Celan

Done.

Magdela Bathory, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil After returning to the Bathorys’ hidden estate in the Jeralls, Maggie had put the night with Skjari out of her mind. There were too much to do. She spent several days plotting next moves, then set out from Colovia to Skyrim once more, using the Volkihar portals. She would make the arduous journey home to Skingrad by conventional means and alone, with only her nightblade guards. As senseless as this seemed to Rufus, she knew her business. It was upon her return to Skyrim that she learned of the sunbird attack on Windhelm, and the death of Ulfric Stormcloak. The hold of Riften had been razed by bandits. A Moot would be held and the bard Baldur Red Snow, one of her poetry clients, was a candidate to replace Ulfric. Events were certainly on the move, but that only underscored that she needed to be home. If the Thalmor were attacking Skyrim openly, they would not spare Cyrodiil for long. From Pale Pass Maggie traveled by horseback to Bruma, where she dined with Jarl Balgruuf under the watchful glare of his Dunmer housecarl. They discussed war preparations and the trials of running a county’s daily affairs. Though she could feel the jarl’s eyes on her as she left the dining room, Maggie slept alone, and only “took some air” late at night, helping herself to her real dinner from a lone castle guard returning to his barracks. In Bruma she rented the finest carriage she could find for the trip to the Imperial City. They made their halfway stop at the newly constructed Fort Xanten, at the crossroads of the Gold and Silver Roads. The fort had been built after the Stormcloak rebellion to aid in holding the county of Bruma. The captain of the fort came out to greet her, but after the usual formalities, Maggie made a point to talk with the youngest legionnaires who stood gaping at her. Older married men were unlikely to write their absent wives about having met Magdela Bathory, but homesick young boys might remember this moment all their lives, and write their mothers about the famous author. One of the young men was set to guard her door that night. “So that my own guards might get some rest,” she told the commander. “Who better to safeguard me than the mighty Legion?” The boy later swore that the Countess’ skin was the softest thing he had ever touched, but couldn’t remember how he knew this. The next day, as the carriage descended into the foothills of the Jeralls, the high spire of White Gold Tower became visible even at a great distance. “The center of it all,” Maggie said quietly as she gazed at it from the carriage window. Flashes of memory from her days and nights spent high in the Tower went through her mind. For a moment she closed her eyes and had a clear picture of Skjari’s face above her, his scent, the pressure of his hand sliding across her stomach. It was as if he were there. She had never missed anyone before. There had been no one to miss. It was not only the prospect of losing the ancient Nord’s company that disturbed her. There was a certain irony in the fact that when she had only just achieved her freedom and could choose to be with him without anyone else’s expectations or interference, the wizard had thrown up a barrier that she could not cross. Yet still she couldn’t hold it against him. As they neared the city, the bustle and stench grew, and so did Maggie’s excitement. It felt like the first time her father took her to there, with all the people in their array of garb and with their cacophony of accents. On this trip she had timed her arrival for early evening when tradesmen and merchants were on their way to the inns for supper. Amongst talk of war and rising prices, they would mention seeing the Countess of Skingrad on their way. Some would spit her name, but even notoriety had its reward. She spent the night quietly in her house in Elven Gardens, then the next two days working at her publishing office. She met with her sister Sofia, an awkward sit-down. The elder Bathory knew the truth about Darius’ death, but Maggie had promised freedom for her children, the chance to choose that neither of them had had. They kept the talk about banking business, Maggie urging her to divert more funds into loans to White Gold. At fair interest rates, of course. That day she also paid a visit to the First Edition. After the editor offered an obsequious apology for the gossip the late Albecias Plebo had spread about her, Maggie agreed once again to publish the profitable Midnight Edition, covering the city’s nightlife and the more scandalous corners of imperial society. It was in fact midnight when she slipped into an Order-run brothel. A gold merchant from Hammerfell who had paid for two whores never remembered that there was briefly a third woman in his room, who opened his wrist then healed the wound before leaving him to sleep it off. In her office Maggie had found a stack of invitations going back to her departure. A few were newer. She had her secretary send polite regrets for all but one soiree she had heard would be attended by a good number of Elder Council members. She still owed Skjari a list of candidate names for new councillors, and it would be irresponsible not to know the latest before she advised him. She arrived half an hour after the fashionably late crowd had arrived. Milling politely around the crowd, Maggie waited until the chancellor of the Elder Council, Doron Zethus, stood alone on the far side of the room. He was a short, stocky man with curly dark hair and a powerful chest and arms. She crossed over to him. “And so you come.” He gave her an apathetic smile and a fake bow. “Countess of Skingrad. Should I offer condolences or congratulations?” “Neither are required, Doron. You’re looking well.” “Multiple condolences, for the deaths of your father and brother in one go, which left you all alone in your family’s seat. How tragic.” The Nibenean flashed his gold-toothed smile. Maggie’s own smile never wavered. “These are difficult days. How is your wife?” “Absent, same as your husband. You want to know what’s going on in the council? For once I miss the Bretons. I hadn’t realized they were such a brake on Colovian scheming.” Zethus was a Nibenean nationalist, of the polite sort, at least in public. As they spoke, Maggie noticed that his tribal tattoos had begun to creep above the neck of his tunic. War chaos and the empire’s continued fracture had allowed him to grow bolder, it seemed. “They know we are on the front lines, yet still the Colovians pick and press, never satisfied. Vultures. No offense.” “None taken. Support for the Draconus’ remains steady?” Zethus shrugged, his eyes roving the crowd while he spoke. “He’s still a Nord, but he put down the rebels who were troubling our towns. You were right about that. There’s talk of attacking Elsweyr’s cities, to which I say it’s about time. Amaund’s whelp found a baby somewhere, so she’s done her duty as empress well enough, though I hear she spends half her days playing at legionnaire and the other half talking to herself about her dead maids. We’ve had worse.” “You’re still with them, then?” The chancellor waited, then nodded, stiffly and unconvincingly. “You tried to install your cousin in an empty chair without the emperor’s approval. Tsk.” “It didn’t hurt to try.” Except to diminish your credibility, she thought. “Who among the councillors is… less supportive?” Doron studied her a moment, then leaned in to whisper several names. Maggie quietly cast a muffle spell as the whispering went on a few minutes longer. Mentally she recited the names after he was done. All Colovians or moderate Nibeneans. It was a test, to see if support for the emperor and empress would be useful to his factional ambitions, if he could use the emperor to clear some obstacles. Finally the chancellor stood back and said in normal voice, “I’ll tell you this, my nightmares are not of Khajiit or Bosmer marauders or even these Thalmor air ships. It’s the damned lizards who worry me. I had expected to hear that they were taking this side or that, but their silence is unnerving. I can almost see the army swimming up Mother Nibenay in the night, defiling her waters and stealing onto shore to finish us off. If you have any influence left up in White Gold, see if you can find out anything about where Black Marsh stands these days.” “Don’t be so glum, chancellor. Concentrate on your profiteering. There is gold to be made in wartime.” “It’s been good to me, I’ll grant. But for how long?” He paused, then asked, “Do you still have any influence left up there? It appears you’ve been tossed out of the emperor’s bed in favor of his spymaster. I wonder that you yourself still support them.” “We are at war, or soon will be. Petty resentments cannot rule the day. Anyway I am married now.” “A diplomatic answer. Who’s next in line for your attention? Not me, surely.” “You’ve never tried to seduce me, Doron. Why is that?” “Would you like me to?” The chancellor’s amber eyes moved from her face down her body. “I’m happy to see you wear the Nibenean style. Not like these cows who stuff themselves into corsets and drab velvets.” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this cut isn’t Nibenean. It’s a style popular in Alinor.” The dress was a deep sea blue and was indeed not tight fitting, though only as to allow her a natural movement. The cloth was fine enough that it still skimmed her figure, the soft folds in back sitting just above the rise of her bottom. Maggie had put her hair up, held by pins set with sea stones. She wore no jewelry other than her rings. “The garb of the enemy? How subversive.” Maggie laughed, then stopped as Zethus leaned in closer. She watched his expression while he ran a thick finger along the underside of her chin. “You’re a beautiful woman, Magdela. This neck alone, men might kill for.” The chancellor traced a line downward from her chin with his thumb. “Probably have.” His palm brushed the side of her breast, then the thumb continued along her bare side to her hip. With a slight pressure on her hip, he turned her half around, and his eyes continued downward along the rise of her bottom. Maggie feigned modesty, bowing her head. “Don’t think I haven’t imagined bending you over the council table a time or two. Or how that pretty mouth would feel on me.” He paused as if playing the image in his mind again. Then with a slight movement, Zethus’s thumb pushed her away and he drew back. “Still, I would never plant my seed in a Colovian field.” Recovering quickly, Maggie flashed a wry smile and turned again to face him. “Would that really be so terrible?” “It wouldn’t be good for my brand of politics, and I refuse to have any towheaded bastards running around. Other men might live for their lusts of the moment, but I’m planning a dynasty. You will ask around about the Argonians, won’t you?” Doron lifted his glass and turned away, practically dismissing her. Later that night, after she had made the rounds, Maggie wrapped herself in her sheer blue veil and stepped out onto the balcony. She was alone but for her guards who stood at a distance. Beneath her, the Imperial City was mostly dark and slumbering, though it never truly slept. There were the magical street lamps and the ship lanterns in the distant waterfront. The stench from the sewer outlets competed with the fragrance of jasmine and moonflower. Maggie’s vampire senses could also pick up the sharpness of sweat from the legion guards who passed by on patrol, and hear their drumbeat steps echo throughout the city. The evening troubled her, particularly the carefree arrogance of the chancellor. In the Order hierarchy, she had nowhere near the regard her father had held, yet in wider imperial society, she enjoyed even more influence than he had during this turn of his public life. Doron Zethus had always treated her with suspicion but also deference, never with the vulgarity he had displayed that evening. Something had changed. She ran it through impressions of others that night, the things they said and didn’t say. With the departure of the Bretons, the stability was broken. Doron wanted chaos more than he wanted to win, and had ceased to be an asset. A man like that could be swayed to treachery. Maggie had seen it before. The emperor and empress might be able to turn his own fear around on him, use it as pretext he needed to finally dissolve the Elder Council entirely and send them all back to their estates. They could paint it as the chancellor’s own idea. If Zethus gave too much trouble, an assassination made to look like the work of the Thalmor might be in order. It would energize patriotism and help ensure martial law would even be welcomed among the populace. The Legion was the only institution they still trusted. This, then, would be the advice she would write, not a list of names. The Draconus’ could act on her advice how they wished, of course. There might be some other way they could use the instability to their advantage. She had told Skjari that she enjoyed the game of seduction and plying influence, but the party left her weary. As Maggie looked down over the city, it seemed to her that she saw not only the maze of buildings and interlocking streets and gates but also the sewers and tunnels beneath them, and the still older patterns of the Ayleid city beneath. Amidst the physical maze was a writhing web of alliances, interactions, contracts, and competitions, from the purchase of a loaf of bread to the coupling of lovers to the legal and trade structures that sought to impose stasis upon it all. These shifted and overlapped and shifted again like a great dance, or like a great heap of maggots in a debris pile. What was her role now in the mess? She had inherited her family’s fortune and web of alliances and enemies, but her father had always provided the guidance and purpose that ordered her steps. Even rebelling against him was a reaction to him. That was all gone now. It wasn’t really true that she didn’t miss anyone. Even now, she looked to Darius all the time, asking his image in her mind what she should do next, seeking his approval and his love. Had he meant her to be a courtesan forever, and if so, what use was the game? In a hundred or a thousand years, would she still find herself prodded by the greasy thumbs of mortals appraising her like a prize mare? If there were a hundred or thousand years, she reminded herself. There might not be ten. Might not be one, even. Skjari spoke boldly of defeating the Thalmor, but Maggie had seen the crystal towers of Alinor, and she was afraid. She was more afraid of what had been hidden from her there than what she’d seen, especially of their magical abilities. Should they win, she felt sure that her arts of concealment would not be enough to save her. Skjari might survive, but he had means that would never be accessible to her. She and her remaining family would not fare well in a world where the Thalmor had free rein. They would brook no competition for immortality. Darius had survived for ages, seeing all manner of cataclysms come and go. There was much he had concealed from her, Maggie knew. She had sealed his study even from Rufus before her departure. Now she wondered what secrets she might uncover there. The only family secrets that really mattered now were about survival, but survival for herself meant little without a Heartland where she could always return. The hub of the Wheel was what gave the Order vampires their power, not just the blood of mortals and the favor of the Princes. The Hub must never fall to those whose goal was to break the Wheel entirely. She was no longer the spy who had broken Corio Adorin’s network, no longer imperial courtesan, but she still had arts that might help in the war effort and what came after. This must be her purpose in returning, then, larger than just survival. Victory. Maggie murmured a spell and levitated up, over the railing, and down to the rooftop of the next manor over, ignoring the protests of her guards. She glided the city rooftops like this a while, before descending and walking the rest of the way home in the piss-filled, pitted cobble streets she loved so well. Even when the skies opened and rain began to pour, cleansing the piss away and soaking her veil, still Maggie walked and let her thoughts roam. She had never felt so alone, and exhilaration mixed with fear. Darius was gone, Skjari was gone. She had only herself now. Maggie walked the city streets all night, not feeling the wet or cold, until numbness set in simply from the repetition. Back at her desk the next morning, she took up a quill. My cherished emperor, I have news of the Elder Council… She kept it short and professional, a single page detailing her belief that Chancellor Doron Zethus was becoming disloyal and recommending that the Elder Council be dissolved. If he chose not to do so, she continued, there were still a few names she could give him. These were Order-friendly nobles, none of whom coincided with the list Doron had given her the night before. The letter also contained Sofia’s recommendations for Treasurer. Maggie signed it: Your devoted, M.B. Countess of Skingrad. That evening, Maggie heard the news that the royal convoy had been attacked in the streets of the city, an ambush ruthlessly put down. Emperor Krojun had been injured though it wasn’t life threatening. Was this the Nibeneans moving already, or something else? Whatever was going on, she had done all she could in the capital. Maggie ordered her servants to begin preparing for her return to Skingrad.

