//------------------------------//
// Past Faults and Future Prospects (Pt2|Ch8) 
// Story: My Little Argonian: Family is Sacred 
// by Warren Peace 
//------------------------------//



Chapter Eight: Past Faults and Future Prospects



Hoity Toity glanced to the forcefield splitting the booth from the rest of the club, as if to make sure it was working properly. I could still hear the harsh music, but it was muffled and garbled, as if it were being played underwater. The scene beyond it was blurred, a dancing nimbus of colors the only thing visible.
“If you read the tabloids as I…” he eyed me up and down again, “...am not quite sure you do, you’ll know that a few months ago I was married. You’d also know that, currently, I’m in the middle of a large divorce, the media just loves it. The bastard got a top notch lawyer and wants half of all my many, many assets and I just…” he ceased his growing rant with a breath, composing himself with a tug of his suit, “I want you to kill him.”
“Okay,” I said, “I need a name and a location if you have it,” I threw a glance to Rain, observing how she was reacting so far. She was leaned back, looking almost bored as she watched Hoity, “A standard kill is a thousand septims, parameters…”
“I’m sorry, but septims?” Hoity Toity gave me a frown, glancing to Rain.
“He’s not from around here; he meant bits,” Rain replied, adding, “and it’s half up front.”
What in Oblivion!? That wasn’t part of the plan! I mentally snarled, giving her a quick glare as I prepared to shut down the demand.
Easy, Aram, correct her later, it won’t do to look bad in front of the client, my mind quickly stopped me, Just go with it.
Fine, I growled, then speaking, “Yes, bits. Now, that’s for a standard kill. Parameters cost extra, planting evidence, saying something, accomplishing the kill in a specific way. Most clients back home paid in favors or special items, but more gold is just fine. If the parameters aren’t met, you keep the bonus.”
“What sort of favors or special items?” Hoity Toity asked, “Because I do have some parameters: firstly, none of this can be linked back to me. The divorce itself is being hell for my career, if it was known that I had my husband murdered…”
“You want it to look like an accident, yeah?” Rain interrupted, “We can do that.”
“N-no drugs or...or suicide or anything like that, it’d look too suspicious,” Hoity Toity spoke up, “An…accident would be ideal.”
“You care if we kill him slow? Fast? You have a preference?” Rain continued.
“Rain,” I cut in, taking back the reins of the discussion, “So you want your husband killed and to make it look like an accident. You mentioned a lawyer?”
“Oh no, leave her be, no killing the lawyer,” Hoity tapped his hooves together nervously, “It’d be too suspicious if both he and his lawyer perished in some accident. I mean, she’s just doing her job.”
Rain shrugged, but fortunately remained silent.
“Okay,” I said, mentally logging everything. It was pretty straight forwards so far, “I assume you have a timeline? And what sort of bonus will you be providing for the parameters?”
“I mean, my legal team can only hold them off for so long,” Hoity gave a nervous chuckle, “I’m already in deep so the sooner the better. As to the bonus...I dunno, I could throw in another five hundred?”
“Wait, wait, you’re in the big, flashy apparel game, right? You’re good at moving stuff around?” Rain cut in before I could seal the deal.
“Y-yes, why?” Hoity Toity asked, raising a querying brow.
What’s she doing now!? I mentally grumbled about to shut this down.
Hold up a second, let her speak, my mind stopped me, The contracts with the gold bonuses were always the most boring!
“Well, what if I told you we were sitting on a literal dragon’s hoard of gold and valuables that we’re having trouble turning into bits,” Rain spoke, “Pawn shops and the like will only take so much before they start asking questions. Perhaps you could help us liquidate that.”
“A literal dragon’s hoard?” Hoity Toity asked, looking between the two of us rapidly before his eyes settled on me, “So you’re a…”
“I’m not a dragon!” I cut in with a growl, “I killed the dragon and took its hoard.”
Hoity Toity was silent for a moment, taking off his glasses to polish them, “Oh.”
“Yeah, he shot it down the gullet with that bow,” Rain added with a smile, “I helped, drove a lance into its back, it gave me a wicked smack for that. I was sore for days afterwards.”
“Well, I...I don’t see that being a problem,” Hoity Toity set his glasses back on his snout, “I guess I’m putting my cards with the right people if you’ve already killed a dragon!”
“So your husband’s name?” I asked, everything else settled.
“Spruce Up,” Hoity bit out the name with a sudden venom, “He’s currently residing in my summer home in Vanhoover, I can give you the address if you’d like.”
“That would be ideal,” I said as Hoity Toity produced a paper and pen.



