Chapter Thirty-Seven - Dawnstar - 3rd of Hearthfire 4E 201 - Umbra
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- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Dawnstar - 3rd of Hearthfire 4E 201 - Umbra
My rooms were practically kept with a sort of fanatic fervor that made me uncomfortable. The random bit or piece of dust and cobweb that had been in the cold corridors or halls we traversed wasn't simply absent, but utterly removed from existence. This room didn't have a speck of dust, or a single thread of webbing. There was an ample bed, large enough to fit three, or even four people, and shelves filled with various concoctions and potions. There were mannequins strapped with the most varied of clothes and armors. There were weapons kept within glass displays, and as I passed my eyes towards each of them, one caught my attention.
"Isn't that the scabbard of Mehrunes' razor?" I asked, turning my attention towards Babette, who had meanwhile closed the door with a click. Inwardly, I felt the need to summon a whistle. I had no idea why, but I just felt it would be wise if I did have a whistle while in a closed space containing a bed with Babette nearby.
"Taken from the cold corpse of a fool among fools," Babette replied. "His house burned. His remains left to the wolves to feast upon." She smiled candidly, "I do not tolerate any memories of that painful past, my Nibblekins." She whispered as she drew near, "Do you want to break in the bed?" she asked next with a sultry smile.
"No," I replied quite flatly. "I want to know what the plan is and when it will happen."
"The marriage's a week before the end of Frostfall, day more day less depending on how busy the bride-to-be wishes to get with her preparations," Babette replied with a long drawl. "It is ironic that she entertains her lover even now," the vampire chuckled. "A political marriage with a hint of foolishness, the kind of marriage no one will blame us for crashing. An arrow to the chest during her speech, we already have the maps drawn to get inside the temple's catacombs and make our way up." As she neared a table, she gestured to a set of thick scrolls, upon which were drawings of the Temple of the Divines' interior. "I have extensively scouted the place, and this balcony that overlooks the courtyard..."
"Yes, it's the perfect spot," I acquiesced with a nod, "Or there are always the ramparts further up," I continued without even looking. "There's a loose gargoyle that can be pushed down on the bride, she could be poisoned or sent into a Frenzy with magic..." I turned thoughtful, "But we aren't planning a simple assassination," I said. "We are planning our return."
Babette blinked. "My Nibblekins, is this going to be like that time you blew up Leyawiin's watch barracks?"
"I did that?" I replied.
"It sent the message about facing the Dark Brotherhood all right," Babette said. "The fires spread for a whole day."
"How did I do that?" I asked next, and Babette shrugged.
"You ordered three dozens of barrels of oil and gifted them to the barracks as a rich merchant. The poor guys didn't even know what to do with it, so they stored them everywhere. You stole an armor with a full-body helmet and trudged your way right inside, set it all on fire and then left through the window," Babette had a wistful look on her face. "You had such a passion and a drive for murder and unforeseen property damage that it warmed my heart," she sighed. "You asked me for an alchemy compound that would spread the flames faster. It was quite nice."
"No Rose of Sithis?" I asked, furrowing my brows.
Babette blinked. "Oh, you remembered Philidda's murder?" she smiled and neared her hand to my chest, tracing lazy circles, "We're getting there then my love! A few more memories, and you might even remember that passionate night in which we consumed our love for the first time!"
"I doubt that happened," I said, and as I said that, I could feel the air tense in the room. In front of me wasn't Babette, but some sort of rapidly angering apex predator.
Babette's eyes narrowed in an angry glare as she stared at me as if I were a fine piece of steak. "Fine, so maybe it didn't happen," she hissed out in the end. "But we can change that now. So why shouldn't we? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Everything you see around you is my work, my effort, and I gift it to you without asking for anything in return but your love. And yet you don't even bother praising me, or giving me the answer I seek."
"Babette," I said calmly, "We have better things to do, like planning a murder and convincing an Emperor to side with us."
Babette emitted a sort of animal-like growl, "There is truly no limit to cruelty when it comes to you, is there?"
I inclined my head to the side, "I am Sithis' herald," I spoke crisply. "There is no place for Love in the Void, if not that of the Mother for its Children."
Babette laughed coldly, shaking her head. "I cannot believe it," she made a small twirl, both arms wide as she gazed upwards. "Is this always the answer I'm going to get?" she pointed a finger in my direction. "You cannot forget. You haven't forgotten. You can't possibly have forgotten if that is the answer you give me right now!" she bared her teeth angrily. "I waited for you for hundreds of years!" she slammed her hand right against her chest, her fingers clenching tightly the spot above her heart. "I worked in the shadows, and witnessed the fall of the Brotherhood without saying a word! I knew how it would end because you told me, because you trusted in me, but...you only ever trusted in me as a colleague, but not as a lover, did you? My words to you, they meant nothing to your ears!"