I don't need a time skip for my characters. My last Maggie post brought her into the present, so with that I'm good. The problem with splitting chapter 3 midway is that there isn't a natural transition point in the larger plot. It would be an arbitrary split. So I'm fine with it being a long-ass character development and subplot chapter. As for cutting off after the moot, the stuff we've been writing is post-moot reaction plus Cyrodiiil starting its mini invasions, so I think it more properly belongs in 3. Chapter 4 can be the war.

Might not be as much of an issue since we separated out the chatter threads into their own forum. Chapter 3: The Season That Never Ended

Maybe we could pin the current OOC? It was a pain trying to scroll through dozens of OOC threads to get to the RP ones.

I only removed/ changed it in post headers. Also, can we pin the RP threads?

Indeed. I left off at the top of page 7. Probably won't have time to check any more. http://www.talesfromapocrypha.org/topic/12-civil-war-aftermath-chapter-3-seasons-end/?page=7

That's what I've been doing. Too bad you can't do a find and replace.

I started on that. I guess we were still getting used to the name. I saw the smashed-together post on page 5, but I couldn't figure out how to fix it.

So where did it come in that Charles objected to an rp plot with me? Eh, whatever. Who cares. This post If you come across the one with Rebec and Dales, post a link to that. I loved that one, too.

Oh that's where we got the blood dragon victim. It was the justiciars who came to capture Runil, the Altmer priest, right? And that was my subplot but writing with a promiscuous admiral was beneath Emperor Charles, who took his login name very seriously. He would have loved Maggie.

I don't even remember what it was- something in Falkreath? Oh, I think it was the plot with Runil, the Altmer priest.

The admins probably remember better, but he was a real ass- he would get verbally abusive if you didn't go his way, and he didn't want to cooperate with group plots. He got lots of warnings and we all voted to boot him. Tdroid also became difficult to work with, but he left on his own.

Wesley, what a dork. I'll just be removing gobbledygook and correcting obvious spelling and grammar errors, but by way of confession I did remove a sentence where Tdroid had said that Maggie referred to the Order in a lot of her books. She had a book about a woman seduced by a female vamp, but that was a High Rock clan, and she wouldn't be so stupid to expose herself like that. I should have never let that stand back in the day. Tdroid was pushing it in order to get his hunter character after her.

Mazoga: If I go to Sovngarde, I'll end up cleaning up all the Nord mead puke. No thanks. Oh wow, a shiny red title under my avvie. ULTIMATE POWAH

The weird thing is, they must have happened after posting. Or did we import those from Bethesda? I can't remember where we were when we bailed from there.

Yes, that one.

I didn't know we had such a tight deadline, so I'll go back later on and edit the ones I brought over. Taking a break now for dinner and I can grab some more. My longer posts all have the weird symbols for the " and '. Maybe because I write on a Macbook. Grrr.

I did some quick and dirty imports, left off here.

Theodore Adrard, Alef Market Ditrict Midday Theodore wandered the Market District, looking up as he passed the stores. The signs were brightly painted in most cases, including the one he was looking for. The Connoisseur Corner was a pleasant square building, and true to its name built right on the corner of two intersecting roads. They featured the largest selection of local wines and spirits in the Imperial City. He opened the door, the smell of fruits and alcohol attacking his nostrils in the most pleasant fashion. Theodore walked around the store, getting a feel for its wares. In the store he could see a Dunmeri woman, dressed in a simple black silk dress. It was slightly more revealing than it normally would have to be, but she might have had her reasons. Occasionally, she seemed to glance over at him while browsing the wares with an expectant look, as if she wanted him to talk to her. Theodore slowly walked around, carefully picking up several bottles, but eventually setting them down. He kept listening for the Dunmeri woman to make a move, but she never did. "Interesting choice you have there," he said to the woman. "Jazbay wine, from Skyrim. Very good, also quite rare." "Indeed, Sire. Have had a taste for it ever since I returned from Skyrim. What about you?" she walked up closer to him, brushing some of her hair away from her face as she did. Her skin looked smooth, and she gave him a small smile. "Do you have any preferences?" "Yes, I prefer dark...err...red wine. Although that isn't why I'm here today. What I was actually wanting was rare wine, regardless of type or fashion..." Theodore smiled flirtingly as he grabbed the bottle from the stand near her, brushing his arm on hers. "Which is why I am buying this wine, along with some others that I found. I'm sure my wife will appreciate the selections." Theodore put extra emphasis on the word wife, signifying he wanted no part of this temptress, and he too could play the flirting game. "I've always been drawn to the north myself, even as a Dunmer. There is nothing like the wines and fruits of Skyrim... or High Rock," she didn't seem discouraged; as his hand brushed against her's she had moved her arms so her fingers ran over his skin. "Even the imported ones." "Well my sweet Dunmer rose, just because you enjoy something does not always mean you are partial to sample it as you please. We are all granted our share of secrets, but this is one which I would find trouble keeping. Now, if that is all you want, I have business to attend to." Theodore brushed her hand off him with a flick of his wrist, and turned to walk away. "I think you dropped something, Sire," the Dunmer said, laying a hand on his shoulder- When he stopped for a moment, she moved in a whispered. "I work for a man named Samuel. He is an powerful information broker in the city. Now, play along." With that she moved her head to give him a kiss; it was short, but a bit more intimate than he had expected. "There... You wouldn't want to lave without that, now would you?" Theodore nodded, allowing the Dunmer to plant the kiss. He then motioned to the man behind the counter, indicating which wines he wanted. Theodore had sent a letter ahead indicating who he was and where to ship the wine, so his business here was concluded. He leaned in to whisper to the Dunmer. "Meet me back at my room in the Laughing Fox. We can discuss there what you want." "Of course, Sire," she said, not quite as discreet as he tried to be. She seemed to count on the fact that the man behind the counter heard her. "I'm sure you'll find the imported good from Morrowind quite... satisfactory." Theodore continued shopping, finally finding another bottle of the Jazbay Wine to take to the Fox with him. He left the store after paying for his wares, and went across the street to a jewelry store. The Argonian in chrarge showed him the best selection they had, and he picked out an ornate sliver ring with a large sapphire set in the middle. It was lovely, winding around in flows of silver like waves. He paid for that as well, and then headed back to his room. Opening the door, he looked around for the strange Dunmer woman. As soon as he locked the door behind him, the Dunmer from the Connoisseur Corner appeared on the bed, lying on her side, leaning her head in her left hand. "There you are, Sire. Please, join me." "I prefer to stay over here, thank you." Theodore pulled a chair from the desk, and sat down. "Now what is it this boss of yours wants?" She smiled and got to her feet, slowly walking over to him. Putting her hand on his chest, she answered his question. "It is not what my boss wants from you, but what we can provide you. We sell information. Very secretive and valuable information, about most all people of significance in the city and beyond. Even back in your beloved Daggerfall..." "Hmmm...yes, information is a valuable commodity for sure...and in return? I'm sure your boss doesn't give away his secrets for free." "Naturally, my dear," her fingers 'walked' up his body, until they reached his neck. "Money. Information in return. Promises of favors tied to your station in the future. I think you get the idea..." "Yes, I see. And all I have to do is wait until I'm contacted by your employer to exact a "favor," while in return I am privy to info on all of High Rock?" Aleffea's hand had now started to make its was up his neck, though she seemed a little disappointed that he didn't show much reaction to what she did. "That is partially correct, Sire. You have to pay for each piece you get... to get all the information in High Rock... you would be diminished to a puppet, forced to carry out every whim my 'boss' has." "An obvious exaggeration, but I see your point. Well, I shall accept your deal. I wish you luck in all your...future endeavors." Theodore brushed past her, and opened the door. "Is that it then?" She didn't move, but looked at him with a strange curiosity. She spoke in a slow voice, dripping of honey. "If I may, why do you insist you do not partake in some pleasure? Surely, it must be at least tempting..." Theodore looked at her, taking her in from head to toe. "This may be hard to believe, but I find women like you somewhat repulsive. You prance around town, selling yourself like animals to the man with the biggest pocket. You can do better, my dear." "Who said I am a common whore?" Theodore smiled sarcastically. "I'm sure you are uncommon, amazingly so perhaps. But I won't ever know, so there is no use arguing over it. Now, are you finished?" "Yes, our business is concluded. You'll hear from me in the future, Theodore. Maybe you'll even loosen up until then," on her way out she brushed her hand against his chin. "But i have one piece of advice; don't believe your eyes, or ears, without thinking it over first. You often see what you want to see and hear what you want to hear, filtered through your bias." Theodore nodded, soaking in her advice. She is right. I need to be careful not to judge people too quickly in the future. But, I would say this day was productive. Time for a nap. Theodore locked the door after the woman, and drew the blinds before he fell asleep. Aleffea walked through the streets, back to Tanie's establishment. She had the occasional customer, but she had managed to make Tanie agree to let her turn down anyone she didn't want. Which meant anyone who was not worth anything to her. Oh yes, Theodore had been very wrong when he judged her like that, much to her own relief. Had she been a "common whore", she'd lack the cause to get up in the morning. Passing through the front entrance, she saw that a cloaked figure, though dressed in a pink dress, making her stand out more than hide her nature, talk to the woman behind the counter.

