The market was busier than usual. Riften was hosting a festival, the first of its kind, and the locals looked forward to the influx of visitors and the generation of income. They had hopes that such an event would cleanse the public opinion of the city and push the reputation as host to the Thieves Guild far away from the minds of those visiting. Strung up across the buildings were pennant banners and streamers, welcoming the people of Skyrim into the city. Posters advertising the events and proprietors coming were also hung around the city and on trees along the road from the surrounding cities. Haelga’s Bunkhouse was booked solid and many of the homes in the city had rented space and rooms out to guests. Outside the city, tents were set up in makeshift camps. Though the khajiit were not welcome in the city, there were more than a couple caravans that set up within the surrounding campsites.
Inside the city’s boundary, the local merchants occupied their regular assigned spaces. Every available space between them in the marketplace had also been claimed and the excess vendors spilled out onto the boardwalk surrounding the market. Still more, with no room to set up in the center of town, parked their carts and built their makeshift stands around the outer wall of the city, behind the residences and temple.
Cicero and Arynelle were also in attendance, but not for celebratory purposes. They had been given a contract on a visitor and were instructed to carry it out before the end of the festival. They stood by the forge in front of the Scorched Hammer and observed the activity in the marketplace. So many visitors made it difficult to pick a face out from the crowd, but Cicero and Arynelle amused themselves while searching for the target by spying the thieves as they made their way through, pickpocketing oblivious patrons.
“There’s one,” Arynelle tossed her head toward Madesi’s stall. A hooded person had their hand in the hip pouch of a woman arguing with Madesi over the price of a silver necklace. The thief slipped away undetected before the woman finally settled on a price and reached for her pouch. She was furious to find she had been robbed.
“Good eye,” Cicero commended. “Any sign of the Nord?”
“I don’t see him, but there are more vendors than these, right?” Arynelle asked, keeping her eye on the crowd.
Cicero spotted Vex by Brynjolf’s stand, true to form with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Brynjolf was beside her, speaking loudly to a gathering of people.
“Cicero can get the information we need,” he promised and left Arynelle by the forge.
“Vex,” Cicero grinned at her. “Cicero didn’t expect to see your face out here on the surface.”
“Cicero,” she replied. “Brynjolf here coaxed me into working security for his booth for a few hours today in exchange for a job that I’ve been after for a while.” She feigned annoyance, but Cicero could see she was pleased with the arrangement.
Brynjolf was promising a customer that his latest potion would guarantee a better life. It was a vague and nonsense promise and Cicero suspected the product in question was nothing more than a health potion re-bottled. The customer gladly handed over a large purse of gold.
“Lovely,” Cicero replied undecidedly, watching the customer dash off to tell her friends about the miracle potion.
“What are you doing here is the better question,” Vex prodded. “Are you on a contract?”
“Yes,” Cicero replied. “Cicero is looking for a Nord named Kveynn. He is set up somewhere around here as a vendor.” He looked around again, hoping to spot his target. “Cicero hasn’t had much luck finding him, however.”
“The Wandering Warrior guy? Have you checked the flyers by the front gates? They have all the vendors listed. Some of them are around the outer wall of the city, too. If they signed up late or have less desirable wares they ended up getting pushed behind the houses. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say Kveynn’s used and rusty swords and axes are probably around back.”
“Thank you, Vex,” Cicero smiled. “Cicero will go check!” He gave Vex an appreciative grin and dashed back off to Arynelle.
“The flyers at the front gate have the vendor information on them; we should go check and see if The Wandering Warrior is listed there,” he proposed.
Arynelle agreed and they moved through the crowd toward the gate. The smell of mead permeated the air and Cicero felt a hand pawing at his pouch. He spun around and grabbed the wrist attached to the hand.
“You’ll want to keep that out of there,” he warned the thief, placing his other hand on the hilt of his dagger. The thief wore a hood, but when he looked up into Cicero’s face, Cicero saw that it was a young man, and his eyes were as large as dinner plates. Cicero released the boy’s wrist and the boy rushed off into the crowd.
“Wow,” Arynelle commented, pushing still forward. “They’re brazen here.”
“It’s a golden opportunity,” Cicero mused. “Can’t say Cicero blames him for trying.”
When they reached the gate, they found the flier posted. Arynelle ran her finger down the list, landing on the target’s name.
