literature

No Man Left Behind part 5

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Nazir and KaNack had ridden all through the night to get to Whiterun. The sun had just begun to creep over the mountains as the large stronghold came into view. The Argonian was exhausted, having not had any sleep in at least two days, but he fought through his fatigue. The three stopped and dropped the horses off at the stables before making their way to the gated entry to Whiterun. Two Imperial soldiers stopped them at the gate.

"Halt! What business does an Argonian have here?" asked one.

"What is with that ghost?" the other barked as he pointed at Lucien. "We don't need you causing trouble in Whiterun! We know your kind, always sneaking about!"

KaNack was in no mood for the soldiers' attitude, and pulled off his dragon priest mask, glaring at them.

"I fought tooth and nail to protect Whiterun from Ulfric's army, and this is how I am greeted?" the Argonian growled. The two soldiers were startled as they recognized KaNack from fighting alongside General Tullius.

"Legate KaNack! We had no idea it was…."

"Of course you didn't! I see that ridding Skyrim of Ulfric has changed nothing! Apparently Nords aren't the only racists! Would you mind opening the gate, or perhaps I should send a report to the General about your intolerance towards the beast races of Skyrim ?"

"That won't be necessary! We'll open the gate!"

"Of course! Right away!"

As the two guards started to open the gates to Whiterun, Nazir turned to his leader with a look of amusement.

"You don't take prejudice lightly from anyone in Skyrim, do you?"

"Only one person could talk to me like that and get away with it," muttered the Argonian, "and she's the Jarl of Riften."

The doors were opened, and the three Dark Brotherhood members entered the town of Whiterun. It felt like a homecoming to the mage. Even after a year of absence, nothing much had changed in the village.

The blacksmith's wife was busy tanning hide in front of the shop, and up ahead the ranting of Heimskr could be heard. Even after Ulfric's defeat, the man would not stop speaking the name of Talos.

There was no time for reminiscing though, there was only one reason the trio had come to Whiterun. The Listener led his men to behind the blacksmith's shop, and there as always, was Olava the Feeble. She was settled on the small chair in front of her house seeming to be looking at nothing.

As they approached, the old woman picked up her head.

"Oh, it's you again. You brought friends this time I see." Olava then smiled as she gazed at the Spectral Assassin. "Very old friends."

"My lady," Lucien said with a bow of his head.

"Olava," started KaNack. "Please, if there was ever a time we needed your gift, it would be now." The Argonian took a knee so he was looking at her eye-to-eye. "One of our brothers, the Keeper, has been taken by the Penitus Oculatus. I need your help to find out where he is."

Olava was taken aback, and she stood up, scowling at the three.

"You are persistent, aren't you?" she hissed. KaNack stood up as well, shocked at the seer's reaction. "I gave you your reading already. My gifts are not some tools to be used on a whim. Whatever problems you are dealing with, I'm sure you can handle it on your own." She leaned closer to KaNack. "You're the 'Family's' leader. Lead, and leave me be."

The old woman turned back and entered her house, slamming the door behind her.

"Well," started Nazir. "That could have gone better." He looked at the mage. "What's plan B?"

"Continue with Plan A," the Listener growled. "Wait here." He opened the door to Olava's house and stormed inside.

"Why am I not surprised?" the Redguard sighed. He looked over at the Spectral Assassin. "Is he always this stubborn? You're with him more than I am."

"When there is cause worth fighting for, he will not bend his will to any man, monster or deity," Lucien answered as he folded his arms with a grin. The ghost had seen many different leaders of the Black Hand come and go, but this young Argonian had more heart and drive than any.

Olava was startled when she saw that the mage had entered her home. She pointed at the door furiously.

"Get out of here this instant! How dare you!" she barked at him.

"How dare YOU!" KaNack snarled at her as he pointed at her accusingly. "You call yourself a friend to the Brotherhood?" His eyes narrowed. "We come to you in our time of need and you cast us away like mangy, stray dogs!"

"I told you already. I have given you my reading. Don't think you can bully me to get your way!"

KaNack quickly stormed over to her and the woman fell back into a chair.

