Jump to content

Civil War Aftermath Chapter 3: Season's End pt2


Recommended Posts

Grand Chapel of Akatosh, Kvatch
morning


"We are being tested, my friends. Tested! Our great father Akatosh looks down upon his children with love and compassion, but like a good father would not let his child put its hand into a fire, merciful Akatosh is using our enemies' wrath to teach us humility and prudence. Listen!  Will you listen, children? Do you hear him calling you back to a life of soberness, diligence and honesty? Or do you follow after the lusts of the purse and the flesh, as do some among us who should be the very example of our empire's enduring virtues? Listen! LISTEN! Akatosh is calling you. Heed his voice before it is too late!"

Punctilius Caro, rector of the Chapel of Akatosh, paused for effect with hands still held in the air. Slowly he lowered them and gazed around at the dribble of sleepy parishioners. One or two matrons of the town smiled at him and nodded encouragingly, while the beggars lolled in their seats and his theology apprentices fidgeted in their scratchy robes. It was not like it had been in years past, when stories of the apparition of a divine dragon battling a daedric prince had fired imaginations across the empire and sent donations pouring in to restore the temple at Kvatch. The banning of Talos worship had briefly sent people back into the arms of Akatosh, but things had not gotten desperate enough to stir passions as hot as Caro wanted them. His cherished hope of an uprising of holy warriors was having trouble getting off the ground. He had been forced to resort to other means in order to cleanse Kvatch of the rot that held back the blessings of Akatosh. Those promised results were also taking rather long to materialize, however, and the priest was beginning to have doubts about that, too. Would evil always triumph?

The white-haired priest's eyes fell on a young woman dressed in black, her face veiled. She looked to be in mourning. When the rest of the congregation had finished mulling about the altar, seeking their blessings for the day, and left the chapel, the veiled woman was still sitting at her place in the front row of the pews. Caro approached her. "Yes, my daughter? Are you in need of guidance?"

She stood and stepped closer. The priest got a whiff of an intoxicating scent, like no flower he could recognize. "Yes, Father. I am a traveler and carry many burdens. I very much hope you will help me."

The priest tilted his head. Her voice was enchanting. His eyes wandered down to the veiled bodice, but he could see nothing of her. Clearing his throat, he said, "Let me look at you, child. Why do you cover your face? Be not afraid."

The woman hesitated, then reached up a gloved hand and drew back her veil. Her face did not disappoint, in fact Caro was alarmed to feel a stirring he had long thought to be behind him. Then again, priests were not forbidden... As soon as the train of thought began, his mind was flooded with the image of ragged breath and tearing fabric and coiled limbs. She would give herself to him, it was plain in her sad, earnest eyes, and that mouth... that mouth that would... oh, Akatosh.

Akatosh. Caro coughed and half turned away, alarmed and ashamed at what had come over him. It was entirely inappropriate and unseemly. She was a lost soul seeking relief! He was the priest of divine Akatosh, here where the scourge of Oblivion had sought to overrun the world!

"Father, are you well?" The woman spoke, her voice soft and solicitous. Caro jumped at the touch of her hand on his arm. He looked back at her, and a tremor went through him. Her smile was so lovely, so pure. There was a gleam in her eye like dew on morning grass. This woman was surely blessed with the grace of the divines. Perhaps Akatosh had had pity on his lonely, fruitless struggles, had sent him some small comfort to aid him in his trials.

 

The woman spoke again. "Will you walk with me, Father?"

He would. Oh yes, he would.

***
Castle Kvatch, the previous night

Scaling the wall to the count's tower chambers had been so easy that Maggie believed that part of the castle must have been built with that in mind. Perhaps the Dark Brotherhood had not entirely slept in Cyrodiil these past centuries. They always left themselves such loopholes. She could have levitated, but wanted to spare the magicka in case she had to flee.

The window latch was less agreeable. It had taken her a full quarter hour, perched on a single foothold and with guards crossing in the courtyard beneath, until she had found the right alteration spell to pop it. That blasted Telvanni wizard was gone from the castle, everyone said, but perhaps he hadn't been idle during his stay.  Maggie would half have preferred to learn the Telvanni was still in Kvatch. That would have made it easier to avoid these indignities, making the castle too great a risk.

With the window open, she waited until she heard a sentry pass, then dropped down silently into the hall. A blast of ice doused the hallway torches. Outside the count's door, a single sleepy guard braced on his polearm. He must have been a bright one in his guard class, because at the approach of Maggie's shadow, instinctive alarm made him straighten. "Hello?" he challenged. "Who's there?"

Around the corner came a young black-haired woman, breasts bulging from a tavern dress. "I'm sorry, milord, I'm lost. The count's steward fetched me to visit the count, but I can't find his room. Can you help me?"

"Another one? We got rid of the count's bedmates an hour ago."

"Shall I leave then?"

"Yes, or you'll find yourself..." He stopped, suddenly confused. Hadn't the count said something about a raven-haired beauty? He'd said she was not to be hindered under any circumstances or the offender would be strangled with his own intestines. As far as the guard knew, nothing like that had ever happened, but you never knew with Count Brutus, and the sentry felt suddenly sure that it was a real danger for him. His heart thrummed with terror. "I mean... Go right in, milady. Terribly sorry. Please don't say anything to the count."

"I won't, sir, but you should see that we are not disturbed. Tomorrow, you will not remember that I was even here."

"I will! I mean, I won't! Yes, milady, and thank you."

Inside, Maggie shook her head, let the glamour dissipate, and cast a quick muffle. Torches were burning, and in their light she could see Count Brutus sprawled out on his bed with not a stitch on. It was hard to decide which was more revolting, the sight or the smell in the room, like a mixture of pickled vegetables, sex and dog vomit.

There was still time to turn back. There had to be another way. Any other way.

Maggie's eyes fell on a glass case holding a curious looking staff, humming with lesser daedric power. She stepped closer to read the note hanging on the case.

 

HALT, TRESPASSER! Your hands hold fast! Touch not what lies beyond this glass,

This glass contains something dear to me, so beware if you set it free,

Upon this staff does lie a curse! So run along now, be quick! Disperse!

Or upon you will be laid his wrath, the All-Present, Sheogorath!

But if this be myself, then fine, grasp your staff, for it is mine!

Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine! So hands off, swine!

 

-Count Brutus, proud owner of the Staff of the Everscamp

 

"The mad god," Maggie muttered to herself. "That explains a great deal." Glancing from the staff up to the wall, she saw a human figure stuck into a painting as if it was walking through a portal. "No doubt supposed to be avant garde. Plebeian." She made a face and turned back toward the bed. Might as well get this over with. The count rolled to his side to stretch his legs and feel the cool of the untouched silks of his bed, smiling as he did so from the sensation. His eyes slowly opened as he again rolled back to settle to sleep and pull the covers over him, feeling exposed.

 

Half aware, Brutus noticed the feminine figure in his presence, then mumbled, saying, "You... remind me of someone. Someone I know. Marge, or Mersella..."

 

Bursting up now, fully aware and with wild eyes, he said, "Magdela!"

 

"Don't look so surprised to find me in your bedchamber, Brutus. You've dreamed of this for years." Maggie's had flared with a calm spell, just in case. "I'm only here to talk, however, so your dreams will stay dreams. And for the Nine's sake, put some clothes on."

 

Brutus sprung up from the bed in a crouched position like a cornered animal. While maneuvering his way to the painting, he said, "My dreams consist of much more than laying with the likes of you. If I truly had such thirst, it would not be hard to quench, wench. But you know that...."

 

Delusional as well as mad. "You mean that little slight at the Zenithar summoning day ball. Sad, really. But let us get to the point. You are in danger, and I'm here to help you. In return I... Say, what are you doing?" She watched him crouch-walk to the painting, and glanced up at it again. "And what is that thing? Never mind. Clothe yourself so we can discuss this reasonably."

 

Brutus started to squint, as if he couldn't see in front of him. In fact, he really couldn't, as far as Maggie went. Her face was slightly distorted, as if out of focus. I know I'm a little eccentric, but I know a mask when I see one... "Who are you?"

 

"We don't have time for this. You know perfectly well who I am. Do you want to hear about a plot against your life or not?"

 

Brutus narrowed his eyes more. "A Bathory helping me?" The count let out a manic high pitched snicker. "Hehehehehe! Right, I see through you....literally, in fact. I don't know what game you're playing, or what you are. But I won't make this easy. I knew this day would finally come. I just wish my master was here to see me overcome you all."

 

Brutus suddenly made a dash for the painting and quickly pulled the doll from literally out of the artwork by the legs. It had in its hand a paintbrush and a scroll, which he took before throwing the doll at Magdela. What happened next was like something out of a dream, as the count's naked self jigged in the same way he demonstrated to Tacitus before hopping into the painting of barren twisted woods with giant rotting mushrooms.

 

Maggie had been expecting an attack, but a flight into a painting was a new one. She approached the frame cautiously, cast diagnostic spells on it, then touched the surface. It seemed to give at her touch. Truly a portal, then, but of what kind she could not be sure.

 

She sighed deeply and shook her head once. It was hard to believe she was reduced to this. Her father would no doubt take great delight in her predicament if he could see it. Time was running out. Darius' disappearance could not be explained for long, and the Order might already know something was amiss. The only bright side was that the naked fool possessed arts she had not suspected.

 

Maggie thought about the recall mark she had placed outside the palace walls. The magic of the painting might prevent it from working, but she would have to take the risk. Moving decisively before she could change her mind, she readied a paralysis spell, then stepped through the painting, its colors swirling and reforming behind her.

 

As if to announce her arrival, a flash of painted lightning went off in the background. It was raining, but only in the distance. "Welcome to my world, wench," said Brutus' voice from unknown origin in the nightmarish painted dead forest.

 

Before his position was found with a detect life spell, Brutus stepped out from behind a tree to face her. He was naked no more, sporting a painted purple and golden fancy suit that was tight around the legs. With a twisted grin, Brutus said, "Give it up, Maggot Maggie. In this place, I'm the fly."

 

"I will not give up. You are going to listen to me, and you're going to hear me. My family has opposed you, yes, but that's why I'm here." She glanced around, uneasy. It was impossible to tell where "here" was. "Is this a trick your Telvanni showed you? Impressive. But you cannot hide in here forever."

 

"Actually...this was a construct of my own. This artifact came into my possession, you see. The merchant claimed fantastical things of it and I purchased it on a whim. Now that Endar has helped open my mind, I was able to see its possibilities. You won't leave this place, Bathory." Brutus produced a scroll from his sleeve, then said, "AE CE ATESUM ADOOL, HTAROGOEHS SUL!"

 

After speaking the incantation, a cloud of purple burst forth before them and a very tall Mazken came forth, seeming confused from her surroundings.

 

Maggie began to call up a banish spell, but considered, and changed her mind. "So is this where you get your female company, Brutus?"

 

Brutus laughed at the jab, then said, "If I did, it would be preferable to the likes of you. Sick 'er, gal!" Brutus slapped her ass like a horse to get her moving. The Mazken obeyed, if reluctantly, then charged Magdela with a dark shield and blackened sword.

 

Maggie held out a hand and fired the dominate spell. The mazken shuddered and slowed, her sword raised to strike.

 

"You will let this puny male guide your blade, Mazken?" Maggie asked.

 

"I.. I must..."

 

Maggie lifted a brow. "Must you?"

 

The daedroth hesitated, and lowered the sword by way of experiment. "I do not think I can slay him."

 

Considering, Maggie glanced at Brutus and gestured to him. "I had a different punishment in mind anyway. Insult his manhood. Go on, it should be easy enough."

 

The Mazken turned and regarded Brutus with contempt. "Y..you are... weak...even for a m..m..male mortal."

 

"Yes!" Maggie agreed, delighted. She stepped to the Mazken's side, regarding Brutus. "His shriveled turnip could give a woman no more pleasure than her doctor while lancing a boil."

 

The Mazken, warmed up now, tamped her sword to her shield. "He is not worthy to command the faithful of Sheogorath. Command me to slay him, mistress."

 

Brutus was now visibly angered and whipped out another party trick. The artifact in question, which was the magical brush. Straightening his face, he wriggled his fingers, then began to quickly produce yet another daedra at his side. This time, it was an Aureal.

 

"Good luck commanding this without the brush, Maggot Maggie..." Brutus waved his brush, then a long black beard appeared on Maggie's face. "By my decree, all who so haveth a beard upon their face must suffer the cruelest most painful death I can give! See to it that she receives it, my chosen!"

 

"Yes, Sheogorath! I'll cleave out her bosom and tear through this Mazken dog to do it!"

 

Oh now, this was war indeed. Maggie backed up, preparing a banish spell. "Fight for me, Mazken!"

 

The daedroth didn't need any command. "To serve one such as this and call him by the name of our Lord! You will die for your presumption, Aureal." With an unearthly war cry, the Mazken advanced and clashed shields with the Golden Saint. Meanwhile, Maggie tried hard to ignore the facial hair and forced herself to calm. Moving around the fighting daedra, she prepared a telekinesis spell. Her magicka was sorely tested by having to dominate the Mazken, but it wouldn't take much to snatch the paintbrush out of Brutus' hand.

 

Brutus was watching the fight, but he noticed Maggie moving around the others. When he saw her looking at him with that blurred face of hers, he noticed her glancing at his brush, then threw it under his shirt. He threw a weak illusion spell in the area so she could hear him without speaking. "You'll need to frisk me if you want it, bearded maggot, hehehehehe!"

 

Meanwhile, the fight was over a lot quicker than Brutus expected. The Aureal ignored the Mazken's hits and savagely struck at it, causing the Mazken to succumb to her wounds and keel over into the waters of Oblivion once more. The brush was powerful in the hands of one trained in illusion. The daedra's fight showed that well. Bleeding and still filled with zealous rage, the Aureal then charged Maggie at a sprint, seeing nothing but the ugly shaggy beard covering Maggie's face.

 

Priorities changing as the Aureal charged, Maggie backed up quickly and hit it with a simple fire spell. The already wounded Golden Saint crumpled to its knee, bravely tried to get back up, but its paint melted into a yellow-orange blob at the second shot.

 

Whirling towards Brutus, Maggie said, "Cease, fool! The hour is too late for such games. I will tell you what you want to know and more, for we both can aid each other. Hear me, or the next spell is for you, and your tricks cannot save you."

 

Brutus had his hand in his shirt as if he was going to paint more, but her words gave him reason to pause. And in truth, the brush took deep magicka pools to keep utilizing, which he didn't posses, so he needed a breather. With a ***** look, he said, "What are you playing at, Maggie? I'm no warrior, so fighting with you would get boring anyway, though you do surprise me with your strength...."

 

Brutus pulled the brush out and produced a fire next to it. "Keep your hands at your side. I burn this brush and you'll be stuck with me forever! Hehe, that's a fate worse than death for you, I'll bet. And much more satisfying than you dying from any painted minions. I'll hear you out, but if I don't like what I hear, I'll be happy to trap you. You can summon things to this place, but there's no other way out. Endar made sure of that when he augmented the brush. My first question...what are you? And what's wrong with your face?"

 

"The main thing that's wrong with it at the moment is that it resembles a Nord lumberjack's," she replied crossly. "Paint out this beard at once."

 

"Aw, I was growing fond of that. But if you insist..." Brutus took a few cautious steps towards her, watching her hands the whole time. When she was in range, Brutus wiped what he considered a work of art away in three strokes, but not before painting the same beard on himself. "Now, speak."

 

She inspected herself warily, then looked back at Brutus, her lip curling. For all that her life and future were on the line, the imbecile was resourceful. Taking a deep breath, she crossed around the fire and took a seat on a painted rock. "You've encountered my brother before. I know he visited you. Did you see something wrong with his face?"

 

Brutus thought back at his arrogant and smug, yet admittedly handsome face. "Not anymore than usual, no. This was some time ago. Months. Are you making yourself look like someone else? Hiding your face with a spell? If so, my training may be helping me to see through it. But not all the way yet. It just looks out of focus."

 

"Your training with this Telvanni," Maggie guessed. "Well. There is something wrong with his and mine, or something right, depending on perspective. My time is indeed short, so I'll cut to the chase. We are vampires. My brother wants to kill you. It's not personal, really. We wanted your county folded back into Skingrad, but now he has a more urgent reason. He would make you a trophy for our father. He has help from your priest of Akatosh, perhaps some of your guards. Hence my need for secrecy in meeting you." She was not yet ready to talk about the real reason she needed to remain unseen- the fact that no one must have any suspicions about the Bathory family's movements. Maggie regarded Brutus to see how he would take this information.

 

Brutus' face looked visibly disappointed at the news and he was strangely quick to believe what was said. "Aw, damnit, Maggie! Now I wish I didn't ask!" Pouting like a child and crossing his arms, he said, "I would rather have found this out myself... though... I guess that means my plan A would have failed. So what is it that you want from me? Why are you even helping me?"

 

"Don't be too disappointed. We've had eras to learn how to hide from the eyes of mortals. Your Telvanni is a different story. As for why I would aid you, I have reason to kill my brother as well. A family quarrel, you might say. He's hiding out here in Kvatch, waiting for his courage to miraculously grow I suppose, so you are convenient. But I must say..." She glanced around. "You have arts I did not suspect. That staff in your chambers... the Mazken and Aureal. You're a follower of Sheogorath?"

 

Grinning, he said, "But of course. I'm still amazed that this isn't common knowledge yet. I guess we have that in common. Hiding things in plain sight."

 

"And here I thought you were the ordinary eccentric. It pains me to be here more than you know, but necessity is the mother of humility. What I propose is an alliance. With my brother gone, I will be in a position to see to that. I will help you rid yourself of this priest, and you will help me take care of my brother. After that, Skingrad will no longer interfere with your rights or holdings in Kvatch, meager as they are. What say you? Or are you so far gone in Lord Sheogorath's service that you cannot act in your own self-interest?"

 

"Meager as they ahhh..." Brutus said, mocking Maggie and her snootiness. He took some time to consider the proposal, stroking his painted beard as he looked back at the fire. "Who do I want to screw over more... hmm... I can't decide. Ah! I have an idea..." Brutus took out the brush, then painted a coin in his hands and flipped it in the air. It landed in the fire. "Damn. Oh screw it, I'll help you. Ugh."

 

Maggie smiled wryly. "It seems even you are capable of wisdom. You understand, of course, that this little alliance of ours depends upon your complete discretion. Not that anyone would believe you if you went around prattling about vampires in the nobility. Are we clear?"

 

"Oh, I think you know by now I have my ways. I don't have any interest in exposing your secret, however, as long as you don't try anything against me. I have too much respect for illusions to pull the wool from anyone's eyes. It is intriguing though. The great and beautiful Magdela Bathory is really a creature that most would be repulsed by. Scandalous, hehehe."

 

She pursed her lips to keep from scowling. "Lust, beauty. It's always an illusion. We imagine that another is the perfect specimen so that in possessing them we enhance our own self-worth. You would be surprised how easy it is. Nevertheless, enough of philosophy. Now we must kill another practitioner of illusion. And my brother." Maggie stood to leave.

 

"No, the priest will not die. I have other plans for him," Brutus said as he took out the brush. "It's going to be a work of art, hehehe!" With that, Brutus painted a doorway for her to step back into Kvatch.

 

Rolling her eyes at Brutus' theatrics, she stepped through the portal and back into his bedchamber. Dawn light was peeking through the windows. Time for church.

 

***

 

Pacing, Janus Bathory drank the last of the priest's cheap wine, then tossed the bottle into a pile with all the others and picked up a flask of a different liquid. He had buried two bodies in the backyard already, in his waiting. A beggar and a farm girl. There had been no time for anything more refined. He missed Gervais.

 

The priest's telltale knock came on the door. Three soft and one firm. Jem whipped the door open. "It's about time. I'm not waiting any-" He stopped, mouth gaping, when he saw Maggie. She stood with a hand on the priest's shoulder. Caro's head listed to the side and his eyes appeared glazed. There were bite marks in his neck. "Maggie?"

 

She smiled and pushed past him, leading the priest by the arm. "Surprised to see me, are you. You shouldn't be. And you shouldn't have attempted something this dangerous without me."

 

He looked after her, alarmed and wary. "How did you find me?"

 

"Come now, brother. You are not as clever as you think. I have news for you. You should sit down, Janus."

 

"I'm fine here."

 

She shrugged one shoulder. "Alright. Father is dead."

 

Time itself, almost meaningless anyway for an immortal, ground to a halt. Jem stared at her, then he did cross to a chair, slowly. "You?"

 

Maggie shook her head. "Mother."

 

Jem gaped, and then laughed. "Mother. You're joking. Poor taste, Maggie." He regarded her a moment. "You're not joking. She killed him?" Standing, Jem paced, running a hand through his floppy blonde hair.

 

"She didn't know what she was doing, and has returned to her usual state. I don't think she even remembers it. You know what this means, Janus."

 

His eyes were wide, thoughts racing. "Father is dead. I can't believe it. I..." He looked up at Maggie, her words registering. "I'm the heir now. I'm the count. Samuel's out of the country. It'll be public before he can get back. Your relationship with the empress can see it quickly done. Mother will have to be killed, of course. Crazy bitch could do the same thing to me someday." The horror and shock were quickly turning to excitement. Laughing, he said, "This is perfect!  By the Two, I couldn't have planned it better myself!" Realizing something, Jem looked back at them abruptly. "What about him? Even spelled, he shouldn't be hearing this."

 

"He's not himself today. You were sloppy, bringing in this mortal to help us bring down Brutus. What were you thinking, Janus?"

 

"Father was going to find out soon what I'd done. If I could present Kvatch to him, I could show him, once and for all..." Jem regarded the priest soberly. "Yes, he is a liability. I should dispose of him."

 

"There's no need to kill him. If he's one of us, he can remain in his place and help take down Brutus at our leisure. It's a bit risky, to turn one of the clergy, but he wouldn't be the first. His transformation has already begun." She gestured to the bite marks on his neck.

 

Jem gave her a half-smile. "Dim-witted men always were your milieu." His expression turned doubtful again. "Why are you helping me, Magdela? I would have expected you to be moving already to usurp my place. You always did try to grasp above your station."

 

"Because I need you. I can cover up Father's death with the imperial authorities, but the Order will blame me for it. You must support me, Jem. You were right. It always was you and me, against the world."  She crossed over to him, and brushed a hand along his arm. He was disheveled, pale. He hadn't been feeding enough. Maggie smiled, and moved closer, leaning against him. "Help me, Janus. Don't abandon me. I am nothing without you, I've always known that."

 

Still suspicious, his eyes moved from her face to the breasts whose tips were pressed against his chest. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten." Jem reached up a hand and traced her cheek with one finger, but before he could touch her, Maggie stepped back.

 

"Come then. Let us seal our compact in the customary way."

 

She walked over to the priest, took his arms, and embraced him. Jem watched, curious, as her lips moved along the priest's neck until it found the bite marks, prolonging the anticipation.  In all these years, he'd never actually seen his sister do this thing that sustained their lives. It was a pity there wasn't time to watch her lay with the man first. Still, Jem found himself moved. He stepped closer, and leaned in to watch her lips close over the red marks. The priest went rigid with paralysis and Maggie writhed with the ecstasy of the red gift, her hands sliding along the priest's arms as if caressing him. Jem's fingers curled, his mouth twitching.

 

Remembering himself, he said with a tone of command, "Stop. He's mine." Jem flexed his hand, ready to strike Maggie if she didn't obey. She hesitated, but released the priest and took a step back, smiling at him. Her lip was smeared with blood. Jem approached and leaned forward, to lick at the dribble. To his surprise, Maggie didn't recoil. She really was accepting him as lord. Elated, Janus kissed her, then turned and grasped the priest, drinking deep of his blood. It had been two days since the farm girl. It took all his self-control, but eventually Bathory released the priest short of killing him. The man slumped to the floor, unconscious but alive.

 

When Jem looked up, Maggie stood next to the bed, a mug of wine in her hand. "Come, my lord. You shall have what you asked of me. If you still want it."

 

Jem hesitated. It was unseemly, even for them. The Order wouldn't approve. Jaw firming, he crossed over to the bed and grasped Maggie's waist, pulling her against him. She was his, not theirs.

 

He lay her back and fumbled at the laces of her dress until her breasts were exposed. "My gods, these have grown up sweet," he said, kissing the tips one after the other and then burying his face in the crevice between, one hand reaching down to hike up her skirt. His mind buzzed with excitement, spinning. The light in the room seemed to brighten, then take on a green cast. "Magdela... my own sweet..." For some reason he was blind, but Jem didn't need to see to pin her beneath him. It was his, all of it. Maggie, the county, and perhaps soon the empress would be beneath him as well. He would have everything his father had, and more.

 

***

Some time later, Jem stirred. It wasn't usual for vampires to sleep, but he could tell that he had. There was a strange burning in his veins. He needed to feed, urgently. Still in a half daze, he groaned and turned over, reaching for Maggie. She wasn't there.

 

Forcing his eyes to open, Jem blinked and rubbed at them. As his sight came into focus, he saw her sitting at the table. "Janus. How do you feel?"

 

"Terrible." He rubbed at his eyes again, then noticed a metal cuff on his arm. Before he could puzzle out what it was, motion drew his eye back to the table. The priest was slumped against the wall, but another figure sat at the table with his sister. Wincing, Jem pulled himself up to one elbow. Recognition came, but it made no sense. "Brutus?"

 

Brutus picked up a cup of wine and said before sipping, "The one and only, Jem, you disgusting pig. Hehehe, I think I like you better now this way though. So much more depraved than I ever imagined. A pity things had to end this way now that I'm getting to know you better. Did you enjoy the blood?"

 

"Maggie?"

 

She had crossed over to the bed and leaned down to kiss him. "Don't worry," she whispered. "It's all in hand."

 

He relaxed a bit, and only then realized that she had slipped a tie over one of his hands and fastened it to the bed. Starting up, Jem tried to ready a spell, but nothing happened.

 

"That's a drain magicka cuff, darling," Maggie said as she calmly crossed to the other side of the bed. "Used to be one in every dungeon in the realm until the budgets ran thin. Hard to get them now, but Brutus has squandered only most of his wealth on disgusting debaucheries. It's his poison you feel in your veins, by the way. Delivered to you from the priest's blood, and some concoction Brutus took from Sheogorath's realm, so I'm afraid it affects even us. You were too busy sucking it down to see me spit out the blood into the wine cup."

 

Maggie had started to tie Jem's other hand, but he wrenched it free and reached up to grab her hair. Every muscle in his body screamed with pain, with a need more fierce than any he had ever felt for blood, but the rage was stronger. "Do you think you can betray me, you stupid sl*t? You're going to regret the day you came squealing out of our mother's womb." He had to let go of her hair to grab her neck, and Maggie let him do it. Then he felt the brush of her lips on his cheek and his limbs went rigid.

 

Her face hovered above his, tender. "Did you think I used my power on the priest? No. A simple paralysis spell for him, for you the Lover's Kiss, just as with Amaund and Father. Curious, isn't it, that you all should be done in by Magnus' gift and not those of our lords'. I shall have to think on that."

 

The dagger came around, gleaming. It was the same one she'd taken from Skingrad Castle. As she positioned it over Jem's heart, Maggie hesitated. She tried to feel the sadness of it. Images came to her mind of sunlit afternoons in the Jeralls courtyard, pony rides and mock sword fights and butterfly catching. Jem had not only been her brother, he was her only childhood companion. A tear blinked on her lashes, but even as it fell Maggie realized it came only from the centuries of practicing to mimic mortal behaviors. There was no happy childhood. That was an illusion no less empty than Brutus' party tricks.

 

I've been spending mostly your money for that, my dear. These people, they really do think me a fool.

 

Brutus watched the scene with boredom, as a simple killing wasn't what he wished for Jem in the slightest. "Um, sorry to interrupt your little moment here, but I'd like to make a suggestion. You don't need to kill him. Let me have him. He can't kill me, I'm the only man in Cyrodiil besides Master Endar that can provide him with what he so craves. The greenmote I planned to give him may not have worked since he's a vampire and has no pulse... but this felldew... there's nothing more powerful when it comes to addictive substances. From a daedra I finally managed to summon. It provides a high so powerful, that the withdrawal is almost immediate. So strong that within very little time, you can be crippled from its effects. Think about the effects of going without blood magnified tenfold. He will serve me, or live in agony for eternity. Surely it can't be worse than being Molag Bal's plaything."

 

Maggie regarded Brutus, careful not to show her concern, though her tongue brushed her lips as she recalled that she had had that substance in her mouth. No doubt Brutus would not have minded if both she and Jem had become thralls of his derangement.

 

"No. I'm sorry to spoil your fun, but my secrets are not just my own to keep. Very powerful people would not mind killing him, you and me to protect them. We must do this my way."

 

"Maggie. Maggie," Jem said, his voice pleading. He couldn't deny that what Brutus said was true, but with freedom there was still a chance. "I won't betray you. You can have Skingrad. I'll take a position on the..." He hesitated, the pain in his temples so excruciating that the sound of his own voice was difficult to bear. "Elder... Council. Maggie. Love. No." The dagger point pressed on his chest. "No, no, no." He writhed against his bounds and against the finality.

 

When it was done, Maggie wrenched the dagger from Jem's chest, Maggie reached up to slit his throat, hacking until the head was off. It was the only way to be sure. Blood pooled on the bed and dripped to the floor, green tinged.

 

She stood and turned to Brutus. "Thank you. It's dark enough now and I have people waiting to help me get him back to Skingrad. You are going to dispose of the priest, yes? Thoroughly and discreetly?"

 

"Like I said, he won't die." Brutus looked longingly at Jem's corpse. His foe was bested, but he felt slightly unsatisfied. He wanted Jem to taste the exquisite exuberance of the felldew, then the desolate feeling in his mind and soul after the high left him. Over and over. A madness only Sheogorath could grant. But it was enough that the Madgod had a hand in breaking him, finally.

 

"The priest will remain alive forever. But no one will ever find him. The way a man is immortalized in a statue or song, the priest will be in a painting. You get my meaning, yes? You were right, he is a practitioner of illusion. One of the best. He creates the illusion of hope to those without it. And for that, I would see him preserved."

 

"The painting." Maggie shook her head. She was in equal turns revolted, amused and impressed. Taking a step closer, she said, "We make a good team after all." Her eyes drifted downward as she wondered... Ugh. Her lip pulled in a grimace. What has become of my standards.

 

Brutus' mind too wandered, as did his eyes. How could they not... but they soon snapped shut before reopening to meet hers. Blecchh!!

 

"That we do. And you're not so bad after all, Magdela." Brutus stuck out his arm for a handshake. A rare sign of respect from him indeed, as any who knew him could attest. She regarded his hand dubiously, thinking about where it had been, then reluctantly shook it.

 

***

The next night, flames lit the sky over the West Weald. It was reported throughout the empire in the following days that Darius Bathory, Count of Skingrad, and his son Janus had been on a hunting trip when a fire broke out at the family's lodge, killing both of them. The count's will appointed Rufus Imbrex, lately of the Penitus Oculatus, heir of Skingrad's county seat. It was even rumored that Imbrex was to marry the youngest daughter of the late Count Bathory, after a respectable time of mourning was concluded.

 

Meanwhile, Brutus was putting up his new masterpiece in the center of his Castle hall just above his throne seat. The guests of his court felt chills go down their spine as their eyes rested on the image of some old vampire priest, wailing with his hands resting on his cheeks in some dead forest right out of Quagmire itself. And to any who had to stomach a second visit, they would swear that the priest's eyes would follow them, or his position in the painting would change. Just a little. But of course, that was impossible, so no one ever gave the idea a second thought.

 
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Theodore Adrard

Daggerfall

Evening

 

Wet, sick, and altogether miserable, the king dismounted his ship. The trip south from Camlorn, that was supposed to take a day and a half, was extended an entire day, much to Theodore's agitation. The cold he had acquired in Northpoint had not subsided, and had possibly grown worse with the damp environment aboard the warship. As of now, his thick, chocolate colored mustache was caked in snot, and he could not for the life of him rid his clothes of the smell of salt and wet timbers.

 

None of this, not the agitation nor sickness, showed to his companions, as his face was placid, stony, but as cold as the sea's spray. This expression, or lack there of, was normal for the king, at least recently. Ever since The Lord Ryger was betrayed, he had not been distant, per say, but he was not one to frivolously express emotions. As such, he kept to himself, leading the procession quietly. Behind him trailed Duke Gondwyn, as well as Duke Theirry and the two wards from Northpoint, both younger sons of Lord Traven. The streets, crowded due to the pleasant weather on shore, parted to let the procession pass.

 

Of course the weather here is nice. Blasted sea. Just as soon as I began to rid myself of this cold we get set upon by the worst rainstorm I've ever seen at sea. Bah, I'll find something to cure it in Sentinel. I've heard spicy foods clear the sinuses wonderfully.

 

Theodore's thoughts were broken as he ascended the steps before the palace. The central flight, of three, was soaked in centuries worth of blood, from previous executions, as well as the more recent ones. The concrete, as porous as it was, was not easily cleaned of blood stains. While not aesthetically pleasing, it served to remind those that stepped out of line the dangers of doing so. This set up was a purely Daggerfallian tradition, as each city had their own place of execution, no two alike, Camlorn, a hill in a centrally located park, Northpoint, a sea cliff, so the blood ran right into the ocean. Farrun, a beautiful wooded grove, and Wayrest an island right off the coast, while the others were either unimaginative or dull.

 

The plans he had come to discuss with his mother in law, who greeted them from her perch on her throne, were much more important than any executioners pavilion, if not more interesting.

 

Clearing his throat and wiping his nose, Theodore said, "Lady Gaerhart, I'm sure you remember Traven's two boys? Recently acquainted at Roland's wedding, yes?"

 

The children bowed, a rehearsed yet still somewhat sloppy gesture. Time would mend it, as would the strict guidance of the prickly lady of Daggerfall.

 

"I remember them indeed. Backs straight boys, bend at the waist not the knees, hands either both at the side or one on the belt and one behind the back. Ah, much better. You'll both make fine court members some day, with some assistance. Duke Gondwyn, pleasure to see you again," she bobbed her head in greeting to the duke, but hardly had to look up to him because of his diminutive size.

 

"Baron Brutya has assured me the men are all gathered and ready, while Baron Copperfield has prepared our ships to join the king here. I hope you find they have not misinformed me," she continued with an icy smile, one that told the duke that any such false reports from the lower nobles would be dealt with swiftly, and efficiently.

 

"Of course, m'lady," Gondwyn said, his lack of formal manners bleeding through as he slurred the words 'my' and 'lady' together like a commoner.

 

It was all Joslin Gaerhart could do to wince, but the twitch of disapproval did not go unnoticed by Theodore, even if it sailed over the duke's head.

 

"Now boys, why don't you and Duke Gondwyn go to your rooms and settle down. After you've unpacked and settled in, maybe we can begin your lessons."

 

The boys trudged off, grumbling noticeably, but their displeasure not near as obvious as Gondwyn's, who resented being lumped together with two children. Theodore's eyebrow arched noticeably as he addressed one of the few people in High Rock, maybe all of Tamriel, who matched him on a political level, Lord Traven being on that list as well, along with Lord Imbel of Wayrest, although he was up and coming, and as such had chosen poorly when picking sides for the war. A calculated risk, as he knew that he had more to gain from Lielle winning than Theodore, and the king could respect his ambition, while knowing it would prove fruitless in the end.

 

"Careful now, we mustn't step on any toes," he said sarcastically, knowing full and well Lady Gaerhart only stepped on toes when she meant to, and this was precisely one of those times.

 

"Come now Theodore, we both see he is nothing more than a warrior wearing the mask of a true noble. Had his brothers, his more well taught brothers I might add, not both fallen in the retaking of Wayrest, as you will recall, we wouldn't have to deal with a blithering idiot like Paul Gondwyn. Unfortunately, as much as you and I both try, we can't control everything. And High Rock is all the worse for it," Lady Gaerhart almost cockily added, even if she only spoke the truth.

 

While they had discussed Gondwyn's inferiority to his late brothers, the duo had moved from the great hall to the older woman's lounge and study. The both sat in plush, comfortable chairs, and the dowager queen set her cane aside, propped up against the chairs arm.

 

"I do hope you like the wards. From what I've gathered, they seem to be pleasant kids. Not near as rambunctious as Roland was," Theodore said, leaning back in his chair, letting the velvet cushions cradle him.

 

"Yes, they seem nice enough. But they aren't near as important as your kids. How is my Elayne holding up? Well, I presume," Lady Gaerhart said, regally perched near the edge of her seat.

 

Theodore straightened a little, saying, "She's perfectly fine. No problems reported from the healers and nursemaids. Although, they are all in agreement that this most likely her last attempt at children."

 

"Of course. She's nearly to old to have any already. We must be careful in that she doesn't die from the birth, as sometimes happens with older pregnancies. Yes, very careful."

 

"She may not be the only one pregnant, given a week or so. My son and his wife were, uh, shall I say, quite busy the week before we left. No doubt trying to produce an heir as well as having a bit of fun," Theodore chuckled, and smiled briefly, before another round of coughing broke both.

 

The elderly woman scrunched her forehead as she waited for her son-in-law to quit coughing. "I would watch that girl, if I were you. Being spawn of Traven is all well and good, but I hear she has a knack for politics. Be sure she is on our side, before trusting her with anything major. Even then, only something you wish Traven to know as well."

 

"I understand. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she had strict orders from him to write often detailing whatever she might have heard. I can't blame her, I would have my child do the same in the circumstances."

 

Recalling the memory, and rather sadly, the former queen sighed. "That's where I went wrong with Lielle. She was too stubborn, too bold, too outspoken to even begin to think about writing us and telling her husbands secrets. And she adored the man, evil weasel that he was. As much as I disliked him, he had a certain charisma that was undeniable. How she was swept in, I'll never know. Oh, don't worry, we never had Elayne write on you. Well, not after we realized you should be heir rather than Aleron. But laws of succession are so tricky that it would never have been as easy as naming you heir. But of course you know that, and here I am blabbering to the mastermind of the plan."

 

Theodore smiled again, but held in his chuckles and laughter for fear of coughing again. "He was a well spoken man, even if a bit dull in other areas. I wanted to ask you," Theo said, changing gears, "what exactly your plans are to ensure our financial stability. I ask because Duke Mon, who said he was assisting you, was rather rushed when last I saw him, and didn't really get to explain your plans."

 

"They are not too complicated, but they are a work in progress. The first part consists of raising the taxes on luxury goods. Things such as expensive furniture, fine foods and finer spirits, and fancy clothing. Although, we may have a problem with the peasants reacting negatively to such increases," Joslin said, waving her hand in a manner of dismissal. "But we can deal with that quite easily."

 

"All we must do is let them think that these taxes will go to arming and feeding their husbands, fathers and sons, while we do whatever we please with them. It won't be a total lie, as some of it will go to things like that, but we also must use the money to rebuild the cities that will inevitably be destroyed," Theodore said, his voice reacting in no way to the idea of lying.

 

"The next plan is to get both Hammerfell and Skyrim to drop a trading contract or two with Cyrodiil and instead trade with us, as well as increasing the profitability of our trades with Cyrodiil. I have already sent Duke Mon on to Windhelm, which was why he was in a hurry. You will be stopping in Sentinel as you said, and can speak to Governor Jeleen while there. As for the Imperials, I've written your cousin at the capital to negotiate with the Empress, and soon to be Emperor."

 

An almost imperceptible flash of icy fury passed through Theodore's eyes, one that caused the dowager queen to issue a quizzical glance, but she said nothing. The flash of emotion was replaced just as quickly with a playful smile, Theodore hoping the latter hid the former. "Hopefully Manis can handle it. As clever as he is, his lack of political skill leaves something to be desired. But, he is the smartest man I know, if painfully awkward. Hopefully he's read something in those books of his that taught him politics."

 

Joslin laughed quietly, a hearty chuckle for one so old. "One can dream." Changing subjects, she asked, "What news about the Theirrys? Have they put down that uprising?"

 

Theodore's smiling visage at their poking fun at his father's brother's son's son vanished as he recalled the events of which his mother in law inquired. "Yes, the bastards were all put down. Not quietly, though. It seems the foul heathens of the late duke haunt his family yet. That is why I warn Roland so against galavanting around; bastards are a disease that will uproot even the most firm family trees. Such as what happened to the Beauchamps and the Phiencels. Torn apart through bitter infighting because of bastards staking claim to the seats of power."

 

"Dilborn tried to assist the Phiencels, them being old friends, but they were unable to recover. Now, they are a dead house, with the Chirdittes rising in their place. How exactly were they put down, if young Irbran is with you?"

 

"His uncle, along with the guard captain and some of the troops. It wasn't all that difficult, just embarrassing for the family. And a waste of men and resources."

 

"Quite. A shame some men cannot control themselves. Pitiful really, that their goals are so limited that they must pass the time with such gross hobbies. There is enough time in youth for that, while after marriage their duty should be to their family. If not for love, then for the sake of being intelligent. No good has ever come from a bastard."

 

Theodore smiled from a personal thought, recalling the soon to be emperor and his habits. But, as usual, he kept his thoughts to himself. "I agree. We will yet see if this primitive past time has any lasting affects," Theodore's words referred to both the Theirry family and Snow-Strider, although Lady Gaerhart recognized only one of them.

 

"Is that all? I imagine your trip tired you out greatly, and some rest is much needed," Joslin suggested helpfully.

 

"No, not quite. I wanted to discuss the possibility of you ruling, along with Elayne, during the next war with the Thalmor. While I trust her completely," Theodore said, wiping away the shroud of doubt that had fallen over his mother in law's face, "I trust your judgment, and know that you have ample experience leading."

 

"I would expect no less," she said, as if the thought had never occurred to her that someone else would be asked to lead, "and High Rock will be safe under our guidance. There will be work to be done, of course, as we will have to rebuild after this civil war. But, our preparedness for it should see victory easily enough achieved that it will not be an arduous process. Just time consuming."

 

"Well, as you said, it is time for me to go and rest up. Unfortunately, my stay will only be for the night, as the war waits for no man. Goodnight, Joslin."

 

"A goodnight to you as well Theodore. And don't worry, you'll make a fine king. Of that, I am more sure than anything."

 

As he left, she didn't have to see Theo's face to know he was smiling. Whether they would admit it or not, every man had doubts about his abilities as a leader. Even one as skilled as the current king of High Rock was no different.

 

**

 

Theodore went to sleep that night knowing full and well he was on his way to victory. Not only in this war, but in all his endeavors. That night, he dreamt of a council smiling down on him, blessing him with a prosperous life. On this council sat a flaming dragon, a flower-handed woman, a bearded man wielding a staff, a great blacksmith, a wise judge, a young and beautiful woman, a majestic hawk, a powerful wizard, and a great northern warrior. A voice, presumably one of the smiling councilmen, or perhaps all in unison, foretold of a long life, one of numerous victories, a bountiful family, a prosperous country, and power like he couldn't imagine. But even as the voice spoke, it became dark, grim, and evil, and it changed to predicting a short, miserable, life, one of great suffering and death. The smiles were soon replaced with sad looks, as if they felt sorrow for Theo. A menacing shape grew from the shadows, and Theodore could not tell what is was, but it breathed a vile mix of death and destruction, and the council vanished. Theodore was left, alone, while the shape gnawed at his soul, leaving him hollow and frail. It was a dragon, but because of the darkness he couldn't see anything other than its enormous size. But even with its large presence, Theodore somehow knew that it had been much larger, and that it was now a shell of its former self. As the monster moved to devour him, he snapped awake from the dream, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, and wiping the away snot with the back of his sleeve.

 

That dragon...what could it mean, that a dragon will destroy me? Certainly it wasn't....no, it couldn't have been the dragon of the empire. But what if it was? What if the dream was foretelling my demise at the hands of the empire? I can't let that pass, not when I've worked so hard to get where I am, Theodore was shaken by the dream, more scared and nervous than he could ever recall being.

 

Taking a sip of his water, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply, calmed his thoughts, and tried to find some peace before the morning arrived.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Stalks-Deep-Waters

Dragon Bridge

Early afternoon

 

So far the Stormcloaks hadn't made much of an attempt to catch him. He had made camp the following night to eat, rest and brew the potion that would purge any disease from his body. When he woke up the following morning he had sighted a Stormcloak patrol coming in his direction from the south. They didn't seem to be tracking him but he didn't want to stay to find out. So he quickly packed up and left, picking up the trail. The trail kept leading north and then a little more eastward. 

Later the tracks went off the road and he ended up crossing a river, it had strong currents where he first stumbled upon the river and he could have crossed it without too much problem. But not his prey. The tracks lead down the river to a narrow and shallow place that was good enough to wade over for a landstrider. Later he came upon a small village; which he remembered he had passed through on his way from High Rock; Dragon Bridge. Most noticeably recognized by the large stone bridge at the edge of town, that had a dragon head in stone resting on an arch over the middle of the bridge. He entered the town from the wilderness on it's southwestern side. And the trail he had followed got muddled with all the other tracks that came from the residents of the town and the travelers that passed through it. 

Sighing he headed straight for the inn, if the Companions had passed through someone at the inn would most likely know about it. The people gave him the usual suspicious looks he was used to getting as he made his way through town. He entered the Four Shield Tavern where voices were heard.

 

"Hahaha, it was a good fight indeed. If I wasn't busy, I'd join the war myself!" The sound of mugs clanging together was heard along with strong gulps from seasoned drinkers.

 

Farkas said, "Maybe we should, brother. The three of us. I'm getting tired of hunting animals all the time. Speaking of, what do you think happened to the Argonian?"

 

"I bet by now, that general got himself some new gator skinned boots," said Aela. "Wish it hadn't come to that, but it was necessary."

 

"Don't know why you let him know where we were in the first place, Aela. That was stupid of you."

 

Aela said, "Vilkas, you're just mad that he might have actually gotten to your target first...."

 

"And I still plan to!" Stalks yelled. There was no way he could make it through the tavern without them noticing anyway so he might as well announce his presence.

 

Aela lifted her eyes up while the twins turned around in their seats. "Well I'll be damned, you made it out, huh?" said Farkas, laughing afterwards.

 

"I thought you were lizard stew," added Vilkas. "Too bad."

 

"Now if you'll excuse me for not dying at the hands of your tricks, I have a bounty to collect."

 

Aela said, "So soon? Why don't you sit? Have a drink with us and make up for past transgressions, eh?"

 

"Why should I sit down with you after you people tried to have me killed? Give me one good reason I shouldn't expect you to try to get rid of me again."

 

The Companions all looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Farkas turned around and said, "Uh, because we're offering free mead? That's about as good a reason as any I'd imagine."

 

"I'm not a big fan of mead. I prefer Argonian blood-wine. And why are you sitting here drinking?"

 

Farkas looked to his brother as if the lizard just asked them why do they breath. Vilkas understood his confusion and said, "He means why aren't we chasing the Dunmer, brother."

 

Aela said, "It's because we've lost her trail. She's somewhere in this area, but we don't know where. We've been asking around, but we haven't had any luck. She's insane... so we figured we'd wait for her to do something crazy again, then go hunting once more. Say, what did the Stormcloaks do to you anyway?"

 

"If you wish to know;" said Stalks. "I was first knocked out by a heavy blow. Woke up tied to a chair with the ugliest nord I've ever seen standing in front of me. He beat me a little bit while throwing racist insults at me. Then when I managed to convince him I'm not a spy or an enemy, he still decides to have me executed for his and his men's entertainment. After that knocked out by yet another blow to the head. Then I woke up to a pole in another tent. And then I made my escape."

 

"Those Stormcloaks are a piece of work. Hard to tell which ones are friend or foe sometimes," Aela said.

 

"Vignar trusts them. Good enough for me," said Farkas.

 

Vilkas said, "As does Eorlund. But as for me trusting them, I don't even care about them. Well, you're no worse off than when we left you. Can't blame us too much for what we did, you are interfering with our contract after all. Though, we'll get paid regardless of who kills her. But still, it's principle."

 

"It was my contract first. I sniffed her out of her den where she was skinning Argonians and making armor out the skin to sell. Not you. I was chasing her before she set a foot in Whiterun. It's you who are interfering with my contract."

 

"Doesn't matter. When she came to our city, it became our problem," said Farkas. "Now do you want a drink or not? If Aela can't find trace of her, then you're not going to. You may as well wait with us."

 

"I'm not going to wait. If something do show up, I'm not going to sit here with my head in the booze."

 

"Suit yourself, then," Farkas said. "Hey tavern wench! Another round!"

 

"Hold your horses, Nord!" called the woman after placing two mugs down.

 

"I've got some mead for you guys if you're getting too impatient..." The Companions all looked over to the corner of the tavern to the female who had just spoken to them. The woman was in black robes and had her face covered.

 

I recognize that voice anywhere. Stalks thought as he turned around, dagger drawn.

 

"Who are you?" asked Vilkas. The woman answered him by removing her hood and revealing wildly wide red eyes and a huge toothy grin most unsettling.

 

"You... You... How..." said Stalks as he tried to come up with anything cohesive to say. "Why am I even surprised?"

 

Aela was the most confused, thinking that no one could ever get the drop on her with her keen sight. Things happened fast at that instant, as the three Nords behind Stalks shot up from their chairs immediately, knocking the table over as they charged. "Get her!"

 

Stalks however did not charge at Lilith but instead rushed to cover the door. He had a bad feeling for attacking her directly if she had been standing there, waiting. By now, the other people at the bar were all gawking as the famed Companions all burst into action. But so did Lilith. Shrouding herself again, she stood up and shot her table at the group. Unfortunately for her, the brutish Farkas sent it crashing down with a swing of his claymore. This only left him ill prepared for the table flying at them from behind, which flattened them all, pinning them down for Lilith to step over and make for the door. Seeing Stalks at the door and hearing the Companions scrambling up, Lilith began forming a large ball of flame in her hands, revealing the wicked smile across her face. Stalks could only gulp at the display as he prepared himself to dodge the fireball. The heat gathered in her hands until finally it soared. Lilith let out a squeal as it traveled towards the door, right to Stalks where he stood guard. It wasn't a fireball spell, however, but an incineration spell. After it missed her hunter, it struck the wooden door, weakening it enough for her to crash through as she leaped towards it to make her escape. Stalks dashed after her out the inn and she was just a few yards away from him. He considered changing weapon to his spear but that would only slow him down. So he just kept running, trying to get as much speed as possible, and with a little luck this long chase across Skyrim would soon be over.

Her dark red eyes dared a glance behind her to see the twins and the tameless eyed fiery she-devil wind-sprinting behind the one that chased her the longest. She ran towards a horse at the edge of town. Stalks got desperate and threw his dagger at Lilith but missed quite badly. Lucky was he though that the dagger instead hit the back leg of the horse which caused it to partially collapse onto the ground. Lilith, still smiling, just ignored the beast as she ran past it. Stalks had to slow down a little so he could yank the dagger out of the horse while running. Then he picked up pace again. 

The chase proved problematic for her pursuers though as walls of ice and fire forced them to run off road from time to time. The distance between Lilith and Stalks grew longer and longer. Which irritated him to no end. 

 

The chase was long and with not even a moment to properly catch one's breath. Lilith continued firmly on the road that lead to Solitude. Perhaps it was the promise of safety from the far, yet looming walls of Solitude, overrunning her common senses with the thought of refuge. Then after some time closed in on the gates of Solitude. And hopefully the guards would stop Lilith long enough for Stalks to catch up.

And the guards indeed moved to intercept her, but only because she was running. They didn't know who she was or what she'd done, so they didn't put much into it. She was already through the main gate before the others reached the second. When they did, the guards said, "What's with all the running? You lot got attacked by bandits or something? Wait, what are the Companions d-,"

 

"OUT OF OUR WAY, FOOL!" Aela barked, shoving the man aside as the rest of them plowed their way to the city.

 

"Bounty hunting!" yelled Stalks apologetically as he instead ran around the guards.

 

The guard just looked on as they ran past them. If he wasn't wearing a helmet, he'd scratch his head, wondering why someone with a bounty would run inside a city of guards. After the group made it inside the city, strangely enough, Lilith was there staring at them with a big grin on her face. This made Stalks uncertain again. He tried picking up pace as much as he could, which wasn't much, as he instead tried flank her. The Companions would get to her first. But losing the bounty was at the moment the best risk worth taking with this woman's crazy traps and setups.

 

"Where do you think you're going, lizard?" A group of guards who were hidden among the crowd of people in the streets suddenly came out with shields and swords raised, blocking off his retreat. The Companions were soon cut off too from behind and soon the four were boxed in, with Lilith slinking past the men.

 

"I'm hunting a bounty! That Dunmer woman is the target. She's a criminal who's skinned people to make leather armor." yelled Stalks while he pointed in the direction where Lilith had slipped away.

 

One of the Nord guards started laughing. "That's what we thought you'd say. We're already aware of the story. She told us. Elisif however, has taken a personal interest in this since it involves Windhelm and sir Ulfric Stormcloak. You'll have plenty of time to sit and think about your story when the Jarl deals with you. Now move, the lot of you!"

 

"Wait a second here, we're the bloody Companions! You know who we are, do you not? Milkdrinkers?" yelled Vilkas.

 

"We do. And that stopped holding weight as soon as Vignar signed up with the Stormcloaks. I won't say it again. Move! And relinquish your weapons!"

 

"I saw her skin a person with my own eyes!" Stalks proclaimed as he hesitantly first handed over his dagger.

 

"Elisif says she'll go over the matter in her court. So shut your yap until then, all of you. Band over the claymore, big man!" Aela and Vilkas already handed over their weapons, but Farkas stubbornly held onto his.

 

"Nobody takes my weapon. I'd rather die with mine and go to Sovngarde knowing I didn't surrender to guards when I didn't break the law."

 

"Farkas, don't be a fool! We'll sort this out later. Now hand over the sword," demanded Vilkas.

 

"No, brother, I-" Vilkas didn't waste time arguing, as he saw some of the guards start to notch arrows. If they were going to arrest them just like that, who knows what else they'd do. After Farkas slumped over from a gauntlet clad blow to the head, the guards flooded in to apprehend them all and take them to the dungeons. 

 

"Fine, I surrender." said Stalks, remaining calm but still couldn't hide his annoyance. He raised his hands over his head. At least for that he managed to get a slightly less painful arrest compared to the Companions. On the way to the dungeons Stalks looked to the Companions. "So, first time getting arrested for no known reason?"

 

Vilkas said, "Well, for no known reason anyway, hehehe. This place won't hold us for long, regardless of what the Jarl decides. You watch."

 

"I've heard that before. From my experience it's best to just stay calm and plead innocence."

 

"I doubt you've actually heard that from someone who's broken out before," Aela said. "Granted, this place used to be the capital. But the rules are the same. We'll just wait and see what the Jarl says for now."

 

"You all know we can hear you, right?" said a guard.

 

Aela shrugged, then said, "So? What I say is fact, whether you hear it or not. You will not hold us. You can try, but you will fail."

 

"Hmph, we'll see about that. Now shut up and keep moving!"

 

And  in the distance they heard Lilith as she laughed the entire way back to the Blue Palace. 

 

***

 

"At least we got our own cells." said Stalks as he tried to lighten the mood from behind the bars. He sat down leaning sideways against the bras on his cell. The Companions sat in a cell on the right side of his. And thanks to the cells being placed in a circular room he could see into their cell a little.

 

No one from the Companion's cell said anything, but they were whispering amongst themselves about something. A few times, Farkas could be heard saying "Are you sure that's wise here?" But they shushed him and told him to lower his voice.

 

Some time went by, maybe a few hours, but eventually they all heard a series of collected heavy footsteps, before a jingle of keys and a bunch of armed guards were all in front of their cells. "The Jarl will see you all now. Try anything and you die. Men." The man signaled for the others to bind their hands again and soon had them moving out towards the Blue Palace.

 

"So, what are we accused of?" Stalks asked the guards are they were walking on the open street.

 

"You, for killing Dunmer in Windhelm for your people's past with them, then hiring the Companions to help you track her. The Jarl's taking pity on her for being... strange... and for her saying Ulfric wouldn't give her refuge. She's even claiming Ulfric wrongfully put a bounty on her head for crimes another person committed since he thinks they all look the same."

 

"Me hiring the Companions? These fellas tried to have me killed for 'interfering' with 'their' contract."

 

"I'm not the Jarl, lizard. Personally, I don't believe the story either. But I'm not the Jarl."

 

Vilkas had to laugh at that, despite the situation. "I didn't even think this woman would be sane enough to make up a lie like that. This will be interesting."

 

When the prisoners entered the Blue Palace, Elisif was sitting in her throne conversing with the eastern devil herself, laughing and whispering. Basically, making their chances for convincing the Jarl of their innocence look smaller and smaller. Finally, the prisoners were set before them on their knees and bound by their hands with guards all around them, as well as Elisif's court, minus Falk Firebeard.

 

"Hello Jarl." said Stalks in a calm manner.

 

"Argonian." Elisif turned her head then to the others. "Companions."

 

Their only answer were their scowls of hatred and Aela's spit upon the floor.

 

Elisif said, "Right then. I suppose we should get this over with. I assume the guards told you why you are here. What is your name, Argonian?"

 

"Stalks-Deep-Waters. But I'm generally just called Stalks." replied Stalks. He didn't really share the Companions' anger, but he was still frustrated over the situation. But he didn't show it and just stayed calm.

 

"Appropriate name, I'd say. Considering your actions here against my friend miss Telnura Trizen. Whatever grudges you have with her, they end here. Ulfric may allow these sort of activities to go on in his hold, but I will not."

 

"I remember her name being Lilith."

 

"You remember wrong, lizard," said Lilith. "I am Telnura, the Dunmer you've been harassing this whole time for the sake of some bounty. Ulfric doesn't care which Dunmer did what, my Jarl. Only that a Dunmer dies for it." Her face gave no emotion, only a neutral stare. Abnormally empty, as if she were a flesh automaton.

 

"Right. So why do I also remember your face on the bandit that I found skinning a person? And by they way, I did not hire these landstriders to help me. They're my competitors and they even tried to have me killed for 'interfering' with 'their' contract."

 

"Well, 'tried to get him killed' isn't really how I would describe it..." Farkas added with a grin. "We just made the Stormcloaks think he was worth arresting. What they did after that wasn't our problem."

 

Elisif said, "Not helping your case, here. I believe lying to our armed forces is still a crime."

 

"Brother, you moron," Vilkas said whilst shaking his head.

 

"Good job, ice brain," Aela said.

 

"Hey, it's the truth is it not? Better than them thinking we're hunting some so called innocent person. This woman was charged in our hold for killing guards and trying to spread disease by planting a bunch of baby skeever within the walls..."

 

Elisif said, "Enough already. It's accusation after accusation after accusation. So far all I do know is that you three are already guilty of misleading before, so why should I believe you now? And Stalks, do you have any proof of these crimes?"

 

"Well about them lying for the Stormcloaks; you can probably ask some big brutish officer fella that got an ugly scar on his neck about an escaped 'Argonian spie'. About Lilith;" Stalks paused for a second to think.  "Not really." he first said hesitantly. "I only heard about her crimes in Whiterun. Though I did see the bandit gang she ran before I flushed her out of hiding in Eastmarch. She was capturing and skinning people, Argonians to be precise, to make leather armor out of them. She also likes to call out to the mad god from time to time."

 

Finally, Lilith showed some slight emotion and said, "What? Well, I never! Me worship one of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles? This is exactly what I am talking about! They know nothing of my people, or they'd know better than to accuse me of that! He probably took inspiration from the history of this palace, my Jarl. It's very common knowledge after all. The mad state of Thoriz Pelagius III. And I still don't see any proof, Argonian. Because he has none!"

 

"Pelle-who? Sorry, I'm not a scholar, I'm a mercenary from Black Marsh. And no, I don't really have any. Maybe you have though. Do you still have some of that scaly armor left? Or maybe some object as a token of your faith." It was a wild shot and Stalks knew it. But it was worth a try.

 

Lilith bit her lip when the Jarl looked back at her waiting for an answer. "I have authentic dragonscale armor. That's probably where these outlandish accusations started. I am a great warrior and powerful mage and I defeated a dragon on my own to obtain this armor. The Nords were just jealous that I was better than they were. That is all." Lilith lifted her robes above her head, making sure to slip her amulet beneath her armor while she did. How could I have been so stupid as to forget to hide it?

 

Vilkas couldn't believe what he just heard. "Hahaha! You? You slayed a dragon? Hahahaha! The only person that I know of that could kill a dragon today is the Harbinger, which you are not."

 

"Right. Mind if you take off the armor so it can be inspected? I've seen similar scales on beasts in Black Marsh." Stalks added.

 

"And we're to take your word that it isn't one of these beasts? The point is it isn't Argonian scales, which you all can clearly see from the bronze coloring and the size of the scales. Any oth-"

 

As she was speaking, the sound of the door opening from the front of the palace made the others turn to see Falk Firebeard walking up towards them. Looking confused, he said, "What's all this? The Companions? What are they being held here for? And who's the Argonian and Dunmer?"

 

Stalks turned his head around to get as good look as he could. "Hello. My name is Stalks-Deep-Waters. Stalks for short. And we're 'debating' whether this dark elf is a mass murdering criminal or not."

 

"My Jarl, do you mind if I question him?" Falk asked.

 

"Not at all, go ahead."

 

"Okay, give me the details, Stalks. How in the hell did you and the Companions get involved in this and what are you being accused of?" asked Falk. Farkas was about to open his mouth to say something, but Vilkas and Aela shushed him before he could make out a word.

 

"Details? Sure." Stalks replied. "I got to Windhelm to see if there were any jobs I could take. Got a bounty letter from the steward about some dark elf woman named Lilith. According to the letter she was hiding out in some barrow near some inn west of Windhelm. Got some information on her location from the inn. Found her hideout, where she was busy skinning people. She managed to flee. Almost got me killed in the process. Picked up the trail leading to Whiterun. There I asked around for Lilith. Apparently these twins had been hired to take her down as well and had managed to pick up her trail. And this scantily clad woman pointed me in their direction. It ended up like last time and Lilith got away. We went through northern Falkreath, then some bit into The Reach. I caught up with Lilith. And then a Forsworn ambush happened. Then the Stormcloaks came and when I approached them I got knocked out. I woke up and was interrogated by some brutish fiend. He told me that the Companions had accused me of being a spy. It didn't really matter though as the brute didn't care whether I was a spy or not and I was sentenced to death to serve as entertainment for the soldiers. Managed to escape, caught up the Companions and we found Lilith and chased her here. But here she claims to be someone else and innocent, and we're charged for... assault? Harassment?" Stalks shrugged.

 

"How about attempted murder?" Lilith said.

 

"Hush, woman," said Falk. "Jarl Elisif? What's her story and why isn't she bound as well, if you would permit me to ask you of course, my Jarl?"

 

Elisif told the Dunmer's side of the story, which Lilith of course aided in, then when she was finally done, Falk said, "Uh, no offense your majesty, but I really don't think Ulfric w-."

 

Elisif said, "Let me stop you there. Are you forgetting what the man did? Are you forgetting that he took my husband's spot on the throne, then used me to get to the other Jarls when they refused to be exiled? And that I was to give him children before he finally, and thankfully decided to replace me after publicly humiliating me? He and his vulgar airhead Admiral and that know-it-all thug High General?"

 

"Airhead Admiral? That's ironic..."

 

"Shut it, Farkas," said Vilkas and Aela.

 

Falk ignored the comment from the Companions, then said, "I remember my Jarl. How could I forget. But, if you don't mind me saying so, I think that you could be letting your hate for the man get the best of you. For Ysmir's sake, you have the Companions bound up like common criminals in your throne room... Now, they said the woman here was a Sheogorath worshiper, right?"

 

"Well sometimes during our run-ins; she's being praising the mad god. That's really all I got on it. Some people usually carry around a trinket of their faith. But I'm not so sure those that follow the mad god are among those, truth be told. Could be worth a look though." said Stalks and shrugged.

 

Falk turned from Stalks then said, "Well Jarl Elisif? Did the guards ever search her?"

 

Elisif looked uncomfortable in her chair, then said, "N-no, I never gave the order."

 

"Boys."

 

The guards immediately came forward to apprehend Lilith and search her person. As soon as they took a step forward, however, Lilith's eyes flashed wild and she magically brought her sword to her hand from a guard that wouldn't permit her to have weapons near the Jarl. Before they knew what was happening, a guard's throat was slit and Lilith ran past them and hopped down the stairs, sending men flying away with fireballs. Elisif almost fell backwards in her chair in horror from the sudden chaotic onset.

 

"My bounty!" yelled Stalks as he shot up from his knees and rushed after her. While also gnawing and clawing at the rope that bound his hands, which also slowed him down a bit. It wasn't till a few yards outside the palace his hands were free and he could run unhindered. While he was unarmed, he still had the weapons the Hist had provided him at birth. And he was not going to let her escape this time.

The Companions didn't waste time trying to argue and instead stood up and knocked over some guards with their bound hands and grabbed their weapons to chase down their target. Aela quickly cut the twin's bindings before they cut theirs, then barged out the doors. Lilith already cleared the way for them.

Lilith looked around frantically for a way out. She thought surely the Madgod would have assisted her in such a place, but perhaps he feels it is time for his servant to come home. She ran past the gawking city fools until she found the city courtyard, which unfortunately was surrounded by guards, but they hadn't yet known she was being pursued by their men, as she gave herself a great head start. Though they soon called for her to halt when she ran up the stone steps to reach the battlements of the city walls.

"Stop her! She killed several guards!" Stalks yelled on the top of his lungs as he desperately tried to catch up. 

 

The Companions were further behind him, as well as a few guards from the palace, who were yelling: "STOP THE ELF!" At the top of their lungs, so it wasn't long before they all started peppering the battlements with arrows, forcing Lilith to crawl.

 

"Damn archers." muttered Stalks as he was also forced to duck for the arrows. He was just couple of yards behind Lilith now. It was so close yet it still felt so far away.

The guard captain below was ordering his men to climb after them, but the Companions were the first to get on their tail. Lilith began to panic as she saw a group of guards come after her on one side of the walls now and Stalks and the Companions were besetting her from the other. Looking frantically from either side of her, she finally came to a solution. Of a sort.

As the guards finally stopped firing arrows, Lilith had gotten up and was about to pass a small corner. She slowed down a little as she instead of turning with the wall she walked closer to the edge of the ramparts. Stalks finally caught up with her and jumped forward to grab her. I did not think this through! he thought as his forward momentum made him and Lilith fly over the edge and off the the battlements. His first brief view was that off the endless Sea of Ghosts to the north, and a dark ship sailing in the distance. Then as gravity started to pull his view quickly changed downwards at the waters of the Karth River beneath them as it came towards them with an increasing speed.

Lilith was laughing the entire way down as the wind made her flop around like ragdoll. The waves and wind all drowned out her voice, however. Swallowing it up the way the water below threatened to do to them both. 

The water almost hit them like a brick wall. The sheer impact made Stalks let go off Lilith. At first Lilith managed to make it to the surface but soon Stalks had her by the heel and pulled her down. He began to climb up her leg, trying to avoid her kicks as he did. There he grabbed hold of her from behind and began to spin around, like one of the beasts in Black Marsh do with their prey, while he forced their descent. Soon however Lilith managed to slam her elbow into Stalks side which gave her an opportunity to kick free. But the spinning had confused her sense of orientation as she instead began to swim downward instead of up to the surface. As she realized her mistake and turned around, Stalks was upon her again, grabbing hold of her and spinning her around. Now she also began to cast spells in all directions which forced Stalks to back off or risk getting hit. She then stopped for a second to get a sense of which way was up. Stalks could see that she struggled with her ascent as she began to twitch, trying desperately to keep the water out of her lungs. Stalks quickly swam up under her and grabbed at her legs one more time and he could see the large stream of bubbles emanate from her mouth.

 

Then began the ascent. It was quite the chore to drag Lilith's body up from the deep. He just wanted to cut her head off but he lacked the means to do it quickly. The options of gnawing at her neck till it came off went through his head a couple of times. But he didn't like biting people more than necessary. Halfway up a couple of slaughterfishes attacked. one started biting at Lilith's body but Stalks managed to kick that one unconscious. The other one came right towards him and he grabbed with his hands before sinking his teeth into the creature. A bit salty. At least I got some dinner. the fisherman in him thought. Realizing that in grabbing the fish he had let go of Lilith's body and it had begun to sink. Frustrated, he quickly swam down and grabbed it and then began to swim with up to the surface again. 

Once up at the surface he had to swim to the shore. Once her body was up on the shore he wrung her neck till he heard a very satisfying crack. Drowning her was sure to be enough, but he wanted to be sure, especially with this woman. From there he picked her body up over his shoulder and began his walk along a long road back to the city. Fish still in his jaws. He still needed to get back his belongings.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Baldur and Rebec

Windhelm

evening

 

“EEOOOUUUGHHHH!â€

Despite having ice wraith teeth fished out of her arm with no liquor to dull the pain, Rebec was in high spirits from adrenaline alone. She punched Menel in the face on the first extraction, and screamed like a Khajiit with his tail on fire on the second.

Mazoga stood by watching. She had been patched up and healed with no problem, but the wraiths had only slashed at her. One of them had buried its jaws so deeply into Rebec’s arm that the teeth stayed behind when it loosed itself. They were super-hardened ice, and the queen determined that any amount of heat needed to melt them would do more damage to the arm than help. Until they got them out, healing magic was also no good.

Finally, as they started on the third and final extraction, Rebec all but passed out, slumping on the table and muttering about Kyne.

 

Heavy footsteps from metal boots could be heard a good deal away from the Queen's room down the hallway. The weight put into them announced who they belonged to long before the owner came to show himself. But if it wasn't clear before, it was now as Baldur all but knocked the door off of its hinges.

 

"Where is she?" he said, paying no mind to the fact that he was speaking to his Queen. His nordic armor he wore instead of his earlier attire showed he expected trouble. All it took for him to get ready for war was to hear that his wife was hurt from one of his men. His eyes soon settled on Rebec's weak form on the table, the blood stains on the wood like personal insults to his eyes. He breathed heavily as his brow wrinkled and he turned to see Mazoga too was injured as she was. He grabbed fiercely at her collar and said with clenched teeth, "What happened? Where in Oblivion were you two?"

 

The orc's expression remained in its usual placid scowl, though she pried her tunic from Baldur's hands and gave him a hard shove back. Before she could answer, Rebec's voice drifted over, "Baldur! I was... meditating...." Then she burst out laughing, but the effort made her pass out again.

 

"Stay back, High General," Veleda warned without looking up. "We're almost done." She grimaced in concentration, trying to grasp the slippery tooth, which kept wanting to slide back out of her plier's grip.

 

Baldur looked around at everyone, bewildered and thinking her passing out like that couldn't be good for the baby. "I better get some straight answers quick or someone's about to have my boot meditated up their ass."

 

"She wanted to go out to the coast," Mazoga explained. "Something you said about meditating on the thu'um. Said the only way she was going to learn Kyne's voice is to get it from her face to face. We got attacked by ice wraiths."  She paused, thinking about the avalanche, but decided that was enough. Rebec could tell him about that later.

 

"I've got it." The last ice wraith tooth slid out of Rebec's arm. Veleda tossed it into the dish aside, pressed a bandage over the wound and said, "Menel. Healing magic now."

 

The Bosmer cast the spell and Rebec stirred, sitting up and looking around, confused.

 

"Out in the coast. With a raging storm. I gather you and her both knew I wouldn't like that, yes?" Baldur didn't wait for her to answer. "Save the ice-wraith teeth. I have use for them. And when she's up, tell her... nevermind. Don't tell her a damn thing." Baldur was gone without another word, as the strong slam from the wooden door announced his exit. His black cape just barely made it out the door with him.

 

"Was that Baldur?" Rebec asked groggily, stirring at the slam.

 

"I think that was the other end of the storm," Mazoga answered wryly. "Kyne's embrace might be gentler."

 

The admiral laughed, still keyed up from her experience. Standing to her feet, she kissed Menel- missing his mouth and hitting his nose- and threw her arms around him. "That felt gooood. Thank you, little elf."

 

"My pleasure," the Bosmer said, squirming away. Normally he'd have welcomed a woman throwing herself on him, but the admiral didn't seem to have all her wits about her.

 

"Take it easy, admiral," Veleda warned as Rebec headed for the door. "No lifting, and no sword practice until we can examine you again." Rebec didn't look back but lifted her good arm to acknowledge. Mazoga caught her just as she was about to fall into the door, and helped her back to the Red-Snows' quarters.

 

Baldur didn't acknowledge the two as they came in. He already removed his armor and was in simple woolen pants and shirt, writing at the table feverishly and with the same wrinkled brow from before. "Close the door on your way out," he finally said to Mazoga.

 

Mazoga dumped Rebec unceremoniously on the bed, then knelt down to remove her boots. These she tossed into a corner.  "Anything else, boss?"

 

"Thanks, Maz, no. Fus Ro Dah." Rebec grinned at her. The orc gave a mock salute and glanced from Rebec to Baldur and back, but said no more and left quietly. She knew when to shut up.

 

Rebec knew she should sleep, and the adrenaline was waning rapidly, but she kept picturing the terrifying slide down the hillside and the moment she knew she had not just survived, but won. Looking over to her husband, she said, "Baldur. I got it."

 

Baldur finished writing, then put his quill down. While looking over what he wrote, he said, "And just what is it that you get, Admiral?"

 

"The thu'um." Rebec stood up, shaky but grinning, and crossed over to him, flopping into his lap. "Force balance push. It was beautiful. I'd write a poem about it, if I was a bard."

 

Baldur flipped his paper over, then seized her chin. "That's what you got? How about you getting that I'm pissed? How about you getting that it's wrong to sneak out to do something stupid knowing I wouldn't like it? What, you think I would have tried and force you to stay? What if Thalmor spies were watching and took that opportunity to kill you? Or worse."

 

Her smile vanished and she pushed his hand away angrily, then winced at the pain in her arm. Half turning and clutching it, she said, "I didn't tell you because you worry too much. And yes, you would try to force me to stay."

 

"No, I wouldn't have, I would have sent more than Mazoga with you if you simply took the time to explain it. And I think THIS proves you wrong in saying I worry too much." Baldur grabbed at the injured arm to make his point.

 

"Ah, son of a..!" She let out a string of curse words and, more by instinct than planning, brought the other hand around for a roundhouse cuff on the side of his head. Without thinking, he too reacted and while wincing from her strike, grabbed at her hair after recovering from the hit.

 

"There, see that? Tell me again I worry too much. What do you think I'd do if you died, hmm?"

 

Still cursing, she wrenched from his grasp and launched a kick at his shin. "You could shack up with a horker for all I care!"

 

He stood up quickly then, breathing heavily with wrinkled brows and was surprised at how upset he was at her. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he grabbed the paper again, then said, "I guess if that's how you feel, then this would have no meaning for you." Baldur opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else, but stopped and cursed before balling the paper up and throwing it at one of the braziers without care. It missed and tumbled to the floor. Climbing into bed, he scooted to the far edge, then said, "Night."

 

Even as Baldur was walking away, Rebec kicked the chair over and it crashed into the wall with a clatter. At that a guard knocked loudly and peeked his head in. "Is everything alright?"

 

"Yes, now GET OUT!"

 

The head disappeared again in a hurry. Grumbling, Rebec clutched her arm, pain radiating from there into her head and down to her toes. She regarded Baldur silently and glanced at the paper. Still angry, she decided to ignore it. She picked the chair up, knocking it against her shin and cursing in the process, and was about as graceful and quiet while she clattered around getting ready for bed.

 

By that time Rebec had forgotten about the paper, but when she tossed her dirty tunic in the laundry pile, noticed it again. Curiosity tugged at her. Checking to make sure Baldur wasn't looking, she snatched the crumpled paper up and sat, spreading it out flat on the desk. The ink was smeared, but she could still read most of it.

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

 

By the time she was finished, she was calmer, and re-read it again, twisting her hair absently as she did. This was Shor and Kyne. Some said the rain was Kyne's tears for her lost husband, and the wind was her lament and fury. Rebec knew why Baldur was pouring out this poem right at this time, and her anger turned to guilt. Most of it, anyway.

 

She doused the lamp and climbed into bed, laying there silently for a little while. Finally Rebec eased closer and carefully laid her injured arm across his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I'm a warrior, Baldur," she said softly, the only explanation she could come up with. Baldur hadn't gone to sleep, clearly. He was too mad to do so. But not enough to keep ignoring his wife's hurt arm, which he now rubbed softly.

 

"I don't care. I love you. That won't mean a thing next time you decide to sneak away behind my back and you end up dead. Leaving me alone to wonder where you ran off to."

 

"You didn't ask me if I wanted you doing this Grim Trial business, where you said men can die. Men like you, because I know you're going to be right in it."

 

That left him quiet for a while, realizing that he never even thought about that. Finally, he said, "I also never hid it from you. And you said nothing about it. You never even gave me that chance. You just up and left without a word." He started wondering how many years it'd be before she did the same again, this time with the ship.

 

"It was only just outside the city," she protested. "I just didn't want a fight, and I knew I could handle it." Sighing, Rebec laid her head back, still keeping her arm draped over him. She knew she should apologize and it was at the tip of her tongue, but her stubbornness kept it back.

 

Baldur thought on it for a little while, thinking that it was just outside the city walls. If nothing happened, they wouldn't be having this discussion.

 

But, something did happen. Still, it was Skyrim, something could happen anywhere. It didn't mean one could stay locked indoors. He knew all this, but he still couldn't rationalize away his fears. Sighing, he gently put her arm over her waist, then cradled her head while his other arm went around her waist above her injured arm. "This is hard," he said. "Maybe I... I don't know, Rebec. You got hurt. I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this. Am I supposed to ignore it and pretend like I don't care?"

 

"No. You just don't have to get so angry. Like it isn't even about me but about you. I've been on my own a long time, I don't need a babysitter."

 

Baldur sighed in frustration and was just about on his last legs as far as the discussion went. "We had this talk before. When I'm angry, it's because... because I'm scared, Rebec. You're not alone anymore. It's not about being weak, or needing me to watch you. It's about being considerate. I get angry one part because I'm afraid for your well being, two parts because it's like you don't give a damn and you still don't get how your actions affect me. You're too used to being alone. And of course, even without me around, you're not just acting for yourself, if you remember."

 

Baldur moved his hand then to her stomach. "I never wanted to control you or be your master, Rebec. I just want you to not sneak things behind my back so easily or be so inconsiderate. I thought we understood each other better than that."

 

She didn't like the reminder of the baby, and pulled away, lying on her back with her head propped on her good arm. The fact was, she hadn't thought about the baby the whole time, not even once. Realizing that, the guilt became a stab. For a while Rebec was silent, thoughts colliding in her head. Even now she could hear the rush of the wind and feel its claws of ice buffeting her, and the exhilaration still made her heart beat faster. But she very nearly had killed both herself and Mazoga, for no good reason.

 

Swallowing hard, Rebec said, "I'm sorry." Her voice was low and it was apparent how hard it was for her to say it. "I didn't think, much. Or I did, but wanted to pretend.... oh gods, I don't know." Hoping to get the subject off herself, she added, "I read your song."

 

He didn't want to have to bring up the child. Really, it was a slip up, but it happened to help, it seemed. Still, he didn't like causing her discomfort and he knew he had. He wanted to be close, but he let her have her space. "I'm sorry too. For putting all this on you again. And the song too. That's not something I should have written. Or at least, not something I should have shown you. Though I did throw it to the fire. Guess I missed."

 

"What does it mean? Shor running off like I did?"

 

"Something like that." He said. "Remember when I asked you what you thought I would do if you died? What's your answer to that?"

 

There was a silence. Finally she said, "You think that you'd die, too. But you wouldn't, Baldur. You'd carry on, even if you missed me."

 

"No. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I'd make my way to Sovngarde with you. I mean that."

