26 - Victoria - Rufio's Cursed Rest:

It was in many ways a shame that I had not been informed of Rufio earlier, which would have avoided this backtracking - however it was unlikely this could ever have happened if they had indeed set me this task to force me to return to the crime scene. However, the Inn of Ill Omen is isolated, and I was therefore cautiously optimistic, expecting only a few Imperial Guards at most.

I wished to arrive in the evening, and therefore took my time riding back. Normally I would use such time productively, training... plundering...earning advancement, but in the end I had decided I would avoid any taxing actions. It would not do to return to the Inn ill prepared, and I arrived as the evening set in. The Imperial presence was clear; three brown horses grazed to the side of the path. I would have to take this very carefully.

I had two items of consideration to balance immediately; whether to wear my current robes, which in their dark red would be difficult to spot, but which would, if seen, point towards me as the perpetrator of the crime. Alternatively I could wear some of my other clothing, making myself appear less characteristically 'me', at the expense of increased visibility. In the end I concluded that the dark grey mage robes I possessed would serve as the best compromise – their ubiquity among mages leaving no specific evidence against me. As for the fact they would, if seen, reveal my magical abilities, I felt that could not be helped. If my guess was right, I expected magery was one thing I could not sensibly avoid tonight. With this in mind I again whispered in Shadows ear, he could take care of himself, and with no immediate need of him he would merely act as a cue to my presence.

As he departed I crept against the front wall, pausing to listen. Inside I could hear two guards talking in hushed tones to one another.

“...'m telling you, that's what I saw!” hissed the first, a gruff but worried voice

“Yeah, we got lots of ghosts taking up murder as a vocation...heh heh, you're an idiot” a higher pitched voice for this one, the tone openly scornful. At least they would be easy to tell apart.

The problem lay with the fact they were on the opposite side of the door, and I knew from previous experience that there was no other entry point. The next choice then; whether to kill them, get them to kill each other, or simply create a distraction and sneak past. Killing them by my hand seemed, after some thought, a rash course of action – it would lead to a greatly increased Imperial interest in the case, something that I could do without, no matter how much care I took. The other two options seemed more suitably, and I decided to use both.

Crouched in the shadows to the side of the door, I focussed my mind, summoning forth a lesser spirit. This then would be the distraction. Commanding it with my will, I sent it towards the guardsmen's horses, who seemed to sense it coming. Unsurprisingly, animals typically have a low threshold when confronted with the undead, but this appeared to be an exception, at least in one case. While two horses bolted immediately, the third reared up, a snort of fear and rage accompanying its wild kicking with its forelegs. It might as well have been kicking the air for all the effect it had on the spirit, although to the horses I suspected it felt rather more like kicking a pool of icy water. By the time the spirit lashed out for the final time it was clear the two guardsmen had heard the commotion, the door slamming open as they ran forth. Fortunately the summoning spell expired prior to them actually seeing the ghost (it would be better if they didn't see it vanish in a manor characteristic of a summon spell), as it was the spirit left no trace.

They were panicking a little, glancing nervously into the dim expanses of the forest – however being where I was - in the shade adjacent to a bright light source (the doorway) - there was little chance of them seeing me. It was here that they again, gratifyingly, fulfilled my expectations, calling for their comrade to come out. He came, but as he passed I reached out, brushing my hand upon his back as he passed. He had no time to react before the spell took effect, clouding his mind and leading him to see friend as foe. His pace increased as he ran towards his friends, pulling forth a steel axe from his belt. I don't think either of them realised anything was amiss until the axe buried itself inches deep into the neck of the squeakier guard... if the gruff Imperial had been 'on edge' before, this was enough to cause him to snap. Spinning with his sword, he slashed through the shoulder of his magically deluded friend, and his arm fell upon the ground with a sickening thud. Such cries the three made...two dying, and one seemingly torn by madness, yet I had no time to waste watching, slipping though the front door while they were yet 'distracted'.