Wandering Warrior: Section E Space 23
“Here it is,” she announced, tapping the line. Cicero scanned the map on the flier next to it and found Section E and space twenty-three.
“Behind the Temple of Mara.”
“Let’s go meet our target,” Arynelle smirked.
The festival had begun with an opening ceremony at first light, kicking off with a torch lighting using fire from the forge of the Scorched Hammer. Within an hour, the marketplace had filled with travelers, locals, and everyone in between. As Cicero and Arynelle made their way to the Temple of Mara, the crowd began to thin out some as people broke for their midday meals. They were able to take the route in front of the houses rather than behind and cut through the cemetery to reach Kveynn’s stall. Within the gates of the cemetery, several blankets had been laid out for picnics and there were children screeching as they ran back and forth across the graves. Cicero held in a chuckle thinking about how the Thieves Guild members must feel emerging from the Cistern to that.
Kveynn’s stall was just a few wooden boards hastily nailed together to form a table with three shelves. On the top he had laid a linen cloth and placed precious gems and soul gems, shiny Dwemer artifacts and a couple of spell tomes. On the second shelf he showcased some rather worn-looking armor and dented shields. The bottom shelf contained different varieties of armored boots. Leaned up against the table on either side were numerous swords and bows in varying states of disrepair. Cicero took Kveynn to be a scavenger of sorts, to have such items. They’d been told he was an adventurer and the name of the shop supported that.
“Greetings!” Kveynn boomed as they approached. “I’ve got something for just about everyone here.”
Arynelle picked up a black soul gem. “What kind?” she asked, holding it up to him.
“It’s a black soul gem, but it has a petty soul. I don’t really dabble in the art of–” his voice fell, “--necromancy.”
“Ah,” Arynelle replied, setting it back down. Kveynn raised an eyebrow.
Cicero lifted an ebony sword in desperate need of a visit to the blacksmith. “How much for this?” he asked Kveynn.
“Seven hundred septims” Kveynn suggested.
“Hmph,” Cicero grunted, leaning it back against the table. It was an absurd price for something in such poor condition.
“Will you be here for the duration of the festival?” Arynelle asked Kveynn.
“I may take Middas or Turdas to visit the other stalls before setting up again on Fredas. Don’t want to miss the largest crowds. A festival like this doesn’t happen often around here. I’m honestly surprised so many showed up.”
“It is unexpected, isn’t it? Riften must be trying to repair their reputation. I’m curious to see if it works. But just because they polished the city, doesn’t mean the thieves aren’t still out. Watch yourself,” Arynelle nodded before herding Cicero down the back lane.
“Arynelle offered Kveynn a warning?” Cicero asked, confused.
“Just want him to be a little jumpy. Might make things more fun for us,” she grinned. She held out a flawless ruby. “And I was able to swipe this.”
Cicero let out a short, wry laugh.
“Cicero never understood thieves, really.”
“I know, I know. Take someone’s things before you kill them, they call you crazy, blah, blah,” Arynelle finished. “Not everyone was raised a murderer first, you know.”
Cicero sighed and followed Arynelle back to the center of the city. They stopped into the Bee and the Barb and waited for a table. So many people had packed into the tavern that Cicero backed up into a corner just to find space to breathe. Arynelle crouched down to the floor beside him.
“This could take awhile,” she remarked.
“Where would Arynelle propose we eat?”
“There was a cart outside of the city selling sweet rolls and other baked goods. Maybe we can get some bread there and cheese and meat from Marise?”
“Cicero could use a sweet roll,” he assented.
They squeezed back out into the street and found Marise by her cart. It was nearly empty, but Cicero could see some pheasant breasts and carrots at the back.
“How is Marise today? Is the festival crowd treating Marise well?”
“Oh Cicero, you have no idea. I’ve nearly sold out. If you’re looking for food, I have a few carrots and a couple of pheasants breasts left. After that I’ll have to return home to fetch more for the evening meal. I’ve never once sold out before midday meal!”
“We’ll take what you’ve got,” Cicero offered, holding out a purse of gold. Marise pulled the carrots and pheasants breasts from the cart and sent the two assassins on their way. They stopped at the bakery cart and bought bread and sweet rolls before taking the path down away from the city to have their own picnic of sorts.
“So what’s the plan?” Arynelle asked between bites of bread.
“Cicero thinks that Kveynn will be easier to take care of when he is away from his stall.” He bit into his pheasant breast and looked toward the path where more people still were heading into the city.