 

"You can't talk like that, Baldur." She turned and reached up to touch his cheek. "It's what I meant earlier. We're both warriors. I'm afraid of losing you, too, all the time, but we both know that could happen any day. You were strong before you met me and you'll be strong after I leave."

 

Baldur said, "You're wrong. I only looked strong before. But I was always weak. Vulnerable to my emotions. You know that. You saw it today. You're stronger so maybe you could. And I'd want you to. Even if you got remarried, I'd just want you to be happy. But I don't plan on dying. Unless you go."

 

She sighed in frustration, but moved closer, cradling his neck gingerly with her bandaged arm. "You're a stubborn fool, my Shor. Good thing I am, too." Kissing him and nuzzling his cheek, she said, "I'm sorry, Baldur. I'll be more careful."

 

He kissed her in turn after grasping the side of her head and running his fingers through her hair. That was his thank you in her way of talking. He knew she'd understand it better if she felt it rather than him saying it. Smiling, he said, "Now, since that's all out of the way, why don't you finally tell me what you were so excited about. Did you shout?"

 

"No." She laughed, embarrassed. "All that and not even a bleat. But I understand the words more. It's like I've always known what they are. That storm was really trying to kill me. Or it felt like that, anyway. I fought back like I always would, but with the words in mind. I know how to use that kind of controlled anger for sailing, but I hadn't thought of using it like that."

 

"That's good, at least something useful came from all that. May be easier if you just focus on the one word first though. I guess, anyway. So what exactly happened for you to have gotten this...epitome? What happened when you were attacked and what came to mind during the storm? You said you thought the storm was trying to kill you, yet you were speaking with Kyne."

 

"The storm is her, isn't it? That's what they say. We no sooner got done fighting the wraiths that the snow caved in beneath us. I thought Maz and I were goners for sure. It made me think about the dust storm in the Alik'r and how we fought through that. I won't be able to explain it like you want. You'll just have to take my word."

 

Baldur's brow wrinkled again in alarm at this new detail, but he said nothing. He only hugged her again, then said, "I'm just glad you're okay. I think most would say she's testing you or something. Though the storm took me last time, not you."

 

"I'm just like what I said about the men. Happier when I've got something to fight, even if it's the wind or the ocean. But don't worry, I won't lose my head. I'm not used to the idea yet that there's a baby in me, but growing a little Red Snow is fight enough, you're right." Rebec nestled close and felt sleep drawing her down despite the ache in her arm. As she drifted off, she thought about how none of the Nord songs or stories had a happy end. There probably wouldn't be one for her and Baldur, either. They'd have to make the middle part good.

 

Baldur didn't waste much time reflecting on anything, and soon drifted off as well. The only thought he had was that he wished at that point that they weren't warriors anymore. If only he could get out like Boldir had...

 

***

Baldur woke up first the next morning, still laying with Rebec close. He didn't move so as not to disturb her, but eventually he had to get up, as his legs were getting antsy. Somehow after things were already resolved between the two, Baldur still felt as though there was something between them.

 

"It's this place. The men, the soldiers. Tired of it all." Part of it was the adrenaline he still had built up from hearing Rebec being in trouble. That hadn't worn off yet. Neither did the feeling that they just weren't safe anymore. He looked back to the bed where he'd normally stay in for some time more, but he couldn't shake this feeling he had in his gut. This anxious feeling.

 

They weren't yet scheduled to leave, but at this point, he didn't care. Even if the log houses were missing roofs, he'd get them to leave. They'd still be on the job, but at least things would slow down for a while. At least after the Grim Trials. He reached to his pack to put on his officer gear, but stopped himself then, not wanting to even look at his soldier uniform at that moment. Instead, he dug through one of the dressers in the room and slipped on some tan pants with a green farmer's shirt with a large opening for his chest.

 

After kissing Rebec on the forehead, he slinked out, off to the streets of Windhelm hopefully for the last time in a while. It was early out, almost seven, so most of the shops were closed and the people still in their buildings. Baldur walked around aimlessly, not sure what he was looking for. He eventually stumbled onto an Imperial merchant he recognized from a few days ago when they came back from Hammerfell. A tall man with balding cropped hair.

 

The man saw Baldur staring at him, then said, "I'm not opened yet, but if you promise to not harass me, maybe I'll reconsider, friend."

 

Baldur moved his lips to say who he was and that he wouldn't harass him, but he didn't bother, and instead nodded before walking over. "So what do you sell?"

 

"What don't I sell is a better question, Nord. I'd sell my mother to ya if it means gold!" Baldur didn't bother to say that figures. "What you in the market for? Weapons, medicinal goods, gems. I even got some toys and dolls for young ones."

 

"Toys?" Baldur said, as if he never heard of such a thing.

 

"Yes, toys Nord. You know what that is, don't you?" said the Imperial. In his defense, he tried to hide his snootiness. In all honesty, the closest thing Baldur had to a toy was a wooden sword, but it was only for practicing. Not pretend and playing. Ulrin wouldn't allow that since a sword wasn't a toy and neither should a practice sword be. That's what he always said, anyway.

 

"Yes I know what toys are. Let me see what you have," Baldur said. The man was delighted, and excitedly rushed to the back of his stand to dump out a huge assortment of dolls and wooden figures. To his dismay, he even saw a doll that appeared to be a miniature version of Empress Dales Motierre.... the Imperial clearly wasn't in Skyrim long. Baldur saw something else as well that caught his eye, which was a white stuffed animal, some kind of beast with spikes, big teeth and three black eyes. Strangely enough, it actually managed to look cute. Like a baby beast.

 

"A troll?" he asked.

 

"Why yes, that's one of the newer toys I made after coming to this city. You like?"

 

"Yea, I'll take it. Gimme that black dragon too," said Baldur.

 

***

 

Rebec woke feeling bruised and still tired, and dutifully reported to the queen for another round of healing spells. Veleda hit her with a stamina boost, too, and Rebec had to admit that it was better than a warm bath and mug of mead. Alright, not as good as the mead.

 

"Oh, there was a package for you in with our official dispatches from Solitude," the queen said. "It's marked 'Urgent.'"

 

There was no return information, and inside was a note in elegant female script: "Admiral: I hope these will be of some use, and know that in your care they will not fall into the wrong hands. From a friend in our common struggle."

 

Rebec's brow knit. "Sounds kind of fishy." Inside was a leather case holding diagrams. The queen glanced over as she began flipping through them.

 

"Is that a ship?"

 

"Like no ship I've ever seen. Mirrors? Giant soul gem? Crystallized sunlight?"

 

Veleda leaned over her shoulder and read the descriptions at the diagram's margins. "These are sunbirds."

 

"So who's sending me diagrams of Altmer ships?"

 

"They're not really sailing ships, they're voidships."

 

Rebec regarded her skeptically. "What is that on a Morndas?"

 

"They're meant to navigate the Void. Oblivion. Perhaps even Aetherius. But it looks like these have been modified to serve as regular warships. If these diagrams are accurate, they could be very valuable."

 

"Or it could be a wild goose chase."

 

"Misinformation," Veleda agreed. "We have to consider that possibility." She picked up the note and read it. The script looked archaic, like the kind from old tomes in the libraries of the Arcane University from before the Oblivion Crisis. "May I examine these? Perhaps send them on to the College to have Urag take a look at them?"

 

"I'm not going to make hide nor tail, that's for sure," Rebec said. "Though one way or another, we should keep these as secret as possible."

 

"Absolutely. I'll mark it for Urag's and Archmage Faralda's eyes only."

 

"Let me know if there's anything in there a sailor on Nirn can use. Now I'd better go find Baldur and see if I'm still in trouble."

 

***

 

Baldur hadn't come back for about another hour, taking the time to catch a game of cards and a little mead from the tavern. He forgot that he swore it off while Rebec did as well, but he figured she'd forgive him the small slip up. She told him he didn't need to do so, after all, as long as it wasn't in front of her.

 

The grey echoes he mentioned earlier in his poem filled the hall with long mournful whistles as he came pushing through the large doors of the palace, tracking snow in with his farmer boots and carrying a small sack with him. It was still early enough that he could go back to his chambers for a while before letting Ulfric know he intended for them to leave ahead of schedule. "Hopefully the grumpy old bear won't give me too much trouble..."

 

Rebec nearly didn't recognize him in the murky palace hallway. "Baldur. You look like a servant." She glanced at the package in his arm, nervous about their fight and what his mood would be.

 

He shrugged with a weary sigh and smile, then said, "Yea, well. Sometimes you just want to relax and be yourself out of uniform, you know? Anyway, I'll change. I just slipped something on to go to the market. Got us something, by the way. Follow me back to the room, will you? Don't want to show it out here."

 

She trailed along, deciding to make conversation by telling him about the diagrams. "It came from Cyrodiil. Seems fishy, doesn't it? They're trying to rattle us, making us think the Altmer have these ships that can leap through Oblivion or something."

 

Baldur listened in silence, then finally said, "Hmm, I've heard of those. Bright side is if they do have those, the stories say they fly in Oblivion, but they don't here on Nirn like dragons. Which means if it's on the ground, then we can destroy them. Or even better, board them. Not sure how we'd go about getting past the weapons. Those, would be problematic. Basically, you better hope that's all this is. Too bad we don't know how to unlock the true purpose of those Dwemer ballistaes. You do plan to study those diagrams anyway though, right?"

 

"The queen's going to take a look at them first. I have enough to do to get us fighting ships made of wood, not sunlight." She sounded skeptical.

 

Possible sunbirds now too? Just another reason to get away from all this while we can. War's looking to be a lot more than what we first thought. "Don't worry too much about it, Rebec. Like you said, it could be just them trying to scare us. Your instincts are usually right." After stepping inside, Baldur finally handed the pack over to Rebec. "I've been thinking. Why don't we leave early and see how Kyne's Watch is shaping up?"

 

"I'm ready to go if you are. The crew gets antsy with these long shore leaves. Antsy gets expensive."

 

"Good. Now see what I got for you in the pack already," Baldur said with a smile. "Hopefully you'll still remember. It reminded me of something Vigge told me about you. Kinda appropriate given recent events."

 

"Not sweetrolls?" Rebec opened the flap and peeked in, grabbing white fur. Out came a little troll, long arms and everything. She was confused a moment, then remembered what her father had told Baldur. Laughing, she said, "Oh no, my poor little troll. Is it for the baby?"

 

"Aye, that it is. But until the baby's able to have it, it's yours. The other one's mine." Stepping towards her, he put a hand on her cheek and said, "This is the kind of stuff we should be doing now, don't you think? Settling in and getting ready for the little one. That's why I want to leave soon. Ulfric may not be happy with it, but I don't care. We need at least a little while off in our own home separate from all this."

 

"You ask me, Ulfric is trying to keep himself busy because he's not sure how to be a husband. You should talk to him about it, maybe. I'll have to get the ship loaded and ready anyway, but we could leave in the morning." Rebec hesitated, then threw her arms around Baldur's neck and pulled him close, the troll getting hugged in the process. Turning her head, she kissed his cheek. "I'm not so strong either, Baldur. Not without you."

 

Baldur's eyes ran across her face to see her beauty in a way you only could by being so close. To fully grasp it all. He opened his mouth to say something in protest of what she said, but decided against it and instead kept holding her there, eventually slipping a hand to her backside playfully. He didn't think she'd be up for festivities with her arm, but he could still indulge himself this much. Hard not to with such a formidable woman in his arms.

 

Grinning he said, "Thank you for that. Whether it's true or not, it's nice to hear. Not so sure about me giving the King advice on his marriage, but Veleda asked me something similar about him, so maybe it wouldn't be so strange."

 

"He's got no father or brothers, like you, though I know you've got Boldir and he would say the Stormcloaks are his brothers. I bet he'd like to talk about it. Or else he'll throw you out." Rebec smirked and reached down to grab his backside like he was doing to hers, then took his hand and pulled him towards the bed. "But first, I get you."

 

Rolling around, she alternated kissing him and shedding clothes, apparently unbothered by the pink wounds on her arm. At one point she had to stop as she felt something under her. Out came the troll. At least it wasn't a piece of armor or weapon like it usually was. Tossing the toy into the chair, Rebec resumed groping, and finally pushed Baldur to his back and climbed astride him. "Now, my Nord farm boy, this mare is going to ride you instead of the other way around."

 

Smiling with eyes running over her again, this time over her chest, he said, "Well come on, then. We've got a long road ahead of us with no end in sight." Impatiently, he moved her hands down to his groin, then his moved to grab her breasts before sliding down to her hips where they'd help her set a rhythm. After she worked him in, things moved slowly at first until his fingers wandered toward her nips and squeezed, beckoning her to move faster until the headboard was audibly slamming against the stone wall.

 

She didn't need any encouragement once he slid inside her, though his teasing had its effect. As the slamming of the headboard grew louder, a guard started to open the door, saying "Is everything al-"  The door shut quickly again as the guard got an eyeful. Rebec just laughed, not angry this time. "He must be new," she said between ragged breaths. As keyed up as she had been the day before, she still had energy and battle lust to burn. She was too excited to last long, and after her finish, stretched into Baldur's arms so that he could take things into his own hands from there.

 

Baldur surprisingly didn't mind either, and only smiled deeper knowing that their activity was no secret. He grew used to the lack of privacy on the ship and even started liking it and having people know what he and Rebec got up to. His eyes were locked with hers until her head rolled back and they were dead set on her bouncing chest.

 

When she fell forward onto him, he slowed a little to grab her ass, grinding harder and savoring the sweet friction. His middle finger slid down her crack as his hips rose with hers and his hands made her gyrate. That uneasiness and anxiousness he felt was unsatisfied adrenaline from their fight from before, which he now burned off completely to feed his efforts. He seized her mouth fiercely as his work met a fever pitch and the headboard was slamming again, until finally he could feel himself filling her up from within before it came falling back down over him.

 

With a loud gasp, his hands collapsed to his sides before his arms made their way around her again, one of them running through her hair while the other caressed her back, holding her to him tightly against the mess they made. Still breathing heavily, he said, "Gods, I hope our fights always end this way, heh. Hell, I might start picking fights in that case."

 

Still catching her breath, Rebec laughed. "They seem to find us anyway." She lay across his chest, caressing it and sliding her fingers through his to lock them. Resting her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his chest rising and falling, and their limbs intertwined. The palace was waking up and they needed to be dressed and about their business if they were to leave early, but some things could not be rushed.

 

Having the remnants of fight ridden out of him, Baldur closed his eyes and smiled from the tickle of her breath at his neck. He ran a hand then over the pink cuts left by the accursed ice wraith. The wounds weren't pretty, yet they didn't take away from her beauty in the slightest. Was it any wonder that he could feel so afraid of losing her when as she sat in his arms, he felt as though he owned the world? When a man has everything, he can only lose everything. And she was everything.

 

Eventually, Baldur's eyes opened after half dozing off, but he felt too content to make her move to dress and do the responsible thing. Still, if he wanted to be gone from this place, they had to be up soon. Kissing gently at her forehead as he brushed her head, he said, "We should ready ourselves now, Rebby. There'll be more of this when we're home."

 

Smiling, she got up, feeling her aches again but not as acutely. "That's a strange word," she said as she dressed. "'Home.' You really think it will feel that way?"

 

Baldur stayed where he was to watch her dress. After stretching while on the bed, he said, "Eventually, I'm sure it will. After a few years of hanging our axes up under the same roof, eating by the same fire... Romping in the same bed whose furs smell like us, heh, yea, I'm sure it'll feel like home. If we let it."

 

It sounded too good to be true. Nord stories never....  Oh, shut it. Rebec could command a ship, but her own worries were like a flock of wild Bosmer. Stinky and unruly.

 

"Are you going to laze in bed all day, High General? Earlier we get down there, the more likely we'll catch Ulfric in a good mood. And I guess I have to find out his decision on the Dunmer and Argonians in the dungeon. Since I let Eilif Oarsinger into the navy, it's my responsibility now."

 

"Alright alright, I'm coming," he said with a smile before stretching after he got up. "There's also the matter of Mazoga and the ownership of the Black Wisp. Lets get that out of the way first," he said before heading to his pack with his uniform.

 

"Agreed. And these bastards talking about her not being a Nord better back off. I've never seen Maz snap outside of battle, but she's still an orc. And if she doesn't, then I might."

 

"Well, you're the Admiral. Sometimes you've gotta put your men in their place, so believe it or not I support that. As long as you don't snap on the King, that is. That would be bad." After they were dressed, the two quickly made their way out to the throne room to speak with the king. On their way there, Baldur nudged Rebec and pointed at the guard from earlier. He averted his eyes from them and apologized, but they only laughed and continued on their way.

 

Ulfric was up early as always, sitting at his throne reading over expenses needing to be paid and the money they had available to pay them. It wasn't good news evidently, as he was scowling at it the whole time as if he could command the numbers to change the way he commanded his men.

 

Mazoga was sitting with Menel, Ysrarald Thrice-Pierced and Jorleif the steward, finishing up their breakfast at Ulfric's long hall table. Rebec waved at them, then turned and gave Ulfric a hand-to-chest salute. She had gotten better about remembering to do that. "King Ulfric, we hope to settle some matters before departing for Kyne's Watch, with your permission."

 

Ulfric looked up from the sheets then and dropped the papers carelessly before rubbing at his temple. Baldur took a seat sideways across from the others, but he didn't eat. "Good morning Admiral. General. Hopefully it doesn't involve more coin. How's your arm?"

 

"Oh, heard about that, did you?" Rebec grinned. Despite everything, she still loved the storm. "Took your advice and meditated on the thu'um, in my own way."

 

Ulfric laughed, then said, "I should have known you'd do something like that. I won't bother lecturing you, I'm sure you got an earful already."

 

"Aye," said Baldur, smiling himself despite it all. Though the whole thing unnerved him, he couldn't help but be proud of Rebec discovering a unique method of meditation herself. And seeing her so excited about it was cute.

 

"So, you said before you leave? You two planning on going early?" asked Ulfric.

 

"We're eager to get on with the preparations, for the training exercises and the town itself. I need to ask you about the Dunmer and Argonian prisoners. If you agree, I'd like to let them go by cover of darkness tonight. Keep the local Argonians from finding out what we're doing, if we can. They wouldn't like it if they knew we were handing over prisoners to be slaves to Dunmer. Better than executing them, I say."

 

Ulfric didn't like the sound of anything that required them to do any skulking in the night, but the Argonians weren't their problem. "They're criminals. If they get angry over that then I couldn't give a damn much less. Anyway, whether you do it at night or not, I don't care. We get the booty and the prisoners will be someone else's problem. As for leaving early..."

 

"Here it comes," thought Baldur.

 

"Fine by me," Ulfric said, causing a surprised eyebrow lift from Baldur. "Galmar is going as well to help with the war effort in the Reach. He figured you two wouldn't be staying. He also was the one that told me I shouldn't hinder you. I'll explain later. Was that the only matter?"

 

"Well there's the matter of the Black Wisp..."

 

Ulfric sighed, then said, "I knew it. I knew this conversation would cost me coin. Since you'd have me without a flag ship now and to make another. If I'd have known that, I wouldn't have put so much into it."

 

Baldur cut in and said, "Sir, we put a lot of our own gold into it as well, paying for the alchemical ingredients that made the pitch resistant to flame. Not to mention Rebec's mother's ashes."

 

"This is a navy matter, Baldur, so stay out of it. Speak your case, Admiral," Ulfric said with his commanding voice.

 

"It's like I already said..."

 

"Admiral, I can speak for myself." Mazoga stood up from the table and addressed the king. "Rebec said she explained already about our men, about how we have a system. That's what won our victories, not just the wood and sailcloth. For myself, I don't give two horker shits about a title. For my men's sake, I need to be their captain. When we're sailing the way we're capable, the rest of the navy will fall in, because they'll have to or be left far behind."

 

Rebec grinned, nodding. She was about to speak when Mazoga continued, "But I know that not everyone in the military is going to accept an orc as an equal, even if I did grow up in Skyrim like the rest of them. So I'm going to take the Grim Trials with the others. Then they'll either shut their mouths or I'll be dead. Problem solved."

 

The admiral sputtered. "Maz, you don't have to do this. I discussed it with Baldur, the navy's got our own training regimen. None of the captains will be doing the Trials."

 

"I will be. I'm not like the other captains. I do have to do it, and you know it."

 

Rebec turned to her husband for support. "Baldur. Tell her."

 

Damn it. Baldur bit his lip then and stood from his seat. Keeping his eyes on the king, he said, "Well. If you want me to be honest... I think it's a good idea. The men and women can't say she's not worthy for being an orc if she goes through these trials and becomes a member of my Grim Ones. If they're ever called to sea, it would be best to have one of my own leading them. And, given our name, nature and the name of the last week of the Trials, a child of Orkey joining is rather fitting. We are donned in the image of the Bear, after all."

 

After Baldur was done, he turned his attention back to Rebec to see what she'd say.

 

"Baldur." Rebec's glare said that that was not the answer she'd wanted to hear.

 

"It's settled then," Mazoga replied. "And admiral, stop fussing. You don't like it when someone does that to you, so just stop. This is my storm." That shut Rebec's mouth, though she still didn't look happy.

 

Baldur brought a hand to his face. I really wish you hadn't said that.

 

He stepped in front of her after, sizing her up to get a sense of her worth as a warrior. "It won't be easy, you know. Unfortunately, we'll probably be losing most of the few women we already have in the force. You sure this is what you want, Mazoga?"

 

"If this is what I have to do to lead my men, then I have no choice." The orc's expression was flinty, though it always was, just by the nature of her face. "If I die, I die. My people are warriors, same as you."

 

"Oh I know. Believe me. I'm a scholar and remember whose god slayed whose. I won't be the one who needs the reminder. But I will be the one testing your resolve. So..." Without warning, Baldur turned and brought his elbow heavily into Mazoga's gut with a solid thud. "There'll be plenty more of that. Still sure?"

 

Mazoga jerked back, but caught the elbow full in the gut. She stayed bent over a moment, then slowly straightened, fixed Baldur with a stony expression, and nodded once. Rebec winced at the hit and then muttered, but kept silent.

 

Baldur smiled, then patted her on the shoulder. "That's all the answer I need. She has my support. If this is what it's going to take to get people to accept her as an officer, then I won't keep her from it."

 

Ulfric watched Baldur's demonstration curiously, then sighed and said, "Fine. Even if I did accept her as an officer, it's true that the others may never accept her unless she proves herself somehow. She gets through the trials and lives, then she'll be captain of the Black Wisp when Rebec either dies or retires." Ulfric ignored the look Baldur gave him at the mention of Rebec dying.

 

The admiral herself just shook her head, frustrated that all this was necessary for what should have been plain common sense. "I guess that's all," she said grumpily. "I need to go see the ship gets loaded and round up my crew."

 

Baldur said, "If you don't mind, could you and I have a word in private, Ulfric?"

 

The king said, "Sure, but what's this about?"

 

"I'd rather not say in front of the others present..." That made Ulfric narrow his eyes in nervous suspicion, but he agreed and had Baldur follow him to the back chambers.

 

When they got to his room, he had Baldur take a seat at a table, then said, "Okay, Baldur. It's been a while since we've had a private conversation. What's this about?"

 

Baldur was glancing around the room, never having been here before. The bed was enormous and even had steps leading up to it. The furs had blue sheets on them too with a Stormcloak emblem upon it. Hmm... too bad we're leaving now. Could we sneak in when he's out and... nah. Nah. Maybe...

 

"Baldur?"

 

"Huh? Oh, right. Well. What I wanted to ask you about was... uh, you and Veleda," Baldur said somewhat awkwardly. Grinning, he said, "You know."

 

Ulfric stood then from his seat and said, "Out."

 

"Wait, wait, hold on. We're friends, aren't we? I'm just trying to see if I can help at all. Part of my job is advising, right?"

 

"Baldur, sometimes I can't tell if you have balls the size of Nirn, or if you were just dropped on your head one too many times as a child."

 

"Well, my pa did crack it with a sword hilt or two a few times," Baldur said.

 

"Right, well Talos help me, maybe I could benefit from... talking," Ulfric said after sitting back down.

 

Smiling, Baldur leaned back in his chair, enjoying the idea of getting the 'inside scoop'. Rubbing his hands together, he said, "Alright, your kingliness. So... how is it?"

 

Ulfric gave him an uncomfortable look, then said, "How is what?"

 

"You know. How's the poon?" asked Baldur.

 

"That's all you think about isn't it, Red-Snow?" Ulfric said whilst shaking his head.

 

"Why do you say that?" Baldur asked.

 

"Well, for one, there's the smell..." Ulfric said. Baldur looked confused for a second, but then realization dawned on him and he and Ulfric both had a good laugh.

 

"Bard life, Ulfric. One of the side effects of it. Anyway, you didn't answer the question."

 

"I don't know."

 

"What? We're grown men, here. We can talk ab-"

 

Ulfric cut in and said, "I mean that I don't know because she and I haven't partaken yet."

 

Baldur pointed a finger and said, "Ah, I knew it!" Ulfric's glare made him lower his finger. "Sorry."

 

"We seem that bad together, do we?" Ulfric asked.

 

"No, not at all. She likes you, I can tell. What I'm sensing is sexual tension, your highness. My wife thinks you purposefully distract yourself with work to avoid it. That true?" Baldur asked.

 

"Maybe. That's what Galmar thinks, sort of. He said I'm avoiding her and using you and the Admiral, as well as him to do it. That's why he said I shouldn't get on you two for leaving so soon and why he said I could benefit from him being gone as well. Would force me to be around her more. But the fact is I am really busy, and so is the Queen."

 

"Takes about thirty minutes for one bout. Fifteen when you're really anxious or if you cut out foreplay, and when things are really heated, even less."

 

"Not just talking about *******, bard. I mean just being with her in general. I tried making a schedule for us to share meals, but the conversa-"

 

Baldur cut in this time and said, "Hold it, hold it. You made a 'schedule'?"

 

"Well, yea. It was her idea, actually," Ulfric said.

 

Baldur shook his head and said, "No no no, that's all wrong. You don't 'make a schedule'. Just talk with her when you feel like it. Make sure you let her know that she's important enough to you that you want to spend time with her when you could be doing something more important. Uh, don't actually say that, though. You're the King! You eat when you damn well please, so make time for her, Ulfric. Not a schedule to fit her in. It should be like a break from the day, something you both look forward to, not something you're obligated to do. And as for the sex, well, like I said, I know she likes you. You're Ulfric Stormcloak. And she agreed to marry you. You like her right?"

 

"Of course. She's attractive." Ulfric said. "And intelligent and sm-"

 

"Yea yea, smart and all that. You like that, sure, but that's not what gets you on when you think about her, right? You can be honest with me." Baldur said, grinning impishly.

 

"She's got great legs." Ulfric said, getting a feel for it.

 

"Alright, there you go," Baldur said, encouragingly. "Go on. Loosen up. What else?"

 

"Well, those legs come with a great ass," Ulfric said next. It took everything Baldur had not to laugh at hearing his king talk like this.

 

"Alright, good. And we all know she's cute, so there's no lack of attraction on your side either. Well, there's no reason I can see for you two not to be hitting the sack and making a bunch of little bear cubs." Baldur said.

 

"It's different, Baldur. Our marriage... I respect this woman, Baldur. I like her."

 

"Do you love her?" Baldur asked.

 

"I respect her and value her opinion and worth as a person. And when we do talk, I enjoy it and like being around her. Isn't that enough? I don't think people like me get to be in love," Ulfric said.

 

"A lot of people don't, Ulfric. If you two can respect one another and occasionally enjoy each other's company, then yea. I'd say that's good. Not just 'good enough'. As for the marriage, what about it and respecting her makes this hard for you?"

 

"Well, it feels like any attempts to consummate would be forced. Like she has to have sex with me, which isn't what I want. The thought of Elisif and that whole situation still haunts my memory."

 

"You're not alone in that, sire." Baldur said jokingly. "It's like I said, she made a choice and she chose to marry the King. She obviously isn't the type to do so for the coin or the prestige. She did so partly out of duty, true, but it's like I told you. She does like you. That's what I sense. When a woman likes you, all you gotta do is make things happen. If she doesn't want to do it, you'll sense it. But you gotta just make things happen. Don't wait for the 'time to be right'. Just go for it. It's simple. Too simple."

 

"Just go for it, eh?" Ulfric said, grinning.

 

"Worked for me and Rebec." Baldur said proudly. "We skipped the awkward phase. I'm new to this myself, being a husband I mean. But the way I see it, you just gotta make sure that spending time together is something you both enjoy, and never something routine or expected of either of you. The rest will take care of itself."

 

Ulfric sighed, then said, "Alright. Well we'll see how it goes. Now if you'll excuse me I have some thinking to do."

 

"Alright, then. As long as this 'thinking' isn't something you do alone when you should be doing it with your wife."

 

"What?" Ulfric said, clearly not getting it.

 

"Ah, nevermind. Good day, sir." Baldur stood up then, still tickled from the talk.

 

Before he stepped out, Ulfric said, "And thanks." Baldur smiled and made a double clicking noise before he finally saw himself out.

 

***

 

Eilif Oarsinger dropped down to the pier from the dragon prow of one of his longboats, right in front of Rebec. "How d'you like my boats?"

 

"Talos, Mara and Jhunal. You trying to give me a heart attack? Yes, I like your damn boats. You make love to them at night, too? Don't answer that."

 

The big Nord grinned. "You won't regret this, Red wench."

 

"It's admiral now, so stop calling me that. I expect to see you in Kyne's Watch in two weeks, three at the utmost."

 

Oarsinger saluted. "My men and I will be there and ready to crack hulls. These mewling babes you call a navy haven't seen anything yet. Be drooling out their milk by the time we're done."

 

"Boasting is like farting, Oarsinger. Anyone can do it and it just stinks up the place. Pay off your bounties and oil your oars, that's all I care about. Oh, and your Dunmer friend is going home tonight. You're welcome."

 

"Ah! You're taking my advice? I'll have to be here to see old Seloren off."

 

"Go see him now, in the dungeon. We're trying to keep a low profile so the scaleskins don't riot. You're not exactly low profile." Rebec turned and walked off, too distracted and upset over Mazoga to make chitchat.

 

"In Kyne's Watch then!" Oarsinger called after her, his tone joyful. "And we'll see then who Ysmir favors!"

 

Eilif's jaunty mood was no more welcome in the dungeon. Instead of being grateful at the news of his release, Dres gripped the bars and fixed the Nord captain with a blazing crimson stare. "The next time I see you, you'll be the one going into the kwama pits, you stinking son of a whore."

 

"Now then, that's enough about my mother's hobbies. You should be grateful, Seloren. I was the one who suggested they let you go, and let you take those boots with you. I'm in the navy now, so I won't be bothering you any longer."

 

"Just like a bunch of ignorant savages to fall for such a useless stunt! You'll never defeat the Dominion, you know."

 

Oarsinger's smile faded and he pointed a finger. "Careful with that kind of talk. Folk around here already suspect your people are in with them. You making a claim like that, might make 'em think you're sympathetic."

 

"The only race in Tamriel I hate more than Nords and lizards are those damnable arrogant s'wits. But even one of their goblins is more clever than all your sorry race put together."

 

Eilif cocked his head, pointed towards the jail cell, then back at his surroundings. "Is that why you're in there...and I'm out here?" The Nord's laughter echoed on the stone walls all the way up the stairs.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Windhelm

Same day as the last Rebba

 

 

"Man, this post is so damn boring. My cousin's off fighting Forsworn and what do I get? G-"

 

"Yea yea, you've been complaining about it for weeks! Hush already and suck it up. It's easy money."

 

"I don't want easy money. I joined for the cause. Part of me wishes the civil war wasn't over."

 

"Silence your foolish tongue, or I will. We lost a lot of good Nords to that gods forsaken war. Hunh, and look what it caused. We were so desperate for men that we even let child soldiers slip through the cracks. Like that milkdrinker over there." The two guards standing near the palace entrance looked in the distance at a young boy in blue Stormcloak uniform. They didn't care to keep their voices low.

 

"Who's that? I didn't even know they made armor his size."

 

"It's the High General's pet Breton. Some are saying that's his boy, but I don't think so. Either way, he serves no purpose."

 

"What are we, running a farm or something? First the pet Dunmer, then he gets a Breton?"

 

"Not only that, but now I hear the Grim Ones talking about an Orc under the High Admiral trying to become one of them. It's a disgrace. We'd be better without the lot of them. That useless elf boy in disguise most of all."

 

The guards paused their conversation as Daric passed them, but the damage was already done, not that they cared. "You shouldn't bad mouth your brothers in arms, friend."

 

"You're no brother of mine, boy. What are you gonna do, tell your papa on us, milkdrinker? Figures."

 

Daric's face wrinkled, but the guards just laughed at him as he walked past them into the palace.

 

Hmph, I'll show them I'm not useless. Maybe I can do something around here to prove it.

 

***

"Jorleif!"

 

"Huh?" The thick reddish blonde mustache wearing steward looked up from his mug of warmed mead at the dining table to the little Stormcloak running his way with a raised eyebrow. "Hello, uh.. soldier. What can I do for you? Hey, aren't you the High General's assistant? Shouldn't you be with him?"

 

"Oh, uh. I suppose... but Baldur's probably busy meditating on the thu'um right about now anyway, or he'd have sent someone out for me. Besides, I was hoping you could find me some other work around here? No one seems to want my help with anything. I may be young, but I still have the authority of a soldier, don't I?"

 

Jorleif said, "First tip I'll give you young... Daric was it? Is if you have to ask, then you don't have it. Even if you are a soldier, no one's going to listen to you if you're timid. Now, lets see... There was some reports on bandits in the area still... but no I can't give you that."

 

Daric's happy expression quickly sunk after Jorleif turned down the first idea. "Don't worry boy, I'll think of something. Hey, there's a shortage lately of guards in the Grey Quarters due to the influx of refugees from Cyrodiil. We could always use more bodies there. How does that sound?"

 

"Ugh, babysitting duty?" Daric asked.

 

"It'll give you an opportunity to show you can wield authority. The newcomers like to get rowdy every now and then. But nothing too serious. You should be able to handle it."

 

"Fine, I'll take it. If Baldur asks for me, let him know where I am, sir. Thank you."

 

Daric looked around the decaying bowels of Windhelm like a lost little boy, which is exactly what he was. He never knew just how filthy these parts were. Twice that day he had to avoid getting dumped on by Dunmer chamber pots. The area's stench was a constant reminder to keep an eye out for such threats. The place was already in a state of almost dilapidation and decadence, but he was pretty sure the Cyrodiilics living in the streets in cheap tents of animal skin was only compounding the problem.

 

He was starting to regret even coming here, but somehow he felt as though he needed to see this. The makeshift wooden homes with tarps for roofs in some places, or starving elves wasting away on a corner. He never knew just how bad the Grey Quarter truly was until now. Though now there were some Imperials and Nords here as well.

 

"You'd think that would improve things... since it's not just Dunmer here anymore. Guess they figure since they're from Cyrodiil, it's just more discrimination. Perhaps it is... wonder what Baldur would say. I guess that it's better to keep them in one spot instead of all around the entire city. But still...."

 

"Hey, boy. Who you talkin to, huh?" Daric spun around in the middle of the street to see some Nord man walk up to him from a dark alley. The man was missing hair from his head and where it did show, it was grey and caked in dirt. The tattered shirt he wore revealed the flabby gut that poked out from him. The same gut which now bumped into Daric like a swelled up horker.

 

"No one. I mean, I'm a Stormcloak soldier, not a boy. Back up if you know what's good for you." Daric put a hand on the hilt of his blade.

 

Smirking, the old Nord said, "You shouldn't put your hand on a blade unless you're prepared to use it. Boy."

 

"Back off from him, Tolfjorn," said an Imperial man in equally rough clothes. "You've been doing nothing but picking fights with passers by as of late. Take your bad attitude elsewhere."

 

"Hey, I can handle myself, citizen. Both of you, back-"

 

"No, you back up! I can fight whoever I please! Now get out of my face or you'll be next!" Tolfjorn said.

 

"Fine by me, old man. I'm getting tired of you being an old grouch. We all have it hard living out here, but messing around and assaulting people isn't going to make things better. I came here to get away from the fighting in Cyrodiil, so we should try to make the best of our circumstances an-" The old Nord cut the Imperial off with a strong strike to the face with his fist.

 

"Hey, I said enough!" Daric yelled.

 

"Screw you, boy and your goddamned Stormcloak club! I lost my son and daughter to that stupid civil war, and look at what its brought me! My family's too poor to take care of ourselves without my children to help us work, so now we're stuck out here with these scum! Imperial milk drinkers and grey skin dirt! So you can go **** yourself, kid."

 

Daric didn't know how to react and hesitated before the Imperial that got struck got back up and tackled the Nord to the ground. The Imperial man was outmatched however, simply by the old Nord's weight and was soon pinned under him with Tolfjorn's hands at his throat. Daric stood there in shock, hardly believing that this was happening.

 

"It's all your fault. You and your gods damned Empire! It- arrgh!" The fat Nord suddenly flopped off of the Imperial, leaving him to retch as he attempted to catch his breath. The man held onto his groin and turned around to see Daric grinning behind him.

 

"You'll get more than a kick to the groin if you don't stop. I'm already going to have to arrest you for assault now."

 

"I'd like to see you try it, you little dandy Breton ****!" Daric's eyes widened as the old man pulled a dagger out on him and began charging him at full sprint. He couldn't help but think this wouldn't have happened if he was older. He didn't have much more time to think on it though, as the man's belly was on him again, knocking him down to the ground before he could react.

 

A few nearby citizens started running towards the commotion after screaming was heard. All they could see though was the same Imperial holding onto his neck, still coughing, while a portly Nord lay in a pool of blood pinning a little Breton boy beneath him. A few mothers in the crowd cried out, as the boy's bloody body reminded them of their own children and the danger that this place contained.

 

"Damn it, get... off of... me!" Daric yelled as he struggled to move himself from under the large Nord man, who now lay dead on the stone pavement of Windhelm. Daric managed to unsheathe his sword in time for him to lift it while the Nord man fell on him. The same sword that Daric was trying to work out of his immense girth now with one boot at his chest.

 

When Daric finally managed to work his blade out, he finally noticed that he had an audience...

 

Looking around, Daric could see a crowd of Nords, Dunmer and some Cyrodiilic people looking at the scene in shock. His trembling arms and legs showed they weren't the only ones in shock. Daric looked down at his chest, crimson soaked just as his blade was. Soon, Daric was retching too like the Imperial once was, though Daric's efforts managed to produce something, his morning breakfast. Blood mingled with vomit then as the people continued to remain quiet until a Nord man started aggravating the onlookers by pushing through to see the scene.

 

"Move it, milkdrinkers, I think I heard my br- no. No no no no no! That's my brother!" The other Nord's long silvery hair swayed side to side as he frantically looked from Daric to the Imperial to his brother Tolfjorn, then back to Daric. "You! You murderer! You Breton bitch! You and that Imperial are gonna pay!"

 

"Hold on, I saw the whole thing! Your brother attacked them!"

 

"Silence, mer! I've lost too many family members already at the hands of Imperials!" said the dead Nord's brother. Before he could reach Daric, however, another Imperial grabbed at him from behind, only to receive a strong right hook to his jaw. Another Imperial jumped on his back and locked his arms around his throat. While the two citizens fought in the streets, another Nord ran towards the Imperial and delivered him a swift and heavy kick to his stomach, once again robbing him of his breath. It wasn't long before Daric couldn't look in any direction and not see somebody fighting with someone, as more and more furious refugees and local Nords jumped in the fight, unable to contain rationality from the heightened tensions of increasing refugees taking space.

 

"EVERYONE STOP OR YOU'LL ALL BE ARRESTED!" Daric yelled out, but to no avail. A group of Nords to his right dragged an old Nibenese man to an alley, swallowing him up in a storm of kicks.

 

Suddenly, a heavy hand fell to Daric's shoulder from behind, which made his trembling cease, but also made the hairs on his neck rise. When he turned around, he saw the face of the man that almost came charging at him too. The dead Nord's brother. "You'll pay dearly for my brother's life, boy. You AND the Imperial!" Daric tried striking the man with his blade, only to realize he dropped the blade while he was vomiting. Wide eyed with fear, he reached for his axe, but was sent flying to the cold ground after the man sent his fist in between Daric's eyes.

 

Daric felt as though his entire body was crippled, but he managed to weakly get to his knees, only to be sent back down from a boot to his gut. Now he was laying in his own vomit, head lying at its side, making him stare at the man's life who he just took. Before he could look away, the Nord man pinned him down and forced him to look, his arm sitting heavy at his skull.

 

"Don't look away. Look at it. Look at what you did, boy!" The Nord yelled as he put more and more weight on Daric's head. His long hair was now soaking in blood, caked in it, filling his head the way the man's death did his mind. "Don't look away!" the man said, putting even more pressure on Daric's skull until he was sure that his head would burst open at any second like pottery.

 

"Ahhhh!!!!"

 

***

"I really don't feel like talking right now, Wuunferth, I just want my weapons charged so I can go."

 

"And I charge for that service, so the least YOU can do, Nord, is humor me. I'm interested in all aspects of magic that are unknown to me, and I've had some ideas that can help you learn to thu'um faster. Your Queen is a mage and has that advantage. You'd do well to hear what it is that I have to say."

 

Baldur scratched at his beard, looking at the wizard skeptically. Every time he struck up a conversation with the man, he'd always talk his ear off. And since he was so useful, Baldur felt inclined to stay. "Fine, tell me what you've got."

 

"What is fire to you?" Wuunferth asked.

 

"It's heat," said Baldur.

 

"Wrong! See? You can use my help after all. Fire is light. Light is magic. And magic comes from..." Wuunferth pointed his finger towards the ceiling.

 

"Magnus. Aetherius. The sky," Baldur answered.

 

"Yes, yes and yes. If you are going to contemplate on the nature of fire, don't just look at what it is as it is. Look at what it is on its most basic level. Know where it came from, then realize that fire truly is you, because fire is magic, and you are magic. Your wife stood in the wind and looked at the sky for her meditation. You? You look at the sky too, not for Kyne's breath. But at Magnus' gift. Blood of Aetherius radiating in the light of day. And when you do, know that you are staring into yourself."

 

Nodding in approval at the advice given, Baldur said, "Okay, that makes sense. This isn't just good advice for this particular shout, is it? Since shouting is all magic, and a magic skill that came from Kyne. Kyne's domain is the Sky, which contains these elements from Aetherius. So magic has a connection to Kyne that most Nords nowadays ignore."

 

"Exactly, Nord. It's all connected. Whether the Greybeards contemplate on this or not, I do not know, but any scholar of the Sky worth his salt knows this. My advice for you now is this. While you are meditating on the thu'um, know it is a magic skill. One advantage you have over Veleda is that you don't have to relearn how to not build up magicka elsewhere. That being her hands. This meditation skill Ulfric has you learning, it's a similar concentration that a mage must possess to build magicka in their hands and cast it. You must do it in your chest. This explains why you need to do so much meditating on the word as if to become it. A mage can look at their hand and try to bring the magic out. You however must build up the magic within your very being."

 

"And I already am magic. My soul, my vital essence. The more I meditate, the better I can understand it to tap into that energy at my center. Then bring it forth," Baldur said. "That's why we have to "become the shout". Because the magic taps into the center of our vital essence instead of the magicka it radiates throughout our body. And meditating, thinking in silence, it helps us by stilling the mind so we can better... hear, or feel it. That right?"

 

"That's right! You sound like you've done a study on the arcane arts before. Granted this is all just my theory, but my theories are sound. You should have been a mage, my boy. Such wasted potential.... Oh well."

 

Baldur said, "I think it is a good theory. Think about it. Dragons have no hands. They also are the most powerful thu'umers, usually. It comes so natural for them. Maybe part of that reason is that their physical body is made for it. Something so simple as having no hands means if they were to use magic, the thu'um is the only way they possibly could. Whereas we have our hands and mouth."

 

"Hmm... that's so simple. So simple that it hurts. There's obviously more to it than that, but that does raise a good point. I wonder if the simple matter of having hands would make it harder for man to learn the thu'um. You'd have to fight the body's natural urge to pull your magic through your limbs. There's a book on the arts of enchanting that would suggest that magic is indeed limited by such things. Having two eyes, two arms. It means a normal human at most can enchant a weapon with two effects. So there is a simple connection of the magical and physical. Perhaps even with the thu'um. This may sound silly, but next time you meditate, you may think about binding your hands. The dragon's primary weapon is their voice. You should think as though it is your only weapon when you are trying to thu'um."

 

"I'll give that some thought, Wuunferth. Thank you, but I should be going now."

 

As Baldur was about to leave Wuunferth's room, the wizard said, "Oh, wait!" As Baldur turned around, Wuunferth's raised hands released a bolt of lightning from his fingers towards his shocked face. Baldur luckily reacted out of instinct and pulled out his axes just in time to draw the magic to them from their shock enchantments.

 

"What the hell was that!" Baldur yelled.

 

"Your weapons. They're charged now. Now be off with you, I have more experiments to attend to."

 

Baldur was about to chew the old man out, but he heard someone shouting his name in the palace throne room and soon left the crazy old man to his own devices.

 

"Sir, we've been looking for you!" said Falgrum, standing before the other Necro Nords in the throne room.

 

Looking around visibly confused, Baldur said, "What is it?"

 

"It's the Grey Quarter. People there are fighting in the streets. It's bad, we had to pull the guards in that area out so they didn't get anymore hostages. The elves, the Imperials... if it goes on for much longer, it could turn into a riot."

 

"Wait, you said more hostages? Who's being held hostage?" Baldur asked.

 

Falgrum said, "Some of the citizens that ran out of the area reported a Stormcloak killing one of the Nords there. They said an Imperial helped him do it. The Nord citizens living in that area caused the fighting over the dead man, so now the Nords there are fighting with the Dunmer and Imperials. Some Cyrodiil refugees are apparently being held in one of the ramshackle houses there, along with the Stormcloak that killed the Nord. Though some of the escaped people swear that the soldier was dead and that they just dragged a lifeless body away."

 

"Falgrum, that doesn't make a lick of sense. Why would they attack a Stormcloak? And why would an Imperial help them?"

 

"Well, they said the Stormcloak was a Breton, not a Nord. If an Imperial helped him, then it could have been enough to set off one of the racists around here."

 

Jorleif suddenly stood away from the back wall, then said, "Wait, did you say a Breton?"

 

The other soldiers quickly turned around to face the steward. "What do you know, Jorleif?" asked Baldur.

 

"Your boy, that Daric fellow. He was there too in the Grey Quarter. I, uh, told him he should go there."

 

Baldur's eyes almost bulged out of his sockets as he stormed over to him. "You did WHAT?"

 

"He said he wanted to do something useful! I thought it would be easy enough. I never thought he would cause a riot, assuming that Breton Stormcloak was him," said Jorleif.

 

"We don't have any Breton Stormcloaks posted in the Grey Quarters! It's him," Baldur said gravely.

 

"What's the plan, Unkindled?" asked Falgrum. "How many men do we take?"

 

"None. I want ten men on the east and west exits to the Grey Quarter inside the city. Send word to the guards outside and tell them to seal off the outside exits. I'm going in alone to save Daric."

 

"Sir, you can't do that, you could be killed!" Falgrum said. "The High General in their possession. I don't know what they think they'll pull off holding a Stormcloak, but if they had you, they may think they can actually change something."

 

"I won't be killed and they won't know it's me. I'll go disguised as a civilian, find Daric, get out, then give you the signal with my warhorn to come in and put anyone still fighting down. If you all go in, the hostage holders could get panicked and either kill him, or hold him with a dagger at his throat to try and bargain their way out. That's if Daric is even still alive. It'll be over quick, I promise you. That's my orders, now move." Baldur didn't give him a chance to protest and quickly walked away to change.

 

"Hold it, Baldur. What about the Admiral? Should I go get her?" Falgrum asked. That made Baldur pause, as he didn't even think about what Rebec would say. Especially after he just got done chewing her out over the same thing.

 

Shit, you were right, Rebec. But Daric's life is in danger. "Send her a note. Tell her... tell her what's going on, but say that the Grim Ones are with me. That's technically true, as you'll be close enough to hear the warhorn I'll have on me when I extract the boy. Now move, before things get even worse."

 

***

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit!"

 

"Shit indeed. What are we going to do?"

 

"Both of you be quiet. I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to make these sons of ******* suffer for all the pain we've been put through," said the silvery haired Nord from before. He pointed a knuckle busted fist at two Imperials tied up to a chair, bound and gagged, and a Nord man as well. The Imperials were husband and wife. Their faces were both thoroughly bloodied and bruised, as was the Nord's."

 

"And after that, Fjarn? What then? We have a Stormcloak in our possession who may be dead and we're locked in!"

 

Fjarn brushed aside his long silver hair from his face, then rubbed at his busted hand, then said, "It doesn't matter. Look at what we have here today. Nothing. I lost my brother. My only remaining family member left in this world to a Breton calling himself one of us and an Imperial. I already lost my nephew and niece to them. Yet they still keep taking and taking and taking and taking and taking and taking! Well it's our turn to take godsdamnit. Even if we die, it's a victory over them. We'll go to Sovngarde while they fade away. That's good enough for me."

 

The other two Nords, as well as the other three listening all shook their heads in agreement. They all lost someone to the war and didn't have much else to look forward to but the chance to reach Sovngarde. "Now," said Fjarn. "I've got a great idea to pass the time. I haven't been with a woman in a very long time and would rather not see death without knowing one's warmth one last time. Why don't we give Cyrodiil what they've been givin us for centuries?"

 

The Nords all turned their heads to the Imperial woman tied up. The Imperial man next to him tried to yell out and break from his bindings fruitlessly until one of the men punched him so hard, his chair fell over. The woman tried to cry out for help from her bound mouth, but no one answered as the men lifted her up and took her from the room, leaving the bound Nord alone in silence. Fjarn stood up then to follow them, then turned to the bound Nord, lowering his face to his level. "I'm going to make you suffer the worst, legion dog."

 

***

Some time later, Fjarn and the others heard more fighting from outside, a lot more intense than it was before. "Boys, we may be in for it. I think the soldiers are finally responding. I'll go check." The other Nords nodded, and went back to talking amongst themselves. Fjarn noticed the Imperial man glaring at him with hatred he could almost taste from his position on the floor, then said, "What are you looking at, pig?" before grinning and walking past him towards the door.

 

Fjarn closed the wooden door, then leaned back to relax and enjoy the scene. There were no soldiers around yet. Just some Imperials gaining up on two old Nords. One of them he could have sworn was General Stone-Fist's brother. He thought about joining in, but another Nord, a man with red facepaint covering half his face and a ponytail came charging in.

 

The red painted man laid out two Imperial commoners that had their backs turned before the other two with legion swords came after him. He only had farmer's clothes on, no kind of armor to speak of, but it wasn't an issue after the Nord's woodaxe found its way in one of their thighs, and then their own sword in their gut. The man removed the axe from the Imperial's thigh to use again, but the other Imperial already ran after he saw his friend get put down so quickly. He didn't get far though. The Nord's axe was faster and soon found a place in his back.

 

Fjarn's eyes widened with pleasure at the sight, then he called out to the Nord over all the yelling in the streets. "Hey, friend! Over here!"

 

Baldur looked up after obtaining his woodaxe again, narrowing his eyes at the man waving him over in front of the house that was reported to be where Daric was taken. Tucking his axe in his belt, he made his way over, then said, "What is it?"

 

"You look like you can be of some use to us, brother. What's your story? Why so angry?"

 

Baldur turned around to look at the violent citizens he just killed, then said, "I used to be a Stormcloak. Now I'm retired. Don't like what they're doing, letting these elves in our ranks. I lost my father to this war. As well as some good friends. Because of these Imperials. Thought I'd get some payback."

 

"Same here. The name's Fjarn. You?"

 

"Wulf."

 

"Okay, Wulf, come in. You've got friends inside," said Fjarn. Baldur gave him a nod with a stony face, then followed him into the building. When he stepped inside, the other Nords with him stood up in alarm until Fjarn put his hand up and they sat back down. Baldur could make out the sound of a cheap bed rocking in the back, along with the sounds of someone grunting. The sight of the Imperial man on the floor with his face twisted and full of ire was enough for him to draw a picture.

 

All of these men. All of them. They're dead.

 

Fjarn noticed Baldur looking up towards the sound, then smiled and said, "You'll get your turn if you want." Before Baldur could answer, groaning from the back of the room made everyone turn their attention elsewhere.

 

"Hey, that boy's still alive after all."

 

"Good! I've still got some talkin I want to do to that little bitch for killing my brother. Bring him here!"

 

Baldur stood stunned with disbelief as the men brought Daric forth, stripped of his armor and face covered in blood. "His clothes. You all didn't...."

 

"For Talos' sake, no, Wulf. We ain't the legion. No, we just had a little knuckle to face conversation," Fjarn said. Baldur sighed in relief heavily with his hand at his chest. Fjarn grinned, then said, "Perhaps you want a shot at him?"

 

Baldur looked as though he was about to say no, but Fjarn interrupted him, then said, "That's not up for negotiation. There's a chance that all of us are getting it for this. We don't want no snitches though in case we don't. So now that you've seen all this, you're either with us, or you're dead."

 

Baldur's hatred for this man soared to new levels. He wouldn't have a choice if he wanted to get Daric out of there. "No problem, then. He's a Breton after all. Those bastards never did a thing for us."

 

Daric was only barely awake, but that changed when he heard Baldur speak. "Hey, are y-"

 

Baldur prevented Daric from finishing his sentence, causing him to cough blood when Baldur knocked the wind from his gut before kneeing him in the face and knocking him back to sleep with a fist to his temple. Fjarn and the others didn't say anything for a while, waiting to see if the boy would wake up again. His chest was moving slightly, but the boy was out.

 

"Hnh, milkdrinker. Can't even take a hit. Oh well, time for the legion dog to get some more," said one of the Nords.

 

"I'd rather go back upstairs. Sounds like Hrofnir's finished." The Imperial man on the floor began weeping helplessly on the floor as he saw the other four Nords walk away while Fjarn and the other one stayed to beat on the ex legion Nord some more.

 

"Shut your crying milkdrinker!" Fjarn yelled after punching the bound Nord in the groin again and again and again. "Hahahaha, hey Wulf, get in on..." Fjarn stood puzzled for a moment after hearing a hacking noise, then seeing Baldur's head on his friend's body. Baldur didn't make him think on it too long, tipping the body over and revealing that he severed his friend's head.

 

"What the hell are you doing!" Fjarn struck Baldur, busting his lip with a surprisingly powerful hit that made him drop his axe as he fell to the floor. A swift kick to his stomach sent the wind from him, then Fjarn tried to follow up with another punch, but Baldur elbowed him in the groin and hit him in the jaw with the back of his head as he lunged upwards to his feet.

 

Fjarn tried to uppercut Baldur from the ground, but he blocked the punch, then grabbed at his finger to bend it backwards until it couldn't bend back anymore. While he was busy screaming and nursing his hand, Baldur unbound the husband and Nord from their chairs. The husband was about to run upstairs, but Baldur stopped him, then said, "No, you go. Take the boy out of here with you."

 

"But that's my wife!" he said, yelling at the top of his lungs.

 

"I know. I'll get her back, I'm a soldier. You'll just get in the way. Take the boy out of here and I'll make sure you get your revenge on this man here." Baldur handed him his warhorn, then said, "Blow this when you get out as well."

 

"You better save my wife, Nord! You better..."

 

"I will, now get out."

 

***

"Stop all that goddamn crying, you bitch!"

 

"Hurry up already, will you?"

 

"You hush, you-... hey, what the hell's all that noise downstairs?" The men all stood in silence for a while, only hearing the woman's crying and the sound of someone downstairs screaming in pain.

 

"Bitch I said stop your crying! Hey, you guys go see what's going on." The other three Nords reluctantly moved towards the door to poke their heads out and see. As soon as they did, the first man was pulled forward and punched in the gut. When his mouth was open, a torch was stuffed down his throat, causing the most unholy sound a man could ever possibly make as their friend died quickly, yet suffering enough to last an era.

 

Horrified at the brutality of which the Nord killed him, and confused as to why he was doing so, the men hesitated long enough for Baldur to bury his woodaxe in one of their skulls before spinning the other man around to grab his neck with his arm and forcibly twist it back. The man didn't die though, but he was forced to lay there helplessly on the ground, paralyzed and screaming.

 

The other Nord on top of the Imperial woman scrambled up to his feet to try and defend himself, but Baldur was already on him. He was stronger, but Baldur purposefully let the man resist as he slowly moved his fingers toward his eyes. "And as he spoke to his brothers and sisters, he said, 'I do this out of love for each of you. I created this place with hopes of finding something better. It is beautiful, this place. And you will come to see so yourself. And those that don't will fall in line. Those that rise up against me to make trouble... those that refuse to accept what I have done will suffer greatly by my hand. And they will know that my name is Shor.'"

 

The man was too busy fighting for his life to care for what Baldur was saying. His fingers inched forward bit by bit before Baldur finally pressed his fingers through his sockets, ignoring the screaming until the man's screams were no more.

 

The woman was still crying as all of this happened, and she seemed as afraid of Baldur as all the rest of them. Baldur didn't say anything to her, only threw her her clothes and told her to go and find her husband. She quickly sprinted out then, leaving Baldur alone with the paralyzed man on the floor. He couldn't see what Baldur was doing, but he heard him pull the axe from out of his friend.

 

"No. Please, don't. Don't! Don't! Ahhhhh!! Ahh-"

 

***

By the time Baldur came out of the house, the Grim Ones were already moving in and restoring order. A handful of dead civilians lay on the ground, but the rest of the civilians eventually ran back to their homes, or tents once they saw that lethal force was being used. Baldur approached the Imperial man and his wife with a bloody axe in his hand, then said, "The man Fjarn is still in there. Alive. He's unconscious. Do what you must. My men won't get in the way."

 

The Imperial took the axe from Baldur's hand without a word, leaving his wife with them as he re-entered the house, closing the door behind him. Daric stood weakly next to him, looking away with eyes heavy with tears. "Baldur. I'm sorry."

 

"It's not your fault, Daric." It's mine. "Come on, let's go get you healed."

 

Falgrum came running up to them when he spotted them, quickly examining Baldur for wounds, but seeing nothing but a cut on his lip. "What happened, sir?" he asked, seeing all the blood on him.

 

"Don't go in that house over there until after the Imperial man leaves it. That's an order. Don't clean up the mess either. Not yet. I want it to stand as a warning to anyone else looking to start trouble here."

 

Falgrum gave him a salute and said with a blank expression, "You got it, Baldur."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Skingrad
morning


They cornered her as she came out of the Great Chapel of Julianos, in the middle of the square under a drizzly rain, with plenty of passers by as witnesses.  This was Ulfgar's plan.  He had learned his skills well from his mentor, Trym Heart-Hand.

"Stop right there, monster," he called out to her, his two companions fanning right and left to surround the quarry.

Magdela Bathory glanced from one to the other of the Vigilants, then back to Ulfgar. "How may I help you gentlemen?"

"We know what you are. We're here to bring you in for trial and execution. Or we'll happily do the deed ourselves right here, if you resist."

"Sirs, why do you trouble me with such harsh words? I am in mourning." The woman adjusted her black veil and pressed a hand to her chest, then took a step towards Ulfgar.

"Stay back!" He had been warned about this one. She was a seducer, her demure voice and shapely curves no doubt sufficient to muddle lesser men's minds, but Ulfgar had been trained to resist such tricks.

By now a good crowd had gathered. It was time to end the Bathory family's charade. Trym had been called back to Skyrim, leaving Ulfgar in charge of surveilling the suspected vampires, but with the recent fire, Ulfgar had judged that the family was about to go into hiding. Such faked deaths were one means that vampires used to go to ground, re-emerging years or decades or centuries later. They must have found out that Trym's men were still watching, and grown nervous. There was no time to send to Skyrim for new orders. Ulfgar judged that he had to act now, in public, where the creatures could not hide. Trym would surely reward him for exposing this nest of vampires once and for all.

"Expose your face, monster! Lift back your veil."

The woman's voice remained calm. "You are being very rude, sirs. I will ask you to step aside and let me go on about my way."

Some town guards came up, and Maggie took a step back to shield herself behind them.

 

"What is the meaning of this?" the guard captain demanded of the Vigilants. "This is the daughter of our count. Cease your threats or you will go to the dungeons."

"You fools don't understand," Ulfgar said, his ire growing. "Here is a wretched creature of darkness living among you, sucking the very life from you and your children, and yet you would hinder us!  No matter! The Vigilants will save you from yourselves. Stendarr give me aid!" A spell flared in Ulfgar's hand, the white heat of sunfire that Trym had taught him, having learned it himself from the Dawnguard. The bolt wouldn't harm an ordinary mortal, but vampire flesh would burn and blacken from the slightest touch.

The guards started forward to grab him, but before they could do so, Ulfgar launched a bolt of sunfire through them towards the woman. Her veil wouldn't save her.

Bathory let out a scream and bent down, shielding her head. The guards were momentarily blinded, then leaped forward and grabbed Ulfgar before he could cast again. He shouted, "There you see! The creature is writhing in pain from the pure light of Stendarr's mercy, while you all are unharmed. That is what the spell is designed to do! Just look at her and you will see!"

The guards held Ulfgar's arms, but the captain wavered, looking back at the count's daughter. There had always been dark rumors about the family, and as the Vigilant said, she was crouched down, her arms over her head. Could it be true...?

The captain approached her warily. "My lady, I would ask you to please stand and show us your face. Please don't cast that."

A green glow had appeared in Maggie's hand, a defensive spell. Slowly she stood, lowered her arms, then pulled back the veil. A murmur ran through the onlookers. There were no burns on her skin. The guard thought he had never seen a more beautiful, more pure face in his whole life.

"Sir, arrest these men," Magdela ordered, pointing at the Vigilants. "We all revere the work of the Divines, but this branch of the Vigilants from Skyrim has harassed me before, led by a man named Trym Heart-Hand. Now they have gone too far. They should not be allowed to accost imperial citizens on the streets."

Ulfgar was sputtering in disbelief, his eyes wide. It was impossible. She wasn't burned! The spell hadn't harmed her at all.  "No, no, she's a vampire."  He was still calling out, insistent, as the guard captain gave his men the nod and they started dragging the Vigilants away. "She's a vampire! She's a vampire, I tell you!"

The guard captain turned back to Maggie. "May I escort you back to the castle, countess?"

Smiling sweetly, she demurred. "That won't be necessary, sir. I thank you for your assistance. Please see that these men are kept under guard and returned to Skyrim. I'm sure they meant no harm, but order must be kept even in our darkest hours."

The captain smiled. Rumors were just rumors, and Nords were causing enough trouble throughout the empire. Count Darius had been a good ruler, and the Bathory family was always good to the common soldier. "Of course, my lady. You have a kind heart."

"Their god Stendarr is the god of mercy," she said, replacing her veil. "In their pride they have forgotten it, but we must show them a better way."

Enchanted, the guard captain stood and watched until she turned a corner and he could see her no more.

***
From a balcony overlooking the square, a dark haired woman watched the confrontation. With a low murmur she dismissed the illusion spell, and "Magdela Bathory," the black-veiled woman, disappeared.

"Thank you, Skjari," Maggie said with a little smile. Though the illusion had been very taxing, she kept her  glamour up until she was in an alleyway, out of sight.

A few moments later, the gate guards at Skingrad Castle admitted Lady Bathory, back from her chapel prayers.

 

Ruins of the Gottlesfront Priory, Great Forest, Cyrodiil
night


In the stone shell of the old priory, its walls long ago torn down and shrine desecrated by the modern heretics from the Shrine of Molag Bal to the north, a curious gathering was coming together. There was no light, and for a time there was no talking, either. The mood was somber.

At the front of the assembly sat Magdela Bathory, her sister Sofia, and the would-be successor of Darius Bathory's county seat, Rufus Imbrex.

Maggie looked around at the great and powerful denizens of the Order, trying to place faces to names. It was impossible even for her. Names and faces could both be changed, and among this conclave, often were. Not everyone was here, of course. Samuel was conspicuously absent. With a wry smile, Maggie recalled that he had once chided her that he sometimes had important business that didn't concern her. Surely he had already heard the news. He was free now, though Maggie didn't know how he would take this. She still wasn't sure how she was to move forward. Much would be decided in the coming hours.

Milo Ventius entered the grove and took a seat on a fallen-over pillar near the back of the old chapel. He was the oldest vampire Maggie knew outside Samuel and her father, though more retiring than Darius had been. With his arrival, the gathering seemed to agree that it was time to begin.

"We're here to discuss the deaths of Darius and Janus Bathory," a woman said, standing. "We know what has been told publicly of the matter. Now it is time to speak of what really happened."

"I killed him." Maggie let the words hang in the air, gauging the reaction. Vampires were not easy to read, but it ranged from shock to skepticism. Sofia's jaw quivered and she looked ready to weep. Maggie ignored this and went on to relate a doctored version of the events on the night of Darius' killing and in Kvatch. The Order might find out what really had happened eventually. Samuel might guess. They would not hear of her mother's culpability from her, though. The details of her agreement with Brutus were also better left unsaid.

When she was finished, there was a long silence. Killing an Order member without provocation merited destruction. Killing Darius Bathory, a man on whom the entire Order so greatly depended, was monstrous. Maggie could see in some of the glimmering eyes around her the thirst for recompense. Something as egregious as this should be punished with a fate worse than death: Banishment from the Order. There were two successors here besides Magdela, and hadn't old Darius always warned them about her anyway?

At length, Milo Ventius stood from his place and approached the front of the chapel. He looked from Imbrex to Sofia, then turned to Maggie, leaned over and took her hand. His black eyes regarded her a moment, then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her signet ring. Without a word, he then retreated and left the chapel.

The matter had been decided. Some grumbled, some left without saying anything, and a few also approached Maggie and kissed her ring, these mostly younger members who hoped to curry some favor.

After this procession had ended, Sofia stood abruptly. "Well. You got what you wanted."

Maggie stood as well, her voice sad. "Sofia, don't you see? You're free now. Your children are free. I promise you, within the limits of our Order, they will be able to choose their own fates, as you and I never could."

The lines in Sofia's face at first hardened, then a flicker of doubt crossed her expression. "Promises are cheap."

"Of course. Darius made them, too. Only time can prove to you that I'm not like he was."

Sofia's mouth worked. "He was a great man. You could never take his place." With that, the woman turned and disappeared into the forest. Maggie watched her leave, and shook her head. Some things would never change.

Rufus' arm slid around her waist. "Let's go home, darling."

Maggie gave him a cool look, stepped away from his embrace, and left on her own. There were still preparations to be made before her journey.

On her desk in Castle Skingrad, there was a sheaf of papers and letters. There were condolence letters, mostly meaningless. The purchase and merger of two publishing houses in the Imperial City had gone through. The new entity would be called Reunion Press, and would specialize in bringing niche works from outside Cyrodiil into the mainstream, without the dated mindset and politicization of the old imperial presses. It was to be a reunion of old friends and enemies alike, in the pages of fiction and poetry.

The publisher would also join with the venerable old Black Horse Courier newspaper to produce a monthly Midnight Edition, focusing on the night life of the Imperial City and beyond, and featuring an anonymous female columnist. In its first edition she wrote:

In a time of war and turmoil, some would call this venture frivolous. I beg to differ. It is now more than ever that we must sing, and dance, and love. For it is in the gloss of your dark hair, Nibenean maidens; and in the sturdy hand of you Colovian warrior as you grasp her hip; and in both your lips reddened with Argonian bloodwine, and in the musk of Elsweyr on your skin, in all these I see the sunset of our empire and its new day. I shall tell your stories so that all of Mundus may see: We endure. -Maiden.

There were letters about Maggie's foundation to establish a public library in the old Thalmor headquarters. Fundraising efforts had stalled without her presence and would have to be put off. The stately old building would remain empty for the time being.

Setting the business papers aside, Maggie took up a quill and wrote:

Skjari,
By now you'll have heard our news. Please don't concern yourself. Rufus is the right combination of competent and empty headed. So long as you continue to support Skingrad, he'll do whatever you ask. I have heard of your exploits in Bravil and Leyawiin. Well done. This should please the Nibeneans at court and in the Elder Council. They are still dangerous, but you can manage them. Flattery will be your greatest weapon. They believe themselves the true torchbearers of high imperial culture, so remind them that we would all be but poor dirt farmers if not for their support of our cause. It's rot, of course, but that is the game.

I understand also that you're keeping company with Lilly Quentas and ilk. Poseurs and charlatans, all. Still, I suppose you must find amusement where you can. You should really look into finding a permanent cure for your nightmares. Have you considered it might be a daedric affliction? Some trick of Vaermina, perhaps.

Now I am headed for a place you know well. I can't say how long I'll be gone. Take care of yourself, and of our poor realm.

M.B.


***

The marshlands outside Morthal, Skyrim
night


"And so you had to kill him."

"I don't think I could have done it without the other there."

"It was the same for me. It still seems impossible that he's gone."

"I know exactly what you mean."

Maggie regarded the dark-haired woman curiously. Even among Volkihar her provenance was old and powerful, yet she spoke candidly, with humility and sometimes humor.

"And so, did Falion call you here because he knew we had so much in common?" Maggie asked.

"Not exactly. Falion... has done a great deal for me. I owe him."

This reply made Maggie even more curious. "This favor he did for you. Was it the same he granted us?"

After a pause, the woman reluctantly said, "It was. I still don't know how to feel about it."

"That I can understand."

"Will you undertake the same thing, eventually?"

Maggie stared out at the darkened marsh. Even in the relative stillness of nighttime, it was an alive thing. A pair of animal eyes appeared and then disappeared, and somewhere there was a screech, and a clacking like bones. At length she said, "I'm not ready for that yet. Perhaps someday. For now all I care about is giving my mother peace and seeing that she is comfortable for the rest of her days."

"Then you'll need a safe place. Our castle is not particularly cozy, but I've worked hard to return it to how it was when I was a child. You and your mother and her servants can stay there as long as you like."

"Thank you, Serana. You're very kind. I see that Samuel was right about you. Still, I never imagined living in the frozen north. The very air is forbidding here."

"It's not so bad. Our castle once had beautiful gardens where my mother would walk in the evenings.  You could help me bring them back to life."

Maggie smiled. "I think I should like that very much."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Tacitus, Skjari, Endar, Maori

The Imperial City

Late Afternoon

 

The trio of Tacitus, Maori, and Endar had traveled as quickly as they could manage without their horses galloping the entire way. The High Admiral was still having trouble with his horse, but it didn't seem to bother him as much as it had with General Ceno and Maori. The nightmares that came and went, seemingly randomly, were back with much more force than ever, and his melancholic attitude was likely attributed to this. While previously they had happened only once or twice a week, the nightmares were now a nightly occurrence, causing a serious lack of sleep. As it was, he had been quiet the majority of the trip, only speaking when absolutely necessary. His face was haggard and sullen, his bald head reflecting the sun like a grimy mirror, and his raggedy beard drooping down most of his chest.

 

The stress from the experience with the Thalmor, along with the regular hassle that came along with his job had caused his usually blonde facial hair to begin to whiten, and bits of gray bled through as well. All in all, the youthful man who had left Leyawiin that day so long ago was no more, replaced with a hardened, cold man that was as icy as Atamora. His treatment at the hands of the Thalmor played a large part, but so did being away from the sea as long as he had. It gnawed at him like a troll chews a bone, rough and relentless. He missed the salty breezes, the crashing waves and rocking ships. Unfortunately, his job required he be on land longer than he wished. In fact, ever since his wife's passing, he had found less and less comfort on earth, and the very idea of being on it much longer disgusted him. He needed the ocean again, and quickly.

 

As the group neared the ever approaching White-Gold Tower, Tacitus uttered his first words since the group had left from Skingrad early the same morning.

 

"I plan to introduce Master Dremin to Snow-Strider, and get him set up in the palace. You can join if you want Maori, or go back to the apartment," Tacitus said, with no hint of happiness, joy, or any other emotion rather than indifference.

 

Maori was starting to feel homesick and a bit out of place, not being sure what to do with himself in such a clean place. He hadn't found himself in a tree for a long time, which was a difficult thing for a Valenwood born elf. And the same went for the plant based alcohol, rather than the fermented meat broth he was so used to. "Sorry, Tac. I think I've had my fill of that White-Gold dick you lot are so fond of. I'm gonna see what trouble I can stir up around here."

 

Tacitus didn't say a word, just continued on in his brooding silence. Even though he hadn't been with Endar for long, he assumed the man probably wasn't listening, and hoped his young assistant would respond, if he didn't.

 

Endar had been listening, but had nothing to say on the matter. His stewardess however, was another story.

 

"We're going to be staying inside the palace?" Elara asked, looking astounded. Endar rolled his eyes. Some humans were amazed by the strangest of things.

 

Tacitus glanced at the woman, but quickly turned his gaze back to the city walls rising in the near distance. "I should think so. Unless Master Drenim prefers so stay somewhere else. In the palace he would have immediate access to whatever information he would need. Although it's up to your master, as I said."

 

"That would depend on the level of freedom your quarters grant me." Endar said, before scowling at a random Argonian passerby. The Argonian tilted his head, looking taken-aback, and hurried along on his way. "I have my own place of residence in this city. One that suits my needs well for most any experimentation, but I have been long away, and it likely smells of rotting goblin excrement by now. And piss. Rotting goblin in general, really... I would rather not have to live with that until Elara can clean it, but I will if my work is restricted by the quarters and work space you offer."

 

Tacitus watched the Argonian run off, and raised an eyebrow at Endar's perceived dislike, but soon indifference took over and he resumed his sullen stare. "Unfortunately I left in a hurry, so I wasn't able to confirm with Lord Snow-Strider or Empress Dales about the nature of your quarters. Hopefully they will be adequate, at least until your home is cleaned."

 

"If they prove to be so, I would think it to be in everyone's best interest if I remained close by for now. You don't have the gold to pay me to walk all the way to the palace every time I have something to share."

 

"I agree. And I doubt the Empress would want you away from the palace, where something could happen. The last thing we need is you getting assassinated," Tacitus glanced at the metal gauntlet in place of his hand, thinking the wizard would not take kindly to such treatment.

 

"Yes, that would be rather unpleasant." Endar said, not really even worrying about the prospect. Back in his Telvanni days, there had actually been reason to fear assassins. If they found you first, it only took one quick lightning spell or inferno to end you, and had plenty of resistances of their own. He had taken to taming and enchanting a Cliff Racer with detect life to watch for the buggers when he was outdoors, but some N'wah with a missing eye ended up killing the reptilian bird for no apparent reason.

Things were different now. The assassins outside of Morrowind use primitive, easily resisted poison, bows, and daggers rather than magic. And not a one of them was any more difficult to incinerate than the last. "We are fortunate. After all, where could an assassination attempt be less likely than the Imperial Palace?"

 

"Almost anywhere else. The Empress is there, after all, and the entire Thalmor upper command would like nothing more than to see her dead," the sailor scoffed, shaking his head at the Dunmer's utter ignorance in some things.

 

Endar frowned. It seemed that no one ever got his jokes. Perhaps the rarity of them makes the likelihood of one so low that the recipients do not understand that I am trying to display humor. When this sunbird business was over, he'd look more into the matter. He thought the joke had been quite funny.

 

"The Thalmor..." Elara looked up and down at the massive tower they were approaching. "How in Oblivion do they even get assassins into a place like that? It has lots of guards, doesn't it?"

 

"Paying off people already established there, or infiltrate and lie in wait. While there are many guards, if someone was determined enough they could wait months, years before they finally struck," Tacitus said.

 

"So they could be living in there now? The girl didn't look so much scared as amazed. "That's a strange thought. That the people you share a roof with could be planning to kill someone you think... err, you think they think is a friend."

 

"A consequence of life in the palace. Although I hope not to be there much longer, but that's not important right now," Tacitus said, as the group traveled into the town of Weye. Several fishermen competitively peddle their wares, alongside a few craftsmen and artists. The admiral ignored them, just continuing to awkwardly guide his horse onward.

 

The stewardess seemed interested nonetheless. "It's not important, but now I'm curious. Why do you hope to leave? Where will you go?"

 

"I would say too much politics, but it's more like too many politicians. I can deal with the rules and orders and such, but the twice damned politicians are Sheogorath's gift to Tamriel, and it's a present I would sooner return than keep. I hope to return to the sea, this time to Anvil though, as our pressure in Leyawiin is past it's peak. Seems the Thalmor deemed Valenwood more important, and thus are focusing most of the shipping their."

 

"Oh, so you're going back out to fight? I'm sorry, I don't know much about politics or war. I guess they must be a real pain to make you want to leave a place like this."

 

"More so than you can imagine," Tacitus said, but his attention was drawn away to a fisherman whose cart had overturned.

 

The man reminded him of his father, although father Meridius was a merchant rather than a fisherman. His mom and dad were no longer in the Imperial City, where he had moved them to escape the skooma syndicate. Now they had moved on again, heading north to Bruma. They talked about going to Skyrim, but Tacitus wasn't sure if that would ever happen.

 

The admiral continued to stare as he rode past, wondering why he didn't dismount to help. Spite, anger, maybe, or I'm just not the man I was before. I can't let them take more than they already have. They've broken me physically, but I won't let them destroy my spirit, Tacitus thought, but as he looked the man was already up and moving along, and his chance at personal redemption was past. It soured his mood, so he rode on in silence as the group came to the crossroads where Maori was set to split off.

 

"You heading back to the house?" Tacitus asked simply, plain faced and gruff voiced.

 

"That I am, though I'll come back to the palace before dark. There's something I need to look into, but I need to speak with Endar alone about it. Is that fine with you, Telvanni?" asked Maori.

 

"Should it not be?" Endar had broken few words with Maori during the journey, and wasn't even entirely sure where he came into play with the Admiral, but he had his suspicions.

 

Maori said, "That's up to you, really. It concerns Valenwood and my people. I just had a few questions you might be able to answer. Of the magical sort, of course."

 

"Alright then." Endar wheeled his horse around and headed a few feet away from the main group. When they were separate, he cast a muffle spell for insurance of privacy.

"So what questions do you have?"

 

Maori's mother was a mage but he wasn't aware that they were muffled. Speaking low, he said, "I was going to wait, but how much do you know about the Wild Hunt? It's a long shot, but I was hoping that you've done a study on the subject before, being a Telvanni that has travelled."

 

"The Wild Hunt? My travels have taken me to your homeland, Bosmer. It was the final destination on a study of the various pantheons that I was conducting some time ago. While it was not my primary topic of research, I admit that I did go out of my way to learn what I could when I could. It is a fascinating subject. The idea of your kind, a typically peaceful people, transforming into all manner of monstrosities, and doing so willingly at that, is quite interesting. What is it that you seek to know?"

 

Maori said, "I want to know if you think it possible for one to retain who they are after transforming. In the mind, I mean. Our people, we have a ritual that can prevent decay by way of the pact. It only lasts a while, so we use it as means of humiliating consumed enemies that were especially treacherous. It stops change. Maybe with your help, we could somehow apply that on a smaller level and to the mind of a Bosmer."

 

"Such a thing has never been done." Endar answered. "Not in known history, at least. But... that does not mean it is impossible. This would be dangerous to attempt. Are you to remain in this city for long?"

 

Maori said, "Not terribly long, no. At least I hadn't planned to. I was to go to Skyrim, but if you think this could possibly come to fruition, then I can stay longer. Of course, we wouldn't know if it would work unless I were in a wild hunt in Valenwood. But it could happen."

 

"There may be ways." Endar said, ideas for a hundred experiments already forming in his mind. Even if this yielded nothing, the research alone could give him new insight on the Bosmeri rituals and how they can be altered and used for new effects. "If you remain long enough, come by my new chambers in the palace next week. By then, I will have had time to settle into my more official research."

