ice, and answered calmly and quietly, "Awhile."
"I don't need your pity," she spat. Her stringy blonde hair fell in her pale, despondent face, giving her the look of a troubled adolescent.
"You don't need anybody," he spoke for her, "You are completely capable for taking care of yourself. We're really just getting in your way. You are better off alone, aren't you?"
The girl tried to retort back to this, but no words came to her mouth. He had said everything she had to say and made her look like an angry teenager in the process. It frustrated her, and he could see this in her face. No matter how much he wanted to help, when he opened his mouth the only thing he did was make things worse. The girl's frustration quickly turned to anger.
"I guess you are any better off Dom," she sniped, "Let's all get down on our knees and worship the ruler of all that is right, Domitius Marcus!"
"Antoinetta," he began, trying to reason with her, but it was no use. She was beyond consolation. He expected her to go off on some spiteful tirade, when she abruptly broke back down into tears. This time he knew he should leave so he got up and proceeded out of the room. Dom was almost out into the hallway when she spoke from behind him.
"You have no idea what it's like," she claimed through her tears. It was true. There was left much to his imagination what she had gone through before he met her. For all his mind he just didn't understand her. The girl was an enigma, full of complex emotions. Not even Julianos knew what was going on in her head. Since Dom couldn't resist a challenge, it frustrated him to the highest extent that he had no idea what she felt. He just couldn't piece together a thought, and it angered him. He was close enough to shake her and scream 'I want to help!'. There was this angry frustration that just made his head feel like it would explode until he finally yelled back at her.
"Mara, Ann!" he exclaimed. "How is anybody supposed to know what it's like? You act all nice and cheery, but you don't let anybody in! We want to help you Ann, but you keep pushing us away!"
Her tears stopped and her face flushed with anger. Her eyes were brimming with hatred toward the Imperial. He actually thought she might take a swipe at him. "As opposed to you?" she asked in a sneer, "I at least try to act friendly to people! You walk around as if you were dead! The only people you ever bother to talk to is Ocheeva and Vincente, and that's when you're getting contracts! The rest of the time, you just sit in your corners with your nose up some book. You say I don't let anybody in. Look in the mirror you goddamn hypocrite!"
This had caught him off guard. He couldn't find a way to reply to the harsh truth. He found himself spurting out everything that came to mind, just louder and angrier, "What do you want from me? I'll give you anything you need to know, sweetheart! Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in Anvil. He grew up near the sea and always wanted to be a sailor one day. Many of the other children thought he was a bit queer because he never talked to anyone. This was because his bastard father was never at home, and if he was, then he was drunk and angry. His mother was a sick little Breton who never left the house. One day when he was a teenager his mother finally died after years of suffering, so he went to live with his older sister and her husband in Kvatch. He hated Kvatch more than anything in the world because there was no ocean near it. When he was finally old enough to leave the damned city, he traveled back down to Anvil."
His voice lowered and he continued on in an icy voice, "He lived a pretty happy life back in Anvil. Until one day, a ship pulled into port and later that night, on his way back home from his job he ran into a drunken sailor. The sailor took a swing at him, and the young man accidentally killed him out of self-defense. When he saw the body on the ground, he had a strange feeling. He was not frightened or remorseful that was what frightened the man more than anything. Instead he felt like all that rage was pouring out of him. All those years of passive anger were finally flowing through his veins. It wasn't enough though, the man wanted to destroy something beautiful. So he took the sailor's sword and went down to the waterfront where he met pretty Mirabelle Monet. When the whore took him up to her room he slit her throat and then proceeded to kill every last one of the pirates that came into the Fo'c's'le. Early the next morning Lucien Lachance gave him an offer he couldn't refuse. The rest of the story, I do believe you know Antoinetta."