Boldir and Carlotta Whiterun Evening Boldir twirled his war axe as he walked down the streets of the Plains District, donning his Nordic Carved armor, which he was happy to have been allowed to keep in his retirement from the military. It certainly added to his already large frame to make Boldir an extremely imposing figure for a guard, even for a Commander. It'd been a slow day for him. Not a single crime had been reported. Of course, crime rates had dropped considerably in the weeks following him taking his position. On his second week, he'd rounded up the few suspected criminals living in the city and given them the what-for. No arrests were made. Boldir just gathered them together and made it explicitly clear to them what would happen if crimes persisted. Since then, crime rate has plummeted. Not that it was particularly high to begin with in the city anyway. The biggest problem was bandits. The roads were safe enough, but northwest of the city was an old ruin, known in the area as Silent Moons Camp, that a clan called the Half-Moons was holed up in. He knew that he and his guard would have to take care of it sooner or later. Clans like this have a tendency to grow cocky and dangerous when left alone for too long. Boldir still had time, and he decided that his first order of business tomorrow would be to go to the Jarl and see about putting together a force to deal with the problem. Too bad Baldur isn't here. he thought. He'd want a hand in that. Rebec too. Boldir had found himself thinking that a lot lately. "Rebec would've found this hilarious", "Baldur would've wanted to see that". He really tried not to think about it too much. It was too sad. But Boldir really couldn't help it. They'd become a part of his life and he felt like something important was missing with them gone. What made him feel worse was the book Baldur had given him. Boldir had tried many times to add to it, but every time he tried, he found himself unable to think of what to write. Eventually, he'd stopped carrying it and sat it down by his bedside and left it there, hoping that something would eventually come to him. Pushing the depressing thoughts from his mind, Boldir made his way to the market. It was closing time, and most of the stall owners were already packing up. "Hello Miss Iron-Brow." He said, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek when he reached her fruit stand. "Sell well today?" Carlotta smiled when she felt Boldir kiss her. "See for yourself." She said, gesturing at the near-empty fruit stand. "I'm going to have to talk to Nimriel tomorrow morning about restocking. Usually the stores don't get this low." "That's great! Said Boldir. He rewarded her with another kiss. "At this rate, maybe we should look into upgrading to a larger house some time." He stacked most of her crates and started for their home. "Yeah right." said Carlotta, following him. "Fruit only covers so much and I know you don't get paid that well." "Not yet." admitted Boldir. "But I may be getting paid more soon. And if we save a bit..." "Tell you what, you start making more money, and prove to me that you have enough, and I'll consider it. Until then, we stay in our current home." she paused for a moment, thinking. "Why is it that you may be getting paid more soon?" Boldir hesitated. He knew Carlotta wouldn't take this well. "You know how there's not a lot of crime in Whiterun City right?" "Yes." said Carlotta. She was curious as to where this was going. "Well... that leaves bandits as the only threat to the city." "Bandits?! You aren't going to go out and fight bandits now are you?" Boldir looked at her guiltily. "Carlotta, I promised you that I was not going off to fight in a war, but this is my job. You supported it." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I supported you keeping the peace IN the city, where there never has been much danger to begin with! How am I going to explain it to Mila when you get dragged back with an arrow in your chest?" "Honey, if these bandits were capable of killing me, I wouldn't have survived fighting the trained Imperials in the war, or the Elves in Falkreath. I was fighting bandits tougher than these when I was only eighteen and even then I managed. There are only a dozen or so of them. We'll outnumber them and every man at my side will be more skilled than they are." Carlotta still wasn't convinced. "All it would take is one mistake." Boldir adjusted how he was holding the crates as they made their way up the stairs to the Wind District. "I've done this many times. Trust me, there won't be a mistake." "Why can't you just send some people?" pleaded Carlotta. "You don't have to go you know." Boldir looked momentarily thrown off. The thought of sending people into a battle without going himself had never crossed his mind. He'd have been disgusted with himself if he had. "No self-respecting Nord would ever send men to fight a battle if he is not willing to do it himself. And if I don't go, the men may very well make a mistake. They need leadership or they'll fall apart. I'm the most experienced man on the force, if I go, there will be less chance of anyone getting hurt." He wasn't bragging. It was simply the truth. Carlotta rolled her eyes. "You Nords... Damn it Boldir, you know how I feel about this. And Mila-" "You should let him Mom!" Boldir and Carlotta turned to see Mila behind them, waiting beside the wall. "Mila!" said Boldir. "How many times are we going to have to talk to you about sneaking around and eavesdropping?" "I'm trying to help you!" the girl said. "That doesn't excuse disobedience." said Boldir. "This is grown-up talk. You shouldn't be hearing it." Carlotta nodded in agreement. "I'm almost thirteen!" she pouted. "And everyone says that I'm mature for my age!" Boldir smiled. He had a hard time staying mad at his daughter. She may have been born an Imperial, but growing up in Skyrim had made her a Nord. "You're right. You aren't as much of a child as we sometimes act. Nevertheless, this is not anything you should be hearing. It's a private conversation." Mila turned her head, looking back the way they'd came from. "Then why did you have it out here in public?" she said with a straight face. It was difficult to tell if she was genuinely unsure, or if she was being smart with them. Boldir and Carlotta looked at each other, Boldir was grinning, neither had expected that question. Before Boldir could speak, Carlotta said, "I told you ten minutes ago to go home and wash up before dinner." She looked up and down at her daughter, who was anything but clean. "You shouldn't have even been out here to begin with." Mila looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry." she grumbled. She immediately looked back up at her parents, eyes wide. "But you really should let him go Mamma! It'll be sooo cool if he fights bandits! A lot cooler than what he does now." "Do you even know what he does now?" inquired Carlotta. "Sure I do! I've watched him sometimes. Dad usually just sits around up there with the Jarl and talks about stuff. Every now and then he patrols, but he doesn't ever do anything when he is." Carlotta laughed. It was about what she expected to hear. Though at the back of her mind she was a little disturbed that Mila found the idea of killing bandits "cool". They reached their house at the end of the road. Carlotta held the door for Boldir as he entered the house and sat the crates on the table in the kitchen. "I can assure you, I do more than that." he said. Now go get cleaned up so we can go eat." "Okay!" she said before slipping off, hopefully to do as told this time. "She's growing up." said Carlotta. "She's even grown up since I first met her." said Boldir. "If we're not careful, she'll be smarter than us before long." Carlotta laughed. "I was actually thinking the same thing." She turned to Boldir. "I don't like the idea of you fighting bandits, but you're right. They'll be nothing compared to what you've already done. I'll give you my approval to go, on one condition." Boldir was surprised. He'd been worried that she wouldn't be willing to compromise. "What is it love?" "If I let you go... We will go visit my family in Riften soon." Boldir's shoulders drooped. Of all the things. "Carlotta, you know where I stand on this. We can't go to Riften. The trip... it is too dangerous. Especially for Mila." "Oh are you afraid that some big bad monster is going to get us on the way now?" she mocked. "I thought that worrying was my job." Boldir sighed. "It's more complicated than that. When I was younger, about twenty, a bounty was put on my head in the Rift. It's true, I've been there since, but I was careful, and I didn't have you two." Carlotta looked surprised. This was the first she'd heard of this. They'd been married for three months now and she was still learning new secrets about Boldir's past. I love him, but damn if he isn't private. "A bounty? A bounty for what? desertion? That's around the time you left the Legion right?" "I'd broken the terms of the White Gold Concordat, and of course, I deserted. But I also killed someone during that time. A civilian. So you can add murder to the list." "Murder?" She knew that there was more to it. "But you didn't actually murder him did you?" "Well, he was dangerous, and it had to happen, but yes, legally it was murder. You have to understand Carlotta, it was a long time ago." "Say no more Boldir. You don't have to explain it to me." She smiled. "But do you really look at all like you did twenty years ago?" "I'm bigger, older, have hair, and am not wearing a skirt, so no, I suppose I don't." Boldir admitted. "And anyone that would recognize me is either long gone or wouldn't give me up anyway." Boldir pondered it for a minute. "Alright, you've convinced me. You let me deal with these bandits, and I'll go with you to Riften. Iron-Brow wasn't my name back then anyway, so that'll help even more." He smiled back at her and sat at the table. "So what's your family like?" Carlotta started washing her hands in the water basin in the corner. She chuckled a bit when Boldir asked about her family. "It's got its characters, that's for sure. My big sister, Vex, she's a sly one, you'll have to look out for her. Aerin, my little brother, is hardly around. He's always running around with some Nord woman. I'm really not sure what their relationship is though. You'll like dad, he's a retired city guard, and my mom is a healer. She's usually in the temple of Mara." Boldir nodded. "Sounds like it'll be fun. I can honestly say that I'm looking forward to this trip." He thought about his own family, or rather, his shield family. It was the same to him. "I'd better send a letter to Markarth to tell Baldur and Rebec that we'll be in Riften, so they don't try to write to us here." "That's a good idea. We wouldn't want to lose contact with them." Carlotta dried her hands on a nearby towel. "I'm going to go check on Mila, make sure she's getting ready." "Good." said Boldir. "I'm getting hungry." As Carlotta left the room, Boldir looked up at his plaque on the wall above the door. It was his old battle axe, or at least the shards and handle. He'd never fixed it, deciding instead to mount the broken pieces as a reminder, of both the old days, and of his promise to Carlotta. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty about the bandits, even if she'd consented. Boldir knew that he was pushing his promise with this. No. I'm not doing it because I want to this time. I'm doing it because it's part of my job. He stood up, reassured, and went to his room to grab the book Baldur had given him. His neglection of it made him feel almost as bad as the bandit ordeal had. He brought a quill down to the blank page, thinking hard. After several minutes, he cursed and closed the book. Something will come to me eventually. Boldir sat back, putting the book into his satchel, deciding that he'd begin to carry it again. He then pulled out his flute. He eyed it for a minute. "Anyone in there?" He whispered. Of course, there was no answer. There hadn't been one since he'd left Falkreath. Oh well, may as well get some practice in while I've got a free moment. Boldir began to play, piecing together the upbeat tune he'd been secretly working on as of late. It was a birthday song for Mila. It was only a week until she turned thirteen. He sat back, it would be a few minutes before the girls got back and they could go eat. Until then, he was content to sit back and make a little music as he waited.