 

"Right, the Sunbirds takes priority of course. Thank you, Telvanni." Maori broke off then and waved back to Tacitus before galloping off from the group. He didn't want to speak of the rituals so openly in front of him, not in detail anyway. The amount that he had said was already very uncharacteristic of any Valenwood Bosmer.

 

Endar rejoined the group. Nodding to Tacitus, he said, "Shall we?"

 

Tacitus, who had been impatiently waiting on the two elves, acknowledged Maori's wave with a slight nod of the head, before turning to the wizard. "If it suits you," he said sarcastically. Not bothering to wait for a reply, he set off towards the gleaming White-Gold palace, the guards who had previously followed them now clearing a path through the crowded streets.

 

Once the reached the gates of the palace, one of the guards raised his hand for them to stop. "Halt! Who are you and state your business."

 

Scowling at the man, even as he only did his job, Tacitus barked out, "High Admiral Meridius, and his companions. If you would kindly step aside, we have urgent business." The last remark was added with more than a hint of sarcasm, even if the business truly was high priority.

 

"And who are your companions?" The guard eyed the Dunmer and his stewardess from under his helmet.

 

"I am Endar Drenim. Here on request of your High General, to assist in matters concerning the war."

 

"And you?" the guard pointed at the woman.

 

"She is my stewardess." Endar answered for her.

 

"Well enough. You can head inside. Just keep in mind that the private quarters are off limit and if you wish to see the empress you'll have to submit to a body search." the guard said the last sentence in a quite monotone voice, like if he'd had to repeat that often.

 

"Where is Lord Snow-Strider?" Tacitus asked the guard.

 

"Out somewhere on the training fields outside the city from what I know."

 

Gods damn it. Tacitus, thoroughly annoyed now, said, "When will he be back? That is, from what you know."

 

Guard shrugged. "Five minutes, an hour or two. I don't know exactly. Guy comes and goes as he please. All I know is that he's pretty much always back before dark."

 

"Fine. We'll go to the High General's office to wait," Tacitus took off without seeing if his guests were following, assuming they got the message.

 

Unfortunately for Tacitus' mood, Gracchus was absent as well. His secretary said he was off inspecting the siege engines for their first real demonstration, along with a few other generals.

 

Turning to his guests, Tacitus said. "It seems we've been screwed once again. Unless you have something you need to do, I suggest we wait here for the court mage and High General to return."

 

Endar frowned and leaned against his staff. "Did nobody know of our impending arrival?"

 

"I sent a letter ahead, but I used a courier service and not a legion courier, so there is a possibility he never made it. But it shouldn't be too long a wait," Tacitus said, sitting on a bench near the general's office. "So, what exactly was it you do?" While normally Tacitus wouldn't care to make such small talk, at least since his release from captivity, the hundreds of years old Dunmer was an interesting person.

 

"What is it that I do?" Endar wasn't quite sure he understood what kind of question the Admiral was asking. "Why, I do lots of things. Do you not? A paltry few words seems insufficient to truly give light to the sum of one's actions... if, that is what you mean by "do" at least."

 

Tacitus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but he couldn't restrain the irritated sound in his voice when he said, "Your job. Your hobbies. What it was you were doing in Kvatch. What it was you did before then."

 

"Oh! So you would like to know specific details on my more recent occupational endeavors? Why didn't you say so?"

 

Endar thought back to what seemed an appropriate point to begin his recounting. "My original business in Kvatch was to meet with a man in attempt to acquire a most unique Daedric artifact, of the very highest quality. Unfortunately, it proved a fake, and I began my service to Count Brutus after he so kindly relinquished me of the bounty I gained shortly after uncovering the aforementioned proof. I didn't leave because the Count provided me with a good supply of resources for experimentation, and was a generally interesting man to interact with. He is not blind to the fact that he himself was actually among my topics of study while I was there."

 

Tacitus nodded his head, asking, "Before then? What were you doing before the fake artifact brought you to Cyrodiil?"

 

"I was in Cyrodiil already, actually," Endar answered, trying to recollect without the help of his journals. "studying the Daedra, and their afflictions on mortals. Plagues, curses, strains of vampirism, symptoms, cures and defenses... that like. I continued this study to a lesser extent in Kvatch and traded letters on the matter with a colleague of mine in Anvil with a fair amount of regularity. Before I was all of this... I suppose it was winged beast anatomy, and then the value of mysticism as a legitimate magic school... The last major topic research I undertook before the afflictions was of the various pantheons, and their influences among their respective people. That one took me to quite a few nations and provinces."

 

"While I have set foot on every province, even the Summerset Isles, although that was when we were allied with the piss-colored elves. But, I very rarely have ventured from port cities, which usually are a mashup of cultures rather than just the natives'," Tacitus said, the conversation more interesting than he had anticipated. "Winged beasts? Have you studied and sea-born creatures as well? You may not have heard, but my hand was lost when I was shipwrecked because of a sea snake, as long as three dromons and thick as mammoth. The Thalmor captured me afterwards, but I escaped, and my men slew the vile serpent."

 

"Ah, I had noticed your hand, but never thought to ask how it had come to be lost. I assumed it was taken in war by the Thalmor as are most limbs lost by soldiers these days. As for sea creatures... No, I have regrettably never conducted an effective study of anything beyond the common slaughterfish barring a short interview with a wereshark."

 

"I imagine it wouldn't be an easy study, considering the sea is vast and deeper than we know. Who could even guess what monsters lurk out in the far and fathomless abysmal."

 

"Precisely why I have never attempted it." Endar replied. "It would be much too costly and time consuming. Even most Daedra at least remain as restricted to the ground they stand on as you or I, and anything capable of flight is easy to keep in sight. Besides all of this, people are not built for the sea. We need magic to breath underwater, and even then mobility is impaired. I do not favor this type of research."

 

"But the wonders the sea holds are almost unimaginable. I've been a sailor my entire life, and yet every trip shows me that I know not half of what great oceans has to offer."

 

"Oh, most certainly not. And you should be thankful for it. The serpent you met on your recent voyage is likely but one of many such monstrosities to be found beneath the waves."

 

Tacitus just nodded, knowing that what the dark elf said was true. No one knew what might lurk in the sunless depths.

 
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Tacitus, Endar, Gracchus
Imperial City
Late Afternoon


The conversation had stopped only a few minutes when the High General arrived, his eyes excited at seeing Master Endar, but the happiness contrasted sharply with the dark bags of tiredness underneath them. The job, which had aged Tullius and accelerated his drinking, was taking its toll on Gracchus as well. Tacitus had an outlet for his stress, as the naval war was almost constantly raging, but until the land war started General Ceno was cooped up here in the capital.

Still, he was generally glad to see Endar had returned, and knew that his coming was essential to the unraveling of the sunbird mystery. "Master Dremin. You will be delighted to hear I delivered your letter to the court mage of Anvil, Borkar. He was a pleasant man, even if he was a mystic," Gracchus joked with a smile.

"Ah, I had wondered how that meeting went down, or moreover, his reaction to the contents of the delivery. That he was pleasant must mean that he did not closely observe the letter during your time with him."

Gracchus' eyes defocused, and his brow wrinkled as he recalled the events they currently discussed. "You're right," he finally said, "he never actually opened the letter. If it would have elicited an angry reaction, I'm glad he didn't."

"It is a thing of no importance now." Endar said. If the Orc was still alive after reading what he was given, it was unlikely that he still cared to receive his intended package anyway. "I am told that you have managed to acquire some very rare, if not one of a kind, sunbird schematics, and would very much like your permission to analyze and record them."

"Of course, right to the crux of this trip. Here, if you will follow me inside my office. Not you, High Admiral, Lord Snow-Strider requests your presence. Yes, now if you will follow me," Gracchus said, leading the wizard through the doorway.

Meanwhile, Tacitus grunted and walked off, relieved to be doing something rather than just watching the two mages converse.

Soon an imperial man approached the admiral, he had short brown hair and goatee with a mustache. While also dressed in an naval officer's uniform. He stopped in front of Tacitus and saluted. "Good day admiral."

The High Admiral looked down on the man, noting that he was a true sailor, not just some priss in a uniform, as well as several scars on his hands, arms, and neck. Tacitus lazily knuckled his forehead, saying "At ease. What is it you want, exactly?"

The man's expression got less tense and more friendly. "I just want to tell as your second in command on your previous ship got transferred and later promoted during your... Uh... Well, while you were gone. He's captain over his own ship now and I'll be taking over as your second in command and helmsman on the new flagship."

Tacitus wrinkled his brow in slight unhappiness. Langley Civello had been his second, his first mate, for as long as Tacitus could remember, and he was sorely disappointed that this new man, whom he had never met, was now going to be taking over that job.

"And who exactly are you? I can see you're a sailor, and not some Elder Council ninny, but I usually choose my officers. So, who choose you for me, eh sailor?" Tacitus growled, ignoring the man's upbeat attitude, as he only found it annoying.

"My name is Amadus Vulpin. I was chosen by some admiral. What was his name again? Short man, long grey hair but bald on top, muttonchops. You probably know him. I was to look after the new flagship while awaiting your return. Or till a new high admiral was chosen."

Damn Palenix and his meddling, damn him. Tacitus glowered at his new second, still wary of his allegiance. He could be under orders from Palenix to sabotage Tacitus, so that the balding dwarf became admiral. Well, Tacitus thought as he ran a hand over his shaved head, his ugly natural baldness.

"Fine, I suppose you'll do in a pinch. But I want your credentials, your records, sent over to my office my this afternoon. Same with every other member of my crew. Whether or not Palenix likes it, I still choose my own crew."

"Well most of the crew on the new flagship comes from the old flagship. Your old crew. And I was hoping for less pencil pushing. But as you wish, I'll get you those papers." Amadus' mood lowered itself almost to the same level of Tacitus'. He was obviously not looking forward to look through the archives.

As many of them that survived the serpent, he means, Tacitus thought, recalling the screams of men as they were flattened, crushed, thrown, and swallowed, chewed and stabbed.

"Only send over the records of those that didn't serve with me previously. All the new sailors, that is. And as much as you dislike paperwork, you'll leant to get over it. One of the many perks of being my second," Tacitus looked over his new second again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he did. Even if he didn't trust the man, he had no choice but to deal with it, just like they both had to deal with the paperwork of the job. "Now, is that all?"

"Yes, sir. That's all. And welcome back." Amadus stretched out his right hand for the admiral the shake.

Tacitus hastily shook it, aware but uncaring that the man was considerate enough to not stick out his left hand. Saluting sloppily again, he brushed past the man. At least Langley, spineless jellyfish that he was, was plenty capable and didn't bother me. This man is already annoying.

"Hey admiral!" Tacitus heard a somewhat familiar voice yell from far down the corridor behind him.

"What?" Tacitus asked, exasperated, as he turned around.

"Is that how you speak to your superior?" It was the court mage an soon to be emperor. He was standing far down the hallway, dressed in red and blue noble clothes with gold trimmings. And behind him, slightly on his right was a redhaired servant girl; following her lord with a subservient look to her face.

"When already annoyed because I was just saddled with a first mate that I did not choose, yes, it is how I respond. And, until the wedding, you are merely the court mage, whether or not you like it. Until then, we are equals," Tacitus sourly waited for the man and his servant to catch up, so he leaned against the walls of the hallway.

"Equals?" said Skjari as he approached, slightly humored by the statement like it was some kind of joke.

"Make fun all you like, but a court mage is much more disposable than an admiral. Just because you're bedding the empress, among others," he glanced at the quiet servant who stood behind her master like a dog, "does not grant you any extra respect, least of all from me. Whether you or the young unnatural sit the throne is nothing to me. But until you do, we are equals, whether you like it or not."

"Anyway, welcome back from the dead." Skjari first raised his left hand but quickly switched to his right hand for the admiral to shake.

As much as he wanted to swat the Nord's hand away, Tacitus couldn't be that insolent, so he shook it instead. His body went instantly rigid, his eyes sending daggers of hate towards the man responsible. F*** YOU SNOW-STRIDER! SHOVE YOUR BLASTED HAND UP YOUR ASS NEXT TIME!

But soon just being paralyzed was the least of his worries as he felt magical energies flow through his body. Like they were searching for something as they went around and deeper and deeper into the very essences of his existence. After a few seconds or a minute, he had lost track of time, the magic retracted through his hand back to the mage. And he could feel the stiffness wear off. But he still couldn't help but to feel a little weakened by the event.
"That wasn't so bad?" said Skjari. "Wouldn't want any dormant magic to make you explode during an important naval battle."

"F*** you. How about I shove my hook up your asshole and see if it isn't "so bad"? Unless you have something to actually say to me, I suggest you get out of my sight," Tacitus angrily said, brushing off the residual effects of the magical search.

"You've been in Thalmor inprisonment for some time. And I don't really believe your story on how you escaped. Why shouldn't I make the elves haven't made any alterations while you stayed with them?"

"Believe me or not, it happened," Tacitus said, the lie hiding easily behind his very real anger. "Next time, step off your high horse and ask, you moronic excuse for a man. Bet that thought never occurred, huh? I would have willingly submitted to such a search, if you had the sense to ask me instead of assault me. I know how dangerous a liability I would be to the navy of they did something. But, I'm sure you just figured me for a broken, brainless sailor."

"We both know you would have had to submit to a search either way. And how did this group of Bosmer know you were an admiral? And if they didn't; why would they try to break out some human they did not know?"

"Exactly, I would have willingly submitted to a search, you deaf fool. As for my escape, I was not the target. The Dominion general that traveled with me, my companion had a vendetta against him, and I happened to be a by product of their attack on the caravan. They later identified me by my sword, same as the Thalmor. Whether you believe me or not, is irrelevant. There's no way of disproving my story, so grin and bear it, much as I have this inane questioning," Tacitus' mood had only suffered at the court mage's grilling, and his clenched jaw and red face reflected that.

"If you are willing, why are you complaining that I did the search? Besides, if they had done something with your mind, you could have turned hostile had I asked."

"Because it was deceitful, dishonest, and just like the politician I had hoped you wouldn't be. An assault even. Unless you'd like to attack me with your magic again, I have things that need to be done," Tacitus was still perturbed, but his face was beginning to cool off.

"I do what I consider necessary to preserve the stability of this Empire. If you knew what I knew about magic, then you wouldn't be complaining why I did the search without your permission."

"Oh of course, wise and omniscient overlord. Whatever you deem necessary. Like I said, I have important things to do. If you'd so kindly stop wasting my time..."

"I don't tell you how to steer your ship. And I'm not going to stop wasting your time while you have that discipline problem."

"Discipline? Am I a child? What exactly am I being disciplined for? Talking to my equal in a formal tone, or escaping the Thalmor? Or maybe it's being upset that I was just paralyzed against my will?"

"Being upset is still not an excuse to act like you do. You're supposed to be a professional, start acting like it."

"I'm unprofessional? Me? You are a piece of work, Nord. At least I don't walk these halls and bed every servant I see, while set to marry the empress. I hope you can learn to keep your bastards under control. And being suspicious is no reason to act the way you did."

"Silence. All I did was to search for any magic the Thalmor might have put inside you. And we both know there's something fishy about your story. And change that attitude of yours. That's an order." Skjari's patience was running to an end as he got visibly more and more irritated and serious.

Tacitus, already walking past the Nord, uttered a very sarcastic, "Ha. Nice try about changing the subject from your whores. Good bye, court mage. Hopefully it will be a very, very long parting."

But he didn't get far before he felt a hand on his shoulder and was forcefully turned around, grabbed by the throat and lifted up into the air. The paralyzing spell was also back, but less intense so he could still move his muscles, yet very slowly. "Listen very carefully. You need to learn your place. And you will follow my orders. Is that understood?"

Tacitus' smile was the same he had while being tortured by the Thalmor, one of mockery and insolence, while his voice was strained because of the choking. "You're no better than the elves, you know? You think you can force me to do anything, when it took them this," he held up the left arm, as quickly as he could manage, "to even get my name."

"I'm not claiming to be better. And if you want to keep your position, you'd better learn to follow my command."

"And lose the best sailor in the navy? Heh, it would be your loss. I'm sure the Bretons or Nords would be happy to have a former admiral in their navy. I'll follow it when you have married the empress and have the authority you crave so badly."

"What happened to the Tacitus that followed my orders before? You didn't stop to check with the empress before running off to raid the seas on my command. If you're not the same admiral. You wont be a huge loss at all."

"Maybe it was because I didn't realize how big a jackass you were at the time. If you look at your example, you'll see that I didn't exactly follow the train of command. Just like now. You going to let me go anytime soon, or shall I scream for help. Oops, too late," Tacitus' smile grew as Gracchus and Endar both exited the office, the general's mouth agape at the scene they saw. "G'day gentlemen. Lovely evening, isn't it?"

Skjari looked at the elf and then back to Tacitus. "I'm going to topple the Dominion. With you, or without you. I'm not putting you down till you give me an answer."

"My answer? My answer is that I plan to kill every Thalmor sailor I can find, before slaying that general as well. Does that suffice?"

Gracchus still was shocked at the scene, but his mouth was closed and now hard set in disappointment.

Suddenly Skjari didn't look so angry or even annoyed, he actually had a small smile on his face as he looked and sounded quite pleased. "That will do nicely." He said as he put down the admiral.

Landing carefully, Tacitus said, "No one takes my hand without paying the consequence. Speaking of which, how does a no quarter policy sound to you? I would do it rather you approve or not, but I seek opinions nonetheless."

Gracchus piped in here, still slightly confused about the sudden change in mood from both men. "No quarter? It's pricey to keep prisoners, and the Thalmor deserve it, but I doubt the general populace would go for it. At least, not on land. It seems to be easier to get away with things at sea."

"I don't mind at all. Still staying by the order to bring back high value targets. Noblemen and wealthy merchants and such, to see if they can pay for their release. High ranking military officers should also be brought back and interrogated. Or you can interrogate them out at sea and then drown them if you feel like it. Just keep a journal over their statements to bring back in that case."

Tacitus nodded, somewhat unhappily, as it still sounded like the mage was issuing him orders. "I'll do what I can. I plan on setting off for Anvil tomorrow, and rejoining the fleet."

"Good. And maybe see if you can invite some privateers to join in on the raiding. Could serve as meat-shields and proxies."

"Yes, although they'll want payment. Hopefully they'll accept a portion of the spoils," Tacitus said, moving closer to the mage. He stuck out his hand, smiling as he did. "No magic this time?"

Gracchus was walking towards the two, smiling and glad that they had worked out their differences.

"No, not this time." said Skjari as he reached out and grabbed the hand. "And even though it wont bring any comfort; paralysis is one the more friendlier spells I know."

Tacitus reacted as quickly as possible, using the hook to grab the right hand Skjari had used to shake with, while his right hand punched straight into the Nord's gut. Gracchus, moving almost as quickly, threw up an ice wall between the two men, throwing them apart.

"Nobody gets away with attacking me," Tacitus growled through the ice.

"Enough you two," Gracchus said, his hands still raised to prevent and more attacks.

"Attack you?" said Skjari with a mix of amusement and disbelief as he crossed his arms. "If I wanted to 'attack' you, we wouldn't have this conversation."

"Not sure what else you would call choking someone while paralyzingly them. Unless you're too dull to understand what exactly and attack is," Tacitus glared through the ice, even if it was thick enough he couldn't see the court mage.

"Disciplining."

"I discipline my sailors when they've disobeyed orders. If you recall, you have no legal authority over me, so your 'orders' have no standing."

"But I will. And I might as well have. And if you wont follow my orders now, how can I trust you to follow them next month?"

"Because you'll have the real power, not this perceived power because of what you will be, that you try and wield now."

"Power? Then what is 'real power'?"

"Legal power. The power that can really discipline me if I disobey an order, as opposed to that little angry outburst of magic. You can continue to do that, but all it does is show just how insecure about your standing you really are, that you have to attack men when their backs are turned because you can't command respect. You say I need to learn my place, yet you seem to think yours is much higher than it really is."

"So all you care about if I have that crown upon my head or not?"

"Until you do, don't presume to think you are my master. Or that you can order me around. I don't take kindly to tyrants, especially those that aren't even in power yet."

Skjari put his left hand on the sword's sheath and began to gently push the sword out of the sheath a couple of inches with his thumb. "I have power. And if you wo-"

"Stop it both of you!" The servant girl screamed at them. She had seen Skjari move his hand to the sheath and now took a step forth. "You both keep bickering and for what? You both want to see this Empire thrive and you both want to burn the Dominion to the ground. Yet all you do is fight each other and throw insults back and forth. Do you expect to get anything done by doing that?"

Gracchus nodded, and said, "Exactly. You two are acting like children, your petty squabbling blinding you both to the real threat."

Tacitus mumbled something, probably another insult, but from his unclenched jaw and now relaxed fist it was obvious he concurred. "Fine. But it's probably best I'm heading off tomorrow early anyway."

Skjari didn't say anything but when Raine looked him in the eyes with a stern and almost pleading look, he took the hand of the sheath and let the sword fall back into it. "Fine." Skjari waved the hand at the wall and it dissipated into light snow. He then held out his hand for Tacitus to shake. "Drown some Dominion scum? And no tricks this time, from either side."

"They'll be wishing for a simple drowning when I get through with them," Tacitus shook the man's hand, while Gracchus had the largest ward he could summon waiting in his hand.

"Good. Now I'm sure you got your work to do." Skjari then let go of the hand and turned to Gracchus. "And who's this?" He said and gestured almost dismissively at the Dunmer.

Gracchus, not relinquishing the ward, said, "Master Endar Dremin formerly of the Telvanni. I had the admiral approach him about assisting in deciphering the sunbird schematics, and he was kind enough to agree to help. His one request was we give him somewhere here in the palace where he can conduct his research."

"I'm sure we can find some empty room for him to stay in. Though he'll have to live with that the furniture will be quite basic. By that I mean nothing expensive will be kept near his research."

"No worries on that end." Endar replied. "I am accustomed to far worse, I assure you. So long as I have a bed, a desk, a comfortable chair, and any sort of storage, I will be fine. I presume you are the court wizard?" He did not show it, but this Nord interested Endar greatly. The man practically reeked of magicka, and spells of sorts that even he was not familiar with.

"That's my title right now, yes." said Skjari as he looked to Endar. While he managed to bury his hatred and burning fury, he did not manage to take on the neutral expression he usually had and instead looked unusually cold and uncaring.

Gracchus' eyebrows arched in a quizzical manner, as he couldn't quite figure out what the Nord had against Endar. He hasn't said anything to perturb Skjari, and yet that look is as cold as Atmora. What could be the cause? The obvious answer is he is still angry with Tacitus, but there seems to be more. As curious as he was, Gracchus really had no way of discovering the cause of Snow-Strider's apathy towards Dremin, so he kept quiet.

This is an unhappy man. thought Endar, noticing the cold expression Skjari wore. Probably the result of his encounter with Tacitus. "For now... The way you and the Admiral spoke, It would seem that you are to be seated on the throne soon enough."

"Yeah, with another title and some jewelry. Anyway, I've translated the schematics and can get a copy sent over along with an untranslated copy as soon as you've gotten yourself established in your new quarters."

Gracchus, the gears in his head turning with vigor, spoke up, "I don't mind showing him to his room. Give us some more time to catch up."

"Fine, just put him somewhere far away from the private quarters. I'm sure he don't want to have to submit to a search every time he return from a stroll or something."

"The Imperial Palace has a non-private quarters?" Endar was ready to move on, but he had to ask. He had visited the palace once a few Emperors back, and during that time, the site of the original Elder Council chamber and the extinguished dragonfires was all that was open to anyone besides the staff and various leaders.

"If you want to be technical, the whole palace is private property. But as it's so big and got nobles, servants and messengers running around; there's the courtroom which is kinda semi-public. Then most of the palace is more like semi-private where only certain people with business here are allowed. Then there's the private quarters which only a select few are allowed into."

"Now, if that answers your question, we can get a move on. I'm sure you're ready to get started analyzing those schematics," Gracchus said with a smile.

"And I need to go pack. Good evening, gentlemen," Tacitus said, turning and heading the opposite way Endar and the High General were inevitably going.

"It is a good evening." Endar quietly agreed as Tacitus disappeared down the hall. "At least for us, it is..." Shrugging and turning to Gracchus, he said, "As for the schematics, yes, I would very much like to see them. The sooner I can get started, the better."

Gracchus disappeared momentarily into his office, reappearing with an armful of scrolls and papers. "Now, if you will follow me."

The High General led his guest far away from the offices of the higher ranking officials, eventually putting Endar in a hardly used room that had a bedroom and an accompanying living room. Because of its disuse, the furniture was gone out of the living room, making it a perfect laboratory. It also sat next to a stairwell, so Endar could move about freely without having to submit to searches and pat-downs.

"Once you get situated, could I have a word in private?" Gracchus asked, casting a glance at Elara to show who he didn't want to hear.

Noticing Gracchus's expression, Endar nodded to his stewardess. "Elara, go wait in the corner."

She headed off, all the while muttering something about not being a child. It didn't make sense to Endar. Of course she wasn't a child. Once the woman was far enough away, he flicked his fingers and sent a red spark flying in her direction. After several seconds, Elara started blinking. Then she made a few odd noises. "Mah... Mah... You deafened me?" she scowled and crossed her arms. "Could've just muffled yourself, ass."

Endar shrugged off his bag onto the old bed, and began unpacking some of his supplies. Without looking up, he said, "This ought to be private enough."

Gracchus, still wary, cast a light muffle spell, to ensure anyone on the outside didn't hear as well. "From what I understand, you have extensive dealings in almost every form of magic. What I am asking about, however, may be even outside your knowledge," Gracchus said, letting his words sink in before uttering the dreaded phrase. "Soul binding. What do you know of it, how is it done, and can it be stopped?"

Endar raised a brow. This palace and the people in it were proving to be more and more interesting as the day went by. "What you speak of is a highly sensitive topic, General. Soul binding is an old magic, and is of the most dangerous sort. Failure to properly bind can result in far worse results for both parties than death...." He took a moment to recall when last he had studied the dark art. It had been a historic study, and this little gem of knowledge had been found among much else. "It was first outlawed when the practice on beasts cropped up in High Rock during the second era, but the art is much older than that." Endar looked back at the door, then showed a very rare and very slight hint of excitement as he turned back to Gracchus. "I think I know where you are going with this, and I could possibly be of service..." Endar reduced his voice to just a whisper. "But I must first know what manner of creature you wish to be bound to."

Gracchus smiled, and shook his head quietly. Even with the muffle spell and the stewardess muted, he still wanted no chances taken. "No, I do not require a soul binding. I just wish to know how it is done, and if it can be stopped. I presume when two souls are bound, one is master over the other, yes? How does one separate the souls without damaging either one?"

"What gives you the idea that one has power over the other? Typically, the bond is of a more symbiotic nature, and both parties share in the benefits and detriments. It creates a link of sorts between them. A bond like you suggest would be considered soul dominion, and that would require a very powerful individual, possibly one with a soul that has been warped and prepared for the binding with even less conventional magic than that used in the ritual itself. In any event, to separate two bound souls without any damage to either is unheard of. As far as I know, it has never been done."

"That's what I feared," Gracchus said, eyes downcast. "But yes, it is definitely a domination, as one has power over the other. If you would do me a favor, and quietly look into a possible separation, I would be in your debt."

Endar nodded. "I can promise nothing. Especially with no specimen to observe, but I will look into it when I find the time. However, I would learn what I can from this as well. If I do present you with any findings, I ask that in return, you record whatever you plan on doing with this information, and share it with me."

"I doubt anything will come from it, except a soothing of the soul if it's discovered I can do nothing about this binding. But whatever the case may be, I thank you for your time. Good night, Master Dremin," Gracchus nodded his head in a semi bow, trying to put on a semblance of a good mood.

"It is." Endar said, returning to his unpacking with one hand, while casting a dispel spell with the other. The moment Elara's hearing returned to her, she knew she was free to resume her duties, and immediately set to assisting him.

Gracchus glanced once at the woman as he left, wondering just what had convinced her to work for such peculiar master.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Karsh, Lilly Quentas
Imperial City,
Morning,
 
Lilly Quentas walked beside Raine with a slow pace, clad in full Oculatus leather armor, along with having a short-blade strapped to her leg. When on duty, always wear your uniform. Glancing around the hallways of the imperial palace, it seemed oddly empty, she asked: "Is anything happening today? The palace is unusually quiet."
 
"Dales said yesterday most of us could take a day off. Because we're going to have our hands full soon with the wedding anyway."
 
"And why are you remaining here?" She said suspiciously, 
 
Raine gave her a sly smile, "To help lord Snowstrider."
 
She returned, "Trying to get your pretty fingers all over him?"
 
"Not telling."
 
"I thought we were sharing." Lilly said playfully, grabbing her hand and nibbling on her finger, 
 
"When you're around to share with, that is. Besides, if I do my regular work faithfully and hard enough, I think I can convince him that I'm due for a bonus. Would really like a matching necklace for this bracelet he gave me." She held up the other hand, the left, which displayed a simple yet elegant silver bracelet.
 
Lilly gave her an amused smile, showing her the highly expensive and lovely flower shaped necklace Skjari had given her, "That's a lovely trinket dear." 
 
Raine gave a light frown at seeing the necklace, "You probably got it because you're a rich noble and wouldn't attract suspicion if you got an expensive necklace."
 
"Your so adorable when your jealous." She said, patting her on the head. 
 
Raine straightened her face and gave Lilly a small smile, "Well I better get to work then." She then trailed off down another corridor, leaving Lilly behind.
 
Lilly took out a cigar, and lit it with her right hand. She had work to do. She opened the door into her office, and went up to her desk, putting away her short-blade. Suddenly she heard a knocking on the window and when she looked, she saw a very familiar black bird stand outside, waving with one wing at her. The raven landed on the desk and the raised both wings highly while holding the mouth half open. Almost looked like the raven was holding a ceremony.
"What the **** are you about?" She said, before giving him her ear.
 
"I pray for the almighty, curved lady to bring the starving raven some food." Karsh voice sounded quite serious but still had a strong hint of sarcasm.
 
"Didn't Helen feed you before she left for school?" Asked Lilly, impatient and annoyed with the bird living in her mansion.
 
Karsh put down his wings. "She did. I just want some dessert before we start working."
 
"So, your exploiting my little cousin, and now, you want food from me?" She took out a sweet roll from a small glass cabinet and offered it to him. "Stupid bird." 
 
Karsh didn't waste much time as he started to peck and swallow pieces from the treat. And soon it was gone.
 
"Fat enough?" Lilly asked sarcastically.
 
Karsh flapped his wing and jumped up on her shoulder. "For the moment. Now shall we get to work?"
 
"Does your master really hate me this much?" She said in a deadpan tone. 
 
"Come on. I'm charming. I got a handsome black plumage. What's not to like?"
 
"Black plumage is not attractive."
 
"Then there's clearly something wrong with you."
 
"Afraid so. It's so weird, I like big fluffy breasts, and stone hard abs, right?" She said taking out a document folder.
 
"So, curved lady, what's for today's work?"
 
"Murder case." The spymaster said, exhaling some cigar fumes into the birds face. 
 
Karsh started to cough lightly. "Don't do that again. And isn't it the guards' job to look into murder?"
 
"This is different. The victim was a daughter of a member of the Elder Council." 
 
"Politically charged murder? 'Cause your duty is to look after the security of the realm. And your lover. And that short blonde."
 
"As a member of the Elder Council, and head of the security of it's members, I am duty bound to investigate the case. Even if that daughter was heard calling her majesty a 'slug' once."  She added. 
 
"Fine, fine. Look into it. Can I inspect the corpse?"
 
"Go ahead. Don't get spotted. It's located at the Repulus mansion in the Talos Plaza district." 
 
"Which street? I doubt the mansion will have a big red sign on it."
 
"187th Valeria street." 
 
"Hehe. Be right back." Karsh turned around on her shoulder and flew out the window.
 
"Don't take too long..." Lilly halfheartedly yelled after him before picking up and reading a few other files.
 
After some time the raven came flying back through the window and landed on her shoulder again. "Hello curved lady. The window to the corpse wasn't fully closed, so I managed to pry it open enough for me to squeeze in. No signs of blood and just some faint markings of indentation on her throat. She also has a glass eye now."
 
"So death by chocking most likely?" 
 
"Probably."
 
"Who were at the crime scene?
 
"How should I know? I wasn't there. I don't even know where she died."
 
"Was there anything else strange about the body?"
 
"She was neatly dressed. Freshly washed clothes and all that. Probably preparing her for the funeral."
 
"From what I can tell, she was killed at a social gathering for nobles. Can you scavenge a list of people attending the party by any chance? Scavenging is what your ravens do best."  
 
"I got lucky with the corpse. I'm not good at opening windows and drawers, trifling through tightly stacked bookcases or opening doors. Unless the window is open and the list lies in the open, you'd be better off just asking the host for that list."
 
She let out a sigh, as she put her short-sword back on, along with a black high rock styled longcoat. She inhaled some fumes from her cigar, before saying, "Well it's about time we went hands on." 
 
"Well I'll be nearby. Pat your shoulder if you need me." said Karsh before he turned around and flew out the window.
 
Leaving the imperial palace behind, Lilly softly let out a breath of air, as the rain began to pour down on her. Heading to the Talos Plaza district, she decided to make a detour through the elven garden district, placing an order for some red roses to be delivered to the Quentas mansion later. Finally getting to the crime scene which was the back  garden of the mansion, she approached an imperial watchman. Noticing her rank and corps insignia, he sharply saluted.
"Ma'em. I wasn't informed that the boys up top called the Oculatus over." 
 
Lilly returned the salute, "Understandable guardsman. Though when the daughter of an Elder Council member is murdered, expect us to come running. Who was the first guard on scene?" 
 
"That would be Sergeant Amidius, he's over there." He pointed to a tall, plate mail clad watchmen, standing over were they presumably found the body.
 
Lilly nodded, heading over to the man. 
 
"I said I don't want to be disturbed." The man said, not even turning around to see who was approaching.
 
A guard beside him tapped him on the shoulder, before saluting the woman, "Sir, it's Colonel Quentas of the Penitus Oculatus."
 
"So they don't have enough faith in my ability to solve this murder, ey?" he turned around to face the spymaster. "So, guess you're taking over from here on?"
 
"Nothing of the sort, sergeant." The woman said wiping away the rain drops on her face. "This is your job after all. However, due to the circumstances of the victim, I was asked by the Elder Council to assist in the investigation."
 
"For guards like me, that means we're practically put on the side. And I want to have the honor of bringing this murdering rapist to justice."
 
"Oh be my guest. I wouldn't want the attention. You can take the full credit-" She paused for a second, before saying, "Wait. You said something about rape? Is there any evidence she was sexually assaulted?"
 
"She was found with skirt turned upwards, panties torn and a few minor bruises on the loins."
 
Lilly's right hand quenched in a fist, "What was the exact condition of the body when found? I only have some superficial information on her current state, and the report the Elder Council sent me. Death by chocking was it?"
 
"Yeah, probably. Everything looked intact. Could have been poisoning though. But I highly doubt it."
 
"Yes, why shove poison down someones throat when you can easily suffocate them. Do we have any witnesses?" 
 
"Not as far as I know. There was a party and lots of guests. Someone might have seen something. Though the wine was flowing so I don't know if anyone would remember."
 
She looked around at the guards assembled, "Then what are you guys waiting for? Assemble me a list pronto. Feel free to cut out the most unlikely people." 
 
"I'm sure the hostess still has the guest list. You can go ask her for it right now." the sergeant said and pointed at the mansion to which the garden belonged.
 
She nodded,  heading over to the mansion. She saw a blank faced woman, who Lilly recognized as Abigail Vertius, one of Lilly's many contacts.  Lilly's features softened, as she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, "Are you alright?" 
 
Her blank face turned back to normal as she turned to face Lilly. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just thinking."
 
"Abigail, did you see anything?" She noticed the girl was shivering in the rain, as she was outside of the mansion. Lilly took off her longcoat, and wrapped it around her shoulders, "Abigail, if you saw anything, I need you too tell me." 
 
"No. I didn't see anything. I was inside serving drinks."
 
"Are you sure? Was anyone acting suspicious?
 
"Most of the nobles are always hiding something. Now if you excuse me, I got work to do." the young woman got up and handed back the coat before heading into the mansion.
 
She tapped her shoulder, putting her coat back on. And few seconds later Karsh came flying down and landed on the shoulder.
"Yes?"
 
"Follow that girl. See if she does anything weird, and if she talks to anyone, snoop there conversation."
 
"On it. Can be hard when she's inside though. Lets hope this place got lots of windows."
 
"Remain undetected." 
 
"Who would suspect me? People who see me think I'm a stupid and curious bird."
 
"Fine, just don't overdo it." 
 
"It's not like I'll start singing or anything." he said before flying off to the mansion where he then flew from window to window.
 
Lilly glanced up at the dark thunder clouds and the pouring rain as she waited for the raven to return. 
 
Several minutes passed before Karsh returned. "She's cleaning the bedrooms. She's pretty thorough. She hasn't spoken with anyone as far as I've seen. Though she looks very thoughtful. Almost a bit worried. Though more importantly: if you're heading inside, can you cast an invisibility spell on me and take me with you? I don't want to be out in the rain."
 
"I'll talk to her later." She snapped her fingers, causing Karsh to disappear. She entered into the mansion, shaking off her drenched longcoat. She asked a guard on duty,
 
"If you don't mind private, I want you to setup an interrogation area in the kitchen, and get a squad of men to round up everyone who attended the party." 
 
"I can have all of the servants who were here during the party rounded up. If you get the guest list, we'll see what we can do about the guests, but nobles don't like being ordered around."
 
"Lets do the servants first then, private. I'll personally deal with any nobles who refuse to come, trooper. Just get me the servants who were doing there rounds when the murder took place.
 
"Yes, sir. And if you don't mind me saying; I think you should go speak with the lady of the manor. She was the hostess at the party, and she's in the lounge. Quite talkative woman." then the guard lowered his voice a notch. "A bit too talkative, if I'm allowed to say so." he said before hurrying off.
 
Lilly headed to the lounge, glancing at the fine walls as she did. Opening the door into the lounge, she scanned the area for the hostess. She saw the woman sitting by a small table sipping some tea. She was an average looking imperial noble woman. Though she had lots of expensive makeup to help her look younger and more attractive, which Lilly noticed very quickly. She had an elegant red dress with silver trimmings. Her chest size was almost as large as Lilly's, but Lilly knew from Abigail that that was because of an almost ridiculous amount of stuffing she put into the brassiere. Lilly knew her, she was Rosentia Vinicius, and a good source for quick, yet often second hand information.
 
Oh good grief. Lilly walked slowly towards the imperial woman, putting on a serious face, "Rosentia." 
 
Rosentia turned her head towards Lilly and she lit up as much as she could given the circumstances. "Lilly dear. It's so good to see you. How are things in the palace?"
 
"Quite fine. And how are things here, besides the recent murder of course."
 
"Oh, everything is lovely. Or rather was. Pity what happened to her. And why didn't you come? Didn't you get my invitation?"
 
"As much as I wanted to come Rosentia, I was preoccupied with work." She gave her a smile and said snarkly, "Not all of us like living off our birth-given status and titles, my dear." 
 
"Too bad. Though I've heard what you like. Does the empress still sleep with other girls? Or do you have a royal bastard cooking in your oven?" She said kindly and with an almost burning curiosity. 
 
"Dales was confused about her sexuality, I can assure you, those preposterous rumors will be put to rest soon. And no, from experience, you never mix business with pleasure."  
 
"But you should. Think about it; empress Lilly."
 
"That kind of power never appealed to me. I prefer to stay in the shadows, the dark is where I belong. And you'll be in the dark if you ever mention me possibly betraying her majesty." Her voice suddenly became icy. 
 
"Oh, I'm just letting my mouth blabber. I just got a little too excited of the possibility of being good friends with the ruler of the realm. And I wasn't speaking of treason. Between you and me, I don't think Dales will last long on the throne."
 
"Of course." Lilly was really tempted to shut her arrogance with some unkind words, but decided against it. She needed information, "Do you have any useful information for me then?"
 
"About the victim? Yes, I do believe I have. I noticed that three men showed a particular interest in the young woman during the party. Maro Salvius, Adrian Ador and Reglius Salvarus. Though I don't think Reglius could have done it. From what I've heard; he's more into 'sword fighting', if you know what I mean."
 
"Tell me more about the other two." 
 
"Maro and Adrian have been rivals since they were young. They'll no doubt blame each other. Both are quite the gentlemen, mostly only in public that is. Both were born in the families of relatively minor nobles. They're alike in many way except appearance. Almost always doing the same things and trying to outdo each other at it."
 
"So a bunch of bottom feeding, spoiled brats in other words? How fun. Could you see them committing rape and murder?"
 
"Not really, no. But the wine had been flowing throughout most of the party. I could see them both making advances at her and if one of them got rejected in favor of the other..." She became silent.
 
"Would they dare though? Maressa was a daughter of Martheon Tridus, a member of the Elder Council. This isn't some servant girl, they must have known in there wine induced stupor killing her would have serious consequences."
 
"So would raping. I guess that's why she got killed. To cover it up. And I can't really tell if it's like I suspect or if it happened some other way."
 
"Do you know if anyone was near the scene of the crime the night it happened?"
 
"No. I was busy trying to seduce another nobleman inside the mansion. Though he wasn't interested."
 
"So who became the lucky man?"
 
"No one. Got a bit too drunk and passed out on the couch near midnight." She said, her voice a bit grumpy.
 
"Well, don't go knocking on the palace. The only notable men there are going to be, or are married."
 
"Somehow I doubt that will stop the new emperor."
 
"How so? I heard his love for her majesty goes beyond everything." 
 
"Hahahaha." Lilly heard Karsh laugh with his voice, instead of croaking, in her ear. "Good one."
 
"Even so." said Rosentia. "If the new emperor really is the womanizer he's claimed to be, I doubt he'll settle for just one."
 
Ignoring the raven, Lilly said, "But how could he break the young empresses's fragile heart?" 
 
"I think you can answer that question better than me." Rosentia answered.
 
"That you can." said Karsh in response, sounding quite amused, into Lilly's ear.
 
"Regardless. Any other noteworthy news?" Lilly said.
 
"Nothing you probably don't already know." Rosentia answered.
 
Lilly nodded getting out of her chair, "Come over to the Quentas mansion sometime if it suits you, Helen loves guests."
 
"I sure will. Could fill her in on the latest gossip and all that. She spends too much time with those books of hers."
 
"Well, the girl is simply shy and all. A fresh change of pace from all those bitchy teenage princesses who think they own the bloody empire that goes to her school." 
 
"Pretty much all of them think they are entitled to everything and know everything at that age."
 
"Me and my sister certainly weren't like that when we were younger." 
 
"You were a little. Though I was pretty much like that too." Rosentia said admittedly. 
 
"We were? Surely not as much as those 'princess' who go around, frolicking, stealing the hearts of older noblemen." Besides her notorious reputation for gossiping , Rosentia was actually a pretty trustworthy person, if she liked you of course, "Between you and me, I would feel more sorry for the murder victim if she hadn't been a stuck up bitch most of the time. Heard her call poor Dales a slug once." 
 
"I know. Dales may be a little frail, but I don't think calling her names will make her situation any better."
 
"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself, with a little guidance." 
 
"Or a lot. From what I've heard."
 
"She's young. I'm sure you made quite a bit of mistakes in your early years, dear." 
 
"True. But I've heard her new husband has been guiding her quite a lot."
 
"Only rumors of course. Lord Snow-Strider barely knows how to make his tea in the morning, as skilled as he is in magic, he honestly doesn't know a thing about politics." 
 
"If you say so. Oh, I think I've been keeping you occupied long enough. You probably should get back to the investigation."
 
"Lovely chat dear." Lilly said, leaving the lounge, she whispered to Karsh when she was sure no one was watching her, "Don't distract me like that." 
 
"Come on. I managed to stay quiet for most of the conversation. But when you say such outrageous things, it becomes so hilarious that I can't really keep quiet."
 
"So you rather I say I **** around with him every night."
 
"Yeah, do that. I would have loved to see her reaction." the raven said jokingly.
 
"Your master wishes to be seen as a faithful and vitreous man, which he isn't. That would ruin his image."
 
"I know. But I still can't really help but laugh."
 
"You think she was telling the truth?"
 
"About the party guests? I think so. At least she seems to believe what she's saying."
 
"It was almost certainly a nobleman. But just to be punctual, we should still interview the servants."
 
"And you forgot to get the guest list."
 
"Eh. I'll get it later. Not that any of the nobles are going to come. Might have to pay them a personal visit." 
 
"Well, better get to the kitchen then."
 
Lilly headed to the kitchen. After a few seconds Lilly arrived to see a pair of soldiers guarding the entrance. Lilly saluted, "Is everything ready?"
 
"Yep." the one on the left answered. "We got a line set up on the other kitchen door. Sergeant Amidius is inside and wants to be a part of the interrogation. He's in there right now with the first witness, waiting for you so he can begin."
 
Nodding to the two soldiers, Lilly entered into the inside of the Kitchen. Lilly approached the sergeant and asked, "Who are we going to interview first, sergeant?" 
 
"Some servant boy. Works in the kitchen for the most part."
 
The process took a good while, and ended with nothing new learnt. Servant after servant was interrogated, with very little results and gain. When it came to Abigail, Lilly's contact, the servant girl entered the room and sat down near at the other end of the table where Lilly and Amidius sat. She didn't say anything and had a neutral expression.
Lilly whispered into the sergeant's ears, "This is one of my contacts. She was extremely withdrawn and conflicted when she talked to me earlier. I think she's hiding something." 
 
After hearing that, Amidius rammed his fist into the table which caused Abigail to flinch. "What are you hiding?" the sergeant said sternly.
 
"Nothing." Abigail replied, a bit scared.
 
"I don't think that's necessary." Said Lilly, grabbing the sergeant's shoulder sternly, she went up to Abigail, and said; serious but not unkind, "Listen honey. I know your not telling us somthing. There's nothing to be worried about, just tell us the truth."
 
"At the party, well... Adrian asked for some wine, and I brought him the wrong year. He got angry and started to lecture me. Later I told another servant he was a pompous ass. Somehow he must have heard as a bit later he came up to me and said in a hushed voice that if I ever said anything behind his back again, he'd make me 'disappear'. Then later I saw him walk out the backdoor into the garden with the woman who got murdered. Though a minute later some other noble, Marco, Marius, Maro or whatever his name was, walk out into the garden as well. Then soon thereafter Adrian came out of the garden. I didn't see anything more as I was called back to the kitchen to help clean up the stains from a pot that had boiled over." she said with a quiet voice. 
 
"Ah I see...I understand why you were reluctant to tell me this before." 
 
"That's all I know. And I'd rather you didn't tell anyone what I said. Adrian's family is, well, they got a little reputation of getting the nuisance from the 'rabble' to disappear."
 
"It would be helpful if you testified against him. My Oculatus would protect you, so you wouldn't have to worry," 
 
"There's also that other fella that came into the garden as well." said Amidius. "We didn't know about the body till some time after the party. If Adrian killed the Maressa, why didn't that Marco fella alert the guests or the guards about his crime?"
 
"The hostess told me the two if them have a very heated rivalry. It's possible Maro, not Marco, wanted to deal with him himself."
 
"Maybe. But he'd put Adrian in a lot more trouble if he'd gone to the guard."
 
"Hmmmm..." Lilly started to scratch her chin,
 
"Well I guess we should pay them a visit."
 
"We spent five hours interviewing all the staff. Lets choose one, and visit the other in the morning tomorrow." 
 
"Adrian then I suppose."
 
"Do you know were he lives?" 
 
"Nah. Could have it checked up though. Or we can go up and ask the blabbermouth. I'm sure she knows."
 
"Check it." 
 
"Yes, ma'am." he said, not sounding eagerly about the task at all as he headed out of the kitchen.
 
"So... Can I go now?" Abigail asked cautiously.
 
"For your own protection, I advice you stay here, or if you want, I could send one of my agents home with you."
 
"I think I'd be safer if no one suspected I had talked."
 
"Are your sure?"
 
"Yeah. No agent. At least not yet."
 
Lilly put a hand on her shoulder, "Just stay safe, you hear? Go home to your children and get some rest." 
 
"Yeah. As soon as I've done my duties for the day." and with that she got up and headed out the kitchen. 
 
Lilly left the kitchen, looking for the sergeant. 
The sergeant came walking in the hallway. "Down the block to the right. Then head right at the junction and then second house on the left. Maro lives in the house directly on the opposite of Adrius on the street."
 
"Get two of your men, and follow me sarge." 
 
"Yes, sir." said the sergeant before turning to the two men standing guard right outside the kitchen entrance. "Afer, Sirius!" to which the guards saluted and left their positions to fall in behind the sergeant. 
 
"Try not to make the little brat shit in his pants trooper, play nice."  Lilly said in a deadpan tone.
 
"Yeah, yeah." said Amidius almost dismissively as he turned and headed outside.
 
They walked for ten minutes, before reaching there destination. Lilly knocked on the door. A servant opened the door, a form of butler judging by the clothes. "Yes, may I help you?" the butler said.
 
"Colonel Lillin Quentas, of the Penitus Oculatus. I'm here to see your master." 
 
"And sergeant Amidius of the city watch." Amidius added, pointing a finger at himself. 
 
"About what?" said the butler.
 
"He attended a party last night, correct?" Lilly said.
 
"I think so. But I don't see how that have anything to do with you coming here." answered the butler.
 
"The daughter of an councilor has been murdered, and your master is a prime suspect." Lilly said rather bluntly.
 
"I see." the butler remained quiet for a moment. "I'll go tell him immediately." he closed the door and they were left waiting for a few minutes before the butler appeared in the doorway again. "Mr Adrian says he will meet you. Though only Miss Quentas. The guard, I'm afraid, will have to wait here."
 
"Curse these stuck-up blue bloods to Oblivion. Can't handle talking with the common folk for too long." the sergeant responded rather angrily.
 
"I am the daughter of Avelira Quentas, Countess of Chorrol, member of the Elder Council, personal adviser to her majesty, and spymaster of the empire. Your master will not tell me who I can, or cannot bring. But I'll humor him."
 
She said to the guards, "Guard the entrance. If I need some muscle, I'll holler. Got that troopers?"
 
"Yes, sir." they replied in unison.
 
"This way madam." the butler said soon thereafter.
 
She followed the butler inside and then through the entrance hall, up a couple of stairs and down a hallway a bit before the butler opened a door on the right. "Mr Adrius is waiting for you inside."
 
Lilly didn't regard the butler much as she stepped into the room. Inside was a form of study with a few bookshelves along the walls and a very clean desk in the middle of the room. The room had three windows and Arius was standing next to the left one. He was looking out the window when Lilly came inside the room but he immediately turned to the her when the butler closed the door. He was an imperial with short dark brown hair, a clean shave and sharp facial features. 
"Hello, Miss Quentas." he said with a calm voice.
 
"Good day to you." She responded in an annoyed tone.
 
"My servant tells me I'm a prime suspect in a murder investigation. Is that correct?"
 
"That is correct. Maressa Tridus was murdered last night at the party you attended. We also have sources claiming you tried to woo her, and got piss drunk."
 
"I did try to woo her. And I think I did rather well. We were in the garden, I went back to the mansion to get us both a glass of wine. I met that swine Maro on the way inside. He... walked into me and said I should watch where I'm going. It almost came to blows but I let him go for this time. When I got back to the garden, she had left. Crestfallen, I drank up a glass in one swig and headed back to the party inside."
 
"I'm well aware of the rivalry you have with this Maro. Of course you would slander him if it made you look better."
 
"Well, maybe I did anger him a little earlier during the party to warrant him to bump into me like that."
 
"What happened?" 
 
"He might have overheard me slandering his name that he's incapable of doing anything himself."
 
"And you are?" She said in her usual deadpan tone. 
 
"More than him and many other nobles, that's for sure."
 
"Just to get this out of the way, do you think Maro could have murdered her?" 
 
"Possibly."
 
"Possibly? You don't sound sure." 
 
"Well, I think I saw him head into the garden after we bumped in. And I heard him say something quite interesting to me during the party."
 
"And what was that?" 
 
Instead of saying something, Adrius first looked down at Lilly's body for a second. "Something I think could be quite valuable for your investigation."
 
Lilly, let out a hollow laugh, before grabbing him by the throat, and slamming him on the wall. Her grasp was like iron.
 
"Alright, alright. He said that he'd take everything away from me. With force if necessary. He got quite the temper and often say rash things. Especially when he's not so sober. So while I don't think he meant it in the long run, I could definitely see him acting on it while under the booze at the party."
 
"Soldiers!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, "Come in!" 
 
Half a minute passed before Amidius and his two men came marching into the study, with the butler in tow saying they can't intrude like that and how rude they are and so on. "Yes, sir?" said Amidius, ignoring the butler who was pushed back by his subordinates.
 
"This little ***** wanted to get into my pants in exchange for information. Made him squeal, think he's telling the truth now?" 
 
"He wasn't even here to hear what I've been saying." Adrian cried out.
 
Amidius however understood what she meant and got a mischievous and almost sinister look to him. "Oh, I don't really think he's telling the truth though. Maybe we should bring him to the dungeons."
 
"Cut off all of his intsy bitsy fingers, till he tells us the truth." Lilly added.
 
"I was telling the truth. I was with Maressa in the garden and then went to get us some wine. I met Maro on the way back into the mansion. Then when I came back she was gone. That's all I know, I swear." Adrian cried, sounding more and more desperate.
 
"This guys too much of a wuss and ***** to have killed her. Let's roll men." She threw him to the side, before turning around to leave. 
 
"Yes, ma'am." said Amidius and walked out of the room. 
 
But as they were about to leave the nobleman yelled after them. "I'll have you for that one day you cursed bitch!"
 
"Oh my...do you hear anything sergeant?" She turned around to face the nobleman, "My mother is Countess of Chorrol, I am spymaster, and personal adivser to her majesty. You are a small, angry little lesser nobleman who gets everything from his father and mother. You have zero influence, and are a joke. What can you, exactly, do to me? Mister?"
 
The nobleman didn't really have anything to say to that and just looked down on the floor as he got up, muttering: "One day, one day..."
 
"One day, you may find a Lapis Lazuli knife in your throat if you threaten me again. Now, grovel on your knees and beg for forgiveness." 
 
"Haven't you done enough? Just leave me." Adrian said angrily.
 
"Come on. He's not worth it." said Amidius from the doorway.
 
Lilly gave him a smirk, before following the sergeant out. 
 
The sergeant stayed quiet till they were outside. "So, I guess that's that for today."
 
"Yep. I'll visit the guard barracks in the morning tomorrow to get you and your men, then we'll interview the other one." 
 
"I'll go back to lady Vinicius and see if I can't get the guest list. See ya."
 
She gave the trio a sharp salute, before tapping her shoulder where Karsh was still seated.
"Humpth." Karsh said into her ear. "Been a bit of a pain to stay latched on to you, as you go around. Not as much as with boss sometimes though. Hopefully you don't mind having a few small holes in your shoulder pad."
 
"I can get it replaced easily. You thought the stinker was lying?" 
 
"Who knows. What he did say matched with what that servant girl said though. Maro could have killed her and hid the body while he was getting the drinks. Or he could have killed her and hid the body. A reason for why Maro didn't go to the guard."
 
"True."
 
****
 
Back at the Quentas manor, Helen had insisted that Karsh eat with them at the dinner table, causing the horrified Lilly to realize Helen's only friend was a magical raven. Helen, who had barely touched her food, laughed at Karsh, "Karsh slow down, it's not like the meats going to disappear." While Lilly muttered something about gluttony and filthy crow under her breath.
 
Karsh looked up from his meal at Lilly and started tilt his head from left to right while making a chattering noise with his croaking. He was definitely mocking Lilly and her rudeness.
 
"We should have had chicken tonight...." Said Lilly sarcastically, 
 
Karsh responded by first sticking his tongue at Lilly before picking up another slice of meat. But instead of eating it, he threw it straight into the face of Lilly. Where it hit her in the forehead and then slowly started to slide down her face, leaving a glazing layer of fat in it's wake.
 
"ARGHHHHH!!!!" Lilly got out of her chair, advancing forward, with murder in her eye. Helen, struggled to keep her from killing the bird, "Get off of me Helen, I'm going to strangle that magpie."
 
Karsh quickly flew up from the table and landed on a very high cabinet with glass doors that contained some very fine porcelain tableware. Up there he was well out of reach from Lilly's hands. And from there he started to croak at her.
 
"Sit back down, Lilly. You've had a stressful day at work." With a puff, Lilly went back to her chair, wiping the fat off her face with a napkin. 
 
Karsh waited up at cabinet for moment before flying back down to his plate where he greedily started to feast again.
 
"So...how was your day at school?" Asked Lilly, resuming her meal.
 
Helen responded quickly and bluntly, "Fine."
 
"That doesn't sound honest." 
 
"Serious...there's nothing."
 
Not saying anything, Lilly continued to eat. She knew when Helen lied. Something was up. Probably the other girls at her school. However, Lilly would rather Helen tell her problem without Lilly forcing anything on her. So she would let it slide for now. 
 
****
 
Helen was busy in the garden, watering the tulips. Lilly decided she would check to see if "Helen's room was safe". She quietly opened the door into her room. First she would check her dresser. I feel like a creep. Helen's a good girl, I wont find skooma, hopefully...but it strange she spends all of her time in here. Can't be too careful. Lilly found very odd looking underwear in one of the drawers. Heavily laced, and pink in color. These aren't the type Helen would wear-ARGH, never mind. I don't want to know. She put the panties back, and closed the drawers. She scanned the area for anything that looked out of place. She spotted the black feathers of new resident's tail sticking out in the corner of the room, behind the other drawer. That stupid bird... She went over to the corner, and moved the drawer out of the way.
The bird turned around in one jump and stretched out his wings as if to cover something up behind him. His eyes was filled with a mix of surprise, shock and annoyance as he looked up at Lilly. 
 
Noticing the bird, she smiled, "Stolen goods, eh Karsh?" 
 
The raven only gave a slight nod at her question, but still didn't let his wings down.
 
She swatted Karsh out of the way with the palm of her right hand, and grabbed the box which was behind him. Glancing at it, she saw broken glass, a few jewels and other trinkets. 
 
Karsh started to jump around her feet and croak very loudly and ceaselessly.
 
"You filthy magpie, your hiding stolen goods and junk in Helen's room. Have you no shame?!" She said, crossing her arms.
 
But as Karsh couldn't really reply, he just stopped in front of Lilly. But he still kept jumping up and down while croaking.
Sighing, Lilly crouched down and lent Karsh her ear. Which also caused Karsh to clam down a bit as he stopped jumping and croaking.
"Give it back! Its' mine! Its' my shinies! My shinies!"
 
"Your hiding junk and stolen goods in my Helen's room!!!" 
 
"She didn't mind. She even provided the box for me to store the shinies in."
 
"Liar!" Lilly said, pointing a finger at Karsh, 
 
"I'm not lying. How else would I get my hands on a box in here?"
 
"You filthy magpie!!!" 
 
"What? Go ask her then."
 
Just then the wooden door creaked open, and Helen's small head peaked in, "Lilly? What are you doing in my room?" Lilly turned around, surprised, but still level headed, "Oh nothing my dear. Just...thought I heard something." 
 
Karsh jumped forth from behind Lilly and started to jump and croak again. All while pointing with one wing at the box Lilly held. 
 
"Is Lilly being mean to poor Karsh?" She said crossing her arms. 
 
Karsh stopped jumping and croaking to nod. 
 
"Lilly, why are you trying to cause conflict?" Helen said.
 
Lilly crossed her arms in a sassy manner, "Excuse me?" 
 
Karsh started croaking again, pointing at the box and then back at him.
 
"Lilly, why are you holding his treasure box?" Helen said.
 
"Treasure box?! More like stash of stolen goods." Lilly responded.
 
Karsh just lifted his wings in a shrug and made a few croaks that, even though they couldn't understand, sounded like excuses.
 
Helen approached Karsh, and started to stroke his back, "Lilly's being mean isn't she?" 
 
Karsh seemed to like the stroking as he nodded with pleading eyes at Helen.
 
Lilly just said "Hmpth." as she stormed out of the room. 
 
Karsh jumped after her, croaking frantically at Lilly as she was running off with his treasury box.
 
Helen said, in her usual, soft voice, "Please give Karsh back his box Lilly?" Helen's features became downcast, and she put on her cute eyes, which Lilly couldn't say no too. Letting out a growl, she placed the box on the ground and left.  
Karsh let out a short croak, that sounded cheerful in a way, before rushing forth and looking into the box to see if his treasure was alright. Then he walked around it and began to push it back to Helen's room.
"Don't worry karsh. She just doesn't like birds. You need help?" Helen offered to assist the raven in moving his treasure box.
 
Karsh looked up and first gave her an almost suspicious look for getting close to his treasure. But then after a second he gave her a nod and took hesitantly a step back from the box. 
 
Helen grabbed it and carefully lifted it up, "Lilly's right though, why don't you just look for rare rocks instead of stealing?" 
 
Karsh backed off a couple of feet before flying into the air and landing on Helen's shoulder. "Among ravens, stealing has a rather vague meaning."
 
"Maybe you view it as borrowing?"
 
"Nah. More like claiming something someone else wasn't using at the moment."
 
"Ah I see." She gently placed the box back were it once was, she asked, "Did you see if Lilly was looking through my stuff?"
 
"I heard her go through you wardrobe among other things. So I don't understand why she's against me going through others' stuff."
 
"Well maybe it's because you don't put the stuff back?"
 
"As I said: they weren't using it. And I only take food and shinies. I don't go through other people's clothes like some creepy, incestuous pedophile."
 
"You think Lilly is an incestuous pedophile?" 
 
"Either that or she's looking for an outfit that's too small for her. Why do you think she would want to go through your wardrobe?"
 
"Maybe because she's just worried about me?"
 
"What is there to be worried about in your wardrobe?"
 
"Ummm nothing..." She suddenly blushed and turned away, 
 
"Are you also having incestuous feelings for Lilly?" said Karsh in a half amused and half curious tone. 
 
"Lilly?! What in Oblivion?! ARGHHHH." She shivered and let out a cry, "Her breasts are like melons, and she's fifteen years older then me!"
 
"Not so loud, I'm sitting right here. And then why are you blushing about her going through your clothes?"
 
"It's weird, and embarrassing for someone to look through your private belongings." 
 
"I think creepy is also more like it. Go look in the wardrobe to see if she's moved or taken anything. I think that'll prove my thesis."
 
Helen did as Karsh said and looked through her wardrobe, and to her shock found that her underwear was disturbed. "She looked through my panty cupboard!"
 
"I think that speaks for itself." said Karsh. "So, how do you feel about Lilly being incestuous?"
 
"That's preposterous. Though now that I think about it. In all those novels I read, perverts tend to steal young ladies underwear." 
 
"Hehehe." he laughed into her ear, both with his voice and his croaking. "You got quite the family."
 
"Do you remember your family?"
 
"Yeah. Somewhat. Remember the nest being in a small cliff crevice in a mountain near a huge lake. It was mostly me and the siblings sitting around waiting for food. Was the second one to learn how to fly. Met them once in a while around the nearby woods. Anyway, you should watch out if Lilly wants to stay here and 'take care of you' when it gets late."
 
She shook her head, "I don't think Lilly is a pedophile. She's my cousin. That would be...really weird." 
 
"And you don't think going through your panties behind your back is creepy and weird?"
 
"Maybe. But Lilly is a strange individual." 
 
"True. But how many reasons can you think of for her to go through your panties?"
 
"Maybe she thought I was hiding something? Or maybe she just...wants to check my underwear size?" 
 
"Really? That's quite far fetched. Anyway, enough about your incestuous cousin that may have a wish to molest you. Lets get some snacks before we retire for the night."
 
"Okay. You can't eat too much though."
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Tacitus, Endar, Maori

Imperial City

Evening

 

"So, you still plan on staying here a while longer?" Tacitus asked Maori, as he packed for his departure this morning.

 

Maori was jingling a new heavy gold purse, smiling before he tucked it back under his belt. "Yea I think I will for a little longer. This Endar guy could help me achieve something that'll be helpful for the war. I wanted to travel with you, see the ships and so on, but I have to go where I'm useful. You can relay to Red-Snow what I already told you and Gracchus as well. About what they have for defenses in Valenwood. I'll probably travel up there on my own afterwards. So I guess this is good-bye for now, friend."

 

Tacitus' grumpy exterior cracked, and a slight smile formed on his face. "It's been fun. Thanks, for everything. I doubt I would've made it out of that first encounter, much less the rest of the forest without you. And thank for keeping my secret, and lying for me. You've done more than I would have in your situation." Tacitus picked up Red-Snow's axe, wrapping it in a simple woolen shirt and setting it in his bag. It was too important to leave behind, he thought, and this way he knew it would be safe.

 

"Bah, you didn't really need me for those savages. To be honest, I just wanted to butt in and kill something, heh. Though yea, you would have been snake or beetle food without me the rest of the way, haha." Maori stuck his tongue out, then said, "You're alright, Tac. For an Imperial."

 

"And you make it hard to hate every gods-damned elf there is. Sometimes," Tacitus said with a sly smile, then stuck out his newly gauntleted left hand. The Dwarven metal fist was newly made, as the admiral had written back to the blacksmith on his trip to Kvatch. It was strong enough he hoped that he could waylay on either misbehaving sailors or piss colored elves.

 

Maori was caught by surprise by the new addition which he hadn't noticed before. The mer's ink covered face wrinkled with laughter before he bumped Tac's brass colored hand with his less impressive inadequate hand of bone and flesh. "Definitely gotta meet up again so I can see those things in action. Take care, High Admiral."

 

"You're welcome to stay here long as you like. Just don't make a mess of the place," Tacitus said, as he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked to the door, but didn't leave until he received assurance his house wouldn't be trashed.

 

Maori nodded, then said, "Don't worry, I'll keep it tidy." He wasn't lying, but Maori lived outside. He barely knew what tidy looked like.

 

Tacitus shook his head in disbelief, knowing full and well that he'd be lucky if the place was standing when he got back. Giving Maori a nod of respect, he opened the door and headed out. Before he left the city, however, Tacitus and his escort headed back to the palace. He had to pick up his new first mate, Amador, Amaund, whatever his name was. But he also wanted to check how Endar was doing. It's not that he didn't trust Gracchus, but he wanted to see the job done. So, after waking up the first mate and sending him down to wait with the escort, he moved on to Endar's private quarters. He knocked on the door, and hoped he wasn't waking the dark elf.

 

The door opened, seemingly on its own seconds after Tacitus knocked. Endar, still dressed in the same dirty red robes he'd worn since Kvatch, was standing at a thin wooden table in the center of the room. It was covered with papers, but other items dotted it's surface, including calipers, a clear crystal ball, and a shiny white stone the size of Tacitus's head. Elara must have been sleeping in the other room, for she was not around. Endar briefly glanced up, but then looked straight back down. "Hello, Admiral. I had thought you would be far from here by now."

 

"I wasn't about to leave you in the hands of a general," Tacitus joked, realizing only afterward Endar may not understand the usual animosity between navy and army. "Anyway, I just came by to see that you were getting along well, and everything was to your liking." Tacitus had moved to the table, leaning onto it with his hand and gauntlet fist.

 

"Things have gone well enough." Endar answered, finally looking away from the schematics to look at the new fist. "That was a hook, yesterday, if I recall right." His eyes ran up and down it. "Do you have other attachments?"

 

"I also have an axe, a knife, a short sword, and a shield. I decided that if I was going to lose my hand, that it shouldn't impede me in any way. Although this attachment is just a fist, functional but mostly to replace the hook as an everyday attachment," Tacitus, curious as to why Endar cared.

 

"You just have a skilled smith." Endar said. "Not just anyone knows how to properly work with the brass used by the Dwemer." His eyes left the metal fist. "I assume from yesterday that you are no caster."

 

"A man by the name of Iver made it. He's twice as skilled as the smiths we employ around here. Anyway, no, I am not a mage by any stretch of the imagination. Why do you ask?" Tacitus inquired.

 

"I ask to confirm my assumption. It always confounds me when driven men such as yourself limit themselves so greatly. In my experience, it seems as though those who stand to gain most from the arcane often have never used a spark of magicka in their lives." Endar sighed. "It is truly a pity." Endar left the table and approached Tacitus, holding out his gray hand palm up. "Do not take this oddly, but... may I see your hand?"

 

"My life is too short to start now, even if I wanted to." Once Endar approached, Tacitus looked at him quizzically, recalling the odd encounter with Brutus not to long ago. "Real or fake?" Tacitus asked amusedly, as he found no trouble in poking fun at himself.

 

"Fake."

 

Tacitus nodded and placed the brass fist in the Dark elf's hand, all the while wondering just what he had in mind.

 

Endar looked it over. It was heavier than it appeared, even with Tacitus's arm supporting the weight. "I can modify this, if you wish it. Your blacksmith did a fine job, but it can be improved."

 

"Improved? How so? I didn't take you for a blacksmith, unless you mean to enchant it. In which case, I would need to know how it works before I make any choices," Tacitus said, allowing the inspection even as it felt weird to have this fake hand resting in another's.

 

"Enchant it?" Endar scowled. "The way a novice who undeservedly dubs himself a mage does when putting a heating effect on his butter knife? No, but I would alter it to produce a magical effect at your will, not fueled by its own reserve of magicka via captured souls or other external power sources, but instead by channeling your pools. You did not use them anyway."

 

"Make it run off of my own magicka instead of souls," Tacitus repeated, hoping that if he said it he would be less bewildered by the idea, "Is that even possible? Why is it not more common, if so?"

 

"Never doubt possibility," Endar advised. "Doubt probability. For there is not a thing in this world that can be proven impossible. And what I suggest is no exception. I know the Heartland is diverse, but there is much from other cultures that you never did care to adopt. In my homeland, the practice of wielder magicka-based spell channeling through possessions is indeed practiced, though it is more often in the form of clothing and jewelry. Some people would still call this enchanting. Some people are imbeciles. As for why it is not so common as one may suspect, frankly, it requires a mage who knows how to do it, and few mages care to channel magicka through an item when they can reach the same desired effects more directly and with less drain in the form of spells."

 

"A yes would have sufficed. How long would it take? This channeling thing. Because I'm in a hurry. This stop has already taken longer than I had hoped."

 

"I can make the alteration in a minute." said Endar. "But if you are in such a hurry, I will not have time to properly teach you how to use it."

 

Damn... "Fine, I'll stay. What sort of powers can you imbed?"

 

"It needs to be simple, as you are unaccustomed to using magic. Anything too draining may yield few uses and even leave you feeling dizzy or sick if unprepared, so I would reccomend basic touch-based destruction or restoration magic. A flame effect is generally considered the easiest to master, and is often regarded as quite practical."

 

"Touch based? As in on contact, it would burn the enemy? Or is it more potent that that, like some sort of explosion?" Tacitus asked, his excitement growing as he heard more about what his fist could be capable of.

 

"Nothing so flashy as explosions." Endar admitted. "For you, a simple burning touch should be enough for now."

 

"Yes, that should suffice," the admiral said, hiding his dismay that his fist wouldn't pack a larger punch.

 

"Better than letting your magicka go to waste, to be sure. And I can think of many practical applications to fire magic besides just... blowing things up. I use it almost daily. Now, would you mind detaching the hand?"

 

Nodding, Tacitus unbuckled a strap on both the top and bottom before unscrewing the fist. Finally the brass hand came out of the screw slot, and he placed it in the elf's. "Will it take long?"

 

"As I said, it will only take a minute." Endar took the hand back to his table and set it next to his bag. After several moments of shuffling around through the disorganized container, he found what he'd been looking for: a crumpled paper and a small box no larger than his palms. Inside the box was a small metal device and three fingernail-sized purple stones. He whispered a few words and the stones briefly flashed a flaming red. He then placed the stones into the tube-like device, which resembled a dagger hilt with no cross guard. After this, he studied his crimped handwritten instructions to insure that no mistakes were made. Satisfied, Endsr pressed the end of the device to the metal fist and rubbed it on the knuckles. As he did, he muttered a few words and soon, tiny specks of fire were spitting from the device in all directions.

Endar set down the tools and looked up at Tacitus, and once again held out his hands. "I need to see both your good hand and the stump."

 

Tacitus, was silently awed by the inner-workings of such a "simple" procedure, as all of it was beyond him. Unstrapping the gauntlet sleeve, he held out the stump of his left hand and his whole right hand.

 

"Closer." When Tacitus's forearms were almost touching, Endar looked over each digit of the actual hand carefully. "I see that the gauntlet was shaped almost perfectly to be of correct size. That is good." He then conjured up a small, yellow magical light at his finger tips and placed it at the end of Tacitus's stump, where it swirled around and gradually took the shape of a glowing balled fist, making it seem as though Tacitus still had the hand, only it was made of light. Finally, Endar picked up the metal hand and held it out for Tacitus to take. "Don't move your left arm," he said, "but carefully fit this back on, over the apparition."

 

Tacitus gingerly reconnected the Dwarven fist, screwing it back into place with the utmost care. The straps were more difficult, but he managed it without moving too much. "What is the point of the light hand? I thought the magic was in the metal fist?"

 

"It is." Endar said. "By now, the "light hand" you saw is already gone. It was there to mold to whatever magical receptor could take it. That would be the metal hand. Now, the magicka of your body will treat it as part of you, so long as it is correctly attached. The difference between this fist and you original hand is that it is bonded to one spell effect, as that is what I presented it with. You may not know the spell, but your gauntlet does."

Endar waved his hand, and an ice wall just like the one Gracchus had summoned the day before appeared. "Many aspiring mages, especially humans, find it easier to use and control specific magic forms when associating them to an emotion. I have never found it to be so, and wouldn't recommend such a start, as emotions do not seem like a particularly stable or logical way to bend the fabric of your very being in order to melt through a block of ice. Simply will the fire forth, command it, as it is yours, and the gauntlet should do the rest."

 

Tacitus glanced at his gauntlet, at the ice wall, then pulled his hand back and let loose. The Dwarven brass swung forward with more weigh than a lunch from the right hand would have, as Tacitus had gained a considerable amount of muscle back the the weight of the gauntlet itself added muscle mass. The impact was noticeably smoother than expected, causing Tacitus to stumble forward slightly. The flame affect caused it to melt the ice in an instant, sending steam up toward the ceiling. Pulling his hand back, and inspecting the damage, Tacitus saw the ice wall was beginning to cave in as the flame fist melted a considerable amount of it.

 

"Wow, I...that would do more damage to a person than I can imagine. Probably melt their face, maybe even punch through the skull completely."

 

"If that is what you intend to use it for." Endar nodded, satisfied with Tacitus's reaction. "Go and use it, all I ask is that you send me a report after it has received extended use."

 

"Are than any ill effects that could come up? Anything I need to be worried about?"

 

"No negative effects... That is, unless you are particular to using your left hand as a headrest. While you should have full control over it, this is not a practice that I would reccomend."

 

"Right, I'll be sure to refrain from that," Tacitus said, but paused briefly as he looked hard at the elf.

 

"Why are you doing this for me? After how big an ass I was back in Kvatch?" Although not quite an apology, it was as close as anyone would probably ever get out of the admiral.

 

Thinking back, Endar could not recall Tacitus being an "ass" in Kvatch. Then again, much of his thoughts at the tim had been taken up by the apparent existance of modern sunbirds. Even so, he didn't see the relation between this meeting and that one. "I don't know what your actions days ago in Kvatch have to do with me assisting you today. You are not a caster and more importantly, are an amputee. It makes you ideal for this tool, which I had already considered a different version of during the return journey. It is fortunate that you stopped by."

 

"It is, I suppose. You're.... different, you know that? Not many are as forgiving as you." I am not as forgiving as you. "Thank you, and good luck on the research. Hopefully whatever you find will be helpful to us all," Tacitus said, patting Endar on the shoulder.

 

Endar's left brow arced at the unexpected touch, but otherwise he didn't react.

"I do know that." the elf replied to the statesmen of him being different. Though he wasn't entirely certain why the Admiral had some sort of preconceived notion in regards to his level of forgiveness. Endar could not recall displaying evidence of such in the man's presence. Nevertheless, he accepted the compliment, and even considered giving the Admiral one in turn, for the sake of curtesy, but realized that this could detract from the one he had just received, and Endar did not want Tacitus to feel as though his words were wasted.

"And I hope that you find much success in slaughtering the Dominion."

 

Tacitus smiled grimly at the mage's comment, the idea of murdering Thalmor heartwarming indeed. The High Admiral smiled one last time, before turning and leaving.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Farni Fair-Face, Prisoner (Witchie) 
Valenwood, Bloodwolf HQ,
Night,
 
Farni "Fair-face" traced the jagged stone knife around the Bosmer's tanned skin on the upper part of her arm, cutting through it like butter. Barely able to contain a squeal of joy, Farni said,
 
"Feel good?"
 
The victim only strained a little at the cut, taking deep and exhausted breaths, "I've had better." The Bosmer said mockingly.
 
"WHY WONT YOU SCREAM!!???!" Farni over the week, had already done her fair share of...fun to the prisoner. Her skin was bloody and covered in cuts. She still hadn't sung. Trailing the blade around her large ears, Farni cut down.
 
"Aaah!" The Bosmer let out. But it wasn't even a scream but more a of a moan. "Happy?"
 
Farni's face went into a snarl, as she slapped the Bosmers face with her right palm very hard.
 
The Bosmer bit her lip as she stayed silent before looking at Farni with weary eyes, "Bitch. Ugly bitch." Then she tried to spit at her tormentor but failed miserably and it just ended up with the spit drooling down her chin.
 
Farni dug her nails into the Bosmer's eye, admiring her handiwork. "Have you looked at yourself recently dear? Who is the more ugly bitch here?" 
 
The Bosmer bared her teeth, but still kept her mouth shut as she gave out a muffled scream. The pain caused tears to drip from the other eye, "Hehehe." The Bosmer tried to laugh but it was hollow and instead sounded rather sorrowful. Her voice was failing and it sounded like she was about to cry. "Why don't..." She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, "Why don't you poke my other eye out so I don't have to suffer the sight of you."
 
She complied with a smile, using a smaller blade to cut across the Bosmer's face, particular near her eye,
 
The Bomser woman gave out another muffled scream before chuckling a little as she looked at Farni with her eye, "You missed."
 
"I'm saving that for later." She drew another knife, this time a steel blade, that was few inches longer then her stone one, and a good deal thinner. She placed it under the Bosmer's finger nails, and pushed upwards.
 
This time the Bosmer let out a scream with an open mouth. Though the scream wasn't very loud as she apparently didn't have the energy to scream very loud. She clenched her hands into fists as if that would protect the other nails. She breather heavily as she closed her eye. 
 
Now, i'm going to ask again, were is-actually, never mind. I wont. I'm just going to have some more fun." She took out a thumb screw, which she found on a metal tray beside the rack the Bosmer was stretched out on. She gave a brighter smile, as she slowly reached for the Bosmer's hand. 
 
The Bosmer opened her eye to see what new malice she would suffer. And at the sight of the thumbscrew she quickly held her thumbs behind her other fingers. She clenched her fists even harder.
 
"Now now dear, don't be difficult." With surprisingly strength, the Torturer forced open her hand, quickly attaching the the device onto her left hands thumb. Smiling in glee, Farni began to use it to slowly crush the Bosmer's finger, 
 
The woman let out a muffled screech before it, at first, sounded like she got a light hiccup. But then it became more clear that she was indeed crying. "Just stop. Just kill me already."
 
"Oh my, look at those lovely tears." She used her free hand to poke a tear, later putting it in her mouth, "Salty." She let out a sadistic laugh, "Oh no dear. Your going to be my new friend for weeks." 
 
"Is that because you're so ugly you can't find any other plaything?"
 
