The Adventures Of Peristair Dantien

The Case In The Death Of Mr. Blackbrair

THE EIGHT DIVINES SMITE ME AND SEND MY SOUL TO SHEOGORATH! I am not a mad man! I am a respected constable from High Rock with great merit. I have solved many crimes of murder and fraud. From the cannibalistic serial killer of Esclairforté and the conspiracy of the four thieves in High Rock. All my cases I have solved without a mistake. Now my reputation is about to be damaged beyond repair thanks to that witch and those damned thieves! Alas! My life as well from no other than the Dark Brotherhood. Guard gossip whispers many truths to the cautious ear.

I suspect these words will be my written last. As I write this upon a scroll of paper… I feel a cold shudder down my spine. I am masterly locked and alone in my temporary home in Solitude. A quill in my right hand.

Am I going insane as they want me to be? Are my fears becoming a reality? I'm such a fool… Let's start from the beginning:

I traveled via caravan from High Rock to Skyrim three weeks ago. A dreadful passage to anyone who are not trained in weapons or magic. Fortunately for me I attended the magic arts academy in my home land and has become quite versed in alteration and illusion. Clairvoyance is my gift from my mother. A woman blessed with magic in her veins.

I had come to this chaotic land to investigate the murder of Mr. Blackbrair. His family back in the homeland paid me to. I made lodging in a vacant house of a very generous thane in Solitude and promised to look after it for them. I gathered my investigation case and made my way to Riften by carriage.

I kept close watch over my purse when I entered this filthy place. By first inspection, It was clear no one wanted me here. Harassed by the guards and the town's folk gave me dirty looks. Some brute named Maul even pushed me into that nasty lake. Hoped I would drown. I know how to swim. Taught by my father. A rather physical man.

I asked people questions about the Blackbrair family with the citizens and came up with nothing. They were terrified for their own lifes to tell me anything. By who? I asked. Silence.

Late loredas, I recieved a note from that dark elf Branshei who would speak to me in secret the next night. The next afternoon he was thrown in prison for theft. This morning, I reported to jarl Laila Law-giver. She was being flattered by Maven Blackbrair. I listened intentionally to everything said. A sweet roll to the falmer ear. Maven glared at me as she walked out of the manor. Laila welcomed me with open arms. Her stewardship even less. Her sons never bothered to notice my existence. The jarl allowed full access to everything in Riften for my investigation.

I ventured into the Bee And Barb. Where talk about the thieves guild in the 'Rat Way' grabbed my attention. I stepped down into the Ragged Flagon. A clear dislike of my carnal existence loomed over this place too. Heavier than the community above. So many stares.

I sat down at the bar where the bartender gave me a bottle of Blackbrair mead. I gazed at the flowery logo and a revelation came to me. My blue eyes wided and my black hair stood up. Blackbrair is where I will find the answers. So far the surviving members wouldn't speak or work with me. If I searched the house in the middle of the night; I will find my answers there.

I lock picked the door and searched through the house. My steps muffled by a spell I casted. Breaking and entering wasn't something I usually used to solve cases. In a lawless shit hole such as this, desperate measures are called for the greater good and justice. I read several notes about trade and shipments. I climbed down to the basement where the creepy daughter slept. There was a door locked in the corner to another room. With my meager lockpicking skill, I tried several times to open the door until my luck struck out and the door opened.

A humanoid skeleton with heart and flesh. A nightshade. A dagger. The black sacrament. The dark brotherhood. I have came across these assassins in books I read but never met one in person. I never had the urge to kill an innocent person to preform the ritual. I have had my past grudges but death is too good. A good end for the weak.

I examined my notes again. Mr. Blackbrair was a successful merchant who married that cruel woman Maven and they have three children. One night, He is found dead in his bed. Murdered by a fatal stab wound. After his death his widow takes over his company and his wealth. Could she have had him killed? By assassination? Absolutely, It was the only logical conclusion.

That night I leave everything untouched. I request to be taken back to Solitude by wagon. The next two hours I write a report on the ride back in my journal. The rest trying to get some sleep in wolf pelt blanket I had a hunter make me for a fine sum of gold. The next morning I find my journal stolen. All my foundings pilfered and most likely destroyed by now.

Now, My employers, You see why I am writing this. I return to the manor I rented out from a thane. The next morning I wake up and make my way to the winking skeever where people look at me and say all these things that are untrue. I am irrationally paranoid? Insane? After eating stew and drinking a glass of milk. Return outside and I hear guards talking about a near future assassination upon me. A dark brotherhood kill. Me.

I sit here waiting patiently for death. Whenever the reaper comes… He has my soul. I don't fear death.

Yours truly,

Mage/detective Peristair Dantien

Author: What do you guys think about this? Should I write more stories about this arrogant mage/detective idiot? He oversells himself and isn't the best detective... He's the worst, That's how I wrote him and will for humor. He's too hasty to come to judgement on things. Maybe it wasn't even the Brotherhood who killed the patron of Blackbrair and just Maven herself. Maybe no one is out to kill Peristair and the thieves are only making a worse case scenario so he would leave Skyrim in whole. Death is too good for him.