TheCzarsHussar

Was Tdroid the one who wasn't allowed to return? I vaguely remember being told one member was banned.

How you use it.

There we have it, every single chapter 3 post up until 1.11 Took around two hours but for my part I'm done tonight.

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.

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."

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.

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."

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.

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.

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."

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."

Baldur and Rebec Windhelm evening “EEOOOUUUGHHHH!†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. 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.

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.

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.

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.

Skjari, Dales Imperial palace Afternoon Skjari and Dales were in the royal quarters planning the wedding and the festival it would have. Though the festival was also planned with the Synod and College of Whispers as the wedding was to be held at the opening day of the mage tournament. Dales managed most of the wedding preparations while Skjari handled how the festival and mage tournament would work in correlation with the wedding. "No!" Was heard screaming, echoing through the nearby corridors of the palace. It was Lilly's voice and she sounded quite angry. Skjari looked at Dales for a moment. "Take a break and have a look?" "Hmmmm Lilly seems pretty pissed-" An interuption came, Raine shouting "Why?!". Dales got out of her chair, "Maybe we should." "Great. Wonder what they're up to." Skjari said as he also got up from the chair. When the two people finally got to the source of the shouting, a strange sight awaited them. Lilly and Raine were inches apart, red faced and snarling. Dales hand maiden, Helen Quentas was in between them, trying her best. Claudia, one of Dales maids was tugging at Lilly, while Kongami had her arms wrapped around Raine restraining her, noticing the pair Helen squealed, "Thank...the...divine. Lord Snow Strider, your majesty." "What's happening here?" Skjari asked, sounding a bit curious but mostly indifferent. Helen's voice was drowned out by a cry of rage from Lilly, "I'm the precious mistress not you." At that Dales face twisted into a smile, "Its alright ladies. My body belongs to each of you" Raine said sharply, "Were not talking about you Dales." Skjari rolled his eyes for a second. Shouldn't I be emperor and Dales be gone before they start fighting? "Is that what you're fighting over?" Helen, who was struggling to separate the two of them said, "Calm down Lilly." Kongami whose arms were falling under the strain yelled, "Just let me tie up the both of them and apply some punishment, gods damn it." Skjari stepped forward and put a hand on the shoulder of both Lilly and Raine, starting to channel a calm spell. "What triggered this 'argument'? I haven't seen you fight before." Surprisingly, it had only minor success, as Lilly still sounded pissed, "This bitch was bragging to Claudia and Kongmi that she was your number one mistress. BULLSHIT." Skjari first wanted to ask if it really was that important. But seeing as Lilly needed to be restrained it apparently mattered to her. Maybe he had played the guise of affection a bit too good. "Calm down. Both of you. This isn't a competition." "Can I tie them up, boss?" That's how Kongami referred to Dales. The young empress shook her head, "That would make them more angry." Skjari let go off the women and instead conjured up a thin ice wall between the two. It was crystal clear so both could see each other through it. "Release them." Kongami and Claudia jumped back, while Helen dove to the side, landing on the ground with a thud. Raine and Lilly glared at each other. "So, can you stop trying to pluck each other's eyes out for a second?" Raine put her hands up, "I have no problem sharing. As shown constantly with both you and Dales. But she started barking at me, and started this." Skjari looked at Lilly. "You're not any less precious to me because of Raine." Claudia nodded her head, "And besides you two were as thick as thieves a week ago. Infact weren't you sharing the same-" She glanced at Helen, suddenly become quiet, until continuing with "You gals were snuggle buddies." Lilly looked downcast, "I know..." Dales yawned, "Look Lilly. Its not like Rainy is trying to steal Lord Snow-Strider away from you." "Will you stop fighting? Clawing at each other wont make things any better." Skjari said. "Your acting like schoolgirls. Helen over here is being more mature, and she literally is a schoolgirl." Said Kongami. "Can any of you at least say something?" Skjari said, slightly impatient. Lilly said, biting her lips, "I suppose I overreacted." Skjari took a step closer and put his arm around Lilly. "You did." Then leaned in and whispered into her ear. "And you can bring Raine for tonight's endeavor if you want. Reconcile more properly." He didn't actually expect Lilly would accept but it was at least worth a try. "I think that would be best..." Skjari got a little surprised but didn't show it. He waved his hand and the ice wall dissipated. "So, will you stop fighting and, if not be friends again, at least tolerate each other?" Lilly ran up and hugged Raine "I'm so sorry Raine. Shouldn't have called you whore..." Raine gently returned it, "I'm sorry too." "I think that settles it." Skjari took stepped back to his place besides Dales and leaned discretely in and whispered in her ear, this time under a muffle spell. "I hope you don't mind the show tonight. You can join in if you want." "I'd rather not. Very busy with work. Might invite Kongami for some fun later though." She looked around, helping Helen from the floor, she patted her on the head, "You alright?" Helen nodded shyly, "Yes your majesty." "I can understand. And I think we should take a proper break. Get some refreshment." He turned to Koni. "Koni, can you bring me something cold to drink? Nothing too alcoholic." "Sure thing my lord." Kongami left the room, Raine, leaving Lilly's embrace asked, "Lord Snowstrider, why don't you join us at the