Tes4Mod:Order of the Dragon/Brotherhood of the Knights IV

Chapter III

At the bottom of the chimney, among all the ashes, lay the finger, deriding Arril Stayranas with its integrity. The wood was burned, the leather bag was burned, but miraculously the flames had spared the finger. That was impossible; everything Arril had ever learned and experienced, told him that. And yet it had happened. The little thing was waiting to be lifted from the ashes, but every cell in Arril's body was reluctant.

"Maybe I'm crazy," he said, and fell to the ground in front of the fireplace. Another explanation had to exist. Elistir definitely sat safe and sound at home. And the tavern was not destroyed. All this had been a product of his imagination. So far, he had never had reason to question his sanity, and undoubtedly no situation into which one stumbled with expensive wine.

Without further ado, he decided to go visit Elistir.

Diron Hayth had made the same decision. Those who had lost a relative or friend in the tavern explosion had reported such, and organized a great funeral march, which would take place in the next few days. The Dunmber recognized many of the names, but one had drawn special attention: Elistir Angodai.

Elistir was Tesseck's older brother and the black sheep of the family. He had indeed willingly gone to the best university, but when he was old enough, he preferred to face the slave trade and leave the training for the rest of the mages. So, as Diron remembered him, he had never the most imaginative person, and the Dunmer could not pretend to mourn his death overmuch. However, there might be a connection here. Maybe he himself had plundered the ancestral tomb and then decided that his life was meaningless?

"He was very strange," Estell Angodai said, and poured some fruit juice into Diron's and Vion's glasses. They also offered Tesseck, who sat listlessly on a chair by the window, a little, but he waved his hand.

"He has barely ventured from of the house and sometimes locks himself in the basement for a few days at a time," she continued. "I put his food in front of the cellar door and had to knock a certain way and go away again, so he took it inside." The young woman sat down in a chair across from the investigators. She tapped a few times against her right temple with her index finger. "He slowly lost his mind, the poor thing. That is age."

"Did he say anything or do anything that would suggest what he is so afraid of?" asked Diron, but Estell shook her head.

"Nothing. Oh, wait. Yet. He ... "A knock on the door made her stop. "Excuse me for a moment." And then she had disappeared into the hallway.

It appeared to Arril have been an eternity until he finally had to be able to decide to knock on the door. His problem appeared to be that he was only half-mad; he doubted that Elistir was still alive, but was equally sure the door would immmediately open. The latter situation was of course desirable, because he could simply ask Estell whether or not her husband was really dead. He had his finger in his pocket; would they would like to have it back? Terrible. Simply tactless. Not appropriate for a grieving widow. Absolutely...

Estell opened the door, and when she saw Arril, a beaming smile spread over her face. She was truly an exceptionally beautiful woman. And in an exceptionally good mood, he noticed. If Elistir was dead, she would not smile like that. No, Elistir was fine. And the finger in Arril's bag was only the product of his imagination. Now he could begin to return to normal.

"Estell, it is very nice to see you. How are you?" Arril asked, more relieved than he'd admit when she hugged him.

"I'm fine, thank you, Arril" she said, spreading his arms out. "Now that Elistir is dead, all of this belongs to me."

Arril's face slackened. "Dead," he repeated in disbelief.

"Oh dear. He was truly a friend of yours, right?" Estell clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. Had I known, I would not have been so tactless. Come in, please, and sit down now." 

Without resistance, he let pull Estell him into the living room of her house. When he saw the men sitting there, his stomach tightened into a hard ball. And yet he did not resist as Estell gently pushed him to the place where she had sat before, and disappeared into the kitchen area. Arril did not know what to say or think. The burgeoning panic in him paralyzed him.

Before him sat Diron Hayth and Vion Dekano. Diron worked for the slavery network; Arril belonged as a member, and had seen him often, but never had reason to talk with him or take his services. Suspicious, the investigator looked at him over the rim of his glasses, as if he wanted to impress a penalty on him for staring back. And Vion was ... Vion. There was hardly anyone who did not know him, and his reputation as a womanizer with a big mouth and an even larger ego preceded him. Even now, his eyes lit up mischievously, just as if he knew everything about him.

There they sat, united in silence, and Arril had a severed finger in his pocket.