A twisted smile came to his face as the Breton girl looked at him with a look of sudden empathy. The hatred had fallen from her eyes and now they looked as wide as a child's, fascinated with this story. Honestly neither of them had expected to hear this. No one had heard the story of what he had done. Like Antoinetta had so kindly pointed out he didn't talk to many of his family members. On occasion he would have a chat with either Telaendril or Tienaava. He never told anybody anything about his background though. Sure most of the family knew he had come from Anvil and had an older sister that died in the attack on Kvatch. Other than that, nobody knew about his family and he gave no hint that they were anything other than a normal Cyrodiilic family. The girl sighed and bent over her bed to go through her chest. She sat back up holding two apples and patted the bed next to her, motioning for him to sit down.
They had talked until around ten at night when the bitter Khajiit sauntered in, 'apologizing' for "interrupting your precious 'girl-talk' time".' Antoinetta had told him tales of the streets. Some were humorous and others were more on the sad side. They both talked about contracts gone horribly wrong, like his awful experience with the Montierre zombies, her walking into the house next to the one she needed to be at and telling the wrong Nord woman that Sithis needed her soul. For the first time in ages, Dom had finally felt like he had a friend. After M'raaj-Dar interrupted their conversation, the Breton girl decided she should get some sleep leaving the Imperial alone with his insomnia.
::bloody bloody::
It was around six and the whole Sanctuary was still asleep when Ocheeva got a letter from Lachance. The letter was about a new contract that he wanted the young Eliminator Domitius to handle. Honestly a contract was good news. After all that had been happening in the Sanctuary recently, the murderers needed some fresh air. Especially Domitius, that boy was yearning for word of a new contract. Ocheeva admired his eagerness to serve the Dark Lord Sithis. He'd also shown to be good friend by handling the Scar-Tail affair for her and Tienaava. Knowing how elated he would be to hear of a new project, the Argonian quickly made her way to tell him the good news. After expecting to find him in bed, Ocheeva finally found him thrusting his knife into a dummy in the training room. The young man looked drained from lack of sleep. His brown hair hung limp in his face and dark circles had formed under his blue eyes. Apparently lost in his practice, the Imperial didn't even notice the Argonian woman's presence. She approached him and asked, "Marcus?"
The man sheathed his weapon and turned to face his superior. Nodding his head in reverence, he spoke in a weary voice, "Sorry Ocheeva. I've been a bit restless recently so I apologize for not noticing you."
"Ah, Domitius," she smiled, "I understand fully. You thirst for bloodshed, and it is hard to focus after such a long dry-spell. Sithis would be proud of your devotion."
"Yeah," the youth grinned at the Argonian, "I guess that's the best way to explain it."
"Well I bring good tidings for you," Ocheeva told him, "I finally have a new contract for you."
::bloody bloody::
"Summermist?" Antoinetta Marie laughed. The whole idea of a murder party sounded all too ridiculous.
The Imperial crossed his arms at the girl and leaned back in his chair. "Are you done?" he asked with a bit of attitude to his voice. She stopped chuckling and pouted at her Brother. He was so serious about his business that it was endearing. She leaned forward on the round table, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh, lighten up Dommie," she suggested. Instead Domitius scowled a bit. There was no use reasoning with him so she sat up and tried to be a bit more helpful in his idea of help. The Breton inquired in a more serious voice, "So tell me again about this murder party at Summermist."
"First of all, it's Summit-mist," he grumbled. The girl rolled her eyes a bit as he continued with pride in his speaking, "I have been asked to attend a party where there will be five other guests. They have all been told that they are looking for treasure, but really they are looking for their demise."
"Sounds intriguing!" the Breton exclaimed, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
The Imperial took it in stride. "It is very intriguing. Not to mention dangerous. Only top-notch Eliminators such as myself are allowed to go on such intriguing, dangerous missions," he boasted lightly.
"I can't wait for my next contract!" Antoinetta giggled, "Then I'll get to play with the big boys!" For a second time, the Breton rolled her eyes and teased, "You are aware that you and Gogron, who basically just runs in and chops the target's head off, are the only Eliminators in the Sanctuary?"
Giving her a sour look, he retorted in a very childish manner, "So? You're just an ickle Slayer!"
She stuck her tongue out at him and propped her head up with her arm. "So where is this Winterfog Manor any way?" she mumbled lazily.