I swallowed once, and then aptly shrugged. "I cannot speak for my past self."
"Don't give me that crap," Babette hissed, her other fist clenched. "You can't speak for him, but you are him. Take a guess, what would he say? What lies would he spout? Where did I fail that such cruel and wicked torments were reserved for the likes of me?" her eyes turned red, whether out of anger, or out of blood replacing tears as her eyes watered, I had no idea. "Speak! You are a Speaker, so you should speak, shouldn't you!?"
"You did a good job, Babette," I said hesitantly, my left hand resting on the display case behind me, "But that is all."
Her growling grew to a strong roar, and then it suddenly died out, replaced by a choke-like sound. She swallowed, and threw herself out of the door that she had closed beforehand by literally crashing through it, shattering it apart and running away down the corridor. I turned my back on the shattered door, and took a long look at the blades in the collection.
They were all reverently kept in order, and some of them I even recognized. There was Chorrol's Honorblade, a few Akaviri blades, a couple of mean-looking daggers made of Ebony with golden engravings, and a few neat-looking bows whose names eluded me.
The daggers were clearly Blades of Woe, and multiple ones at that. Chorrol's Honorblade was bizarre in the ensemble, but perhaps there was an explanation behind it.
As I neared a table with two chairs placed one next to the other, I realized there were a few books on the typical arguments of the Dark Brotherhood, as well as a few old leather-bound ones that had seen centuries of use, and yet were still functional.
"To my lovely bride of the dark, may your fangs stay sharp forever," I muttered as I read the words inked on the first page as an autograph. "Uh, Umbra...past-me," I grumbled. "You could have left me with instructions to follow about what to do with Babette here. I mean, I'm not going to do anything without permission," I sighed as I opened the drawers, remaining surprised at the amount of clean paper and ink bottles that filled them. Perhaps Babette had prepared the desk for me to write on?
It was kind of thoughtfully nice for her.
Still, at the same time, I couldn't act on such kindness, because it was directed at the wrong person. If only my memories returned, all of them, then perhaps I'd do things differently. As it was, wasn't I merely a thief stealing the place of my past-self? I shook my head and headed to open the chest by the bed's feet. Quite calmly, I pulled out what could only be described as makeshift cat-ears, but I was pretty sure they where Khajiiti ears ripped and embalmed. I gingerly put them back shuddering in disgust, ignoring the rest of the stuff within and closing the chest with a sordid click.
"Speaker...your door is broken," a cloaked figure spoke from behind me, an acolyte hesitantly looking into the room with a curious expression.
"Indeed it is," I replied nonchalantly, turning to stand up. "Have it repaired."
"Yes, Speaker," the acolyte spoke crisply, bowing and leaving with barely a sound. I turned my eyes to the bed's sides, where twin bed drawers stood. I opened the first, and quite indignantly ignored the potions that held on pictures of bulls and...depravity, and moved to the other, where a set of jingling keys finally welcomed me.
Honestly, what use is a weapon if you leave it in a display case?
It took me a few more minutes, but I did manage to get myself one of the Blades of Woe and the Chorrol Honorblade. Hopefully these pieces of ancient history wouldn't melt like the rest at the sight of dragon flame, and if they did, then I'd need to get more.
Funnily enough, I wouldn't have minded a full set of Ebony Armor, but there wasn't any to go around. The Honorblade would have to do. My armor had taken a brutal hit, and as I found myself staring at the somber-looking black robes of a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, I couldn't help but avert my gaze. Yes, yes I could and should wear them, but until that moment the Divines had guided my every act. Was it right to wear this, and not one of the simpler looking armors?
Honestly, by this point I was wondering which of the two sides was right, and which was wrong, and what was the correct path that didn't end with me dying horribly, if there was even death on the table and not eternal torture. Was Sithis really throwing me back here every single time I died? Was it the blessing of the Divines that did it? Or did the Divines perhaps wish for me to be here, to take on the robes and clad myself in them?
In the end, I opted for a compromise.
The black cowl of the Dark Brotherhood covered my face as I wore the robes as a mantle of sorts to cover the broken armor beneath it. Nobody was going to bother my fashion statement, I was the Speaker after all, wasn't I?
"Speaker...we must talk," the eerie voice of the Night Mother reached my ears, and as it did, I began to walk towards the main hall.