“Agreed. I wish I could have felt out where he was staying without being too obvious,” Arynelle despaired. She dusted bread crumbs from her lap.
“We could follow him tonight when he closes up?”
“Worth a shot. Anything you’d like to do before then?”
Cicero smiled shyly and averted his eyes.
“I mean besides flirt with Vex,” Arynelle teased. “But if you must, I can make myself scarce. I could go pawn this ruby and see what it could get me in the market.”
“Cicero would like to spend some time with her while he’s here. But Vex is occupied with Brynjolf’s stall.”
“All day?”
“Maybe not. Arynelle should go pawn her ruby and Cicero will meet her back here just before the market shuts down for the evening, yes?”
“Sounds good. Don’t get into trouble.”
They stood and walked side by side back to the city’s gates. They parted ways upon entering.. Arynelle went toward the Pawned Prawn and Cicero beelined for Brynjolf’s stall. He hoped Vex would be through with her commitment to Brynjolf soon.
“Coming to buy a miracle potion? Guaranteed to improve your life!” Brynjolf held out a potion bottle to Cicero. “Only seventy five gold, a special for a friend of the Guild!”
“Can it, Brynjolf,” Vex interrupted. She addressed Cicero. “Back so soon?”
“Cicero has some time to kill,” Cicero smirked at his corny joke. “Will Vex be through soon?”
Vex looked at Brynjolf and he waved her off. “Go,” he said. “Don’t think you’re done, though. You still owe me if you want that job.”
Vex made a face but turned to Cicero with a smile. “Let’s go!”
They walked the marketplace, looking at all the vendors had to offer. Fine animal pelts, jewel-encrusted circlets and lovely daggers could be found along the outside of the center wall. As they worked their way outward, they found less exciting wares: used armor, dented shields, tongs, buckets, cookware. They spotted Galathil by the shrine to Talos and watched as she worked on a young Imperial woman. Cicero was impressed with her abilities.
“Cicero could never,” he told Vex.
“I’ve never considered it myself, either,” Vex agreed.
After passing all of the vendors, Vex led Cicero over to the garden outside of the Honeyside estate. It was the only area in the city not bustling with people.
Vex leaned against a barrel marked with a Shadowmark and smiled at Cicero.
“How have you been?”
Cicero stepped closer and leaned against the side of the house.
“Busy,” he told her. “So many people to kill, so little time.”
“I mean…y’know, with things…?” Vex seemed to have difficulty clarifying.
“Oh,” Cicero said, understanding her message anyway. “Fine, really. Cicero will always miss Mjari, but he’s finding his footing.”
“That’s great, Cicero. I’m happy for you,” Vex smiled genuinely and held out a hand. Cicero took her hand in his and she squeezed it.
“I suppose that means I should think about spending more time with you, huh?” Cicero joked, giving Vex an expectant look.
“I would like that,” Vex said, laughing. “But I’m not going to beg or twist your arm.” Though she did twist it as she spoke.
Cicero laughed too. “Cicero would never make Vex do that. Cicero likes Vex.”
He blushed at having said that aloud, but Vex blushed too. She let go of his hand and turned around to the barrel, lifting the lid to peer inside.
“What are your plans for dinner?” Vex asked him. He could see the barrel held some shiny objects, but he couldn’t discern what they were from his vantage point.
“Probably scouring the market for another food cart. Marise sold us the last of her haul for the day. The Bee and the Barb was terribly crowded. How about you?”
Vex pulled a necklace from the barrel. “Nice,” she said, admiring it in the sunlight. “I could treat you to dinner in the Flagon if you’d like. Vekel has managed to keep out all the out-of-towners. I told him he’s missing out on some good gold, but he says he’d rather give the locals a place to escape from the festival crowd. He’s good people.”
“He is good people,” Cicero agreed. “Cicero would love to join Vex for dinner. But we’ll have to be done before the market closes. Cicero has to meet Arynelle for the contract this evening.”
Vex muttered an “ugh” under her breath.
“Be nice, Vex,” Cicero chided gently. “Arynelle is a very skilled assassin and if you gave her the time, Cicero is sure the two of you could be very good friends.”
“You know how I feel about having friends,” Vex reminded him.
Cicero shrugged.
“We can go down to the Cistern now if you’d like,” Vex suggested. “We’ve seen pretty much all there is to see here.”
