Killing in the Emperor's Name, A collection: An argonian assassin's world Options

[canis216]

Here you, the reader, will find works associated with Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun's life and work all together. His future stories will be found here, primarily. I think it's appropriate, as his tales have taken on a more serialized form--if not strictly so. I still intend to experiment with different perspectives and styles within his general narrative, so don't expect every installment to flow perfectly into the next--that isn't what I'm going for. I'd like to think that I'm using Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun's stories as a medium--evocation of the rough existence that is life on Vvardenfell.

[canis216]

The Off-day

An argonian lay on the beach just outside Ebonheart, sprawled shirtless upon a brown robe. A straw basket sat at his side, loaded with crab meat, saltrice, marshmarrow, and scrib jerky. A couple bottles of brandy stood next to the basket; another sat in the argonian’s hand. He was looking at… nothing in particular, it seemed; perhaps the few clouds passing lazily across the sky on their way to throw shade on Vivec.

A second argonian approached from the north, from the fortress-city. He fine robes woven from the very best silk that the province had to offer, arranged by its finest artisans. He was nearly upon the beach when the first spoke, not quite shouting but very loud, for such a clear and fine and calm day.

“Im-Kilaya, do you not have better things to do than to trouble me on my off days?”

Im-Kilaya did not stop his approach; instead, he eased his way down the beach, finally sitting next to his countryman. “Marshbrother, you know that I do not mean to bother you. I do come to try to understand you, and to put your mind at ease.”

“At ease? I was at ease, until now, friend.”

“You suspect that I am trying to con you? No, friend, never. Heik-Auri, I think sometimes that you are conning yourself. I think of those marshbrothers and desert walkers who arrived here yesterday, on the boat. I think of them, I wonder what you are doing, Sun-Lingerer, that is so different from what I have proposed.”

“I had nothing to do with them. Nothing.”

“Heik-Auri, my friend, I think it is now you who is trying to con me. Did you not think that I spoke with them, when they came to the mission? I know what it is that you have been doing, and I am pleased, but I am also confused. Why will you not join us? We can give you the support you really need.”

Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun suddenly bolted upright; he held a glowing daedric dagger, viciously serrated, under Im-Kilaya’s throat.

“Enough! I’ve had enough! Just leave me… just leave me alone. Please.” His voice trailed off from savage to near-silence. The blade, he held in place. His eyes, he locked upon Im-Kilaya’s, burning with rage and fear and hope.

“I… I am sorry, Sun-Lingerer, my friend. I am sorry. I will go; I believe I have other business to attend to. I need to arrange passage for ten to Soulrest. I’m sure you understand.”

Im-Kilaya stood, looked about a moment, and walked back to the north. Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun did not move for some time, holding the dagger out in front of his eyes, breathing heavily, not sure what to do. His eyes still burned, nearly so red as the slaving dunmer he had sworn his oath against so long ago. Then he looked up into the sky; it was completely clear now, a type of blue yet to be discovered when the clouds had hovered overhead. He dropped the dagger upon the sand, taking up his brandy instead. It was his off-day once again.