TheCzarsHussar

Maggie, Jem, Trym Heart-Hand, Samuel Imperial City morning Maggie woke herself from her trance sleep in her garden as the dew settled on her. While she was dressing, she heard Jem stumble in from wherever he had been the night before. He argued briefly with Gervais, or rather at Gervais, then all was quiet. Gathering up her strewn papers from the salon, she put them in order and took them to her study. Maggie lingered over the outline she had made of a new book, and wondered if she would ever get to write it. Even if it was pointless, she sat down and began to fill in the sketch with more character and story notes. Maybe it would help her mind remain calm when she faced the hunter that afternoon. She was Magdela Bathory, novelist. A normal woman. Some hours later, through the open window, she heard the front door guards and a woman's voice. Warily she went down to see who it was. Maggie recognized one of the maids from the palace, carrying a cloth-wrapped parcel. "Countess, I was sent to bring you this from Lord Skjari," the young woman said, barely concealing her contempt. When the maid unwrapped the parcel, it proved to be the familiar dragon statue from the court wizard's study, though missing its precious blue stone. As Maggie took it, she could feel some residual magicka. Suddenly the little dragon opened its eyes, blew out a sighing puff of steam, and regarded her with a world-weary expression. Maggie laughed. "You poor thing. Demoted to my house, are you? Don't worry, I'll take very good care of you." "If that's all, milady..." "You're Raine, aren't you?" The maid stopped, surprised. "That's right. I'm a maid to Empress Dales." "Wait here, please, Raine. You must take something for your trouble." "I don't want your coin, milady." "Of course not, but you'll want this." Out of curiosity alone, the maid stayed to see what the countess would bring. Soon Maggie returned with a small crystal vial of clear liquid. As she handed it over she explained, "This is oil of wild roses from the mountains of Daggerfall. Very precious, and there is no more exquisite scent in all of Tamriel. This is not for your nights with Skjari, you understand. Nor any other man, for that matter. Their senses are too dull and it would be wasted on them. One drop of this in your bath, however, and you'll be in another world." Raine took the vial, and her sullen expression wavered. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "You could join us, you know. In Lord Skjari's chambers, I mean." Maggie smiled. "Sweet girl. Thank you." Since the countess didn't say anything further, the maid took this to be a "no," and was relieved. At least she wouldn't have to explain to the others why she'd invited her to their fun. "Thank you, milady. I'll be going now." Raine retreated down the walk, glancing back once. Inside, Maggie inspected the statue with curiosity, wondering what it could mean that Skjari had sent this to her. The dragon didn't move again, but its little eyes glowed yellow and it was easy to believe that they were watching back. Maggie thought about Samuel's warning of the previous evening, that Skjari had somehow managed to completely subdue the empress' will to his own. It was the unknown nature of his powerful abilities that made them so unsettling. The elven magicks were known, for the most part; Skjari's was a different breed. This gift could be a trick, a way to watch her, or to implant some kind of magic into her private sphere. She stared at the dragon for a long time, then walked slowly with it to her garden. There was a broken column there, taken from an Akaviri ruin. Maggie put the statuette down and removed a succulent from the covered niche at the top of the column, then replaced the plant with the dragon. He now had a high perch overlooking the garden and its fountain. "It is poetic, I think," she told the little figure, "that you should rule over the remains of a civilization that hunted your kind to near extinction. They are gone, and you are here. This garden is now your treasure to guard." The dragon remained unmoving. Maggie was disappointed, but told herself she was being sentimental. She wanted badly to believe that this was an innocent gift. If she couldn't trust even the smallest gesture, if there was no kindness or beauty in her life that did not come with a poison barb, what was she even fighting for? Maggie went into the house to retrieve the bottle Samuel had given her, and sat in the garden, putting off leaving for the palace as long as she could. Jem found her there. He appeared subdued, even troubled. She watched as he paced around, looking at her flowers and not really seeing them. Maggie expected some insult, but he actually seemed lost. She couldn't help but pity her brother, despite his boorishness. He liked to prate about being the heir to Darius' power, but how could you be heir to a man who would never die? It was only a title, a fiction, and Jem knew it. There was no place for him of his own, just as there was none for her. They were all in Darius' orbit. That was by design. Jem came around to the column and paused when he noticed the dragon statue. "What a clever little beast. Who created it?" He reached into the niche to pick it up. Abruptly the dragon revived, shot a small gout of flame at the invader, and snapped its teeth. Jem drew his hand back quickly, cursing. Maggie, watching this from her seat at the garden table, had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Her brother glared at her and back at the dragon, but didn't try again to take it. Eventually he approached and took the seat opposite. After a long silence he said, "I'm leaving today." "You aren't going to wait to see the empress?" "I don't care about her. She won't last six months." "You might be surprised." There was another long pause, and finally Jem said, "I'm sorry about... about everything, Maggie. You know I care about you. You just make me so very angry." She regarded him coolly. It was still her fault, Maggie noted. "Janus, you don't need to pretend that we're real siblings. Not here in private. Not anywhere, really." He glanced up at her, and Maggie was surprised to see that he looked miserable. "What happened to us?" Her lip moved, a small betrayal of her emotions. "You know." Jem shook his head, denying it. "Father only wants what's best for us. He's survived a long time. If he is... the way he is, it's because that's what we needed to survive." When Maggie didn't reply, he asked, "You really have this matter of the hunter under control? I can help you. I want to help." "You can't." There wasn't anything else, so after a time Jem got up to leave. "Goodbye, Magdela." He hesitated, then said, "Be careful of Samuel. He's always coveted Father's position, and he's not above using you to get at the rest of us." Maggie stared after her brother. It was obvious that Jem hated Samuel, even more after their confrontation the previous night, but the thought occurred to her that that might have been staged for her benefit. Was Samuel only working to gain her trust? He had made sure that she had no other way to defeat the hunter than to rely on him. He tried to plant fear in her about Skjari, a man who could rival both him and her father in power. If Samuel wanted Darius' position, what better way to get it than... Maggie forced herself to stop, driving the doubts from her mind. It was too late. The hunter was waiting, and she needed a clear head. There could be no more delays. On her way out, a front door guard asked Maggie if Lord Bathory had apologized to her. She was about to reprimand him for insolence before she realized what must have prompted this question. Samuel. In spite of her doubts, Maggie smiled. She assured the guard that Lord Janus had, indeed, apologized and was free to leave, then departed herself to meet Trym Heart-Hand on the Emperor's Way. ** "She's running late," Iven mumbled, halfway expecting the others to ignore it. She hadn't been present when they had first met with this Magdela Bathory, so she didn't quite know what to expect from the author. Well, maybe some fanciful take to capture the imagination, but what could you expect from such people? She'd eat her own hood if Magdela didn't embellish her story with poetic flare. "Maybe," Trym responded with a distant tone to his voice. His eyes had mostly followed the movements of the different guards and visitors, most of which gave them a look of confusion or suspicion. Morons who had no idea what they were being guarded against. However, for a moment, his gaze returned to the Dunmer who had opened her mouth. "What do you think? About Magdela, I mean." "Our mark? Lives as an author and luxury prostitute for people in power. Hard to say if she's to be trusted. She's clearly not of honest stock, but she'd have a lot to lose. Your guess is probably better than mine; you've actually met her." "And you, Varnus?" To his right an Imperial looked up at them from under his hood, rolling his eyes and looking away again. Nothing to share, in other words. Trym couldn't help but to feel some annoyance with the author as the time passed; he had to agree with Iven that she was running late on their schedule. Soon a woman with blonde hair appeared, walking towards them. She was dressed in a close-fitting dress of burgundy velvet, at first appearances simply the garment of a highborn Colovian, though the square neck was cut lower than it needed to be, and the fabric hugged her curves with no room to spare. All along the Emperor's Way, heads turned as she passed. The woman herself appeared nervous. She stopped once to look back over her shoulder, then continued on towards them. Approaching the trio, she glanced at the Dunmer and imperial, then addressed their leader. "Greetings, Trym Heart-Hand. Who are these people? I wasn't expecting anyone else but you." "Then you're more of a fool than I suspected you to be." Trym raised an eyebrow as he took in her outfit. His eyes rested a moment longer on her chest area than the rest, before his eyes returned to her's. " 'Tis a lovely outfit, but seems rather... odd for a meeting of this kind. Knowing a little about what you do in the city, one would almost think you're playing an angle. What do you say, Iven?" "Quite right. What I want to know is if it is to make sure enough people around pay attention to you to try to make sure we don't do something rash," the Dunmer threw back her hood, revealing a quite beautiful face, marred only by a scar that left a line between the mouth and the nose, accompanied by her people's red eyes and long black hair tied in a ponytail. "Or if it is meant to cloud Trym's judgment." Maggie's expression changing from puzzled to annoyed. "These are your associates, I gather, judging by their cheerlessness and paranoia." She glanced from one to the other, with a subtle arrogance that made it clear she thought it beneath her to explain her attire to such rabble. She then remembered why she was there, and bit her lip nervously. "I'm sorry, but these questions you have put to me may have put me in great danger, and I can't be too careful. I have some information for you. Do you want to hear it, or am I to be subjected to this rudeness merely for agreeing to help you?" "You will have to forgive me, my Lady, but you're not above suspicion. I hunt creatures who manipulate people to stay alive. When a suspect appears to a meeting with a needlessly revealing attire, I tend to question the motives behind it." He didn't seem at all bothered by her objection, beyond possibly a degree of annoyance. "But by all means, send me after some feral, hoping it will kill me. It will only prove my suspicions. I know that whoever is behind this would want to do that, but you needn't bother." ** A short distance away Samuel walked in the direction of the trio, but stopped and leaned against the wall of a mausoleum. He couldn't be too close; he was there to let Maggie know that the plan went ahead as normally, nothing more. Intervening now could do a lot of harm. Looking over at her, he had to let out a smile. Perhaps not the best attire for the situation, but a nice attempt. Too bad there was another woman among them to keep them focused, or else it might have had some beneficiary effect. ** Maggie blinked once. "Feral? A feral vampire, you mean?" She looked around her, as though speaking that word aloud might bring the figures of nightmare out from the shadows. Her eyes passed over Samuel without seeming to see him, then she looked back at Trym. "I asked around about you, Trym Heart-Hand, and found that you are indeed who you say you are. With that assurance, I made inquiries among those who advised me on the writing of my book Camille. Collectors, you know. The type who take an interest in the sordid and arcane." She went on in hushed tone, "Most scoff at talk of the Order, as I would, but the same name came up more than once. Perhaps it's nothing, but if these creatures are actually among us, then you must do what you can to root them out. Have you heard of someone named Maurice?" "Maurice? I've heard the name, but doubtfully regarding the same man you think off. The only Maurice I know is a Keeper of the Vigil in Hammerfell," Trym didn't seem very impressed, but before he was about to make further inquiries, the Imperial that had so far been quiet said something. There was nothing that really stood out about his voice, except how silent it felt. "I have. An information broker, known to deal with less than honest types. I've heard he prefers to work out of the Imperial City." With a slightly surprised look, Trym looked from one Imperial to the other, waiting for an answer from either of them. Maggie swallowed once. "I believe that must be the one. Though perhaps, if he... what if he's masquerading as one of your own? No. No, it must be this other. There was mention of this Maurice frequenting the meaner sort of tavern and brothel here in the city." "After the ressurection of the Dawnguard, we're been given the means to ensure none of our number are what you suggest they might be, but..." Since the other Imperial apparently didn't feel like talking much more, Trym seemed to be waiting in vain for him to make another comment. "I'm sure you've heard more about this Maurice. Rumors fly far and wide." "That is all I can tell you. Please, don't ask me to look into it any further. I already raised eyebrows by asking such questions. My book Camille was written years ago, and now people will think I'm planning to do another like it. I want nothing to do with this." One hand clutched reflexively at the velvet of her dress. "The life of one author seems little compared to that we seek to save." For a second time the hooded Imperial let out a comment, this time leaving Trym with an eyebrow in his direction. Maybe he wasn't so unreasonable after all? Not something to count on, to be sure, but something to keep in mind. Maggie also turned her eyes on the imperial. "To you, perhaps. I don't have your dedication or your training. If this Order really exists, if they think I know something..." She turned back to Trym. "People in my position always have enemies. I am used to that sort of risk, but this is something else. I should never have written that cursed book! Please, don't try to contact me again." She took a step back, obviously trying to end the appointment. "Stop," Trym whispered and took a hold of her arm. He had thrown a casual glance over his shoulder, in the direction of Samuel, and exchanged a glance with Iven. "Let us escort you out of here before you leave. I don't trust the man over there. He seems to be keeping an eye on us. If you're telling the truth, you should be able to provide more, risk or not." The last sentence was said in the same voice as before, but his expression pleaded with her to play along for now. "Who...?" Maggie made as if to look, but stopped herself. "Someone's following me?" The arm under Trym's hand trembled slightly and her breathing accelerated. "I have to get back to the palace. There are royal guard just up there. They're obligated to protect me, but I don't want to be seen with you any longer, sir, even by them. Please leave me." She resisted slightly, trying to pull away from his grasp. "Fine, get out of here," he let go of her, gesturing to the the others as he did. They walked passed them in Samuel's direction, followed shortly by Trym himself. But by the time he had managed to turn around, the man was already gone. "Maurice?" he mumbled to himself, with narrow eyes. Maybe she was telling the truth, or at least as much as she knew of it. "Iven, what do you think of all this? I'm not sure what to think now." "Well, I think," Varnus entered the conversation once again with his short statements. "That we have a new mark. If he's an information broker, he'd be useful even if he isn't what Miss Bathory suggested. More than she would." "I am inclined to agree," Iven added, pulling the hood over her head once more. "For now I think we can trust Miss Bathory. But i'd like to keep an eye on her all the same. Maybe it is the poor first impression, but something seemed amiss." Maggie hurried away, not looking back. The two royal guardsmen posted nearby saw her coming and moved to unsheathe their swords, alarmed. "I'm alright, I'm alright," she said, giving them a reassuring smile. She slowed her pace and dared a look back. The younger of the royal guardsmen was startled when the countess took his arm. It was steady, and she walked with him as though she were going to a court ball and he was her date. Not able to help himself, the guardsman glanced down at the bare cleavage that was now so near. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes ahead and ignored the smirk from his fellow guardsman. He was just jealous. Some duties were more pleasant than others. Maggie forced herself to seem calm, even nonchalant. The hunters would be following Samuel now. Inwardly she felt a flood of relief, then gratitude. The plan had worked, at least for the moment. Unless he was working with the hunter all along. It could all be an elaborate game to buy this gratitude she felt. Maggie pushed that thought away. Such suspicion made her sick and weary. For now she had survived, and that was the important thing. ** "Trym?" Iven sounded a little bit concerned as she addressed him. "Is everything alright?" No, he thought to himself, but remained quiet. It was not right at all. And whether or not Miss Bathory was telling the truth wasn't at the core of it. This figure, an Imperial from the looks of it, had been listening in on them and disappeared without a trace. Maurice. The good news was that they had a better suspect to chase. The bad was that he knew they were coming. And if the stories of the Order were true, that complicated matters a whole lot. The whole way back to Sideways Cave he remained silent and deep in thought, ignoring Iven at least three times. An information broker who knew they were hunting him. The future was going to be interesting. ** "Sir? My apologies, but I think you're walking with my date for tonight," Samuel tapped the guard whom Maggie walked with on his shoulder. He had changed clothes to dark blue outfit of velvet and had cast a simple spell to make his hair appear dark-blonde instead of his normal brown. That such simple trick were enough to throw people off had been very surprising at first. "It is all my fault; I was late and I feel I have to make it up to her. I am sure you'll understand." The royal guardsmen were about to tackle the man to the ground, but Maggie laughed and said, "There you are, darling. Thank you, gentlemen, your swords are not necessary. Please walk at a distance. I'll call if I need you." The "couple" walked on as if nothing was amiss, Maggie's arm looped around Samuel's. When there was a safe distance between them and the guards, she spoke up quietly. "Is everything alright?" "I think so. It went as well as we can hope for now, though the inner council of their group is hard to predict. I wouldn't act in any way that will rise suspicion on their side in the immediate future." He let out a small laugh, just loud enough for the guard to hear, as if she had said something he found humorous, before he continued in a quiet manner. There was some concern in his voice. "How are you holding up?" "I'm fine. They tried to muscle me off to their cave again. We should be mindful of the possibility that they could try to kidnap me." She glanced at Samuel. "You've played this game before, I gather." "I have. The stakes weren't as high, but this is an old dance which steps I was schooled in from the beginning. And how does that make you feel?" "I understand why you say that you're tired, then. I've never been this close to hunters before. The one that was with him was even worse than this Trym. All my lessons on such things didn't prepare me. The reality is different. So unpredictable." "That is the life to which you've been born, I fear. And compared to what has been in the past, this Hunter poses little threat. I am sure you remember Fiona, the woman I mentioned from my past?" Samuel threw a quick glance around to make sure no one had entered ears range before he spoke, and now his attention was once more returned to Maggie. Of all the men that had been this close to her today, he seemed to be the only one who could keep his eyes of the curves. "She was...? I'm sorry. By a Vigilant like this one?" "Yes, she was taken by a Hunter when her plans collapsed in on themselves. Not a Vigilant, they didn't yet exist, but there has always been people like them," Samuel gave her a smile; one that had an undertone of sorrow and regret. "I didn't even know the war had raged before it was over; it had been her against me, with a local group of Hunters as the weapons. I was put in similar situations more than once, but I could never find out who caused it. Until the Hunters decided that I was not worth their time; they got nowhere with me, thus their attention turned to the only other suspect they had; Fiona. Her web of lies was poorly woven." He let out a quiet sigh. "I had asked her out to see this city as I thought it should be seen by all before the end; in the deepest of night, when the dark has driven the people inside. Next thing I heard is that she had tried to expose and destroy me from the start. In many ways, I think you were right when you said men want the woman in their past or fantasies before they want the woman they have. Even now, even after what I did when I found out, I still remember the woman who blinded me with her presence more than the one who also brought a knife. A fantasy based on a twisted truth. Go on, you're allowed to laugh. I won't think any less of you if you do." "I would never laugh at such a thing." Maggie fell silent. Samuel had described a game much like they were playing now, and all made necessary because of her father. She wondered if such a thing as simple revenge could motivate Samuel to betray her. Hadn't Darius always told her to expect that? The simple plots were always more effective than the elaborate ones. Realizing that she'd been quiet too long, she said, "Thank you for helping me. I know you have your own reasons, but I'm grateful all the same. And thank you for Jem." Her mouth curved in a little smile. "A nice touch, with the door guards." His eyes were kind, but they had a quality to them, apparently activated at will, to make her feel as if he saw everything she was. Had he had the same gaze when they first met? It seemed familiar. "There is something about what I said that unnerved you, isn't there? It is fine, I don't expect you to put your trust in me beyond what you have to. I think I better leave the end of my story with Fiona for another time; I don't think it would do your already thin trust in me any favors. But for what it is worth, coming from me; I... Never mind, it is not important right now. Are you up to date on the latest news?" "We can't ever really trust each other, can we? Not any of us. It is the life to which I've been born." This she said with a bitter note, then added, "The news. You mean Lorgar's impending marriage to our little Chorrol flower?" "No," Samuel replied. "I suppose we can't. And no, I'm not thinking about the impending marriage. Old news. What I am talking about is that your father is coming to the Imperial City, soon." Maggie was quiet, and the arm hooked around Samuel's tensed only briefly. "I suppose it was inevitable. Did he tell you why?" "I'm under the impression he wants to hear about this situation we have here, with the palace and the hunter, himself, but he hasn't said anything to me. I'm only going by an educated guess. For all I know, there could be something completely different." "Very well. If there is something you expect of me, don't hold back. I'm afraid, to be honest. He'll press me on everything." "The only thing I expect from you is to leave him in the dark about a certain matter. Beyond that, I wouldn't presume to ask you to act towards your father after my own tastes." "Why not? My tastes certainly don't suit him," she replied with a grim laugh. Stopping, she turned to face him. "I should return to the palace. The hunters may still be lurking about and I told them that was where I was going." Maggie then paused, her thoughts turning over. With a glance at the royal guardsmen trailing behind them, she remembered that at the very least the ruse of a pair of lovers must be maintained, so she grasped Samuel's hand and stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you." Returning to the guard pair, she said to them, "I don't feel well, gentlemen. Let us go to the palace at once." They began walking that way, and Maggie cast a glance back where she had left Samuel. Samuel chuckled to himself as she left him there, but by the time she threw her final glance in his direction he was already gone. Through the graves of the Emperor's Way he walked with his usual confidence, before turning to the Trentius Family Mausoleum. He had a small meeting to attend to, just to keep the business running as usual.

Dales, Skjari Imperial Palace, Morning Light flooded into the royal bed chambers, illuminating off the wooden table. On the table, were bottles of heavy liquor, such as brandy, whiskey, and other drinks. The pillows were piled on the ground, as if someone was trying to make room on the bed. The sheets on the bed were unevenly sprawled across the mattress. Bound and blindfolded on the bed was Empress Dales Moitre, who was snoring loudly and naked. Beside her, sleeping soundly, were her maids Miku and Kongami, gently snoozing at her side. Dales was drooling with her mouth wide open, causing Salvia to fall on Miku’s blue hair, waking her up. With a yawn, Miku stretched her arms out, and proceeded to wake up her fellow maid by kissing her passionately, “My…my…you look ravishing Miku.†Said Kongami sleepily, as she gently pushed Miku out of her way and stretched. A slight smile curved on her lips, as she fixed her long purple hair. She turned to their bound “ladyâ€, and gently felt, ehem, the “Junk on her carriageâ€. Miku lightly told the sleeping empress. "Wake up, your majesty." With a slight yawn, Dales stirred from her sleep, and attempted to stretch out, but to her surprise, she was bound by what seemed to be rope. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't see anything., as if she was blindfolded, which she was. To add even more problems, she had a horrible headache, and couldn't remember what happened last night. A flowery scent filled her nostrils, a scent she recognized. It was Miku. "Miku?" She said in a dreary tone, "Miku is that you?" "Yes your majesty." Followed by another voice, "I'm here as well your majesty." "Kongami? Can you girls get me out his these ropes?" Both the maids started to chuckle, as they gently groped Dales, causing her to moan, "What are you two doing? Let me go. I have work." Miku responded in her usual, coy and seductive, voice, "Shhhhh...Enjoy yourself milady." ****************** They "played" with her for two more hours, before Dales ripped apart the bonding's with magic, and proceeded to attack them with pillow barrages. Miku and Kongami ran out, laughing and saying goodbye to there "lady". Dales herself walked down the corridors of the palace, intent on heading to the throne room to deal with the pesky nobles of the imperial court, Idiots, all of them. As she walked by various staff; servants, guards, and others, most greeted her with bows or "Good day your majesty". Some, gave her suggestive winks with the average greeting, all females. Suddenly she saw the court mage walking down the corridor, wearing only pants and holding three large scrolls in his arms. "Whoring around lately have we?" he said with voice as sly as the smile on his face. Dale's face turned red, at the court mages words and smile, before saying aggressively, "I am not whoring around!!!" He let go of the scrolls and left them floating in the air as he crossed his arms. "The maids have been telling another story as of late." She waved her hand, and her face become even more flustered, "What have those...bumpkins told you?" "Not too much into detail. But enough for to know that you've been sleeping around with five women in the staff, four of them the maids whom you brought to Skyrim. You ever wondered where they learnt those little illusion tricks?" Skjari chuckled a little. "The gardener didn't count" she protested, and raised her voice, with her facial expression twisting into a snarl, "All I did was...a quicky with her." "And she was slightly disappointed in you for that. Though don't worry I made it up to her for you. But you have to admit that 'whoring around' as you call it, is quite entertaining." Skjari's smile grew wider. "I wasn't whoring around..." Dales said, while trying to block the ever increasing blush forming around her face, due to the mage's increasing grin. She herself started counting all of the people she had...ehem "intimate" encounters with. "And besides...who am I to argue if someone wants to..."get to know me" better?" "You should know that you don't need to excuse such behavior to me." He gave her hands a quick look. "And judging from the red line on your wrists I would guess Koni has been using the rope and blindfold on you." He chuckled. "Did she bring the other maids to play 'Guess who?' with you as well?" Her eyes trailed down her wrists, seeing the rope marks. Her face felt like it was on fire, before she muttered quietly, "Miku was present as well." "Well at least you had fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. She brought ten other women when she played it with me." "Did she use the...ehem "paddle" if you guessed wrong?" "No, she choked me with her... Well she has a very ample bosom." He picked up the scrolls from the air. "Now I should be off. Before any servants hear us talking." "Ah that would be very wise." She said, by then Dales had finished counting the number of females she "did" in the last few weeks, and it was surprisingly large number. She cleared her throat, before walking away from the nord. As she approached the door leading to the royal throne room, she noticed a legionary on duty, a female legionary. She was clad in the usual plate mail of the imperial watch. She was highly attractive, Dales smiled to herself, and approached the guard, who saluted her. Dales began to engage in common talk, before saying, "My, my...you seem so bored Quentius, why don't we get to know each other more over some brandy, somewhere private after i'm done in with the nobles?"

Velan Quintus, Quaestor Thorek, Legion Recruits- Goblin Tim's Cave, North of Skingrad, Day Velan stopped the recruits, along with Thorek, just outside of the cave they had been ordered to clear out. It was a known goblin habitat, and had become a large nuisance. Velan had never liked goblins anyways. They had no sense of honor. Although in some ways, he enjoyed their strength driven society. Not enough to allow them to take the lives of citizens of the Empire. "Alright recruits. This is it. The first time I will see you in the fire. Who knows where we are at?" It was a simple question to test the general sense of direction, and knowledge of the land. A male Nord, Keld, was the first to respond. "Well, we are north of Skingrad. And I believe I know this cave as well. This is a goblin tribes home right?" "Correct. It was formerly the home of the Whiteskin tribe, led by a Goblin Jim." One of the Breton males spoke up. Varnis was his name. "I heard that there's a new leader. Goblin Tim, I think. I've heard he's killed many people." "Very true. Little does he know, that ends today. Now, we need to figure out how we want to approach this. Any ideas?" ~~--~~-~~--~~ "Gaaaah!" Goblin Tim looked sadly from his bloody mace to the now dead Redguard prisoner he'd been enjoying the company of so much these last few weeks. "That wasn't supposed to happen." His second-in-command, a Goblin shaman named Gralam hobbled over on his old staff. "Maybe it is because you aimed too high." He pointed at the large open wound just in the center of his chest. "The chest broke open, and blood spilled out. Don't aim there. Aim for the balls. Don't need balls." Tim looked at his shorter companion with a wild look in his eyes. "You think I don't know that?! I broke the balls the other week stupid!" I swear, all other goblins are dumb as rocks. But so are humans too. And elves, but they are meaner than other goblins. "Sorry Gralam. You are stupid, but you already know that. I don't need to tell you a lot." "It's okay. I know we not as smart as you." Tim and Gralam both turned at the sound of a pair of feet clambering into the small firelit room. "Chief Tim!" It was one of the younger ones, likely still unshedded. "Humans outside! A lot! With weapons!" Tim raised his eyebrow, which was a unique ability of Tim's, as eyebrows were a facial feature that no one else in the cave possessed. "Are there more of them than us?" "No." "Then why be afraid?! Go now! Set the traps and make the other stupid unready ones ready!" "Yes Chief Tim!" Tim turned to his shaman. "We will wait in the back with the archers. The humans won't reach us." "You don't think we should fight in front? It will help the unshedded." "We wait in the back!" Tim practically spat. "The White Skins are strong! We always were. They will be fine." ~~--~~-~~--~~ "We could sneak around, and try to surprise them." That wasn't a horrible idea, but Velan had heard enough of their strategies. "That would work, except for one problem. One of the goblins slipped inside rather frantically. They most likely know we are here. So we will use a rather simple, but extremely effective tactic. We will stick together, watching each others back. Goblins aren't too great with strategy, so we don't need to think incredibly hard. Don't stray from the group, and you'll live. Thorek and I shall lead. Any questions?" "What if they have archers?" Velan wanted to frown, but it wasn't that bad of a question. "Use your shield. Besides, I trust Alexia and Luther to be the better archers." He saw Alexia's face light up at his remarks. Well, she's easy to please. Hopefully that helps her confidence enough. Velan signaled for the recruits to follow him. They then advanced towards the entrance of the cave. Once they were reasonably close, the goblins reacted as expected. By charging, and grunting along the way. Probably how they communicated, if you asked Velan. There were 7 goblins, since one had retreated inside. 4 of them came charging with battered up weapons and armor. The other 3 stayed back a bit, and began firing arrows. The first of them was met by Velan. The goblin tried to hit Velan with a mace, but Velan responded with his mace. He smacked the goblins weapon away, and then punched the mace through the front of the goblins skull. The second goblin was easily dispatched by Thorek, who cleaved the goblin up with his sword. Velan intentionally let the next goblin through, to see how the recruits would react. Keld was the first to confront the goblin. He blocked a sword blow, before countering with one of his own. Surprisingly, the goblin blocked Keld's blow. Before either of them could make another move though, Varnis pushed his blade into the goblins back. He turned to see a couple of the other recruits finishing off the last of the close combat goblins. He then watched as Alexia dropped the second of the goblin archers. She fired at the third one again and again, but was unable to hit it. Damn it. She hit the first one in one shot. What's different? Oh no. She can't finish. Luckily, Luther could. He hit the last archer in the throat, killing him nearly instantly. "Alright. We're going in. Remember to stay together. Watch for traps, and listen to what I say. Oh, and Alexia. What happened? You couldn't hit the last goblin. Why? He wasn't even moving that much." "I don't know. I was doing good, but all of the sudden I couldn't keep my bow straight." "Damn it girl. You've got to control your nerves. I believe in you. There's no reason for you to be nervous. You're lucky Luther saved you there. That goblin was lining up a pretty good looking shot." "Alright sir. Won't happen again." "Good. Now lets get in there, and get to work." ~~--~~-~~--~~ As soon as the battle had started, Goblin Tim knew. How couldn't he with the little unshedded runt constantly rushing back to report losses at the hands of the humans. "They killed all the first room kin. And Grobloo. Grobloo's dead." Tim smiled. His teeth were quite a good deal smaller than most goblins'. His whole mouth was really. It helped hide the fact that his teeth were quite rotted. "Well they haven't reached the Berserkers yet. The Berserkers kill well. Better than the others." ~~--~~-~~--~~ As they stepped inside the cave, Velan took note of the surroundings. There were two corridors. One continued straight from where they entered, while the other was on the left. Velan was about to begin thinking about which path to take, when he heard the grunting of more goblins coming from the left path. "Alright, we are going to the left. Watch for traps. Goblins are pretty good at assembling basic traps. Nothing you can't handle though. Now let's move." Sure enough, as they made it to a right turn in the corridor, they were ambushed by six mace wielding goblins. They seemed much more skilled however. Not enough for Velan to consider them a deadly threat for himself, though. They would match the recruits though. I better take a couple out. Thorek too. Velan charged into two of the goblins, using his shield to ram them into the wall. He then brought his mace down upon one of the goblins skulls, which caused it to cave in. The other goblin had surprisingly gotten back to its feet, and began to swing its weapon wildly. Velan skillfully blocked the goblin's attacks with his shield. He quickly found an opening, and smashed the goblins foot with his mace. He then quickly finished his foe with a smack to the side of the head. Velan turned to see how the others were faring. Thorek was busy with two goblins himself. He blocked one of the goblins with his shield, and used his leg to sweep the other one to the ground. He then quickly maneuvered himself in position to stab the downed goblin. He then was able to focus his undivided attention on the remaining goblin. He dodged the goblins wild charge, and then plunged his sword in the back of this seemingly berserk goblin. Velan then turned to check on the recruits. Keld, Varnis, and two of the other recruits were overwhelming one of the berserkers. Keld and another recruit distracted it, while the other two attacked from behind. He then turned and saw a bad situation. The recruits had lost sight of the last goblin. "Edgar, duck!" Luckily Edgar was quick to follow orders, and ducked immediately. He ducked just in time to avoid the sneaky goblins attack. After that, it wasn't long before the recruits overwhelmed and killed the enemy. "You have to stay on your toes! We can't afford to lose sight of an enemy again. Understood?" "Understood sir." He was about to give one last comment, when he heard footsteps behind him. He spun and raised his shield. "Archers!" There were 4 goblin archers. Obviously they weren't smart enough to attack with the others. "Alexia, Luther. You know what to do." The two recruits took their positions, and began to trade fire with the goblins. Alexia hit one with her first shot, just like before. Luther was able to lodge his second arrow into one of the archers necks, sending a spray of blood. Alexia narrowly avoided an arrow, as she rolled out of the way. Luther responded by taking out the archer. Don't fold this time. Alexia popped up out of her roll, and lined up a shot. She released, and watched as her arrow landed in the last archers chest. "Alright. Keep moving." Velan led the soldiers towards the next section of the cave. As he did, he heard goblins clamoring up ahead. ~~--~~-~~--~~ "Chief! Chief!" It was the same little goblin that had come to him the other times. "What is it?" "They killed many Berserkers. No humans died." Stupid weaker goblins! Make Tim do it all the hard work alone.. Tim jumped down from his favorite chair and headed for the higher tunnels. "Where are you going?" asked Gralam. "Going to see the humans. Not fight them. Just see them." I am smarter and faster. I know the caves best. It will be easy to get away if found. ~~--~~-~~--~~ Velan was feeling alright about the raid so far. They had not lost anyone. As a matter of fact, no one had even gotten injured. But he knew that could change very easily. So he wasn't going to let down his guard. As they entered a new opening in the cave, Velan was faced with another choice. There were three ways to go, although one of them appeared to backtrack. Before Velan decided which path to choose, they were rushed by two goblins. They came up on the side of them, and were met by Thorek and Varnis. Thorek was quickly able to take advantage of his enemies mistakes, countering one of the goblins strike with a lethal slash to the throat. Varnis was... struggling. He was parrying blows as fast as he could, with no room to counter strike. The goblin even managed to land a glancing blow on Varnis' thigh. Velan was about to assist, when Keld smashed his sword into the goblins temple. "Good pick up Keld. Alright, follow me." He led the recruits through a narrow corridor. As the reached the end of it, he heard what appeared to be a human laughing. Then he heard a string snap from behind them. "EVERYONE HIT THE FLOOR!" They all dropped to the floor, as two maces swung down from overhead. Velan glanced up and saw a pale figure turn a corner, a good distance from them. "Alright. Let's move forward." "What if there's more traps?" "We will deal with them when we encounter them. Now let's go." They continued on, pushing the maces aside. They reached the end of the narrow tunnel, which led into an open room, where 5 goblins were waiting. One of them was an archer, and began firing upon them immediately. The four others charged, wildly swinging their weapons. Alexia was the first recruit to respond, shooting the archer in the hip. Luther followed that up by hitting the kneeling goblin in the lung. As the berserkers reached the group, Velan once again picked two of them out. He violently thrust his shield into one goblin, while skillfully disarming the other. He was about to kill the standing goblin, when he felt something grab him. The goblin he had knocked down was trying to bite through his armor, and had almost succeeded. Velan stomped on the rabid goblins skull four times before it stopped moving. He then refocused himself on the other goblin, who was busy picking up his weapon. The goblin picked up his sword, and started spinning wildly with it. Velan jumped back, and threw his mace at the goblins skull. He then finished off the wounded berserker, and picked up his mace. He turned to see that Thorek had taken one of the goblins out with a vicious stab. The recruits had ganged up on the last goblin, and successfully dispatched it. "Alright. Everyone good?" "Yes." After confirming that everyone was alright, they pressed on. The walked through another narrow hallway, although this time there wasn't any traps. They entered a large room, with a few goblins in it. He also caught a glimpse of the figure from before, as it retreated deeper into the cave. As they started to move forward again, the company could hear the echos of what appeared be a goblin conversation coming from deeper in the cave. "Bileck marook! Tim palil!" "Mowalik brukall." This voice was less scratchy than the first. It actually sounded like it could have belonged to a human. There was a pause for several moments before the voice continued, this time shouting so that the soldiers could not mistake its words. "Humans turn back! We kill if don't!" Definitely a person. Must be their makeshift leader. "You hear that? We've gotten their attention. Now let's stay alert, and finish this." "Yes sir." They probably walked about 12 steps, before they heard a huge rumbling. Thorek reacted quickly. "Logs! Recruits back!" The recruits were far back enough to retreat from the logs. Except for Aeri, who was frozen by the noise. Velan didn't hesitate. He ran over and thrust the Nord over his shoulder, and jumped over a log, and clear of the trap. He set the girl back down on her feet. "Don't hesitate when ordered." "Yes sir." "You either." Velan turned to see that one of the Imperial males was also frozen by the trap. Thorek must have thrust him out of the way while Velan was busy. Lucky day for that recruit. "Exactly. Oh... Heads up." Velan pointed over to a group of 5 goblins charging the group. For the third time, Velan chose two goblins for himself. However as he went to stop the second goblin, it broke left towards the recruits. "Pick him up," he yelled as he blocked the first goblins attack. The Imperial who was frozen before was the first to react. He whipped his shield into the goblins shoulder blade. The force of the blow knocked the goblin into the blades of both Keld and Aeri. Velan then refocused on his enemy, who he had been blocking pretty easily. He waited for the goblin to strike again, and then sidestepped him and smashed the berserkers throat in with a thunderous blow from his mace. He then turned and saw the two archers getting overwhelmed by a goblin. Velan sprinted through the group, and blindsided his target. Then before the goblin could react, he snapped his neck. He then turned to see Thorek and Varnis finishing off the last two goblins. "Everyone good?" "I got hit in the thigh pretty hard," Alexia said, limping a little. "You'll be alright. Just push through. Although Thorek is going to drop back and make sure you're alright." Thorek immediately dropped back, and then the group pressed on. Before long, Velan spotted another trap. "Hold up. See the holes? Darts." Velan threw a large rock forward, which ended up triggering the trap. They watched as darts flew across the room, harmlessly hitting the wall. After it stopped, Velan signaled for the recruits to follow. They were nearing the end of the cave. The group continued deeper into the cave, through a narrow hallway. He could see that it opened up into a large room at the end. As he studied the end of the hall, five goblins came out from nowhere. They grunted as they charged the group from either side. Velan ran towards the two charging the front, while Thorek and the others would handle the others. Velan caught the first goblin with a mace blow to the hip, thrusting it into the wall. The next goblin was ran over by Velan's shield. He then turned around and brought his mace down upon the goblins head with shattering force. Then he ran and smacked the other goblin to the ground, before finishing it off with another vicious blow from his mace. Thorek was helping the recruits make short work of the remaining goblins, slashing two of their throats in a single well thought out swing. The recruits had no trouble dispatching the last one. Finally, they reached what appeared to be the end of the road. A large room, with a ridge on the right. There were three archers perched on that ridge. Looking back towards the center of the room, Velan saw the pale figure from before. Getting a closer look, he saw it was indeed a human. Beyond him there was another goblin, along with a cooking pot, and some treasure. Velan signaled for the rest of the group to stay further back from him as they entered the room. Goblin Tim barked orders for his archers to hold their fire, then switched to the more common language that humans preferred to use as he addressed the approaching soldier. "You not listen. Why you not listen?" Tim put one hand behind his back and gave Gralam a little wave, signaling him to move further along the right of the room. He was surprised to see the leader seemingly call off his archers. Velan responded by telling his men to do the same. "You have killed my people..." He was trying to speak simply, so the man would understand him. "Why would you do that?" Goblin Tim wasn't sure he understood the question. Why would I kill your people? Because you're humans stupid! You have good stuff. But Tim knew that he had to use his vastly superior intellect in this situation, for his people were now outnumbered. It would not be smart of him to insult this human, or to say that they killed his kind for their belongings. "We kill because you kill." We kill? "You mean me? Or my people? Does not matter really. We came to cave, and you attacked. We... attacked back. Killing innocent people is wrong. People who kill are locked away. If not killed." He hoped the man would understand, although the concept was pretty advanced. Even Velan didn't always understand the law. Tim scratched his head for a moment, then a look of understanding appeared on his face. "We lock too!" Tim pointed his bloody mace at the wired cage in the corner of the room behind Velan. The Redguard he'd killed earlier hadn't been moved. Neither had the many skeletons of his predecessors for that matter. I'm probably expecting a bit much, but hopefully we are on the same page. "He kill?" Then upon closer inspection, he saw signs of torture. He didn't bring it up, fearing he would anger the man. At this point, Velan was hoping he could end this with an arrest, rather than a slaughter. But he knew it could end up requiring the latter at any moment. Goblin Tim had to think for a minute. The darker human had been in his cage for a while now. What did he do? He had a bow... Tim snapped his fingers. The man had been a hunter! They'd found him as he was skinning a deer he'd just shot... and killed. Goblin Tim nodded his head vigorously. "Yes yes! He kill!" Velan was suspicious as to whether the man was being truthful. "What did he kill?" After saying that, Velan realized he should have said who. This gutted talking was making him a little frustrated. He didn't show it though. Tim scratched his head again. What is their word for deer? "He kill... Furry one. Outside. Taste good over fire." Tim used his hands to imitate antlers on his head. Velan wanted to smile, but knew he shouldn't. "A deer?" "Deer! He kill deer!" Tim pointed to the cage again. "We take stuff and lock. Kill today." Velan didn't know what to say. There was no way for him to explain that deer weren't illegal to kill. He had to find some sort of agreement. "Okay. Listen to me. You have killed our people. You need to come with me, to city. To be judged for killing. Goblins too. You do that?" The situation was now surreal. He was attempting to get a goblin like man, and actual goblins to turn themselves in peacefully. No one will ever believe this. "What city? What judged?" Goblin Tim's face scrunched up. Did this man want them to leave with him? Why? They didn't even know him. He'd just come in here and killed lots of them. Still, Tim knew that even though he was skilled, he had no chance of taking on all of these evil humans. "City is where many people live. Judge means we figure out if you did wrong by killing. If you did, we have to lock you up. If not, we let you return." Tim was pretty sure that he understood now. So the humans wanted to take him to a city and see if he'd done something wrong? Tim knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. Not lately. Well, this morning he'd accidentally punished Gorbloo for taking Looda's helmet, when it was actually Feelk. But the humans couldn't know about that, could they? Some how, this man must've been watching them. Maybe if I be strong, he will leave us. "No. Goblins stay." Darn. "No. Either goblins go. Or goblins fight us. Choice is yours." Velan signaled for his recruits to be prepared, but not to draw weapons unless they do. Tim understood that just fine. Why was this human so cruel? First he killed almost all the White Skins, and now he was going to try to kill them. Tim spoke in his own tongue to Gralam, who had moved along the wall on Tim's right, putting Goblins at every side of the room. "Wait for my signal. I'll kill the leader. You use the big lightning spell on the rest when they move. Archers shoot at them when he does." He looked back at Velan before casting a defeated look to the dirty cave floor. "Told them we come." He said sadly. Tim motioned toward Velan with his mace. "I come now? You not kill?" Velan didn't move. "You come without fight, I don't kill. You try fighting, I kill you. So, let's go. Please don't fight. I don't want to have to kill you." He signaled for Thorek to split the group, so he could lead the goblins out. Tim nodded and moved up to Velan. Just as he got within range, his eyes suddenly widened and he let out a battle shriek. "Grupaaa!" Tim jabbed his spiked mace forward at the man's torso. As he did, the archers fired their volley, and Gralam shot a bolt of lightning, all aimed for the recruits. Shouldn't have shrieked. Velan thrust his leg, attempting to sweep the man off his feet. At the same time, he had blocked the blow, and was countering with a blow of his own aimed at Goblin Tim's throat. Thorek was on the side on which the lightning was aimed for. He ordered the recruits to bolt to the left, as he blocked the spell as much as possible. He was hurt, as were many of the recruits. But he was far from incapacitated. The arrows were mainly blocked by the other group, although Velan heard Varnis roar with pain. He had been grazed on the arm. He'd survive, but it was going to be painful. After they were finished blocking, the recruits returned fire on the archers, while Thorek threw his personal war axe at Gralam. Tim felt the edge of the mace nick him as he tried to dodge out of the way. The dodge would have been more successful had the human's leg not smacked into his own. He fell to the ground, a slight trickle of blood on his neck. Tim was fast though, and he immediately rolled out of Velan's reach and stood back up, this time waiting for the human to make the first move. A shriek rang out across the room, coming from Gralam's direction. Tim briefly glanced over to see his shaman slumped against the wall with an axe lodged into his skull. He turned his attention back to Velan. Things weren't looking good. Velan was surprised by the man's speed. He then realized what this reminded him of. Gergio. Except he couldn't take you, my friend. Velan decided to take up Goblin Tim's offer of a free move. He rushed his foe, appearing to be preparing to swing his mace at the man. But at the last second he rose his shield up, hoping to ram him into the ground. Thorek was surprised he was able to hit the goblin. He then turned his attention to assisting the recruits in dispatching the three archers. He led them in shooting a continuous volley. Even if only two of the recruits were any good with a bow, he was sure they would at least hit one of them. Tim had been preparing to dodge Velan's strike and counter with his own. He wasn't prepared when the man brought up his shield. Tim quickly swung out his mace in an attempt to stop it, but all it did was jar his arm and send the mace flying out of his hand before smashing into him. Thankfully, the mace had at least slowed the blow enough for Tim to remain on his feet, but he did stagger back. Shaking his head, he began backing up, looking around for an escape from the human. His forces were now depleted, and even as he looked around, he could see his archers being overwhelmed. One was hanging over the side of the ridge, and another had an arrow in his shoulder. Thorek had traveled over and retrieved his war axe. He climbed up onto the ridge from behind, and cleaved his way through one of the wounded archers. He then easily dispatched the last of the archers, plunging his axe into through the goblins neck.. It was now all eyes on Velan and Tim. Velan was surprised that the man was able to stay on his feet. That probably wouldn't be enough to save him though. Velan moved forward, intending to finish the fight. Seeing no escape, and now backed to the wall, Tim dropped to his knees. "Liroop ded swakka! Grulshap! Don't kill! Don't kill! I go! I go to city! Tim be good!" The pathetic creature of a man looked up at the strong human pleadingly. His bright blue eyes were now wide with fear. Tim knew that his life was now in Velan's hands. Velan wasn't suspicious this time. There was no mistaking the fear in the mans eyes. He had to make a choice. Do I spare him? I mean, why should I? I gave him the choice once, and he stabbed me in the back. He doesn't deserve to... No. He does. It is my duty to bring him to be judged. He has surrendered. Killing him now would be wrong. I'll take him back to the fort, and take it up with the fort commander. I'm just sad he didn't give up when some of his friends were still alive. It must have been hard, learning their customs. He should be pitied. Maybe with the right discipline, he could be made into a... non dangerous civilian. It is my duty to give him that chance. Velan put his mace away and lowered his shield. "And so you will. First, we go to fort. My men need to get better. Get up, and turn around. I promise I won't kill." Relief flooded Tim's face as he stood up and complied. "Fugil! Fugil! I be good, yes! Very good!" "Alright. Just hold still. I know you don't have weapon now, but I have to be careful," Velan said, as he tied the man up. "I never got your name. What is it?" Velan looked back to see his recruits stunned at what was taking place. "Me Goblin Tim." croaked the pale Imperial. "I'm Velan. Now, let's get on our way. I'm very tired." Velan led the goblin man out of the room, to begin the trek back to Fort Ash. He had another good story to add to his collection. And this one might just be the craziest of all.

