Civil War Aftermath Chapter 3: Season's End

[TheCzarsHussar]

Gracchus, Dales

Imperial Palace
Afternoon

Dales was currently dressing herself, and unlike those pampered Milk-drinkers at court, she didn't need maids to do it. She was getting into her blue and violet dress. She was going to spending most of the day in the gardens, with Nami. She just had to deal with some business with General Ceno first, she suddenly heard knocking, and her door guard, William, voice could be heard,

"Your Excellency, Lord-General Ceno is hear."

"Good, William send him in..."

Gracchus entered, dressed in his silver and black Imperial General's chest plate with his silver cape, the dragon emblem in black on the back.

He took a deep bow.

"Hello, your majesty."

"Good day to you general." She spoke in a firm, yet friendly voice. She smiled slightly before saying,

"I'm...quite busy today, so if you wouldn't mind. I would very much like to get straight into business"

"Of course. The courier didnt specify what exactly you wanted to see me for, so you'll probably want to start with that."

Gracchus grabbed a chair and sat down, facing the Empress.

"I need you to go to Hammerfall, and organize them sending a ambassador over to the Imperial City."

Gracchus was mildly shocked, as he hasn't expected to be returning to Hammerfell any time soon.

"Will that be my only duty? I'd heard that they were somewhat trepidatious at the Nord alliance with us."

"Yes." Sensing the shock emitting from him she quietly said,

"If you dont want to do it, I could send Tullius or Lorgar to handle it."

"No, mi'lady, I will be more than happy to oblige."

Gracchus looked at his boots, somewhat nervous to ask the question on his mind.

"If I may, your majesty, I recently discovered my elderly mother is still alive...and I would like to stay here in the Imperial City a little longer before I go."

"Your mother? If you want to spend time with her, it's no problem I'll send someone else."

Gracchus sighed, somewhat flustered that the Empress wished someone else to go.

"No, I am glad you chose me, I just would like to wait a little before I go. Unless you wanted me to leave immediately, I would gladly wait a week or two."

"Of course..."

Gracchus stroked his goatee for a moment, before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, and spoke softly to the princess.

"Is everything alright? You seem to be, if you'll pardon me, somewhat uptight, rigid almost."

"Duty, dear General, duty..." And with that, Dales stretched out and said,

"Now if are business is done, dear Gracchus, I have things to attend to."

Gracchus stood, and bowed again.

"I will leave you then. But a word of advice, Dales. Have fun. You've worked so hard up to this point, changing the entire philosophy of the Empire, and you owe it to yourself to have fun. But duty must come first."

Gracchus walked to the door, but turned around and said, "I'll leave in a week of two. I'll be sure to send word of my arrival via letter if I can. Good day Empress."

[TheCzarsHussar]

Honmund, Aenin

Gallows Rock

Midday

 

The outer wall of Gallows Rock appeared before them, with the sentry yelling to the rest that the "boss was in sight". Moments later, a figure he'd recognize at a mile away peeked over the walls. Even from here, Honmund could see the scolding expression on her face. He smiled; nothing like being around her.

As soon as Frei had appeared, she disappeared again, probably to work on her alchemy. She seemed to have little interest in what went on around her, as long as people left her alone. Well, left her alone to the degree that it didn't interfere with said people getting her the ingredients she wanted. In truth, Honmund couldn't understand her all that much. Or how they had ever gotten involved. The meeting? Sure, he knew that part; she was stranded in his territory after a shipwreck, which was far from unusual, but how fast she had moved to the top of his group was more than a little unnerving. Sometimes he felt that she could have overthrown him at any time, but kept him around because it was better for her to have someone else in charge. Would give her more time to the Alchemy.

His group passed through the outer gates of the fortifications that had been erected. As usual, all people who passed by gave him a bow or raised their right arm to their chest as a sign of respect. Frei was nowhere to be seen, surely back in her lab.

"Honmund! Sir!" an Imperial came running over to him. "Sir, I have bad news. One of our scouts says that one of the groups we were about to absorb was attacked by a Stormcloak General."

"And when are you going to get to the part which is important?" Honmund shot back with an annoyed tone. Why couldn't people just get to the point? He didn't give two Dunmer whore's asses about one of these small bandit groups before they were a part of his army. And the groups had their orders for such situations.

"Yes, Sir... the man who attacked them, a general we think, is on his way towards Eastmarch."

Honmund lifted an eyebrow. "So he might have heard rumors about us. Great, now we'll have to deal with the army. If we're lucky, this guy is amendable to reason. If not, he is dead and so are we. Aenin," he turned to the man who had led the rearguard of his band. "What do you think?"

"Hmm...I don't like it. We don't know anything about this General or how he'll act. The only General I've heard of is Galmar Stone-Fist and Baldur Red-Snow. Don't know much about the latter. The former isn't likely to be very trusting of us. But, we have to make contact with them eventually. And it's not like we have a choice in the matter. Either we meet him now or he destroys our base. But you already knew all of that, Honmund. You pretty much got it. Confront him and hope he sees reason. Doubt he'd want to lose men if he can afford not to." said Aenin, who was a bit on edge. He wasn't sure what Honmund's mood would be like. Probably not good if all this didn't go down well. We was in charge of the activities of the men while Honmund was away. If this went south, it would be on him.

"not entirely true, what you said. I've been given a quick briefing on the generals in the Stormcloak army by one of my contacts. Unless he's newly promoted, we'll have some basics about him, if we can find out his name."

Honmund waved to Aenin to follow him into the keep, and implicitly to his private quarters. What Frei had said not too long ago made him a tad more careful around this camp, just in case. Once there, the only company they had was Frei herself, and the sounds coming from her table.

"Honmund, love, you're back," without even looking up she addressed him in a distant tone. "Could you order that mer-blooded moron that follows you around to get me more of the standard items? I am starting to run low on them. Ohh, you're here," she gave Aenin a quick glance. "Well? You heard me."

"Mer-blooded moron? Y-, uh...I mean..."

Aenin looked from Frei to Honmund, not exactly sure which to listen to. He always hated when that happened. Angering Frei was never a good idea, so he figured he'd try yielding to her more, dispite her insult. Aenin bit his lip for his mistake and tried to rectify it immediately.

"I mean, of course. Honmund wanted to speak with me but if you want me to go fetch your items..."

"You stay here. Frei, go tell one of the others to get your stuff, Aenin is mine in the near future," Honmund dismissed her orders with a gesture of his hand, showing Aenin to a chair by a table. Sometimes that woman was insufferable. But she still listened to him, most of the time. And if he needed someone to do something important she had the perspective to stay out of it. Letting Honmund run this gang equaled her being left alone, so he still had the final say in most cases.

She scoffed and put aside whatever it was that she was working on, before she walked out of the room with a roll of her eyes. Why was she here again? Honmund often had to ask himself that. Of course, the answer was self-evident, even without the personal reasons; she was a brilliant alchemist. Her recipes and potions alone brought in a lot of gold through trade, and she kept the place disease free.

"So," Honmund continued, taking a seat across the small table from Aenin. "You're in the Legion, and the Stormcloaks are based on them. What do you suggest? I have my own thoughts, but I'd like to hear yours."

Aenin leaned back in the chair and thought about it for a while. How he'd respond in the Legion sometimes blurred with how he'd respond now. But it eventually came to him.

"Well, it generally depends on who you're dealing with. If it were any typical general or legate from the legion, they'd likely give you the speech of never surrendering, but after being pressed, they'd see reason and give in for the sake of their men. Legion leaders are taught to take care of their men. They wouldn't sacrifice them needlessly. If this guy was in the legion, he'd likely do the same. Especially if he's new. Wouldn't look good to lose all your men so early. But then again....this is Skyrim. The only thing these nords respect is strength. You know that better than anyone. You show what...he may be willing to speak out of respect of a fellow nord warrior. In fact, yea that would be the better idea. You ever play chicken, boss?"

"You assume much, saying that Nords only respect strength. Hopelessly lacking in nuance, even if it is technically true. I've been in most ports in Skyrim and Morrowind, and I've come to realize that the Nords of Skyrim realize that strength can mean a lot of things. You'd do well to remember that, now that we are playing this game of generals and warlords."

Honmund walked over to his cabinet and took out a couple of bottles of mead. It was Honningbrew, with snowberries. He'd preferred the Honningbrew over the Black Briar ever since he came to Skyrim. Still, not quite Ashfire, but still good enough. Maybe a little harder than he should, he put the bottle meant for Aenin on the table in front of him.

"Chicken? The closest thing to a game I played was 'I'm going to beat you until you fight back'. I grew up in Thirsk and later among Reavers."

Aenin smiled slightly, knowing that his words hit a nerve a bit. But he wouldn't press the matter further.

"Chicken is when you and another person mount horses and you place a bet on who will chicken out first after you charge eachother head on. No matter how big your balls are, you always veer off just before impact. And no one thinks any less of either side. I think that if we catch him off guard and put him in a position that would cause him to lose many of his men, then he'd be a lot more likely to listen to reason, as long as you don't ask for his surrender. Because we'd also likely lose a lot of men and neither side would really win. Basically, we'll both veer off."

Honmund noticed the little smile that spread across the lips of the battlemage, but knew that he'd have the last laugh. If Aenin thought he'd be able to hit a nerve that easily, he'd be surprised. But it did serve as a confirmation that Aenin knew better than to ignore what he had said, which was good enough for now.

"So, we're essentially in agreement here; the best way to deal with this general is to appeal to his reason. We need to get out scouts, to see where he is going, and we need to prepare both this camp and Mistwatch for siege and to send reinforcement. if we're lucky, it is not us he is after, but we can't count on that."

he took a sip of the mead, after taking in the smell. He didn't notice anything strange about it, so none of the more obvious poisons had been added to it. Frei had though him that the deadliest poisons were the ones you didn't notice, but he wasn't that paranoid. Besides, only he and Frei had the keys to this room and Frei could have just put the poison in the potions she regularly gave him. For her, using the mead would have been a waste of time. Besides, Frei often complained that she was the only one who knew anything about alchemy around here and had no one to talk about it with. 

"You should also try to convince him that we're not ordinary bandits. In fact we should stop thinking of us as such. We're...a warrior band. Like the Companions. Yea, I like that. That's what we tell him. That way he gets the idea. We're here to help for mutual benefit. Surely he'll see the wisdom in what we're doing. Putting the lowlives of this land to good use. After your little speech, I'm sure the men are already getting the idea. Unless this general is stupid, he should see reason. Even if he is a nord general." Aenin let slip another smirk. It was dangerous, but Aenin liked to test Honmund every now and then. It was good practice for his self control. Another instance of Aenin "helping" when it wasn't asked of him.

Honmund just rolled his eyes. The small jabs from the Breton were too easy to see through, which was why he hadn't already taken him out in the courtyard and beat him to a bloody pulp for being disrespectful.

"Yes, because I have treated this band like bandits," there was a tone of sarcasm to his voice. It was true though, he hadn't treated them like bandits at all. They were an army. Small for an army, for now, but still an army bigger than most warlords ended up with before they either became officially recognized or killed. But presenting themselves as a group of warriors who where whipping the lowlives into shape was a good way to present it to the Stormcloaks.

"You haven't treated them as such, but what we're doing here is rather unusual for this day and age. A lot of the new men see it as just another bandit gang, albeit more professional. The Reavers were just another bandit gang, I was just another bandit leader. Even if the people of Skyrim knew all there was to know about us, they'd still see us as outlaws. I.E. bandits. Hmm...I wonder. How many nords does it take to tell the difference between a bandit gang and a warrior band? Haha! Guess we'll find out."

"Outlaws? The past of each man and woman here, yes. But we are not breaking any laws, since we only target other outlaws. We make most of our money trading, not pillaging. But I see your point. We'll have to see what he thinks. If only we had his name, then we'd get an idea about him."

He looked over at Frei's alchemy lab. It was a lot more extensive than those you commonly found, to suit her needs. Why she needed such an advanced setup was beyond him, like most of what she did on it.

"This group seems to have been more at home in High Rock, than Skyrim."

"They'll get over it. And as for the outlaw comment, once an outlaw always an outlaw. At least in spirit. At most, you can suppress it. But never assume it's gone fer good. Should I prepare the men to move out? Also, I can have some scouts go ahead of us and see if they can't get us a description of this general." said Aenin as he stood from his chair, anxious to get things moving.

"If you think that you cannot change a man, you've seen little. Are you really the same as you were in the Legion?"

"Hmm..." Aenin started to rub his chin as he pondered on the question. "Maybe I was always this way, Honmund. Maybe I just finally let myself out of the cage."

"Maybe. I've never been one to fight for something like I am now, but now I see it as natural. Just as natural it was for me to run my own little Reaver band. You my not believe it, but I believe what I said in the speech, even if I wouldn't have a year ago. A man can change, Aenin, remember that."