Dales and Samuel, Imperial Palace, Night Dales lay exhausted on her bed. She was in her private quarters, and was dressed in her normal purple nightgown. She spent the entire day showing Nami around the imperial palace, and only got threw the gardens, due to being sidetracked all the time. Dales inhaled a large breath of air, Ahhhh that was really fun...maybe I should invite Nami to stay in the imperial palace for the several months she'll be staying at the imperial city. That would be fun, we could go shopping, take baths together, walk threw the gardens... Dales mouth started to water at the though of taking a bath with Nami, Nami stood, fully naked with her small cute breasts exposed in the bath room. She was blushing crazily, a cute light shade of red. Her flowing silver/white hair was spawled across her shoulder and back. She said in her shy and awkward voice, “Please, look away your majesty” She pleaded, Dales would have none of that, she dragged Nami along with her, and into the bath tub, submerging her pale and white body into the steam filled tub- Dales stopped her self before her fantasy got out of hand. Heheheheh, look at me, the empress of Tamriel worrying about a crush. I'm in a position of massive authority now, I cant go mopping around like a school-girl... As Dales thought about her predicament, she heard a tiny noise that would be untraceable by normal ears, but her senses weren't normal, they where enhanced due to her teachers magic. Dales said in the politest voice possible, "Excuse me, sir or madame, can you please come out if anyone's there?" She chuckled slightly, "I don't need to call my guards in to deal with a threat for your information." "Of course, your Majesty," smiling a man, appearing to be of Colovian decent, came out from a corner. The only way he had been able to stay out of sight there was that he had been invisible, she concluded. "Your teacher has trained you well in detecting the presence of the unseen, but not well enough. I've been following you for over an hour." "Of course if you did try to strike me down, I could have cut you down in a few seconds, a dominion assassin learned that the hard way." Said Dales, still smiling and trying her best to look as charming as possible. "I did study under the best swordsmen in the legion, and of course learned a few lessons from, as you said, my teacher." "You will have to honor me with a duel then, sometime in the future, your Majesty. Not to the death, of course, but as a test of skill. I assure you, I am far above that of any assassin the Dominion could have sent your way. And any swordsman from the Imperial Legion, I might add. Though, I have to admit, I am unaware of how well trained in the arts of the sword your teacher is. He is more renowned for his skill with magic than swordplay, as I am sure you know." This Samuel had a sincere confidence about him. If nothing else, it was clear that he believed what he said. Whether or not it was accurate remained to be seen, but ti was something to consider at the very least. "But I am confident that the Majesty did not try to contact me to exchange pleasantries about swordplay, as fascinating a subject as that can be. I must confess, I am at a disadvantage to what you want from me. Normally, I would have sent one of my employees, but someone of your stature demands certain protocol." "Ah I thank you for that, please take a seat." By now, Dales had gotten out of her bed, and was sitting down on her table made from wood imported from Valenwood. She poured herself a glass of rasberry juice, before saying apologetically, "I'm very sorry mister Samuel, that I cant offer you any alcohol, after a certain..."Incident" I drink it rarely and instead carry a wide variety of fruit juices in my room, sorry for the inconvenience." Her guest smiled and referred to her wish to take a seat. Seeing no other places to sit, that would not be passing through what he assumed to be the Empress' comfort zone, he chose the foot of her bed. From inside his jacket, he pulled out two knives and reached them out with the handles in Dales' direction. "Here, your Majesty, as a sign of good will. You can have these until this meeting is concluded," he gave her a warm smile. "And do not worry about the drink, we'd both prefer to keep out heads clear for the time being. I do have a little something I keep on my person, should you want to taste the Jazbay Wine of Skyrim. But that will have to wait until we conclude the formal business." Dales face lit up like a child during the night of the "snow-festival", and took the daggers with glee, and started to examine them. "Very finely made, balanced" She started to twirl them expertly around the air, she asked "Forgive me Samuel for being so off-topic, but do you use these for throwing?" "Multipurpose tools, your Majesty," Samuel continued to smile as he sat straight backed on the foot of her bed, looking at her child-like fascination with what looked like it was something akin to fascination of his own. Perhaps he hadn't expected her to be quite what she turned out to be? She couldn't tell. "They are made to be thrown, but I prefer to strike from the shadows, up close and personal. If I have to use them that is. These daggers are still virgins, never having tasted blood, and I hope it can stay that way for as long as possible." "Ah..." Dales placed the knives on the table, and took a sip of her fruit juice. "Now back to business, I will be requiring your services for multiple reasons, sir-" She yawned and stretched her arms out and began to rub her eyes tiredly. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until now, "OH, forgive me Samuel, I didn't realize how tired I was. Very long day." "Of course, you Majesty. I completely understand. It is to be expected, when you use that much time on- what was her name again? Ah, yes- Nami. An odd choice for an Empress, but nothing I did not expect of you." He kept his friendly demeanor, but didn't make any hint to want to partake in the refreshments she had offered. Maybe he considered it too childish. Or maybe he simply wasn't thirsty. If he had a flack of wine on him, he might have other things as well to sate his thirst. That caused Dales face to adapt a shocked look, and she blurted out, "What?! WHAT!? EMPRESS!? MARRY NAMI?!" She covered her mouth, just realizing that she lost her composure, she got up and bowed her head, "Forgive me for that outburst master Samuel, it was quite...rude of me." She started thinking to herself, Do I really want to marry Nami?...I was willing to marry Elan...but that was when I was ignorant and childish. I'ce always thought, I would have to marry some lord...now that I think about...I think it would be..very nice to marry Nami...very nice...I...want to. "Ummmm... strictly hypothetically, master Samuel...would it be...ummm acceptable for a lady of my stature...marrying another lady?" "There is no need to pretend to be speaking hypothetically, your Majesty. I am fully aware of, and don't pass judgment on, your 'preferences'. And don't worry about the outburst, I may have stepped to far. Bad habit, as I am sure you understand. As for the question itself, I'd say no, that would be unacceptable for someone of your stature. You're expected to continue the bloodline. Concubines would be acceptable, as far as I know." Dales, calm face was once again filled with shock at those words, "HUH!!? WHAT?! CONCUBINE!?" Dales put her hand to her mouth once again, and said ""Oh sorry about that Samuel...Hmmm could I get by...hypothetically...with adoption?" "Yes, I'd say that is possible, but not recommended. Alas, the bloodline is highly important in Cyrodilic tradition, giving anyone who was adopted a hard time claiming their right to the throne. It could weaken the Empire further, by starting another conflict for the Ruby Throne. While I wouldn't advocate getting a husband in the immediate future, I do recommend that you take this information to heart before you act." He gave her an understanding smile, as if to say that it was okay for her to be a little shocked and embarrassed on this topic and that he didn't mind. "And don't let the comments about concubines get to you, that is just a... person who you have relations with, while being on the throne and not married to them. Most people seem to be fine with it. And I am sure there are plenty of people who wouldn't mind rumors of the Empress having... unorthodox tastes." "Ah...I thought a concubine was a woman who's treated like an object by the royalty. Ah it seems I have a great deal to think about then...I...just don't like men in that kind of way." Dales slowly reached into her pocket, and took out a diamond ring. She looked depressed and very tired. "You do know I was going to propose to a girl once? My maid. It was in Skyrim. I'm just starting to realize how stupid and childish it would have been to do that. A woman like me has no time for stuff like that, and here I am again, doing the same thing." "Some concubines as treated like that, but it is not limited to that. But don't be so hard on yourself, you Majesty, you are still young and, forgive be for being so blunt, still quite naive. A few more years on the throne should give you the perspective you seem to want.” Samuel reached into his pocket and took out a simple ring of his own. It was nothing like the one Dales had; it was a brass ring, with the name Fiona carved into it. "Here, take this. It is a token from a time when I let something similar cloud my judgment. Take it as a reminder that it is more universal than most people want to admit." Though the material wealth of it didn't shine, by his mannerism and words, she knew this ring meant alot to Samuel sentimentally, she was stunned, "Thank you...thank you Samuel. I will keep it as a reminder, duty comes first." "Now," Samuel gave her a last warm smile, before he became more professional and business-like in his tone and expression. "You mentioned that you needed my services. First I need to know what you know about my services. If I don't find anything wrong or suspicious about your answer, we can move on to the specifics. And I want to warn you, in good faith, that I am an excellent reader of people; I've done it since before you were born." "Hmmmm, I know your an information a broker, a damm good one so I hear." Dales soft-girly voice she used in private, reverted back to her "Empress" voice, the one she used in public. "And I also know you have a massive network of spy's and "employees" scattered across many provinces." "That is about as much as anyone knows, at least of those who know of me. A fair answer. I suspect you know this from Magdela Bathory?" "And Duke Lorgar Grim-maw, the both of them where discussing you, they merely told me you where a source of information. I did some research and and figured the rest out myself." Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Research?" "I asked around, a few nobles, a few guards, a few servants....some maids..." Samuel had gotten a suspicious expression, looking on the young Empress. It was a little unnerving. "I need you to tell me exactly what they said. In case I have leaks in my system, of course. If I have, I will be of very diminished use to you." "That...really depends on the individual. Some of them said you where an extremely handy and reliable person and source of information...others had some "less-then flattering" things to say about you" "I am not interested in the specifics of their opinion on me, but what they showed to know about me. It is important that you tell me, or else I might be forced to cut this meeting short, investigate this and return when that is done. It would waste a lot of time, for both of us." "OH, all of them didn't know anything except you where an extremely good information Broker." For a moment Samuel looked at her, with strangely intense eyes, before they returned back to normal. "I believe that you are telling me the truth. Good, good. Now, since that has been established, please do go on to the specifics of what you want to get out of this business transaction." Dales eye's glared sharply, and it if one looked closely her eyes had a slight red hue to them, which wasn't normal. She dug her nails into her hand before saying in a emotionless voice, "Let's get this clear Samuel, I trust my advisor and Spymaster with my life, but sometimes I think they aren't telling me everything...so I want you to inform me of any dominion troop movements, dominion plans, and nay sort of "operation" those pointy eared bastards plan to do." "That is going to be difficult to acquire, even for me. And very expensive for you. The risks involved with spying on the Dominion Military are vast. To ensure that my network there is not crippled, I can only offer you an incomplete picture. The Thalmor are so established in their lands that they can rival my own contacts." "Are coffers are overflowing, due to that bastards taxation of the people. Even now, when i'm trying to return it to where it belongs, I can still afford it." "Of course, I did not mean to imply you had a lack of money. Only that the money might be better spent elsewhere, than on the incomplete picture I can try to acquire. While this would be a very lucrative transaction on my end, I am ill served with the Dominion getting more influence in the Empire. I would prefer that you speak to your teacher about this, before making any final decisions." "Teacher Pffftttt..." Dales sighed, "I suppose then, i'll take it up with him and Lorgar..." "Yes, your Majesty, I think that would be for the best. Neither of us want to see the Dominion win, so any wasted resource is a dent in the Empire." "Alright then...we have no further business then, if you don't mind, I would like to catch up on some missing sleep" She said, with a smile. "Of course, your Majesty. I'll see myself out." With a quick movement, Samuel had gotten to his feet and gave a small bow to her, before he turned to the door. Once it opened, he was no longer anywhere to be seen and even Dales' ears couldn't detect his footsteps.

