Author's Note: Aye, I've turned into a lazy writer, but I refuse to let this story die and remain unfinished. We're past the first half now, and I still have a bit to reveal :). I thank all of my readers who have stuck with me through the months :D. I won't fail you! I shall finish this story! Please review and if you have questions, I love answering them. As always, I recommend looking back at the previous chapters to get a grasp of what is going on. This chapter is kind of jumpy like the last but I'm trying to portray several POVs currently. Enjoy.

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Chapter 33: The Crimson Conspiracy

Kassandra stared down the faceless void before her-- pitch black as nothingness itself. Noxious gases swirled around the demon, signs of the immense power emitted from such a physical being. Never had she’d felt such malice. Her stomach churned with sickness, worsened by the fumes lofting about her. Every fiber of her body screamed at her -- to run, run far away from whatever this thing was. But human nature would not get in the way of discovering the truth.

Was this an avatar of Sithis?

“Pathetic little mortal,” the being spoke inside her head while her ears burned from the spoken Daedric, “I am not Sithis,” the being bowed sardonically in front of her, having read her mind, “I, my pawn, am Molag Bal. Not in the flesh. But that is no matter, fool.”

Fear enveloped her in its haunting embrace as cold sweat began to condense on her forehead. The blade felt strange to her clammy hand, yet hauntingly familiar. No look of confirmation was needed. It was that blade… that unnamed blade from so long ago.

Breaking point. She had hit the brink. No longer would she be a toy for the Daedric Princes. No longer would she listen to their poetics.

“As you can see mortal—“his sentence was cut off by a swift stab to the faceless void under the hood. His form was met by a slash of the blade, and another, only unbridled rage behind her attacks. Madness covered her face as she slashed and slashed, a demented grin revealing itself. Before a third blow could land, the being beneath the cloak disappeared, leaving only cloth in the wake of magicka, glowing red as burning coals. With the leaving of the avatar belonging to Molag Bal, so did the unnamed blade in her hand. She only gripped the putrid air now. Gasping for air, Kassandra kicked the clothes with her boot, revealing nothing except the possible reassurance that he no longer lingered in physical form.

He was around though. Always watching. Just as Mephala was. And now, now she knew who was after her. Of all the Daedric Princes… it had to be him.

Her life was getting better and better.

---

Andarys had watched from afar, taking in the scene like a spectator did at a grand play orchestrated for years. The dramatic plot had progressed, if not worsened in the truest forms of tragedy. The schemes of their patron prince Mephala were threatened by one of the androgyne’s worst enemies. The actress before him remained still, pale and ghost-like in the vapors. He wondered if he should act preemptively and take out the Dark Brotherhood Silencer standing in shock, seemingly unaware of his presence. Somehow though, he felt striking her down would do them no good. Mephala had placed her blessing with this Imperial—not the Morag Tong, not the Dark Brotherhood. Only her and her alone. He felt that Taros knew of what was going on. Perhaps he was the first to realize, or perhaps Mephala had spoken to him without Andarys’ knowledge. Whatever it might be, he knew this was not his place.

The hooded Imperial glanced over at him through the miasmic fog, in a haunting gaze with lingering terror still visible in her eyes. The Grandmaster did not make a move, not one that would prove threatening. Acknowledging this silent, short truce between assassins, she walked away from the deathbed of a Daedric avatar and towards him. Standing his ground, he watched her actions closely as she passed him by without a single word. Andarys could feel the tension between the two, but somehow, he knew she would not attack him. If he could make any guess, she had too much on her mind to bother with the Morag Tong Grandmaster.

There were too many mysteries in this world. And he just let another escape his hands again.

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Chaos.

This is what Lucien Lachance lived for. By the command of Sithis, he would spread its ideology to all who would accept. With acceptance of this ideology came bloodletting. That was how they preached their word. Through death they allowed Chaos to exist as Sithis wished—reckless energy in conjunction with a swift blade and undeniable accuracy.

The King of Morrowind would know of their unholy message next.

Lucien charged for the King, his senses focused entirely on him. The King let out a shout, something about the Emperor, and the entire room reacted in response. Charging through the middle of the room, he saw Imperial guards unsheathe their swords, the Emperor scrambling off to the side as his Blades hurried him away in protective formation. Screams and cries for help reverberated with the beat of his footsteps on the marble floors below. Fury and panic spread through the room as every political dignitary and noble feared for their life. Who knew who was after whom? This was an unprecedented occurrence… Lucien knew this would go into the annals of Tamrielic history.

If they were not to get their original targets, then Helseth would suffice. Something had to come of this mission.

---

The Triumphant King remained seated in his throne, sipping a glass of wine. His eyes followed the various actors moving in their brown armor, blatant towards the fact of stealth now. This was not way they chose to fight, and he would force them out of their element. It was too late for them, as the trap had already been set. Helseth’s eyes were attracted to the giant doors opening to the room. The Emperor had managed to escape, but many of his Imperial Guards stayed. This was good, although he wouldn’t had minded if the Emperor had died because of the circumstances.

