Nargis's wrists were tied tightly behind his back. He tried his best to break free from the ropes on his hands, but in the end he had to sigh and gave up his efforts. In addition to the toughness of the rope, the frightening eyes behind him also kept glancing at his face and hands, their cold vertical pupils without a trace of emotion. As if to say, hey, I've seen all your tricks.
So he clumsily tried to hide his embarrassment with an innocent expression, replacing his fear with flattery and said, "I don't understand."
Turka looked at the gadgets in his hands and said casually: "Oh?"
They were all kinds of small things that he found from the waist, arms, boots, and hair of the prisoner in front of him, including blades, daggers, a small crossbow with skillful construction, and several crossbow arrows with poison-coated arrows. ; There are also pointed glass bottles containing some unknown liquid, one of which is empty. And the effect is invisible.
Ilúvatar, why didn't the Valar include this setting when they created the world? Oh, no, or they have joined, but not everyone can open this permission. Turka suddenly remembered Sauron's ring. Maybe Bilbo and Frodo felt this way when they were invisible? Turka wasn't sure.
He looked at his hands with interest. His state is very strange at the moment. You can say that he is walking on the planet Nirn, or you can say that he is walking in some strange gap in the world that intersects with the planet Nirn. He can touch the winds, atmosphere, and matter of Nirn, but the people of Nirn cannot see him. At least the guards who ran past him didn't notice the two weird guys next to them.
This state is difficult to explain, as if he is somehow magically isolated from the world, but he is still in this bubble called the world.
The world is material, but Turka always feels that it is illusory. He touched the wind, water, and earth, walked in the light, stared at the shadows, and the snow fell on his face, cold and wet; he talked with the old Tandis family, talked with the innkeeper, and even fought with those two idiots; Feeling the food and the sweet mead fall into his belly, but either way, it gave him a certain unreal feeling.
And this feeling became clearer as the cold alchemical products flowed into his body.
I can do it. A voice sounded in Turka's heart: I just don't know what to do yet. Turka felt the changes in the world with his whole body, and blinked thoughtfully.
As his consciousness deepened, Turka seemed to have come into contact with some kind of strange existence, which filled every corner of the world of Mendas and existed in every grain of gravel, every drop of water, every breeze, every Among the stars; they were calling him, embracing him; they were like the earth, like the ocean, like the atmosphere and the breeze, like a huge flame. Or light.
You can do it, the voice continued, embrace us.
Turka Aracano could hardly help but open his hands and plunge into the unparalleled flame. He longed to do this as he longed to breathe.
This is not right.
Another voice sounded in Turka's mind, but he couldn't remember where he heard it. A certain beautiful tone sounded in his ears. Even if the singing voice was as beautiful as the Evening Star Princess, it would not be as beautiful as this tone.
Embrace us and you will achieve immortality.
said the first voice.
No, a second voice rang out faintly, this wasn't right.
Turka staggered a few steps and almost touched the huge ball of flame. It was so hot, but so cold, that even the dragonborn of Arda, who was supposed to be fearless of all the fires in the world, couldn't help but feel waves of blazing heat, followed by waves of biting pain.
This is not right.
Turka gasped and stopped.
You shouldn't mention Arwen, she doesn't exist here. The lost power returned to Turka Aracano. His originally wavering eyes became determined, and he withdrew his hand that was about to touch the flame. I could do it, but not like this.
Turka stared at the weird-looking assassin with calm eyes. The opponent's right leg that he stepped out calmly retracted, "I didn't want to escape." The night was very cold, and the ground seemed to suck away Nargis' body. All the heat inside. The one-eyed assassin's eyes showed a look of sincerity that he had never seen before, "It's just that I thought you wanted to take a rest. I mean, I wanted to take a rest."
"You will get it." Turka said, his voice still calm, "As long as what you say is true, no one will restrict how you live the rest of your life."
"Of course. Of course." Nargis could hardly help but jump up and curse. Mephala, I have told almost every little thing about the first half of my life. Even my father doesn’t know me as well as you! Although damn, I never met him. But the assassin did not dare to reveal what he was thinking, because he knew that no one could lie under the target's cold, amber-like vertical pupils.
"continue."
I'll figure out what that is. Turka glanced at him, but not now.
Nargis felt as if someone had punched him in the heart, and pain and frustration flooded into his head at the same time. He slowly forced out a smile and bent down, "Of course. Of course."
Turka stared at him for a few seconds and then took steps.
Noisy noises came from behind them. People throughout Markas were screaming, running, and rushing towards the rock peak where the Dibella Temple was originally located. The cold north wind whistled past the two of them. The clothes and cloak did not alert any of the guards.
Turka cut off the call of that power, which made him feel strangely weak, but soon he felt that this weakness was also fake. His power was still there, even when he felt that After the omnipresent flame, it became more active.
There is something wrong with this world. Turka suddenly had such a realization. In the last life, what was said about the Elder Scrolls and the Dragonborn? Turka frowned. He always felt that he had forgotten a lot of things.
Who am I?
After experiencing so much, Turka once again asked this question that he had long forgotten.
"People are flocking like returning snow rats to... flocking to that disturbing, oh shit, shul. Forgive me. You know what I mean."
Nargis watched with distress as the guy who frightened him flexibly fiddled with his treasure, and watched as he deftly put a magic book containing the notes of the Master of Change at Winterhold Mage Academy into his pocket; the target still had something in his hand. There are bundles of transparent silk threads, as well as flints, lock picking tools, a few gold coins with Septim's image on them, etc. You can find almost everything you can touch from a thief or assassin. They're all packed into a black tower chain, not heavy, but not light either.