He took another sip of the mead. It was still nearly full; he hadn't been in the mood to drink lately. "Anyway, you do what you need to do. I'm gonna see if I can't make Frei purr like a cat."

More like howl like a bitch. Shouldn't be hard.

"Will do, Boss. You have fun."

Aenin made his way out finally, leaving Honmund to himself. He doubted full well that men could change. But then again, Honmund had proven him wrong before. If this was gonna work in the long run, he'd need to be right.

[TheCzarsHussar]

Maggie and Skjari

Imperial Palace

before dawn

 

Maggie lay awake next to the Witch King, watching him.  He slept deeply, like mortals, though she could hardly think of him as such.  It was still a mystery to her what he was.

He was quite unlike anything she had experienced.  She had only rarely slept with those of her own kind, which brought with it too many complications and expectations.  The mortals whom she could easily manipulate were safer.  Nor did she need to be here for the sake of influence in the palace.  The empress was generous enough to her without that, and had made it clear earlier that day that Maggie could have more influence with her if she wanted.  So why had she left the empress and gone to Skjari?  It was bad business for a courtesan to offer herself to someone without gaining something of real value in it.  Her allure was as much in making men believe they couldn't have her as that they could.

There was some safety here.  He was the closest thing she had to a peer without Order connections, which were all tainted by her father's pull.  Perhaps that was reason enough.  And the sex...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the wizard's expression changing.  He was still deep asleep, but his face hardened and his teeth clenched.  Maggie watched, fascinated.  He was dreaming.  It was no pleasant dream, judging by the tension in his expression.  Should she wake him?

Maggie rose from the bed and threw on the dressing gown she now kept in his quarters, then sat back down on the bed.  "My lord," she ventured quietly.  When he didn't react, she reached out a hand, touching his chest.  "Skjari."

Skjari opened his eyes and quickly sat up like he was going to rush out of the bed. He breathed heavily for a second like he was catching his breath and then let out a sigh. He brought his right up and rubbed his eyes with thumb and index finger, he had a troubled expression on his face. Not a word came from his mouth but he instead stared down towards the footing of the bed with eyes filled with fear and sorrow.

Maggie watched him a while, then stood and poured a glass of water, brought it back to the bed and reached it out to him.  "A dream, my lord.  Whatever it was, it's in the past now."  She waited, then added, "Perhaps long past?"

He grabbed the glass and instead of drinking the water he splashed it into his face then shook the head a little. "A long past... that never stops haunting my dreams," he said with a distant and slightly bitter voice.

With the back of her fingers, Maggie gently brushed at the dripping water on his neck.  "This happens often?"

"Every night." He closed his eyes and let his head drop.

Astonished, Maggie let her hand fall to his shoulder, though not seductively as she otherwise might, rather a comforting gesture. "That is why I am here," she said, hazarding a guess.

"Yes." He did not lift his head or even open his eyes when he spoke in a tone that sounded like he had tasted defeat.

Withdrawing her hand, Maggie said, "Not for the same reasons, but I suppose it is that for me, as well.  My time with you...  It is difficult for me to admit, but I have rarely felt..."  She stopped, then began again.  "With you I can forget myself, for a time.  That is most unusual."

Skjari was quiet for a couple of seconds before looking up at Maggie. "Hard life?"

"Some would call it pampered.  Still, there are many expectations put on me, and always the illusions I must maintain in society.  Power comes at a cost."  She glanced at him.  "Do you still see her?  Is it she who appears in your nightmares?"

"Sometimes."

Maggie considered this.  "In my book I wrote that you grew weary of life and put yourself in the twilight sleep once you had a successor who could take your place.  But I think that this was not correct.  You saw your kingdom fall?"

He chuckled a little, seemingly amused for a second before it faded away. "For all my failings, that was not one them. But it wouldn't have surprised me if it fell one year after I left."

"You had a son then?"  Maggie stretched out again next to him, propping her head on her hand.

"No, I never had a child but..." He was quiet for a couple of seconds. "She was..." His eyes grew distant as if he had lost himself in a memory.

"She was with child," the countess supplied quietly.  That explained a great deal.  "What about your family?  Did you have brothers, sisters?"

"Dead," he said in a bitter tone. "All dead."  He then looked at her. "What about you?"

"I have a brother and a sister."  Maggie paused, then added, "That I know about."

She sat up again, and stood, slowly walking across to the window.  They were high above the Imperial City, and the sun was beginning to come up, catching the glint off Lake Rumare.  "I cannot say that I'm glad for them.  Our power may seem petty compared to what you once held, but that makes it more difficult to share it.  Impossible, perhaps."  Glancing back at the bed, she asked, "Could you have destroyed your own family, if they were your enemies, instead of the elves you battled?"

"And what would we have fought over? Wood? My family were woodcutters, and they died before I could even grow my first chin hair."

"You were a commoner."  This surprised her more than anything he had yet revealed.  "Then who taught you to wield magic?  I can't imagine this was a common art among the woodcutters of ancient Skyrim."

He had an empty stare in his eyes as he spoke. "No, but everything I had and knew was destroyed in one of the elves' raids.  Alone and close to starvation, I was found out in the wilderness by a coven.  At first it was similar to a mage guild except that they had some minor studies in necromancy.  The leaders were three female mages, later they became witches and then hagravens in their quest for power."  His mind was screaming for him to shut up, but the words just flowed out of his mouth.  "That's where I met her.  But she was framed by one the three elven members and she was executed, while all I could do was watch.  A few years later I killed the hagravens and took over.  Soon thereafter I ran an army and later ruled the whole of Skyrim."

This was more words than the wizard had spoken to her since she'd known him.  "You made your own destiny from the ashes," Maggie said, her voice more animated than she intended.  "I envy your freedom, Skjari, though you suffered a great deal for it to come about.  You answer to no one.  Not even to the empress who brought you here."

He had now lost the empty stare and looked at her with a slight curiosity in his eyes. "And how did you become what you are now?"

"My father conducted the rite."  These were secrets that she had never spoken aloud to anyone, and her life would be forfeit if it were known that she had, but the words came out anyway.  "It is a death of sorts, so you can imagine that it isn't pleasant.  I woke from a days-long nightmare with more vigor and clarity than I'd ever possessed, but hungry.  So hungry.  He brought my nanny, who'd been my wetnurse when I was a baby.  She probably always knew what would happen to her someday when she was no longer needed, but it wasn't necessary to make me do it.  That was my father's idea of a test.  I drank her dry.  Mother's milk for my new life.  I was eighteen years old."

Maggie found that she was shaking.  She sank into a chair.  "Power always comes at a cost.  That was some twenty years before you and I met in the ruin."

"I always felt I paid my price long in advance. Did you grow up in the mountains or in Skingrad?"

Recovering her calm, Maggie answered, "Mostly in the mountains.  I was sent into the world sometimes, disguised or as an unknown, in order to prepare me.  Otherwise all I would have known of the world was my own family, and wouldn't have made a very convincing performance in high society.  I spent some time in a Breton brothel learning the arts of a courtesan, for instance.  Skingrad was always where we meant to live.  My extended family has long ruled there in one form or another."  She paused and said, "You have kept your vigor, more than the usual shriveled old wizard.  I think you must have slept for a long time, yes?"

He looked away, out the window. "I don't even know how old I am.  All I know is that was born before Ysgramor and Atmora." He turned his eyes back at her.  "What happened with you after we parted ways in my old ruin?"

She smiled ruefully.  "I had a bit of trouble over that little adventure.  Somehow my father found out about our meeting.  He must have been watching us.  I was locked in my rooms and saw no one but him for months afterward, other than a servant who was forbidden to speak to me.  That is when I wrote your story, or what I imagined your story to be.  Maybe you can understand why that chance meeting always meant something to me.  Of course I could have gone into the twilight sleep myself if I had wanted to, but I dislike it.  As you said, you wake and don't know how much time has passed or what has happened to the world.  Was Skyrim very changed when you saw it again?"

"That explains why I felt that there was something... else in the ruin." He smiled a little for half a second. "You can imagine the surprise when I saw that my old citadel and the whole capital was gone and found frozen wasteland in it's place. Winterhold was warmer back then, but then again Haafingar and Hjaalmarch was colder. My biggest surprise though was that the dragons were gone. But that seemed to have changed now, I wonder if some of them still remember me."

"I studied the events in Skyrim a bit for my latest book, but I'm not sure how much of it is true.  They've been hunted nearly to extinction once more.  If the stories are true, then most of them will never come back again.  That seems a great shame to me, even if it was necessary.  In your time, did you know these dragons as friends or enemies?"

"I wouldn't call any of them friends. But I wouldn't say we were their enemies. Although they weren't nice creatures they were viewed as children of Bormahu, or Akatosh as he is now called, our most revered god. But the Dragon Temple was crumbling when I took power because of daedric cults cropping up in the land. I wiped out these cults and reinstated the Dragon Temple as the dominant religion in Skyrim. The Dragon Temple even forged and blessed my sword as a form of thanks. And being on the dragons good side proved useful as a few even aided me in the my wars. Though I can honestly say that Alduin was quite an arrogant prick to deal with." He did a small frown with his face as he mentioned Alduin.

Maggie laughed at his choice of words.  "The immortal has a hard time respecting the mortal.  Perhaps if there were more still living who could speak with the dragons, this latest war with them would have taken another course.  You will have noticed the dragon symbolism here in our capital.  My Heartland forefathers were slaves to the elves, and owe their freedom to the dragon god, as the historians tell it.  Though my family are also of very old Nord lineage.  It would be interesting to know if yours and mine were linked somehow."  She recalled something from her discussion with the ghost in the ruin, and said, "Tell me of your 'Wraiths.'  Your sentry spoke of them."

"They were my elite. Some of the-, if not the best magicians and swordsmen in the land. It was largely due to them that I managed to hold onto power for so long. They could work as spies, assassins, soldiers, guards and so on. They were like an extension of myself." He did not like what she could ask next and decided to change subject. "Why did you start writing books?"

Maggie had more questions about his magic, but guessed that he was changing the subject on purpose.  Since she recalled his warning about having destroyed all knowledge of how he maintained his power, it was better left alone.  To his question she replied, "My mother liked to write.  Letters, mostly. I was so lonely that I would take and read them, too.  From that and inspired by the history and story books in our library, I began to create stories of my own.  In writing I was free.  I could go anywhere, and make up lives more interesting than my own."

With a little smile she added, "I found out much later that my father employed clerks to write to my mother, pretending to be all sorts of people.  There were few real correspondents she could safely communicate with, back then.  I'm not sure that Mother would even mind if she knew.  I suppose that her letters quite like my novels in that way.  How was it that you found my book?  You recognized yourself in it?  Your name, Witch King, must have been a clue."

"I heard about a book, and the description of it's story was something I found to be too similar to our little incident. So I decided to read it myself. I recognized some things about myself but also found some things to be the product of your wild imagination." He chuckled a little at the last part. "You mention your father quite a lot."

At mention of her father, Maggie's smile vanished.  "He's a powerful man.  Until recently I did not even realize how much.  I admire him, after a fashion, but there is no love between us.  If I don't satisfy his wishes, then eventually..."  She paused, finding it difficult to put to words.  "He will destroy me.  Perhaps sooner rather than later.  I'm reckless, he says, and that part is true.  However my greater crime is not bowing sufficiently to his control.  His pride cannot bear that."

"You sure know how to make friends with the nicest of people," he said in a sarcastic tone.

Laughing, Maggie replied,  "Don't I now.  Welcome to Cyrodiil, Lord Skjari.  Though I imagine it is much the same anywhere where there is power for people to fight over.  The Thalmor have been manipulating these power balances for over thirty years, and now you and the empress have shifted things yet again.  Are you confident in her?"

"I think she will manage. And even though Cyrodiil is quite different from my old kingdom I think my experience will be able to help her with that. But now I think we've had enough talk but not enough action." He smiled a little devious smile with the right corner of his mouth.

"Are you weary of my talking?"  Maggie smiled coyly and rose to her feet, the dressing gown falling half open as she did so.  She took her time in crossing to his side of the bed.

Reaching out a hand, she stroked his cheek with one finger.  "Sometime when you are weary of this whole city, you must let me show you a bit of Cyrodiil.  We can go in secret if you wish.  Perhaps you would be interested in the doomstones."  As she spoke, Maggie's finger trailed from his cheek to his chest, and she began to climb on top of him.  "They have little magical power, but are a strange curiosity nonetheless.  There is a Dragon Stone..."  Leaning forward, Maggie touched his forehead with her lips, then moved slowly along his cheek on the way to his mouth.  "And a Lover's Stone.  I would especially like to show you that one."

It was all too obvious, as her tongue slid along his lip, what she envisioned doing there.

[TheCzarsHussar]

Lorgar, Samuel,

Imperial City,

Evening,

 

Lorgar waited under a tree. He was in one of the many gardens of the newly restored Talos plaza district. It was raining very heavily, and it was extremely cloudy. He wore his typical outfit, along with a hat called a "beret" which was getting extremely popular to wear in the legion. He was smoking a cigar, waiting for the vampire known as Samuel.