"Summitmist," he corrected again, "and it's in Skingrad."
"Oh, you lucky bastard!" Antoinetta exclaimed, "All my life I've wished to go to Skingrad!"
Dom arched an eyebrow at her quizzically, and the Breton explained in a calmer voice, "I've read about it in books, you know. It's really one of the few cities I never did get to when I lived on the streets. Everyone who's been there says it is a lovely place. I just want to see it all: the wonderful vineyards, the huge houses, the Great Chapel of Julianos. Oh, I bet Telaendril would love to see that chapel."
He snickered a bit and shrugged, commenting lightly, "I actually go to Skingrad a lot. My eldest brother lives there with his wife and kids. I'd love to take you sometime if the guild didn't have such strict rules against family members being seen together in public."
"I know!" she said, "It's so dumb. I guess it makes sense why we shouldn't be seen together when you're on a contract, but otherwise why can't we occasionally meet up in Skingrad and get some drinks at the West Weald Inn?"
"Don't ask me," Dom yawned, "ask your best friend Telaendril. She's the one who has a panic attack whenever I so much as look her way in public."
"Just be glad that's she's not religious in a normal Bosmer kind of way," the Breton grimaced, "It's enough of a mess when I make dinner. I bet you fifty Septims that Ocheeva would stop giving her contracts if she was a Green-Pact freak."
The Imperial shuddered at the thought. His eyes wandered up to gaze at the ceiling as he dryly asked, "So do you have any master Slayer advice for me?"
Antoinetta stuck her tongue out at him again. "Kill the biggest and baddest in their sleep. With the others, find ways to play with their emotions," she shrugged, "People will automatically feel certain attractions or empathies to others. It's life's fatal flaw. We need each other, whether it is to hate, love, or ignore. No man or beast is completely an island."
This was true. No matter what she had claimed last night, without Telaendril to chat with or M'raaj-Dar to tease, Ann would go crazy. She needed other people to survive. Though he'd probably not admit it, Domitius needed people even more than she. Maybe he didn't need friends, but he needed victims. He hadn't slept in days because of his lack of murders. Frankly, the Imperial was the perfect killer. Upon first glance, he was a reserved, some-what charming young man. Never could anyone see that his insides were warped with hatred and heartlessness. Antoinetta Marie had to admit she was jealous of his ability to drone out, or at least hide most feelings. Even sometimes she would feel guilty after a murder, but he always came back with a small twisted smile. In fact that was one of the few emotions he showed to people, a demented greed for bloodshed.
Quite frankly it scared the young Breton something terrible.
::bloody bloody::
Releasing the string, the arrow flew through the air straight into the heart of her target. Telaendril's lips curled into a smirk.
"Bulls-eye!" she cried out a little to loudly. Putting her bow away, she went to retrieve her arrows from the target in the dark training room.
M'raaj-Dar looked up from his book and glared at her, then looked back at his book and muttered, "damned loud-mouthed mer."
Shrugging it off, the Bosmer began to yank her arrows out of the hay target. After she finished, Telaendril gasped to see another Dark Sibling standing silently behind her. The Assassin let out a yelp
"Antoinetta! You have to stop sneaking up on people like that!" the mer exclaimed catching her breath.
The Breton's lips twitched. "An assassin must always be on guard," she pointed out, pulling out her dagger and slowly unsheathing it. In that dark fashion of hers, Antoinetta ran the blade across her thumb to test its sharpness. A drop of blood trickled out and the young girl licked it off.
"True, true, young Marie," Telaendril laughed and shook her head at her friend's eeriness. "That's why you'll be the next in line for Ocheeva's position one day!"
"Who told you that?" the blonde girl hissed, her blade clicking as she suddenly sheathed it.
"Probably the chatty Breton's newest gal-pal, Domitius," the Khajiit commented from his corner. The two girls turned their heads to look at him as he shut his book and looked up at them with a look of disdain. "I swear the Sanctuary is getting more and more like a gossip den."
