Oblivion Mod:Order of the Dragon/Brotherhood of the Knights III

Book Information Brotherhood of the Knights III
ID	xx021D1A
Prev.	Chapter I	Next	Chapter III
	5		1.0
Locations
Found in the following locations: In the Assassin Castle Great Hall and as random loot

Brotherhood of the Knights III

by Kaien Tanvaro

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Chapter II

Just a few hours ago Arril Stayranas had gone through his options. Then he had noticed that the whole affair had nothing to do with him. He had been relieved, barricaded the door and window and, just to be safe, sealed himself in the basement. Sitting in a dusty old chair staring incessantly at the bag with the finger, which he had placed on a three-legged side table as far away from himself as possible, and gave the old monkey's self-pity a long overdue dose of sugar.

The fact that the explosion at the tavern had gone hand in hand with Elistir's madness signified nothing. Purely, absolutely, nothing. Nothing. Really not. It had been a stupid coincidence. And that friend of many years had made such a uprising, now Arril was prevented from adequately mourning him. Instead, here he was, in his basement, paranoid, and with the feeling that the whole world had it out for him.

The bad thing was the uncertainty. Of course it was a coincidence. But what if it weren't? When he showed up on the street, Elistir's followers recognized him and turned him into mincemeat if he did not tell them where the damn finger was? Yes, that damn finger. Kinky. Disgusting. Right in his house. Right on an old side table with three wobbly legs that threatened to collapse even under this small burden.

Without hesitation Arril stood up, took a step towards the table, only to turn away and slap a hand over his mouth. He could not really believe what Elistir had said. That was simply preposterous! And yet, the finger was here, macabre proof of what had happened last night.

He had to get rid of it. Immediately.

The bag was small and light, and its contents could be disposed of with great safety. Arril also knew how. He left his hiding place and stoked a fire in the fireplace. As the wood burned, he threw the bag into the flames and even poured some wine over it. Arril watched as the leather caught fire and went black, and decided to let it burn out. Thus, this whole nightmare would soon dissolve into ashes.

Meanwhile, Diron Hayth also entrenched himself in the basement of his house, but not out of fear of death, and certainly not because he pitied himself. The magician he had contacted was an old childhood friend, and Diron's wife remembered him vividly enough to prohibit her husband to any contact with him. Not that he had ever held to this rule, but as long as she did not know that, the house remained peaceful.

It was a wonder that Mariel had not found out anything yet. Tesseck Angodai and he had a sophisticated system. The mage had at first not liked it that a woman stood between them, and Diron possessed the audacity to urge him to prohibit contact. But the playful instinct was stronger. Tesseck's personality had never passed the age of youth, and devising ways and means to trick Mariel had become one of his greatest hobbies. Diron did not know a mage who approached Tesseck's genius, but no one with his skill almost exclusively supported his childish urge to invent.

Just before Diron a swirl appeared in the air, which revolved around an invisible node and finally released a black hole. Diron had expected something harmless like a dremora, and now as he watched in horror as a huge scaly arm pushed through the portal. The forearm had hardly come through when four long claws hand hit the ground and scratched the wood.

Diron threw himself backwards into a pile of clothing as the arm, which bent at the elbow, reached the length of the basement and swept by a hairsbreadth from the Dunmer.

"Honey," he heard his wife call, concerned. "What's going on down there?"

"It's okay," Diron replied quickly. "Only a few rats!"

Diron thanked Mephala that he'd been prudent enough to close the cellar door. Mariel would have torn his head off. But she would anyway, when she saw the scratched wooden floor.

A ridiculously small piece of paper was jammed between two claws of the giant hand, which it shook vigorously. The arm withdrew, smashing three ancient vases and a box, and the paper sailed calmly to the floor.

"Mariel's gonna kill me," Diron said loudly and angrily. "But Tesseck will be first, I swear." What he had been thinking, to ask him for help?

The message itself was so incredibly short that it would almost have made the Dunmer angrier. The content of this feeling, however, weakened: Tesseck had recognized the charm immediately, since he still had it from his father, Mephala bless him, who had created it. Someone had weakened all the spell charms of the ancestors' crypt and had completely cleaned it out with the exception of the corpses.

It was worse than Diron expected. Tesseck's family was known to go up to the absolute limits of their skills and to take no consideration. The individual members were responsible for many dangerous magics, and the absolute masterpieces had been sealed with them in the ancestral Tomb. Actually, only family members could enter the tomb. Actually.

Diron left the basement.

In an estate on the other side of town a few hours later, Arril fell desperately to the floor in front of the fireplace.