Garred's skin burned as he stepped out into the sunlight. He swore to himself he could hear a crackling noise, like meat over a fire. And yet, despite the constant burning sensation, he was relieved to be out in the light.
Happy for no particular reason, Garred wandered the road for a few minutes whistling to himself. He was barely 10 minutes away when he saw Jordan and Annalisse, side by side, apparently in some sort of... heated discussion. He never got close enough to overhear before they realized his presence.
"Lord Rothark requests your services, Miss Greyshade." Perhaps today would be easier than he thought. She acknowledged him, before effectively ignoring the summons. Garred wasn't pleased, but nor was he surprised.
The walk was not far. The cave he was looking for was up in the mountains north-west of Markarth, a short distance from a narrow mountain pass. Every now and then, a few travelers would pass, and each would stare just long enough to make Garred contemplate murdering them, before the moved on. The sun was getting weaker as the day progressed later into the afternoon. About half an hour after leaving, Markarth itself came into sight. There were guards all over the place, standing rigid on either side of the enormous copper-coloured gates, and at the base of the concrete steps leading up to it. Garred paid it no mind. It was not his target. Not today.
He found the path then minutes after crossing the river. It was little more than a dirt track in truth, sloping steeply upwards into the mountains, before flattening out in a small valley between two peaks. A large boulder marked the end of the road for Garred, and he turned off left. The descent was not steep, but there was no path here. After a very brief walk Garred ended up on a slight ledge, which he followed along the face to a more open spot.
Two light wooden gates blocked the entrance to the cave. A dunmer woman with glowing red eyes guarded the entrance, sharpening the blade of a dagger on a small whetstone. She looked up long enough to see Garred approaching, and knew it was wiser to say nothing.
He pushed his way through the gates, finding himself once again in a dark cave lit only by flickering torches. is shadow spread out in every direction, dancing on the cave walls. It was a short descent before the cave opened out into a large cavern. Garred felt eyes on him everywhere. There were at least five vampires in this room. Two guarded the walkways with crossbows, one was slouched by the entryway reading, another was attempting to sleep on a pile of hay and the final one was reading over some ledgers at a small desk.
Garred approached.
"You. I need the key to Lord Rothark's chamber. Who holds it?"
"I, um... Vorro. Vorro has the key, yes, yes. We were not made aware of your arrival, my Lord, or I would have had preparations made, and, and..." He seemed startled, even scared. Garred grunted and set off up the walkway. The wood creaked under his feet and parts of it had rotted away entirely.
This is disgraceful. Maybe it would be beneficial to have them wiped out. They give the rest of us a bad image. Rothark's old chamber was at the highest point in the hideout, carved into the mountain peak with a view of the city. The door was double-locked; Garred had one key, and this 'Vorro' man had the other. The door came into sight soon enough.
A large iron door, reminiscent of the ones found in Nordic burial tombs, blocked Garred's path. As well as the door, a blonde-haired man turned to face him. He stood taller than most men, clad in black iron armor fashioned with numerous barbed spikes. A small black cloth hung tattered from his waist to broaden his appearance a bit. His eyes glowed faintly and scars littered the visible parts of his neck. He scowled at Garred.
"In the name of the Lord Rothark, I order you to halt." The man put on his helmet and brandished a sword like Garred had never seen before.
"So, you must be Vorro." Garred leant against a wall and yawned sarcastically.
"What business have you here?"
"In the name of the Lord Rothark," Garred imitated him sarcastically, laughing to himself,
"I have been sent to retrieve some of his Lordship's personal belongings. On his direct orders."
"Like you expect me to believe the Lord would send the likes of you. You are less than a thrall. Be gone."
"I am Lord Rothark's apprentice. Now hand over the key, before I rip out your spine and turn it into a lockpick."
"Threaten me again and it will be you who perishes this day."
"That wasn't a threat. It was a promise." Garred was smiling now, silently willing the man to refuse him. Much to his disappointment, however, he relented and sheathed his sword. He reached around and took a heavy steel key from his belt. Garred took it without gratitude, and jammed it into the left hand lock. He then put his own key into the right hand lock. The door clicked, and slid aside.