Hopefully the Night Mother would know more of what was going on.
Now, how to ask her without giving up my game was another matter entirely.
My rooms were practically kept with a sort of fanatic fervor that made me uncomfortable. The random bit or piece of dust and cobweb that had been in the cold corridors or halls we traversed wasn't simply absent, but utterly removed from existence. This room didn't have a speck of dust, or a single thread of webbing. There was an ample bed, large enough to fit three, or even four people, and shelves filled with various concoctions and potions. There were mannequins strapped with the most varied of clothes and armors. There were weapons kept within glass displays, and as I passed my eyes towards each of them, one caught my attention.
"Isn't that the scabbard of Mehrunes' razor?" I asked, turning my attention towards Babette, who had meanwhile closed the door with a click. Inwardly, I felt the need to summon a whistle. I had no idea why, but I just felt it would be wise if I did have a whistle while in a closed space containing a bed with Babette nearby.
"Taken from the cold corpse of a fool among fools," Babette replied. "His house burned. His remains left to the wolves to feast upon." She smiled candidly, "I do not tolerate any memories of that painful past, my Nibblekins." She whispered as she drew near, "Do you want to break in the bed?" she asked next with a sultry smile.
"No," I replied quite flatly. "I want to know what the plan is and when it will happen."
"The marriage's a week before the end of Frostfall, day more day less depending on how busy the bride-to-be wishes to get with her preparations," Babette replied with a long drawl. "It is ironic that she entertains her lover even now," the vampire chuckled. "A political marriage with a hint of foolishness, the kind of marriage no one will blame us for crashing. An arrow to the chest during her speech, we already have the maps drawn to get inside the temple's catacombs and make our way up." As she neared a table, she gestured to a set of thick scrolls, upon which were drawings of the Temple of the Divines' interior. "I have extensively scouted the place, and this balcony that overlooks the courtyard..."
"Yes, it's the perfect spot," I acquiesced with a nod, "Or there are always the ramparts further up," I continued without even looking. "There's a loose gargoyle that can be pushed down on the bride, she could be poisoned or sent into a Frenzy with magic..." I turned thoughtful, "But we aren't planning a simple assassination," I said. "We are planning our return."
Babette blinked. "My Nibblekins, is this going to be like that time you blew up Leyawiin's watch barracks?"
"I did that?" I replied.
"It sent the message about facing the Dark Brotherhood all right," Babette said. "The fires spread for a whole day."
"How did I do that?" I asked next, and Babette shrugged.
"You ordered three dozens of barrels of oil and gifted them to the barracks as a rich merchant. The poor guys didn't even know what to do with it, so they stored them everywhere. You stole an armor with a full-body helmet and trudged your way right inside, set it all on fire and then left through the window," Babette had a wistful look on her face. "You had such a passion and a drive for murder and unforeseen property damage that it warmed my heart," she sighed. "You asked me for an alchemy compound that would spread the flames faster. It was quite nice."
"No Rose of Sithis?" I asked, furrowing my brows.
Babette blinked. "Oh, you remembered Philidda's murder?" she smiled and neared her hand to my chest, tracing lazy circles, "We're getting there then my love! A few more memories, and you might even remember that passionate night in which we consumed our love for the first time!"
"I doubt that happened," I said, and as I said that, I could feel the air tense in the room. In front of me wasn't Babette, but some sort of rapidly angering apex predator.
Babette's eyes narrowed in an angry glare as she stared at me as if I were a fine piece of steak. "Fine, so maybe it didn't happen," she hissed out in the end. "But we can change that now. So why shouldn't we? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Everything you see around you is my work, my effort, and I gift it to you without asking for anything in return but your love. And yet you don't even bother praising me, or giving me the answer I seek."
"Babette," I said calmly, "We have better things to do, like planning a murder and convincing an Emperor to side with us."
Babette emitted a sort of animal-like growl, "There is truly no limit to cruelty when it comes to you, is there?"
I inclined my head to the side, "I am Sithis' herald," I spoke crisply. "There is no place for Love in the Void, if not that of the Mother for its Children."
Babette laughed coldly, shaking her head. "I cannot believe it," she made a small twirl, both arms wide as she gazed upwards. "Is this always the answer I'm going to get?" she pointed a finger in my direction. "You cannot forget. You haven't forgotten. You can't possibly have forgotten if that is the answer you give me right now!" she bared her teeth angrily. "I waited for you for hundreds of years!" she slammed her hand right against her chest, her fingers clenching tightly the spot above her heart. "I worked in the shadows, and witnessed the fall of the Brotherhood without saying a word! I knew how it would end because you told me, because you trusted in me, but...you only ever trusted in me as a colleague, but not as a lover, did you? My words to you, they meant nothing to your ears!"
