Chapter 8: The Conspiracy
18th First Seed, 4E 201
The Altmer had warned him not to wear thick clothes before entering. Axius took it by word and wore a white woolen shirt underneath a brown vest with matching pants and black shoes. He didn’t wear any armor today since he decided to spend a day around the city but even still, he kept a dagger with him just in case Markarth hasn’t had enough blood spilled for the day.
Despite being well-dressed, he was sweating like a snow bear in the Alik’r Desert, hot steam came out from the vents of the pipes that protruded out from the stone walls. He was in a large room somewhere at the right-end of Understone Keep. The lights from the large round bronze gas lamps lit the area in a greenish hue. Hundreds of Dwemer artifacts were being displayed in shelves or stone stands. At the center, lies a deactivated Dwarven Centurion. Its metal surface was cleaned and polished, blades sharpened and gears oiled, just like every other Animunculi on display.
What would happen if this thing came alive? Axius wondered as he studied the Centurion closely. A guard passed by and gave him those shady eyes he’d been receiving ever since he arrived three days ago.
He was just one of seven guards patrolling the museum. Each had their own areas to patrol. They would sometimes talk to each other to fill their time. Other than Axius, they were the only things here living and breathing. He decided to leave after seeing all the displays and started to smell of sweat.
And all you had to do was kill a giant spider. He reminded himself before grabbing his wolfskin cloak he left outside.
He casually walked past the entrance hall and towards Nchuand-Zel, which still caught the Imperial’s breath everytime he looked at it. On his right, Calcelmo and his nephew were reading tomes, studying and researching almost anything they managed to find in the Dwemer ruin.
“Ah, you’re back. So, how did you like my collection?” Calcelmo asked when the Imperial approached him.
An old Altmer, he was, around 400 years by Elven standards. Like any old mer, he had spent the rest of his lifetime studying about the Dwemer and their culture. While he’s renowned for his three volume book series called “Dwarves”, “Dwemer” is some provinces, he’s often eccentric and very stressed out in his work, claiming it to be “the most important research in this Era.”
“It’s wonderful and very detailed.” Axius replied, smiling. “I see you brought back some more Dwemer artifacts from Nchuand-Zel.”
“Indeed. Now that you got rid of Nimhe, I can continue my research. It may take a few days to clear the cobwebs and egg sacs inside.”
“And what about the journal I found from the dead Imperial soldier?”
Calcelmo shook his head after he closed his book. “It’s too dangerous for you to venture inside the Dwemer city alone. Nchuand-Zel hosts more than just spiders and machines, young boy. If I let you go further inside to find Staubin’s notes, it may be the last time you’ll ever set foot there.”
Axius knew what the old mer was talking about. Dwemer Animunculi weren’t the only ones roaming the corridors of their masters. Explorers say that humanoid creatures were seen in the halls of the ruins. They were described as pale, wrinkled skin and hunchbacked. They had no eyes and their noses were pulled back. Most people call them monsters but scholars had a name for them. Falmers, Snow Elves of Skyrim before the Atmorans forced them to live underground.
“And I don’t suppose you could lend me a few of your guards?”
Calcelmo shooked his head for the last time and turned away from the Imperial, resuming his work.
Guess not.
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He breathe in the crisp, cold mountain air the moment he exited Understone Keep. The sweat on his arms quickly blew away as a gust of wind pass through. The Sun was at its peak, bringing out the bright bronze colors of the roofs of the Temple of Dibella. The marketplace was booming with sound. He walked down the Dryside district and saw Yngvar laying back on his usual spot. They exchanged glances as he walked pass him.
A couple of sellswords gathered around in front of the Silver-Blood Inn, looking at the bounties posted on the notice board. They were cladded in a variety of armors, iron, steel, scaled and plate with swords sharper than a rogue’s tongue and sunlight dancing on the edges.
Looks like Warriors Festival came early this year. Axius observed them, trying to guess which ones will survive.
Everyday, around half a dozen sellswords enter Markarth's gates, trying to earn some gold by killing Forsworns. At the end of the day, 1 or 2 of those numbers will return while only the Divines can know the fate of the rest.
Below the marketplace lies the Riverside district, where silver is mined and smelted. A river separates Cidhna Mine and The Warrens, where the poor, sick and old live. There was also the blacksmith station with its two massive water wheels turning as water poured down its blades. The blacksmith, an Orc greeted Axius when he approached.
“Need a new set of armor, Imperial? You seem to be naked without one.” The Orc remarked at Axius’s choice of “armor” for today.
“Actually no, Ghorza. I’m here because of this.” He slid his hand into his satchel and pulled out a book, its red leather binding tattered and old. “I think this is the book you wanted,”
Ghorza drew a faint smile and thanked Axius. “This should help the boy with his smithing. Dunno why you Imperials like these so much.” She immediately called out her apprentice, a young Imperial boy who was tanning a deer hide.
