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I haven't felt drawn to this journal in a long time, but recent events seem to have made me long for those days when I was truly happy. When I had a family that loved and trusted me. Not like these men and women of the Order. They respect me. They fear me. But they don't love anyone other than the Dragon God. And maybe Primate Artorius.
Before I donned the armor of the Black Dragon, I was simply a Silencer FOR the Dark Brotherhood. Now I'm the Black Dragon, Silencer OF the Dark Brotherhood and First Sword of the Order of the Hour. It's not a role I chose for myself. No, it's a role that the Brotherhood has thrust upon me. And one I happen to be very good at.
The woman known as Lyra Viria died at my hands. It was my last act as part of the Dark Brotherhood, my last act in a Sanctuary now long forgotten. After that I was no one and nothing for a time. Until I found the Order and became the Black Dragon.
I'm trying to find redemption in service to Akatosh, but has anything really changed? I'm still a murderer. I still feel damned. But now I'm killing those individuals marked for death by Akatosh himself—or, at least, by his chosen representatives in Tamriel. I suppose that's some kind of improvement.
Once I was cocksure and confident in my deeds and actions. This was true in the Dark Brotherhood (until it wasn't) and it was true as the Black Dragon. Now, however, I find that I'm filled with a sort of discontent that makes me do something I've never been really good at—asking questions. I need to think about this and perhaps have another conversation with the Primate.