“Oh,” Cicero stopped her before she walked out of the garden. “How is Delvin?”
Vex laughed contemptuously. “Don’t worry about him. He hasn’t bothered me since you set him straight.”
“Do you think he’s still mad?”
“If he is, I doubt he would approach you about it. Besides, I think he’s out on a job in Windhelm. He’s been avoiding me.”
Cicero breathed a sigh of relief and followed Vex toward the cemetery.
Arynelle pawned her ruby at the Pawned Prawn and took her spoils to the marketplace. She bought herself an amulet of Akatosh from a used goods vendor and walked down to the Riften fishery. The waters sparkled in the sunlight and Arynelle watched as people in little rowboats moved around the lake. There were tents set up along the path even across the lake, though the Goldenglow Estate seemed entirely unoccupied. Arynelle’s gaze followed an Argonian maiden as she strung up a line between two trees to hang some clothing to dry. She thought wistfully of Olavete and the time they’d spent traveling, washing their clothing in the streams and hanging it to dry on branches or laying it over rocks for the sun to dry. It was a difficult life, living with Olavete, but it got Arynelle where she was and she appreciated that.
“Hey,” Arynelle heard a voice say from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, expecting the person to tell her that she was in the way of their booth, but she met eyes with a Breton woman dressed in fine clothing. Arynelle stepped aside.
“Sorry, am I in your way?” she asked the woman.
“Not at all, I just wanted to say I like your armor. The red and black are a nice combination.”
Arynelle’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Thanks,” she responded.
“I’m Lucienne. Are you in town for the festival?”
“Arynelle, and sort of. I mean, yeah, we are. I am.” Arynelle’s cheeks flushed again as she stumbled over the words.
Lucienne laughed. “We? Are you here with someone?”
“My partner, he is off with his sweetheart somewhere around here.”
Lucienne’s smile brightened.
“How about you? You’re not local,” Arynelle pointed out. “I think I’d have seen you before if you were.”
“I’m not from here, no. I traveled from High Rock. But I’m not going back, so I might as well call this place home.” Lucienne flicked a dead dragonfly off the railing and down into the lake. “Sorry, I say too much. I don’t really know how to shut up.”
“That’s alright,” Arynelle reassured. “Why aren’t you going back to High Rock?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I do know. I hate it there. Skyrim seemed promising and I spent every last septim I had getting here. So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go back.”
“Oh,” Arynelle answered. She looked down at the dragonfly corpse floating on the lake’s surface.. Little ripples radiated away from it and it bobbed along, heading beneath the boardwalk.
“I’m not asking for handouts,” Lucienne clarified. “If I really needed gold, I could sell my stuff. I’m fine. I just don’t want you to think I’m begging or trying to swindle you or something.”
Arynelle cocked an eyebrow and laughed. “I didn’t think that.”
Lucienne breathed. “Good. Well, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, so I’m gonna go…” She turned to walk back up the steps to the marketplace but Arynelle’s uncontrollable laughter gave her pause.
“What’s so funny?” Lucienne challenged Arynelle.
“You!” Arynelle laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “What in Oblivion are you doing? You compliment me on my armor, spew some random nonsense about not being a beggar and then you just leave?!” She doubled over and held a hand on the railing to steady herself.
“Okay, but you’re the mad one here. You can barely contain your own laughter,” Lucienne chuckled. This made Arynelle laugh harder and pretty soon they were both on the boards of the walkway, gasping for breath.
“I needed that laugh,” Arynelle said, wiping sweat from her brow with a gloved hand. Lucienne pushed the tips of her fingers against her eyes and wiped tears away.
“You and me both, sister.”
“Sister?” Arynelle cocked her head.
“Sis…ter?” Lucienne lowered her chin and met eyes with Arynelle. A look of puzzlement passed across both of their faces before being replaced by recognition.
“No way,” Arynelle shook her head.
“What do you mean? No way yourself!”
“By Sithis, I refuse to believe this. Are you on a contract?” Arynelle prodded.
“Actually, our sanctuary was destroyed in 188. I don’t know if anyone else survived, but I was on a long contract when it happened. I returned to the ruins.”
“Oh man,” Arynelle responded.
