Rikka Northwing: Contract Killer, Chapter 3: The First Assignment

• Posted by MarkusMasterThief September 15, 2015 - 1,125 views

  

  Night had fallen over the settlement of Karthwasten. For the time being it was home to a young, loving couple: one a humble farmer, and the other a sword-maiden in training. Both swore loyalty to the Stormcloaks, but they could also see trouble on the horizon; the Legion had taken their home city of Winterhold, and after publicly decrying the Empire and even assaulting Legion officers, the sword-maiden had been labelled as a war criminal and decided to seek sanctuary in Hammerfell, with her loyal companion close behind her every step of the way. Their journey had taken them across the province and for tonight, they felt more confident than ever that they would find safety after all... but the sword-maiden had begun seeing a foreboding shadow hiding just behind her peripheral vision as they passed by Solitude, and despite being so close to the border of Hammerfell... she could not deny the cold feeling in her gut. Death was coming, and it was coming fast. Her lover had gone outside to chop logs for their fire, while she herself sat inside at her desk. The candle sitting at the far end of the desk flickered and danced as she dipped a feather in her writing ink and set down a clean sheet of parchment paper...

  "My dearest Fjor," Her letter read, "You have been so brave, facing this perilous journey across Skyrim with me. I knew from the moment we met that you were a special young man, destined for many great things. Your smile has always been a light in my life, even when I could not seem to find any others. And when I confessed my stance in the civil war, and that I had been training to fight under Ulfric's banner, I was afraid that you might brand me a traitor... but instead you stood right by me, ready to face the Legion in spite of the danger it posed to both you and myself. No woman in Skyrim could ever have expected to find such a loyal and loving companion as yourself, yet here we are in Markarth just a day's walk away from our new home. Sometimes I've asked myself what on Nirn I've ever done to make Mara so happy that she would bless me with your heart..."

  The candle began to flicker and dim. The air grew cold behind the sword-maiden, and her keen ears heard the door gently opening. And yet there came not a single footstep from the door. A single teardrop fell down her face.

  "... But my time here is over, my love. I have seen a shadow watching us in the woods... and I know not who or what it is, but I know where it has come from. It is an evil thing that stalks us from the darkness... a servant of the enemy. It has come to take me to the other world, my love, and in spite of everything I know there is nothing I can do to stop it. My life must end... but yours must go on. Live a happy life in Hammerfell, Fjor, and always remember your dearest Skalyja. For I will be awaiting you in Aetherius, and watching over you until we may finally meet again. I love you, Fjor... now and forever.

  Yours in eternity,
  Skalyja."

  Then there came the sound of a steel blade being drawn from its sheath, and in a sudden splash of blood the sword-maiden's life had ended. Her blonde head rolled across the wooden floor and the killer, Rikka, wiped the remains from her blade. Her duty was finished; the Imperial court at Solitude would be satisfied. But... wait... what was that on the desk? Rikka picked up the bloodied letter and read it against the candlelight, then looked ominously behind her with dark thoughts laden in her silver eyes...

  The farmer then came back from chopping his wood. Though it was a burden to carry, the wood he'd gathered would last them at least three nights in the cold. He opened the door with a jovial expression on his face and announced his return. "Skalyja dear? I'm back! Where are... hello?" Their small cabin had fallen completely silent and dark; the candle light had gone out, and there was not the tiniest inkling of sound to be heard, save for a faint dripping noise. "Skalyja?" He called out, fearing the worst. "Skalyja??" Hastily he lit a stray lantern and looked every which way around the living space, until he beheld a truly gruesome sight.

  Skalyja's severed head was pinned to the wall above her desk by what appeared to be an Akaviri tantō, which pierced through her forehead as blood dripped from her eyes, nose, mouth, and forehead wound. All at once he dropped his firewood and tried to scream at the sight, but strained tears came out instead. Rikka observed his reaction from the shadows; such strong emotion this man felt... such heartache to see the woman in this way... was this what sadness looked like? Or was this how all people would react to such a sight?

  The man Fjor subconsciously looked to the side and saw her standing there, and suddenly she lunged forward and knocked him to the ground. Without hesitation she straddled him and gripped tightly around his throat, as he tried in vain to fight back against the assassin as she stared down at him with her dead-looking eyes. He tried strangling her in return, but his strength was failing fast; he gripped at her hair and pulled hard, undoing her ponytail but causing next to no pain; he tried striking at her body, but his blows did little to harm her. The world around him began to grow dark, and he violently tried gasping for air... but his wind pipe had been crushed, and the assassin's grip seemed only to tighten even further around his neck. At last his arms slipped to the ground, then after a final jolt of struggling energy he died on the floor, as his last thoughts turned to his beloved Skalyja.

  Rikka remained sitting on Fjor's body for several minutes, studying his features and reflecting on the kill itself. She tilted her head to the side and became lost in her own thoughts; he must have loved her very much, she reasoned. And she, him. They must have spent plenty of time together too. But what did it feel like? Especially when they were alone together, just like she was with the body? Did it feel the same as when she was strangling him? Or was it more like how she felt now, if it was even a feeling at all? She looked closer at Fjor's face and noted that his lips looked soft. And then she thought about all those happy couples she'd seen in Cyrodiil when she was growing up, and realized she'd never kissed a man before. Perhaps they were too afraid of her. What did it feel like anyway? And why was it always such a big deal? Feeling curious, she rested her hands on Fjor's face, leaned herself forward and kissed his lips softly. She lingered on them before rising to her feet, pulling her tantō out from the wall and walking out the door, closing the door behind her. And as she stood with her back to the cabin in a final moment of reflection, the faintest glimmer of dissatisfaction flashed quietly across her face...