"Lorgar," the sound of Samuel's voice came from behind the tree as the man walked around and took a seat beside him. "Still smoking I see. Well, you'll have to forgive me; my old habits made me take a small souvenir from your office, but I am afraid it is already gone. I needed it for a special occasion, you understand."

"Of course, If you needed a Cigar, you could have asked though..." Lorgar took another puff, and let the rain fall freely down upon him. It  felt quite nice. The noise of rain was pleasing to the ear, as an added Bonus.

"I have two important matters to discuss with you sir, one of which would be considered high treason."

"Then you should have chosen a better place than this. I can count three people from the Thieves Guild, all of them able to move unsuspiciously into ears range on a moments notice, one of the nobles who are trying to get in the new Empress' good graces so he can secure a better place for his family in the world and four people who are reporting to me and my network. If you want to discuss anything of importance with me, go to Tanie's establishment and ask for Alef."

Samuel whispered, before he got to his feet and simply walked away, leaving Lorgar alone.

"'****..." Lorgar straightened out his Beret, and headed to the "establishment" in the rain (Or whorehouse as Tullius called it). 

 

***

 

Lorgar went to the counter, and asked the lady-in charge,

"Excuse me ma'em. I need to see one of your girls, Alef?"

"What? Oh, right... Sorry, I was a bit distracted. Who was you looking for again?" the woman who had been behind the counter when Dales had visited looked at the Nord, with a feint blush on her cheeks. It was never fun to be caught off guard, but she had managed to hide what she was doing. 

"Alef." 

"Oh, right, the Dunmer," with a smile she raised an eyebrow at him; it was clearly only meant to be a friendly comment. "A Nord with a Dunmer? That is... unusual. I think I like the thought of that."

"Ironic..." Lorgar eyes hardened. He himself remembered all the tales of abuse the Dumner faced in Stormcloak controlled holds. He personally thought, that it was over played for imperial proganda, but if it was true, it disgusted him. But, rumors are rumors, and he wasn't really been to any Stormcloak controlled holds during the Civil war, so he cant confirm or deny the tales 

"If you would be so kind to point me to her..."area". I would also prefer to pay in advance if you don't mind."

"Oh, she's the one who'll show you to her 'area', I can't go in there with you. But I'll show you to her room. Follow me."

Lorgar followed the woman up a flight of stars, and into a hall way.

"Here you go, Sir," at the end of the hallway, she pointed to the door. She sounded a little nervous. Did she recognize him? Or was she always like that? "Now, i'll better get back to the front. Have a good time."

Lorgar didn't respond, as he advanced down the hall way. Once he got there,  he slowly opened the door.

The room was empty, or so it appeared at first glance. But Samuel hadn't made any effort to hide himself, beyond being invisible in case someone came it, and had even brought out his fake heartbeats to let Lorgar know that he was in the room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he'd turn visible.

Lorgar, detected somone in the area. A heart beat. He hated games. Two silver short-blades came out of the sleeves of his trench coat, and into his leather gloved hands. Just to show the vampire he wasn't in the mood to **** around,

"I hate games, show yourself Samuel."

"Not a game, Lorgar, just a precaution. I wouldn't want someone walking in here and see me, unless it was you. That much should be self-evident."

Samuel appeared in a chair by the window. The only other place to sit would be the bed itself, and Samuel gestured to it. "Please, take a seat so we can get to business. Don't worry, I've muffled the room."

The two silver short blades disappeared from Lorgar's hands and back into his coat. Lorgar walked towards the bed, and cautiously took a seat.

Now, you said you wanted to commit high treason. And something else. Please, do start with the minor of these, I prefer to not have the high treason plans overshadowing the other thing."

"A squad of Vigilants are causing a ruckus in the Imperial City. My agent's tell me there hunting something. They don't know what....but apparently , one of them was seen showing a certain book to a merchant, asking questions. That book...was Camille. Who or what are they after?"

"Ah, Trym Heart-Hand," Samuel shook his head a little. "He's after me and Maggie. And any other vampire in the city. We have the situation under control, as far as that is possible. You getting involved would only make things worse; Vigilants are not above declaring you worthy of being put to the Light, as they would say."

Lorgar's face filled with worry at the mention of Maggie, but soon went back to it's normal stoic self.

"If you have it under control, I wont meddle...."

Lorgar started to stroke his beard, before saying half-jokingly, "This whole incident was caused by Camilla, right? Cant fathom how some Yuri could cause such trouble for you and Maggie."

"A book that contained a plot that was in the range of what the Order is. While I don't believe this is a deliberate choice by Maggie, anyone who knows a thing or two about vampires would be suspicious of the book itself. And anyone hunting the Order would likely try to get in contact with Ro- I mean Magdela. However, I am not convinced this book is the only reason he is after us. Anyway, this is a matter you best stay out of. Involving yourself will make it worse for Maggie; it would bring too much attention to this issue."

"As I said, I wont mettle." Lorgar's face filled with dread, as he switched topics, "Now if that's settled...I found some...very disturbing information in a book"

"And said information is?" Samuel raised an eyebrow, looking more interested in him getting to the point, rather than going around it

"The book in question was...extremely old. Dated 2nd era I found it at a rare books store, I was on a date-outing with someone. It's called "Forgotten Magic's of Tamriel. One thousand gold pieces later, and hours of reading it...it talked about, in detail a man know not for his name or face, only that he most likely lived in the Metheric era. It talked about...binding rituals....very similar to what the court mage appartley used on Empress Dales. Furthermore, I don't care how the mage learned such magic, but it went into...gruesome details on the type of magic, and control the spell holds over the person.

"And now you want to make a move against the new court mage in the White-Gold."

"I can’t let that man control Dales, I won’t. As her sworn servant, I must protect her, and this man is currently a massive threat to her."

"But since she is controlled by the court mage, acting against him will have you charged with high treason. Sounds like a familiar position. In its own way, it is a lot like the Stormcloaks rebellion against the Empire; they too couldn't do what they thought was right without being considered traitors. But I need more than that if I am going to help you. I need specifics on how you hope to accomplish this. And I need to know why you thought it to be a good idea to come to me with this. After all, I am an information broker. Trusting me with anything has its risks. I am not saying I have any intentions of betraying you, merely trying to understand why you act as you do.”

"Because...I have no other choice. I'm taking a gamble with you...And yes, I have a basis to start on a way to unbind Dales, if you hear me out,"

Samuel looked at him, now with a raised eyebrow. Not in a skeptical way, but one that told Lorgar that he wanted him to go on without having to say the word.

"According to the book, on the ancient Nordic tablet that described the magic, the words "Sil Cairn" were on it. "Sil Cairn" roughly translates into "Soul Cairn" in common."

Lorgar folded his hands, "I presume you know what the Soul Cairn is, master Samuel?"

"I know about as much as any mortal can I suppose, but I never was a necromancer. I don't have any intimate understanding of the place; you'd want a master of the arts of necromancy for that."

"Of course. I researched it intensely at the arcane university, and talked to a few former Synod members. The Soul Cairn is a realm of Oblivion, independent of any Daedric prince and ruled instead by a group of mysterious figures only known as the "Ideal Masters". Details on the geography of the place is extremely sketchy at best, with only a tiny description appearing in the infamous  "Doors of Oblivion" being described as "Dark, and horrifying, filled with Undead monstrosities" . Anyway's what I did gather, was almost all the magic that is drawn from there is powered by soul gems, as a "price" you have to pay to the Ideal masters. However, while most soul gems are consumed when used, some powerful spells require the soul gem to be active and remain, as a conduit for the spell. Binding someone's soul to your very essence and obey your every order fits that criteria."

"And you want my help in finding out if he is indeed using a soul gem, and, if that is the case, how you can interrupt the magic so the Empress can be free of his control. This is a very extensive task you want me to carry out, Lorgar. Even for me this would be extremely difficult, meaning it would be extremely expensive for you."

"Half-right, I can figure out the second part myself.  And for the first part, I can give you a starting point. The mage mentioned, taking the "Princess somewhere" safe to perform the ritual, meaning he has a lair of some sorts. Which is most likely located somewhere in his homeland, Skyrim. And about the money, I can afford it. Blackwood was a...very wealthy fief when I acquired it. Add that with my salary afforded by both my position as Lord-Major and Royal Spymaster...let's just say I need somewhere to spend my money."

Lorgar slowly took out a cigar, lighted it, and smoked. He eyed Samuel warily, "You don't have to take the job."

"I doubt it," Samuel replied, referring to the comment about Lorgar being able to figure out the part about how to interrupt the spell himself. "This is magical power up and beyond that of any normal practitioner of the arts. Simply disrupting the spell might have severe side-effects on the Empress. If her soul is tied to him, the last thing you want to is to act without knowing what can happen. And you can't go to any official groups about this, in case the court mage finds out. And I do have to take the job, at least from your perspective. Without me and my resources, your attempts will have failed before they begun."

" Very True. But it won’t stop me trying on my own." 

"Of course not, even though it should. But I suppose it doesn't matter. The price for the job is 25,000 gold, plus potential additional fees, depending on how difficult it turns out to be."

"Expensive, but everything of such value is. Deal."

Lorgar's eyes darkened, "But don't double cross me. If you do...it'll be more then a punch in the face from me." Lorgar left those words Ambiguous.

Samuel regarded him with what seemed to be... amusement? That couldn't be right, could it? "Lorgar, you're making a pointless threat. Disappointing really. If I chose to cross you, I'd be thorough enough to make sure you wouldn't be in a position to take revenge on anyone. You might be a powerful creature, but there is more than just physical power. And you are threatening someone who has defeated more powerful people than you without ever lifting a blade. Be mindful of who you are talking to, the next time you feel like threatening someone. In the Imperial City... it rarely serve you for the better. There is so much red tape here that this can easily be described as the heart of my power. And if you want to know what that means, you can always ask Marius why he left the Imperial Legion."

"Physical power, as you call it, has won conflict after conflict, on the other side, so had words and other forms of non-violence. But heed me vampire, I'm not an idiot as I seem to be, I can lie very well. And I also know about what happened at that camp in Falkreath. Unlike Marius, vengeance doesn't blind me, you treated the situation as business, he treated it personally. That's why he's probably drinking his sorrows away, or getting into some man-whores pants as we speak.  I treat this as business, and as long as you remember that, we'll be perfectly fine   Do you know how the chosen of Hircine gain power? They rip the hearts out of there prey." 

"It has indeed, but it cannot win every conflict. And it cannot win a conflict between the two of us. Even if you kill me now, you've doomed yourself. The best you can get is a draw, and that is if I don't manage to escape. Not to mention that there are numerous failsafe plans in the case of my death in my network. But don't worry; this is just business. Now, unless you intend to trigger said failsafes, I assume we are done here?"

"We are..."

Lorgar got off the bed, put his black Beret on, and walked towards the door.  Before leaving the room, he smiled, and flashed his fang-like teeth,

"Oh...I researched your name, through inquiries, I stumbled upon a very intimidating nick-name, "Demon of a thousand faces", does that ring a bell by any chance "Samuel"?

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"No...no I would not..." 

And with that Lorgar left the room.

[TheCzarsHussar]

Skjari, Samuel 

Imperial palace

Afternoon

 

Skjari was sitting by his desk rereading the previous court mage's journals for what have been the seventh time, he had lost track after the fourth time so it was only a guess. So far he couldn't find the clues he needed to to the riddle of divine fire. Suddenly he sensed someone nearby, his magical hold over the palace had increased and was the strongest around his quarters, and this someone was not among the living. It wasn't Maggie as he would have recognized her presence. This was someone, or something, else. The presence drew closer and closer till it was just outside the door and then he heard knocking. 

Whatever it is, it got some decency. Maybe one of Maggie's friends... or rivals. 

"Come in." He said as he closed the journal he was currently reading and had them fly over and place themselves in the bookshelf. 

The door opened and closed, but no one went through. To anyone else, this would have been strange, but Skjari could sense that someone was there and exactly where in the room. The figure of a tall, pale and dark haired Colovian appeared with one hand holding a ring.

"It seems we meet again, King."

"Enchantments are hard to suppress. Best way I know of is to drain the magic in the item, but even that is tricky. But what brings you here?" 

"They are indeed. Which is why they are so useful when moving around the palace. Since the magic is mostly internal to the item itself, there are few ways to disrupt it."

Samuel looked around the room for a split second, but didn't appear to see anything of interest. "I thought it was high time we met, in a more official capacity than the brief introduction in Skyrim. I had halfway expected you to react to my presence back then, but I suppose I'm getting better at masking it when I want to."

"Sorry but I was a bit dull back then, still is, but not as much." 

"Of course. You're not very talkative, are you? I suppose I wouldn't be either."