Of course, except for the book full of words and symbols, and the bottles of alchemy products, the target was not that interested in other small items. These are the trophies Turka collected from the cunning, but interesting assassin in front of him.
Nargis could feel that the invisibility potion was about to expire, and they might be exposed to the eyes of guards or some frightened idiot at any time. And then, well, the Sidana Mine may be his permanent home. Therefore, he could only try his best to make the target - well, he remembered, the employer said his name was Turka, Turka Aracano.
A very strange name.
Nargis was extremely sad. He watched with his own eyes as the target took the Khajiit's body out of the hotel and threw it like garbage into the sewer not far from the hotel, and then forced him to tell what he knew. He's more of a greedy robber than I am! The weaver weaves my destiny! Look at what kind of guys I have provoked, not to mention a great mage, but now, there is...Shur, what on earth is he?
The perfect body that had been blessed by the creator god of another world looked so majestic under the dark starry sky of Nirn. His shoulders were extremely broad, but his waist was so perfectly proportioned that it made all Orbis' creations look dwarfed. His arms and thighs were slender and strong, and his amber eyes were like two gold coins polished to shine in the night.
Mephala, his face was the most beautiful face Nargis had ever seen. No wonder the Silver-Blooded Daughter would order assassins to kidnap him for his sake. And there is tremendous vitality under his muscular body. No woman must be able to resist some kind of temptation. The assassin thought rudely.
"In Markas, silver and blood flow. Sir, maybe it is not a good choice for you to do this." As if aware of Nargis's inner curse, Turka glanced at him. The assassin's heart was beating fast, and he said in a nagging voice: "I don't know, and I don't want to know what conflict you have with Silver Blood; you know, in our industry, we just take money to do things. Everyone has needs that are not So it is suitable for me to deal with an accident during the day, so there was a misunderstanding between us. But you should understand that this was not my original intention."
Turka didn't even use his powers to detect the insincerity of this 'special' assassin. His one eye glowed coldly in the darkness, like a poisonous snake; but he thought he was hiding it well. Flattery was covered with fear and cunning, and his body was extremely stooped, as if this could make Turka forget the ferocity of a dagger to his heart even when he was caught.
"Since I stepped into this city, everyone has said in my ears: In Markas, silver and blood flow." Turka said with a smile: "Isn't this sentence applicable to everyone? ?"
Nargis even felt horrified at that moment. He recognized the terrifying... Mephala, what on earth was he? Nargis lowered his head, not daring to look at the coldness hidden under the warm smile in Turka's eyes.
"You walk in the light, but weaver, darkness is always in our hearts." The one-eyed assassin said this like a chant.
Turka glanced at him and said in a calm voice: "Everyone walks in the light, and the darkness is under their feet. Or, they walk in the darkness, and the light is behind them."
Nargis almost bit his tongue to hold back the fear in his heart. A lot of sweat flowed from his forehead and back, and turned into biting frost particles in the cold wind howling in the sky. He retracted the blade between his fingers and walked forward honestly.
People kept running past them, but the high-grade invisibility potion produced by a certain empire's famous alchemist master was highly effective and of high quality. No one noticed them, whether it was Nargis or Turka. They walked along the remote stone path, sometimes turning left, sometimes right, sometimes climbing the high stone steps, sometimes walking along the damp and cold alleys, and entering the darker lower city area.
The buildings here look dilapidated, as if they have been through thousands of years, with rotten windows and smelly sewage everywhere; flies and mosquitoes carrying germs are flying around on the sewage and garbage, and the buzzing sound is disgusting; several heads Hungry snow rats ran through the shadows. They would occasionally stop and stare directly at the uninvited guests in front of them.
No one would choose to live in such a place except beggars and poor people who have nothing to live on. Apart from the growing decay and the breeding of evil, there is no trace of light here.
"I even suspected that you were cheating on me." Turka frowned, staring straight at the two-story dilapidated house in front of him with his cold golden vertical eyes.
There was a rusty iron lock hanging on the door, and the window on the second floor was so damaged that it looked like it would shatter into a pile of useless sawdust if the wind blew. The dark windows are like a bottomless cave, swallowing up any light that passes by. There was silence. Only the wind blows.
"In the name of the Web Weaver, I swear!" Nargis almost bit his tongue. The target's eyes were always so calm, but the assassin could feel the murderous intent behind the calmness in the target's eyes.
Turka was silent for a moment. He stretched out his hand and touched the cold iron lock. An evil feeling stimulated his fingers. At this moment, Turka seemed to see a boundless sea of blood, sticky and disgusting; a crazy laughter filled him. In his ears, even he couldn't help but feel a little palpitating.
"Maybe you didn't." He retracted his finger and stared at the one-eyed assassin, his voice becoming stern, "But you said that a daughter of a noble would choose such an evil place to have a meeting, is that right?"
"I don't know!" Nargis shook his head crazily, "We only received an order. After the matter is completed, you... well, that's... In short, this is the order. Maybe you can go to the Silver Blood Family's headquarters and ask. .”
Damn woman.
A stomach-churning aristocrat.
Ilúvatar, I begin to miss you.
Just as Turka was thinking about whether to let this cunning assassin suffer a little first. He talks too much, some of it may be true, some of it, well, he hides a lot, maybe he doesn't lie, but what he says is not the whole story. Turka could tolerate him showing off his words in order to survive, but that didn't mean he would allow his captive to mislead him.
Nothing looks right here.
Turka stared at the house in front of him, alarm bells ringing in his heart.
The hairs all over Nargis’ body stood up. Mephala, don't let him hurt me! I swear, I didn't lie, at least not this time.
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