0 . o . 0



“Well that went amazing,” Rain smiled up at me as we left the club, much on my mind. One particular thought came to the forefront as I recalled one particular event.
“What was that about the bits up front?” I growled back, getting a wounded expression in return, “Don’t go over my head like that next time!”
Rain’s expression soured, “Oh, well excuse me for trying to get the best out of our deal!”
“There was no reason to ask for bits up front,” I countered, “There’s a way that we do things in the Dark Brotherhood and that isn’t it. We get paid when the contact is complete, there’s no ‘up front’ payment.”
“And why not? What if they refuse to pay up after the fact? What if something goes sour and we can’t make the kill?” Rain replied, not backing down.
“First off, lower your voice!” I hissed, glancing about to make sure no one had heard her killing comment. Fortunately it was still the dead of night and the streets were mostly deserted, “And second, they’d be stupid to refuse, we’re the Dark Brotherhood! And it’s incentive for us to do things right.”
“Okay, well maybe you haven’t noticed, mister thousand ‘septims,’ but this isn’t Skytrim. The ‘Dark Brotherhood,’” she quoted the words with her wings, “is all but unknown, nobody’s dealt with us before so they don’t know what we’re capable of.”
“Skyrim,” I corrected her.
“Skyrim, whatever,” Rain dismissed me with a hoof, “The point is, maybe Hoity Toity will refuse to pay once we complete the contact. Maybe he’ll turn us in! Who knows? We don’t have a hoof-hold here yet, we’re like the new foal on the block. People are going to push us around to see if we break, getting money up front helps against that.”
I gave a snort of dismissal, waving a hand back at her.
She’s got a point there, actually, my mind cut in.
She went over my head! That’s insubordination! I retorted, Not quite tenet-breaking, but certainly close.
That’s true, but all the same she’s kinda right, my mind began, Equestria doesn’t know of the Dark Brotherhood yet, you’ve got to keep that in mind. Going over your head was wrong, but her idea is sound. If Hoity Toity doesn’t pay...
Then he dies, I retorted.
Do you really think it will be that easy? What about the repercussions? The Dark Brotherhood doesn’t have a foothold here yet as Rain said.
I remained silent.
Now Hoity Toity has a foot...or hoof...in the door. It’s not much, but it’s more incentive to pay up at the end than going all in.
“Fine,” I growled, conceding to both arguments, “But consult me in the future.”
“Fine,” Rain replied, sounding happy she’d convinced me, “Now, where to? Vanhoover?”
“Not yet,” I replied, “First things first, we return to the sanctuary, stock up, plan, and then execute.”



0 . o . 0 . o . 0



The Sanctuary...

