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grimweaver · 4 years ago

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~*~

Lucien and I were met first with a washover of festive sounds in the streets, muffled no longer once the heavy doors of the smith shop groaned outward; a few common percussion and wind instruments playing along with loud, happy-drunk singing, laughing, and cheering. As it had at roughly the same time the previous nights, the air was beginning to thicken with a mostly pleasant mix of the usual scents; smoke billowing from grills and clay ovens, charred and baked goods, perfumes, and hard-partying bodies.

Immediately in front of us was a little more than a dozen laborers that were sent out for us, and standing out amid them was a stout figure— a bosmer with slicked back brown hair, wearing a brown cotton vest over a white peasant shirt that was tucked into dark brown capris, and a pair of doeskin shoes. He gave himself away when he bounced up and down as he pointed at us, shouting: “LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!” It was Dorandil, assuming the role that he had already been playing since the start of it all, except under a different name: Norabil Windthorn. “ BY AZURA! BY AZURA! BY AZURA! It’s the G—!” One of the female workers gave the bosmer a firm and deserving smack upside the head. At least he had enough brain cells to understand the message in the scolding strike and come up with a decent correction. “...Great Dancing Duo !” he finished, rubbing the back of his head, then joined the workers in helping Jahruu and Hennia with their things.

“Ah! Master Atterius and the lovely Lady Nelvani !” the voice of Ocheeva called out from our left. We turned to see four people in bronze scale armor, with burgundy cloth wrapped around their shoulders and faces, and draped over their heads to cast dark shadows over their eyes—not an inch of flesh could be seen.

Each individual called out their name.

From Ocheeva: “Stone-Scale!”

From Teinaava: “Ebon-Claw!”

From Bremman: “Denarius Saxtus!”

From Farwil: “Sreth Rellintilys!”.

In perfect unison, they saluted by pounding their right fists against their chests, bowing their heads, and shouting together: “ At your service! ”

It attracted some attention from some celebrants nearby. Those who understood that the masked man was Atterius whirled completely around and cheered ecstatically as they pointed at him. Lucien gave them a smile and wave, then urged us all to get a move on before some real crazies started coming out of the woodworks to commence a blocking and grappling frenzy— that was part of the reason why he wanted us to leave so early. The other part was the fifteen-minute walk quickly becoming a forty-minute one— there was very little flow control on the public grounds, so the pathways had become a jumbled mess far worse than anything we had encountered before— people, shoulder to shoulder, jumping and bumping into each other as they threw marigold petals into the air and at each other. The vendors were a bit more aggressive in their efforts to grab attention from people walking by—instead of just sitting behind a counter, they were actually getting in front of people and intentionally blocking their path. Thankfully, our ‘bodyguards’ did an excellent job of getting a pathway cleared for us and shielding us from an onslaught of zealous Atterius fans.

When we got through the bulk of the crowd, just a little ways past the Guild Traders, a cool flush of gratefulness went through my being and relieved the swell of rage mixed with nausea— our amusement of the inner-city partying had disintagrated when we entered the outer rim of the bulk, where the cloud of stagnant air had a mild undertone of bile, curry flatulence, and undiluted beer-sweat.

“Thank All the Powers !” I blasted as I gasped for air. I owed gratitude to military aquatics training as well, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hold my breath for 2-3 minutes at a time. “A second longer in all of that and one of you would be wearing my eggs and bacon!”

“T’h-h-yeah!” Farwil chuckled with a cough. “Agh… I think we’d all have worn each other’s breakfasts!”

“There they are,” Lucien said, pointing to a group gathered near the first lamppost beyond the market square. All but one kept their gaze fixed on the plateau ahead— an effeminate male with long and wavy platinum-blonde hair, wearing a robe made of quilted white silk, jeweled rings on every finger, layers of necklaces made of gold and glass beads, and a steel-plated belt over a dark red sash. He motioned to the rest and pointed back at us. “By the Black Nights of Boralis! What breathtaking beauty!” he cried out, and that’s when I knew who it was: Vicente!

“Speak for yourself… Fabiere ,” Lucien replied, suppressing a chuckle he looked him up and down.

“Oh!” Vicente blasted, grappling at the shirt of his robe. “Are you talking about this old thing?? It’s so-o-o-o last week. And this sand-caked bird nest that used to be lovely locks of pure sunshine??” He fussed with his hair and looked at it with feigned disgust, before daintily slapping it away from his face with a light, hauty grunt. “I am rather embarrassed by it all… but thank you!”

There was an eruption of laughter all around, even Lucien couldn’t hold back his. Vicente was doing a good job of getting into his character.

“Astaunne is right,” Gabrelle said. “You two look amazing !”

The whole group voiced their agreement.

“Indeed… Nine still my heart,” Farwil said, “you… um… no others among us… could accentuate the finery so well.”

“Thank you, Sreth,” I replied, trying not to think about all the unshareable things that were probably going through his head, and turned to face him directly. “ Please … promise me that you’ll stick to the plan and remember everything instilled in you...by… um… your training at the Fighters Guild—our survival depends on it.”