“I wasn’t exactly good with my gold so I spent the next five years trying to get the funds together to travel to Cheydinhal, but of course by then that had been abandoned as well. I returned to High Rock after another two years in Cheydinhal, then I learned that Skyrim had the last remaining Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. I waited almost another decade to set out, maybe due to fear of it being untrue, but also to save up the gold to get here. I don’t have many skills other than killing. I was taking odd jobs here and there for people, but those didn’t pay nearly as well as the contracts did. When I reached Falkreath and found it destroyed, I really began to lose hope. But something told me to come to Riften for this festival. I spent every last septim I had getting myself here.” She sighed, “I admit, I’m having a hard time believing my luck in running into a fellow member of the family here.”
Arynelle still wore a look of disbelief on her face. She nodded.
“Well I guess you’re wondering where I’m from then,” Arynelle picked up the conversation. “We relocated to Dawnstar. There’s a whole long tale about that but you’ll have to have our brother Cicero explain it. I wasn’t there for that part and he delights in getting to tell the tale.”
“There’s more of you?” Lucienne asked hopefully.
“Oh Sister, yes!” Arynelle confirmed, laying a hand on Lucienne’s shoulder. “Of course there are more! Cicero, Babette, Nazir, the Listener, some initiates. I can’t wait for you to meet them all! Will you join us at the sanctuary?”
“I can’t believe this. I was so lost.” Lucienne shook her head and looked down to her lap. “I’m so glad I noticed your armor!”
“Did your sanctuary have different armor?”
“Yes,” Lucienne answered. “Well, same color scheme, but different style.”
“Cicero is not going to believe this,” Arynelle giggled.
Cicero and Vex sat at the counter and chatted with Vekel the Man.
“They have tried coming in through the Ratway, but Dirge keeps them at bay. I don’t want anything to do with the festival and I don’t want them thinking they have anything to do with me either. You won’t catch me on the surface until the lot of them clear out. That’s way too many people for me.”
Cicero and Vex nodded in agreement.
“Are you in town for the night, Cicero? You’ve got your pick of the Shadowfoot Sanctum or the bed chamber if you need it,” Vekel offered.
“Cicero will likely need lodging for the night, yes. But Arynelle is along with him, though, so if it comes to it, the Sanctum would be preferred. Cicero is happy to pay for the use of it, of course.”
Vekel shook his head, rejecting Cicero’s offer to pay. “All yours, Cicero.”
Vex leaned against Cicero. “You want some company tonight? I mean, aside from the Breton?” She stuck out her tongue in mock disgust.
Cicero leaned back into Vex and smiled. “Sure,” he replied. “Cicero would enjoy that. But he does have something to take care of first. How much longer is the festival going on this evening?”
“It should be winding down soon, I’d guess. The sun’s setting in a bit. They’ll be right back to it at first light though,” Vekel grumbled.
“Then I guess you better head on up,” Vex nudged Cicero. “I’ll see you back down here later. You know where to find me.”
Cicero kissed Vex’s hand and nodded to Vekel before cutting back through the Cistern and out the secret entrance to the Thieves Guild.
He walked at a quick pace toward the gates to meet Arynelle and in the fading light he noticed that the guards seemed to have beefed up their presence for the evening.
“I find your hand in my pocket, I’m going to cut it off,” Cicero overheard a guard threatening a hooded man passing by.
At the gate, he found Arynelle and a finely dressed Breton woman smiling grandly at him as he approached. He gave Arynelle a puzzled look when he arrived and they still stood there beaming.
“Who is this?” he finally questioned.
“Lucienne, it’s very good to meet you, Brother. Cicero,” Lucienne spoke quickly. “Hail Sithis!” she squealed quietly.
Cicero did not find her amusing. He moved his gaze from Lucienne to Arynelle and threw his hands up, signaling “what gives?”
“Cicero,” Arynelle announced proudly but quietly. “I want you to meet Lucienne. She’s a Breton Sister from High Rock. She’s here to join us. We get to keep her!”
Lucienne let out another high pitched squeal and Cicero cringed.
“Arynelle–” Cicero began.
“Cicero,” Arynelle interrupted. “You’ll have plenty of time to get the details later. For now just trust me and let’s go find out about Kveynn. Maybe we can even take him out tonight! I cannot wait to get back to the sanctuary.” She turned to Lucienne. “You can room with me until we figure out better arrangements. I just know everyone’s going to love you.”
Lucienne smiled eagerly.