"You think this is for my personal gain?" he growled. "You think I wouldn't bother you unless I had no other choice? The Keeper is gone! The Night Mother's voice has vanished! Don't you understand? The Penitus Oculatus mean to destroy us!"

"I don't see why this should include me!" Olava cried. "Those men have nothing to do with me!"

KaNack stared at Olava in disbelief.

"Nothing to…?" he started. "Nothing to do with you?!" KaNack's hands crackled with electricity as his anger grew.

"Be careful!" she exclaimed.

"Was Gabrielle not your friend?" he shouted. "Did she mean nothing to you?" The lightning continued to spark from his fingers.  "Olava, you have no idea what these agents have done!"

The Argonian was now in her face, his white eyes had a haunt to them. They had seen things that many could not bear. The sparks has since died down, but there was still a strong force rushing through the mage's body.  

"You were not there," he said in a hushed voice. "You did not see what they did." He released a shudder as the thought of the Falkreath Sanctuary came back to him.

"Poor Festus," he choked out. "They shot him so full of arrows; there was hardly any face to recognize." The Argonian trembled as the bloodcurdling memories returned in full force. "There was fire everywhere, I could barely see anything. My home, my world had become an inferno of fear and hate.  I saw Arnbjorn fall before my eyes as they butchered him like an ox." KaNack turned away from Olava, his eyes shut as the horror continued to flash in his head.

"Veezara, my Argonian brother, the last of the Shadowscales. His legacy died along with him as he tried to protect us. Then Gabriella," he whispered. The Listened opened his eyes as he stared at Olava. Tears threatened to spill as he thought about all his fallen comrades, but he refused to cry in front of the seer. "Gabriella was struck down. It looked like she didn't even have a chance to defend herself."

The mage fell back into a chair that was next Olava's and held his face in his hands. The woman was startled by the description that the Dark Brotherhood leader had told her. She could not help but put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"The Penitus Oculatus will not stop until all of us are dead," he sighed out. "As long as they have the Keeper, they will win. The Night Mother will fall to pieces and her words will be silenced forever." He stared at Olava. "If we allow that to happen, they win. Those monsters will win."

Olava reached over to a nearby teapot and pour the Argonian a cup. The mage graciously accepted it, but only stared into its contents.

"I know it is a lot to ask, Olava. This is not something I do for my own gain. I do it for my friends, my family." He stared at her. "The Keeper, Cicero, he is not only the one who tends to the Night Mother; he is not only my loyal brother in arms," the Argonian sighed deeply before he continued, "he's my dearest friend. If anything happened to him, I would never be able to live with myself.  That is why I am asking," he looked at her desperately. "I am begging you. Please help me. Don't let these men win after all the pain they have caused. Don't let the Brotherhood die."

The two remained in silence at Olava gazed at the Listener with sympathy. It takes a strong man to fight for his loved ones; it takes an even stronger one to expose weakness for them. The mage did not come to her with demands, threats or blackmail. He poured his soul out to her so she could understand what he was fighting for and why.

"You've seen and dealt with more in such a short time than most men have in their whole lives," she told him gently. "You have lied, you have killed, you have committed treason," Olava smiled at him, "but you have loved, you have defended and you have sacrificed.  Your responsibilities are a huge weight to bear. There is only so much a single man can do, no matter how strong or gifted he is."

The seer took KaNack's hands in hers.

"I will help you, child. No one should have to do everything alone."

The mage swallowed and bowed his head to her.

"Thank you, Olava."

The woman shut her eyes and deeply focused as she read the Argonian's aura and all the ties connected to it. Every face the mage had ever seen, every piece of earth that touched his feet, every sensation that he had ever felt was a part of him, and that was what Olava could sense and read.

It took but a few moments before the seer released the mage's hands and gasped inwardly.

"Olava."

"I have seen your friend. He is alive but not well."

KaNack perked up and leaned towards Olava. "Where is he? Please tell me!"

"He is," she started, "where it all began."

The Argonian remained in silence as he stared at her. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Where it all began," KaNack murmured to himself. "That has to be related to the Dark Brotherhood in some way." He stood up and bowed to the old woman. "Thank you, Olava. For everything."