Baldur and Rebec near Gjukar's Monument, southern tundra nighttime "AGGHH!" "That was a thorn bush. Pick another spot." "Damn it, I knew we should've brought the bedroll." The group of Stormcloaks had set out later than intended from Markarth, by the time everyone was ready and Ysana had let Baldur and Rebec go, and then they had taken a detour to investigate a trader's report that he'd seen Thalmor near Gjukar's Monument. The "Thalmor" turned out to be two Bosmer hunters. By that time, it was too late to push on to Rorikstead, so the group set up camp. Baldur, Rebec and Mazoga went hunting for dinner, and after dinner, the admiral and her bard snuck off from camp to do their usual thing. Since they hadn't in fact brought a bedroll, they walked a little further out and found a nice grassy spot. The clouds in the night sky above cleared just as they were beginning to roll around on it. On one pass, Rebec caught something in the corner of her eye and tensed. "Baldur," she whispered, pointing at something behind him. "I think... Holy mother Kyne." In the direction she was pointing stood a figure. A very tall figure, though not as tall as most of his kind. He held a club at his side, and was scratching his arse as he stood watching them. "Oh no don't even try it. You already got me started." said Baldur as he grinned and started undoing his kilt, completely oblivious to his surroundings at the moment, likely from lack of blood to the brain. "Put your sword away and get out your axe. We've got company." Rebec reached for her own weapon and stood up, shrugging her tunic back in place. Baldur's smile fell in great disappointment, as did his sword before drawing his axe. Thoroughly annoyed Baldur stood up, axes at the ready to hurt something for his killed mood. "Alright, who's...who...Ness?" Baldur stood in disbelief as he saw the same exact giant from before staring the two both down in the distance. Baldur sheathed his axes not long after. "Screw the axes, we're not fighting that thing! Why's he just staring at us? ENJOYING THE SHOW ARE YOU?" said Baldur calling out to Ness. "Shh! You'll scare him. Though I guess if he wasn't scared by the sight of that..." Rebec sheathed her axe as well and inched forward, staring at the giant. "Are you in trouble, Ness? Somebody bothering you guys again?" The giant grunted and tamped his club on the ground once. "Okay, okay. We did save your life, but it's more likely you'd be getting us out of trouble." She looked at Baldur. "What do you think? How are we supposed to talk to a giant?" Baldur scratched his head as he looked at Rebec thoroughly perplexed. "Um, why are we trying to talk to him again? Heh, I suppose...maybe the thing recognizes us. If so, maybe it is smart enough for communication. Damn it, this is so stupid, but it's peaked my curiosity." Baldur started walking, slowly at first, in the direction of the giant, cursing as he did. "Well? You coming?" Some people did trade with the giants, but Rebec hadn't ever pictured herself as one of them. After some hesitation, she followed. When they got closer, she addressed the giant. "Trade? You came to trade with us?" Ness grunted again and made a shuffling noise. She almost thought he was about to lift his club and send them to Masser, but instead he reached for something on his belt and tossed it at her. It sloshed as it landed at her feet. Rebec stooped and picked up what proved to be a woolly skin full of some liquid. She looked at Baldur. "He's giving us this. I wonder if they think the cow was for trade and he came to pay us back." Baldur stared at Ness in disbelief. He couldn't believe Rebec's crazy talk ended up having some merit after all. Ness seemed to be waiting for something as he stared at the two, watching. "I think he wants us to drink it...What the hell is it anyway?" asked Baldur who kept one hand on his axe just in case. "The skin looks like it used to be a mammoth. Great." The neck was a rusty old spigot. Even better. But with Ness watching, they had to appear grateful. Rebec undid the spigot and let a drop of the liquid fall into her finger. She sniffed it, but only got a faint, grassy sweet smell. "Here goes nothing." She held the spigot to her mouth and took a drink. It burned going down and there was an instant headrush like strong liquor. "Whoa! It's got a kick, but it's... not half bad. Some kind of spirit or tonic." Rebec handed the skin over to Baldur for him to try. Baldur took the strange gift in his hands and did as Ness seemed to want them to. Then he took a whiff of the stuff and instantly pulled back as the sweet fumes overwhelmed his sense of smell and sent a slight burning sensation up his nostrils. Guess I should have just sniffed a drop like Rebec. This stuff is potent. "Here goes nothing..." Baldur took a big swig of the liquid, probably bigger than he should have on the first try and started smacking his lips in approval once he got over the sense of skeever piss going down his throat. "Hehehe. These giants got some potent liquor eh? I suppose they have to since they're so damn big. Well, what now?" Before Baldur could finish his sentence, Ness took a seat in front of the couple sending a small tremor through the ground as he plopped his massive body to the ground and he then took out another bigger mammoth skin container from off of a strap on his waist and began drinking some himself. Perhaps it was the effect of the strange liquid or Baldur never recovered the blood he lost from his big head to his little one, but for whatever reason, the Nordic General who wouldn't even think to get this close to one of the "fathers" started walking right up to him now with his hand outstretched. "Who's a good giant? You are! Yes you are! Come here, cootchie cootchie! Hehehe..." "Baldurrr..." Rebec was going to warn him and say something motherly and cautionary, but found that her tongue had turned into a furry caterpillar. That idea tickled her so much that she started to giggle. "Thish is like m...m... moon sugerr. But ish not skooma. Give it 'ere." Ignoring her own warning, Rebec went over to Baldur and took the skin from him, taking another drink. With Ness sitting down, they were practically eye to eye now. Rebec wavered on her feet and said, "He ish pretty cute." As blurry as the giant was, he could have been a draugr and she'd have said the same. Baldur was giggling like one of the Dibellans now and blushing quite strongly for no apparent reason. Baldur walked right up to Ness and hugged, or rather tripped and fell onto his neck from the side. Still giggling as he spoke into his ear, Baldur said, "Hey, hey, Nessy...I ever hehehahha! I ever told you...I always wanted to hug a giant. I was too afraid before but...You only live once! Hey, hey you, come here...how hehehe! Okay, shhh, quiet. How many Dark elves, does it take, to stoke a fire?" Ness whose eyes were closed gave a low grunt as if in reply. "None, because it's already done! Get it? Because they're Dun-mer! Hahhahahahaha!" Baldur started laughing hysterically while tugging on Ness's beard which caused him to push Baldur off of him. Baldur hit the ground pretty hard, but the general wasn't discouraged, still laughing and giggling as he got back up to hug Ness once more, who seemed to be very calm from the liquid's effects. "Thash a dumb joke," Rebec said, but laughed hysterically at it anyway. "Alright, we better... better..." She was trying to say they should go back to camp, but the thought dangled out on a limb and she couldn't quite reach it. This isn't good, her better, soberer sense told her, as she was on the way to fainting flat on her back. By the time she was actually on her back, though, she forgot why she'd been upset, because it felt so blissful. Baldur was now trying to pick Ness's nose, but his vision was blurry and he ended up scraping the side of it with his gauntlet's bear claw. Ness's reaction caused him to slap Baldur away a few feet, where Baldur stayed. Not from the pain. The liquid's effects made him too numb to feel pain. It also made him feel like he could run across Tamriel, but he just felt too at peace to do so. Instead he simply stared at the sky watching the stars dance across the void as Rebec laid in her spot on the ground as well. In her own dream world, Rebec was in the ocean. The sky was fiery pink and orange and the water was bright purple and green. It was warm like the Abecean, but there were whales swimming by, their air holes snuffling- Ness' breath, in reality, though the admiral was too far gone to know this. Recognizing that she could go anywhere and do anything in this ocean, she did what she always wanted to do and envied the Argonians for: Dived deep and kept going to reach the bottom. Unlike normal swimming, there was no drag on her and it required no special force to reach the bottom. There she found a wondrous forest, filled with strange trees and swimming creatures. There was no end to it, and no matter how far she swam, she never got tired. Rebec had a nagging worry that Baldur wasn't with her, and that she should be getting back to her ship, but it was all too blissful to let that bother her. In Baldur's dream, the general was standing on a field of strange yellow colored ground. There was no trees, no grass, no nothing. Just the yellow ground before him and the moon above him. That was the second strange thing. There was only one moon, but it was blue with white streaks and brown masses covering it as well. Baldur looked to his left and noticed that he could see Masser after all, but it was a lot bigger than normal. Closer. Eventually Baldur figured out that he was actually on Secunda. But why it was yellow made no sense to him at all. Suddenly Baldur could feel the earth shake behind him. As he turned around, he saw that it was none other than Ness, except Ness had a Rebec head and a feminine giant body. Reb-Ness got to one knee and sent her fist flying into the ground, but instead of a loud crash, her fist made a soft squish. When she pulled her hand out, she stuck out her hand for Baldur to take the yellow ground from it. It was cheese. Reb-Ness grunted and mumbled something in giantish as she waited for him to take the food. Baldur gladly took the cheese and stuffed his mouth with it. Once Reb-Ness had seen he was satisfied, Reb-Ness sent a thunderous shockwave from her mouth that was so powerful, Baldur could have sworn that it made the moon move. A few seconds later, Baldur heard a familiar cry from above that he knew all too well....a dragon. The mighty red dragon lay before her, bowing its head to her as she mounted the creature. As she did, she looked to Baldur and signaled him to come over. "Umph verkumph!" Baldur reluctantly complied to her command. Baldur then climbed up on her back, mounting the giant mounting the dragon, and watched in amazement as they took off into the void and went straight to Masser. Now, normally Baldur would be overcome with the sight of flying through the empty void, but Baldur's eyes were fixated on one thing and one thing only. Or, technically two. Giant boobs. Baldur sat on Reb-Ness's neck drooling on her giant cleavage as he looked down at them while nibbling on moon cheese that he had stuck on his claws again. This...is...heaven! Screw Sovngarde, this is heaven! Once they finally reached Masser, Baldur "accidently" fell forward, sliding down Reb-Ness's cleavage and onto the dragon's back. The dragon knocked Baldur off as he slid down on his wing, which sent him falling face first into the ground, which was no longer cheese. Ahh, worth it. Before Baldur could get up, Reb-Ness grabbed him and slumped him over her shoulder and petted the red dragon before it took off. "Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" Reb-Ness grunted again and pointed with her club ahead of them at a giant tent, complete with a giant bed inside. Baldur started kicking his legs in excitement and let out a loud "Yipee!" as they made their approach. Once inside, Reb-Ness threw off her fur coverings and revealed what the general had been dying to get at the entire time. Giant....boobs. In the real world, Baldur was groaning and making strange animal noises of various kinds for just about the remainder of the vision. A man's mind does strange things when their happy time is interrupted. No matter what, they'll find a way. Rebec's dream had taken a less ecstatic turn. As she got deeper into the ocean forest, the colors turned darker and began to swirl together. It became more difficult to swim, and suddenly her magical ability to breathe underwater began to leave her, while a sense of oppressive weight prevented her from trying to rise to the surface. She started choking, clawing at her throat for breath. In the real world, she had started to vomit and actually was clawing for breath as her own sick went into her windpipe. The trees of the underwater forest turned into giant maws with snapping teeth, so that everywhere she turned in trying to struggle against suffocation, she was also cut by sharp things. Rebec felt the life being torn out of her body. Then, suddenly, a force grabbed her and drew her quickly up to the surface of the water. She hit the surface of the water with a hard smack and was dazed for a minute, but found she could get air again, and proceeded to hack and gasp as she spit up water and replaced it with air. Meanwhile, Ness the giant had recognized the woman's peril and had picked her up bodily, turned her over, and smacked her on the back to clear her lungs. Choking and gasping, Rebec soon began to breathe normally again, and slumped on her side in a fitful daze, her head aching dully. She hadn't had as much of the liquid as Baldur had, and in her delirium recognized this as being just about how her other experiences with moon sugar and skooma had gone. Who knew the mountain fathers were into skooma.... I don't remember that from any of the stories... When Baldur finally came to, he opened his eyes to see the stars yet again and wondered if he was still on the moons after all. Baldur was sporting a shameless grin on his face from the contents of his dream, but as he leaned up to stretch and look at the giant breasts again, Ness's face sent him crashing back to reality. "Aww man." said Baldur who was crestfallen. "That was...the greatest dream ever..." Baldur stood up, averting his eyes from Ness for feeling a bit weird about his presence causing a part of his fantasy, and looked to Rebec who was laying next to a puddle of vomit in the grass. Baldur ran over to her side and knelt down to see what was wrong. "You okay, Rebec? Didn't handle that stuff well, I take it." Rebec groaned and sat up, holding her head. The headache was not just from intoxication, but from the large goose-egg she had on her forehead from being slammed into the ground by a giant, even one who was trying to help her. That nice giant was standing off a few paces, looking out at something on the tundra. As Rebec's sight cleared a little, she thought she saw movement out there in the distance, maybe a predator who had gotten too close. With the giant standing guard, though, that was the last of their worries. "It didn't seem like skooma at first, but it sure acted like it," she said to Baldur. "Only I don't feel any desire to have more. In fact I'm not touching that stuff again. That might be Ness' idea of sharing his mead, but his mead's got a nasty right hook." "Wait, when did you do skooma? Moon sugar is one thing, although still addictive, but you'd have to be crazy to try skooma." said Baldur in an almost fatherly tone, which considering the recent circumstances was ironic. She was about to answer when she noticed the pile of sick lying next to her. "Agh, gods!" Rebec shifted closer to Baldur and hung her head between her knees. After a minute she said, "It was after I wrecked my ship. I couldn't face my family. Hitched a ride to... somewhere, I don't recall. Vilnur found me in a skooma den a few weeks later." All this is said in muffled tone, since her head is still buried. The ground shook as Ness approached again. He was holding their skin of liquor, still mostly full. When Rebec glanced up, he held it out towards her. "No!" Lowering her voice, she said, "No, thank you, Ness. It's a little stronger than our usual." The giant wavered, snuffling in his loud breath, then moved to offer the skin to Baldur. Baldur hearing Rebec compare the stuff to skooma and picturing her so low in the dumps to be caught in a skooma den really didn't want to take it, even though his experience was quite fantastic. But he didn't want to make the giant feel bad, so Baldur reluctantly stood up and took the skin from him. "Don't know if you can understand me, but thanks. That's some good stuff you got there, at least for me it was. Won't be taking anymore though in case it's addictive." Afterwards, Baldur sat back down next to Rebec and rubbed her back while she recovered. She felt like puking again, but the sensation passed and Rebec looked up once more. Ness was staring at them. It was creepy, but at the same time rather fantastic. She laughed, saying, "I think he's in love. With you." Pointing at Baldur's smeared war paint, she said, "It's the swirl on your cheek. He thinks you're a present. And probably because you were hanging on him before. Yes, I saw that. I wasn't that far out of my head." "I was...what? Oh...oh! OH, I could have been squished!" Baldur felt a chill go up his spine when he recalled his actions while he was high. "I almost was! I remember hitting the ground pretty hard, but I didn't feel a thing...that stuff is super strong." Baldur thought on Rebec's comment of him being a gift and was even more creeped out than he was before with him staring at the two. "Perhaps the stuff made him less aggressive. Seems to have given him a lasting impression. I guess we made a friend." Ness looked up suddenly, and shortly after that Rebec heard a voice calling. "That's Maz. She's out looking for us. Gods damn it. Alright, let's go find her before she finds us. Nothing about the giant. I'd rather the men think we're sex-crazed than that we play with giants." Standing to her feet, she addressed the giant, bowing her head. "Thank you, Ness. We liked the drink. Sort of." This last was mumbled. "Say hello to your big friends for us." Baldur made sure to keep his swirl out of sight as he waved to NeskonungR before dragging Rebec along by her hand. As nice as it was to have a giant friend, he still didn't quite trust the idea completely and was happy to have his gaze from off of them. The experience was an eye opening one and Baldur couldn't help but wonder just how far the relationship between ancient nords and the giants went. Or how the simple minded folk could serve as kings. Baldur still couldn't believe how crazy his life turned out to be sometimes. When he and Rebec went out for a late night romp, cuddling up on a giant was the very very very last thing he ever expected to happen. Baldur and Rebec finally made it back to the others. The two came bursting out of the woods and appeared suddenly behind Mazoga, likely catching her off guard. "Hey, we're back. You can stop your yelling now, Mazoga." "There you two are! We've been looking all over for you." Mazoga turned and whistled loud. When she heard some other voices she called out "I found 'em!" Rebec approached her sheepishly. "We're fine, Maz. Just got a little carried away." She sounded like a teenager caught sneaking in late. The orc chuckled. "Alright, as long as you're not sabrecat food or kidnapped by Thalmor. I got spooked, thought maybe that trader had actually seen some that we missed earlier." She punched Baldur in the arm. "Sounds like you got your septim's worth, boss." Mazoga then turned and jogged off back towards the camp. Rebec called after her, "I'd charge a lot more than a septim, ya green hag!" Turning to Baldur, she asked, "Did you have a weird dream like I did?" "Uhh...well..." Baldur couldn't hide back his grin and started rubbing the back of his head from embarrassment. "Let's just say I in fact did get my septim's worth. About a giant's weight in gold..." "What?" Rebec started laughing, remembering the giant ladies he'd painted on the cow. "I was swimming in a pretty ocean and you were shagging a giantess. Oh gods, Baldur, you're a sick, sick man. I love that about you." She put an arm around his waist. "Come on, let me wash this awful taste of my mouth and maybe we can try again. Closer to the camp this time. And we're selling that devil's drink to the Khajiit, so don't let me catch you sneaking a drink." Baldur put the drink behind his back protectively. "Aw, but I handle it so much better than you do! Why should I be punished? Besides, Giant Rebec's gonna get lonely up on Secunda without me!" "If you want to get your hands on Little Rebec again, you'll stay right down here in Tamriel." She stopped suddenly, turning. "Seriously, what is going on here? Do you realize what just happened? A giant, our giant, found us on the tundra and brought us a drink. That's not something anyone would believe even if we did tell them." Baldur gave a brief sigh, as he didn't want to think about it. The thought of a giant following them was beyond creepy, but at least Ness turned out to be friendly enough. The thought of a friendly giant made Baldur's head spin all over again. "Rebec, that's more crazy then my mind can register right now at the moment. I'd say that perhaps it was simply a coincidental event and we just happened to walk by. I mean, we're not that far from Whiterun and it certainly makes more sense than him somehow tracking us down. This is a logical location for the giants to move from where they were before. We see him again however...." "Maybe you're right. Yes. It has to be just coincidence, funny as it is." She continued on into camp, still pondering it. "Hey, Rebec. I've been meaning to ask. Why are you and Toki's family at odds?" asked Baldur, looking to change the subject for some sense of normalcy. "I'd just like to know what I'm in for when we get to Morthal." "Oh, that. Well, I don't think it will come to weapons, but don't expect a warm welcome. I got along well enough with Toki's pa. He was quiet, like Toki was. His ma, on the other hand... They'd planned for him to become a blacksmith. He was supposed to settle down in Morthal and open a smithy, start popping out grandchildren. They spent a lot of coin buying him his first tools and sending him to Solitude to apprentice. When he didn't do that, it was a big disappointment. Then he married me, and they hoped I'd make him settle down. You know how that turned out." Rebec chuckled. "I guess it was easier for Rivka to blame me than to be hurt about her son not sticking around." "Hmm, it may be a bit awkward then. Me being there and all. I'll try and stay out of it, but if things get out of hand...." Baldur's face was stern and said pretty much everything he needed to say. "I won't hit anyone, don't worry. They'll be in mourning but don't expect me to stay silent." "I don't expect it to be a long visit. They just need to know what happened, and I'll offer to bury him in Morthal if they want that. It's the least I can do. I'd almost say you were better off staying at the inn while I go talk to them, but they probably already heard the stories about us. I expect that'll confirm Rivka's low opinion of me, but that's just too bad." They were nearing camp, and passed some Stormcloaks snickering about the general and admiral sneaking off. Baldur payed no mind to the soldiers, as he was used to it by now. He actually rather enjoyed it. Their relationship was talked about even moreso than the High King and Queen, although it wasn't always for good reasons. A lot of it was also because of their profession, since couples fighting together wasn't common anymore. "Well I'll be there to make things easier if something does go south. You know I could never stay at the inn anyway from this unless you really thought it necessary. You know, word about us has gotten around pretty far as of late, I hear. There's even word from the Bard's College about a few songs and poems written on us. The name was...anonymous. Who knows, if they're well received, maybe they'll even catch the ears of others outside of Skyrim." Rebec stopped in her tracks. "You're kidding." She thought about that a second, then burst out laughing. "People must be really hard up for things to sing about. Some bard crooning about you and me in a tavern, that's a new one." She'd reached her pack and grabbed up a flask of water. With the first swig she cleaned out her mouth and spat into the remains of the fire. Then she went on to a bottle of mead. After a few drinks, she said, "You know, I'm beat and would just as soon get some shut-eye. Maz'll be kicking us out of the bedroll before we know it. Besides, I think you need to cool off a little." She smirked at this and elbowed him playfully. Baldur smiled at her playing and gave her a kiss on the light bruise on her forehead. "That's fine with me. You take good care of me, so I have no complaints. You laying beside me is more than enough." "Anyway, I can't compete with a giantess." Rebec grinned and tugged on his arm. After they got themselves ready for bed, she snuggled in next to Baldur on the bedroll and drew the furs around them. She played with his beard a little before settling in to sleep with a contented sigh. It was the best part of their adventures, that at the end of it, he was always there to hold her.

