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An Enchanting Tale By AaronDennis Characters: 9351

Updated: 2018-01-10 12:02


"Colville is a fool. If he had it all his way, we would be little more than a band of minstrels telling stories no one cares about, " Persaye grumbled. S'maash was not altogether surprised by her opinion. For a moment longer, they stared at one another. "Well, I know of the tome you seek and will gladly give it you, " her words trailed off like honey.

She ran fingers through her chestnut locks then smiled at S'maash. In turn, he raised his brow quizzically.

"Naturally, you require something on my part, " he said.

She nodded. "I want Colville removed. I don't care how, I just want him gone, " Persaye said, looking away.

The elf gauged her. He thought she might have remorse or embarrassment. She did not.

"Why don't you do it?"

She turned back to him with a frown then placed her chin in her left hand, elbow on the table. "The rest of the Blades won't follow my lead…Colville is not a bad person, no, he is rather well liked and respected. I require a seemingly natural progression to Captain of the Blades."

"You could hire the Dark Brotherhood."

"Yes…surely he would be gone then, but I do prefer a less violent end."

"You have something in mind?"

"I do, and it requires an outsider, " she answered. "Colville has a son, a young boy. Colville's mother lives in a settlement just outside Markarth. She watches the boy. If you convince Colville that his family is in danger, he might resign from the Blades and settle back home. In this manner, no one gets hurt, and I rise to captain; you get your book, and everyone wins, " Persaye explained.

S'maash nodded. I do need that book, don't I? No one has to get hurt, hopefully. Perhaps….

"How do you intend to carry this out, " S'maash inquired.

"I have a forged document implying a Forsworn attack on Left Hand Mine is imminent. Deliver it to the Jarl of Markarth. News will travel; I'll make sure of that. Once it reaches Colville's ears, I'll make sure he tends to it. Finally, after he mobilizes the Blades, you'll have to lead the Forsworn to Left Hand Mine, " she said.

"Lead the Forsworn?!" he was shocked. She shushed him and, they looked around. No one had overheard. "How will I do that?"

"You'll have to enter a nearby redoubt and let them attack you. If you pose as a wandering merchant and leave behind a supply bundle along with another, forged document I've prepared, they'll believe you came from Left Hand Mine. No doubt, they will mount a raid, " Persaye replied.

"Unless they strike me down."

"A possibility you've no doubt encountered many times. I saw you handle yourself today. I beleive you can do this…this is the only way you'll get your book, and the Blades at your side, to boot, " Persaye smiled.

S'maash nodded rhythmically as he considered her proposition. "Both th

d packs and satchels to better portray a merchant. He then filled those bags with some relatively cheap provisions including food, potions, soul gems, pelts, and ingots. By the time he was set, he had spent one hundred Septims. "Thank you for your patronage, " she said.

"One, last thing; what can you tell me about the Forsworn?"

"The Madmen of the Reach? They have structures around. They call them redoubts. The closest one is Cold Wind Reach, a smaller camp to the northeast. What business do you have with those animals, " Lisbet asked.

"I, I just want to steer clear of their camps, " S'maash feigned a smile.

Lisbet shrugged indifferently, so the elf exited Markarth and started the long journey towards Cold Wind Reach. The early day's sun was rather warm. No wind blew, and S'maash was comfortable traveling.

It did not take too long to reach the redoubt. He saw the wooden construct built into the mountain side from hundreds of paces off the road. While approaching, an arrow landed at his feet. He looked up and overcasted ebony flesh.

"I'm just a traveling merchant, " S'maash called out.

"You'll be easy to rob when you're dead, " came back, from an angry, female archer.

S'maash saw the feathers in her hair from where he stood. He feigned running, and feigned difficulty in running as well. To lighten his load, and move faster, he dropped his new, leather bags. Inside one was the forged list. Everything was in place, so long as S'maash ran away before a real fight broke out.

The wizard had developed quite a bit of stamina in his travels, so it was with relative ease that he ran all the way back to Markarth's stables. Upon arriving, and only just out of breath, he approached the cart master, who was sitting on his carriage, outside the town walls.

"Need a ride, " the nord asked.

"Yes. To Winterhold, please."

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