"Wait! Since when have you been talking to Mr. Mysterious?" the Bosmer teased turning back to Antoinetta.
"I'm going to kill somebody," M'raaj-Dar grumbled and got up to head for the door, "This Sanctuary is going to the dogs!"
Antoinetta chuckled and shrugged, "It's no big deal. The other night after Vincente screamed at me, we got to talking. He's actually really interesting."
"I bet," Telaendril smirked and nudged the younger girl a bit, "So how was he...well you know? Was he hard and fast or slow and soft?"
"I did no such thing!" defended the girl.
The mer arched an eyebrow, "You just talked?"
"Yes!" the Breton exclaimed.
"Well I guess some guys just aren't into blonde Breton girls," Telaendril shrugged.
"What's that supposed to mean?" the younger girl asked her friend in a confused voice.
"I do believe you know exactly what I'm talking about!"
"Oh no!" Antoinetta blushed, "He's not that way!"
"Ya never know!" Telaendril mused with a small smirk, "He's cute, mysterious, doesn't seem to show much interest in women. Remember that time he walked in on me changing? He didn't blush or try to get a better look. He could very well be."
"No," the Slayer said calmly. She turned to face a practice dummy a few feet away. "He's just-" she paused to think of a word to describe Dom. His far-away blue eyes came to her mind. She took her blade out and ran her thumb down the dull side. That's what he was. The pretty young Breton suddenly flung her blade at the dummy. With a loud thud, the dagger landed right in the center of it's forehead.
"He's just distant."
::bloody bloody::
"Now who might you be? Please, tell us a little bit about yourself."
Domitius had been thinking the old Breton woman might actually talk his ear off. Honestly he'd just been standing there off in his own little world, waiting for the hag to shut up. He couldn't believe somebody as interesting as Antoinetta was actually from the same heritage as this chatty old witch. Once she finally stopped talking, the Imperial yawned and snapped back into reality, "Oh me, I'm an assassin, hired to kill you."
Maybe she'd start screaming. If she did, he'd forfeit the bonus, but he wouldn't have to listen to her jabber on anymore. Oh, the joy he'd get out of silencing her once and for all. He had to have patience though. God sometimes he wished he could care as little about the bonuses as Gogron did. Dom could just imagine the Orc running in, decked out in full body armor, waving his ax around and delivering the wrath of Sithis to all of these Nine-damned, sad excuses for life. Honestly that was the only difference between the Orc and the Imperial. Neither Gogron nor Domitius, really believed in Sithis. They were just here for the murder. It was how they approached things that was the difference. Gogron did things the slash-and-dash way, and Dom liked to deceive. Right now he was in a rather Gogron-mood. He just wanted the old woman to open her mouth and begin screaming so he'd have an excuse to murder her.
Unfortunately, the old woman didn't start screaming. She just chuckled kept talking, "Oh, you're a funny one! Good I'm glad one of us has a sense of humor about all of this. It will make our time here that much more enjoyable."
Not if I have to listen to you, lady. He had to restrain himself from saying this out loud. "Well ma'am. It's been a pleasure talking to you. I best be going now."
"Oh, do hurry back!" she called after him as he weaved through the house. He made his way up to the second floor to see just what he needed.
A beautiful Dunmer woman.
It wasn't because he was attracted to Dunmer. Really he didn't have a thing for elves in general. Sure some Bosmer were pretty little things, but honestly he just wasn't a mer kind of guy. Why he was so relieved to see a Dunmer chick was because it would make the job a little bit easier. He began to make his way toward the woman. Once he got to her, he accidentally bumped into her.
"Watch it, s'wit!" the woman exclaimed and turned to look at him. Her eyes got wide and her mouth dropped at the sight of the Imperial man. She quickly regained her poise and apologized in a very lady-like voice, "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were the blasted Nord. He keeps hanging around me, breathing down my neck. I don't appreciate it."
She touched his arm and whispered, "It's good to know I have a big strong man to keep him away."