"I'm more talkative with people I can see come through the door."

"Come now, you surely know that seeing one with ones eyes is just one form of visibility. We both know that you could see me perfectly long before I knocked on your door. If you're going to take any offense to a convenience of mine when it comes to walking around the palace the few times I need to, I might as well leave right now; leaving you in the dark of some important information."

"I don't take offense, I just find that when someone enters the room like you do, I don't expect small talk." 

"Offering your perspective in more than a single sentence is hardly small talk. I know you haven't been here long, but being as dismissive as you appear will not serve you well in the heart of the Empire. You may not like to talk to people, but this is Cyrodiil. Words carry the society, such is the Voice of the Emperor."

"I'm being dismissive because you haven't brought up anything I find to be of interest. You said you had important information." He reminds me a little bit of Alduin. Or was it Paarthurnax? Which one liked to lecture like that? It was definitely Alduin, Paarthurnax was more patient. 

"And there is where your problem lies. This isn't Skyrim, and it certainly isn't the era you grew up in. The world has changed and will have no qualms breaking you down piece by piece if you're not mindful of that. If you lose your opportunity to control the Ruby Throne with Dales, you'll have blown your chances as long as the memories of this time remain."

Samuel had raised his eyebrow with a disappointed expression. "By now you should have some idea of who I am; I have made no effort to hide my presence and purpose from your gaze. However, your attitude suggests that you're either not competent enough to see something obvious, or you think yourself above what I can offer. Neither of which will serve you well."

"Take a seat and lets talk then. I don't think you came here to argue." 

Samuel deferred to his wish and pulled out the closest chair, changing his expression from the disappointed one to one that was simply neutral.

"Indeed, I did not. I did expect that you'd take the little time it would take to show me the same courtesy I have tried to show you by coming here, but maybe I expected too much. Surely the brief introduction we had in Skyrim must have been a moment of extreme hospitality on your part, if this is anything to judge it by. I had honestly expected better from a King when introduced to a potential ally."

"More like your invisible entry set my expectations for a direct approach to the matter, without formalities and courteous behavior. I think we need to take into consideration that we have different experiences. So I think we have slightly different ideas of what courtesy means. But lets talk about what you came for before we start arguing again."

"I don't believe you honestly think courtesy has to mean proper speech and a bow when I enter. Courtesy can, as I am sure you know, mean that I do take the risk of being caught trespassing in the palace in a time of social instability, on the verge of needing martial law," Samuel once more seemed to be a little disappointed in the host.

"I didn't come here for anything. I came here since I knew that sooner or later you would want me to show up, due to what is about to happen in this city, because I know who are behind it and what they are after. Tell me, who in the Imperial City do you consider the greatest threat to yourself or Dales?"

"Excuse me then, I've had a long day reading boring books." Skjari leaned back in his chair like he was relaxing for the first time in several hours. "I have a feeling of where this is going. Lorgar is up to something. I didn't expect him to make a move so soon. Did he contact you directly about this or did your spies dig it up?" 

"I knew you weren't as blind as you seemed to present yourself. Please, in the future, don't hold back on such things, it makes it easier to talk to you as an equal, rather than just another client. But yes, Lorgar is up to something and said something is a potential threat to your hand on the Ruby Throne."

Skjari's face got a thoughtful expression. "Only way for him to win is with a Pyrrhic victory. Though I doubt he will be able to see that or even care if he does see. So lets hear it then, so far I have a few guesses on what he's up to but I'm sure you know more precisely."  

"Lorgar is quite unstable, it seems. Or maybe it is that he is so stable that he cannot steer away from this. What is important is that he doesn't care about the risks involved to himself; what he does care about is the connection between you and the Empress, and how to separate the two of you. The only predictable thing is his goal, but I think he knows that he is on the verge of desperation. Or so I would say from our brief meeting about this subject. What actions he chooses to reach his goal is beyond my ability to predict, at this point."

"I think I know how to turn his desperation into his downfall. And so far I've only toyed with the idea of exposing his communing with Hircine. Say, how good are you at spreading rumors?" 

"One of the Speakers of the Dark Brotherhood from the time the Septims disappeared is reported to have said "Dear Brother, I do not spread rumors. I create them". If you want rumors of Lorgar being tied to Hircine in the city or in the country, I can easily arrange such a thing. He already provided me with the tools to make it happen, when he threatened me to not cross him. Describing oneself as one of Hircine's Chosen truly shows a lack of subtlety and caution.”

"Add a little hidden and unstable insanity about him to the rumors as well." He chuckled. "The irony is that none of these rumors will be directly false. And it will make things easier when people start to check up on them."

"Indeed," Samuel replied with a small smile. "Lorgar has done few favors for himself. Your dismissal of Words might be problematic in the long run, but his dismissal of caution and finesse can easily end him in a moments notice. In return, I ask that you no longer try to have me followed. I'd say that is a fair price to pay, considering what I have already given you."

"I had a feeling you might have noticed. I doubt I will find the need to keep a small eye on you if you stay true to your words here. Besides that eye will be more focused on Lorgar from now on, so I hope you don't mind if that eye falls upon you as well if he are ever in contact with him. But now if you spread these rumors carefully so he can't trace them back to either of us, I got some plans of what to do next but I first need to see Lorgar's reaction the consequences that will come of these rumors." 

"In about a week or so, a trader will come, reportedly having visited the island of Solstheim not too long ago, but most recently been in Skyrim and had to see the horrors of the war firsthand in Falkreath. Said trader will be accompanied by some associates and will find themselves in various taverns and inns on the way to the Imperial City, speaking just a tad too loudly about a man named Lorgar; said to be a Hircine worshiper from Solstheim that has infiltrated the courts. Given that he has, as far as I've been able to find out, been as he is his whole life, rumors about him making it around Solstheim is far from unreasonable. And not even a lie, though they usually cannot be tied to him in his present life. The mental instability is best spread as an exaggeration of his daedra worship. sometime after these rumors start to take hold."

"No need to rush things. Yet. I will try to slow him down with lots of extra work to keep him busy so he wont be able to plan or try to stop these rumors. He will barely have time to sleep. I don't really want to bother you with all the details of what I aim to do next and I'm sure you are able to make some good guesses anyway. Now is there anything you require of me?" 

"Not at the moment, but I would be grateful if I can call upon a favor of my choosing when the time comes. It is not something that will endanger you or your hold on the Ruby Throne, but it would be most useful for me when i need it. Carrying a little extra power is going to be needed, I think. For the time being, I believe we should steer clear of each other, even to the knowledge of people like Magdela Bathory. If you need to talk to me in a hurry, you can talk to Aleffea. She occasionally keeps the Empress with company."

"Who? And I would prefer if it doesn't endanger my homeland in any way as well." 

"Aleffea. I'm sure you'll recognize her; she is one of the very few elves around this palace. And don't worry about your homeland, this is a domestic matter of a... personal sort. That is all you need to know for now."

Skjari's face got hint anger, as did his voice. "An elf? I don't do well with elves. I think you need to find a new contact for me. I also advice you to remove her from Dales presence." 

Samuel raised an eyebrow at him, before he let out a short chuckle. "A hatred of Mer. I see. Doesn't matter to me; I never intended Aleffea to stay at this palace to begin with. Alas, your Empress chose to bring her here. That said, pulling Alef out is a triviality. Nor is offering to find a new contact for you to use. I'm sure you've been to bed with several of them, if the rumors about you bedding the servants are true."

"I have a history with elves. One that is covered in blood. So I hope you understand. And about the contact; you only need to give me a name then." 

"Sivera."

Skjari smiled a little. "I remember her, she is quite... No, I'm not going to share any details. But I can say she will probably work quite well as a contact."

"I'm sure. I recommend that you find a companion for the Empress of your own, now that Alef will no longer visit her. Seeing how her first reaction to Alef being willing to serve her was to make her a mistress, I'd be worried about what other pretty-face she might drag into the palace. I'm not the only one in the city with contacts, and there are people who would be very happy to get their hands on information from inside the palace. People who may try to use it to take the throne for themselves."

"I will keep a small eye on her. Though I get the feeling she wont be a problem."

"Right. I doubt she is even able to defy your orders. Still, information leaking can cause you a lot of damage in the long run, so I stand by my advice of finding a new bedmate for her yourself; one that you can trust."

"I'll try."

"Good. For this association to be beneficial on my end, I'll have to keep you in power. Whenever you need it, and I am in town, I am open to give you advice on the city and its politics, or see if I cannot pass on lists of nobles who support you and the ones who doesn't. Now, unless there was something else, I think our business here is concluded."

"Give my regards to Maggie."

"I can't, remember? This meeting is to stay between the two of us, for now. You'll see me the next time you need me... or when I come to call in my favor. Goodbye, King."

Samuel got to his feet and gave him a short bow, before he turned around and walked out the door. As the door closed behind him, he disappeared from sight.

[TheCzarsHussar]

Brutus, Endar, Jem

Kvatch Palace

Late evening

 

"The worms. It always comes back to that doesn't it? I'm a worm. Everyone's a worm. Everthing and nothing. All of it is nothing but a false reality, yet it is literally everything that matters. We are maggots within a maggot. Trying to eat our way out of this pathetic existence that we call life. Some of us make it out, only to find that the world outside of our world is just a collection of rotting corpses, festering within the bowls of yet another maggot! What beings would possibly be so cruel and remorseless to trap me here? Surrounded in this wriggling mass? Is there not a place where poor Brutus can go? Free to make my own illusion? A world like this but not like this where I can have a place that is free of such pestilence? Or is life just a series of worms within the bowels of other worms with no way out, no end in sight? What do you all think?"

Brutus sat in a pile of random women from around the hold. Some daughters, mothers, whores or just single women. All passed out from either liquor, exhaustion or both. Not all from Brutus of course, but there were a lot of stamina potions lying around, signifying that he did give it his best. Brutus being the kind fellow he is even invited some guards to give him a hand or two. Can't have the guests go home unsatisfied after all. That would not do at all. Brutus climbed up from the "wriggling mass of worms" as he heard a knock on his door.

"Sir, we have a prisoner who needs to speak with you."

"A prisoner? For me? Why thank you guardsman! I always love visitors of this sort! Never know what you're gonna get. Kinda like whores! Endless possibilities! I'll be right there."

"...Ehrm, y-yes sir."

"Hmm, speaking of which...."

Brutus picked up his staff after applying his black leather pants and black quilted vest, then he left the room, making sure to drink a potion of cure disease before he left his chambers.

 

***

"Why don't you do it then?"

Endar sighed. He didn't feel like this was even worth explaining. While waiting for the Count in the great hall, Endar had been more than courteous, and yet for some reason, all of the guards were seemingly getting angrier and angrier. Now, one was asking why he didn't escape if he was capable of it. The answer seemed pretty obvious to him.

"I haven't escaped, because I don't want to. I have no desire for a bounty to follow me back to the Imperial City."

"Or you're too scared to try."

The wizard's eyes narrowed at the older looking guard. "Are you trying to provoke me? I have to admit, it's working quite well. Your challenge really does make me want to prove you wrong." Endar shrugged. "Would you be willing to pay off or ignore my fine if I attempt to escape?"

"Of course not!"

"Pity. I suppose I'll just remain here then."

Endar looked away from the muttering guard and back at a bored looking Elara, who was sitting on a bench in the corner of the hall, trying to stay out of the upcoming proceedings. He had left his staff with her. Apparently, being a prisoner, he wasn't allowed to carry it into court.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a door opening and closing again from somewhere in the halls behind the throne. "That the Count?" asked Elara to a nearby guard.

The guard shrugged. "Hopefully. There's no telling. Count Brutus is a busy man."

Brutus slowly walked his way into the room, admiring his paintings as he always did when he made his way in. As he did, he largely ignored the people in his presence until he tok time to admire each and every one of himself first. Perhaps it was a way to get others to do the same. Once we was done, finally he addressed the group, happy to see a Dunmer in his presence, since Dunmer were known for not being shy about his favorite pass-time, unlike some Imperials he was acquainted with. Sticks in the mud they were.

"Ah, hello hello my guests! It's s-, wait...what is this? Hostility? No, no that won't do. What seems to be the issue here?"

"Sir, t-"

"I was talking to our guest."

Endar's brow raised. So this is the Count. Endar had heard little of Brutus outside of vague rumors that he'd taken no particular interest in. At the moment though, he couldn't recall what any of them were actually about. He glanced at the guard, then back up to the Count.

"I suppose you want the absolute truth? Very well. This loud fellow," he pointed at the guard who'd arrested him. "keeps looking at me like he wants to kill me, which I don't understand at all. I've given him no reason to want me dead. Then, h-"

"No reason?" the guard cut in. You can't be seri-"

"Hush. It is my turn to speak right now." Endar continued, a little annoyed. "Even though I complied, and agreed to come before you, he has done nothing but insult me since we arrived." He looked at the guard, who was red-faced with anger. "You see him now? How can I pretend to be in a good mood when he's glaring at me like that?"