Baldur, Rebec, Boldir, Mila, Carlotta Markarth/ Whiterun Baldur and Rebec, Markarth, morning After protesting so much about wearing the dress, Rebec had a hard time getting back into her leathers again. She decided it was time to get some new ones, but that could wait. There wasn't much left for them to do in Markarth, however they needed a day to gather supplies and wait for some Stormcloak reinforcements, so she suggested to Baldur they take their breakfast out somewhere, and that they visit the Talos temple which had started the whole rebellion. The temple was underwhelming since there was still no priest for it, so no one was caring for the shrine, though it was obvious a few people did come to put down offerings. After that they climbed higher until there was no Markarth left to scale, and picked a sunny ledge on which to eat their breakfast. Rebec laid out the bits of bread and cheese, then took an apple for herself. Biting into it, she looked out over the city and said, "This place is nicer from a distance. It's not quite so creepy as it was before, though, knowing your ma and the other Dibellans are here all the time." Despite the dangerous reputation of the city, Baldur could hear the sounds of children playing down below. Their cries of laughter made him smile for multiple reasons, most of them obvious. Baldur after all these years was finally starting to appreciate this city more. Seeing some of the good in it recently helped. Meeting his mom and seeing a side of Rebec that he didn't know existed. Baldur once again used the claws on his gauntlets to help him eat his food, this time using them to cut a green apple into slices. Baldur placed a sour apple slice in his mouth, closing his eyes as he did to better savor the sour sweet juices in every bite. In between the chewing, Baldur said, "I see the Dibellans grew on you. I was going to apologize for leaving you with them at first until I saw what they did to you. They're like a frenzy of giggling sharks. Eesh, I don't know how you did it." said Baldur, slightly laughing as he did. Baldur thought back to how hard it was to get out of the temple that morning with them all trying to ask him questions about their night and what he thought of the dress. Baldur couldn't get out of there faster. "And that Hulga woman...I don't like the way she was looking at me...cracking her knuckles and such...No, I'd say the city still has some creep in it. What does she do anyway?" Rebec turned to look at him and lifted a brow. "Do you really want to know? She picked me up and cracked every joint in my body. Then they flayed the skin off me. You know what, let's not talk about it. The result was good enough. You seemed pleased anyway." Reaching out a booted foot, she kicked his leg playfully. "I don't know what I thought about them, before. It didn't seem like a very Nord thing, what they do, but I guess it is. Just a different kind of Nord than we're used to." Baldur's face lit up with confusion from Rebec's answer, then slight worry when he realized the woman may have tried doing that to him. "Whoa, hold on a second, she did what now? Remind me to keep her from me. But then again, you seemed to like it and you're right, I sure did like the outcome, hehehe. I'm surprised you didn't get in some kind of fight with her. Your...reputation with priests...well." Baldur gave a stupid grin as he took another bite of apple. "Ha, yes. I started to tell Ysana about my run-in with the priestess in Whiterun, but decided there are some stories that should probably wait til after she knows us better. Speaking of seeing your tongue lolling on the ground, you enjoyed that day a little too much, too." Rebec laughed, shaking her head at the memory. "I'm glad Mila wasn't around to see that. Between you giving her that sword and me... being me, Carlotta's going to ban us as bad influences." Baldur face palmed himself when he remembered all the times he forgot to edit the content of his speech in front of Mila. "Yes, luckily Mila knows how to keep a secret, or Carlotta would have tanned my hide. I'm really not a good influence on her at all. Heh, remember...." ********** Baldur Whiterun Hold 10 am "You get your sorry ass back here!" said a racing Baldur as he charged through the streets of Whiterun in hot pursuit of his target. Baldur was chasing down a dangerous bandit who was stupid enough to walk into Whiterun hold. The man was rather huge, exactly the size of Boldir, yet despite that, he was pretty damn fast. Baldur and the bandit now charged their way through the market district. With Baldur hot on his tail. Two old women walked in front of him, blocking off his path, but Baldur couldn't risk the criminal escaping. Quickly Baldur made his decision. He couldn't knock over the old women, but he could run over the redguard in fancy clothes standing next to them. No one liked him anyway and the last time he spoke to that asshole, he reminded him all too much of a Thalmor Justiciar with his snooty attitude. Except he was ten times worse. Baldur pivoted to the right around the old women and ran right over the man who was talking with Carlotta commenting on how her cabbage wasn't very fresh. One minute he was standing in front of her, the next a black cape and silver bear symbol flashed in front of her eyes and Nazeem was on the ground cursing and nursing the back of his head. "Whoops, sorry about that! Hi Carlotta!" said Baldur as he continued his pursuit. It took everything Carlotta had in her not to burst out laughing. "Good morning Baldur!" she called after her brother-in-law. The large bandit looked over his shoulder as sprinted up the steps beyond the market, heading past the wall and into the Wind district. He spotted Baldur pushing past some civilian, still in hot pursuit. Damn it! He's still behind me! He had hoped to lose the Stormcloak in the lunchtime market crowd. I'll have to get creative. The bandit had spent plenty of time in the city, and he was fairly certain that he knew it better than his pursuer. Immediately, he cut left beyond the wall, and leapt over a fence into the Gray-Manes' backyard. Hopping over their cow and rounding the house, he figured he could lose the Stormcloak easily enough in this neighborhood. After crossing the street again and bounding and swerving through several backyards, he suddenly cut right again and headed behind the Hall of the Dead. He was sure that he'd have lost the Stormcloak by now. Baldur saw the bandit and knew where he was headed despite not knowing the city quite as well as he did. But when Baldur saw the cow on his way to the man, Baldur suddenly had a plan. Baldur unsheathed one of his axes and leaped up onto the cow and smacked it on the ass like he did before with the cow they gave to Ness. The sudden shock of not one but two large men jumping over the cow, one of them staying on and the smack on the ass sent the cow charging. Baldur tugged on it's ears to direct the cow where he wanted to. At the top of his lungs, Baldur cried, "I've got you now, you bitch!" The bandit remained hiding behind the Hall of the Dead. His heart was pounding, and he could feel sweat on his brow, but the bandit wasn't yet tired. A lifetime of conditioning made sure of that. He peered around the corner of the building. Ha! Lost him! "I've got you know, you bitch!" What in the the-? "MOOOOO!" What appeared to be a flying cow appeared across the street, zooming over the backyard fence of the Gray-Manes' house, with none other than the Stormcloak General sitting upon it. His black cape was flowing behind him, and his Nordic axe was high in the air. Of course, the cow wasn't flying, and as soon as it had cleared the low fence, it came back to Nirn. But it didn't stop. The Stormcloak was holding it by the ears, seemingly controlling it. The charging cow was charging his way. The bandit immediately turned and ran, making a loop around the Hall, back towards the city center. He looked over his shoulder as he rounded the Gildergreen. The General and his new cow steed were gaining on him. He ignored the frightened onlookers and darted left, towards Dragonsreach. For an ordinary bandit, that would be suicide, but this bandit wasn't ordinary, and he knew it was the safest course of action for dealing with the cow. He reached the stairs, hearing the hooves clopping not far behind him, and sprinted up with all the speed he could muster. Tck, moron. You've trapped yourself. Baldur's cow was slowing down a tad on his way up the steps, but he gave the cow another whack and the cow was instantly rejuvenated. A man dressed up in imperial armor said something about smashing his face in for all Baldur's done, but the cow knocked him off the steps into the water below before he could finish his sentence. They finally made it up to the door of Dragon's Reach, trapping the bandit between the door and Baldur who had the steps blocked off. "Nowhere to run, now. Come quietly and I'll go..."easy" on you, hehehe." The bandit looked hard at the General, then at the bridge railings. The things I do for this shit. He scowled at Baldur as he slowly and cautiously walked forward. "You're really persistent with this aren't you?" With that, the bandit dove over the edge of the railing, into the cold water of the Castle's most below. He opened his eyes and immediately swam for the far edge and climbed out. Before the cow could turn fully around, the soaking bandit had rushed back down the steps toward the city proper. Baldur facepalmed himself when he saw his mistake. "Of course he'd just jump down there. That's quite the long fall though. Glad I don't have to go down there that way." Baldur had the cow turn around before smacking it on the ass as hard as he could to charge down towards the bandit. Except it didn't charge. The cow approached the stairs slowly, putting a hoof down on the first step and then it pulled it's leg back and turned around. No amount of smacking the cow would get it to go down those stairs. Baldur started cursing and swearing all sorts of obscenities when he realized his mistake. Cows can't climb down stairs. "Goddamit I hate stupid cows!" Baldur quickly hopped off the beast and ran towards the ridge that the bandit had leaped off of, seeing that it was faster than running down the whole flight of steps again. "When I get you, I'm gonna have your balls for garteeeeeeerrrs!" said Baldur, screaming all the way down as the heavily armored general fell into the water bellow like a boulder tied to a giant. Baldur luckily landed close to the stairway leading out of the water and didn't have to swim far to get out of the pond, which was a blessing with all his armor. Quickly Baldur ran double time to catch up to the bandit before he could escape the city. Once again Baldur ran his way through the Market district, this time soaking wet but in the opposite direction. The same annoying Redguard from before was still there, this time very angry from being humiliated before and he was taking it out on poor Carlotta yelling to everyone that her produce was in fact not as fresh as advertised. Just while he was in the middle of his rant, Baldur once again ran right over him. "Sorry again! Hi again Carlotta!" Carlotta waved, but by the time she had opened her mouth to respond, Baldur was out of earshot. She looked down at the arrogant Redguard, this time making no effort to hide her laughter. The bandit smiled as he made for the city gate. He knew that he'd bought enough time to escape the Stormcloak General. He didn't take the market path this time. Instead, he opted to cut straight for the gate behind the buildings on he north side of the Main Street. After passing a little ways, he finally reached back of the last building before the gate. He knew that once he passed through the gate, there'd be no stopping him. He'd be free. Ha! Looks like even the great Baldur Red-Snow wasn't enough to stop m- *thunk* The bandit abruptly dropped to his knees as, out of seemingly nowhere, a sword struck hard into the back of his left calf. "Gotcha!" The bandit couldn't hide the surprised look on his face as he glanced behind himself. Out of a bush he'd passed, walked a little girl holding a small sword and wearing a huge smile. Mila Iron-Brow circled around the man, still smiling wide, and put her wooden sword to her father's neck. "Where is your partner?" Before Boldir could answer her, he heard the quick footsteps of Baldur approaching behind him. "Checkmate!" said Baldur, smiling as he saw that their plan was a success. Baldur ran as fast as he could and leaped into the air towards "The Bandit", sending all of his weight into Boldir's body, tackling him into the ground. It was rather unnecessary to do, but Baldur couldn't resist. Standing up after sending Boldir into the ground, Baldur put his arm around Mila's and his boot on Boldir's chest. "Now, answer the Boss's question, meat. Or we'll have to do some interrogating." Boldir groaned. Really?! He wanted to curse at Baldur for the over unnecessarily painful display, but in the last couple weeks he'd gotten better at watching his tongue around Mila. Instead, he just shot Baldur a brief fiery glance. Boldir was pretty sure that his brother was enjoying this game even more than Mila was. Might as well make this difficult for them. "So you want my partner eh?" Boldir shrugged, which was hard to do when you've got a heavily armored Nord forcing his weight on you. "That's too bad, because I don't have one." Baldur leaned in a bit with more weight now getting closer to Boldir's face, grinning like a young boy as he did. "Listen you sorry shit. Oops, Mila, you didn't hear that." said Baldur, covering his mouth once he realized he slipped up yet again. "Man, this is hard. My pa never watched his words around me. None of the adults did. Anyway, tell us where your boss is now or we're taking you in the back and we're gonna force it outta you!" From behind Mila, a rope snaked through the air and its loop end dropped over Baldur's head. Before he could react, it was quickly drawn tight. "You found the boss. Unhand my partner or you'll have to suck mead through your nose for the rest of your life." Rebec stepped to the girl's side and gave her a little wink, then jerked on the rope to make sure her prey knew he was caught. Baldur was completely taken by surprise and even started to panic some at the feel of rope around his neck. That is until he heard Rebec's voice behind him. Baldur was crestfallen at losing the game, since he was a little more into it then the others, but he knew he was beat. Baldur lifted his foot and bowed his head in defeat. "Alright alright, you win. Now get this blasted rope from around my neck!" Chuckling, Rebec walked up and loosened the lasso, slipping it over Baldur's head. "Don't worry, you'll live to terrorize cows another day. Have to admit, before this trip, I didn't know cows could move that fast." Boldir stood up and flicked water off of his still-wet glove at Mila, who jumped back from the unexpected cold. "That's the last time I'm pulling a stunt like that for a game." He looked over at Baldur and said with the straightest of faces, "So about that cow... The Jarl's gonna want it off his bridge you know." Baldur smiled mischievously as he spoke. "Not my problem. I've got more important things to worry about. I have to take a visit with Rebec to the healer for my hand. The Jarl can deal with it. That's what he gets for being so damn grumpy. The cow wasn't in the best of moods either when I left..." Boldir's grin finally broke out. "I'm not gonna have to arrest you for livestock theft am I?" "You wouldn't dare...No wait, you just might after being crushed into nord pie..." said Baldur. "The cow will come home on her own when she's hungry enough," answered Rebec, being the authority in the Nord Tribunal on bovine matters. "Come on, Farmer Baldur, we're keeping the Kynareth lady waiting." "Hey Boldir, you might as well come. You don't have anything going on besides sitting right? Oh I mean guarding, hehehe." said Baldur jokingly. "Sure, I'll come along." Boldir looked at Mila. "The lunch crowd should be over by now. You know what your mom said." "Can I have a few coins before I go?" the girl asked. "One of the new merchants has taffy." Boldir was about to tell her to just grab an apple from Carlotta's stand, but decided against it. He figured this could count as a reward for her getting the jump on him. He fished in his satchel for a small bag of coins and have it to Mila. It was more than she needed for the candy. "Consider this your week's allowance." "It's only Tirdas." "Then you owe me some chores little lady." He patted her on the back. "Off you go now." As he watched Mila run off, Boldir spoke to Baldur. "So the temple eh? I haven't been in there but one time before." He grinned. "Should he a nice break from all the sitting I do now." "You'd think you'd have more than enough to do just teaching all these milk drinkers how to fight, junior," Rebec said as they walked towards the temple. "Half these guards look so slack-jawed it's a wonder they can hit the piss pot, let alone hit something with a sword. Vignar must have gotten down on his creaky knees and thanked Talos when you decided to take this job." "That's one thing I plan to change." Boldir said. "Next week, I'll be scrapping their current training regime all together, and replacing it with the one I used down in Neugrad in the months before before Pale Pass. There are a few that show some potential though. There are some good archers, and Burik, my second in command, was also a soldier." "This town's squeaky clean anyway. Makes me itch. You might have to import some criminals from Riften if you want to keep your men in shape." They had arrived at the temple plaza, and Rebec paused to look at the tree. "Take this tree for instance. They've got a pink tree, and no one's even trying to take a leak on it. That's just not right." Baldur put a hand over his face as he shook his head. "Rebec, you blockhead. That's the Gildergreen. They think Kyne, or rather "Kynareth" as others are calling her made these special trees. It's sacred. They're supposed to be uncuttable too." said Baldur as he knocked on Rebec's noggin. "Kyne made a tree," Rebec repeated skeptically. "A tree with fluffy pink flowers. I don't think so." Baldur scoffed as he crossed his arms. "Don't look at me, that's what these milkdrinkers think. Damn Imperial influence. I may piss on that tree just to prove a point." "And then junior here will have to arrest you." Rebec grinned. "Come on, enough chatter. Your hand isn't getting any better with us lollygagging here." Inside the temple, she was even more skeptical, however. There were little pools of water and pots of herbs, and wind chimes playing a subtle tune. Before she got to comment about it, a woman in a priestess robe approached them. "Have you come to pay homage to Kynareth?" "Don't know anybody named Kynareth," Rebec answered. "This is General Baldur Red-Snow, I'm his wife Rebec. We're here to see about healing his hand." "Oh, that's right. Well, General, I welcome you. I am Danica Pure-Spring, the priestess of Kynareth here. Let me see that hand." Baldur looked to his hand which he lately had became less and less aware of unless Rebec mentioned it. He undid the straps keeping his gauntlets attached to his arm, then slowly removed them, revealing his clammy shaking appendage. "I gave up trying to still it's movement for a while now. Sometimes it stops on it's own, such as in battle as I noticed during the war, but other times it seems to have a mind of it's own. It's slightly numb now, which makes it hard to grasp things like my axes. I also feel like it has needles pricking it. Like I sat on it too long or something. And it gets worse every day. But gradually." The priestess frowned. "You should have come to me sooner. I will need you to remove your armor. Come with me." She gestured to a side room, then looked back at the others. "It is better if I see a patient alone. This will take some time." Danica then ushered Baldur toward the side room, with Rebec left sputtering behind them. Sighing in exasperation, Rebec turned to Boldir. "What do you think of that. I don't much care for the idea of some strange priestess woman running her hands all over Baldur's chest." Boldir was a little surprised by her reaction to something as minor as Baldur being taken to a separate room. He couldn't remember hearing jealousy like this coming from Rebec before, not while sober anyway. "I doubt she'll do that. It's just a healing. He raised an eyebrow. "I don't need to step outside for this do I?" "What... No." Rebec scowled and glanced around. "It's this place. It's weird. None of the Dunmer ever took one of our soldiers to a back room to heal him. Who knows what she could be doing in there." She paced a little, and seeing Boldir's expression, said, "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just worried about him, I guess. You saw his hand shaking like that, and the priestess was worried, too. I should've made him talk to Runil about it." "He wouldn't have listened anyway." answered Boldir as he walked over to one of the healing beds in the room and looked at a sleeping Breton laying on it. Boldir couldn't see anything visibly wrong with the man, but there must've been something or he wouldn't be in here. "Baldur was so preoccupied with the war, he wouldn't have taken the time for himself, and we didn't exactly wait around to give him a chance after the battle." Still a little curious, Boldir prodded at the sleeping man's chest a couple times, but he didn't move. Shrugging, he turned away and smiled at Rebec. "He'll be fine. Baldur is as tough as a Nord can get. The man came back from the dead for Talos's sake! I don't think a shaky hand is more than he can overcome." Rebec took a seat on one of the benches, or what she thought was a bench. Glancing down, she noticed a red stain on it and made a face, but didn't get up. She was a soldier and blood didn't bother her. Glancing at Boldir, she said, "Tell me about Helgen. You were there, right? To think a dragon saved you and Baldur from getting your heads lopped off." "Helgen?" Boldir remembered it all too well. It was a story he planned to tell Mila some time soon, probably with great embellishment to his role in it. "Can't say much really. Baldur was the hero there. It's where he became the Unkindled. I cut some people's binds and killed a few Imperials." He paused for a second. "Though I did get a nice souvenir to remember it all by." He pointed at the long scar on his left cheek. "An Imperial archer was kind enough to suggest making myself a helmet... Of course, if anyone else asks, the Dragon's talon did it." Rebec grinned. "On my honor. So you got saved from the headsman's axe by Alduin the World Eater. Now there's a story. Not that I really believe that was Alduin, or we'd all be dragon scat by now. You ever think of that? If Alduin eats the world, then he must crap out the new one. So all of this..." She gestures around them. "Must be made of dragon dookie." The temple has obviously made her feel philosophical. "Uh huh." Boldir didn't put much stock in religious tales. Even the gods he actually followed were followed more for what they represented than what old books and priests claimed that they'd done. "Of course, I tell Carlotta, Mila, and everyone else who listens that it was in fact the World Eater. Though if that Dragon I saw has eaten a world before, it must've been a much smaller world than this one." "Alright, they won't hear any different from me. He was big enough, anyway. I wonder if they'll ever rebuild that place properly. Without the imperial garrison, it won't be much of a town." She glanced at Boldir. "You know, Baldur talks about starting a town somewhere." "Yeah, I know." said Boldir. "It's an old joke from before the assault on Rommulas. We were both going to meet a perfect woman and continue our perfect lives in our new perfect town... Can't say I ever expected either of us to get past the first part." "You both got that first part down, anyway." Rebec grinned and fell silent, thoughtful. Boldir didn't seem to take the idea seriously, but she knew Baldur did. Living in a town would mean either giving up sailing or being away from him for weeks on end... Chasing that thought away, Rebec stirred and said, "Anyway, now Alduin. There's a real god for you. None of this wind-chime, flowers and chanting stuff. That's what Nord gods do. This Kynareth business is nonsense. Nord gods rule the world, and if they can't rule the world, they ******* destroy it!" The side door had opened just as Rebec declared this. Danica stood in the doorway, giving her a disapproving look. She approached them, saying, "I gave the general his first treatment, but I'll want to see him tomorrow as well. Lots of rest and no physical activity. No strong drink. Only pure water and nourishing foods." Rebec stood, her expression skeptical. "If you say so. Thanks, uh... mother. Reverend. What have you." "Just Danica." "I suppose you want some coin." "If you would like to make an offering, that would be welcome. Leave it at the altar." Exchanging a look with Boldir, Rebec peered over the priestess' shoulder to see if Baldur was going to come out in one piece. Baldur came out in a hurry while he was just putting his gauntlets back on while closing and opening his grip to feel the change in his hand. The reason being of course the comment of "no strong drink". With a bewildered look on his face, Baldur said, "Hold on a second, did I hear you right? No strong drink? What am I supposed to do all day with no physical activity if I can't at least have some mead? I guess I can write some, but I always have a drink nearby when I do." Danica shot him a stern look. "There are other drinks besides mead." "You could just drink milk." The heads of the three Nords all swiveled at once. Now sitting up on his sickbed was the Breton Boldir had prodded at earlier. "What did you say?" asked a slightly bewildered Boldir. He figured he must've heard wrong. "Err, milk," said the Breton, a little confused by the faces he was being given. "You know, like from a cow? That's what I've been drinking since my healing." "Rebec, Boldir, get me the hell out of here...please?" said Baldur with a genuinely worried looking face. "I'm not drinking no damn milk. I'm thirty nine. I need my mead! Damn milkdrinkers trying to poison me, I swear!" The admiral shook her head. "That's what you get with these funny imperial gods. Next thing you know, you're hitting the high notes." She went to the altar and stacked some coins there. On her way back, Rebec noticed the priestess looking at her. "You've got an amulet of Kynareth on," Danica said. "It's Kyne, thank you very much." "Our lady is one and the same. How can you wear her symbol and blaspheme her at the same time?" Snorting, Rebec said, "Look, priestess, my Kyne is the goddess of war and the north winds. When she talks, it's in shrieks and bellows, not in tinkly little chimes. She's a hawk that swoops down on her prey, not some songbird." "The wind can be strong or gentle, the air mild or biting cold. It's all the work of Kynareth." "And that pink flowery tree out there is her work, too?" "Of course. That tree has been here longer than there was a city." Rebec made a skeptical noise and turned to leave. "Thanks, Danica. We'll be back tomorrow." "Let's settle it the Nord way." Stopping in her tracks, Rebec turned back. "What do you mean? Your Nord way doesn't seem to be my kind." "With our fists." That was her kind of Nord way, alright. The priestess couldn't seriously be suggesting... "Come again?" Danica balled her fists and hit the air once. "We brawl, outside. Just you and me. If I win, you'll acknowledge the glory of Kynareth and her holy temple. If you win, I'll leave you alone." When she got no answer, the priestess said, "You're scared. And you call yourself a Nord?" Dumbfounded, Rebec looked at Baldur and Boldir. Baldur was the first to bust out laughing at the absurdity at the notion. "Oh by the gods Rebec, if you lose, I'll never let you live this down! Hahahaha!" Boldir wanted to laugh at the fact that Danica actually believed Rebec would be afraid of a her, a civilian, a priestess at that. It was even funnier that she believed that she stood a chance against the war-hardened sailer in a fight. But since he'd only recently been appointed as Commander of the guard, Boldir felt like he should at least try to defuse the situation. He shot the healer an icy stair. "Danica, you know she's not afraid of you. What do you care what Rebec believes? Let it go." Danica ignored the bystanders and stared directly at Rebec. "What do you say? Put your fists where your mouth is." The admiral rubbed the back of her neck, knowing she ought to decline. There was no way this little priestess, Nord or not, could beat her in a fight. Nevertheless Rebec was the one who was talking about the old Nord ways, and this was one of them. Finally, she looked up. "Alright. Brawl. It's a good thing you can heal yourself when we're done." Grinning, the priestess went on ahead of them out into the plaza. Rebec exchanged a glance with her husband and Boldir, then followed. The sick Breton climbed down out of his bed and hobbled after them. He wasn't missing this. Baldur was like a Nord in a brewery at this point. He never got to see Rebec in a brawl before, let alone with another woman. Nothing was more exciting then seeing two women fight, especially when one of those women is your wife. Baldur nudged Boldir and spoke to him and the Breton in a low tone. "So, we all know Rebec's gonna win, but how quick? My guess, three punches and the priest is down. Any takers? Three may be generous, but I felt that woman's hands. Tougher than you think." Boldir shook his head. "This is Rebec we're talking about here. Three is definitely generous. Fifteen Septims that she's down in less." As the men followed the women and the milk-drinking Breton outside, Boldir noticed the typical guards on patrol. "Oh well." he muttered. I tried to stop it. He grinned, secretly glad that he'd been ignored. Now he was anxious for the fight to get underway. Baldur took Boldir's hand in a shake with his fifteen septims in it. "You're on, Iron-Cheeks. What about you m-, I mean Breton? Keep in mind, Rebec's put down grown men with her left hook before. And hurry up before the brawl starts." The Breton looked at Baldur, an unsure expression on his face. "Uhh two Septims-" "Two Septims?!" Interrupted Boldir. "Gods above man what are you doing in Skyrim?" "Fine. Ten Septims on Danica winning," he said with more confidence. Baldur looked at Boldir with his mouth wide open, an expression born clearly from a mixture of disbelief of the pure stupidity and feeling insulted as well. "Tell you what Breton, how about after I take your money in this bet, you and I brawl, eh? Boldir, I got my forty septims already in tow in case I have to assault someone..." With that, Baldur ignored the little man and kept his eyes fixated on the fighters with glee in his eyes. Outside, on the plaza near the Gildergreen, Danica had thrown back her hood and pushed up her sleeves, and was wrapping her fists with linen tape usually used for bandages. Rebec eyed her a bit, then started unbuckling her cuirass, stripping down to her woollen undershirt and leather trousers. If the priestess was going to fight in a robe, Rebec didn't want any unfair advantage. She deposited her cuirass and axe belt next to Baldur. "That grin of yours gets any bigger, Red-Snow, and your face is going to split." Danica threw her the tape when she was done, and Rebec looked at it for a minute, smiling, before she started wrapping her fists, as well. The priestess knew her brawling. It was the only thing that caused Rebec to worry a little. Passers-by who realized what was going on stopped to gawk. When the priestess was ready, she took out her Kynareth amulet and kissed it. Rebec glanced down at her amulet, but decided against doing the same. Kyne didn't play kissyface when there was a fight on. "No magic, no weapons," Danica called out, declaring the terms of the duel. "I don't do magic and I don't cheat," Rebec answered gruffly. Well, she didn't cheat much. The two women raised their fists and closed in, circling each other. This went on for a minute and Rebec figured the priestess was afraid to get hit. She'd get more afraid. Closing in quickly, Rebec threw a few rabbit punches to test the defenses. Danica easily blocked them and even got in a jab that was a near miss. Okay, not an amateur. I knew that. Rebec decided to take control of the fight quickly. She moved in fast, feinting left before coming in under the priestess' arms for a body blow. Danica took the punch with a grunt and threw out a counter-punch, which Rebec blocked. Then, to the admiral's surprise, Danica's left fist shot out faster than she'd thought possible and connected with Rebec's jaw. The admiral stumbled back a bit, stunned. It was the first real punch of the fight, and she hadn't gotten it. Not only was the priestess not afraid of being hit, she could hit herself. Hard. Danica's smile and the glint in her eye were merciless, and she didn't wait for her opponent to recover before she closed in again. Baldur nudged Boldir in the chest as the fight went on. "What I tell you? That's one punch on the priest Iron-Scrotum! Getting nervous?" "Since when did body hits count in a fight like this?" argued Boldir. "No one is going to go down from that." In truth, after seeing that Danica knew how to fight pretty well, Boldir figured he'd lost the bet, which was a little disappointing considering that he'd been giving more credit to Rebec than her own husband, and he'd wanted to rub that in Baldur's face later. He looked over at the Breton, who was smiling more widely than a Dunmer kid playing with fire. "Don't know why he's so excited. Decent fighter or not, Danica doesn't have a chance." "Yea, well just in case, let me give her a little encouragement..." Baldur cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, "Hey Rebec! You lose and she may try to lay claim to me! She had her hands on me longer than what was necessary in that room!" Alright. Enough Miss Nice Nord, Rebec thought. Then out of the corner of one ear she heard Baldur calling out to her. Oh, that did it! Danica was prepared for an onslaught and started dodging more often, and before long her lip was bleeding. "C'mon, snowback, HIT ME!" "You picked the wrong heathen to convert, priest," Rebec taunted back. Around and around the circular plaza they went, each one getting in hits and taking them, as well. They were both good fighters and on the cautious side, so it wasn't going to end quickly. The onlookers got louder as the fight wore on, and Baldur and Boldir weren't the only ones laying down bets. At one point the brawlers plowed into the onlookers as they gave up punching and just started wrestling instead. When someone yelled out "catfight," Rebec straightened and pulled Danica up after her. She hated that term and the implication that women were sissy fighters. The priestess just wouldn't tire, and she wouldn't go down. Her face was bloody and blood was seeping through the tape on both sets of fists. It was time to get creative. The next time Danica rushed her, Rebec leaped up and grabbed the Gildergreen branch above her with both hands and swung away. She hoped to land a hard kick but the priestess grabbed her legs and Rebec was forced to try to choke her instead. "Not... the... sacred... tree," Danica gasped. "I don't give a shit about your tree!" Rebec was forced to care when the priestess got her feet on a bench and jutted up hard with the back of her head into the other's solar plexus. Gasping, Rebec let go of the branch and the two women collapsed into a heap of flying fists and feet. The crowd by now reached up the steps towards Dragonsreach, and included quite a few guardsmen, who were yelling as loud as anyone else. Finally the brawlers climbed to their feet, using each other for support. They were both stumbling, but as they came up Rebec had the upper hand. She grasped the front of Danica's robe with one hand while the other drew back to land the final punch. This would be the one that ended the fight. Danica could barely see out of her puffy, bleeding eyes. "Lady Kynareth, I'm sorry," she wheezed. Rebec hesitated. The women stared at each other blearily. Finally, the admiral gave a little shove, and very gently, Danica crumpled back into the bench behind her and laid her head back as if she was settling in for a little nap. Rebec just stood there, dazed and weaving on her feet. "HELL YEA! That's my wife, daughter of KYNE! Pay up, Breton!" Baldur didn't wait for the Breton to put the coin in his hands. Instead he just swiped it out and placed five of it in Boldir's hands. "Okay, Boldir. We were both wrong on how many punches it would take, so half is yours." Boldir smiled and pocketed the coins. "I'm glad we were. That was a good fight." Most of the crowd agreed with Boldir, though there were some arguments over how close it had been. The town alchemist stepped in to check on Danica, who was mumbling something about the glory of Kynareth. With a drink of potion, the priestess soon had her head back up and stood to her feet. "You might have a touch of the rattles," the alchemist was saying as she led her off back towards the temple. Danica stopped when she saw Baldur, and pointed a bloody finger at him. "No shrong drink," she said, sounding like she had rags stuffed in her mouth. "Come back tomorrah. You!" The Breton got a stern glare. "Backth to bed!" The Breton patient, light of coin and not about to see if the priestess had another round in her, hustled off to the temple. Rebec was satisfied when she saw Danica was up and talking. Stumbling over to Baldur and Boldir, the admiral smiled, but was having trouble talking, too. "Now thash was a fight!" "Hell yea it was!" said Baldur after placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her a bit. "I'd offer you a drink...but. Well. You and Boldir can grab a drink from the tavern. I'm gonna go write or something. How do you think that priestess learned to fight so well?" "She's a Nord," Rebec answered. That much was clear, though not much else was clear. "I think I'm gonna owe you that drink, tshunior. I don't feel sho good." Boldir grinned. "I think you've earned a free one after all that. I'll pay." He nodded back to the temple and jingled around the coins he'd won. "Our milk drinking friend helped pay for mine already." "Alright. Jusht one. And milkth for Balthur! Hahaha! Urgh..." Laughing was too ambitious in Rebec's condition and hurt like getting stuck with horker tusks, so she fell into her husband and hung on his neck. "C'mon, lovurrboy. Help a girl outh." Baldur caught her by the waist to give her support, then slung her right arm over his shoulders. "Hmph, I have half a mind to drop you for that! Come on, I'll help you limp to the tavern. I suppose I won't die from some water. Alright, lets go you two." The next day, Baldur and Rebec returned to the temple for his second treatment. Rebec was a little bruised herself, and more sheepish, even if she had technically won. Danica was cheerful, however. As was no surprise, she'd healed herself overnight and had hardly a scratch on her. "I'll give you something for those bruises," she said as she ushered Baldur into the side room again. Tired of hearing the little wind chimes, Rebec decided to wait outside in the plaza. Off in the distance, the Talos preacher was shouting. That was almost as annoying as the wind chimes. A few minutes later, Danica came out. "The general will be out soon. I gave him some exercises to do with his hand." "Is it bad?" "It wasn't good, but he'll recover if he follows my instructions. How did he get those scars on his body?" "He was tortured by the Thalmor." At that, the priestess sat down as well. "Horrible. I'll give you some cream to rub into the scars. The treatments I've given him should help with those, too, and any deep tissue damage he still has. He'll probably always have some pain and tingling, though." "Thank you." Baldur hadn't mentioned any pain, but that was no surprise. "I, uh... I guess I should apologize. You're the one who suggested the brawl and everything, but I'm a soldier and I knew you couldn't beat me." Danica gave her a little smile. "I knew I couldn't beat you, either." Rebec stared. "Why in Oblivion did you challenge me, then?" "I like a good fight. Mostly it was because I knew it would make you stop and think about what I said. Otherwise, you'd just walk out and go on as you had been." "Does that bother you so much?" "Does it bother you so much that I say 'Kynareth' instead of 'Kyne'?" Rebec thought about it, then replied, "Yes, it does. It's making her someone that she's not. All along the Nords have been trying to imitate the imperials, and it seems wrong to change the names of our gods to suit them." "It's just a name. If someone gives you a nickname, does that mean you aren't the same person? The gods aren't so different from us. I'm sure you're one way with your husband and another way with a priestess who challenges you to a brawl and says you're not a real Nord. You're still the same woman." That seemed like trickery to Rebec. "It just feels wrong." "The gods are bigger than our small ideas of them. Would you make our lady's power limited, out of a sense of Nord pride?" "The imperials limit her, not us." Danica shook her head. "No. When Saint Alessia sought the help of the gods to free her people, it was Kyne who answered. The Nords taught the imperials the ways of Kynareth, not the other way around." Rebec was about to ask why the priests were using the imperial name for her then, but figured she'd get the same answer as before. "She doesn't seem the same to me, when they talk about her." "It's all in how you look at it. Kynareth is a warrior and huntress. She subdues the beasts, but she's not cruel, and so they love her. Her breath brings death, but it also is the gift of life, so we love her." That sounded very fine, and it seemed logical, though Rebec was still suspicious. Baldur came out of the temple just as she had another thought. Glancing at him, she asked Danica, "You really think this tree came from Kynareth?" She expected the priestess to answer confidently, but instead, Danica hesitated. "To be honest, I'm not sure. This city is special to Kynareth. The Gildergreen has survived a long time, and it's only the child of an even greater tree called the Eldergleam. We restored the child by taking an offering from its parent, using a weapon that hagravens make for sacrificing spriggans. Look at it now. It's more lovely than ever. Even if it is not blessed by Kynareth, how is it shameful to praise her for its beauty?" Rebec had no answer for that. It was true that Whiterun seemed to be Kyne's place. There was the Skyforge, with its great hawk looking down on a ship that seemed to be as old as Ysgramor. One of Rebec's ancestors might have steered that same ship from Atmora. Why had they brought it all the way inland, unless there was something sacred here that they wanted the Nords to always remember? In that same place, an ancient tree still grew. Maybe there was something to it. The idea of a tree sacred to Kyne being planted near to where an ancient Nord ship came to rest gave her an idea... Looking up at Baldur, she said, "Feeling better, love? Danica and I were just talking. No more brawling today." Baldur had seen them talking from a distance and figured with them sitting under the tree that surely talk of Kyne had cropped up. One of the pedals from the tree's pink flowers had settled in Baldur's hair unknowingly to himself in a manor that made it look like he had placed it there. Normally Baldur being a minstrel and somewhat a poet would have loved to take in the sight of the beautiful tree, but every time he heard the name Kynareth crop up, his eye twitched. Baldur walked before them looking at the two ladies sitting next to each other absent of fighting and eyed the two suspiciously. "Hmph, I'm feeling sober. As for my hand however, yea. Miss Danica here is a miracle worker. I'll place a sizable offering for the temple later. So, you two not fighting about Kyne anymore?" "Just in a different way," Danica answered, smiling. She stood up. "I'll leave you both alone, however. Admiral Rebec, thank you for the talk, and for yesterday's reminder that I'm not as fit as I used to be." As the priestess walked off, Rebec watched her a bit, then said, "I bet she was a bandit or something, back in the day." Baldur took his seat on the bench next to her now, watching the pink pedals drop on the ground before him as he spoke. "Or a sailor." said Baldur as he nudged her playfully with his knee. "So, what did you two talk about? She tried to feed me that spew about Kynareth. I listened out of respect and gratitude, but that was it. You?" "Probably the same speech. Some of it makes sense, I guess." Rebec shrugged. "You're not going to change people's minds, one way or the other. Danica obviously does good work here, so I suppose it doesn't matter." She told him her theory about the tree being related because the city must be a place special to Kyne and said, "It got me thinking. What if the old Nords brought those trees here from Atmora? It's a fact that we can't build ships like our ancestors must have had. They sailed all over the wild, far seas, not just puttering along the coast like we do now. Maybe it wasn't their smarts, but their wood. I wonder if I can get some wood from that old tree for my new ship." "The priest would likely faint. The wood is unbreakable though, so I don't see how the ancient Atmorans would have done such a thing. Not unless they somehow...." Baldur started scratching his chin. "The priest said that someone recently used a knife they obtained from some hags to repair the tree. She tell you that? Well, what if we found other weapons? Hopefully something bigger than a dagger. Then we could chop the sucker down and make your ship the toughest thing in the sea. I can have teams go searching and start hunting down covens." "What if there's only the two of them, this tree and the one she called the parent? If there are only the two like them in Skyrim, cutting it down entirely would be a crime. There surely aren't any more growing in Atmora, either." Rebec thought a moment. "The trickiest part to make in a ship is the rudder and the keel. They're under water all the time and the rudder takes a lot of beating. If we could just get one branch, that might be enough to make me a good rudder. But even that is a lot of work just for my ship. Fighting hagravens and all. Doesn't that... scare you?" Rebec snickered. Baldur narrowed his eyes at her from her little hint, along with a faint smile that he tried to stifle, but failed. "Watch it, Rebec...unless every last hagraven is out to wed me, no. Besides, the wood is worth it. I won't be going with them anyway since we have plans, although I'd like to. With news of what the Harbinger did to the Glenmoril Coven, the men would likely jump at the chance to prove themselves. We can send the recruits. They don't have anything else but training going on. Nothing better than the real deal to get them in shape. I'll make it a volunteer job. Then, we chop the sucker down. You ask me, a nigh invincible ship is worth the loss of some tree buried in a cave. Besides, we can just bury some of the branch and grow a new one. Most people don't know it's there apparently anyway." "Growing a new one would be worth the trip. Probably nobody's done it yet just because no one's cared enough to try. If it works, and I get a good ship out of it, that's worth getting preached at and shoved around in public by a priestess. Be honest. You weren't sure I was going to win, were you?" Danica had appeared again, with a bundle in her hand. She handed it to Rebec. "A potion for your bruises, and some cream for the general's scars. Come to see us any time you are in Whiterun. You are a true daughter of Kynareth, Rebec Red-Snow." "Kyne," Baldur and Rebec both said in unison. The priestess laughed and walked off, shaking her head. Baldur flipped the jar of light brown cream in his hands for a bit before opening it to smell. It had a scent of oats and a grassy smell to it, but that was mostly overpowered by the strong aroma of whatever medicine was put into it. Almost like alcohol but it had a thick funk to it that smelled heavy with sweet. It was an odd concoction to be sure. Baldur put the lid back on and continued. "I admit you had me worried in that fight, but I knew you'd win. I could tell it wouldn't be as easy as one hit but damn...Didn't expect that brawl. Doesn't get any better than seeing my warrior wife in action." Baldur scooted himself closer to her and placed his arms around Rebec's neck. "You know, I don't think I want to get rid of the scars." "They won't ever go away totally, I'm sure. Why would you want to keep them? Those must be awful memories." "They are. I still dream about it from time to time. But then I remember how it all ended and it's not so bad afterwards. They're a reminder of what I lived through and what I almost lost. It's hard to explain. I suppose the other part is just simple pride. Anyway drink your healing potion." "I can understand that. You should do what Danica says, though. She's a true Nord, not one of those elven witches." Rebec uncorked the potion, took a drink, and almost spit it out again. "Gah! That tastes like those giants smelled. What does she put in this anyway?" It was far more powerful than any healing potion she'd had before, however, and her aching ribs soon began to ease. Standing, Rebec gestured with her head. "C'mon, you can watch me while I drink a mead or two." Baldur reluctantly got up and followed, seeing as how he had nothing else better to do. Baldur looked back once more at the tree. It was amazingly beautiful. The way the sunlight was cast through the branches and shined through while the breeze carried away it's pedals spreading it's beauty around the area. The pink stood out so sharply in contrast from the rest of the city, but not in an obnoxious way. The soft pink flowering smelled as wonderfully as it looked. It captured everyone's attention like a fly in a web of magnificence and was truly a sight to behold. Baldur started wondering what if Kyne really did make these trees? What they were sacred and she didn't want them used for a boat? Could he really bring himself to hurt anything so beautiful? Would it not be best to just leave the Eldergleam be as it was for all those years in whatever cave Kyne or whoever decided to put it? Na, screw that noise. She'll get over it once she sees the ship. With that Baldur walked of to the tavern so that his cruel wife could torture him some more.

Skjari Midnight, some weeks earlier Imperial City Skjari was making his way back to the imperial palace through the garden in the Talos Plaza district. The streets were quiet with only a few guards that could be seen patrolling now and then. Few windows here and there could be seen lit by a fire in the room but most windows were dark, signifying that most of the city's residents lay asleep in there beds. Skjari had been tipped of Lorgar about Thalmor agent hiding as a store clerk, the agent apparently lived in a small room that he rented in a house near the outer wall. He had done a thorough search of the room and found a ring with the Thalmor sigil on along with a couple of letter roughly detailing some information about the troops stationed in the city cleverly hidden in the bottom of a chest. Skjari had then waited for the agent to come home and when he did he caught the agent rather easily with a few illusion spells and a freezing trap that froze the elf's feet to the ground. Under the questioning the elf claimed that he worked alone and that left the letters at a dead drop. After some torture the elf gave up where the dead drop was located but still claimed that had operated alone, and after further torture till the elf was so broken that he had started sucking on his thumb and speaking a baby voice, Skjari finally believed the mans words about working alone and not that he was making an attempt to cover up his colleagues. With the note with the location of the dead drop in his pocket, he made short work of the now broken elf that lied on the floor sucking on thumb, and consumed his soul as the elf took his final breath with the thumb still in the mouth. Then he cleaned up the corpse by turning into dust before leaving. Now as he made his way through the garden, which was shortcut he had taken and he was sure that he was trespassing on some nobleman's property as he had to pass through a large gate to get in, so he made sure to stick to the shadows where he was hard to spot in his black robe. He suddenly saw someone else standing a dozen feet away from him besides a couple of large bushes and surrounded by some candles, the figure was rather small and wore a finely tailored, hooded robe with the base color black and decorations in green that formed trees and other plants, though the decoration also had a pattern that gave a vague hint that there was something daedric about it. The figure, most likely a female judging by the body shape, also had a black pointy hat beside her, something that you would see in children books. She sat down on a bed of flowers, beside a pond, and in her hands were what appeared to be a frog. He could make out an arrogant, and slightly mocking voice. "Well Mister toad, why don't we do some practice now? I've drawled the incarnation circle, and all we need to do is recite the daedric text." As if to answer her, he could hear the "ribbet" of a toad or frog. The sight was so curious and quite bizarre that Skjari stopped in his tracks to watch what she was about to do. A pointy hat, a frog friend. She must be crazy. This could get interesting. The girl, started to mutter words in Daedric, and as she did, the "incarnation" circle started to glow bright fiery red. Until finally, something emerged from the circle, clad in flame. It was tall, muscular, and heavily Armored. It was a dremora, and by the girls surprised face, it isn't what she thought she was summoning, "WAIT? I didn't summon a dremora, where is the annoying scamp?! Go back to the Deadlands..." In response, the Dremora drew it's two-handed great sword, and silently advanced on the girl, who's surprised face was filling with terror. "I said go back to the Deadlands, I command you..." It laughed, and continued to the now backing away girl. "Oh shit, I think it's unbound..." What a novice. Skjari thought as he almost considered to leave her to her fate but having to clean up another corpse or facing the unrest the mutilated corpse would cause was not something he wished. He sighed and then sent a spell towards the dremora, banishing it right when the sword was a couple of inches from woman's face. The girl, face once again filled with surprise as the Dremora disappeared into purple light. She apparently recognized the spell, as she said, "Banishment..." She raised her voice slightly. "May I thank my savior properly?" Skjari took a step closer to the light so he became more visible but could still vanish in the shadows at a moments notice. "What do you mean by properly?" She turned her head towards him as she heard him speak. "Face to face." She said, playing with one of her long strands of golden hair. Skjari was curious about the crazy witch but was still suspicious. He let the dark veil on his fall but his face still mostly dark where he stood at brink of the shadows, ready to disappear in case the woman would try something, as witches could sometimes be very unpredictable. "My...my...aren't we handsome..." She cackled energetically, before removing her hood, revealing deep blue eyes, red lips, and attractive face. "I assume, you are a brother. Correct?" "Ah former brother then?" She cackled again, before picking up the frog. "Depends on what you consider 'brother'." He made a quick look at her little summoning circle. "And maybe you should practice something less dangerous?" "Ummmm yes, I think I should...." She chuckled, while rubbing the back of her head with a slight blush forming. "My mother is a master in conjuration, as is my grandmother and great grandmother. I think there slightly disappointed with my preferred choice of magic" "Conjuration is not for those that lack the will to command. And what is your preferred choice of magic?" "I like things to do with nature. Some alteration, but mostly from nature itself. I got the basics down by learning some from a non-hostile Spriggian, before I used books and my gut to teach myself the rest. "Alteration mixed with a little restoration in order to affect the living tissue? I hope you play with plants and not animals, they're less likely to try to eat you if you mess up and create an abomination." She cackled, before nodding her head. "I tried cloning a frog before, the results...weren't pretty..." "And about this coven? I haven't heard about a coven living in the city." Skjari tried to sound curious instead of like he was interrogating her, as he was still slightly in that mindset after the elf. "There isn't, not to my knowledge at least." She petted her frog buddy, before putting it on her shoulder. "My coven is located in the forest near Chorrol." He gave the surrounding garden a quick look. "Judging by your clothes and this garden; you're part nobility. Why would a noblewoman be a part of a coven?" Her smile twisted into a coy one. "The females of my family have been part of this coven for generations. So naturally, I would be a member." "Interesting family. Why only women?" "The coven is all female, so males aren't allowed to join." "So you're a bit like some temples of Dibella in that sense?" "Similar... though we don't spend all of are time screwing with each other and worshiping sex." She mischievously smiled to herself, before cackling. "Though I do have some "fond" memories with my "sisters", are coven's main function is practicing conjuration rituals, preferably when the moon is out." Sounds like a bunch of novices. "I was referring to the 'only women allowed' policy." "Ah. We of course know, it doesn't do anything to help with the spells. But the earliest members of the coven thought it did, so we kept the preference to only women. Same with doing rituals under the moonlight. It's out of tradition." She stretched out lazily before, chuckling, and bowing slightly. "Oh, mind my rude manners. In my coven, i'm known as Millinerius, sister of the Daughters of the fallen moon." "I'm the man you met in the garden." He said in a pretentiously, courtesy manner. "But now I think I'll be leaving. Unless you want me to stay, that is." He smiled small smile with the right corner of his mouth. She returned the suggestive smile, before toying with her hair with her teeth. "Would milord wish to ravage the helpless maiden, here with the flowers and frogs watching?" "Do I?" He took another step closer and was almost fully revealed in the light. "Your certainly very handsome...and muscular, and that beard of your's is very nordic..." He quickly crossed the few feet between them and put both his arms around her waist, pulling her body close to his. "You talk too much." She cackled, and brought her lips to his before saying. "Why don't you show me some of your magic, brother."

Boldir Iron-Brow Silent Moons Outpost Late morning Despite the chilly breeze, Boldir could feel sweat accumulating on his brow. His muscles were tensed up, and he could feel his heart beating heavily in his chest. Come on, I can do this. Just relax and breath. He let out a slow breath and closed his left eye, focusing hard on what was ahead of him. Finally, after what felt like forever, he was certain that he was ready. Boldir loosed the arrow from his longbow. The twins, Langley and Fiora, who had been watching from a few feet to his left, both let out obnoxiously loud laughs as the arrow flew far above and to the right of the steel helmet Boldir had been aiming for. Sad as it was, this was his closest shot so far out of five. "I think the Commander needs a little more practice Sis!" said Langley between gasps. "Yeah, maybe he should start with a bigger target. Like the ruin walls!" "Whoa now Fiora. Baby steps. He's not quite on that level yet!" That set off a whole new wave of laughter between the two, making an already frustrated Boldir even more annoyed. He threw down the wooden bow. "Bah! I had it aimed perfectly. It's the damn cheap bow's fault." "Really?" Langley picked up the bow and took a steel arrow from his own quiver. He took aim and fired, hitting the helmet straight in the eye socket, and knocking it off the wall it'd been sitting on. He turned around, grinning. "Seems fine to me." "Phhht!" Fiora accidentally spit as she started laughing again. "Alright! Alright! I get it!" Boldir snapped. "I can go to Fort Greymoor and be back with some practice swords in just a couple hours. Want to test my skill with that too? I haven't fought anyone with one of those in a good while. Should be fun." That shut the twins up. Poking fun at Boldir was entertaining, but not so much that they were willing to risk actually pissing him off. And neither of them wanted to see if their large Commander was serious about fighting them. "Now if you're done making fun of my archery skills..." "Or lack thereof." muttered Fiora. Causing Langley to have to stifle another laugh. "...I really would appreciate one of you telling me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it." Langley shook his head, still chuckling at Fiora's comment. He walked up to Boldir and held up the bow and drew back the string, pretending like there was an imaginary arrow in it. "It'd be easier to list the few things you did right Commander. Most importantly is the way you drew. See here? My whole body moves with the string. You need to use your back. Not just your right arm." "I see." said Boldir. "That puts a lot less strain on your arm too doesn't it?" "That it does. You can't tell it so much with this dinky bow, but if you were to use a powerful one with more draw weight, you'd just about have to use your back." he eased the string back in and pointed at Boldir's feet. "And you were standing as if going into an axe fight. Don't do that. A standing archer faces sideways." Boldir changed his stance to match Langley's instructions. "Good." He handed Boldir the bow and one arrow from his quiver. "Now use your back to draw like I showed you." Langley ran over to the wall and stood the helmet back up on it, then quickly got out of Boldir's way. Boldir looked down at his feet again, making sure that they were properly aligned as Langley's had been. Then he nocked the arrow and pulled back, using his back rather than just his arm. That feels better. Easier. All right, yeah, I've got this! Boldir closed his left eye again and took aim. He released the string and let the arrow fly. The helmet was about twenty five feet away. This time, the arrow soared about three feet above it, and was lost amidst the grass of the tundra. "By Ysmir! What did I do wrong that time?!" Fiora walked up from behind and patted him on the back. "That was just bad aim." she said, grinning. "Nothing we can do to help you there. All that can fix that is practice." "I think I'll just stick to the axe." said a defeated Boldir. He'd never used a ranged weapon before, and it looked like it wasn't for him. "Fair enough." She answered. She felt a little bad for him. Boldir had seemed excited when her brother mentioned teaching him how to shoot. "So how long until the dagger is done cooling?" "Oh right!" Boldir had almost forgotten the dagger resting in the cooling oil up in the forge room. He'd spent the past two days perfecting it, and today would be the last. All that was left was smoothing, polishing, and some carve work, which he'd be spending most of the day doing. "It should be ready by now." Fiora walked with him up the ruin stairs towards the forge. She and Langley both liked watching him work the forge. It was interesting to see a skilled craftsman at work, and indeed, Boldir was a skilled smith. Morseso than he let on. She wasn't sure if he even realized it. He didn't act like he was very good. He didn't boast about it like he occasionally did about his skill with weapons during combat training. Though what Nord doesn't do that?" Langley hurried up the stairs to join them. "You know Commander, after seeing what your daughter did with that wooden sword, you giving her a real weapon is kind of scary." "How does Carlotta feel about it?" asked Fiora. "It doesn't seem like something she'd be all for." "I've talked to Carlotta, and she's fine with it." said Boldir. "It took some convincing, but she said that as long as Mila doesn't treat it like a toy, she would allow it. It's better than bringing her to a place like Riften unarmed." "That lass is growing up fast." said Langley. "I remember back when we'd get called on by Balgruuf to get her and the Battle-Born boy to stop climbing Dragonsreach. That happened more than a few times. Say, how did you and Carlotta respond when they would show up at your door with her? Never saw that myself. I bet it was funny." Fiora nudged Langley. All that had happened before Boldir had even known who Mila was. "Oh damn! I'm sorry! I'd forgotten... Gods, it feels like you've always been her father now." Boldir smiled sadly. "It's fine Langley." He was happy with his life now. Happier than he'd ever been. He'd never loved anyone like he did Carlotta, and no matter what, Mila was a daughter to him. But even though Mila called him her father, and seemed glad to do so, he knew it was only half true. He hadn't been in her life but for a few months. That's not enough time for a little girl to suddenly see someone as a parent. A guardian maybe, and a friend, but not a true father. It upset Boldir to think about, but he took consolation in the fact that he still had many good years to forge that bond. The trio entered the forge room. Boldir pulled the dagger out of the cooling oil and dried it off with a rag. Even unfinished, it was already a fine looking weapon. Most daggers are made heavier, with either the center, or one side of the blade wider to add some weight for chopping, and the other end of the blade sharper for the typical slicing and cutting. This was so that they could serve a double purpose as tools as well as weapons. This one however, was more slender, and double edged, but without the heavier center. Starting at the pommel it was only three inches wide, and it gradually became thinner up to the point. Both edges were sharp, but this dagger was made more for stabbing than it was for cutting, certainly not chopping. Boldir made it as light as he could without sacrificing stability. It was no heavier than the wooden sword Mila usually carried. "Now for the fun part." said Boldir sarcastically as he opened the nearby chest and produced a piece of what looked like rough parchment. He began polishing the dagger with it, making sure to scrub at it hard. "That didn't sound good." said Fiora. "Why is this the fun part?" Boldir didn't stop. He didn't even look up. "Because even for a small dagger like this, polishing will take at least a couple hours to do right. You two may want to go look around the ruins, try to find something to do. I'll be here for a while." He paused for a second. "Actually, go down in there and find me a chair so I can sit while I do this." *** Mila Iron-Brow Whiterun "Pssst! Mila! Up here." Mila looked up when she heard Lucia's hushed voice calling her. She spotted her orphan friend crouched up on the city wall. Mila herself was busy sweeping the area behind their house as one of the many chores she had to carry out during her punishment period. She replied in an equally hushed tone. "Not now Lucia! You're gonna get me in more trouble!" Completely ignoring her friend's wishes, Lucia climbed down from the wall and walked up to her. "Your dad's out of town and your mom's at the stand. Nobody will know. Besides, Braith told me to get you or she'd hit me." "That sounds like Braith." Mila stopped for a moment to think. She knew what this was about, she'd been avoiding it. After what had happened a few days ago, she was not looking for a chance to get in trouble again any time soon, especially with her birthday tomorrow. She and her mother didn't really do any celebrating for birthdays, and Boldir joining the family probably wasn't going to change that. But she usually did get a gift or two, and Mila didn't want to do any more to hurt her chances that. "Come on Mila. I don't want to go back to Braith without you." Mila knew that she couldn't let her friend do that. Braith was their friend, but she was also a bully, and she had no doubt that the larger girl would indeed hit Lucia if she went back alone. "Fine." she leaned the broom against the side of her house. "But let's hurry. I don't want someone to see us." "You don't have to worry about that. She and Lars are waiting back in that open area behind Lars's house down the street. There's no one back there." "Let's be quick then." Mila and Lucia hurried across the street. Mila was about to ask her friend why she'd been on the wall, but after a moment of thinking about it, she realized that it was probably just Lucia taking the fun way just for that, fun. Braith and Lars were right where Lucia had said they'd be. Lars was sitting on the edge of a low fence that had recently been put up and Braith was pacing around nearby blowing his ears off with loud complaints that he didn't seem like he could care much less about. "-and then she went and TOLD!" Braith stopped when she saw Mila and Lucia approaching. She had a big scowl across her face. "There you are!" "Uhh yeah... Here I am." said Mila as she walked up to her friend. She was a little surprised by Braith's hostility. The girl was pretty much always in a bad mood, but she wasn't usually this bad. "You told Lucia that you needed to talk to me." "Yeah I did! You told on us you snitch! Lars and I got back from that ruin and didn't get caught, but yo just HAD to blabber all about it to your parents when you got caught. Now I'm in lots of trouble too!" Mila felt bad for getting Braith in trouble. She didn't mean to. She hadn't even thought about it at the time, she'd been too shocked from what had happened to even think about the consequences for her friends. When Boldir had asked her to tell the whole story, she'd told it in full. "I'm sorry for telling on you Braith. I didn't mean to, but do you even know what hap-" "I don't care what happened after we left! And how can you tell on us without meaning to? That doesn't make sense! "I just didn't!" Mila looked at Braith pleadingly. "You've gotta believe me Braith! I didn't want to get you in trouble. Lucia had gotten grabbed by a bandit! And I stabbed him with that swo- Ummph!" Mila fell backwards onto the ground. The gut punch Braith had delivered showed how much she believed or cared about Mila's story. "Braith!" Lars and Lucia ran over to Mila to help her up. She pushed them off and stood up on her own, staring hard at the Redguard girl as she gasped for breath, trying to get her wind back. "Why did you do that Braith?!" cried Lucia. "She was telling the truth!" "Of course you'd say that!" yelled the girl, her fists still clenched. "You are on her side!" "There aren't any sides!" shouted Lars. "We're all friends!" Braith looked at Lucia and Lars, then at Mila, who was still holding her stomach and looking at her with a fierce gaze. Suddenly, Braith's own gaze turned soft, and she unballed her fists. "I'm sorry Mila... You're my friend. I shouldn't have hit you for that." Mila's face slolwly went back to normal, and as her breath returned to her, she nodded and said, "It's okay... I shouldn't have stayed. I should've come back with you." Braith walked up to Mila and awkwardly opened her arms for a hug, something she didn't often do. Mila hesitated, then joined her in the awkward hug. "So... friends again?" Mila brought her arm around Braith's head and patted her hand on the girl's head. "No." Mila yanked hard on Braith's hair, drawing a loud scream from the larger girl. "Mila!" Lucia and Lars shouted in unison. Before Braith could retaliate from the pain, Mila spun around her and jumped onto the girl's back, wrapping her legs around her and forcing her face first into the ground. She began rapidly hitting Braith on the back and sides of the head, both with her fists and the occasional smack. "Do you think I'm some kind of Imperial Milk-Drinker?!" she shrieked. Mila wasn't entirely sure what the words she used meant, or if the term even made sense given that she was an Imperial, but she'd heard both Boldir and Baldur use them before when describing cowards they'd fought. She wasn't so sure that race actually even really had anything to do with it. "I'm! Not! The others!" Mila screamed. You won't bully me and just get off with a hug! She continued to hit Braith until Lucia and Lars worked up the nerve to pull her off. Braith groaned and rolled over onto her side. When she looked up at them, Mila could see the beginnings of multiple bruises on the sides of her face, but what really caught her eyes were the watery tears that had formed up in Braith's own. The Redguard girl crying was something none of them had seen before. "You-" *sniff* "You shouldn't have done that!" "No Braith, you shouldn't have hit me! I didn't want to fight. This was your fault! If you still want to be friends, we can now." As expected, Braith didn't answer. That would be a difficult friendship to fix. Braith had always been the one in charge, and unlike the rest of them, she wasn't used to being hit like that. It may have hurt their friendship, but standing up to her felt good. Mila turned and started back to her house, ready to get back to her chores and put all this behind her for now. *** "I doubt Mila would ever actually get into a fight anyway, but still, do you think that little poker is sturdy enough?" Langley was sitting on one of the empty tables in the forge room, watching Boldir carve Nordic designs into Mila's dagger with his carving tools. Fiora was leaning on the wall beside him. "I mean, it's pretty thin. You'd think it'd break if you sat on it wrong." Boldir slowly and precisely drew his tools across the slender heated dagger. Both sides of the blade were going to have the design of a prowling fox sneaking through some tall grass. The fox was Mila's favorite animal, which Boldir always thought suited her really well. "I guess you wouldn't know a traditional carved Nordic weapon when you see one. This here dagger is made of hardened quicksilver. You see the black linings? That's ebony. I could break a steel sword in half with enough swings from this thing and you wouldn't even see a scratch on it when I'm done." Fiora eyed the axe at his side. "Like your axe? Did you make that too?" "Yes, like my axe. And yes, I made it too. Early on, the Stormcloak army was hard-pressed to make enough higher-grade equipment for the Necro-Nords, so much so that it is recycled when one of us dies rather than being buried with us as per tradition. They were more than happy to let me use my own equipment." "Well if you made your own axe, why didn't you make it look fancy like you are with Mila's dagger?" "Mila's is a gift that is tailored to her. A few months ago, I made an axe for someone that was tailored to her as well. They're beautiful weapons that suit their owners." Boldir briefly glanced down at his planer looking axe before going back to carving. "Mine suits me just fine." "Could ya make us something some time?" asked Langley, earning him an elbow from his sister. He couldn't help the stupid question. He was beyond impressed by this tiny weapon that could supposedly break his sword in half. "If you cough up a thousand or so Septims I might." answered Boldir without looking up. "I only make free stuff for family." "I don't think that my brother can afford that on the current salary." said Fiora. "Or any other that he'll ever be on for that matter." Odds are, that salary will go up soon enough. Boldir had already spoken with Vignar about raising the pay for all specialty forces in Whiterun. Scouts, bandit hunters, and the city's more experienced Stormcloak soldiers would all fall into that category. With the income that the city would soon be bringing in from the Lunar Forge, he was fairly sure that his proposal would go through. Boldir spent the next few hours carving away at the blade and it's hilt. He wouldn't be satisfied until every aspect of it was perfect. After finishing the carvings, he went back to polishing again, much to the twins' annoyance. They wondered in an out over time as he worked. They spent the time they didn't watch him practicing archery, exploring the rather small ruins, and trying in vain to find any leftover Lunar weapons that Boldir's troop might have missed. Finally, as it was starting to get late in the evening, Boldir left the forge room carrying the new dagger in a leather sheath he'd made the day before. "Langley! Fiora!" he shouted. "Get out here, we're leaving!" After several seconds, the twins clambered out the main door of the ruin, both looking anxious to get back home. "Next time you bring us, at least give us something to do." grumbled Fiora. "I only brought you because you asked to come." said Boldir as he headed for the horses. "We may be twins, but don't let my sister speak for both of us." said Langley. "I enjoyed being out here." "Well next time you can come alone." the woman muttered. Langley opened his mouth to retaliate, but was quickly silenced by Boldir. "Please, don't start one of your bouts. It'd be nice to have a peaceful ride home for once." He hopped onto his brown horse. He'd only just bought it a week ago. Boldir wasn't much of a horse person, but it did make the trips back and forth much quicker. "Now come on. I'd like to make it back in time to hide this dagger before Mila gets back in the house."

