Neron, chapter 1

Part I: Coin Bags and Tours

The two swords clashed together again but Neron was stronger than his young apprentice and he easily pushed her back. He was a skilled assassin, probably the best in all of Tamriel, or so the stories went. His face was known by a precious few, but his name was known by many. In his line of work it was good to keep his face anonymous while letting his name flow off the lips of many friends and enemies alike. This ensured that when someone needed a fellow citizen of Tamriel dead, Neron was famous enough to get the job, but secret enough not to be hassled by local authorities. When it came to murder he didn't discriminate between Orcs, Bretons, Imperials, or even his own midnight blue skinned Dark Elves, he would kill anyone
- for the right price.

His apprentice was also a Dark Elf. A slender female with long curly jet-black hair and a fire in her red eyes that he had not seen in many years, she was dedicated and it showed in the way she trained. Of all the apprentices he had had, she was the most promising. She usually accompanied Neron on the assassination missions, there is no better trainer than experience, but tonight he would go alone.

"Good, Valyas, now come at me again, faster this time"

He was showing her the art of parrying, something an assassin knows "just in case" because a good assassin shouldn't need to parry, they should be in and out, unseen and unheard with a corpse behind them and a bright rich future ahead of them. Sometimes the target would be armed and alert or surrounded by angry guards so it helped to be prepared.

Running forward, Valyas stabbed at him with her steel practice long sword. He parried it by stepping to the right and swinging his sword up under hers then used the momentum from the swing to arc his sword over her head and bring it down lightly against her back.

"Your speed is good - what you lack is control. Never commit totally to a swing unless your chopping wood."

Valyas nodded. Running at him again she swung from over her head, he parried again, this time raising the iron practice sword parallel to the ground to deflect the blow. Her blade slid down the length of his sword and, using the momentum from the swing, she spun around slashing at his legs. Jumping over the blade and landing lightly on his feet, Neron quickly closed the gap between them and put his sword to her throat as she was preparing for another overhead swing.

"Better," he said, stepping back and sheathing his sword, "we'll practice more tomorrow. I need to be ready for my job tonight". This would be his most challenging, and therefore, most rewarding mission yet. If he accomplished this mission, no, when he accomplished this mission he would retire, Valyas would be ready to go off on her own, and he was getting a little too famous to be comfortable. If the entire province of Morrowind new his name today, then after tonight the entire land of Tamriel would speak his name no louder than a whisper - as if he was a divine member of the Tribunal.

A week earlier he had traveled to Vivec, the largest city on Vvardenfell, named after the member of the Tribunal that lived there. Stepping off the Silt Strider, he followed the dirt path to the Foreign Quarter, marveling as he always did at the size of the city. It was built out into the sea with only the first canton touching land. Each canton had three layers to it and each layer was slightly smaller than the one under it, giving the cantons a pyramid shape with flat tops. There were walkways around each layer with covered ramps leading up or down to the different layers. Each canton was 30 feet away from the next one and bridges connected them on every level.

Neron walked to the top level of the Foreign Quarter and entered a tavern. He preferred meeting in larger taverns to help preserve his anonymity. This one was packed full of people and the conversations all combined to make it difficult for anyone eavesdropping to hear anything worth reporting to local authorities. After stepping in from a sunny day and letting his eyes adjust to the dim light he scanned the crowded room. The owner and bartender was a Nord, Neron knew by looking at him that he would be armed and would make a formidable opponent if any patrons got out of line. He had short, brown, disheveled hair and green eyes that scanned the room looking for trouble. He wore a plain brown shirt and pants and was cleaning a mug with his powerful arms. The bartender noted Nerons entrance with disinterest and went back to cleaning the mug. Neron swept his eyes over the room one more time but couldn't see any more potential threats; his employer had picked a good spot to talk this time. His name was Dranas, a fellow dark elf with crimson red hair that matched his red eyes. His dark blue skin was barely visible under the tattoos on his face and arms. Earlier in the week, Dranas had told him that he had a high profile assassination for him, someone high up in the Imperial ranks; it was the understatement of the century.

Neron sat down and wasted no time with pleasantries.

"So who exactly is my target?" Neron asked with a hint of boredom in his voice. He hoped this target was worthy of his skills, this line of work was getting to easy for him and he was growing tired of it.

Dranas quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one was eyeing them, then, leaning closer, he whispered the name to his assassin. Nerons face remained expressionless as his mind began forming a plan on how a mission this big could be accomplished.

"When do you think it can be done?"

"A week" he said after making some calculations in his head. Scouting the location would take a day, maybe two, and then he would have to get black "Dark Brotherhood" armor to blend into the shadows. He would also need scrolls for "mark" and "recall", but that would be the only magic he would use for this mission. He prided himself in being able to accomplish missions without the use of an invisibility or chameleon spell, and the target he was going after deserved a fair chance more than anyone he had ever killed.

