Beaten, battered, noticeably dull with chips and cracks in the blade, the battle-axe looked like it'd been through hell. Like many of the old weapons that adorned the study walls, its purpose now was a much more nostalgiac one, as it would have difficulty cutting anything in its current state. But in Warren's youth, it had saved his life on more occasions than he could count. The weapon brought fond memories every time the man looked upon it, but he was not delusional. His days of adventuring were well behind him, and he was now content with simply running his company.

Quickly putting an end to the reminiscing, he brushed a few stray strands of his long dark hair from before his eyes and turned his eyes back to the letter waiting on his desk. Warren Black-Heart was the head of the Silver Sparrow mercenary company's Cyrodillian branch. Mercenaries were in short supply, meaning the Sparrows were in high demand. He was stamping letters all day, but this document in particular made him pause. There was just something about the quest that bothered him, and it was the reward. Ten-thousand Septims for a simple escort of personel was an unreasonably high amount, and it bothered him. Warren wondered if he was reading too much into it, but...

The door to his office creaked open and a Dumner entered, nodding to the Nord as he did. The elf's hair was long and dyed blonde, almost white and fell to just below his shoulders. His skin was bluish-grey and he had a pair of crimson eyes. A freshly repaired ebony mace was looped to his hip, gleaming in the light that poured in through the window.

"Is it a good one?" Sindell asked, a thick Morrowind accent lacing his words. He was one of Warren's best mercenaries and would usually be resereved for more important contracts, but at the moment, the Dunmer was one of the only Sparrows not already tied up by a job.

"I don't know; you tell me." Warren handed the letter to his long-time friend. "The customer dropped off the request just yesterday, and all the others are on assignment at the moment," Warren said, easing back in his chair and interlocking his fingers. "Addevicci pays well, so I would prefer to keep him happy..."

"Varris Addevicci? He needs the Sparrows again? So soon?"

"His daughter is delivering a shipment of ore to Imperial City. You are to escort her there from Kvatch."

Reading through the letter of request, Sindell glanced up at Warren briefly. "You're not easy to fool, so I'm assuming you see something wrong with this contract as well..."

Bringing the bend of his finger to his lip, the tall, burly Nord thought for a few moments. "It's an exuberant sum, even for Varris."

Taking a seat on the edge of the desk, Sindell stated, "I don't see anything here about his daughter being in danger. You think he's withholding information?"

"I don't know, so just in case-"

"No."

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Warren said, "I know you work better alone, but I'm sending someone along anyway."

"Who?"

"Ansen!" the Nord called.

Sindell, slowly turning to Warren, the look of shock on his face apparent, the Dunmer chuckled. "Your son? He's green."

"This won't be his first contract."

"He's inexperienced."

Shrugging, the mercenary leader said, "Two years of work doesn't sound like inexperience to me."

"Come on, Warren..."

"I'm not asking you to babysit, I'm only saying it would be best to have someone to watch your back."

A young man entered the study. He wore a simple set of armored clothing, a leather pauldron over his right shoulder, strapped to a leather breastplate that protected his upper chest. Although their eyes were the same and they were built quite similarly, those were where the similarities ended. The main feature that set Ansen apart from his father were his bright green eyes, opposing the dark blue of his father. They shared jet black hair, but Ansen had a tan complexion more akin to his Imperial mother than the pale skin of his father's family. He had jade colored eyes, another feature he'd gotten from his mother, and a small horizontal scar decorated his right cheek. A bow hung from his shoulder by its twine and an iron sword was sheathed by the baldric strapped to his torso.

"Ansen, you remember Sindell," Warren said.

Bowing his head slightly, the young mercenary greeted, "Good to see you again."

Shaking his head, the Dunmer simply moved passed Ansen and out the door.

Turning back to his father, Ansen said, "Well, he seems to like me."

"Don't take it personally; he treats everyone that way."

The early fall weather was a nice change from the summer heat that'd been the normal for the last few months. Following the opening of the Oblivion gates, Cyrodiil's climate to change for a time. It'd been nearly two hundred years, yet this was the first time that the Imperial province did not experience a summer with strange temperature drops. It was pleasant, at least in the young mercenary's opinion.