Gracchus, Catia The Laughing Fox garden Mid Morning The breeze lifted a few of the lavender petals, the fuzzy violet flowers floating over the wall, leaving nothing but their scent behind. Such was the sight in The Laughing Fox's garden, a private place tucked away behind the tavern. Not very large, it was a twelve foot square, just enough for a few flowers, such as the lavender, a small tree, a nice oak table, with matching chairs, and an outdoor couch, specifically enchanted by Gracchus himself to ensure protection against the weather. There they sat, hands clasped, watching the birds in the tree work on their nest. It's was a simple sparrow, mouth full of twigs, perched on a branch near the middle. Her white chest partner swooped down nearby, landing on the stone wall surrounding the haven. The male flew back up into the air, a fresh meal in its beak. He dropped the caterpillar in the half-finished home, allowing his mate to have the first go. Gracchus envied the sparrows, innocent as they were. They knew nothing of politics, kings and queens and empires and rebellions. The closest they would ever come to war was the occasional cat that roamed the alleyways, and even they choose not to frequent the nicer districts of the Imperial capital. If only our lives were so carefree, not having to worry about the Thalmor, magical bindings, provincial rebellion. And I could have that life, just retire and be done with it. That's what Pilus would say, after all I am about to be married, and my mother is alive, even after all these years. Gracchus turned to his wife to be, adjusting on the couch so he could face her. Catia had taken the day off, and dropped the aproned gown she wore to work the tavern in favor of a new blue dress her fiancée bought her. Instead of the usual bun, she let her hair fall down just below the shoulders, the puff of wind gently brushing it out of her face. Even now, in her early fifties, Gracchus marveled at the beauty she possessed. Not the kind High Admiral Rebec had, a rugged style Gracchus saw the moment he met her, the kind even battle couldn't contain. Nor did she possess Magdela Bathory's charm, something almost everyone noticed the first time they met her. Dales, even with her childlike innocence, had a certain grace about her, a trait which led to her ability to command attention. No, Catia's beauty was different, simple, not elegant, but there, plain as day. She didn't charm anyone, or have grace like the empress, but just seeing her made most turn their head. Back when Gracchus first met her, that brought about conflict on more than one occasion, even before they were romantically involved. So stunned was he by her, Gracchus lost the question he meant to ask, if only for a moment. He finally snapped out of the trance, still turned to better converse with her. "What do you think about me retiring?" If Catia was shocked by the question, it didn't show. She's thought about it before, and joked about it as well, so she had an answer prepared. "Well, if I actually thought you would go through with it, I'd say go ahead. But we both know that won't happen, not with a war looming over us like the White-Gold Tower." Gracchus scoffed at her insistence that her wouldn't retire, as if he was challenged by it. "Really, you don't think I would? I'm am old you know, and war is a young man's game." Catia chuckled, not so loud as to disturb the sparrows as they worked on their nest, however. "Please. I've considered asking before, but even if I did you wouldn't. And I wouldn't want you to. You need it just as much as the Empire needs you." The general hung his head momentarily, ceding defeat. "I know, but it's a nice though. You, me, just sitting out on our balcony watching the birds fly by and the clouds float high above our heads. Maybe grow some crops, raise some animals. You could start painting again if you wanted, I'm sure there would be some great views of the city." "Oh, don't worry, I'll be painting while you finish mopping the floor with those elves." Catia stopped, and they both turned to watch the sparrows again before she continued. "So, with the wedding, are you going to push back your departure time?" Gracchus nodded, rubbing the top of he hand with hi thumb. "Yeah, that's what I decided. Just a day or two, three at the most. Don't want to anger the Empress. Speaking of her, i planned on inviting her, if she has the time. Did you want to add anyone to the invitation list?" Catia pulled out said list, reading over it as she just now remembered that's what she was supposed to do. "Sorry, slipped my mind......" Her eyes scanned it quickly, being short as it was. "Well, Ena, and her husband, Relan. Plus my friend Erina Liore." "Is she the one with the furniture store?" "Yeah, I think it's called Furniture and Finery." Gracchus nodded again, remembering that's where the couch came from. "So, Tullius, Lorgar and his wife, Dales, Ena and Relan, Erina and.....oh yes my mom as well. Can't forget her. So it shouldn't be too many. Where do you want to have it?" Catia looked around, sizing up the garden. "I don't think our garden is big enough, so not here. How about....well, I can't think of anywhere. We can always decide later, we're in no rush." "I know, I know, but I like having a plan, as you very well know. I think it will fit here, with as many people as we're having. And it suits me just fine." Catia reassessed the garden, a satisfied look crossing her face, as her eyes lightened and her smile grew a little. "You're right, it'll do just fine. We can have the reception in the main room, and we already have plenty of alcohol. Looks like the Fox will be hosting its first ever wedding." "And what a wedding it will be..." Gracchus leaned over to his wife, planting a kiss on her cheek as the sparrows tweeted and chirped overhead.

Lorgar, Whiterun?, Night “HOLD, HOLD THE LINE!!!!†Said the man, mounted on a silver white stallion with a horn on its head, a unicorn. Lorgar looked around his surroundings, crumbling walls and wooden barricades filled his vision. Flags of yellow, with a horse were visible on the gate, which was on fire. Dozens of other imperial soldier’s stood behind him swords and shields drawn. The man mounted on the unicorn, shouted, while drawing his imperial gladius. He wore red/gold armor, along with a crimson cape, and had grayish hair. What the ****, Tullius? “I SAID HOLD THE LINE- Unexpectedly, and quite suddenly, the air around the assembled legionaries was suddenly heated, and red filled everyone’s vision. With a “WHOOOOSE†everyone was thrown to the ground, and the man on the unicorn, including the Unicorn, disappeared, with only a pile of ash remaining in there stead. Before the various legionaries could scream like little children, the gate was destroyed by a towering foot, crushing the archers on it along with the wooden barricades. Crossing over the ruined gate was a giant golden figure, a massive Dwemer Centurion. Its face however…was the face of a bearded Nord, an old Nord. It starred down upon the puny insect-like imperial milk-drinkers, and laughed in a robotic voice, “Destroy…Destroy…Destroy…for the sons of Skyrim…†HUH!? GALMER STONEFIST?! The soldiers bellow started to scream and yell out for mercy. “Please Galmer Lazer-Vision SPARE US!!!†they pleaded, the Centurion’s response was its eye’s turning red, before it launched another barrage of heat rays at the pathetic imperials below. Most were vaporised in an instant, just like there officer. Lorgar was gone before that could happen. He ran into the Plain district, intent on surviving the carnage. Civilians were fleeing, along with Whiterun guards and imperial legionaries. Before Lorgar could plan his next move, he heard the voice of Galmer Laser-vision, “All Rieklings charge in…†Wait, what?! ******* Rieklings… With those words, dozens of small blue-like creature’s armed with spears rushed into the city, while shouting lines like “BALLOW†and “MELAPAOSO†as they attacked civilian and soldier alike. Some of them rode boar-like creatures, which snorted and gouged any enemy in their path. Lorgar ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not wanting to be speared by them. They liked spearing things, in more way’s the average person could imagine who wasn't from Solsthsiem. With that thought, Lorgar ran even faster. As he progressed through the sky district, Lorgar began contemplating what the **** was happening, What the hell is happening? Why are the Stormcloaks attacking Whiterun when they own it, and why are there legionary’s guarding it? Why the hell was Tullius riding a unicorn? Why the **** are there Rieklings in the Stormcloak army? Why is General Stone-fist a fricken robot? WHAT THE **** IS GOING ON? As if to answer him, massive ravens started filling the sky. They croaked…but the croaking sounded like a cow mooing. They swopped down, and tore at the fleeing civilians legionaries with their razor sharp talons. As they neared him, to Lorgar’s horror, he could see their faces…they were the face of Baldur Red-snow. Before Lorgar could scream, all the ravens in union, shouted, “Lorgar watch out for the spears.†Just then Lorgar, turned to see the faces of the rieklings with their spears drawn, “ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHH†****** Lorgar suddenly awoke from his sleep, covered in a cold seat. He glanced around him, he was in his room. Beside him, sleeping like a baby, was his fiancée. She was snoring. Lorgar let out a sigh of relief, his wedding was tomorrow, but most of all, “Thank the all-maker, they didn't spear me.â€

Gracchus, Tullius The Laughing Fox Midday Gracchus sat in the study, dressed in his simple house garb, in the same spot he'd talked to the court mage earlier in the week. A map stretched over the low coffee table, held down on the corners by small books and coasters, one of which held a steaming cup of tea. In the general's hands were several small pins, some colored gold, others red, blue, brown, and green, signifying the armies of different nations. As he began to place the army pins, a rough knock reverberated from the door. "Come in," Gracchus said to the yet unknown figure. An older man stepped in, he was clad in the red and golden armor of the high-general. It was Tullius, "Gracchus, do you know what the hell is wrong with Lorgar?!" Gracchus lifted the tea from its saucer as he blew lightly to cool it off. The slow sip that accompanied it probably pissed of Tullius, but Gracchus didn't care. He set down the tea, along with the pins. "Nice to see you too, Tullius." "Yeah, yeah. You look good too . How's the Fiancee?" Gracchus smiled, a slight grin that was almost a smirk. "You seem to have finally gotten this whole small talk thing down. And she is good. She loves the house as well, and thank you for helping me get the labor sorted out." "Whatever. I was bored" He tried to shrug it off, waving his hand putting on his dickish face. "Sure. Now, about Lorgar, he was....different? First off, he showed almost no emotion, he lied, but then he finally told me he thinks the court mage has bonded his soul to Dales'." Gracchus put extra emphasis on bonded, as if he still didnt wholly believe it. "Bonded? As in magic?!" Tullius's face became dead serious. Gracchus nodded, his smile faded away. "Through some ancient Nord magic apparently. I'm not sure exactly how it works. The worst part is, Lorgar agreed to help him so as to save Dales from her father." "Ah, lesser of two evils..." "It would appear so. I-" Gracchus started to speak, but instead took another sip of tea, stroking his goatee before continuing. "I don't know what we do. What can we do, without directly opposing the Empress?" Tullius yawned before stretching out, "I think you should stay out of this matter." Gracchus leaned back in his seat, obviously weary. "It really isn't my choice anyway. With Dales sending me to Hammerfell, whatever happens here is beyond my control. The best we can hope for is he comes to his senses, or you talk him down. I have a feeling we are dealing with forces beyond our control, and I don't want to see the Empire wretched apart." Tullius simply said, "He wont." "I know. Whatever he has planned will either bring about his downfall, or fracture the Empress' advisors." Tullius chuckled a bit, Before saying, "I think it's safe to say, that things are already fracture. Dales court mage seems like a danger..." Gracchus grabbed the empty tea cup, and walked over to a desk and sat the cup and saucer there, so that when he returned to the couch he could prop his feet up on the low coffee table. "And so is Lorgar. Both, because they hate each other, are in danger of splitting the royal court in half. It's very worrisome." Tullius contained to grin, in a mockingy sort of way, "Lorgar can only do his duty, which is to the empire. His duty is the thing that keeps him going. If he see's this wizard as something that will cause harm to the empire, he wont give up." "He is relentless. I just hope it doesn't cost him his life." "Meh, we all die eventually." "His death will undoubtedly bring an end to curing Dales of her bondage. But, I suppose that may happen whether he lives or dies." Gracchus sighed, before continuing. "If another war didn't loom over us, I would just retire." "You should, while you have the chance." Tullius said, with a look of concern on his face which was uncharacteristic of him, "You have a chance to start a new life, raise a family, become a farmer." Gracchus smiled, glad that Tullius was actually concerned. "I should, but I would just come our of retirement once the next Great War started. I couldn't stay away just like you couldn't. I want to be there when we send those Altmer bastards to their graves, and I can't do that planting potatoes." "Ah, but unlike me, you haven't had the taste of being a mercenary. It gets into your blood, the feeling of you cutting down enemy combatants, and the smell of fresh corpses in the morning." He stretched out his arms, "Even better, after the glorious carnage, you get to whore around and drink all night." "You definitely have me outclassed in whoring and drinking. I guess you're right. Maybe I should retire, just settle down. I may do that, once this Hammerfell business is over with." "Consider it." And with that Tullius stretched a final time, before leaving and waving his hand behind him as he left. "Goodbye Gracchus." "I will." Gracchus stood, and grabbed the tea cup. "Goodbye, Tullius." With that the general took the cup down to the kitchen, handing it off the the Redguard Ena before going back upstairs to finish up his map.

Maggie, Jem, Samuel Imperial City early evening When Maggie arrived back at her house, she heard Jem's voice from the salon. "The ape vampire came at me and I had to use a telekinesis spell to slow him for the strike, then strengthened the spell to blast him into the tree behind him... What do you think of that, Gervy old boy? She's got a ripe imagination, dear sister." He was still laughing when Maggie threw open the salon door. She took in the sight of Jem with his foot propped up on Gervais lap, and her journals and notes spread out between his own lap and the table. Gervais was polishing the count's boot and didn't acknowledge her entry at all. "What do you think you're doing?" "Maggie, hello. I was just reading one of your yarns. This part about how you went into a jungle alone and single-handedly created an alliance with the Keerilth, that's really good. Creative, even for you." "There's nothing there you need to see," she said, keeping her seething below the surface. "Nothing you need to run back to Father about. He knows all about Gedras, and was grateful enough with the result." "Oh come on, Maggie. Don't be angry. You were going to show me these anyway, if I asked for them." "Was I." "How many times do I need to explain it? I'm the heir, not you. What's yours is mine. Anyway we always did share everything. I'm proud you used the code we worked out together, for the sensitive stuff you didn't want the Thalmor to find out about. Good bean." To his valet he added, "It was really I who worked it out. Magdela was always shit with mathematics. Weren't you, Maggie? At least you've got other talents. Though, reading your list of bed partners... I hadn't realized how many Thalmor you had to go through to get those contacts. Good thing you're infertile without magic or we'd have elven bastards running about the countryside." He glanced sidelong at her, obviously hoping for a reaction. She wasn't about to give him that. "It is a good thing, yes," she answered coolly. Jem chuckled. "Well, there's Sofia for the breeding. It wasn't I who decided which one of you would be matron and which one would be whore. You were the pretty one. Tough luck, that. Though, I do take back my offer to sample the wares. I'd forgotten how low a bid it actually takes to get hands on Maggie Bathory's famous cleavage." She knew he was trying to humiliate her, and to remind her of where the real power in the family lay. Maggie controlled her anger enough to work the scenario through logically. He wouldn't be trying so hard to rattle her if he didn't feel insecure about his position relative to hers. The interaction at the palace had obviously upset him more than she'd realized. Recognizing this, she smiled serenely and said nothing. "Janus, out. I need to talk to your sister," Samuel walked through the door to the salon, looking right at the man. He seemed less hospitable than usual, but not unfriendly. Jem was just changing position to let the valet polish the other boot. He glanced up at the information broker as he settled back again. "Samuel. I'm glad you're here. I needed to speak with you as well. Maggie, leave us." She didn't move, only glanced at Samuel. "Rose, you stay," with a dismissive hand gesture, he brushed Jem's objections to his orders. "Dog; get out. I doubt that the matters you want to concern me with are more important than the ones I concern me with. Had they been, your father would have made sure to notify me." Jem's eyes narrowed, and he gave Samuel a half-smile. "That's very cute. I am my father, as far as you're concerned. Maggie, out. Now." She did move, but only so far as to an armchair near the window. Reclining sideways in it, she regarded Jem calmly. Samuel walked over to Maggie's brother, leaning in over him and looking right into his eyes. "Had you been your father, I would have dealt with your message for me first. But tell me, is that what is going on here? Am I patiently waiting for Maggie to get out so we can get down to business?" Jem returned Samuel's stare at first, but even for one such as him, it was unnerving. Kicking at Gervais to get him out of the way, he stood and reached for his walking stick. For a moment he gripped it as if he meant to use it. Then he seemed to measure the situation again. Not concealing his anger now, Jem pointed the stick at Maggie. "This isn't over. Far from it." He flung her journal back onto the table and gave Samuel a hateful glare as he left, Gervais hurrying after him. Maggie waited, hearing Jem's stomping footsteps going up her stairs. Above them, a door slammed, shaking the window next to her. A little smile playing at her lips, she looked up at Samuel. "He's had a long day." "He always has a 'long day' when I get involved. I think it kills him that no matter how much he barks, I am the one who gets the final say," Samuel took a seat as he spoke and gestured for Maggie to move closer to him. "We need to talk about the court mage. Now, I don't want to insult your intelligence, I am going to assume you have an idea of why I am bringing him up." Maggie rolled her eyes and sat back in the chair. "You too? Yes, I'm sleeping with the court wizard. I'm a courtesan. He's a powerful man. I should think it wouldn't be necessary to explain to everyone how this works." "Something I have noticed over the years: I choose not to state the obvious out of respect for my companion's intelligence, and it always leads to people insulting my intelligence. No, Rose, it is not about you sleeping with him. I wouldn't be so obnoxious as to tell you who to spend your time with, only offer advice. It is about you spending so much time with him alone. The keyword here is alone. I assume you have some knowledge of what he has done to our dear Empress?" She sobered. "Done to her? Surely you don't mean..." Maggie recalled Dales' reluctance to marry. "He hasn't forced himself on her? She seems very free with him, and he's been nothing but gentlemanly towards me." "I see. It appears you've been held in the dark quite a bit when it comes to our friend from the North. He is not one to force women into his bed, as far as I know, any more than any man of power would under normal circumstances. That is not the issue. Dales might appear to be free, but as far as I have been able to gather, she is unable to go against his commands. In other words, Rose, he is the actual ruler of the Ruby Throne through ancient magic. I assumed he had told you a thing or two about it. I was under the impression that he was quite... taken with you." "The empress is a thrall." Maggie absorbed this, running her interactions with Dales and her teacher through her mind. "I had no idea. They even argued about how she lingered over the execution." Standing to her feet, Maggie walked a few paces, thinking. "The magic must be very subtle indeed. Do you mean to tell me that the entire 'alliance' with Skyrim is a ruse? It was engineered by Skjari?" "Maybe, but I am not sure. But that is not important right now, we have lived through worse than a puppet-Empress. So has the Empire. I am more concerned about you." "You think he might attempt the same with me?" Maggie shook her head. "I can't see what he would gain by it. As Father likes to remind me, I have no power or standing of my own. Even if Skjari could bend my will, it wouldn't benefit him at all unless he was allying himself with our Order's interests anyway." "I don't expect him to complaisant with your role, should he do so. He turned a naive girl sent to Skyrim to die into the Empress on the Ruby Throne. Turning you into someone Darius can use shouldn't be a problem once he removes your freedom to object and resist. My educated guess, in the case of him doing anything like it, would be to play a game to get at either myself or your father. If you want to spend time with him, do so. But you need to be aware of the dangers involved. He is in Cyrodiil now and having control over us would be a great help to him. I don't know him, but I wouldn't place my bets on him valuing your happiness over what he can attain from you bowing to him." Maggie considered this. "I am no innocent mortal girl, and you're wrong about him being taken with me. I don't think that's possible. There is a woman he lost, who still has a hold on him. Yet, this is something to think about. I knew all along that he was the most danger to us, and the one really ruling the empire. I simply had no idea it was in such literal fashion." She walked over to her journal and notes spread out on the table, and flipped through them thoughtfully. "I wonder how he did it. To have such persistent control of an unwilling mind, even a mortal one, must take a great deal of energy." "The Duke of Blackwood seems to have some information on that, but I've been unable to find a copy of the tome he supposedly have acquired. I suggest that you persuade him to let you read it, one way or another. But, as I said, I am not concerned with the ramifications this has for the throne; the true power of the Empire has lied in the Elder Council and the nobility, and in the Legion. It is our future I am here about; if you lose your free will, all is lost for the both of us." "I truly doubt he has any such interest, even if it were possible." She thought back to their long conversation the morning she woke him from a nightmare. His questions about her family had seemed simple curiosity. It was information he might be able to use against them someday, regardless, and she had given it up freely. The thought of him doing so made Maggie very sad, and suddenly very tired. There was no respite from the game, anywhere. She had been a fool to think there could be. Yet, it didn't really change anything. She'd always known that Skjari had the potential to be a dangerous enemy. Turning her attention to Samuel again, she said, "I will keep your warning in mind, but you should heed mine. The wizard has made it very clear that anyone or anything that would betray the sources of his power, he has destroyed. Obviously, he has succeeded. Right now we have no reason to jeopardize the alliance he's made with us. If the spymaster wants to pursue such a course, let him do it." "How many times have I mentioned that I feel I am the only one who listens to what anyone says anymore? Two? Three? I never said anything about going against the court mage, nor about jeopardizing an alliance with him. I am talking about you being careful and not letting your guard down, regardless of how much you enjoy the nights with him. If he does what I fear he might, I will lose my life, but you will lose much more than that." "Do you listen to your own words, guardian?" Maggie gave him a slight smile, accustomed by now to his impatience. "You suggested I ask the spymaster about this book he's found, which you've searched for yourself. I doubt very highly that such knowledge is contained in any normal book. Lorgar must have pried deeply to uncover this information himself. Between the two of them, they are on a path to destroy the empire." She paused again, then shook her head. "I cannot see that this changes anything for you and me. Darius has his own ways of uncovering betrayal, including..." She pointed towards the upstairs, where Jem could be heard stalking around. "And if Skjari wants to ensorcel me, he will try regardless of what I do. Haven't we got other things to be worried about? My meeting with Trym Heart-Hand is tomorrow. Do you still want me to give him 'Maurice'? The name Samuel has been getting a bit of attention this week." "You wondered about the how's of the magic involved, I directed you to a source. I never told you to do anything. But you're right, we should focus on the Hunter for now, before the Dog comes back down. Ah, the Rose, the Master, the Dog, the Breeder and the Guardian. One big, happy family. But what is there to discuss? Trym will get Maurice and likely leave you alone for a time to come. Then he'll spend a few weeks chasing a shadow that is just out of his reach, even though he believes he can still see it. Unless there was something else you wanted to bring to my attention?" "Too bad we can't give him..." She glanced towards the upstairs again, and smiled. "No, if you are sure of the plan, then I'll carry it through and we must hope he doesn't press me. I planned to have it in the shadow of the palace, hoping he'll be intimidated. Not all of the executions Amaund carried out were as pointless as killing his mage, after all. I whispered a name or two in his ear, as well, and it is known that I gave up more than one justiciar under the new regime. I'm hoping the hunter has spent enough time in the city to hear such rumors, and start to think about his own self-preservation." "The Hunter is driven by vengeance, and has acted unpredictably. And he is cunning. Death doesn't frighten him because it would only mean more resources to the Hunt, or so I would phrase an educated guess on him. Be careful to not underestimate him; I am not fully aware of all he can do. If he does press you, you need to betray that I am watching from afar and that you are risking becoming a thrall by telling him. When he sees me, that should buy you some credibility." "Zealots. If only we could rid the world of them all." Maggie sighed, and said, "Very well, guardian. I hope this works. I find that I'm not so much frightened for my own life." She turned her eyes on him. "If anything happens to you... There is something worse than being destroyed, and that would be knowing that I have no chance ever to be free of my father's control. The empress seems perfectly happy with her lot, but she's likely unaware of the puppet strings. I have to watch mine move, and even with my will intact, am powerless to stop them." "Yes, but you've been given a chance to cut them. Our dear Empress' only chance, on the other hand, lies with a brute from Solstheim who have showed an extraordinary low aptitude in the games necessary to even get near a solution. Should you fall prey to her strings, I am not sure even I could get near a solution, unless I secure the needed information from Lorgar before he is a memory." Samuel gave her a smile, one of the ones that made him seem like a very old man. "Losing one's life is the least of our worries. And we need one another. That much we have in common." "Being honest, I still have doubts. Father is good at what he does. He allows me enough freedom to want more. And putting selfish concerns aside, our Order is successful. I have to wonder if I could do half so well without him." "What made you believe that you would be chosen to lead at all? I offered you my personal network of spies and informants, not the matriarchal position of the Order itself. There are others standing ready to take over, centuries older than myself. Maybe, in another 500 years or more, you will be asked to lead, but you are still little more than a youngling in the eyes of most people. Mine included, though I mean you no ill will or condescension when I say it." "No, I didn't mean that. I mean even in my own work. My father opens doors for me, and he has protected me. Those others likely have benefited from him, too. Are they just going to accept his demise, or your replacement? It seems ill-advised, like Lorgar pursuing some collision course with Skjari even if the empire is brought to its knees because of it." "My replacement? My dear, do you think that I will be involved in that? I am one of the most powerful players in the Order, to be sure, but I've no interest in playing a part in the choice of a new top dog. That will be your job. But, there are certain risks involved with his demise, to be sure. But this isn't the Empire. Each member, at least the more powerful ones, are largely independent. Your father was a judge for settling internal conflicts and uniting us in case of a major outside threat. Your father's power doesn't come from formally being recognized as the leader, but the influence he had separate from that. I would be surprised if the people who matter would risk an internal conflict over someone who are already gone; No one would gain anything by it. Instead, most members should be more interested in filling the spot and winning favor with them. I'm sure that in your years, you've learned that we do not look to the past when we have such a long future to watch instead." "No. No, you're right," Maggie agreed. "They'll accept it, if it's fait accompli. And in the end, I think I'll have no choice. Jem almost made me think that if I cooperated a little more, my father would let me alone, but he won't. That means he'll destroy me, sooner or later. I'm more like him than he wishes to acknowledge, and seeing my dear brother again reminds me that I am the only one who could do this." She glanced uneasily at the door. Jem wasn't stomping around anymore, and could be listening. Switching to a neutral topic, she said, "About the hunter. I wanted to ask about the sunfire spells. Can they be defended against? Do they react to common wards?" "Yes, they can be blocked by wards, with the exception of the aura he surrounds himself in. And I have reason to suggest that this is his preferred way to use it. Rumored to be a skilled warrior, I believe Trym would go for a more brutal approach than casting spells. His henchmen might be more in the casting business, but I know not who they are. Trym himself will not be stopped by wards, as far as I know." "Does he use magic resist equipment? He won't get far if he tries to slice my head off, not in a public place with royal guard nearby." "Doesn't matter. I doubt he will attend the meeting alone; so I doubt you'd come from that without being revealed as a vampire. How long do you think the royal guard will be on your side, if sunfire harms you? These spells have become more famous ever since the Dawnguard re-surged. And this will attract more of them, maybe even the Dawnguard itself. Your only chance is to not get in intimate contact with it, simple as that." "Talking with the man requires me to be close to them, whether I want to be or not. He seemed tempted to do a little demonstration on me in the tavern and I fear he could try to do the same. All I need to do is defend long enough to get away. Casting a harmful spell at someone is an assault and the royal guard won't tolerate an assault on anyone, let alone a courtier. If he's aggressive towards me, he'll go to the imperial prison. Lots of people never come out of there." "And when he demonstrates to a Legion Battlemage that his spells can only harm the undead, a test that is ridiculously easy to set up, he has sealed your fate in the Imperial City and the whole of Cyrodiil. Probably beyond. You don't think that the news of the famous author, Magdela Bathory, being exposed as a vampire will travel fast? You'd be ruined. I'll say this one more time; you can not come into contact with this magic. It is not fair in any way, but it is the situation you are in and you have to accept the hard truth of it, without trying to talk around the point." "I would never let myself be captured by imperial guards, if the man managed to convince them to try. I only want to know my options, that is all. Simply telling me not to come in contact with his spells is to rely on only one strategy, one that can fail on his whim. I already said I was willing to go underground if needed, and I will, if my position in the palace is compromised. The tables can be turned on anyone, however. The instruments of empire are ours to use as well." "Don't you understand anything about Trym and his cronies, the Vigilants? If you use the Empire against them, you're living up to the typical depiction of the Order. That alone will cause more of them to investigate. If you come into contact with the spells, you can easily be exposed and even I won't have the influence to protect you if that becomes the case. This whole situation rest on his whim, which is why I am trying to give you someone he can hunt that will also take the attention away from you. You only have one strategy to rely on here. Any other approach will make it worse." Samuel looked tired as he rubbed his thumb and index finger against his eyebrows. "The tables can be turned on Trym, in the War. But this Battle cannot be won; the best you can hope is to come from it unharmed. He has every advantage he could possibly have. I plead with you; don't try anything rash. Anything. Do you understand?" She raised her eyes. "You say yourself that he's unpredictable. What is rash, to him? He thinks writing a book about a vampire means I must know who is in the Order. The man is clearly unstable. I already told you that I'll do just as you suggest. I need to know what to do if he doesn't buy it." "I don't believe that the book is the only reason he thinks you know something. In his stead, I would have gambled and tried to put you in a position where you had to reveal that you did know or that you were innocent. Alas, him being right about you knowing something and knowing sunfire magic rigged the gamble so it could only come out in his favor. He no longer needs the book, because you admitted to knowing something, when you had no options left. But what to do if he suddenly turns hostile? Assuming you're not instantly engulfed in the fire and either killed or harmed to a severe degree; you flee and go undercover. That is all you can do, and I am lying if I said I didn't assume you knew that. As to how to avoid that; you have to rely on your skill for reading people. It is your one chance." "Do you think someone gave him information about me? Someone in our Order?" "No, I think his gamble paid off and that there might be more than the book behind it, but I have nothing to indicate that any of our own have helped the Vigil. If I had anything to go by, I would have brought it up at the earliest convenience. But I've got nothing." "Sometime I would like you to tell me about this Dawnguard and their encounter with the Volkihar. You said you knew the Volkihar clan leader personally. Right now, however, I must leave you, if you have nothing else for me. My stores are low, so I must be hunter tonight. I don't wish to spend the night here anyway. It's suddenly become very crowded in this house." "I will, when we have the time. Here, take this," Samuel pulled out a bottle, at the size of your typical potion, from his jacket and held it out for her to take. "All things considered, I think it is better if you don't Hunt tonight. But I will not object to your wish to stay somewhere else. Which reminds me, your brother has a message for me I should attend to. God night, Rose. You will see me tomorrow, when the meeting has started." He got to his feet and bowed. For a moment it looked like he wanted to do something more before they parted, but instead of doing whatever it was he turned around and started to walk up the stairs. Unlike Jem, Samuel didn't make any sound as he did. Maggie took the bottle, thanking him, and watched after Samuel a while. Finally she unstopped the lid and took a long drink, closing her eyes to savor the sensation of vitality it gave her. She then considered where she might go for the night. The thought of Jem chasing her out of her own house infuriated her. At last, she went through the house to the back garden, and locked the door behind her so that Jem couldn't easily follow. If it was her last night, she wanted to spend it among her flowers, with the sound of water trickling. Maggie sat in one of the garden chairs and forced herself into a half-sleep trance. *** The other Bathory sibling had found Maggie's voluminous bathtub and was soaking in it while Gervais cleaned his fingernails. "She'll come around," Jem was saying breezily. "Always does. A little whining, a little door slamming, then she does exactly what Father tells her to. Magdela got Mother's artist temperament. Oh, I bet you didn't know old Anna fancied herself a painter once, did you? Father's got a closet of her paintings stashed somewhere. If you can call them that." "Do you always ramble like that when your pride is wounded?" Samuel said mockingly as he entered the room. On his way up the stairs it had been all to easy to hear him. "Licking your wounds by telling yourself that she will eventually follow the orders of the man who orders you around as well, to distract yourself from the fact that it isn't you anyone listens to?" Jem regarded Samuel coolly. "Do you enjoy pretending you're some kind of lord when you're no better than a lackey yourself? Now, do something better with your time and explain to me this incident at the general's funeral. Obviously you got yourself out of whatever trouble you got into, but we need to know if things here are under control. With Maggie's hysterics, it's hard to tell." I don't need to be a 'lord', little man," he just shook his head with a chuckle. "A title means nothing. Power means something. You merely borrow the power of your father; I built my own over hundreds of years. Which is why you will never be anything more than a glorified messenger and figurehead with a fancy title as long as your father is alive. And if he is gone, you will still be a glorified figurehead, because then someone else will take the reins of your life. Maybe they even agree to let me do it. Wouldn't that be fun?" Samuel rubbed the ridge of his nose. "Speaking of power; power and influence is why I knew about the arrest moments after it was planned, and why it was little more than a slight inconvenience of my time I was willing to put up with to attend the funeral. That this is even something you bring up speaks volumes; I informed you father that this was going to happen and that it was not going to be anything more than a common nuisance." "Slight inconvenience. It's not a slight inconvenience when one of our own is splashed on the Black Horse Courier for suspicion of murder or whatever it was. But if you informed Father, that's all you needed to say. No one here cares about your speeches. Well, I suppose Magdela might. You two are obviously very tight." Jem gave him a crooked smile, obviously implying something lascivious, then laid his head back on the bathtub rim and closed his eyes. "As for who's more important, blah blah, save it for her. I'm not the one who needs put in my place constantly." "Of course you're not one who has to be put in his place; you leave all the thinking to your father after all. That is why you're the Dog; obediently following your Master without question. Now, unless there was something else you wanted to talk about, I'd prefer to leave you to your fantasies. While I am usually not one to judge, fantasizing about me and your sister registers as strange even in my books." Jem freed his hand from Gervais' grasp and brushed Samuel off with it. "That's all for now." "And one more thing before I go," Samuel's face remained as it was, humored by the "little man" before him, but the intensity of his eyes said that whatever came next was dead serious. If they had been unnerving when he had been told to leave him and Maggie alone before, they would be down right petrifying now. "Tomorrow morning you are going to apologize to your sister for your behavior since you arrived in the Imperial City. There are not going to be any sarcastic comments or follow-up insults of any kind, and you are going to leave this house with a bow to her as you thank her for taking you in. Am I making myself understood?" Slowly, Jem's eyes opened and he gave Samuel a black stare. "Am I?" He appeared to consider a while before he gave a little laugh and closed his eyes again. "I was planning to leave tomorrow anyway if the little empress dawdles. Can't let her think we'll just wait around to lick her slippers. As for Maggie, she knows I was only joking. I love my sister and would never hurt her. I'll tell her that, in case you decide to convince her otherwise." Samuel didn't seem as amused. Instead of leaving he walked over to Jem as he lied with his eyes closed and leaned in beside his ear, whispering. "You may think this is a game, Jem, but if you try to challenge my direct orders one more time... I will make sure that you'll pay dearly for it." With that, Samuel left the room. Jem didn't move until Samuel was gone, then he opened his eyes. Instinctively the manservant backed off toward the far wall. "You didn't hear that," Jem told Gervais in threatening tone. Bathory stood up from the tub, water spraying everywhere. He began to furiously towel himself, wondering how he could get revenge on the information broker without his father noticing. There was no safe way. Not yet. Throwing the towel on the floor, Jem barked, "Come on, you imbecile. Dress me to go out. There are a dozen whorehouses better appointed than this rathole anyway." *** Samuel walked towards the entrance, stopping in the company of Maggie's guards. "Gentlemen, I would ask a favor of you. Magdela's brother is probably going to try to leave soon, but he has been a terrible house guest. Would you be so kind as to make sure that he does not leave this house before he has issued a proper apology to Magdela for his manners?" The guards looked at each other for a moment, before they nodded. Samuel smiled. "Thank you. I'll see if I can't sneak in a little bonus to you in your next paycheck."