Cicero led the way back to the lane behind the residences and toward Kveynn’s stall. They watched him from the shadows as he packed up the items on top of his table, wrapping each stone in a cloth and tucking it into a sack. Then he placed the sack in a barrel and piled iron ingots on the top. Cicero realized that three assassins would be rather indiscreet so he directed Arynelle to take Lucienne around the buildings to the other side so if Kveynn set off in that direction, they could easily follow him undetected. Arynelle complied and she and Lucienne left Cicero in the shadows by the Riftweald manor.
When Kveynn had finished disassembling his wares for the evening, he covered his stall with a large cloth and walked down the lane toward the gates, carrying his knapsack with a bedroll attached. Cicero peeked out to make contact with Arynelle and Arynelle stepped out of her spot near the cemetery. She nodded at Cicero and he turned to follow Kveynn, moving slowly enough for Arynelle to catch up. Lucienne, unarmed, stayed in the shadows of the cemetery as directed by Arynelle.
The two assassins moved silently out of the gates behind Kveynn and followed him down the path away from the stables and into the woods. He didn’t appear to have much of a direction in mind as he squinted in the darkness for a smooth patch of land on which to lay his bedroll. When he found one suitable for him, he unshouldered his knapsack and began unbuckling the straps around the bedroll.
“We could do it now,” Arynelle whispered to Cicero behind a cluster of trees.
“Cicero would rather wait,” he shot back. “We’d have the advantage of camping out to wait for him tomorrow.”
“We can still spend the night here,” Arynelle snapped, the annoyance in her voice clear. “You and Vex can have more time.”
Cicero watched as Kveynn gathered some sticks around the campsite and began stacking them to build a small fire. He thought of Arynelle’s proposition and finally nodded.
“Alright, this one’s yours then.”
Arynelle nodded back and readied her weapon. She stepped out from the cluster of trees as Kveynn was using a torch to light his fire. Her presence startled him and he dropped the torch, but he pulled a sword from his waistband as she approached him.
“Who are you and why are you doing this?” he cried, stepping back.
Arynelle stepped forward and swung her dagger. Kveynn blocked the strike with his sword and began to swing back at her. They fenced for a few moments before Arynelle was able to duck under his sword and get behind him. She wrapped an arm around his neck and drove her dagger down into his chest. He fell to the ground.
Cicero emerged and knelt down beside Kveynn’s lifeless body. He held a hand on the man’s chest for a few moments to be sure he had died.
“Another soul for Sithis,” he grinned.
Arynelle sheathed her weapon and grabbed Kveynn’s knapsack, dumping it out by the torchlight.
“Anything good in there?” Cicero asked her.
“No, just a few ingredients, a change of clothing and some boots. Oh,” she said, lifting an item from the pile and holding it out to Cicero. “You can have this.”
Cicero took the item from Arynelle. It was a bottle of Velvet LeChance.
“Thank you, Arynelle,” Cicero said, tucking the bottle into his hip pouch. “Talen-Jei must have finally started bottling this stuff.”
Arynelle scattered the rest of the belongings throughout the campsite and then headed back to the gate with Cicero in tow.
“What are we going to do with Lucienne?” Cicero asked Arynelle. “Do you even know for certain she is one of us?”
Arynelle paused, but then nodded confidently. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely. I mean, I didn’t test her or anything, but it’s pretty clear. You can test her if you want.”
Cicero rolled his eyes and walked on. They approached the cemetery and found Lucienne leaning against the wall in the shadows, barely visible.
“Vekel the Man has offered Cicero use of the Shadowfoot Sanctum,” Cicero began. “There is a spare bedroom with two beds in it if you two would like to stay there. We can head back to the sanctuary in the morning.”
Arynelle and Lucienne nodded in unison.
“But,” Cicero continued. “Cicero has invited Vex to join him and would appreciate if they were given some privacy.”
At this Arynelle gave Lucienne an annoyed look but Lucienne, clueless, shrugged and nodded at Cicero.
“I can do that,” she replied.
Cicero let them down into the Cistern and they crossed toward the Ragged Flagon. Vipir the Fleet glared at Arynelle from the practice dummies, but she ignored him. Lucienne looked all around, taking in the guild for the first time. She met eyes with Vipir the Fleet and he nodded to her coyly. She smiled at him. Arynelle noticed this exchange and dragged Lucienne by the sleeve to catch up with Cicero.
They passed through the false cabinet door and nearly ran into Dirge, guarding the entrance to the Ratway. Vekel wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t going to let just anyone into the Flagon during the festival. Dirge put a hand out in front of Arynelle and Lucienne.