Vorro followed Garred into the room, watching his every move. The chamber was large, but only one part mattered. Moving among the isles of books, Garred picked out anything bound with blue leather and stuffed it into his bag. After he was sure no more remained, he turned back to Vorro.
"Lord Rothark sent me to collect anything of value to him." Vorro did not reply.
"You guard his chambers fiercely in his name. Perhaps he sent me to find you." A small smile cracked accross Vorro's lips. Soon after, Garred's fist cracked accross his lips.
"You're going to die if you stay here. You're coming back with me, and you will serve Rothark himself." Garred leaned down so that his face was almost in Vorro's, who lay stunned on the floor.
"But try any of that 'city-guard' style bullpl*ps again, and I'll follow through on my promise." Garred extended a hand, and helped Vorro to his feet. The sun was beginning to fall behind the mountaintops now.
"Right, any questions?" Vorro opened his mouth, but Garred continued, with
"No? Good. Let's go then."
+++
Rothark sat hunched at his desk, scribbling in another journal. He was attempting to catalog all of the armor and weapons currently in the possession of the Coven, but to very little success. It came as great relief when his chamber doors sighed open, and Jordan Greyshade stepped inside. "My Lord, I have brought you a small gift." Finally, something to brighten Rothark's day. He took the satchel as she held it out to him. "I'd like to humor you with a tale, if you don't mind. Also, I'm aware you requested my services?"
Rothark's eyes darted around inside the satchel. The ingredients she had presented him were high quality, although it was not within his particular set of talents to use them.
"You're late, Greyshade," he said without looking up at her.
"And yet, still earlier than Garred." Rothark placed the gift on a table and walked over to the grey brick fireplace, which loomed over them both. He poked around at the embers until they began to perk up, shedding some light in the otherwise dim room. His footsteps echoed around the chamber as he moved, seemingly effortlessly, to a large ornate oak chair opposite the flames. Pointing in the direction of a second, somewhat smaller chair to his right, he said,
"Please, sit. It has been such a dull day." He waited until Jordan was seated.
"Speak."
Jordan smiled and took a seat at her lords request.
"In Markarth for the past few weeks I have been conning a lonesome minor, extorting him for money. I think after my next visit I'll be able to make him somewhat of an informant, to help pay off his imaginary debt of course. He'll love the opportunity. All I have done to make this possible was steal a few things he liked and return them, now he owes me more money than he can afford. With the price raising of course. The original debt was 1000 gold, due to how difficult it was to find and retrieve the items." Jordan spoke very sarcastically at the last part, nodding toward she had the items the whole time.
"And with each passing week it raises roughly 500 gold. If he is particularly behind on debt the figure isn't so large but I get payments of 350 gold a week." Jordan hoped Rothark would appreciate her ability to manipulate, being able to fund herself and soon to have an informant of her own in the city. She decided he would not tell her about the mercenary sent after her, for Rothark would likely think she did not have this under control.
Jordan thought about mentioning Annalisse and her mother, but didn't know if her trying to protect her would only bring them more harm. If the two were still alone after she mustered her courage, she would try.
"Now what was it you wanted, lord?"
"Hmmmm." Rothark was deep in thought. The girl was more talented than he had originally perceived her to be.
"Manipulative, sneaky, and making yourself rich. You're turning out to be quite the prize." Rothark didn't like praising people. But in this case he felt it was necessary.
"As for my task, it is not so important. Nevertheless, if you feel like running an errand for me?" Rothark didn't give praise often, so the small amount he did make was a huge ego boost.
"Thank you my lord, always. What are the details?"
"Nothing more than a trip into town, really. With the recent ceasefire, a number of Imperial troops have been returned to Cyrodiil, leaving Solitude an easier target. I cannot divulge details to you yet, but our ranks are about to be thinned, and we need new blood. All I want you to do is pay a visit to the big city. Visit the inns, treat yourself, sleep around if you wish. But return with a list of worthy candidates. We need to bolster our ranks quickly." Rothark turned to face her.
"And don't bring me those that are unworthy. I will know if you do."
A grin played across Jordan's face. Solitude. Jordan loved travelling to the big cities, and the long trips. This task screamed adventure, a little vacation with effortless work.
"What traits would one exhibit to be considered worthy?"
"Look for candidates that are strong-minded, willful, noble. Anyone you feel may be of use to me. Anyone with power, like a thane or relatives of the Jarl. Take no action, just get information and then return to me."