Lorgar, Imperial Palace, Afternoon “A Daedic worshipping were-man that is insane!? You do know that contradicts? That would paint me as a follower of Hircine and Sheograth, and someone with knowledge of the princes would know that doesn’t make sense.†Said Lorgar, with his voice slightly raised, rumors have been flooding around about him being some sort of were-creature, which was admittedly not far from the truth. “I don’t make the rumors, just report them to you.†Samuel most likely…fuck… “In other gossip , apparently, the royal advisor, Countess Magdela of Skindard is seen in the quarters of the court mage at night.†“So what if she’s whoring around with that bastard?†Lorgar didn’t give a shit who Maggie apparently spent her night’s with, it’s just natural for the Nord to be attracted to every attractive girl in the palace, and all of the girl’s attracted to the admittedly ruggedly handsome Nord the mage is. “But sir, if she has a connection with this “Samuel…†Lorgar had refrained from telling his second in command, Commander Mario, Samuel and Maggie’s “afflictionâ€, but told him his suspicions about the imperial man, and the fact that she and him were connected in some way “…Then she’s secretly plotting my downfall along with mage and the information broker, right?†Lorgar said, in a sarcastic tone. Mario, while being an excellent officer and soldier, was extremely paranoid. But that had certain benefits, “I wouldn’t go that far sir; I’m just saying we shouldn’t place our trust in her, or that man Samuel.†Under his hood, Lorgar started to stroke his brown beard, “I of course agree, she is a politician first and foremost, and despite how nice she appears to be, she could be plotting to stab me in the back.†And she’s a who knows how old vampire that writes romance novels… Mario nodded his head in agreement, before taking out a scroll and placing it onto Lorgar’s desk, he said in the voice of professional soldier, “Sir, all of your money and assets has been transferred to the safe location as ordered, and as I predicated, palace guards under orders from the “Empress†tried to “appropriate†them for the “war effortâ€. Luckily, the bank had nothing to give to them.†Mario said, with a devious smile appearing on his lips, As I said, certain benefits… “Good…good…†Mario’s paranoia was surprisingly right and justified most of the time, which was useful to Lorgar. Lorgar placed his arms onto his desk, before taking out a pen and quill. He had much more work to finish, but expectedly, Mario remained, “Anything else commander?†“Sir, I think we need to proceed with plan B.†Lorgar sighed, he knew today was going to be about that. Noticing Lorgar’s discomfort, Mario spoke up, “Sir, I know you know it. The best outcome we can hope for is a stalemate. We can’t win this. As competent as you are, facing Samuel, the court mage/the Empress, and possibly countess Magdela is suicidal. We need to proceed with the plan you devised.†Lorgar nodded his head in agreement, “Your right. Your right…†Mario continued, “Sir, this gamble you tried to take with Samuel, most likely failed. We both know he’s most likely informed him of your plans and forged an alliance.†The timing of Lorgar suddenly getting piles and piles of non-important and mundane paper-work was too convenient; the final nail to the coffin was Witchie attempting to seize his assets and money. “Then, I hereby order you to cancel the transaction of money to Samuel’s agent. Inform her or him that my business with their master is officially over. “ “Yes sir…†Lorgar breathed in a mouthful of air, before ordering, “Then as Spymaster of the empire, and Lord-Major of the Pentuilas Occultus, I sanction Project Bloodwolf. I want you to gather a list of candidates and have it on my desk as soon as possible, and I want you to set up a meeting with the ship-building guild for tomorrow. Mario crisply saluted, before running off. Things are going to get interesting…

Brutus, Endar Kvatch Great Hall Noon Endar watched as Brutus's hands began to glow green. They had been working on the mass paralysis spell for a few hours now, but this was the first time that the Count had successfully managed to conjure up the power in his hands. Neither the Count nor the onlooking guards knew that Endar had begun secretly channeling their magicka to him, fortifying his reserves so that he'd have enough to cast such a high level spell without accidentally hurting someone in the room. If he gets good enough, it won't be necessary later on. As the spell charged, Endar's own fists clenched, and a red aurora formed around them. Four clouds appeared around Brutus, and out of them walked several short little creatures with pointed teeth and ears. Endar had always hated scamps. The disgusting little vermin from the realm of Mehrunes Dagon always filled whatever room that held them with an unpleasant odor, but they were perfect targets for training spells on. If Brutus could successfully cast this paralysis spell, the scamps, as well as the three onlooking guards would all drop like stones. Endar folded his arms, waiting to see if the Count could pull it off. One does not paralyze a target. One makes them think that they cannot move. The trick is simply to impose your will, your illusion upon the target. That isn't the problem. I can do that. The problem is doing it to multiple targets. But wait...is it really any different? Is it multiple targets? The world is but an illusion. A illusion, not many. Therefore I am not imposing my will on targets, it is simply a target like any other. So instead of focusing on the many, focus on imposing my will on the world itself! You cannot move world. I demand it be so! Brutus whose eyes were closed yet still smirking even while deep in thought held his clenched fist before him, his hands shaking from power he was not accustomed to having at once within his hands. Slowly he drew his hand back and began chanting as he did. "Not many, but one. Not many...but one. NOT many but ONE!" Finally, Brutus cast his spell to the floor, and as he did, the the scamps and guards stiffened and glowed with green auroras as they all fell face first into the floor. "Ooh, that may leave a mark, hehehehehe!" Endar didn't smile, or show any emotion at all for that matter. He just watched as the surprised men and creatures fell like rocks on the ground. He could see some blood under some of them, presumably from their noses smacking into the solid stone floor with no resistance. His own magics were more than sufficient in keeping him from even feeling the spell's effects. "Not bad. You're one of the few humans I've met who were able to cast a master level spell when not yet a master." Endar snapped his fingers, and his scamps all vanished into the same purple clouds they'd appeared in. He has an interesting way of focusing. Now to see how much he can do with low magicka. Endar summoned a dremora. Not a well dressed and silent one like his butler. This one was fully kitted out in Daedric armor, and had a nasty looking spear on his back. It stood still for a moment, looking forward into nothingness. Finally, after a moment, the Dremora seemed to grow restless. He was bound to the wizard, but he was kind of hoping that Endar had summoned him for combat. He'd been in the middle of slaughtering pathetic weaker Daedra in his lord's name until this cruel mortal had forced him into his world once again. He didn't like to be pulled out of Oblivion just to be left standing there. "What is your bidding master?" Endar didn't answer, instead, he looked at Brutus. "Frenzy this one. Make him try to attack me." Brutus scratched his chin thoughtfully as he considered the task. "Hmm, that should not be terribly hard. He is a Dremora after all." Brutus walked forward to the large Daedra that stood before him, observing him curiously. Brutus tilted his head to the side, like dogs do when perplexed. Although perplexed Brutus was not. He was just put off by the smell of sulfur. "How do you feel Dremora, being commanded by a mortal?" The Dremora looked down at the soft, pathetic weakling of a man who now spoke to him. "You dare ask me of these things mortal?! I am NOT bound to you! And so I have no reason nor need to address such a pathetic weakling! NO SIR I have no obligations to you! In FACT, if I could right now, I would COVER the floors of this room with your BL-" "Shut up and answer his questions." interrupted Endar. "Honestly. Your master commands it." The Dremora glanced at Endar with a fiery look in his eyes. "Yes master, your will is my... desire." He looked back at Brutus. The smugness of the human's face angered him, but he had no choice but to comply. "How do I feel about being commanded by a mortal? IT. IS. DEGRADING!! I am ALMKOTETH! I have spilled the blood of ALL races and pathetic weaker Daedra! I am a Valkynaz of Lord Dagon! If I were not bound by this terrible plane's laws, I would rip out both of your ENTRAILS and decorate this hall with your BONES!!! If I could, I would paint your bodies with the BLOOD of the other's, and I would display them, along with all your organs over the FURNITURE! Even the expensive things! If I could, I would-" Brutus placed his hand up, indicating that the Dremora should cease his rambling. "Hehehe, how wonderfully demented! That's enough, I get the point. I see you like monologues! As do I. You see, you are clearly a fly, thinking yourself better than mortals but the truth is I feel sorry for you. You may live forever, but you are subject to the will of your master. Mehrunes Dagon. Not just you, but all lesser daedra are even lower than the maggots of our world because your will, your mind and even your very appearance, or in other words your illusion is completely at the mercy of the fool whose forces were defeated in this very city! Yes I said fool, which is why I worship Sheogorath. He constantly reminds fools that think they are better than others that they are NOTHING! Even other Daedra Lords! You heard the story of he and Hircine's werebeast yes? In any event, to further my point, here you are, bound by a mortal. Forced to obey his every whim. If he wanted to he could have you on your knees servicing him like a common whore, only he wouldn't need to pay one Septim. Which is why even as immortals, you are lower than us. You can't summon us and lock us to your wills after all. You have no power over us. What say you to that, Daedroth?" Brutus was testing the mental strength of the Daedra and the power of the bond he was bound to, although to anyone else it may have appeared that he just simply couldn't avoid the chance to speak with a daedra. Or to just talk. Brutus had his arm folded with his other hand on his chin, smiling as he observed the Daedroth before him. Almkoteth listened to the little man before him jabber on. Everything he said made sense, and it made him angry. But it was all ridiculous. A mortal could NEVER be superior to him. Then, when Brutus mentioned his lord being weak, Almkoteth tried to interrupt, but some force from the wizard behind him prevented it. He could only stand here and listen as this mortal degraded him. "What do I say to that?! You are a brave mortal! Brave and stupid!" He turned to his master. "Please master, by the blood of all whom I've slain, I ask that you let me kill this man!" Endar simply shook his head. "CURSES! CURSES TO BOTH OF YOU!!!" The Dremora looked back at Brutus with fury in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly he felt the familiar clouds of the void engulfing him. YEEESSSS. THANK DAGON, IT HAS EXPIRED! As the clouds cleared, Almkoteth felt the familiar heat of the Deadlands surrounding him. He opened his eyes to see a small army of weaker Daedra, like scamps and hungers, battling with his Dremora brothers. He looked up at the blood red sky of Oblivion and smiled. He charged into the fray, his hands surrounded by flames as he burned scores of the pathetic beings before him. "Hahahahahah! YEEEEEES!" He closed his eyes, reveling in the smell of carnage around him. This is what he lived for. THIS is why he existed. Suddenly, the heat and smells and sounds of battle left him. They were replaced by a chilly draft, the lingering smell of scamp piss, and an indoor silence. Almkoteth opened his eyes to see the same mortal from earlier standing before him, still looking at him with that smug mortal grin. NO NO NO!!! "I'm sorry about that." said Endar from behind. "I used a longer lasting spell this time. My apologies." He waved a hand at Almkoteth. "Same orders as before. But please talk a little more quietly this time. Brutus, same for you minus the loud talking. You haven't done much of that today. Now frenzy him." Brutus kept his smirk, indicating that the spell wearing off was his intention, or at least that's what it seemed. He rarely ever lost his natural smirk. "I purposefully waited to make my point more clear. You are at the mercy of this mortal." As soon as Brutus said this, he cast a red ball of light on the Daedra before him. Suddenly the Daedra could hear his thoughts in his head, or at least that's what the illusion made him think. Brutus tilted his head down and stared into the Dremora's eyes still smiling, but menacingly. See? You do not even have the solace of having your mind to yourself! Feel me writhing inside of you! Feel me wiggling through the rotting meat that is your mind....Do you hate me? Do you hate mortals? Do you wish to end your enslavement? Wish to prove me wrong and show you are above me? Then do it if you have the strength! Attack him! Kill the one who summoned you! Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill..... Almkoteth's vision immediately began to blur. I... I AM NOT BOUND TO THE WIZARD! I AM FREE!!! The massive Daedra turned to face Endar. "Yeeessss..." Suddenly, he drew his spear and lunged at the wizard. "I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!" Endar calmly raised his hand and sent a green bolt at the Daedra, causing him to stop in his tracks. "No you won't." Almkoteth's mind immediately eased. Why had he wanted to destroy his master? That would've broken the rules of the binding, something that Almkoteth knew was absolutely impossible to do. Endar snapped his fingers, casting the Daedra back into Oblivion. He looked at Brutus. "You already know the illusions of the world well. You worship Sheogorath? He has blessed you it seems." He motioned at the spot the Dremora had been standing in. "What you probably already know, is that even their binds to their masters is an illusion. You saw the way he turned on me when frenzied. Had I not stopped him, he'd have gladly chopped me up and gone through with his decoration plans unhindered. He is bound to me, but only in mind. As soon as you frenzied him, and took his mind from him, you temporarily pushed him through that bind." Endar grabbed his staff off the wall where it'd been resting and leaned forward on it. "Now tell me, how long has it been since you paralyzed those guards over there?" He motioned at the three guards, all of whom were still laying face down on the ground. Brutus's face lit up with delighted surprise as he clasped his face with both of his hands. "Oops! I had forgotten about them. Poor sods, I'd say it's been...around ten minutes? I'm sure the spell had worn off by now. The saps must still think they're under it's effects. I always say there's no better illusion than the ones you naturally perceive." "It would seem so." Endar walked over and poked one with the bottom of his staff. "Yep. They're alive." Endar casted a healing spell on the two with broken noses. Then he proceeded to knock each of them out with a simple strike to the noggin with his staff. Better for them to be asleep for the upcoming conversation. He walked back over to Brutus. "So you follow Sheogorath. What do you know of the Mad God?" Brutus straightened his back and placed both his hands behind them before he spoke in a student like manor. "I know enough to know that he is not a he. The Madgod is simply the personification of what is in all of us, which is why he is so powerful. Even that daedra whose sphere is not madness per say would certainly fit the bill. Even the other daedra, Azura, Boethia, Clavicus Vile, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Jyggalag, Molag Bal, Meridia, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Namira, Nocturnal, Peryte, Sanguine, another of my favorites and Vaermina...All of them to a mortal man could be considered mad. Dead set focused on one particular set of spheres. Sheogorath is simply the most honest of the bunch. Oh and, he enjoys frantic strolls on the beach on stormy nights and he loves artisans and musicians. Ironically, he normally hates people of my station, but...I think he'd reconsider. Hehehe. At least in my case." "Hmm, interesting. Well I do believe that he has certainly taken an interest in your life. Tell me, do you dream much Brutus?" asked Endar. Brutus raised an eyebrow, curious at where this was going, but happily so. "Indeed, but that is the domain of Vaermina. Perhaps the two are in cahoots?" said Brutus to Endar. "Perhaps. Vaermina's domain is indeed that of our dreams. Nightmares in particular are to be taken as a sign of her presence. But unless she takes a specific interest, our dreams are our own. Or rather, they are influenced by our experiences and dealings. Whether this is controlled by the Dream Lord or not is a mystery, as are many things associated with her. We sometimes see things in our dreams that we have not seen or even thought of in our lives. This is the result of meddling... or perhaps a blessing." Endar pulled his journal out of his bag and opened it to a blank page. "Do you recall any such dreams?" asked Endar. Brutus closed his eyes thoughtfully, trying to recall his past visions. "...Sometimes I do, yes. It's how I got the idea that everything was connected somehow. That everything was an illusion. I get very lucid dreams sometimes where I can actually do what I want before I awake. I remember that I had those even as a child. Nothing in particular that would be of any interest to you comes to mind though. Why is it that you ask?" Brutus's smirk for once had faded. He truly had no idea where this was going, but it made for interesting conversation for sure. As Brutus had spoken, Endar carefully, yet swiftly wrote down what he said word-for-word, so that he'd have an accurate account later down the line. Most people wouldn't be able to read his handwriting, as it was often quickly scrawled, and resembled a scribble more than eligible words. "I ask for the sake of knowing. My price for helping you is a chance to learn some things myself. Your dreams are influenced by another force. If it was through dreams that your philosophies came to you, and those philosophies align to favor the Mad God, I do believe that he is that force. I asked, because I already thought I knew the answer. You just confirmed it for me. You are a favored child of Sheogorath, and that makes this conflict you are in with... What was his name? Jacob? ...that Skingrad fellow, the annoying one who ate your grapes and called my robes moldy... It makes your conflict with him much more interesting." Brutus's face flashed with a quick picture of annoyance before going back to his happy nonchalant manor. "Ah yes...Jem. I am not worried too much about him. I looked to your help because I noticed my illusion magic does not work on him and I hope for that to change, but if not I will simply cast on those around him...The people. That is how I've stayed in power for so long. But in any rate, I do enjoy the thought of bringing him down a peg in the name of Lord Sheo." Endar closed his journal, tucking it back down into one of the many pockets of his bag before closing it and slinging it back over his shoulder. "Not too worried about him eh? You should be. He is not alone after all." Endar wasn't going to go any further into detail into that. He'd let Brutus figure out Jem's secret on his own. If he would at all that is. "His mind is trained to not be effected by typical illusion magics. Not as well as you'd wish at least. You will have to work outside the box to defeat him using illusions." Endar regarded Brutus for a moment. "Fortunately, that box doesn't seem to exist for you at all... Now if you wish to use methods of Sheogorath, I can assist. I have more experience in that regard than most people, even Telvanni. I will help you, but I will not tell you what to do. You must make your plans yourself. If you need me for them to work, I may be willing to lend a hand, depending on what it is that you want." Brutus's eyes suddenly brightened when he said methods of Sheogorath. "My plan was to simply let things unfold as they will and come up with what to do as I go. This makes me unpredictable and hard to read. And perhaps, that may have just happened. Tell me Telvanni wizard. It occurs to me that your summoning techniques may give you better insight to the ways of Sheogorath...what methods do you refer to? No one is better suited for bringing someone down to size than he." Even his plans... Or lack thereof, reflect the fabled methods of the Mad God. "You already use his methods on a seemingly regular basis. You prefer to twist the mind rather than to crush it. You don't break, or even change the rules. You find unexpected ways to make things work within them. Your lord is the same way. He is entirely unpredictable. You seem to be as well. I have never been to the Shivering Isles. I'm not mad enough to get in freely or fool enough to face the Gatekeeper. But I have been to the Fringe, a smaller pocket of Sheogorath's plane that touches his greater kingdom. I have met and spoken with people of the Isles, and even maintained contact with some for a time. My third journal has quite an extensive account of the various flora and fauna, as well as records of well known events there during the last Graymarch... More on that another time I suppose. My point is, I have at my disposal, spells, tools, and knowledge of the Isles that most people don't. I'm willing to lend any if you just ask... and pay of course. Maybe you'd like to take a look at that journal?" Brutus's grin grew from ear to ear now at this point. He had a feeling that he had just struck gold. All that he had to do now was dig it up. "Let me see that journal and tell me everything on him you know. And of course you'll be paid well, courtesy of Jem, hehehe! I'll beat that imbecilic worm and show him what happens when you underestimate a madman. And Sheogorath will show the way..." Once again, Endar's fist glowed red, and in beside them appeared his Dremora butler. The creature of Oblivion silently turned away and knelt down, exposing to them the massive bag on his back. Endar reached in and shuffled through some things that were laying haphazardly throughout it. I really need to remember to have Elara organize this bag later. Maybe tonight? After a minute of searching, Endar finally found the old worn out journal. He dismissed the Dremora back to Oblivion and handed over the book. "Most of what I know of the Mad God is recorded in my notes and journals. This journal in particular has the most useful things. It's all from my time in the Fringe and my associations with the residents of the Isles. The later pages detail the creatures and plants, and the last three are a spell index. I'll want that book back, but you can hold on to it for now. Study it. You'll find much of what you want to know in there." Brutus excitedly reached for the book and began flipping through the pages feverishly. For him it was like an admirer just found the secret journal of his beloved. Brutus was determined to commit this journal to memory. After all, Shivering Isles will be his eternal resting place. He might as well learn what he can of the land now. "I'll be in this book for a while, Master Endar. Please, feel free to indulge yourself in my guests in my room. Try not to bloody them. They tend to complain if that happens." said Brutus with his eyes completely glued to the pages, wide eyed as if looking at it through a magnifying glass. "Even if there's nothing directly useful in here, surely I will gain some inspiration from the god of Madness by better understanding his creations. They are just a more direct extension of himself after all." "I'm afraid I don't have time to indulge today. I have a few studies of my own to conduct you see. Perhaps another time." Endar watched as the mad Count hungrily poured over the pages. He didn't seem to have any trouble reading them, which was a first in Endar's experiences. "I'm sure you will get plenty out of that. Come to me if you have any questions." With that, Endar started for the door. He had a lot to go over himself, much of which was a result of today's experiences. Brutus sat there reading through Endar's book all night with no sleep. Remembering every word, every detail. Much of it was very extensive notes taken by Endar, strange conversations with the citizens of the fringe. One of the things he picked up from the book was something called the fishstick. A delicate state of mind. Some records say it was an elegant dance, another said if asked if one liked fishsticks it could tell the inquisitor through it's unique magical properties if the person he or she asked was a homosexual fish depending on their answer, and another said it was simply a way to greet newcomers to the land of Shivering Isles. Brutus wasn't sure what to think. It was absolutely mad, even for him. Perfect. There were also many many pictures and sketches done by Endar himself, including pictures of Sheogorath's personal daedric assistants. The "Dark Seducers" caught his eye especially. "I need to learn how to conjure those next...hehehe!" The spells were especially interesting to read about, although most of it was well beyond his comprehension, as the details were written in a special unique way that likely only Endar could understand immediately due to the unique way he organized the steps. He had his own system of how he wrote and organized things. A system he would be only too happy to crack if only he had the time. But Brutus committed all of this to memory as well, talking to himself as he did. His head was pounding from eye strain and going over sentances and phrases over and over again. This was especially challenging when so much of what was written defied all logic of this world, most of it useless to him here but all of it fascinating. Finally Brutus was about to call it a night and get some rest, but as he got up to leave, the air from his body moving flipped a page in the journal. Brutus's extreme curiosity made it impossible for him to resist. "Just one...last...page..." Brutus obeyed his curiosity and instantly was very thankful that he did. There were two very interesting things on this journal entry and not because of anything crazy, relatively, like finding out that beard hair was an abomination and an enemy of madness, and that Sheogorath wore one simply as a battle trophy after slaying the concept of truth, but interesting because he could actually use it. "The Madgod provides." Brutus spent the rest of the night skipping, laughing and singing in celebration, and as a thanks for his good fortune, Brutus made yet another painting in the name of Sheogorath, one that would be the centerpiece for his throne and be an ultimate testament to the power of illusion.

Skjari Imperial palace Noon Skjari was standing at the enchanting table as he was putting the final touches on the new dragon statue. The dragon statue he had right now on his desk was somewhat bigger than his hand but as the crystal had grown in power and thus also in size and was now as large as his hand it had become difficult for the little dragon to hold on to it. This new dragon statue was as large as a grown mans head, if the man had a rather head that is, and would take over the duty of holding and guarding the crystal. When he was done he put the new dragon next to old one the desk and the big one attacked and grabbed old one by the neck with it's jaws and ripped the crystal from it's somewhat poor grasp. The smaller statue hissed desperately as it lost the crystal and then the was simply thrown to the side by the larger dragon, they growled at each other for couple of seconds before taking up grandeur poses and freezing back to solid stone, with their backs turned at each other. Skjari couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight of the two dragons fighting but was suddenly interrupted by voice from his bedchambers. "What was that my lord?" Said a female voice. "Just a little magic. And shouldn't you get back to work?" He answered a casual and slightly friendly voice. "Sure, we'll get back t work." Said another woman in rather playful tone. "But we aren't quite satisfied yet and we would like..." "One more then, but after that I'm afraid I'll have to kick you out." Skjari interrupted as he walked into the bedchamber and saw the three women lying on his bed, one of them had a bracelet on her left wrist and that was as far clothing any of them had. Their real clothes was strewn out across the floor in a mess. Two of them had long hair, one had brown hair and the other's was black, both Bretons. The third was a Imperial with shoulder long black hair, but her appearance said she had some Breton blood in her. "Of course my lord." Said the woman that was lying on the foot of the bed in rather seductive way. Afterwards when the servants was getting dressed, Skjari sat at his desk, dressed only in pants, looking at the smaller dragon statue and wondered what to do with it. Destroying it felt like a waste and he had no use for so that left the option of selling or giving it away. The servants walked out bedchamber and was now going back to work, several hours late. "Raine, I need you to do a delivery for me." He said before the last woman, the Breton with black hair. "Of course my lord." She answered with more formal voice but Skjari could swear he heard a hint of a seductive tone. "I need you to deliver this statue to Magdela Bathory's house." He pointed at the smaller dragon statue. Raine frowned for a second. "As you wish my lord." Her voice seemed to make an attempt at sounding casual but couldn't help but sound a little bitter. Skjari knew that the other women he bedded were a little jealous at Maggie because he spent more time with her and less time with them, but she was a better mistress so that was simply how things were. Raine picked up the statue and walked out of the room nonchalantly and closed the door in rather hard and loud manner. Skjari leaned back in his chair and sighed, this wasn't something new to him and he remembered how it was his old days, and hopefully these women wouldn't try to kill each other. Even if it was a bit too early for him he decided it was time for a drink. He rose up and walked over to what appeared to be rather empty wall that lied to the right of the door to his bedroom and close to the window. He could feel the magic as he put his hand on the wall, shoulder high up and in the middle. A large square part of the wall dissipated into thin air and revealed the hidden storage of the previous court mage, it was filled with a large variety of alcoholic beverages. He picked out one bottle that was wrapped up in paper and had twine wrapped around the bottleneck with a small folded note attached to it. Skjari opened the note and read. "I know that you're a collector of rare beverages and I would like to thank you for all the great lessons you'd had with me and for being an amazing teacher. Your former student, Arvatus Ceno" I wonder if this fella is related to Gracchus Ceno. Maybe, but the name can just be coincidental. Skjari removed the twine with the note and all the paper and saw a bottle in the shape of a dragon, the wings and tail was wrapped around it's body that made up for the main part of the bottle and head and neck made up the bottleneck, the opening was was the glass dragon's jaw and in the jaw was a cork that was partly shaped as a flame. The label read "Divine Fire 71 of the 4th Era". Skjari couldn't believe what he had just read. Could it that simple? And why was the it still wrapped up? Had the previous court mage known what he had been given or had the mage opened the gift and then wrapped it up again? Several questions raced through his mind but suddenly came to a stop as he realized that there was only one way to find out. He pulled out the drawer containing the book and opened it a random page somewhere in the middle of the book as he put it down onto his desk. Reading the label two more time just to make sure his eyes wasn't deceiving him, he sat down in his chair carefully uncorked the bottle, as carefully as he could as the cork sat rather firm in it's place and he had forgotten about using magic in his excitement. The cork flew as it left the bottle and then landed in a corner on the other side of the room. Luckily none of the bottle's content was spilled. But the smell of the content could definitely be felt as cork was removed and Skjari could immediately see, or more like smell, why it was called Divine Fire, the smell was strong burning aroma with a hint pleasant warmth. Curiously he took a small sip that he regretted directly as he spat the content out, the liqueur was burning at the touch of the tongue. He suddenly heard a low wheezing and noticed that it came from the book he had accidentally just showered in liqueur. The liqueur didn't wet the book but was instead vaporized as it touched the pages of the book. So as he looked he didn't see wet dots covering the book instead letters and parts of letters dotting the pages. He poured more of fluid onto the book and he could see the liqueur get vaporized into thin air as the secrets of the book was being revealed. Judging from the pages he was staring at, the book seemed to be some sort of address book. Little of it made any sense to him and he started to go through the book page by page to see if there were any instructions on what all of this meant and where the key was. After several minutes of skimming thorugh the books content he found himself at last pages of the book. There he found the instructions on how to use the scrolls and what the content of the book actually meant. The very last page told about the key; it was a combination of three alteration and illusion spells that needed to be cast of the scrolls. Skjari knew the spells as they were of simple novice spells and all he needed to do was to memorize in what order he needed to cast the spells. He closed the book and put it back into the drawer before he left the room in a hurry and forgot to get properly dressed as he walked in a fast pace through the corridors and up the stairs to the top of the tower. It didn't occur to him until he was two thirds on his way to the top that was only wearing pants and he decided to keep going because it such a long way down and up again. When he finally reached the door with moth carvings he sat down to relax his legs for a couple of seconds before he banged on the door, no need for knocking as the hagraven woman probably wouldn't open in that case. What surprised him was that he didn't have to wait long enough to start banging on the door again before it opened and a lovely imperial woman that looked to be in her mid twenties, with blonde hair and slightly round face and dressed in the plain grey robe he remembered from his last visit, appeared in the doorway. She eyed him up and down for couple of seconds. "I know it's along walk up here but I don't think you don't need to shed your clothes for that." She said with a hint sarcasm in her voice. "I'm here for the moth scrolls." He said after a few seconds of not knowing on how to really respond to the woman's remark. "Well come this way then." She started to walk across the room. "And close the door behind you." Skjari stepped inside and once again saw the small trees spread throughout the room with furniture in between and the large glass walls between the pillars at the edge of the room revealing a view of almost the whole of Cyrodiil. The moths was flying through the air and sitting on the trees, Skjari could swear that a few even landed on his back. He closed the door behind him and followed the woman through the room to the old man, wearing his blindfold, that was sitting at the root of a tree, and luckily the hagraven woman was nowhere to be found. The blind man didn't seem to notice them as they approached. "Do you have the key?" The blind man said in a dreamlike voice. "Yes." Skjari answered while trying to not sound too triumphant. "Where is it then?" "It's in my mind. It's a combination of spells." "So you do have it." The man now spoke more casual and sounded slightly surprised as he rose up from the root he was sitting on. "Well then. Initiate, bring the moth scrolls." The woman ran off the the side of the room disappeared behind a tree and then reappeared with three large scrolls in her arms, the scrolls were tied together by three threads made up of red cloth decorated with golden runes. She carefully handed them over to Skjari. "Thanks." He said and then made his way towards the exit. As he reached for the handle of the door despite the large scrolls occupying both his arms, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around to see who it was. It was the imperial woman again and she looked rather shy as she put both her arms behind her back. "We rarely get any visitors up here and..." She tried to sound seductive but failed miserably and sounder more shy. But before she could finish her sentence Skjari felt the palm of a hand smack against the right side of his face and when he looked for the source of the slap he saw the hagraven woman standing on his right side, looking as ugly as ever. "You will not bed my sister." She said loudly in her voice that could crack glass. They're sisters?! The don't even look like each other. He thought as he looked back and forth between the lovely woman and the hagraven in disbelief. "But sis..." the young woman tried to protest but was cut off. "Enough!" The hagraven woman almost screamed in a strict tone and she then looked back at Skjari. "Best for you that you didn't get any ideas." He chuckled a little as he looked at the hagraven. "There is something I've wanted to tell you ever since we met." He said in slightly mocking tone. "Really? What is that?" The hagraven practically spat out the words. Skjari back his upper body and then put one foot forward as he charged his head into the hagraven woman, headbutting her so hard that heard a crack coming when he felt his forehead make contact with her pointy nose. The woman fell back on the ground swearing and screaming as she covered her nose with both her hands. The young woman looked quite shocked at what she had just witnessed and didn't say a word as she simply stared at Skjari and then at her sister and then back at Skjari again. "Well that pretty much sums up all I wanted to tell her." He couldn't help but sound amused. He looked back at the woman that was now staring at him in a slight shock, she didn't seem angry or sad but more like confused at what to do about the situation. "Sorry for the inconvenience." He calmly said to her. And he then opened the door started walking down the stairs and didn't even bother to close the door behind him and he could hear the screaming and swearing from the hagraven for a good solid minute before the door was closed. And Skjari couldn't help but to smile the whole way down.

Jem, Maggie, Skjari Imperial Palace afternoon Maggie found Jem lounging in the palace foyer talking to a herald about the new empress. Jem's valet, Gervais, stood nearby staring straight ahead with those black, empty eyes she hated so much. "Ah, here's my lovely sister now," Bathory purred, standing. "Kept me waiting long enough, didn't you? Never mind, there's always something to see in the imperial palace. Lots of juicy news to be had these days." "Jem. What a surprise." Maggie dismissed the herald with a glance. He slunk off without another word. "Have to keep you on your toes." "You're here to see me?" "And to meet our new empress. I don't suppose you could arrange an introduction." "Possibly." Jem tilted his head. "Why so cool? Ah, you're upset about the publisher business. Father believes you're too distracted. That Crescius woman is a bad influence." At the burning expression in her eyes, he laughed. "Come on, Maggie, you know how it works. Play along and be a good girl. In a few years you may get another chance to pursue your little hobby. In the meantime there is serious work to be done." "My writing is serious work. It opens doors for us." He made a talking motion with his fingers. "I've heard it all before. Father's made his decision. It's for your own good, you know." As she began to walk off into the palace, Jem grabbed her arm. "Damn it, Maggie, why are you always so willful? Everything you do reflects on all of us." "Take your hands off me." Withdrawing his grasp, Jem said in an exasperated tone, "I don't understand you. You're supposed to be the sweet one, but you're such a colossal bitch. Always testing the limits. I think you just like the attention it gets you." "If you wanted to meet the empress, why didn't you come to the coronation? It reflects poorly that none of us were there except for me." Contrary to what her brother said, Maggie wanted the subject to be on anything else but her. "Had business in Skingrad and Kvatch. Just returned from there. Brutus sends his regards." At her expression of disgust, Jem laughed. "Ah, sister. You've never forgiven him for that little incident at the Zenithar summoning day party. Don't worry. He'll soon be reduced to begging at his own city's gates. Our city, that is." Maggie loosened a little at this topic. "I'm glad to hear it, though you should've let me worked the matter from here instead of confronting him directly. Insolent fool, trying to undermine Skingrad's wine festival with a merchants' fair the same week." "Gold Coast trade is picking up again. It was actually more astute than I'd have imagined for the old boy. The tradesmen have to stop somewhere along the Gold Road." She smiled a little. "I had a little prank all planned out for him after the coronation, but he returned to Kvatch before I could see it through." "Yes, well, his own citizens are playing better pranks on him than even you can devise. They'll soon be begging us to step in." Jem paused, then said, "It's good to see you smiling, Magdela. You're so beautiful when you smile. In fact, it's good to see you full stop. I missed you these past years. It was always you and me, you know. You and me against the world." Maggie was almost touched at this speech until she remembered that this was one of Jem's strategies. Her wall went back up. "I'll see about getting you that audience. Where are you staying?" "With you, of course. I already sent my things around to your house, hadn't they arrived?" Her expression hardened. "When they do arrive, I'll send them on to the Tiber Septim Hotel." "Come on, Maggie. You know that isn't safe for us. Don't be such a spoiled brat." "Then go to Sofia's! You'e only here to spy on me, we both know that." Now it was his turn to scowl. "Maybe I am, but that doesn't change the facts. The house isn't yours. Everything you have belongs to Father, and that means it belongs to me. Don't think we don't know what's going on here. Father thought Samuel could handle it, but apparently that's not true, either." Maggie blanched inwardly at this, though her expression remained unchanged. Did Darius suspect something? Jem cast a muffle spell and continued, his tone angry. "I know all about the hunter. He's asking for you, Maggie. Do you know what that means? How serious that is? Then I arrive here and hear about some incident at a military funeral that landed Samuel in prison." "Stop. Don't say another word." Maggie re-cast the muffle, a stronger one, since she had the key to the wards. "I shouldn’t have to say anything. If you weren't so reckless, you wouldn't need someone checking up on you all the time. Even so, it's just normal protocols. They're for your own good. For the good of us all." "As you keep saying. I've got matters with the hunter under control." "Do you. What are you going to do, seduce him?" When Maggie didn't reply, he laughed. "You thought about it, didn't you? Honestly, you can be such an idiot. So who are you screwing these days?" "You already know." "I heard a rumor. A Nord wizard, sister?" "He's the greatest power in this empire right now." "You just don't get it. It doesn't matter at all what goes on here in White Gold, not in the long run. Father is the greatest power in the empire. That makes me the second greatest." Jem's smile changed, and he took a step closer. "Doesn't that mean I should get a crack at you, too? Don't look at me like that, Maggie. You gave yourself to me willingly enough before." Her expression was rapidly turning from disgust to hate. "We were curious children. The fact that you don't understand the difference speaks volumes." Maggie dispelled the muffle and walked away. He called after her. "Get me in to see the empress. And that Nord mage, too." Jem heard a casual male voice behind him. "You wont see the empress. But turn around if you want to see that Nord mage." Bathory whirled around, his expression cool. "Ah. A sly one. I should have expected that." He held out his hand. "Janus Bathory, scion of Skingrad. You are?" Maggie had also turned at the sound of Skjari's voice. She waited, not intervening. It was incautious of both siblings to speak of family matters where the wizard might overhear, but she couldn't resist a little smile that he'd caught Jem off guard. Skjari simply crossed his arms at the notion of shaking his hand. "Didn't I just tell you that. Or do you see anyone else behind me?" Jem withdrew the hand, eyes flashing. "I assume you've got a name. Or do you answer to 'Nord'?" "I thought you already knew my name. It's Skjari." He then changed to slightly more mocking tone. "Do you know the name of the empress? Or do I have to tell you that as well?" "We all know the little Breton from Sutch. Well, those of us who pay attention. All knees and elbows, as I recall. I hear she's blossomed quite beautifully. Magdela must be jealous." This he had said half over his shoulder, knowing that his sister was listening. "You're a newcomer here, Skjari. Obviously you don't understand some things. I represent Skingrad when my father's not at court. That means I can demand an audience with the empress, if I so choose. Requesting one was just a courtesy." Skjari who'd had a long day couldn't help but to do a long yawn that lasted almost throughout the whole of Jem's little speech and he found the man quite annoying. "You'll have to seek an appointment like everyone else. I think she got some time to meet you next week. So unless it's urgent you'll simply have to wait." A week was far too long in Maggie's book, so she stepped forward. "I'll see if there is something we can do. My brother is right, Lord Skjari. Skingrad is accustomed to certain privileges." She turned a pointed look on Jem. "Privileges usually accompanied by greater courtesy. Moderate your tone, Janus. Lord Skjari has been an ally to us, and so has Empress Dales. You'll do well not to speak of her in such informal terms." Jem looked from one to the other, thoroughly annoyed. He'd been trained in court manners, however. "Very well," he replied stiffly. "I suppose we should be grateful that you kept Magdela on as advisor, considering her association to the late emperor." Maggie pursed her lips at this, recognizing it as a subtle attempt to undermine her, and perhaps a reminder to Skjari that she had been in Motierre's bed first. She remained silent. Skjari shrugged. "Well he's dead now. And Maggie was nice enough to help out with the Thalmor. And she and I had already met once before so she wasn't a total stranger." Jem's brow raised. "Really? Care to tell me about that?" This was directed at Maggie. "Another time," she answered with a fake smile. This made her brother visibly suspicious. He turned back to Skjari. "It's wise for a man in your position to keep powerful friends. I guess you've heard about what happened to your predecessor. The empress may be a sweet thing now, but at one time we all thought Amaund Motierre was just a harmless social climber." "I'm certain she wont turn out like her father though." "What makes you so sure?" "Call it a gut feeling. And with the relation she had with her father I would dare say that becoming like him is something she's actively trying to avoid." "There are many kinds of zealotry. Some would say her pursuit of Thalmor supporters is just like her father's only in reverse. Others say that's just what you get when you let Bretons on the throne. Elven blood taints them, that sort of thing." Jem flashed a smile. "Not me, of course." "Unless you want to go back to the time when most humans of Tamriel were slaves to the elves, I think her hunt for Thalmor supporters is a good thing. And with the empress being a Breton, she would know what the elves are capable of." "She also lost Skyrim for good. That's what some will say. Others that she brought back war where there had been peace, even if a compromised peace." Jem regarded Skjari quizzically. "You speak sensibly for a wizard. Some of those doddering fools can hardly say a thing that's not gibberish. I heard you were Synod, is that right? No one can quite remember what chapter you came from." "That's right but I barely keep in touch with them these days." Jem made a thoughtful noise. "Wizard of obscure origins near the throne, that sort of thing makes people nervous, you understand. Your qualifications are important to establish." "As I'm sure the empress is quite capable of pursuing on her own," Maggie broke in, laying a hand on her brother's arm to keep him from antagonizing the mage with such questions. "Weren't you eager to get settled at the house, brother darling? He cast her an amused smile. "Of course. I wouldn't want to keep such an important man as this for long. I'm sure you've both got things to do. Gervais, come along." The count took his walking stick from the valet and tapped it once as farewell before leaving. Maggie watched until her brother was gone, then took a deep breath as she turned back to Skjari. "I'm sorry about that." "Grik pahlok nol gein mal diil mey. Zu'u laan wah krii tol sos lun." Skjari looked down as he shook his head before looking at Maggie. "Sorry, people like him go on my nerves. At least he's gone now." "He's a pompous ass. No need to sugarcoat it, in Tamrielic or your old tongue." She smiled. "That's why I wanted to get him in to see the empress. The sooner he does, the less excuse he has to remain. Jem has his uses, but the cost for them is high. At any rate, I wanted to ask you if you've made any progress on that little project we discussed. The dreamsleeve protocols." He chuckled. "I was far from sugarcoating it." His face got a thoughtful expression as he stroked his beard. "And I'm stuck concerning the moth scrolls. Though don't worry, I think I will make progress soon enough." "Can I help in some way? I would like to do so, if I can. Some of those agents were contacts of mine when I was in Valenwood and Alinor. I'm curious as to their fates." "What do you know about divine fire?" "Divine fire?" Maggie thought a moment. "Various spirits are known to use ethereal flames, even to be made of them. The daedra would not be referred to as divine except by one of their own, however. Almalexia was thought to be a goddess in Morrowind, and is said to have taken the fire from Numidium. A Dunmer spell of some sort? Sunlight is also divine fire, if you believe the stories about its origins as the god Magnus." Something occurred to her, which seemed unlikely, but she added, "The Dawnguard are said to have concentrated sunfire into a spell that affects the undead. Don't ask me to perform that one." Her lip curled in an ironic smile. "Already tried that sunfire spell. And the last court mage wasn't a Dunmer so I highly doubt it's anything from Morrowind. Anyway I'm sure I'll find the answer soon enough." He smiled a small devious smile. "With your brother living in your house I guess you would rather stay in the palace?" "You overheard that, I see. I've been staying mostly in the palace lately anyway. I do need to go home now, however. I keep the door of my room sealed by magic, but Jem will get through that soon enough, and there are things I'd rather keep private from him if I can." She thought of the reason why she had been keeping to the palace. Her meeting with the hunter was the following day. That meant she also needed to feed that night, to make sure she was as strong as possible the following day. Maggie pondered telling the mage about her problem. He might be willing to observe the meeting, for instance, and could intervene if it went badly. After a moment's pondering, she decided against it. She would have royal guard nearby in case the hunter tried to muscle her away. If matters got to sunfire with Trym Heart-Hand, however, her time at the palace was over anyway. Understanding Skjari's suggestive smile, she said, "I have other things I must do outside the palace tonight. Tomorrow night, however..." She moved to leave, but stopped with her hip brushing against his side. "You might consider starlight, my lord." Laughing, Maggie explained, "I don't mean for tomorrow night. I mean for your divine fire. The Ayleids considered it holy. Their wells still contain star metal and give off a greenish glow. They are also said to have used star glass in their lamps. I could take you to a ruin near the city where we might find some, if you wish to test it." Her finger moved along Skjari's sleeve, playing with the fabric. "Clearing ruins is a specialty of yours and mine." "Weren't you also supposed to show me these magic stones as well? You said that you really wanted to show me the Lover's Stone," he said as he moved his hand suggestively along her waist. "That I do. In the Nibenay. It's lovely country, but a good ways from the city. Do you like to ride?" She smiled, enjoying the little game of innuendo. "My horse is quite fast and I can make do with a ride." His smile got a little bit wider and his hand moved slightly downwards. "And you don't have to leave just yet, right?" Laughing, she replied, "There is something to be said for a fast mount." Maggie pulled him toward a side alcove. There she cast a cloak spell and kicked off her shoes while she waited for Skjari to likewise cast. A passer-by might get an earful, but unless they were very talented mages themselves, would not be able to see where it was coming from. If a peeping tom were so talented, he would deserve the show. Her worry about the threats closing in on her abated, though in the back of her mind Maggie felt that time was waning for her like sand moving through an hourglass. For the moment, it was still hers. The only thing that was really hers.

Gracchus Ceno Northwest of the Imperial City Late Afternoon Gracchus, seated on Lil Ceno, rode across the field, the flowers brushing by his boots as they hung in the stirrups. Catia rode next to him, on a smaller brown mare that Gracchus noticed was always hanging around Lil Ceno. He discovered they'd taken a liking to each other, so he bought her and gave her as a gift to Catia. She loved her, and named her Lady. Together, Gracchus and Catia rode northwest of the Chestnut Handy Stables, out to an area that had a few cranes and scaffolds set up. As they neared Catia looked up quizzically at the structures. "What is that?" Gracchus stopped and turned to her, reaching out to grab her hand as he said, "It's a surprise, now come on!" Like kids, they raced to the construction site, the big warhorse narrowly losing out to the quick and speedy mare. Catia dismounted, walking around the site. "Okay, so what is this?" Gracchus came up behind her, taking her hand and leading her around. "It our new house. I had it commissioned after the coronation, on the land the Empress have me." The couple walked around, looking over the workers as they finished up the days work. All that was built of the house was the stone foundation, and the wooden framework. Gracchus led Catia onto the foundation, as he dropped her hand so he could spread out a set of plans on a saw horse. "This will be the entrance way, followed by a large open living area, with the dining room behind it. Then the kitchen will be here to the left, while the library will be to the right. Up stairs are where the bedrooms are. So what do you think?" Catia watched Gracchus explain the layout, looking like a child given their first wooden sword. She loved it when he got like this, so excited. She truly loved him, he was her best friend and closest companion, and seeing him happy filled her with joy. "Sounds great honey. This is the best surprise ever." Catia leaned over, wrapping the general in a hug that lasted for what seemed like days. When they finally separated, Gracchus pulled out of his pocket the ring from the Argonian jewelers, it gold glinting in the sunlight and the emerald casting a greenish hue on his hand. Without saying a single word, Catia grabbed the ring and slid it on her finger, tears dropping onto the building plans, causing the paper to shrivel up and wrinkle. Gracchus grabbed her in another long embrace, his arms softly wrapping around her as tears fell on his shoulder. Outside the house, the horses chased each other through the flowers, but neither Catia nod Gracchus noticed, both lost in moment. Catia finally pulled away, looking Gracchus in the eyes, which matched the emerald in the deepness of the green. "Yes. I'll marry you. I love you more than you can imagine." Catia's voice was joyous, and the tears that'd stopped moments before came fishing back out again. Gracchus grabbed her hand, stroking the ring with his finger. "I know. I love you too, ever since I first laid eyes on you." He laughed, still holding her hands. "I know how cliche that sounds, but I did. I just never knew this is what I wanted. It's time for me to settle down, and I couldn't have picked a better person to do it with." Gracchus dropped his gaze momentarily, causing Catia to plant her hand on his cheek. "What's wrong?" "I have sole news you probably won't like, though. The Empress wants me to go to Hammerfell, solidly some sort of an alliance between us. I told her I would leave in two weeks, but now that this has happened, I'll push it back. Now, what kind of wedding do you want?" Catia nodded as he spoke. "No, I understand. I wouldn't want you to miss this because of me. And a simple wedding will do. Nothing too fancy. I just want us to be together." "Thank you. And don't worry, I already have my mother working on some stuff. She's been getting better since I've arrived, and has been able to leave the tavern at times. Not without supervision of course." "Thank you again. I'm beyond happy. Now lets go home, I think it's time you get a surprise as well." With a wink, Catia ran back to her horse, Gracchus in close pursuit. I hope you can see this Pilus, wherever you are. I've kept my promise, and I couldn't be happier. Thank you, for everything. Thank you... Gracchus hopped on Lil Ceno, pulling on the reins and chasing after his soon to be wife, unable to contain his excitement at their marriage, and the reward waiting back home.

