Markarth City is the most special city in Skyrim Province because it was built by dwarves rather than humans. The scope that the empire can control only includes surface buildings and shallow underground layers. Deeper, it is still functioning although it has been abandoned for a long time.
Only adventurers and Dwemer scholars dare to investigate in depth the ancient ruins.
As this situation continues, there have been rumors in Skyrim that Markarth City will be the bridgehead for the dwarves to counterattack the surface. Therefore, those who dare to settle here are either fearless or unable to stay in other territories for various reasons.
people, as well as the mine owners who came to mine silver and the miners they hired.
After the Forsworn Rebellion decades ago, a family called the "Silver Blood" rose to power, assisting the lords sent by the empire to quickly stabilize the situation, and took control of the largest silver mine in Markarth City as well as many temporary
Among the industries that no one is involved in is the only hotel in the entire city, the "Silver Blood Inn".
Squeak——
Illya pushed open the huge bronze door of the Silver Blood Inn, and the various looks that came to her instantly made her shrink subconsciously.
The residents of Markarth City are mainly composed of Bretons who have sparse hair and beards and are relatively short in stature. Even if Nords occasionally appear, they are not the traditional image of blond hair, blue eyes, high eyebrows and deep eyes. In comparison,
The next girl with silver hair and red eyes is quite eye-catching - even if she is wearing Jeanne d'Arc, no, sister Jeanne d'Arc specially selected it for her, a relatively unattractive dark purple thick skirt will have no effect.
Silver hair is generally a symbol of high elves, while red eyes are a symbol of dark elves. Illya, who combines these two characteristics, is obviously a Nord. Although this strange appearance of uncertain identity can easily attract attention, she also
It will also deter people with bad intentions.
"Sister Joan of Arc, what should I do now..." Illya murmured to herself as she walked through the market in front of the hotel.
"Tour the city as you wish for the time being," a clear voice came to my ears, "neither our target nor Gallus can be found by just grabbing someone on the street and asking."
This was a strategy they had set before entering Markarth City. Since Cicero himself was too weird and Joan of Arc had such a strong aura, if they went out to collect intelligence, they would likely attract unnecessary attention. In contrast, although
Illya, who has a somewhat special appearance but is quite friendly, is the best candidate for investigation. The two of them just need to remain invisible and follow nearby.
In addition, Joan of Arc also used some kind of magic to connect the three people's verbal communication together. Even if they whisper in a low voice, the other two can clearly hear and respond.
"Hey hey hey~" Cicero made a meaningless sound, but after using that magic, the strange patterns in his words would not appear. I don't know if Mr. Clown would strongly request to be added back.
Butcher Honey Red Arm, beggar Banning, peddler Lisbet, Illya muttered a few names while searching in the market. Although she found several butchers and beggars, she could not directly ask them.
Their names?
According to the hotel owner, since the entire city of Markas is in a sloping ladder shape, there is no place where merchants and shops can be uniformly located. Therefore, there are many scattered small markets throughout the city. The location of fixed shops is completely determined by luck, because there is no place to place them.
There is no good location where tourists gather.
"Girl, give me a gold coin for this old man..." A gray-haired old beggar said as Ilia passed by.
"Hmm..." Illya thought for a while, took out two gold coins from her pocket and put them into the beggar's broken bowl: "Do you know a beggar named 'Banning'?"
"Go, go, give the money and leave immediately." The old beggar waved his hand: "Don't bother the old man."
"Huh?" Illya was stunned.
"Pfft...why do you think you can get information from a random beggar on the roadside?" Joan of Arc's smiling voice sounded in her ears: "The most well-informed people in a city are usually people in hotels or restaurants.
The owner of the tavern is the right one."
"Hehehe~ If I become a beggar one day, I won't care what other beggars in the city call me~" Cicero also laughed strangely.
"From, from those adventure novels, after all, I seldom go out." Ilia left quickly while the old beggar looked at him as a fool.
"It's all Gallus' fault." "Yes, yes, yes~" Joan of Arc and Cicero are still talking to each other in the air, so where are they hiding...
After Illya left the market, she turned to a fork in the road that led to a higher place. Since she couldn't find out at the hotel or the market, she had no choice but to go to the lord steward. At least those merchants should have tax payment records.
——9:17——
"Madam, please wait."
When Illya reached the end of the ramp and was about to find another road leading to the Lord's Fortress, she was stopped by a man wearing a white robe and a hood. His appearance looked a bit resolute, but he didn't seem to be very strong.
Confident, with a sheathed one-handed sword slung around his waist.
"My name is Tiranus, and I am a vigilante." He introduced himself.
"Hello, what's the matter?" Ilia asked doubtfully.
This person seems to want to make people understand what he means with just those two sentences. How is that possible?
"We 'Vigilantes' are the sharp blades of Stendahl, the God of Justice, and we swear to destroy all evil things from the other world." Seeing that Illya seemed completely unable to understand, Tiranus frowned and began to explain in detail.
"I heard that someone is performing evil rituals in this house, and I'm planning to break in to investigate, but there is still one less capable adventurer to provide support." He raised his finger and pointed to a stone house behind him, "I can feel it.
You have great power, and you are kind enough to see from your generous gift of money to a beggar and your lack of retaliation after discovering that you were deceived."
"Hmm..." Illya tilted her head. The market platform below could indeed be seen very clearly from here.
"So, I invite you to join the investigation of this abandoned house, and I hope you won't refuse." Tiranus said, "Of course, I will provide satisfactory compensation for this."
In Markarth City, the internal environment of each house is different. Some houses have been ordered to be closed by the lord because they lead to the ruins deep below. There will be no penalty if you insist on entering, but personal safety must be
You are responsible for yourself.