I swallowed once, and then aptly shrugged. "I cannot speak for my past self."
"Don't give me that crap," Babette hissed, her other fist clenched. "You can't speak for him, but you are him. Take a guess, what would he say? What lies would he spout? Where did I fail that such cruel and wicked torments were reserved for the likes of me?" her eyes turned red, whether out of anger, or out of blood replacing tears as her eyes watered, I had no idea. "Speak! You are a Speaker, so you should speak, shouldn't you!?"
"You did a good job, Babette," I said hesitantly, my left hand resting on the display case behind me, "But that is all."
Her growling grew to a strong roar, and then it suddenly died out, replaced by a choke-like sound. She swallowed, and threw herself out of the door that she had closed beforehand by literally crashing through it, shattering it apart and running away down the corridor. I turned my back on the shattered door, and took a long look at the blades in the collection.
They were all reverently kept in order, and some of them I even recognized. There was Chorrol's Honorblade, a few Akaviri blades, a couple of mean-looking daggers made of Ebony with golden engravings, and a few neat-looking bows whose names eluded me.
The daggers were clearly Blades of Woe, and multiple ones at that. Chorrol's Honorblade was bizarre in the ensemble, but perhaps there was an explanation behind it.
As I neared a table with two chairs placed one next to the other, I realized there were a few books on the typical arguments of the Dark Brotherhood, as well as a few old leather-bound ones that had seen centuries of use, and yet were still functional.
"To my lovely bride of the dark, may your fangs stay sharp forever," I muttered as I read the words inked on the first page as an autograph. "Uh, Umbra...past-me," I grumbled. "You could have left me with instructions to follow about what to do with Babette here. I mean, I'm not going to do anything without permission," I sighed as I opened the drawers, remaining surprised at the amount of clean paper and ink bottles that filled them. Perhaps Babette had prepared the desk for me to write on?
It was kind of thoughtfully nice for her.
Still, at the same time, I couldn't act on such kindness, because it was directed at the wrong person. If only my memories returned, all of them, then perhaps I'd do things differently. As it was, wasn't I merely a thief stealing the place of my past-self? I shook my head and headed to open the chest by the bed's feet. Quite calmly, I pulled out what could only be described as makeshift cat-ears, but I was pretty sure they where Khajiiti ears ripped and embalmed. I gingerly put them back shuddering in disgust, ignoring the rest of the stuff within and closing the chest with a sordid click.
"Speaker...your door is broken," a cloaked figure spoke from behind me, an acolyte hesitantly looking into the room with a curious expression.
"Indeed it is," I replied nonchalantly, turning to stand up. "Have it repaired."
"Yes, Speaker," the acolyte spoke crisply, bowing and leaving with barely a sound. I turned my eyes to the bed's sides, where twin bed drawers stood. I opened the first, and quite indignantly ignored the potions that held on pictures of bulls and...depravity, and moved to the other, where a set of jingling keys finally welcomed me.
Honestly, what use is a weapon if you leave it in a display case?
It took me a few more minutes, but I did manage to get myself one of the Blades of Woe and the Chorrol Honorblade. Hopefully these pieces of ancient history wouldn't melt like the rest at the sight of dragon flame, and if they did, then I'd need to get more.
Funnily enough, I wouldn't have minded a full set of Ebony Armor, but there wasn't any to go around. The Honorblade would have to do. My armor had taken a brutal hit, and as I found myself staring at the somber-looking black robes of a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, I couldn't help but avert my gaze. Yes, yes I could and should wear them, but until that moment the Divines had guided my every act. Was it right to wear this, and not one of the simpler looking armors?
Honestly, by this point I was wondering which of the two sides was right, and which was wrong, and what was the correct path that didn't end with me dying horribly, if there was even death on the table and not eternal torture. Was Sithis really throwing me back here every single time I died? Was it the blessing of the Divines that did it? Or did the Divines perhaps wish for me to be here, to take on the robes and clad myself in them?
In the end, I opted for a compromise.
The black cowl of the Dark Brotherhood covered my face as I wore the robes as a mantle of sorts to cover the broken armor beneath it. Nobody was going to bother my fashion statement, I was the Speaker after all, wasn't I?
"Speaker...we must talk," the eerie voice of the Night Mother reached my ears, and as it did, I began to walk towards the main hall.
Hopefully the Night Mother would know more of what was going on.
Now, how to ask her without giving up my game was another matter entirely.