Her face lost the smile, and became very angered, as she applied more pressure using the thumb screw, "You'll call me ma'em from now on, and don't talk when not spoken too."
 
Another shrilled screech came out. Then followed by a light smile and a chuckle, "Did I hit a sore nerve?"
 
"Shut up whore." She slapped her violently again, 
 
She just chuckled again. And seemingly regaining some confidence at being able to get back her torturer, even if only a little, "At least I would get payed for it. You would have to pay a man instead."
 
She suddenly shoved her hand into her mouth, grabbing her tongue hardly, and roughly taking it out of her mouth. She didn't tear it off, but took no steps to be gentle, as she held her knife to the Bosmer's tongue, "I dont really like your voice. It annoy's me." 
 
The Bosmer tried to say something but it was impossible to tell what.
 
"Enough, warrant officer." A tall man walked inside. He was wearing a long black coat, presumably over padded black leather armor. He had a black Balacava, which had a white-wolf skull painted over it. On his back was a huge greatsword, and on his belt, was a shortblade. The Bosmer's tormentor straightened her back, and sharply saluted, letting go of her tongue, 
 
"Colonel Fury-Eye." She turned to him, "The prisoner is refusing to tell me anything."
 
"Not exactly true. I've been telling her how ugly she is." The Bosmer said wearily but still managed to put up a joking tone.
 
"Useless bitch." Farni was about to slap the bosmer with the palm of her right hand, but was stopped by the masked man raising his left hand,
 
"I said, enough, Farni." He walked forward in a brisk pace. He said, "Report to Captain Drogoth."
 
Farni let out a whimper, "Come on, let me cut her a few more times."
 
His voice became more serious, and annoyed, "Report to Captain Drogoth. Now."
 
She spat into the Bosmer's face, grabbing her set of "tools", and hurriedly ran out of the room. Waiting a few seconds, the man went onto one knee, and placed his hand on the thumb screw, slowly unscrewing it. 
 
"If you're not going to release me, I don't see the point of unscrewing that thing." The woman said, slightly annoyed.
 
Ignoring her, the man finished, throwing it to his left, the man brought up a waterskin and placed it to her lips. 
 
She drank greedily as much as she could. 
 
His voice was blank, emotionless, and cold, "Slow down. You haven't drank anything in days." 
 
She just ignored him and kept drinking till the waterskin was empty. Then she just looked at the man with her functional eye for a moment before opening her mouth, "Well if you're not going to continue the torture, or set me free. I would prefer if you just leave.
 
His voice didn't change, "You know your not getting out of this. Your expandable to the rebels. Why not make your life easier and give what the dominion wants?" 
 
"Because I hate the Dominion. And if I'm so expendable; just kill me and go try find another rebel."
 
"Unfortunately for you, I have no jurisdiction over your fate. I wasn't involved in the operation to capture you, it was Miss Akney who gave the order. I'm afraid you'll belong to Farni in both body, and spirit by the weeks end."
 
"Well to Oblivion with both those ******* then. Though what are you going to tell the Dominion when that damn Farni cuts out my tongue?"
 
"I doubt she will. Screams are lullabies to her ear's, especially female screams. Relax's her, makes her focused. That was in the spur of the moment, she wasn't going to cut your tongue out. More likely then not, just mess up more of your fingers." 
 
"We'll see. I'll keep calling her names and throwing insults at her."
 
"You know that just makes her angrier? You'll suffer more." 
 
"Or she'll snap and cut out my tongue. Forcing you to get rid of me and thus end my suffering. And if she doesn't... At least I'll get some payback in seeing her squirm."
 
"That's not how things work. Homunal is a prideful woman. Even if you outlive your use, she'll give you to Farni. I'm in no position to refuse her, and my hands will be tied. You'll under go humiliating, unspeakable, pain, before she puts you down like a mutt." 
 
"So you're going to let her waste time on me? Even if she's at fault for making me useless?"
 
"As I said, I have no jurisdiction over you. If it was up to me, I would have had you released, or sent to a POW camp. Torture, I find, is very distasteful." He nodded, "Though I haven't seen any one take it as well as you have, truly impressive. Even Farni hasn't been able to break you." 
 
"That's because I got more to lose if I talk than if i don't."
 
"How so? All of your comrades are dead, exterminated by my commando's." 
 
"Do you have kids?"
 
"No, but my wife is expecting in several months." 
 
"Well I'll let you figure it out why I refuse to talk."
 
"I see." The man let his head fall down, "How old?" 
 
"Why should I give any details to you?"
 
"Just curious." He slowly took off his Balacava, revealing an middle aged man covered in scars, who was wearing an eye patch over his right eye. His hair was as white as the snow, "No one else is here. I haven't just talked to someone in months."
 
"Well I'm not going to get chatty. I think I've already told you enough. I don't trust you. How am I supposed to know you being nice is not just another way of trying to pry information out of me?"
 
"You don't. Fair enough. However, even if you dont believe me, I can tell you I may be a Mercenary, a killer by trade, but i'm no sadist. And harming your children would serve no purpose." 
 
"Maybe you don't. But the Dominion certainly would
 
He looked around, "I see no Thalmor Justicars here. Just a fallen commando, and a captured Bosmer rebel." 
 
"Yeah. And as I said: why am I supposed to trust you? I'm even starting to prefer Farni, at least I knew where she stood."
 
"There's no reason to trust me. However, there's no visible gain for me telling the dominion whatever you tell me." 
 
"Yeah, that's the catch: visible. How do I know there aren't Justiciars standing on the other side of the wall listening in through a hole. They're tricky bastards and I don't trust them."
 
"That's called being paranoid." He said with a chuckle, "I asked for a base of operations with sound proof walls. I doubt anyone can listen to your screams from the outside. The only dominion agent on base is miss Homunal, whose away on thalmor business. She's the one who left Farni instructions to torture you." 
 
"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it? I may be paranoid but given the situation it's probably for the best." Soon after she had spoken a loud rumble was heard from her stomach.
 
The man rolled his eyes, as he took a piece of meat out of his pack, and placed it near her mouth, 
 
She took a huge bite and barely shewed on it before swallowing, "Pity it's not poisoned." She said and took another bite.
 
"Pity." After she finished the meat, he placed some bread near her mouth,
 
"Got some more water to wash it down?" She said at the same time she was shewing some bread.
 
He said nothing, as he took another water skin out, and placed it near her mouth, 
 
She drank and ate, gesturing with her head when she wanted the water and when she wanted the bread. When she was done she leaned her head back and closed her eye, "You don't happen to have a pillow with you?" She said half jokingly with a tired voice.
 
"I'm sorry, I dont." His voice was serious. "Do you want eternal rest?" He said, melachonically drawing his shortblade, 
 
She gave him a quick glance, "I thought you said you couldn't do that."
 
"What I cant, and can do, is rather muddled and blurred. As a dominion Mercenary, I cant. As a soldier, and commando, I can at least grant you the peace of the dead." 
 
"Get it over with then. Do it."
 
"Are you sure?"
 
The man straightened out his back, as he flourished his blade in several spins, also drawing his massive greatsword, he brought both blades to the bosmer's neck like a pair of scissors, 
 
"Why wouldn't I? Do it."
 
" You can choose life. Death is never the answer, survive. Prove to everyone you can survive. Overcome the pain, and be reborn as a new person." 
 
"What life? You said yourself I'll be left here to Farni's plaything till the end of my days. Only way I'm going to live is if you cut these bonds."
 
"I cannot do that." He let out a sigh, "There's nothing to talk about anymore, I suppose. You do not have the strength to endure." Lightly laughing he said, "Then i'll end it."
 
He steeled himself, as he prepared to decapitate the elf, "Any final words soldier?" 
 
"I said I would die for them. And I kept my word." She paused for half a second before adding, "And tell Farni I still think she's an ugly bitch."
 
Smiling, the man showed a display of jagged teeth, "All-Maker grant you peace." In an instant, his blades were at the oppose sides of were they were seconds ago. Her lifeless body slumped, and her rolled on the floor. As soon as he blades were out, they were back, sheafed on his belt and back. A cloud of shadow appeared, showing a tall imperial man in the same coat, 
 
"How do we explain this to Homunal?"
 
"Tell her some of the men got to her when they were drunk, had some twisted fun. Messed her up real good. Body was nearly unidentifiable. Cut it up, and place it on display back in the cell." 
 
"And Farni?" 
 
"Call her an ugly bitch." The imperial smiled, "As you say, my young master." Lifting up the Bosmer's corpse, he disappeared in a cloud of darkness. Alone in the cell, the man let out a chuckle,
 
"Here's to you."
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Boldir
Riften
Night, minutes after the capture

"Will he make it?" the man asked.

"Honestly? I'm not sure." replied the woman. "I've never treated burns this bad. It's truly a wonder he even reached the cell before collapsing."

The two voices were there, but there were no faces to them, no visible sources. They sounded distant, as if called from the far end of a long hall. For a moment, they interested Boldir. He briefly considered following them, but that did not last. He had other things on his mind, such as escaping Riften. He was so close now, too close to worry about whatever the annoying voices had to say. The gate was just up the road, and nobody had recognized him yet. The Black-Briars knew his face, but they did not know his armor.

"Adrenaline is a funny thing, Sister. Do what you can. We do not wish to see this one dead. Not yet."

He watched through the slit of his visor as the gate guards conversed. They wore the armor of the city watch, but they were thugs nonetheless. There were five of them and only one of him, but he wasn't worried. He had handled worse.

"It would be easier if you would remove the chains. They dig into his wounds."

"Not gonna happen. We can't risk him waking up and making a grab for you."

The guards noticed him now. It's not every day a big man in Nordic armor approaches you as quickly as he did.
"Halt!" the one in the front said. Boldir ignored him and continued forward. The five guards drew their swords, but before so much as a threat could be uttered, Boldir's battle axe was unsheathed and he was rushing them.
The one who had spoken was the first to react. He bravely and stupidly rushed forward, wielding his sword in both hands, no doubt expecting his friends to be right by his side. His smarter friends were nowhere close when Boldir's axe broke his sword in two and cleaved through his skull.

"So I don't suppose you'll be telling me how you finally found him?" asked the woman, "It certainly doesn't seem to have gone over as cleanly as you originally wished."

"It's true that there were complications. Maul was taking too long, so I turned to someone more... professional. We requested a mage for their ability to detect life, and then gave her the locations of all guildmember residences. She found our man in a day. Unfortunately, she turned out to be a better suited to find the man than kill him. Her body was fished out of the canal after the arrest. She should have told us where he was."

"She probably feared that you would not pay her if she did not do the deed herself. That's what you get for using an assassin."

The fear in the other guards' eyes was nearly palpable. Boldir patiently allowed their split-headed friend to collapse before dislodging the axe from his skull. They were in no hurry to come after him, preferring the safety in numbers they had when waiting defensively by the gate. He started toward them.

"Hopefully I will have no need for another assassin for a long while. Maul is more than suitable for what comes next."

"Next? You have your man. What more is there?"

The first man hopped backwards, out of Boldir's range, but he was not the target. The axe swung long, and caught a guard in the neck, halfway severing head from shoulders. Boldir blocked the incoming strike with his axe shaft, then kicked the attacker to the ground. Another, he punched hard in the jaw, sending him to the ground. The one still standing began swinging frantically. Every attack was easily blocked, and Boldir finally ended the onslaught with a swift jab to the shin with his spiked pommel, then finished him off with a large deep cut across the chest.

"The next step is the rat and traitor, Vex. This one was only just caught, but we aren't done yet. Maul wants to find her as much as we do. She's gone hiding, but we have a plan and the noose is already tight. We'll have her by morning."

The woman groaned. "So many people killed or broken. I'll be glad when your bloodlust is sated and this little feud can finally end."

"This is YOUR feud as well, Sister! Do not forget your name!"

The remaining two men regained their feet and looked at each other nervously. Finally, they charged together. Boldir leaned back to avoid one sword, and raised his axe to block the second. Despite his size and armor, he moved far more quickly than the two men ever could. He tripped one with his axe handle, sending him back to the ground, then immediately brought the weapon up to block a second strike from the one still standing. He followed up with a quick stroke, cleaving the man's arm off with ease. The grounded man's eyes looked up at him with fear before a heavy boot covered them. Boldir stomped down, finishing the helpless thug.
The gate was clear now. There was no one to stop him. Triumphantly, Boldir pushed open the heavy doors and passed beyond the walls of his giant prison.

"Hold on." All anger left the man's voice, it was replaced by confusion. "What is he doing? Is he supposed to convulse like that?"

"Damnit! Quick! Hand me the mandrake elixir! No! The red one!

Two guards waited outside the gate, looking out to the road. Boldir dispatched them with ease and made his way to the stables. Nobody tried to stop him as he took a saddle from the rack and threw it over the gray Shire that stood waiting for him.

"Is it working? I do NOT want him to die yet!"

"It should be!"

"Then why in Oblivion is he still dying?!"

"I don't know!"

Boldir took one good look back at the city. It, and everyone in it could burn for all the cares he gave. He turned, ready to ride away, but then hesitated. Was he forgetting something?

"What is the point of finding his family if he can not watch them die first?!"

Boldir's eyes opened, and all convulsions ceased. Two things registered in his mind. The first was the extreme pain he felt all over his body; the second, and more powerful, was the desire to kill the man nearby.
His fist lunged up, striking the person casting the shadow above him, but that one was not his target, only an obstacle in the way. He rose up and threw himself towards the man who would see his family dead. Unfortunately, he did not go far. His arms stopped midway out, and he found that chains locked him to the wall. The manacles on his left wrist felt ablaze, but in truth, it had only rubbed one of his burns. Boldir ignored it and kept pulling. He would break the chains if his reach was not enough. He roared at the man as he pulled, straining every muscle in his body and sending a million daggers into every burn.

"Stop!" the woman's voice came from the floor beside his bed. Had he sent her there? "Your burns! The infection! You will kill yourself!"

Boldir ignored her as he pulled. The chains weren't giving. Pull harder! 
The man stepped closer, so that his face was inches away from Boldir's reach. It was the same man he had seen outside with Maven. He was a Black-Briar, and looked every bit as sly and smug now as he had then. "Maven will not appreciate you hurting Ingun like that. I can't say it made me particularly happy either."
Boldir continued to struggle to reach him, but the effort was dying down. The chains were not giving. As if he read Boldir's mind, the Black-Briar said, "Good luck breaking those. Only the best steel for you. Our blacksmith has this special forge, you see. The things he makes rival even those made in Whiterun. Now, how about you sit back down before you kill yourself? You only just came back from the dead."

Boldir relaxed on the chains, but he did not move an inch. The way that man looked at him, the way he threatened his family, Boldir had never in his life wanted to kill someone so greatly.
"Please," said the woman he'd called Ingun, who had risen to her feet and backed away from his reach. "I can not treat your wounds or the infection if you do not comply."

Boldir turned his gaze to her. She was the woman he'd seen with Maven when he'd been captured. The younger Black-Briar. There was a bruise on her left cheek, but she seemed to pay it no mind. In truth, he could have hit her much harder, but his goal had been to get her out of the way, not to harm. Still, something was wrong here. "Why would you care to treat my wounds?"

"So it speaks!" said the man mockingly.

"Shut up, Sibbi." Ingun said annoyedly, before looking back to Boldir. "I was told to treat you, and make sure you did not succumb to the infection before the night was over."

"So he can kill my wife in front of me?! So Maven can make me watch my daughter die?!" Boldir almost tried to fight the chains again, but stopped himself. As the adrenaline worked its way out of him, the pain was growing harder to ignore. "Just kill me now and be done with it all! They have nothing to do with this."

"Be that as it may, we fully intend to go through with it." Sibbi said. "If getting away with killing our uncle wasn't enough, you thought to insult us by returning to our city. You had the balls to walk around like you owned these streets, and then you decided to make us go through great pains to finally find you. Anything we do to you at this point is beyond warranted."

"And my family?" spat Boldir, "You would use my crimes and insults to justify hunting them as well?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Then you'd best start with me." Boldir said, "because if you lay a finger on either of them, I swear by all the gods that I will kill everyone in this family, starting with you."

"So cold." Sibbi chuckled, "and after my sister showed so much concern for you, even going so far as to completely ignors that nasty bruise you gave her. Believe it or not, I swore the same of your family. My father as well, and of course, Maven."
He backed away, out of the cell. "Rest, dog. Let my sister tend to you if you wish to live out the night. We'll see where everything stands on the morrow. And know that the guards are close by."
Boldir could only watch as the sadistic man turned and left, walking with a haughtiness that would suggest the cells layed beneath his own home. They may as well have, it would seem.

The young woman, Ingun, remained at the far corner of the cell, out of Boldir's reach. She was eyeing him with an expression that seemed a cross between nervous and dutiful.
"Well," he said, "are you going to do something about these burns?"

"You aren't going to attack me again, are you?"

Boldir sighed and laid back on the bed. Even it's soft touch set of a new wave of fire across his upper back. He clenched his teeth to keep from voicing the pain. "No," he finally said. "I'm not going to attack you."

Ingun picked up a bag he hadn't noticed beside her feet and slowly approached him. "You know, it seemed like you were going to die for a minute there, right before you woke up. The potion I gave you wasn't working, as if your body was fighting it. I guess it was just slow to kick in."

"What does it matter to you?" Boldir asked angrily, "You don't seem to share in your family's bloodlust. Why care if I live or die?"

"I am an alchemist," Ingun said, as she went digging through her bag, "but the body fascinates me. Never have I treated someone in a state quite like yours." She procured a jar containing some sort of thick, clear goo. After dabbing four fingers in the stuff, she went to work gently applying it to Boldir's left upper arm. He expected pain, but surprisingly felt nothing. The skin there, if what remained was even skin at all, did not resemble that of a human. The flesh was a sickening dark color surrounded by red and shades of yellow. Only when she reached the outer edges of the burn did Boldir finally wince.
Ingun looked up, expressionless. "The nerves in your arm were damaged." she explained before dabbing more of the goo. "That is why you aren't feeling everything."

Boldir frowned but didn't reply. Soon, she had turn and face the wall so she could start on his back. "You may want to drink this." she said, offering an orange potion over his shoulder. "The next part is going to hurt. A lot. This will numb any feeling for the rest of the night."

Boldir waved it away. He was not going to let the Black-Briars dull his senses. "I'll take my chances." He couldn't see her face, but Ingun made no argument.

"Here, then." she said handing forward a thick cloth in place of the potion. "Bite this."

That was an order Boldir followed. He rolled up the cloth and clamped his teeth around it.
Ingun didn't wait for him to declare that he was ready. An icy cold sensation touched the center of his back, and then immediately faded in place of what felt akin to a lit torch being rubbed against his flesh. His fingers instinctively balled to tight fists, and he tried to scream, but instead bit down so hard he thought he might chomp clean through the cloth. The blinding pain continued up his back, not moving from one spot to another, but instead spreading all over, the pain lingered everywhere it traveled.
Boldir could do nothing for it but bite harder. Whatever other senses besides his ability to feel pain seemed to have left him. It hurt to a point where he could only close his eyes and try to put his mind elsewhere. This is too much! It's not worth it! He wanted to tell her that he had changed his mind, that he wanted her to go ahead and give him the potion for the pain, but even without the cloth between his teeth, he could not have formed the words to ask.
An image filled his vision. He was at Pale Pass, watching Dunmer charge the Imperials while surrounded by flames of their own. Did it hurt his enemies so much as this did now? Were the burning Imperials grateful of the relief when death finally took them? It doesn't matter! Boldr pushed the thought away. I'm not a ******* Imp!
The fire he felt grew greater and greater, and he closed his eyes tighter and tighter, until somehow, the pain went away.
His eyes snapped back open, and to Boldir's surprise, he was no longer hurting as he had been. He was laying face down on his stomach, and realized that he must have once again passed out. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a seated position.

"Careful." came Ingun's voice. "It wasn't easy or cheap, but I have treated the infection. The burns are wrapped, but even a little exertion can break skin on some of the lesser burns, or worse with the rest. And wraps or no, more infections are still a dangerous possibility."

A quick self-examination confirmed that his left arm and upper torso were indeed tightly wrapped in white cloth. His back as well, and left leg. The manacle around his left wrist agitated a burned hand forearm, somehow the alchemist had managed to even get it wrapped underneath the cuff.
Turning and looking up, Boldir saw that Ingun sat in a chair beside the bars that had not been there previously. A half dozen pages of paper were stacked on her lap, and she held a quill in hand, though right now, she only watched him. "It is amazing that all of this worked with no healer. Though it did take some help getting you wrapped properly."

Boldir wasn't sure what to think of the young woman before him. She was a Black-Briar, but she had saved his life, and seemed to harbor no ill will towards him. Nevertheless, she acted on behalf of her family. They would see him survive the night so that they could soon put him through crueler fate. He decided Ingun's tolerance for the evils of her family was enough to regard her as an enemy.
After some time of just sitting there, letting her blatantly stare at him as though he was some fascinating animal, Boldir finally asked, "Why didn't you just use a healer?"

"The court mage is brilliant," answered Ingun, "but she is no healer. And the followers of Mara are not the closest of friends to our family. Besides, the outcome would have been quick and certain. I have never gotten the chance to test substances as powerful as these tonight, and despite my assurances to father, I did not truly know how this would turn out. The results are more than satisfactory, and I learned a lot from your reactions."

Boldir suddenly decided that he hated alchemists as much as he did mages. "Well are you finished now? Or do you have any more unnecessary pain to put me through?"

Ingun frowned. "I saved you, and you're the one who turned down the potion when I offered it!"

"You saved me because your mother- or grandmother... whatever Maven is to you, wanted me to see my family die!"

"And you think that I share in her desires?" Ingun began stuffing her notes into the bag she carried. "I am not like my family. I take no joy in the thought of your death, or the hunt for your family. But what would you have had me do, hmm? Let you die? There's a solution." she muttered sarcastically, "Or perhaps you want me to free you and see myself behind bars in your place. That would only end in you being recaptured anyway." She stood up. "You don't even realize how much like them you sound, do you? You condemn me for my name and circumstances, as they do your wife and child." Ingun strode out of the cell. Shortly after, a guard arrived and promptly shut it tight, leaving Boldir alone for the first time tonight.

***

Vex, Carlotta, Mila
The Ratway Vaults
Nighttime, two hours after the escape

"He's alive?" Vex was incredulous. "There is no way somebody could've survived that explosion."

"This guy did." Molgrom answered as he took his seat. "I saw him myself, along with half the city. Jumped outta the top floor he did, straight into the canal. Took another guy down with him, but your friend is the only one that came back up, so I didn't get a good look at the other one. The guards fished him out and marched him straight to the jail. He didn't look well. Had himself some nasty burns."

The news was beyond shocking, and recieving it would certainly lift her sister and niece's spirits. Vex looked over her shoulder to the heavy wooden door behind her. Carlotta and Mila sat grieving Boldir's death on the other side. They were in a guild saferoom, marked so by a small shadowmark depicting a triangle with a circle inside it carved into a brick at the entrance. This was one of many hiding places throughout Riften both topside and below, where members could hide from bounty hunters, guards, or any other threat. This one would likely serve its purpose well enough for the night, perhaps a day or two, but discovery was inevitable if they remained.
Vex and two guildmates: Molgrom and Cynric Endell, were sitting in the Den. It was a small guild hideout deep in the Ratway Vaults. There wasn't much to it. Besides the little closed off room housing her sister, there was the meeting room, which was little more than a tucked away corner of the Vaults. There was a table and chairs, an empty chest for storing provisions, and a few wall sconces they had lit upon entering.

"Keep your voice down, idiot." Cynric scolded, shooting Molgrom an angry look. He continued at a whisper, "Vex, how important is the man to you?"

The question surprised her. Boldir was just a guy her sister had married. She hadn't known him for even two months, yet she found that despite his outward dry solemness, there was a certain wit to him, and she had actually come to regard Boldir with a degree of respect. Still, it didn't change the fact that he was as good as dead. "He's alright. Why do you ask?"

"I ask because I want to know if this news changes anything."

Vex realized now what he meant. Cynric had no intention of letting Carlotta and Mila learn of Boldir's survival. He desired to leave this city as much as they did, but their plan would require all of their combined force to carry out. He did not want her to delay things with foolish thoughts of saving a doomed man. That was why he silenced Molgrom. If Carlotta or Mila were to learn of his survival, they may refuse to leave without him, and he knew that Vex was not leaving without them. "It doesn't." she finally said.

"Good. Then we are almost ready. I'll fetch you some gear up at the Cistern, and see about allies while I'm there. Even one more sword could make a difference."

"Talk to Garthar." said Molgrom. "He was willing to help before things went downhill. He will be now. The lad's loyal to Vex, and very tough. And I still think Delvin could-"

"Not Delvin." Vex said flatly. "The backlash on the guild will be bad enough for what we are doing. Even if he would help us, I do not want to know what will happen to them if two of their heads disappeared in a time like this."

"Fine." Molgrom turned to Cynric. "There were others willing to help. I didn't speak to all of them, but I know there were. Maven's dog, Maul has been making sure of that."

Cynric nodded. "I will ask around. Won't say nothing obvious, but I'll get their opinions. When I return, we'll have enough to take the gate."

"And the girls?" Molgrom asked, nodding at the door. "What about the man they're grieving?"

Cynric brought a hand to his temple and sighed. "Molgrom, I thought I made it clear enough, but I guess it must be spelled out for you. We aren't-"

"I know what you meant." the Nord interrupted. "I just happen to disagree with it. They ought to know." He looked at Vex, "Come on, don't tell me you aren't feeling the least bit guilty over this?"

Vex sighed. She rarely felt guilty over anything, but the prospect of leaving Boldir behind did not appeal to her. But there was no choice, and Molgrom had to understand that. "It's not about how guilty any of us feel, Molgrom. We can't save everyone if we want to escape this place."

"And when did you grow such a conscious?" Cynric asked annoyedly. "Was a couple weeks ago you almost killed a man. Would've if not for the Lioness girl."

"That was different." Molgrom insisted. "He deserved it. And its not the big man. It's the little one. I've got a nephew near her age. They don't see the world like we do yet. Kills me to see the child thinking her pa's gone."

"He's not really her father." Vex said.

"Really? Because the way she cried about her 'pa' suggests otherwise."

"Fine." Vex hissed. "She sees him as a father! Are you happy? You're only making this harder for us."

"I'm making it harder to abandon him, yeah. But don't tell me that you haven't considered a way to free him since we began this conversation?"

"We aren't going to help him." Cynric practically snarled. "There are bigger things at stake here than a dead man and the hopes of a little girl-" Vex noticed the door behind Cynric cracking open. She immediately waved for him to stop talking, but he took no notice. "-All of our lives are at risk. We can't risk them on this when we can be out of here by morning, you stupid dolt!"
Vex slugged his arm and nodded to the door, or moreover, the girl standing partway out of it.

Mila couldn't believe what she'd just overheard. The three thieves stared at her with the most uncommon expressions for people like them. The big man who found them in the sewer looked oddly happy, if not smug, which was odd, as Vex looked genuinely sad. That was the strangest part. The quiet man named Cynric looked annoyed when he saw her. She didn't like him. He'd found them in the sewers and managed to sneak them all through the tavern that was down there, but he hadn't spoken a kind word yet. Now, she knew why. Boldir was alive and this man, for whatever reason, wanted to leave the city without him. Mila didn't say a word. She just backed into the room she'd come from and slammed the door. Mother needed to know about this.

"Well shit." Cynric massaged his temple. "I don't suppose there's a chance we could leave them?"

"Not if you want me leaving with you." Vex said firmly. Before she could say any more, the door reopened, and an angry Carlotta emerged with Mila behind her.

"He's alive and you weren't going to tell us?!" Carlotta was on the verge of hitting Vex again, but didn't go through with it. She knew she could only push her sister so far. "We aren't just going to leave and forget all about him! The whole plan of leaving was to get help from your guild!"

"Well that isn't gonna happen!" Cynric snapped. "He's behind bars now, and the whole guild isn't on Vex's side like it was yesterday. We've got just enough people behind us to escape the city. Nothing else."

"There are more than you think." Molgrom insisted.

"And you are thieves, for Mara's sake!" Carlotta looked pleadingly at her sister. "Is it so far fetched for one of you to break someone out of prison?"

Vex and Molgrom both turned to Cynric. He was an ex jailbreaker after all. "Nuh uh." he said. "That's not going to happen. We've already planned our move on the gate. I'm not going to jail and I sure as Oblivion won't be sacrificing this chance we have right now. You can hide in the tunnels for days, maybe even weeks with Vex calling the shots. But eventually, you WILL be found. We should leave now while the Black-Briars think us weakened and disorganized."

"The night is still early." Molgrom responded. "If you could get Boldir out of the prison, we could still meet up and get through the gate together. He could even prove useful for that."

"That's insane and you know it. The man can't even walk for all we know."

"We aren't leaving without him." Carlotta said. "Especially not if it's in your power to get him out."

Cynric looked to Vex for backing, but she only shook her head. "I'm with them." she said. "It looks like we need a new plan if you're going to leave with us."
That visibly angered him. He was alone now, and could only agree if he was to get their help. "I'll break the Nord out." he said. "And we can all meet at Honorhall. From there, the gate. Vex nodded at that as he continued. "I'm for Cistern. To see who I can get to help us. Give me, say... two hours."

Vex's brow went up. "That seems kind of long."

"I want to be thorough." Cynric responded. "The more help I can get, the better."

"We aren't leaving until we see Boldir free with our own eyes." said Carlotta. She didn't trust this man. He could very well be planning to lead them out of the city only to then reveal that he had never saved Boldir.

"And you shall," Cynric responded snidely, "if your have your eyes on the prison as we're leaving." With that, Cynric stood and took his leave, still obviously unhappy with how the entire proceeding went down.

"I don't know how much we can trust him." said Molgrom. "He has always been a good thief, but Cynric never struck me as loyal."

Vex agreed to an extent. Of all the guildmates, Cynric had been one of the last she'd have wanted to know where they were, but the man had found them higher in the sewers after the attack. He had been nothing but helpful since, if not somewhat disagreeable. "He wants out of the city as much as we do. He'll help us if he intends to leave without one of Maul's tails following him." She looked at Carlotta. "Well Sis, it looks like you will get to be reunited with your husband after all."

Carlotta let that sink in. The moment Mila had told her that the thieves might abandon him, all she could muster was an anger directed at them. Now that she had what she wanted, she let the extreme happiness and relief wash over her. Boldir was alive, and they could finally leave this time. She gave Vex a hug. "Thanks for being on our side there."

"Don't think it's because I prefer it this way." Vex said, ducking away from her sister's grasp. "I don't. You forced my hand." It was a lie and her little sister probably knew it. The thought of Boldir escaping with them was a cheerful one. The Rift countryside would be dangerous, but at least they would all be leaving, and no one would have to dwell on lost family.

Carlotta shrugged and took the seat Cynric had been in. "So how is this going to go down?"

"I'm thinking I should look out for Boldir and Cynric alone. Once I see for myself that he's got Boldir to Honorhall, I'll come back into the sewers and get you all. We'll have someone create a distraction across town while we make our way to the orphanage to pick up Boldir and Cynric, and then we hit the gate. You may want to hang back at this point, because there will be some killing. Once out, we make for the Shadow Stone, and then farther south."

"We can only go so far south before we reach the mountains." Carlotta said. "And there's a lot of wilderness between Riften and anywhere safe. How are we to remain uncaught on foot?"

Vex had thought of that, and drawn up blank. The city would not be the end of it by any means, and if they were found, their only option would be to fight. If it came to that, she hoped that Boldir was able-bodied. "We'll make do."

***

Boldir

Hour after uneventful hour passed, and Boldir awakened to a strange creaking noise. It was barely audible, but definitely there. At first he thought it was a mouse, but it was more drawn out. The sound abruptly ended, and Boldir closed his eyes again.

"Hngh!"

Boldir reopened them just as there was a heavy thud outside his cell, but just to the left where he couldn't see. He slowly rose from the bed and eased towards the bars, stopping only when his shackled left foot forced him to. Before he could peer around the corner, a man wearing plain prison garb appeared in front of him. He held up one finger in front of his lips to signal Boldir to remain silent, then held up a key and inserted it into the cell lock, it clicked, and the man slowly opened the door, making a similar squeaking noise to the one he'd heard just a minute ago.
The man, a Breton with long dark hair and a rough beard, used the same key to quickly unlock all of Boldir's shackles, then exited the cell, motioning for Boldir to follow. As he obliged, Boldir found that the source of the sound he'd heard was a fallen prison guard. The Breton took off the guard's coat and threw it to Boldir, then slid the man's steel sword and dagger under his own belt. "Follow me." he whispered. His voice was low and hoarse. "We're getting out of here."

Boldir slipped on the coat. He wasn't going to argue. This man clearly had a plan. Did Vex send this guy? He must be with the guild. Why else would he be helping me? He allowed himself a moment of optimism as he realized that Vex breaking him out possibly meant that his family was safe and were involved in this plan themselves.
He followed the Breton up the stairs. There was another guard beside the door to the next level, but he was half asleep and sat facing the wrong direction on top of that. He awakened when the Breton's arm wrapped around his neck, but quickly went back to sleep after several seconds of being choked. Next, they made their way up the stairs and out of the prison. Boldir couldn't believe how easy it had been. There were a few guards around the entrance to the castle, and the wall around it that currently boxed them in. They completely ignored that, instead moving to the wall itself, far from where the guards stood, and began to climb the old stone bricks. The Breton was an impressive climber, but Boldir knew he could do better were it not for his burns. Using his muscles stretched the slowly-healing blotches and even seemed to bust a blister on his back, but he fought back any desire to cry out, and soon they were over the side and making their descent.
After the climb, the Breton nodded to Honorhall Orphanage across the street. It was dangerously close to the gate. "That is where we are going. Follow me and walk as though you have every right to."
Boldir nodded and then they began walking. They were now in plain view to the guards down the road, and Boldir had to force himself not to run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other as if he was in no danger at all. By the time they reached the orphanage, Boldir realized that he had been holding his breath. He let it all out at once in a great sigh and followed the Breton into the building.
When the door was closed, Boldir allowed a smile to cross his lips. I was supposed to die in there. Take that Maven! You bitch! And Sibbi and Maul and all the rest of you!
As the Breton headed back into a small room ahead, Boldir took a moment to look around and get his bearings. The orphanage was not large. The entrance room was empty but for a long dining table and some shelving along the walls. Walking further in, he peered into a room to his left to see a larger room with a lit fireplace and many small beds lining the walls. Children were sleeping in there.
The Breton returned a few minutes later with a visibly unhappy woman at his heel. "You and me are going to hide out here until the others arrive." he said. "Our dear friend Constance has promised us a room to wait in."

"Wait." Boldir said as the Breton made his way into the hall with the sleeping kids. "Who are the others? Is my wife with them?"

The man sighed. "I'll tell you in the room."

Had the man not just saved him, Boldir would've had a few choice words for being an ass. Instead, he wordlessly followed him past the sleeping children and and into the room at the end of the hall. It was a fairly spacious bedroom. Larger than the one Constance had been in when they arrived. Boldir wondered what reason she would have to not be sleeping in this one. He took a seat on the bed, and the Breton at a desk. The man spun his chair around and looked at Boldir. "Okay, now I will answer your ques-"

"Is my wife with the group that is to meet us?" Boldir interrupted, "And my daughter?"

The Breton frowned. "Yes. They are with Vex. So are Molgrom and Garthar. Rune and Versuvius are helping as well, and my name is Cynric."

Thieves. Boldir realized. His family was surrounded by a bunch of criminals. This is who their lives rested in the hands of. He hated the idea of it. People like this don't help others for free.
His expression must have betrayed his thoughts, because Cynric chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. These people have come to hate the same people you hate, and have decided that they'd rather leave the city with Vex at their side rather than with one of Maul's tails at their back. We'll be starting up in Solitude. Operations there are nice and distant from Maven and her family bearing down on us. Besides, your family is in good hands. Vex cares about them and the others are too loyal or too stupid to go against what she says. I'm the most dangerous of the lot, and am clearly nice and far from your family."

He's the most dangerous? The Breton did not look like much to Boldir, but he knew that a small but clever man could accomplish far more than a strong fool. He had managed to break Boldir out of prison, after all. That was no small task.
"So how long are we to wait?"

"Not long. An hour or so at the most, I'd imagine. Rune and Versuvius are going to create a nice and bright distraction once Vex gives the signal. As some of the guards blindly head toward it, Vex will bring the rest here. After that, we immediately make for the gate."

"And then... we take it by force?"

"Yes. I am a good shot. And Molgrom and Garthar are our best fighters. We will cut our way out the gate and make for the wilderness right quick. The docks would be easier, but we'll never get past the market with so many people."

"And then?"

"And then we put as much distance as we can between us and the city before it gets bright enough out for them to begin properly tracking us. We'll figure that out when we come to it."

Boldir didn't like the thought of that. Their pursuers would have horses, and supplies, and the numbers to cover more ground faster. Still, there was not much to be done for that. They had to get out of this city tonight. That much, everyone seemed to agree on.

"So for now we wait?"

"For now, we wait."

***

Vex
Atop the Bee and Barb

Vex pulled her hood closer to her ears. It was a cold night, and getting sick just before going out into the wilderness was of just the sort of luck she was beginning to see coming. As if burnt-up Boldir wasn't likely to be burden enough. It had been almost an hour since Cynric was taken to the prison. What if he lost his pick? Or got caught? Vex dispelled the thoughts as quickly as her rebellious mind had formed them. Cynric wouldn't botch this. He was too good at it, and too much was at stake.
As if to ease her nervous mind, the shape of a man exited the prison, then another much larger one followed in suit. The figures avoided the guards by the front of the low keep wall, and instead climbed the wall itself at an unguarded area. So easy. she thought. Never thought we'd pull one over on the Black-Briars like this. Definitely not so cleanly. She watched from her perch as they scrambled up and back down the wall, and then calmly walked across the street toward the orphanage like they lived there. The night eye effect from her potion wore off just before they reached the door, but Vex assumed that they made it safe and sound. Carlotta would be excited to hear it.
Carefully, she climbed down from her perch, back down to where all sane people remained, and stealthily crossed the streets and alleys until she was underground once more. Her sister and the rest all waited near the sewer entrance. Hiding on the other side of the raised drawbridge that marked the entrance to the Ragged Flagon. Everyone was geared up. Molgrom and Garthar wore swords and daggers at their sides, and were garbed in full leather guild armor. Molgrom also carried a bow, and Vex had her dagger. Mila had her little glowing poker that Boldir had given her, and even Carlotta wore guild armor and wore a steel dagger at her side. It seemed that she wanted to be ready to fight if she had to. Finally, everyone but her wore a pack of provisions on their backs. There was no telling how long they would be in the forests of the Rift.
"Alright everybody, this is it. Let's leave this shit hole."

Molgrom nodded and Garthar grinned. "We're right behind you." said the former.
She turned and lead the way. They passed through various tunnels just as she had come through them. Never in her life had Vex felt so anxious. She had grown up in Riften. She had gained and then lost everything here. She had served the people in charge, and she had caused her share of pain. She was ready to put it behind her and move on. Finally, they reached the tunnel exit. Now, she just had to briefly light her torch so that Rune would see it from up above the canal. He would light his own torch to signal Versuvius, who would create the distraction they needed to cross town unnoticed. She pulled it from her belt as she opened the sewer gate and passed out of the tunnel. "Shit."

To her left, just at the edge of the canal, stood a large figure, armed with a glass longsword and wearing a full suit of some kind of Nordic quicksilver armor. His face was hidden behind the visor of a full-faced helmet, but she had a good idea of who it was. To either side of him stood more guards than Vex could count, and an even greater number waited to the right of the entrance. More than a few had arrows knocked and their bows trained on her. "Hello, rat." said a familiar cold voice from beneath the helmet.
And then the guards released their arrows.

 
Link to comment
Share on other sites

(Continued)
Carlotta, Mila, Maul
 (Colonelkillabee)

Carlotta could only watch in horror as countless arrows turned her sister into a human pincushion. So many, that when she fell, those that went through propped her body up like some grotesque, bloody doll. "Back!" She screamed, "Mila, back into the sewers!" She quickly backed into the tunnel so that the archers to the sides could not get an angle on her, and then turned to run. To her horror, Garthar and Molgrom were clashing swords with four men who now blocked their escape. Where did they come from? She unsheathed her own dagger and took a step in their direction. Wait, where's Mila? 
In answer, the thug in the back let out a scream and fell to his knees, and then the man beside him did the same. This bought Garthar and Molgrom the relief they needed to defeat their own opponents, and then finish off the downed ones behind them. Mila stood at the back of the fray, having somehow gotten behind the four thugs. Her dagger gleamed with red.
"Go! GO!" She shouted, sprinting toward her daughter. "We'll hide in the sewer!" Garthar hurried alongside them. Carlotta looked over her shoulder as she ran to see Molgrom still near the entrance. He had turned, no longer facing them, but instead the open sewer gate, which even now, she could see armed figures coming through. She didn't call after him. Molgrom had made his choice. He would die, but maybe it would buy them a few precious moments. They raced down the tunnel, this time not taking the drawbridge to the Flagon, but instead going down into the winding maze of sewers below.

~~~

"ARCHERS!" At the sound of Maul yelling for them at the top of his lungs, the approaching guards quickly stood aside to make way for the volley of arrows that shot through the sewer's entrance. Molgrom didn't stand a chance, but the strong willed man still stood, if weakly. His sword felt as though it weighed a ton as it dropped to the floor, but still, he stood.

Maul came marching forward then, his newly acquired armor gleaming in the moonlight. He didn't stop to exchange words. He only pushed the man over before ordering the rest of his men into the sewers. Right over poor Molgrom.

~~~

"How many were there?" Garthar asked Carlotta as they ran. She had been the only one besides Vex to get a good look.

"I don't know." she said, already beginning to feel the strain of running with lots of weight on her back take its toll. "Too many to count."
The three of them rounded a bend into a familiar-looking passageway.
"Have we already been here?" Carlotta asked, worried. She could hear the clamor of guards and thugs behind them.

"No." Garthar assured her. Though he didn't look entirely positive. He led them through a dark hall that ended in a crossroads. There was a passage left, and a passage forward, each leading down a different sewer tunnel.

This place is a maze. thought Carlotta. Hopefully it could throw off it at least split up their pursuers. Garthar started for the passage left.
"Wait." she said, shrugging off her pack of provisions. She tossed it as far as she could down the forward tunnel. Maybe that will throw them off some.
Garthar nodded in approval of the idea and continued on. Carlotta and Mila followed close by his side.

~~~

Maul's dead eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and hazed with anger as they darted around the dark back end of Riften that as he said, he always came back to. The anger and rage from meeting dead end after dead end when looking for them before was only made worse from the thought that these people were the reason that the sewer's awful stench once again assaulted his nostrils.

He took point when the sewer passage way split up into three, but he was prepared. He sent a score of men in each direction, with him leading the middle charge. His advance could be heard by the scrape of Grimsever upon the stone wall, so that the ice that it emitted would leave a path to show where he and his men had already walked.

"Stop your pointless running and make this easy for the both of us! Do so now and I'll spare the child! Make me angry and you'll all suffer." Maul barked out commands and bargains the entire way, his harsh voice echoing throughout the tunnels of Riften's bowels.

~~~

Maul's cold voice echoed from the distant tunnels behind them, but to Carlotta's relief, it sounded like he had taken a wrong turn at some point. Everything he shouted was distant and distorted.
"What's he saying?" Mila asked as they ran.

"I don't know," Carlotta answered, "but it doesn't matter. We can't let them catch us. How far are we Garthar?"

"From the Flagon? I think we're getting close."

"What do you mean 'you think'? You people live down here!"

"Not down here!" the large thief's unease showed clearly. "I always took the drawbridge or the crypt exit."

"Crypt exit? Is that where we're going?"

"If we're lucky. Still don't know how I'm gonna get you past all the guild. I'll try my best."

Carlotta realized that the thief very likely had no intention of doing that at all. He hadn't been seen. If he could slip away back among his guildmates, He and Mila would no longer be his problem. "Make sure you do." she said, as they came up on a closed door at the end of the passage. "Because we're in this together now." And if you try anything, your name will be the one I give up.
Garthar seemed to understand. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like little more than a child to Carlotta. A child who knew he was in way over his head. Breathing deeply, he opened the door.

"Have you seen a woman and her daughter? And at least one thief with them?"
Ahead was a small room with two exits. One led up a flight of stairs, and the other down another passage. In the corner, on a dirty bedroll, sat an old looking man in rags. He looked up at the pair of guards questioning him with a terrified expression. When the fleeing trio entered, his eyes widened and he pointed at them.

Garthar wasted no time, rushing forward, he slashed one of the unprepared guards across the neck with his sword. The second was not so easily caught off-guard, and quickly slashed out with his own axe. Garthar dodged out of the way and caught the swing with his blade, hooking it under the axe head and locking their weapons together. The guard let go of his axe with his left hand and threw a punch at his cheek, knocking Garthar to he ground and disarming him. The thuggish guard smirked as he stepped forward, beginning to raise his axe for a killing blow. But by then, Carlotta was upon him, driving her dagger into his ribcage again and again and again, until her arm was covered in blood and the guard was no longer standing. Gods... That was too easy.
Garthar looked impressed as he got back to his feet. "First time?"

Still a little dazed, Carlotta nodded. She didn't even want to look and see how Mila responded to what she'd just seen. "Let's just keep-"

"HERE!" the man in rags shouted into the tunnels. Carlotta had already forgotten about him. "They're OVER HE-"

His screams were cut short by Garthar's sword in his throat. "They'd have heard that. Come on." He started up the stairs as the body collapsed. "The Flagon is higher, so we should be on the right path."

~~~

Heavy footsteps came closer from behind him as Maul stared at the ground in front of him. The guard came panting, thanking the gods that Maul left a path on the wall with his sword. "Sir, we found this pack, but nothing else. W-"

The guard just then noticed the dead bodies on the ground in front of Maul. "We're getting closer. I know where they are. Take the men back. I'll take five with me the rest of the way. The rest go around back through the city. If the wife becomes too much trouble, then kill her. I'd prefer her alive though. But the daughter, she's the biggest target. Don't kill her no matter what."

~~~

"Look! Light!" Mila sprinted ahead of Carlotta and Garthar when she saw the moonlight pouring down into an upcoming chamber. The two of them hurried after her, only to see how disappointed the girl looked when she realized that the well above them from which the light came was far out of reach and too smooth to climb besides. It emptied into a little round patch of moss and flowers. A lunar moth fluttered above their heads. It was a tauntingly beautiful little patch of life contrasting the gloomy dark tunnels. Carlotta wasn't sure if this sight made her hopeful or slightly disheartened. Somehow, it seemed a bit of both.

"Don't worry." Garthar said, "I know this spot. The guild is just ahead."
Sure enough, they soon reached a corridor where the wall torches were lit and various signs of inhabitants showed. There was a wooden table with some old book and an empty plate sitting on it. There was a door at the far end, and a carving beside it. It depicted a diamond with a circle inside it. The mark was familiar to Carlotta, but she couldn't determine where from.
Garthar led them through, into the familiar underground tavern: The Ragged Flagon. It stood more crowded than the previous times Carlotta had snuck through with Vex and Cynric. Then, there had only been the barkeep and a couple of patrons. Now, as they cautiously approached, she noticed the barkeep's large, dark brown-haired Nord bouncer yelling at someone in a corner, and quite a few thieves and lowlife patrons sat at various tables. A Redguard woman stood up beside some crates at the central platform, above the pool of water that filled the middle of the circular room. She seemed to be doing business with a Dunmer. Even a blacksmith was hammering iron at the far corner of the room. These people were all criminals of some sort or another. Thieves, thugs, fences, and fugitives alike flocked to the literal underground bar when the hour grew late. How are we supposed to convince any of these people to help us?
Garthar seemed to know who best to talk to, as he led them around the right of the pool, straight into the heart of the group. She could feel plenty of cruel eyes on them as they passed. It almost made her jump when Mila's quivering fingers clutched at hers. Carlotta held her frightened daughter's hand and walked alongside her. They would stick near Garthar and he would do the talking. That's all it would take. Her greatest fear was of the door behind them. Any moment it could burst open and Maul could march in with his men. She cast the thoughts away along with any fear she may have shown. Mila's shaking reminded her that she needed to be strong.

They approached a Wood Elf man with a bow on his back and wearing the same dark guild armor that Vex wore. The resemblance was not lost to Mila, as became clear when Carlotta felt the girl's grip tighten when the elf looked up at them and smiled with a hint of humor. "Well, well, Garthar," said the elf "I'd been wondering where you got off to. Sapphire was looking for you when last we spoke." He turned his slender, jet-black eyes on Carlotta and Mila. "Your companions... They aren't who I think they are. Are they?"

Garthar's initial pause was answer enough. "...Look Niruin, we need to get through the Cistern. These two aren't with the guild, but they are no threat. Believe me, it's an emergency." He grabbed Carlotta's arm and gently led her past his apparent superior. "We're going now. Okay?"

"Wait!" Conversations halted and eyes turned as the large bouncer crossed the room, eyes boring into Carlotta. "These two aren't going anywhere."

Garthar's fists balled, but he held composure. "Dirge, lis-"

"Shut up! My brother wrote for me to keep an eye out for..." he stepped closer, resting a hand on the pommel of his war axe and still eyeing Carlotta. "A pretty woman," he paced in front of them, stopping in front of Mila. "a young girl," he looked up again, but at Garthar. "And any traitors found with them."

"Watch it, Dirge." Garthar said slowly. "Not everyone here has the same definition of traitor as Maul."

Dirge snarled and drew his axe, prompting Garthar to draw his own blade in turn. The two stood eyeing one another. Everyone else watched in dangerous silence.
"It doesn't matter what everyone here thinks. So, where is Vex? Has she decided to cut it and run?"

"She's dead." Mila said angrily. Her grip on Carlotta's hand growing even tighter. "Maul killed her!"

That brought a commotion from the spectators. "Vex was no traitor!" someone shouted. "Let them past!" Said another. "How can you know?" came a woman's voice. "Mercer seemed loyal and did the same!"

A dozen more voices began arguing and shouting, and even a few more weapons could be heard sliding from their sheaths. Through it all, Dirge held fast. "You were right." he said, before briefly looking over their shoulders. A wicked smile crossed his lips. "But it doesn't matter." he swung his axe, meeting Garthar's sword with a loud metallic 'clang'.

Carlotta pulled Mila a few feet back to clear her of the immediate threat, then looked back to see what Dirge had looked at. She groaned. At the entrance, stood a large man in a full suit of Nordic armor. Boldir's armor, she realized, but the wearer was the farthest thing from her husband. He and five men in Riften guard armor were entering the room, and even now making their way toward her.
"Come on!" She nearly dragged Mila after her as she sprinted past the fighting men, the elf, and all others in the room, straight to the back of the tavern. There was only one door. The same one Vex had snuck her through before. Carlotta had thought there would be another, perhaps to lead to a larger HQ, or at least another section of the guild hideout. If this "crypt exit" existed, it would have to be this way.

"No!" she heard someone shout from the chaos behind them. "Don't go that way!"
Maybe it was Garthar, or one of the others trying to help. Or maybe it was Dirge attempting to halt their escape. She prayed for the latter as she opened the door and led Mila into the darkness beyond.

~~~

Maul came marching into the Ragged Flagon like Numidium himself. Heavy footed, deliberate and bent on destruction. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. Everyone knew what his presence there meant. He noticed where his targets went and was a little disappointed that they didn't make it further. He wanted to see the hope lost from their pretty faces when they saw he had the outside exits sealed off.
After signalling for his men to stand at the door Carlotta lead Mila through, Maul yelled, "Brother! A word."

Dirge heard the call, and appeared disappointed, as he was winning his fight.
Garthar paused when he noticed that everyone in the room had halted their fighting upon Maul's commands. Capitalizing on this, Dirge delivered a heavy blow with his axe handle to the thief's forehead, knocking him unconscious to the ground.
He met Maul halfway as he approached.

Looking around the room at all the eyes on him, Maul finally rested his cold glare on Dirge. "Good job, brother. I knew I could count on you to stay loyal. Do me a favor; point out everyone here who raised blades in protection of those two in the Vault. Do it as best you can."

As Maul had suspected, Dirge did not look so pleased with this command. Garthar and Vex had been direct traitors, and very openly in the end. But the rest had only stuck up for the memory of their friend. All of this, Maul knew, but their treachery could not simply be forgiven, and Dirge was the one who stood most loyal to their true masters.
"It was... Uhh..." Dirge's eyes went all across the room, stopping on this guildmate and that. He was good for stopping an active traitor, but Dirge had lived half his life among these people. Asking him to rat on them was no small matter. Finally, his eyes rested on one and he nodded. "I know that one of them was-"
A flying dagger took Dirge in the arm, cutting him short and staggering him back. Another bounced off of Maul's own armor, doing no damage. At that moment, the sound of various weapons being drawn echoed throughout the large room.

Maul raised his hand at the sound of swords being drawn, then yelled at the top of his voice, "No! Stop. There's no need. Lower your weapons. I think this demonstration is the perfect way to show the problem we now have. You all know how important Maven is to this guild. I don't need to explain it to you. But Maven isn't the only one that these people have betrayed. Vex...Garthar..." Maul suddenly turned and put his eyes on another guild member.

"Viper the Fleet... yea, I saw you throw the daggers. These guild members were planning to run away and never turn back, leaving all of you behind to fend for yourselves. And for what? To help people that murdered a member of Maven's family? Maven has been nothing but good to all of you. It's because of her that your purses are fat and you remain free from prison. Remember that now as I ask for you all to bring forth any traitors like Viper. Unless, you want to go back to the old days not too long ago when your stolen goods could barely pay for bread and water. I remember those days. I was one of you, after all."

No one could see Maul's expression beneath the helmet, but there was some satisfaction there as he noticed Niruin slowly adjust his bow so that it now aimed at Viper. The elf had tried to be inconspicuous about it, as the previous target had been none other than Maul himself. Fortunate for him that he had, because he did not likely know that the tip of the ex-bandit Thrynn's sword was waiting inches behind his neck.
Another thief, this one newer blood, slowly lowered his own shortsword, and another followed in suit.

"Have you all forgotten the last ten days? Who is it that you think we would have had to fend for ourselves against?!" Viper raised his hands defensively when he saw that he did not have the backing he'd expected. "It is Maul who has hounded us without relent! And it was not Maven that dug us from our misfortunes! We did that ourselves! We don't need masters!"
Most of the members looked uneasy after he said this, especially those who had drawn their weapons. Niruin, however, was still trying to sell that he had always been an unwaveringly loyal ally, and looked to Maul for permission to prove it.
"Let me kill him, brother." Dirge growled as he came back to Maul's side clutching his bleeding arm.

Maul decided then to take off his helmet. He wasn't the greatest at persuasion or speeches, but he was learning. He didn't yet give Niruin the signal until he truly needed to. "It was me hounding you, barking at your heels, true. But if I hadn't done that, Maven would have done a lot worse to you if she thought the guild was too compromised to be trusted any longer. Trusting this to me, to a fellow member, that was her showing mercy. After Viper is taken care of, this will all finally be over. Anyone else who was disloyal, your acceptance of his punishment will be considered your forgiveness. Then we can all go back to doing what we do best. Making gold."

"He is NOT a fellow member!" Viper shouted desperately. The fear in his eyes made it clear that he knew the situation was direly against him. "And we do not owe the Black-Briars our loyalty! These recent days are proof that they dictate us beyond simple partnership. They kill us when it suits them for Talos's sake!"

"They also keep the guards from flushing this place out!" Dirge added irritably. He was clearly itching to go and bury his axe in the thief's head.

Viper's hopeless glances around the room only showed him what Maul wanted him to see. Nobody was going to raise a weapon to help him. Even those who agreed with what he said were not fool enough to attempt it at this point. They would only die alongside him.

Maul nodded to Niruin then after placing on his new helmet. He had to, or he wouldn't be able to hide his grin otherwise. He knew his brother wanted the kill, clearly, but having his brother do it would only make things worse for Dirge as well as himself, since it would look as though he used his relationship to manipulate him. "Sorry, Viper. Disloyalty to the guild and to Maven can't be taken lightly. Looks like you should have taken to your namesake and ran with the other snakes."

"I am no sn-"
Viper the Fleet didn't get to finish his sentence, as a steel point piercing cleanly through his throat made him the third thief to fall to arrows tonight. He briefly dropped to his knees, gurgling blood down his chin and onto his clothes, and then collapsed face-first to the floor.
Dirge looked angry to have his revenge robbed, but he said nothing. As usual, he would remain a loyal brother.

"Your other... convicts," said Niruin, "the ones that came in with Garthar. They made for the Vaults. Possibly even the Warrens if they could find the way."

Maul gave his brother a strong shake on his back in apology and to say thank you. He moved to the crowd without saying another word to the back where the Vaults were. As he passed Niruin, he clasped the elf's shoulder suddenly with a heavy gauntlet covered hand and while not looking at him said in a low menacing voice, "You're forgiven," before continuing on with his four men behind him.

~~~

The tunnels beyond the Ragged Flagon were even darker and more confusing than those before. Carlotta knew them no better than she knew Oblivion itself, but was no fool. She knew in her heart that she had made a grievous mistake coming back here. Whatever secret exit Garthar had referred to was long behind them by now. The thief had made it sound close, most likely somewhere in the Flagon itself. These tunnels were no escape to the outside world. They were where people came to avoid it.
These tunnels were where lowlifes and outcasts of only the most hated sort came to live out their days when no one else would have them. Even as they passed from one dark room to the next, taking every confusing turn at random, Carlotta could see signs of life. One of the earlier rooms had contained a ragged bedroll, and the embers of a campfire still glowed in the center of the room. More than once, she heard footsteps. Not the heavy metal boots of Maul and his thugs, but the quick and quiet 'pitter patter' of someone running in soft boots or even bare feet. It wasn't constant or consistent. Sometimes it could be heard in tunnels ahead, and sometimes behind. But the inhabitants of these tunnels seemed to have no desire to be seen.That's fine, thought Carlotta, just as long as they keep their distance.

As she and Mila rounded a corner from a small room and into a dark hall, Carlotta spotted a fairly well-lit chamber ahead. There were other paths she could take, but none promised anything more than more empty dark rooms and damp passages. At least this one stood out. With Mila's hand held in her left hand, and the red-stained steel dagger tightly clenched in her right, Carlotta edged lightly forward, trying to make as little noise as possible.
When they reached the lit room, she was disappointed to find that it was none other than the one her sister had brought them to hide in earlier that night. "Hey," said Mila, "this is the-"

"I know." she said, looking around carefully. Something was wrong here, but she couldn't quite place it.

Mila gasped, "Didn't we put the lights out when we left?"

That was it! Carlotta cast a nervous glance at the doorway to the little room she and Mila had spent most of their time in as Vex and the others had planned their escape. These tunnels were not guild turf. It was very possible that someone had waited for them to leave to take back this little corner of the Vaults to sleep in. Taking one step back, then a second, Carlotta said, "Let's not go through here. There were plenty of other passages to-"
Her heart stopped as her back bumped against something warm, something breathing.

"Hello!" whispered a cold, quiet voice into her ear. Carlotta spun around, pushing Mila behind her. She held out her dagger towards a tall, slender Nord man with the palest skin and most malicious smile she had ever seen. His eyes went up and down over her, looking almost hungry. The man was barefoot, and his shirt was ripped to the point that almost as much skin was exposed as covered. "Just what exactly do you plan on doing with that?" he asked, stepping forward, and holding up a blade of his own. It was steel, and bore the Empire's insignia of the dragon on it. "Why don't you just drop that poker of yours? The little one too. We won't be needing those for what comes next." He flicked his tongue across his lips, in a manner that looked a cross between some reptile and a starving man looking upon a feast.

Carlotta could barely control her breathing. How had this man snuck up on them so quietly? "L- let us pass." she said, trying and failing to sound unphased.

"Well aren't you brave? Pretty too. Not a lotta women like you down here." The white in the man's eyes was bloodshot, and there was definitely a certain, terrifying insanity in them. "I'm not gonna say it again. Weapons. Down."

Carlotta could no longer feel Mila behind her, but she could hear her daughter's own staggered breathing to her back. Her presence was a constant reminder that giving up right now was not an option. There was no telling what this man might do to them given the chance. She gripped her dagger even more tightly and backed up a few steps, back into the lit room. "Come any closer, and I'll..." she forced her expression to harden. "I'll kill you."

The man only smiled and flicked his tongue again, following until he stood in the empty doorframe. "You're dangerous, woman, but not enough for this place." In a quick, fluid motion the man flicked his sword, knocking the dagger from her hand, and then there was a moment of chaos. One that Carlotta could barely follow. She could hear Mila shouting out, and there was a blur of movement causing the man looked momentarily caught off-guard. Mila was in front of her, and the girl's dagger had somehow ended up in the man's right forearm.
"Little bitch!" The Nord threw a wild elbow that struck Mila in the forehead, sending her to the ground on her back. He let out a ferocious scream and, dagger still in his arm, stabbed his Imperial blade straight at Carlotta. She tried to move, but the man was too fast. Carlotta saw Mila's horrified eyes looking up at her from the floor as the cold steel bit into her stomach. She then fell to her knees, taking the sword with her.

"Now for you!" The crazed Nord cried out, pulling the dagger from his arm and tossing it aside. "You and I are gonna put on a show for mommy!"

Carlotta's vision was slowly blurring, and she could only hear the sound of a struggle while her eyes slowly tried to close against her will. She groaned and reached out, finding nothing. "Don't..."

And then the sound of struggling stopped. Along with the cries of pain or anger. All she could hear was the chilling, high-pitched whistle of the wind. We're underground. Carlotta thought, Why am I hearing the wind? The sound grew louder, and she realized that it was not the wind that she heard, but an actual whistle. Their attacker must have heard it as well, as she forced her eyes halfway open just in time to see him running off down the hall he had followed them from. Soon after, Mila was looking down on her. The girl's eyes were teary and red, and she looked terrified. "I'm sorry." she was saying. "I thought he was swinging at you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" There was a pause in which all she could hear was weeping, and then Carlotta felt a sharp pain in her stomach. The shortsword was being pulled out of her.

"Stop..." she managed to breath. Mila was shaking her head furiously, and continued to pull. The girl didn't understand.
Carlotta spoke again through gritted teeth."Stop pulling it- Ahh!... so fast." She let out another cry and brought her hands to the wound. "Do it slowly!"
Carlotta muttered what words she could remember from her old book, and her hands began to glow a bright gold. Now, Mila understood what she meant, and her expression changed from scared to hopeful.
It hurt like all of Oblivion, and there was no shortage of crying out, but Mila continued to pull the blade out slowly and carefully, and the healing magic slowly repaired the areas it had touched. When the sword was finally out, Carlotta pressed both hands against the bloody wound and held them there, letting the magic run from her hands to the cut. The wound was not fully healed when the gold fizzed out. She needed a minute to replenish her magicka.
Then came the whistling again. It was closer this time, echoing from somewhere back in the dark tunnels. Now, it was clearly accompanied by heavy, metallic footsteps. Oh no. 
It pained Carlotta to stand, but she somehow managed. Mila retrieved the daggers and handed hers back to her. Carlotta's bloody hand felt weak now, and she had a hard time holding the weapon with any real strength. "We need to hide." she said, and leading her daughter through the room more slowly than before, and into yet another dark passage of the Ratways.

Behind them, they could hear the chilling whistles bounce throughout the dark maze of tunnels, and what seemed like deliberately slow footsteps accompanied the tune almost at the same beat. Carlotta felt dizzy, and the warm blood against her skin told her that she needed to find a place where she could finish the healing, or risk collapsing and leaving Mila to fend for herself. A couple of passages and rooms later, they entered another chamber. It seemed to be of similar size to the one they'd been attacked in, but it was hard to tell. The room was pitch dark, and the far walls could not even be seen. Carlotta made sure Mila was holding onto her sleeve as she felt her way along the wall, until she hit something wooden. It seemed to be some kind of furniture. Feeling around it some more, Carlotta realized that it was a wardrobe. She found the handle and opened the door. After taking a moment to feel around inside, she decided that it was empty, and then whispered to Mila. "Climb in. We'll hide in here."

Her daughter obeyed, and they both climbed up into the large piece of furniture, before closing the doors. Blackness was all they could see for several moments, and then the entire inside lit up a bright gold as she set to finishing her healing work. Mila watched through teary eyes. Poor girl. She blames herself. "Look at me," Carlotta said, causing Mila's eyes to lift and meet her's. "We will be okay. Alright?"

"I attacked the man." Mila sobbed, ignoring what she had said. "I made him stab you. I thought he was trying to hurt you!"

"I know." Carlotta said, biting her lip as the magic touched at her tender flesh. "You did the right thing, sweetie. He was going to hurt me. You too. You stopped him."

"The man chasing us stopped him." Mila said. "He was above me before he heard him."

Carlotta didn't want to think about what that sick man may have wanted from them, but it did not matter now. He was gone and they still had their original threat to deal with. "He was a lot bigger than you, but you stalled him. You scared him and confused him. He may not have run if you hadn't done what you'd done."

That made Mila brighten up somewhat. The girl wiped her eyes and nodded, just as Carlotta felt the outermost layer of her wound seal up. The magical glow faded, and they were once again left in the darkness, the only sound a steady rhythmic whistle echoing through the tunnels.

Who is there whistling in my dark womb, bringing folks within this tomb,
A child, a caretaker, carelessly hidden, and now they've gone and created their prison,
Clang! Clang! Seductive wail, like the sky breath against a sail, 
Metal automaton, flashing bright! Please don't find me in the night.....

Clang...clang...crackle...

"Stay back..." said Maul whispering to his men. "Guard the entrance." As they nodded, the ironclad hunter slowly pounded is way into the darkness of the room, his feet meeting heavily and slowly against the stone floor beneath him. The man couldn't see a thing, so he took out his sword and a dagger from his blade belt and clashed them together, sending elemental ice from it and illuminating a small portion of the room each time he did.

Maul thought he saw a shape at the corner of his left eye, but then he heard something stir in front of him... He turned sharply, then ceased banging Grimsever, taking pause for a long time. More steps came, then there was some more whistling, made only the more sorrowful in pitch from the helmet around him and the thin slit from which the sound escaped.

"I know you're in here, my little pups." Another crackle and flash of bluish light came from his blade. "Come to Maul." Another flash. "Or die like dogs."

Maul heard another sound, something like scurrying in front of him and he instinctively made a grab for whoever it was. The person was small, frail, and smelled every bit as bad as their surroundings. Maul had the person, a woman from the sounds of it pinned to the wall by her neck, then scraped the point of his sword next to her head to make ice form next to her and glow to reveal her face.

"A toothless hag. Hello, hag. Did you see any visitors in your lovely abode?"

"Cling, clang! Bang! Dwarven construct, abduct! Abdu-"

There was silence then for a time, before the sound of Maul wrenching Grimsever from the old woman's flesh filled the room some time later. The ripping of her muscles and innards while her bones scraped at his blade was made all the more grotesque from the echoing of it within the closed walls. And then the whistling began anew before fading in the distance. Then all was quiet.

~~~

As one part of the tunnels grew quieter, the next would gradually give way to Maul's tune. As it entered their room, suddenly louder than ever, Carlotta and Mila grew as still as stones. He had reached them.
It was all Carlotta could do to stifle her own desire to shout out or to burst from the wardrobe and just run. Even if she didn't have Mila to worry about, that would never work. The dark halls would serve as her grave if Maul did not catch her himself. His heavy footsteps, so tantalizingly slow, could be heard under the equally taunting tune the man whistled. He isn't the least bit worried. Carlotta realized with fright. This was a game to Maul, one that he had no doubt that he would win.
The footsteps and whistles continued. Rather than passing by and fading out into another tunnel, it remained steady, not leaving the dark room. Does he know? Has he found us? Mila was shaking, or perhaps they both were. Carlotta couldn't tell, but the sound of every heartbeat in her chest seemed as though it wanted to give them away. thud thud
Maul's whistling crossed the room. The sound of it traveling everywhere, but the source moving from one spot to the next. After several seconds of traveling, it began growing louder, and closer. His tune even seemed to be speeding up. thud thud
Carlotta wanted to rip out her heart and cast it away. The damned beating of it must've been echoing as loud as Maul. thud thud
The whistling stopped. thud thud
The footsteps stopped. thud thud
He was right in front of the wardrobe. thud thud thud thud
Carlotta held her dagger tightly, hoping that her daughter was ready for what might come next. Slowly, she brought her hand to the wardrobe door. thud thud
"One..." she but breathed the word, so quietly that even Mila could not have heard it beside her.
"Two..." thud thud thud

Suddenly, the whistling started up again, and Maul's footsteps, slow and deliberate as ever, gradually carried it away from the wardrobe, then from the room. As she had hoped, it slowly began to distance itself from them into some other part of the Ratway.

Mila let out a little sound that could've been a cross between a yelp and a cheer. Even inside the wardrobe, she covered her mouth for it, further muffling the sounds. Carlotta felt prepared to do the same. She exhaled deeply, having just realized that she'd been holding her breath for a very long time. she couldn't hold it in any longer. "Oh my goodness..." she said, breathing heavy. She relaxed her grip on the dagger.

"I thought," Mila started, equally shaky, "I thought for sure he- he'd..."

"He didn't." Carlotta said. Hollow as it was, this felt like a victory of sorts. Their enemy had failed to defeat them, at least for now.

"Do you think this is what Pa felt like back when he defeated Imperials?" Mila asked, apparently of the same mind.

"Perhaps," Carlotta hoped not. There was little joy in this victory, only relief. "but winning a battle is not winning a war. Maul headed on deeper. Let's try our best to double back. Maybe the entrance isn't guarded." she doubted it. Maul had been alone, after all. But if only one man, not in Skyrim's best armor, stood waiting, perhaps she could deal with him as she had the one who had attacked Garthar. They had to try. She slowly opened the wardrobe door and climbed out. "Let's go."

~~~

Thud....thud....thud... a slow and deliberate heartbeat was what Maul possessed. As slow and deliberate as his own footsteps. He was as cool as the damp wet passageways he traversed. As cool as the frost melded within his stolen blade. He'd find them. It was just a matter of time. And he had plenty. If death was a being, then he must have felt the way Maul did almost constantly.

He contemplated that back in the room with the crazy old woman as her blood clung to his blade frozen. He stared into the darkness silently for a time and realized that even he was simply an inevitable victim with death's dogs biting at his heel. Good thing he was a Nord. Oh how unjust a universe they lived in where one such as himself could go to such a wondrous place... And with a truth like that, a truth born of a world with such uncaring gods making the rules, why should he ever feel shame or guilt for what only came natural? Not just to him, but the gods themselves. Even history of Tamriel has shown time and time again that the good suffer while the bad prosper. As if the universe wanted men and women like him to run it. Men and women like Ulfric Stormcloak. Or Maven.

Snapping out of his thoughts and finding himself back out of the dark room with his men, Maul said, "Keep searching. If it goes on for too much longer, we'll seal off all the exits. Starve them out if we have to. But it won't come to that. I'm certain."

~~~

Backtracking proved more difficult than Carlotta had anticipated. What she thought had been the right way ended in dead end after dead end. They had made it back to the lit room, where fresh blood was still wet on the floor, but going any further proved difficult. On the bright side, the sound of Maul was gone, as was that of the man who had attacked them earlier. Carlotta wished now than ever for her sister. If Vex had slowed down, if she hadn't gotten herself killed, they could have avoided Maul for weeks down here. Wishing for the impossible only made Carlotta feel gloomier, because then she thought of Boldir, and how with him, they would not have needed to hide in the wardrobe. Maul never would have been the threat he was. She knew where Boldir was. They just needed to get out of the tunnels.
A thought struck Carlotta. Vex had said that there was no escape from the city down here, but she said nothing of escapes to other parts of the city. Already, they had seen a well. Perhaps there were more things of that nature in the dark halls.
Not stopping, they continued their search. More than once, finding themselves in the same rooms they had been in previously, or facing turns they had seen before. Carlotta wasn't sure how much time had passed without a word before she heard the shouting. "HERE!" it was a voice of unmistakable joy, but it sounded wicked and hate-filled. She knew the owner. It was the same man who had been after them before. The one who had stabbed her. Carlotta turned back, but could see him nowhere. His voice echoed behind them. He's following us! she realized. Trying to lure Maul our way!

"They're down this tunnel! Yes yes yes, they are! Hehehehaha! Follow my voice!"

"Come on!" She once again grabbed Mila's hand and began running. They took countless twists and turns without slowing. But now she could hear the unhinged man's footsteps behind them, keeping his distance seemingly on purpose. He wasn't going to disappear. They needed to find some sort of exit, and soon.

"Down the tunnel!" The man practically sang, his voice ringing through the entire Ratway "Down the tunnel, right right left. I KNOW you hear me killer! There be two pretty ladies in here for you! Hurry up or I might take the little one myself! Ha!"

A few moments passed with the man giving chase before suddenly he ran smack into something solid in the middle of the hall. After he recovered and got up, he saw a huge metal man staring him down between dark slits that reminded him of the dark narrow passageways that he lived in, concealing killers just like his did.
"Killer's here. Now. That last little comment. Tell me why they stuck you in here, will you?"

The dirty man looked Maul up and down with an expression the bordered on terrified. He had not hoped to end up confronting him face to face, it seemed. "They- uh... nobody did. I make my own choices."
The sound of two pairs of footsteps traveled away from where they stood. "They are going that way." the man said, pointing in their direction and easing away from Maul, all the while fidgeting his fingers. "Thought you... Hehe..." His tongue flicked out like a snake's, running across his lips in a flash before disappearing again between yellow teeth, "thought you'd want to know."

Maul lifted his head as if looking at someone behind him, then nodded. When the man looked behind him, Maul's goons came out of the shadows and grabbed him from behind. Maul turned around and continued where the man told him to go. "Make sure he can't go after little ones anymore boys. Oh, and thanks for the information, friend."

"Wait wait wait!" As he set off, Maul could hear the man being thrown to the ground behind him, followed by a heavy strike, presumably to his groin. "Aeeeeeiiii!"

~~~

The most intense screams of pain Carlotta had ever heard rang out behind them. It sounded as though their two pursuers had met, and that the weaker man had found more than he'd bargained for. Carlotta tried not to take pleasure in the man getting what he deserved, but a pinch of satisfaction was there nonetheless. No matter what was happening to him now, the man was likely getting off easier than he deserved.
The crossroads and confusing paths seemed to lessen as they ran, forming a fairly straight shot with only a very few chances to veer off. They went straight, then left, then right, then left again. Up a flight of steps and then-
"Look!" Mila's voice sounded nearly choked on excitement as they came up a flight of steps and saw a light ahead. Not the orange glow of a torch, but the dim blueish light that could only mean a clear night sky. Carlotta felt a boost of hope as she and Mila raced on through the dark hall, the light growing larger and larger.

"Yes!... Yes!" The next bend revealed the light source. The old and broken stones of the sewers had collapsed in this spot, and given way to the dirt and growth of the world above. Through all of that was a hole, just large enough for them to fit through. "Come on Mila... I'll boost you up, then you reach down to help me."

"Okay." Mila sheathed her dagger and came to her side. "I'm ready."

A familiar voice from behind them called out and said, "Climbing up to Aetherius, little Magnus? What, not having fun down in the dirt anymore?"

Carlotta glanced back, only to see Maul himself, clad head to toe in her husband's armor, casually making his way toward them. He had gained on them far more quickly than she had thought possible. Carlotta didn't take the time to do more than glance. There wasn't time for the both of them to escape. There was barely even time for Mila. "Go!" she shouted, clapping her hands together.

"But-"

"Climb!" She could not meet her daughter's eyes, but she felt the girl's boot in her hands. Hearing Maul approaching, Carlotta used every bit of energy she had left to lift Mila high. The girl jumped as she was raised, and the last thing Carlotta saw was her daughter's fingers latching around the roots above. She smiled, and then something struck the back of her head. She slumped unconscious to the ground.

The young girl was all that remained now, but she was above even Maul's reach. It didn't matter though. Even from below, Maul could see the girl's grip on the roots was not going to be enough. Mila was clambering and grasping desperately, but the earth was loose and broken, and everything she grabbed broke up and pulled free. There she was, not even a foot away from her freedom, but the gods would not have it. With one final and desperate grasp, the girl's hand slipped between the dirt and roots, and she fell, landing hard on her back just beside her sleeping mother.
"Uugh..." the girl painfully moaned. She was looking up at him now, meeting his eyes with unmistakable hatred. Her dirty fingers were trying to pull something free from her belt. A dagger. As it eased from its sheath, he saw that the blade glowed bright, magical white. His eyes flashed with wonderment at the exquisite little shard of metal, and he quickly disarmed her with a strong slap to her hand from his own enchanted weapon, making her drop the blade. Just as quickly, he grabbed little Mila by the back of her tunic and lifted her off the ground, watching her for a time as she struggled. The girl tried to kick and claw, but she was winded from the fall and exhausted from the running, and there was little energy left in her.
After a long moment's pause, he finally acted, and ceased her struggling with a knock to the skull from the front of his helmeted head.

Maul unceremoniously threw the girl over his shoulder, and then went to retrieve the mother. The girls had made an impressive attempt, but nobody escapes the Black-Briars in their own city. Nobody.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

(Further Continued)

Boldir

Honorhall Orphanage

 

Boldir finished praying to Stendarr for the second time that night. He didn't worship the Nine, but Carlotta did. Maybe her gods would show his family favor if his own would not. Of course, he still prayed to Talos to give them all strength, and even to the Nordic gods he'd neglected all of his life.

He opened his eyes, wearing scowl that had not lessened since he'd closed them. Every second that he and Cynric spent sitting around twiddling their thumbs and waiting for this or that god to perform some miracle, Carlotta and Mila could be getting caught up in all kinds of real danger, of the sort involving real men with real weapons and a real desire to harm them. In Boldir's experience, the gods, for all the power they were supposed to have, didn't do much about danger of that sort. Danger like that often was better left to be handled by the real people. That is why he still scowled, and why, for all the praying he'd been doing, he could not spend another second in here, knowing that there could be a problem out there that only he could solve.

"This is taking too long." he said, breaking the long silence between himself and Cynric. The Breton had not left his seat at the desk since they had arrived. He'd spent this whole time writing excerpts for his journal so that he could later copy them into it.

Cynric looked up, and set his quill back into the inkwell. "It is." the thief agreed, to Boldir's surprise. "It has been well over two hours. Almost three. Vex shouldn't have taken much more than one."

Three hours? Boldir had not been keeping track. That was even worse than he had suspected. "Why did you not say it had been so long?!"

"Shhh, you'll wake the children." Cynric shook his head. "I didn't say anything because I knew you would want to go looking for them, and that can't happen. If you go out alone, without the distraction going off, there's a good chance you'll get caught."

"You son of a bitch." Boldir quickly rose from his position on the bed, immediately feeling the pain from his burns amplify as he stretched out his muscles.

"Careful." the thief whispered. "Odds are our little escape didn't do your wounds any favors. Best if you take things slowly. I agree with you though. This is taking entirely too long. If something happened, we'll need to make a new plan, and quickly. But the only way to know, is for me to go and check. Alone."

"No. Something had to have happened. You'll need me if things are going south."

"I hate to tell you this, Boldir, but if something happened, things likely went south two hours ago. You'll be more use to your family uncaught and at full strength than..." he looked up and down at Boldir, and motioned to one of the deep burns on his chest. "you get the picture. Let me go check, and I'll get back to you."