As for the evil ritual... Just like what I did a few days ago? Is there anyone here who wants to summon the Dark Brotherhood? There happen to be three Brotherhood members here at this time. You can ask the other party's request - if the person who performed the ritual
If you haven't left yet.
Illya waited for a moment. Except for Cicero who was still having fun, Joan didn't raise any objections, so she nodded slightly.
"Please lead the way, Mr. Tiranus," she replied.
"Great, I don't dare to--well, I mean if it's very big, I won't be able to search it thoroughly myself." Tiranus coughed and stepped forward to push open the brass door that was closed casually.
"Well, it is indeed abandoned, and it doesn't look like it has been used recently." After entering the abandoned house, Tiranus held a torch in one hand and a long sword in the other to explore the way ahead, and carefully checked whether there were any human footprints on the ground.
Or some other trace of passage.
"Since you have never come in, why do you know that someone is performing a dark ritual here?" Illya followed him, observing the various dusty furniture and wooden barrels around her.
"Because there are such rumors in the city, and the duty of the vigilante is to investigate all places where demons may be present - ha! Sure enough!" Tiranus turned a corner and immediately discovered a deep cave in the wall.
Entrance.
"The vigilantes didn't go after the demons, but came to investigate urban ghost stories. It's really amazing." Illya heard what Jeanne said and agreed with her judgment.
"Look at this door! There are evil patterns carved on it. There must be something behind it!" Not far after entering the cave, Tiranus's voice came again.
Illya followed the sound and saw that the Dwemer bronze door in front of the vigilante was not carved with meaningless patterns, but was melted and twisted to form a skull pattern with huge horns, and its "face"
There are also three clear vertical scratches on it, making people who see it subconsciously think of fire and death.
"Hell, that's Molag Bal, mother's enemy." Illya felt that the madness in Cicero's voice seemed to have disappeared temporarily, and her tone was a little anxious: "Don't worry about that unfortunate vigilante.
Get out of here as soon as possible!"
"No, that guy is currently busy with other things. What's here cannot be his true form, so we can take the opportunity to inflict heavy damage on him." Joan of Arc rejected Cicero's arrangement.
"You want to make an enemy of a demon? Are you crazy?" "Are you qualified to say this?"
While Ilia was listening to the argument between Joan of Arc and Cicero, Tiranus had already reached out and pressed the door, and then his whole body trembled and bounced back as if he had been burned.
"[Weak, strong.]" A deep and strange male voice with a buzzing echo sounded: "[The strong must kill the weak]."
"Get out of my head! Devil!" Tiranus hugged his head hard.
At the same time, all the furniture, jars, barrels and other movable objects in the cave and the stone house outside were flying and hitting everywhere randomly.
"In your head?" Illya looked doubtfully towards the direction from which the voice came - behind the brass door with a strange skull.
"[The strong must kill the weak]" the voice continued: "[Otherwise you will all die!]"
There seemed to be some kind of coercion in this sentence, but Illya was just slightly dazed and was not affected at all.
"No! I don't want to die!" Tiranus was not so lucky. He drew his sword and turned to Illya with dull eyes: "I..."
"You'd better think clearly before you speak~ (Spade)" Cicero, wearing a clown suit, appeared behind Tiranus, holding a sharp psychic poker between his fingertips and pressing it against his throat.
"For example, who is strong and who is weak." Half a step behind Cicero, Joan of Arc in jet black armor also appeared next to Ilia, hugged her and snorted to Tiranus.
Did it turn out that they had followed her a long time ago? Illya was inexplicably happy.
"I...I..." Tiranus was trembling.
"I'm so ashamed of Ms. Cassidy," Joan of Arc said a name that Ilya had never heard before, and stepped forward: "Ignore that brat, come and tear down this door."
"Hey hey hey~ (square)" Cicero pushed Tiranus away: "You are so lucky, your mother did not order you to be killed~ (heart)"
Tsk - click!
Cicero's poker and Joan of Arc's sword simultaneously struck the door, and it fell to pieces almost instantly, revealing an octagonal altar behind that seemed to contain a mysterious aura, with a strange hanging hanging directly above the altar.
Holding a terrifying giant hammer that was completely green.
Huh-huh-some kind of "power" that had been protecting Illya fluctuated, and "it" gathered into a dark long bow in front of the girl. Illya tentatively stretched out her hand to hold it.
Finally, it nocked the arrow on its own and drew the bow to full length.
Due to some inexplicable induction, Illya knew its name, [Nightingale Bow].
"Yo?" Joan of Arc turned her head and looked at the bow, sighing with no meaning.
"[Mephala! Nocturnal! Boethia!]" The hammer on the altar made a very similar sound to before, but it seemed less stupid and full of anger: "[How dare you——]
"
"Rotten apple~hehehe~(spade)"
"Roar! My wrath!"
Buzz!
No one tried to communicate with Him. Cicero's flying poker, Joan of Arc's striding slash, and the black arrow flying from the long bow in Ilia's hand all hit the giant hammer hard.
superior
"[Damn it - I remember -]" The voice stopped suddenly, and the green light on the hammer flew away and disappeared like broken ice. Then it fell from the altar with a clang, and the octagonal altar seemed to be lost.
What kind of moment has become a lot worn out, no longer makes people who see it feel inexplicable and mysterious.
"Oh," Joan of Arc walked over, picked up the hammer, and handed it to Tiranus, who had no time to react because things happened too fast: "Go back and give it to Ms. Cassidy, she will know how to deal with it.
, if you ask about us, just say hello to her as 'Xino Scholar'. As for you yourself, it is better not to run out to gain merit until you get Tolan's approval."