Eduard Laenius, Levik Long-Swing- Candlehearth Hall, Windhelm, Early Evening Eduard walked into Candlehearth Hall, seeing the innkeeper up on the left. He ignored her, other than a quick greeting. He will most likely be upstairs. Once he was on the second floor, the real scouting began. He eliminated groups of people sitting together, along with those sitting in the middle of the room. Finally, it looked like he spotted a potential candidate. A man sitting alone near the corner of the room. He was an older Nord wearing a fine set of noble clothes. He was bald and was sporting a trimmed black beard. Time to test the water. He walked up to the man, and sat down. "I'm looking for someone. Maybe you could help?" The older looking man blinked a couple times before looking up. He looked like he'd been very deep in thought before the interruption, and hadn't even noticed Eduard's presence until he'd spoken. The man looked at Eduard for a moment, seemingly studying him. "I'm sorry." His accent wasn't any kind of Nordic. It sounded like he was from eastern Cyrodil. "I'm not from around here. Perhaps you should ask someone else." Eduard was reassured by the accent that he had found his man. He began to speak, in more of a hushed tone. "Actually, I think I'm asking the right person. What's your name?" The man looked up at Eduard. He had one eyebrow raised. "My name's Levik. Are you the-" He suddenly stopped himself, as if realizing the danger of what he was about to ask. After glancing around, he went on in a more hushed tone. "Who wants to know?" Eduard had to think of a way to word what he was about to say. Didn't want to have anyone listening in on him. "My... mother. So yes Levik, I believe I am who you think I am." "Good. Good." said Levik, satisfied by the answer. "Please, take a seat." he motioned for a nearby chair. Eduard complied, and took a seat. He was glad that he was able to find his man so quickly. "So, now that introductions are out of the way, why don't we get right down to business. What is it that you need, Levik?" The old man folded his arms. "You know what I need. I need someone dead, and I am willing to pay good money to make that happen. There is a Redguard in the Imperial City named Kaye. Though most people call him The Eastern Blade. Are you familiar with the title?" The Eastern Blade? I think I've heard of that. "I was aware of that. I simply meant who. Anyways, yes I believe I've heard of the title. Arena Grand Champion, right?" "You are correct. Not only is he the Grand Champion, but he also killed the previous one, and has slain thirteen champion challengers. Kaye is one of the most skilled swordsmen in Cyrodil, so I wouldn't reccommend fighting him up front.". Levik paused. He looked like he was just remembering something. "You're probably thinking right now about how the Brotherhood doesn't operate outside of Skyrim aren't you? Trust me. I will make it more than worth your while. After all, in the end, it's all about the money right?" I'm well aware of how dangerous he is. "Exactly. The money is the important part. As long as the pay is good, I'm willing to travel pretty much anywhere." Levik leaned forward in his chair. "And kill anyone apparently. Now listen closely, because this next part is important... I am paying you well for the kill, but there is a bonus in it for you, and a good one at that, if you do the job correctly. I want you to kill Kaye, but I want everyone to think that it was done by someone else. Specifically, it has to be the current Champion. He is a yellow team Altmer whose name I do not know. The man is jealous of Kaye's skill, and is next in line for Grand Champion if he dies. You need to make it look like the Champion killed Kaye in the only way that he could ever hope to: outside the arena, but he failed to effectively cover it up." Really? That's an interesting request. He wants someone framed for it. Kind of makes me wonder what his real intentions are. "Fair enough. Frame him, and I get paid more." That's certainly going to make things interesting. "Yes. You'll get paid more in coin as well as a little something else. But it's important that you don't screw up. There will be no need to return to me here when you are done. I ought to be back in Cyrodil by then. I'll be in the noble section of the arena stands watching the afternoon fights every Loredas. You can find me there for your payment." A little something else? Interesting. "Well then, I guess I'll see you at the Arena then, right? Unless of course you have anything else you want to tell me about." Levik smiled for the first time since Eduard had entered the building. It wasn't a warm smile, or even a truly happy one. It just looked cold, like the old man was willing to do the deed himself if only he were able. "No, no there's nothing else. Good luck to you, assassin. I will see you at the Arena." "Have a good trip back to Cyrodiil, Levik. As you know, I've got some work to do. I'll be seeing you." Grand Champion as my first contract? Of course that happens to me. Should be quite a bit of fun. If only Jon knew. The old man only grunted in reply as Eduard headed out the building.

Baldur, Mazoga Afternoon Reach Baldur was in the woods with the men who at this point were still watching the girl, who was just standing around waiting for some reason. She had been in that same spot waiting for a few hours now. Baldur had one of the soldiers find him a piece of wood big enough to carve out a rough flat Morris board to play with Mazoga while they waited, using rocks for the pieces. They sat criss crossed with the board on their laps as they played. "Ever played this game before Mazoga? I figure sailors have a lot of spare time on their hands for this sort of thing." "We've got a board on the ship. Had a board on the ship. I'll never get used to the ship being gone. I bet Cap says stuff like that all the time, too. Anyway, we stick pine gum on the pieces so they won't pitch off when the ship rolls and you can't move pieces on the sly. Sailors, always cheaters." Mazoga had a sly little grin. "Damn, I'll keep that in mind when we get on the ship. That's how I always win, heh. Don't tell Rebec that though. The way I see it, a board game's no different from a battle. No such thing as cheating in war. In war the cheater is the smart one. The smart one isn't the one feeding the crows." Baldur kept one eye on the board and one on the girl, making sure she didn't run off without him being able to see, which was easy to do where they were. Baldur made another move still watching the girl, wondering how much longer they'd need to wait, and if they were just wasting their time. "I've got you now, Mazoga. Lets make this interesting. Five hundred gold for the winner, deal?" "Five hundred?! How well do you think Cap pays us?" Mazoga pulled on her tusk thoughtfully. "No deal, boss. I'm saving up for a ship of my own someday. Five septims and a friendly handshake." She was already plotting how to get her piece out of trouble. Baldur smirked a little when he realized his mistake. Baldur picked up black spiky caterpillar that crawled on the board, which he held on his finger as he spoke. "Sorry, I forgot everyone doesn't get my pay. It's not fantastic, but it's more than my men. That on top of the fact that I travel and never had to buy a house or anything means I have a good bit saved up. You say you're saving up for a ship. I guess Rebec never told you..." Mazoga's brow was furrowed in thought. Even more furrowed than its usual state, that is. "She doesn't have to tell me. I know she can't keep to our agreement. All that kind of went overboard with the war and losing the ship. That's why I'm going to buy my own. Cap's done enough for me." Glancing at Baldur, she saw his puzzled expression and said, "What, you were talking about something else? Cap's family, they have a kind of tradition. If someone stays on as first mate for ten years, they'll go in half on a new ship for them, in return you agree not to steal their contracts and you pay five years of a small commission on whatever you earn. It's worked real good for them. Builds loyalty, trains good sailors. I've almost served my ten years but I know Cap can't pay. I stayed anyway, because I want to sail for her." Baldur looked down at the board and realized in his distraction that he made a stupid move that would allow Mazoga to steadily take his pieces. The rocks were mud covered to differentiate between hers and his. He already had three of hers, but she'd soon catch up at this rate. But Baldur had an idea. "Silly orc, no. We have plans on making a town based around a naval port for the Stormcloak army. When we do, she's going to do whatever it is her family does from the port and turn the ship over to you. It's going to be the best ship we have in the Stormcloak navy. And your loyalty will have made it yours. No gold required." Mazoga's face lit up as she saw her opportunity on the board, but then she had to stare at Baldur. "What, just like that? Turn the ship over to me and she's not going to sail anymore?" The orc thought about that a minute, then laughed, shaking her head. "General, you sure did turn her head. I half think you're lying just to throw me off my game... " She struck a blow on his game pieces, then sat back, grinning. "Don't try to cheat a cheat." "Damn!" Baldur's plan was to dazzle her with the news and move the pieces while she was distracted, which almost worked...but the news was too good to be true, even though it was. "Ok, you got me, but she really is turning over the ship. I couldn't believe it when she said so myself. You'll be Captain Mazoga of the Black Wisp. Or Black Harpy, or whatever she decides to name it." "You pulling my tusk? By Stendarr. I've been waiting a long time to hear those words." Mazoga looked about ready to cry. Meanwhile her hand was slyly moving one of Baldur's pieces into better dying position. Baldur couldn't believe his eyes. A teary eyed orc was the last thing he ever thought he'd see. "Aww Mazoga, I can't wait to tell Rebec how...how...you moved my pieces didn't you you sly bastard! Oho, that's good! That's good, flipping the script on me like that. Know what, here's your five gold. There's no Sovngarde at the end of this battle." Baldur took out five gold pieces from his coin pouch and dropped it on the board. Standing up from the board, Baldur looked back at the girl who he never kept his eyes off of completely, thinking it was just about time to move on, or bring the girl in for questioning. Just when he was about to mention it, a group of another twenty or so men came up out of the woods and surrounded the girl. It was Forsworn just as Baldur thought. Baldur couldn't tell completely, but he could swear that the one talking to her who seemed like the leader looked damned familiar. Mazoga laughed, but as the Forsworn started appearing, she was all business again. So was her crossbow, which was loaded and ready. "Is that...?" She pointed at the male leader, who looked very much like a man she'd dropped with a shot to the head. "No, that...that can't be right? I saw the bolt stick through his face. Looks pretty damn good looking for a dead man. Alright, they're moving out. Mazoga, you take five men and ambush them from the front. When you do, I'll take my team and attack from the back. You got it?" "On it. Don't be late." Mazoga picked some light and fast fighters and hurried ahead of them to make it out in front of the Forsworn. They had to be quiet, as well, but as they were almost ahead of the prey and about to swoop down into the valley in front of them, their passing sent some rocks tumbling onto the Forsworn's heads, alerting them to the ambush. They started yelling and lost all order, some turning to run back the way they came, and some trying to climb up on the rocks to meet the Stormcloaks. Mazoga cursed and put a bolt in the eye of the boldest climber. "Attack!" she yelled at the other Stormcloaks. Baldur's group would be the front lines now, but she wasn't going to let them fight unsupported. Baldur cursed when the Forsworn started to attack. They lost the element of surprise, but not their position, which was advantageous. Mazoga had higher ground to pick off targets and the Forsworn were in disarray, unorganized. Baldur's men put shields up and walked in a line towards their attackers, who had no shields of their own. Five were in the back shooting arrows at them while another seven charged. Baldur hadn't brought his shield, so he had to use the men as cover. "Charge through!" The five men ran forward with their shields raised and attempted to cut and run through the group to get to the archers. The ones that went around the wall were taken care of by Baldur. Two of them tried to flank them and Baldur easily sliced open one's belly through his furs, and the other was none other than the same leader from when they first entered the Reach. Baldur's axes collided with the man's dual steel swords and the two stared eachother down trying to get the upper hand in this death lock. "I see you upgraded from twigs and bone. How the hell are you alive?" "I am Briarheart. The Matron provides!" Baldur was confused by the man's crazy talk but paid him no mind. The man was a lot faster and stronger than what he appeared to be. Baldur swiped horizontally at his face, but the Briarheart ducked under and did the same thing. Baldur parried with his right axe then followed up with a swipe from his left that almost hit him, but only managed to cut the furs he was wearing. Baldur was shocked at what it revealed. In the cavity of his chest was exposed broken ribs with a strange yellow orange shiny thing like a pinecone where his heart should be. That how he's still breathing? Baldur let himself get distracted, which the Briarheart took full advantage of and did a powerful spinning attack that knocked both of Baldur's axes out of his hands. Baldur cursed and tried booting the man down, but he backed up, then ran forward with a downwards swipe. Baldur blocked the incoming attack with his metal gauntlets and sent a furious kick to the Briarheart's gut. Baldur's spiked shin guard on his boot left bleeding holes in his belly, but the Briarheart kept fighting like nothing was amiss. Baldur continued parrying his blows, letting the loss of blood and fatigue do its work before Baldur saw his opening. Baldur purposefully left his guard down so that the Briarheart would attempt to cut off his head. When he did Baldur ducked and sent his hand straight to the bullseye glowing in the man's chest. "Do me a favor and stay dead this time." With that, Baldur yanked the object as hard as he could from his chest. The Briarheart fell to his death instantly. Baldur slipped the object in his pouch before he charged back in to help the others. Baldur looked up to Mazoga who was firing off bolts when suddenly something literally from his nightmares made him freeze. "Mazoga! Behind you!" Mazoga heard the wheezing as Baldur yelled, and when she turned, the hagraven was already pointing a crooked stick at her. Its end was glowing. The orc had just enough time to dive out of the way of the fireball. Rolling, she fired the crossbow while still on the ground. The hag shrieked as a bolt caught her in the arm and she was forced to drop her staff. Enraged, the hag scurried towards Mazoga and fell on her before the sailor could get another bolt loaded. There ensued a rolling, shrieking, clawing fight that ended up with the hagraven pinned under Mazoga with one arm bent back. The hag shrieked again as her arm snapped. She wasn't done fighting, however, and as soon as Mazoga released her to reach for her sword, the creature got up and reached claws out to swipe her in the face. Mazoga ignored the pain as claws pulled skin off her face, and with a bellowing war cry brought the orcish sword around and took the hagraven's head off its bony shoulders. Baldur was running up to give Mazoga a hand when the stray fireball that missed her came hurtling in his direction. The blast missed as he jumped to the side of it and it hit a tree. The tree immediately was knocked over being rotted and dead and the fire started spreading to the other trees. Baldur saw his men cleaning up the remnants of the Forsworn, ignoring the fire.The girl was on the ground crawling backwards from the scene and getting up to run away. Baldur finally made it up to Mazoga and the hagraven, then he offered his hand to get her up. "You alright Mazoga? That thing...ugh, I hate those ******* things! I think these Forsworn make them, maybe even revere or worship them or something." "Never seen one that close before, I..." As Mazoga was talking, she felt a tickle in her mouth and pulled out a feather. There were feathers stuck in her hair and leathers, too, which she batted at like insects. "Agh! Disgusting. And they say orcs are ugly." Despite the dead bodies, the blood, the hagraven and the fire gathering behind them, Baldur couldn't help but laugh. Not much beat the sight of feathers stuck in an orc's mouth. Not much at all. "Pfff, hahahaha! Oh, oh that's funny! Oh, this has to beat whatever Rebec is doing right now. Hey look, I got her a battle trophy. I think it's what was used to keep the Forsworn leader alive. He said the "matron" provides. I think that's her. If she's a leader of some sort it could explain why the Forsworn had the balls to try a hit and run on Markarth. Here. What do you think?" Mazoga took the briarheart and turned it over, inspecting it. "A magic pinecone was keeping him alive? Horker shit. You're telling stories now, boss." She was about to go on, but glanced around at the burning brush. "Hey, uh, we might want to get back towards the river." "Huh?" Baldur took a look back to the growing fire behind them. His men were already making their way out, but they were watching him and Mazoga waiting for them to move their asses. "Oh, right. Well, lets get a move on. I'll tell you about what happened with the zombie man on our way back to Markarth. Think Rebec will like it?" "I think she'll like that you're in one piece and won't notice much after that." Mazoga makes a mooning face complete with kissy noises, then picks up her crossbow, chuckling, and walks off toward the Stormcloaks. Baldur started tossing the Briarheart in the air and catching it while chuckling at Mazoga's childish antics. "Yea, laugh it up, Mazoga. We'll see whose laughing when I get that story about those feathers in your mouth. You still got one on your shoulder by the way. Lets wash up in that stream before we head on back. Wonder what they did to Rebec while we were gone. I swear if they tried changing her to a Dibella priestess, I'm gonna pluck their feathers....Can't wait to give this thing to her. You want a good laugh? Wait til you hear what I say to her when I give this cone to her. I bet you the five gold I lost that it'll make her blush redder than the Empress's undergarments. Wanna take that bet?" "You make the captain blush? You're on. Ten septims." "Challenge...accepted!" ***** "Okay Rebec, almost done with your feet. Shila, you got the make-up?" said Ysana. "Yep, all done." "Hows the hair? I was going to put it in a style but I think her natural long wavy hair will be best left out. What do you think Hulga?" "I agree. Married women usually have the hair wound up to keep from instilling lust. But lust is the goal. She's all set for the final step." "Good. You can stand up now, Rebec. We should hurry before Baldur gets back." Rebec hadn't minded much after the bone-cracking and skin-hacking stopped. In fact, she'd gone into a blissful half-sleep while the Dibellans fussed over her hair and face, dreaming about playing horseshoes in her father's yard and going sailing with Baldur and not worrying about wars or having to heel to Erikur's call. "I feel fine," she said, surprised. "Better than fine. Like a new woman. But Baldur sees me in these robes and he's going to get really worried." She wasn't looking forward to getting back into her dirty old leathers, but there was nothing for that. "What do you think the final phase is? Girls, get her my wedding gift." When Ysana gave the order, Shila and Hulga went to the packs and pulled out a rather elegantly designed red dress with gold lining and decorations, as well as a golden veil like fabric that went around the hand area. The dress was something fit for a princess. "What do you think? Normally we only rent these out, but for my son's wife, I'll make an exception." Rebec gaped at the dress. "You want me to wear that?" She hadn't ever had such a thing on in her life. Suddenly realizing she was being rude, she said, "Uh, I mean, thank you, Ysana. I'm surprised, that's all. I thought about buying something like this. I even walked around this shop in Solitude with a couple of snooty elves making comments. But it didn't seem right. That's not me." Despite her reluctance, Rebec was of two minds. She could never have bought such a dress for herself, but seeing it, she really, really wanted to at least try it on. Then again she was afraid that she'd look so ridiculous in it, not only the women would laugh but Baldur would, too. Normally she wouldn't mind being a joke, but what Baldur had said about her being like a man still stung a little. "Rebec, we can do this the easy way...or...." Ysana pointed to Hulga who began cracking her knuckles with a smile on her face. "we can do it the hard way. Hulga's dealt with warriors before who didn't think something was "them". Until they put it on anyway. Here." Ysana pulled out an ornamented circular silver mirror from her pack and handed it to Rebec for her to see herself. "Still think it isn't you?" "Back off, you hulking lunk," Rebec said to Hulga, laughing. Her laughter disappeared when they put her in front of a mirror. What she saw did look like a different person. A really beautiful lady like something out of a story. In amazement she touched a curlycue hair at the side of her face. It glistened as it bounced. Her lips weren't dark red like the redguard had made them, but a natural color that was more like her own skin, and they had only put little smudgy eye makeup rather than the thick kohl. It didn't seem like much to make such a difference, but the proof was in the mirror. "Well stick a tail on me and call me a Khajiit," she said, taking the dress. Without any further ado and not even minding that a bunch of Dibellans were watching her, Rebec stripped down and started putting the dress on. She needed help for that and got scolded for messing up her hair, but when they had put her all back together again, Rebec stood and stared at herself for a long time, turning to see the back side, and playing with the little ribbons. Finally she turned to look at Ysana, and gave her a big, genuine smile. "You're alright, Ma." Ysana got a little misty as did some of the Dibellans. A few of them tried to move in for a group hug, but Ysana put her hands up telling them to freeze. "Not so fast, no one's laying a finger on my daughter in law and messing up her hair and dress!" "Until Baldur gets his hands on her anyway." One of the Dibellans made the comment under her breath which caused an eruption of laughter from Ysana and the other girls. "Okay, put these gold colored sandals on and lets get moving to the temple before Baldur gets back! We have a room that you two can stay in for the night. The only non stone bed in all of Markarth lies there. Ready to make Baldur step on his tongue?" "You lot won't be watching through a peephole or anything, will you?" Rebec's suspicions about priestesses weren't totally alleviated, though the day had been a revelation. She came along meekly, at any rate, and enjoyed the stares of the men out on the street a lot more this time. ***** It was starting to get dark by the time Mazoga and Baldur made it into the city. They made a short pit stop at the Stormcloak camp to have lunch which sidetracked him longer than he wanted when the commanding officer there wanted to talk with Ulfric's favorite general. When they got in, Baldur was feeling tired and wanted more than anything to simply be with his wife. "Mazoga, you coming up with me to the temple? Still got that bet remember?" The last place Mazoga wanted to go was a temple, but she couldn't miss out on seeing Rebec blush or at least to see Baldur try to make her. "It's your ten septims," she said, resigned to the long climb. *** Rebec was waiting nervously in the prepared room. To pass the time, Ysana had let her pick out a few other garments out of a special closet. These had to go under the dress, which caused a lot of general giggling and even catcalls from the priestesses. Then the Dibellans went about their own business, leaving her alone in the room. She'd eaten about all the grapes on the fancy tray that was set out, and was trying not to touch the rest of the supper. It wasn't just wondering if Baldur would laugh at her, but also worry that it was so late. The thought that the Forsworn might have gotten them almost set her to chewing on her manicured nails, but remembering Ysana's stern look kept her from doing it. Baldur and Mazoga made their way into the temple and was greeted with a crowd of annoying giggling and laughing Dibella women standing by the door with his mom in the front. When they came in, the crowd swarmed the two warriors hugging and hopping up and down all talking at once about how shocked they were going to be. "Uh, mother! I don't think Rebec would appreciate the...circumstances...right now? Where is she?" Ysana was smirking while biting her fingernail as she paused to take in the moment. She was quite proud of herself and what she managed to do for Rebec and her son. Ysana clapped her hands twice to make the girls scatter and leave to fetch Rebec, herself included. Baldur readjusted his outfit after the girls had stopped pulling on it in their excitement, then he lightly rubbed his buttocks. He was pretty sure one of them snuck in a pinch on his ass in the confusion. "....Wow, not what I expected when I came up here. It's got me a little worried, Mazoga." The Dibellan priestesses started talking about what they'd do to Mazoga, and that brought out the orc in her. They got the message when she snapped her tusks at them. Turning to Baldur, she said, "You left Cap alone with these harpies? I didn't realize I was the lucky... Stendarr save me." The orc had broken off when she saw Rebec coming up the stairs. At first she had thought it was another of the priestesses, this one in a fancy dress instead of robes, and almost didn't recognize her. Mazoga had to pick her jaw up off the floor to speak. "Captain? That you?" "Yes, it's me. Did the Forsworn eat your brains?" Rebec looked from Mazoga to Baldur and waited nervously for his reaction. Baldur was at a loss for words. He had tried to picture Rebec before in a dress and drew a complete blank. This was.... Holy shit..... Baldur was still staring dumbly until he realized Rebec was waiting for him to say something. It was a good thing Mazoga was still staring at her, because then she'd start laughing at him for how strongly his face was flushed. Baldur slowly walked his way forward to Rebec, feeling a little self conscious from not being dressed up to match her. The contrast between the two was like a princess standing next to a savage barbarian. Baldur took off his dirty gauntlets and placed them in a pack he was carrying, then dropped it on the floor to grab Rebec's hands. "...your hands...." "Like a baby's, aren't they? Useless." Rebec smiled, however. She hadn't seen Baldur blush that much since the night he found out she'd read his journal. "You said you couldn't picture me in a dress. I guess this ought to help?" Baldur was still staring in amazement at the woman who he thought was his wife. He always knew Rebec was beautiful, but this...beautiful didn't cut it. She was...radiant. "What are you doing here? Your throne is in Solitude." "Did they turn me into Elisif?" Rebec laughed. She was touched by Baldur's obvious dumbfoundedness. Brushing a hand over his cheek, she said softly, "I'm glad to see you, too, Red-Snow. I was starting to worry." A little scuff drew her attention to where Mazoga was slowly backing towards the door. "Thanks for bringing him back, Maz. It wasn't all bad today, but these Dibellans are more bloodthirsty than Forsworn by a long stretch." Baldur shook his head to snap out of his current state. Baldur took out the Briarheart and presented it to her in both of his hands. "That horse Elisif wishes she looked a tenth as good as you do even without all this. Mazoga and I encountered an interesting person today. The Forsworn she put a bolt in at our camp was alive. This was somehow keeping him alive. I ripped it out of his chest and thought of you. Because you stole my heart a long time ago." The cheesier, the better. That gold is mine. Hehehe. It was just grotesque enough to make Rebec feel gooey inside. Tilting her head, she was about to kiss him when she noticed Mazoga lurking closer. Before she could question what in Oblivion her first mate was doing, the orc cursed. "You got me, boss. Ten septims is worth that, though. Wait til the other crew hear about this." Rebec looked from Mazoga to Baldur and realized they made some sort of bet, but she was too happy to be mad, even for play. Besides, she had a secret weapon to turn the tables on him. Leaning up, she whispered into Baldur's ear, "Wait til you see what's underneath the dress." Ha! Who's blushing now?! Baldur covered his face with his left hand to cover his cheeks. Baldur's ears were even starting to flush at this point. The blood pumping through them made it feel like a fireplace was just lighted in his head. Making sure not to turn his head for Mazoga to see, Baldur said to the orc, "Hey, uh its...its getting late...s-so you should uh...go." The door was slamming shut before he got the words out. A fool, Mazoga was not. Rebec smiled slyly and pulled on his armor strap to lead him back down the stairs to their room. She thought about making a crack about his mother knowing best, but decided to leave parents out of it for now. Baldur could be grateful to Ysana later. Content 14+ When Baldur and Rebec got into the room, Baldur saw in a basket on a mini table to his left a bunch of potions next to a whole tray of strawberries and a jar of honey. In the middle of the room was a steak dinner on a table fit for two, but dinner was the very last thing on Baldur's mind right about now. Baldur took a look at some of the potion labels. Potion of stamina regeneration. Self explanatory. Why not? Ok, potion of deft hands...sure. Ok, potion of fortify one handed. Why would I need to fortify my sword sk- oh...right. One handed, I see. Fortify two handed? Oh, that's not for me.... Baldur downed a couple of the potions figuring while he didn't need them, it couldn't hurt. Baldur then picked up the tray of strawberries and the jar of honey and walked over to the bed which was a red and gold pattern that went along with Rebec's dress. Oh Talos, it's not stone! So squeaky though. Somehow I doubt that's not by design. Baldur placed the food on the bed and walked back to Rebec, placing his left hand on her hips and pushing hers to his while he fondled the straps to her dress with his finger. "You know, I almost don't want to take this off. You look like a gift from the gods. But the best part of a gift is the unwrapping of it. But not just yet." Rebec was ready to take the dress off, too, but she had enough Dibellan in her to know the value of making both of them wait until they couldn't stand it any longer. She'd already had a laugh about the potions, and had taken a stamina one for herself. Couldn't hurt. Being scraped to the bone and spit-shined by priestesses was hard work. She nibbled on a strawberry, trying to look seductive. The dress and Baldur's hungry stare helped. "You better eat something. It's been a long day and it's not done yet. I take it from that present you brought me the Forsworn didn't give you much trouble?" Baldur took the strawberry in his fingers then rubbed the tip gently around her lips letting the juices drip into her mouth before letting her take another bite. Smiling, Baldur said, "I guess you can say that. No one died. Mazoga killed a hagraven. So glad I have you to wipe the memory clean. I guess dinner couldn't hurt. Here." Baldur took a seat at the table, but instead of letting Rebec go to her seat, he pulled her by her hands to sit in his lap. "Notice its just the one steak. Come, tell me about your day." Rebec laughed at his playing. Baldur could be quite romantic himself for a soldier. Must be a bit of Ysana in him after all. She let him cradle her in his lap, ruffling at his beard with her fingers and kissing his ear lightly. "You don't really want to know the agony that went into getting me this way. Horses getting shod have an easier time of it." She kicked off the little sandals to show him her soft "new" feet. He was still in armor, but she brushed his leg with one of them anyway, leaving the rest to his imagination. "Your mother is quite something. You wouldn't believe it, but she's scary when she's determined." "I can imagine." said Baldur as he started pushing off his boots with his feet. He wanted to feel them for himself. "Wow...I shouldn't take off anything else or we'll never get through dinner. You smell amazing. Much better than me when we were all covered in mud for an ambush." Baldur picked up a fork and knife to cut a large piece of meat for the two to eat, letting Rebec go first. Baldur noticed some red wine as well on the table, which he had to admit was more appropriate then mead at the moment. "They have public baths here, did you know that? But I can wash you up if you want." Rebec smiled and took a bite of steak for herself, then speared another and held it up for him to eat. "Your ma and the priestesses ordered everyone out of there but us. It was still embarrassing. I guess it was worth it, though, judging by the heat coming off you even through that armor. Unkindled." Her smile turned more teasing and she reached for the wine to pour them a glass. Baldur was watching her like one would some exotic animal. Whatever the Dibellans did, she really was like a new woman, not that he didn't like the old Rebec just as much. In another life, Baldur could definitely see Rebec as royalty. He thought back to what his mother said about her having so much "potential". Baldur realized now what Ysana's gift was. It was quite amazing to behold. It was like discovering everything there was in the known world you loved and discovering there was even more beyond the horizon. "Don't worry, I washed up in the streams twice before we came. It's funny, Imperials before they come here always think we're savages that stink, yet when they get here they comment on how much we clean ourselves. Savages...if they could see this...I feel like any minute now my wife's gonna come bursting through that door with axes raised for having a strange woman in my lap." "I can get out my axes if you want." She laughed and took a sip of wine. It was getting harder to concentrate on either talking or the meal, with Baldur's eyes burning a hole through the nice dress. It made Rebec glad she hadn't bothered buying anything from those snooty elves in Solitude. It wasn't just the fabric that mattered. It had taken all Ysana's encouragement, and Hulga's muscle, to wrench her into believing that she could pull it off. Baldur had one hand on her back, and that suddenly wasn't enough. "The fabric feels nice, too. Why don't you see for yourself?" She didn't intend to take the dress off yet, but that didn't mean they had to be chaste at their dinner. Baldur gladly accepted the invitation and slid his hands down the middle of her breasts, grinning as he did until they came over her thighs, where he kept them, rubbing firmly, dangerously close to Rebec's center. "You know, we never actually had a chance to do this. A dinner date. I think this is technically our first actual date. I wonder if this is how it would've been if we did this first. You playing me like a pawn with your smiles and taunts. Me powerless to resist. For all my bravado, I am weak. Subject to your will. Only yours. That makes you a very powerful woman. Admiral of the navy and a general in the palm of your hands. You look the part..." Baldur took a sip of her wine before returning his hands to his comfortable position. Rebec didn't feel especially powerful, rather the other way around, weak-kneed and weak-willed ever since her first conversation with Baldur- least of all when his hands were on her- but she played along. She smiled slyly, as if that had been her plan all along, and went back to the wine cup. Better to let them both come back down from the high before building it up again. "We never had time for such things. Or we didn't make time, since we could have, in Solitude. Just have to say no to Ulfric and Galmar more often." "Without a doubt. Galmar will hate it, but to hell with Galmar. He sees this as a weakness. Maybe it is. No more than the weakness that a man relies on his arms and legs. He can't understand that, then too damn bad." Baldur rested his head on Rebec's arm as he pulled her closer to him and closed his eyes. "I love you so much, Rebec. So so so damn much that it aches." She touched his cheek, understanding exactly the simultaneous happiness and need in his voice. "I'd say there's a cure for that, but the cure seems to make the sickness deeper. Guess we've got to live with it then." "Gladly. I think it's time for my treatment. I'm starting to overheat. Is the caterpillar ready to shed it's cocoon and reveal it's real beauty?" Baldur was already working at the strings slowly as he spoke. "Dinner's up, but I hope you saved room for some strawberries and honey." Rebec slapped his hand away. "I'd say we need to start working on your cuirass first. You got a nice feel of me and there you are hiding under all that armor." She stood and pulled him with her, starting on the armor straps. "No touching," she reminded him sternly as the free hand started wandering towards her again. He'd already gotten a few of the laces on her bodice open, but he'd have to live with the little peek of red lace that revealed underneath. "Damn it, woman this is worse than Thalmor torture." Baldur grinned slightly but complied with her game, powerless to do otherwise. Baldur slipped off the bear furs that lay on his shoulders and then lifted the officer leathers from his chest, revealing his toned chest and abs. Baldur already had his boots and gauntlets off. All that remained was his kilt. "Your turn, Miss Red-Snow." said Baldur while rubbing his stomach. Rebec was in no hurry. The "no touching" rule didn't apply to her, since she was making the rules, so she ran her hands along his chest, letting him feel the fabric of the dress on bare skin now. While she did so, she began kissing him with gentle pulls of her lips on skin and on his mouth, never letting him capture her. Holding his gaze, she then tugged at a few more bodice strings. Beneath was a garment more fitted than her usual wraps, and of a fine lace that only allowed a hint of the skin beneath to show. Breaking her own rules, she took his hand and guided it there. As much torture as it was for him, with the friction of the lace on her skin it was moreso for her, an entirely different sensation than skin to skin. Her kisses were more urgent after that, and moreso when his hands slipped down her back. Eventually she couldn't wait to be rid of the dress and wriggled her shoulders out of it, letting it fall. There was a slip of matching lace at her thighs, only just covering what it was meant to cover. Baldur took her placing his hands on her as the signal for him to say to hell with the rules. Baldur was wide eyed now at the lacey under garments she wore, never seeing anything like them that accentuated the female body in such a way before. These Dibellans really know what the hell they're doing! Baldur moved his hands to the back of Rebec's breast covering, kissing and sucking hungrily at her neck as he did. As they dropped, Baldur pushed her back to the bed as his hands rested on her bosom. Baldur took a strawberry from the tray and opened up the jar of honey. After dipping it in, Baldur brought the strawberry to her lips, letting the excess sweet thick material fall on her tongue as he lowered it for her to lick. He didn't let her bite it however. Instead he pulled it back as she tried to and ran the strawberry down her jaw, then down her neck, between her breasts, down her rising and falling stomach, all the way down to where her lacy garments just barely covered her center. Baldur then ate the strawberry and sucked lightly at her sweetened lips then ran his tongue down the path of sticky sweetness that he laid out until his mouth came to the border of her fancy underwear, which he pulled down further with his teeth, all the way down to her feet, which he then kissed, feeling the softness of them in his hands, then he moved up to her ankle as he lifted her leg. He continued on kissing her leg until he reached her thighs, torturing her with the tickle of his beard and going near her pelvis, but stopping short of her core, going past that now back up to her lips again. Baldur's rules are nice, too, Rebec thought as she closed her eyes to let his touch and the soft sounds be more intense. "You missed a spot," she whispered finally, guiding his hand again. Baldur complied to her wishes and put the potion of deft hands to good use. Baldur dipped his free hand into the honey jar again, then he brought his finger to her open mouth, letting her caress it with her tongue. When Baldur's finger was clean, Rebec immediately kissed him, letting the taste mingle. Finally she broke off and began undoing his kilt straps, watching him as he watched her. Her hands were softer now, more like the touch of her lips, which she also let him feel in generous amounts. Returning her lips to his, she kissed him again, then said, "If I'm a queen, then you have to obey me." She slid their hips together and, hooked one leg through his, leaving him little choice. "This is true, my lady. And I'm only too happy to oblige." Baldur kissed at Rebec's ear as he whispered in it with his hot and heavy gasping breath, "I love you, Rebec Red-Snow." She could only manage his name at first, but a few minutes later breathed out that she loved him, as well. Then briefly, before her mind was carried away from itself, Rebec thought of Dibella and understood why the Nords revered her.