Boldir opened his mouth to argue, but the thief was already out the door. He followed, experiencing a new wave of pain with each step. Cynric was already at the far end of the main room. "Wait!" he whispered, minding the rows of children sleeping in their little beds along either wall of the main room. The owner, Constance, stepped out of her smaller room, cutting Cynric off. The two traded quick words that Boldir couldn't make out, and then she nodded and let the thief pass. By the time Boldir had reached her, she was already shaking her head at him. "Follow him and you're going to make a mess of things!" she hissed as he passed and made for the door. "I don't want you criminals in here any longer than you have to be, but if you go out there, you can get me in trouble and leave these kids with no one! Go out there and I'll tell the guards where you went!"

Boldir's hand froze on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder, the woman's arms were crossed, and although she looked worried, he could tell that she was not bluffing. She must have really cared for these kids. Damnit! He released the knob and turned. "Did Cynric tell you to say that?"

"The thief? Even if he did, that doesn't mean I'm not serious!"

Boldir thought on that for a moment. Cynric was right. He would be more useful after regaining his strength, and he was a very recognizable target, but right now, that didn't matter. His own health wasn't his concern. Carlotta and Mila could be anywhere out there, trying to reach him, or worse, in danger. Finding out wasn't good enough. He needed to help. 

Hating himself for what he was about to do, Boldir balled his fist and approached Constance. He looked to his left, at all of the children she was caring for. Hopefully, she would come to before they start to wake up in a few hours. It would not be good for them to find her knocked out. Looking back into her nervous brown eyes, he said, "I'm sorry."

"Hey!" There was a loud, forceful knock on the door. A voice shouted from the other side, all the while, the man was still pounding away. "City watch! Open up!"

Both Boldir and Constance's eyes went wide, and he immediately raced back to the vacant room he had spent the last three hours in, shutting the door carefully. He pressed his ear against it the moment it clicked shut.

"We're looking for a fugitive." The same voice said, now in the building. "Don't bother to say he's not here. We know that he is."

"What's happening?" It was a child's voice, belonging to a young boy.

"Who are they?" This one belonged to a girl, probably only a couple of years older.

"Stay in your beds!" commanded the watchman. "Everyone spread out and search the rooms!"

Boldir braced himself. He could hear footsteps, lots of them. They were accompanied by groans of 'Nothing here.' and occasional whimpers from frightened children. After a minute or so, one set of the footsteps came close to the door he was behind. He grabbed the knob with his right hand and held it tightly. Damnit! His eyes scoured the bedroom in search of a weapon. Cynric had taken the prison guard's sword with him. There was a lit candle on the desk, but it was on a platter rather than a candlestick. Damnit! He felt the doorknob try to turn under his grip, and squeezed harder. "Hey, there's someone in here!"

Damnit!!!

"They're holding the door shut."

"Then force it."

There was a pause, and then Boldir felt a powerful blow against the door, pushing him back and knocking his grip off the knob. It cracked open, just a bit, and he immediately returned and slammed it shut, resetting himself against it and bracing for another attempt. When it came, Boldir did a better job of holding up, and he could hear the watchman swearing as he bounced off the door and hit the ground on the other side. Boldir himself let out a silent curse as well, as the jarring impact set off pain in every damaged nerve he had.

"Outta my way, milk-drinker." It was the apparent leader's voice. "I've got this." Boldir slipped off his coat and gripped it between his teeth, then heard feet beating as the man took a running start. He bit down hard as a much more powerful blow jarred him. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle many more of those. As if that wasn't enough, this last blow had cracked the door towards the center. He knew this next attack would be it.

"Bastard's strong. Alright, me'n you. Together on three. Ready?"

Boldir prepared himself. 

"One... Two... THREE!"

He heard the feet running and opened the door. The two guards, unprepared for no resistance to meet their charge, stumbled in a few steps before tripping forward and landing beside one another. Boldir slammed the door back shut behind them and quickly crossed over to them. As the man on the right tried to rise, Boldir grabbed his head and twisted it to the left, until it snapped. The man on the left was already scrambling to the far wall, trying to get his bearings. Boldir wasted no time. He grabbed the downed man's iron sword and thrusted it into the living one's neck.

 "GET HIM!"

He turned to see another two men in the doorway, and a number more behind them. The two men charged, bravely rushing ahead of their allies, into the tight quarters of the bedroom. Boldir parried a strike from the one on the right, then grabbed him by the arm and pushed him into his friend, toppling them both over the desk. He then raised his sword high and brought it down, cleaving halfway through the one on top's neck, and squirting blood all the way to the bed. As Boldir dislodged the iron sword with his right hand, he used his left to grab the trapped second guard by the hair and slam his head hard against the desk, actually splitting the wood partway through. By now, a fifth guard, this one a large Nord woman with a shield, was entering the bedroom doorway. She was approaching with more caution than those before her, but Boldir didn't waste any more time with her than the others. He moved quickly, delivering a solid kick to her shield with more force than she was prepared for, and sent her sprawling back out the doorway, back into two of her friends.

Boldir advanced, momentarily ignoring the woman to drive his blade into the neck of one of the confused guards she'd fallen into. Now he was in the main room, and he had an audience.

Wide-eyed children watched from all directions, and he heard one boy to his right say "Eww" as the guard collapsed near his bed and bleed out all over the floor. He ignored it and parried a blow from a large Nord's longaxe. He shoved the man away and sidestepped a shield bash from the woman, who he then punched hard in the jaw, throwing her against a bed to the left. He heard a child shout out, but didn't look, as the man with the longaxe was bringing it down with both hands towards his head. Boldir ducked and caught the man's axe with his sword. The man grunted and kept trying to drive the axe downward. He was strong, but not quick. He wasn't prepared for Boldir to release his sword, grabbing the axe handle with his now free right hand and catching the weapon by the hilt with his left. He then drove his blade into the man's gut. As he fell, Boldir held onto his steel longaxe and promptly slashed a new attacker across the neck with it. The woman with the shield was now up, he hooked her shield with his axe and pulled her to the ground once again, then stabbed her in the back with his sword.

Two guards remained. They were still in the middle of the room, they and all of the children watched him with actual disbelief. Boldir stood there, bare-chested but for his wraps and covered in blood, with eight dead foes sprawled around him. His eyes were bloodshot, and any pain that may have come from his wounds was beyond feeling at the moment. "Come on!" he screamed at them, holding out his arms and brandishing his weapons. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so invigorated. I'll kill every guard in this city! 

"COME ON!"

The two men looked nervously at each other. One had a shield, the other, just his sword. Their heads turned back to face Boldir, and they very slowly began their advance. It was cut short when a slip of metal soared across the room from the entrance and embedded itself into the shield-bearer's back. He sank to his knees as two  figures rushed him and his partner. One, wearing prison rags under a hooded cloak, leapt onto the wounded guard and rammed a sword through his back. The other, wearing the armor of the Thieves Guild, slid a dagger across the partner's neck, letting him slide to the ground.

Boldir recognized the first figure as Cynric, but did not recognize the second.

"I could have handled them." he practically growled, actually disappointed that he had not been given the chance.

"We saw ten heading your way." Cynric said, wiping off his blade on the dead guard and dislodging his thrown dagger from the man's back. Boldir was shocked to see genuine fear in the originally composed thief's eyes. "And you... How did you-..." his voice trailed off, and he settled for swallowing with a heavy gulp and turning away from the carnage. 

"We have to go, quickly." the second thief said. "They know you were here and more will come when these don't turn up."

"What about my family?" Boldir asked Cynric, ignoring the man. "What did you find? And who is this?"

"I'm Rune. I ran into Cynric on my way to you." the thief said. Cynric, though, didn't answer, and instead went into the entrance room to speak to a shocked Constance. Rune began to approach Boldir and then stopped, eyeing him. "You, uhh... You should put on a coat before we set out. And... we really need to be doing that right about now."

Boldir didn't budge. "Where. Are. They?"

"There was a problem." Rune said with what sounded like genuine sadness. "Maul caught them before we could create a distraction. When we realized what was happening, Versuvius and I went ahead and did it, but it didn't do any good. He's dead. Vex is dead, and your wife and daughter were taken by Maul. No telling where."

"What?!" The battle fury faded, only to be replaced with a different sort. "No no no no NO!" Boldir slammed his axe into its previous owner's back, then pulled it out only to do so again. "NO!" Rune flinched as he shot him a wild look. "How could this have happened?! TELL ME!"

The thief, looked around the room uneasily. The children were watching the scene with more interest than fear. "I think there may have been a snitch." he finally said. "They knew when Vex would lead them from the tunnels, and they knew where you were hiding."

"Who all survived?!" Boldir asked. He would find out who'd done this and murder them. "WHO?!"

"I don't know!" Rune said impatiently. "Look, we can sort this out later. For now, we need to get out of here! Ten guards are dead!"

Boldir dislodged his new axe and spat on one of the corpses. "And I'll kill the rest if it comes to that."

"Fine! But save it for a better time!" The thief looked at him pleadingly. "You're no good to your family if you're dead, no matter how many guards you take with you. Half the watch is in the sewers. We will not get another chance like this!"

"He's right." said Cynric, coming into the room. "With just the three of us, and the streets even emptier than planned, we can make it to the docks. I've know a guy who's got a nice boat. We can... borrow it and work all of this out from there."

"Here." Rune said, taking off his own victim's boots and holding them out for Boldir to come take. He was still weary to come too close to the carnage, and likely didn't yet feel comfortable approaching Boldir himself. "Your bloody footprints alone will be enough for them to find us."

Boldir looked from one man to the other, then down at the corpses at his bare feet, and at those behind him. What he'd done was suddenly sinking in. He was a skilled warrior, no doubt, but this was not the feat of someone who was merely skilled. He was badly burned up, and had been carrying no equipment to speak of, and yet he had killed eight healthy and armed fighting men who had the drop on him. Maybe one of the gods he'd prayed to had heard him, and decided that it was his job to survive and save his own family, not theirs. Or maybe he truly had done this on his own. Either way, he took this event as a sign. The gods wanted him to save his family, that, or he was stronger than those who held them. But he could not save anyone if he decided to do something foolish now. Boldir had only one option that could possibly end well, and that was to go with these thieves.

Nodding, he stepped through the blood and bodies, crossing the room to Rune, and took the boots. They were too small, but they did their job and prevented him from leaving tracks.

The three left the building, Constance, and the children all behind. It was dark still, but the sun must have been drawing near, for morning birds were chirping and the faintest outlines of the distant buildings were more visible than before. Rune had been right. There were no guards to be seen. Whatever had gone on in the sewers, it had apparently drawn a good amount of attention. Still, they took no chances. Slipping through every alley and avoiding every torchlight, the three of them crossed the city center, and somehow made it past the marketplace without being seen. There was a single, normal-sized wooden door that seemed out of place against the thick city wall. It too, was unguarded, and crossing to the other side revealed to Boldir something he had spent many days worrying he'd never see again: a world without walls. There was water as far as he could see, and fishing boats along the docks. Warehouses and fisheries dotted the area, and best of all, there were still no guards.

"This way." Cynric quietly led them down the dockside, passing by various boats of various sizes, and finally stopped them at a large one that looked a lot like the one Aerin had managed to get them a ride on in what seemed like a lifetime ago. They all crossed the plank and made their way to the hatch leading down to the lower deck. Cynric raised it, only for a spear to appear from below, the tip stopping inches short of his neck.

"Cynric?" said a voice from below. The spear notably remained. "What are you doing on my boat?"

"Runar... It's five in the morning. What are you doing on your boat?"

Runar? Boldir knew that name.

"That's none of your concern." Runar called up to him. "How about you and the two fellas up there with you come on down, one at a time, after passing me your weapons?"

Cynric glanced back at them and shrugged. He dropped his sword down the hole earning a loud "Careful!" from within. He then climbed on down. Rune followed in suit. When it came Boldir's turn, he handed down the steel longaxe and iron sword with care. These were not the weapons he'd used for years, but they were all he had for now. Finally, he climbed on down, into a dark, low-ceilinged space that was filled with barrels and nets. Cynric and Rune waited beside one of the walls, and a Nord with mid-length black hair and a neat beard was setting his weapons into a pile along the other wall. When he was done, he looked up and locked eyes with Boldir. "Now hold on a moment. Cynric, this ain't who I think it is, is it? Tell me this ain't Boldir Iron-somethin', because last time I saw him, he had a wife and kid."

Cynric shot Boldir a look. "You two know each other?"

"He took us fishing." Boldir said. 

"On behalf of a friend." Runar added, pointing his spear at Boldir. "A friend who wouldn't be happy to know that his convict brother-in-law's suddenly turning up without his family."

"Brother-in-law?" Cynric looked confused. "What are you going on about, Runar? Boldir?"

"That's why we're here." Boldir said, ignoring Cynric. "I do not know what happened to Aerin, but believe me, I do not intend for my family to end up like him."

"Don't say something like that if you aren't certain." the fisherman said. Even as he did, a tired-eyed Imperial rounded the corner from a room beyond.

Boldir gasped. "Aerin?"

Carlotta's brother met his eyes with equal surprise, and Cynric continued to show frustration. "Great, so I guess I don't have to make any introductions after all, since everyone on this damn thing somehow knows each other. So what's next? We sing a song?"

"No." Boldir said, still looking at Aerin. "Next we fight back."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rebba

Windhelm

Afternoon

"Not right now, talk to Falgrum."

"Are you sure? The casualties..."

"I said talk to Falgrum. I have to take care of this."

"I can take the boy to the Queen's second to be healed, Unkindled."

"No, no healers today. Do as I said and send me a casualty report when everything is cleaned up. Besides the house, that is."

"....as you say, General."

Daric watched soldier after soldier turned down by Baldur as they passed them by. Baldur for some reason was taking it upon himself to see to him, but he wasn't sure why. He was struggling to keep up as Baldur dragged him along by his wrist to make sure he wasn't lost in the crowd of people from other parts of the city trying to get a good look at what happened in the Gray Quarter, but every now and then, a civilian who caught on to who Baldur was after a Grim One approached him would get in the way and try to talk. His green tunic, red face paint and pony tail was enough to make most not notice him.

They were almost out of the crowd and on their way to the palace, when another soldier called out to him, causing one of the women to call out and try to talk with him. Grabbing his hand, she said, "Baldur Red-Snow? My name Aljora an-"

Baldur turned around, simultaneously letting out a noise that sounded like a growl. The combination of the unexpectedly hostile reaction plus the sight of his face with sprinkles of blood on it made her reel back and trip over someone's foot. From the ground, the young woman yelled, "Asshole!"

"Move out of the damn way, people! No gawking at the Gray Quarter until my men are gone! Move it, or I'm sending my men out with clubs and shields!" Baldur blew his warhorn, then repeated his orders even louder the second time. "MOVE IT! Go back to your homes!"

That did the trick finally, and the people reluctantly and slowly dispersed, grumbling the entire time.

Ulfric was standing in front of the door waiting for him when they entered, to Baldur's dismay. His annoyance was evident. "Red-Snow, what's going on? Is the riot quelled?"

"It is, sire."

"Is this the boy that started it all?" Ulfric asked, fixating his eyes on Daric. Baldur was about to say it wasn't his fault, but then Baldur really didn't know that, so he turned to Daric as well, looking for an answer.

"I-I didn't start it, your Highness! A man wasn't listening to me and a fight with him and an Imperial broke out. I kicked him in his nethers and warned him to stop, then he charged at me and fell on my blade. After that, his brother came and thought the Imperial helped me kill him. He was about to seek revenge when one of the people from Cyrodiil attacked him. That's when things got out of hand. There were Imperials and Dunmer fighting Nords, but I saw a lot of Nords fighting each other too. I guess they were from Cyrodiil. Bruma maybe. Fighting the local Nords. Then the same guy's brother came after me again and forced my head to the pavement until I blacked out."

"Where was your sword, Daric? When you were attacked again?" Baldur said.

"I...I dropped it, sir. I threw up after I killed the man. I guess I dropped it then..."

Baldur looked to Ulfric after he gave his general an accusing look. He knew what it meant.

"Baldur..."

"I already know what you're going to say, Ulfric. But please, I just got done killing some civilians, sir and it's weighing heavy on my heart. I'm asking you, can you please let me patch up the boy and have a word with him right now?"

Ulfric closed his eyes and sighed heavily before walking away with his arms outstretched. "What a great ******* mess this all is! I love this damn city, I just love it!"

Baldur watched as Ulfric fus'd some of the plates off the table with a crash before ordering a servant to clean it up. "Lets go, Daric." The boy didn't say anything, never having seen the thu'um until just now and feeling guilty that he had a hand in upsetting the king so much to use it. He had another thought as well. Which was if Rebec was really going to be learning that, he hoped he never had to see her pissed off enough to use it.

Baldur had to drag him off again while he was gawking, this time directing him down to the dungeon where he threw Daric up on a stone slab used as a medical table. Or for other such occasions where one would need a stone slab with shackles at the ready. Sometimes a soldier would say the two uses felt one and the same. Daric would agree.

"Ow!" Daric cried, when Baldur tied a bandage around his bruised and bleeding arm. His old garments lay on the side of the stone slab on the floor.

"Did that hurt?" Baldur asked.

"Yessir."

Baldur slapped him upside his head, causing Daric to cry out in pain again from the wound at the back of his head. "You got snow in your ears? I asked you a question, soldier. Did. It. Hurt?"

"N-no sir."

"Good. Now hold still." Baldur continued to wrap Daric's injured body up, packing healing herbs in the larger cuts from an old metal container that was hardly ever used.

"I'm making you go through this, because you need it. You need to remember what this feels like. The pain and aches. Your body will eventually do a better job at shrugging pain off this way. You won't fear pain as much if you get familiar with her, the way you did that prostitute. Embrace pain, don't shun it. Or you and pain will have a hard relationship. Got it?" Baldur asked.

Daric shook his head quickly, though even that caused him discomfort.

"Good. Now, how do you feel about your first kill, eh? I'm proud of you, despite all this. You didn't hesitate."

"I feel..." Daric wasn't sure how he should answer. He thought Baldur would hit him again if he told him the truth, but he decided to anyway. "I feel sick. It wasn't what I expected, really. I didn't have a choice when I did it. It was like my body took over while I watched."

Baldur was a little confused from the answer, as he was comparing it to when he first killed a man. It was a much different situation. "Good, that means you moved from instinct. That's not something you can teach. Alright, get up and put some fresh linens on and get another uniform from the barracks. They should still have some uniforms in your size. We have to make some for the women, so... nevermind. They should have some in your size."

Daric narrowed his eyes at Baldur, then said, "Right... thanks. Oh, Baldur?"

"Yea Daric?"

"Did you feel the same way too? When you killed your first person?"

Baldur didn't say anything for a minute, but then finally said, "Uhuh, yea. Lots of people say they feel sick or wrong after they do it." Daric didn't believe him. At least not when it came to Baldur.

"Okay. Oh, and one more thing. When you were talking to the king? And you said killing civilians weighed on you. Was that true? I mean, I know you weren't talking about the ones in the house, since they really deserved it. But I saw some other bodies outside. From people who were unarmed."

"You ask to many questions, boy," Baldur said simply.

Daric didn't know what to make of that, then said, "I only asked because I lied to the king. It was my fault. What I told him was true, but I went to Jorleif asking for something to do. He thought this was simple enough, but the man didn't respect me because of my size and age. If it was someone else, none of this woul-"

"Enough. Daric. You did your duty, and he didn't listen. That isn't your fault. Really, it's my fault for trying to make a soldier out of a boy. You'd think I would know better... but when I was training you... I didn't think... anyway, it's not your fault. But learn from this, Daric. Remember it." Daric shook his head, then walked off to get his uniform, albeit slowly due to his aches.

"By the way, you should tend to your lip. It's still bleeding, sir."

Baldur's eyebrow raised until he touched his lip with his tongue, causing it to sting. His lip felt slightly swollen too, but it was nothing, really. Those Nords in the house got far worse. By far.

Rebec came rushing down the stairs, nearly bowling over a Stormcloak medic who was on the way up. At the bottom she stopped, searching. "Baldur! Gods below, I was tying down cargo in the hold when I heard there was a riot, and someone said... Are you alright? You're bleeding."

Baldur turned quickly after hearing his name. The medic Rebec almost ran over cursed before he left. Baldur was washing his hands from a wash bucket to get the blood stains out. "It's nothing. I'm fine." His tone  was dry. "What did you hear? Someone said what?"

"Something about Bretons, imperials and Stormcloaks fighting in the Grey Quarter." She glanced over at Daric. "I guess the Breton was you. You've looked better, Daric lad."

Daric looked down at his feet, still ashamed of the whole thing. After explaining again how it all started, he said, "Baldur had to come rescue me."

Baldur was washing the paint off his face and wasn't listening until he heard him say that last bit. He didn't want Daric giving details, so he said, "Right, me and my men came and put an end to the riot. Daric, go do as I said and get in a uniform before you sleep. And be up early, we're leaving in the morning." After Daric left, Baldur dried his face with a cloth, then took his hair out of the ponytail as he walked to go to their room, and said, "It's no big deal. It's over now. We'll be far away from any of this soon."

Rebec had her hand on Baldur's arm while he spoke, but as he walked away, she stayed rooted. "The men were talking like you were in the thick of it. I thought it'd be a lot worse. Wasn't sure what I'd find down here."

He turned back around then, since she hadn't moved and was still on the subject. May as well just tell her, she'll find out anyway. Baldur didn't know why he was making a big deal about it, Rebec said it herself. They were warriors. "I uh, was in the thick of it. Had to go in with all the fighting going on as a civilian. They said Daric got taken in one of the houses by some Nords, so I found him and brought him out along with the other people they took in there, then killed them."

"Shor's bones," she muttered. "I could tell something was bothering you. You wouldn't look me in the eye. You had to kill all of them?"

Baldur shook his head at his own transparency, and chuckled before his smile sunk. "I should have figured you noticed something. I didn't actually have to kill them, no, but. Well, they took Daric and hurt him, which was why I went alone in the first place. Then after I fought through the crowds, the main one, the ring leader I guess, he invited me in. To partake. He thought I was like him. They raped a man's wife. All of them I think. So I killed them. My way."

Rebec didn't say anything, just sighed and walked over to him. Taking his hand, she put it on her waist and looped her arm around his back. She stared at his chest a moment, then looked up. "So now the tables are turned, I guess. You running off like a damn fool this time."

He looked away from her as he held her, then said, "The thing I said to myself before I left was that you were right, in the end. I hadn't thought about our talk when all this happened. Just that someone screwed with my squire. Falgrum was the one that mentioned you. But I couldn't risk Daric getting killed. It's my fault he's even in any of this. I'm sorry. Though if I hadn't done what I did, I might not have found him breathing. Him or that married couple. And those monsters could have gotten away with all of it."

"It's not your fault he's in it. Boy's able to make his own choices, even little scrap that he is. It's just..." Rebec held his eyes, smiling wistfully. "You and I, we're going to build a big house with a view of the sea. You're going to make your mead and sing in the tavern, and I'm going to run the shipping business and have babies til I can't push out any more. Then we're going to grow so old and fat we'll have to sit on Tsun til he lets us into Sovngarde. I'm not taking no for an answer, Red-Snow."

That caused Baldur to laugh then, despite his guilt, especially since she hadn't gotten on him for being a hypocrite. He lifted her up so that her head was above his, his arms wrapped below her rump for support. Smiling, he said, "Do I sound like that every time I say stuff like that? Hearing it from you's a surprise. It seems so far away. So unobtainable."

Arms on his shoulders, with one hand she stroked his hair which was still damp with sweat and wash water. "Imagine how surprised I am then. But you have to promise me we'll try." Not letting him obey her and make a promise he couldn't keep, Rebec leaned down and kissed him.

Light in his arms to him, he continued to kiss her awhile, as no more words needed to be said. He put her down on her feet finally and broke away reluctantly from her lips. "First step's seeing how far along they are with our place now. Come, we should get our sleep too if we're to get up early and ever set this place behind us. It's time we finally see heimili. And we should hurry before Ulfric comes back into the throne room and changes his mind. I don't know if you noticed the mess, but he wasn't exactly in the best mood."

"Was that a FUS? Just wait til I can do that." Rebec followed along, knowing she wasn't going to get much sleep with her nighttime prisoner release operation, but Baldur needed it with his ordeal.

When Baldur made it to the door leading to the throne room, Baldur put his hand up, signalling for Rebec to stop walking while he peeked around the corner. Ulfric was talking with one of his Grim Ones, pointing directly to where Baldur was looking from. When they both turned in his direction, Baldur bolted back and hugged the wall. "Psst, he's looking for us. And my men are helping. We're gonna sneak around 'em."

"Riot got him in a nasty mood, eh," Rebec whispered back. "I got my rope. We could scale the wall outside, but some archer might think we're spies and put an arrow in us."

Baldur snickered and said, "Maybe you should lend him your rag for his nethers. Ol' bear's on his man bleed if you ask me. He needs to bury his dragonbone in the royal mound already and do us all a favor." As Baldur spoke, he could hear the heavy footsteps of his soldier coming towards them. "We're gonna be starting the Grim Trials early. Papa bear needs his sleep and he's gonna get it."

"I'll distract him, you knock him out," Rebec whispered hastily. After she said it, she realized she had no idea how to distract the soldier quietly enough so as to not alert Ulfric. 

Quickly she took off her cloak and bent over as if picking something up off the floor, her rear end facing towards where the soldier would appear.  It works on Baldur...

Rebec's little stunt indeed worked, as Baldur was busy staring at her backside just as the Necro Nord was when he walked past him into the entryway. That lucky bastard gets to snuggle up to that every night while I get to smell Falgrum's sweaty feet? The gods... they are so cruel."Mmmhmm..."

Baldur soon snapped out of his staring when he heard the soldier making pleasurable sounds at the sight of his wife's ass. Stepping out of the shadows, Baldur grabbed the man from behind with a headlock, then forced him to his knees by kicking him in the back of his leg. The man managed to say with much effort and while fighting for air, "I-I wasn't looking, I swear... I-."

Baldur sent the man's head to the wall while holding him so his armor wouldn't make a lot of noise, then dragged him back to the room they just came from. He came back quickly, then said with narrowed eyes while fighting off a smirk, "Hmph, nice distraction...."

Straightening, Rebec glanced in the throne room to see if the noise had drawn the king's attention. He was too busy kicking an empty basket against the wall for the crime of being in his way back to his throne. To Baldur she whispered, "You do realize this is just the sort of security breach we should be preparing for. Hope the Thalmor don't pull the booty trick. C'mon, let's make a dash for the table while Ulfric's back is turned."

Baldur scooted off for the table spot before Rebec had much chance to finish her sentence, not wishing to lose their opportunity. He took the chance to snag a large chicken drumlet off the table before settling in. It could be a while before they got the chance to move past Ulfric.

Rebec wasn't thinking of food, more like how they would explain if they got caught what they were doing under the table. No doubt people would believe they were fooling around.

They reached the end with no one the wiser, but then they had to cross into the war room without Ulfric seeing them. He was now sitting on his throne, head propped on his hand, looking glum. There he sat like a frog on a log. They were stuck. Rebec was just about to suggest giving up the game when she froze. Veleda had come down the stairs, turned the corner, and was looking right at them.

Now the jig was surely up, but Rebec gestured at Ulfric anyway, hoping the queen would play along. Veleda hesitated, glanced at Ulfric, then nodded once and approached him. "I heard what happened. Is the city calm again?"

Ulfric answered Veleda and said, "Calmer. That's about all I can really say. Nords were among the dead in the slums. Time will tell if that helps things or makes them worse. That Baldur... He ordered his men to leave the house he was in alone. Including the bodies, as a warning. Time will tell if that helps things or not too. I suppose it's a good reminder that Nords are not above the law, here, but the last thing I need is to give them a reason to start more trouble. Nords don't scare easy."

Before they spoke, Baldur poked his head out a little while he took a bite with a smile, using the chairs as cover. He had to suppress a fit of giggling from Veleda helping them somehow. All he could see was Veleda's back, as she was blocking Ulfric's sight, luckily, but he ducked back under in case anyone else came and saw him. Though when Ulfric started talking about the riot, his face sobered quickly.

Ulfric slammed a fist on his throne. "Rragh! Look at the mess he's left me! If he wasn't such a damn fool, that boy wouldn't even be here to get mixed up in such chaos. That's what I get for putting a minstrel in charge. I have half a mind to make him stay put and watch over his own mess.... But.... maybe this whole matter was really just a matter of time. Maybe." Ulfric let out a sigh finally, showing he was finished venting.

Veleda said, "You look tired, Ulfric. Sofie's gone to bed. Come upstairs and let's have a drink. We can go out together tomorrow and talk to the people in the streets, try to calm them down. This was bound to happen with the refugee camps growing outside the city."

Ulfric said, "There will be no appeasing. They'll behave themselves or be punished, simple as that. This is the capital now and such behavior will not be tolerated. Not from guests to the city, or the locals. And I'll let them know that personally." Ulfric stood then from his throne and said, "But, I can most certainly use that drink. If Rebec's little adventure doesn't go well, then I'll be needing even more drink. Thank you, Veleda."

She smiled, though wryly. "It won't hurt to listen to what they have to say. But that is for tomorrow. Come on then." Veleda waited for him to leave, following. She glanced back once and gave a surreptitious thumbs up.

Watching this, Rebec whispered to Baldur, "Maybe we just killed two birds with one queen."

"Heh, I hope so. Maybe he'll take my advice after all. I know all too well what long dry periods can do to a man's disposition. Ask the Wolf Pack. Okay, after you, then."

***

Rebec found it excruciating, after snuggling in with Baldur, to get back up and put her leathers back on. "This is all your fault, Eilif Oarsinger," she grumbled. She didn't think it would garner them much favor with Blacklight, either. More likely they would accuse Skyrim of profiting from piracy since they were keeping the loot. She put on her plain leathers and a hooded cloak so as not to be recognized on the docks.

When she got down to the dungeons, she found that the jailors had everything prepared. The Argonians were drugged and disguised to look like cargo. Seloren Dres was in a cheerful mood, meaning that his red eyes only looked somewhat murderous. "How am I supposed to sail all the way to Blacklight alone with these boots," he complained to Rebec.

"Thought of that. I offered free passage to Blacklight from some drunks in the Grey Quarter. It's up to you to make them into sailors. You're welcome."

"That's just great. Why don't you drown me now and get it over with."

She grinned and followed him out. Dres' hands were bound, and he had been warned not to speak to anyone. Little had Rebec known that the Grey Quarter would be so riled up even without her operation. She was relieved when she got the last sight of the Dunmer ship's sails, heading out of the bay. Time to return to Baldur's side for a couple hours.

The next morning it was their turn. There was no sign of Ulfric and Veleda at breakfast. Baldur and Rebec took that for a good sign, and decided to get out while the getting was good. By the time they got to the Wisp with Ysana, Mazoga had the crew assembled and ready to sail. Once they were out into open waters, Rebec turned the keel over to Mazoga and found Baldur. "Let's try out our new toys."

Baldur pulled back his bear fur helm, then said, "The dwemer weapons? Sure, lets do it. Maybe we can find some horkers on the coast. Use 'em for target practice, then have ourselves a feast in celebration of our new home, eh? If we get a fat enough horker, that is."

Crewmen began to gather around as they saw what the captain was up to. They were all eager to see the gleaming ballistae in action. It would have cost Rebec an arm and a leg to buy the mounts and bolts, but Mazoga and Menel's expedition had also brought back Dwemer raw metal and Dwemer oil that Oengul had used to shape and finish them. Rebec loaded a bolt, then as a test she tried drawing it back herself. The Dwemer mechanism was so cleverly designed that it did most of the work. The first shot was a test, with the bolt tied to a line. With barely a sound or shudder, the mechanism fired and the bolt arced out and plopped into the water.

"Smooth as butter," Rebec marveled. "Alright, let's take her in towards the coast and look for our dinner. You fire the next one, my love."

Smirking, he said, "Coming right up. Time to show you what I learned from Waverunner."

Baldur looked around the water, searching for a target to use as practice, taking the time to swivel on the Dwemer construction to get a feel for it. It wasn't the same as firing a crossbow, since he had the sway of the ship to worry about even more, but at least he didn't need to control his breathing. Baldur saw a piece of floating ice drift by and knew what he'd testfire on first before the horkers were spotted.

May my aim be true so we may dine. Help my hunt, mother Kyne.

Baldur finally let loose the tied bolt, sending it flying into the frozen mass with a solid crack and thud. "Hazzah!" Baldur yelled at his success. While reeling it in, he said, "This will make for some very cold mead to go with our meat."

"I think we found our catapult gunner," Rebec said, grinning. She leaned up and gave Baldur a kiss on the cheek, then hailed Mazoga. "Take us in towards the coast."

"Winterhold soon," the orc called back, warning her that they would be approaching the dangerous shoals soon.

"Alright, Red Snow. You got ten minutes to bag an Eastmarch horker or else it'll have to wait til this afternoon and the Pale."

"Aye aye, Cap," he said as he focused on the shoreline. A hard wind started to blow in shortly after he said it. The cold sunk deep to his bones, but it only invigorated him as his blood rushed with excitement. This was how hunting was meant to be.

A few moments later, Baldur spotted a dark awkward body in the distance, shrouded in the bleakness of fog and snow. Baldur focused on it, but thought better of it. If he missed and there were other horkers nearby, he could scare them off and make them flee. Waiting a bit longer, Baldur spotted some more, this time huddled up together in a big pileup.

That big one must be the leader. looks like he's busy romping. Aww, sorry big guy. But maybe the other males will get a better chance with you gone and our bellies full.

Baldur attempted to aim at the fattest one, but he wouldn't have minded if he missed and got one of the other horkers in the pileup. He needed to aim a little back to compensate for the moving ship, but the wind was also blowing strong behind them. Baldur had to laugh as he saw the female one wiggle from under him before the fat male flopped back over her and just sat there, barely moving at all.

Finally, he was confident enough in his aim, and whilst licking his lips, he fired off the orange tipped bolt. Unfortunately, the wind blew in just as he took his shot. There was a moment's pause when Baldur's chest sunk, thinking for sure he'd miss and scare away the prey. But the bolt, spiraling through the ice and wind hit something after all, causing the spinning rope at the end of the bolt to snap straight after the soft thunk from impacting soft horker blubber.

"I got one! I missed the big male, but I got the lady friend. She's still pretty fat. Gonna need some help getting her on board! Especially with that other one laying on her."

Whoops went up from the crew at the hit. Rebec stood by the rail watching, then called for the men to lower the sail, drop anchor and set out the dinghy. "We're gutting that thing on the shore," she said to Baldur as they both climbed into the smaller boat. "Otherwise we'll never get the smell of horker guts out of the hold."

"I got that Cap," said Dag Fellhard, one of the crew who had volunteered to come ashore. "My pa was a butcher. I could dress a horker in my sleep."

"Hopefully it won't take that long," Rebec answered. She could smell a storm, though still far off. Hopefully it stays that way.

"Sorry love, but that baby's gotta be at least a ton. This will take a bit, unless your man's really that fast, of course," Baldur said doubtfully.

The wind was picking up by the time they hauled the prepared meat back to the ship. Rebec took the keel herself and tried to take advantage of the wind to get them well clear of Winterhold's shoals, but it meant taking them towards the storm. She wasn't in the mood for thu'um practice, but it had to be done. The crew knew the drill and ran around tying everything down that wasn't already tied down.

In a half hour's time the ship was roiling and pitching, water lashing the deck. In the hold, most of the men were at the oars, pulling against the heaving sea to keep the ship skimming the crest of the big waves that rolled over them. A few men bailed the water that came in through the oar holes. They all were listening- for the sickening crack of the hull hitting a submerged iceberg or promontory. Rebec's instincts were good, but the gods were capricious.

The captain, soaked to the bone, was listening too. In the black rain, there was no visibility. Once she saw an iceberg just as they passed it, perilously close. Just past Winterhold, however, the storm let up. It had just been a hard blow.

Baldur and Ysana watched from the top deck, too intrigued by the storm at sea to stay below. Ysana again used his cape as a blanket, which was now useless as such, since it was soaking wet. Baldur suffered through with his normal attire, bear hat and all, and heavy with rain water. Both were stunned to silence at the moment and jittery from the feeling of the sea's vastness attempting to swallow them up. It was insanity what they did. No other word for it.

"Well, looks like we got through the worst of it," said Bjol, coming from below decks. "Congratulations. You survived your first storm. Now when people ask, you can tell them you're sailors. That wasn't the worst storm we've been in by far, but with the sea of ghosts, they're all deadly. If the glaciers aren't enough, the ghosts sometimes lurk in the water, just waiting to pull you under to join them."

"Someone should've told me Kyne could be such a bitch. That was madness," said Baldur, still moved by adrenaline. "Half of it's just hoping for the best!"

Rebec was working to turn them back on course. They had blown in dangerously close to shore. When they were steady again, she called for the sail to be hoisted and Mazoga took over.

"Welcome to sailing in Skyrim." Rebec stood behind her husband, wringing out her hair. "Just a wee smooch from Kyne so we don't forget she'd love to drag us beneath the waves." She was cheerful, her cheeks ruddy from the blowing, icy rain.

The cheer abated somewhat as Rebec noticed a high beacon on the shore. Gesturing at it, she said, "That's Frostflow Lighthouse. Old Nord man lives up there now, but just before the war one of my old sailing buddies from Hammerfell moved up there with his family. Then I heard that something killed every last one of them, the kids too. I never did get the real story. Monsters or daedra, they said in the taverns. Probably some devilry from the College."

Baldur looked from Rebec to the lighthouse in wonder and also as if the sight of the place was an offense. "No one ever thought to look and find out? What about the old man that lives there?"

"All I heard was the jarl had the cellar sealed off because they thought that's where the creatures were coming from."

"It was chaurus," a passing crewman said, looking up at the beacon. Many of them had known Habd Mehenni from his sailing days.

Rebec shook her head. "I heard that, too, but it doesn't make sense. Chaurus are those black buggers that creep around the marshes in Hjaalmarch. What would they be doing this far north and in some cellar?"

Baldur scratched his beard, thinking until he finally said, "Falmer. That's the only explanation that makes sense. They must have burrowed in and brought the Chaurus with them. I told you before, the Falmer domesticated them. If they're even all the way out here..."

She looked over at him, recognition dawning. "Like in the cave you fought in as a merc. Shor's mighty balls. That means they could break through anywhere, right under you while you sleep." Her ruddy complexion had grown paler, and there wasn't much that could do that. Rebec thought about their baby, and the happy scenario she had painted for them. Habd and Rahati had retired from the sailing life just as she wanted to do.

Our home's not a great deal away from that cave, either... Not looking to worry her with such fears, he quickly said, "We'll just avoid making a cellar. Instead, we'll have a separate room in the back of our final home for the mead making. And we're not isolated by ourselves, we'll be in a populated trade and rest stop for Skyrim. That lighthouse is practically in the middle of nowhere. Still, it does give more credence to all those old folk and wives' tales blaming this or that problem on Falmer all the time."

"I thought Ysgramor killed all those bastards. Looks like he missed a few."

Baldur breathed in the thin freezing air, then exhaled. The frozen air pushed from his nose like the dragon's smoke after unleashing their flames, then he said, "Well, I think we saw from the war first hand just how much legends and retelling of stories can skew things and twist the truth. But he at least took back Skyrim. That much is true. And thanks to us, it's still ours. The legion didn't change that. The Thalmor won't change that. Some fugly hyper active freakish mer sure as hell won't change it."

Her fear turned to anger as she thought about her friends. "Yes, let them come. They'll get as good as they got the last time." Rebec then turned and strode over to the ship's horn. She blew one long, mournful blast to hail the lighthouse, with its present and former occupants. There was a sound like an answering call, but that was just an echo off the cliffs.

The cold rain turned to ice on the deck, making it treacherous to walk and ruling out any question of weapons practice. Most of the crew who didn't have to be topside went below, especially when the smell of grilled horker steaks wafted up. Rebec took the keel, letting Mazoga rest. Baldur brought her up some supper and snuggled in next to her on the steering bank to eat it. With as much time as Rebec spent at that perch, she had purposefully made sure there was just enough room for two. The Red Snows then got a few hours sleep until the Black Wisp put in at Dawnstar.

They found Vigge's packs sitting on the quay, with wooden cages of chickens perched on top. The man himself, along with his big shaggy dog Pippa, were at the tavern. He was leaving the rest behind for his renter, a distant cousin of Jytta's. "I didn't think you were coming," he complained grumpily as he followed Baldur and Rebec back to the ship. "Would've been just as well. I'm too old for this kind of nonsense."

"I tried talking Rebec into passing the place by... but then I remembered the dog and well... I have a weak spot for animals." Vigge couldn't see his grin, so his comment otherwise sounded serious.

Vigge's slicker hood was pulled up, but his reply was just the same as it would have been otherwise- a growly grunt. Rebec took the old man's arm. "Papa, we agreed on this right? It's just a house. Your family is here, and we're starting something new."

"Too old for new."

"Guess I'll have to tell your grandchild not to bother coming out, then." At the silence from under the slicker hood, Rebec laughed and elbowed her father cheerfully. "I thought so."

The next sound from Vigge was a bellow for the Wisp's crewmen who were loading his belongings to be careful of his chickens. "Sold the cow to that worthless kinsman of your mother's," he groused. "I could go buy it back, if you're so fond of animals, son-in-law. You snuggle up to them at night, too, before you stole my daughter?"

"Papa, you're hopeless."

"It's fine, Rebby," said Baldur as he winked with a mischievous smile. "The snake is always seeking warmth, is it not old man? I snuggled up to my fair share of bitch3s though, heh, to answer your question. Though I guess that wasn't quite what you meant."

Vigge let out another grunt, but this one was half a laugh. "Just wondering if I need to lock the stable like I locked the cellar, that time."

"You didn't lock it, Papa, and your little game didn't work anyway," Rebec pointed out.

The blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and he reached over to pat the midsection of her cloak. "Guess not. Bard can use more than his mouth, it seems."

"That's enough of that!" Rebec said quickly, knowing exactly where Baldur's mind would go at that innocent comment- the same place her own did.

Baldur's answer was a long bellowing laugh, one that probably lasted longer than it should. "Oh, this is going to be a fun living arrangement, I can already tell. Just don't drink up all my mead, or I'm locking you out, old man."

"If your mead's any good, you can have some of my eggs in trade. Unless the chickens are so scared by the bard caterwaul that they won't lay."

"You two save the lolligagging for the ship. Whole crew is waiting." Rebec grabbed both men's arms and hauled them toward the gangplank.

The Wisp passed Solitude that afternoon, and it felt good to blow past the old imperial capital. "She's pretty, but only from a distance," Rebec said to Baldur as they saw the big arch in the distance.

"Yea, but did you see what I saw? I think I saw some crazy morons jump out into the sea!" Baldur yelled. "Wonder what the hell's going on over there."

"Someone took a header off the arch? That doesn't sound healthy. Maybe Falk's got a new execution method."

Baldur scratched his head and said, "Maybe... or maybe I'm seeing things. You'd have to be a madman to do something that reckless... But with this place's history... hell, even from the beginning, people had to have been mad to build a city on such a rock formation. It held up, but damn if it doesn't look dangerous."

(to be continued)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

(continued)

 

"The original keep is on the mountain. It was probably some slackjaw imp who decided to put the Blue Palace out on that arch. 'Nice view,' he said, and everyone else had to go along. I guess if Winterhold could fall into the sea, though, anywhere could."

"Anywhere with a mage's college in it, that is," Baldur said. "Not to sound like one of those paranoid conspiracy theorists, but with the recent accident they had, I think we can guess what really caused the city to sink. Glad we're far from anything like that. Unless of course, Thalmor invade, but we'll see them coming. Say, will they be building a tavern in Kyne's Watch? If so, who's gonna run it?"

"Town's not a town without a tavern," Rebec answered. "Someone will turn up, just you wait. Maybe one of the Bards' College types will want to run it. No milk drinkers need apply. Don't need whining about storms or smelly sailors."

Baldur bit his lip, then said, "Yea, you're probably right. Was kinda hoping I could run it, but I guess that wouldn't work with our jobs. Unless I hired someone while I was busy?"

"What about Carlotta? Maybe she's tired of selling veg and would rather clean up after drunks. Uh... or maybe not."

"That would be a great arrangement! She could sell her goods inside with the fire so the cold isn't too hard on her and Mila. And you and I, or Boldir could straighten out any drunks. Clean up though, well, that's a part of the job. And this way, Mila can actually make some coin. I don't have that much coin left from what I made as a merc, but there should be enough set aside for what I'd need. There's also the book, but I expected to get a letter from the College by now. Things must not be going well with that."

Rebec laid a hand on Baldur's arm. "People not interested in my glorious poon? I can't imagine it. Don't worry, papa bear. I've been keeping my eye out for another ship to buy. Some little cog that can make us a steady wage steaming back and forth between Kyne's Watch and High Rock."

Baldur looked down at her hand and eventually ran his over it, putting his marriage ring over hers. "That's not really what I was concerned with, but it matters not. Not all dreams can come true." He sported a contented smile then as he took her hand in his, then said, "And anyway, I can't blame them. No one likes to be teased with something they can never or no longer have. Too bad for them."

"They're devastated about that, I'm sure." Rebec grinned, then leaned up to kiss his cheek. She could tell he was disappointed, so to distract him said, "Let's go take a nap. It'll be late when we get into Kyne's Watch."

***

As they approached the new town, the lanterns of ships out at sea could be seen, and the looming hulk of the castle island off its shore. The ships were navy vessels come in for the exercises. Not everyone wanted to board on land, preferring their ship berths to a drafty fort. The new quays were crowded but a place had been left for the flagship. Rebec gave a short horn blast as they came in. Fort Kyne's tower beacons burned, illuminating Stormcloak banners that fluttered on the ramparts.

In the dark not much of the new building work could be seen, but the young builder Koljun found them and offered to lead them to their new longhouse. "It's pretty bare bones right now and there's no fire. Maybe you want to stay in the fort for now."

Rebec glanced at Baldur to see what he wanted to do. "My vote is for the longhouse," she said. Even in the dark and cold as stone, it was their first home just for the two of them, soon to be three.

That thu'um would really come in handy right about now... oh well. "We'll make do. Put that Nord blood to good use for once. I think I have an idea for that though, if there's some cut wood around. Is there at least a bed? Furs?" Asked Baldur. He didn't want their first night at... home... to be roughing it too much.

"Oh the wood's there, it's just we weren't sure when you were coming in. Bed, check. Furs too. Some food and mead stores we laid in. You might have to sit on crates."

He sighed in relief then, and finally allowed himself to smile. It was just a longhouse, but somehow, being close to seeing the place they'd stay in for years made him nervous from expectation. "That's alright, lad. We'll make do. We got along well enough in Falkreath, and we had a gaping hole in the wall and roof there when it was always raining... this will be just fine."

They settled Ysana, Vigge and the crewmen who'd come ashore into quarters, then Koljun grabbed a torch and led them towards the cluster of houses set away from the fort. "Careful of the path, it's rough."

It wasn't much to look at so far, but Baldur wasn't expecting it to be. He was getting flashbacks from Bruma and hadn't realized just how similar the place was to that, besides the sea nearby. It didn't bother him, however. Somehow it only seemed right that he'd 'return' to set things right. Such a location was the last place he thought he'd end up staying in. Especially with so much snow when he used to loathe it. "So which one's ours, lad?" Baldur wasn't trying very hard to hide his impatience.

Koljun held his torch up so they could see. "It's the big one in the center. We put them at cross angles to help block the wind. These longhouses can be a bit drafty until they settle a bit and you get the holes chinked up." There were three already completed, and frames up for several more.

"I'm amazed you got this done in so short a time," Rebec said. "Ever think of being a naval engineer?"

The young man's blush was apparent in the torchlight. "Maybe. It's an honor, sirs. My pa even said the same, though he wasn't happy at first when I decided to join up. What you're doing here is important for Skyrim and I'm happy to do my part."

"I suppose it is, though I'd be lying if I said I was thinking about Skyrim when this idea came up. The way I see it, Skyrim's doing something for us for once. Mutual benefit, really." Baldur walked up and tapped him on the shoulder and said, "We can take it from here. You mind if I keep that torch?"

"Yes, sir. We're right over there if you need anything."

"We'll be fine, lad," Rebec answered. "The general and I are used to living rough." When Koljun was gone, she turned to Baldur. "Might be more of a mudcrab den than a home, but it's ours."

"Heh, if people knew we had Erikur's home in Solitude, they'd think we were crazy to pass it up for a humble dwelling like this. But this is better. Solitude's no place to raise strong Nord children. Come here," said Baldur as he dipped and hoisted Rebec over his shoulder, carrying the torch in his other hand.

Laughing, she slapped his back and said, "Is this you carrying your pity wife home? I should be carrying you."

Baldur ceased his approach snd said, "Haha, can you even lift me, Miss Rebec the Red? I know you're strong... for a woman."

"Put me down and let's see, big man."

Baldur looked to Rebec's rump hanging right next to him and wondered if it would be worth removing such a sight. Then he looked at the torch that was unfortunately occupying his hands... Smiling, he said, "Okay then. Lets see it. You fail, and you're officially my pity wife for putting shame to the name of Rebec the Red, hehe." And if you win, I still win...

Baldur let Rebec down back to her feet, then handed her the torch. Grinning, he said, "Come on, shield maiden."

Grinning, Rebec bent at the knees and made to scoop Baldur up over her shoulder, the other hand holding the torch. Once he was there, she wobbled trying to straighten again, balanced herself and slowly stood. "My pity husband," she said proudly, taking awkward steps until they reached the threshold of the longhouse. Then a problem presented itself. "Open the door for me, will you." She turned slightly and tried not to laugh, which would upset her balance and cause both of them to come crashing down.

"This... is so... degrading..." Baldur said, never before being lifted up in such a manner, let alone by a woman, and let alone his wife. Though he was right about winning in the end, as his hands were firmly holding onto his prize from behind her, revealing his little plot from the beginning. Reluctantly, he let go with one of his hands to do as he was told, then said, "This... isn't exactly how I expected to enter our new home... but I suppose I'm not complaining. Great view and all, hehe."

Rebec had to duck to get in the door, then grit her teeth as she slowly bent and dumped Baldur to the floor. Standing, she raised her arms triumphantly, torch still in hand. "The legacy of Rebec the Red lives!"

Baldur almost fell to his butt from his ungraceful landing, but luckily recovered before being even more embarrassed. "Yea, maybe when retelling this story, we leave that part out..." He walked away then for a second, turning to the front where they just came from. Remembering what he said about hanging up their axes, Baldur unsheathed his. The place didn't come with a weapon stand yet, but Baldur made his own, tossing them both at the wall where they'd remain for the time being.

Smiling, he said, "Feels like home already. I suppose you deserve a reward for winning. How about my last bottle of Baldurbrau before we go to bed, eh? You can have a little mead."

Rebec laughed at his embarrassment. "I let you carry me off the pier when we first arrived, so all's fair Red Snow. The last bottle? You need to start working on some more. Not sure I can go back to the piss water." She waved the torch around to illuminate the interior. There wasn't much to see. A central stone hearth had been built in, and benches lined the walls which could double as sleeping banks. One one end was the big double bed piled with furs. The other end of the longhouse was mostly empty save for some barrels and crates of provisions. It all had the clean, sharp smell of freshly hewn logs and new thatch. Outside, the wind whistled lightly against the eaves, and the sea crashed up against the shore.

"It reminds me of that cabin in Hammerfell," Rebec said as she fed kindling into the hearth to light their first fire. "Except properly cold outside, like it should be."

Baldur dragged their bags to the center and pulled out the bottle in question, along with two mugs from the ship. He handed Rebec hers first, then while pouring his, he said, "It uh, sure does. About the cabin and the time we stayed there. I guess I figured it went without saying, but we don't really talk about it much, so. Just curious... how was I?"

She looked up in surprise. "On the drums?"

"The dr-, no not the drums, silly! I mean the other part, of course."

"Oh!" Rebec laughed, and tilted her head. "I don't seem disappointed, do I? I told you, Baldur. With you it's... something else. Of course you're good. Better than good. But the things you can do to me with just a look..." The new fire caught to light, illuminating her face as she still crouched down to nurse it.

He didn't mean to, but he had to laugh from such high praise. He took a seat by the newly stoked fire and said, "You don't seem disappointed, no. It's just hard to believe sometimes. That I can have such effect on you... It's unreal sometimes, you know? We've known each other only for about a year in a half now, and now we have this place together. I don't know, I guess I'm just wondering how it all happened so quickly, so easily."

She laughed again, and shifted to her knees, reaching up to take his bear helmet off. "It wasn't easy. The war, you remember? Your torture." Smoothing Baldur's hair back, she said, "I'll tell you what I wonder. Those first couple nights after the Battle of Pale Pass, when you asked me to come to your tent. You held me all night, but didn't so much as try to grab a feel. I thought you might have gone monkish. What was that about?"

The man had to laugh again once from realizing how he forgot about the war, and twice from the contrast of the way he was then with Rebec, to the way he was now. Now he couldn't keep his hands off her, as was evident earlier when he was being man handled like a sack of potatoes.

"What was going on through my head... What was going on through my head was that... I couldn't fight what I somehow felt for you, even though I didn't really know you that well. And I wanted to show it to you in a way that, when it came time for me to say it, you couldn't say that it was just the Underking talking. I've said this before, though maybe you didn't believe or couldn't understand it, but I've been with many women in my thirty nine years. Not one of them can say that I spent the night just holding them in admiration and looking at their face. None of them can even claim to have shared a bed with me longer than a couple hours. Well, except that one time when I lived with the bandits, but as you know, that was from unfortunate circumstances."

Baldur fiddled with his hands then, extracting imaginary dirt from beneath his thumbnail with his other thumbnail. "I'm a lot more grabby now, but really, not much has changed from then and now. Then, I wanted to show you something I never did anyone else, and also I felt safe holding you to me. Because it felt like you were protected. You were the most precious thing I ever had and all I wanted to do was hold you close and keep you safe. And now, when I hold you at night, it's the same thing. Maybe even more so than when we were surrounded by chaos. Sometimes I feel like if I don't, then one day I'm going to wake up in my bed, and somehow, someway you won't be there anymore. As beautiful a woman as you are, soft body against mine, that's a stronger feeling than any lust. It's why I know that when we're old and withered, I'll still be by your side, always. Because I admire and adore you as much as I lust for you."

Rebec's hands moved to Baldur's waist as he spoke, and when he finished, she shook her head. "Never thought I'd hear a man say things like that about me. Sounds like something from one of those stories imp women read. But I know it's true. I can't say it like you do, but you know it goes the other way, too, and even in Falkreath, I knew something was different. Otherwise I guess I wouldn't have been in Falkreath at all." Leaning up, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. After a while, she nuzzled his cheek and said, "This is home, right here. What we've got. Doesn't matter what roof is over our heads."

"Heh, that sounds like something from one of those stories too. I think I'm rubbing off on you, captain. You're right, though. I think that's why we got along so well in a building with a gaping hole in it surrounded by people that wanted to kill us."

Baldur saw her ring on his shoulder from the corner of his eye sparkle from the firelight on the hawk's blue limpid diamond eyes. He could see Rebec's eyes clearly too and thought there was no contest between hers and the precious stones. He started feeling like butter again in his gut and had to bite his lip to keep from tearing up from the moment. He didn't care for her seeing, but it wasn't what he wanted her to see in him right now.

He seized her around her waist and held her tight, moving his lips then to her neck, caressing her glowing skin with them and savoring her fragrance. She smelled slightly of salt from the sea air, and her elf ear and candis root totes, though pleasantly. It mingled with the smell of the fresh cut pinewood and the burning fire within his nostrils. These were the smells that he would grow to associate with home.

He brushed at her ruddy surface with his lips slowly as he marveled at the sight of her radiating skin in the fire light. Tickling the little hairs on her neck, he let his breath help to warm her before planting his lips down with a soft wet smack, leaving behind just enough moistness to feel his impression after the act before doing so again and again. With each time, his lips stuck to her, tugging, as if her skin didn't want them to leave. While he did, he whispered and said, "Tell me something, Rebby. That time when we were fighting, and you said 'You don't own me, Red-Snow.' That's not entirely true... is it?"

She sighed and the tension of the day's sailing went out of her limbs with each touch of his lips and fingers. "Always asking me to say what you already know," she answered with a sly smile. Warding off impatience so that she could savor every moment, Rebec began to undo his belts and in between to kiss along his cheek and ear.

"Heh, that I do." Smiling proudly, he said, "My girl."

He let her loosen them herself while he did the same with her buckles; a much more daunting task, but one he was practiced in. Soon, his boots and spiky gauntlets were off somewhere in separate parts of the home after being flung away, and his kilt down to his knees. He stood up then, satisfied and assured that her clothes would give him little resistance from then on, and he seized her once more, carrying her towards their new bed the way she did him from before. He made sure to bring the mead as well, carrying it in his right hand as he dumped her to her back over the grey furs, smiling down at her as he took a swig before handing it over to her and tugging at her pants while she drank.

She sat propped on her elbows, watching him in between throwing back swigs of mead. The fact that it was of his make was a kind of foreplay in itself, the sweet taste on her tongue intensified by the sight of his body.

He took the bottle from her after her last swig and laid next to her and made her pour the mead down his throat from her mouth. After kissing her to taste the fermented honey on her lips and tongue, he covered both of her nips with the bottle, so that the chill from the effects of it would cause them to harden, only to soften again from the warmth of his mouth. Dipping them in mead to make them harden once more, he dipped his finger in and made a trail from her neck to between her legs.

He ran down that path with the back of his entire tongue, which extended out far enough that it touched the tip of his nose. While he tormented her by barely flicking at her nub, he passed the bottle back and moved his hands under her so he could help her move. But still he played, running a circle around her center to taste his mead on her, waiting for her to grow too impatient and force him further along.

Rebec the Red had it goooood. The alternating sensations of cool and smooth with the warm pressure of Baldur's mouth had her wet with anticipation before he ever got near her thighs. Body jerking at the first touch of his tongue to her center, her head fell back and her foot kicked along the furs. At first she reveled in his game of torturing her, running her own hand up her stomach and grasping one breast to intensify her arousal. Hips rocking slightly in the same motion she would use on him, she soon groaned softly, "Gods. Do it."

It was clear he was eager as well, as he dived in immediately at her request. His lips fully settled and suckled at her nub before his tongue slipped in and shook rapidly from side to side. Moving even further now, until his nose fully sat on her nub, he used even that to rub at her while his tongue wriggled in her and his hands moved her, even lifting her slightly at one point to pull her closer. He had to pull away sharply to breath and rest his cramping tongue. When he caught his breath and wiped his mouth, he snickered like a fool, clearly drunk with lust, then he went back to work just as vigorously and intent on letting her finish.

In between gasps and groans, Rebec laughed happily at his enthusiasm. Sitting up, she cradled his head between her thighs and stroked his hair, her eyes trailing down the rise of his strong shoulders and back. "I love you so, Baldur," she said, voice catching when his tongue dove forward. "So... so... much." Closing her eyes, she let this thought push the radiating warmth over its crest, and cried out, her stomach arching against this forehead. The relief that flooded through her was short-lived, only making her long more for him. She lay back, pulling on him to come with her.

Which he immediately did with even less prompt needed than before, though he took some breaths to calm himself first while he worked himself in, holding her eyes the entire time even after he began. He cradled her head with his left arm while his right hooked her leg and held it over his shoulder.

He moved slowly, deliberately, only to give her time to catch up again, but his movements were powerful even then. He thought about moving her on top of him, but couldn't bring himself to stop. Instead, he found a board under the furs, which he gripped with both hands, using this to pull himself and aid his efforts, causing him to wrinkle his brow as if angered when he was anything but. Aware of this, he put his cheek against hers as he neared. Both for comfort and to further anchor himself with his chin at her shoulder while he whispered softly to her in between groans.

With her legs held open and with his powerful movements, he brought her to the edge between pleasure and pain, sight going white as his tip butted into her belly again and again. Holding on to him, she cried out again, this time almost in anxiety, the lostness of the overwhelming sensations. Baldur's embrace brought her back, focused her mind again on him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she kissed at his ear and flustered encouragement. Her hips began to arch to meet each advance, and rolled to vary where his shaft rubbed against her inner skin.

Finally, the combination of his intensity and her matching his movements while she urged him on proved too much for Rebec's husband, and he eagerly finished within her. The strength of his peaking was so strong, so satisfying that he felt as though his mind was slipping away, a hard feeling to describe. It was like feeling empty from too much satisfaction, stunned at the completeness of it. But Rebec's face and warmth anchored him and filled him again soon as he opened his eyes and held her face in his hands. Gingerly wiping the sweat from her brow, he smiled down at her and said, "I'm sorry, love. I got carried away."

"Sorry for what... silly man." Rebec then could no longer speak while she grasped his shoulders and ground her hips against his pelvis, bringing herself to a second release with a strained sigh of satisfaction, clinging to him while she rode its crest and the contented relief that followed. As the grip eased, she became aware of each sensation, the warm presence of him still half-hard inside her, the trickle of their combined fluids mingling, the scent of his skin and its rough, reassuring pressure against her own, and his still labored breath on her neck. The vulnerability of this time immediately after, that had always bothered her with others, but with Baldur it was somehow the best part. There were no defenses, just their raw need, but sheltered under the blanket of their love and regard for each other.

Baldur moved to his side then but stayed close, not needing the sheets to stay warm at the moment, with Rebec and his skin radiating such heat together. The fire light behind her seemed to be admiring her form as well, highlighting her curves and accentuating them as the flames danced to some secret song and the wood crackled and roared. Perhaps they heard the drum of his heart beating in his chest, he thought. Their movements were just as frantic. Clinging to life as long as the wood would permit. Though nothing could stop the panicked beating in his chest, the burning sensation in every cell of his body. Not when the source was Rebec, forever the kindle to this conflagration, this passion. Like the sun, it would shine eternal.

As he looked at her from this angle, the fire was trapped in the reflection of his eyes. A window to his spirit that gave a perfect view to his mindset as he looked to the woman that made him want to keep living. Fire was a thing alive, he realized. Passion, excitement, warmth. Magic. Vital to life and a part of being alive. That was one aspect of fire that even dragons couldn't understand. Immortality blinded them to it. You couldn't truly appreciate something unless there was the threat of loss. And in this cold existence, the fire that she kindled inside him was something he feared losing constantly. But also it was something he felt in him constantly. Knowing all of this now, he realized something then, and with a grin he said, "You're my storm, Rebec."

She smiled against his neck, stroking his arm comfortingly. For a while she didn't say anything, just listening to his breath and the thump of both heartbeats, her face nuzzled into his shoulder. Smirking then, she said, "I do blow you on occasion. Is that what you meant, my bard?"

He snickered with a big toothy grin, then said, "No, but I gotta tell ya, that's a great plus to this whole marriage thing. Gods almighty, I bet Shor was a very happy husband when he was alive. His wife makes hurricanes and twisters..."

"Shor doesn't do so bad himself," she said, running a hand down his hip suggestively. "If only papa knew how well you use your bard tongue. Don't think he really wants to hear it, though."

Baldur rubbed her back softly then, all smiles and said, "It helps when your wife's got the softest, sweetest sweetroll in Tamriel. I'm sure he has an idea. Gotta be good to steal his daughter when she's Rebec Hull-Breaker."

"I heard enough to know my parents had their own thing. We didn't plan on seeing either of them for a few hours after one came back from a long sail. Or a short sail, even. And you got Dibellan in you, so our children will have to get used to it, too."

"Thank you, Thadhneli..." Baldur turned his head to look around the house. "Umm, where are the children going to stay when we're... together? Camp outside for a bit? Close their eyes? And ears?"

"We'll have to build a bigger house before we get to that point." Rebec reached across him for the furs, which she spread out over them before snuggling back in. "This is perfect for us now, though. The baby won't know the difference for quite a while." She yawned, sleep and contentment drawing her down into its well.

Baldur rolled over to see if he could find the mead bottle. It fell out of the bed during all the fun and unfortunately some of its contents was spilled on the floor, but there was still enough to drink before bed. With the mead plus the exertion, there was little chance of him waking up at night to look at Rebec while she slumbered. He wouldn't need to anyway, since as he rolled back to his side and his eyes grew heavy, her content and peaceful looking face snuggled in by his neck filled his thoughts and was the last thing he saw before slumbering away in their new home for the first time. Hopefully that would remain true for many more nights to come.

Rebec stirred in half-sleep, subconsciously aware that she was missing the last of the mead, but too sleepy to do anything about it. Her few sips had been an indulgence anyway.

The fire was out by the next morning, and that made for incentive to stay under the furs, with the sound of the morning tides crashing on the beach to lull them. From far off, they could hear shouts and horn calls, however, the sound of the fort waking up and more sailors arriving.

When they finally emerged, a bright winter sun had driven the last of the fog off, and they got the first look in daylight at the outlines of the new town, its first longhouses, and the small quay which was apart from the naval wharf near the fort. Kyne's Watch was a humble settlement, with plenty of room to grow, and it was very Nord. "It's perfect," Rebec declared, taking Baldur's hand.

Baldur shook his head a few times as he took in the view and said, "That it is, Rebec. Now we just need Boldir around to bang on the forge and some noisy kids in the back. Then... then I could almost retire."

She looked around, trying to picture being in the same place for years on end. The thought would have made her run for the seas before, but now it was enticing, and the thought that they might be called away was the one that frightened her.

The sound of a morning drill going on outside the fort brought Rebec out of her thoughts. "We can't retire yet, High General. Better go inspect our new garrison."

Baldur put his arm over her shoulder and ruffled her hair. "Not today, wife. They don't need us right now. Besides, in a short while they'll be getting more of us than they can handle. For now, lets just enjoy this. Just for a day."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Lilly Quentas, Albecias Plebo (BT)

Morning,

Quentas Mansion, 

 

Albecias Plebo strutted through the streets, as was privilege, nay, his right. He was, after all, the second most popular author in the entire province of Cyrodiil, a fact that he never failed to tell anyone and everyone. Unfortunately, were it not for that dreadful Bathory woman and her smutty romance novels, he would be number one. But, he could not complain much. She had, after all, offered him both a reporters position in the Black Horse and her Reunion Press, but only because she wished to stifle his creativity. 

While not an imposing man, as Plebo was around medium height, with no facial hair, medium length brown hair, and an average to handsome face. Remarkably un-striking by all standards, save his over-the-top opinion of himself. His writing prowess gave him infinite amounts of confidence, a trait well known to all his acquaintances.

I showed her, the detective novelist snidely thought. He had, after all, just finished bringing the story of the Windhelm Butcher to the Imperial natives, along with a soon to be released novel adaptation. And even now, he was on the prowl, hunting a new story. 

As it so happened, he had attended the party in which that poor councilman's daughter had died. Albecias was nowhere near her, instead seeking out gossip and bedmates. But her untimely death gave him the perfect opportunity to pen another article, and maybe another book. Because he was on his was to solve this crime, and record it being solved.

The guards to the Quentas mansion let him in once they verified his identity, and one even expressed his love of the Caper in Chorrol, the very first novel Plebo had written, in which the captain of the guard solves a strong of murders and brings the killer to justice. Albecias, ever the sucker to flattery, conversed with the man for several minutes before knocking on the main door of the manor

The large oak door opened part way, and a shy looking face peaked outside, it was a girl. She had her hair in braids, along with having a pair of silver glasses on her face. A rather plain looking girl, no older than sixteen. Her only noticeable feature were her stunning blue lapis eyes, a trademark of the Quentas famiky.

"Ummmmm...hello....?" She stuttered out

The author snootily looked down on the girl, altogether displeased at his having to deal with her. 

"I'm here for Colonel Quentas," he said in his most condescending tone.

She let out a "humpth", seeming to notice rude tone of voice, "Well...she's...working....sir..so unless...you have serious business."

"Child, who are you to dictate of what nature my business must be? Unless you mean to keep me out of the house, which the guards have already allowed me entrance to, I suggest you run along," Alebcias waved his hand towards the girls, trying to scoot her away.

"Then state your name and business" Her speech became connected and her eyes sharpened.

"Albecias Plebo, the esteemed author. My business is my own, but I can say it regards the recent murder," the man said coldly.

Her face softened and she said "Oh...your that bad murder mystery author."

"Bad? BAD?! You insolent child, I am the second most popular novelist in all of Cyrodiil, as well as ranking in the top dozen in High Rock. And tell me, what makes you just a knowledgable literary critic?" Albecias practically shrieked, his voice becoming high-pitched in indignation.

She put her finger to her chin, and looked at the distance deeply, she had lost all of her previous shyness, but kept her child-like voice, "Well Cyrodili has some bad taste then. Which can't be the case since the genius's Magdela Bathory is number one on the sale charts, and Emily Moitre is tenth.. Oh and I think E.J Verus's The Panty Thief is far superior to your Caper in Chorrol."

"The Panty Thief? Even the idea that droll is superior to any of my books is an insult to nature itself! Verus is nothing more than a sexually fantasizing adolescent-like moron with no more intelligence than a boulder. And as you said, Cyrodiil has excellent tastes, which is why I am second. Although I admire Ms. Bathory, she is only first in name. Given her recent sabbatical and my novelization of the Windhelm events, that spot will soon be mine. Now step aside child, or shall I tell Colonel Quentas of your ill behavior," Albecias regained his high-brow attitude, and peered down at the girl like he would am insect.

"Helen whose at the door?' The girl suddenly ran away from the door with a bright smile, 

"Just some tacky author Abigail. Wants to see Lilly."

"Don't be rude dear. Go back to the kitchen and watch the cookies" A young looking woman went into view. She had piercing green eyes, brown hair, and was wearing a green maid uniform. She bowed her head deeply,

"Forgive mistress Helen for her rude behaviour sir."

Albecias' eyes flicked briefly at the leaving young girl, before he looked at the we arrival. "Hmph, I highly doubt I shall ever forgive her. Insulting both my work and I is unacceptable. But, I need to speak to the Spymaster, so I will let it slide. This time."

"This way." She said motioning for the man to follow her. 

Albecias did, internally criticizing every drape for its ugliness, every rug that didn't match the drapes and every chair that displayed the most appealing pattern. His stylistic choices were, of course, impeccable, but he had expected more from Lilly Quentas. But, given her job, and her...extracurricular activities, he could see how that much time wouldn't be devoted to interior decorating.

The maid lead him to a medium sized room filled with expensive furniture, which was cushioned with pillows which had all sorts of flower patterns. The large coffee table in the middle of the room was made of oak, and was embroidered with flowers and plants. The color of the room was a distinct greenish hue. The woman bowed her head,

"Take a seat. I'll fetch Mistress Lillin. I'll be back with her shortly."  

Albecias slowly walked around the room once the servant left. He inspected the couches and chairs, finding the spot that suited him the best before sitting down and waiting for the court mage's consort, a fact he knew from his collaboration with the Midnight Edition reporters.

The door slammed open, revealing a very tall woman. Her silky hair was platinum blonde, quite long, and fashionably held a white peace Lilly.  She had pale white skin, and presumably a slender body frame. Her...assets, were beyond average sized. Instead of a lovely green embroidered dress the maidens of Chorrol were known to wear, the woman was clad in Pentiulas Occultus leather, black as the night with metal plates here and there. On her hips was a longsword, and on her leg was a dagger. It was Colonel Lillin Quentas. She let out a grunt, as she put on a pleasant smile, and took a seat across the man,

"Good morning. Abigail told me you were a famous author?" 

He scoffed, saying proudly, "Famous? Try the second most popular author in Cyrdoiil."

"Second only to that harlot I presume?" 

Raising his eyebrows, Plebo said, "Magdela Bathory? Yes, she is number one, but she seems to have retired, so I will soon take over her spot. It is only a formality at this point."

"You must forgive my ignorance on the subject of novels, good sir. I have little time to read now, and most of the novels I have are from authors of the third era." 

Waving his hand, he said, "Your ignorance is of no issue, I assure you. I came about the recent murder. I attended but was thankfully absent by the time any nefarious deeds were done. Do you have any leads?"

Her eyes sharped, "And why would you want to know information on such a gruesome topic?" She placed her hands on the cofee table, and lowered her head, gazing at him with a grim smile, 

The author's lip curled ever so slightly, but settled back into his usual pursed form. "I am a reporter, and as such it is my job to report. This murder is probably the invigorating tale we've had, ever since your boyfriend-excuse me, the court mage, settled all of the affairs in Bravil, Leyawiin, and Cheydinhal. The Midnighters, that is the people who read that horrid Midnight Edition of the Black Horse, are usually delighted by the rumors of the Empress' sexuality, Tullius still being alive, or a mage ruling Skyrim as the wife of Stormcloak, but the...shall I say, more profound crowd needs something hard, palatable, more than just rumor. This story is just that. I fought tooth and nail to get the lead on it, and if I decide later on to write a book about your escapades in solving it...well, I'm sure there would be a cut of the profits for the keen Master of Spies, Lilly Quentas."

"I've found in my experience that most rumors have some truth to them. But, that doesn't answer my original question. How goes the investigation?" Albecias wasn't one to be fooled easily, especially not by a change in subject.

"Besides being a homicide, evidence points to it being a sexual assault."

"Ah yes, now we are getting somewhere. Not surprising, given the beauty of the poor girl. I've also heard some conjecture that she was promiscuous, so it is unsurprising that the assault was sexual as well."

"A real bitch you mean? Yep."

"That is quite blunt but yes. What about suspects? I've heard two lesser nobles frequently squabble over her, but they don't seem like the type to do anything of the sort," Albecias had now taken out a portable quill and ink pot, and was scribbling down notes as he talked.

"Those two are suspects yes. Anyone can do anything while there drunk."

Albecias scribbled some more notes down as she spoke. "Inebriation is a powerful spell to fall under. Have you interviewed either suspects?" he asked, knowing that they had in fact already talked to one, but he was unsure of the other.

"Yes, one. I was going to interview the other in a little,but you arrived."

The reporter's eyes flashed, and he smirked slightly. "Would it be over stepping for me to ask to accompany you? Not only will this give the public much needed information, but I'm sure this would fit in with my book as well."

She smirked, which displayed her perfect white teeth, "Have you ever been to a real crime scene in progress sir? I'm not talking about a second hand look, I mean the real deal."

"I was under the impression you had already looked at the crime scene, and this was going to be a simple interview. Regardless, yes I have. You do not honestly believe I could describe such scenes with the level of accuracy I do had I never seen one," Albecias did not return this smile, continuing to sit with his chin lifted haughtily and plain faced.

"I have conditions you must follow."

"And they are?"

"One. You observe, you don't impede on the investigation."

"You may continue," Plebo said, looking slightly annoyed she was wasting time by pausing in between conditions.

"Two. Do. Not. Touch. Anything." 

"Is that it, or are you pausing for dramatic effect? If it's the latter, just get on with it."

"And three. I am the boss. You do not do anything without my permission. Are we clear?" 

"As a pane of glass. Lead the way, oh intrepid Colonel."

Lilly nodded, standing up, and putting on a long black coat, taking out a cigar, and lighting it with a spark of magic. 

Albecias wrote down a few more notes, then looked surprisingly at the spymaster. "You smoke? What a horrid habit to have taken up."

"Calms my nerves." She said simply, as she began to leave the room. 

Albecias just arched his eyebrows in surprise and followed her silently.

"So. How many books have you written?" She asked.

"Fifteen, six of which were based on real-life murders. The others were pure fiction. All have sold extremely well. The ones that accompanied actual murders I also reported on, for the Black Horse," Albecias proudly recounted his bibliography.

"Which cases were the six on?" She asked with mild interest.

"The most recent was the Butcher of Windhelm murders. I've also written on the serial rapist of Anvil, as well as the woman who murdered ten in Shornhelm. Along with those are murders in Hagathe, here in the Imperial City, and Blacklight. Every time I've traveled to the cities to do my research, instead of relying on second and third hand accounts."

"Are most murder authors as hands on as you are?"

"Most...well, I can't say exactly. I'm the first to delve completely in the field. Others have done similar stories, but never as in depth. I pride myself in that I've almost single handedly created a genre!"

"A new genre huh?" She asked, with doubts in her eyes, "The only novels i've read were romance ones. My mother would read a few chapter to me and my sister before going to bed." 

"Be skeptical if you wish, but up until my books no other author had written a murder story in which the premise was the guards or other official solving the murder. Others had made a murder a central part, but neve the basis of the premise such as I've done. Some of my books feature romance, usually as a motive or something of the like."

"That really isn't romance. More like sexual lusting and obsession." She said deadpanly. Walking through the Quentas garden, she headed to the gate. "Beautiful flowers, no?" 

"Romance is just of relating to love, so my novels do have romance. I find it quite odd you can say what exactly the romance is or isn't considering you've not read my books. But yes, they are quite nice."

"Nourished every day by that little girl you called an "insolent child." her features darkened, but her smile didn't falter. 

"I don't see how the two events correlate. She can be both insolent and an excellent gardener," Albecias said blandly, ignoring the dark attitude of his hostess.

"Oh I know. Just please remain civil while talking to her next time, if there is a next time. She is a baroness, and should be given proper respect."

"I would expect a baroness to be better behaved. Respect is a two way street, and I give it to those I get it from," Albecias said, leaning over to smell a pair of daffodils that leaned over the pathway.

"Her parents spoiled her when she was younger, but that's what happens to most, if not all, nobles. But she's a sweet, if quiet girl, most of the time. Has a mean streak she get's from my sister, to those she doesn't like. Must have thought you books were distasteful or something." She said, lightly sniffing a white peace Lilly. 

"She did call them bad. But, her taste in literature can't be relied on when she cited The Panty Thief as a quality work. But you're right, most, if not all nobles were spoiled in some regard."

That caused her to laugh out loud, and hold her stomach, "The...Panty thief?! What kind of books are she reading." She continued to the gate, when she got to the gate, she started chatting with the guards, for a minute or two. She went past the gate when they let her past, and waved the author forward.

"The awful kind apparently. You know what, I'll send a few copies of my books to you and your neice. Maybe then she can read some quality novels, unlike the trash Verus produces."

"I look forward to it. I assume this Vernus is an erotic author?"  

"Hahaha! You can hardly call him an author. He's a cheap, droll writing imitation of Magdela Bathory. At least her premises and characters are unique, while E.J. relies on the same recycled plots. The only reason he's still employed is because teenagers seem to enjoy the smuttiness without the plot complexity."

Lilly asked, "You don't like smut sir?"

"In some situations, but not as the foundation for a novel. I prefer my plots to be deeper than a sexual relationship."

My mother once read me a novel when I was a girl. "The Spice trader and the fox."" She shuddered "Thought the book was about the animal. Had to explain to me the birds and the bees right there."

"Well that's an interesting way for that conversation to be brought up. So, what will you do if you discover neither of the young noblemen are the culprits? Any other leads?" Albecias said, catching up so Lilly could hear with his voice lowered.

"Look for more clues. You can't hide from justice forever. Also, it was strangulation that killer the "poor thing"

Albecias mentally noted that down. "So, a trip back to the crime scene most likely? Or would you prefer to reinspect the body?"

"We need to get the sergeant in-charge of the case first." 

"Of course. I'll stay out of your way, as promised."

"Also, things might get...ehem physical when were..."interviewing" the suspect. You understand of course?" 

"Of course," Albecias soothed. "And be assured, I will skip over the less appealing parts in my story."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Theodore Adrard

Sentinel, Governor's Palace

Late Morning

Theodore's force had arrived just before sunset, sending many a fisherman scurrying as they sought to avoid what they assumed was an attack. The navy ships and land forces new better, however, s the king of High Rock had sent word ahead of his imminent arrival to Governor Jeleen. The two rotund men had dealt in the past, and met on numerous occasions, as many Breton and Redguard leaders. It had been said that the friendship between the two provinces was unequalled, and Theo agreed wholeheartedly.

Jeleen was a shrewd man, just as fat as he was cunning, but much could be said the same of Theodore. Hated by rivals, driven by ambition, and even now the Redguard was on his way to becoming the king of Hammerfell. The similarities were quite shocking when one took the time to look, but Theo personally doubted his dark-skinned doppelgänger was quite as ruthless as he. Still, as with any politician, words were best watched and tongues kept in check, lest something offensive or insulting be said.