"Hmm, good point. Guardsman? Guardsman!" even as Brutus was yelling he still managed to keep a smirk on his face.

"Yes sir?"

"What is my rule?"

"Sir, he-"

Brutus slammed his staff onto the stone floor releasing it's effect. The guard's face resumed it's normal color and the guard's face lightened up a bit. He even looked cheery. "What is my rule?"

"No hostility, Count."

"Good, no if you may, would one of you fine fellows here please tell me the crime that was committed?"

A younger guard behind Endar stepped forward and answered with a loud voice. "Fourteen counts of assault and one possible count of murder."

Before Brutus could respond, Endar cut in. "Actually, it was nine counts of assault. Five of those were actually in self-defense." He looked back at the guard. "And you also forgot to mention the summoning of that Dremora in the street." He muttered his next words. "Ridiculous a law as it is."

Brutus let out a giddy little snicker from Endar's response. He was a tad bit disappointed that there was no lies coming from him, no ulterior motives to be had, but his nonchalant disposition was a nice change of pace.

"So honest, so honest! No illusions about you my Dunmer guest, none at all. Strange indeed. Unless that honesty IS your illusion to hide from the fact that you do have something to hide...something....pray tell, what exactly did you do to assault these people? And the murder? And why were you summoning such bland company in my city?"

Endar slighly tilted his head, as he often did when interested in something. "Well you're an odd man aren't you?"

He hasn't expected the Count to be a deep thinker. Perhaps even a philosopher? He'd expected the usual posh and serious type that was the norm among Cyrodilic nobility.

"My illusions, and whether or not I am behind them, are my own business, I'm sure you understand. You ask how I assaulted them? I paralyzed everyone in an inn. How I commited the murder? A paralyzed man fell and hit his head."

Endar paused for a moment. "Interesting how the only "why" you asked was about the Daedra, when for most, it would be the other way around. Why did I summon such bland company? He's my butler and packmule, and I needed him for something he carried. Simple as that. Is this answer satisfactory? I hope so, as I'd very much like to be off soon."

"Oh a fellow illusionist! I knew there was a reason I was interested in you! Well I think we can wave off the "assault". There's nothing wrong with practicing some harmless illusion magic right, guardsman?" Brutus rubbed the imperial's rugged chin as he channeled the charm spell through his body.

"No sir, of course not."

"Good! Then our guest can pay his fine and be on his way if he wishes. The daedra summoning seems to have been a harmless affair. I believe in second chances for such things, don't you? He's clearly new to Kvatch, so he'd have no idea of the law."

"Right you are, sir. Silly law anyway."

"Exactly! Now, be off, I can handle things from here."

Brutus waited for the guards to leave the room before he continued. He didn't want the rest of the conversation to be interrupted.

"Okay my good mer, now I guess since this matter is taken care of after you pay for the fine of murder of course, we can discuss the why. What was the reasoning for your masterful display? Not that one needs a reason to be illusive with illusions."

Endar smiled. It was about time someone showed an ounce of respect in this city. So far, it's seemed like everyone in Kvatch has wanted to cheat him or fight him.

"My display? You mean the paralysis? Like I said, it was in self-defense. I was attacked by a group of drunks, one of whom's brains are now very familiar with the corner of a table. Speaking of..."

Endar looked back into the corner of the room, where his stewardess sat watching. She was clearly more interested now than before. "Elara, bring this generous man his money!"

"Ooh, another guest! And what a beautiful facade her skin graces upon her face...you two don't have to just drop the gold and leave. Surely there's some food or wine you two'd love to have from my court? Then you can tell me the whole story of these drunks. I'd like to hear about what your business in Kvatch was here if you don't mind. Who knows? Perhaps we could help eachother."

Elara walked up beside Drenim and put the chest on the floor, kneeling before it to count out the money bags until she reached one thousand. She looked up when complimented. "Er... Thank you?" she said. She'd heard her share of strange compliments over the years working in Skingrad, but never one so colorful and strange as his description of her face, or the skin on it at least.

As the girl was knelt down beside him counting, Endar thought for a moment. He couldn't believe that he was seriously considering the Count's offer. It wasn't the food or wine that tempted him, nor was it the offer to consort with such high nobility. He couldn't care less about that. They were below him anyway. There was something about this man that fascinated Endar. He was obviously different, perhaps even blessed by a Daedra. Sheogorath perhaps? Endar hoped it was so. The House of Troubles is one of his favorite topics of study. He's also an illusionist, could be good for conversation.

The wizard nodded, convinced. "Very well, Count Brutus, I will stay for a while." He glanced down at his stewardess, then back at the door the guards had passed through. "Maybe I'll actually find some intelligent conversation." Or at least interesting.

"Hmm, depends on what you consider intelligent I suppose. Knowledge of the world? Or the knowledge that the knowledge of the world...is useless and always subject to change, just as the appearance of all that is around us. Your dear stewardess was clearly puzzled by my statement earlier. If I were to rip off her face and expose that which is hidden from under...would she still be beautiful? Depends on your tastes I suppose as all things, but I'd assume most people would say no. But then again, most people are idiots. Actually, we all are. The most we know and can hope to know is what lies within this world and the worlds around us. But as I said before, the world is subject to change. This is especially true for the worlds around us."

Brutus took a small sip of wine as he looked intently towards Endar's stewardess. Still smiling as he always did.

A mad philosopher? Interesting. Endar looked at his stewardess, who kept glancing up at Brutus, and then glancing right back down when she met his eyes, which never left her. He then looked around the room. It was still empty but for the three of them.

"An interesting idea you believe, Count Brutus. That we are all hopeless in our endeavors to learn, when learning everything is rendered moot by the ever-changing world, or worlds, as you say. Though, that would definitely not be a belief inspired by the divine pantheons, which supposedly stabilize the world. I'd be interested in hearing more about what it is you believe, but not standing here in front of your throne like some servant. Do you have a chair I could sit in? My legs are already weary from standing without my staff. Oh, and perhaps some of that food you promised? I'm afraid I've actually skipped dinner this evening."

"Of course! The table is already here! Of course!" Brutus walked over to the wall of the room and seemed to be grabbing on thin air before he pulled his arms and revealed a table filled with cheeses, meats and various aphrodisiacs such as bananas, small bowls of nuts, and other fruits with jars of honey beside it. He had it hidden with a cloth that he had painted to match the walls. If you stared at it directly, one could easily see that it was cloth. But if one did not know it was there and didn't try to spot it out, it was practically invisible.

"I'd light the candles, but this should do." Brutus snapped his fingers which sent green orbs over the candles producing magical light.

Endar was impressed by the hidden table. He hadn't noticed it before, and it made him wonder what other things this man had hidden in such manners. He took his own seat. "Very good. Elara, bring me my bag."

"So, before we continue with this talk of the world, why don't we finish the one about what it is you were doing in Kvatch that started all this? Any business of one so well trained in illusion has to be interesting." asked Brutus as took a seat in the table close to Elara.

"I was here to purchase an artifact from a traveling merchant. It turned out the N'wah never had it to begin with."

Brutus's smile widened at this response. Now he was very interested. "Would this artifact perhaps be the Masque of Clavicus Vile?"

Endar nodded. "As a matter of fact it is." his brow raised slightly. Apparently there had been more to his meeting than originally believed. "What do you know about the Masque?"

"Oh about as much as what anyone would know about it. But the artifact isn't what interests me. What interests me is you! I had that artifact made for the sole purpose of attracting someone such as yourself to my fair corner of the worm to train me further in illusion magic! I made a mold of the masque from a description I read in a book, had a smith do the rest, then I sold it for "a steal" to some idiot Imperial.

After that I just had to wait and see what famous wizard would pop in to inspect it! I figured surely someone of high talents in illusion would come to investigate claims of having an artifact such as the Masque of Clavicus Vile. And here you are! Although I haven't heard your name, but you must be skilled from what I've heard. Is teaching me something you would be interested in? I'd pay well, at least more well than a commoner would. Consider your bounty the first payment. And while you're here, you can partake in the rest of my....guests. As long as you're willing to...share. If that is something miss Elara would be...interested in?"

Brutus shamelessly rubbed at the steward's knee, still looking towards her as he had been since before as he drank more wine.

"That's a clever plan you had, with the Masque. Cost me quite a bit of trouble getting ahold of it though. Have you ever tried just asking around? You'd be surprised what that will get you." Endar looked at Elara, who was looking back at him nervously.

"As much as I admire the effort you put into this, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I have no interest in taking on a student, nor do I plan on staying in Kvatch for very long..."

Elara looked at Endar pleadingly. She didn't want to lay with Brutus. The man was beyond strange and frankly, he terrified her.

I can't make her do that. Endar paused. He felt strange for a moment. Wait what? Why should I care?

"Money is not an issue for me. You can keep what I owe you. I can show you a few tricks if you will allow us to stay here for the night, but no longer... What you do with Elara is down to you two."

Brutus was disappointed both in the decline and in the facial response Elara gave but he didn't show it. Besides, finding a bedmate wasn't exactly hard for him. But a master illusionist wasn't something you could come up with cheaply. Having one owe him somewhat for the predicament he was in financially would have been convenient, but alas it was not to be.

"Very well, then. You two can stay the night. Perhaps you could show me that paralysis spell? I am afraid I only know one for single targets."

Outside the door of the county house, a clamor had begun. One might even call it a kerfuffle. Loud voices and banging could be heard, and when the castle doors opened the loud voices spilled into the foyer and became an argument with the door guards.

"We demand satisfaction!" a screeching voice shouted.

Shortly thereafter, the din calmed down a bit when a smoother male voice spoke in reassuring tones.

A nervous guard then came to announce the new guests to Count Brutus. "My lord, it's the Count of Skingrad's son, Lord Janus Bathory, to see you, and..."

"And Punctilius CARO!" The owner of the screeching voice appeared behind the guard, announcing himself. It was the rector of Kvatch's Chapel of Akatosh. The grey-haired priest's robes billowed around him as he pushed past the guard and waved a bony finger at Brutus. "My lord, I..." His eyes fell on Endar, went wide, and the man's face turned three shades of purple. "My LORD. Daedra running through the streets! Terrorizing the citizenry! And you sit here supping with the blasphemer HIMSELF!"

From behind the priest strolled a younger man with wavy blonde hair and ruddy good looks. He was in riding clothes of impeccable make, and carried himself with the confidence and swagger of a young nobleman. A swarthy, dark-haired manservant accompanied him.

"Brutus," Janus Bathory said with a familiar tone and toothy smile. "It seems I arrived just in time to prevent a riot of your citizens. Don't worry, the rab..." He glanced at the priest. "That is, the good people of Kvatch are standing down, for now. But it does appear you've been up to no good again."

While he spoke, the man was eyeing the table. He reached for a bunch of grapes, giving Elara a sly wink as he popped one into his mouth.

Brutus kept his smile as the man ate his grapes. In fact his smile widened. Things were about to get interesting.

"Janus, hello! Pray tell why I am graced with your presence in my court? Eating my food? And what's this about Daedra running in the streets?"

The priest answered, even though no one had addressed him. "Do you not even know?! Have you not heard the cry of your people, my lord! The cries of terror and anguish-"

Interrupting, Bathory said, "It seems your elf here summoned a daedroth in the middle of a town square..."

"A HIDEOUS BEAST!"

"...a daedroth, and it upset rather a few people. It's not the only matter of concern in your county that has come to our attention. In your court, to be precise." Janus Bathory- Jem, as he was more normally known- spoke to the count as though addressing a naughty schoolchild.

Brutus stood up from the table now and walked over to his throne chair, speaking as he did.

"And pray tell, what word is spreading about me in my court? My guest here has paid in full all of his charges, so am I not to be courteous to my guests as I am to all? Even the bellowing fly that fancies himself a priest of Akatosh?"

The priest was sputtering and by all appearances close to a heart attack. Jem laid a hand on the priest's shoulder, ostensibly to calm him, but instead Caro's eyes went wide and spittle flew as he raged at Brutus. "You! You are the plague upon Kvatch! We know, oh yes we know. The debaucheries, the heathen SLANDERS. The people will not stand for it! They will rise up and cleanse you from this city like pus from a wound!"

Jem's hand shifted, and the priest suddenly fell silent, mumbling, appearing downcast. "My flock," he said, disconsolate.

"Perhaps you should return to them now, Reverend Father," Bathory said comfortingly. "They need you now, more than ever."

"Yes. Yes, go to them." The priest turned and shuffled off toward the door, his shoulders sagging with the weight of Kvatch's many transgressions.

Crossing to the other side of the table, Jem took the seat across from Endar and leaned back, propping his feet up on the table as if he owned the place. "Now we can chat in peace. I haven't met your guests, Brutus."