Baldur and Rebec Red-Snow Silver-Blood Inn Morning Baldur was sleeping soundly still set atop of Rebec's stomach, perfectly content to stay that way forever. The warmth of her soft body on his face was just pure bliss. It wasn't until he started hearing a strange noise suddenly that he finally woke up. It was already nine in the morning, a bit later than what he was used to sleeping to, but both of them were just worn out physically and mentally from the previous day. Mmm, what...what is that? Sounds like, bear? No...fire...heat everywhere.... "Dragon!" said Baldur somewhat loudly but muffled from half his face being buried on Rebec. Baldur slightly leaned his head up and waited in that position for a while for his vision to come into focus. After it did he heard the strange noise again coming from Rebec's stomach. She was clearly quite hungry. Baldur snickered and laid back down, waiting for Rebec to wake up on her own. Rebec was having a less than pleasant dream about being stuck in endless passages of a Nord tomb with draugr chasing her, but stirred with the tickle of beard hair on her stomach. She mumbled Baldur's name and put a hand on his head, the dream receding into the pleasant warmth of waking next to him. She dozed a while longer, then woke up more fully, stretching and letting out a yawn that sounded like a horker being strangled. Her hand was still on her husband's head, and she petted his hair, saying, "Baldur, your ma..." A reminder that she was supposed to meet Ysana that day, and if he stayed where he was for much longer, she'd be very late. Baldur while he was waiting for Rebec to wake was about to fall back asleep again before he heard her bear call of a yawn. Purposefully rubbing the side of his beard on her stomach playfully, Baldur said, "Oh, look who's finally awake. Don't worry, I have the feeling those priestesses aren't early birds, although mom did come here earlier to talk to me. As did your favorite tavern girl." That got Rebec awake in a hurry. She sat up. "Does that girl want another beating? I'll happily oblige." Baldur leaned up in the bed smiling mischievously. He expected the reaction. "Don't worry, she just came to tell me mother stopped by. She asked if her and I had any chance of working before you came along. I made it clear it didn't and that she needed to move on. She got the message. Got to give it to her, she's persistent. After that beating...Anyway, I got a letter also from a legion messenger. Marius is dead." Their eyes met. "Moon Balls," Rebec said, knowing that was what Baldur was thinking, too. With a groan she stood up, and immediately regretted it. Barfights, draugr fights, finding her husband's bones, and killing traitorous guardsmen had left her feeling like every muscle had a hangover. She went over to their mead stash and started pawing through bottles, trying to find one that wasn't empty. Over her shoulder she said, "That means he could be coming for us someday, too. I get the feeling Moon Balls isn't one to leave loose ends." "Yes, well...that was always a possibility. It's possible, but we're not actively hunting him down. Maybe he won't try it, but if he does, so be it. I sent a letter to the Princess letting her know who actually killed Marius. I'll spare you the details on his death, but basically they didn't know who did it. Now they will. And if he's in Cyrodiil, my letter may catch him off guard. I doubt it, but I made a promise to Marius and I kept it. It has a poem with a description of who he is and what he's done, along with my thank you to Marius. Dales will read it at his funeral. It's not much but it is the best I can do for now. It won't be enough, but who knows. Maybe someone will slip a dagger through his ribs." Baldur got up from the bed as well now, going to his pack and pulling out some dried meat and some cheese for the two of them. "Here, I know you're hungry." "Someone will have to find his ribs before they can stick a dagger in it." All the mead bottles were empty, so she tossed the last one back with frustration and resorted to the meat and cheese. In between bites she said, "You wrote a poem for Marius? I guess you staked a lot on him, but still... You're an odd one, Baldur." Baldur started to laugh, remembering the whole debacle the imperial caused. All the trouble in the end was worth it. He played a large role in making that agreement work, with both his men and the Imperial's. "He deserved it. It was mostly about what Samuel did, but I put in Marius's role in our alliance as well. And also how he helped rescue me. Never thought I'd consider an Imperial soldier a...I don't know. Can I call him friend? I guess so. I respected him for what he did. Eventually I could have grown to like him. I suppose that's enough. He helped bring me back to you, which is funny since I thought you'd leave me before we became a we because of him. Glad that wasn't the case." "I wish he'd never set foot in our camp. Hindsight's perfect, but we never needed him and he only brought us trouble, including getting you captured to begin with. So I can't say I give a toss what happened to him. Anyway I guess this was more about sticking a finger in Moon Balls' eye. You just couldn't leave that alone?" "We're not going to get in another argument, are we?" said Baldur while smiling. "If things didn't pan out the way they did, the alliance would never have happened, we'd still be at war with the Legion and the Thalmor would have a much easier time invading both of our lands. As for Moon-Balls, maybe. I was angry when I wrote it." Rebec shook her head. "Remind me to tell you about the pirate lords I battled. Sometimes you have to call it a draw and go about your business. As for Marius, if what that wizard said is true, Witchie won our alliance. Marius should've stayed and turned other legion against the Thalmor and Pale Pass might've been very different. I'm sorry, Baldur, but we see this differently. I guess I ought to be glad that you've got a soft spot for lost causes, though." She grinned a little and looked at herself in the small mirror. "Planes of Oblivion. Your ma has her work cut out for her. What did she want, anyway?" Baldur thought about that for a while, staring at the stone floor beneath his bare feet. Soft spot for lost causes. Perhaps he saw himself as a lost cause once before he was given a second chance. There was a pause before Baldur spoke up to answer Rebec's question. "She just wanted to see if we could stay or if she could come with us. She wanted to get to know me more. I wonder why she asked for this...'Girls Day' if that is what she wanted. Perhaps she feels safer somehow finding out through you? Or perhaps she knows you likely know me better than I do. Hopefully she doesn't spend the whole time asking about me. That would get boring I'd imagine." "Maybe she wants to show you about what she does, which obviously has to be through me. She wants you to be proud of her. I don't know what I think about this, though. Speaking of lost causes." Rebec gestured at herself, roughened even from her usual condition because of travel and their battles. Slowly, still aching, she began putting on her bits of armor. Even a walk through Markarth meant you had to be armed and ready for anything. Baldur raised an eyebrow in surprise at her observation. "That's rather astute of you. I forgot I called her...well, you know. As far as your appearance goes, it's a bit like gilding the lily if you ask me." Baldur walked over to Rebec and hugged her waist from behind, kissing her cheek as he did. "How do you decorate something that already is perfect?" Smiling, Rebec nuzzled his cheek. "Your poet ways might get us into trouble, but it gets you into me, too, I'll give you that." She laughed and pushed away from him. "Now let me go. If I don't get up there to the temple soon, Ysana's going to send the Dibellan infiltration team to drag me out. So what are you going to do today?" Baldur went back to his pack, realizing his mother was likely anxiously waiting for the two and went to put on his Stormcloak Officer armor, starting with the kilt, then the chest piece. "Well, I figured I'd go hunt some forsworn with the men. I'll take a small team and do some guerrilla warfare. Do some good while I'm here. I was hoping Mazoga would come too. Where is she?" Baldur now slipped into his boots and placed his gauntlets on, afterwards putting chunks of meat and cheese on his bear claws before consuming them. "She knows some orcs in town and has been bedding down with them, but she usually comes over here for breakfast." Rebec finished putting her own armor on, slyly watching Baldur as she did so. She never got tired of that. Though when he started using his gauntlets as a fork again, she had to shake her head. "Alright, wish me luck." When she opened the door, there was a figure there with his hand up, about to knock. Rebec jumped, expecting it to be one of that guard's friends, but it was Hjarn, the sailor she'd picked off an imperial ship. "Sweet Mara's teats, Broadhands! It almost came to axes. What do you want?" The sailor looked nervous. He glanced in at Baldur and nodded a greeting, then looked back at Rebec. "Admiral Rebec. I was hoping you hadn't left town yet. I got no right to ask it, but I was wondering if I could come back to Solitude with you." "You aren't staying longer? You helped us with the Forsworn, so as far as I'm concerned we're even and you're free to do as you please." "I'm done here." He said this heavily, implying things hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped with his family. "Fair enough. I'll be stopping in Morthal this time." Over her shoulder, Rebec explained to Baldur, "Toki's got some kin there. They hate me, but I feel I ought to tell them in person what happened." Hjarn nodded. "That's fine. Safer traveling in a group. I'll find you then, before you leave." The morose sailor walked off. That done, Rebec grabbed Baldur by the cheese-studded gauntlet, pulled him to her and kissed him. "You be careful, Red-Snow. I don't want to spend my evening pulling Forsworn arrows out of you." Baldur grinned before hugging Rebec, biting off a piece of meat behind her back as he did. "You know what I always say. I'll be back before...." "Don't say that cursed word!" Rebec still didn't know what it meant, but she didn't want to know. Mazoga was indeed out in the tavern area, eating her breakfast. She was more than happy to take Baldur up on his invitation to go hunting. "Better than what she's doing today," the orc said, grinning and gesturing with her head towards Rebec. "Not another word or you're coming with me to the Dibellans, too." Since she was leaving Baldur in good hands, Rebec felt better about their plans, and made off for the temple, hurrying since she was late. Gotta remember to ask her why Toki's family hates her. Baldur was excited and ready to get under way for the day. Turning to Mazoga, Baldur said, "Okay, Mazoga! It's just you, me, our weapons, soon to be dead Forsworn and a river of blood to be spilled below our feet. You ready?" "I'm an orc, boss. Ridding the world of fools, that's what we do." The orc stood up, strapped on her crossbow and patted her sword. "Let's do it." Baldur nodded his head and headed off to the gates of Markarth where a team of ten new soldiers from the Stormcloak camp nearby had awaited. Baldur had the remaining men from the previous night go there and cycled them out. Baldur wouldn't admit it, but he was a bit relieved to go killing separately from Rebec. He had no idea how much he worried in combat with her around, which honestly made him fight better. But it was harder for him to enjoy it. **** Ysana was indeed waiting for the two to hurry up and get to the temple. She watched the entire time from above, impatiently tapping her foot as Rebec made her way up the stone steps. Rebec was right on the money about her. This was about getting to know Rebec, but it was indeed also to show Baldur that what she did was a good thing. The best way to do that was through the woman he loved, just as Rebec said. Ysana never did go back to sleep. She had to force herself with some herbs the night before and even then it didn't come. She wasn't tired though. Most of her life was spent relaxing, which was why she looked so young. So sleepiness did not burden her. Anxiousness and excitement however was practically murdering her. Finally Rebec reached the top of the steps and Ysana wasted no time in squeezing her neck once she did in a hug. "Oh you finally came! We have so much to do, we have to do your hair and and your nails and a dress and your face and and...oh I forgot everything! No wait, I got it, bath house first!" Ysana was clearly up all night thinking about everything, but her ideas became jumbled up from her excitement. Rebec was a little overwhelmed at the hug and Ysana's enthusiasm, but she smiled and took it well enough. At mention of the bath, her smile wavered and she lifted an arm for a sniff. "Good idea. Look, you probably can tell, I'm more into axes and rope than... whatever it is you do. Just don't get your hopes up." Ysana pulled back and looked into Rebec's eyes with a stern determined look in her face. "You sound like the husbands women used to bring up here for a fix up. They all end up leaving singing a different tune once we're done and their wives are all over them. You'll see. Hold on." Ysana poked her head into the doorway to yell inside. "GIRLS! Lets move out!" Ysana started pulling Rebec along down the stone steps now in the direction of the stone bathhouse which was built under a waterfall that fell through the building. "Oh and keep your hand on your axe. It's not safe in the streets at times." Ysana revealed two steel daggers hidden in her priest robe sleeves. "Shame that I have to walk with these, but you gotta have 'em. I'm no soldier, but even a Dibella priestess has to know how to use these. Sometimes students are too strange in their tastes even for us and try to force the issue. We're priests of Dibella not Molag Bal afterall." "My axe and I, we're tight, don't you worry," Rebec answered. Then she had to shut up and watch where she was going, because if you stumbled in Markarth, you could end up flat as a cowpie at the bottom of some long stair. When they got on a level place, she piped up again. "You aren't going to make me pray or anything, are you? Because the last time I talked to a priestess about religion, it ended up in a brawl. It was actually..." Catching the look on Ysana's face, Rebec said, "Uh, never mind." "I'll do the rites for you I suppose. Normally we do have the people who come in thank Dibella for the beauty bestowed on us, but since you're my son's wife, I'll make an exception." The other Dibella priestesses, ten in total caught up to the two and surrounded them in a crowd. The sight got a lot of stares from civilians nearby. Most hadn't seen the Dibella priestesses in a large group in years and some had never seen it at all. Some people were gossiping when they recognized Rebec and thought she was getting initiated. If Baldur were able to hear what some of the men had to say about that possibility, it would not have been good. They were careful to keep their comments quiet enough for the group not to hear however, lest they got relayed to him. There were guards posted around the bathhouse to watch for anyone trying to assault someone while inside, whether the victim be male or female. There was a decent amount of people inside, mostly single and there were a few inside getting well acquainted. It wasn't unusual, in fact it was the norm for bathhouses. Sometimes this lead to diseases, in which case a city could put a ban on licentious activity within bathhouses if it got widespread. Ysana heard the short lived couples from outside the bathhouse, as did the guards who weren't shy about watching. "That is why I had the others come with us among other reasons. I know my Baldur wouldn't appreciate me bringing you to a bathhouse without him around. We have an understanding with the guards, so it's no worry. We'll have the whole place to ourselves for a while." Ysana signaled the guards to clear everyone else out of the bathhouse. Ysana was laughing at all the commotion from inside as they tried breaking up the happy pairs reluctantly. "Pretty ironic, huh? Us of all people stopping the sex. Anything for my son." "Uh, yeah. Ironic." Rebec was still as bewildered as the onlookers to find herself in a flock of Dibella priestesses talking about "rites" and public baths. Sailors were frank about sex as well, but that was an entirely different color of horse. Once the group walked their way in and the guards and people were cleared out, the priestesses began pulling up tables near the water in the middle of the room and unpacked their supplies. Ysana closed the doors after slipping some coin in a guard's hands for the favor and then began to strip. The room itself was stone with a square space around the medium waterfall coming through the bathhouse. The house was illuminated from outside through narrow rectangular opeings in the ceiling. The water went under a stone path to a longer rectangular strip that carried the rest of the water out of the bathhouse, the exit being sealed off with a dwarven drain that had long rectangular narrow openings that went up and down vertically. There were also four different circular bath tubs big enough for four people each. Ysana decided to hop into the square space by the waterfall and waited for Rebec to do the same. The other Dibella priestesses took their places elsewhere. The admiral looked around at the Dwemer architecture suspiciously as she stripped down. Then, glancing down at herself as she climbed in the pool where Ysana waited, she was self-conscious of her scars and the roughness of her hands and feet, calloused from her highly physical lifestyle. There were a couple newer scars, too, darker than the others. As she settled into the warm water, however, it was so blissful on her tired, sore muscles that she soon forgot everything else. "Shor's balls, I could get used to this," she muttered, resting her head back on the side of the pool. Ysana watched as her daughter in law climbed in and laid back her head, laughing at her comment before agreeing and doing the same. "Mhmm, Shor's balls indeed." ***** Thirty minutes out from the city, there was a group of twenty men and women walking their way to Markarth's front gates. These men were donned in animal skins and furs, bone fragments carved into shapes for jewelry or weapons and some even had animal heads on theirs as head ware. Their faces were covered in various painting styles and patterns and this distinct appearance made it very clear to anyone in Markarth, nay Skyrim who they were. Forsworn. They were moving on Markarth for a quick hit and run on the citizens living outside the city before taking off. Normally the Forsworn in this area wouldn't have had the sack for an ambush like this, but something for the people in this area had changed. The leader of the group looked typical of their people. Furs across his chest, back and legs with bone ornaments all over him, as well as his two bone spiked weapons he was carrying in his hands. Flies were swarming around them trying to settle on the blood from the past kill he made the night before. A family of nords on a carriage. Mother, father, brother and sister. They made the father watch as they killed the others. Then instead of granting him the mercy of death, they tied him up to a tree and forced him to stay there among his dead family. Forced to watch them decay and be set upon by animals as he slowly wasted away. This was the realities of their life. This was the Reach. In the middle of the Forsworn was a breton woman of about twenty one years. She was bound and gagged, apparently their prisoner. She was wearing a torn green blouse with brown trousers and no shoes. Her hair was brown and shoulder length. Two braids hanged on each side of her head, although one was partly undone. It wouldn't be clear to anyone but the Forsworn as to why they were bringing a prisoner on an ambush to Markarth, but it soon would be. The leader called back to the group now to make sure they got the plan. "Okay, this is a hit and run. We hide under the bridge of the road nearby while two of us go and get the guard's attention. When they come, so do we and ambush them." The leader stopped momentarily as his foot stepped in something that made a loud squish and almost made him slip. The group was making a pass over a rather muddy part of the road caused by a recent high tide of the stream it was next to. The leader tried walking over the less muddy part of the road where the stone was exposed. Finally he continued. "Then if things go south, we have our back-up plan. We use that then leave, got i-." The man stopped in his tracks. He wasn't sure what he was looking at in his confusion, but to him it appeared that the mud just got up and stabbed him through his stomach. The group of Forsworn were frozen for a while before they snapped out of it and drew their weapons. As they did, loud shrieking cries came from the ground causing a complete confused response from them as some men tried to run, only to be set upon by the mud as well and others either fought or sat there frozen. More of the mud started popping up now. Suddenly it was clear what had happened. The ambushers had been ambushed by men hidden in the mud. But it was too late to do anything once they realized the truth. Almost half their men were killed from the ambush including their leader. A forsworn woman who was about to run away ran smack into another of the ambushers. Her face and front were now completely caked, but now her blood from the open wound in her skull ran over her face also, mingling together with the mud as her body twitched and spasmed from electricity. "Kill them all! No mercy!" said Baldur, completely unrecognizable under the vesture of wet earth that enveloped him. A Forsworn man came running in his direction as he heard his order and tried to cut Baldur down with his two bone spiked swords, but even covered in mud, Baldur was able to move quickly and parry his blows. Afterwards Baldur flung some mud from his hands and arms into the man's eyes by flinging his arm horizontally as if he were trying to slap him. Then the general quickly decapitated him in a spinning swipe before the man had the chance to clear his eyes, leaving his head to fall flat and plop face first into the mud, where it would remain for quite some time. Mazoga had come up out of the mud aiming for arms. Sword arms, to be specific. Her mother's hand-crafted sword took three of these off in the confusion, then the orc ran to some nearby bushes where she had hidden her crossbow and bolt quiver. From there, she picked off two targets near Baldur. As she was loading another bolt, her attention was drawn by one of the Forsworn trying to drag a bound woman back the way they came. The Forsworn was backing away with the woman in between, and Mazoga couldn't get a clear target. The orc knew she might end up hitting her, but if she didn't try, the woman was done for anyway. With a deep breath she aimed high. The bolt skimmed the man's head and sank into his scalp. He released the captive with a yell, reaching for his wound, and in the next instant got a bolt straight through the mouth. Satisfied as he dropped, Mazoga searched for another target. Baldur was laughing as Mazoga picked off some of his targets before he could engage them. He was starting to admire that weapon her and Rebec used more and more. Despite being outnumbered, the element of surprise and fear was enough to tip the scale in their favor. Baldur watched as his men were finishing off the remainder of the forsworn. Three of them had one cornered and she slipped from the mud and managed to trip over a corpse, landing on her stomach. A stormcloak soldier put a boot over her back and sent his steel blade straight through the back of her skull. There was one left trying to run away, but unfortunately Baldur had him in his sights. The lone forsworn saw Baldur making his way for him, which made him stumble briefly as he wasn't watching where he was going. First mistake. Baldur took the opportunity to throw his dirty axe into the back of his leg on the other side of his knee. The man tried crawling away but Baldur grabbed him by the back of his neck, then flipped him on his back. "Don't worry. I'll make your death quick. Tell me. What were you planning on doing with the girl? What gave you all the confidence to strike so close to Markarth?" The Forsworn gave Baldur no answer. Baldur thought briefly about forcing it out of him, but he just really didn't have the urge to like he would have before. There was no need. It wasn't a pressing matter. But that doesn't mean I've gone soft. Besides, I have another idea... "You're lucky I'm a man of my word. Gods have mercy on you." With that, Baldur sent his muddy boot through his skull, ending the battle. Baldur made his way back to the rest of the men and Mazoga now, along with the girl. "Mazoga, can you watch this girl while the rest wash up? We'll do it quickly and four at a time so the others can watch for ambushers." "Sure thing, boss." Mazoga turned her attention to the girl as the others went to wash. "How did they get you?" The captive said nothing, and the orc figured she was traumatized so didn't press it. She waited her turn and when Baldur came back, went to wash herself, saying,"Couldn't get anything out of her. Stendarr only knows what they did to her." Baldur who was soaking wet stared at the girl for a while as he combed out his hair with a horker tusk comb. The girl could have been traumatized as Mazoga said, but he wasn't so sure. Baldur whistled for one of the men to go and watch the girl, then Baldur pulled Mazoga aside to speak. "You don't think it strange that they were walking towards Markarth with her?" The orc pulled mud clumps from her hair. "They probably meant to use her to get the guard to open the gates or something. You'd think by now they'd know the Nords in Markarth don't care if one or a dozen innocent people die, as long as they get their Forsworn. Dumb idea." "Hmm...I guess. I guess we keep her for now. Say, before you wash up, can I hold that weapon of yours?" said Baldur. He was hoping to try the weapon out for a long time now. After Mazoga took two of his kills with the thing, Baldur figured it was high time he get to try it out. "This? It's just a sword." Mazoga handed the sword over. It was an orcish style blade, with blunted barbs so that it was more of a hacking weapon than armor-puncturing. It had no adornment, the orc way being to let functionality be the only ornament you needed. "My mother made it for me. My folks retired to a shack near Riften and borrowed the smith's forge in exchange for some meat and hides. She destroyed ten blades before she got one she was proud of." "No, no. The bow, the crossbow! I've been dying to try that out for a while now. The power in that weapon is impressive. Not that I don't appreciate the craft of a good sword however. I heard orcs are excellent smiths." Mazoga laughed. "As much as I use the crossbow, it still doesn't seem like a real weapon. The captain got us using them." She picked up the crossbow and handed it over to Baldur. "I can't argue against what it does in a boarding action. Built by the Dawnguard. The odds were already against the imperial navy, but that right there tipped it even further." Baldur stared open mouthed as he rubbed his hands in anticipation of holding the weapon in his hands. To a grown man whose job was to kill, this was the closest thing to a toy as he'd get. Grasping it in his hands, Baldur tried mimicking Mazoga and Rebec, holding the butt of the handle to his right shoulder. "So...how does it fire?" "There's the trigger." Mazoga pointed at a lever on the underside of the bow. "The hard part is loading the bolt. It takes a bit of muscle, and it's not easy to do in the middle of a battle or when the deck of a ship is pitching under you. Go ahead, try it. Pull back here, slide the bolt in, wait til you hear the catch lock into place, then you just point and shoot. A baby could do that part." She handed Baldur a bolt and stood back to watch. Baldur never handled a crossbow before, but he saw Rebec do it a thousand times and figured it was a piece of cake. It wasn't. It took some getting used to. Baldur got it back though eventually. The strength it took to pull back the little string was surprising and the bolt slipped a couple times before he got it in. "Ok, and you said pull the trigger, like this? Oh, whoops!" Baldur wasn't paying attention to where he was aiming when he went to touch the trigger. It took very little pressure as the trigger required less of a pull and more of a tickle. The bolt went flying into some bushes off in the distance and a cry from what Baldur thought may have been a wolf could be heard coming from that direction. Baldur handed the weapon back to Mazoga. "....Uh...I guess I should stick to my axes. Tell you what, lets keep this between you and me. No need to go yappin to Cap'n eh?" Mazoga had been trying to keep from laughter while Baldur was struggling with the bolt, and finally lost it when his wild shot actually hit a wolf. Wiping her eyes, she said, "Even though Cap did the same thing the first time she picked up one of these? Took a fancy nobleman's hat right off his head in Solitude and pinned it to the wall behind him. Lost our drinking money for that night to pay the fine." Baldur wasn't quite as amused as Mazoga was of the mishap. The weapon didn't quite turn out to be what he thought it would. Mazoga's laughter made the matter worse, but he had to admit it was funny. "Yea, well...I'm always bragging to her about how great I am with my axes. Told her there wasn't a weapon on Tamriel minus magical ones that I couldn't handle...Glad I didn't make that a bet. Stop all your laughing and wash up you witch!" said Baldur, playfully shoving Mazoga towards the stream. "Your Nord pride isn't my problem," Mazoga called cheerfully as she plunged into the water. She came up yelling. "Agh! You didn't tell me this water was about to freeze over." The Nords hadn't been bothered by a snow-fed stream. It was now Baldur's turn to laugh at Mazoga's cries of the cold. One of the things that tickled Nords most was when outsiders or non Nords couldn't handle their liquor. The other thing was when they complained of cold. The other soldiers nearby were also laughing at Mazoga's comment. "Hahaha! Your Orc blood ain't my problem!" Mazoga stuck out her tongue at Baldur and plunged back underneath the water. They'd been under that mud a while, and she had mud in places where she didn't know she had places. She came back up yelling again, in singsong fashion, and shook herself like a dog when she was back on the shore. "That'll wake you up in the morning!" Squeezing water out of her leathers, she said, "Now what? We can't keep hunting with that Breton in tow. She's been through enough." Baldur forgot about the Breton girl temporarily. He still wasn't very sure about her. He didn't think the Forsworn would be stupid enough to try using her to get through the gates. Baldur wasn't quite sure what to do but he had a plan. "We'll just let the girl go then. She'll have to find her way back on her own. We don't have time to take her back to wherever it is she's from. Is that okay with you?" The little brunette girl simply nodded her head at Baldur's question. She was giving him a look of slight fear that the others seemed to dismiss as shock still. "You don't talk much, do you? Can I get your name? Where you live?" The girl still ignored Baldur's questions. "Well, fine. We don't have time to go back to Markarth. Stay off the road and make your way back there if you want. There's a Stormcloak camp fifteen minutes away in the city's direction. Have them escort you if you need to." Baldur signaled for the soldiers to let the girl leave. She took off in the direction of the woods however instead of Markarth like he thought she would. Baldur waited for her to be well out of earshot before he spoke up to Mazoga. "I think we should follow her." Mazoga was watching after her, too. Trauma was one thing, but she sure was acting strangely. "I'm starting to think you're right, boss. After you." She finished strapping her sword back on and grabbed the crossbow. Baldur nodded and signaled for the soldiers now gathered with them to move out. They had to be quick but careful. This may be their land, but Forsworn live out in the wood area a lot more than they did. ***** Ysana was floating up in the pool of water now face up with her feet kicked up on the stone. The other Dibellans were horse playing in the larger pool section that took the water out of the house. One of them was a rather large muscular woman with long blonde hair with arms that almost looked like a man's except there was no hair. She was man handling the other priestesses who were trying to dunk her head under water. Looking at her, one would wonder how in the world she turned out to be a Dibella priestess. Ysana had her eyes resting, but every now and then she'd peek to see their horseplay and glance at Rebec to see her facial expressions, which always made her giggle. "You can join them if you want. A soldier like you should be able to put her in her place." "That's alright," Rebec answered quickly, not eager to be in the middle of a bunch of naked, wriggling priestesses. She was still trying to figure all of this out, and was suspicious about when the sex was going to start. If it did, she was out of there. "How often do you lot do this, anyway? Is this part of your ritual?" Ysana couldn't help but blurt out with laughter which messed up her floating a bit. "No, this is no ritual. We're just relaxing. You need to be relaxed before you start getting fixed up. Otherwise it's like...how could I put it so you understand. It would be like getting a fancy new scabbard for a damaged sword. There's outward superficial beauty, but how you feel is just as important. Believe me, if this were a ritual, you'd know. As for how often, we haven't done this in some time now. A few years. Not much reason to since nobody comes around anymore. So when our priests go, they go with the rest of the citizens. No reason to send them all out then, if you catch my drift. But not me. Haven't done that in quite some time now. Since...well." "Right. Got it." Rebec wanted to ask more about Baldur's father, since she would never get to meet him, but that wouldn't be very relaxing for Ysana, so for a while she concentrated on washing her hair. When that was done, she said, "I never had much time for this sort of thing myself. Had to work like a dog to pay the bills, and ship's quarters don't allow for much luxury. My pa's got a sauna, though. Not as nice as this, but you..." She was about to suggest that Ysana could come use it sometime, but that might sound like she was setting up Baldur's mother with her father. And that was just weird. "Well this should be a good experience for you then. We'll get started soon. What's your pa like? Has Baldur already met him?" "No, we'll go there next I suppose. That might not go as well as meeting you has. Pa's a good man but not overly friendly, especially to men who hit on me. Not that Baldur did that, exactly." "He didn't? How'd you two get together then?" asked Ysana. She'd been dying to hear this for a while now. "He may have flirted a bit. It's kind of fuzzy. Well, it's like this. I was taking some supplies to Fort Neugrad, and... some other things. Ended up getting captured by imperials. Baldur was captain then, and his crew rescued me, sort of, and we attacked the camp. Baldur came to talk to me about all that and we ended up having a mead drinking contest with our other buddy, Boldir. I won." Rebec grinned, still proud of that achievement. "I got lost on the way back to my bunk and..." She had to grin again. "... and I ended up in Baldur's bed. He was passed out, you understand, and I was just looking for somewhere to sleep it off. He got quite a shock to find me there, but we got over it and... you know. The rest is history." Rebec wasn't about to explain the hagraven yet. Ysana should be eased into the ways of Baldur. Ysana started laughing pretty hard now and had to sit up normally in the water. "You mean to tell me my big bad Nordic General of a son lost a drinking contest to his wife? Hahahaha! Well at least you were nice enough to soothe his broken pride afterwards. That's quite a tale. Much more eventful than Ulrin and I. So you two just fell in love like that? After one night? I don't see it. He seems to care for you much more than that. And you him." Rebec grinned and even blushed a little, though mostly from being proud of herself. "No, not just the one night. We went back to Solitude and he helped me get out of some trouble and into the navy, then we went our own ways. I never forgot him, though. Naval battles, a lot of it is just waiting. I'd sit out there some nights in the freezing cold and think about him. I guess I had to go see if there was something there or just the mead talking. When I went back to Falkreath, landed right in the middle of the invasion. That hurried things up a bit for us, I guess. We got married in Falkreath." She skipped the part about Baldur being captured, which would be very upsetting for a mother. "That sounds so...romantic, Rebec. Going that far out of your way. I understand that you're the one that pushed him to come and see me. You have no idea how thankful I am for that." Ysana's vision started to get a little misty as she swam up to Rebec to give her a hug, momentarily forgetting about Rebec's feelings around other naked women. Rebec was alarmed, but Ysana was so genuine she couldn't put her off. Patting the woman's back slightly, she said, "Uh, you're welcome. That's enough of that." She smiled, however, and to ease the awkwardness started playing a little game of sticking one toe above the water and pretending it was a shark. "I don't know about romantic," she said as she did so. "It was a damn fool thing to do. Going into the middle of a war, I mean, not marrying your son. Baldur's sweet as honey. He'd have been married already if not for..." Oops. Shut your trap, Rebec. Ysana finally broke off from the hug, realizing she may have made Rebec uncomfortable. "Whoops, sorry about that. Gotta remember to control my motherly emotions. It's just I pictured my son in a war and you coming to fight with him and...It really is a great story. As for it being foolish, romantic things usually are, Rebec. I'm glad he waited so long to get married. I have a feeling I know what you were going to say and you're right. Our predicament probably turned him off to the idea. Funny how fate works, huh? If Ulrin and I had worked out, Baldur and you may have never been together. So knowing that is a bit soothing, if not bitter sweet. In any event it's time to start phase two." Rebec couldn't help thinking that even if that were true, she'd still wish that Baldur could have grown up with a mother and his parents would've stayed together. She was pondering that when Ysana's last words pierced the fog. "What's phase two?" she asked, suspicious again. Ysana was trying to hold back a laugh now, because she knew Rebec would be dubious at first, as were most people, until they fully understood what her next step was. "We're going to get out of the pool, put on some robes, yes Dibella robes, then you get introduced to a specialist of ours. Hulga. She's the large one over there you saw throwing around the others. Before you ask, there are men who have a taste for muscular women like her. And women too. Figure I'd get that out of the way. Anyway, go ahead and get dried up and into your Dibellan robes. HULGA! It's time! Go get dressed! Heh, at least you know this isn't some "ritual" since she's getting dressed huh? Hehehe." Rebec didn't know any such thing, and wasn't pleased at being turned over to a woman who looked like she could beat her in a fight. Now she knew how Hroki felt. She took one longing look back at the nice, warm, safe pool, and glared at the giggling priestess who helped her into her robe. Am I glad that Baldur can't see me now. Or anyone else I know, for that matter. Ysana stood back with the others to watch the spectacle. This was always a high point for these sort of things with them and they hadn't been able to see it in a while. Hulga, who was about Baldur's height, wound up her blond hair and placed her robes on as well. She never took her eyes off Rebec's even as she began cracking her knuckles and neck. "Hulga got fresh meat. Puny woman and Hulga have fun!" The other girls were cracking up at this now. Others didn't know til after she told them, but Hulga did not talk like this normally at all. It only added to the intimidation factor if people thought she was a big oaf. Hulga walked over to Rebec now so that they were face to face. "Ready, puny woman?" "You touch the funny bits and you'll find out how puny I'm not." Rebec figured talking tough couldn't hurt, though Hroki had probably thought the same thing. Hulga started to grin now after Rebec spoke. Starting to crack her neck again, Hulga said, "Heh puny woman got spunk! Hulga like spunk." With that, Hulga gave a big heave as she lifted Rebec up in her arms off the ground. "Okay, Rebec right? I don't really talk like that. I'm telling you this now so you can relax. Don't move. What I'm doing is a bit dangerous. Moreso if you move, got it? You're in good hands." "What...what in Oblivion are you... Okay, fine." Rebec stopped wriggling and waited for her doom. With that, Hulga got on one knee with Rebec still in tow. Once she was there, Hulga pushed Rebec's upper body back over her knee just hard enough to pop the joints in Rebec's spine like one would crack their knuckles. "See? How was that? I'm going to do that to your whole body. It'll make you feel weak at first in a few places, but you'll get used to it quickly and feel like a new person. Less tense." At first Rebec let out a yell, since it felt like the big Nord was breaking bones. Once it was done, however, she lay wide-eyed like a baby in Hulga's arms. "That felt... good." Hulga started laughing at her reaction. She never did get tired of that from people and it gave her pleasure to see them happy from it. Hulga did a few more spine pops in that position, then she gave Rebec a few more pops on her neck by head locking her and pulling on her neck. Once she finished that, Hulga had the other Dibella women hold her legs and arms so that she was suspended in the air. Hulga gave her a few feet pops and shoulder pops first, then she made her way to her hid section and placed one arm below her backside and one above. "Okay, Rebec. This one may hurt a tad, but it will be worth it. Afterwards, we can move on to the real tough part." This isn't happening, this isn't happening, Rebec thought as she was being held aloft, pulled and prodded by a half dozen chattering Dibellans. Being returned to Hulga's lap was a relief in comparison. "What's the tough par- AAAAGHHH!" True to her word, the next pop did indeed hurt. Hulga slammed her two powerful arms together, sandwiching Rebec's midsection to pop her pelvis area. Afterwards the Dibella priestesses set her down on the floor gently and gathered around to see how she was. There was no giggling this time. They all remembered Hulga's iron clasp before and it wasn't very pleasant at first. But after it was done, they all felt five years younger. "Hey, Rebec. Can you stand? How do you feel?" asked Ysana. The admiral stood silent for half a minute, dazed. She turned glassy-eyed to Ysana. "You lot should consider a career with the Thalmor." Ysana and the rest burst out laughing at the response, remembering all too well how she felt, but knowing the feeling would pass. Hulga grabbed Rebec's arm to help stand her up. "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Walk around a bit. Give your axes over there a few swings. I think you'll be able to feel the difference." She did as she was told, pliant as a child for once in her life. Her joints felt like jelly at first, but with the blood flowing, it dawned on Rebec she hadn't felt this good in years. She picked up Kyne's Talon and swung it. "Ha!" Downswing chop. "Take that!" She played a bit more, making as if to toss the axe towards the head of a Dwemer that was fixed into the wall, then turned back, chuckling. "Alright. Screw the Thalmor. I'm hiring you to work for the Stormcloaks." Hulga and the rest started laughing some more, proud that Rebec was happy with the service. Hulga especially was glowing from the compliment, but Ysana stood in front of them and raised her hand and clenched her fist for silence. "Now Rebec, I am afraid it's time for the hard part." "That wasn't the hard part?" Rebec asked bleakly. Ysana started chuckling evilly as she made her way to one of the bags they brought and pulled out some metal instruments shaped like half cylinders with wooden handles attached. "It depends. For regulars when we had them, that was. For first timers on the other hand...That was nothing. Sorry Rebec, but this is for your own good. Girls, grab her!" The Dibellans' glee was far more worrying than Ysana's dire predictions and the ominous looking instruments they had brought out. No one was listening to her anyway, but Rebec shouted, "Or maybe... Dagon is looking for... new ideas..." The Dibellans went and grabbed a chair to plop Rebec in and two buckets, which they filled with water. Then they pulled out some rose petals and placed them in the bucket and plopped Rebec's feet inside them to soak. This was just the beginning of phase three. "We'll let those bad boys soak for a while, but while we wait...we'll take care of those hands. You thought I wouldn't notice the calluses? Those are coming off, hon. Begin!" "Hey, I need those," Rebec protested weakly. There was no protesting, however. The rope hands were going. "Don't worry dear, I'm sure you'll gettem back. And when you do, I'll be right here to scrub 'em off. It'll hurt, but you'll feel better afterwards just like before. Hulga, if she starts struggling, hold her down. You two, get the tweezers." Ysana waited for the girls to start scraping at the tough calluses before she began to pick at Rebec's eyebrows and hairline. One hair at a time, carefully and mercilessly. "Now, this may seem unnecessary, but this will let your forehead show a bit more, which is a good thing. And we take care of the calluses and the hair at the same time, so you can't focus on one painful thing at a time. Makes it hurt less. In theory. To get your mind off of it, why don't you tell me about some of your adventures." "I was thrown in prison in Hammerfell and chewed on by rats once... AW!" Rebec thought she surely must be bleeding from hair being pulled from its roots and skin being clawed off. "That was a lot like this actually... AIEE!" Think happy thoughts. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something less painful. "That little adventure got me a pet dolphin, so it was worth it. Dolphins, those are cute little animals like small whales that live in the Abecean. They love to play. Some horkerbrain... OW!... some horkerbrain had one in a tank in his big palace in Hammerfell, with some other fish. The poor thing was diseased and the other fish were literally eating its flesh off its bones. My crew and I snuck in one night and stole it. That's how I ended up in prison, only there was no proof against me so they had to let me go eventually. I still see him sometimes. They're real smart and he knows my ship- well, he did. He probably won't recognize the new one. I call him Lefty because his left fin was so injured that it sticks up at a funny angle, so when he comes up from the water it looks like he's waving at...AGH, mercy! Try to leave me a little hair, will you?!" "Oh hush, you'll make the guards think we're murdering someone in here. Chewed on by rats? Well at least now they'll have less to nibble on, hehehe. I've never heard of a...dolphin before. Not quite what I expected to hear from a hardened sailor like yourself. Helping cute little animals in capti- oh, oops...." Ysana held a little clump of hair in her hands and quickly cast it aside before Rebec could see. "No matter, we'll just pull a little more off to make it even again." "What?! What are you people doing to me? I thought you were supposed to be experts! You can't tell me you do this to the men who come in for 'help'?" Rebec almost had to laugh at the idea of Baldur getting his hair tweezed, which didn't make her feel much better. War injuries at least had adrenaline to help with the pain. "Now now, give us a break here! It's been a while since we've done this. Besides, it doesn't look bad. In fact, it's starting to turn out pretty well." Ysana licked her thumb and smoothed out Rebec's brow. Then after a few more quick tweezer pulls, she backed up to get a good overall look at Rebec's face. "Not bad, not bad. Let me see those hands. Good, nice and raw like a new born baby's. Now, for the feet. Hulga, hold her legs together and don't let them move. This is really gonna hurt. Should be a lot easier now that we soaked your feet for so long. Hey Shila! You handle the make-up, but get her ears first, then comb her hair out and get it ready for styling. Rebec, you have any more stories to tell?" Ysana started digging in as soon as she asked her question, wasting no time in sending dead skin flying from Rebec's feet as she scraped at them furiously. Rebec was making gurgling noises by then, and in no mood to tell stories, just wanting the torture to end. She'd been sold on the joint-cracking but having her skin shaved off one layer at a time could have no good end in her book. "Baldur... this is all Baldur's fault..." she mumbled. Ysana was really getting in deep now, and unfortunately for her a piece of skin flew in her face. Ysana quickly wiped it off and continued her onslaught. "Ugh, tell me about it. It'll be worth it though. You'll see."

Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Whiterun, Dragonsreach war room. Late Morning "You think it warrants further inspection?" "I do." Jarl Vignar picked the steel Longsword up off of the table and looked it over. There was nothing special about the blade. It had none of the designs or carvings that Eorlund, or most other Nordic blacksmiths usually add. It was just a plain steel blade, and a flimsy one at that. "I don't know. It doesn't seem too special to me. The blade is poorly made, and it doesn't even look enchanted." Boldir shook his head. "The smith who crafted them was obviously an amateur, but it's not the forge's fault. Give Eorlund a go at it and you'll see that the forge is more than capable of producing good weapons. Of course, it's the enchatment that interests me." Vignar eyed the blade before setting it back down on the table. "You're sure that these weapons are enchanted?" "I'm positive. You don't see it because we're not in the moonlight. The ones in the ruin didn't reveal themselves either until we'd carried them outside." "Hmm" Vignar stroked his beard. "Silent Moons is a good ways into the tundra; and there is no road leading to it. A magic sword that only works at night doesn't seem worth the effort of setting up there." "I'm only telling you what we've found." said Boldir. "It's up to you to decide if it's worth looking into or not. I personally think that it is. This is an old magic we're talking about here, one that our ancestors utilized. It wouldn't require a mage, soul gems, or any of that nonsense." Boldir smiled. "All it requires is a good smith." Vignar had to admit, that having access to enchanted weapons without the cost of soul gems would be very good for Whiterun. They could be made in abundance and sold for a much higher price than most weapons. Which could help pay for setting up there. "Having two ancient magical forges under my city's control would make for a very impressive image. I'm convinced Iron-Brow. We'll send a garrison and some builders. We'll begin setting up a fortified outpost in the ruins. Then we'll start on the road. Hopefully when that's done, some artisans will be willing to set up shop around it and we can start a community. I'll talk to some people." Vignar paused. He just remembered a crucial detail. "But if we need a smith, and Eorlund is working the Skyforge, who will work this Lunar forge?" Boldir had already put some thought into this. "There are three blacksmiths in this city: Eorlund, Adrianne, and myself. Obviously, Eorlund and I are out, but Adrianne may appreciate the chance to work a magical forge. It'd even her odds a bit with Eorlund competition-wise. If she'd rather stay here, I know a very skilled apprentice in Windhelm who may be interested in moving up in the world." The Jarl's smile faded a bit at the mention of Adrianne. "I'm assuming this apprentice in Windhelm is a Nord?" "Yes," said Boldir, "but I think Adrianne deserves to at least be asked first. She's a skilled smith, and would be close to home." The old man shook his head. "If we are going to boast an ancient Nordic forge, it should be run by a Nord. It only makes sense. Some people would even be angered if we put her in charge of it." Vignar paused, and then smiled again. "Thank you Boldir, I will look further into the matter myself." Boldir nodded. It was the best he could do. "I'm glad to be of assistance." he hesitated for a second. Come on, now is the best time to ask him. "Jarl Vignar, I would like to ask a couple favors of you." Vignar smiled. "After clearing that place without losing even one man, and then bringing this forge to my attention, I think a favor or two is more than warranted." "I promised my wife that we would go to Riften together... To see her family. I'd like some time off to go do that. I don't know how long the trip will be." The Jarl waved his hand. He'd have allowed something as trivial as this even if he didn't feel indebted to do so. "Consider it done. What else was there?" "I would like to go and use the Lunar Forge to make a weapon." "That would be quite the trip for one weapon. Are you sure? You have my permission to use the Skyforge if needed. My brother shouldn't mind." "No, I am certain. The Lunar Forge is more fitting, and admittedly, I want to get a chance to try it out for myself." Vignar nodded. "Well I can hardly say no. You took the damn place. Go ahead, you can use the forge." Boldir stood up. "Thank you my Jarl. Now, if that's all, I've got some family matters to attend to." "Say no more Boldir. Trust me, I know how those can be." the Jarl chuckled to himself and picked back up the Lunar blade, examining it carefully as Boldir headed downstairs. *** Iron-Brow home "Do you have any idea worried I was?!" Carlotta was furious. More so than she could ever in her life remember being. She'd decided not to open up the stand today, opting instead to stay home for her talk with Mila, which Boldir'd convinced her to put off the night before. "I-" Mila stammered "No! You don't! If you did, you would never have done it!" "We just wanted to-" "Wanted to watch?! Mila, you're twelve! You almost got killed!" Mila's upset face twisted to one of anger. "I'll be thirteen in four days, and no I didn't! I saved Lucia!" "And why did she need saving in the first place, hmm? Going there was dangerous and stupid for all of you." Carlotta sighed. "You know I could expect this from Braith, and even Lars or Lucia, but you? You have never been one to go so strongly against the rules before. What happened?" "Nothing happened mom! I just wanted to see papa fighting the bandits!" "And you knew that I would never allow you to do that." Mila looked at the floor, once again looking guilty. "Yes..." "Then you knew you'd be punished for it." "Yes." the girl mumbled. A cool air rushed into the room as the door opened, causing both girls to look up when Boldir stepped in. There was a weary look on his face. When he saw his wife and daughter sitting at the kitchen table, he immediately knew what the conversation they'd been having was about. The guilty expression on Mila's face and the angry one on Carlotta's made it obvious. Boldir didn't see what Mila had done as nearly as big a deal as Carlotta did. Sure, it was bad, but he'd often done very similar things in his youth, so it was hard for him to stay angry at the her for it. He was more worried about her mental state from what she'd seen than he was angry for what she'd done. Though, admittedly, she didn't seem any worse for wear now. He pretended like he didn't know what was going on, and thought he'd try to get them off of it. "Can't believe how breezy it is for this time of year. Can you?" He crossed the room and hung his cloak on a wall rack. "It's that north wind I tell ya. It's been blowing colder than usual. Even so, it's been a long time since I remember Last Seed being this cold. I'll be glad to be in front of the warm forge." The cold didn't really bother Boldir, but he knew that mentioning the forge would catch their attention. Mila was glad to see a way out of her previous conversation. And her dad mentioning that he'd be working a forge again did honestly peak her interest. "Oooh the forge? The Skyforge? What are you making Dad?" Boldir walked over and ruffled her hair, messing it up at the top. "No, not the Skyforge, and I can't tell you what I'm making yet. It's a surprise." Mila immediately brought her hands up to her head to fix her hair. "Aww. Wait! What if I guess it right? Then will you tell me?" The girl didn't wait for Boldir to answer. "A sword! No- a new shield?" Boldir shook his head, smiling at how easy it had been to lighten Mila's mood. A quick glance at Carlotta however confirmed to him that this wasn't over yet. She was watching the exchange with a half smile, but he could see in her eyes that she knew exactly what was going on. "Is it a..." Mila looked around the room, hoping to get an idea from her surroundings. Her eyes lit up when she saw the shards of her father's old broken battle axe hanging on a plaque above the front door. That's it! "You're gonna fix your axe aren't you?!" Boldir's smile faded a bit. He could easily fix the axe, but he wasn't going to. By now, it was as much for himself as it was for Carlotta. "No... It's not the axe." Mila frowned. She was a bit disappointed.That broken axe had been hanging up there ever since Boldir had become her father. The idea of seeing it made whole had gotten her excited the moment she'd thought of it. "Well you should fix it some time. It looks so cool, and I wanna swing it!" Boldir chuckled and reached up to the plaque to unlatch the metal axe handle. There was no blade on it save for the small curved point at the bottom. "Even if I did fix this axe, I doubt you could swing it yet." He twirled the long bar once in his right hand before lowering it down for Mila to hold. She reached out and took it. As soon as the bar left Boldir's hand, it fell from her grip. "It's heavy!" Mila exclaimed as she knelt down to pick it back up. She hadn't expected the bar alone to weigh so much. She wrapped both her hands around it, towards the top end, and lifted. She grunted as the bar came up, but only her end. The other was still laying on the ground. "Whoa! You use this to fight?" "Used." said Boldir, taking the bar back up. "Used it for a long time. And it's supposed to be heavy. Makes it easy to chop with." "Was it heavy to you at first too?" Boldir shook his head. "No" he confessed, "but it did feel strange. Up until I'd started using that axe, I'd only ever fought with one handed swords and axes. Came quickly and naturally to me though. Most weapons I've used have. In fact, my first Commander, Ol' Corpsey said..." Boldir stopped himself. He didn't want to get onto the topic of his affinity for the soldier life. Not in front of Carlotta, who he'd given all that up for. He lifted the bar back up to the plaque and hung it up. "So do you give up?" "Not yet!" Mila looked around the room again, then started thinking about things made of metal. Not much came to mind. Practically everything in Whiterun was made of wood or stone. Carlotta had been watching the exchange in silence. She'd been angry at first. She knew all too well that Boldir had intentionally come in and changed the subject. But as she watched the way he played with and tested Mila, Carlotta couldn't help but lighten up to a better mood. He had a way of doing that to her. What Mila had done was bad, and there was still a punishment to work out, but that could wait. She'd let the two have their moment. Raising from her seat, she headed for the door to the stair room, turning around when she got there. "You two can go ahead and have your fun. I'm going to go work on my healing." she said. "Phah!" Boldir grinned. "Take it outside. We don't need that pansy magic stuff in our house, do we Mila?" A smile spread across Carlotta's face at Boldir's joke. "When you burn yourself at the forge, you'll be glad I know it. And you owe your life to it if I'm not mistaken. One of your Stormcloak friends saved you with that "pansy magic stuff". Speaking of which, I'd like to meet your mage friend some time. Not a lot of those in the Stormcloaks. He's gotta be interesting." "Point taken." admitted Boldir. "As for Witchie, I wouldn't call him my friend so much as my ally. And trust me, you don't want to meet him. Not that I could find him anyway." "Why wouldn't she want to meet him?" asked Mila. "Is he mean?" "Not as far as I could tell." Boldir said. "But that doesn't mean he's the type of person I'd trust with my family." "He can't be worse than that one guy." said Carlotta. "What was his name again? The one that came shortly after the wedding." "Trieg? He's not so bad." answered Boldir. "Admit it. You just didn't like the smell... Or how loud he was." "I liked him." said Mila. "He was funny!" Carlotta looked at Mila. "I hope you don't meant that. A girl your age shouldn't even get the jokes he made." Turning back to Boldir, she said, "I'm sure this Witchie is at least better for conversation than Trieg. At least unlike any of your other friends, he could tell me what I'm doing wrong with this healing spell." Carlotta left the room, trying in vain to produce a ball of magic in her hand. "I'll be upstairs if you need me!" she shouted back to them. Boldir smiled at the thought that anyone could see Witchie as good for conversation. He turned back to Mila as Carlotta exited the room. "So where's that wooden sword of yours?" he asked. The girl smiled. "Hold on!" she got up and ran to her room, returning with the small wooden sword. The end of it had a faded red stain on it. Boldir took it and looked it over. "How does this feel to you Mila? Is it heavy enough?" Mila shrugged. She didn't know much about weapons. Last night with the bandit had been the first time she'd ever used one outside of a game. "It isn't heavy at all." "Are you comfortable with it?" The girl looked confused. "It's just a toy you know." Boldir handed the sword back. "I know, and you used it like a real weapon last night." He wasn't going to play around with her, or treat this like a game. "Mila, you're turning thirteen in a few days, and no matter how much your mother and I would like for you to remain a child, you won't. That man you stabbed, what you saw me do to him, no one your age should have had to see that, and you've barely said a word about it since. Does your mother know?" Mila shook her head. "No. She doesn't. And I haven't talked about it because it doesn't bother me. He deserved it." She felt bad, because she was lying. Mila had covered it up throughout the day, but she still couldn't stop picturing the look of agony the man had worn as her father tortured him. That face had kept her up late last night, and followed her into her dreams when she finally did manage to fall asleep. Boldir knew that unless Mila was the toughest child in Skyrim, she was lying. It didn't matter how brave you are. Seeing something like that for the first time at such a young age isn't something you can just walk away from and forget. "Yes, he did. But what I did wasn't right, and I can't let you think for one moment that it was. If a man is bad, then what are the good people supposed to do about him?" "They're supposed to stop him from doing bad things." answered the girl. "That's right." he said. "But the moment we stoop so low as to go beyond doing just that, we lose ourselves. We become just as bad as the people we're stopping." Boldir paused for a moment before continuing. What you saw me doing out there, that wasn't right. I should have just killed him. I messed up. Do you understand?" "I understand." and she did. Mila couldn't imagine for a second that doing such things to anyone was right, and it helped that her father was admitting it. She looked at him curiously. "How many times have you messed up before?" Boldir hadn't expected that question to pop up. Though he should've, as Mila had a habit of always asking questions that he didn't know how to answer. He didn't say anything at first, and merely looked down at the floor. He had always had his lines, and more than a few times, he'd crossed them. Sometimes, it had been necessary, war had called for it. Though, at other times, like last night, it had been completely uncalled for. Maybe my lines aren't where I think they are. Finally, after several moments, he looked up at her. "I don't know. All I know is that I don't plan on ever doing it again." Mila and Boldir sat in silence for several minutes, each reflecting on what they'd talked about. Finally, Boldir broke the silence when he noticed the red tip on Mila's wooden sword. "You know, my next letter to Baldur will have to detail what you did with his present. He'll be overjoyed to hear that his niece is getting good use out of it." "He won't be mad that I snuck out?" "Getting mad is me and your mom's job. Baldur'd be angrier at me for it than at you. But I've gotta tell him. It makes for too good a story not to. And your uncle loves a good story." Mila smiled with pride. She was glad that her father wasn't as upset over what she'd done as her mother. He even seemed a little proud of her. "But if you do it again, I'll personally whoop your tail all the way back to the house. Got it?" Her smile faded, but only a bit. "Got it." "Good. Now I'm going to be leaving town every morning for the next few days. You need to stay out of trouble while I'm gone." Much to Mila's protest, he ruffled her hair again before heading upstairs to speak with Carlotta.

