Cicero: All right, so Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid. What's a . . . to do when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely, the Listener understands.
Cicero admits he thought the Listener would be dead by now. Maybe we could just forget about this? Let bygones be by bygones? What do you say?
Player: Fus ro dah!
Sanctuary guardian: Father . . .
Cicero: If it's any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way. But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death.
And now, we come to the end of our play, the grand . . .
You caught me. I surrender.
Traitor? Me? Silly assassin, so confused, so confused. And they say I'm mad. If I'm a traitor, so are you. Have you not heard the maiden's voice? Are you not the Listener? So walk away. Let poor Cicero live. Tell Astrid you did the job, stabbed, strangled your own poor Cicero, a tiny white lie for a dark assassin.
Do what you will. Cicero has no fight left. In the end, Sithis will judge us both.
Cicero has no fight left. In the end . . .
Player: Fus ro dah!
Cicero: Coming, Mother.
Astrid: Arnbjorn is safe, and for that, you have my thanks. But what of the fool? Is Cicero dead?
Excellent. Once again, you've proven yourself a born assassin. Tell you what, why don't you hold on to Shadowmere a while longer? He's a fine steed and hasn't been ridden nearly as much as he should lately. And now that this Cicero mess has been mopped up, we can get back to the matter at hand.
There's just one more target before we strike out at the emperor. Have you, by chance, heard of the Gourmet? Read his cookbook? It's become quite a phenomenon. The Gourmet is scheduled to cook for the emperor at a special dinner. You'll kill him, steal his writ of passage, and assume the role of master chef. Festus has been spearheading this part of the assassination plan. He's close to uncovering the identity of the Gourmet. You should report to him.