Dom raised an eyebrow. "I think you'll be safe in my room," he told her in a low voice. Her red eyes got wide and she giggled.
"Well I should leave immediately!" she whispered, "Will you join me?"
"Give me eight minutes," he smirked, "Don't want no one to get suspicious."
The Dunmer turned and scrambled up the stairs. Domitius looked around at the other guests. This was way too easy.
::bloody bloody::
"These betrayals have gone on too long!" J'Ghasta hissed at Lucien, "Brothers and Sisters are turning up dead everywhere. This one will not stand for it any more!"
From the other corner of the room, Alval Uvani, leaning back in his chair, called out, "Ah, shut up, you ol' fetching house-cat!"
"I'll teach you to speak like that to me!" J'Ghasta bellowed and started to head toward the arrogant Dunmer.
Mathieu Bellamont stepped in front of the angry Khajiit. "Brother! If you were not bound by the Tenets, I would let you tear Uvani limb from limb, but I would hate for us to have to exile you."
J'Ghasta growled fiercely and stepped back into his original corner of the room. "I am sorry Brother," he apologized, bowing his head, "I have been on edge all week."
The Dunmer smirked and stood up, "It's no offense to me. I understand. We are all on edge trying to figure out what is going on."
The Khajiti's head rose and he spat, "That wasn't directed toward you, accursed Dunmer. Aggravation or no, Sithis knows I do all I can not to accidentally spill honey in your ale."
"That is enough," Lucien stated calmly, "We will find out the reason for these Sibling's deaths. I swear I will."
::bloody bloody::
"Teinaava!" the Breton whined, "I'm bored. Entertain me!"
The Argonian raised an eyebrow. "Why did the Khajiit cross the road?"
"You're kidding right?" M'raaj-Dar grumbled as he sat down on his bed. Antoinetta rolled her eyes and rested her head on the circle table. Telaendril was off doing some spying. So the little blonde Breton had no one to talk to, save Teinaava. Luckily the Argonian was rather fond of his young Sister. So he tore himself away from his book and paid attention to her.
"There was moonsugar on the otherside," Teinaava smiled, leaning back in his chair. M'raaj-Dar muttered something under his breath that was with no doubt a very racist insult to Argonians and maybe a jab at Bretons, then lied down to go to sleep.
"So what did happen on your last contract?" Antoinetta asked propping her chin up on her arm, "Ocheeva says the girl's nanny was a Fighter's Guild bodyguard."
Teinaava chuckled, "Yes, I barely managed to escape with my life after having to kill her and her nanny."
She laughed as Vincente entered the room. Recognizing his presence, her head drooped trying to avoid being noticed by him. Teinaava looked away from both of them. Sithis knew the Shadowscale was not in the mood for a reenactment of a few nights before. Luckily, Valtieri was not here to fight, but to apologize.
"Antoinetta," he sighed, "I am sorry for what happened the other day. I meant no disrespect. Garlic is just very bad for me and I lost it on you."
The young girl shrugged, "It is fine, dear Brother. Forgive and forget, right?"
"Thank you for your patience. I can rest a lot easier without this hanging over my head," he smiled, "Actually, I have a contract for you."
The Dark Sister raised her head and smiled, "A contract? That would be perfect!"
"How do you feel about wood elves?"
::bloody bloody::
"So Dommie," the Nord nudged the Imperial, "What's your story? You seem so quiet."
"Oh nothing to tell really," Domitius grinned and took a bite of venison, "Grew up here in Cyrodiil. Anvil actually. Dad was a sailor. Mom was a Breton. Had about," he counted on his fingers and named off, "Jaela, Louis, Evangeline, Gregory, Laurina...I wanna say maybe sixteen brothers and sisters. Not sure exactly." He chuckled lightly, "Only five actually, but it felt like sixteen sometimes."
"I know how that is," the Nord laughed, taking a sip from his mug. "Father's a sailor, eh? Anvil good sailing town. Really fine women, eh? You gotta woman, Mr. Marcus?"