"Aw, was that it? You bore me Janus. I was going to make that poor priest's head explode with the rest of my guests in the back room! In fact... GUARDSMAN! See my recent company out, please. Hurry along! I wish the priest of Akatosh to see my recent workings of Dibella! For that is all it is, I can assure you, Janus."

Brutus kept his same mad gaze upon Janus as the guards ran by, even with the sounds of angry screams and curses from the women that were forced out of his quarters who were given no time to dress.

"If you think this will bother me in the slightest...you are mistaken."

Cheeks full of grapes, Jem said, "Oh, I know that you bother very little about actually running your... Well, it can't really be called a county, can it? Your nook. That sounds better." He grinned and reached to dip a cake into a pot of honey. "Actually I came to call in some notes at the Gold Coast Bank. Had no idea I'd find a riot when I arrived. That priest is quite the ambitious man. You should attend chapel more often, Brutus. I happened to catch his sermon about you this morning. Priceless."

Brutus stood up from his chair and walked...or rather skipped over to the table before cart wheeling himself over it to the other side so he was sitting next to Jem. Afterwards, Brutus picked up a banana and peeled it before leaning his arm over Jem's and whispering in his ear.

"Do you know why I don't like you or that priest? Because unlike myself...."

Brutus slowly and suggestively put the banana closer and closer to his mouth before suddenly shoving it into Jem's chest.

"you both fancy yourselves flies rather than maggots."

Jem stood up abruptly, cursing. If there was one thing he hated, it was stains on his clothing. His eyes flashed briefly with undisguised hate, but in the next instant his expression turned calm again. While his manservant came up and began fastidiously wiping at the remnants of mashed banana, Jem wagged a finger. "Ah, ah, Brutus. You should be nicer to people. Especially to people who pay your bills." Bathory turned to the Dunmer wizard, sounding concerned. "Does he owe you money, too? I'd get it up front and in a hurry, if I were you."

Endar nodded, smiling. He'd been eating this whole time, apparently not caring one bit about what the two nobles were quarreling over, or the cause for such hostility between them. In truth though, Jem had caught his attention moments after he'd entered the hall. There was an interesting conflict here to be sure. The wizard wondered if Brutus knew what he was dealing with. "I appreciate your concern but it is hardly necessary. I am not here to collect, but to pay." He took took a couple grapes himself and plopped them into his mouth.

"Right, right," Jem offered cheerily. The manservant was still swabbing, and Bathory pushed him away and sat back down. "Your fines for that daedra business. Well, Brutus, doing a little law enforcement after all? And just who are you again?" The last was directed to the Dunmer.

"Again? I wasn't aware that I had been introduced a first time. I suppose you wouldn't recognize the robes? I am Endar Drenim, Master Wizard of the House Telvanni." Endar was not actually Telvanni. Not anymore. But that was hardly a relevant detail at the moment.

"Telvanni." The Skingrad noble whistled softly. "Master wizards. Live in giant mushrooms. Do you ever get mold on your robes, I wonder? Or is that so normal in your part of Tamriel that no one notices?"

Then Jem remembered something... He stood, suddenly in a hurry to go. "I must excuse myself, gentleman and Brutus. I've got some work left to do in Kvatch before I return to civilization." Laying a hand on the Count of Kvatch's shoulder, he said, "You know, Brutus, your little dung heap here was a protectorate of Skingrad for a long time after the Oblivion Crisis. We still consider you our poor cousins. If I hear of more riots, I'll have my father send you some troops to help put things to right. Can't have religious riots spreading to Skingrad, after all."

Motioning to the manservant to beat tracks, Jem retreated without a glance back.

Endar looked at Brutus as the noble left, taking a handful of walnuts as he did.

"Cheerful friend you've got there."

Brutus sat there for a while, thinking...calculating...never losing that same curious smirk on his face...

"Yes...he is a fool is what he is. Ironic I know coming from one such as myself. To you, maybe I look the fool. But people have made that mistake before. Didn't end well. Tell you what! I want you to reconsider! You help me train at least for a while and agree to be my partner to help deal with these Skingrad sorts! A powerful Master Wizard of House Telvanni would surely make them think twice about messing with me. You saw how quickly Jem beat feet when you mentioned that! Not only will I pay you, but I'll give you my staff! Here."

Brutus got up and walked back to the throne, picked up his staff and tossed it over to Endar.

"Eh? What do you think of that? It's a special staff perfect for those trained in illusion. Its made of ebony with silver etched on it in a spiral. It has...special properties that I can explain to you later if you agree to help me before you go on your way for good. It's enchanted with the power of a sigil stone...It would make up partly for your wasted trip for the Masque of Clavicus Vile. As for the money, as you heard it isn't all mine, but that isn't your problem, now is it?"

The wizard looked at Brutus thoughtfully. This time, truly considering his offer. The Count was an interesting man, and obviously knew enough to make training him easier than it would be for some. But he was also clever, more so than he gave away. Endar looked over the staff, Turning it over in his fingers. He could feel the energy in it. Definitely Daedric. Endar tossed the staff back to Brutus.

"Thanks, but I have no need nor desire for it. That noble's money is more than enough for me... That and some discussion of course. I would study what it is that you believe. And if you need help dealing with that... man. I can help. At least I think I can. Elara, how does my schedule look?”

Elara opened Drenim's journal to the schedule pages. They were all filled to the brim, mostly with things she couldn't even comprehend. "Uhh, it looks full sir."

"I know that! I mean is there anything of pressing concern?"

The page she was currently on that was for all of next week's dealings had a bunch of impossible to read scribbles and some odd rune sketches. There was also a crude picture of what looked like a large half-woman-half spider eating a white Elf. "I don't... think so."

"Good." he turned back to Brutus. "I will help you. But only because I'm curious to see how a man like you would deal with an enemy like him."

Brutus walked back over to Endar and shook his hand to seal the deal.

"The only way I know how, Master. Hehehehe! With the power of illusion!"

Releasing his hand, Endar looked the Count in the eyes, a very serious expression on his face.

"Then you'll need to get to practicing, because he..."

Endar motioned with his thumb back to the door Jem had left through. "...will not be an easy one to fool."

[TheCzarsHussar]

General Baldur Red-Snow

5 in the Morning

Markarth

 

Sitting in a chair in their room in the Silver-Blood inn, Baldur was once again writing, but it wasn't reports since he and Rebec were basically on vacation. No, this time he was writing in his journal, writing about recent events. Every last painful detail including his own mental thoughts, even ones he may not want Rebec to see. Especially those. He decided he'd make his journal private once more until he thought it may be appropriate for her to see. The group had set off from the orc settlement early to get back to Markarth so that they did not overstay their welcome within their stronghold. Baldur had a brief talk with the Jarl in which he insisted that the next guard captain be a Necro Nord of his choosing and that he be allowed to have a small group of them at his command to serve as guards along with the guards already there. Baldur wanted to replace the lot of them, but that would lead to too many problems. This move he made currently was slightly risky but it was necessary. If the Jarl couldn't control his own men, someone else would need to. Their official duty was to protect the city from forsworn. The change would happen in a weeks time.

Baldur was once again watching Rebec sleep as he often did on nights that he could not himself, now that he was finished writing recent accounts in his journal. He was trying to write another song, but he was having trouble doing so. Too many thoughts were running through his head with not enough mead in his belly to balance the two. About Rebec, Toki, Ysana, Boldir, the future, all of it. So instead Baldur tried exercising his mind the way he used to, which was simple poetry about nothing specific. Baldur closed his eyes and picked the first thing that came to mind.

The thing that is most vital now became the bringer of their doom,

Sealing all inside in this dark cascading tomb,

Water fell before them destroying all in sight,

The city now lay flooded, All scattered now in fright,

This city was cast in darkness, yet to them all was right,

But now it was brought into the day no longer in the night,

Water broke through their ceiling, to them a merciless fountain,

Flooding their endless tunnels, goodbye city within the mountain,

Merciless beings on high who stand impossibly tall,

To them they are gods, but they're not much different afterall,

They both are at the mercy of a higher power,

One of them makes mountains, the other makes buildings and towers,

One is indifferent to the other, but to them the same is true,

All are made small to those who dwell beyond the blue,

The great city was but a mound converted to a toy,

The plaything of a young lad, no more than a boy,

He poured water from a bucket, a meager amount, scant,

Yet this was enough, for these people were just ants,

But is it not the same for us? Do we have better odds?

Will we stay in good graces with those that we call gods?

Or are gods just like us, simply walking to and fro,

Higher beings with indifference to those who lie below?

Baldur closed his notebook and put it next to his journal, satisfied with the mediocre poem that he wrote. Nothing special, just an exercise of the mind. Like his father used to have him do. He didn't have him write poetry, that was something he started on his own. When he left his father, he stopped this practice. But now that he finally knew the truth and he understood him more, Baldur no longer resented him and decided the practice was a useful one and that he should start it up once more. The thought reminded him once more of his mother, who he wished to speak to in private for a while, but he didn't feel safe leaving Rebec alone sleeping alone like this.

Baldur walked back over to the stone bed to look to his wife before he climbed back into bed. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. So beautiful, even with the wandering trickle of drool that fell from her mouth. In a weird way that only someone in love could understand, this only added to her beauty. If Baldur had walked over to look at her sooner, this sight would have rested his storm of thoughts enough to make another song as he intended. Baldur rubbed the side of her face gently with his hands, taking care not to disturb her as he wiped the saliva away. Baldur's face began growing a smile of admiration and was about to write that song afterall when he heard a light knock on his door. Baldur didn't expect any visitors, so he instinctively grabbed one of his axes after checking Rebec's amulet for any magical glow. There was none. Once Baldur slowly opened the door, he saw that it was only Hroki standing before him, this time wearing a non revealing typical townswoman blue dress.

"Hroki, what are you doing here? If it were Rebec who opened the door...."

"I know, but I could tell you were up when I saw the light. I remember you used to sometimes stay up in your room doing whatever. I used to sit by your door since you wouldn't let me stay in your bed overnight."

"I was writing. Hroki, what is it that you want? I don't mean to be rude, but I am a married man now. It wouldn't be right for me to continue talking with someone I used to be involved with. It would cause unneeded trouble."

Hroki looked to her feet as she shifted them nervously.

"Don't worry, I'll get out of your hair. I just came by to tell you a woman is in the tavern asking for you."

"That would be my mother, thank you."

"Oh, I see."

Hroki was about to walk away, but turned around and pushed against the door so Baldur couldn't close it just yet.

"Baldur can I ask you one thing?"

Baldur sighed, knowing that the question wouldn't be an easy one to answer.

"Go ahead."

"Do you think that, maybe if...maybe if you and that woman-"

"Rebec."

"Right...Rebec. If you and Rebec hadn't met...that...you and I-"

"Rebec is the only woman that even remotely gave me feelings of love, Hroki. I'm sorry. If it weren't for her, I'd just be another drunk. Marriage would be the last thing on my mind. You're a young girl, Hroki. You'll find another."

Hroki stood silent for a while at the door. Baldur didn't want to sugar coat anything. She needed to know the truth so that she could move on.

"You were my first...you know."

"....I know, Hroki. Goodbye. I wish you luck."

Baldur opened the door fully and gave her a brief friendly hug, not wishing to be too cruel to the girl. To Hroki it seemed to last longer however. Afterwards, she went back to her room to leave Baldur in peace. And to try and move on as Baldur suggested.

Ugh, that's never easy.

Baldur still in his bedclothes walked into the tavern room now to see Ysana sitting at a table with two tall mugs of mead freshly poured, apparently by Hroki. Ysana's eyes looked puffy and red, showing that she had recently been crying. Baldur figured she was still upset over Ulrin. She likely would be for the rest of her life, Baldur figured.

"Good morning...mother." The word would take some getting used to for him.

"Good morning, son." It was the same for her.

"So you wished to speak? What about?"

"Where are you going after this? Can't you stay? If you can't stay, maybe I can come with you?"

"Mother, it isn't that simple. I have some things that I need to take care of alone with Rebec. We'll be going out of Skyrim soon to take care of some business officially. Although unofficially it's for us.”

Ysana took a long swig of her mead that surprised Baldur a bit due to her appearance, but then he remembered of course that she was a nord afterall. When she was done, she grabbed Baldur's hands from across the table.

"Baldur, I just want to get to know you better. To make up for all these years I missed. I want to know who you are, what you've done, where you've been, what you like to eat, drink, every bruise and cut-"

"That you don't want to know, mother. Some things are best left untold."

Ysana wanted to press further, but figured she could ask him or Rebec later what that was about. Ysana reached for her son's left eye and ran a finger across the scar, hurting herself mentally as she did. As if the scar was hers.

"You know, somehow I feel responsible for that cut. I don't know why, but...it's like I think subconsciously that if I had been in your life, I could have protected you somehow. Maybe you wouldn't have been a warrior. Mayb-"

"Stop beating yourself up, mother. We've been over this. You and pa were just in an unfortunate position. And father would have made a warrior out of me regardless."