“So,” Choc began after I’d explained the mission, “Kill gomoseksual'nyy pony, do not kill advokat pony. Legko sdelat'.”
“And he’ll help us turn our hoard into bits if we make it look like an accident?” Moonbeam seemed to like that idea even if it did involve killing.
“Yes,” I replied, “We’ll need to scout out the house, find out if our target has any vices or schedules we can make use of. Moonbeam,” the unicorn grew tense as I turned to him, “You’re the best with locks. Once we set up, you’ll sneak in and survey the house to see if you can find any paperwork or scheduling information; day to day activities and the like.
“If we can find a structural weak point, a loose wall mount, something that could be made to fail, that would be ideal. If not, we can line something up with his schedule.”
“No one suspects a fallen chandelier,” Rain said with a smile.
“That sounds easy enough,” Moonbeam spoke up, thinking for a moment, “If they’ve got a survey on record, that might have more information about the house.”
“Sure,” I said, turning to the Choc, “Choc, I don’t want to leave our sanctuary unguarded. Rain and Moonbeam should be more than enough to get this done.”
“Khorosho,” she said simply, hiding her thoughts on the matter with a bland look.
“If everything’s settled, then,” I said, turning to look at the group as a whole. Each had their part to play, their own little niche within the food chain, “Pack light and sleep well, we move at sundown tomorrow, you’re dismissed.”
Choc and Rain turned to go, heading out to fulfill their duties. I frowned as Moonbeam remained, looking at me as if he wanted to say something.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms in preparation for something stupid.
“Oh, well, um, I-I have something I think you’ll want to see,” hesitantly, he left the table and trotted off, looking back after a moment, “In my lab…”
Giving him a nod, I followed. He continued to speak as we made our way down the long, stone halls.
“So, remember how you said you could’ve used some rope on your mission to Canterlot?” Moonbeam began. The question was rhetorical so he continued without my reply, “Well I got to thinking and I think I found a solution.” Stepping into the small room he’d claimed as his ‘lab,’ Moonbeam trotted over to a workbench and lifted an odd-looking arrow in his magic, turning to me with a proud smile, “Viola!”
Frowning, I took the arrow from his magic, scowling over it. It was a little heavier than usual, with metal inlay that thrummed with magic. The tip was blunt and covered in synthetic leather, something hard held beneath.
“What is this?” I asked, turning to Moonbeam with an altogether unimpressed look.
“It’s a rappelling arrow!” he replied, more animated than I’d ever seen him, “Shoot it up a wall, and it’ll feed you a line to climb up.”
That does sound useful! My mind chimed in.
If it works… I replied with and air of skepticism, “How does it work?”
“Well…” Moonbeam took a breath.
“Spare me the magical mumbo jumbo,” I cut in.
“Oh,” Moonbeam lost some of his gusto, “Well...you shoot it, it magically attaches to the surface and feeds you the line,” he shrugged, scratching the back of his head, “Sounds...kinda lame when you put it that way, are you sure you don’t want me to explain..?”
“Yes,” I replied, “What else do I need to know about it,”
“Well, it needs to be recharged after each use. Just feed it some magical energy before shooting or keep it topped off. To detach, just grip the line or the arrow and will it to release.”
“Will it to release?” I frowned, fixing Moonbeam with a confused look.
“Yeah, like you would with a spell, willpower or effort, take your pick of the term.” As I continued to stare at him like he was speaking another language, he suddenly frowned, “Wait, you said you could use magic, how do you not know about willpower?”
Well, seeing how hard it is to light a candle… my mind began.
Shut-up, I replied, turning to Moonbeam with a foul taste in my mouth. As much as I hated admitting to a weakness, I needed to know how this arrow worked, “I’m not very well versed in the arts of magic, humor me: what is willpower?”