Dom shrugged, "That's why I'm here actually. Got a new wife. Most beautiful girl you've ever seen. We just had a baby girl last week. Her name is Jolie, after my mother."
"Well Dommie," Nels stammered, "You seem like a nice enough guy. Tell you what! When I find the gold, I'll make sure you and your little wife get a nice little percent of it."
The Nord and two Imperials were sitting at the table eating dinner. Well, the Imperials were eating dinner. Nels was drinking mead and joking around with Domitius. Primo was looking around the room and smiling as the two spun tales of what they'd done.
"I wonder where that Breton 'noble' scampered off to. Prolly too busy looking for her gold to even sit down to dinner," mused the young Antonius.
The Nord laughed, "Oh yeah, Dom you shoulda gotten here sooner! Matilde was jabbering on and acting real proper, but Primo looked down on her like she wa-"
He was interrupted by the soldier clamoring down the stairs. Obviously distressed, he arrived at the table in a frenzy. Primo and Domitius turned their gazes to him as he tried to catch his breath.
"Out with it you Legion scum!" Nels grumbled, not looking up from his mug.
"Murder!" he finally managed to exclaim, too frightened to respond to the Nord's insult.
Domitius's jaw dropped in astoundment. The Nord's eyes got wide, and he looked to his mug aghast.
"Surely, you must be joking," the dark-haired Imperial gaped.
The Redguard soldier shook his head and clutched his chest. Young Primo jumped up from the table and grabbed the older man's arm.
"Who?" he demanded, "By the Nine, old man! Who?"
"The little Dunmer girl," Neville choked out, "Dovesi!"
There was a moment of complete silence as the young noble's jaw dropped and he let go of the soldier. The other Imperial man looked at his meal, completely dumbfounded. Nels' eyes went from frightened to upset. Drinking down the rest of his mead, he got up and walked to the corner of the room. The old Redguard, fumbling with the chair, finally managed to sit down. Nobody could seem to find a voice to speak. It was Primo who first broke the silence. After the initial shock had worn-off, his fists clenched and his young face twisted with fury.
"Who did it?" the boy raged, grabbing a plate and slinging it against the wall. The plate shattered and fell to the floor in pieces. His tantrum fell upon deaf ears. Neville and Nels didn't even seem to notice.
Domitius raised his head and in a very paternal voice reasoned, "Primo. It won't bring her back."
"Who could do this?" he cried out, "She was such a beautiful thing."
"Thing?" Nels roared. The other three turned to look at the Nord who had finally spoke. He took a few steps closer to Primo and shook his fist at him, "She was not a thing! She was a living, breathing, beautiful young woman! I swear I'd knock your skull in if you say any more disrespectful things about that sweet little girl!"
There is not a more frightening sight than that of a raging drunk Nord. With each step toward Primo, it began to look more and more as if he was getting ready strike the young Imperial. He was inches in front of him when Domitius sprung up from the table.
"Gentlemen!" he spoke, trying to calm everybody down. "We must not loose our heads. Obviously whoever did this is trying to play on our emotions! Why else would they kill young Dovesi? She was someone that we all admired. Even Neville thought her to be a sweet little girl. Loosing it on each other would only let us fall into their trap! We must remain calm. The sooner we find the treasure the sooner we get to leave."
The Nord and the noble nodded, but still looked at each other with suspicion. Neville raised his head and solemnly said, "We should move her body to the basement. I don't think she should be left up there on the ground like that."
"I'll help you move her," Domitius volunteered in a somber voice.
::bloody bloody::
"Where in the Nirn is he?" the young Breton girl muttered.
She had been informed this would be a rather unorthodox contract, but apparently the man she was supposed to be meeting had a lot of gold to throw around. Really she shouldn't be so upset. Antoinetta had gotten there around four and spent the rest of the day looking around the town, looking at the vineyards, chatting with Davide Surielle himself. It had been one of her best days in a long time. Once midnight rolled around, the assassin made her way to behind the church to wait for her assignment. Suddenly a little man appeared. He was a rather suspicious looking Bosmer. Once he finally approached he looked around for unseen enemies and motioned for her to kneel down.