Dranas nodded his approval, "Good, you will be paid once I have confirmation that the target has been eliminated. Also, the Dark Brotherhood is sending a lone assassin to Balmora in three days to kill the leader of one of the great houses; you might want to check it out. And one last thing, when you go to Cyrodiil to scout the location look for a recruiter named Quintus, he's a corrupt soldier and will let you tour the castle for the right price"

With a nod Neron got up, and picked his way through the noisy crowd to the exit. Outside he went straight to the edge of the balcony and looked over. Citizens of Tamriel were going about their daily lives, oblivious to what had transpired moments earlier. A plan had been set in motion that would shake the very foundations of Tamriel and Neron, master assassin, would be the catalyst to start the chain reaction that would end in the Imperial Legion leaving Vvardenfell.

Of all the races in Tamriel, he enjoyed killing Imperials the most. As a young dark elf growing up on the island of Vvardenfell, he had been taught to hate all Imperials, especially ones wearing the silver and purple colors associated with the Imperial Legion. To Neron, they were the oppressors, the enemy, and they deserved to be routed and run off the island. That wouldn't happen as long as their leader, the imperial Emperor of all Tamriel, Uriel Septim, was alive. It was now up to Neron to kill him, and with the chaos that ensued the red-eyed dark elves would drive this pestilence from the island, drive them back to Cyrodiil where they belong.

The next day Neron took a boat to the mainland of Morrowind and found a caravan going to Cyrodiil. The Caravan came to a creaking stop three days later just outside the capital city, also named Cyrodiil. Neron jumped off, stirring up dust on the dirt road, and thanked the caravan's owner for the ride. A 40-foot high impenetrable wall of gray stone surrounded the massive city. The wall was 15 feet thick with Imperial archers patrolling along the top, eyes out and bows in hand. A river lazily wrapped around the wall further fortifying the capital city.

Neron crossed the wooden drawbridge and entered the busy city buzzing with activity on a warm sunny day. Just inside the wall on either side of the road were barracks made from logs with black-shingled roofs. Past the barracks were various shops with patrons hurrying in and out buying and selling their wares. The main road went straight to the center of the city and ended at the archway of another massive wall. This one was half the size of the outer wall but was still wide enough to have emotionless, stone faced archers stationed on top. Neron made his way down the busy street to the archway. He passed through getting sideways looks from the guards stationed on the ground.

There was another log building immediately to his right, directly in front of him was the Emperors castle, an intimidating stone structure towering in the center of the city. Neron turned and walked into the log building that served as a recruitment station for the Imperial Legion. Inside, a man sat at a wooden table scribbling something on a parchment with a feather and ink quill. He looked up when he noticed Neron standing there. His head was bald and shiny and his brow was slightly wrinkled from age. Strong, piercing eyes were set into deep sockets, his armor was purple colored with a golden dragon on the breastplate, the pauldrons from his shoulders to his elbow were silver and he wore golden bracers on his wrists. A purple cape hung from his shoulders and rustled against his armor as he stood.

"Can I help you?" He asked, picking up the paper he was writing on.

"Are you Quintus?" Neron asked.

The soldier was annoyed at the lack of respect for his rank and replied, "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I came to tour the castle"

Quintus grinned inwardly at the thought of using his power to make this red-eyed ruffian leave, "I'm sorry, only members of the Imperial Legion or citizens that have business with the Emperor may enter, now if you'll excuse me I have work to do". He sat back down and began writing again.

Tossing a bag of coins on the table Neron said in an icy voice, "I have business with the Emperor."

Quintus waited, drumming his fingers on the desk with a thoughtful expression on his face, before answering. "Well, in that case, please wait here".

He stood, turned, and walked through a door behind him, cape rippling with each step. He emerged a minute later with another soldier wearing steel armor.

Quintus motioned to the soldier with his palm up, "This is Dragis, the newest recruit here in the Imperial City, he will show you around the castle".

Quintus sat back down as Dragis and Neron exited. They made an immediate right and walked 50 meters to the castle doors. Dragis heaved the heavy oak door open with a creak and went inside with Neron in tow.The young soldier was overly friendly and showed Neron everything he wanted to see, including the Emperor's room. He told him about the guards in the castle, sparring no detail as he explained their patrol routes and when the next guards went on duty. He was a trusting person and Neron took advantage of it.

When the tour was finally finished the sun was low in the sky bathing the city in orange light. Neron took his leave and walked back to the main gate of the city and found a caravan going back to Morrowind. From there he sailed to Vvardenfell to get his Dark Brotherhood armor. He found his prey sneaking around Balmora near the Great Houses, right where Dranas told him he would be. Neron paid the assassin with a knife to the back for his armor and snuck out of the city.

Now Neron sat in his well-furnished house in Seyda Neen with his newly acquired armor. Glancing outside he noted that it was time to start. He pulled the black cloth helm on to complete the Dark Brotherhood armor. The rest of the armor was cloth as well, not made so much for protection asit was made to sneak through theshadows undetected devouring any light touching it. He sheathed his short sword into the black cloth sheath and took out his scroll of recall. After reading the daedric runes on the scroll Neron disappeared in a blue flash, his mission had begun.

(c)2005 Sir Radont