Skjari Imperial palace Afternoon Skjari had been reading the old court mage's journals the whole day, hoping to find a clue about this key and how the dreamsleeve transmissions worked. So far the books had only contained entries about the mundane work one would expect from a court mage. Though one entry in the middle of the third journal mentioned something interesting. "23rd of Last Seed Titus is now dead and his replacement is a noble called Amuand Motierre. Man's mad if you ask me. He's started to let the Thalmor run around the Empire and do as they please even more than before. He even let them search the tower for magical artifacts as a 'gift of good faith'. They took a few non-important magical trinkets, but before the search started I hid away the Moth Scrolls in the top of the tower with the moth priests. Luckily the scrolls are sealed with magic so that not just anyone can use them, though I strengthened the seals using all the knowledge at my disposal just in case that they actually find the scrolls. The key for unlocking the seals I keep with me at all times. But I suspect I might not be around to use the scrolls myself. So I must find someone trustworthy I can pass the key and the knowledge on to before my time comes. Hopefully this lunacy with the elves will end soon. These Thalmor mages that patrols the city makes me uneasy. They keep giving me looks like I'm about to be replaced with one of their own." Well now I know where the scrolls are, though they are probably useless without the key. Hopefully they didn't find it when they executed him. Only one way to find out... Skjari started reading again but rest of the third journal contained nothing more than the old mundane tasks along with complaints over Amaund's madness and the Thalmor's prying eyes. Skjari read the last entry in the book, which was short one. "11th of Evening Star The Thalmor's constant spying on me and the emperor's madness have taken away my will to write. Hopefully when a time will come when I no longer have to worry about the the scrolls or my life, I might pick up the writing again. But till then I bid, you dear journal, my goodbye." Skjari looked on the few last pages of the book to make sure it was the final entry, and it was as the other five pages were empty. But it wasn't the last journal of old court wizard as he had found four journals. He looked at the fourth and final journal on his desk as he put down the third with other two he had finished earlier, wondering if the answers he sought lied within this final book. He picked up and opened the last book and saw the first entry and noticed from the handwriting that this one must have been written quite hastily. "The emperor is reaching the brink of his madness. He thinks I'm conspiring against him, probably the work of the Thalmor's poisonous tongues. I think my time has come to meet Arkay. So I have hidden the key and the secret to using the scrolls within the pages of this book. To uncover it you must bath the book in divine fire. I can hear the guards outside my room, they are coming " The last words must have been written in great haste they were barely readable and the g in the last word trailed off like if the writer had made a slip with the quill. Skjari looked through the other pages of the book but all of them was empty, but he could sense faintly the work of magic behind these pages, so something was hidden within them. What divine fire? Any divine or a specific one? And if I choose the wrong divine the book will undoubtedly be destroyed along with whatever is hidden within it. Well I can at least retrieve the scrolls for the moment. Skjari put down the book in the desk's top drawer to his right and put the other three journals up onto the bookshelf. He walked out of his chamber and made his way towards the stairs that lead up to the highest point in the tower. After a long climb up the stairs it started to feel like he was climbing the seven thousand steps of the Monahven again. The task was strenuous, not in the way of that it was exhausting the body but in the way that it was repetitive. After a long time and many steps later he finally reached a wooden door at the end of the circling stairs. The door had delicate carvings in it, the carvings pictured what looked like moths flying around a tree, and even though the door appeared to be rather old it was still in a somewhat pristine condition. He sat down by the wooden door and stretched and relaxed his legs for a minute before knocking on the door. A few minutes passed and nothing happened, he knocked again and nothing happened for another few minutes. This time he banged hard at the door for several seconds before someone finally opened the door, but in the same moment the door was unlocked he rammed his fist into it so that door swung inwards and hit whoever it was that had unlocked it. Skjari heard the the sound of someone hitting the floor as well. The door was now slightly opened and he peaked inside. What he saw was a large round room with large windows all around the room, in fact that the walls were more made of pillars of stone and grand glass windows in between. The room also had some kind of small trees all around it and make the place look more like a garden than the top of a tower. The trees counted five in total. And in the air was moths flying all over the room. Here and there among the trees could normal furniture be seen such as a bed, table, chair or a bookshelf. After a few seconds of seeing this wonder he looked down at the person that he had accidentally knocked down onto the ground. The person was an imperial woman, probably the most ugliest woman he had ever seen, apart from hagravens. She actually reminded him about hagravens with her large beak-like nose and sharp jaw. And she wore a gray simple robe and appeared to be in her late thirties. She looked up at him with her left hand on her forehead, where she probably was hit by the door. "Don't just stand there you fool! Help me up! And close the door behind!" She said in a loud and rather annoying voice that bordered to screeching. She doesn't only look like one, she behaves and sounds like one. Skjari stepped into room and closed the door behind him before reaching his hand down to help the woman up. She took his hand and got up on her feet and then slapped him in the face. "Now what do you want?" She said with that annoying voice of hers. "I'm here for the Moth Scrolls that the previous court mage apparently hid here with you." He replied while trying to remain calm. "You want to speak with old man then." She gestured towards on the bigger trees. "He sits behind that tree. And don't mention his... condition." He walked over to the tree without saying another word to the horrific woman, he was just glad that he didn't even had to look at her for another second. Behind the tree sat a man in a simple wooden chair, he wore the same kind clothes as the woman but he also had a blindfold over his eyes, signifying his blindness. He was bald and had no beard, and had a couple of moths crawling on top of his almost shiny head, the man must have been in his late sixties judging from the wrinkles. He simply sat there calmly and did not respond to Skjari's approach in any way. "Good afternoon." Skjari said, trying to be nice. "Why have you come?" The old man replied in a calm and almost dreamlike tone. "I seek the Moth Scrolls. Apparently you..." But Skjari was not able to finish his sentence before the old man interrupted. "Do you have the key?" "No, but..." The old moth priest interrupted yet again. "Then I will not give you the scrolls." "Why not?" But now answer came and Skjari asked the question one more time but still no answer came and he knew that asking again was futile. He decided to look around the room for the scrolls but as he turned his head he felt the hand of the woman slap him across the face yet again. "Will you stop that!" Skjari shouted at her. "Don't scream, the moths don't like that." The hagraven woman said in a strict tone. "Now you should leave. The old man needs his rest." Skjari was now struggling to remain calm and as he looked back at woman, after receiving that last hit to his face, he felt a little envious of the old mans blindness, though only for that moment as he could not believe how the old man could stand living with that woman alone up here in the tower. "As you wish." Damn hagraven. And with that Skjari walked towards the door and left the room. After he had closed the door he let out a sigh of relief for not being in that woman's company anymore. And as he made his way down the long stairs he knew that he had to solve the riddle of divine fire to get the key and so he could get the scrolls. But then he would have to meet the hagraven woman again when he had to return for the scrolls. A meeting he was not looking forward to.

