My latest meeting with Pajama-Girl is...unsettling. I usually receive my latest target's name with a sort of restrained excitement, but this time I'm less than exuberant. I'm also tired from killing an errant Falkreath guard and a dragon on my way over.
Anyways, my next target is someone of importance. Someone I've already met. Done business with, in fact: Vittoria Vici, regent of Solitude and apparent soon-to-be newlywed.
I don't know how I feel about this. First, she's an employer--it doesn't make sense to kill one employer for the sake of another. Second, she's kind of an important person for the Imperials, what with being the Emperor's cousin and all--I think killing her might be counter to my recent efforts against the Stormcloaks.
Also, I'm supposed to kill her at her wedding. That's just mean.
So I'm a bit pensive as I head up to Whiterun to grab the carriage. I don't see I have much of an option here if I want to keep working with the Brotherhood. And they've been good to me so far.
I arrive at Solitude late at night and settle into a seat at the wedding, keeping my eye on Vici and her new husband.
I know she recognizes me--I may wear a mask, but it's the same mask--so after a few moments I excuse myself and fade into the shadows by the wall. And then I take the shot. I make it quick.
Chaos erupts, but no one sees that it's me. And then something oddly convenient happens--the Shadowscale from the Brotherhood shows up to cover my escape. Being hatched and raised in Skyrim, I don't know much about some of the more esoteric Argonian traditions.
Anyways, the sudden arrival of another lizard, dressed in black, who sets about to very publicly killing the guards, is the best cover I could've asked for. They'll never know it was me.
Back in Falkreath, it occurs to me that I've never felt quite so remorseful about a kill of mine. Why did Vici have to die? I don't even want to kill the Emperor--I happen to like the Empire and it's particular stance on killing Noses.
And Pajama-Girl does not make it any easier. She gloats with wild abandon about the kill, reveling in poor Vittoria's death. I almost want to kill her now.
I decide against it, mainly on account of how I don't want the people who want to kill the Emperor coming after me. But that doesn't mean I have to be particularly quick about my next job for the Brotherhood.
In fact, I don't think I'll be doing it at all. So long, Brotherhood. It's been good, but you made me cross a line I didn't even know I had.
So I take to the road, throwing myself into a four-way battle between spiders, wolves, a hunter, and a fox, just to clear my head.
I suppose it's time I get up to Eastmarch and help Legate Rikke prepare for this last stage of the war. I pretty much owe them my all, at this point--even though they don't know it, I still killed Vittoria Vici, and it's beginning to eat at me.
The universe seems bent on making this journey difficult, though--it's still not clear to me why Falkreath Hold wants to arrest me, but I'm not going to make matters worse by killing the Imperials just doing their job.
So I keep on riding to Whiterun. The horse I stole in Falkreath--oh--is amazingly athletic, but he's no Assfalloff. He takes up lame for some reason after completing a particularly amazing jump, so I leave him at the stable to recuperate while I catch a ride over to Riften.
I could've taken the carriage to Windhelm, saved some time, I suppose, but I'm also wanted there for a bounty in excess of fifteen thousand septims. I figure the extra distance is worth not attracting Ulfric's army prematurely.
But then I remember that no matter where I go, trouble follows, one way or another.
So of course, on top of the spiders, wolves, and guards, I have to deal with yet another dragon.
But even after I kill the dragon--it's actually pretty easy at this point, given my masterfully crafted bow--nature isn't done with me. Some tree-person spirit thing like those guarding the Eldergleam shows up with its own little platoon. Presumably to get revenge for the thousands of wolves and deer I've slaughtered in the past months.
But feral ungulates are nothing compared to what I usually deal with. The fire-breathing flying lizard from just a few minutes ago, for example. So I push on through and meet with Rikke for what I hope is the last time. She gives my marching orders and I'm on my way.
Night falls, and the insanity begins.
I suppose it was too much to hope that I could get from point A to point B without seeing yet another dragon, so of course there were two. But there's also a mammoth, so there wasn't really any other way it could've ended.
I find the soldiers preparing to storm the Stormcloaks' last remaining outpost. Then I recognize where we are.
Nothing like a bit of hyper-aggressive housecleaning to scare off the neighbors.
But it's not quite enough--I still need to kill the Stormcloaks who have been apparently living so close to my house this entire time.
So I move from one soldier to another with a cadence now familiar to me. These Stormcloaks, the last vestiges of an archaic and outmoded way of life, are nothing before me, the vanguard of the Legion.
Genuinely bored with how little of a fight these Stormcloaks are putting up, I draw both blades and tear into the remainder of the outpost's defenders. I'm a bit clumsy wielding two swords at the same time, but on the other hand, I'm literally unstoppable now.
So come at me, Stormcloaks. Tonight, this outpost. Tomorrow, Windhelm.
It's time for this war to end.
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