Wiping the snot from his nose as discreetly as he could manage, King Adrard and his entourage came to a halt outside the entrance to the grand hall. There stood a few guards, and it was here Theo motioned for the majority of his men to disperse.

"I present King Theodore Adrard of High Rock. His majesty requests a meeting with the honorable Governor Jeleen of Sentinel," the highest ranking soldier announced.

The guards quickly lowered their bronze spears and smiled, offering them more respect than they had the Nords, and especially more than the Imperial General. The guard took off his strange turquoise blue helmet that seemed to completely cover his eyes with two round orbs that looked like closed frog eyes, then said, "It's been a long time, gener-... I mean King Adrard. As usual you managed to make it here just in time for the afternoon meal."

Theodore smiled at the two guards, recognizing them from his previous visits. "Talib, Kaye, it has been too long. And have I? I hadn't even noticed," he said with a sly smile.

The men looked at each other with knowing grins, then opened the doors. "Of course, sir. We won't keep you any longer." Talib opened the door while Kaye walked before him, then said, "Governor Jeleen, King Theodore Adrard is here to speak with you again, as expected."

Jeleen stood from his chair, which caused a loud screech on the floor at first from his size. Taking a sip of wine, then wiping his mouth with an overly extravagant gold blue and purple handkerchief, he said, "Welcome, friend, welcome! You're just in time for the food. Come and eat, enjoy yourself. We can talk business later."

"I'm glad you could show me such hospitality, setting out your entire pantry for me," Theodore joked, taking the seat immediately to the right of the governor, which had just been left open for him ahead of time.

"I find it refreshing to get away from the troubles at home, and enjoy your excellent cuisine." Theodore had already motioned for the servants to begin filling his plate, and a wide assortment was beginning to pile up. Shrimp is a pepper glaze, with a dipping sauce that helped mute the fiery flavor. Soups so hearty and juicy they risked filling up on that alone. Biscuits coated in butter and perfectly flaky, among many other delicacies.

As Jeleen and Theodore geared up for the meal, Jeleen gave them both some time to dig in first before he finally spoke up. He considered it polite to let guests, and himself, eat a bit first, since that was always the thing anyone looked forward to in meetings like this. "Heh, I thought you were the champ when it came to eating, but I think I met someone that could put us both to shame. Some Bosmer fellow from the Nord lands, of all places. Fat, but not as big as either of us. It's like he had an Oblivion gate shoved down his throat."

"A Bosmer? From Skyrim? You let an elf put you to shame? You've gone soft on me, Jeleen. A Nord I could understand, but a Bosmer is inconceivable!" Theodore joked, as he continued to chow down. He had moved on to some pork strips coated in a thick sweet and sour sauce that was both tangy and delectable.

"I'd have said the same thing too if you told me that, but I swear on my gut, this mer was incredible. And what's more, the fat little thing wasn't even done eating when I finally left him alone with the Skyrim delegation. I had to leave early and excuse myself out of politeness, or I was going to swear off food for good." Jeleen obviously wasn't that bothered, considering the memory didn't hurt his appetite now any, as he finished the rest of his desert turtle and potato soup.

"I will have to take your word for it. I had a food related adventure of my own in Cyrodiil, with Count Brutus of Kvatch. Although not much of an eater, his food was of the highest quality, and the party lavish and entertaining. I must say, however, that he fell just a bit on the weird side, but a clever and enjoyable person," Theodore coughed again, both from the peppers on which his steak sat as well as his cold.

"I'm sure what the Imperials consider to be weird is surely not so strange for people outside of Cyrodiil. They tend not to be very cultured, which is ironic. They isolate themselves from others even when surrounded by them, except when it comes to wine and some foods anyway. But, perhaps I shouldn't speak negatively, now that we're... 'allies'," said Jeleen as he dropped some of the pepper paste in his drink.

"Allies....such a vague term. Allies could be close friends, such as us, or those that fight together only because they have mutual enemies. But we promised to not talk business at the table, so I will say no more. Now, how is the family?" Theodore asked, enjoying a nice chilled yogurt like parfait.

"My wife is as she always is. Distant until I need her. You know the way things are when people like us marry. Not all of us find people we really love, like you and your wife. But she supports me and my goals, so I suppose that is enough. And as for my sons, I haven't seen them since they ran off to Skyrim for the war. They apparently chose to stay for adventure. Jabir likely dragged Kabir into it. Was that way since the twins were born. And you? Hows that amorous animal of yours? Still breaking hearts? Hah, makes me glad I was never cursed with daughters."

"Yes, he makes me glad I've never had a girl. And I'm glad to hear the boys are safe; I wasn't even aware they had left for Skyrim, much less stayed. Do you not worry for their safety on foreign soil? As for my wife and I, you'd be surprised in that our marriage is not quite so different from yours, but I am happy to announce she is pregnant again. For the last time, undoubtedly."

"Ah, you still got it, eh? Haha, that is wonderful news. As for myself, I do worry for them, but I can't hold them back anymore than my father could hold me back. Though I wasn't much of a warrior like my boys, but I got into my own bit of trouble. They just need to get the itch out of them before they can serve Hammerfell for the rest of their lives. Understandable and necessary, even if it is risky. At least the war is over now however. So I can breathe a little easier."

"My son also seems to be more of a warrior than I was, even if I got my first taste of blood sooner. He's got more of his mother's side, which I can't say is a curse." Theodore patted his belly, indicating what he meant.

"Any idea what your boys are up to? Since the war is over, I can't imagine there is as much adventure to be had."

"More than likely busying themselves with whores... But if I gave them the benefit of the doubt, they may be testing their mettle against the forsworn. The Nords turned down my offer to assist them with that, but they might be getting it anyway. That's the only fighting I could see occupying them," said Jeleen.

"I'm sure some of my eastern vassals will wish to take out the Reach Clans in their lands ones the war is over. Whether the Nords wish our assistance or not, the witch clans need to be wiped out properly, not driven back into High Rock," Theodore said.

"I'm sure the Nords meant they didn't want our help within their territory. You know how they are. They don't want to look weak and say to all the world that they need outside help for every issue. We should set up perimeters within our territory to lock them off. If the Reachmen are being killed off, we should make sure they have nowhere new to run, except the Far Shores."

"I agree, although it's difficult to devote many men or resources to such a cause when war is imminent. Haha, here we go talking business again. Maybe we should go ahead and move to more private quarters and continue this?"

Jeleen closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, friend. Unfortunately it seems all there is about life is business as of late. Strange, since you'd think there'd be more issues with you coming here when I wasn't allied with your Empire. But a lot is going on and much change is coming to pass with the anticipation of this coming storm. Let us go to my quarters, then. We'll need to make sure our words are unheard now more than ever."

As Jeleen stood, he clapped his heavy hands together and said, "Bring our meal to my main quarters!" At which the servants immediately came in a swarm of clanging dishes and silverware to quickly relocate the meal that was more like a feast.

"Many changes indeed. More so than even I could have imagined only a few months ago. But, things happen and encounters sober people greatly," Theodore said, as he and the governor led the convoy of servants to the private quarters.

The palace room barely even seemed like a room for sleeping. It looked more like another dining room with two tables set up and a doorless area leading to the actual sleeping chambers. It had huge assortments of weapons of all kinds from all around Tamriel, and armor as well. This is where the equipment the Nords used came from.

"Quickly place the food on the tables and leave so we may speak! You know the drill, move it, all of you!" After the rush of panting servants finally dissipated and the food was safely relocated, Jeleen took his seat once more with a sigh. "Right, so where to begin this time, friend?"

"We may as well start at the basics...what are your impressions of the Empire under this new Empress?" Theodore said, taking a seat next to Jeleen.

Jeleen sighed deeply, then folded his hands together as he rested on his elbows, "To be honest, not what you'd think. There's plenty of those that would say that she is weak and that the Empire is too because of it. I however don't think her ruling will change much about the Empire in the slightest. The Empire is in decline, while Hammerfell, High Rock and Skyrim are on the rise, as is the Dominion. But even so, the Empire is still more powerful than Hammerfell, High Rock and Skyrim individually. And with their decline, we all decline as well, for now. That much will not change no matter who rules, let alone the likes of her."

Continuing after a sip of spicy wine, he said, "That's just now without the upcoming war, which could change the balance of power dramatically. I guess you could say that even though my opinion differs from others, I still don't think much of Empress Dales. Maybe even less than they do, since they insinuate that she can effect much of anything at all. That really goes for any unlucky fool willing to sit on that throne. It's like wanting to sit in a cart full of gold that was dropped off of a mountain."

"A rather apt comparison. My expectations for her, and my original impressions were both high. They have since waned, and I grow suspicious of the court mage as well. But, I must disagree with your belief they drag us down. While Cyrodiil and Skyrim may fall, we can rise. Our provinces have always been close, and with myself on the throne, and you seeking the same, we can forge an alliance, a foundation for stability so that we must not be dragged down by the rotting corpse of the Empire," Theodore said, leaning back and letting his words sink in.

"If only Cyrodiil falls, we may be able to keep the order of things somewhat the same. Enough to stay afloat for a good while until things stabilize again. We may need to take over Cyrodiil as allies to maintain the land as a buffer between us and the Dominion and to prevent the balance of things tipping to the wrong players. But if Skyrim falls as well? Things won't be good, even if we do manage not to sink." Jeleen turned then to his friend and pointed his hands at him while they were together.

"Lets say that we do manage to all stay together and defeat the Thalmor. But, Skyrim and Cyrodiil decline to the point to where they're no longer real kingdoms anymore. What we'll have on our hands then is a total outbreak of war. It's possible that in that chaos, we'll be in the center of the power vacuum, but in a situation like that, where the economy is completely crashed and trade is down considerably, the only way any of us can really survive is by conquering and taking more and more land until there's enough big players to stabilize the land again. Even if we don't see it in our time, there will be a time where Hammerfell and High Rock are forced to compete for territory.

The scenario is too unpredictable. Anything could happen. Anyone could fall, and any leader could rise up with the people of the fallen lands to go against us, driven by the pain of loss. And you know how those Nords are when they're desperate. There's only so long we can go on with so much fighting. Tamriel's never really been a place where people just leave others alone, even when everyone was more or less good to go. But when multiple kingdoms fall or are close to falling? We've never seen the likes of a great war before, let alone two. The consequences could last for many many generations. Relearning how to go on without these kingdoms around isn't as simple as some would think. Even if it was, the simple act of changing and making people rethink how things work will not be easy. They may not even want to, when war is so familiar and so much simpler."

Theodore smiled slightly, but it faded quickly. "I seem to have been unclear. I did not mean that I wish Cyrodiil to fail; no, in fact I hope they come out of this war a much more stable country. But, that does not mean they should be the top dogs as well. And neither should the Nords, for that matter. The possible future you pointed out is bleak indeed, so we must not let it come about. But again, that does not mean we should let the Nords, who will undoubtedly want to lead the alliance, have the upper hand. What I propose is we support that Nord general, and Ulfric for that matter, for the leaders of the alliance. In return, we can negotiate for the easier front, sparing our troops, and letting the Imperials and Nords take the brunt of the assault. The Nords will want the glory and honorable death of leading the attack, while the Imperials will be eager to prove themselves again. I've met the new High General, and while a clever tactician, he has a fault of respecting the Nords more so than they deserve, and will follow their lead. In the end, we still contribute, but together we form the most powerful post-war economy, as well as military. This is just an idea, though, as many things must come to fruition first. I must clear my lands of rebels, and you must be chosen as your countries leader."

Jeleen smiled then and let his nerves calm. The scenario he spoke of was one he feared indeed would most likely come in the future, but if things were going to be bad, why indeed shouldn't they take advantage while they could?

"I agree. It is something I've thought on myself. I think that both the Nords and Imperials underestimate us, and so they will only use our men as support roles more than likely. The High General you speak of, I have met as well. I'm not so sure he's as eager to follow the Nord's lead as you think.

But, in our meeting together with Skyrim's High General, I could tell they will work together well. Meaning they'll likely be relying on their forces for most of the war, whether we actually want that or not. Maybe. I won't assume anything with them. They both seem more competent than I really expected either of them to be. Not that surprising I suppose, given that they were smart enough to drop that silly civil war finally. My point is basically that, you and I may have a run for our money when dealing with those two, if we want to come on top after this war. Assuming they'll be the ones calling the shots on their respective sides. I've not had dealings with either Dales or Ulfric. Nor this mage that she'll be marrying."

Theodore sipped his wine again, and took a bite of a pastry as well. He chewed the fruit tart slowly as the thought, before swallowing it as he began to speak. "The mage may try and control more than is good for him, but I know not of how hands on Stormcloak will be. But I concur, pulling the wool over their eyes will be tricky. When the time comes for the war duties to be divided up, we could always under play our troop strength. It won't be hard for me, as I will be coming off a civil war, and I doubt it will be difficult for you as well. If they think us even weaker than they already do, they may not hesitate when giving us the easier front. But, only time will tell what ultimately happens. If necessary I can always fabricate some domestic crisis that demands some of my troops return home, thus keeping them safe from fighting. While they may give us a trouble originally, once the war begins, they will both be too preoccupied to pay us much heed."

"Indeed. Now the question we must ask ourselves is this. If we see that such a scenario is inevitable after the war, should we use this reserved strength to our advantage or not.... Before we give them the chance to go against us first in a later time..."

"Attack them? I am not so pessimistic as you to believe we cannot all get along, at least for a while. While it is prudent for us to prepare for the post war world, I do not think that we should initiate it. I am not so greedy that I won't be content with my holdings as is, and many people will be too war weary to want to continue fighting. No, let us lie and wait, and if they instigate an attack we will be ready," Theodore said, not arrogant but very sure of his plan.

"Theodore, always the voice of reason. You're right, of course. However, if you ever change your mind, then let me know. I'm not eager to betray their trust. I like the Nords, believe it or not. Now that they're standing up to the Empire. But I have to keep my options open. Of course, you're still with them, but that's neither here nor there."

"In name only nowadays, indeed. I could see that changing in the near future. This court mage and consort had big plans and isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. I would not be surprised to see him try and reintegrate High Rock into the Empire. That would fit what I've heard from my cousin in the Imperial City."

"If he does, then that would be in violation of this alliance the Nords are trying to assimilate. So they'd intervene and fight on your behalf. You should speak with them to make sure personally that they'll have your back. But, even if they don't, you know I'll make sure Hammerfell protects High Rock from such an attempt."

"I'm not so sure they would. We are still technically apart of the Empire, and we have yet to join this "alliance" formally. Because of that, they may not want to instigate the Imperials. But, I have made steps to talk to the Nords, sending Duke Mon on to Windhelm to speak with Stormcloak. I am glad to hear you support me though, and know the street runs both ways. Speaking of which, how go the plans to become king?"

"They're going, though progress is halted. It won't happen soon. Maybe not until after the war, though that's only the title. It's obvious that it will be myself leading Hammerfell in this war, but it'll take time before the Ra Gada start calling me the second High King. First step is making them see how important this alliance is. I imagine after you join it, more of them will, and be thankful that I made sure we were in it from the beginning. And when they realize it helps keep us from the clutches of the Empire, they'll all feel in dept to me. The rest will take care of itself. How goes your rule as of late? As smooth as your pulling of the rug from beneath the...'King for a Day' was?" Jeleen let a little smirk escape from his mouth. It was clear he knew more than what was let on. "No need to deny it, I know you too well."

"And you should know that I would never needlessly risk my life," Theodore said, his answer both a denial and confirmation. "But yes, it has gone well. Traven was tricky to pull over, but Roland needed a wife anyway, so an arrangement was easily agreed upon. Unfortunately, Lord Ryger, my nephew, and his wife both perished when their guard captain betrayed them. Their son still lives, but Farrun is besieged. Traven is now leading a force to free it, while I await the next phase. As for your rule, I hope it truly begins now, as that would make cooperating with Hammerfell that much easier."

"Well, I can tell you it won't be nearly as eventful as all that. But what a great time we live in now, with the rise of so many people to power. A great time, or the beginning to a dark age. Only time will tell. As for my rule, even when I am king, ruling over these Ra Gada won't be easy. Too damn individualistic for our own good. So not a great deal will change. After all, we call ourselves united already. And we're really stretching the definition of the word."

"Just remember, marriage is a uniting force. For good and bad. Marrying a son off to a Ra Gada leader's daughter wouldn't be the worst idea. But, your situation is probably different from mine, as all are. Oh, I forgot to congratulate you on managing to pull the other half of Dragonstar in your deal. Was that your idea, or the Nords? It was really only a matter of time before one side or the other gained full control, and I think the Nords were probably willing after they had already taken Pale Pass and started work on a new city on the eastern coast," Theodore said as he relaxed, placing his hands on his chest and slouching down in his chair.

Jeleen said, "Well... between you and me, it was offered to me for my support... But, my people don't know that, so they think I got Dragonstar as part of the deal. The Nords didn't seem to care, since it helps unite Hammerfell, so I took advantage. I was the one who decided to use this to push me as king, however. As for marriage, I do plan on promising my oldest son's hand to the first Crown that decides to accept my rule. I have my eye on Elinhir's Princess, Lami'ah. That should help considerably."

"It is good to see you have a plan in place. I'll see what I can do in convincing those whose ears I have. But right now, I have a considerable proposition for you," Theodore said, sitting up slightly, so the slouch didn't hurt his back.

"Ah, this should be good. What proposition might that be, Theo?"

"It goes back to making sure neither the Nords nor Imperials come out on top after the coming war, although the Nords will also be getting the same offer. I, as you know, am in the midst of a war. Wars are costly, and so to keep my country afloat I would like you to drop a few trading contracts with Cyrodiil and take a them up with High Rock instead."

"Done. That's simple enough. I imagine the Nords will take up the request as well, if they think it's worth it. You should make it a requirement for your joining the alliance. I assume you already told your man as much before he left to Windhelm."

"I appreciate the support. In regards to the man I sent, that I did. I had hoped to catch the High General and Admiral as they returned, but I was busy with the wedding and such. Where I picked up this damn cold as well. Hopefully the warmer weather here will cure it. Anyway, I had another proposal, and this one will not be so easily down. I wish to acquire some of the "black powder" your people have. It would be invaluable on besieging either Wayrest or Evermor, as it would allow us to quickly enter the city without having to storm the gates," Theodore wiped away at his nose, before leaning on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

That gave Jeleen a moment's pause and left him silent for a while. "That's not something I think I can just give you. The explosive powder is rare, and it's also something we don't freely offer to those not of the Ra Gada. We have many uses for it on foot and at sea, and it is considered a special weapon of ours. I can't offer you the powder, but I could offer some men to accompany you with it in their care. You'd need them anyway to properly apply the explosive where needed."

Theodore grinned at Jeleen, genuinely and sincerely. "That would be perfect. I know it probably isn't a common request, but now I owe you a favor, and that can go a long way. Thank you again, old friend. The powder will hopefully shorten the war considerably, if we have to use it at all. Best case scenario, we send it home to you completely intact. But I must prepare for all possibilities, you understand of course."

"Glad to be able to help you out in your bid for king. This should help me out as well. Showing the relations I have, making me look more important. Though, it could backfire. All these dealings with Nords and Bretons. To a lot of Ra Gada, you are as much the Empire as the Imperials are, even if the Nords are at the moment apart. And you're still with them, of course. But, dropping some trade deals with Cyrodiil should make my intentions clear."

In name only...I take orders from no one, much less a mere child, Theodore thought, but kept his inner feelings about those in Cyrodiil to himself.

"Yes, hopefully that will show the Ra Gada that we are no more Empire than the Nords, as I rule us more so than any Empress. Hopefully the less close-minded will realize that this is beneficial, that the important emissaries from other provinces come to you, and not others."

"Hnh, I've heard that line before, I'm afraid. And so have they. But, time will tell. In the end, they will have to go through me if they want Hammerfell to deal with the others for this war and other matters. So, unless they want to stab themselves in the foot, they will make the right choice. If not, them I'm afraid our forces will be miniscule and unorganized when the time to draw elven blood comes. But, I am confident that will not be so." Jeleen stood up then and walked to the other side of their table and brought back a container with crossbones on it.

"Here, friend. This will knock out any cold you've got for a while. Or at least the symptoms anyway. Clears the nostril passages. That, and it's so damn hot, you won't be able to focus on any cold symptoms! But don't worry, the pain will pass shortly after a few drinks."

Theodore grabbed the container, but didn't drink it's contents, instead sliding it in his pocket. "I appreciate it, but they are not so unbearable now that I wish to burn the inside of my nose out. Maybe if they continue another week or so."

That wasn't the real reason, as Theo wasn't about to take any strange drink, especially not from someone just as underhanded as himself. Even if he did trust Jeleen, he wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks.

"But, I will take you up on those drinks!" Theodore said with a laugh.

Jeleen was disappointed that he didn't get to see Theo try the stuff, but he didn't let it show. Sliding over more wine and ale bottles, he said, "Of course. To King Theodore, and hopefully King Jeleen!"

"To us!" Theodore said simply.

Theodore popped open a bottle of wine, quickly inspecting to make sure it was sealed. He poured it carefully, lifting it to his nose to sniff the pungent drink. Satisfied with the smell, he took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue. "A wonderful vintage. Unique, very much so....Markarth, is it? The swamp grapes have a very sour taste, yet sweet once swallowed. Perfection."

"I wouldn't know to be honest with you, friend. I just know it's damn good wine. You always had a better tongue for tasting things compared to myself. Though perhaps that's because I take very little time to taste." Jeleen demonstrated what he meant by downing his glass in one gulp, letting the wine slide down his throat at once.

"Uncultured as always, but I had expected you to know the place your own wine came from! You are truly a shoddy host," Theodore joked, shaking his head in mock disappointment, chuckling as he did. He took a few more sips as well, tasting the tart alcohol and closing his eyes, savoring the flavor.

"I barely know how the wine gets here, just that it indeed does! Kidding of course. It comes from whoever my wife orders it from. She tends to handle the maintenance of the place while I handle the politics. Keeps me focused on the task at hand. Oh, there was one thing I wanted to mention to you before you eventually leave. I know you're a careful man, but make sure you don't drop your guard. When the sky borns were here, running around in the desert, they managed to uncover a spy in my court. Turns out, it was a spy of the Alik'r leader Kematu, but he was a double agent working for Kematu's enemies. The Alik'r's split faction reunited after the Nord general killed their leader, then Kematu told me in person about the spy he placed that betrayed him.

I killed him long and slow... but I have a growing suspicion that the man was really Thalmor. Or they were using him without him knowing who he was really working for, one or the other. Kematu disagrees and thinks he was really working for a faction in the desert that recently emerged... snake worshipers, but I don't think so. No forked tongue. And when I apprehended him, he had some strange cloth on his person with Elhnofex symbols on it. I don't know what they meant, but they definitely weren't Yoku. They claimed the spy was the reason the Alik'r split in the first place. Told them I sent the Nords to conquer them for me. If they didn't kill that leader, Hammerfell could have gotten caught up in more fighting right at the center of my province. You see why I suspect Thalmor involvement now..."

"Spies are always an issue, even in the tightest of courts, as evidenced by my nephews death. I have attempted to head it off in my palace, but you can never really know if it is working or not. Again, I thank you for the warning. I will have my most trusted people keep their ears open, just to be sure we have no leaks. The Thalmor are crafty, that much has always been true, so our guards must never be let down. Currently, though, I am more concerned about the war against Lielle Rolston. Hopefully, my men will be veterans from this war, and thus more prepared for the next. Speaking of the next war, along with those men escorting the explosives, would you mind sending a few desert warfare experts? While we won't be fighting in any soon, I would like my troops trained in desert warfare so the Nords are almost forced to give us Elsweyr, which will be the easier of the two provinces. As much as the Thalmor want the Khajit on their side, they are not elves, and will be the bastards of the alliance."

"All of us are trained in desert warfare, so that will not be hard. However, if you expect Elsweyr to be easier than Valenwood, then I am afraid you will be unpleasantly surprised. While we usually only see the average sized Khajiit in the rest of Tamriel, in Elsweyr, you will go against many agile and fast warriors, including their jaguar men. They are more skilled as fighters than the Thalmor. I don't think you'll find an easy place to take in this war in the front lines."

"No place in war is ever easy, save away from the actual fighting. But I think Elsweyr offers some advantageous possibilities, such as the fact that we can assault the province from north, east, and south via ocean, whereas Valenwood's assault will be limited due the seas to the east being in Thalmor hands. Still, you're right in that Elsweyr is itself quite a challenge, but I think it will be less so than Valenwood. This is all conjecture, though, and until we can get the Imperial's intelligence on the matter I will not say for sure Elsweyr is the safest route. But, it cannot hurt having my men trained in desert combat, in case it is needed."

"There is wisdom in that indeed. You'd better send your men here then if you wish them to be trained in such a way. Hmm, I think some would say that is foolish though, teaching an outsider how to fight in territories like our homeland... it may need to wait a bit after my position is further solidified. I'd probably need to ask of some sort of favor from High Rock as well in trade so it doesn't look like I'm a trusting fool, even with our history, which wasn't always the way they are now."

"Yes, wait until you are the true ruler, so people do not whisper foolish notions. I would offer your men the same training, but in the mountains or cold, but I do not believe we will be seeing any of that where we're going. Do you have a certain favor in mind?" Theodore asked his friend, taking a long sip of the wine. He then opened his flask, which held a cure poison potion. No sense in taking any risks, even with Jeleen.

"At the moment, I do not. Only thing I can think of at the moment would be in the off chance that some fighting does break out, you could lend your assistance to put it down quickly and effectively. They can whine all they want about outside influences in Hammerfell, but even while being independent, it's contacts from the outside that have kept the Forebears ahead of the Crowns. And I plan on taking full advantage of that."

"If that moment arises, I will be happy to help. It is only fair, after all. Also, I'll come along to assist if possible, to show my support of you as king. Or, if you would prefer, send Lord Estermont or my own son. He does need some leadership training, after all."

And he can make sure my men aren't used as shock troops while yours wait back.

"Hmm, not to offend, but do you think your son can handle commanding troops?" asked Jeleen.

"I am just as skeptical as you, but if he performs well under Lord Traven in the north then I think he will at least accompany the troops. He needs experience, and, not to offend you, but what situation is better than one that is generally under control, and one in which my troops would only be in a support role," Theodore said, hoping Jeleen would get the insinuation his troops would be doing the bulk of the fighting, if they were ever needed.

"Support is all I'd use them for. Anything else would make me look like a coward. But this may work out better. The extra men would make me look more threatening, as well as make my force more effective. And since your troops are lead by your son, my people won't feel threatened by High Rock and think you're trying to make a move on us," said Jeleen.

"Exactly. This way, my son gets experience, you get your men, and get to show off how many friends you have, inside the province and out. A win all around," Theodore smiled, both because he was ring friendly but also because he loved scheming and making plans with others. He enjoyed the political game, a most people enjoy things they excel at.

"It's a date, then," Jeleen said, grinning in between bites of a grilled wing.

Theodore chuckled, taking a wing as well, before licking the excess grease off his fingers. Then, stroking his thick brown mustache, he looked off in thought for several seconds, before eventually speaking. "Here's a subject we haven't discussed, but any interesting one nonetheless. Where do you think the Dunmer fit into all of this? The next Great War, that is. They have no love for the Thalmor, yet with the Argonians and their rebuilding, they are in no position to help. I sent them word of my ascension to the throne, and received the customary congratulatory reply, but I feel that that front could be pursued. The Nords have helped them in the past, but the Empire has forsaken them recently enough that there is, understandably, some animosity towards men. If that were to be corrected, it would further open up their lands to trading opportunities."

"The Dunmer... I know very little about those... people and their witchcraft. All I know about them culturally is what we learned from Cyrus, when he fought their she-man devil. I want nothing to do with them. May the Argonians go to hell and take them with them. This war is man vs mer and that's the way I like it."

Theodore suppressed a smirk, and stopped himself from shaking his head in disbelief. That some people can be so close minded is astounding. The ignorance is strong with this one, as much as I enjoy his friendship.

"Well, more spoils to me. But, I would keep your mind open, my friend. Closing it off only means closing your people off to a potential benefit. I am more than proud to say I employ a Dunmer as my son's teacher, and fully intend to strike up whatever business I can. But, to each their own, and you may do

what you wish."

"You don't know Redguard politics, Theo. Even if I wanted to, which I don't... trying to make dealings with those devils would be political suicide. I can get away with that among the Forebears more easily, but not the desert folk. Not the Crowns, either."

"I understand. You must play the game the way your people dictate, and they don't trust elves, so you must not deal with them. Completely understandable. It's the same reason I must not deal with the Orcs, because my people loathe them. Speaking of which, what do you think about them setting up in between Hammerfell and Skyrim? Or attempting to, I should say," Theodore changed the subject smoothly, so as not to anger his friend.

Jeleen left an uncomfortable silence, twirling his finger around his wine cup while he searched for the right words. "I have no interest in them. Eh, for the moment. They occupy lands the Forsworn try to live in as well. So for the moment, they can stay with the rest of the outcasts. As long as they don't strike out at my people, I'll leave them be. There's other mer that take precedence at the moment. They're the ones who I wish to carve and cut and dice. Not the Orsimer. They're not the ones needing a purge."

"Indeed. Although, I doubt some of my vassals will see it the same. Estermont especially despises them, and would love nothing more than to wipe them out entirely," Theodore said, finishing off the bottle of wine he had opened.

"And I wouldn't blame them. But there's a time and a place for everything. Though while I despise the beasts, they aren't provoking anyone at the moment. I am content with letting them be. I doubt your vassals with give you much pressure if we both are against it. Traditionally, Ra Gada and Bretons have always both worked to drive them off. Orcs are no weak adversary."

"Estermont is more worried about the ones still holing up in the Wrothgarians than those on your soil. They are ones he wishes to destroy, more so than those outside High Rock. I can't say I blame him, as the Orcs there act more like bandits than country folk, and harass his lands regularly. But yes, the Orcs that hope to build this new Orsinium pose no threat, not now, and probably not for a while."

"Well, there is a point in taking care of nearby hostile forces before we go to war, like what's happening in Skyrim with the Forsworn. Perhaps he should be concerned. Perhaps we all should. They're peaceful now, at least in my neck of the woods, but so were those savage mutts."

"He does have a point. Leaving a possible threat at home could cause trouble while we are at war. And, as you said, they are ferocious fighters, so it is probably safer to deal with them now. But, that is a job for the future, as I have a war now that needs winning."

"Well, I offered the Nords assistance with the savages in the Reach for Dragonstar, but they turned it down. So, it seems you may have someone for that job available, if you'll pay for the service as a merc job. I'll of course cut you a deal."

"I may take you up on that. I also am having my man talk to Stormcloak about assisting them in clearing out the entire Reach, not just the Nordic side, as the Reach Clans to our east cause problems as well. A collaboration between all of us would be the most sure way of clearing them out. But, you would be paid, if I decide to use your men."

"Completely wiping out the Reachmen... that may be a project that will take some time, even with collaboration. Took quite a while to do so to the orcs and Orsinium before. But, we can at least devastate their numbers so they can't attempt an invasion while our forces are elsewhere. A shame it has come to this, but they've brought it on themselves," said Jeleen.

"When those heathens worship human-animal hybrids, they bring the wrath of more civilized people down upon them. If only we could completely wipe them out...but a culling of the herd will have to do."

"Indeed. They'll not have shed tears from me," said Jeleen, no stranger to looking down on other cultures. There was an irony to the conversation to be sure, but if there ever was a savage primal culture, it indeed would be the men and women sacrificing and worshiping daedra, likely Hircine, to make Hagravens and killing passers by like feral beasts and common bandits.

Theodore nodded slowly, reciprocating Jeleen's sentiment. He coughed into his napkin, surprised he had only done so a few time today. Maybe this weather truly is good for the lungs.

"We have had a pretty full discussion this evening. I am chock out of topics, so unless there is something you wish to discuss, I shall be heading back to my ship."

"With all the food you ate, I am surprised that you can still walk!" Jeleen stood then, holding his gut and showing he probably ate more than he should have. Nothing unusual.

"If you wish to take off, that is fine. Or you could stay the night in my palace. A night out of the ship would do you some good. And in the morning, I'll have the details of our arrangements written out for the both of us."

"I think I'll head back to the ship. I have some letters I need to write, and other business to dictate. Thank you for the offer, friend. If I didn't have a war to run, I'd stay and visit for days!" Theodore rose, and stuck his hand out.

Jeleen was visibly disappointed, since he rarely had anyone he could really call a friend visit him, but he understood completely. Shaking his hand heartily, he said, "Gods bless you and may your war be won swiftly, friend. Until next time, King Ardrard."

"And gods bless you as well," Theodore said, with a genuine smile. "You can have your people send the papers over in the morning, and I will sign them and send them back."

"Will do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do what I always do after a big meal and drinking good spirits... pass out in my bed, ha! So go on, be off with you to your ship, before you eat all my food."

Theodore waved as he walked through the door, but not before grabbing several more pastries and leaving behind a mischievous smile.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Dales, Witchie, Gracchus,

Night,

Imperial City

 

Dales yawned a little, as she read through the large dust covered tome. Her master was in the other room, close but not visible. A very old conjuration spell book. Most of the creatures listed Dales didn't even know existed. It was a gift from Marius, as an apology for sending assassins after her back in Skyrim. Dales held no grudge against the man, she was a thalmor inquisitor,and she deserved the hate. Closing the book, Dales took a deep breath, and used her right hand in an attempt to summon a clanfear.

 

A flash of purple came as she cast the spell. But instead of a reptilian creature, a scantily clad woman appeared. She had long, black, beautiful hair with light curls. And a more beautiful face peeked forth from behind the hair that was partially covering it. Her body was curvy to say the least, with ample chest and hips and a thin waist. Slender but strong arms and legs. And her clothes consisted little more of a couple of straps that went from the sides of her chest up to the neck where they met. It barely looked like it held her breasts in place and covered little more than the nipples. Her bottom was covered by a skirt, hanging a little loosely on her hips. The skirt reached down to her feet but it was only half a skirt, only covering one leg while leaving the other clearly visible. 
 
She looked at Dales with a little curious look, "Let me guess, you want me to teach you how to please your man?" She said and put her hands on her hips.
 
"Ummmmmm...no...I'm sorry..." Dales was shocked. She didn't no how to respond. At the sight of the scantily clad...thing, Dales started to blush a deep shade of red.
 
"No? Sorry?" The daedra said in confusion. 
 
"Ummmmmm..." Nervous Dales started to play with her hair, "I....was trying to summon a clanfear."
 
"Well you clearly failed."
 
"I can see that..." She starred at her lovely breast for a good minute, before averting her eyes, 
 
"What? Jealous?" The daedra said with a small smile, and she sounded a little amused as well, as she cupped her breasts from beneath.
 
 "Oh...no....your just so...beautiful. ARGHHHHH never mind." She turned around, red faced and awkwardly started to leave.
 
"So you're just going to leave me here?"
 
"Ummmmm...maybe I should get my master..." She turned around, and slowly approached her. She coughed, "What's...your name?" 
 
"You would wring your tongue trying to say my real name."
 
"Then...what should I call you?" 
 
"I don't know. Most people don't care about my name."
 
"I'll call you...bunny?" Dales remembered one girl at the Blooming Rose fondly, a young Bosmer who went by her nickname "Bunny". Had the best breasts in Cyrodili. "Why don't people want to know your name?"
 
Because she's a mindless daemon from the dark plane of Oblivion, Dales. 
 
"Bunny?" The daedra said in slight disbelief and gave Dales an insulted look, before continuing, "And I don't know why people don't ask about my name. I'm summoned and then ordered to do some task."
 
"She was a girl I met, had lovely breasts like yourself." She asked, "What kind of ehem "tasks" do they ask you to perform." 
 
"For the most part: the summoner asks that I have sex with them." The seducer smiled a little amused, yet sinister smile for a second, "Sometimes they want me to seduce some other pitiful fool. And on rare occasions a lonely mage girl summons me in hope for some 'lessons'."
 
Dales continued to blush, as her eyes went blank, and said in a nervous, and shy tone, "I'm not a girl. I'm a grown woman. And I didn't summon you for...lessons." She said, her face warming up and becoming even redder, as she pouted, 
 
"You've already pointed that out when you said that this is the result of a failed attempt at summoning one of those clanfears."
 
She whispered something that was barely legible, 
 
The daedra though just seemed to ignore it and just looked at Dales with bored eyes.
 
"Okay then...i'll be back in a minute." Dales turned around, and once again prepared to leave.
 
"Fine. I'll just... stay right here then."
 
Dales suddenly turned around and asked, coughing, "Do you...mind doing it with women?" 
 
The woman tilted her head and looked at Dales a little confused, "What?"
 
Dales repeated the question akwardly, "I said...do you mind doing it with women?" 
 
"I mind doing it with humans in general."
 
I forgot masters lessons. Daedra consider themselves above mortals. Kinda like how we view ants.  This one must be a strange case.
 
Dales went closer to it, taking off her black robe, which she wore in her free time in honor of her patron, revealing her undergarments. "So...you dont mind if I touch you?" 
 
"I can't do anything about it either way, now can I?"
 
Dales went up to the Daedra, taking in ever detail about it. Looking at it's perfectly round breasts, it's slender frame, it's graceful limbs, and breath taking face. She reached for it's breasts, getting more aroused by the minute, 
 
"Why don't you give me a kiss?" The daedra said seductively. 
 
"No kissing!" yelled Dales' master from the other room. His tone was mostly indifferent.
 
Dales started to flail about, "ARGHHHH, master. I wasn't planning to do anything."
 
"Fondle her breasts some if you want, but don't do anything more or the binding will likely break." replied Skjari.
 
"What a boring man. He must be celibate." The daedra said, slightly annoyed.
 
"The binding?! What would happen if the binding broke?"
 
"Nothing too serious. I'd just give you all the pleasure I can possibly give you." The woman said in her seductive voice. 
 
"She'd kill you!" shouted Skjari.
 
"Kill me?!" Dales hands went away from her breasts, and she got up,"BUNNY WOULD KILL ME?!"
 
"Yeah. You might get a good quick moment of pleasure before that if you're lucky." said Skjari as he now came into the room through the doorway. The daedra however remained silent with a neutral expression.
 
She tried to back way. "You should at least take me out for dinner before killing me."
 
"Enough Dales. Remember what I told you: always assume that all daedra you summon will have a desire to kill you."
 
"Okay." Taking a deep breath, Dales commanded the deadra, "Go back to the plane I summoned you forth." 
 
The daedra faded away, back to Oblivion. Like the mirror image in a dark window disappears when a light grows on the other side.
 
"Pffft. What a bitch."
 
"You could say so." said Skjari as he looked at where the daedra had been standing. "Few people can get too physical with them without losing control. Though if you manage to sneak one of them into a man's bedroom they can do very well as assassins."
 
"She was cute though. What a shame..."
 
"I wonder what Lilly would think if I suggested that she get such an outfit." he said thoughtfully before turning his gaze to Dales. "Though you should instead consider putting on more clothes."
 
"Ohhhh...." She put her hands to her hip and said in a voice that wouldn't be out of place for Helen, "Is your fincees body unappealing to you milord?"
 
"Truth be told it's a bit on the thin side for me. A bit more ass wouldn't hurt."
 
"Some sir you are." Her face became stoic, as her voice went serious, "Hey...master can we talk? I've been...wanting to bring this up."
 
"What is it?"
 
She was blunt, "You need to impregnate me."
 
"Really?"
 
"Don't give me that bullshit." Her tone became angered, "I've struggled with this much more then you. We need to solidfy your claim to the ruby throne."
 
"I do this to forget suppress my nightmares, not add to them." his tone became serious.
 
"Your nightmares come after the well being of the empire."
 
"Why do you think I still walk this world?"
 
She turned around, swearing, putting her dark robe back on, "Skjari any nobles are convinced my line wont last a year. Rumors of my sexuality are making me the laughing stock of the court, and yes, I know it was my fault. The soldiers, and civilians, dont give a shit, but even they would be at ease if we had a true heir." 
 
"I'm willing to do a lot to get what I want." he drew a small sigh and his tone changed to a light worry instead. "But my desires are not strong enough to overcome my fears."
 
"We can do it...together." She brought him close into a hug, "Like how we did all those other impossible feats. Together." 
 
"I've toppled and taken over kingdoms before. Not as fast this time though. But this is something..." he grew silent for a moment. "Lets just talk about this some other time. Though if you want to ease the worries of others, for now we can always go out in the garden and..." even though he tried to sound encouraging, his enthusiasm fell flat. 
 
She gently slapped his face playfully, "Hey look at me. This is no time to fall in despair. You have a beautiful fiancee, and a bunch of lovely woman serving your every needs. Come on, smile." 
 
He chuckled a little, which also put a small smile on his face. "Well only having sex with you isn't something I would fall into despair for. Though I am going to admit that the circumstances makes it slightly uncomfortable."
 
She said in a monotoned voice, trying her best to sound like him, "No Dales. I need to put it in there, not there."
 
He chuckled again, a little more than previous. "Anyway, I'll leave the decision up to you. Though I think I should get out of the palace to get some fresh air."
 
"Yeah. Just think about it." And with that, Dales left the room, carrying the dusty old tome with her.
 
"And don't try any conjuration while I'm gone." Skjari shouted after her.
 
"If I want "conjuration" i'll look for Koni. Night." She said, raising her hand, 
 
****
 
Dales was reading the ancient conjuration book in her office. Some of it was quite interesting, detailing horrible beasts that haunted the dreams of mortals. Most were far beyond Dales's skill level, but maybe she would ask her master in the afternoon tomorrow to summon one. Regardless, it was getting very late. She turned to the window, and noticed the stars were out tonight.
 
Gracchus stood outside, quickly fixing his hair and the dress uniform he wore, although it wasn't as immaculate as it usually was. Still, he was dressed well, and carried himself as a High General would. Knocking on the Empress' door, he cleared his throat before any answer could arrive.
 
"Yes? Who is it?" The empress said from the other side.
 
"High General Ceno, your majesty," he said, using the formal title rather than his first name. He wanted everyone to know he took his job seriously, even if the difference was discreet.
 
"Ah General Ceno. Please come in."
 
Gracchus entered, closed the door behind him, and bowed elegantly. Even as a general, he felt a bow was more formal than a salute, not that it truly mattered which way he showed her the respect. 
 
"You requested my presence?" he asked, standing at attention.
 
She said rather deadpanly, "Colonel Quentas told me about General Grommansh and Retrius"s display of swords."
 
Gracchus furrowed his brow, wondering why she was just now hearing of that episode. "Did the colonel mention she was a central part of that display? She antagonized the remaining generals, saying they were content to...suck your father's manhood. That led to Retrius commenting on her promiscuity, especially that with your soon to be husband. Which, might I add, is negligent of someone in his position. Overall she was just as much to blame as either Retrius or Hell-Cry."
 
"We all were, General. Which hate to say is the truth. Though the good spymaster should have held her tounge. I've already ordered Lillin to "shut up" and be careful who she sleeps with, which in none of anyone business. When I asked Martullues, he said Retrius wanted Lillin, who may I remind you is the daughter of one of the most powerful nobles in Cyrodili to strip. Is that true?" She said,
 
"The point he was trying to make, is that she is promiscuous, and advertises herself as such. To be honest, the fact she almost did reveal herself only strengthened his argument. The fact she is of the upper nobility only shows that she should know better than to advertise herself as a debauchee," Gracchus, even if he didn't agree with Retrius' tactics, knew that everything the man sought to point out was true. The spymaster used her assets, in such a way that came off as particularly licentious.
 
"And is there something wrong with that? It simply means Lillin can use her...natural beauty to further her goals, which is helping the empire. Regardless Lilly is a big girl, I wouldn't be calling you down for her sake alone. This...display, is benefit any soldier of the empire. It is childish,and quite frankly...odd."
 
"Odd? What I think is odd is you seemingy wanting our high officials to appear slutty, and all around immoral. Although, with what you just said, it appears you don't care how we look, so long as we get the job done. If that's so, why not just have the military stomp out any sign of insurrection, instead of using diplomatic means? If our image is so unimportant. The problem is, our image is very important, because those that seek to unseat you, or shame you, will use things like the rumors of your sexuality, Colonel Quentas' promiscuity, and Lord Snow-Strider's own licentious behavior to turn people against you. Now obviously, what I said is not true. You do care about how we look to the public, but if so you must not let our officials act like they do. That includes General Retrius," Gracchus remained calm, but it was obvious this whole subject irritated him.
 
She gave him a leechous smile, "Lord Snow-Strider's impossible to control. Lilly already has an ingrained thought about her slutty attitude and appearance." She laughed, "I haven't slept with anyone in a month, I wear practical clothing, and do my best to seem virginal and straight. I've even asked my husband to be to give me child,he refuses. And still all those lords and ladies still whisper slug behind my back."
 
Gracchus furrowed his brow further. "Excuse my bluntness your majesty, but could that not have something to do with your past sexual escapades? As well as your previous job? People are not likely to forget."
 
Pausing, he considered her comment about Skjari being hard to control. Probably because he controls you, he thought dryly, but said, "Whatever the case is with either of them, until they are reared back in, I fail to see how you can particularly blame the public for their dislike of the administration. Skjari has done well, especially recently with the quellings of Bravil, Leyawiin, and Cheydinhal, yet most know nothing about the man. He came out of nowhere, and that has some of the generals concerned, as well as the public. As for Mrs. Quentas, regardless of how set she is on her behavior, that does not mean you should allow it. Perception quickly becomes reality, when people do not trust, respect, or know their leaders. And the perception is, according to recent gossip newsletters, not good concerning your lieutenants."
 
"Half of those nobles sold out to the dominion. Everyone did nothing, including the military." She said suddenly bursted out angryily,slamming her fist into the table, "What right do they have to judge me?1" Her voice become calm again,as she said in an apologetic tone, "Forgive me for that outburst, General. The perception is impossible to change. I'll always be known as the thalmors pet pen pusher, and the empress who fucked the gardener. Unless we publish a book about lord Snowstrider,or he makes me pregneant I doubt the people will like him as well."
 
Gracchus didn't flinch during her outburst, although he was quite surprised. "Perceptions are not changed in a day. Give it time. But, unless you and Lord Snow-Strider do produce an heir, those rumors will never stop. And, it will cause unrest, as people will eventually throw their support towards someone who does have progeny to lead after them. The peasants are fickle, much like soldiers. Give them a release, something to look forward to besides war and rationing. Play up the wedding, play up the pregnancy. Give them a distraction," Gracchus said, but he was shocked by his own words. 
 
What he was proposing would use manipulative, underhanded tactics. He was playing the political game now, whether he liked it or not. And he did not like it, as the muscles in his face clenched in slight irritation that he was now on the road to being a politician as well as general, something he would have put off forever could he have.
 
"He won't lay with me gods damn it. I'm offering to give him something ive never given any man before, and it's starting to hurt on the inside...is there some thing wrong with me?"
 
"I would think there is something wrong with him. Unless he doesn't mean to prolong his reign after the war, then why hasn't he attempted to produce an heir? It is worrying indeed, because if he has only planned for the war that means more unrest lies afterwards. As for what I said about the distraction, I would advertise the magic tournament he means to hold as well. That, or reveal some sort of exciting news to keep the mud slinging gossipers off your back," Gracchus frowned as he spoke, his words true but the disgust at his political maneuvering evident. The sooner he was back on the battlefield and away from the capital, the better. In that he envied Tacitus, as the admiral could wage a war of his own while Gracchus was stuck in the Imperial City.
 
"Lord Snow-Strider keeps telling me he has "fears" he cannot conquer, and the thought of children give him nightmares." She started to scratch her chin,"Maybe I should seduce him? Display affection in public more like the mage tournament?"
 
"I don't know what the definitive answer is in this particular situation, but if he will not consummate the marriage, nor give you an heir, it will be troubling. No doubt the slanderers will pick up on it, as they do most things. I suggest talking to him again, and tell him how important it is to those on the outside, as well as to you," Gracchus forced a smile, hoping to cheer up the young empress, as well as himself.
 
"Come now, Gracchus. I know a fake smile-"
 
Dales was interrupted by a girl trying to balance a pot of tea on a platter, who just had entered the room. She had her hair in braids, a pair of glasses on her face, and a small frame. She spoke in a shy, quiet voice, " I'm so sorry your majesty..." The empress gave her a warm smile, "Helen my dear, it's alright.
 
Just place it over there." She pointed to the table. The girl quickly did what the empress had instructed and bowed, Dales said, "Dearie you should be going home now. Lilly is most likely worried, and you have school in the morning." 
 
She bobbed her head around in an adorable like fashion, "Oh no your majesty. What if you need anything? I should wait in the palace until you go to bed."  
 
"It's quite alright. You need your sleep." She called out, "Captain Imperius." The white armoured plated guard entered into the empresses office and stood at attention, "Yes your majesty." Dales said softly, "Escort little Helen back to her mansion. Make sure no harm comes to her." He bowed his head, "It shall be done my lady." As the two started to leave, Helen called out, "Goodnight Miss Moitre!!!" Dales smiled again, "Goodnight Miss Quentas." 
 
Dales picked up the pot, and poured herself a glass, she asked, "Tea, general?" 
 
Gracchus glanced at the tea, but wasn't in the mood for refreshments. "No, no thank you."
 
"You sure? Helen makes amazing tea." She took a sip, "Ahhhhh. Its herbal, and sweet. Just like her."
 
"I'm sure it's delicious, but I will pass," Gracchus said.
 
"So general, how goes recruitment?" She said. Obviously not wanting to go back to the previous conversations.
 
"It is going. We lowered the drafting age, as you know, and so that has increased our troop numbers, but the majority of the new troops are green, and will likely stay behind as reserves, and continue training and serving as support troops," Gracchus said, annoyed she was ignoring the previous topic but also happy he no longer had to try and deal with politics.
 
"A bunch of green,skinny teenagers. I hope training is going well, I was thinking of placing Grommash or Retrius in charge, since I heard they can be brutal and highly effective in enforcing discipline. Who do you recommend?"
 
"Neither of them. General Hell-Cry, while effective, is not very intelligent, and General Retrius, while smart and a good leader, is insubordinate at times, and very independent minded. Not a bad thing in most circumstances, but I would rather have General Fork-Beard train them. He is a great soldier, capable tactician, and quietly brutal. That is my personal choice in the matter," Gracchus had put a lots of thought into the matter, and had ranked all of his generals on how they would preform under certain circumstances, such as training, seiges, charges, and tactics. Fork-Beard was one of the most well rounded, which was exactly the quality he wanted in the general that trained the green soldiers.
 
"Fork-Beard, eh? All right. Write to him and tell him to report to the training fields near Bruma. I think the bitter winter will harden the recruits cores and bones."
 
Gracchus sighed, and said, "I think training in the south, closer to Anvil, would be better. Yes, the cold would harden the troops, but the environments they will be fighting in are hot, to say the least. Getting them accustomed to that would do them more good than getting them used to wearing this cloaks and sleeping in heavy sleeping bags."
 
"Whatever you think is best. In his lessons, Tulliius told me the best place to train recruits were in extreme climates. I suppose that counts as far as Cyrodlil"s concerned."
 
"That is true, but I am more of the line of thinking that training men for the environments they'll be fighting in is much more important. Really, as far as these troops are concerned, they need training above all else, regardless of where it takes place."
 
"That bad huh?"
 
"These are the most recent string of draftees, who have no military experience, so yes, they need a great deal of training."
 
"Mostly farmhands and merchants sons?"
 
"Mostly. Although we relaxed the physical requirements, and thus were able to take in some older men and women who might have been passed over for healthier individuals in previous drafts."
 
"Woman eh? Well that's good to hear."
 
"While some that cut it will be soldiers, most will be trained as healers, medics, couriers, non-fighting roles. That goes for the men as well, as those that don't cut it as soldiers can still have roles. We also have a stipulation that those with larger incomes can pay to keep from serving. That gives is another source of money, even if the practice is one I would rather not have to do."
 
"Lilly was telling me about that. She already payed it so her niece Helen didn't have to serve. Gives the empire more money in the treasury, which is always good."
 
"It does, but unfortunately it also alienates the poor. Of course, we can't draft everyone, or we'll have no one to produce food, weapons, and materials, so not even all of the poor will be drafted. Still, it is a rather unfair policy, but one that ultimately benefits us more than it hinders."
 
"Nothing can be truly fair Gracchus. Even after the war, all we can do is make sure the people of the nation are safe, and as happy as the social system allows them to be. However, anyone can rise up from there station if they work hard enough to. Look at you, a son of a farmer, now a lord and High general of the empire." 
 
"I thankfully inherited the magical gifts that my grandfather had. Although I never met the man, he was a mage, as well as my uncle and his son. Arvatus, my cousin, actually studied under the former court mage. I never met any of them though. My father, though not hateful of magic users, was quite irksome when in regard to it. Jealousy he wasn't skilled in it, perhaps. But yes, anyone can rise, but it requires just as much luck as skill. Had I not ran into a Thalmor Justicar during the Battle of Red Ring, and subsequently killed him, I could be a mere quaestor, or just now becoming a legate."
 
"Well, I suppose killing some one can propel your station. I was a simple ditzy princess until I murdered my father, and then I became an empress."
 
At times, you still are ditzy, Gracchus jokingly thought.
 
"Not exactly the point I was trying to make, but what you said is sadly true."
 
"Well, killing these days seems to be solving all of are problems. Which is disturbing greatly."
 
"Only the problems that were a result of killing, such as Bravil and Leyawiin. Cheydinhal, were no physical harm was done, was solved peacefully. We've only used violence as an answer to violence."
 
"Fight fire with fire." She let out a sorrowful sigh, "Even after everything. All the friends, comrades, and lovers i've lost to them, I would want nothing more then to solve the upcoming conflict with diplomacy. The people have had enough war and are tired of conflict, and the empire is on the brink of collapse. We need to mend are wounds, and rebuild. This war will be a strain on our coffers, military, and more importantly, the people." 
 
"Hey...Gracchus...ummmm...can I make a recommendation?" 
 
"I've wished the same. But, it cannot be so. We have to fight this war, and really have no choice in the matter. All of Tamriel is war weary, and I hope this is the war to end all wars. I wouldn't count in it though, nor would I count on diplomacy having any use in the upcoming conflict."
 
Gracchus smiled, nodding his head. "Of course, your majesty."
 
"I know i'll get yelled at for suggesting this, or just asking for clarifying. Tullius told me that empires can collapse for having a too large ratio gap between troops and money. I was thinking shouldn't we lower the number of troops we field? This "empire" is basically two provinces." She was getting frantic, "Couldn't we collapse under the cost and weight of our own army after the war?"
 
"After the war we'll be suffering immense casualties. We will be lucky to have half the number of troops we began with. We will probably be in debt, yes, but the gap will not be so large as to destroy us," Gracchus said calmly.
 
"That many dead soldiers? Do our "allies"expect us to take all the casualties?!"
 
"Death is inevitable in war. That estimate is probably worst case scenario, but very possible. The fighting will be tough, and I suspect the taking of Alinor itself will be extremely difficult. As for our allies, I don't believe they will. The Nords don't seen likely to shy away from a fight, and I believe they will be fair."
 
"Do you trust General Red-Snow to honour his agreement?"
 
"I do. But I understand your reservations. I'm sure we will have a chance to meet with them, and you can voice your concerns there," Gracchus said.
 
"I highly doubt they would want to listen to me. Ulfric most likely views me as a little girl. Which Amaund viewed me as until it was too late. Though I doubt Baldur forgets are lovely bonding time together."
 
"Regardless of whether they want to or not, they will have to. You lead Cyrodiil, and as such have a say."
 
"Am I good leader though?" She said, darkening, "Or am I like my father..."
 
Gracchus grew uncomfortable. He knew that she really wasn't the leader, and therefor nothing she did was really under her control. Or so he thought. He wasn't exactly sure how the souls binding worked, but regardless her actions were not her own. 
 
But, he couldn't say that, so he reached up and patted her shoulder, and said, "You are nothing like your father. Always remember that."
 
"Are you sure? I'm stupid. Childish. And a p-" She stopped herself, before instead saying "Fool. Just like him. I try to make a difference, but it always slips through my fingers, 
 
"You're doing fine. Just keep your confidence up, and you'll do fine. We're here for you Dales, and will be here for you. You've done fine," Gracchus reassured her.
 
"I hope..." 
 
Whining like a child won't help any negative perceptions.
 
"Now, is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"
 
"No. Leave me. I have much to ponder." She smiled "I truly appreciate are friendship General I know you'll never let you down."
 
"As do I. Remember, you are better than your father. Everyone makes mistakes, but you will be remembered as the empress that freed us from Thalmor oppression. Good day, your majesty," Gracchis bowed and left.
 
Once outside, he sighed heavily. She means so well, with her intentions, but her lack of confidence is disturbing. Maybe the would binding is for the best, for her and the Empire. At least, for now. Who knows what Skjari's intentions are. 
 
Gracchus walked off, leaving his thoughts behind as he looked forward to the ride home, to seeing his wife and mother again. He wondered if Eduard had yet arrived, an hoped he had. They had a great deal to talk about.
 
Dales sighed deeply, as she poured herself a glass of whiskey, and went back to reading her tome.
 
You too Gracchus huh? Am I that...it doesn't matter, 
 
*****
Afternoon the Next Day
 
Dales was in the garden, admiring the beauty of a blue Lilly Flower. It's scent always reminded her of Elan's, and Helen's fragrance. She was softly singing to herself, 
 
Floating towards the water's surface
The string of fate draws us there
There is no need to fear
What tomorrow holds
If the two of us are together.
 
When the song drew to it's end, her master appeared from behind a tree. He didn't say anything, his eyes fixed on her as he walked up to her. "I've arranged for a small audience hidden in the bushes." he then whispered into her ear. 
 
"Please...be...gentle..." She said. Her voice lost almost all of her previous determination,
 
"I'll try. Just act passionate." he whispered. 
 
She put on the most over the top voice she could muster, "Oh my lord, ravish me..."
 
"Try not to overdo it." he whispered. He then brought her in for a kiss before they lied down in the grass and began to undress.
 
****
Dales lay on her backside covered in sweat. She was panting hard and holding her stomach,she whispered into her masters ears, "That was the worse sex I've ever had."
 
"Yet you asked for it." he whispered back and then gave her a light kiss. 
 
"****. So overhyped....really disappointed." She gave a hollow laugh and kissed him back
 
"Well there's even some things I can't do anything about. Even though I tried."
 
"Raine puts more hip into it i'm afraid." 
 
"She also puts less meat into you as well."
 
"It felt like there was a snake in my private parts. Yuck. Ewww..Gross...It was...so weird." She stuck her tongue out, 
 
"Behave. We still got an audience." he said before he quickly responded by sticking his tongue down her throat for a long kiss. 
 
She started to converse with telepathy, kissing him long and passionate,
 
This feels like i'm in a play or somthing. A play were the actors have sex with each other.
 
"Being a ruler involves various degrees of acting."
 
"This is just getting awkward. Shall I notice the perverts in the bushes, and cry out for my knight in shining...mail to come to my rescue?"
 
"It was awkward from the beginning. Lets just put on our clothes and head in their direction. That will surely make run for it."
 
She put back on her innocent, girlish voice she used back in Skyrim, "I love you my lord...that was...amazing..."
 
"Not..." 
 
"No need to get cynical with me." he then grabbed his pants as he got up from the ground. "It was lovely dear. But I think we've lingered here long enough."
 
She blushed, "Of course...honey pumpkin."  Dales had a sly smile, 
 
Dales put her white silken pair of panties, along with her knee high socks, her much hated Pink frilly dress, and jewelry. As she walked towards the bushes, she suddenly started yelling and pointing towards the people she knew were hiding there, " Perverts in the bushes!!! "
 
And right after Dales had shouted that, lots of rustling was heard from the bushes, followed by the sound of footsteps as a few people ran away. Skjari didn't seem to pay much attention to it other than looking in the direction of the peepers. 
 
"Well...that went well..."
 
Skjari strapped on his belt and sword along it as he walked up to Dales. "Just try to act like you do when with the maids."
 
"Done."
 
"Next time in the throne room after court?"
 
"You seriously want me spread eagle on the ruby throne? You want to clean it afterwords?"
 
"Just a suggestion. I've dirtied my old throne a few times. Feel free to come with any suggestions of your own. Anyway, it would have to wait. I think doing this again too soon after you just caught those peepers would just give away the sense that we're trying show something."
 
"Give honey pumpkin a kiss." She said in a joking tone,
 
"I thought I was the honey pumpkin here." he said with a chuckle before giving her a light kiss. 
 
*****
Dales had a few hours off today, masters orders. So she decided to read more of the ancient conjuration book. Looking through its dusty pages, one particular drawing caught her attention, a massive black humaoind wolf. She read the text above the drawing outloud,
 
"An Abyss-Hound. A very powerful servant of the daedric prince Hircine."
 
Suddenly she heard knock on the door. 
 
Dales closed the book, "Yes?"
 
"Your highness." said the guard. "A woman out here wants to speak with you. She claim you know each other."
 
"Send her in."
 
The door opened the door and in came an imperial woman. Dales recognized her as an old servant, and she barely remembered that her name was Julia. She was an imperial woman with brown hair. She was thinner than Dales remembered and her pretty face seemed to have aged quite a lot since Dales last saw her.
 
"Julia?" Dales gave her a warm smile as she got out of her desk and went in for a hug. "Its been too long."
 
"Greetings your highness." She said, her voice weary and a bit sad. Her eyes averted to the ground.
 
Dales could tell when somone was feeling down. Dales remembered Julia when she was younger,she would sneak Dales some extra cookie dough, and would fondly call her "Little Blondie". Dales put on a worried expression, "Please take a seat. Can I get you anything? Tea? Cookies?" She said with a small smile,
 
"No need for that, I don't want to be a bother." She said as she hesitantly sat down in the chair across from Dales.
 
"Oh no its no trouble." She called, "Claudia!!! Bring me some tea and pastries" The short maid poked her head into the room and nodded, "It shall be done milady." Dales asked, "How have things been Julia?"
 
"Oh rather well. I've found a new job with nice a noble family in the Talos Plaza District, not that far from the palace." The woman kept looking down for the most part and rarely looked at Dales when she spoke.
 
"Good for you. You deserved far better then my horrible family." She chuckled softly,"I hope I wasn't a trouble to you in my youth."
 
"Not really, no. I just should have thought things through before giving you something without permission."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"You don't know? Well I think there's no need to dig up the past."
 
"Did they do something to you because of me? And please, be honest."
 
"I just... got a little beating whenever I was caught doing so. But that's all in the past now. And it's not the reason I came here for today."
 
"Oh...I'm sorry..." She took a pause before smiling,again, "So why are you here today?"
 
"The reason is... I got a child. A child I cannot really take care of. And the reason I'm coming to you is..." she grew silent for a moment, her head hung even more as she looked into the ground. "You're the aunt to the child."
 
He eyes filled with shock, but was soon replaced with fury, she pratical spat, "That...bastard...did..."that" to you?"
 
"You can say so, yes. He was kind at first but - lets not go into it. I don't even want to think about it."
 
"You know, if you cant afford taking care of the baby, I can give you financial aid if you want?" She said kindly, 
 
"I also don't have a lot of time to take care of the baby with my new work. And it's also that when I look upon my little girl, I... sometimes think of..."
 
"Amaullues. You see his face." She put hand hand to her chin, and stared at the servant with intense, thoughtful eyes. After a good minute, Dales said, "Were is she?" 
 
"In the mansion of the people I work with. They let me keep her there. Even provided me with a used crib."
 
Dales started to sweat, as she continued smiling, "Can you bring her here? I'll send my guard-captain to escort you." 
 
"Will you take good care of her?"
 
"She's my blood. I'll treat her as my own daughter." 
 
"Of course your highness."
 
She said, "Captain Imperius. Report." A tall, white plate-armoured figure entered into the office. He saluted and stood at attention, "Ma'em." Dales said in a stoic tone, "Escort this woman to were she needs to go, guard her and the package she carries, and bring her back to me. Trail from behind. Understood?" The captain nodded, "Of course, ma'em."
 
Julia looked at the man and she looked a bit scared and worried at the sight of him. She din't say anything however as she got up from the chair, gave Dales a short curtsy and then hurried out of the room with the guard captain in tow. 
 
"Imperius wait." He stopped, for a second, before heading over to Dales "Yes your grace?" She whispered, "Ready your sword." He grew pale, before nodding to her, "Yes your majesty." He left the office, and closed the door behind him.
 
Claudia arrived a few minutes later, placing the tea and cookies on her desk. Dales poured herself a cup of tea, took a sip, and waited. 
 
After nearly an hour of waiting, a knock came on the door. "Imperius here, with the woman."
 
"Enter." As the door opened, Imperius stood behind, Dales made a obscure gesture, which was barely noticeable. In actuality, the captain reconised it as legion hand signalling. "Weapons out." Making sure the woman wasn't watching, Imperius drew his short Gladius, and followed from behind. 
 
Though Julia seemed to have noticed a sound of the sword being drawn and looked quite terrified. But she just looked at Dales. "Here she is." She said with a wavering voice. And in her arms was an oval bundle of white cloth. Julia quickly glanced back and forth between her baby and Dales. 
 
Dales stretched out her arms to take the bundle, 
 
Julia looked at the baby for another second and she looked to have second thoughts about it all. Then she looked back at Dales and hesitantly handed over her child to Dales.
 
She gently took the baby, into her arms. Looking at it's cute face, Dales who was moments before stoic, gave her a caring, warm smile, also making a silly face, "Hello little flower. My name is Dales. I'm you aunt." She  lightly poked her in the stomach, which caused her to let out a small giggle. Dales said, still looking at the baby and smiling, "What's her name?" 
 
"Aelva."
 
"Well, my little flower, today your Aelva Moitre. My daughter." She started rocking the baby in her arms. Dales looked up and glanced at Imperius, shaking her head. Letting out a sigh of relief, the palace guard sheaved his gladius. 
 
"I... May I go now your highness?" Julia said, her voice filled with less fear but instead more sadness. 
 
"Dont be too hard on yourself. You've given her a chance at a better life. You need anything, just ask me." Dales said, giving her a nod, 
 
Julia was about to turn around when she stopped. "May I... May I come visit her every once in a while?"
 
"You can visit her whenever you want." Her smile and warmth faded, once again replaced by the cool stoicism, "However, you can tell no one about this. Tell your boss you left her at an orphanage, or gave her to family or a trusted friend."
 
"Of course your highness." Julia curtsied Dales and then walked out of the room, giving her baby one more look before she left. 
 
"Captain. Take her to Kongami's apartment. Tell her to keep her mouth shut until the Empress says otherwise. Don't say a word to any other soul. Avoid being seen. Take the hidden passageways if you need to." He bowed
 
"Let me get out of this armor first. I'll be more efficient and less likely to be seen." He briskly left the office. Dales was still rocking the baby, saying,"It's alright little flower. Mommy will take care of you."
 
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Elara

Imperial City

 

Elara gawked at building after humongous building as she pushed her way though the seemingly endless crowds of the market district. Apparently, the city was to be hosting some sort of big mage tournament, or festival, was and anyone who could move a pebble with their mind was probably going to be here. Some prospective mages were already showing up in hopes of being the first to prove themselves. With the festivities still a ways off, many of these hopefuls were finding ways to sustain themselves within the city walls. Vending stands were being set up, some with bedrolls behind them, and street performers made their livings impressing crowds by eating fire and making rodents disappear. A year ago, these sights would have left her mystified. Now, having worked for Endar for so long, Elara could not only tell you that many of the stunts were fake, but she could also correctly identify the commonly accepted names, the runes, and the classifications of the spells they pretended to know.

At this point, the performers impressed her far less than the city itself. Two days here, and already, Elara was certain that this was where she wanted to live out her days, and the way Master Endar payed her, she could do it in comfort. Hell, maybe she could befriend someone important in the Palace, and be the envy of everyone as she pretended to be important, hanging out in the grandest structure in all of Tamriel and dining in the same hall as counts and generals.

It all seemed too good to be real, but when she stopped daydreaming, Elara saw the great Imperial Palace dominating her and everything else, the ancient stone buildings and walls, still somehow intact and strong, the thousands of people, all diverse and unique, and she knew that she was one of the luckiest girls alive, as she had the youth and money to enjoy it in its fullest.

The thought of this made her smile as she walked under the wooden sign marked "Rindir's Staffs" and into the shop itself. The interior was large and open, like most of the older shops in the market. Dozens of locked display cases containing all manner of staffs lined the walls and counters. Some of them, she recognized the runes, crystals, and even materiel of, but others were completely foreign to her. For instance, one of those near the front counter was made of an odd silvery metal with a green tint, and some unfortunate beast's large, dark eye was stuck up at the end of it. The label on the case read: "Command Serpent".

"Hello," said the unsurprisingly high and cheerful voice of the Bosmer shopkeeper from behind his counter. "If you are looking to buy a staff, you have found the right place."

"You're Rindir?" Elara asked, going over in her head what Endar had told her about the man. His description of Rindir had depicted the elf as one of the shorter and stockier wood elves, and old as well. This one was closer to average human height, tall for his kind, and seemed rather young.

The elf smiled, almost as if complimented. "Oh yes." he said. "Named for my mother, Rindir. And her father, Rindir. It is easier to pass down a name than it is to change history."

"Change history?" She repeated back, slightly confused. "Why would you have to change history to rewrite the name on the sign?"

Rindir had obviously told the tale before. "Because two hundred years ago, this shop, Rindir's Staffs, was endorsed by none other than the Arch Mage Traven of the Mages Guild himself! And then again, by his even more famous replacement. I probably don't have to tell you about that one, though." he said with a wink.

"Uh, right." said Elara, who hadn't the faintest clue who this Traven or his replacement were, or what made them so special. "Of course you don't."

"So, now that you know the credentials of my fabulous shop, how can I help you?"

Elara reached into a pocket in her vest and took out a folded sheet of parchment. It had a picture of a wooden staff with a large blue crystal at the end, a Welkynd stone. "I need one of these, scripted for light or fire. Other specifics for the enchantment don't matter."

"Expensive taste." remarked Rindir as he looked the sheet over. "But quality is always worth coin, and here you will only find quality."

Rindir led her over to one of the cases at the center of the room and used a key to open it, procuring a staff identical to the one Endar had drawn for her. "This one will light an entire cave and then some."

"That will do nicely then." she said with a smile, reaching into Master Endar's coin purse after she saw the price tag.

***

The palace guards greeted Elara kindly as she entered the gigantic tower. Showing the proper paper to those guarding the upper levels allowed her to move on up, past level after level, each full of enough rooms to fill Count Brutus's entire castle. By the time she had reached the floor that she and Endar had ben given a spare room on, Elara was physically exhausted. This was one reason why she had no desire to actually live here permanently; there were just too many damned stairs!

When she entered the room, which had already been newly furnished in the short time they'd been here, Elara found Endar scooting what looked like a dead rat that must've been the size of a dog, into a waste basket. He then used telekinesis to lift a smoking gray soul gem from his enchanting table and cast it in after the sewer rat.

"I have your staff, Mister Drenim." she said, unfazed by the odd sight.

"Good. Good." Endar said, hurrying over and taking the staff. "A great stone will be necessary eventually, but I'm afraid that it is quite improbable that we will find one of those in the market."

He returned to his table and, with a white flash, broke the staff in two. He then removed the enchanted Welkynd stone from the end and held it up. "You didn't have to buy the most expensive one in stock, you know. This is only for a test."

Elara shrugged. "Should've been more specific."

As usual, the master wizard had seemingly forgotten her as he brought the stone back to his table and began tinkering with it and prodding it with various spells whose uses were were far beyond her understanding. She simply shrugged again and headed over to the new red armchair. It was one of three in the back corner of the room, all among the coziest she'd ever sat in.

The moment her behind had begun comfortably sinking into the soft leather, Endar called. "Elara, I need you to dispose of this for me."

Disposal? Seriously? As if she hadn't just returned from a trek across the city for him. Sighing, she answered. "Yes, Mister Drenim." She wasn't appreciated enough for what she did, but Elara had never been happier than she was working for Endar, getting to see and do the things she did made the many pains worth it in the end. Endar was rude and uncaring, but he rarely did anything that was uninteresting. Of course, the money didn't hurt either.

After leaving the comfort of her chair, Elara saw that Endar wanted her to get rid of the smoking gem and rat basket. Oddly enough, this experiment, whatever it was, was not among those he had had her record or assist with at all. "So what is this for?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"You haven't gone daft on me have you, girl?" asked the wizard, still paying attention to his work and not even sparing her a glance. "That is for carrying the dead rat and hot soul gem so you don't catch a disease or burn yourself."

"Not the basket." Damnit! Sometimes Elara had the feeling that he did that on purpose, and laughed inwardly at it to make up for the nearly complete lack of outward humor. "The things in it."

"That's nothing of importance to you. Matters of the Legion."

"The Legion?" Elara snorted. "I wasn't aware that you enlisted."

"I didn't." he said plainly, seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm. "But it was the High General who asked this this project of me, so yes, the Legion."

"Alright, have it your way." she said, picking up the basket and taking it to the second room, where an alchemy lab set up solely for creating disposal solutions waited. If Endar wanted to keep this one thing from her, she wouldn't pursue it. He was the master wizard, after all.

***

Hours later, Elara returned from her break still reeking of dissolved rat. She had eaten lunch with some of the staff upstairs, most of whom had given her a wide berth. She didn't blame them. She would've escaped the smell too if she could, but there had not yet been time for a bath.

"I hope you had a good lunch." said Endar from across the room as she closed the door. "Because while you were gone, I had to deal with a crisis!"

"I did." she said with a smile, certain that whatever menial task Endar had had to do for himself was truly daunting for him. "Grilled Lamb chops, with some northern snow berries on the side and a sweat roll for desert."

"You seem rather uncaring, considering that you are currently wanted for murder."

"What?!" she felt as though her heart had genuinely stopped. He said it so nonchalantly, as if this wasn't a big deal at all. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing. You are not really wanted. But now that I truly have your attention, here." he held out a large, lumpy piece of paper that seemed to be poorly wrapped around something.

Ass! Elara scowled as she crossed over to take his damned package. "So what, was the actual crisis having to wrap this yourself?"

"There was no crisis." Endar said, once again not noticing the sarcasm, "but it was not a task that I enjoyed."

"So who's this going to?"

Endar's brow furrowed for a moment. "It is for you. For whatever reason, some of your predecessors did not think kindly of me. You seem to, and have not been a particularly bad steward. So now I am showing you my..." Endar seemed to have trouble saying the word. "...Appreciation."

"Wait..." Her anger faded, giving way to confusion and shock. "You're giving me a gift? ... You?"

"Don't be so grateful." He said, still sounding about as plain as ever. But somewhere in there, she could just pick up a hint of sarcasm. Endar nodded to the package. "You can open it now."

Elara obliged, tearing off the disastrous wrapping and throwing it aside, to reveal a folded brown cloak made of a heavier than average silk. Holding it up, she saw that the back had a fox stitched on it, it's ears were perked up and it stood tall, looking alert.

"You've once said you like foxes." Endar said, "so the tailor included one upon request."

It was dogs she liked. Elara had never even seen a fox. But the fact that he remembered she liked an animal at all, especially one that was actually kind of similar to her favorite, was touching, and the stitching was beautiful. The cloak was thick for silk, but as the soft material slid through her fingers, it seemed to actually be cooler than the room they were in. "Thank you." she said, honestly lost for words.

"It is enchanted as well as naturally superior." said Endar. "The silk is from an aged albino frostbite spider, and will keep you cool in the heat, but warm in the cold. And I added an effect to fortify your endurance. So all of the walking will not tire you so quickly."

Enchanted too? For all the magic related work she did for Endar, Elara had never in her life actually owned something enchanted. Wide-eyed and smiling, she draped it over her shoulders and tied the string below her neck. It really did feel like something to be worn in the north, but there was no uncomfortable heat to accompany the weight. And how soft it was! The material was hard to describe. Like the finest silk you'd ever run your fingers through, but thick and strong rather than fragile. Elara was certain this cloak was worth more than anything she'd owned before. Her father certainly never would've allowed her to possess something so extraordinary.

"This is wonderful." she said, trying to think of a way to show that she meant it. A hug would be the typical response, but with Endar, the thought only made her laugh when it crossed her mind.

"It cost me lots of septims and a Dremora's soul," Endar remarked, "so I would hope so." His brow arched at her laughter, but he did not otherwise respond to it. "Now, as fine a distraction as this has been, make yourself useful and recopy the Admiral's gauntlet sketches. The last one you made gives the impression that the soul gem shards were from a lesser gem. The one used was grand."

"Yes, Mister Drenim!" she answered enthusiastically, now, more than ever, wanting to prove that she deserved this position.

It took her a couple of hours, but eventually Elara had made a near perfect copy of Endar's own sketch. It was a metallic fist, apparently made from Dwemer brass. The magical makeup of it was different than a typical enchanted item. Rather than using a soul to power it, Endar had used some tool to warp the hand's makeup to work as a siphon. It would draw the wearer's own magicka into a specific spell. This one was geared toward fire. She had seen one other attempt at something like this in his past research, but it had been on a staff, not a prosthetic, and if she recalled right, it had violently combusted after about nine uses. "So what was the purpose of this?" she asked her master curiously.

He was over by his enchanting table, looking over some black rock. "It was to give the Admiral a new weapon, and to give me an ideal subject to test this new tool."

Admiral Tacitus had seemed to her like a practical and intelligent man, who wouldn't trust to be the subject for one of Endar's dangerous experiments. "And he just agreed? No questions asked."

"There were questions." Endar said, looking up from his work with a deadpan expression. "But I never told him it was for an experiment. Rather, I told him that this was a common form of magic in Morrowind in order to ease his mind."

"But it isn't?"

"No." he confessed. "But the idea was loosely based on a type of enchantment that used to be performed there. This is unique, in that it is geared towards someone whose own magical makeup was muddled by the loss of a body part, which I have replaced. It should work better than previous attempts. Despite this, I figured that lying to him would make him more willing to use it than explaining all of this. The Admiral is heading back towards combat, and hopefully will soon be able to report to me on how well the gauntlet works, and more importantly, confirm that this model is not prone to exploding."

Elara hadn't been made aware that Tacitus was already gone. What a shame. she thought. Even if he had not so much as noticed her, she had quite liked the gruff Admiral. It would've been nice to have gotten a chance to speak with him. "So he won't be back anytime soon?" she asked, not wishing to inquire about the probability of him being blown up by his own hand.

"Why should I know?" Endar asked annoyedly. "I'm busy enough already without trying to keep up with the schedules of men I barely know. Go upstairs and ask the Emperor if you really are so curious."

"Like I'd be allowed up there." laughed Elara. "And it's Empress."

"Emperor, Empress, King, Queen. Whatever. Is there any point in this conversation? Or have I truly just spent-" he glanced over at one of twelve magical hourglasses that lined a shelf along the wall. "-Almost three minutes making idle conversation with my own stewardess?" Endar scowled and returned to counting cracks on his rock, or whatever it was he was doing.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. Her task was complete, but to immediately interrupt Endar again would be unwise. His short moment of charity earlier had been just that: momentary. But it had been enough for her to know he wasn't so uncaring as he liked to appear. Wrapping herself in her new cloak, Elara left the room and headed downstairs for a walk. The Imperial City was large and beautiful, and she still had much of it to see.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ingun Black-Briar

She couldn't see them, the sack over her head made sure of that, but the fresh scent of death filled the air, and Ingun knew without looking that they approached the site of a recent slaughter. The tension around her stomach eased as the ropes binding her to the mast were untied. Strong arms hoisted her up, and those same arms shoved her hard over the unsteady wooden surface.
"We're arriving." the Nord said in a gruff voice. He prodded her back with the blunt end of his spear for good measure. "Move."