“Wait, so if you don’t know what willpower is..? Did no one teach you the spell triangle?”
“No,” I admitted with a scowl.
“Well..!” Moonbeam began anew, looking happy again.
“In layman's terms,” I cut in.
“Ugh, fine!” Moonbeam took a moment to collect himself, thinking, “Are you familiar with the fire triangle? Fuel, oxygen, heat? The three things needed to make a fire?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well think of magic like a…similar sort of thing,” he started, “With magic, you have magical energy, concentration, and willpower. Magical energy, or magic, is your fuel. Concentration is your oxygen, heat is your willpower, so to say.
“You at least know how to draw in magical energy, right?” Moonbeam asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Okay, cool, and concentration? Crafting your spell within the confines of your mind, thinking through the how of the spell’s construction?”
“I think so,” I said, “Making the fire by making something hotter.”
“More or less,” Moonbeam shrugged, moving on, “Then we get to willpower, where the actual casting takes place. Willpower...hmm,” he paused to consider his words again, “It’s like, you just sort of expect the spell to go off; how to best explain it..?” Moonbeam turned about, looking around the room. Finally, he stopped and pointed to a wall, “Here. Shoot that wall with the arrow, it’s already got a charge.”
Drawing my bow, I nocked the arrow, sighted, and fired it at the wall. It was slightly heavier than one of my standard arrows, and I made a mental note that I wouldn’t be able to shoot it as far.
It flew well enough in the confined space, striking the wall with a dull thud. As Moonbeam had said, a short strand of rope appeared from the tip, dropping the short distance to the floor.
“One thing I should mention,” Moonbeam said as we made our way over to the arrow, “There’s a crystal nestled in the front there. At longer distances there shouldn’t be any issue, but I wouldn’t shoot it at short range unless you really need to. The crystal is wrapped up tight, but repeated trauma could shatter it.
“Anyways, onto removing it,” Moonbeam gestured to the rope, “Give it a good tug, try to pull it off the wall.”
Doing as he said, I grabbed the rope and pulled, finding the arrow held tight. Gripping the arrow, I gave a grunt as I tried to yank it off the wall, yet it held steadfast.
“Now, holding onto the shaft, anticipate the arrow coming off,” Moonbeam continued, “It, um, sometimes helps greenhorns to say the spell, or in this case, the action desired.”
Holding the arrow, I looked at it and pulled. It didn’t budge, “Detach,” I growled, mentally demanding the arrow to come free. Yet the arrow refused to obey.
“No, you’re not expecting it,” Moonbeam said, “Take a breath, relax, the arrow will come off the wall, you just need to expect it to happen. You need to know that it will happen, that is willpower.”
I begrudgingly took a soft breath, closing my eyes and taking the arrow in my hand. I could feel a soft thrum of magical energy flowing through it, faint, but there, a soft tingle in my palm. Holding it in place, I gave a soft tug, like I was pulling an arrow out of a target, be it a hay bale or a body.
Opening my eyes, I looked down to find the arrow free of the wall, the rope gone.
“Wow,” I muttered, blinking down at the arrow.
Most impressive! My mind commented with glee.
“Yeah!” Moonbeam beamed, like a child with a new toy, “So did I do good or what!?”
You gotta admit… My mind said.
“Good job,” I admitted, absentmindedly giving the pony a soft pat on the head as I stowed the arrow.
Moonbeam flinched back under the treatment with a startled whinny, making me jump back in response.
“Whoa, hey, um...please don’t...” Moonbeam gave me a flustered look as he ran a hoof through his mane, “No patting please,” he said with a flush.
“Sorry,” I stated, brushing myself off, “You’re just…” I trailed off.
“No, I...I think I get it, ponies aren’t so vocal where you’re from,” Moonbeam flushed, “Erm, excuse me,” he cantered off before the situation could spiral any further.
Awkward, my mind observed.
“Shut-up,” I grumbled, heading off to pack.



