"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." -William Shakespeare
Chapter 6: The King's Crown
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Their journey to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary was a long one, so the two jesters asked each-other questions to pass the time. "Our king, did he have a crown? A king is not a king unless he bears a crown!" Said Cicero. The Jester felt comfort, knowing that there was another like him. "There is an item called the jagged crown. It was once worn by all high-kings of Skyrim, but that tradition was lost long ago. But I know a certain someone who is working very hard to earn this silly hat." The Jester said in return. "I am one for tradition. The sanctuary we're going to, they have been accepting contracts without the night-mother! It's almost like they are telling Sithis that they don't need him! It's... preposterous!" "I don't really know what you mean, but I agree that tradition must be held. If we can get that crown back, it can be a symbol of justice, and proof that Ulfric murdered the high-king!" "Now you're talking, If I were a jagged crown, where would I hide?" "Apparently, it's in some ancient zombie crypt. Lost by some long-lost king that brought it there or something." The Jester said, doing his best to impersonate a zombie. "If we can figure out where it is, we can find it!" He declared. The Jester nodded in agreement and understanding.
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They passed through Falkreath, attracting many stares as they passed. They took a winding trail to what looked like a dead-end, but a door was stationed in an opening that seemed to cast a strange shadow. As the two approached the door, it spoke. "What... is the music... of life?" It asked. The Jester thought of the lute, but Cicero answered instead. "Silence, my brother!" He exclaimed in a long, yet high-pitched voice. The door opened. "You may want to stay out here. The Dark Brotherhood does not take kindly to men without invitations." Cicero chuckled, and the Jester nodded, taking a seat on a log near a black pool of goop. The substance seemed to move and gurgle. The Jester stared at the liquid-like material for twenty minutes before Cicero came storming out of the door. "Those fools! Apparently they are letting anyone in these days! Now, there's a new assassin who claims to be the dragon-born! What a bluff. Hmmph!" He sighed, letting his arms droop down his sides. "A dragon-born? From the child's stories. I've always loved the poems and songs, but it would not be very fitting of a demi-god to be working as a hired hand, now would he. Can we go get that crown now?" He said, excitedly. Cicero perked up, taking his mind off of the supposed "listener". "Yes... where is it?" "Well, while you were inside, I was thinking of where they could have lost it. King Borgas was the last to wear the crown, and his final resting place is in a ruin near Whiterun. His death lead to instability all across Skyrim. We must hurry." They both nodded and hopped back into the carriage, heading down the winding pass.
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Hours later, Whiterun came into sight. The Jester quickly pulled his hat down over his eyes to hide his identity. "What's the problem?" "I'm a wanted man, Cicero. For attempted murder of Ulfric." He mocked in a sarcastic tone. They took the long way around Whiterun, seeing a line of imperials walking single-file towards the north-east. "Have they found the crown?" The Jester asked, gasping. The man in the back of the line stopped them. "Stop, you are interfering with imperial duty. Turn your carriage and return to Whiterun." The Jester pulled out a needle and sent it into the man's skull. The line turned around. There were seven of them, including the man laying in the recently snow-covered grass. They charged, but the Jester disappeared. Cicero stayed in the carriage and put his feet up on the carriage-bench, relaxing as they charged. The one in front fell to the ground, suffering from a neck slice. Bells jingled in the distant trees. Two of the men charged in the direction of the bells, three moved towards the cart. One of the three took a needle to the forehead, dying instantly. Another swung in midair, chanting "They're over here, they're over here!" The two men turned back to the men, but only found bodies. The two charged the carriage, one running into a blade, the other's right hand getting cut off. He screamed in pain. The Jester took out his deck of joker cards. He walked over to the one-handed man, gripping his stub. "Pick a card, any card!" The Jester said. In pure fear, the man reached out a bloody hand and brought it to his face. "Go back to Solitude, and tell them The Jester sent you. They'll know what you mean." The man nodded and stumbled off. "Thanks for the help!" The Jester called over to Cicero. "I thought you had it under control. If I thought you needed help, I would have stepped in." He laughed.
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The two traveled to the ruin. The name of this particular crypt was Korvanjund. It was basically just a crevice in the earth, leading off in many underground tunnels, but one of them held the treasure Cicero and The Jester searched for. A shout from the bushes startled the two clowns. It was another troop of imperial legionnaires. It wasn't the clowns they were after, but Stormcloak soldiers! The two men hid in the trees and watched as they quickly dispatched the rebels. A man with full-steel imperial armor shouted out orders. "Three of you, stay out here! The rest of you, come with me!" He shouted, making a cone over his mouth with his hand. Three middle-aged men stopped and stood watch, one standing above the stairs, one standing near the edge of the crevice, one at the bottom, guarding the door. The Jester pointed to the man up top, making sure nobody went down into the stone ravine. Cicero made his way over to the man, sneaking. At the last moment, his bells jingled, alerting the guard. He swung once, but Cicero ducked and jabbed under the ribcage, and up into the vital organs. The man fell down the rocky wall. The Jester walked in Cicero's footsteps and turned invisible. The guards noticed Cicero walking down the stairs, casually. They drew their swords and charged. One ran into a blue dagger as The Jester returned from invisibility. He fell to the ground as the other backed up, which was a big mistake. At the first step he took, a needle was sent flying into his left eye. He fell to his back, stiff.
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The duo made their way through the door, killing the two door-guards simultaneously. Many stormcloak and imperial bodies littered the ground. They followed the trail of dead, until they caught up to the small group of imperials, stuck at a locked door at the end of a narrow hallway. The two jesters charged down, slicing through the remainder of the soldiers. Using their combined strength, they knocked down the door, revealing a large room with a throne, seating a dead man. On top of him was a crown, the jagged crown. The Jester ran up and grabbed the head-piece. They walked away grinning, but heard a groan behind them. The throne was now empty, the dead man nowhere in sight.
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The Jester heard the unmistakable sound of a swinging sword, and leapt out of the way, mere inches from getting chopped by an ancient sword. The man's eyes were bright blue. Cicero swung at him, but was kicked back by a decayed foot. The Jester swung, missing by inches. This bought Cicero some time as he stood up. They both charged, slicing wildly at the corpse. The dead man fell to his knees as Cicero brought his colorful dagger down into his skull. A whisper leaked out of his mouth, like air escaping in the wind. Only two words were unmistakably clear: "Thank...You"