Three down and four more to go.
Axius spent the previous two days doing odd jobs in and around Markarth. Sero and Bjarke left on the sixteenth, their destination unknown to him as they left before dawn. He had known most of the people by now. The Hag at the apothecary shop, the merchants at the marketplace, the Jarl and his court members and more importantly, the Silver-Blood brothers, Thongvor and Thonar, who are involved in politics and finances of the city respectively.
Meet me at the Shrine of Talos. Those were the words he received on the first day he’d arrive in this brutal city. The day when an alleged Forsworn infiltrated the City of Stone and nearly killed an innocent woman.
“Meet me at the Shrine of Talos.” Axius muttered to himself. He climbed the steep steps behind the blacksmith station and went inside a narrow passageway. In the middle, was a door that supposedly leads to the Shrine of Talos.
“I hope Omluag is right about this.”
Finding the Shrine of Talos wasn’t as easy as taking a sweetroll from a baby. Markarth was sided with the Empire in the Civil War, that means they abide the White-Gold Concordat which includes the banning of Talos. Axius had to make sure a citizen could be trusted before he could ask them. The situation was made more tense with the presence of Ondolemar, the Thalmor Justiciar posted here to root out Talos worshippers. Luckily, one of the smelter workers gave him the direction after he had helped them lighten their work.
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Axius opened the door, its metal hinges creak with every push. The corridor was dark and covered in a thin line of candle smoke. Ahead was the statue of Talos, the controversial Ninth Divine, he was posed bowing his head and striking his sword down a snake’s mouth which represents the “coils” of his mortality. The shrine was lit by small incense candles, producing a dim light around the area. He crept forwards, hand on the hilt of his dagger in case the note is actually a Thalmor trap.
“Thanked the Eight you’re here.” A voice announced. “I had almost lost faith in you before you showed up.” A man emerged from behind the statue. He was a Breton in a green tunic, hide gauntlets and rough, brown hair. “Wait, I know you. You’re one of the workers from the smelter.”
“Yes.” The Breton confessed. “My name is Eltrys and I…” The moment he stepped forward, Axius pulled out his dagger, pointing it at the man. He nearly went pale as his eyes widened in shock.
“How do I know you’re not a lackey for that Justiciar, Ondolemar?” Axius eyes narrowed down on Eltrys tattooed face, studying his features for the slightest hint of lie.
When the Thalmor couldn’t find any Talos worshippers, they make their own. All they need to do is hire someone to place an Amulet of Talos in someone’s house or draw them to a secluded Shrine of Talos and they’re branded as worshippers. It happened once to Axius’s parents but not him. He wouldn’t let the same fate fall to him even if Hermaeus Mora wills it.
He slowly backed off from the Imperial in a defensive manner and said, “Look, I know this is a bad place to meet but it’s the last place the guards will find us. I just want answers about the Forsworn attack at the marketplace that Tirdas, just like you.”
Axius sheathed his blade but not his eyes. “What do you know about the attack?” He asked. Finally some answers.
“Not much, to be honest. But it all started when I was a boy.” Eltrys continued explaining, now more relaxed without a dagger pointing at him. “My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn't a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since.”
“Got any leads?”
The Breton nodded. “The attacker, Weylin, was one of the smelter workers. He lives in The Warrens, ...well used to. You should check inside his room for any clues. There’s also the woman, Margret. She's not from Markarth. The air about her screamed "outsider." Visitors to the city usually stay at the Silver-Blood Inn.”
“Alright, I’ll start with Margret. We’ll meet up here once I’ve found some answers.”
“Be careful, there are eyes watching over us.” Eltrys warned.
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Axius went back inside the Silver-Blood Inn, still crowded and noisy with sellswords and adventurers. Ogmund the Skald was playing a lullaby tune with his flute. He asked the innkeeper about Margret and he pointed towards the hearth. She was sitting by the hearth, wearing her long blue dress. The crackling flames cast a long shadow, almost reaching the counter. He thread through the crowd while grabbing a tankard from a serving girl and sat beside her.
“Oh! It’s you. What brings you here?” Margret asked, surprised by her savior’s presence. Her voice was so innocent, too innocent for this city.
“Funny you should mention that. I was just about to ask the same question.” He looked at the woman with a friendly expression while hiding his true motive.
“Well, I’m just here to buy some jewelry for my family back in Cyrodiil.” She replied, smiling.
Axius appeared to be satisfied at the woman’s answer and drank his tankard. Margret thought she managed to fool the Imperial but was soon distraughted.
“I can tell you’re lying just by the tone of your voice.” Axius wiped his mouth and grimaced.