0 . o . 0 . o . 0



Some time later...

Peering over my gear, laid out over my bed, a sense of calming familiarity came over my mind. I felt like I was back in Skyrim again, picking and choosing what to take with me for an assassination.
The obvious additions came first, my knives and bow plus my quarrel of arrows. I left Moonbeam’s rappelling arrow in my quiver, better to have it and not need it and all that.
A few healing an stamina potions were added to my pack, yet my hand hesitated over the selection of poisons. Hoity Toity had said he didn’t want Spruce Up poisoned, but I still added a few...just in case.
“Hey,” Rain spoke up from the door, making me flinch.
Quiet, little pony, I mentally grumbled, turning with a scowl, “What?”
“Oh,” she lifted a forehoof as if she was about to leave, “Is...is this a bad time? I just, well, finished packing and, well...” she trailed off with an embarrassed smile.
I looked over my gear; more or less all I needed was packed and ready minus things like food and water. I had time to spare.
“No,” I replied simply, hesitating, “What is it?”
Her mouth opened as she started to say something, then seemed to think better and shut it, pouting as she thought over her words, “Are you nervous?”
“No,” I replied again.
“Oh, I...uh…” Rain stuttered, evidently not expecting that, “Well, I...really?”
“I’ve done this a lot,” I answered, gesturing to the gear laid out on my bed.
“Right, well, I, um, kinda am,” she gave me a weak smile.
“Why?” I asked, “You’ve killed before,” I paused a moment, remembering, “Seventeen others?”
“Seventeen others, yeah,” she gave a quick smile, “Eighteen if you count the dragon...but I...it’s never...” she trailed off with a growl, looking away for a moment, “You know what, this is stupid, I shouldn’t be asking. It’s fine.”
“Rain,” I stated as she turned to go. Part of me wanted to just let her go, her worries weren’t my concern…

Her teeth flashed white against her dark coat, water dripping from her mane as we shared a laugh next to the dragon’s corpse…

What in Oblivion..? I shook the memory from my head, “What’s bothering you?” I asked.
“I...well I guess I’ve just never…assassinated anypony before,” she said after a moment, glancing uncomfortably away from my eyes, “Before...before it was for survival, or to get away after Moonbeam tripped an alarm…” a darkness fell over her, “...or when I killed my uncle.”
“Your uncle?” I probed, just a little curious.
Her eyes latched onto mine, searching for a moment for...something. Whatever it was, and whether or not she found it, I didn’t know as she continued.
“Ugh, look, if we’re going to do story time I need a drink,” she turned and trotted away, leaving me alone for a moment. After a second her head poked back around, “You coming or not?”



0 . o . 0



Pulling open the pantry doors, I scoured over the drinks we had. There weren’t a whole lot, and most of them with labels written in Equestrian; I grumbled at myself for not having learned to read or write it yet.
But my eyes alit to a familiar shape nestled in the back: my bottle of nord mead.
“You got something yet?” Rain asked from the table, two glasses before her.
I hesitated only a moment longer before reaching back and grabbing the bottle. We were going to complete our first contract soon, that was occasion enough I supposed.
“What is that?” Rain asked as I uncorked the sweet liquid and poured.
“Nord mead,” I answered, taking a glass for myself and sipping at the sweet nectar, “One of the two things that nords can do well,” I said, adding at her querying look: “Make mead and kill each other.”
“I don’t get it, what’s a nord?” Rain said, sipping thoughtfully and shrugging at the taste, “More of a beer filly myself.”
“Nords are one of the races of Skyrim,” I took a moment to think of how best to describe them, “Like me, but no tail, a flat face, smooth skin, and a lot of hair on the head and face,” I pointed atop her head, “Kinda like a mane.”
“So...not at all like you?” Rain said with a snarky smile.
“They walk on two legs,” I added defensively with an odd tug at my lips, yet a scowl pulled at my features as I continued, “They’re also a batch of thick-headed racists. The cause of most of the problems in Skyrim.”
“That sounds a little harsh,” Rain said with a frown...