The Listener left Olava's home and found both his spirit and Nazir waiting for him.

"How did it go?" the Redguard asked.

"Olava did help. However, she was rather vague in her vision. All she could gather was that Cicero is 'where it all began'," the mage answered as he started for the gate.

"Ah, a riddle. That is would be something that would be connected to the maddening jester," Lucien mused as he followed his caster.

"Well, where should we start?" asked Nazir. "The orphanage in Riften?"

"I doubt that our enemies' stronghold is hidden in a building filled with children," the Argonian growled. "No, we start at the literal place where my life with the Dark Brotherhood began," KaNack looked at the two with a grin on his face. "The abandoned shack in the swamp."
***** ****
Finn made his way through the maze of passages with the leather flask in hand. He had become next in line to watch over the jester. For some reason, many of the other agents eagerly turned down their originally scheduled shifts.

The young Penitus Oculatus entered the cell room and was shocked at the sight before him. Cicero was on his side in his cell and looked like he had just been trampled by a mammoth. The jester's pale face was blue and purple with bruises, and by the way his body trembled, there was no doubt that he was in unbearable pain.

The young Imperial hurried over to the cell and took a knee as he peered in at the prisoner. Cicero released shallow and ragged breaths and hugged himself tenderly. Whatever had happened during the questioning, it was apparently that the fool had not been very cooperative at all.

"Cicero?" he asked gently.

The Keeper opened his eyes and weakly looked out at the agent. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

"Silly Finn," he answered feebly. "How kind of you to join poor Cicero." The jester coughed a few times and hugged himself tighter as it just brought forth even worse pain. "Tell me, have you figured out the answer to my riddle yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Pity," he muttered.

Finn held out the flask to the fragile jester. "I brought you some water. They wouldn't let me bring you food. This should help though."

The Keeper shook his head as he once again shut his eyes. "No. No water. It hurts to talk, hurts to breathe," he whispered before coughing again. "Poor Cicero is so close to the Night Mother. Oh, if only Sweet Night Mother would take me into her warm embrace. I would welcome that as I am taken to the cold Void."

Finn ran his fingers through his hair as he weighed his options. The young soldier looked over at the doorway to see if anyone was watching. Seeing no one, he then reached into his satchel and began to fumble through it.

"Listen to me, Cicero. I am going to give you something to help ease the pain, but you have to promise to give it back afterwards," Finn said. He pulled a small red potion bottle out and placed it inside the cell before the battered Keeper. Cicero opened an eye and recognized it. One did not travel with an Arch Mage and not become familiar with the items he kept on his person. It was a potion of minor healing.  

The Fool of Hearts grabbed the potion and quickly downed its contents. Once through, he allowed the bottle to roll out through the bars back to Finn. The Penitus Oculatus agent saw that it did nothing for the jester's bruises, but it definitely sounded like he was no longer struggling to breathe.

"Thank you, Kind Finn," Cicero said softly as he managed to sit himself up so that that he was leaning against the bars on the side of his cell.  The Keeper weakly looked over at the boy as he replaced the bottle back into his satchel. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"I'll come up with some excuse as to why I used it. Don't worry about it," he answered. He then once again offered the flask of water, and this time Cicero accepted it and drank thirstily. Finn took a seat on the ground so that he and the jester were level with one another.

"Finn seems to forget that Cicero is his commander's prisoner," the jester said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Well, if I let you die on him, I don't think he would any less pleased with me."

"Quite right. Quite right," the jester answered nodding. He looked over Finn. With his guard sitting much closer than he had before, Cicero had a good look at the boy's protective covering. There was something particularly off about the plating and details that made it different to Maro's or Salvarus'.  Finn's looked more poorly constructed and much too thin. "What kind of armor is that anyway?"

Finn looked at his garb and then back to the fool. "They did not really have much available in my size. This was all they could give me until a new set can be forged."

"That will not protect Finn in battle, not at all," grumbled Cicero. "Cicero's blade could cut right through that with ease."

The agent's eyes widened as he stared at the jester cautiously. This only caused the wounded Imperial to laugh. "Oh, Silly Finn! Cicero does not have his blade. I can't cut anything without my blade. The only sharp thing on Cicero right now is his wit."