Not having the most experienced sea legs, Ingun naturally stumbled. She tried to balance herself, and only ended up falling hard on her face as a result. This earned her some laughter from the Nord, and what sounded like even more a little ways in the distance, at what she presumed was to be their destination. Once again, she felt a hand grab her by the tunic and lift her back to her feet. "Forward. Without falling this time."

Ingun set out more carefully. This time, the man's hand was on her back, guiding her forward and giving advice on what to do with each step. "There's a step up here, and then you'll be on the plank. Careful. You don't want to fall on that."

Ingun didn't answer. She had no words for the man. Instead, she compiled what dignity she had and slowly placed one foot in front of the other, each feeling forward on the downward wooden slope before firmly planting. After seven steps, two new pairs of hands grabbed her shoulders, pulled her ashore, and roughly turned her, making it hard to be sure what direction she was now facing.
"Why've you got a bag on her head, Runar?" This was a new man's voice. It was light-hearted, and even friendly-sounding. "It's not like it matters what she sees."

She felt the sack slide free, and closed her eyes to the bright sunlight that she knew would follow. Surprisingly, it didn't. Instead, she was greeted to a pleasant view of the dim red setting sun beyond the lake and over the mountains to the west. As she turned to face her captor, Ingun felt a sudden tightness in her chest. An Imperial man in the armor of a Thieves Guild member stood before her, but it was not him that caught her attention. It was the bodies around him. Seven men, she counted. All of them lifeless, scattered about in the green grass with some bloody wound or another. Ingun was no stranger to death, but she recognized these men. They were all employed by the family to protect them and what they owned. And they failed. she thought sadly. Maven had never shown much empathy for those who helped them, nor had her father. But the thought of these hard-working men, men she'd seen days before, now dead, upset her more than she would have thought. To take a bad situation and make it worse, the humongous building at the center of the island was more than a little known to her.

"Like what you see?" the Imperial with the deceptively friendly voice asked. "That isn't the half of it, believe me. Welcome, Miss Black-Briar, to the beautiful Goldenglow Estate. The man you'll be wanting to see is out back."

Ingun swallowed her fear and walked past the thief in the direction motioned. Another man had been waiting behind him. This one was a tall, slender Nord man with tattered clothes and very pale skin. He stepped out to block her as she walked past. She couldn't do much to prevent it when he forcefully grabbed her wrist and smiled wide, bringing his face close to hers. "You look better without the bag, rich girl." he whispered in a cold, slimy voice. "I'll bet that goes for the rest of what you're wearing as well." His tongue briefly flicked across his lips, and then he released her with a chuckle.

"Enough of that, Ollus." The dark-haired man with the spear appeared from his boat, scowling at the pale Nord. "Follow me." he said to her. "Unless you'd rather stay with him." He led her past, but a quick glance back revealed that the pale Nord was still smiling at her wickedly.
The boatman brought Ingun around the large mansion that dominated the center of the island, past a few men dragging bodies, and to a short green cliff that dropped sharply into the lake below them. Near the edge was a small tree stump. She just had time to notice a very faded red stain on it before she felt the boatman's hands force her onto her knees before it, and then his boot went onto to her back and further lowered her so that her head rested against the stump.

"Wait!" She called out. "I have money! I can pay you!"

"We don't want your money." said a familiar deep voice from behind her. She could hear his footsteps, and see the long shadow he cast, made even longer still by the setting sun. Finally, she saw a glint of light as the edge of his steel axe was lowered down before her eyes. Ingun strained her neck in order to look up, just far enough to make out this man's face. Her captor made this easy by squatting down beside the stump, bringing his face to where she could clearly see it. "Now tell me, Black-Briar," said Boldir Iron-Brow, "why I shouldn't kill you."
 
***
Twelve hours earlier
 
Aerin's fingers worked nervously, constantly in a state of movement. This knuckle popped, that fingernail bit, that palm rubbed, fingers drumming away. He was anxious, and reasonably so. The criminals he had worked months to but behind bars now sat in front of him, and it disgusted him. But, he knew he needed their help, that Boldir needed their help, and they had skills that were essential to saving his sister and niece.

"Where do you think they're being held?" Aerin asked, finally joining in the conversation. "If the Black-Briars have them, and after Boldir's escape, surely they wouldn't rely on the dungeon in the castle."

"You're right." Cynric agreed. "I'd wager everything on them being packed into that manor of theirs. It's plenty secure," he gestured to Boldir, who was sitting on a crate beside the wall "and unlike you, they most likely weren't arrested in any official capacity. Maul's not a guard, even if he's friends with some of 'em. If he's the one that got your wife and kid, he'd have taken them there."

"You say it's secure." said Boldir. "How secure?"

"With you missing and precious cargo locked away somewhere in there?" Cynric shook his head. "There's likely a fresh coin in every guard's pocket telling them to keep an eye on the place, and there's their own hired men to worry about as well. To make matters worse, none of us can get in there like I did with the prison."

Boldir had figured as much. There was no chance that they would be able to sneak in, and fighting, while not only very one-sided, would put Carlotta and Mila at too much risk. The simple fact of the matter was that their enemies held all the cards, and they had nothing. "And holding them in there, it can not be legal. I don't suppose the Jarl would do anything with this news if presented it?"

 
Aerin chuckled, but his uneasiness caused it to sound more like a wheeze than laughter. "The Jarl? She's under Maven's spell, and believes the Black-Briars are the saviors of Riften. You would have more luck going to Ulfric Stormcloak himself."

The Imperial fidgeted some more, as he rocked his wooden chair back and forth on the hind legs, causing an annoying creaking he seemed not to notice. His eyes glanced from thief to his brother, before settling on Boldir. His feelings toward his brother-in-law were....mixed, to put it mildly. Hate that he had endangered Carlotta and Mila, but he also felt sadness, and understanding, that this man had lost everything. The internal conflict had caused Aerin to not say a single word directed solely at Boldir, which he couldn't help but feel bad about. He just didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound rude or angry.
 
I would. thought Boldir. Because if I went to King Ulfric, Baldur would likely be there. In truth, getting the Stormcloaks involved was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. As unjust as it was, it was not only laws of the Rift that branded him a fugitive. It was by the law of Skyrim herself. Bringing this conflict to the attention of the military would only serve to ruin him. "I can not say that I placed much hope in help from the Jarl..." Boldir tried to think back to his years in the army. He had been in situations where the enemy held captives before. What had he done then? Baldur, of course, came to mind first. And he broke out with help from the inside. We don't have that. We don't have shit!
Frustrated, Boldir hammered the knob of his axe against a wall, leaving a small crack.

"Hey, watch it!" warned the boatman, Runar, from his own position leaning on the ladder topside. "This here's the finest fishing vessel on the Honrich. Scratch her again and you can all find somewhere else to hide!"

It had slipped Boldir's mind that they were even on a boat at all. But Runar's concern for the thing reminded him of someone. Rebec. It wasn't until now that he remembered that she had been a captive to the Imperials once herself. So much had happened since then that it felt like it had happened in another life. Rebec had freed herself in the end, but there had been a chance before that. A thought he had stupidly played with....

"What're you thinking?" Cynric asked, obviously aware that Boldir was deep in thought.

"There's no way that we can get them out ourselves," said Boldir, still thinking back to Falkreath, and how the situations could relate, "and Maven answers to no one." Neither did the Wolf Pack at the time. They were alone in Skyrim.
And then he had captured Lorgar. Someone of importance, someone with value. Boldir hadn't known Rebec yet, but he'd known of her capture. If she had been an Admiral then, like she is now, those Imperials could not have dared to hurt her if they ever wanted to see Lorgar again. The Cloaks and Imperials could have arranged a trade. It would have gone through, as killing neither is preferable to misery and death for both. Admiral Rebec holds great value to the Stormcloaks as a whole. Just like Carlotta and Mila did to him. Lorgar had been valuable to the Imperials... 
"...Just like Ingun." Boldir muttered.

"What?" Cynric asked. "What's just like Ingun?"

"The Black-Briars conduct most of their business in relative safety, correct?"

"Aye." replied Cynric. "But I don't see-"

"Except for the one who keeps out of the business. Ingun. She's an alchemist. None of the others are. Where does she get her training?"

"Elgrim's Elixers." replied Runar. "It's no secret that she spends most of her days with that old man."

"She isn't like the rest of them." Boldir stated, now becoming visibly less grim. "She has no interest in the family affairs. She told me as much in prison. But they still value her, both as kin and for her talents."

"Where are you going with this?" Cynric asked, still looking skeptical.

"Isn't it obvious?" Boldir asked, looking from Cynric to Runar, and finally resting his eyes on Aerin. "We kidnap Ingun Black-Briar."
 
Aerin's mouth moved seemingly independent of his brain, the words "I'll do it," escaping before he had the chance to bite his tongue. But, did he really want to? Was it Boldir's unintentionally hard stare, or did he really believe in this plan? This was, after all, the best one they had come up with, but Aerin had never realized just the lengths he would go to for his sister, even if she had been more than distant the past few years. My only sister now, he thought morosely. Even though he and Vex had never gotten along, his love for her was never diminished, and he wasn't ashamed that her passing had taken a considerable toll on him.
Thoughts of Mila and Carlotta, the closest family left, held in some dank basement under the eyes of Maul separated the doubt from his mind, and he uttered again, with added conviction, "I'll do it."
 
Only Aerin noticed it when Boldir's expression briefly softened, and his lips silently formed the words "thank you" before it once again grew stoney. Even as the words had left Aerin's mouth, the issue of convincing had already been forming in Boldir's mind.

"You can't be serious." Cynric's expression was one of pure shock. "You may as well try and kidnap the Jarl's son for what the consequences will be worth."

"We're already wanted." Boldir reminded. "If we're found, we will all be executed anyway."

"But stealing Maven's granddaughter is a gods damned act of war!" There was an almost desperate look in the thief's eyes. "You do this, and there won't be any hiding. She'll come down on us hard."

"And that's why we need to be prepare." Boldir said. "I do not intend for us to remain hidden on this boat." he turned to Runar. The dark-haired Nord had been periodically glancing up through the open hatch to make sure Rune did not return with guards rather than help. The thief had claimed to have left to visit the Ratway now that it had settled down, and promised to return with an extra pair of hands. Boldir didn't like the idea of him going off alone, but the man hadn't exactly asked permission before slipping off. "You said that it takes six men to man this ship, correct?"

"Aye." answered Runar. "But I hadn't intended on taking it anywhere. Not a lot of options on this lake."

"There is Goldenglow." said Boldir with the straightest of faces.

Now everyone was shocked. "Maven's honey estate? What business to we have there?" asked Runar.

"That is where we will go, and where we will take Ingun." Boldir had been playing with the idea for a while now, and decided that it was worth the risk. They needed Ingun, and could not hide in the city with her. The only option would be to take her somewhere they could defend.
"The only possible approaches are the bridge or with a ship, and all Riften has is fishing boats. Hardly a vessel to be feared. And the wall at the end of the bridge makes it to where just a few men with bows can hold off waves. Plus, we'll have a hostage." Boldir nodded to Aerin. "While you and Runar go after Ingun, the rest of us can take the estate. I have a few more ideas of what we can do from there."
 
Aerin's eyes grew wide, and he couldn't hide his shock. "Kidnapping is one thing. We can manage that, even if it will be difficult, but to take Goldenglow? How many men do you think you'll need? Can we get that many allies?"
 
"Unless the place is manned like an army fortress, I think we can take it with fewer than you would expect." Boldir could only hope that Maven manned the place to keep out thieves rather than fighting men. "Hired thugs are cheaper and easier to use for guard roles than professional criminals. Their job is more often to look imposing and scare off thieves than to actually kill. Plus, we will catch them off guard and hopefully unprepared, and with the help Rune brings us, whether it is two men or ten, I believe that we can pull this off."
 
Aerin wasn't as confident as the former soldier, but, as with the kidnapping plan earlier, it was the best idea anyone of them had had. "If he returns at all," Aerin said grimly, not particularly trusting of thieves.
 
"He'll return." said Boldir with confidence. The question is whether it's with help, or a dozen guards. "Runar, don't take your eyes away from the docks. If anything that looks remotely like trouble shows up, let me know."
With that, he stood and motioned for Aerin to follow him into Runar's quarters. "I need to speak with you in private."
 
Aerin nodded, silently following his brother-in-law, all the while wondering just what he could want to speak to him privately about.
 
"I am glad that you stand by me in this, despite everything." said Boldir as he shut the door and took a seat at Runar's desk, and motioned for Aerin to do the same in a seat behind it. Even though it was only a fishing boat, the captain seemed to treat it almost like one built for sea. His quarters were lavish for a lakeship, with green banners and purple curtains, and even oakwood furniture that looked far from cheap.

"We are family, after all," Aerin said, but he was not his usual upbeat self. He brushed past the banners and curtains, before finding his seat.

After a pause, Boldir met Aerin's eyes with as sincere a look as ever he had worn. "You know that I am doing everything I can, right?"

 
"I know you are, but I can't help but feel that they shouldn't have been in this situation to begin with. What possessed you to return, after you killed a Black-Briar?"
 
"Delusion." Boldir admitted. He had convinced himself, and then Carlotta that nothing could go wrong, that the Black-Briars would not find him, and if they did, he could deal with it like he had the Battle-Borns. Looking at it now, his own self-confidence, so great that he would gamble with his own family, disgusted him. He did not blame Aerin for questioning his overall stupid decision. No reasonable man would see it as justified. "I wanted Mila to see her family," Or at least credit for being the one to make that happen, "and thought that I could manage it without incident. I'm not going to try to make a case for you. I don't seek or deserve forgiveness. All I want is to make things right again, and see Carlotta and Mila safely from this city. And I will use whatever means I have to make that happen." He nodded to the door. "That is why we are hiding on a boat with scum like Cynric or Rune."
 
Aerin listened, happy Boldir wasn't making any excuses. Someone, Boldir accepting his own lapse in thinking made Aerin's own acceptance that much easier. "I'm with you, Boldir. I don't like working with thieves anymore than you do, but Vex trusted them, and you do, so that's enough for me," Aerin said. He then rested his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Do you really think this can work? All of it?"

"A week ago, I would have said no, that this is too big for us. But now..." Boldir hesitated a moment, thinking back to last night, when he was so sure that the gods themselves were on his side. "now I truly believe that we will succeed. As for the thieves, they are the very reason that I wanted to speak to you alone." He lowered his voice. "Vex trusted them, aye, but family or no, her trust matters little to me. The thing is, I do not trust them. Someone almost certainly betrayed Vex and my family. The escape she had planned was cut to pieces, and the guards knew exactly where I had hidden. Cynric helped me escape, so I do not think it is him, and if Rune doesn't return with guards, it will ease my mind toward him as well, but if he is trying to recruit help, there is no telling who will come back with him. These two claim to want revenge for Vex and the rest, but they and all the rest are greedy men at heart, I will not be taking my eye off of them, and that is why I am glad you volunteered to go after the Black-Briar girl. I want them all at Goldenglow with me, not in the city where they can report to our enemy."

Aerin lifted his head, eyes sad and downcast. He was not as confident as Boldir, and probably would never be. It was strange for him, to not be so optimistic. "Then who else could it be, if not one of those two? Did she have any other allies? I'm glad, though, that I am able to be of some use. Although, I would think a thief would be better suited for a kidnapping. But, I understand that they are safer with you."

 
The fact was not lost to Boldir. It was why he wanted Runar to go with Aerin. Two men were less likely to fail than just one. "There are many thieves in the Ratway." Boldir said. "And Cynric says that she had help besides us. He mentioned three others." Boldir had the names committed to memory. "Molgrom, Versuvius, and Garthar. And anything could have happened down there while Cynric was getting 'arrested'. There very well could be others."
 
"Right," Aerin muttered, realizing this helped not one bit. They were far too busy to look for the snitch, even if they knew how to flush him out. "So, when do you want the kidnapping to take place?"
 
"Today." Boldir answered. "If we give them time, the Black-Briars will find a way to force us out with threats against our family. We need something to put us on equal footing with them. They think we are hiding scared. No one will expect us to act so quickly."
 
"Right, they'll never expect it. Do you think Maul is still looking for me, or can I just walk into Riften? If we can't, how do we get in?"
 
"I have no doubt that if Maul saw you, he wouldn't hesitate, but Riften is a large city, and you are not likely the one they are looking for at the moment." Boldir paused, thinking about all the time he'd spent thinking of ways to escape the city over the past weeks. "The canal is the best bet. Runar can get them to open the gate in a smaller fishing boat with you hidden in a crate or barrel, and the same method can be used to hide her on the way out."
 
"Good. I was worried about that. So you think he will stand by us in all of this?"
 
"I think he will. If he had wanted to be a rat, he would have sold me out a while back. I've been hiding on his boat for a few days, and I haven't noticed anything suspicious," Aerin said happily.
 
"There likely isn't a person in this city whose trust is worth more than yours." Boldir nodded, "If you expect him to stand by us, I'll take your word for it."
 
"I'm glad to hear that," Aerin said. "Well, we had better get back before they get too suspicious."
 
Boldir nodded, and as he began to rise, he heard a commotion at the other side of the door, followed by it creaking open and Runar's head poking in. "Rune's back." he said with an anxious tone. "He's got three others with him. But no city guards. I'll greet them like I did you."

Boldir grabbed his longaxe, leaving his iron sword behind on the table as he made his way back into whatever sailer's called the room they entered the lower deck at. Aerin followed close behind, his hand at the hilt of his own blade. By the time the group above had reached the hatch, Runar was already waiting below with his spear.

Each man was sent down one at a time. The first to come down was a muscular Redguard. He was clad in Thieves Guild armor and wore sheaths for a dagger and shortsword at his belt. He had a very cocky air about him, the way he smiled towards Runar's spear at his neck, and seemed completely at home in these tense conditions. Boldir didn't need to make a note to remain weary of this one.
The next man was a Breton. He wore his long dark hair tied back, and donned a fancy golden cloak with runes along the edges. He had no sheaths, and Boldir realized with some disgust that this man must've been a mage. Try conjuring up any fires around me, and you'll regret it.
The third and final newcomer was even less impressive than the other two. In fact, he looked like Rune had found him sleeping in some ditch. The pale Nord was barefoot, with sack cloth pants that were torn at the knees, and his sleeveless open vest was so faded that the original brown was barely visible. Everything about him was dirty, and his long hair and shaggy beard, that looked like they would normally be dark blonde, appeared instead as a disgusting matted brown. What stood out to Boldir was a fresh scar on his right forearm. It looked like it had been poorly healed. Whatever had cut him had cut deep. After his eyes met Boldir's the man smiled and flicked his tongue across his lips.

Turning away and looking at Rune as he dropped down last with a bundle of weapons in his arm, Boldir said, "This is the help you found us?"

The thief shrugged and nodded to the Redguard. "Kosta used to be in some clan that holed up at Mistwatch. They were as hard as hard gets, until the Stormcloaks reigned 'em in and sent them west." The Redguard looked amused with Boldir's lack of faith, but did not interrupt as Rune moved on to the Breton. "And Marcurio here is the best sellsword in the Rift. It wasn't easy convincing him to hear us criminals out, believe me."

Boldir nearly lost it at that. "You brought a mercenary?!" Every time he'd ever dealt with this man's type, things did not turn out well. "What's to stop him from selling us out now that he knows where we are?!"

"Relax." said the sellsword. "I love money, it's true, but you couldn't pay me enough to rat you out to the likes of Maul. I'll hear you out, and even help you if the coin is worth risking my neck. If it isn't, I'll go back to the Bee and Barb and pretend like we never spoke. No harm done."

"And I'm to just take your word in this?"
His grip tightened on the handle of his axe, an adjustment that the mage noticed, as his eyes immediately went down to Boldir's hand and then back up again.

"You don't have any other choices at this point." said Marcurio. "I'm already here. Unless you plan on attempting to kill me for my profession, which I would strongly advise against, the only other option for now is to wait."

Boldir disliked like this man even more than the Redguard. Both seemed arrogant, but at least the thief couldn't use magic to try and get in his head, if he so desired. Still, these powers could only be useful if turned against his foes. Such an opportunity should at least be considered. "Fine." Boldir said, pulling a smug grin from the mage. Finally, he turned to the poorly clothed Nord. "And you?"

"This one-" Rune hesitated this time. "He's-"

"I can introduce myself." the Nord interrupted in a voice that was not unlike that of an Argonian. "I am Ollus." He smiled to reveal yellow and rotted teeth. "Unlike the mage, I'll gladly do this for free."

Everything about him put Boldir on guard: the way he spoke, his wild, piercing blue eyes, the way he smiled, not smugly like the others, but almost maliciously, unlike anyone Boldir had seen in many years. If he was anything like his first impression made him seem, there was not a good thing about this man. But if he was not in the guild, and wanted to do this for free, he must have a good reason to be here. Boldir would find out what that was. He nodded to the deep cut on Ollus's arm. "How did you get that?"

"This?" Ollus shrugged. "It's from my days in the military, it is." He turned his arm over, revealing that the cut was on both sides. He's been pierced all the way through. Going by the width of the cut, it must've been done by a smaller blade. "Some bloody elf upper-handed me."

"That so? I wasn't aware there were any wars in the last few days." Boldir shook his head. "I'm not so great a fool that I cannot recognize a fresh wound. Lie to me again, and you'll regret it. I'll ask again. How did you get the scar?"

The Nord looked nervous, then flicked his tongue and smiled. "You got me, Boss. I was stabbed tryin' to steal from a peddler yesterday. Turned out that he was much more willing to kill for the coins than I was. Don't hold it over me, Boss. A Nord's gotta eat."

Disgusted, Boldir shook his head. They were surrounded by criminals, and this idiot thought he had to lie about petty theft. And the thing he did with his tongue creeped Boldir out. "I won't." he made himself say. "Now why are you so quick to join us freely?"

Ollus's face darkened. "The Black-Briars done me wrong." he said. "Their favorite pup brutalized me for nothing, and Ollus Crow-Eater is not as quick to forget such things as those N'wahs would like."

N'wah's? Boldir had heard a Dunmer use the word insultingly before, but never a Nord. This man was all sorts of strange. "You are not the only one who has been wronged by these people. It will not go unpunished. We will make sure of that."

"We?" The odd man smiled and flicked his tongue. "I won't let you down, Boss."

Boldir looked to each member of his group in turn. Runar stood behind the trio with a solemn expression and his spear in hand. Cynric was sitting where he had been earlier, and was hard to read. Rune looked slightly nervous at his own pickings. Finally, Boldir turned and looked to Aerin, who was still behind him. "Any thoughts?"
 
Aerin knew Marcurio, as they had conversed on a few occasions. He was cocky, and boastful, but didn't seem to like the Black-Briars anymore than he did. He was also a skilled mage, and that was nothing to scoff about.

 As for the Redguard, him being a thief sent up red flags with Aerin, but not as many as Ollus. The man was creepy, intensely so, and sent shivers down his spine. But, they were three more men then they had had earlier, so he kept the ill thoughts to himself.

"If you're fine with them, so am I," Aerin spit out, the words like a foul drink in his mouth.

Turning back to meet each pair of new eyes in turn, Boldir grimaced. "Then I guess this is our crew." Except for the mercenary. "You, mage, what are your typical rates?"

Marcurio's smile never wavered. "Five hundred... for typical jobs. This is far from typical, and may involve incriminating myself, so the normal price isn't happening." He looked around the boat with a judging expression. "In fact, if this is all you have, I don't think there's enough coin between the lot of you to get me to do this job."

"And what about the Black-Briars?" Boldir asked, an idea forming up. "Would you do this exact job for someone of their wealth?"

"If it was someone of their wealth other than them? I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"What if I told you that by dusk, we will have acquired a large chunk of wealth that used to be theirs?"

That caught Marcurio's attention. "What do you mean?"

"We are attacking Goldenglow." said Runar. "It's what we need you for."

"Aye," continued Boldir. "And I'll let you take out double your weight in plunder once it's ours."

Marcurio seemed to find this very amusing, but Boldir could see that, behind his guise, he was very seriously contemplating this. "How about double your weight, big guy?"

Appreciating the tactic, Boldir nodded. "Deal. Now," he turned back to Aerin. "let's get to work."

***

Aerin

Riften

Aerin was as uncomfortable as he had been in the sewage river, although the smell was less extreme. A foul fish odor still lingered in the crate, and it give him an awful headache. Outside, he could hear Runar conversing with a guard, and he hoped they wouldn't hear him gagging from the stench.

"Not a lot of good fishing this time of year." he heard Runar saying. "And the lake could do for some imports. I'm lucky to have the three crates I got."

Aerin heard the crate beside him open, and remembered that there was a third crate that was filled with actual fish in order to throw away any suspicion, should it happen to arise.

"Aye," answered the guard, apparently satisfied with what he saw, "so I've heard. Try telling the Jarl. Maybe she'll consider the idea."

"Yeah, and maybe I'll one day captain the Black Wisp." Aerin could hear Runar chuckle, and the guard go along with it, but even from within the crate, it was obvious that the guard's laughter was fake, and he hadn't a clue what the Black Wisp was.

"Go on ahead. And be careful. There's supposed to be a killer about."

"Unless they want my fish, I think I'll be fine. Farewell, Holvir."

Aerin felt the jetty begin to move again, and soon heard the commotion of the city above them. Several minutes passed before there was a sudden bump, knocking him against the side of the crate, and then they were stopped. Moments later, the crate opened at the top, and Runar was offering him a hand.

"Holvir? You buddying up with the guards now?" Aerin asked quietly, accepting the hand as he stepped out of the box. He brushed a few scales off his shoulders, but he couldn't escape the wretched odor.

"Just the ones at the ones at the entrance to the canal." said Runar with a shrug. "You get to know someone when you speak to them almost every day."

"But I assume he's not someone we can trust?" Aerin asked as he exited the dingy onto the walkways of the lower levels.

"No." Runar admitted before lifting the second crate's lid and procuring a rope and a cloth sack.

***

Boldir

Lake Honrich

Boldir never would've guessed that he would one day command the crew of a fishing boat, but that was exactly what he found himself doing that afternoon. He didn't know how to do much beyond telling his crew of thieves and misfits to row, but for this that was all that was necessary.
Goldenglow slowly grew nearer and nearer. The island on which the estate sat dominated the center of Lake Honrich, and even from Riften, the huge mansion's rooftops could be seen in the distance. It was far enough out that approaching with stealth was impossible, so they made no effort to hide their approach. Boldir stood at the bow with the mercenary at his side. The mage claimed that he would be more useful with spells in hand than an oar. Now that he could see the shapes of curious men dotting the shore ahead, Boldir knew that the mage was probably right.

"Ease right." Boldir commanded, noticing a flat bank they could more easily disembark on. Ollus hopped up from where he sat on the back left oar and ran over to the right, and began rowing there. Boldir had him stop when the boat was properly lined up. The figures on the shore were moving with them, putting to rest any doubt that they might've seen them. As they drew near, several of the men were revealed to be carrying bows, but at the moment, none were prepared to fire. That could change at any instant.

"Slow down." he said back to those rowing. The shores of the island were mostly steep slopes surrounded by rocks. He didn't want to come into that too hard. 

"See that?" asked Marcurio, nodding to one of Maven's men. He was carrying a torch. "They're about to try and burn this rig if we don't turn around now.

"Can you stop them?" Boldir asked, hoping that something as simple as flaming arrows wouldn't be enough to ruin this entire plan.

"Could a Dragon roast a goat?" A white frost covered the mage's right hand, and a transparent green, his left. He smiled and released his green spell, causing a similarly covered effect to flash engulf his entire body like armor. "Bring us close, and I'll take care of the archers.

The torch-bearer bent down and lit a brazier that Boldir had mistaken for a rock, and then each of the archers dipped their arrows in the burning oil, letting them emerge covered in a deadly flame. Boldir counted five of them, easily within shooting distance. "Stop!" he shouted back to those rowing, just before ducking down below the railing. There was a moment of quiet, in which only Marcurio could see whatever was going on ahead, and then Boldir heard the familiar twang of arrows being fired.

Marcurio's hands moved quickly, and suddenly, a large field of ice left his palm. Boldir saw the flaming arrows suddenly extinguish, and heard them harmlessly strike various spots on the boat to no effect. Next came arrows that were not flaming, all aimed at the mage, but when they struck him, the green field surrounding him lit up, and the arrows splintered on impact, leaving him unharmed. Boldir noticed a smirk on his lips as the ice in his hand changed to electricity, and then Marcurio began returning fire, flinging lightning from his palms faster than even an arrow could fly. There was a scream on the shore, followed by another, and then two more.

Boldir risked a peek, and saw that many on the shore were retreating behind rocks and the mansion itself, now that their archers were dead. He stood. The boat was slowly drifting without its rowers, but needed to stop before it collided with the rocks ahead. "Stop the boat." he said back to them.

The oars began pulling back, and the boat quickly halted. 

"Weapons ready." He heard various blades sliding from their sheaths.

***

Aerin took the cloth, letting the larger fisherman handle the rope. "Ingun usually leaves about five fifteen, and she goes to the Bee and the Barb for a drink before heading home. We need to get to her before she make it to the inn. Preferably soon after she leaves the alchemist's."

"The shop is down here as well." Runar noted. "Why not just grab her in there, where no one will hear the struggle?"

"Because of the old couple that owns the shop. I doubt they would take too kindly to a kidnapping taking place in their store," Aerin said with a half-smile.

"I wasn't aware that two elders were such an obstacle." the boatman said, then he shrugged. "But you're the boss."

"I would prefer to keep them out of it. Let's do it in the shadows, as opposed to the store," Aerin quieted as a vagabond passed by, on her way to the sewers. Once she was out if earshot, he resumed talking. "Let's get in place. The time is coming, and I don't want to be late."

Runar nodded. "After you."

Aerin led the way along the boardwalk to a nice shadowed area between the stairs leading to the city above, and across the canal from the underground shop itself. Runar quietly followed, keeping his head low despite being the only man not currently wanted by the law. It was dark enough by now that nobody would notice them without looking closely. "So what's the plan?" asked the boatman. "Just wait, for now?"

"For now. When she walks out, I'll walk past her, nonchalantly, then turn around and bag her. Then, you jump out and tie her up. Easy," Aerin said through a whisper, trying to sound confident.

"Yeah," his friend replied before exhaling deeply and trying to match Aerin's faked confidence. "Easy."

***

"WHO ARE YOU?!" shouted a voice from the island.

Boldir glanced back at each of the men behind him. "You're all ready?" There were a determined nods from each of them. Whether it was revenge or the promise of wealth that motivated them, it didn't matter. They were more than prepared to kill for their cause. "Then let's show the Black-Briars what defeat tastes like!"

Boldir hopped up, over the side of the boat and into the cold, waste-deep water below. When he hit the bottom, he sunk to his knees, but then he rose again and started forward, wading onto the muddy estate beach. More splashes could be heard behind him, but Boldir did not wait. Letting out a battle cry as only a Nord could, he escaped the pull of the water and charged the muddy beach, the new iron sword in his left hand and his axe in his right. Black-Briar mercenaries dotted the estate, emerging from their hiding places, ready to fight. A lightning bolt struck one, dropping him like a fly, but the second was Boldir's. He could see the fear in the man's eyes as he easily deflected his sword strike with his axe and rammed the tip of his own sword into the man's chest, never halting his charge.

Two more men in leather armor rushed him as a pair. Continually moving forward, Boldir easily sidestepped one's sword thrust and blocked a slash from the second with his sword. As the first man stumbled past from the weight of his own swing, Boldir drove his axe into the merc's back. His friend backpedaled, hoping to get his bearings for the second assault. Boldir slowed to a walk, smiling as he approached the man with just enough speed to keep him on edge. The mercenary feigned an attack but quickly pulled back away as he realized Boldir wasn't falling for it. And then he let out a scream and attacked for real. Boldir caught his sword with the axe and twisted, flinging the blade from his foe's grasp. Before the man could retrieve it, Boldir brought both sword and axe up and slashed him across the chest.

Other weapons were now clashing around him. Boldir turned left just in time to see Rune and Kosta together finishing off one of the mercs, and then looked right to see Ollus, wrenching his Imperial sword from a screaming foe's hip, before kicking the downed man in the face and moving on, leaving the him to bleed in the dirt. These mercenaries were exactly the sort he had hoped they'd be: hired thugs, paid to look scary and keep thieves and bandits from ever approaching in the first place. They were used to ganging up on weaker folks, not fighting up head on. Most of them tried, but as he proceeded to cut down his fourth opponent, he knew that they only did so out of desperation. Many were already running. Some headed for the mansion, and others for the bridge. "Marcurio! Cynric!" he pointed at those escaping to the bridge. "Go after them, then wait by the bridge and make sure no one leaves this island!"

Cynric nodded, picking up one of the fallen archers' bow and quiver before sprinting after the fleeing men. Marcurio, however, stopped a few feet away from Boldir and grinned. "Regret bringing me now?" Before Boldir could so much as grimace, the mage had turned and started off after Cynric. Soon, Boldir could hear the crackling of more lightning bolts in the distance.

Boldir heard a scream of pain from behind, and turned to see Rune hobbling as fast as he could for the large dwelling with an arrow in his leg. "Get under the roof!" the thief shouted. Shooter in the window!"

Nobody wasted any time in obeying. Boldir was the first to reach the door of the massive house, followed by Kosta and Rune. Ollus arrived last. "Kosta and Ollus, you two go around the house and search for other entrances. I'll handle this one. Rune, you stay here and wait for me to call."

Rune didn't argue. Once the others were around the corner of the house, Boldir kicked in the door. Immediately, a merc's sword slashed at him, but Boldir was already taking cover back outside the door. As soon as the man's arm was outside, Boldir hooked it with his longaxe and pulled him outside, then followed up with a sword slash across the chest. Pushing into the house, Boldir found two more men frantically rushing down a hall in his direction. One of them fell to the ground, an Imperial sword in his back. The second fared no better when he got within range of Boldir's axe. Ollus smiled from the other end of the hall as Kosta bumped past him. "The Redguard is mad that I killed more, Boss." Ollus said with a cackle as he pulled the blade from the dead mercenary's back.

Ignoring the comment, Boldir ordered them both to search all rooms downstairs and clear them out, while he headed up a flight to the second floor. Five more men were up here, but they didn't know how to fight well as individuals, let alone as a group. He slew them one-by-one before reaching a locked door. This was the only room left, and must've been where the archer was shooting from. Preparing for the inevitable arrow, Boldir kicked in the door and immediately pulled it shut again, catching a glimpse of a bowman standing beside a wall in a large bedroom, maybe fifteen feet away. Sure enough, a broad iron arrowhead thudded against the other side. Wasting no time, Boldir threw the door open and flung his axe in an arch toward the lone archer. He didn't have Baldur's skill in throwing weapons, but he didn't need to kill the man, just prevent him from getting a second shot off. It worked. The handle of the axe struck him in the chest and threw him off-balance.

Before the merc could prepare any sort of attack, Boldir was grabbing him by the collar and throwing him into the center of the room, where he landed hard on his face. This is it. Boldir thought with a certain satisfaction. This man's death would leave Goldenglow uncontested.

"NO! Wait!" the mercenary cried out, turning over to look Boldir in the eyes. His were filled with fear only a doomed man could know. It wouldn't save him. He consigned to this fate when he decided to work for the Black-Briars. "Please!"

Boldir drove his sword into the man's heart.

***

Minutes passed, probably much fewer than the intense wait made it seem, and then the door to the alchemy shop door opened, and a young, dark haired woman in fine brown clothes stepped outside.

At that, Aerin snuck out of the shadows, making it look as if he had been walking the docks the entire time. He gave Ingun a friendly wave as he passed, but kept his head titled so his face was at least partially masked in shadow. Years of hunting the scum of Riften gifted him with an adequate knowledge of how most thieves worked, and he was putting that to use.

Passing her, he spun on his heel, whipping the bag out of his pocket. He rushed Ingun, throwing it over her head from behind, his leg wrapping around her legs to prevent kicking, and his hand covering her mouth. Teeth bit down through the cloth, but Aerin held on with bull-headed determination.

It wasn't long before Runar was beside him with the rope, first tying her wrists together behind her back, and then again all the way around her torso, binding her arms to her side. He unsheathed a steel dagger from within his coat and used it to cut off the piece they'd used before shoving the point up to the sack, right behind her neck. "Quit struggling." the fisherman whispered into her ear, the words not at all suiting the face Aerin had always associated with his kindly friend.

Ingun's struggles stopped, but Aerin kept his grip iron-tight. He resisted the urge to apologize, instead leading Ingun down the piers and towards the boat.

She mouthed something ineligible, but otherwise cooperated. She was apparently smart enough to know better than to fight against unknown and armed assailants. Odds were, in her mind, she would simply be ransomed back to her family and all of this would end peacefully. Aerin was thinking this when Runar tapped him on the shoulder and pointed ahead. There was a man wearing a guard sash and boots, but lacking the rest, coming down the stairs right beside their boat. He would pass them before they reached their destination. "Bring her by the wall." he whispered, before leaving the shadows and hurriedly walking towards the man. "Help!" Runar cried frantically, pointing directly to where Aerin and Ingun's shadows would just be visible. "This woman is injured!"

The man who seemed to be a guard looked startled, but quickly nodded and ran to assist. As soon as he had passed Runar, the boatman's strong left hand was clasped against his mouth, and his steel dagger slid across his neck. Runar let the man's blood drain into the canal for a moment before he dropped the body down into the water. Looking up at Aerin, his expression said that he couldn't believe he had just done that.

Aerin was equally shocked, and he began shaking as he mindlessly pushed Ingun towards the boat. His boots slipped on the blood, and Aerin almost crashed into the canal, but he steadied himself, and continued. His mind raced, and he couldn't imagine that his friend had actually killed someone. A guard, yes, but a living person's death was now on Runar's hands. And Aerin knew, that before this was all over, someone would have died by his blade as well.

"Mut zz hat?!" cried Ingun's nervous voice from beneath the sack.

"Shut up," Aerin whispered savagely, shoving Ingun as he did. They had reached the boat now, and he motioned for Runar to get everything ready for their guest.

The boatman nodded and quickly opened the empty crate, before grabbing Ingun, leading to a moment of frightened kicks from her before she relaxed again. He lifted her up and none-too-gently dropped her into the crate, pushing her in at the shoulders and essentially cramming her down. "Fight, or try to make a move, and the crate goes overboard." Runar whispered to her, just before closing the lid.

Aerin sat back down on the boat, and let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He nodded at Runar, and they took of from the lower level pier. The look on Aerin's face said it all. They weren't quite yet out of the woods, but he was near ecstatic it had gone so well. Even with the guard having to be killed.

***

The sun was beginning to set when Marcurio, Ollus, and Kosta returned from the sewers under the estate. Apparently, there was a hidden entrance to them in the basement that connected to two trapdoors outside. When the three men found him, Boldir was sitting on an old tree stump behind the mansion, just at the edge of a small slope dipping into the lake. It was an executioner's stump. He could tell it from the faded bloodstains and old gashes in the wood. Still, it also doubled as a nice spot to sit and stare out at the distant walls of Riften, where Boldir knew his family were imprisoned. I left them. he thought. True, it was in order to have a safe place to plan freeing them, but the idea of putting so much distance between them and him was discomforting to say the least. Don't think like that. You are one step closer to freeing them. When Aerin returns with Ingun, you can arrange a trade.

Boldir nodded, content that whatever voice his thoughts used with him spoke true.

"Boss?" He turned to see men he'd sent to the sewer standing before him. "We searched the whole place." said Ollus. "Nothin' down there but mold and skeevers."

"Good. How many exits were there?"

"Two exits. Three entrances." answered Kosta. "The one from the basement's a one-way, and another one leads right up to our back door."

"We'll have to close those soon." Boldir said. "Can't risk it being used against us... How many men were here?"

"Eighteen men." Kosta responded. "By our count."

"Sixteen." corrected Ollus, before flicking his tongue. "It was sixteen men and two women."

"What difference does that make?" Kosta asked, annoyed. "You know what he meant!"

"A big one. And I won't have you telling me what I know, foreigner." Ollus growled.

Kosta's fists balled, and he looked ready to attack, when Boldir interrupted. "Enough! You may be prone to fighting over everything in the Ratway, or the guild, but when you're working under me, it won't be that way." He looked at Marcurio. The mage had proven to be beyond useful, despite his original reservations. "You've done your part, and I'll hold my end of the bargain. But if you stay with us, I can promise that there will be more."

The mage grinned. "I knew you'd warm up to me. Don't worry, I took a look in the house and was not disappointed. If you plan on keeping after the Black-Briars and their wealth, I thinking around for a while couldn't hurt me at all."

After what he'd seen today, Boldir had hoped for as much. His opinion on mages and mercenaries hadn't changed, but neither had his opinion of thieves and cutthroats, but it looked like he was stuck with all of them anyway. Better that they make Maven's life hell for him, than the other way around.

"Good." he looked off at the city once again. "We did our part. Now we can only hope Aerin did his. Get Cynric and Rune and take the ship back out into the lake. Keep an eye out for a small boat, or a fire. It's time we invited a guest into our new home."

***

The same canal guard from before was waiting at the city wall, and when he saw Runar leaving with what appeared to be a friend, he nodded in greeting and didn't question it. Runar slowly dipped the oars into the calm water, pulling the little boat away from the city and into Lake Honrich. After nearly an hour of rowing, yellow lantern lights became visible in the distance, and Aerin knew they must've belonged to Runar's larger boat. He found the torch they'd been hiding among Runar's nets and lit it, waving it in the air for their allies to see. Several moments passed, and then the large vessel began to turn and head their way. Now all they could do was pray that Boldir had succeeded at Goldenglow, and that it was in fact their allies manning the boat.

His hopes would come to pass when it was Marcurio's head that appeared over the railing. They climbed aboard, carefully lifting a shaky Ingun up onto the larger ship, where Runar marched her off to be tied up at the mast. At the speed the boat moved, it didn't take long for them to reach Goldenglow Estate, where the scent of death and burned flesh filled the air. Ingun was untied and taken ashore, where Rune removed the bag from her head, scolding Runar for leaving it there so long in the first place. Everyone set to work moving corpses to a pile at the front of the mansion, while Aerin watched his friend, spear in hand, force their prisoner towards the back, where Boldir would be waiting.

Boldir leaned back against the large house, wearing a fresh gray shirt and pants he'd found in the mansion. He watched Aerin's friend, the boatman, march Ingun along to where he'd told him he'd be waiting. He wanted to see what this woman was made of, so he'd planned a little show for her. Runar stopped her at the tree stump, where she clearly saw the dried blood. In a cold manner unlike what Boldir would've expected from a fisherman, Runar forced Ingun down onto the stump, where she finally cracked. 

"Wait! I have money! I can pay you!"

"We don't want your money." he responded, stepping out of the shadows and slowly approaching the tree stump. When he was close enough, he lowered his axe down just so that the steel reflected the orange sunlight into her eyes. Her head twisted, and her nervous eyes struggled to meet his. He made it easier by kneeling down so that his face was only a short distance above hers. "Now tell me, Black-Briar, why I shouldn't kill you now."

"Boldir..." she said, "because I saved you!" she said, still fearful, but now at least seeming to know what course of action she wanted to take. "I kept you from dying. Take off that shirt and there'll be wraps that put on you. And under those are wounds that healed!"

"Only because you were commanded to." he said, knowing it to be true. "You'll have to do better than that, Black-Briar."

"I-" she stammered, "I... If you do, Maven will have the Stormcloaks themselves after you-"

"I am not afraid of what Maven can do." he said plainly. "She doesn't want the army involved, and even she doesn't have the numbers needed to attack this place, nor the ships." Marcurio had already promised that he was more than capable of burning any ship that approached the island.

Ingun's nervousness halted, and her voice turned sad, almost defeated. "Because if you do... they will kill your wife."

That was what he'd been looking to hear. Boldir leaned down and whispered into her ear. "Correct. So now you know why you're here." And despite our branding as criminals, you know that we are the good guys. You've just admitted it.

Boldir stood back up and headed over to the edge of the slope, by the water. The reflection looking back at him was barely his own. Fresh lines were all over his dirty face, and where once he'd had a scar on his left cheek from an arrow wound, there was now a large, dark red burn scar, half hidden behind his hair. He looked away, back to Runar and Ingun. "Take her to the cellar and chain her up."

"What if we don't have any chains?" the boatman asked. 

Boldir sighed. "Then lock her in a damned closet. Just make sure she doesn't go anywhere for now, okay?"

As Ingun was marched off, Boldir went back to the stump and took a seat, dropping his new axe down into the grass by his feet. Staring off at Riften now, he felt much more secure than he had only an hour before. Carlotta and Mila were still in there, but soon their captors would come to realize that his family couldn't be touched. Any hair they lose, Ingun would lose as well. For every bruise on them, she would receive two. For every scratch, he'd leave a scar. And if he learns that it has gotten any worse than that... Boldir would see that his new prisoner would suffer. It may have been wrong, but so was murder, so was torture, so were a lot of things he had done in circumstances that called for far less than this. By this time tomorrow, Maven will have realized how big a mistake she'd made by forcing his hand, and if she hasn't, he will make sure that she does. Boldir smiled and stood up. He had a letter to write.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Palace of Kings, Windhelm

evening, day of the riot

 

It appeared as if a violent wind storm had hit the throne room, but Veleda knew it was Ulfric's thu'um that had put it in such a state. Nervous guards had told her so, maybe warning her to avoid the king. She was not one to shrink. As she surveyed the scattered debris of the dinner table, her eyes fell on the Red Snows crouched under it, looking like they'd been caught with hands in the sweetroll pan. Glancing over at Ulfric, hunched on his throne with a menacing glare, the queen figured out the situation.

 

She approached Ulfric, asked about the riot, then took a deep breath and invited him to come upstairs and have a drink with her. It was a simple invitation, but with him in such a mood, Veleda had no idea how he would react. To her relief, he relented and led the way up the stairs. She gave the skulking Red Snows a thumbs-up and followed after him.

 

Ulfric already felt childish for throwing a tantrum using the thu'um, but by then he was already committed to being angry, until Veleda came and saw the mess. Then, he was more committed to making up for it out of a feeling of embarrassment. Something that caught him off guard, since he wouldn't have cared any other time. So why was this different?

 

By the time they reached his chambers, he had the guards by his door run off to the kitchens to bring the two mead and wine freshly chilled with Windhelm snow, then he beckoned his queen to sit where his High General had not too long ago that very day. Sitting quiet for a while, he finally said with a glass in his hand, "How is Sofie doing?"

 

"She's too smart by half. Did you know that each of our rooms is connected by a tunnel system from the hearths? Talos only knows how she found them. I can't imagine what old Harald was thinking. Perhaps the Falmer slave builders made them on the sly."

 

"For all the good it did them. I used to play in those tunnels when I was much younger. Before the Grey Beards. Not much in them, but it was great fun hiding from father and his guards."

 

"So this is what we have to look forward to with Sofie." Veleda smiled a little, then said, "You never talk about your father. Or your mother."

 

Ulfric sat back in his chair, sighing as he tried to recall their now blurry faces from his thoughts. "I don't talk about them because I haven't seen them in so long. It feels like a lifetime ago since I last saw them. Especially my mother, who always kept to herself, while my father kept me. I can't blame her. You could tell Ysgramor didn't really think of this place with spouses in mind, there only being one throne seat. We should change that some time in the future. When I did see her, she was always asking me what I wanted to be, or do. That the Jarl's seat wasn't my destiny if I didn't want it to be. She said the same thing when the greybeards came for me."

 

"I always wondered. Why do you think they chose you?"

 

"They never did say specifically. Only that they thought I 'had potential'. Father said they have ways of sensing such things. My mother didn't buy it and said they simply thought the son of a Jarl would be a good way to make sure they kept their foothold in Skyrim. I'm not so sure I doubt her words."

 

"So you gave up your title and family to go with them. That's quite a decision, especially for a child."

 

Ulfric opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when a knock at his door signified the arrival of the wine and mead. "Excuse me." He said before going to the door, taking the steel bucket filled with snow and four bottles inside it from the guard while saying nothing to him.

 

He didn't bother with a cup for himself. He took one of the wine bottles before pushing the bucket near Veleda, making sure to place a tankard near her side of the table while he started drinking strong right from the bottle.

 

"I didn't decide anything. It was assumed by both that I would go, so I did. I could tell my mother didn't like it, but father said it was just because she was a woman and she didn't want to lose her child. I think there was more to it than that, but who knows? Perhaps that had something to do with why I left. By the time the war started, she was already dead."

 

"I'm sorry." Veleda had watched with wry amusement as he tackled the bottle. She herself poured some wine into the tankard. "I imagine my own family wishes I were dead. It would be easier than to live with the shame of having a child turn out to be a traitor and murderer. They're very proud, like most Nords, but still blind to what the empire has become."

 

Ulfric's eyebrows raised. "Your family supports the Empire? Well... I imagine your father might have a stroke if he found out you were the Queen of a free Skyrim. A shame. Many fathers would give an arm and a leg for such a thing to happen with their children. But then, we're not at war anymore. Have you spoken with your family since you joined us?"

 

"I sent letters, but no replies ever came." Her fingers tapped on the table. "If my new status had come about under the empire, it would've been a dream come true for them. As it is, I imagine they see it as a culmination of my betrayal. I expected the Thalmor to take reprisals on them for my actions, but no doubt they find it more useful to have prominent Nords speaking out against you." Veleda realized the implications of what she was saying. "I'm sorry, I thought Galmar told you."

 

"I suppose he thought it didn't matter. It doesn't, just so we're clear. You wouldn't be the first to have split families because of the war. At least you didn't have to kill yours like some of my supporters. Shame it all came to that. But here we are. Still, it seems strange that parents would forgo contact with their child over political affiliations. Especially a man's daughter. Were you close with your parents, Veleda?"

 

"Not especially, your maj-" She stopped herself, and laughed. "Sorry. It's habit and slips out sometimes. My family... no, we weren't close. They're all smiths. Well, they call themselves smiths, and own smithies, but my father and brothers spent most of their time sitting in taverns making business deals. In their minds, though, they're still old Nords. So along comes the only daughter and says she wants to be a battlemage. It was the first time I realized I didn't fit. At least my father made sure I trained with sword and axe."

 

"Heh, so I suppose you were already used to feeling outside a group when you came here."

 

"It's a new day in Tamriel. We're all trying to find our identities." She gave him a sidelong glance, realizing it was the first time they had been alone and talking like this in a long while. The thought pricked her with guilt. It was she, not Galmar, who should have told Ulfric about her family. Somehow there had never been the time. Or that was an excuse to avoid awkward moments like this. "Uh... I suppose I shouldn't keep you, Ulfric. You probably want to get some sleep."

 

Ulfric was in the middle of another round of the wine, but when he stopped drinking, he flicked the cork at her and nailed her on the head. Laughing, he said, "Don't be silly. I'm getting tired of sleep anyway. Now, tell me. You were in Cyrodiil when you started your resistance. That had to have been a lot more difficult than fighting here where you can find like minded individuals more easily, right?"

 

Veleda jumped at the flying cork and brought a hand to her head, then laughed, surprised at his boyish cheer so soon after the tantrum that evening. Awkwardness gone, she said, "People always try to go on no matter what happens in the larger world. I grew up with parties, trips to the Market District, my books, like any girl. It took some time for me to see the strained looks and understand what the whispers meant. People disappearing. The fear in my mother's eyes. Father fought in the Great War, but he didn't like to talk about it. Always said a Nord's place is to do his duty. It was in my time in the legion that I started questioning what duty was. Was it duty to follow Thalmor orders and imprison my fellow citizens? What is loyalty like that even worth?"

 

"So wore one of those little skirts too." Ulfric said, to himself more than to her, somewhat under his breath. "Parties and trips isn't really something common people grow up with. Or books either. You don't really seem like that type. Not at first. Anyway, I heard about some of what you did. While you were assassinating Thalmor supporters, what did you say to your parents? I bet they'd have at least sensed your frustration. Did you tell them, or did they find out after you left? You must've been afraid that they'd turn you in. I couldn't imagine that feeling. From your own blood."

 

"By that time I was splitting time between the legion barracks and the apprentice quarters at the Arcane University. I kept away from my family. They didn't know, but they suspected something was going on. Once I thought the jig was up when I told Gracchus that I had to go home because my mother was sick. He sent over a healer to see her. Good man. She wasn't sick, of course. I was on a mission. My mother covered for me, but the look in her eye when she saw me next..." Veleda gazed into her wine tankard, then took a long drink, and poured some more. "What would really kill her to know is that I enjoyed it. I loved it, actually. The game. That, and finally doing something, besides waiting around for the emperor to find his balls and face the Thalmor."

 

Laughing, Ulfric turned from his bottle to regard the woman next to him, then said, "I haven't heard you speak like that the whole time you were here in my pal-, our palace. Be honest, do I still make you nervous?"

 

"If I'm honest, yes. If we were just king and officer, I'd know where we stood. I told Galmar I wouldn't be much good at this queen thing. You've made it easier than I expected, though. My idea of what it would be like was set by what I knew in Cyrodiil. I thought I'd be expected to play hostess and politician. You've let me continue being a battlemage trainer, and I appreciate that."

 

"Well, I don't know much of politics in Cyrodiil, but as far as where we stand, I'd hoped that you could see us as friends, eventually. Though I guess I'm making that hard lately, even with the others... I do not wish to make you nervous. Is it because you still feel like I expect more from you? Or is it simply because of who I am?"

 

"It's both. It's also me. I know how to be a soldier. I don't know how to be a queen." Veleda sighed and put the tankard down. "I'm used to tackling challenges head on, damn the consequences. I thought this was a different game, but maybe that's my problem. So here's something. We haven't kissed since the wedding. Would you like to?"

 

Ulfric was caught off guard, and it showed in his laughter. "Sorry, that was just rather sudden. I had a talk with the general earlier on that subject. In that exact seat." Ulfric tried to search her eyes for some sort of sign. "I don't want you to feel like you have to. I admit, sometimes I've avoided you because I don't know how to really be a king and husband. To answer your question though, I do find you attractive. And I would like to kiss you again."

 

Smiling, Veleda stood up. Her smile was to belay her nervousness. Dumb idea, Vel. Very dumb. Like Menel always says,"Look what you got me into, Fire-Hand."  Stepping around the table, she waited for Ulfric to reciprocate.

 

Ulfric was already a bit far under the bottle, so he wobbled a bit as he stood, making him laugh again. He walked over, seeming cautious at first, though not timid. Yet still like he was unsure of himself. He looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head then said, "Screw it." Taking her by the waist, he put out all thoughts of awkwardness and brought her body to his, and his lips to hers for the first time in months. He hadn't at all felt nervous with an audience. Strange, he thought. But he was coming to again, feeling the familiarity once more and his confidence.

 

Startled and still unsure, Veleda almost recoiled, but then he was just there and it was happening. Ulfric, the king of Skyrim, the man who defeated the empire and freed us... The thought was hard to sustain when your mouth was mashed up against his. Past memories of other men flickered through her mind, but she forced them away, realizing that she was tense and in general making a muck of it. Pulling away a bit to catch her breath, Veleda relaxed and moved in closer, her arms slipping up around his back. With her mouth softer this time, the second attempt was more human, and she even gave a little smile in the midst of it.

 

As awkward of a kiss as it was, it was a lot better than what they were doing. Beating around the bush, as it were. The first kiss was to just make it happen, but the second felt a lot less forced, and the taste of wine on her lips was rather pleasant and helped him relax and focus on this woman who he now called his wife.

 

Taking Skyrim was a lot simpler, he thought. This was something that required a finesse that he wasn't used to. Maybe it was different, since she was a Cyrodiil born Nord. So quick courtship wouldn't work, but that was fine with him. Somehow, this was better. He was unpracticed at this, but it turned out okay. He stole a quick glance at her and was pleasantly surprised to see she was smiling, which made it better than okay.

 

He felt eagerness begin to overcome him and made himself break off before he got too carried away. He was unsure of what to say now, or if he should even say anything. But likely because of the wine, he opened his mouth anyway and said, "I've been wanting to do that for quite a while. You didn't disappoint."

 

Surprised at the compliment, Veleda felt a hotness on her cheeks that must be blushing. Her heart was beating a bit faster than usual, from the tension if nothing else, and she had a curious nausea in her gut that seemed to be connected to the slight clenching in parts lower. I want him, she realized, half relieved and half startled at the obvious fact. Clearing her throat, Veleda laughed nervously and said, "Many women in the kingdom would envy me right now. Hermir, the smith apprentice, for one. Though she's not the only one with stars in her eyes."

 

Ulfric raised an eyebrow, and said, "That's a rather specific name. Galmar mentioned her, I bet. Like I told him, though. The palace of Ysgramor is no place for a mere girl. Skyrim deserves more than that. I want more than that." Ulfric's vision started to blur some before he finished his sentence. "But now, I should probably sleep while I can still string together words, or you'll have to hold me up. Will you stay with me, Veleda?"

 

"I..." All sorts of worries and objections ran through her mind. The kiss had been fine. More than fine. Any more than that risked ruining the evening, though Veleda knew they had to cross this boundary, too. She had wanted to explain- why she hadn't loved anyone since girlhood infatuations and why she hadn't been with anyone in years- but the king obviously didn't want to hear a long discourse. "Alright. Of course, Ulfric. Should I get my sleeping clothes?" Was that a dumb question?

 

Ulfric made it easy on her though, as he walked off smiling after he heard her say alright. He all but collapsed on his bed after walking up the platform. He managed to get his boots off at least, but anything else was too much trouble, and he was too tired to care. She watched him a moment, uncertain, then reached for her cup and drained it.

 

Finally she went over to the bed and started taking off her armor. Did it have to be on a platform? Occasionally she glanced to see if Ulfric watched her undress, but if he stole a peek then she never saw. When she was down to her black woolens, she hesitated, then reached under the shirt and loosed her breast wraps. There was a basin in the corner, and she quickly washed up in it. Eyeing the privy, she decided now was as good a time as any for him to hear her pee.

 

With all that ceremony over, Veleda returned to the bed and climbed in. "I probably steal the covers," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

 

Ulfric's eyes were half closed by then, which helped his glancing go unnoticed. Happily drunk, he stretched and said, "No matter," smiling as he closed his eyes. It had been quite a while since he shared his bed. Not counting she whose name would not be spoken. "I forgot the light..." he said, rolling to his side to get up. But, with the bed feeling as good as he did, and his intoxication hindering him, he decided against it. "Wait, I got it... fus!"

 

From the dark, he mumbled half asleep and said, "Goodnight Veleda..."

 

Startled by the thu'um catching her in the middle of a worry, Veleda burst out laughing. Then, that felt so good and broke the tension so well that she kept on laughing, until she let out a very un-queenly snort. Which, in turn, made her laugh even more. She couldn't see his confused expression, but it soon changed as the king started to grin as well, mostly from being caught up by her laughter and the moment. This was exactly what he wanted. Using that moment to his advantage, he rested his head with hers and put his arm over her. "Not nervous anymore, I take it? Neither am I."

 

Getting hold of herself, Veleda turned, and her arm slipped over his waist. "I guess not. My thu'um needs some work, as you see. That's very useful, by the way." A tremor of laughter escaped but she mustered and just lay with a grin.

 

"I heard often that students can sometimes benefit from private lessons," said Ulfric inching closer, trying his luck and feeling more confident in the dark.

 

Veleda's smile faltered a bit, and she noticed the queasiness again, though was less certain of its source. This was a long time overdue, however, and there was no way around it. Trying to put her best seductive face on- which involved some face twitching and another attempt to smile- she said, "I see. I guess we'd better get to it then."

 

Ulfric paused for a moment, but didn't take too long to make his move finally. He traced her side with his finger down to her hip, then back up again before gently nudging her on the shoulder to her back. Still at her side, he had his hand under the sheet, rubbing at her leg and coming close to her loins before it rested on her stomach. His other hand cradled her head. He was close enough to her that his hand wasn't the only thing she could feel at her leg.

 

He kissed her again, then. This time on her nose, however. It could have been because of the dark. But the harsh rhythmic breathing that now came from his mouth, as well as his shut eyes said otherwise. The king came close to finally getting what he wanted again, but unfortunately the wine worked against him.

 

Veleda murmured, trying to relax. Her eyes closed, then opened again. The presence jutting at her hip had slackened and so had Ulfric's breathing. She waited. He didn't stir again. Eventually her head fell back on the pillow and she laughed quietly, the nervousness abating. She stole another glance. The hard lines of the king's face had eased. It was curious, to see him look so much at peace. There had been no peace for him, after all. Not since those boyhood years at High Hrothgar.

 

Turning her head, Veleda continued to watch him, remembering all the stories, the rumors both good and bad. He was either a legend or a monster, depending on who you asked. But after all he was just a man. A sense of protectiveness stirred. She was horrible at this, at all the things other women just seemed to know how to do, but none of those women were here. It was up to her to guard him, to be with him, as a man and not just the king.

 

Moving closer, she laid an arm carefully over Ulfric's side, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. Eventually the wine helped her along, as well.

 

***

Ulfric was the first to wake the morning after. True to her word, Veleda indeed ended up taking most of the sheets. He couldn't blame her, as he remembered he had the bright idea of blowing out the fire when he knew it would be cold. And then he remembered something else...

 

Great. Just great. I fell asleep too soon. Ulfric got out of bed then, cursing his luck and removed his garments to clean up in the wash bucket before renewing the fire with the thu'um. He blew it, but he couldn't help but smile at the night they had regardless as he looked into the fire. And just the act of resting in the bed with her made him feel more relaxed than he had in a long time.

 

Veleda's eyes opened and she started up, remembering where she was. "Oh. Ulfric." Laughing, she reached a hand through her dark hair. "Did you sleep well? I didn't talk in my sleep, did I? That's dangerous, for a mage."

 

Ulfric turned then and realized he forgot to think of what to say when she woke. He felt somewhat exposed, now that she saw him in a way that very very few people ever did or ever would. He was supposed to be almost inhuman in his presentation to others. But now, she had seen him in a very human capacity. And a humbling one. "Uh, yes. I in fact slept rather well. And I can relate to that danger by the way, but you didn't set the bed on fire or turn me into a skeever, so you're in the clear."

 

She rested back on the heels of her hands, watching him. Morning light filtered in the frosted-glass windows, though it was still early, before dawn. An officer's life had taught Veleda to leap out of bed, damn the cold or anything else, but she lingered. Inexplicably then, she felt the telltale trickle of fluid between her thighs. Maybe it was the sight of this powerful man, or his scent that lingered in the bedclothes. With a flush she remembered his hardness from the night before. But if he didn't want her now... Veleda waited, wishing she could think of something to say that would sound seductive and not ridiculous.

 

Ulfric again made her job easy. He didn't know what she was thinking, but falling asleep on the job was certainly not the last thing he wanted her to remember of their first real time together. Seeing this woman lean back with her legs spread under his sheets did something to him. Beckoned him from instinct. And of course, the arousal that came from the morning and the memories of the night before helped as well.

 

He walked over then, smiling slightly while standing next to her and said, "You seem to be searching for something. Are you still in the mood for training in the voice?"

 

For a moment Veleda thought he might really be serious and wanting her to train the thu'um. She hadn't made much progress yet with the Disarm shout. When Sofie had asked her if she was doing it right, she'd surreptitiously used a telekinesis spell to pull the girl's wooden dagger out of her hands. It was cheating, but had impressed Sofie.

 

Then Veleda's eyes fell to Ulfric's waist, to the loincloth standing at attention. Not lessons, then. Heart thumping, she reached out a hand with a little smile. "If that's what they call it in Skyrim."

 

An involuntary groan escaped Ulfric, which quite surprised him. Her touch had an immediate effect on him, one that was familiar, even if it was something he had not felt in a while. His ears were burning with warmth, as was his face, and his heart was racing like a war drummer on skooma. The excitement was coursing through him, but he breathed deeply to control it. What was more surprising however, wasn't Ulfric's willingness, but Veleda's. That went a long way to putting his thoughts at ease.

 

He wasn't practiced at this, so he moved slow at first. He remembered the basics though. He tore the sheets off of her and moved to her stomach, lifting her shirt and placing kisses on her as he brushed her with the tips of his fingers. He moved up to her lips so he could get a feel for her reactions, then moved his hands slowly down her stomach to below. Her body didn't seem quite her own anymore. It was rising against the press of his hands as if he was using a telekinesis spell of his own. That was well enough, because long-suppressed desire was overriding her nerves.

 

As Ulfric slowed to kiss her, Veleda caught a glimpse of his face and was reminded of the first time she saw him up close. It had been at the muster outside Solitude. She stood at attention in the Stormcloak ranks, and suddenly there was this man, an ordinary looking Nord under any other circumstances, yet with such magnetism that soldiers parted in front of him as if pushed back by some force larger than himself. The True High King had walked by her, seeing but not seeing the line of soldiers, his mind on the coming battle. Now, the memory stirred up a surprising lust. At any normal time Veleda would have scoffed at the idea of power being attractive, but the humbling fact that she had succumbed was something she could analyze later.

 

When his lips moved to her neck, she murmured in welcome. Then his hand crept toward her thighs. Putting a hand on his arm, she said, "Ulfric. Wait."

 

Moving slightly aside, Veleda lifted the black wool shirt over her head and tossed it aside. After a moment's hesitation she shrugged out of her woolen pants as well. She fought an instinctive urge to cover herself back up again. It had been a long time and little enough she ever cared whether men found her body attractive. Now Veleda glanced at it, seeing the scar marks on her arms and torso and briefly wondering if Menel's comments about her bosom were on the mark, before checking Ulfric's expression. She shivered, more from nervous anticipation than from the chill in the room.

 

Ulfric, being completely unaware to these thoughts and doubts didn't give much pause at the sight of her scars or the fact that her breasts were not the largest. All he saw was the curvature she did possess. In fact, the scars only helped in making his eyes trace up towards her hardened nips, and his fingers did as well, running along her ribs before finally resting on her soft chest, easily giving away to his grasp, pressing through his fingers as he kneaded them.

 

The scars were just a reminder that the woman before him was formidable and powerful, which only made her giving herself to him more sweet. Women were not the only ones who could be attracted to power, and this woman literally had it at her fingertips.

 

There would be no more prolonging. He had to have her then and there, and he quickly moved her to her stomach and kept her legs together with his. He waited only a moment to see if she'd protest, and when she did not, he moved within her, slowly, gasping as she did from the surprise of the sensation of her smooth moist skin clamping around him. Soon, there was no more chill to speak of, as he was all around her. His stomach at her back and his arms around hers while holding her chest, and his warm breath at the back of her ear.

 

Veleda gasped at the intrusion. She was no virgin, but her bedroom activity had been so long ago and so infrequent body thought she was. The skin was slick with wetness, however her muscles clenched at the unfamiliar sensation, and reflexively she gripped at the bedclothes with her hand. Unpleasant memories of other men groping and grunting into her flashed through her mind. Head turning, she looked at Ulfric's face, twisted with pleasure, and the strangeness of what was happening took her out of the moment still further.

 

But, this was different than before. He was different, and not just because he was king. She respected this man perhaps more than any other in her life. No one she had ever been with had been as strong, as large a personality, or had accomplished so much. Yet even though now his need was obvious, Ulfric had restrained himself with her, giving her distance and time to adjust to their marriage. If he had forced himself on her on their wedding night, she might have found it more difficult. Now, recalling the same face lying peacefully next to her the night before, Veleda felt the same prickle of affection.

 

She turned back and concentrated on the feeling of him probing her, trying to push past her resistance. As he finally succeeded, Veleda gasped again, no longer with pain but from the surprise of being touched there. He withdrew slightly, then moved and butted at the same place again. It sent a quiver through her. His warm weight pinning her, the insistence of his prodding, no longer felt quite as foreign. The tension in her limbs eased, allowing him to sink even deeper inside her. She said his name once more and reached up to grasp his hand.

 

Ulfric was getting more frantic, and he started to lose track of how long he was lasting, and if it was long enough. Though he knew soon that it wouldn't be up to him much longer. Already he had tried to make himself think of something else to prolong it. The only thing that came to mind unpleasant enough to hold him back was his thoughts of he and Elisif.

 

The truth was that he did try it with her, once. But even on that one occasion, he removed himself before the end. But that was nothing at all like this, and before long, not even thoughts of that horrid night could hold back his ecstasy. Soon he was calling out, grunting louder as they went.

 

Again, Veleda surprised him when her hand grabbed his. It was good to know she was there with him in mind as well as body in the midst of what they were doing. He gripped his arms and legs tighter and rolled to the side, bringing Veleda with him until he was on his back and Veleda was above him. His right hand moved down, searching through her coarseness briefly before it found her nub, which he rubbed at while he worked to finish and make sure she did too. His mouth found her neck again while his left hand stayed in its place over her chest and below her own hand. His groans were muffled now in her neck, but the urgency in his sucking and kissing was a sure sign he couldn't hold for much longer. But the clenching around him in her meant neither could she.

 

The sudden movement surprised her, but if being exposed on top of him threw her for a moment, his aggressiveness left her no time for feeling embarrassed. Veleda closed her eyes, and tried to process the sensations. She'd never come with a man before, only in furtive moments helping herself, either after her partner had done his thing and fallen asleep or alone in her room. Was this what it felt like? It wasn't as all-consuming as she thought it ought to be, though each of his movements sent a ripple of warmth through her, like sinking into a nice bath. That was nice enough in itself.

 

Then Ulfric's finger slid in between them. Her body jerked. Veleda let out a sigh, and her hips began to rock, increasing the friction. For some minutes that went on, and it could have gone on all day as far as she was concerned. Her body had other ideas. Head falling back, she gave a strangled cry. That's what it felt like.

 

Ulfric lost concentration and was too into his own sensations to remember to try and get her to finish, but he was lucky. He was too out of practice for that kind of continued focus, but Veleda reached her peak anyway and his release was thought free. Just pure lust sated and complete satisfaction. Though maybe not all pure lust, after all.

 

The stress of the many months just drained from him all at once, and he felt like he could sink beneath the bed pressed under her weight with their legs sprawled out that way and tangled together. His hips rocked for a little while longer with semi hardness, and it felt like he was still releasing, but he wasn't really sure. It was likely just remnants of the pleasure of before from his heightened sensitivity.

 

By the time they were done, he had no idea what to say or where they stood. He was stunned to silence anyway. He felt like he should say something though, in gratitude at least. But all that came out was, "Veleda." Hopefully she knew his meaning, he thought.

 

Veleda slumped against Ulfric's chest, her head on his shoulder, and what was strangest of all was that it felt natural to be there.  They had been play-acting at being married for the past months, moving around each other at arm's length, feeling out boundaries. At least some of these had now come crashing down.

 

Fighting the temptation for shyness, she climbed off his chest and lay at his side, brushing fingers over his face. This was the cragged, worry-worn face so many looked to for inspiration or wished to spit upon with hate. It was the face of a rebel and a king, but now it was also her husband's face, a word that Veleda hadn't ever thought to apply to herself let alone as queen of Skyrim. "That was fun," she said, laughing, pleasantly surprised that it was true.

 

Ulfric laughed in relief that she agreed with what he was thinking. It meant so much that he didn't feel like he was making her doing this, and it felt very good to know that wasn't the case. He had no idea how bad he really needed this until he finally had it, sitting there more vulnerable than he'd felt since the first great war in Elenwen's care, but more relaxed than a baby in its crib.

 

"I had fun as well, my Queen. I won't make you come here at night, now that we've finally shared my bed. You can stay when you feel the need."

 

"I've thought about this." She sat up on one elbow. "I'll keep a chart of my courses, and make a special point to come to you when the time is right for conceiving a child. And any other time when we want it, of course," she added hastily. Veleda hadn't actually thought about that part, until now. "You and I both know that there's a long list of people who want us dead. A Stormcloak heir will be important for Skyrim." She hesitated, then her hand reached to trail along his chest. The small intimacy felt risky and new. "At least now we know that it will be a pleasant pursuit."

 

"You sure you're ready for that?" asked Ulfric. "I suppose we'll both have little choice as far as a child is concerned. But, I can make it work. It's part of the reason why I let Sophie be my daughter. She's not my blood, true. But this is Skyrim. And if anyone makes it into an issue, I can probably make them look bad for making issue over such petty details like an Imperial politician. Some have forgotten, family in Skyrim isn't always about blood."

 

"She might make a good queen. We should hedge our bets, though. Life in Skyrim is also harsh and dangerous, even for royalty. Maybe especially for us. I'm not ready, but that didn't stop me saying yes to Galmar's proposition." Veleda paused, then said, "You probably felt insulted that I didn't come to you earlier. Thank you for being patient."

 

Ulfric looked away, as if to think, then said, "Marriage is new for me. Well, a marriage with someone I don't dislike I mean. Things are expected of both of us as a royal couple, there's no getting around that. But, I'm not in a rush. Perhaps it would have been wise for me to be, but it wouldn't have been enjoyable for me if I didn't think you wanted this at least a little. I wasn't offended. I expected as much. I'm not always such a forceful man."

 

"Did you and Elisif... Sorry. It's not my business."

 

Ulfric's face twisted as he looked away, recalling the time with Torygg's wife. His stomach sank... it didn't feel right to mention her with his new Queen.

 

"...sort of. Once, but not quite. She shared my bed and she thought it was expected. I suppose it was, but... after the attempt, I ended up sending her to her own chambers. I knew if I didn't have a child with her, it would cause issues, but I couldn't stomach it, so I sent her to her own chambers. And that was the end of that. I lied when us trying was mentioned, and ordered her to as well. Why'd you ask? Does it bother you?"

 

"No. I don't think so. I'm only sorry you had to go through that. And her too, strangely enough. Politics is a dirty business." Veleda sat up on the edge of the bed. There was a trickle between her thighs again, but this time it was his fluid and not only hers. This world of womanly secrets, the most normal of things for all the women of Nirn, was a peculiar country indeed for her.

 

Standing, she went to the basin and washed herself. From there she said, "On the subject of children. Even though Sofie already thinks she knows everything, she should have a tutor to help look after her and give discipline to her lessons. If the person is good, we could then use him or her for our own child, when that time comes. I'd like to ask Dravynea Stoneweaver to take the job. She's a Dunmer, works in the mine at Kynesgrove. I invited her here to ask her advice about warding magic, because Wuunferth told me she's an expert in alteration. She's very clever and would be good at the job of tutor, I think. A woman like that can't want to work down in that mine her whole life. What do you think?"

 

Ulfric watched her a while as she washed, but turned his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes after hearing about her proposal. His first inclination was to say hell no. Sophie being counted as his daughter was one thing, but having dunmer influence on her and his children? Though, Baldur had all sorts of influences from other cultures and he was one of the Nordiest individuals he knew. He also didn't want to ruin he and Veleda's time together... but didn't want her thinking she could influence him with sex.

 

"I had intended Wuunferth the Unliving to be their tutor, just like me when I was a boy. Or the High General. Give me some time to think on it. I don't wish to discuss it at the moment. Maybe we could have a meal together later? Sophie should attend as well."

 

Veleda knew Ulfric enough by now to hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. She couldn't imagine a lively young girl being taught by a fossil like Wuunferth, and Baldur had his hands full, but she didn't really want to argue, either. "Very well. We can ask her what she thinks." Veleda was back in her woolens by then, and collecting up bits of armor. She paused and smiled over at him. "How long will it take to get around the palace that the king and queen spent the night together?"

 

Ulfric smiled again, and said, "With most of my court gone, maybe a little slower than usual, but these walls tend to carry sound pretty well... and, I'm sure the guards will notice where you walked out from this morning. Things like that don't tend to stay hidden very well here. And the guards have little else to do but gossip." Ulfric stood then to dress himself as well, and said with a smirk, "If you want to keep them guessing, you should comb your hair before you leave. It's a bit... uh, tossed."

 

"Let them see it. It will be good for the realm if they know we're doing our duty. Good thing I had Menel running practice today. He'll depart soon for the Grim Trials. Taking a few of our healer apprentices to oversee the exercises. I'd like to assign one or two to Kyne's Watch permanently, if they serve well."

 

Ulfric said while he finished clothing himself, "I'm sure Red-Snow won't object. Tell your mer friend to watch him for me. I have an idea that he's going to do something stupid, and I'd like that to be prevented. I don't think he understands the importance of him not being hurt, and he made it seem like these trials would be rather intense. I should order him not to risk his life, but if his wife can't then I sure won't stop him."

 

"Menel won't let the High General die. You've heard the stories of what they did in Hammerfell. He's lucky, that fat little Bosmer, I tell you." She laughed and came closer to the bed, armor piled in her arms. Regarding Ulfric curiously, she said, "You love Baldur."

 

Ulfric looked puzzled, as if it was the first time he considered it. His eyebrow receded though after a moment's pause, and he laughed at himself, for what she said was true.

 

"I once said the man was like my son. He and Galmar laughed. Baldur said I was more like an older brother, which I suppose is true. I tend to get sentimental sometimes. It is why I thought Balgruuf would eventually join my side despite our grudge. But yes, I suppose I do love him. Galmar too, as he and I have known each other for many years. It is why I eventually accepted Rebec when she first came to my attention through Baldur, even though my gut told me not to. And my gut is seldom wrong. I thought surely he was just blinded by his... 'Underking', as he put it. And it is why I am so hard on him at times. I hope that he understands that and doesn't think my kingship has made me forget that we are friends."

 

"The line between duty and friendship is hard to navigate. I hope you come to see me as such a friend." She paused, then added, "I'm very proud, Ulfric, that you chose me for your queen."

 

Ulfric flashed a big grin, then said, "Well, you're doing a good job getting there so far. I never did have many people I could call real friends. Those who I am privileged to call such a thing, I hold them close. You and I will get there, I am sure. I just need to make sure I make time for us that doesn't involve our duties, and it will be so. That is important to me, and it will serve us well in the future, since we will be working together for Skyrim. You will make a fine queen. Which is good, since I may not always be here, thanks to this war."

 

"Don't forget that we need you, too. Not just Baldur." She paused, lingering, and finally said, "I should head back. Sofie will be looking for me."

 

"Alright, then. I'll see you both later. And do not worry, I don't intend on throwing my life away now of all times while Independent Skyrim is in her infancy."

 

Veleda nodded once and turned to leave. In the hallway, the guards kept blank faces, which surely meant they all had read the signs. The queen still had a little smirk as she arrived back at her quarters, to a young girl full of questions about where she'd been.

 

***

Duke Jhared Mon, his steep widow peaked graying hair billowing in the wind, lurched forward through the streets of Windhelm. His escort, a mix of Adrard and Mon men, formed a semi-circle around him, with the duke himself at the lead. As the diplomatic group passed by some Nords, the natives glanced hatefully at the Bretons.

He wondered why, as he could not recall any past transgressions that would cause an unsavory opinion, besides the fact he was an outsider. But he had trouble believing that, as there were a fair amount of Imperials in the city as well.

Overall, it mattered little, as the Nordic guards whose shoulders he barely stood above were extremely cordial, no doubt forcibly so because of their positions. They allowed him entrance to the great hall, as they were expecting him. King Adrard had written ahead, notifying High King Stormcloak, who in turn notified his men. Or, so he assumed.

Regardless, he entered the palace unmolested. His green tunic was accented in white, while his white cape bore an his family's owl insignia. Very apt, he always thought, especially for himself. He strode forward, his entourage stopping just short of the throne.

"Your majesty King Ulfric Stormcloak, I present Duke Jhared Mon, of High Rock," a guard announced, while the ambassador stepped forward with a sweeping bow. In his hands he held a cloak, made from the hide of a rare Wrothgarian Minotaur. The head and horns were still attached, to they could work as a hood for the wearer.