The old nord guard begged me, a hand lifted up towards my stalwart form, fingers blue from the cold. His breath was frosted, blue lips cracking at the swirling, white death around us.
I just continued to watch…

“What did you want to talk about?” I changed the subject, pulling myself away from the memory.
“My uncle,” she began, practically spitting the word. Yet her eyes darted to mine and the venom died away, “He...he was the first pony I ever killed,” she began again, considering a moment with bile on her tongue, “I guess I sort of assassinated him, it was coming for sure, the old buzzard deserved it. One day he was yelling at me for something stupid and...and I just snapped and opened his throat with a paring knife,” her eyes were still locked onto me, but now they saw through me, beyond me as she gave another quick smile, “Still remember that look on the old, buzzard’s face as he fell out of his chair and started choking on his own blood…”
“Your parents sent you away after that?” I asked, taking another sip of the mead.
She gave a cold, mirthless laugh at that, “My parents,” she sneered and downed her glass, filling another as she continued, “couldn’t be bothered to deal with little old me. They put me in my uncle's care before I was even weaned, hired some wet nurse to finish the damn job.”
She came back from wherever it was she’d been visiting, eyes fixing on mine, “I don’t know how family works where you’re from, but Prance still practices the old ways. Typically, once a foal is weaned they live with either dam or sire till they come of age. Pegasi aren’t all commitment this and let’s have a family that. Not at all like here in Equestria.
“But no, not little, foal me,” she scowled, “I got my uncle and my wet nurse.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I said haltingly, unsure if it was the proper thing to say or not. I finished my glass, hoping it might help.
“Thanks,” Rain replied with a sigh, “I’m sorry, it’s just...I get all,” she made a vague gesture with a hoof, rolling her eyes, “How about you?”
“What?” I asked, not ready for further questions.
Oh, confound these social interactions, am I right? My mind jested.
“What was it like growing up where you’re from?” She asked, “I mean, I know practically nothing about you.”
“Oh,” I said, considering that for a moment, “I...my parents…”

The flames burned my outstretched hands as the cold burned and my toes and my tail…

“I grew up in an orphanage,” I cut past the details, “when I came of age I got a job at a fishery. Life was...difficult,” I summed my early life up plainly, swirling my refilled glass in front of me, “I started doing mercenary work, killings bandits for a little bag of gold until…” I heard my old longbow creak in my ear, a cry for help from a voice I once knew. I cut the memory short, summarizing to keep my mind away from its dark thoughts, “I lost myself, found Sithis, and here I am now.”
“You lost yourself?” Rain asked, curious.
“A story for another time,” I said, drinking from my refilled glass.
“What? Why not now?” Rain didn’t take the hint, looking around the kitchen, “You’re more or less done packing, so am I. We’ve got a little time to kill. I opened up to you, only fair you open up to me,” Rain continued, fixing me with an even look, “I barely even know you, Aram. You just sit back moodily and watch everypony else. I just...I…” she glanced away, “I want to get to know you, you know?”
“You can go do that with Moonbeam, or Choc, or the Ponyvillians,” I waved at the door.
“Psh,” she gave a dismissive wave of one hoof, “Trust me, I know Moonbeam. Like, intimately,” she clopped her forehooves together with a knowing look.
“What?” I asked.
“Beside the point,” Rain waved me off, hopping from the bed and taking a few steps towards me. Tense, I remained where I was, “The pony...person, I want to know is you, Aram. Why are you here?”
“Sithis sent me,” I stated, “You already know that.”
“Right, but what is it that made you…you?” Rain’s golden eyes burned into mine, “What did you lose?”
I closed my eyes, pressing my gloved fingers to my face, “It’s nothing that concerns you,” I grumbled, Nothing that I want to dredge up again. My face was feeling flushed and absentmindedly I grabbed and downed my glass, filling up again, “I...killed someone dear to me…” I finally allowed, “He was my brother, a brother in all but blood.”
“Oh,” Rain said, hesitating a moment, “Was he your first kill?”
“No, that was some stupid...” I grumbled, trying to remember, “I don’t even know, Aventus wasn’t...” I froze as the name left my lips. Dreading what might come to the forefront of my mind...yet my mind was dull and silent so I quickly wet my lips with some more mead, finishing the glass.
“Aventus?” Rain asked, “Was that his name?”
“Yes…” I said, taking a deep breath, “His name...was Aventus Aretino.”