Baldur, Rebec The Reach 4 a.m. It was still dark out and quite early, and the Forsworn leader Marsef had been stalking a group of Nords ever since they had walked into the area. He had watched them for some time now, hidden in the shadows. Enough to see from their singing and dancing that they were clearly not thinking of war any longer now that the Imperials were allied with them. It was a mistake. One that Marsef was sure to capitalize on. Things were not looking good for his people ever since the alliance. Recruitment had risen sharply lately which meant more patrols and bored nords who had nothing better to do than stomp out the agitators in the Reach. It had been weeks since he last heard from the matron. Marsef feared the worst. Once he was confident that the nords he saw would not pose much challenge to them, Marsef ran back to his small ambush squad of 15 men and women and had them regroup nearby. "Ok, our job is a simple one. We don't need to worry as much about the other soldiers. We need the officers. I spotted their tent but it may be a bit difficult to get to them as theirs is surrounded by the other soldiers laying in bedrolls. So here's what we'll do. Screeya and her son will go to the front of the camp and cast a few lightning bolts their way. Draw out the soldiers. Then when the officers are out, we storm them from behind and end their lives quickly. One officer is a female with dark brown hair, wears leather armor and carries a rope on her waist. I figure she's in charge as I saw her pulling along one soldier with the rope on her way back to camp. The other officer must be her second in command. He's too silly and strange to be in charge. So go for the girl first. Any questions?" The group remained silent. They've done this sort of ambush job before, although they didn't know how high up the targets they were seeking to kill were. The two mages set off to get into their positions and awaited the signal. ***** In their tent, Rebec lay awake wondering if she should give in to the urge to wake Baldur for a quick roll, or get the camp moving. Mazoga would be up and starting a breakfast fire soon. It was tempting to let her do it on her own, but the sooner they broke camp, the sooner they would reach Markarth. This was lonely country and beautiful, but thinking about Toki being out here alone all those years made her hurt. It was what he had wanted, but she hadn't been the kind of wife that would support him in it the way he deserved. Before such broody thoughts could go too far, Rebec sat up, groaning, and began to put her leathers and then her boots on. As she was doing so, a prickle touched the back of her neck. Warrior instinct told her something was wrong. "Baldur," she said, her tone sharp. Reaching for her axe belt, Rebec glanced down and saw her Kyne amulet glowing faintly blue, as it did when someone nearby was drawing on magic power. "BALDUR!" Baldur despite being a soldier was somewhat of a heavy sleeper, but the urgency in Rebec's voice was enough to at the very least get him up on his own, even if it was in a half sober state. Luckily for him, however, he fell to sleep with most of his officer armor on except the gauntlets and boots, so it wouldn't take him long to be battle ready. He ignored Rebec's first call, thinking she wanted a quick one but he was too tired and still mostly asleep. The second urgent one however made him bolt up. Her voice in the still early morning and darkness being more audible than normal. "Hmm, what is it? I don't hear anything." Silently she pointed at her amulet. Rebec then strapped on her axe belt and reached for her crossbow. Baldur had never seen her amulet do this before, but he did remember what she told him about it. Baldur quickly put on his boots and gauntlets just in time to hear the sounds of magic being cast and a death scream from outside. "Shit, Rebec that sounds like lightning magic being cast. I'm going to run out and distract the caster and you put a bolt between their eyes. Be careful and watch your back. There could be more nearby." Taking a cue from her escape at Rommulas, Rebec didn't go out the tent flap, rather, reached under the back and loosed the ties, then slipped under. There were no attackers in the camp, which meant they were staying at range. Dashing behind a rock, Rebec crouched low and searched for a target. After another lighting flash arced out, she aimed through the brush in that direction, praying her bolt would find flesh rather than wood or rock- and fired. Marsef saw Rebec and Baldur sneaking by the tent. The soldiers in the camp were starting to wake up and started wandering around in the darkness searching for the mages, having no idea where they were or how many there were. Marsef smiled as he saw Baldur sneaking forward in the mage's direction. The soldiers were wandering forward like he was and leaving their flank unguarded. Unknowing to Marsef, while Rebec had gotten into position, Baldur crept around in the shadows up to some of the men's bedrolls and had them stay in them in the cover of darkness. If anyone came in from behind, they were to rear up and catch them off guard. Marsef was now about to give the second signal when he heard a bolt shot and a cry of pain call out. Damn it, that sounds like Screeya! Baldur heard the cry of pain and charged towards the sound, looking to dispatch the mages in a hurry. Bolting forward with his axes at the ready to throw, Baldur dashed over to the bushes that the two mages had hidden themselves in. Screeya had a bolt stuck in her neck and was quickly bleeding out. Her son, a breton of decent muscle build, bald with the forsworn head gear on and about fifteen was watching over her as she slowly faded away. His heart was pounding furiously and the heat from his blood was felt althroughout his body. As the rage filled himself, the boy slowly arose from her lifeless body and he began charging two lightning spells in his hand. Hearing someone approaching his position, the forsworn jumped out and sent two concentrated streams of lightning straight towards Baldur. Baldur had no time to dodge the blast. Instead, he raised his weapons and blocked the spells with his axes, the lightning enchantments keeping the effect from spreading through his body. Baldur was stopped in his tracks, however. Forced to continue blocking the boy's magic, fueled by his anger and lust for revenge against the nords. "Rebec! Shoot!" said Baldur. Rebec had already loaded another bolt, but Baldur's voice near where she had fired before had the opposite effect of his order. She hesitated, not wanting to hit him by mistake. Cursing, she got up and ran in that direction to support him. Marsef, seeing that they were thoroughly distracted finally gave the signal with a loud bird whistle. Instantly cries of "For the Forsworn!" were heard and the Reachmen came rushing in from behind, which caused the soldiers in the front near Baldur to run in that direction to fight. As soon as the Forsworn were upon the camp, the nords Baldur had ordered to stay low bolted up from the ground and began slaying the men in a counter surprise attack. Baldur was still struggling to hold back the boy's attack, falling to a knee as he did. He couldn't hold back the attack much longer. Suddenly a crossbow bolt came firing out of the semi-darkness, aimed at the mage's head. The adolescent boy's head jolted back from the impact of the bolt in his skull. The spell finally ceased it's onslaught on Baldur, who breathed in relief, thankful for the assistance. "Shit, that damn boy was quite the powerful mage. These Forsworn are very dangerous. Even the younger ones. Thanks for the assist, love." said Baldur, still looking in the direction of the boy while crouched. "You're welcome, darling." The voice behind him is not Rebec's, but the harsh voice of a female orc. Mazoga was already loading another bolt, this one aimed for the leader Marsef. "Huh? Oh, Mazoga! Hehehe. Don't worry about that one, he's already retreating. We can't pursue them in the dark. Lets go with Rebec and the others." True enough, Marsef had bolted in the other direction once he saw Mazoga kill the mage. The nords didn't outnumber the Reachmen, but they did shortly after their counter surprise attack. Marsef tried whistling out to get his men to retreat, but the nords had already trapped them off and were attempting to finish them before any more casualties were had. Mazoga fired anyway, and Marsef dropped like a felled deer, a bolt protruding from the back of his head. The orc just glanced at Baldur and nodded, then turned to hurry back down the slope towards camp. Damn, that Orc is one hell of a shot. In the middle of the camp, Rebec had found herself swarmed when the Forsworn yelled out "the female officer!" She had put a bolt in one's leg, then tossed her crossbow aside and drew her axes to meet the rest. The Forsworn had dual wielders, too, but wore only scraps of feathers and liked to do some dance that just left all that bare skin exposed. Rebec had battled enough pirates to know how to fight people with more bravado than sense. Face streaked in blood, she finished off the last and turned to look frantically for Baldur. Baldur was following right behind Mazoga to get to Rebec. Seeing her in the distance with her axes drawn made him run faster past the orc even though he could see that the fight was already over. Baldur sheathed his weapons and locked his arms around her and kissed her on her blood covered cheeks when he approached her. "Damn mage had me occupied, but Mazoga took care of it. Are you alright?" "There you are. I'm fine." Rebec had slashes from the spikes on the Forsworn weapons as they parried her blows, and a small flap of skin hung from her cheek with blood oozing out of it, but she didn't even seem to notice. She looked from Baldur to Mazoga. "Thanks, Maz. I owe you one." "Dammit I hate seeing you with cuts on y-" "Forsworn!" One of the forsworn on the ground was seriously injured from a sword slash across his belly, but not dead and managed to grab his strange bone spiked sword. As he charged for the couple, Baldur dashed forward and parried the sword strike with his metal spiked gauntlet and shoved his gauntlet claws with his right hand up his jaw through his mouth. Baldur looked into his eyes as they glassed over and blood ran freely over his hand before he yanked his gauntlet claws out and let him drop. "Okay, we can't stay here for too much longer. We need to go now lest more come while we're here. We're not burying any of their bodies." Sheathing her axes, Rebec nodded. "You won't get any argument from me." She cast a last glance at the dead Forsworn, shook her head in disgust, and went to pack up their gear. "Alright, people. Gather your things, put our dead over the horses and lets move out! Our enemies will receive no burials. Kyne can take care of this lot." As the couple and the group continued for Markarth after the forsworn lay lifeless, the skies began to release their waters almost as if in response to what Baldur had said. The blood slowly began to wash away into the dirt, yet the scent of blood was inescapable from the wolves and crows. The wolves came first, dragging away what bodies they could to serve the needs of the many, the pack. Then the crows, and soon the worms would come once the incessant feeding ceased. The murder of crows fell upon the fresh kill, ready to gorge their little black feathered bodies until their guts were fit to bursting. A wheezing sound was suddenly audible from nearby but it was of no concern for the crows as the fury of pecks began. Peck, peck peck. Peck, peck....Eyes were the first to go. The sounds of tearing flesh was drowned by the sounds of squawks from the other crows standing nearby or circling in the air also ready to dine. Only a worshiper of Kyne could truly appreciate the machinations of her work. That or a follower of Namira. More pecks came still, peck peck peck until the birds made their way to the leader. Soon the crows fell upon his flesh too, ready to pick his carcass and prepare it for the worms in the next stage of nature's clean up routine. Peck...peck..p-...The pecks ceased. A loud explosion of fire suddenly went off, sending most of the birds flying away in fear or while burning, soon to meet their doom, while the others burst into a mass of blood and feathers. There is one bird left however, injured and unable to flee. The wheezing noise grows louder. And louder. Then suddenly the last crow squawks as it is squeezed. It's life ended through decapitation. Something had bit it's head off. The creature grabbed the lightly pecked body of the forsworn leader by the leg and slowly dragged it's body from the camp, having gained it's prize...The wheezing now turned to fits of coughing and laughter.