Ansen glanced over at Sindell. They'd been riding for almost an entire hour and the elf hadn't spoken a word. Thhe Imperial-Nord decided to try and acquire a little more information about this customer of theirs. "My father says you've worked for this merchant before?"

Grunting, Sindell said, "His jobs are never overtly dangerous, but he pays extra for experience. Usually, the man just wants escorts for his shipments."

"So, why am I here? I'm sure a veteran like yourself could handle this alone."

"Well, your father is being uncharacteristically careful."

Ansen watched the Dunmer out of the corner of his vision. The elf's name was well-known in their organization, and in the Tamriel. Many were familiar with the Dren name, in history books they were notorious for betraying and attempting to kill the Nerevarine, during the third era. Now, the name was associated with one of the toughest men in the province. He didn't look like much at first glance, blonde hair contrasting his midnight blue skin, physique hidden under armored black robes, most people probably thought he was a mage or scholar.

"You got any family around here?" Ansen asked.

"No. All my family is far west in Morrowind."

"The only family I have here is my father and mother. There's also my sister and cousin, but they've been in Skyrim for months on a job."

Kvatch's walled exterior came into view, and the pair of mercenaries prepared to dismount. Once their horses were hitched, the duo entered through Kvatch's giant wood gates. The hold was beginning to wind down, shops were closing and merchants prepared to pack up their wares. The guards were watchful of Ansen and Sindell, that is, until they noticed the bird sewn into the chests of their armors. Most hold guards knew not to mess with the Silver Sparrows.

"Go meet the girl at the temple," Sindell said, "I'll wait here."

"What does she look like?"

"No clue. All I know is that her name is Mara Addevicci."

"Great…" Ansen said, walking in search of the temple

Sindell decided to go and gather a few herbs for their trip, something he could whip up a poison antidote with, maybe. He made his way over to the alchemist stand and began looking over the leaves and roots they had on display.

"Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the temple?" Ansen asked one of the guards.

The uniformed man, taking a noticable moment to look the well-armed mercenary up and down, pointed down the street and said, "Go that way and make a left. You shouldn't be able to miss it."

Following the man's direction's, Ansen sooon found the newly built temple in the center of town. Outside the doors of the chapel stood a young lady, short red hair atop her head and violet eyes the color of amethyst gems watching the people of Kvatch go about their daily business. She wore a fancy red blouse and dark brown leather pants and small purple gems were pinned to her earlobes. The woman looked the part of a rich merchant's daughter.

The woman noticed Ansen staring at her from a couple of feet away and shot him an unfriendly look in return. "Turn your eyes elsewhere if you don't have anything to say," she told him.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Mara Addevicci, would it?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. "… It would …"

Ansen approached her and said, "My name is Ansen Black-Heart, and I'm one of the men that'll be accompanying you on your little trip."

A disbelieving grin crossed her lips and she let out an amused chuckle, apparently finding something about the young man funny. "You're kidding, right? You're supposed to protect me? I was kinda' expecting a hardened warrior or something… Not a kid."

"Yeah, well, that's the other guy."

The woman sighed. "So, what's your job, then? To carry my bags?"

Smiling, the young man slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Are you ready to go, Miss Addevecci?"

Sweeping any stray strands of hair from before her eyes, the young woman nodded and started to walk. Finding it funny that Mara thought mocking her protection was a good idea, the Imperial-Nord followed. It was as he trailed behind her, that the young man noticed them, a pair of Imperial's doing their best to be inconspicuous, following the pair. They kept far enough behind that it wasn't too obvious, but the men definitely had a particular interest in Mara and Ansen. He made a mental note, and continued to follow the woman.

They came to Sindell at the front gate. In his hands he had a small bag full of ingredients purchased from the local alchemist. "Well, I found her," Ansen said. "Mara, this is Sindell Dren. He'll be protecting you as well."

"Not that I'll need it…" Mara said as she walked through the front gate. "I don't even know why you two are here. I don't require any protection; I can take care of myself."

Ansen watched her climb up onto the carriage that stood outside the hold, led by two mares. He turned to Sindell and said, "I think she was being followed."

Sindell scanned the late afternoon crowd for any sign of someone looking in their direction or showing interest in them, but found no one. "I don't see anyone."