 

Ulfric who was speaking with Thrice-Pierced said, "We'll continue the discussion shortly. In the meantime, prepare a list of the Necro Nords and where they're posted, so I may choose who I wish to replace the men Baldur is requesting to take with him to the first Grim Trials. And let the Queen know we have guests."

 

Thrice-Pierced saluted Ulfric, then quickly ran off to complete his task. Ulfric, turning now to the Breton stayed where he was on his throne and pointed at them with a finger, making a circling motion with it. "So...Duke. What's all this? What would bring the Bretons of all people to my little slice of Tamriel, hmm?" Ulfric vaguely remembered the letter, but he wasn't exactly overly enthusiastic about dealing with the Bretons.

 

"I got no response from your people throughout the entirety of our war for freedom, but now that I am in the capacity to help you, I get a Duke sent my way? Interesting."

 

Duke Mon smiled, his thin lips chapped from the wind outside. "Of all people? Why, do I detect some grudge you hold against us?" he jokingly said.

His smile faded, and his expression grew much more business-like. "We were not in a prime position to help you, not officially. As we are still under Imperial rule, at least in name, our offering help to you would have led to increased hostilities. Of course, you will remember our shipyards provided you with the needed vessels to stave off Imperial blockade, although those contracts are now canceled. We hope to resume those trading bonds, and possibly work out a mutually beneficial relationship."

 

Ulfric scoffed, and said, "Increased hostilities, you'd be the very last province they had trying to break away. They'd have been forced to accept both of our independence peacefully, or risk opening their south front to Thalmor invasion. Don't give me that. You lot are always reluctant to get your hands dirty, but no matter. It is expected. As for the rest, we'll continue when the queen makes her way here. Until then, silence is golden, I'm told."

 

The duke smiled again, although there was little warmth in it. "I am at your discretion, High King."

 

Veleda appeared then from the side room, still smoothing down a green velvet dress. She didn't wear them often, and it showed in her discomfort. Taking her place at Ulfric's side, she nodded once at him, then surveyed the Bretons. "My lords. Welcome to Skyrim."

 

"Not lord, duke, and I am the sole nobleman, your royal highness," Jhared Mon said jokingly, his smile much more playful than the one he gave to Ulfric, as he wanted to set a much better first impression on the recent politician, hoping she was more easily persuaded.

"As your husband and I were just discussing, I speak on behalf of High Rock. King Adrard sent me to work out a mutually beneficial relationship via trade and alliance. He is at this very moment meeting with Governor Jeleen to work out the same deal with Hammerfell."

 

"I used it as a term of courtesy," Veleda answered. "We are more impressed by one's deeds than one's title here in Skyrim. Now, I suppose you were about to tell the king the terms of this 'deal'?"

 

"Precisley. As you know, we are embarking on a civil war of our own. To keep ourselves from going under, in debt that is, we would like to increase our trade with you. But, understanding that you have limited goods to trade, he, King Adrard that is, suggested you drop a contract with Cyrodiil, and take it up with us," Duke Mon said, making subtle motions with his hands as he talked.

 

The queen replied, "Forgive me, I'm still learning the trade dealings that the crown has in place here, but the only one from High Rock I'm familiar with is the ships and ship parts we purchased during the recent Thalmor invasion. I understand from our High Admiral that the terms we received from your shipyards were far from favorable."

 

Duke Mon looked taken aback, and offended. "I apologize if our prices seemed exorbitant, but the only other option you had was Hammerfell, and as I understood it, time was very much of the essence. To get things quickly, sometimes you must pay more than you wish."

 

"I did mention a Thalmor invasion," Veleda added pointedly. "Your countrymen should have been glad that it was Skyrim and not High Rock who suffered it." She then looked to Ulfric to see what he would say.

 

Ulfric watched the exchange with amusement and had a smirk on his face. This was going exactly how he hoped, though in the future, he'd let her know she didn't need to wear a dress for guests. In fact, her normal attire would be preferred. All things would come in time. "Seems we are both of the same mind then, since she and I both raised similar points. High Rock has not exactly been a friend to us in the past. Only an exploiting neighbor in our time of need. So now that it is you who needs us...you better make a damn good case for us dropping trade with the southerners."

 

Narrowing his eyes and hardening his mouth, Duke Mon said, "I think this deal can benefit is both, and mend any past transgressions we might have made by not helping you in your war. You drop a trading contract or two, and we join this alliance, and officially support you and your High General for the head of the alliance. That seems fair, does it not? That would give you the support of Hammerfell and High Rock, while Cyrodiil has no one but themselves to tout their general as leader."

 

"Not enough," said Ulfric. "We've got a rather cozy deal going with the Imps at the moment. You want me to consider twisting their loincloths in a bunch by dropping two contracts when they sorely need them, then you lot better offer a sweeter deal. I want the taxes on trade with High Rock dropped by half."

 

Duke Mon smiled, licking his lips and causing them to glisten with spit. "Not enough? We could always support the Imperial general instead. And King Adrard is old friends with Governor Jeleen, who I'm sure he could convince to back our position, with due time. But, we are not that underhanded, no matter what you may have previously thought. I think we could manage to drop the taxes by a quarter. No more, or the benefit from trading at all becomes negligible."

 

Ulfric smiled at the duke for the first time and said, "You can support who you want, Breton. We'll get what we need in the end. And don't forget it was my general and admiral that helped keep Hammerfell from fighting amongst themselves yet again. Even if you and the Redguards are friends, so is Skyrim and Hammerfell. And no one could get them to support taking the Imperial's lead. And the phrase "what have you done for me lately" comes to mind. Even if Jeleen did want to, it would be political suicide. Maybe even literal.... Anyway, if I do accept your deal, half the taxes dropped would be worth it. Thoughts, Queen?"

 

"Like I said, we are not so underhanded as to try that, nor stupid enough. But yes, I would like to hear the esteemed queen's views on the situation," Mon said, turning his grin to the queen.

 

"We do wish the trade between our countries to flow smoothly, of course," Veleda said, her tone conciliatory. "If you can't meet the king's demands on trade taxes, then you'd have to offer us something else which would be worth the risk of alienating Cyrodiil. But remember that you too are fighting a civil war, and you may at any moment find yourself fighting the Thalmor. You need Skyrim's ores as much as Cyrodiil does. They were willing to fight a costly war to keep them, and we are fighting a costly war in the Reach to protect access. You don't appear to rate them very highly."

 

"The war in the Reach...yes, I was going to mention a cooperation to eradicate the Reach Clans once this trade business was worked out, but it seems now is a much more opportune time. You drop the contracts, in return we back you for lead of the alliance, and we will assist you in destroying those Reach Clans, Forsworn to you, once our war is over. Send troops to alleviate yours, perhaps? As well, your Kyne's Watch is a fledgling city, just now sprouting up, and we could increase trade through there," Duke Mon was pulling out all the stops now, employing every piece he had been instructed to barter with. If they didn't accept this, he'd have to get creative.

 

"Like we've said to the Redguards, we don't need or want outside help taking care of our trash," said the king. "Forty five percent tax drop. That's as low as I'll go. The Imps gave us a thirty percent tax cut. A fifteen percent deduction from that would be the only thing worth dropping deals with them. In the end, it can only benefit you in the long run by increasing trade greatly. And this is the only thing you have to offer us. Like I said, we'd like you backing us. But we don't need your support in the end. It's as simple as that."

 

"Your trash is our trash. The Reach Clans cause as many problems for you as they do us, and we want them gone just as much as you do. They are our brethren, and they intrude on other's lands, and must be stopped. You may not wish to accept our help, but we will offer it until you do. Even if we cannot fight together, we may as well coordinate our actions, so we are not constantly pushing them from one province to another," Duke Mon was not a tactical genius, but he understood the basics of fighting, enough to know they needed to work together to effectively cull the herd.

"As for the tax cut, forty-five percent is acceptable. Trade benefits all parties, and your ores for our...lumber, if you wish, or maybe silks and cloths."

 

"You'll not have to worry about us pushing them into your lands or Hammerfell's," said Ulfric. "My other general, General Hammer-Fang, he's taken it upon himself to block off the border to your provinces with our men. He's an... enthusiastic sort. They'll be pushed. But when they are, they'll have nowhere to go but into death's welcoming arms. Of course, some may slip through the cracks. In the event that this does happen, I'll send your king word of it. When and if that happens, we can talk more of coordinating with each other. But within this land, we Nords will fight off the scum ourselves."

 

These Nords, so prideful and arrogant. I offer troops to alleviate stress on their own, but no, they must sacrifice their own men. And these are the people that lead us. Duke Mon simply nodded, not wishing to argue further.

"My liege also wished for me to ask you about this alliance you have created, and what the exact terms are for joining it," Jhared Mon asked.

 

Ulfric said, "There are no terms. As far as joining goes. When you are in it, then you are making a promise to keep independent kingdoms independent, whether that be from Thalmor, Cyrodiil, whoever. Skyrim is getting it started, but we do not seek to lead or dictate it. Your support of me and my general only goes for leading this war. Hammerfell would not join us if they thought they'd be taking orders from Legionnaires, and the Cyrodiilics are too unstable at the moment to be leading a whole alliance's war effort anyway. Hammerfell has always been unstable, and High Rock isn't as experienced in warfare to lead either. Skyrim is simply the most logical choice to be leading this war effort. Our history as well as current standing shows this."

 

"Hmm, yes, quite. As I understand it, the only thing we must do is ensure provincial independence. We are more than willing to agree to that. King Adrard will be pleased to hear they are so acceptable. I have had many questions for you, High King and Queen, but now I open myself up to any you may have, concerning myself, High Rock, or King Adrard," Jhared Mon was more than welcome to answer questions, even if he hadn't been ordered to by Theodore.

 

Veleda interjected, "You must understand, Duke, that Breton troops in the Reach would make our locals very nervous. We have fought more than one war to establish the borders we now have, and neither of us can afford any misunderstandings in our remote territories which could lead to a greater conflagration. I know our High Admiral does wish cooperation with your navy. It's a pity you arrived after she and the High General left the capital. Perhaps you'll want to stop at our new naval base in Kyne's Watch to discuss such matters with her."

 

"Ah yes, I was sorely disappointed to have missed her. I will be sure to stop by on my way home. I understand you wish to keep foreigners out, but these Forsworn are Bretons, and as such we feel a duty to keep them in check. But, I will not press you on it," Duke Mon said politely.

 

"Good," Ulfric said. "Now, what questions do you have for us?"

 

"I assume that means you have none, High King? Well, I think I have covered every topic I was instructed to...how goes the family? Congratulations on the recent marriage, as well," Duke Mon asked sincerely, motioning for his guards to back off a few steps, giving him and the royal couple some privacy.

 

Ulfric stood then, and said, "We're just fine. Unfortunately, I'm not one for small talk and idle chatter when there's work to be done. The guards have told you by now that lollygagging is frowned upon here in Skyrim. You'll freeze to death otherwise. If our business is concluded, then I suggest you be on your way to relay what has been said to your king. You've got your trade agreement. Oh, and tell Theodore I said welcome to the new king club and I hope everything continues to go well with his war. For all of our sakes."

 

As the negotiations seemed to be coming to an end, Veleda spoke up once more. "Gentlemen, surely you are tired from your journey. We would offer you a meal and guest quarters, if you wish to stay the night. Old Harald's keep is perhaps not as comfortable as Breton palaces, but some mead would help with the chill."

 

The smile dropped, and the duke bowed, but just barely. "Thank you for the offer, but we must be off. I'll pass that along. It has been a pleasure, your majesties. My best wishes on your marriage, and I hope you have a long and prosperous rule, and bear many children. Good day to you both."

The guards regrouped, and they escorted the nobleman out quickly. They were back on the boat and gone before the sun set, Duke Mon completely happy with how the day had gone.

 

Ulfric watched as the Bretons left to his relief, then said, "Well, that was fun. I'm glad they didn't accept your offer. Never did like them, especially now when they come only when they need something from us. But who can say no to such a ridiculously high tax cut like that? I'm surprised they took that offer. Well, surprised that he took it with less arguing involved."

 

"Be surprised if they actually follow through. Promises are easy to make, especially when this duke and his king are not even fully in control of their country, let alone their entire merchant class." She regarded Ulfric silently a moment. "Did I speak out of turn? I'm not sure what you expect of me at meetings like this."

 

"I expect you to speak your mind and do what you think is best," Ulfric said. "Just like you did now and during the meeting. I'm not all talk when I said I want someone of an independent mind. I have no use for a woman that is nothing but a pretty smile. Though next time, you don't need to change garments."

 

Veleda glanced down at the cursed dress, which was still not smooth. "I heard my mother's voice when I was putting it on, telling me that just because we're Nords doesn't mean we have to be barbarians. The only thing more pathetic than imperial nobility are those that are grasping for it. At any rate, thank you." She smiled, though in the back of her mind wondered how long it could be this easy.

 

Ulfric smiled as well and said, "Well, dressing formally wouldn't kill us. It just took me by surprise since I wasn't expecting it. But at any rate, you did good. Making nice with them wasn't necessary, but it doesn't hurt either." Ulfric might have said something during her interjection, but getting on her case over something small such as that and so early in her life as queen seemed pointless. "Will I see you and Sofie at dinner?"

 

Veleda nodded. "She's got a book to show you. It's about the queens of Atmora. Probably all lies, but she was impressed that several of them were called Grand Seeress. Sofie thinks I might be one of those even though I told her, I have no magic to reveal prophecies."

 

"I find it curious that she discovers all these books, and yet I've never known they were here. Baldur and Wuunferth were telling me I ought to spend more time exploring them. Perhaps I'll have Sofie read it to me before she goes to sleep. I need to get to know my new daughter better if she potentially could be taking my place some day. And of course, because I want to."

 

"I notice she avoids calling you papa, but you shouldn't take that personally. She still remembers her father and there are conflicted feelings there. He abandoned her, but she feels disloyal anyway calling another by his title. In time it will seem natural to her, though, I'm sure of it. And I think she would very much like to read to you." Veleda put a hand on Ulfric's arm. It lingered there, and she gave him a knowing, warm look. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a maid do a double take and then watch them with the manner of one trying too hard to mind her own business. With a little smile, the queen's hand withdrew and she walked out towards the stairs- bound to put on something more comfortable.

 

Ulfric could relate with the maid, as he was surprised himself, and found himself staring at the spot that Veleda touched him on. What did it mean? This was all still new to him, but he was sure that wasn't the actions of someone who felt duty bound to being a wife. Which by now he knew she did not feel that way, at least not completely. But it was still strange. He'd never been in love before, so he did not know if that was what he was feeling. He tried to compare it to the Red-Snows and he knew that it did not. But still, it was nice.

 

Perhaps it didn't need a name. Somehow, Galmar picked out a woman to be his queen, and it turns out that he liked her and she liked him, so far. And that was more than the High King expected already.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Brund Hammer-Fang

The Reach

Night

 

"It's past midnight already! Give that damned thing a rest, you oaf!"

 

No answer was given except the grimacing screech from Brund's grinding on Alfr Vega, his ancient Nordic pendulum. Galmar stood up and threw a repair hammer in the direction of the noise as best he could in the dark of the Reach, with only the purplish blue aurora of the sky to illuminate the area for him. The clang of iron on steel signified he struck true, but no sound from Brund came. Just the silence of the grinder finally ceasing.

 

Finally, he said, "Done."

 

"Mhmm, I bet you are," said Galmar as he laid back down on his bedroll. Brund came over and sat on his.

 

"Why'd you come here?" asked Brund.

 

"Because I wanted to. I'm a warrior, not a steward. I should be out here fighting, like you and the Red-Snows. You may be a general now, but you don't own this war. You and Baldur are just going to have to get over it and accept me doing my job."

 

"Why would he care. I don't see you in Hammerfell sucking up the sun and taking his glory."

 

"No one's taking your damn glory. You're still in charge, fool. The one in charge always gets the credit for the victory, you know that," said Galmar.

 

Brund said nothing for a while, only stared at Galmar in the dark. Finally, he said, "You know that's what's going to happen to all of us. With Ulfric. You, me, Rebec and Baldur, all of us will be forgotten. All of our achievements will be credited to 'the great Ulfric Stormcloak'."

 

Galmar gave him a sidelong glance and said with the tone of a warning, "You say that as though it weren't true. Do you not think it so?"

 

"I've come to think a lot of things ever since I've met the man face to face. What I've learned is that he is in fact, a man," said Brund.

 

Galmar said, "Well in any event, you're wrong. The people of Tamriel may come to forget us, and even Ulfric. But unlike others, we have Sovngarde waiting for us when we die. And no one will ever forget our deeds in that most honorable place."

 

"Maybe for you. But I'm already dead, and I saw no Sovngarde when I died. I see no peace for me. And you know what? I like it that way."

 

It was Galmar's turn to pause, but he eventually laughed off Brund's crazy words and said, "I see now why they call you all grim. You Necro Nords are so depressing sometimes. Always talking of death as if you shared its bed."

 

"You have no idea, old man."

 

"Uhuh, I think you've got some Imperial in you. You tend to be over dramatic. Hmm, speaking of Imperials, how did you get that scar on your neck? Was it from one of the legion boys or Thalmor?"

 

Brund's face twisted and contorted as he said, "Don't ask me that question again."

 

Galmar shook his head and snorted at his feeble attempt to talk with the anti social brute. Galmar rolled to his side and said, "You're not just gonna sit there all night staring at me, are you? It's damn creepy."

 

Brund grinned stupidly in a way that sent chills up Galmar's spine, which was not easy to do to a Nord, let alone him of all people. The way he sounded in the dark of the night amongst the utter silence... He realized then that not even the grasshoppers were singing. So quiet that he could hear the ringing in his ears, as if they were screaming out in protest of hearing absolutely nothing but the maniacal laughter of this estranged man with the wicked grin.

 

He rolled back over then and said, "Whatever, crazy fool. I've slept through worse than your creepy ass being near me. Try sleeping near Ulfric with his boots nearby. That'll kill a troll."

 

Grinning again, Brund finally rested his head, though sleep did not come to him. Not exactly. What came to him at night, Brund was unsure if he could truly call it sleep. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed... and he could feel something moving within him. Like energy. From where, he was uncertain, but he was sure that it had something to do with his Briar heart. After a while, he slowly became more and more aware of his surroundings, not less. And now he too could hear the silence of the land. The sound of the void of Oblivion slowly creeping through the atmosphere of magic around them, sneaking its way and wrapping its coils around them all in secret. He could hear nothing, not even the sound of Galmar's snoring, which could startle a bear. And yet he felt as though he was more awake than he'd ever been in years.

 

Soon, the light started to creep back into the sky, but something was wrong. It was too soon, way too soon. And he could still feel the coils of void holding him. And yet, the sun was playing in his eyes, peeking over the clouds like a fair maiden of past years lifting his eyelids while he still slumbered. Interrupting his sleep, but greeting him with her beautiful sight. Something he realized he hadn't thought about in years, which made him slightly perturbed.

 

More thoughts like that started flashing through his mind when suddenly the sun started going away, and once again it was dark. And then light. Was Kyne drunk? Either lady Kyne was drunk off her ass and getting knocked up like nobody's business, or time was speeding up, and Aka-Tusk was off his nut again.

 

How did you get that scar, Brund?

 

Brund stood up and spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. It wasn't Galmar this time, but a woman. An old woman. And something else. Something... older... and darker...

 

How did you get that scar, my love?

 

"I love no one but myself! What is all this horker shit? What the **** is going on?" Brund's question was only met with laughter from no particular direction. But it caused his chest to feel as though it were lit on fire. Brund tried to scream, but nothing came out. Panicking now, Brund let out another scream as the sun came and went again and again and again above his head at an increasing rate, all the while being forced to listen to their insufferable unholy laughter. Only now did he notice that the sun was moving in the wrong direction...

 

Finally a scream came, but it was some time before he realized they weren't screams of pain, but excitement. The sun was firmly in place once more, and when he looked all around himself, he saw that his men were with him as well. "What in Oblivion is going on?"

 

"Sir?"

 

"What?" Brund turned to see a redheaded Nord with a milky eye looking at him in blue Stormcloak gear. "Falgrum? What are you doing here?"

 

"Sir, we're about to ambush the legion camp nearby, remember? Captain Red-Snow?"

 

Brund looked down to his torso and saw that he too was wearing the Stormcloak uniform instead of his Necro Nord armor, but he still had his hammer-fang with him. "Did I dream it all? Did we not defeat the Imperials?" Brund didn't realize that he said this aloud.

 

Before Falgrum had time to answer, Brund pushed past him and screamed out again. He remembered this day and how it ended. Or did he dream that? He wouldn't let it end the same way again, regardless. "Move forward! Follow me and surround the enemy!"

 

***

Ulrin Red-Snow

Before the events of Skyrim in 4E201

 

"Yes, we'll have the supplies in Markarth in a matter of days. If the Stormcloaks ever managed to lay siege on the city, we'll have more than enough supplies to support the place. Let the Jarl know this immediately, and make haste. You wouldn't want to be caught by Forsworn out here, messenger."

 

"I grew up in the Reach, captain. I know how to avoid the Reachmen. No worries sir, your message will be relayed soon."

 

"Thank you, now go," said Captain Red-Snow. After he left, a legion man in reinforced legion plate armor came to his side. "How is he doing?" he asked.

 

"Well surprisingly. He's proving to be an outstanding soldier, like his father. Though he's still not trusted by his fellow soldiers because of who you are. Is he going to be an issue for you? I can order our spies to kill him now if you wish."

 

"No. I'll do it. Have them tell his Captain about the location of our fort and that we're getting active near the Rift. I know him. He'll be eager to prove himself. He'll come for me. Wait until my business in the Reach is finished first. Then I'll deal with my traitor son once and for all."

 

The messenger from earlier came running back to Ulrin, out of breath, while trying to yell and say, "Captain! Stormcloaks! We're about to be attacked!"

 

***

"Forward! March!" Brund yelled as he saw the Imperial flags on the road to Markarth before him. He was wearing the widest grin he possibly could. He was finally going to get what he'd been seeking since he joined the Stormcloaks. A chance for revenge. The Stormcloaks advanced with their shields held up before them, and the legionnaires did the same with their diamond shaped shields. Arrows from the legion in the back were pointed at the Stormcloaks, while the legion soldiers in the front got to their knees and placed their shields on the ground sticking up while the soldiers in the back covered their top. They were ready to defend and they didn't plan on giving an inch.

 

But the Stormcloaks had the number advantage. From Ulrin's estimate, they were outnumbered three to one. But it didn't matter. The supplies were too valuable to give up to the Stormcloaks.

 

"Well look who it is... hello again, Captain," said Brund.

 

Ulrin looked at him in confusion and said, "You know me, do you?"

 

"Hehe, yeeesss... I know you. Recognize your favorite legate?" asked Brund.

 

"Hmm, no, not really. I don't associate with traitors."

 

"Oh you remember me, Captain. Hammerfell? Brund Hammer-Fang?"

 

"I have no idea who you are. But if you were a legate before and you're a Stormcloak now, then I bet you were a failure."

 

"YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHO I AM, FOOL!" Cried Brund. "The nerve! I will kill you and take your head back to Windhelm!"

 

Falgrum piped up and said, "We've had enough of your lies! We aren't the traitors here, you are! You fight for a foreigner who rapes your land while you sit back and watch with a smile on your face! We fight because our leader Ulfric believes in freedom and is the rightful ruler of Skyrim! We fight to free our Nord brethren from your oppression."

 

Lies...

 

"Save that shit for someone who wants to hear it. We fight to save this land from the Thalmor. You and your band of fair weather friends here are too shortsighted to see that your little upstart rebellion is only serving to doom us all in the face of the true enemy. And your king is only using this war to profit from it like the greedy little money grubbing whore he his," said Ulrin.

 

More lies...

 

Falgrum said, "Fair weather friends? Is that what you call men and women who are tired of seeing Thalmor haul away friends and family? For worshiping a god? You cowards, did Hammerfell not show that resistance is possible if we all have some backbone? Skyrim does not need to be under your boot for us to succeed in fighting the Thalmor! And Ulfric's intentions are nothing short of what is best for Skyrim!"

 

Even more lies... delusion... you Nords are fools...

 

"What the hell is that...." said Brund to himself as he clenched his chest.

 

"What was what, sir?" asked Falgrum.

 

"Nothing... nevermind," Brund quickly said.

 

Ulrin stepped forward and said, "Look, you can believe what you fools wish to believe, but I'm not taking any chances in war when the future of Tamriel is on the line. The Empire has more experience than your Ulfric does, so I'm sticking with them until the day I die. And none of you ******* will be the one to see that day realized. So if you're done whining and changing your rags, why don't we get this little romp over with, hmm?"

 

"You're grossly outnumbered, Captain. Either you'll all be slaughtered defending those supplies, or you'll be forced to retreat, and we'll get them anyway. You can't retreat fast enough with your supplies in tow. So why don't you just surrender?"

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErZLFofFkGg

 

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents
My conviction is stronger today As I fight to uncover your sacred lie And the fear isn't going away As the soldiers still die Let your followers know their lives have been sold For the good of your sacred lie For the truth to be told And the plan to unfold We must start asking whyDon't you know the war is far from over now What a stumbling block we've fallen over now As our brothers die defending no one The war is far from over now Liberation, a moral charade For the cause is a part of your sacred lie Damnation a moment away in all the world's eyes It's the doom of us all We give in to control for the sake of your sacred lie Complications abound You'll get used to the sound of alarms in your life Don't you know the war is far from over now What a stumbling block we've fallen over now As our brothers die defending no one The war is far from over now Give us a moment of peace in our lifetime Give us a moment of peace right now Don't you know the war is far from over now What a stumbling block we've fallen over now As our brothers die defending no one The war is far from over now

 

 

Ulrin answered by raising his sword and dropping it. When he did, an arrow was shot at Brund's men, and the screams of a Nord taking the arrow in his eye was all anyone heard before Brund let out the same yell from earlier at the top of his lungs. "Die!"

 

At once, the Stormcloaks slammed brutally into the front lines of the Imperials. Ulrin and the front lines continued holding them back, stabbing and jabbing with their swords while the archers in the back sent as many arrows as they could over their heads into their back ranks. There had to have been something like fifteen score of Stormcloaks there, maybe more. But so far the front lines held.

 

Brund yelled for them to push harder, barking at their back heels before he pushed some aside and slammed his hammer on the top of a legion dog's shield rim, causing it to fall flat in front of him. Before the man could react, Brund grabbed him and tossed him backwards in the midst of his men. He was savagely stabbed and bashed to death before he could let out a scream. Brund wasted no time as he ran past the front line recklessly in search of his old enemy. The legion men tried to end him quick, but they were held back by Brund's blind swings. Falgrum poured in behind him with Stormcloak berserkers, who quickly and with little technique began savagely striking out with dual axes and swords to get past the shield wall and break up their defenses. It worked.

 

Suddenly Stormcloaks started jumping over their ranks and caused chaos and confusion amongst the legion men. Most were quickly dispatched by the legion, but the result was that the front line of the shield wall was broken and swallowed up by the Stormcloak ranks.

 

Ulrin blew his horn and had the archers drop their bows and grabbed shields. "Focus on holding this point! Just defend! Stay strong!" He ran past the men moving forward, then grabbed two men rushing forward. "I've got a different idea for you two. Pay attention and do exactly as I say...."

 

***

The Stormcloaks continued their unrelenting onslaught, throwing their bodies at the enemy like things possessed, yelling out for Sovngarde. The Nords among the legion started doing the same thing and met their brothers with the same ferocity, while the Imperials who were amazed and appalled by the display began doing the same thing, being inspired and not wishing to be outdone by their fellow Nord soldiers.

 

The legion fought on, ignoring the corpses of their friends that they were now having to step over backwards while being pushed back by the Stormcloaks. Brund grabbed a woman Stormcloak next to him and at her nod helped throw her over enemy lines with the help of another soldier. Before the launch, she took out a small bottle of skooma and downed it quick before letting out a crazed warcry that threatened to shatter Brund's ear drums. Her blades upon her landing fell deep at both sides of a Nord legionnaire's neck. He fell down quick, but a spear found itself buried deep in her guts. But she didn't fall. Instead she let out another cry, as if feeling pleasure and pain, then between clenched teeth in a bleeding mouth, she pulled herself closer to the assailant and laughed in his terrified face. She forced him to kiss her then and lobbed his head off before the bewildered look on his face faded. She met her end when his comrades sought to avenge him and buried several of their blades in her before lobbing off her head.

 

But her distraction served its purpose as the Stormcloaks once again gained ground. "This is our day, brothers! This battle is ours!"

 

As the battle raged on, the two legionnaires Ulrin spoke to before came running back as if being pursued. Arrows flew past their heads however, revealing that they indeed were. Soon, many scantily clad men and women with painted faces poured out of a nearby forest towards the back ranks of the legion. Ulrin turned at the sound of the trouble, and smiled. "Legion! Retreat across the river!"

 

The plan Ulrin had worked. They were keeping tabs on the location of nearby Forsworn encampments, so his men knew exactly where to go to attract them. His men had a head start in their retreat, and managed to get most of their men over and into the river before the Stormcloaks could stop them or take advantage of it and slaughter them in their attempt. The front lines stayed behind to hold the Stormcloaks off while the rest retreated. Meanwhile, the Forsworn struck out at everyone nearby, keeping them away from the carts of supplies and pushing the Stormcloaks back from the momentum of their surprise attack with their backs to the river.

 

Before Brund knew what happened, the Forsworn overran the area, and the carts were being taken away and his men were knee deep in savages. "Retreat! Retreat!" Yelled Brund. There was no other choice. Ulrin turned the legion's defeat into a draw and his enemy got away yet again. And yet...

 

At the corner of his eye, Brund saw a legionnaire trying to escape into the forest. Could it be? Brund ran off to see in the opposite direction of where they ran, ignoring Falgrum's cries for him to come with them. Ulrin got cut off by the Forsworn from his men, and this was the perfect time to go after him and kill him once and for all.

 

Brund soon lost sight of him, but he kept at his search, knowing that he was near. "Come out! I'm here! Face me, coward!"

 

No answer came of course. And the maddening thought that he could possibly escape him now fed his energy and made him run on in search of Ulrin Red-Snow. He could hear footsteps crashing at leaves behind him and he knew that the Forsworn were hot on his tail as well.

 

"Come out coward! Come out! C- Ahhh!" Brund saw it happen in what seemed to be slow motion. Ulrin stepped out from around a tree, and before Brund could react, Ulrin's blade swung hard downwards at his neck. Brund fell to his back, clenching his deep wound while struggling for breath. Ulrin smiled and stepped over him with his legion issued blade lifted high above his head. But before he could make the kill, an arrow flew past his head.

 

"Damn. You're a lucky little ****, Brund. If it weren't for those Forsworn, you'd be dead. But, the war isn't over yet."

 

Wheezing, Brund said, "No. It is you who are lucky. But you're right. The war is far from over, and I shall see you dead before it is. So run, run along my little snow flake. And know that the Bull is forever at your heels!" Brund broke out in a fit of coughing as he finished speaking.

 

More arrows came, but Ulrin ignored them as he got closer to Brund's face. "Perhaps. But it won't be by your hands if I die. But you're right about one thing. You are forever at my heels because you are always one step behind me. That is your fate, traitor. Revel in it."

 

Ulrin finally ran, hearing the Forsworn fast approaching them both. Brund was lucky after all, it seemed. As he soon passed out before the enemy came, and they overlooked him, thinking he was dead. Lucky, or cursed to live another day in humiliation.

 

***

By the time Brund woke up again, it was dark. Dark and silent, like before. Too silent. But when he stood, he wasn't just looking at Tamriel with the void leaking in from the sky... he was in the void! He panicked and looked all around, but all he could see was Oblivion. He felt pain in his left side on his chest again, but when he tried clenching his wound, there was no cut. Only the hardness of his Nordic Carved armor.

 

"Love....." Brund turned around and this time he could see where the voice came from. An old wretched woman came walking towards him, each step in the void sending echoes of silence from her talons. He was paralyzed, and for some reason he was not disgusted. In fact there was a longing in his loins so strong, he thought he was made a virgin again.

 

"What... the hell... is going on!?"

 

The hagraven laughed and said, "Don't you remember me? Back at Hag's End? I made you my Briar-Heart. You are mine, eternal." She waved her hand then and the appearance of someone he knew very well stood in front of him. She came forward and wrapped her arms around the man, and whispered, "This is what you want, yes? To kill this man? I have given you the strength to do so, and all I want is a favor in return. You've already shown me how you got that scar. That is good. Now. Tell me the positions of your forces in the Reach. You shouldn't hide things like that from your wife, love."

 

"No!"

 

"Do it, or I will withdraw the power from your heart!" Brund found that his legs could no longer stand him, and he fell hard to his back. When he did, another image appeared, and the figure of a dark man the color of the void appeared next to him. He wore some sort of crown upon his head and a skull as a helmet. Or was the skull actually his head? And the crown... horns? No, antlers.

 

"With our lord as our witness, I shall forever bind your mind to me, and you will do as I say and hide nothing from me. After our coupling...."

 

Brund watched in horror as the foul creature stepped towards him, unclothed. And he realized that he was naked as well, and his hammer raised high in anticipation of her nearness. "No, no!"

 

The hagraven smiled as she got closer, but her smile disappeared as Brund stood and laid her out flat with a punch. The man with the antlers upon his head disappeared, as did Brund. But she could feel his presence all around her. And she could hear his laughter. His stupid maniacal laughter. She panicked and ran, but she didn't get very far. Something in the dark grabbed her and she was forced down to her hands and knees. She could feel his presence then, focused at her back... She squawked in fear, but she could do nothing.

 

"Aww, what's wrong? Not having fun anymore? Hehehe, you fucked with the wrong Nord. You should not have brought someone like me to a place like this... it feels familiar... like home."

 

"What are you talking about?" she cried. "This is the place of the principalities. You should have no say here!"

 

"I have an idea. I'm not going to tell you where my men are. But, you will tell me where yours are and what they are up to so I can slay all of your children while you watch. Every detail. You can no longer hide anything from me once I have entered... your mind!" The hagraven screamed in pain when she realized what he was doing to her. Never before has anything like this happened with her past Haghusbands. He was too formidable in mind and spirit. And he forced her to give him everything.

 

***

"Ahhhh!!"

 

"What, what's wrong? What's wrong?!" Brund woke up in the middle of the night with an excruciating headache and once more on his back, but this time with Galmar's old weathered face before him, and the void very distant. But the pain in his chest was ever persistent. It was the only reason that he knew what he saw was more than a dream. "Brund, talk to me! What is it?"

 

"I... I know what they're planning. I know... everything. Quick, get the men up! They're attacking Markarth."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Tacitus Meridius

Abecean Sea

Afternoon

 

Tacitus' least favorite sound while at sea, besides the crackling of wood burning, had always been a splash. Whether it was a piece of cargo going overboard, a crew mate, or more recently a sea serpent submerging, it never bode well. Like many things, though, his attitude towards splashing was rapidly changing.

 

Watching the body of a Thalmor sailor fall like a rock into the sea, a large splash emanating from his point of contact with the water, had changed his view quite a bit. The splash was quite lovely, satisfying even. Elsewhere, he heard other splashes, but he knew not all were of Thalmor soldiers. Turning away from his latest victim, Tacitus surveyed the battle on the Dominion escort cutter Sun-setter.

 

Grappling hooks, ropes and the steel played ram tied this ship to his, the Imperial dromon Rancor, which now served as his flagship. It too reflected a change in philosophy, as before his capture he would have preferred to sit back on a carrack and direct the battle, whereas now he wanted to be right in the middle of the fighting. He now wanted the sleeker, faster, much more potent attack craft with which to destroy every piss colored elf in sight.

 

Just beyond his ship, three others, two Imp galleys and a Thalmor freighter were also locked in an engagement. He had ordered them to head off the prey, while his ship dealt with the protector. Tacitus' attention though was quickly brought back to his battle, as another sailor sought to challenge the Imperial High Admiral, probably seeking some sort of glory if he were to actually slay him.

 

Tactius had other plans, twirling his cutlass once in a very arrogant manner, before pointing it and his hook attachment at his adversary. To show he hadn't changed entirely while away, he had let the winner of the card game on deck choose the attachment he would wear in battle. It had been a salty old man, one whose bronze colored skin was worn, wrinkled and leathered by years at sea, and under the sun. He had forgone the crew favorite choice of 'enchanted' Dwarven fist, instead choosing the hook.

 

Tacitus, for his part, admired the choice, as he saw it as the most conventional weapon, and the one most easily adjusted to. He was still learning just how to fight with his gauntlet attachments, but as the sinking sailor from earlier had seen, it was something he was picking up rather quickly.

 

The Altmer sailor was probably an officer given his the black tunic he wore was laced with gold, both in fabric and true golden buttons. His hair, silvery white with grey streaks, was tied back in a ponytail. It reminded Tacitus of his hair before the capture, which was similar in color as well as style. But he preferred his now shaved head, which was slightly red from both sun and blood. The Thalmor officer wore a small triangular shaped goatee, with a thin, wiry mustache as well.

 

"I assume this piece of trash is the one they call the High Admiral? Pathetic," the elf said pretentiously, spitting on Tacitus' pants leg.

 

Tacitus' lip curled and eyebrows arched in wry amusement, but said nothing. He needed no words to display his superiority; that would be done at the end of a blade. He stepped forward, thrusting lightly to gage the elf's skill. The admiral wasn't disappointed, as the Dominion sailor parried the blow with his own cutlass, then retaliated with a slash aimed at the thigh.

 

Tacitus left his blade at his side, and blocked the swing with his hook and gauntlet. The elf growled, a guttural sound of disappointment mixed with loathing. The elven officer pulled out a dagger, deciding to even the odds. All around the clang of steel and screams of men could filled the air, as well as the frequent, dreadful splash of someone going overboard. Or, if the sinking body was an elf, the pleasant, satisfying splash of an enemy sleeping with the fishes. Tacitus couldn't tell, so he felt a sort of indifference, not that it mattered. Everyone died at some point, and nothing could change when it happened. Across the grappling hooks and lines Tacitus could hear his first mate shouting orders while he stood at the helm. He still was displeased the mate was chosen for him, but the man wasn't as insufferable as he had hoped, which made hating him difficult indeed.

 

Tacitus took the attack, delivering a slash that was paired with a loud ring of metal on metal, before stabbing again. That blow was dodged, the elf sidestepping to avoid the point of the sword. He then swung overhand, aiming for the shining bald target that was Tacitus' head. The Imperial blocked it with his sword, then swung the metal gauntlet sideways towards the elf's midsection. The dagger attempted to block the bludgeon, but it was worthless, as if skittered across the deck and off into the sea. The blow landed with a cracking of ribs, a sickening crunch of solid metal breaking bone.

 

The Thalmor doubled over in pain, coughing up blood on the already slick deck. His eyes narrowed with an intense fury that was absent earlier, and he raised up with a yell and charged Tacitus. The swings were rapid now, left, right, up, down; blows aimed at the head, thigh, arm, chest. Tacitus retreated, dodging and parrying and blocking, all the while his plan slowly becoming reality. They were working themselves around the aft castle, by the helm. The admiral blocked a slash meant for his chest, and the blades locked in an unwavering battle of strength. They stepped towards each other, and the elf brought up his left hand to steady the sword. Both fighters were intent on finishing the battle now, although Tacitus' idea was somewhat unconventional. Close enough now they could feel each pained breath of his adversary, Tacitus let his blade slip, sliding to his left as he did.

 

The elf's weight, along with Tacitus move, caused him to stumble forward. The High Admiral swung his cutlass in a towering arch, cleaning slicing off the sword hand of the falling elf. Too shocked for words, the elf just gasped as blood cascaded from the wound. Tacitus sent a swift boot to the face of the now kneeling officer, ensuring he would bleed out before he awoke. He would have preferred a more painful death for the Altmer, but that would have to do.

 

Descending the stairs from aft castle, he located his next victim, a short-haired butter elf wielding a boarding axe. Tacitus smirked as he approached, but again said nothing. This elf also took the silent route, and wasn't one to dally, as he worked quickly in sending out a powerful downward swing towards the Imperials' shoulder. The axe struck steel instead, as the rounded edge of the gauntlet caused the head to glance off at a harmless angle.

 

Tacitus struck, cutlass swiping out at the Thalmor sailor's leg. It missed, as the elf rolled away to avoid the slash. However, his balance was off, and he stumbled as he rose, so Tacitus attacked again, stabbing downward through the calf, the tip of the saber penetrating several inches of deck, staining the wood with elven blood. This sailor couldn't stay quiet, as his yells reverberated throughout the battle. No one paid any heed, yet the edge of the admiral's lip curled in smug satisfaction as he proudly surveyed his handy work.

 

Sliding his hand down to his black leather boot, soaked with crimson blood, he plucked a dagger from the inside. He tossed it in his hand a few times, like a chef would do before chopping up vegetables. Axe still in hand, the injured elf sliced feebly as the Imperial approached, and the attack was easily dodged. Tacitus stepped on the axe, before stabbing the man right below the collarbone. It was a bone crunching stab, one so hard Tacitus strained to drive the blade in. Gurgling blood, the Altmer tried to slap at his attackers face, to little avail. Tacitus raised up, watching the sailor slowly bleed out. His boot suddenly struck out, hitting the knife hilt and driving it deep enough to finish the elf off. Tacitus withdrew both dagger and cutlass, sliding the former back in his boot before yanking the latter from muscle and plank.

 

His next adversary was already advancing towards him. Gripping his cutlass, Tacitus readied himself. This opponent wielded a sword, no different than a regular foot soldier, but his other hand sparkled with magic. The cold frost in his hand chilled the air as he approached. Tacitus aimed his first swing at the hand, hoping to eliminate his foe's advantage. The elf turned, dodging the swing while striking back with one of his own. Tacitus threw his left arm up, the metal on the gauntlet deflecting the cut. The spellsword sailor then sent a full blast of icy magic aimed right at Tacitus' chest, and there was no way to completely dodge the attack. The seasoned admiral did his best, dropping to a knee and rolling as quickly as possible, careful to do it with the lean of the ship, so as to travel even further. The frost skimmed his back, ice shards first stabbing his skin before the numbing of the cold ended the biting of the icicles.

 

I may come out of this day with a sunburn and frostbite, he thought dryly, popping to his feet just in front of the deck's guard rail.

 

Just as he did, the ship lurched and Tacitus crashed against the railing, his momentum from the roll only adding to the impact. The elf fell as well, bracing himself against the siding. Elsewhere, men screamed as crates and barrels dislodged, slamming into the unsuspecting sailors. Tacitus slid along the rail, as a crate slammed in between himself and the Thalmor sailor. It allowed the Imperial enough time to gather himself. He regained his balance, and was working around the large box when his nostrils inhaled the harsh, stinging smell of smoke. Where there was smoke, there was fire, and Tacitus was about to give the order to abandon the Dominion escort ship when he saw the flames were contained in his current partner's dancing fingers.

 

The knowing smile on his face said it all. If I can't kill you, I'll just have to take the ships with me it read, the Altmer's maniacal grin just as insane as the crazed look glazed over his eyes.

 

Tacitus knew that look well. The torturer in Valenwood, who had taken his soul before General Corio took his hand, wore the same sneer every time he visited the admiral. His pupils were permanently dilated, even in the dimness of the dungeon. The deranged look was even more pronounced, set deep in torturer's eyes, unlike the temporary frenzy of the sailor before Tacitus now.

 

The admiral knew he had to keep the flames contained, which meant ending this as quickly as possible. The Thalmor sailor was still on the other side of the crate, but he wouldn't be for long if Tacitus didn't act. Jumping into the air, Tacitus drop kicked the crate with every ounce of his strength. The container slid across the slick deck, slamming into the and knocking him to his back. Tacitus also fell, hard, landing directly on his shoulder. A jab of pain shot through his left arm, but he quickly rose to go finish off his adversary.

 

The Altmer wasn't about to go down without a fight, however, as he jumped to his feet, swinging the sword wildly while trying to re-conjure the flames. Tacitus wasn't about to let that happen, and stopped a swing with his gauntlet, his forearm throbbing from the repeated impacts of blades on the metal sheath. The Imperial then swung his cutlass upward, severing the Altmer's hand as flames began to form. Where fire had once been, blood now replaced, and the Thalmor instantly dropped his sword to try and cover the wound with his other hand. Tacitus cut that one off as well, leaving the soldier with two bloody stumps. The golden skinned elf fell to his knees, sobbing and staring at his now defunct hands.

 

"My father told me, long ago mind you, that a man must not let past transgressions slide. 'Tacitus,' he said, 'never let someone think it's okay that they harm you. Pay them back, avenge the pain and suffering they dealt you.' I never really thought about it, until now. But, you see, your people took something very close to my heart. My hand. So now, I will have to take both of yours. Fair, wouldn't you say?" Tacitus smirked, while the Thalmor sailor still fumbled with his stumps, attempting to stop the bleeding.

 

Dropping his sword to the deck, Tacitus gripped the Altmer around the throat, lifting him off his feet and into the air. His hook came up, poking on the right side of the elf's throat lump, which bobbed with nervousness. Around the two, the Imperial sailors had gathered, watching the admiral and the only remaining Dominion sailor left.

 

Tacitus leaned in close, his voice audible only to the Altmer. "You deserve a long, slow death, but I've been eager to test this hook out all day." Tacitus plunged the hooked into the butter skin, it's curved face sliding around the back of the Thalmor's throat. The High Admiral let it sit there for a few seconds, nothing major having been severed yet. Then, with a jerk of his hand, he yanked the hook out, bringing with it a torrent of blood and the entirety of the elf's throat, which flopped to the deck like a fish. Tacitus let the elf fall, as the handless, throatless sailor furiously tried to plug the hole in his throat. He made a sort of gurgling noise, as his face turned deathly white, blood flowing from arms and neck. Tacitus dipped his hand and hook in the pooling blood, then stamped a bloody handprint and hook-print on the back of the sailor.

 

Turning to his men, the admiral said, "Once he stops bleeding, hoist him up and tie him to the top of the main mast. Arms out, nails through them. Shove the hands in his pockets or something." He then turned to the two battlemages that accompanied his fleet today. "Put a fire rune behind him, and some below deck. I want the Thalmor merchants to see him, but I won't let them have the ship."

 

Tacitus then walked past the shocked faces of his men, seeing the old sailor, Bruccious he now remembered, the one that chose the hook, giving the admiral a reassuring nod. That man understands. He knows that an eye must be taken for an eye, a hand for a hand, a tooth for a tooth. He knows.

 

**

 

Tacitus was washed, now in a fresh white shirt and black pants, the only thing separating himself from a regular soldier the golden buttons on his black vest. Looking in his wash bin at his reflection, he smiled, an ugly grin that revealed his slightly crooked teeth. He couldn't have been happier with how this first raid went. The merchant ship hadn't been especially loaded with luxury goods, but it was captured easily, and the goods offloaded before the ship sunk. He was especially pleased with how his own attack on the escort cutter had gone. They were nowhere near the site of the attack now, but he could still see the handless sailor crucified to the main mast in his mind.

 

Tacitus recognized that he changed, but his opinion was that it was for the better. Before he was soft, not spineless but also not willing to go the extra step. Today, he went above and beyond, ensuring the Thalmor that he had truly returned. General Corio had gambled with releasing the High Admiral, and it pleased Tacitus to know the elf failed so miserably.

 

As he was about to leave, a knock came, and Tacitus called out "Enter," to whoever it was that sought an audience with him.

 

The door opened an in came Amadus Vulpin. "Admiral." he said as he saluted Tacitus.

 

Suppressing a scowl, the commanding officer saluted back. "First mate. Did everything go well on the Rancor during the battle?"

 

"Yes, sir. Nothing to report unless you want to hear the details on the wounded and the damage to the ship. But it can pretty much all be summed up that it's all relatively minor and we are still good to go for another raid. Though I would like to ask you that if you keep insisting on being among the first to board; that you at least try to look less important."

 

Tacitus ruefully grinned. "You don't think I can handle the added attention being an admiral gives me? I personally like the challenge, all those sailors attempting to murder me. It's exhilarating. Like the moment just before the ram sinks into an enemy ship, the anticipation... you can taste it."

 

"I'm sure you do. But I'm just thinking of something I was told by the legate I served under when I was first promoted to an officer: 'Try to look unimportant, the enemy might be low on ammunition.'"

 

"I don't worry too much about death. The way I see it, the gods have my life planned out for me, down to the moment I'll bite the dust. Until then, I am safe. I don't try and understand the gods, I just do," Tacitus curled his lip in a semi-smirk, letting his second know he wasn't altogether serious.

 

"Well I guess the other admiral wont complain though." Amadus said, returning a little amused smile. "Anyway, I think that for the next encounter we should device a plan to capture the ships more intact. Repairing and refurbishing a damaged ship is cheaper and quicker than building a new one."

 

"True. But, most captains won't allow their ships to be taken. Many, if not all, will rather set their ships on fire rather than let us capture it. We were lucky today that the captain died in the initial engagement and couldn't order the ship sunk. It will be tricky to capture one intact," Tacitus said.

 

"I know. And that's why we should come up with a plan. Right now I can't figure out how, except if we managed to sneak up on them in the dead of night."

 

"To sneak up requires we coordinate our ships in the night, unless we use only one ship at a time. In that case, we would put ourself at a disadvantage, fighting two ships with one. It is a conundrum, to say the least."

 

"It's all a matter of surprise. If we could board them before they knew they were attacked. But now I'm just babbling. For that to work we'd either have to have a spell that turns the entire ship invisible. Or have a crew consist of freaking Argonians that swim up and climb aboard. Or we can have them board us, thinking we're an abandoned ship. And now I'm babbling out ideas as they come up in my head."

 

"If we could find the means to do it, it would be more than worth it. Unfortunately, it seems it will require more thought than this simple idea session," Tacitus said.

 

"You're right. And should we invite 'privateers' to join the raiding?"

 

Tacitus' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "The court mage mentioned that as well. Did he also mention it to you?"

 

"No, I got it from Admiral Palenix. The court mage probably told him though."

 

"Right," Tacitus said, still suspicious about both Palenix and Snow-Strider. "Regardless, I will not hire any pirates. Expensive, arrogant, greedy, and untrustworthy. We pay them a sum, then they accept our money and run to the Thalmor, who pay them to betray us."

 

"Yes, sir. And I agree. They are untrustworthy and greedy. Though it would have been nice to trick them into becoming meat-shields for us. And there's one more thing; we found a few documents on the merchant vessel. They also mentions two other convoys leaving Summerset to Valenwood. One carrying armaments and another carrying spices. Only thing interesting about the spice ship is that a letter mentions that it's being led by a 'rich brat'."

 

Tacitus scoffed. "Unless we can assure they aren't tricking us, I won't waste my time or resources. As for the documents, I want to question the merchant captain on them, to assure they are valid. Now, if possible. I assume he is alive. I would rather go after the arms, but the spoiled noble or whoever the elf is may provide more information."

 

"Yeah, they could go after our ships as much as the Dominions. Though I'd still put anything I can between me and a Thalmor lightning bolt." said Amadus as he got a blank stare for a second and then shivered before he looked back at Tacitus. "Anyway. The captain is alive. I think. He was quite wounded when he was caught and I don't really know if he's going to make it."

 

"I would ensure he does. Tomorrow, I will question him. I would also like you to accompany me, get a good look at how an interrogation works. A thorough interrogation," Tacitus hoped the emphasis showed just what he had in mind when he said 'thorough.'

 

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it that he survives. Though I would seek permission to use one or two bottles from our stack of health potions for that."

 

"Whatever means available. Of course, if it comes down to if, our men get preferential treatment. But as long as we have reserves left, you best be sure he lives until tomorrow. Also, stow a bottle away for the interrogation," Tacitus smiled ruthlessly, letting his full meaning come across.

 

"Yes, sir." said Amadus as he saluted Tacitus. He didn't seem at all disturbed by what Tacitus had in mind. "Good day, sir." he then said before he left and closed the door behind him.

 

Tacitus looked slightly disappointed at his Amadus' lack of reaction, but the it didn't bother him for long. In fact, he wasn't awake for long, as he body was more tired than he had thought. Laying down, he closed his eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.

 

**

 

The next day, Tacitus awoke with a feeling of contentment. He dressed in the clothes he had worn the previous evening, and kept the hook on as well. It was the attachment that would bring the most dread in this merchant captain, and he hoped to instill as much fear as possible in the elf.

 

He strutted out of his quarters, the sailors on deck saluting their admiral, equal parts admiration and respect, with hints of fear in the younger, greener members. First Mate Amadus awaited him outside his door, bottle of red liquid in hand.

 

Smiling, Tacitus said, "You ready? The prisoner made it through the night, I assume?"

 

"He did. It took two potions and we had to amputate his leg as it had become infected."

 

"As long as he can talk, he's perfectly fine. Is he still in the sick bay? If so, gather a few men and meet me down in the cargo hold," Tacitus ordered.

 

"Yes, sir." Amadus saluted Tacitus and then headed off to gather a few men who weren't too busy with their chores.

 

Tacitus meanwhile went into the cargo hold, dismissing the few men that were presently there, then arranging a secluded area by moving crates around. Once that was done, he rolled a barrel over and took a seat, facing the box the prisoner was to sit on. By that time, he could hear footsteps, Amadus and the men escorting or carrying the prisoner.

 

"Interrogation this and interrogation that. I'm not getting paid enough for this." was heard from the merchant captain as he was carried into the room. The elf had average facial features, short hear and muttonchops. He was more or less sulking with a frown on his face and his arms crossed.

 

"Where should we put him?" one of the sailors asked.

 

"Back in the sick bed. It was comfortable there." the captain muttered.

 

Tacitus motioned to the crate but said nothing, broodily watching the captain. He sat for several more minutes, just staring into the eyes of the Altmer, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

 

The Altmer returned the look, at first looking annoyed and a little angry. But then as the time went by he got noticeably more bored. "So, are you going to ask me any questions?" the Altmer then said.

 

Tacitus breathed in deeply, the earthy smell of the damp wood pleasant as it hit his nostrils, as well as a hint of pepper from a nearby barrel. He heard rats scurrying, as well as the soft meowing of a cat, hunting the large rodents. He turned his attention to the elf, his face placid and calm.

 

"What do you know of the two other convoys headed to Valenwood?"

 

"They're run by the same company my convoy belongs - I mean: belonged to."

 

"And?" Tacitus asked, the verbal prodding continuing until physical prodding was needed.

 

"Hmm, lets see now." the Altmer got a thoughtful expression. "I don't know about their exact routes. I keep such things written down. If you don't have those documents then they're at the bottom of the sea along with my ship. One is carrying spices and the other... Hmm... Ah, right. Armaments. Mostly swords and spears, but also some suits of armor."

 

"What of the person leading the spice ship?" Tacitus asked, then leaned over to a sailor and whispered in the man's ear. The sailor left, and the admiral looked back to the elf.

 

"A bitch. A spoiled brat. She's the daughter of the man who owns the company. Arrogant. Even by our standards. And a bit of an airhead."

 

"Why would he send her?" he asked inquisitively. "Why risk his daughter on the open seas?"

 

"They say it's because she needs to learn the family trade. I think it's more because she wants to get away from her father, as he's quite controlling and a bit more insufferable than his daughter. Though don't think they aren't thinking of the risks. That spice ship is escorted by two of the best battle ships he could get his hands on. Manned with the best archers, fighters and mages money can buy."

 

Tacitus stroked his chin with his good hand. "I assume the armament ship isn't as well guarded? Because of him wanting to protect his daughter."

 

"It's guarded. Do you think the Thalmor would allow you to take their armaments? They provide the protection for such shipments. I don't know the details, but I'd wager it's a little less guarded than the spice ship."

 

"I suspect he didn't combine the two in case we found out. Now I must choose; his daughter, or the weapons. That is, if we can find them," at that, the sailor Tacitus had sent off returned, a map rolled up and in his hand. The admiral grabbed it, unfurling it across his knees so that it faced the elf.

 

"Draw the shipping lanes they will use. If you lie, I kill you. Slowly. If you tell the truth and give us these ships, you can live comfortably in prison. Your choice."

 

"I said I have such things written down. I can try but don't blame me if they don't follow the exact course I'll point out. A pen and some ink please. Ah, thank you. Now, they both set out from Skywatch. Going towards Woodhearth. It's a short trip as you can see. They'll follow the same route about half way. Though the arms ship destination is an outpost a bit more north of Woodhearth. I don't where that outpost is and it's not marked on any map. At least not any official map. But I think it's around here." the Altmer then added a small x on the coast a bit to the north of Woodhearth.

 

"And you are as sure as you can be these paths are correct? Your life depends on it," Tacitus added, his face still cold and stern.

 

"They're as correct as I can make them. Better keep someone with a spyglass looking in all directions."

 

"Thank you for the advice," he said dryly, standing up and handing the map to the sailor that brought it. "Take the prisoner back to the infirmary. Amadus, if you will follow me back to my room."

 

"Aye, sir." Amadus replied while the other sailors began to pick up the Altmer.

 

Tacitus led the way, silently saluting the sailors they passed. At one point, he stopped to show a sailor a knot, which he had to talk through since he could no longer tie anything. After that, they continued to the admiral's room, and once there Tacitus took a seat in his bed.

 

"Do you believe the elf? Both ships are prizes, but they could be traps as well."

 

"What he said matches what we got from the documents. And as simple merchant captain, I doubt he has much reason to lie. But then again, that's maybe what he wants us to believe. And if it's trap; then they must have expected us to raid this ship and get our hands on the documents or the captain before either sank to the bottom of the sea. And that sounds a little far fetched."

 

"Indeed. Now we must decide which to hit. Or, if we hit both. The weapons and armor will make an incredible catch, while the merchants daughter is a great ransoming tool, and she may know something."

 

"Well according to him, the route for armaments is slightly more north than the spices. Closer to us that is. And that they're both taking the same route about half way. If that's true we could try to hit them both - provided both set sail around the same time - before they separate."

 

"Yes, although that makes it much harder to sneak up on them. If we wait for them to split up, we may be able to surprise them. The fighting will be much heavier if we confront them as one. We will also be that much closer to Alinor, which makes it more dangerous than two separate attacks," Tacitus contemplated the options, even if he knew what he wanted. One large attack. Win or lose, no chance to take the one convoy or the other.

 

"If we're going to attack one, then I would suggest we go after the armaments as it's route is further to the north and will have a slightly longer travel distance. We'll also avoid the port city."

 

"Reckless as it is, we will attack the convoys when they are one." Tacitus rose, grabbing his vest and scabbard. "Set a course for Anvil. Once there, gather the best nine ships available. If we time it right, we can manage a day layover before setting sail again. Then, we take our prize."

 

"Aye, sir. Should we try to pry some battlemages from the local forces while in Anvil?"

 

Leaving the room, with Amadus in tow, Tacitus said, "Yes, as many as possible. Archers too. The more men we can take our before the ships meet, the better."

 

"Should we try get some potions against seasickness as well? I bet most of the ones we get will be landlubbers."

 

Tacitus glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder to the top deck. "The battlemages? No, most of them have experience at sea. Most of the ones we will be using, anyway. The rest will have to acclimate sooner or later, and now is the perfect time. Pack a few bottles, in case a few get a bad case of it."

 

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

 

"No-yes, actually. I want you to write a letter to Stros M'Kai, and arrange for a meeting. With how frequently and hard we've been raiding, it may be time to include the Redguards. If anything, they say no and we scale down our operations. They say yes, we continue hitting them big," Tacitus was at the tiller now, standing behind the tillersman, who he motioned to move aside as the admiral took over the rudder. That too had taken getting used to, but he managed easily enough.

 

"If they don't join in now, they'll have little reason to keep blaming us for our failings in the last war. I'm sure they'll join. I'll get on it once we've docked."

 

"Run the letter by me before you send it. As much as I dislike ego patting, it would be ill served for us to offend the brown skins." Tacitus adjusted the ship ever so slightly to the right, to account for the small change in wind direction.

 

"Aye, sir. Though I would just say that we're raiding and that they should join us."

 

"I may have to meet with them to try and alleviate any worries that we are trying to control them again. I'll probably have time to meet with them as well, since I suspect the Thalmor will probably travel in larger groups and less frequently if we succeed," Tacitus noticed the wind was slowing, and thought he might have to start the rowers soon, even if the current was favorable.

 

"I don't know if you've read the reports. But while you were gone, the number of good opportunities for raiding has already begun to decrease."

 

"They seem to be taking paths straight to the Valenwood coast, then heading north along the coast. Protection of port cities and they avoid the open water near our shores. Longer trips, but safer. Disappointing they smartened up, really. I quite enjoyed our games."

 

"Then we'll have to smarten up ourselves. We'll probably think of something."

 

"Diving deeper into their territory is an option. But, we have a while to think about our plans for the future." Tacitus looked out over the boat, the sails barely holding a breeze now.

 

"Raise the mainmast sail! The rest of you sea rats get on the oars! If you want to get home to your wives and whores, I suggest you hurry the hell up! That means you Bartholomew, quit yer walking!" Tacitus yelled out over the ship, the sailors scrambling to follow orders. The boat lurched slowly, the much more quickly as they finally found the rhythm of the oar-drummer.

 

Turning back to Amadus, he said, "I want the beakhead inspected upon arrival. Belay that, I'll do it. You have enough to get done."

 

"Aye, sir." replied Amadus.

 

Tacitus just nodded, silently staring off over his men. To his right and left, the two other galleys flanked his ship, which lurched with each pounding of the large drum. The waves crashed, sending salty spray into his face, his beard catching the droplets, that glistened like stars in the night sky. He shook it like a dog, then switched his hook to the tiller, running his real hand over his shaved hand, the stubble prickly on his calloused hands. He sighed, not wearily, but with contentment, smiling his ugly smile as he did.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Stalks-Deep-Waters

Late afternoon

 

Lilith was dead. Her head, and her belongings, were now his to claim. And while the Companions didn't show much happiness over losing the bounty to a lizard, they were still nice enough to congratulate him. They were also quick to depart home to Whiterun for new contracts and adventures. Stalks however stayed for another day, going to a couple of shops, haggling as he tried to sell as much of Lilith's belongings. At the end of the day he was left with Lilith's strange armor (which was quite a patchwork and also quite worn) and a strange little amulet, a small piece of steel shaped like a head with three screaming faces with different emotions on each face, attached to a leather string. He had kept the armo because he wanted to see if any smith could fix the patchwork and make it wearable for him. The blacksmith in Solitude had examined the material and directed him to Eorlund in Whiterun as Stalks's best bet for fixing the armor. And the amulet he only kept because no one in the city would even give as much as a septim for it, they found it disturbing and instead adviced him to just throw it away. But the craftsmanship behind the amulet was a bit too good for Stalks to just throw it away. So he just put into the pocket with the thought that he might find a possible buyer in the future. And even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he found the amulet to be a little bit fascinating. 

 

He then set out back to Windhelm, a journey that took several days. It was a rather peaceful walk except near the border of the swamp in Morthal. There he encountered a small bandit group. He managed to spot the bandits and hide before they saw him. He circumvented them and was soon back on track on the road with the bandits far behind. 

When he reached Whiterun he was quick to find Eorlund working the Skyforge. It took some haggling and some guts to challenge the skill of the blacksmith if he could even work the dragonscales. While Stalks still had his doubts about it really being dragonscales, it was the only explanation he had on what the material was. In the end he managed to get an acceptable price. Though he was certain he had angered the blacksmith greatly with all the haggling and especially challenging his skill made Eorlund give a spiteful look. Stalks was then also banished from the forge while Eorlund got to work on the dragonscale armor. So Stalks was forced to sit and wait at the foot on the stairs leading up to the forge. A couple of hours later he was called up to the forge. Eorlund showed him the armor, he had removed some straps and the end result had lost it's sleeves and was little more than a vest. Looked like rather basic, but given the smith and the material, it was all other than basic.

The old blacksmith didn't say much except the amount of money he wanted for the work before handing the armor back. Stalks wasn't too quick to hand over the money as he counted every septim before handing the money over. Then Eorlund told Stalks to leave him to his work and Stalks was happy to comply. He had gotten what he wanted and the man wasn't nice that he wanted to hang around longer than necessary.

He didn't meet the twins or Aela on his visit in Whiterun but they were most likely out on another contract.

 

When he enter Black Marsh he met more patrols, which made him feel safer from bandits but as some of them gave him the usual suspicious glance he got a slight uneasy feeling. He hoped that that ugly scarred nord he had met in The Reach had come here and that none of these soldiers reported to him in that case. Luckily the trip to Windhelm went without any trouble. There he quickly cashed in a very good sum of money. And was equally as quickly to leave the city and head south. He avoided Riften. Given the amount of gold he was carrying and the Thieves Guild's notorious reputations, staying away from any too crowded area was good. From there he went to Cyrodiil, made a quick stop at Cheydinhal and from there continued south. 

 

The sun was descending in the horizon. And on the road he found a sign pointing to a smaller road going of the larger one heading south. One it; it read: "Applevale". Stalks glanced the suns positions and decided whether to continue down the road to set up camp or maybe see if he could get a room at the local inn. In the end he decided the inn was probably the safest option. He didn't know how the local bandit population was holding up in these parts but he wasn't about to take chances, especially when carrying such heavy pouch of gold he currently was. 

After some time walking the new road, crossing a small bridge over a stream of water he found himself a somewhat creepy village. A fog had grown forth as he had gotten closer to the little town. 

If someone believed in superstitions, the wind, could be mistaken for primordial piping. It was a haunting atmosphere,but it was soon interrupted by female voice yelling: "Hurry up you stupid peasants, get moving."

 

Stalks just tried to ignore the yelling as he entered the village. He couldn't really see who it was who yelled as he entered the main street. But there were a gathering of people further down the main street he now walked on. But it didn't matter as he wasn't concerned with the people of the village, all he wanted was to find the sign that signaled that here was the inn.

 

"I'll beat all of you." was now heard, even louder.

 

Stalks just kept walking down the street till he reached the crowd. He didn't really care much for the scene with whoever was yelling. Instead he just tapped the shoulder of a man standing furthest in the back of the crowd, and closest to him. "Excuse me. Do you know where the local inn is?"

 

The man quietly said "Just keep going down this path and you'll find it eventually." he paused. "I would go now. Before she gets angrier."

 

"Alright." said Stalks and he couldn't help but to sound a little confused. He did as the man said and began to circumvent the crowd. The yelling continued a bit more but he didn't really listen.

 

"Back to work scum." was the last he heard and then the footsteps of the crowd dispersing. "Halt lizard."

 

"I'm just here for the inn. I don't want any trouble." said Stalks as he turned around to face the yelling woman. The sight of woman surprised him as she was somewhat short. She also had red hair and fancy clothing.

 

"Your a mercenary are you not?"

 

"I'm a mercenary. Though I'm only open for quick jobs at the moment."

 

"Got a small job if your interested. Non-lethal beat up."

 

"Local? If so I'm up for it."

 

"There's a local man by the name of Sirdius Valeria. He's stirring up the workers, fancies himself as the guardian of the people. Roughen up real bad. Payment is one hundred gold."

 

"Sounds good. Just tell me where he is and where to collect the payment."

 

"Lives with his three daughters in the southeast side of town. Medium sized cottage with a red roof. Go to the Motierre mansion to receive your payment."

 

"Okay. On it." said Stalks as he picked up a primitive compass from a pocket. As it was impossible to tell by the sun in the mist surrounding the town. Stalks quickly picked out which direction was southeast and headed there. The few people that had heard the deal gave him looked at him with various mixes of despise and fear. But he didn't pay them any mind. When he reached the end of the town he asked for where this Sirdius lived, just in case he didn't end up on the wrong cottage with red roof. But there seemed to be a little risk for that as when he approached the house, it was the only one with a red roof that he could see in the vicinity. He knocked on the door and waited. 

 

The door opened slightly to reveal a little girl. "Hello?"

 

"Is Sirdius inside? If so I would like to speak with him." said Stalks, trying to sound a little friendly.

 

"Daddy? Yeah he's in his office. I'll go get him." She closed the door.

 

What I do for coin. Stalks thought as he waited. He tried to feel a little guilty for what he was about to do. But truth be told he didn't care about the landstriders. All he felt was boredom as he waited outside the door.

 

The door opened a few minutes later revealing a middle aged man. "Hello?"

 

"Just business, nothing personal." said Stalks with a neutral voice as he grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him out. Then reaching in and closing the door behind him with the other hand. He didn't want the kids interrupting. Then gave the man a quick punch in the gut while he still held the man in the shirt.

 

The man let out a grunt. "What?!"

 

"I've been hired to beat some sense into you." Stalks then kneed the man in the groin. Which caused him to yelp in pain. "So lets make this quick. Will you yield?" Stalks let go of the shirt and instead grabbed the man's arm, quickly stepped around him and pushed the arm up along the back. 

 

"Go to... Oblivion. That bitch Elizabeth Motierre sent you didn't she?"

 

"I didn't get her name. You may be right. But that's not important." Stalks pushed the arm further up while letting his tail slip forth and pull at the man's leg so he fell forward into the ground. 

 

He let out a yelp. "Ouch!"

 

Stalks crouched down besides the man and turned him over onto his back. Elbowed the man in the gut before getting up and putting one foot on Sirdius's knee. "How much do you like the ability to walk?" said Stalks, getting a bit annoyed by the man resisting.

 

"Arghhh. Enough, fine!! Fine!!"

 

"Good. Do you get the message then?" Stalks still didn't take his foot of the knee.

 

"Yes."

 

"Good bye then." and with that Stalks took his foot of the man's knee and started walking away. Leaving the man behind to help himself up from the ground. 

Stalks went back to the main street and from there he asked the way to the mansion. It took some time as he had to first head out of town and walk along a small put paved road. When he saw the mansion he was a little impressed by the sheer size of the house. But he he didn't let that distract him for too long as he quickly walked to the main entrance with determined steps and knocked on the door.

 

A relatively tall girl with glasses answered the door. She had blonde hair, and sounded rather bored. "Hello?"

 

"I was supposed to collect my pay here. 100 gold." Stalks replied. 

 

"Ah. Lizzie hired you." She looked angry, throwing him a bag.

 

Stalks caught the bag in midair."I think that was her name." then he opened it and began counting. When he was done and sure every coin he promised was in the bag he closed it and attached it to the belt next to his other gold pouch. "Anyway, thanks doing business with you."

He didn't get an answer as she just shut the door. 

Stalks drew a small sigh. He had gotten used to this kind of treatment. He headed back to down and soon found what he had originally been looking for: the inn. "The Silver Bird" was the name of the inn. And on the sign outside was a shape of a bird painted in a silvery color beneath the name. 

 

When Stalks entered, to his surprise. The inn was almost empty, except for a few patrons finishing there ale. A woman was cleaning a table in front of him. 

Maybe still a bit too early for people to finish their day's work. Stalks thought at the sight. But that suited him just fine. He walked up to the counter. "Do you have a room I can rent?"

 

"Yep. Five gold for a night. Includes a mug of ale and a bowl of stew." She eyed the Argonian suspiciously.

 

"That's quite the offer." said Stalks with a bit of surprise at the added meal for just five gold. He fished up five gold out of his pouch and put them on the counter.

 

"The ale is watered down, and the stew is third rate. But it's edible."

 

"At least better than nothing." said Stalks with a light shrug. He then grabbed a stool and sat down by the counter.

 

It took a little,but eventually the woman brought out a mug of ale and a bowl of stew. Further inspections revealed that the meat was at first unidentifiable. Though after a few tastes of the stew he could recognize it enough to tell that it was rat meat. It wasn't exactly tasty but he'd had worse. At least he didn't really have to worry about any diseases. The ale however was worse and instead of washing away the taste of the stew just made it worse. So he let the ale be till he was done with the stew then he gulped it down in one go.

 

"Damn lizard." He could hear some people say with a low tone. 

Stalks glanced in the direction just to see who had uttered the insult. It was this large looking imperial who was muttering to himself. He was drinking a mug of ale, and was beside two other imperial men. 

 

Stalks didn't any more attention to the men and just looked back to the barkeep. "Do you have some blood-wine to wash this down with." he pointed at the empty bowl and mug.

 

"Why doesn't he just crawl back to the egg he was hatched from? Freak doesn't belong in Cyrodiil." The big one now said. The woman nodded her head, and left into the kitchen.

 

"Bla bla bla." Stalks muttered lowly, trying to ignore the insults.

 

"What was that lizard?" The large, fat man got out of his chair, and started to rub his stomach. The two to his right and left, a smaller one with a glass eye and a tall one, with buck teeth followed sweet, the smaller one, whose face was rat-like, said, "You freaks have no right talking back to your betters."

 

"Depends on what you mean by 'better'. Anyway, I don't want any trouble." Stalks excused himself. Still sitting with crossed arms over the counter. Waiting to see if he would get his wine.

 

The three men got closer, and surrounded him, "We don't care. Your kind ain't welcome here."

"Now now gentleman. I doubt the Argonian wants any trouble." It was from behind and sounded female. They turned around and Stalks saw a woman standing behind the three man. She was wearing expensive blue traveling clothing. She had blue eyes, and very long silver hair. Her left hand had a black leather glove, while her right was naked. She was as short as a twelve year old.

 

"A kid?" said Stalks with a strong mix of surprise and confusion as he inspected the girl.

 

She ignored him. Her gloved hand started to glow a slight green hue, which soon surrounded the trio. They scratched there heads, muttered something and left. Taking a seat beside stalks she said, in a deadpan and mature voice, "I'm over twenty."

 

Stalks just looked at her for a second in disbelief before going back to leaning over the counter with crossed arms. "So what do you want with me, ki - ehm... What's your name?"

 

"Pacifca." She offered him her hand, "A pleasure, Stalks-In-Water."

 

He hesitantly stretched out his hand to shake hers. "It's Stalks-Deep-Waters. And how do you know of me? Even if you got the name wrong."

 

"Forgive me for that." She laughed scratching the back of her head, "You're a well-known mercenary."

 

Stalks gave out a short and slightly hollow chuckle. "I have a hard time believing that. You're the first one I've met in all my years to have heard of me at all."

 

"Really?" She gave him a smile, "You have a pretty unique skill set. Surprising people don't know of you."

 

"Though given my record; I find it more surprising you know of me."

 

"I know from a few of your clients here and there. My boss was most impressed."

 

"Then your boss must quite easy to impress. And I would also be surprised if anyone who's hired me would remember me for long. So my guess is that you've been keeping tabs on me in one way or another."

 

"Your too modest Stalks."

 

"Maybe. Though you still haven't said what you want with me?"

 

"Shall I be blunt?"

 

"Depends if you want to be blunt. As long as you're clear."

 

She whispered "One year contract with the Aldmeri Dominion. Position as a skirmisher with the 18th Valenwood Irregulars. Pay is good, and shelter, food, and drink will be provided " She took out a scroll and handed it to him.

Stalks grew nervous at hearing that. What she talked about could get them both executed. He reluctantly took the scroll and carefully rolled it up close to him so he was sure no one would peek over his shoulder. It was more or less a contract for the job with details and such except it had no line of where to sign. The pay seemed to be good though.

She looked around laughing darkly "Don't worry. No one would suspect a sweet innocent child like me." She glanced over her shoulder, "You want the job?'

 

He lowered his voice. "I can't say the same about me. But, sure, I'll take the job." he said and rolled up the scroll but instead of putting it in the pocket he handed it back.

 

She didn't take it. "You'll need that. Give it to the commanding officer of the base the scroll specified." She let out a soft chuckle, "No moral concerns working for the Dominion? That's rare. But it fits what I was told about you."

 

"But given that I'm an Argonian. I'm not going to carry this around."

 

"I understand." She took out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote something down, she handed it to the Argonian. "Go to the corndinates specfied. Give this to a man known as Saladin. He'll set you up with your new position."

 

"Well I guess I have to get a map with coordinates then." said Stalks as he took the new note, rolled it up, picked up a small empty corked phial which he put the note into. "I'm going to take a detour to home first. This is just in case so bad weather wont make it unreadable." then he put the phial back into the pocket.

 

"Go ahead."

 

"Good you don't mind. Is there anything else?"

 

"Nothing." She got out of her chair, and waved her hand as she left, "See you top side."

 

"If I survive that long that is." he replied half cynically and half jokingly.

 

"That's the spirit." She sarcastically said. 

 

Stalks looked back over the counter to see where the barmaid had gone off to. "So did you have any blood-wine? I can pay!"

 

"Just a second." The lady said in a tired voice. She went back to the bar with a bottle of the beverage, and poured Stalks a glass. "8 Gold."

 

Stalks fished up a few coins out of his pocket, counted the eight he then put on the counter and let the rest slip down into the pouch. "Thanks." he said and took sip from the wine.

 

After a minute or so Stalks could hear a particularly loud, old man talking with a group of adventurers, he had a thick sailors accent. "Dem shadows that you see at the corner of your eye when you walk dem dark paths in the forest. Wraiths of mothers who dies in childbirth. The strange wind is them actually playing their blasphemous pipes. This town is cursed."

 

People and their superstitions. Stalks thought. But he still listened in as there was nothing else worth listening to in this inn.

 

"Those circle of flowers come from them, and that treasure you occasionally see belongs to them."

 

Treasure? This peaked Stalks interest a bit. He still thought it mostly to be superstition but there are sometimes grains or truth behind such tall tales.

 

One of the adventurers spoke up. "Were is this treasure located?"

 

The old man laughed, "Some say southeast. Some say southwest of town in the forest. But I wouldn't go looking if I were you."

 

Competition? That could get problematic. Stalks turned his head a bit to get a better look at the adventurers. There were three of them sitting around the old man with a grey thick beard and bald head. The first of the trio was a large looking Orc, who was wearing mail armor and had a massive two-handed great hammer on his back. The second was a sly looking Bosmer, who was wearing leather armor and had a bow and quiver on his back. The last was an imperial who looked like a knight, clad in heavy plate armor, and had a sword on his belt and shield beside his chair. 

 

The old man continued his story. "However. Beware. If one touches there treasure, an infinite amount of curses will follow thee."

 

The old man laughed, "Heaps and heaps of gold, jewels, and silverware. They're the dowries."

 

The adventurers seemed to whisper something in between themselves for a moment before they headed out of the inn. Stalks quickly drank up the rest of his wine and headed out after them. They were leaving town in the southeastern direction. Stalks pondered whether to follow or go southwest and hope that they searched in the wrong direction. After a few seconds of thought he decided to head southwest. The treasure might as well be a hoax and was not worth risking the life for. And he soon found himself walking west along the same road he had taken into town. 

He headed off road to the south a bit. But he did not find any ring of flowers among the trees. And it became harder to see as the the darkness grew. And the fog wasn't helping either. Stalks gave up and concluded that it was all probably just a hoax or that he had gone in the wrong direction. He arrived back at the road where a bridge crossed a small stream of water. And under the bridge was three small stones standing in a triangle. But what caught his eye the most was the flowers growing between the stones. They grew like in a circle, not a perfect circle and it had quite a few holes.

A slight rush went through Stalks as he imagined what he would find. But he was also not expecting to find anything, thinking he was just seeing what he wanted to see. But there was only one way to find out. He walked up to the circle, crouched and ran his hands into the ground as he was about to dig. But he didn't even take the first scoop as his hands felt something lying almost half buried in the grass. Instead of starting to dig he picked up the little object and it proved to be a silver pendant, very well made and certainly very valuable. The rush came back; telling him to continue. He slipped the pendant down in an empty pocked and began digging with renewed vigor and determination. 

After lots of digging and sore hands, he had created a decently deep hole with the time and tools available. But no treasure was to be found. Nothing but dirt and mud. Stalks gave up. He had just seen what he wanted to see. The pendant could just as well have been accidentally dropped by a traveler. Disappointed he washed his hands in the stream and headed back to town. By now it was almost so dark he could barely see where he was heading. At least the lights of the town that lied in the distance helped him navigate in the right direction.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
×
×
  • Create New...