Their steel met with a resounding noise as Rikka and the stranger collided. Adrenaline pulsed through their veins with each passing second as their blades swiped and slashed through the chilling night air. Rikka made a move for her enemy's jugular, swiping just below her head. But her adversary flipped back and avoided the blow, then delivered a spinning kick to Rikka's legs. The blow knocked her on her back and the assailant flipped through the air toward her, spinning her curved swords around her body with the strangest sort of grace. Rikka rolled clear of the swords before returning to her feet, and tossed a small black egg at the woman's face -- an egg filled with shattered glass, intended to blind the attacker's eyes. The egg was sliced by the woman's blades, but Rikka seemed to have disappeared... until a sharp pain pierced the stranger's legs, causing her to fall to the ground. Rikka rose from her hiding spot in the shadows and pinned the stranger to the ground with her boot. She pressed her razor-sharp blade to the assassin's throat, and gave an ominous glare before ripping the mask from the woman's face. However, even after revealing her face, Rikka could not tell who this young woman was... and strangely, she had even started laughing.
"So the tales about you are true..... 'Whispering Death', they call you back home." The woman said.
Rikka tilted her head, intrigued by the woman's tone.
"Forgive me... I simply had to determine if you were truly as deadly as the legends say. I've heard tell of your abilities... they say that you prowl the night like a shadow. That those who meet your gaze are condemned to a gruesome demise shortly thereafter. And none but those of us in Skyrim's underworld know your true name... Rikka Northwing."
Rikka's eyes widened.
"I mean you no harm -- as I said before: this was a test of your abilities. I represent an order of assassins that has been looking for someone like you for a long time now; a warrior with the discretion to kill from the shadows, and the aptitude to fend for herself in combat. Please, let me up... I owe you some coin as well."
Rikka was hesitant, but sheathed her weapon and allowed the woman to stumble back to her feet. The woman handed her a bloated coin purse.
"For killing that filthy narcissist Nazeem in Whiterun." She said, "I knew my faith in your abilities was well-put."
Rikka finally spoke, albeit briefly. "You hired me."
The woman nodded. "Allow me to introduce myself... I am Anora. The Nords here in Skyrim refer to me as "Sword-Dancer". And Nazeem? Nazeem is-- ah... was my father. He bore me as an illegitimate child after he became a nobleman, and disowned my ailing mother when she confessed to her pregnancy."
"You failed to kill him."
"I didn't have time. That's... partly why I hired you."
Rikka nodded.
"But enough about me. I'm personally extending a promise of membership in the Order of the Dagger... the league of assassins that I represent."
Rikka gave a dark look. "Tried joining a guild of killers already."
"Yes, yes, we know. And they betrayed you. But only because its leader -- Astrid, wasn't it? -- its leader was weak. She dreaded the Empire and its legion, in the middle of a war that did not involve her or her people. The Order of the Dagger is far more than the Dark Brotherhood, Rikka... let me show you. Let us show you."
Rikka pondered Anora's offer. On the one hand, trusting the Dark Brotherhood had very nearly taken her life. But on the other hand, Anora seemed certain of herself and her organization... her tone was genuine. Rikka faced the city to decide, then glanced at Anora over her shoulder and said in a resigned tone, "I will follow you." Besides, Rikka figured... if Anora meant to kill her, she already knew how to deal with backstabbers.
Erika and Marudil sat comfortably in the mighty walls of Proudspire Manor, Erika's grand Imperial home in Skyrim. "How do you like it?" Erika asked, "I nearly went broke buying the bloody thing, but it's a grand sight to see. Plus it reminds me of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil, where I grew up."
Marudil was entranced by the formal architecture and clean air of the mansion. In all his years prowling the forests of Valenwood, Elsweyr, Cyrodiil and Skyrim, he'd never once enjoyed the comforts of a place so refined... so elegant and proper... and so beautiful. He felt protected by the mansion's mighty walls, and wondered what manner of weapon or magic could possibly penetrate its ivory structure. The furniture was masterfully crafted, the lights illuminated nearly every corner of the manor, and the whole place seemed so... perfect... it was almost enough to make him forget how life in the wilderness felt.
