“Clearly someone else thought otherwise,” Madanach mused. “You must have done something to end up here. What are you in for, Cicero?” As if he couldn't guess. Cicero giggled, blushing as he bit his thumbnail, looking rather embarrassed.
“Oh well, this is a little awkward,” he began, still grinning. “Only... there was a little... misunderstanding. An accident! It wasn't Cicero's fault!”
“I'm sure it wasn't,” Madanach said, raising an eyebrow and waiting for the rest – really, this was a little like watching Eithne trying to talk her way out of trouble, although that thought wiped the nascent smile from his face, as thinking of her usually did. “What exactly happened?”
“There was... an altercation,” Cicero began. “There were... words. Hostilities! Violence! Coarse language such as made poor Cicero blush to hear.”
“That doesn't normally get a man jailed,” said Madanach, itching for Cicero to stop dancing about and get to the point. “Did a man die and was your knife the one stuck in his ribs?”
“In the ribs???” Cicero cried, appalled. “In the ribs?? Tcha! Amateurs stick a knife in the ribs.” Cicero leaned forward, grinning, eyes aglow with professional pride. “Slit his throat and watched him bleed. He won't be calling Cicero an Imperial milk-drinker again.”
He'd killed a Nord then, that was something. And now Madanach had to know who it was.
“Who won't?” Madanach asked. Cicero giggled, hands to his face.
“Thongvor Silver-Blood!” Cicero squealed. “He was just standing there, right there in Understone Keep, all on his own... and now he isn't! It's a good thing stone's easy to clean, there was blood everywhere!”
Cicero looked delighted with himself, and Madanach was hard-pressed not to punch the air himself. Just one left to go. He could have hugged Cicero for this, but he restrained himself. Wouldn't do to get carried away.
“Well now,” Madanach laughed. “That is impressive. You might just fit in around here after all. All right, maybe I can let the Karthspire incident go... perhaps. But you're not getting in to see Maia until I'm convinced I can trust you. That you'll do as you're told.”
More protesting and insisting that yes, he would, Cicero was a good boy who lived to serve and would do anything sweet Madanach asked, anything at all.
“Anything?” Madanach asked, guessing that the particular anything he had in mind Cicero would have no problem with whatsoever.
Cicero just leaned closer, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him and a hazy little smile on his face.
“Anything,” Cicero gasped breathlessly. Something told Madanach Cicero was no stranger to prison nor was he a stranger to doing whatever he had to in order to survive, up to and including offering sexual services to the prison boss. Most unfortunately for Cicero, Madanach, having now laid eyes on an attractive woman not his own daughter for the first time in years, was no longer desperate enough to avail himself. Instead he just drew his shiv and placed it in Cicero's hand, curling his fingers around it.
“There's a man in these mines, a Nord called Grisvar the Unlucky. He's rightly named, a thief... and a snitch. Feeds information to the Silver-Bloods. He's the only one in here not allied to me... other than you. Change that for me, Cicero.”
“You want me to convert him?” Cicero asked, puzzled... and then the penny dropped and he squeaked.
“Serve him like you did Thongvor, and you're in with the Forsworn,” Madanach murmured, patting Cicero on the shoulder. “And in the mean time, I'm going to go wake Maia and tell her you're here. If she confirms your story, you can see her. After you've proven yourself.”
Cicero grinned up at him, and the daedra description had never looked more apt. Definitely a true son of Sithis, this one.
“The Reach-King can count on it,” Cicero purred, before skipping off to find Grisvar. As soon as he was gone, Borkul staggered over, still rubbing his neck.
“Are you seriously letting him in?” Borkul demanded. “He's insane.”
“Yes,” Madanach admitted. “But he is a friend of Maia's, and he is also very willing to get his hands dirty. I can always find a use for that. When he's done, send him in. It's time he and the Admor-Brenhina were reunited.”
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 14.8
“Oh well, this is a little awkward,” he began, still grinning. “Only... there was a little... misunderstanding. An accident! It wasn't Cicero's fault!”
“I'm sure it wasn't,” Madanach said, raising an eyebrow and waiting for the rest – really, this was a little like watching Eithne trying to talk her way out of trouble, although that thought wiped the nascent smile from his face, as thinking of her usually did. “What exactly happened?”
“There was... an altercation,” Cicero began. “There were... words. Hostilities! Violence! Coarse language such as made poor Cicero blush to hear.”
“That doesn't normally get a man jailed,” said Madanach, itching for Cicero to stop dancing about and get to the point. “Did a man die and was your knife the one stuck in his ribs?”
“In the ribs???” Cicero cried, appalled. “In the ribs?? Tcha! Amateurs stick a knife in the ribs.” Cicero leaned forward, grinning, eyes aglow with professional pride. “Slit his throat and watched him bleed. He won't be calling Cicero an Imperial milk-drinker again.”
He'd killed a Nord then, that was something. And now Madanach had to know who it was.
“Who won't?” Madanach asked. Cicero giggled, hands to his face.
“Thongvor Silver-Blood!” Cicero squealed. “He was just standing there, right there in Understone Keep, all on his own... and now he isn't! It's a good thing stone's easy to clean, there was blood everywhere!”
Cicero looked delighted with himself, and Madanach was hard-pressed not to punch the air himself. Just one left to go. He could have hugged Cicero for this, but he restrained himself. Wouldn't do to get carried away.
“Well now,” Madanach laughed. “That is impressive. You might just fit in around here after all. All right, maybe I can let the Karthspire incident go... perhaps. But you're not getting in to see Maia until I'm convinced I can trust you. That you'll do as you're told.”
More protesting and insisting that yes, he would, Cicero was a good boy who lived to serve and would do anything sweet Madanach asked, anything at all.
“Anything?” Madanach asked, guessing that the particular anything he had in mind Cicero would have no problem with whatsoever.
Cicero just leaned closer, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him and a hazy little smile on his face.
“Anything,” Cicero gasped breathlessly. Something told Madanach Cicero was no stranger to prison nor was he a stranger to doing whatever he had to in order to survive, up to and including offering sexual services to the prison boss. Most unfortunately for Cicero, Madanach, having now laid eyes on an attractive woman not his own daughter for the first time in years, was no longer desperate enough to avail himself. Instead he just drew his shiv and placed it in Cicero's hand, curling his fingers around it.
“There's a man in these mines, a Nord called Grisvar the Unlucky. He's rightly named, a thief... and a snitch. Feeds information to the Silver-Bloods. He's the only one in here not allied to me... other than you. Change that for me, Cicero.”
“You want me to convert him?” Cicero asked, puzzled... and then the penny dropped and he squeaked.
“Serve him like you did Thongvor, and you're in with the Forsworn,” Madanach murmured, patting Cicero on the shoulder. “And in the mean time, I'm going to go wake Maia and tell her you're here. If she confirms your story, you can see her. After you've proven yourself.”
Cicero grinned up at him, and the daedra description had never looked more apt. Definitely a true son of Sithis, this one.
“The Reach-King can count on it,” Cicero purred, before skipping off to find Grisvar. As soon as he was gone, Borkul staggered over, still rubbing his neck.
“Are you seriously letting him in?” Borkul demanded. “He's insane.”
“Yes,” Madanach admitted. “But he is a friend of Maia's, and he is also very willing to get his hands dirty. I can always find a use for that. When he's done, send him in. It's time he and the Admor-Brenhina were reunited.”