Lorgar, Gracchus Evening, Imperial city, Lorgar walked into his office, drenched in his black cloak. He still had his hood up, cloaking his face in darkness and shadow. He had his large ebony greatbow strapped to his back, along with his runesword. Unexpectdly, General Ceno was there, waiting for him. Lorgar said, in a cold and emotionless voice, a farcry from his normal voice pattern, "What do you want?" Gracchus sat in a chair, having let himself in when he realized Lorgar wasn't here. His red cape draped over the chair, with it's black dragon plastered on its center. His tall leather boots where strapped on his upper calf, and his similarly black pants were tucked in the top. The blue collared shirt he had on had the top botton open, revealing the top of his chest. Gracchus had one leg on top of the other, his right hand resting on the top leg, which was also the right leg. He turned to Lorgar. "Is that any way to greet a friend?" The Lord General's brow wrinkled as he addressed the bow and sword he'd noticed when the Spymaster entered. "Where exactly were you? Hunting?" "You could say that." "The Bloodworks?" "That and something else." Lorgar repeated his early question, "Why are you here?" Gracchus sighed, a deep, heavy thing. "To check up on you, see how you're doing. I'd heard you were fairly busy, and figured you could use a visit from a friend." "I appreciate it." He simply said Gracchus looked back towards the desk, piled high with parchments, probably reports and order. He motioned towards it, now looking back to Lorgar. "So, I take it you're busy?" "Very." Gracchus nodded, but a slight frown crossed his face. "Dales...erm...excuse me, I mean did the Empress give you all this work? Surely this isn't the norm. Maybe you need to hire someone to help you sort through this mess." "You could say Empress Dales gave me all this work, yes. Though some of it is for my wedding." "I'd heard you were getting married. The Countess of Chorrol, I believe?" "Yes. The girl you meet at the Inn." Lorgar, without bothering to take off his cloak, sat down at his desk, and began to look at some documents. "Very expensive." "Most weddings are." Gracchus watched Lorgar sit down, then continued. "So, I got a visit from Skjari. He said you were plotting? What does he mean?" Lorgar didn't even react, he just kept looking at the documents on his desk, "That is so. I'm not here, so what exactly is happening? Why are you two at odds?" Gracchus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "You already believe him, there's no point trying to tell you my side." "If I believed him, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I just want to help Lorgar, but I don't know who is telling the truth." Gracchus' eyes were sorrowful and hurt, as if it pained him to see the Empress' advisers pitted against each other. "He said something over the top right? Something along the lines of me thinking he's using magic to control Dales, correct?" "Yes, it was along those lines. A little far fetched, but after some thought I could see it being true. What proof do you have?" “I don’t think that†Gracchus brow winkled quizzically. "Well them what are you at odds over?" "I heard him whispering things to Dales, I confronted him about the "advice" he was giving her, and he seemed not to appreciate it." Gracchus nodded, his brow still wrinkled, somewhat unsure if what Lorgar was telling him was the truth. "This Empire rests on the backs of all of us, you three especially. You must work this out, for the Empire and for its people." "That's not how it works." Lorgar contuined to look at his documents. "Duty, General. That's all that matters. You cant handle the truth of the situation, you know why? Because you don't have the stomach to do what is absolutely necessary, for what the duty that this knowledge requires of you. You have a kind heart. I don't." "You are probably right. I may not know politics, or the scheming required for it, but I know duty. I've served just as long as you, since I was able to join. And our duty is to protect Dales, from threats foreign and domestic. That includes you, me, Skjari, Tullius, all of us. If any of us pose a threat to the Empire, then it is the others duty to stop them. I've killed men too Lorgar, including men of my own who deserted, and although my heart is kind, I can stomach whatever it is is going on." Gracchus stood, his cape fluttering up behind him. He slammed his hands on the table, and raised his voice. "Our DUTY is to the Empire, to Dales, and to our people! Now let me help you!" Unfazed by the general aggressiveness, Lorgar continued in a stoic voice, "Answer this question then, if duty is so important to you. If duty, made you, would you be willingly to torture a civilian to make a rebel soldier talk? A woman? Would you then, after receiving the information needed, stuff the soldier in an oak tree, and set fire to it while he's alive and breathing? Would you lock his wife in there farm, and set fire to the building, all the while the person in the oak can hear her scream as her flesh is consumed? to send a message to the rest?" "Would, you go that far for duty? To put a swift end to a conflict? Would you betray all of your values to protect the empire? What are you willingly to sacrifice for the empire? Would you, General Ceno?" "No, because I would find an alternate route. My duty is to win, yes, but to not sacrifice the humanity of my men and myself. We must not become monsters for a quick victory. What would our men think, to be eternally scared of their leader because he burns men and women alive, to what, prove a point? What point? That he's a monster? No, I will do my duty, but not that way. That way does nothing but prove you are heartless and a monster. I'm willing to go above and beyond, but that need not mean my humanity is sacrificed." That, actually caused Lorgar to laugh, a spine chillingly laugh, "That is were your wrong general. How many lives have you taken? Do you think those were dummies, in a practice range. There were people, people who had families, friends, loved ones. Those, and the dead person, wail in sorrow and hatred of the man who killed them. You being in the legion as long as you have, would have gathered alot of wailing people. They view you as a monster. But your right in away, you do have your humanity. But I don't." "That "quick victory earned" me the nickame, "Butcher of the North". And yet, my action's saved hundreds of imperial soldiers, a medal, and fame in the legion and at home. The truth of the matter is, we are monsters, and yet were not monsters. It depends on the view point of the person calling you "a monster" or not "a monster" He went back to reading a document, before signing it and speaking again, "But I bore of philosophical discussion, yes, what he said was true. He has a binding spell over Dales, which forces her to follow his ever order." Gracchus had sat down as Lorgar began talking, losing his angry desire. "Aye, it seems we are all monsters as not monsters at the same time." Gracchus sat his right leg on the left, adopting the pose he had web Lorgar first entered. "Why did you not just say that? Again, I have to ask what proof you have." "I assisted him by delivering him Dales in the first place. I have all the original letters here." He pointed to a small pile of scrolls and parchment. Gracchus didn't try and hide the shock, clearly taken aback that Lorgar assisted the man he now was opposed to. "Why, what made you sacrifice her to him, so she could be a slave to the whims of a man who we know nothing about?" "Duty. He said some convincing words to me, and most of them were true. Plus, he wanted to kill her. Knowing the threat the dominion opposed, turning Dales into his weapon seemed logical. It also protected her from being killed by him." Gracchus grabbed the letters, carefully going over every detail to make sure Lorgar's story checked out. He recognized the handwriting of the court mage, so that was not in question. They seemed to check out, so he sat them back on the desk and looked back to Lorgar. "That sounds....reasonable. But how do we fix it, or better yet why do we need to fix it? Is her life in danger from the bonding?" "If you understand duty, then you know we both swore an oath to protect and serve her majesty. This bonding get's rid of her freedom, and puts her at potential risk. Furthermore, the mage is in control of the entire empire, does that not sound disturbing to you? "If you are so worried about it now, then maybe you shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place. I'm a mage, not the caliber Skjari is, but if what I'm getting about the binding, then it could permanently injure her soul if we don't properly extract it. We could end her life, which wouldn't solve anything as it would take us back to the delima of letting him kill her. He can't reign without her, as the people wouldn't back him. Maybe that is best, as it would remove him from power and free her." "I considered the possibility. But that would be betraying the oath I swore. But then again, I swore to protect the empire, and I might have to kill Dales to do that, Lorgar looked away, "I recommend now, for you to retire and be happy with your inn-keeper. Leave this business NOW. You don't want to get involved with either me or the mage." Gracchus rose, ready to leave. "I can't do that Lorgar. And not because of this, but because there is another storm brewing, and I fear it will be fiercer than the last." The Lord General stuck his hand out, waiting for Lorgar to return the handshake. Lorgar didn't return it, but simply said, "Make the water run red, General." Gracchus dropped the hand, before turning and leaving. "I will be leaving for Hammerfell soon. Hopefully I can discover something soon. Good luck Lorgar." Gracchus left, his cape filling up the door frame behind him. Lorgar said, under his breath, as the general left "Goodbye my friend, this is most likely the last time we meet." And with that Lorgar called in a messenger to deliver a letter to Baldur Red-snow.

Eduard Laenius- Dawnstar Sanctuary, Early Morning Eduard silently entered the Sanctuary. Hopefully he actually does have something for me, he thought as he approached Nazir. "Alright, I'm here." "Indeed. Good timing too. I just got some information straight from the Listener on a contract." "Is that so? Well then, please go on." "Well, I don't personally know too much. Only the words given to me by the Listener. Anyways, the message was as follows: You are to go to Candelhearth Hall in Windhelm to speak with a nobleman named Levik Long-Swing." "I see. And you want me to go and meet the contact." "Yes." "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you another time Nazir. I've got some stuff to take care of if I am going to be leaving town for an extended period of time." "Bye then Eduard. Have a bloody good time." Oh... I think that one actually hurt. That's probably how he kills his targets. Horrible puns. Eduard left the Sanctuary, still shaking his head at Nazir's jokes. ~~--~~-~~--~~ 3 hours later ~~--~~-~~--~~ Eduard entered his house, and was greeted by Jon. "Welcome back. By the look on your face... you have to leave?" "Yes. I'm going with Excuse A, as it seems I will be leaving for a while. And considering that they would send me off this fast after joining, leaving will probably be pretty common." "Right. I figured you would use it, so I already took the liberty of planting the rumor. So all you have to do is go tell whoever you need to tell. If they ask anyone, they will either confirm it, or not know one way or the other." "I can always count on you Jon. Good work." "Thank you. Oh, just out of curiosity, where exactly are you going?" "So far all I know is that I'm going to Windhelm, to meet someone." "Who?" "Levik Long-Swing. Got anything?" "Can't say I do. I'd look into it, but you'll have met him by then." "Right. I had better get going, tell Livia what's going on. Karita too." "Alright. You go do that. Oh, the message bag is in your room. You should grab it, make you look legitimate. It even has a few letters in it." "Okay," Eduard said as he made his way to grab the bag. "Bye Jon." "Bye Eduard." Eduard arrived at Livia's house, and knocked on the door. She's probably not going to be too happy about this. The door opened, but to Eduard's surprise, Liv wasn't the one answering the door. "Hey Eduard!" "Karita. Good to see you! Is my sister home?" Ugh. A little unexpected, but I guess this will knock them both out with one visit. "Yes, she is. Why?" "I need to speak with her." "Alright. You want me to grab her?" "I can just come in. Besides, I need to speak with you as well." "Oh... alright. Is something wrong?" "No, not at all," Eduard said as he entered the house. "Livia! Eduard's here! Says he wants to talk with you." "Oh, alright! I'll be right down." Not long after that, Livia came bounding down the steps. "Hey Eduard! What brings you here?" "I needed to tell you both something." "Yeah? What is it?" "I'm going out of town for a while." "For what," Livia said with a concerned look on her face. "Trust me. It's not for business." "Okay, then what is it for?" "I decided to take up the courier business semi-part time." Karita was obviously puzzled by what was taking place. "Courier? Why? I thought you were basically retired." "I didn't take it for the money. I took it so I can get out of town every once in a while." "Do you not like it here?" "No. It isn't that. I really enjoy this place. Very good place to live, and has some very enjoyable people. It's just that I'm restless. I need to get out every now and again. And this part time job allows for me to do that." "Why don't you just leave? There isn't really a need to make it a job, is there?" Livia answered that question for Karita. "He would never pass up the chance to make money while he's enjoying himself." "Indeed. If I'm going out of town anyways, why not make myself some coin?" "I see. How long will you be gone?" "At this point, I'd say a few weeks." "That's not too bad." Liv spoke up, obviously not as accepting as Karita was being. "How often is this going to be happening?" Of course you would. "Hopefully not too often. But being a part-time thing, I don't really know when I'll get work, and when I'll be free. I should be in town enough though." "Whatever you say Eduard." "I promise I won't be gone all the time. But sometimes it can't be helped. Anyways, I need to grab my equipment. Can't travel this land without some form of defense." "Right. Well... bye Eduard. Be careful." "You'd better be careful Ed," Liv added. "You know I'm careful, Liv. And thanks Karita. I'll see you two soon. I would write you, but then I would have to deliver them as well." That got a small laugh out of Karita. No such luck with Livia, however. "Bye," said both girls, almost in unison. Wow. That went pretty darn well, Eduard thought as he left Livia's house to retrieve his equipment. And Karita, she seemed generally okay with me leaving every now and again. Maybe this could work out. Good. Because I didn't get to close the deal the first time. After Eduard had retrieved his equipment, he headed out of Dawnstar, towards Windhelm.

Maggie Imperial City afternoon Maggie sat at the desk in her house, flipping through her journals. Her father might take away her publisher and printing press, but he couldn’t stop her from writing. Even if he destroyed every quill and piece of paper or parchment in Cyrodiil, she would still be able to write stories in her head. She would write another book. No publisher would survive the Order’s onslaught, but she would find a way to get it out to the public, even if she had to give it away. Maggie felt that if she didn’t do this, she would die. She would want to die. Thus, she was flipping through the journals of her years in the south, looking for story ideas. Her eyes fell on a name, Gedras... whatever had become of that creature. He wouldn’t be happy about the Thalmor being chased out of Cyrodiil back to his hunting grounds. She would have to ask Skjari how progress on the Tower Scrolls was coming, and see if the little rat had tried checking in there. Maggie thought back to the day she had met him. In her exile in the lands of southern Tamriel, Maggie's Dominion contacts had become useful to set up a series of missions against upstart clans that had been using the empire's weakness to encroach on territory where they didn't belong. Accompanied by ten nightblade guards, she had elected to go herself on an especially dangerous mission, sensing that something more than just mass murder of the Order’s enemies might come from it. *** "How much further, Taeren?" "Not long, not long." The once-Bosmer was stunted even for his kind, a loathsome creature, almost feral. His skin had deep wrinkles and his eyes were unnatural, glowing red. Normally Maggie would have shunned such company, but they were beyond civilization now, in the deep forests of Valenwood, and this lonely worm knew the area. "He's been saying that for half an hour," Maggie muttered to her nightblade companions. The land began to slope up, and ahead Maggie could see the ruins of a deserted tree village. Old wooden platforms and shacks were built on the sturdy limbs. After the ravages of the faction fighting that had led to the Dominion takeover, many villages such as this were left full of ghosts, literal and figurative. From that direction came a loud, bone-chilling shriek. It didn't sound like a ghost, but neither did it sound like an animal. The Bosmer guide had stopped in his tracks. "Screamers," he breathed, obviously terrified. "Screamers?" Maggie demanded. "What are those?" "Imga vampires." "You said there were only Keerilth." The Keerilth were bad enough. Mist vampires, they were called. When attacked, they could vaporize into mist and re-appear a short distance away. They had been moving north, into the Nibenay basin, taking over Order territory. If the Valenwood clans were uniting, however, then this was more than just a vampire turf war. It could become a real war, with Cyrodiil's populace at its mercy. That would rouse the hunters. "Screamers, very bad!" Taeren was saying. A moment later he darted into the brush and disappeared from sight. This was not going as planned. Not at all. Maggie turned to the head nightblade. "We only need the Keerilth leader, remember that. It need not be a massacre. When he's dead, we can leave. Or we'll talk to him first, if he's willing." According to Maggie's information, the clan's elder had died or gone feral fifty years before, giving an opportunity for a younger vampire named Gedras. He had been imprisoned by the Thalmor, who cut off the tops of his ears as torture and to mock him for what they considered mixed blood. Another vampire had turned him while in prison, and with the new powers he was able to escape. "Watch the trees," she said to the nightblade, then cast invisibility and levitated off the ground. She wouldn't be able to hold both spells for long, but hopefully long enough for the "screamer" scouts to be eliminated. What followed was a slaughter. The reason for Taerena’s horror soon became apparent to her. The Imga vampires had razor-sharp talons and fangs the size of Maggie’s hand. They also had incredible strength even by vampire standards, and were merciless. As Maggie’s guard contingent dwindled, she was forced to reveal herself and use her remaining magicka to rally them and weaken the bleeding Imga. The largest of them, seeing her casting, turned and came hurtling towards her. Maggie drew her sword with one hand and with the other cast telekinesis on the blood-drenched nightmare. Vampires were immune to paralysis, but she could at least keep him suspended for a time. Enough time for her to step forward and drive her sword through the creature’s open maw. With her other hand she gathered magicka, then intensified the telekinesis spell, sending the ape hurtling backwards into a tree. He hit it with a crunch, and slid slowly downward, streaking the bole with red. Then an unnatural calm settled over the forest. Maggie rejoined her remaining guards, who were even paler than normal. "Regrettable." Glancing around the forest, Maggie felt menace even from the trees. Maybe especially from the trees. "We're here for Gedras," she said aloud, guessing that the vampire leader had other ways of hearing that didn't require the tops of his ears. "We only want to talk." There was a thick silence, then the air between Maggie and her guards appeared to fog. A Bosmer materialized, with stringy dark hair and the telltale cropped ears. His voice dripped with spite. "You don't appear interested in talking. What do you want, Cyrodiil?" “Less of this.” Maggie gestured around to the bodies littered on the forest floor. “Your friends left us little choice.” Gedras’ hostile expression lightened, and his lips quirked in a smile. “Not my friends. Did me a favor. Those screamers were starting to act like they were boss. That’s the only reason we’re talking.” “Then let us do each other more favors. I was sent to kill you, but you seem a reasonable sort. I would prefer to work out a less permanent solution to our problem.” “Why should I care about your problems?” “Didn’t I just say that I was sent to kill you? Even if I didn’t succeed, there would be others eventually. You are moving into territory that belongs to the Order.” “The Thalmor are hunting us. Since they’re not at war with Cyrodiil, they’re getting better at it. I don’t want your precious lands. I just need to be able to move, and your border is an inconvenience.” Maggie raised a brow. “Raise the ire of the Order and you’ll have rather more than inconvenience to deal with. But, I see your point. You are not seeking to claim territory permanently then?” Gedras looked disgusted. “This is my forest. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t leave it.” “Very well. You need flexibility to move across our borders when the Thalmor are on your tail. I will grant it, but in exchange I need something from you. Information. I want to know everything you know and can find out about Thalmor movements in Valenwood and eastern Elsweyr.” “Cats not part of the deal. Hate cats. Fur in my mouth, moon sugar in the blood, pfeh!” Maggie smiled at this unique vampire problem. “I thought you wanted room to maneuver? If the Thalmor learn your patterns, they will get you sooner or later. Range out further and you have a better chance. The grasslands are wild now, there are few guards who dare travel there. As for prey, the Khajiit allow some travelers. Smugglers and the like. Be creative.” The Bosmer appeared to consider this, rubbing at one half-missing ear. “Alright. Deal. Now get out and stay out. No more Order hunters.” “I’ll see to it.” Maggie took out some paper and wrote a few lines on it. “There are your contacts in the Nibenay. Check in at least once every few months or I’ll assume you’re going back on our deal. This...” She drew out a small scroll case from her pack, and opened it up to reveal a scroll shimmering with magicka. “This is for emergencies only. Massive troop movements, that sort of thing. This will go to the Mede emperor’s court wizard, not to me. Write your message on the scroll and include this code.” She showed him some gibberish numbers and letters on a piece of paper included with the scroll. “The moth paper will do the rest. You might get instructions back, as well. Obey them if you can, but it's not material to our deal." The Bosmer appeared disgusted at all this, but he was obviously intelligent and understood it. “You’re lucky I hate Thalmor more than imperials.” “You’re lucky I dislike murder as a means of solving problems. Remember, Gedras. Though you’re aiding the Order and the empire, it was I who spared your life.” “Hmph. That goes both ways. What’s your name, Cyrodiil?” “Magdela Bathory.” ”The novelist?” Maggie laughed. “If I had known you were a fan, I’d have brought a signed copy as a down payment for your assistance.” “Don’t bother,” the Bosmer replied dismissively. “Are we done here?” “I hope that we’re only beginning.” *** Gedras’ story of torture and escape from Thalmor prison would make the good beginnings of a story, Maggie thought. Of course, in the book he couldn’t be a vampire. She had had enough trouble over that sort of thing. And he would have to be an imperial. Imperials couldn’t accept a story where they were not the hero. Maggie began jotting down ideas, but was soon interrupted by one of her guards. “My lady, a message came for you. Your brother is waiting for you in the palace courtyard.” Jem. His presence in the city could only mean one thing. “I’ll be right there, thank you,” she told the guard. Maggie then spent an hour writing down story ideas. Her father’s lap dog could wait.

Lorgar (Darkened Archer), Samuel, Tullius, Imperial City, Afternoon, A column of soldiers marched behind a casket, in the rain. Inside the casket, were the remains of General Marius Imperius, of both the Stormcloak army and imperial Legion. As to represent his two factions, the symbol of the bear and the dragon were both on the flag covering the casket. Carrying the casket, were four palm bearers. High-General Gaius Tullius , Lord-Major Lorgar Grim-maw, Lieutenant-Commander Marie Imperius, and High-Captain Titus Imperius marched silently, the sounds of there boots being muffled by the rain. Dozens of people were attending the funeral, from Nobles to merchants. In the shadows nearby one could see a pale Colovian stand, with a blade at his side and his hands folded behind his back. Samuel's eyes followed the casket carefully, but otherwise stood still. Onward was a deep grave, were they would put the casket. The four palm bearers face's filled with stoicism, as well as the assembled troops behind. All members of the sixth legion. Empress Dale's herself was attending, clad in a black dress, and looked with sadness from the side. One the group got to the grave, they slowly brought the casket down, and as they covered the grave in earth, a priest of arkay recited prayer's "Ashes we are, ashes we return. Blessing's of Aetherius upon you Ambassador Imperius." Lorgar, while not worshiping the nine divine, stood there in silence and had his head lowered in respect. Marie had her head to her father, Titus's shoulder . She was still visibly mourning along with Titus and her fiancee. Tullius's, while stoic, hand was shaking, and he looked depressed. "May you rest in peace, Marius," Samuel mumbled to himself, but remained still. He had no intention of leaving until it was over. Now, more than ever, could he see the ways this could have been prevented. A senseless death, but at least he died fighting. Or in defiance of what he perceived him to be. It didn't matter, the end result was the same. Marius was dead, needlessly. Lorgar gently put his arm around Tullius's shoulder, Tullius stared at the priest in silence, as his friend put his hand on his shoulder. He didn't want comfort. Marius was a ******* idiot...but he was his brother. "Talos bless you, Stendar bless you." The priest started to recite the names of the divine, and blessed Marius. A torn corpse doesn't need blessing... The rain falling was the ambiance of the funeral. Finally the priest bowed her head, and walked away. The ceremony was over, and the speaking part was soon going to begin. Tullius was about to follow the crowd, when he...noticed something odd. There was a pale man starring and watching the Funeral from a distance. Maybe Marius knew him? Tullius, instead of going with the crowd, decided to check the imperial man out, and he walked towards him. "Hail, General Gaius Tullius, Son of Whiterun," Samuel said as the man approached him. "Come to talk to the Lone Walker at the edge of the funeral? Not many would see a point, given the circumstances." Tullius eyed the man warily, despite them being disbanded, Tullius would always consider himself a mercenary now. He said in a somewhat coarse, but not unfriendly voice, "Hail stranger, you knew Marius?" "I did, a very long time ago. Last time I met him he was... not quite himself. Seemed troubled. Then this funeral was arranged. Any word on how he died? I've been largely left out of any details." "Ripped apart by vampires and eaten apparently." Samuel seemed surprised. "Vampires? How'd he get involved with those creatures? I thought they usually stayed away from the Imperial City. Or did he die outside the walls?" "They found his body in the Bloodworks, a known vampire nest. What he was doing down there, is anyone's guess." He eyed the man, “So, how did you know Marius?" "You mean that there is a known vampire nest under the city? I am very glad I do not live here, that would turn me paranoid beyond reason," with a gesture towards a nearby bench, he walked over to it and sat down as he continued. "I met him many years ago and we- well, we were lovers." "Lovers?" Tullius looked at him oddly, "Well, Marius always seemed too friendly with all the male officers when we were together in the third legion." "I can imagine," Samuel gave him a distant, if a bit sad, smile, as if he thought back to his time with Marius, as one would expect at a funeral. "It was over a very long time ago though, but I don't think he ever got over it. He acted like little had changed the last time we met. As if it was just to pick up where we left off." "That seems like Marius. He never forgot or forgave anything. Still, I can't believe he's dead," "I wonder why he died. Call me paranoid, but this doesn't seem to add up. He just happened to be in a known vampire nest? Even a less intelligent man would have required a good reason to go down there." "Hmmm...yes your right. While impulsive, Marius was always an intelligent and clever man. Why would he go down to a nest infested with vampires..." Tullius started to stroke his grey well-shaven beard, "Last time you saw him, was he acting strangely?" "He had started to drink a lot, and made some comments that implied that he wanted it... our past... to become the present once more. When I made it clear I had moved on, we had a falling out. Well, he hit me so I lost my balance, so I guess I was the one who fell out. Still, I wouldn't wish being killed by vampires on anyone, least of all someone I have almost only good memories of” "We use to call him "Marius the rapist" since he use to grope the boy's in our outfit, that's expected. But he punched you? Strange..." Tullius turned his head back to the crowd, which seemed to be centering around a single person, Empress Dales. "It seems like her majesty Dales is making a statement." Samuel looked over and nodded slowly. "Indeed. I think it is best for you that you leave me now, as this is not going to be pretty. If I am correct, there is going to be a spectacle and I'm going to be arrested for the murder of Ambassador Marius Imperius, on the word of a Skyrim General. Baldur Red-Snow I think, which, if I am correct, is likely to become Skyrim's new High General. As I am sure you'll understand, his word will carry more weight that that of a wanderer. Mistrusted strangers with a rocky resent past of the deceased makes for good scapegoats in times of trouble. And with the uncertainties of the realm, with no heir to the throne, the Empress will need to show strength. So long, Gaius, it was a pleasure the brief moments we had." Tullius's face filled with absolute shock, and before he could react, Empress Dales voice echoed in the area, with the rain not drowning it's noise, "Yesterday, I received a letter from General Baldur Red-Snow, a fine and honorable man in my eye's. He has given us information that link a man to the murder of Marius Imperius." She pointed her figure to the man beside Tullius, the pale Colovian, while reading out what appeared to be the letter in question, Marius is a General and a warrior at heart, Despite his flesh, his spirit was not torn apart, He donned the bear and the dragon, for to both he was loyal, His honor was of a Nord, even when his blood touched soil, He helped end the fighting and helped keep Thalmor from our shores, He helped Tullius save my life, So I say thank you once more, I wish I could be there to say these things to you, But at least I can tell his story, know my words to be true, For I know why he's dead, I know who caused it you see, So listen to my words, please listen now to me, For you see the true culprit is a man without traces, A man known as Samuel, Demon with 1000 faces, This man is why he left, at least initially, He gave him to me....so Skyrim could be free, But later he decided that Marius must die, I did not betray him for I understood not why, Marius stood up to him, that was his undoing, This is why he died, somehow that thought is soothing, For he did not bow, and neither did I, He gave me to the Thalmor, know that I do not lie, I would not kill Marius, that is why I was taken, Marius proved loyal and I was not forsaken, Yet Samuel found a way...to make this man retire, Let there be no place that he can hide in the Empire, This is a call to action, a warning if you will, Keep your weapons close to you, and beware that eerie chill, For you are not paranoid, unsafe it is in all places, For long is the reach of the worm, the Demon with 1000 faces. A description is pointless to give, but I'll try anyway. Colovian man brown hair, no unusual features to speak of. Appears to be in his 40s. Makes deals with influential people. I suggest you kill this traitor on sight if you think you know him. But then again, this isn't Skyrim. Ignore his threats, promises, reassurances that you'll pay if he dies, just kill him. Anyone who works with Thalmor willingly deserves death. -General Baldur Red-Snow Eternal friend of Marius, Eternal enemy of Samuel At those words, around two dozen soldiers, 4th legion and Pentuilas Occulatus, surrounded the man, with there swords drawn on him, "You seemed shocked, Gaius," Samuel gave him a smile as he unfastened the sword at his side, still in the sheath, and gave it to him. Four daggers were also pulled out and handed over to the aging General. "As I said, it was a pleasure to be officially introduced, but I think it is time for you to leave. These soldiers have a job to do, after all." Tullius's shocked face, soon twisted into an expression of absolute fury, as he threw the belt of knives onto the ground and pushed Samuel to the earth with a shove of pure force. Samuel shook his head, but didn't seem bothered by what had happened or what was about to happen. "Well then, I assume the feeling is not mutual. A shame really. I guess I'll see you in prison, when you come to try to get me to tell you exactly why Marius was down in the Bloodworks." Tullius pinned him to the ground, and threw a punch right into Samuel's jaw that shouldn't have as much strength as it did, He screamed out, "YOU FUCKER!!!" Placing his feet under Tullius' stomach and taking a hold of his neck, Samuel used his legs to flip the angry General off him, who landed on his back, before he got to his feet. He rubbed his jaw. "I'm sorry, Gaius, but I am not interested in a fistfight. If you want to take out your anger at me, please do it the proper Imperial way; by waiting until I am in prison so no one will care what you do to me anyway and I can't fight back." Samuel turned to the surrounding soldiers, with a disappointed expression. "This is how the Empire's finest act? Staling an apprehension because someone throws a tandem at the accused? I thought the Empire was supposed to have a Rule of Law, where the citizens themselves cannot just take vengeance themselves, and the law enforcers are the ones to deal with such a situation as this," he raised his voice, making sure Dales heard him. "Or is this how the New Dynasty is going to rule? You are not even going to hold a trial before branding me guilty? If that is true, Empress, then Ulfric Stormcloak was indeed right when he said that the Empire no longer cared about any of its subjects." No reply came right away, letting him continue for a little longer. "Toward the end of the Septim Dynasty there was a Legion Commander on the island of Vvardenfell, named Frald the White. He sent one of his own men to protect a knight accused of murder so he could be put on trial, instead of being summary executed by the Ordinators of Vivec city on the accusation alone. Is this not the standard you should try to live up to? Is it not better to act like this honorable man, who wanted justice to be done the right way? The way that doesn't let emotional bias cloud the truth? Tell me! Does the Rule of Law mean nothing anymore?" "Say's the man who murder's a man in cold blood...your just a hippocrit" Came a cold voice. It was Lorgar. His face was much more paler then usual, and his voice and face had not a speck of emotion. "Gaius, leave him alone." Tullius responded angrily with a scream, "NO I WONT!!!" "I said leave him alone. Guards, get that man out of my sight and take him to a cell." Two soldiers pumped there fists onto there chests, "Yes sir." They aggressively grabbed Samuel by the arms. "Careful, Lorgar," Samuel replied, keeping the men from getting anywhere for just long enough to finish. "I've been accused of murder, not proven to be a murderer. You'd do well to remember the distinction, if you don't wan't to be called a hypocrite yourself." *** The cell Samuel stayed in was...pretty normal. It was clean, and had a stool to sit on. Four guards stood on duty, watching over the prisoner. A man entered the room, he was hooded and cloaked, with his face being completely obscured by darkness. The Insignia on him showed him to be a "Lord-Major". He ordered the soldiers to leave in a emotionless, and cold voice. The soldiers saluted before leaving, the man turned and faced the prisoner, "Samuel." "Lorgar." "Enjoying your stay in the imperial prison?" "Of course, it is usually rather hospitable, though you may have had a different experience. I assume you are here to see what you can do to make sure this doesn't jeopardize our contract?" Lorgar started to play with his beard under his hood, before saying, "Of late, the Empress has been piling file after file for me to work on, taking up my time considerable. Knowing who controls her... Add that to the wedding planning I have to organize, thew funeral arrangements, I haven't had time to further my goals. Meaning, Witchie has been intentionally giving me more work to occupy my time from my plans, meaning, he suspects that i'm planning something. Why is that, vampire?" "You mean apart from the fact that you've shown no competence in the arts of subtlety at all ever since you arrived in the city? I don't know how much you follow things, but half the nobles in Cyrodiil know you have some sort of grudge against him. Slightly exaggerated of course. My point is that no one are going to be surprised if they hear you moving against the court mage, thanks to your behavior at the wedding alone. The nobles of this city pick up on subconscious ques rather easily." Samuel rubbed his forehead with the expression a teacher would have when lecturing a student on something that should be intuitively obvious. "If he keeps you busy because he suspects something, it simply means he has started to listen to the nobles flocking around the palace, trying to gain favors with the new dynasty. I would expect you to meet some too, in the near future. I know little about this court mage, but from what i know I highly doubt he would take such a subtle approach if the Empress bows to his every whim. He could have you fired from your position at the snap of his fingers, no questions asked, leaving you without the resources to entice my services, in turns ruin your whole plan without any effort." "True." Samuel couldn't see threw Lorgar's darkened hood, but by his voice, he could tell his emotions were starting to change, "There's always the possibility, that you told him my plans. Measuring his power and "subtly" above my own, which is true. Demons lie, don't they?" "They do, though I don't see the point you're trying to make. Honest men lie, so what is the difference between an honest man and a demon? Answer me that, and I tell you exactly why I have no reason to betray you or help you in your attempts to fight the court mage." "There is no difference between a demon and an honest man. For honest men have demons inside them, waiting in there darkest depths to reveal themselves." "Then wouldn't demons have honest men inside them, waiting for a chance to reveal themselves? I hope you see where I am going with this. But you answered my question as well as I could expect of you, so I suppose it is my turn to answer you." He stretched out his arms in front of him, fingers woven together. A sound of the bones adjusting to the pressure filled the silence for but a moment. "I am a creature of the night, thus I cannot stand in the sun and least of all in the sun at the top of the mountain where there is not even any shade to dwindle the burning of my skin. I can near the top, but never reach it, for there is no shade. What would I have to gain by leaving the dark? I hope I am not speaking in too complex a metaphor for you to understand." "You taking about how you cant reach the top of the political spectrum, you cant hold real political or some other type of power, and why would you even need to when you thrive in shadow, correct?" "Does the phrase 'rhetorical question' even exist in your vocabulary? Yes, that is what I mean, if a bit inaccurate. I have nothing to gain from being affiliated with either you or the court mage, so I work with the one who offer payment. So far, I've yet to get any offers from your opponent." "Ah your like a mercenary then, a sword to be used to the highest bidder. Of course, the sword you are is much differnt then, say Tullius and his sons of Whiterun." Lorgar straightened out his cloak, before turning away from the man in the cell, he spoke, "Mark my words, unlike Marius, I wont make the mistake of trusting you at all, before you betray me. If you blackmail me, i'll just cut out your throat and fill your body with my ebony arrows. If I catch wind of you assisting the court mage in anyway, i'll do the same thing. I dont care what precautions or "ways" to get back at me when your dead, or how "safe" you think you are, but mark my words I will track your scent, and kill you like the little bat you are..." Lorgar called the guards back in, "Let him rot in there for six more hours, then let him go." And with that, Lorgar left the prisoner. Samuel remained at the table, calling for a quill, some ink and parchment. He had two messages to write; one for the court mage. And one for General Baldur Red-Snow. ** "Are you done soon? You told me to come in as soon as the Duke left," the jailer said, looking at Samuel from the other side other bars. Except there were no bars, only an open cell-door. "Yes," Samuel replied, looking over the messages. "Baldur Red-Snow, The next time you try to attack me through the Imperial Bureaucracy, I have an alternative procedure for you. Go to Windhelm and start to try to tear down the outer walls by hitting them with your fists. The result will be largely the same, except that you'll have a bloodied hand for your effort and that you will waste your own time alone, rather than mine as well. Also, give my sincere condolences to Admiral Rebec Red-Snow, for the confirmation of the death of her husband Toki. For all our differences, I think we can agree on one thing; Toki was a good man who deserved a better fate. Best wishes S King, I recommend that you keep your pet on a shorter leash. Her actions could have resulted in a conflict with the Order, multiplying the amount of powerful enemies in Cyrodiil by an order of magnitude. S He rolled up the scrolls and cast the usual spells on them. "Take these to the court mage of the White-Gold and to the General Red-Snow in Skyrim. I think I've wasted enough time in this prison as it is." "Sir, you've not even been here an hour. The Duke-" "The Duke can say whatever he wants to," Samuel brushed off his objection. "I'm leaving, now. Unless you intend to stop me?" The jailer, a Colovian in his late fifties, looked like he was about to say something, but instead he just shook his head and gave the prisoner a smile. "No, old friend, I wouldn't waste my time telling you what to do. Besides, I owe you."

Skjari, Gracchus Imperial City Noon Skjari was now sitting in his quarters and pondering what desperate measures Lorgar could actually take. Lorgar could always try to kill him but that most likely be the end of Lorgar's life and if not it would give him a reason to accuse Lorgar of treason. Then there was Tullius who was a close friend to Lorgar and if it came down to it, the Legion could get involved, but Lorgar and Tullius would have to be mad to go so far. But Lorgar has always been at least a little crazy. But there was one he could use to prevent civil war. Skjari rose from his chair and changed from his noble's clothes to his black robe, but he skipped the gauntlets and didn't put on the hood, he didn't show himself in public that much so no one would probably recognize him, but he kept the sword which he kept at his side at all times. He made his way through the city to the Laughing Fox and as he entered he could see that it was filled people drinking and eating, the smell of alcoholic beverages and roasted meat filled his nostrils as did the talk and loud drunken cheers fill his ears. As he made his way to the counter he could see that neither Lorgar or Tullius were in the room and the detection spell he subtly cast didn't show off Lorgar's familiar, deadric influenced presence. Which was to be expected as Lorgar was probably drowning in all the work given to him from the empress. "I'm looking for Gracchus Ceno." He said to the redguard woman behind the counter. Ena looked up at the robed man, an expression of sarcasm covering her face. "Who wants to know? I can't just give out patrons' information willy nilly." Skjari leaned closer so that the rest wouldn't hear. "The court mage." Ena's sarcastic expression was dropped, but one of minor annoyance replaced it. She stepped out from behind the counter, and led the mage up the stairs to an office on the right side, where the general and Catia sat talking. Gracchus looked up, and recognizing the robed man said to Catia, "If you'll excuse me honey, I think this must be important." Catia nodded, and Gracchus led Skjari through the door across the hall to another office, with couches and a small table. He found a seat and motioned for the court mage to do the same before he asked, "So what so you need, Skjari?" Skjari accepted the offer and sat down in a chair opposite of Gracchus, he then leaned back and put both his hands together in front of him. "How to put this?" He got a thoughtful expression for second before he continued. "You do know that Lorgar can be a bit unstable?" "Of course. Even before the incident in Skyrim he was always unstable." "Well I think he is taking it one step further. I get feeling that he going insane. He starts imagining things, he even accused me having put a spell on the empress. I think he might just jealous of me having her ear a bit more than he does. But there is something about him that..."Skjari went quiet for a couple of seconds. "I'm afraid of what he might do if he gets worse." Surely he isn't that bad, I mean he did help her gain the throne after all, as all of us did. Losing his entire unit took a toll I'm sure, and the news of Marius' death hit him hard as well. Maybe he is just traumatized, and needs some rest?" Gracchus asked almost pleadingly, but the tone of his voice said that he didn't wholly believe the words that came out of his mouth. "Maybe. But I sense that he is up to something. Hopefully nothing will come of it and he will go back to normal. But if it gets worse and he starts to truly believe in these imaginations of his... What if he starts seeing imaginary enemies? He's already thrown accusations at me." Gracchus had dropped the relaxed pose he'd adopted when he sat down, and replaced it with a pose of nervousness, as he leaned forward slightly and rested on the arm of the couch, anxious about the conversation. "Quite right...accusing people needlessly would not bode well. Have you brought this to the Empress? Maybe she should know so she can talk to Lorgar." "I haven't, yet. She got her hands full and I'd rather not take this up with her unless it became necessary. I also think that if confronted about it, he would just hide it, and maybe even worsen it. Right now I'm just hoping he will not drag anyone into this and that he will come back to his senses sooner rather than later." Gracchus rose, and walked over to a nearby cabinet. Opening it revealed it to be filled with liquor, and Gracchus brought down a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses. "Would you like some?" "I can have a little but not too much." Skjari knocked on the right side of his forehead with the index finger. "I need to have a clear mind." "Of course." Grachus pulled the cork out, and poured an equal amount in each cup. He placed the bottle in the cabinet, and brought the glass to Skjari. "So, why are you telling me this?" Skjari accepted the glass and took a rather large sip before answering. "You've served with him in the Legion and he comes here to visit at the inn. You know him better than me and I would like you to keep an eye on him to see if he is getting worse. I would also like you to hinder him from dragging people into this if he gets worse. Especially people like Tullius, I know Tullius is a very loyal friend of Lorgar and if Lorgar drags him into his quest against these imaginary enemies..." He let Gracchus finish the rest of the sentence himself. "....War could erupt." Gracchus downed his brandy in one go, not worried about his company being offended. "I'll keep an eye on him. Maybe next time he comes here I can talk to him, figure out what's wrong." "Just be careful in how you approach, I doubt he will just open up about this, this isn't something anyone would want to admit to." He took another large sip that left just a couple of drops in the glass. "And try not to make it worse. Worst case will require that you return to your post as general just to help keep things from collapsing." Gracchus sat his glass down, and clasped his hands together. "I will be leaving for Hanmerfell in the coming weeks, so anything that happens you will have go deal with. Dales wants me to set up an ambassador exchange." "Of course. But as I said, worst case will require that you come back. Lets just hope it wont come to that. And when you speak with him, be careful about mentioning me. After the accusations I think that bringing me up in the discussion would more likely end up as fuel for this imagination of his." He then drank up the last drops of the liqueur. "I'll be sure to tread lightly. I would hope that it won't come to blows." Gracchus leaned back, letting out a sigh as he did. "Our new empire is so fragile, and to ruin it in its infancy would be tragic. These coming times will try us, and we must be prepared to weather the storm. Our empire must stand, and you and Lorgar are in the best position to keep it together, and you must try and fix this. For Dales, and for the Empire." "And I get the feeling that this is only the beginning." Skjari had the glass levitate down to the table as he rose up from the chair. "I think it's best for me to take my leave now. Goodbye." "Goodbye..." Gracchus watched as Skjari left, his faced downcast and solemn. "The Empire must stand..."