“Before I get embroiled in Shivering Isles politics, I need to return to Cyrodiil for a bit” – Lena was saying to Hauk at breakfast. “There are a few things I need to take care of, on my own.” She looked at him somewhat uneasy.

“Of course” – Hauk nodded. “Give Lucien my regards. I’ll stay here – can I use this house?”

“Please do” – Lena gave Hauk a long look. He was planning something. “But I don’t think I’ll be meeting Lucien” – she added.

“You’ll see.”

…

Returning to Cheydinhal, Lena found a letter waiting for her on the table at the Wolf Sanctuary. It was from Lucien:

Darling Wolf,
Come and see me at your convenience. We have business to attend to.
Yours –
Lucien

She went in the evening, planning to sleep at the fort if necessary, while waiting for Lucien to appear. She didn’t have to wait long.

“I need you to go to Skyrim” – said Lucien pouring the wine. “There’s a group there that calls themselves the Dark Brotherhood and is taking on contracts, but we don’t have a branch in Skyrim and the Night Mother does not talk to anyone there. Go see what they are all about.”

Lena heard of them when she went to Skyrim before, but because the Dark Brotherhood had a regional structure, she didn’t expect to know any of them. Now it turned out they were imposters, which went some way to explain why they tried to kill her – and didn’t know who she was. No one verified their contracts, obviously.

“How do you want me to approach them?” – she asked Lucien, helping herself to cheese and grapes.

“We’ll bait them – we’ll spread a rumour that you’ve gone after one of their contracts. They’ll be in touch.”

“If the Night Mother doesn’t speak to them, then where do they get their contacts from?”

“From rumours, mostly. People know how to summon us – the real us – and so they perform the Dark Sacrament over and over, thinking that more is better, no doubt. Then, when no one comes, they start talking about it, and sure enough, soon afterwards someone appears.”

“Your friendly neighbourhood assassin, here to help” – grimaced Lena.

“Quite. Ham or mutton?” – Lucien was taking roast off the spit.

“Mutton, please, and some of that orange chutney on top.”

Two old friends sat down for dinner. Nothing unusual about that.