The woman’s cheery spirit was crushed into powder when he caught her act. There was a brief moment of silence and stares between the two as the music and noise grew louder around them until Margret calmly said,
“Guess I’m losing my touch. We need to find someplace secluded. Come with me.”
Axius followed Margret to her room. A slightly bigger room than his and more comfortable. The stone bed was replaced by feathered one. There was a wash basin, a hanging rack and even complementary snacks and drinks. One of the best rooms my arse. Axius thought when he compared it to his room.
“Alright, now tell me why you’re here. It’s not likely for a woman to stay here for another three days after she’d been attacked by a madman.” Axius demanded after she locked the door.
She sighed in defeat before revealing her true identity to him. “I’m an Imperial agent sent by General Tullius.” Her tone quickly changed, sounding more like a soldier. “I was sent to investigate the Treasury House and the Silver-Blood family, hoping to acquire the deed to Cidhna Mine. And I know for certain, Thonar Silver-Blood sent that Forsworn to kill me.”
“Then why’d you stay here after knowing you’re marked for death?”
“General Tullius thinks that the Silver-Bloods, being Stormcloak sympathizers, are diverting most of their income to their cause. I.. I thought I could convince Thonar if I stayed for a few more days.” She started to doubt herself, Axius could feel it. She was quivering with fear from the inside, fear of the Silver-Blood’s capabilities and ruthlessness.
“Is the deed worth more than your life?”
“No.. I mean, of course! With it, we could ensure the silver would be use for the Empire. I would gladly die for the Emperor.” She tried to muster enough courage to say it but it came out like a dying cat.
Markarth has really gotten into her. Axius reached for a cup and poured the wine bottle placed on the shelf. He sipped his cup, the fine red liquid flowed through his throat as he consider the agent’s stakes. If she tries to get that deed, she will mostly like be dead. And even if she gets it, how does she expect to get out of Markarth?
“You should leave here, now.” Axius snapped, startling the agent.
“But.. what about the deed? How am I gonna explain to Gene..”
“Right now, the most important thing is your life.” He ended Margret’s complaint, leaving her to only listen to the Imperial’s plan.
“I’ll try talking to Thonar about the deed while you get out of Markarth as soon as possible. Don’t stop for rest or relieve until you get to the borders. Once I have the deed, I’ll bring it directly to General Tullius himself.”
“You would willing to risk your life for someone who spent years doing these types of things?” She didn’t believe his word even if it’s from the one who’d saved her.
“Yes. Because Markarth is a pit of snakes and General Tullius should send his own snake instead of a rat.”
“I guess you’re right then. I’ll pack up now and move out before dusk. The Empire will thank you if you succeed.” Margret then politely shooed Axius away from her room as she starts to pack up.
Now, how am I gonna get the deed without having a Forsworn stabbing my back? He wondered as he stared down on the half filled wine cup. The crimson red liquid reminded of the damned phrase that keeps ringing in his ears, Blood and Silver flows through Markarth. He quickly discarded the thought and started trotting out of the inn, sipping his wine.
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The Sun was beginning its descent, turning the sky orange. Axius could see the stables, towers and farm from the base of the guard tower. The guard tower was build on top of a hill, towering above Markarth. It was used to examine an invading army’s strength should they arrive. Didn’t prove quite useful when the Bear came. He thought before lying down on the rocky ground, closing his eyes to relax from all the noise that bellowed below.
Just when the world around him started to fade, a shadow loomed over him and grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against the wall of the tower.
“Agh! What do you think you’re doing?” Axius demanded an answer but the figure dragged him upwards, his head sinking into his clothes.
“I told you not to go snooping around but you did!” The figure threatened.
From his sunken eyes, Axius could see the figure wearing a grilled pointed helmet which could only mean one thing. The guards. Corrupt guards. The guard released his grip and the Imperial dropped to the ground, back first.
“I’m going to give you this warning for the last time. Don’t poke your nose around or you’ll be sniffing silver in Cidhna Mine!” The guard spat before leaving.
Axius got up and straighten his back. He eyed on the guard until he walked down the steps then brushed off the dirt from his clothes. There are eyes watching over us. He could hear Eltrys whispering those words at his ears as if he was beside him. How many eyes can the Silver-Bloods even buy and is there no limit to their wealth? Axius leaned forward on a toppled stone pillar and look down at the Treasury House. People coming and going through the door as two braziers hanging from above lit the entrance.
What are you hiding, Thonar Silver-Blood?
Table of Contents
Author's Note:
I decided to change the title to C.o.t.D for all current and future chapters. Also, i'm taking a break to focus on creating a character profile and personal stuff.
Comments
The Character profile you are going to put together, is it of Axius?