Rikka accompanied Anora to the hideaway of the Order, making sure to keep a close eye on even the slightest implication of betrayal. Even after being guided all the way to Markarth without interruption, Rikka was still unsure of her new acquaintance. Then again, however, this paranoia was no doubt a byproduct of Astrid's betrayal so long ago... a wound which still festered in Rikka's broken mind. Finally the two of them found their way to the entrance of Anora's lair: an old and battered wooden door, safely tucked away behind a patch of particularly thick hanging moss. Most people simply paid no mind to the old wooden door, as they were far more fascinated by the Dwemer relics standing proudly around them... even the Dark Brotherhood couldn't have asked for a better hiding place than this humble-looking entryway.
Anora took the lead and Rikka closed the door behind them. The hall leading into the main room of the lair was pitch-black, with a single torch that Anora took from the wall to light the way. The hallway seemed to go on for quite a while, and the surrounding walls were ancient and grimy. The air reeked of blood, and occasionally Rikka stepped on a stray skull by mistake. It felt as if it was built for the sole purpose of discouraging unwanted visitors from going further, as it gave an aura of both emptiness and despair. Needless to say, Rikka felt right at home in such a place. Finally a light appeared at the end of the hallway, as Anora pointed out.
"We're almost there -- the headquarters is just up ahead."
When Rikka stepped into the main chamber of the Order's lair, she became utterly spellbound by what she saw: the order was made of 12 assassins, with each boasting beautifully-crafted ebony weapons; the walls were decorated with bloody tapestries and paintings of macabre scenery; each corner of the lair was fitted with a weapons rack, and each rack carried weapons that Rikka had never seen before in her life; and at the far end of the main room was a curious shrine. It was this shrine that caught Rikka's attention the most, and her interest prompted her to take a closer look. Anora noticed Rikka's fascination, and joined her at the altar.
"What is this?" Rikka asked in her usual quiet and ominous tone.
"This is our altar of Boethiah, the Daedric prince of deceit, conspiracy, treachery and sedition. She represents a great deal of what the Order of the Dagger stands for; things like political manipulations and discreet contracts for murder are among our higher ambitions, and so Boethiah stands as our figurehead."
Rikka simply stood in silence, admiring the altar.
A voice spoke from behind. "So this is your new recruit, eh?"
"Yes she is," Anora replied, "Brothers and sisters in blood, I give you... Rikka Northwing, known in our circle as 'Whispering Death'."
Rikka turned to face the other killers, who were visibly awed by her presence.
"You..." One of them, an Argonian, pointed out, "They say you're the one who... killed the Emperor..."
"Yours is the blade that felled a thousand innocents, they tell me..."
"My brother claims that those who fall under your shadow are marked for death..."
"Anora..." A Dunmer assassin spoke, "What convinced her to come here? How were you able to find her in the first place? After the Brotherhood fell, they say she left them behind... became little more than a shade..."
"Yes, yes, she was hard to track..." Anora acknowledged, "Without the Penitus Oculatus' records detailing the Brotherhood's known members, it'd have been impossible to even find her name, much less any clues indicating her appearance or potential whereabouts." Anora faced Rikka, "Oh, and don't worry about those records; I took to the liberty of burning them after I'd gathered all the information I needed."
Rikka nodded in response.
Anora faced her allies and took on an enthusiastic tone. "My friends, we are now 13 assassins strong! Skyrim's citizens may think themselves safe with the Dark Brotherhood destroyed, but little do they know that death's shadow has only receded but an inch from their cities! A new day is dawning, and the Order of the Dagger shall be its herald! And as for you... our new ally..." Anora handed Rikka a contract. "We've got a special assignment for you. Trivial as it may seem, our client is offering 3000 septims for this man's death. Apparently it's a personal matter involving the client's brother..."
Rikka read the terms of the contract, and a chilling grin spread across her face. Something about this contract struck a significant chord with her, and her ominous response was enough to frighten even the other killers.
"Three thousand..." Rikka muttered to herself. "Interesting..."
"You accept, then?" Anora asked.
Rikka nodded, and headed out of Markarth to hire a carriage...
****
Belethor locked the doors of his shop and sat down to enjoy a cold mug of mead. It had been a good, profitable day for his business, particularly thanks to Erika Northwing's contribution to the city; now that the Archer had been dealt with, more people were coming by his store to purchase goods, trinkets, odds and ends, and whatever else he had for sale... which basically boiled down to everything that the customers could see on display. Of course, he really should have been more honest about the prices of his wares.... but then again, who was there to compete with in Whiterun? His was the only store of its kind in the city! Reflecting on the glorious feeling of his absolute dominance in the Whiterun market, Belethor took another sip of mead... only to find that the mug had run empty. And so he rose from his seat to fetch another drink... and that's when he saw her: the grim shadow sitting just across from him. The assassin he knew all too well. The sight of her caused Belethor to drop his glass bottle of mead, which shattered into pieces as it hit the ground.
"You..." Belethor said shakily, "It's you..."
Rikka remained silent, glaring at him. Predicting his movements.
"Look, I... uh... what- what do you want? I- did- did you want more money?"
Still she remained silent.
"If this is about... you know... ... ... why are you looking at me like that?"
Finally Rikka spoke. "Yes. ..... This is about him. And his brother."
"Brother? He- he had a brother?"
"Yes. A brother who knows what you did. What you told me to do."
"But- but- that was, what, a year ago? Two years? Why's he goin' after me now?"
"He learned the truth, Belethor. ... He knows you paid me to kill his brother.
"Now wait a-- hold on, can we just--"
Rikka rose to her feet, slowly drawing out her katana. "He knows you wanted his brother's shop." The sword reflected the moonlight cascading down from the windows. "He knows you demanded his brother to sell it, but to no avail. So you hired me to kill him."
"Are you- are you shaming me for it??" Belethor said, backing away slowly, "You didn't even flinch when I asked you to--"
"It means nothing to me. Good, wicked, young, old... mere numbers. Positions. Ideals. It is your blood, Belethor... that is all I care to claim from this. Not justice... not vengeance... merely blood."
Rikka raised her blade above Belethor's body, and swung downward. Instantly Belethor whipped out his dagger and deflected the blade, then attempted to stab Rikka's heart. But his desperate efforts were no match for Rikka's speed and strength, and the assassin dodged the blade before gripping Belethor's wrist and breaking it. She then proceeded to throw Belethor over her shoulder and dislocate his arm, thus rendering him defenseless. As her quarry moaned in agony on the floor, Rikka casually paced around his limp form and savored the moment. The look in Belethor's eyes... sheer panic and recognition of his inevitable fate, mixed with a vain hope of survival... Rikka found that she could not look away from his miserable expression, even as he pleaded for her to take pity upon him.
"I... I paid you... three... three... thousand..." Belethor gasped.
"That's the ironic thing, Belethor..." Rikka said as she stepped on Belethor's body and raised her blade above his vulnerable neck, "So did he."