This would be the end of the Dark Brotherhood and the Morag Tong in one extravagant blow.

And such a beautiful thing it would be.

---

The Speaker approached, not letting this opportunity escape him. To his right came rushing Uvani, weaving through the crowd just as Lucien was. A race it would be, to bring light to the situation. But something was wrong. Helseth, normally deemed a coward by his people, sat in his throne like a cocky bastard. His face was stoic as his lips plied the goblet. Lucien had not taken much notice to the two Royal Guards flanking his sides, now wielding the curved Dunmeri blades of the Morag Tong, perfect for such close-quarter combat.

Such a simple ploy, yet ingenious for the situation.

This plot to destroy the Morag Tong just grew much darker, and just as more dangerous.

---

Following the Imperial, Andarys rushed up the stairs, knowing that something ill was going on above them. The great spell had stripped of everyone of their chameleon spells, and who knew how long the spell would remain in effect, if a Daedric Prince unleashed it. By the top of the stairs, he headed one direction, as the Imperial headed off in the other. Did she not care what was happening to her brethren?

No matter. This was where the story would split again, to whatever end may come of it.

Approaching the giant doors into the throne room, he pushed aside an Imperial Legionnaire and rushed into the primordial mess. It truly was a scene of only lore: Assassin fighting assassin in the midst of guards and others. This was not the type of battle they were used to, but if any were to fight in such a mess, it would be them. He looked ahead towards the royal throne to watch Helseth scrambling away as Ethasi and Dunsalipal fought off two Dark Brothers, whoever they might be. If experience held, Andarys could guess there were a few Black Hand members in the mix.

All the better. The fingers of the Night Mother would be cut off, one by one.

A tinge of guilt developed in his throat as he charged into the mess. What was Mephala’s plan for them? Was this what she wanted for two guilds that bore her black hand? What was the purpose of the female Imperial? Alas, it was no time to contemplate these questions. Fate had already rolled the dice here, and it was his duty to protect the remnants of the Morag Tong.

Eno would’ve wanted it that way. The old Dunmer probably knew that this was all going to happened.

Even with age, he seemed too accepting of his death. This conspiracy grew deeper and darker by the day.

He darted deeper into the fray, only to hear loud above the screams something that brought sickness to his stomach.

“The Royal Guard! They are traitors! They let the Dark Brotherhood in!”

The voice was Helseth’s from behind his chair. And of course, the keyword of Dark Brotherhood caught the attention of the Imperial Legionnaires and Blades who stayed behind to ensure a safe getaway for their Emperor. For a moment, Andarys paused, seeing if the Legionnaires would go for it, but he already saw the hot-headed Dunsalipal going for Helseth, ignoring his Dark Brotherhood combatant. With that action, Helseth had become validated.

He had played them, although it wasn’t a surprise. He knew their faults, and he sucked them into this trap knowingly. Dunsalipal had proven to be unreliable.

Their cover was blown. There was no point to all die here. Not while one safe haven remained.

Vounoura.

---

Sprinting now, Kassandra fled as fast as she could, trying to find a safe exit. The Imperial Legionnaires had created a perimeter around the area, and as soon as the Emperor was completely out of the area…. They would go en masse to bring death to whoever was left. Her brothers and sisters were assassins, not soldiers trained to fight in such chaotic, close combat.

It would be fruitless to charge into it now. Lucien and the others would realize their mistake soon enough.

If they did not all escape soon, this would be the end of all of them. She recognized the plot as it was now. The Morag Tong was there, hidden by Helseth, but the presence of Molag Bal did not bode well for Mephala’s children. He was not part of this plan, whatever it was that Mephala desired.

Trying to cast chameleon again, she found herself unable to cast spells still. A potion would do the trick, but they hadn’t considered a Daedric intervention in their affairs, not like this. Now outside, she ran for the desired sewer entrance, one she knew would lead her into the city of New Mournhold and then the capital city of Almalexia itself. Before she could reach it though, a Dunmer wearing no helm and the armor of the Royal Guard ran towards her. A familiar, friendly face in such a terrible times: Taros. He ran with her now, without saying a word. Kassandra could only guess he was there with her for a reason -- An escort. Mephala knew how to pick her body guards. Quickly, they both delved into the depths of the sewers again, a place where the scum and refuse of society could always find safe transport in uncertain times.

---

Lucien deflected the curved blade with uncanny reflex from the female Morag Tong member, only to be met with the Dunmeri blade’s sibling. Her style was beautiful, the product of years of centuries of experience and perfection of technique. A shame that his Imperial Brethren only had under a hundred years to learn all they did over half a millennia. As their matched fight continued, his ears picked up something very, very intriguing.