"Oh good, they sent somebody. I'm glad you could make it, otherwise you wouldn't be here," the odd little mer chattered in a quiet voice.
Antoinetta nodded, "You must be Glarthir."
"Well aren't you a smart one," he grinned and patted her cheek as if she were a child, "So here's the deal. I need you to spy on a couple people for me, who I think are-"
"You're joking!" she whispered, "I'm an assassin not a spy!"
"Patience," Glarthir growled and went back to his chit-chatty voice, "I believe these people are following me. If you can prove they are, then I will need you to, how to put this, get rid of them."
The Breton girl grinned, "Oy, I get it."
"Yes, one more thing," the paranoid little man explained, "You must never speak to me in public."
"Sounds simple enough," she grinned, "I think I can do this without a problem. Don't worry Mister Glarthir. I will handle this."
::bloody bloody::
Primo finished his lunch and gave the Nord, drinking in the corner a few feet from him, a look of suspiscion. Last night he seemed upset about Dovesi's death, but couldn't it be an act? He had sensed there was something else to the Nord. He'd thought it was that he was just a sad man, but maybe alcohol fueled his killer instincts. The man had been drinking a whole lot. Could he have killed beautiful Dovesi? Maybe it was an act of jealous rage! She had told the Nord that she'd rather be with Primo, and in an angry drunken rage, the bastard killed her! Primo lowered his head. That beautiful woman didn't want him. She probably would've rathered somebody stronger, kinder, better than him. She had probably thought him to be some spoiled rich boy. Now he'd never have a chance to prove to her he could be more.
Though this was no time to dwell. They were being slaughtered left and right. Just last night, Domitius and Neville took Dovesi's beautiful body down to the cellar to find another startling discovery.
"Mara!" bellowed a voice from the basement.
Nels didn't even bother to look up from his mug once again. Primo couldn't help but wonder if it was because he wasn't surprised. He knew somebody had died. The young noble sprung from the table and ran down the stairs. As he arrived at the door to the basement, Domitius and Neville emerged from behind it. Both looked as pale as death. Neville bowed his head and started up the stairs. Antonius knew what the Imperial was going to say before the words escaped his lips.
"Matilde's been murdered," Domitius murmured leaning up against the wall.
Primo felt guilty for the hard time he had been giving the old woman. Obviously her family must have once been quite important. Their fame and fortune must've been squandered over the years. She had just been a proud lady, and he made her feel bad.
"Neville's taking this rather hardly," Domitius sighed walking toward the stairwell, "I think he wishes he could have saved them."
Primo grimaced, "I hate to say this to you, but I think Nels might be the killer. I know you two were being all good friends at supper, but when we heard you coming up from the basement, he didn't even look surprised! As if he knew what you two had found because he had done it!"
Domitius's eyes widened and he paced back and forth for a minute. "No, no, no," he frowned turning to his fellow Imperial, "Nels? He seemed so angry about the death of Dovesi! Like she was important to him."
The young noble bowed his head and looked up, "Was she enough to kill for? Could he have tried to convince her to be with him, and then when she refused, stuck a knife into her precious heart?"
"But what about Petit?" Domitius asked, "Why would he kill her? She did nothing to wrong him."
"Matilde and Dovesi shared a room," Antonius pointed out, "Their room was right next to mine and Nels'. She must of came up to find something, so the Nord thought she might have heard something incriminating. Then when she went searching in the basement for the treasure, he killed her to cover up his tracks. So as long as we pretend to know nothing, we will be safe."
"This is all too much," the weary-eyed Imperial muttered, "I hope you are right. I don't want my little girl to grow up without a father."
He had been sleeping all day. This had worried Primo. He had gone up to check on Domitius several times. The man was surely alive, but there was no waking him. It was quite unnerving that the man could sleep without waking for such a long time while a killer was just downstairs. Primo figured it made sense, he looked rather exhausted even before the killings started. By this point no one was really looking for the gold. They just wanted out.
any way, more to come soon. i promise you!
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