"They were there, trust me."

"So you think that she's actually in danger. We've never had problems escorting Addevicci's people before, except the occasional wolf," said Sindell. "This time may be little different, though… Keep an eye out."

"Yeah."

Mara began to ride off in her carriage without her escort, mumbling to herself. "Someone's impatient…" Ansen said as he ran over and jumped up on his horse. Sindell climbed on his and caught up with her.

"You know, I'm starting to get the slight feeling you don't want us here," Ansen said.

"Very perceptive of you," Mara responded. "My father insists on an escort."

"Cyrodiil is a dangerous place. An escort is usually necessary for a caravan."

"Yes, well, my father's over protectiveness is quickly becoming an annoyance."

Sindell wasn't the least bit interested in what Mara had to say, but cared more about their surroundings. Ansen saying that she was being watched in Kvatch unnerved him. He wondered if someone was holding information back, if Varris Addevicci wasn't telling the entire of story of why he so badly needed experienced protection for his the time being, all Sindell could do is push the thoughts to the back of his mind and stay vigilant. He had a young girl to look after, and frankly, he didn't know if he could rely on Ansen or not to help on this mission. Hopefully, this would just be a simple escort, without any trouble. The chances of that being the case though, were low.

It was beginning to get dark and traveling at night with Mara was a bad idea for several different reasons, so Sindell decided it would be best to just make camp for the evening. While Ansen got a fire going, the Dark Elf sat and read a lightning bolt spell book he had since he was a child. He'd read it dozens of times, but enjoyed going through it every now and again.

Mara was looking through the contents of her carriage, making sure all the crates of ore were present and accounted for. Once inventory was complete, she locked the carriage up tight and strode over to the tent that she had set for herself. Mara climbed inside and flopped onto the bed-mat, eyes heavy and her body tired. She had been up since the crack of dawn, getting ready for this trip and was thoroughly exhausted. As the quiet night lulled her, Mara let her eyelids shut and soon found herself sleeping.

"Is she asleep?" Ansen asked.

"Yeah."

"You want to take first watch, or should I?"

"I'll take the first shift."

Ansen laid down in the grass and said, "Alright. Wake me in a few hours…"

He was out cold as well. Sindell sat there, continuing to read his book, but keeping his ears up, listening for the slightest unnatural sound. Several hours passed and he still sat, reading. Most of his watch had been uneventful, that is until he heard a slight rustle in the brush. It wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary if the wind was blowing or if there were any signs of wildlife around, but neither were present.

Sindell closed his book, laid back and let his eyes close. Five minutes after he did, the two Imperials took the bait and emerged from the bushes. Sindell watched them through half-lided eyes and saw both men wearing normal clothing slowly creep into camp. They looked around briefly, and split up. One of them went toward the carriage and the other to Mara's tent.

Sindell sprung to his feet, concentrating and eveing out the flow of magicka in his body. With a snap, his fingers sparked and each of his hands surged with electricity. The two Imperials jumped at the sudden movement just as Sindell released streams of lighting at each of them. One was off its mark, but the second hit, killing the man in and instant. The surviving Imperial didn't think twice, running for cover in the thick of the brush before he was next. The elf grabbed a hold of his mace, spun around on the balls of his feet to gain a little momentum and launched it at the fleeing Imperial. It struck him in the waist, snapping the man's hip like a twig and probably severing his spine. He hit the dirt with a gurgling whine.

Ansen was already up, his steel dagger drawn, and asked, "What happened?"

"These two snuck into the camp," Sindell exclaimed as he walked over and retrieved his weapon. He glanced back at Mara sitting up with eyes wide, awoken by the sudden disturbance. "Are those the men from before?" Sindell asked Ansen.

"That's them."

"They were just thieves, probably after the ore," Sindell deduced.

"You think so?" Ansen asked.

"Yes."

Sindell looked to Mara and asked, "Are you alright?"

She scowled at him and turned away from him in her tent. "I'm fine."

Sindell thought that maybe, just maybe this job would go off without a hitch now. He chuckled at his own naivety and shook his head.

"How about I take up watch now?" Ansen asked.

Sindell nodded. "Wake me when you see the sunrise…"