16th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 201
I found Ironbind Barrow north of Whiterun, met a pair of adventurers there, new to the trade. We worked together until we reached the king entombed, then the Argonian tried to kill me. Normally I would’ve been furious at him and sympathetic towards his partner, but right now that doesn’t matter.
In the main chamber I found Loki, his body stuffed in a corner. He was wearing his shrouded armor that all assassins wear. On his body I found written instructions from Astrid:
As instructed, you are to eliminate Charlotte Corday by any means necessary.
We've already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option.
You will be accompanied by a team of Thalmor soldiers and wizards on this contract. Apparently they want to capture and interrogate her first, so restrain yourself for once!
So Loki was contracted to kill Charlotte. I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s something he would do. However, I don’t see any bodies of the Thalmor. Were they carried away?
Close to the word wall, after I absorbed the word of power, I found what I now know I was trying not to see.
Charlotte.
My Gods … Charlotte.
She had been stripped naked, everything of value taken except for two things. The first was a note, hastily written in her handwriting. It had been tossed aside, and it was a while before I found it. The other was her rapier, the blade I made for her. I remember how she designed it, and how I placed a special enchantment on it. It was meant to act like a shock rune to anyone who touched it, anyone whose blood was not forged into the blade. Looks like it worked, for what little good it did.
She asked me to imprint a rose design onto the knuckle guard. I thought it was silly, but she insisted. I admit, it turned out very nicely. She called her rapier Autumn Damask, said it was a type of rose.
Charlotte moved like a silent wind with that rapier. I remember when I began hearing the rumors of how the fragrance of roses always followed every lethal cut. When I asked her about it, she blushed and admitted that she’d rub rose oil onto the blade before every mission. She could be a silly Breton, but she had style.
I suppose I was no different when it came to melodrama. Rumor said my scimitar had been stained black from the blood of countless Thalmor.
Her final note reads:
For the first time, I am frightened.
I can not walk anymore, my bow is broken, my throwing knives are gone, and I am out of potions. All I have left is my rapier, and I can not even stand to wield it.
I can hear voices speaking Altmeris. I know the language well enough to understand the gist of what they are saying. They think they have cornered me, and they have. I led them into this tomb in the hopes that the spiders and draugr here would fight them, allowing me to escape, but one of them shot an arrow into my spine. Now my legs are useless.
I can not let them capture me. They will torture me until I tell them where to find the others, so that they can capture and kill Antonius and Tel'kiira. Not only that, but each of us has secrets that must not fall into the hands of the Dominion.
I should have saved a bottle of poison for this, but I am out of that too. All I have left is my blade.
She was frightened … and she was alone. I should have been here. Why couldn’t I have come here sooner?!
I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I’m so sorry.
I love you.
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