"I'm assuming their will will be bent?"
"Well that depends on the individual. Some will be too brittle, and snap altogether. Either way, we shall find out."
"I understand the task lord. I will find suitable individuals whom might prove beneficial to you. But there is an issue I would like to discuss... It's a delicate matter that might anger you, but please hear me out. It's about Annalisse and her mother."
Rothark payed careful attention not to let any emotion show on his face.
"The little bird and her mother hen. Very well, my child, speak your mind."
Jordan swallowed her saliva, as the potential delicacy made her nervous. She made her face cold in emotion, despite the outcome of this conversation not being in her control. She had no idea what would happen.
"If Annalisse's mother was anybody else I would not have a problem with what you do. It is your art, it is what pleases you. I hope my admissions wont have you do more harm, but I care for Annalisse. She cares for her mother. When you harm Annalisse and her mother it affects me, and I know this doesn't bother you and there is not much I can say or do to have you stop but please. Rothark. I can bring you anyone you wish in replacement for Annalisse's mother and Annalisse herself. Or if there is anything I can do, period, I will do it if it means they will be harmed no longer." Jordan looked at Rothark and saw no emotion, if he had any, he was hiding it well.
"It is not what you do that I do not like, it is who it is done to. Please, understand what I say and don't be cruel. You haven't hurt me yet, and I'd like to keep it that way. Cruelty has never dawned upon us, and I ask that it is taken away from them. I will find you anyone, I will kill anyone. I will bring you all of Tamriel until you find someone that can replace them. I will hurt anyone, if it means they can be kept safe."
Rothark resisted the temptation to lash the back of his hand across her face. He was so close, he could not risk driving her away now.
"So sweet you are, caring for my little bird like that. But I'm afraid I cannot let her leave my service. I have dire need of someone with her particular... talents." He paused for a few minutes.
"As for the mother. Well, I suppose I could free her. But then how would I entertain myself? I would need to find another, and I do severely doubt I will ever find another who's screams bring me so much joy."
"Lord, I am not asking you free Annalisse. I am asking she does not be harmed. And as for the mother, I will find someone who's scream is drenched in fear and who's voice sounds so angelic when they're crying. I will test them myself, and I will bring you three women. Please Rothark, consider my request. Annalisse continues to work for you, however never being physically or mentally harmed. Annalisse's mother goes free at the expense of three other women. You can keep them all or discard of one or two, I don't care. Lord Rothark, I will bring you whatever you request. If it exists on Nirn I will find it for you." Jordan's voice kept confident and calm.
"Perhaps I might consider your request. But for now I tire of this conversation. Go, to Solitude with you, child. There is no need for further talk of this."
"As you wish." Jordan gave a curt bow and left the room. The door barely had time to settle in place in the door frame before it flew open again. Garred walked in, a satchel hanging over one shoulder, and a young looking man in tow. The satchel quickly found its way to the floor, before the boy followed it, sprawled out at Rothark's feet. Rothark looked at Garred, who smiled sickly, then down at the boy again.
"What is your name, child?" He looked up at Rothark.
"M-my Lord! Please, forgive my rudeness." The boy quickly found his way to one knee in front of Rothark. The Lord took note of the armor that adorned the boy's impressive stature; carved of iron and tinted black, a heavy plate tomb littered with vicious looking spikes.
"My name is Vorrostakk Tenerbrosi." He looked up at Rothark and met his unimpressed gaze.
"Vorro, my Lord."
"Garred, why have you bought me this boy?"
"He was the one who guarded your chambers, my Lord. He acted in your name. I though such a devout servant may be of use to you in the events to come."
"Very well. Stand up." Vorro did as ordered.
"You will serve me from now on. Can you fight?"
"Oh yes, my Lord. Before I was gifted, I was an esteemed pit-fighter in Cyrodiil. I have been a master of the blade since the age of 16." Garred did his best to look unimpressed.
"Very well. You shall enter my service as a personal bodyguard." Garred ripped the black cloak off of the back of Vorro's armor, and Rothark draped a new, dark blue cloak around his shoulders, emblazoned with a golden eye in the center.
"Now. Come. There is much to be done, and preparations to be made."