With our grisly trophies prepared the two of us gave a brief search of the throne room and were surprised at what we discovered. Long since locked away by the Ayleids, the treasures of their local kingdom had been locked away in the antechambers connecting to the throne room. While most were mostly worthless, the ancient silk and other fabrics had turned to dust there was a surprising amount of precious gemstones and milted coinage of a type I had never seen before. The doors that the minotaur titan had smashed through had protected these treasures for thousands of years from the various robbers and adventurers who had tried their luck with such a place. Laughing and eyes lighting with a burning greed Viconia had stuffed every stone that caught her eyes into her pouches and I did little to stop her as I was too busy doing the exact same thing. Several lifetimes of a legionary's salary were stuffed into every pouch and fold of our clothing and equipment and I could feel the significant weight of such treasures weighing down on me almost as much as their physical weight.

  Most of the treasures were too large or bulky or heavy for us to carry, artefacts and items forged from precious metals were scattered about in the reliquaries or containers and although it pained me to leave such valuable objects behind we soon had more riches than we had ever expected.

  With a sled made from branches and the ruins of my cloak we returned to the surface, dragging the immense head of the titan covered by a large section of its pelt behind me. The head alone weighed over half my bodyweight, and as I puffed and swore and pulled on the makeshift sled I was left aching and panting with the effort through the hours of the afternoon. It had only been a couple of hours past midday when we arrived in the ruins and by the time we had finished dragging the evidence of our kill back to the village night had fallen and the clouds above our heads had broken into a drizzling autumn shower.

  As night had darkened the landscape those in the village had retired to their homes and families, or in most cases had travelled to the lone tavern at the central square. There was a dark mood across the village that had nothing to do with the weather and more to do with recent deaths and the loud cries of amusement and drunkenness echoing from within the lit dining hall.

  Viconia and I stopped outside, feeling the rain pattering off our armoured shoulders and uncovered faces. Despite the increasing chill I was sweating profusely from the effort of dragging the heavy head of the minotaur titan, feeling the salt sting the eyes as the rain washed it from my forehead and hair. The blood and gore that covered us was no longer congealed into our flesh and chainmail but was gradually being sluiced off by the constant, showering rain. We were exhausted, bedraggled and sore but we were buoyed by our success just as much as our anger was increasing from the sounds coming within the well-lit tavern.

  The door creaked as we pushed our way inside and I staggered under the weight of the decapitated head as I slung it over onto my back, holding onto its remaining horn with both hands. Without my vampiric strength there would be no way that I would have been able to lift or carry it for an y distance greater than a metre and my rising anger was enough fuel to push me through the last dozen metres and into the warm dry interior.

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  Inside the tavern's dining hall, the other members of the guild were well on the path to drunken excess. The five of them spending the time raucously laughing, drinking and playing dice on one of the several tables in the room and completely blind to the hostile stares of the rest of the patrons. Most of the villagers were within the tavern, staring at the tiny group of armoured fighters with building hatred that was steadily increasing the longer they stayed in town and with every mouthful of potent liquor they consumed. Completely ignorant to the opinions of those around them none of the cowardly sell swords realised that the likelihood of blood being split during the night was steadily increasing. Viconia and I found ourselves facing the sight of them dragging one of the tavern maids over, relieving her of several flagons of alcohol destined for other patrons and becoming a little too physical with her for both our tastes.

  Several of the farmers had risen from their seats where they had been staring over their mugs of wheat alcohol at the way they started treating the young barmaid and a glint of a caneknife appeared in the dark as it was drawn from a belt. The building tension suddenly ceased at Viconia's and my appearances in the doorway, fully armoured and dripping with blood and water as everyone stopped and openly gaped.

  Maglir recognised us first despite the drunken haze that was infusing his sight from hours of drinking. He stood from his chair, tipping over slightly and supporting himself with one hand on the table while the other thrust a sloshing flagon in our direction. "Brother! Sister! I am so glad you decided to give up that pointless contract and join us!"

  Neither of us said anything as we stomped our way over to their table, ignoring the cries of surprise from the others in the room as they saw what it was that I was carrying. The drunken fools at the table they couldn't see what I had over my shoulder and their looks of confusion at our silence and darkened expressions increased with every pace. The Altmer with a hand hidden within the barmaid's dress let her go as we approached, a hand dropping to a dagger on his belt as they realised that we were not in the mood for talk or joining them in their activities.

  Their weariness was suddenly replaced with terror and shock as I roared with effort, slinging the head by the horn and slamming its full weight into the centre of their table with a crash of broken wood and jingling coins as they were scattered across the floorboards. A pair of legs snapped cleanly, catapulting flagons and their contents over a pair of the fighters as the enormous head simply fell into their laps.

  Maglir dropped onto his rear, scrabbling away from the bloody trophy and staring into its dead face. One eye was leaking jelly and its tongue lolling loose in an opened maw large enough to fit his head in. Teeth were shattered in its jaw, shreds of flesh dangling from the severed neck and watery blood had splattered everyone within a metre of where it had landed.

  "Contract completed." I growled.