“Hold it,” he said sternly.
“They’re with me,” Cicero smiled disingenuously and pushed Dirge’s hand out of their way. Dirge narrowed his eyes at Cicero but took no further steps to prevent the women from entering.
Vex was leaned against a stack of crates and upon seeing Cicero, stood up straight. Cicero broke from his fellow assassins to meet Vex.
“You’re back,” Vex greeted. “Who’s the new girl?”
“Apparently Lucienne is a sister from the old High Rock sanctuary.” Cicero sounded a bit huffy as he explained. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Lucienne yet. “Cicero does not yet have the full story. Perhaps you could join us as they fill him in?”
“Ready when you are,” Vex replied.
They rejoined the Bretons and walked together through the Ratway cut-through to the Sanctum. Cicero led them inside and Lucienne gasped.
“Wow,” she said as they passed through the smithing area. She looked into the water and tried to gauge how deep it was. “Where does that lead?” she asked, pointing to the portal cap below the surface.
“Secret entrance,” Cicero replied curtly. “Follow, please.”
The interior of the sanctum impressed Lucienne further and she set about examining all of the books, statues, shrines and cabinets while Arynelle settled in at the table and Cicero pulled Vex into the kitchen. They found goblets and carried them out to the table. Cicero drew his bottle of Velvet LeChance from his pouch and popped the cork out. He poured half into one goblet and half into another for himself and Vex. Lucienne moseyed over to the table inquisitively.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Velvet LeChance,” Cicero replied, turning the bottle to Lucienne.
“LeChance? I was named after a LaChance,” she spoke proudly. “Lucien LaChance. Have you heard of him?”
Arynelle dropped her jaw. “The Lucien LaChance?!”
“My mother was an assassin at the Cheydinhal sanctuary after Lucien LaChance was killed. She stayed there until she had me. She named me after him because she was absolutely obsessed with his story. We moved back to High Rock when I was still pretty young. She said I deserved a chance at a different path in life if I wanted one. Of course, all I knew was murder, so I chose to stick with the Dark Brotherhood.”
Arynelle clung to every word as Lucienne told her story and when she was finished, Arynelle asked if Lucienne’s mother was still alive.
“No,” Lucienne looked down, sadly. “She was killed.”
“That’s a shame,” Arynelle told her. “Lucien’s spectral form can be summoned.”
“Really?” Lucienne brightened. “I could meet him?”
“Yeah, probably. The Listener can do it. Oh, you’re going to love Dawnstar!” Arynelle chirped.
Cicero and Vex nursed their drinks and watched the Bretons as they delved deeper into Lucienne’s life. Cicero noticed Vex yawn and pushed her goblet away from her.
“Shall we?” He invited her. She stood and followed him to the bedroom. “Get some rest, Sisters,” Cicero called out before shutting the doors behind him.
He and Vex stood awkwardly for a moment behind the shut doors. Then Cicero tugged the lace of his motley collar. “If you don’t mind,” he said, referring to removing his motley.
“No, go ahead. I don’t really have anything else to change into, though,” Vex laughed nervously.
“Check the wardrobes?” Cicero offered.
Vex turned and opened the wardrobes, pulling out a robe, a gown and some slippers. She tossed the robe to Cicero and held the gown in front of herself.
“Can you even picture me in something like this?” she laughed.
“Try it,” Cicero urged. “Then Cicero won’t have to.”
Vex began unbuckling her armor and Cicero finished removing his motley. He turned away from her to pull the robe on and looked down at himself as he shook his arms to unbunch the sleeves.
“Not too bad,” he remarked. “Almost like ol’ Festus Krex, may his soul rest with Sithis.”
Vex cleared her throat and Cicero looked up to see her in the gown. It was a silky purple gown with knots embroidered around the collar and hung loosely on her small frame. It may have been intended for a larger person, but Cicero liked it on her all the same. She laughed nervously again as he took her in. Then she turned away, embarrassed.
“This is stupid,” she said. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me in a gown.”
“Cicero would never speak about Vex to anyone,” he spoke quietly, stepping up behind her. “Let’s get in bed.”
They extinguished the lanterns about the room, climbed beneath the covers and held each other, whispering in the darkness. Cicero was comforted by Vex’s warmth and she snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her until they both drifted off to sleep.