Rufio had to be in the basement, there was no other possibility – I had already been elsewhere, and I therefore wasted no time before lowering myself through the trapdoor and into the cellar. I paused to regain my poise, yet as I did so I heard the surviving Imperial charge into the room above, before the clatter of furniture being thrown asunder clamoured through the floor. He appeared to be blocking every opening, including the trap door, presumably in an attempt to protect himself from the 'haunting spirit'. It was clear then that teleportation would be the only suitable manor of exit, as I had suspected all along.

It seemed then that I had nothing to worry about regarding the Imperial above, he would not disturb us. That is, he would not disturb us physically, however my detect life spell made it clear that he had already disturbed Rufio's slumber - the shimmer of his spirit appeared to be standing like a statue besides the bed, from which he was presumably newly risen. Stealth was pointless now, I had no fear for Rufio seeing my face, and I opened the door with a single push, stepping into the room.

He stood silently, facing the doorway, until after a few seconds had passed he spoke, his face apparently vacant of expression.

“They're after me you know...they know what I've done...I...I...why wouldn't they listen? I begged forgiveness...” he trailed off, yet his voice was strange, as one sleep walking. Perhaps he was not truly awake...making this a rather surreal experience.

As I stepped forward he spoke again, his aged voice croaking slightly in the beginnings of fear.

“Did they send you? Why did they...how...I...please don't. Please! I had no other choice...I, there was no way I couldn't!” He was becoming more and more agitated, his wrinkled hands openly trembling. I rather suspected that left alone in such a state he might succumb of natural exhaustion, but that simply made me quicken my pace. Despite the array of options available to me, here and now, my only choice was the golden knife I had been given for this very task. It was the signing of a pact, a door opening for me...a door closing for the old man.

He cringed as I approached, beginning to babble now, a rush of information without order. “I'm the...the last...the others...all dead! And me! Here! Alone! How did...did they find me? He...I don't, how, did he...I must have...”

It was at this point that I reached him; he had backed against the wall, his arms raised in front of his face in a futile gesture of protection, but he had no hope of warding off my blows. I drew the dagger forth from its sheath in a single smooth movement, faster than the eye could see. Rufio's eye that is...but the age wearied eyes of an old man in a dim cellar had offered him little hope from the outset. Unable to see the movement, I slashed around his hands, pulling the edge of the blade across both wrists in a single motion.

He screamed, the shouts echoing and reverberating in the small room, before he began to sway on his feet – his ashen face bearing testament to the blood pooling at his feet, black as ink in the dim lighting. He swayed again, but I made no move, and finally he collapsed sideways, sprawling across the bed. Interestingly the blood loss seemed to have drained away his earlier frantic affect...that or he now had nothing to fear. He appeared to gaze at me with mute fascination, I stepped forward again, with the intent of ending his life, drawing my hood back as I approached. His eyes widened.

“You...you yet live...I...thought that...all died...other than the...ah, played me for..fool...” his voice was a husk of its earlier self, the merest echo of a whisper. It seemed there was no need for me to wound him further.

“Revenge...then...is it...never should have sold Ste...so cold...I feel...ah the ice in my veins...the chill in the hills and the rivers...the cold in the eyes of the Nords” his eyes began to glaze over, but my mind raced. This was completely unexpected, and I needed to hear more. I stepped forward, palm outstretched.

“Then...tell...y...our master...that...dead...I knew this...day...would come..from the moment...he revealed...his surv...that night...he didn't d...he...” Focussing my mind, I cast the strongest spell of healing I possessed into him. I needed to hear more! But it was too late...there was no life in this shell for the spell to reignite, and it merely raced through his body and back into my hand, accompanied by a hollow ache of cold.

I felt the beginnings of a dull headache, but tried to keep my mind clear. Was there anything left to do here? I stepped back into the hall, hearing nothing but the muted sobs of the man above. The deed was done. With a last look back into the room, I pushed the sense of regret from my mind, threw the grey hood over my head, and teleported away. Once again I would be expecting a visit from the Brotherhood...but this time I had questions, serious questions.