Finn chuckled nervously, but he was glad to see that the jester was looking much better than he did when he first arrived. "So, did Commander Maro manage to get anything at all?"

"Loyal Cicero only gave common knowledge. No secrets spilled from my lips. Oh, Salvarus tried to get me to loosen my tongue. He tried very hard, but for some reason he kept mistaking my head and ribs for my tongue," Cicero sighed as he rolled his eyes, "and people say I'm crazy."

Finn was glad to see that the jester no longer seemed to be in too much pain to talk. Cicero still looked very worse for wear and could probably have used at least another two potions. "You look like a mess."

"And you look like a potato sack! Cicero is not judging you though."

A smirk crept up Finn's face as the jester chuckled lightly. The Keeper looked out at Finn with a sigh. "This is not going to end well for one of our factions, you do realize this?"

"To be honest, the more I am here, the more I wonder whether this is really where I should be. I know that Commander Maro pays well, I just had no idea that his methods were so, barbaric."

"You will soon learn that between the two of us that the Penitus Oculatus is the greater of the two evils," Cicero muttered as he shook his head at Finn. "They have done terrible things. Horrible things. "

"I can't undo what I've done. I've joined his ranks, and for at least the next three years I am in his service."

"I wish you hadn't. I really do," Cicero said sadly. "Finn is too kind for the likes of the Penitus Oculatus.  Should have become a bard instead."

"I am not partially fond of bards," Finn grumbled. " They play a few string on a lute and think that they are Akatosh's gift to Tamriel."

This made Cicero chuckled lightly.

"The Listener hates bards as well. Very much so. He only tolerates them so he does not give himself away to those that would wish him harm." Cicero grinned at Finn. "I saw the Listener once take out an entire party of bards. It was one of his most satisfying contracts. First, there was a boom! Then a crack! Then screaming!" Cicero laughed heartily. "Oh, we laughed and laughed that night."

"You two sound very close."

Hearing this made the jester frown. "Yes. The relationship between a Keeper and his Listener is a powerful bond. No one had taken to accepting Cicero's company quite like the Listener. He laughs, sings and dances with Cicero. He…" the jester looked at the floor. "He saved Cicero's life," the Keeper softly said.

"Well, why wouldn't he? He's your friend, isn't he?"

"Cicero wasn't sure at the time," the jester muttered. "The pretender told him to kill me. I had been wounded, but I still had fight left in me." He looked out at Finn. "The Listener fought through all of my traps until he finally caught up with me. Hidden was my blade as the Listener approached. Poor Cicero pleaded for his life as the Listener listened. He was very funny that way." Slowly the frown turned upward into a smile. "He was a mage, he rose his hands and Cicero was ready for fire or ice. No ice, no fire. He healed Cicero. He used his magic and soon all of my wounds were gone. Then the Listener left. He did not just leave poor Cicero alive, he made sure that the Fool of Hearts was strong enough to escape and avoid the rest of the Brotherhood who were still following their false leader."   

Finn continued to listen in silence as the jester continued to speak.

"Cicero knew then that this Listener was destined to be the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood. Only one that can be both compassionate and merciless can keep the family perfectly balanced."

"I wish I was capable of making a difference like that," Finn said quietly. "I just don't know where I fit in. I'm not an assassin, like you, but I can't see myself torturing men like Salvarus either."

"Every man has a purpose, Silly Finn," Cicero sighed. "Something tells me that before too long you will make a difference."
Chapter five of the story, not quite as happy with it as I have been with other chapters, I am hoping I will feel more confident with the next portion.

Thankfully, :iconheiwako: looked over the chapter and gave some helpful suggestions.


I was listening to and inspired by "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace when writing the part with Cicero and Finn

[link]

On a side note, my Spectral Assassin in my game was epic today during my stream!

[link]

And I created a Cicero Skin for my Minecraft game

[link]
© 2012 - 2024 gangyzgirl
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animewolfgirl55's avatar
X-One is my favorite Three Days Grace album. Finn's and Cicero's conversations are the best, thank you.