“I’ll promise to try ,” Farwil replied, returning the back-pat in a respectful friend-and-comrade sort of way that did not give me the creepy-crawly cringes. “I’ll do what I must, if I have to do it. I’ll not forget the good point you made… about… our ‘top priority’.”

“Ah… right. Well that’s… good.” I sighed. “I just… that thing I was going to tell—“

I was interrupted by Lucien nudging me with his hip.

“What??” I snarled at the Speaker, and I was cheeky enough to glare up at him too. “I wasn’t going to actually say it yet.”

“Say what?” Farwil asked.

“Never you mind now. Just… just try to stay alive, please… please. I will… I will tell you after uh… our ‘performance’.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I sensed confusion and annoyance rising in him again. But he nodded and replied, “Alright.”

“Let us be on our way ,” Lucien said, this time using an insistent tone of voice to nudge me, and gestured for me to hook my left arm around his right. With noble grace, I accepted his arm and kept deep beneath the surface an immense thrill over its feel.

“Atterius, ” Farwil seethed.

“For the sake of appearances, sir,” Lucien whispered to him. “Please... do permit me.” Even then he preserved diplomatic humility, conscious of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary’s dependence on the Dark Brotherhood’s good relationship with House Indarys.

“Agh-h-h-fine,” Farwil replied. I sensed there was more he wanted to add to that, perhaps something similar to what he had said before back in Taneth: “Just don’t forget what I told you back in Cheydinhal!” But he probably remembered that I was short on patience with his threatening words towards LaChance and swallowed them.

~*~

Where the road began to curve towards Sentinel’s northwest entrance, we joined the steady stream of guests and entertainers making their way up the wide sandstone walkway that was built into the side of the plateau. Most arrived on rickshaws, elephants, camels, and horses, but our unit remained on foot— one of the things that Atterius was known for was his humbleness.

We were cheered on by crowds of people lining the path to the gates of Surraiah’s property. Bursts of marigold petals, several dozen at a time, flew out from people's hands and cascaded from the treetops and the ledge of the cliff wall. I almost wished I had taken my sandals off, thinking about what a wonderful textural experience it would’ve been to feel the supple flower petals crunch beneath my feet. I was distracted from the temptation by the massive drums and horn instruments blaring from the center of Surraiah's party, which could be heard from a mile in every which way; it lifted my spirits up to a height untouched by the fears that had me minutes ago, or any regard to the true identity and reality that I had left at the doors of the smith shop. I felt as though I was truly becoming the person that I was pretending to be, to the point of not giving any second thought to tightening my grip on LaChance’s l arm and giving the parent shoulder a few affectionate pats to express to him my excitement over a welcome fit for royalty.

“Enjoying yourself, Lady Nelvani?” Lucien asked, drawing up a small grin as he mildly gave return pats to the forearm hooked around his right.

“Damn right I am!” I cried out, bouncing a bit like a school-aged child as I waved back at the crowd. “Come on, Atterius! Let yourself be raptured up into the moment! We might never know a night like this again!”

“Actually… we might .”

My head snapped from the crowd and to Lucien’s masked face. “Oh? What—?”

“Hush, now,” Lucien barked through his teeth as he faked a smile, giving a quick nod to the upper end of the walkway. “We’re almost there. Get your head out of the clouds and focus on the task at hand.”

“My mind can occupy multiple places at the same time,” I argued. “Stop worrying.”

Lucien’s head whipped around and I could feel the heat of his intense scowl permeating through the mask.

I corrected myself. “I mean… yes, sir .”

We all kept an outward calm as we reached the top and followed the line of guests, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with a head full of hornets, watching the guards without blinking or breathing as the distance between us and them shortened, two people at a time. Whenever I felt the surface give slightly to the pressure, I smiled and acted as though the shakes were caused by sheer admirition of Surraiah’s home; the grandeur and mesmerizing details in the moulds, ceilings, and floors that spoke of a wealth that had been accumulated and preserved throughout generations.

“What’s with all the extra security??” asked someone ahead of us.

“A necessary precaution; that’s all we’re at liberty to say,” answered one of the guards, holding a clipboard up to the couple’s faces. “Negative. Move along, and enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you!”

To ease my mind, I turned my attention to the beautiful multicolored metal embellishments along the wall made of sun-bleached sandstone. But just as I was beginning to relax, Farwil gave my arm several frantic jabs with his elbow.

“What, Sreth??” I snapped at him, at a volume just under that of the surrounding clamour.

“Remnants… all of them,” he hissed.

“Remnants? You mean… daedra ?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?? How can you tell??”

“It’s something they all wear to generate an illusion. I’ll explain later… when or if I can.”

I nodded, then turned to Lucien. “Did you hear what Sreth said?” I asked him.

“Of course I did," Lucien answered, phenomenally calm. "I hope he’s mistaken… but… he's likely to be right.”

"Do you think that means… you-know-who is also here?"

"It might. But that doesn't change anything. Do not, under any circumstances, deviate from the plan unless I instruct you to. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

(CONTINUED)

#the elder scrolls #tes oblivion #lucien lachance #elder scrolls stories #the dark brotherhood

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