Story of a Breton Farm Girl from Cyrodiil, Ch.01, part 10

• Posted by Eviltrain June 27, 2012 - 907 views

  A lone Argonian sat pretending to be in his cups at the Sleeping Giant Inn. A local bard idylly scratched his lute near the fire while the barkeep yawned in the back, keeping watch over the room. Sitting against the wall, the Argonian waited, listening for the footsteps that would come, waiting for a second set of revised instructions. Taking a drink from his cup, he sighed in frustration. This had become much too complex.

  His original instructions had been dead simple. On the night of the seventh of Last Seed, break into a house in Bruma and kill anyone inside. He had found the house, broken in as instructed and discovered that it was full of already dead silence. The Argonian had retreated out of the house, placed a mark at a certain location and went back to the local inn to sleep off his disappointment. Two mornings later, a second message had arrived with revised instructions. Track down a Breton girl who had gone and made herself missing two nights ago and kill her. He left the inn and went shopping at the local market. At the meat stand, he overheard the gossip between the butcher and the castle cook and was able to gleen a wonderful recipe for mutton pie. At the produce stand, he learned that a Khajiit caravan had left two nights before under cover of darkness and surmised that his prey had left with them.

  Following up on his gamble, the Argonian tracked the caravan through the Jerall Mountains and into Skyrim. Six days later, he had finally caught sight of his target who had managed to reach Darkwater Crossing, an absolutely wonderful place to be assassinated. Keeping a safe distance, he began formulating a kill strategy when an Imperial ambush appeared and trapped a group of Stormcloaks along with his hapless prey. Cursing his luck and worried that she might be captured by the unsavory fellows, he decided to improvise and try to kill her from a distance. With any luck, he could be long gone before any of the soldiers did an arrowhead count. Unfortunately, the girl had moved before his arrow could make her acquaintance and his shot greeted a Stormcloak instead. Before he could nock again, one of the Imperials had introduced the Breton to the flat of her blade.

  Sighing in temporary defeat, the Argonian followed the war party to Helgen and discovered the worst possible situation. The Imperials were going to kill everyone including his contract. The job would be completed to be sure, but it would have robbed him of the joy of sinking his blade into her soft flesh and feel her stiffening body slowly relax into his embrace. The intimate conversation that he could have with his victims during these moments was the most enjoyable part of his profession. It made him feel connected, less alone. It was something he always looked forward too; and now, it was being stolen from him.

  Then, that dragon business happened. It was quite a sight to behold and for once, something that the Argonian had never experienced. In the spectacular aftermath, he had lost sight of his target and he had been unable to regain her trail by himself.

  The Argonian stared into his empty mug when the front door opened, sunlight murderously stabbing it's way into empty shadows. A Nord walked through, closed the door and slowly ambled up to the bar. He spoke an order to the innkeeper and then turned towards the room. Spotting the lizard, he turned back and waited for his food and drink.

  With an empty cup, the Argonian got up and headed over to the innkeeper. Standing next to the Nord, he waved his cup and slurred, "O'oours is to smile at your passing... me another a'aale, baarrkeep."

  The Innkeeper shuffled over from the back table to refill his customers mug and then went back to work.

  Turning around with ale in one hand, the Argonian watched the room as the Nord passed him a note beneath the bar top. He slid away and headed back to his still warm seat. Setting his mug down, he unfolded the paper and read the instructions.

  Eliminator,

  Your target was spotted leaving the Jarl's

  keep in Whiterun. She has acquired

  collateral, a Nord warrior named Lydia.

  Exercise caution.

  The Argonian burned the small note in the oil lamp's flame, dropping his edge into the reservoir. Downing his ale, he laid some coins on the table and walked out of the inn and into the mid-afternoon light. The Contractor had told him to exercise caution. This either meant that the Nord warrior was dangerous or something had occurred which the Brotherhood couldn't understand. Basking in the late summer sun, the Eliminator sighed at yet another variable that he would need to account. On the bright side, he now had a second target.

  *     *     *     *

  "Ours is to follow, friend."