"It is... magnificent..." He said in a trance-like tone, admiring the construction of the walls.
"Hah, isn't it? That's some good old-fashioned Nord craftsmanship, that is." Erika sat down at the fireplace to rest from their journey to Solitude. "So Marudil..."
"Yes?"
"I heard that one of the Whiterun guards saw you in a tree right before you killed those Thalmor units last month. Apparently he was suddenly knocked unconscious and woke up when the bodies were found. I've been meaning to ask, did you have anything to do with that?"
"Yes, actually." Marudil showed Erika an ancient-looking device, and what looked to be feathered darts. "My people call these 'blowdarts'. You simply put the dart at the end, like so..." Marudil demonstrated, "then blow through the other end. The pressure sends the dart flying, but it is useless on its own... so it is tipped with venom. I decided to tranquilize the guard, as he meant no harm -- but he'd have gotten in the way nonetheless."
"Does it hurt?"
"No, not generally. The trick is to put your target to sleep before their minds process what exactly hit them. By the time they have even a clue, it's too late."
"Fascinating..." Erika commented as she pulled out her journal, to write about her encounter with the legendary Archer of Whiterun.
"You keep a journal?"
"Yes I do. Have all my life. There's a great deal of things to read in it... like this entry for instance. It's a detailed account of my expedition over in Eastmarch. Took a flying ship over the mountainside."
"A flying ship??" Marudil was impressed. "You made a flying ship?"
"Actually I stole her from an old Dwemer ruin. Figured if the dwarves weren't going to use her, I would. Better than letting her collect dust underground, right?"
"May I see it?"
Erika shook her head. "Oh, no... she doesn't exist anymore. I was wrecked while cruising over the Velothi Mountains; a dragon came out of nowhere and shouted at the boat, and she went to pieces in mid-air. I'm still not sure how I got out of that one alive."
"Oh... shame. I'd have loved to see it."
"I'd have loved to keep 'er. Oh, and here's...." Erika fell silent.
"What? What is it?"
"... It's a... somber memory."
"I assume you'd care not to repeat it."
"No, no, it's- ... it's fine." Erika put the book down next to her. "You see, I have a... sister... they call her 'Whispering Death' now, but... her true name is Rikka Ivy Northwing. She and I grew up in Cyrodiil together and were brought up to be decent young women... but while I obeyed and lived as a law-abiding citizen, Rikka was different. As a teenager she started stealing from the local businesses, and when she got caught I swore I'd look out for her... keep her out of trouble. But when we moved here... when we moved to Skyrim, she..." A dark, somber look came over Erika's face.
"... She... what?" Marudil asked quietly.
"... We moved to Whiterun... started a small business as merchants to support ourselves. Something small and modest, yes, but cozy. The locals loved me and my business, but... they feared my older sister. They always said she'd be trouble... I never listened to 'em. Didn't want to. I believed I could keep her out of trouble. ... I had hoped so terribly... but- but my hope was in vain." She fell silent for a moment, then resumed. "One evening, I overheard that a merchant had been found murdered in his own home. The guards looked for clues to find the culprit, but they found nothing. So the case was dropped... except by me. I knew who could have killed that man. And I knew where she would hide the evidence. So I searched her room... and I found gold. Far more gold than what we were supposed to have as humble merchants. One bag in particular was bloated with thousands of coins... it was blood money. I also found her sword... hastily cleaned, and coated with a light bit of blood. We fought each other that night, and I very nearly killed her... but..."
"You could not slay her."
"I couldn't. Not my only living relative. ... So I let her go. But not before warning her that if she were ever to kill again, I'd finally give up my hope and finish the job."
"And yet she kills in spite of your wishes..."
"That's what it seems like... ... I'm sorry, I'm putting this burden on your shoulders too, aren't I?"
"It is no burden to one such as I."
Erika sighed. "Thank you, Marudil... I just can't help but wonder..."
"Wonder what?"
"If Rikka has chosen to rebel against my promise... knowing full well what is in store for her..." Erika looked into the blazing fireplace with an intense expression. "...then what would she do if we were to meet again? ... What force on Nirn or the heavens above would keep her from killing me?"
