On the road back, it was quiet, save for Pesci pestering his brother if he was an Eliminator or not. Even when they returned to the sanctuary, Prosciutto did not say a word except, “Brother, it’s been a long day. Rest.”
Pesci went to bed in the living quarters, sleeping on Formaggio’s old bed. He couldn’t sleep right away. He was resentful, feeling held back. As for Prosciutto, he lay in his bed, awake and looking at the ceiling, unable to expel the scenarios in his head. Had he left Pesci there, Rohan would’ve extracted information about the Dark Brotherhood. Of course, had his brother not saved him, it would be the same but worse.
“Risotto,” Prosciutto whispered, “are you there?”
There was no response. He was not there.
“Where are you?”
-
“Everyone, I have called for a quick emergency meeting,” Lucien said, speaking to the Speakers and Silencers.
There were no tables, only the darkness surrounding them. Where they were, nobody knows except for them. They were all silent, waiting for the Listener to say something.
“The current plan would bring attention to us, which we don’t want. Instead, I think we should free the prisoners in the city,” he said.
“What would we gain from freeing the prisoners?” Ghiaccio, a blue-haired High Elf, asked.
“Let me finish. I want Prosciutto to use his spell to speed up the aging process for every guard in the prisons. Ghiaccio, we’ll have to turn you in. It’ll–”
“What?” he shrieked.
“Relax, you’re going to break out with the prisoners. It’ll look like a prison riot would happen. Ghiaccio, as for the reason we’re turning you in, it’s because frost is the aging spell’s weakness. We need the prisoners to look like they were capable of breaking out.”
“You said that Prosciutto was doing this also, correct?” Risotto asked. “You did read the reports Sorbet wrote, right? I’m not sure if Prosciutto will be able to handle himself again three former arena combatants.”
“That’s why I want to Pesci with him.”
“He’ll be slaughtered,” Illuso butted in. “He’s just a recruit.”
“We just need Adamus Phillida slain,” Lucien replied. “No matter what the cost.”
“Will the brothers survive?”
“Prosciutto will probably need to stock up on some potions to restore his magicka,” Lucien answered. “Ghiaccio, you too.”
“I know. It’s what my bags consists of as of lately.”
“As for Pesci,” the Listener continued, “I know he’ll find a way.”
“I think you’re putting too much faith in Pesci,” Risotto said.
“Perhaps, if Mathieu hadn’t killed so many– it has to work! Adamus must be taken care of! He’s hindered our operations for so long.”
-
It was morning, or at least it felt like it was morning. Pesci awoke fully energized. Everybody was up and about except for M’raaj-Dar, who had the ugliest sleeping face. Carne was chewing on some steak while Sorbet and Gelato were doing something at the dining table. Fugo was nowhere to be found, and Formaggio was likely asleep. As for his brother, he was probably still processing yesterday.
For now, Pesci approached the dining table and sat down near the Wood Elf couple. There was black nail polish near them, and it seemed like Gelato was painting Sorbet’s nails.
“What are you guys doing?” Pesci asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sorbet replied. “He’s painting my nails.”
“Oh.”
“Why, do you want your nails painted?” the raven-haired elf asked.
He thought about it for a second. “Got any nail polish in green?”
“Hold on.” Gelato was close to finishing his lover’s nails. Within a few seconds, he was done painting his nails. The blond elf then scoured his bags and found some green nail polish. “Alright, Pesci, your turn.”
He placed his hands on the table, and Gelato started painting his nails.
“So, Pesci,” the blond said, “how have your contracts been?”
“You know, kind of difficult. Big brother was watching over me yesterday. I was to assassinate Rohan Kishibe. Do you know about him?”
“Yeah, I liked his art. Don’t worry, I don’t hate you for killing him. A job is a job. We can’t reject a contract. I heard this one guy wanted him dead, but I thought it was a joke. How did it go down?”
“He fired one of his servants and then hired me on the spot.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, so I go to his house and try to read one of his books. Turns out when you touch and see the pages, he reads you and makes you lighter.”
“That sounds crazy!”
“And guess what his enchanted pen does. He controls you. And do you want to know what I’m thinking of?”
“What are you thinking of.”
“I was thinking of getting a specially enchanted weapon for myself. Except I don’t know how to get one.”
“Hey,” Sorbet interfered, “this talk about enchanted items is reminding me of something bizarre. Sweetheart, do you remember when the local artist here went missing?”
“Rythe Lythandas, what about him?”
“I was the one who saved him. I wanted to steal a painting if you were wondering. He was trapped in his painting and told me his brush is enchanted. Well, the artist said it was a brush woven from Dibella’s hair, but it’s the same thing, right?”
“Interesting, but why did you bring this up?” Gelato asked.
“Most enchanted weapons deal fire, frost, or lightning damage. It’s basic. However, I’m starting to think that maybe more complicated enchantments could be applied to weapons. So, Pesci, you could probably get an enchanted item for yourself.”
“Yeah,” the Imperial replied, “but where would I find one? I was thinking about enchanting a fishing rod where the hook and line can go through the walls.”
“If such an enchantment existed, that would cost a lot of Septims,” commented Sorbet.
“And… finished!” Gelato said.
All his nails were painted green.
“Wow, I never had anyone do my nails before,” Pesci commented. “Thank you so very much.”
“Wait!” Gelato halted him from getting up from his seat. He looked through his bags and handed him some green lipstick. “I saw this and thought of you. I think it might look great on you.”