Ysana stood up from her side of the table and wrapped her arms around Balur's neck from behind, resting her head on his as she did.

"I know, son. I know. It's nice to be able to give you a good proper hug. All that armor before....must drive your wife crazy."

"She's used to it. Mother, about before, you and I will get our chance. We can never make up for the lost time, but we'll still have our chance. Once the town that we plan to start is built and we establish a real home. You, me, Rebec, by best friend Boldir and his family, we can all be together. Maybe Rebec's family too."

"I hope you're right son. Just don't die before that day happens, okay? Promise?"

Baldur normally would have given that promise without hesitation, but this time he hesitated. Thoughts of the previous day were still fresh on his mind. But he eventually got around to saying it for her sake.

"Don't worry mom, I'll be fine. After we leave Markarth, I'll see you soon. We'll be back before you can say Nerevarine."

"Nerevarine."

Baldur looked up from surprise. Rebec and Boldir never got the pronunciation right, which he always took as a good sign. His mother however got it on the first try.

"I take it you read a lot like your father did. You're not the only one, son."

"....Right."

"Well, I gotta go, son. I'll catch some sleep before I get things ready for me and Rebec."

"Right. Love you mom."

"Love you too, son."

Ysana watched him briefly before she walked out of the tavern as he downed the rest of the drinks that she had bought for them. She still couldn't get over how much he looked like Ulrin. It was somehow a blessing and a curse. On one hand she could see her love in her son now even though he was dead, which while this was a comfort, it also felt like his ghost haunted her. Her son was the version of him that loved her, but she still remembered how he looked when he first entered the Temple. That was the Ulrin that she last saw when Baldur was still a baby. Before he left her. Ysana forced the thoughts out of her mind and tried to focus on Baldur's smiling face as she walked back towards her Temple past a running Imperial soldier.

"Baldur? General Baldur Red-Snow?"

Baldur looked up to see an Imperial messenger standing in the tavern now, slightly panting as he did. Baldur's first instinct was to grab for his axe. Old habit. Baldur after remembering the alliance stood up from his table to address the man.

"Yes, I am he. How'd you find me here? No one knows we're here except my friend and-"

"Ulfric Stormcloak, yes. I had to be taken to him by some Stormcloaks after I tried crossing the border. He told me where you were after I told him why I was here. He knew the matter was something important to you."

"What matter was it?"

The soldier handed Baldur a letter, which he quickly tore open in haste. It said:

 

General Baldur Red-Snow,

General Baldur Red-snow, it's my...extreme regret that I must inform you of the death of Ambassador Marius Imperius of the Stormcloak army. As you are his current Commanding officer, I thought it prudent, and necessary, to inform you of his passing. I have some...details of his murder. The condition of his body when we found it was...degrading. A majority of his...flesh, organs, and blood was missing, presumably...ripped or eaten off.  Some of the bones....were cracked open and there marrow consumed. We are almost certain he was...mauled by a group of vampires that are known to take residence in the bloodworks of the Arena. We don't know what he was doing down there...but...I'm...truly...sorry for your loss....I...nevermind.

Long live the Dragon, Long live the empire,

Lord-Major Lorgar Grim-maw.

 

"Damn it!"

Baldur's hands started shaking in anger as he read the letter. Marius, the man that helped save his life and brought him back to Rebec was dead.

I should have done something to keep him safe. Now, he's dead. Because of Moon-Balls. It has to be him.

Baldur told the soldier to wait where he was as he went to go get a pen, ink and two parchments and envelopes. Once he was done, he handed the letters to the soldier and gave him an appropriate amount of gold for the service and a tip as well.

This one is meant for Empress Dales. It's my condolences to the people of Cyrodiil for the death of their General. He was a good man. I wish I could do more. The other is to Ulfric. It's a letter saying for now on not to tell anyone of my whereabouts. Just in case.

The soldier gave him a nod and put his fist to his chest.

"Long live the dragon."

"Long live the bear."

After the man left, Baldur went back to his room to wrestle with his thoughts. Which most were primarily of Moon-Balls. When he got back in however, Rebec's innocent looking sleeping face washed his previous thoughts away. Baldur chuckled to himself at the irony. Baldur climbed back to bed next to her, placing a hand over her stomach. He was thinking of children again, wondering what it would be like when they had them. Baldur scooted down on the bed and lifted her shirt slightly before resting his head on her well defined belly and let thoughts of the future send him back to sleep once more.

[TheCzarsHussar]

Lorgar Grim-Maw

Imperial City

Evening

 

Lorgar buried himself in his documents, intending to work as much as he possible could. He wrote numbers, signatures, statements, reports, and other stuff, with an ink quill, it didn't matter to Lorgar, as long as it was there to focus on. He wanted just to work; to forget. To help him forget, he brought two bottles of brandy, and a large amount of mead.  

 Marius.

 The news of his passing was bad enough, but the circumstances behind it where even worse.  "Mauled a devoured by vampires" was a horrible way to go. Though it appeared that Lorgar was focusing on his work, an entirely separate matter was the focus of his mind,

 Why the hell was Marius down there to begin with, it doesn't make any sense!!!

The same thought had been in Lorgar's mind all week. Why would Marius go down to an area known to be infested by vampires?

 Apparently and expected, Gaius had been taking it very hard.  After informing Tullius on the matter, he had written a letter to Marius CO, Baldur Red-snow. After assigning a courier to deliver it, he had personally gone to inform his Niece, who took it as hard as expected. Her fiancée took it even harder, started to weep alongside the lieutenant-commander, expected of a school-teacher. Lorgar himself was…very sad. Despite their differences, arguments, and ultimate division, he had considered Marius a good friend, a comrade…a brother.  Losing him…was like losing a family member. Lorgar snarled, and pushed away that thought. He poured himself a glass of brandy and gulped it all down. Alcohol was poisons that dulled the senses and made men forget. All Lorgar wanted to do was forget,   

He's just another name to add to my list of dead friends.

 Lorgar hurt. He hurt a great deal of the inside, and the only think that could help him was the bottle. He poured himself another glass of brandy, before chugging that. As Lorgar  drowned out his sorrow with Booze , he heard his door guards voice,

 "Sir, countess Milerda of Chorrol is here to see you."

 Milly? What is she doing here at this hour?

Lorgar straightened out his uniform, before taking out a cigar and lighting it. He said in his usual voice,  "Send her in."

 Milly (her preferred name) rushed in, with her normal green dress and golden spectacles. Before Lorgar could greet her, she pulled him in for a hug. Her eyes were tear stained, and she said

 "Oh Lorgar, I'm so sorry for your loss."

 Lorgar stiffly, and slightly returned the hug. "It's fine Milly."

 Milly gazed upwards, her eyes sharpening under her spectacles. "No it's not. He was one of your best friends, and he's dead. Lorgar you don't have to hide your emotions from me."

 Lorgar, gently relaxed in her grasp, and put his head to her small shoulder. "Yes I know."

 They just stood there, for a while, letting Milly share her warmth to Lorgar. He felt good. For a few instants he forgot about everything, his job, Marius, Witchie, Samuel, everything. The only thing on his mind was Milly. Lorgar slowly whispered the words, "I love you."

"I love you too."

 And with that Lorgar broke away from the hug, got onto one knee, took out a small box, and cleared his throat. "While this may seem strange, and odd, Nords usually don't wait awhile before saying this, and asking of this. But Countess Milerda of Chorrol, will you marry me?"

 Milly just looked at Lorgar, before breaking into tears and a massive smile forming on her face. She threw her arms around Lorgar and started to cry. "Yes Lorgar, I will."

[TheCzarsHussar]

Theodore, Dales

The Laughing Fox, The Imperial Palace

Morning

 

Theodore grabbed the ink, quill, and parchment as he exited his room. His customary seat near the wall was empty, so he sat down and motioned for a glass of wine and some cheese. Ena brought over the bottle and poured half a glass before setting the cheese and bread down and leaving, without so much as a word. Theodore was used to the routine, as it was repeated every morning since his arrival.

He dipped the quill in the dark, void like ink, and spread out the parchment as he penned the letter to his wife.

 

Dear Elayne,

How goes things back in Camlorn? I hope that Roland has taken the challenge of running things while I'm gone in stride. He's bright enough that I'm sure he'll do fine.

The Imperial City is quite massive, even more so than when we visited here years ago, although the recent wars have depleted the number of young men. I have attended quite a few parties, as also made a few contacts that I believe will help us in the future should we need it. The inn I'm staying at is nice, and the other patrons are of a high regard for the most part. The politics of the Imperial City aren't quite to the standards of High Rock, but that is to be expected as we Bretons are most adept at the game of thrones.

Now, enough of things here. Before I left, I heard news that your father had fallen ill. He is up in age, so I hope he does not fall to this sickness. Also, I hope Captain Vette took care of those bandits, as he had sufficient time to do so. If not, tell Roland to take care of it.

Well, I have an appointment to meet the new Empress. I believe it will be mostly talk and nothing more. She seems to be a nice young lady.

With love, your dearest Theodore

 

Theodore sat the quill down, and rolled the parchment together once the ink was dried sufficiently. He packed his things and went to his room, where he stamped the letter with the wax seal he forgot to take with him.

Leaving the building, he dropped the letter off to a courier service, and checked their sundial. Seeing that his appointment was soon, he left for the Imperial Palace.

 

*******

Theodore arrived at the palace shortly thereafter, and was led to the Empress' meeting chamber by a servant. He knocked on the door, and awaited the reply.

Theodore heard giggling behind the door, before the voice of a young female emerged from the room

"Who is it?”

Theodore straightened himself, before clearing his throat and replying. "It is Lord General Theodore Adrard, from High Rock your majesty. I have arrived for our scheduled appointment. To talk politics and such."

"Ah, general. Ummm please wait a moment." Theodore heard shuffling, before hearing the Empress saying, "Please come in."

Theodore walked in the room, his fancy green silken shirt almost bursting around his belly, and his black trousers form fitting as well. A matching black cape with a green bull hung on his back, as it flowed through the door frame after him. He addressed the Empress with a bow, his head bobbing low enough so that he was almost at a ninety degree angle. His voice was soft, and practiced in addressing members of royalty.

"Your majesty, it is an honor and a privilege to finally meet you, face to face."

Empress's dale was on a a fancy wooden couch, with her entire back was exposed. Beside her, was a very attractive, young, Breton. She had blue hair, and wore the dress of a maid. Dales gave the General a warm smile, before saying, "The honor is mine, I can assure milord. I do hope you don't mind my Maid, Miku's, presence. She's giving me a massage."

The maid Miku, smiled mischievously, before bowing, "Milord"

Theodore did not show any emotions at the sight of the newly crowned Empress all but makes on the table, but instead offered a reassuring nod.

"If you don't mind, mi'lady, I will take a seat."

"Please."

Dales said to Theodore, "Can I offer you any refreshments general?"

Theodore took a seat, resting his hands on the round table near the corner of the room, facing the Empress. "If it suits you, I would enjoy a glass of wine. The vintage matters not."

"Miku."

Miku bowed to Dales, before running along. She returned in ten seconds with a bottle. She gently poured a glass for the Breton man, and handed it to him.

"Thank you Miku."

Theodore took the bottle and sat it down, before swirling the wine in the glass and taking a light sip. “Exquisite."

Theodore sat the glass down beside the bottle, and turned to face Dales.

"So, Empress, how have you enjoyed your new found role?"

"Quite Nice. Though it is quite tiring..."

Theodore nodded, letting out a small chuckle.

"Only through great practice is it mastered. I've had years of experience, and I still tire of it at times. It is worth it though, for your subjects."

"Of course. The smiles of the common folk make it all worth while."

Theodore nodded, and took another sip of wine.

"You are a Breton, correct? When was the last time you visited High Rock?"

"Yes I am. But I haven't visited High rock since I was five."

"It is a beautiful country. The cities aren't quite as big as the Imperial City, but they are full of beautiful architecture and landscapes. I hope you get to visit there someday."

"Quite. Though I prefer the confines of Cyrdoili. I visited Skyrim recently you know?

"I'd heard that. Before the.....coup...."

Theodore let the sentence trail off, not wanting to step on anyone's feelings.

He sipped the wine, wiped his mouth, and continued. "So, I better tell you why High Rock sent me. As you know, we are independent. I say it like that, as my father in law, the king, has no desire to stay that way, although some would have us take the route Skyrim and Hammerfell did."

Dales eye's sharpened, before putting her arm gently on Miku's shoulder, "We'll continue the "massage" later dear." She said in a playful voice, and wink. Miku returned the wink before bowing before both people. Dales quickly tied up the back of her dress. Her voice changed to a much more serious and stoic voice,

"So general. What do you mean some? High rock permanently separating from the empire could be disastrous to Cydoili's economy, and in turn my people. I trust you'll handle these "people"?

