Kris pushed forward towards the small door set into the wall. From inside she could hear men talking excitedly though they were too far to make out the words. She stepped carefully to the door and found it to be locked. Cursing she looked around. There wasn't much cover but it was late and there were few people in the street.

“Keep an eye open,” she told the Argonian and then drew a set of lockpicks from her pouch. She had never really leanred the trick of it, a Legion scout was meant to range the wilds, but after the Legions had been disbanded it had been hard times, and she had fallen in with some rather disreputable sorts. She hoped the knowledge would serve her. It took nearly fifteen minutes, with the increasingly impatient Dax making it no easier, before she finally managed to shift the tumblers and the door creaked open.

Inside the door was a short stairwell that led down into a kitchen. It was still hours till dawn and the only illumination was from the coals of a cooking fire in a large stone chimney. The walls were lined with stoneware jug and herbs and joints of smoked meat hung from the ceiling. A rotund human in a dirty smock lay sprawled across a bench snoring quietly.  Beside him a large hound opened an eye and fixed the newcomers with a speculative stare. Licking her lips Kris reached slowly up and pulled a small ham from one of the hooks. The dog followed the meat with its eyes narrowing. With a small smile she tossed the ham softly the ground. The beast stood and shook itself, then stalked over to the meat, sniffing it a couple of time before biting at it. Letting out a breath Kris and Dax crept to the far side of the kitchen where stone stairs led upwards. The former Legionaire wasn’t afraid to use violence, but it wouldn’t have been right simply to murder a sleeping chef.

The stairs led up to an empty dining room, decorated with elaborate tapestries and gilt candelabras. There were lanterns burning in a room beyond, though the dining room itself was quiet. There seemed to be a great deal of commotion coming from outside and Kris risked a peek through one of the dust clouded windows. She could make out Mer in the gold armor of the Thaelmor’s soldiery forming up in a broad cobbled courtyard. More damned elves. Whatever Vorn was mixed up in was obviously bigger than she had thought, but she hadn’t come here to re-fight the war, just to end it.

Through a large door was a cavernous reception foyer, fronted by large wooden doors. At the rear of the room stood an impressive set of stairs that led upwards to the second level. Now and again servants or soldiers bustled past though none seemed to be too interested in the dining room.

“Ok,” she said whispering to the Argonian.

“We are going to move fast and not stop, with any luck we can get up the stairs without being spotted. Then we find and kill Vorn, he’s an Imperial with a goatee, then set the place on fire. We can barricade the stairs and get out over the rooftops.” 


It didn’t sound like much of a plan even to her own ears, but the time for subtle stragem was past.