Helseth had just ordered the Imperials to wipe out his own Royal Guard, many who were Imperials themselves. The pieces came together in his head. The Royal Guard was a front for the Morag Tong, acting as hidden bait. As soon as the spell was released, the Dark Brotherhood’s cover was blown. The Morag Tong reacted and Helseth would pin the entire mess up on them considering them “traitors”. The Imperial Legionnaires and Blades present because of the Emperor would be doing the clean up.

A deathly situation… One they were not going to win. The objective was the death of Helseth and the Morag Tong, that which implied survival on the Dark Brotherhood’s part. Their organization could hold their own in a fight, but numbers were numbers and eventually they would find themselves overwhelmed.

Around him his Dark Brothers and Sisters were fighting for their lives now. There was no good in pointless bloodshed. Unlike some, he was not willing to throw away able bodies to a lost cause-- for the moment.

It was time to retreat, although he did not consider one. The Morag Tong would have to do the same. Helseth intended for all of them to die, and so did the Empire now.

He saw his combatant’s attention quickly divert to the other Morag Tong Royal Guard who charged for the King of Morrowind, but was cut off by a contingent of Imperial Legionnaires and a Blade, who were risking their lives to protect a figure that was using them.

The world was filled with injustices, but Lucien Lachance was just another one of them. There was no point in complaining when he pursued a world that would never be able to settle.

---

Helseth breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down as he sat on a bed, safe in a room with no windows and just one door. His private quarters wouldn’t be safe, and the Blades had directed him to this room for security reasons. Much of him wanted to be out there in the action to watch his grand plan continue, and to see the final, bloody results. It was not safe for a character like him though, and he had to play the part now. Of course, if the Morag Tong survived, they would try to defame him. But Morrowind and its Houses would not trust such a destroyed, renegade faction now. They were in a new age now, and the Morag Tong was just another visage of the past that needed to go. He had destroyed the Tribunal, although indirectly and now the oldest institutions of Morrowind would be wiped out too.

He could only smile under clasped, shaking hands.

---

Tienius Delitian, Captain of the Royal Guard, ran his shaking hand through his sweaty hair, observing the carnage left behind in the Throne room. Royal Guards, Dark Brotherhood members, Imperial legionnaires, and a few party guests who found themselves between the fighters lay upon the ground, dead and bleeding. His eyes bounced left and right as he was surrounded by soldiers of the Imperial Legion. They were only keeping him alive so that he could squeal to Helseth himself.

It was unfair. Those weren’t even his men that Helseth wanted killed. But he was willing to have them all destroyed regardless. It confused him as to why Helseth would want the Morag Tong annihilated, but Delitian could only assume that it was just another Dunmer ploy… one of their stupid games they played between their Houses. The Dark Elves spouted that they were the epitome of civility… but when anyone could have a hit put upon them? Where was the civility in that?

And now he was going to pay for doing his duty, not for Helseth but for the Emperor.

---

Thick smoke concealed them as they spoke in hushed voices about the past, the present, and the future. Dressed as commoners now, with their belongings in stow, the Dunmer and the Imperial hid from their pursuers and brethren alike. Kassandra had told him about her discovery in the sewers, and how it was all a plan to destroy both the Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood. Taking a long drink from a cask of flin, Taros contemplated this in silence as his palms grew sweaty from unease. He worried about the fate of his brothers and sisters in arms, but he could imagine that Kassandra bore the same guilt and worry.

They had heard nothing. The King of Morrowind had done well to suppress the immediate news thus far, but the entire city of Almalexia knew, and soon would the rest of the Morrowind and the Empire. The people of Tamriel would hear of the dreadful occurrence, and the bloodshed that took place… however great it was. Kings, nobles, politicians, grandmasters and common folk alike would recoil in paranoia. No one was safe from the faceless Dark Brotherhood, and now the Morag Tong… yet they were only mortal! They were only so few! The chaos that had been spread this night would only foster their myth more, into something even they could not live up to.

He gazed into the stoic face of Kassandra now, made fuzzy in his vision by the thick pipe smoke and incense. She showed no emotion, yet he knew she was dying inside. She, she was something of myth now. The Daedra had chosen her as their pawn and their slave. Taros did not wish to tell her all he knew, just yet. Mephala had given him yet another order… but he did not wish to follow through with it just yet.

“Is it alright, if I go out and see what I can collect about the fate of our brothers and sisters?” asked Taros out of nowhere.

Kassandra looked up from her drink, surprised by his choice of words, “Our brothers and sisters?”

“Your entire mission is to reunite the Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood, by the decree of Mephala herself. I listen to her, so is it not so that we are all of the same line?”

She nodded in agreement, although she was not ready to admit the two groups were the same.

“Go ahead, I’ll stick around here. If you don’t return, I’ll just be off on my merry way.”

Taros chuckled quietly at such a light expression, “Of course.”

And now that she had gotten rid of Taros for a few hours, it was time to meet up with whatever was left of the Dark Brotherhood.

If there was anything left.