“Thank you again. I should go now. I should check on how my brother is doing.”
He left the living quarters and headed to Prosciutto’s room. His brother was sitting at his desk, lost in thought. Pesci cleared his throat to grab his attention.
“Are you alright?” Pesci asked. “The target is dead. What else could be bothering you?”
“That did not go how I envisioned it,” he said. He looked through the sheets of paper, filled with information about every target available and their estimated difficulty. He held up a piece of paper. He found the perfect target. “For now, this will be your last contract until you receive more training.”
“More training?” blurted out Pesci. “If I just had better weapons–”
“But you don’t have better weapons. Your last target is to kill a man named Gregory Jackson. He resides in Leyawiin, near my house, wasting the days away in his home. I have some disturbing information about him, but nothing that will assist you in getting rid of him. Come, let’s go.”
-
As the brothers trotted on their horses away from the city, Prosciutto couldn’t help but feel as if something was amiss. Right before he realizes what was wrong, a black-haired Breton man stood in front of the path, making the horses abruptly stop. It was him, Hazamada. He’d recognize that glare. The two got off the saddle and tried to approach him.
“Stay back! I know exactly what you did, murderer!” He pointed at Pesci. “And as for the blond guy, I saw you enter Rohan’s house before the fire. I was watching you while you were watching them.”
Pesci had no idea what was going on, but Prosciutto had an idea.
“Where is your proof?” inquired the blond. He tried to get a little bit closer to him.
“Huh?” Hazamada reacted.
“How do you know we started the fire?” he continued. “You’re his servant.”
“I was his servant until that pineapple guy stole my job.”
“So, you have a motive for starting the fire.”
“What? No, I came here to–”
Bonk! Prosciutto knocked him in the head.
“What was that for?” Pesci panicked. “Couldn’t we have just killed him?”
“We can say he did it. We’ve only been to Skingrad once. Besides, the guards would suspect he’s suspicious. Rohan did fire him. Do you still have that shirt with red paint on it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I noticed that most of your contract involves you plunging your knife into someone. Let’s teach you the art of speechcraft.”
-
After turning Hazamada in for a crime they committed, they rode to Leyawiin and entered the humid city. Nothing much has changed since Pesci has last been here. He still can’t get used to the heat here, but at least it was better than Bravil.
Pesci looked at the orange sky. It was getting dark. He wondered if they would spend the night in Prosciutto’s house.
“Should we head to your house?” he asked.
“Later. The sooner we deal with this guy, the better,” the blond said as he looked at shacks. “If I’m correct, he lives right about…” At first, he looked at the shacks that were gathered near the pond. He then turned in the opposite direction, looking at the shack that was behind the stores. The grass was overgrown and was covered in trash. One of the windows was broken.
“I’m guessing that’s his house,” Pesci said.
“I wondered why I always heard fighting here. I believe this man had a husband and two kids. I wondered what happened while I was away. Anyways, I’ll be relaxing at home.”
“Wait!” He tugged on Prosciutto’s clothing. “Rohan had a unique spell, and so do you. How do you do that?”
“It might take some learning and possibly mastering certain schools of magic. Why are you asking this?”
“I thought maybe you could teach me.”
“Now’s not the time.”
Pesci was left alone, watching his older brother head into his house, the colorful one. He wanted a house like that, but a fisher like him could never earn enough to get it. Instead of going for the target, Pesci walked toward the pond. He sat down and watched some of the fish swim around. However, he could only see the ripples because the water was dirty. He cast his life detection spell. Purple mist, all he saw were purple mist. He hated the shapelessness of it. He tried to focus on what they might look like, using a bit of magicka in the process. He tried to focus on the shape of the fish. Eventually, it was no longer shrouded in a purple mist but a purple outline instead. One of the fish managed to jump into dry land. Pesci watched it wiggle around. Instead of placing it back into the water, he examined it closely like a hawk with the spell effect still active. He could see its vital organs, and then Pesci had an idea.
He walked towards Gregory’s house and used his life detection spell. Instead of seeing a blob, he could see his shape. Gregory was 5’10 and weighed 150 pounds. Right now, he could see him sitting near the broken window. Greg was looking at an old faded painting of a family, distracted from what was going on outside. Pesci drew his bow and aimed for Gregory’s head. Once the arrow hit his head, he walked away, returning to his brother’s house.
Pesci approached the door and knocked. “I did it!” he shouted.
Prosciutto immediately opened the door and pulled him inside. “Quiet. Did anyone watch you?” he asked.
“No.”
“I doubt anyone would snitch on you. Excuse me, I’m cleaning. Feel free to help me.”
“Of course, brother.”
Judging from the cobwebs, dust, and dead plants, it was clear Prosciutto hasn’t been home for quite a while. While his brother was cleaning the first floor, he decided to go upstairs to clean. Once they were done, they went into the living quarters and sat down.
“Brother,” Prosciutto said, “how did it go?”
“Excellent!” he said. “I managed to improve the life detection spell.”
“How so?”
“Well, I focused on this 1.5-pound minnow that jumped out of the water. I could see its organs.”
“But the purple mist must’ve been annoying, right?”
“I made it less annoying.”
“Interesting.”
The brothers looked out the window and watched as the sunlight dimmed.
“It’s getting dark. We should head to bed,” Pesci said, getting up from his chair.
“Wait!” his brother said, making the other sit quietly back down. “There’s something I have to tell you…”
And he told him.
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