Maggie and Lorgar Imperial Palace afternoon Lorgar held a cigar in his mouth, he also had his leather-bound first edition of Camille in his arms. He was heading to the quarters of a countess of Skingrad, Magdela. Things are going to get extremely interesting-no actually, things are heading to Oblivion and back very soon... As he turned a corner, he finally reached it. He wore his standard outfit, a black trench coat, with his dress-uniform underneath. The cigar he bore in his mouth was lit, despite the location he was in. He also had an ebony short-sword well-hidden in his coat, a precaution no more. He cleared his throat, and knocked on the door, "Excuse me Countess, sorry for interrupting, but it's Lord-Major Grim-Maw." Maggie had been preparing to leave for some errands and to return to her house, but put down her cloak. "Duke Lorgar, a pleasure. Come in. And what is that I see under your arm?" She rewarded him with a beaming smile. He bowed his head, "Thank you milady." At the mention of the thing "under his arm" he couldn't help but blush, and he said in his shy voice, "Ummm, my copy of Camille, it's ummmm....a first edition." "Aren't you darling. I was just telling my friend Tanie- she owns an establishment called The Cordial Lady, do you know it?- that I would try to find her a copy. Perhaps you could bring it over to show her. She'd heard about it, and thought the ladies might find it fun to act out some of the scenes for special patrons." Maggie went around to her desk and got a quill, reaching her other hand out for the book. With that, Lorgar slightly rosy cheeks became a full on crimson blush, and his face started to twitch, "I suppose...I could lend her my copy, and them 'acting'-UGH, I mean, if I did go there, which I'm not saying I do." With that he handed Maggie the book. Speaking once again in his normal voice, "Ah if you don't mind milady, could you by any chance address your signature to my cousin, Frea? She's a big fan of your novels, and I would like to show it to her next time I see her." "Frea. A Nord? I would be delighted." Maggie opened the book to its title page and wrote a few lines. As she waited for the ink to dry, still holding the book open on her desk, she asked, "How are you settling into the palace, Duke Lorgar? And into your new duties? It must be a tad overwhelming." "You have no idea..." Lorgar said, taking out the cigar in his mouth and exhaling, "As spy-master, it's my duty to look at every single threat presented to me, by numerous contacts, civilians, guards, nobles...ugh..." Lorgar chuckled a little, "Though all the cigars, Cyrodilic brandy, and nordic mead help." "You mustn't tire yourself. You went through a lot in the war, or so I'm told." She stood and returned the book to him, still open to the title page. In elegant, flowing script, was written: To Frea of the North, Warmth is in remembered friendship and love. Magdela Bathory Crossing to her spirits cabinet, Maggie went on, "Do you enjoy brandy? Don't tell my father I said this, but as fine as Colovian is, it is not the best." Taking out a bottle, she poured two glasses. As she handed Lorgar one of them, his keen senses might detect a faint, normal heartbeat. "Apple brandy from Daggerfall." He accepted back the book, and with a nod he said "Thank you milady, I, and I know, Frea greatly appreciate it." He also accepted the glass, putting the now un-lit cigar in his coat pocket. He took a small sip, "AH...that tastes wonderful milady, it...does actually taste better then Colovina." He took another small sip before saying, "I'm very pleased milady, that you decided to take precautions. I can read a heartbeat from you, and your skin is very radiant.' "I'm feeling quite well, thank you," Maggie replied calmly. "My time in the palace with the empress' father was... trying. Her Excellency is such a welcome change. For me, certainly." She leaned against the desk, sipping at her own glass. "But not for all. I must ask for your help, Duke. I provided you with information on justiciar safe houses, but we both know the Dominion presence is not gone, only gone underground. They will want revenge on me for my role in aiding you. Can I rely on your protection?" That caused a worried expression to appear on Lorgar's face. "Yes, I have known..." With the mention of them going after the countess, that caused Lorgar's face to become darkly serious. "Milady, I can promise you, if anyone tried to make an attempt on your life, I would personally tear out their throat with my fangs." "Thank you." She breathed deep. "I can see why Empress Dales chose you to be at her side. I confess I thought it an unusual choice, but it makes sense to me now. No one can doubt your loyalty to the empire and willingness to sacrifice for it, and you are stronger than most. To have such powerful friends, it must make her feel safe, even with our empire's many troubles." That caused Lorgar to chuckle and smile, "My 'strength' as you call it, is as much a gift as a curse, milady. I don't think Dales would feel safe knowing an abomination of Hircine was at her side." Her brow shot up. "You are a devotee of the Hunt? Daedra worship still carries a lot of stigma in Cyrodiil, it's true. Not to worry, I try to be open minded about such things myself." Lorgar continued his smile, but it became slightly arrogant, but still friendly. "I don't think 'Devotee' would be the right word, more like 'Beast'. You're one of the few people who I know understands, your clan has two daedric princes as patrons, correct? That's what Samuel told me." Maggie's chin lifted, and a hint of smile showed. "You've met Samuel. An interesting man. Might I ask how you came to talk with him?" "I was looking for an information broker, Samuel came highly recommended from a very close friend of mine. We discussed quite alot, as you say, very interesting man." Lorgar started to gently stroke his well-shaved beard, "Very friendly and business-like. We chatted for a quite awhile before we got onto the topic of you." Lorgar laughed. "After some deception, I realized his heart actually wasn't beating, so I assumed he was a friend of yours. He said he needed to hear my opinion of you before getting to the real buisness. I said I thought very highly of you, how couldn't I? You're so charming, friendly and exquisitvley radiant," Lorgar said, with a friendly wink. "Thank you very kindly. As Samuel is an information broker, then he believed revealing such information was necessary in order to secure your trust. Or assumed that knowing the truth about you would assure mutual confidence. Do you truly trust me, Duke?" "I trust you with my life milady" Lorgar said, bowing his head. Though Lorgar's expression was perfectly genuine, he himself doubted his words, If I did truly trust her, why would I have a hidden short-blade in my coat? "Then trust me when I say, I cannot speak about such things as you are asking. I'm under close scrutiny at all times. You are a soldier, you understand that things are permitted to officers which are not to the lower ranks, yes? Please don't ask me any more about this." In a lighter tone, she went on, "Nevertheless Samuel will no doubt be very useful to you in your role as spymaster." "Yes, I can count on it-" Lorgar suddenly heard voice's coming down the hall. Two females. He recognized both of them. One was his empress, Dales Motierre, while the second one was from the baroness he meet early at the coronation, Homunal Akney. One was outgoing and friendly, while the other was extremely quiet and shy. Lorgar cleared his throat and said to Maggie, "We have company, her majesty Dales and a baroness.” "My, my. A party." Maggie straightened and awaited the women's entrance, curtsying formally to the empress when she came in. "Excellency, I am honored. Please, make yourself comfortable. The duke and I were just discussing..." She trailed off, not really wanting to go into that. "A potential contact for information your majesty, a man named Samuel..." Lorgar said bowing. Empress Dales smiled, returned the courtesy and bow to both people. And said, "Ah, it's quite good to see my Advisor and Spymaster sharing information." She turned to the girl behind her, and said, "Introduce yourself, Nami." The small girl behind Dales, who was presumably Homunal, had extremely long, silver/whitish, and wavy hair, and wore an ornate Akavari Kimono. She had very pale skin, and deep blue eyes, like the depths of the ocean. She shyly curtsied to both Lorgar and Maggie and said, "Baroness Homunal Akney." Maggie didn't curtsy again, but she did nod a greeting. "You hail from High Rock, baroness? What part? I don't recognize your name, forgive me. There are so many baronies on the peninsula, who can keep track." "Skyshade, countess..." Said Nami. You could tell she wasn't that young, 17 or 18. But like a child, she spoke in a shy and unsecure voice, and sometime glanced at her feat. "I'm not familiar with it, but as I say, the Bretons do love their variety." Turning to Dales, Maggie said, "Empress, are you well? I meant to visit you but I know there are many demands on your time. And I'm not certain how you would feel about me, given my role in the court of your royal father." Dales face remained friendly, as well as her smile, but he eyes grew darker at the mention of her father, "I'm quite all right Maggie, just a little tired. Running an empire isn't easy work. And I don't mind your presence at all. You were of course, a victim of that bastard, nothing more." "I came to him willingly," the countess reminded her. "But we are now in happier days. I met with your teacher yesterday. Quite skilled. I think he might be able to teach me, as well." Maggie smiled mysteriously, and added, "About magic, I mean. How did you meet him?" Dales face became disgusted at the mention of her master's name, though the sort of "friendly" disgusted, "HMPTH, probably some burnt-out hole in the middle of Skyrim when I was drunk, that man needs to stop whoring around..." The countess laughed, startled at this outburst. "You met him in Skyrim? I had heard it was here, through the Synod. I wanted to ask if his Synod connections are a problem for you with the College of Whispers. They're touchy about that sort of thing. You object to his... leisure activities?" "Yes, yes I do." She turned over to the spymaster, and said. "Dear Duke, I couldn't see you whoring around. You object to his disgusting behavior?" Lorgar, grinned mischievously, "Of course your majesty, it's revolting how he beds the servants and maids every day. Heheheheh, I have my own sort of entertainment..." Maggie watched this exchange with amusement. "Of course, Excellency, you must concern yourself with the propriety of your court, but as long as it doesn't touch your royal person, no one will object to your lessers having their harmless fun. Unless you want to impose celibacy on your courtiers. I can't imagine that going over well." She laughed, then asked, "How many marriage proposals have you received, Empress? If it's not too impertinent a question." The Empress's cheek's blushed and she looked sad, "Too many..." To a normal person, they would only hear a small mutter, but Maggie and Lorgar, due to there "conditions" heard Dales say "All men..." "I had guessed as much. I would offer you my services in evaluating these proposals. You might say it's a specialty of mine. Being Breton yourself, you should probably choose an imperial. Is there a favorite already?" "I dislike them all equally countess...a bunch of...'hunters' as Lorgar would say." Lorgar started to whistle innocently, "I don't know how she got that term..." "We are all hunting for something, Empress," Maggie replied. "Do not delay the decision too long. For the moment the nobility scramble to find your favor, but without an heir the realm isn't secure. Think what would happen to us if... Forgive me. We're