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.
I sought out the ruins of Knightsgrave after the Enclave of the Hourglass began to feel too confining, too full of life. I don't deserve to mingle with so many vibrant, living beings. Death has become more than my vocation—it's a vital part of my life. So why not linger in this place of the dead?
* * *
I admired the statues on the stairs that descended into these ruins. The founders of the Order of the Hour were great and faithful warriors. For a time, I was proud to count myself among their number. But now? Now I'm not so sure.
* * *
It seems that the founders or whoever came after them set out to protect this place from unwanted visitors. Obviously, the braziers serve as a key of sorts to open the way into the Path of Order. I just need to figure out how best to turn this key.
* * *
Determining the order in which to ignite the braziers was child's play. I'm surprised that more people haven't found their way into these hallowed depths.
* * *
There must be another way to gain entry into the ruins. How else have these minotaurs made their way down here? I had to kill one of the proud beasts when it surprised me. After that, I took great pains to avoid the creatures. After all, no one has ordered me to murder them. And, I suppose, they serve as guardians of a sort. Why not allow them to continue in that role?
* * *
Just beyond the armory, I encountered a chamber dedicated to the Order's original First Sword. I admit I feel a certain connection to Justia. I wonder if she'd smile upon one such as I for taking up her weapon?
* * *
I spent a long time praying in the circle of pillars known as the Paragon's Crown. Maybe Akatosh heard my plea, for I soon discovered a tunnel into an even more ancient portion of the ruins. It appears that the Order built their original home atop an ancient cave that harkens back to a more ancient time. An impressive and, dare I say it, frightening statue of Akatosh dominates the cave. I can only assume that this place owes its existence to the Alessian Order and their efforts to raise Akatosh above all other gods. Even the scattered cages hint at darker rites than those practiced by Primate Artorius and his ilk in the Cathedral of Kvatch.
* * *
The Primate, the Order, the Brotherhood—damn them all for turning me into what I've become! Perhaps down here, in the shadow of Akatosh's most fearsome presence, I'll finally discover who I'm truly meant to be.