Theodore nodded at the servant girl, and listened to the tone and way Dales spoke.

She seems to be extremely riled up about this, might be advantageous.

"By some people, I am talking about a rather large faction of nobles. Not half, or even a third, but about one fourth of the nobles, mostly those who wish to gain something from the split, such as trade rights and paths. But, they have not taken hold as of yet. Many still respect the Empire, and you."

Theodore waited to respond to her question on his handling it, as he tookl a sip of wine to think over his response.

"I....could. But as you know, politics is a game of 'what can you do for me.' I am no different, as something in return would have to be assured. But I am on your side, as an Empire even more fractured would be ill advised."

"So in other words "what can you do for me" is "give me something"? Dales said, smiling. But the smile was...dark. Her facial expression was cheerful, but in an odd way.

Her voice changed, to powerful and commanding, the voice of a true Monarch

"Or I can use my agents in your court to track down these traitors and have them assassinated."

Theodore returned the smile, his a tad more cheerful.

"Aww, you misunderstand my meaning. I want the preservation of the Empire, but to exert myself in advising these people that their ideas are wrong would be taxing and time consuming, so I only wish for due compensation. Assassinating them would be ill advised, as it would show the tyranny of you and the Empire, and might spur them ever onward. Subtley is key, I think, in this situation."

"Then what do you propose dear general?"

"We wait. My father in law is ill, and he will not make it, I'm afraid. This will open up the Daggerfall Lordship, as well as his position as king. He has no male heirs, but his oldest of the two daughters he has is married to a lord. I am married to the younger of the two, putting me in line after him. I am not sure where his allegiances lie, but rumor has it he is an 'Independent' as they are being called. Very unoriginal, I know. If it suits you, assassinating him may be an option. I have no love for him, arrogant man he is, and foolish to boot. My wife will not shed a test at her sister's passing either, as she was a bully and pompous nitwit. Elayne, my wife, is the favorite of their father as well. That, dear Empress, is my plan."

"Let Nature run it's course? Simple, but very practical. If those two do cause problems, we can stick a knife threw there throat."

"I don't plan on either lasting that long. Your assassination idea has sparked a thought of my own. The Dark Brotherhood is an option, one that I might add is very hard to trace. They are only operable in Skyrim though, so that poses a problem. All we would have to do is take care of Lord Aleron Rolston, the husband of my sister in law I mentioned, thus securing me the throne, as Elayne's sister is wholly unfit to rule, a trait known to all in High Rock. Then once High Rock is set to be returned to the Empire, after the next war I presume, I retain the position but instead be the Imperial Governor. How does that sound?"

"That sounds...fair. Alright my dear general we have a plan. I'll let you handle the fine details, since it's your family and people you'll be taking care of."

Dales stretched out, she seemed...anxious. She said to the general with a warm smile

"If you wouldn't mind milord, since our business is of course now concluded, If I could excuse myself. I do still have...a massage scheduled for today."

"Of course, your majesty. Although there is one more detail I would like to iron out, one somewhat unrelated to our previous business."

Theodore finished off the glass of wine, and sat it across the table from him.

Dales raised her eye brow, before nodding and sitting back down on her couch,

"Yes, dear general?"

"As I walked in today, a thought occurred to me. You are not married, nor engaged that I know of, and neither is my son. But then I walk in and see the massage, and the thought changes. Your preferences seem to prohibit you from fully loving any man you marry, but you still must produce an heir, so why no cement the age of Breton rule by having said heir with a Breton. The Nord had their turn with Talos, and the Imperial's their with the Medes. Now it is our turn to rule the Empire. What say you, your majesty?"

Theodore smiled softly, but not in a conniving or mischievous way.

Dales smile remained on her face but there seemed to be...mockery or amusement of the idea in her eye's.

"I'm sorry General, but I have to say no. The elder council and the nobility expect an imperial heir, and I must provide one from having an imperial husband."

"It is as I figured. But the notion remains, should the Elder Council fail to find a suitable...suitor. The time for Nords and Imperials on the throne is long past mi'lady, and now would be the perfect time to place the Breton race at the forefront of the Empire. But your wish is my command, and so I shall return to my room at the Fox."

Theodore rose and bowed, just as deeply as when he entered, and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and don't worry, your preferences shall remain between us. I am not one to blab secrets my on allies. Farewell your majesty."

Dales stretched out a little, before leaving the room to go to her "massage"

[TheCzarsHussar]

Eduard Laenius, Jon- Eduard's House, Day

 

Eduard was busying re-reading one of his favorite books on strategy when Jon walked through the front door.

"So where were you?"

"The inn for a couple drinks."

"It's not even noon yet. You're the only drinker I know that doesn't drink at night."

"You're the only person I know that's killed someone while on a date, and the victim wasn't the date."

"You've got me there. I don't know anyone whose done that either."

"With all of that mess, you never really told me what you thought of Karita?"

"Right. She is... absolutely wonderful. And her personality is great too. Really intrigued by her. I'm looking to meet with her again sometime."

"Really? That has to be a first right? A second date for a girl Livia picked?"

"Yes. That is a first. She's one for twenty-two."

"Not the greatest success rate, but with you I'd say it's pretty decent."

"You trying to say I'm hard to please?"

Jon laughed.

"No, not at all. In fact, you aren't that difficult to please. You are difficult to keep interested though. There have been many one and done relationships with you."

"Usually that's all I need."

"There's more to it than... oh whatever. Anyways what do you have planned today?"

"Officially join the family. That's about it."

"And when are you planning to do that?"

"In the evening. After dinner most likely."

"Sounds good."

~~--~~-~~--~~ 8 hours later ~~--~~-~~--~~

Eduard had once again made his way to the sanctuary, making sure that there weren't any followers.

Alright. Guess there's no turning back from here. I'm going to be in the Dark Brotherhood. I will once again be a paid assassin. Hopefully Liv wouldn't be too mad.

As he entered the sanctuary, he noticed that he wasn't bombarded by the peculiar scent that he was last time.

That's odd. There's no way I'm used to that. They must have cleaned up or something.

He made his way into the main room, where he was met by a group of people, most of which he recognized. The only two he didn't recognize were a jester and what appeared to be a child. Although he was sure something was up with her. Was it an illusion? He couldn't be sure. Maybe they actually did allow children in. But he doubted that. As he was analyzing the girl, Nazir began to speak.

"Eduard, welcome."

"Thanks. Kelvyn is dead, as you asked."

"Yes. I heard he was run out of town," Nazir said with a chuckle.

He can't be serious. That's his thing? I'm glad I don't live here I guess.

"You could say that. Now what?"

"Well you did what we asked. Very clean too. So with that out of the way, you are officially in."

"Alright then."

"Oh, you can grab your armor now. Why don't you have Cicero take you to it? He was wanting to speak with you anyways."

Nazir pointed Eduard to Cicero, who was the jester he didn't recognize earlier.

Cicero was in the back of the room sharpening his ebony blade with a rock nonchalantly with his feet up on the table he was sitting next to. He could be heard singing a little tune as he did which went along with the rhythm of strikes of the rock upon the blade as he slid it along it's night colored surface.

 

"Tweedly dun, tweedly my!

I'll cut out your bladder, it splatters my eye!

I don't need vision, I smell your secretions,

Your fearful reactions say its open season,

My blade slides along your skin oh so pale,

As I work my blade down into your entrails!

So frail you are, yes! You can run! You can hide!

But in the end my blade will meet your insides...."

 

Cicero felt Eduard's approach coming from behind, out of instinct rather than anything else. When he did, Cicero ceased his sharpening and leaned back in his chair so that he was looking at Eduard while upside down.

 

"Ooh...my...you snuck up on dear Cicero! Most impressive! Most Impressive! You WILL please our...unholy matron...So silent, your approach, yes! You will do well...."

 

Eduard was puzzled by the jester. He sang an odd tune, and seemed distracted. But as soon as he approached, he was alerted.

That's great. Another insane member of the family. And he appears more far gone than the other. Although... he doesn't seem unintelligent. Just not normal. I'll figure that out later.

"Will I now? Very well. As you probably already know, my name is Eduard. You're brother over there said you wanted to speak with me, as well as lead me to my armor."

"Oh yes, yes indeed! I am Cicero, the keeper of the Night Mother...your mother now! Your destiny was written in blood since the first time you pocked your little head out of your false mother's gushing bleedy womb! I saw this in you since the first time I saw you...."

What in the world? Apparently he is actually a true follower of the Brotherhood. That's fine by me. It doesn't seem as if he forces everyone to be as insane as him at least.

"The first time you say? May I ask when that was?"

"In Falkreath, silly! Did you not see? Did you not see? Listen to your instincts! I was in Falkreath! I was disguised training a new recruit! I saw you and the strange one in action when you two assassinated that Jarl. Unfortunately for you, you were injured, but I had a good feeling about you regardless....I sent in my trainee to infiltrate your camp to better keep an eye on you. She found a girl in the camp that she looked like, killed her and took her place...remember? The healer? Hehehe! Under your nose, surrounded by foes, a dread child seeking others to spread woe! She followed you quite often...watching...waiting...waiting for you to prove yourself! And then....you did....you did! You did you did you did! You killed the Redguard! Spilled his blood in the dead of night using sweet sweet poisons to freeze his warm body.....Goooood. Good work...."

Eduard was shocked, but was able to easily hide it from his face and body. It wasn't even intentional, just an instinct he had developed.

Obviously I didn't see him in Falkreath. No time to inspect people then. But the healer? That's pretty weird. She was with these guys the whole time? She played the part pretty damn good.

"I see. So you've had your eyes for a little while now. And yes, that kill was quite good."

Unsatisfying, but very good.

"I take it you handle recruitment along with being the Keeper?"

"Oh, yes...yes. We've...hit some hard times..." Cicero lifted his head and buried his face in his hands and seemed to actually be weeping at this point. This however ceased abruptly as his voice switched to anger. "So now I've been forced to take on other duties as well! I was in Falkreath to look at our old Sanctuary to see if it couldn't be repaired, but alas the damn idiot nords and imperials decided it was high time to do our job for us! Do you know how many contracts we lost because the target was killed in the damn war? DO YOU?!?!? None. Hehehe! None at all. But...they could have been contracts! All those potential contracts gone! Oh well...still fun to watch, it was!"

 

He certainly has an interesting take on the war. Almost humorous. Almost.

"I see. I remember hearing about the Sanctuary in Falkreath. Nasty business that was. Good to see some of you pulled through. Now, Nazir said something about me getting some armor. You know where it is?"

Cicero pointed to the room on their left, still looking at Eduard upside down. Before he could say something else, Cicero put a finger over his mouth signifying he was done speaking to him and wanted silence. Afterwards Cicero went back to sharpening his weapon while singing another tune.

"I'll slice through your tendons and carve out your eyes,

Plow through your marrow, cut you down to size!

When it comes to mutilation there is just no other,

Cicero's the best! The Keeper of our mother....

I hug her and squeeze her, keep her from freezing,

Yet silence is what she gave, all the while just teasing!

Let life be filled with strife, and corpses unending!

Now I'm off you see...the Night Mother needs....tending....."

 

Eduard didn't even attempt to question what Cicero did.

Probably best if I don't agitate this one. He's probably one to go off the deep end, and I'm pretty sure I don't want that.

He followed the jester's instructions, and found the armor in the room. It was standard Brotherhood armor, something Eduard had seen before. He put it in a small bag that he brought with him, in case he was given anything. He then made his way back to the entrance of the Sanctuary. He was going to leave without a word, but was intercepted by Nazir.

"I take it you found everything alright? Along with meeting Cicero."

"Yes," Eduard said, motioning at the small bag. "As for Cicero, yes I met him. Quite the character."

"That is true. Now I assume you are leaving for now?"

"Yes, that alright?"

"Yes, although make sure you are here first thing tomorrow. Well... first thing is a bit much. Just be here tomorrow. There is the possibility that we will have something for you. Something that won't be able to juggled with dinner."

"I see. I'll be here first thing in the morning. 6:00 AM most likely."

"I would say that's bright and early, but it's hardly bright around that time now is it?"

At least that was slightly humorous. Dry, but funny.

"Very true. I better get going though. Traveling around too late at night is sure to attract unwanted attention. I'll be seeing you."

"Same goes to you... brother."

That's going to take a bit to get used to.

With that, Eduard left the Sanctuary to return home.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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..."

[TheCzarsHussar]

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."

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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 thatâ€

 

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.

 

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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."

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

 

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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. 

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.

[TheCzarsHussar]

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.â€

 

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.â€

 

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.â€

 

“So what if she’s whoring around with that bastard?â€

 

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…â€

 

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.â€

 

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.â€

 

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?â€

 

“Sir, I think we need to proceed with plan B.â€

 

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.â€

 

Lorgar nodded his head in agreement,

 

“Your right. Your right…â€

 

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.â€

 

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…â€

 

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…

 

[TheCzarsHussar]

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."