all friends here, so I speak frankly, but perhaps too frankly." "Yes...of course. An heir..." Dales didn't look too thrilled. A few moments later, she excused herself, and took Nami by the hand while leaving the room. Lorgar polity bowed to her as she left. Making sure she was out of range from the two's voices, Lorgar said to Maggie, "Hmmmm, as supporting as I am for...Dales 'preferences', it might cause problems later on..." The countess watched the two women leave, a thoughtful expression on her face. Lorgar's words confirmed what she had been thinking. "Camille. I understand. It won't be a problem if she's discreet. She will still need an heir, of course, and sooner rather than later. Her consort should probably be selected with this in mind. If he's a jealous type, even a female paramour will cause problems in their marriage." "If her husband every thinks of trying to force Dales into doing something she doesn’t want to, I’ll personally cut his throat and throw his corpse into the ocean..." Lorgar said thoughtfully, "I hate those types, pressuring girls into having sex with them. I dont care if he would be an emperor, Hircine's fury punishes un-discriminativley." The countess gave him a strange look. "It isn't a question of force, your grace, but of necessity. The empress will not sit secure and the realm will be in grave danger as long as there is no heir. Already there is talk of too much 'Breton' influence at court. I once jested with the Lady Dales, when she was a child, that noble ladies can't marry other women because we must marry for other reasons. It isn't a jest, and isn't a luxury." Maggie's tone softened. "Of course, no one would deny her a paramour. This is actually better than were she attracted to men, since there won't be any complications about bloodline. A consort will give her political protection, and she only need lie with him until there is an heir." "I still don't like it. Heheheheh, as one of those wretched nobles would say, it's most likely because of my 'savage' and 'peasent-like' upbringing." Lorgar took another cigar from his pocket, and lit it. He inhaled, and then exhaled the fumes. "We Skaal are taught to marry for the sole reason of love, it doesn’t matter about gender, wealth, prestige, or status. Apparently, it's much different here in court, I wouldn't be surprised if half the nobles here, both lady and lord, were unhappy with there marriages and all had mistresses." Lorgar chuckled, "Anyway, i'm quite interested to know what the wizard was telling you about me. He most likely said something along the lines, "Stay away from the savage half-Werewolf, he's a monster that will eat you", correct?" "Even a political marriage need not be unhappy, Duke," Maggie replied. "As for Lord Skjari, he doesn't trust you, but you don't trust him, either, do you?" "Quite. I have very good reasons too. Unlike him, who just thinks me an unstable savage." Lorgar was obviously debating with himself over something, however, curiosity got the best of him, as he said. "Hmmmm, I have an idea. I know for a fact, you're not confiding in me exclusively, which I don’t mind of course. I have an idea...a game you see. I'll give you one obvious clue, which is revealing thing I hide, if you can guess what I am...I'll agree to cooperate with the wizard fully. However, if I win, you have to answer one question about yourself. And don't worry, it'll have nothing to do with your secret clan." "Hm. I do like games, but I can't promise to answer your question. With that warning, proceed." Lorgar smiled, and somewhat mockingly bowed, "As you say milady..." Slowly and surely, Lorgar removed his blackened eyepatch that covered his presumably gone right eye. But, shockingly, with the eye patch gone, a perfectly intact closed eyeleid was revealed. As if knowing that it was free to open, the closed eyelid sluggishly opened up, revealing a brilliant crimson red eye. It faintly glowed blood red, and the eye itself...was mesmerismly beautiful. Surely many would consider it as radiant, or pretty as a precious gem stone. "What am I?" Maggie tilted her head, then came closer. "Is magic cheating? I would cast a spell to see if the substance is daedric in nature.” "It would be only fair..." Maggie cast the appropriate spell, and her puzzled look remained. "I had thought it resembled Void Essence, but its nature is... confused. And Sheogorath not known for his associations with the North. That would be Lord Dagon, and Hermaeus Mora. There is nothing that would suggest your lord Hircine, however." She stepped back. "I'm stumped." "So you give up milady?" Lorgar said, smiling, "In all honesty, I expected this result. As I said, I'm an abomination." "A very polite one, who reads romance novels," Maggie replied, smiling. "Does this mean you get to ask me a question?" "Afraid so milady..." Lorgar said, grinning, "Don't worry, it's not going to compromise your secret club. I just want to know, why you became a vampire?" "Ah. A bit close to the mark, Duke. You've been fair, however, and perhaps you seek a bit of solace from those not of your kind, but who are similarly mistrusted in society? I'm afraid the answer is dull, and you may even think less of me for it. Simply this, it was expected of me. I won't say that I had no choice. There are advantages. To remain young and beautiful, to hold on to life..." Coming a step closer, she asked, "What of you? Did you choose to be an 'abomination'?" Lorgar inhaled and exhaled fums from his cigar before saying, "I will dive into the fire, and spill blood eternal, but thy price to pay is eternal.", to answer your question milady, I was very young when I choose to become what I am, and even then I didn't know about some circumstances that affected me heavily. But that's just an excuse I tell my self at night, so yes, I was aware that I would become something else." His face drew even closer to Maggie's face already close face, with his blood red eye staring directly at her eyes, "As you say, there are advantages of being a monster or a beast, my senses are enhanced ten fold, as well as my speed and strength. Furthermore, I have subtle abilities, such as me being more attuned to everything in nature. But what price did I pay? What price did you pay milady? We become things of the night and the moon, we forsake the thing that made us who we where, human, we lost our humanity and became something else." Maggie stood calmly under his scrutiny. "You may see it that way. I try to take a different view. A child draws strength from his mother in the womb. An empire bleeds its young men and women to save itself. I take from the mortal, but I give back. I... try to give back. Do you know why the Thalmor are so cocky? Because they will see three or four lifetimes for every normal human lifespan, building power and knowledge with their added years. They look on Man the way Man looks on the higher beasts. Our empire has not survived and reigned because of the scruples of our priests, but because of sacrifices like mine. And yours." "So we fight in the shadows, and sacrifice our humanity, for the greater good of the empire? I can see the logic and truth behind those words. But it gets lonely..." Lorgar said, looking worn out and tired, "I haven't once found a person who really understands the burden of it, staying in the dark." Maggie laid a hand on his arm. "Now you have." "Really?" Lorgar put his hand on hers and gently smiled at her. "It is as I told at the coronation, Duke. We have the same goal. Did you come to the Imperial City expecting to find only enemies?" Maggie placed her other hand briefly over his, then released him and stepped back. She regarded him thoughtfully. "May I offer you some advice? It may be unpleasant for you to hear." "Yes milady?" "I've been told a few things about your time in the legion in Skyrim, more specifically the time after you were discharged. These stories did not prepare me at all for the gentle, courteous duke I see before me. It is to the point where I would have said these were two different men. Do you know the other reason why I think our empire has succeeded?" Maggie gestured above them. "This Tower. White Gold is well known for its magical potency, and I believe it has a particular effect of focusing the mind and calming the spirit. My advice to you is: Stay here. Don't return to your frozen homeland. Here, you will find others who understand you, and here you may learn to understand yourself. To control yourself." She watched him to see how he would take this advice, and the implication that he had a savage beast inside him, in need of such aid. "I..." Lorgar took in what she was trying to tell him, "I think I've understood for quite some time now milady...the things I've done are irredeemable...I think the worse part is I...actually enjoyed doing it to them...I enjoyed it..." He started to shake his hand violent, "I enjoyed it...I enjoyed it... I ENJOYED IT..." He put his hands on his head, and started to weep, "I enjoyed it..." Slowly Maggie approached again. "My dear duke. Lorgar." She reached the hand out again, laid it on his arm, then around his shoulder in the start of an embrace. "No man- and that is what you are- no man should be asked to do what our empire required of you. There is always a price. Yet these tears show that you are not an abomination. Not yet." Lorgar buried his face into Maggie's shoulder and continued to cry, the first time he's cried every since that day, when he lost everything. He put his arms around Maggie and fully embraced the hug, still crying over her shoulder. Wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, Maggie let him cry and hold her, even after she felt the concealed dagger he carried. It was a reminder that he was a dangerous man, but she couldn't help but feel for his pain. Her own eyes threatened to fill when she thought that she would have done anything for such a moment of comfort from her own family. When the duke released her, she smiled and brushed at the tears on his cheek with her fingers, then took out her silk handkerchief and pressed it into his hand. "I wager you are not as alone as you think, Lorgar. All over this city your fellows in the legion surely carry similar scars, only soldiers are taught not to show it. Perhaps that is necessary, but it seems particularly cruel." "Oh look at me, a major of the Penitus Occulatus and spymaster of the Empress of Tamriel, crying like a little girl..." He slightly chuckled as he wiped the remaining tears off his face. He gently handed the countess back her silk handkerchief, before saying, "I'm sorry milady, but I have to take my leave. I think i've slightly overstayed my welcome." He got up only to put his hand to Maggie's pale cheek, he said in a soft, warm, and kind voice, "Milady, I can say without any sort of embellishment, that your are one of the most kind, caring, loving, warm, and gentle people I have ever meet, don't let anyone say otherwise..." He brought up her hand to his head, and lighty kissed it. "Until another day, milady..." Maggie accepted his kiss, then called out after him as he left, "Don't forget your book!" She followed, the signed copy of Camille in her hands. "Ah, I almost forgot..." He gently accepted the book from Maggie, before smiling and laughing, “My cousin would have my hide if I lost a signed first-edition Camille!!!" "You will get another for yourself, my lord," Maggie promised. "Farewell." After the spymaster was gone, she leaned against a chair and expelled a breath. That had certainly not gone as expected. Guardian, what are you thinking... Was it a test? Was Samuel trying to get her destroyed? Yet his gamble with Lorgar seemed to have paid off, for now. The men of Empress Dales' court continued to surprise her. Taking up her cloak, the countess hurried out, late for her appointment with the madam of The Golden Apple.