lounge? Dales-" When Raine turned around to look at Dales she wasn't there. The young monarch must have left the room already. "Probably back to the office. Anyway, shall we?" He gestured towards the door. Later in the lounge Skjari sat in a great chair drinking a delicious cocktail. Though he had to use ice magic to keep it cool. The ladies sat in smaller chairs around the nearby table. Skjari only made a few minor attempts at joining in their conversations, but mostly just sat and listened in to see if he could hear anything interesting. A shy voice entered his ear, "Excuse me Lord Snowstrider." Skjari looked to his side and found Helen standing there, quite close too, looking at him with wide open eyes. "Yes?" "Ummmmmm...." She began to stutter, her eyes looking even bigger with her silver spectacles, "You're Karshe's master right?" "Yeah." He said a little slowly and hesitantly. Then he cast a spell that would would not silence but blur their speech to the other women. "How so?" "Just wanted to say your really cool for doing that...Lilly tried enchanting a huming bird once. It...wasn't pretty." She looked at him nervously, "Mind..If I sit beside you?" "I don't." Helen took a seat beside the mage, sipping her own drink. "So you like Karsh?" He asked. "Yeah he's really funny. Though he's kinda prying..." "I think he inquisitive by nature. He's been asking questions since I taught him how to speak." Skjari paused for a second. "Say, how would you feel about caring for him when he's in the city?" "Oh I would love that." She said smiling, "I adore taking care of nature. Would he mind?" "Just keep him fed and give him a soft place to sleep. He likes roasted, marinated, sliced meat. Don't give him seeds. As long as you do all of this, he wont mind at all. And I would prefer if you don't mention him to other people. Not everyone takes kindly to ravens." She chuckled, "Like Lilly." "Yeah. Like Lilly." "Why was she so mean and angry at Raine?" The girl asked, "Raine is always so kind."' "Probably didn't like that Raine claimed that I liked her more." "Do you like Raine more?" "Maybe, maybe not." "Oh." Her eyes opened with revelation, and she blushed "Am I asking too many personal questions?" "A little." "Do you...want...me..to leave you?" She said preparing to get out of her chair. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to. Though I might now answer some of your questions." "How did you meet her majesty?" "I was given the job to travel to Skyrim and be her magic teacher." "Was she hard to train?" "She was - is one of my more easy going students. I rarely have to repeat myself." "So she was always skilled in magic?" She asked, genuinely curious. "You'll have to ask her previous teacher for that." She took a little sip of her drink before asking, "How skilled are you exactly, Lord Snow-Strider. The strongest I've seen was Miss Homulilly and Lilly's Mother, Argeus." "I'm quite good. Though I wont bore you with details." "Your really cool..." She said, starring at him, "Do you have a girlfriend?" "I'm getting married to Dales." Her eyes opened up even further, "You're....getting married to her majesty?" Her hands started to quake, and her body shook. "Haven't you payed attention to news recently?" "I've been busy with school and work I haven't had a chance...." "You can always ask the other maids for the latest news when at work." "Yeah...your...right..." She yawned, taking another sip from her drink and said rather hesitantly, "Whats...Dales like?" "A bit stiff these days." "Hmmmm? She's calm, collected, and cool in most situation. She wasn't always like that?" "She was quite cheerful back in Skyrim. To the point of it being annoying." "Her majesty? Cheerful? She was happy all the time?" "Yes. Then a Thalmor assassin killed her lover." "Dales lost...her lover?" "Yes. Though I shouldn't talk too much about it. And neither should you. Don't want to reopen old wounds." "Yes...that would be best." The teenager said, drinking her cocktail and blushing. Skjari didn't say anything and neither did Helen for a while. When the glass was empty he put it down on the nearby table, got up from the chair and turned to Helen for a second. "I should get abck to work. And Karsh will come over later today. Be sure to have lots of food ready or be prepared to hear him nagging." "I will." The girl said, taking out a leather bound tome, "I'm just going to finish this chapter then I'll be off." Skjari let her read her book in peace as he left the lounge. And as he walked through the corridors of the palace he thought back on the strange place and situation he had gotten himself into the last months. Some of it almost felt unreal. But he left those thoughts behind as he entered the study where he found Dales still working on the wedding preparations. "So how's it going?" He asked. "Fine. I think it should be simple. Nothing too fancy." "Afraid of going over budget? Just make sure the silverware is clean and get a few banners and my magic can stand for the fancy stuff." "We don't want to bankrupt the Empire. Somthing simple, clean, and short will be the best. It would be unwise to extend this sham." "You do know this wedding will be in correlation with the mage tournament, which will go on for a few weeks?" "Oh great. You are your silly festival." Dales reached into her pocket, taking out a cigarette, snapping her fingers causing a bright spark of fire to light the Tobacco filled product, "I'm afraid I've picked up the last two spymaster's habits." "And now you're going to drop it. No smoking. That's an order. And the wedding will just be at the opening day of the tournament. The rest will mostly go like the wedding hadn't even occurred. We've still had to visit some of the games either way." "What's wrong with smoking? It relaxes the body and the mind." "Find something else then. As empress you should not go around and smell like smoke. Nor alcohol." "I'm not a drunkard!!!" She said red faced. Turning around she incinerated the cigarette with her left hand . "By the way, instead of planning this sham of a wedding, I think we need to talk about Admiral Tacitus. You are aware of how unlikely it is he escaped that Dominion prison like he claims." "Yes. I'll search his body and soul next time I speak with him. Just to make sure there isn't any magic implanted into him. However, if they're only playing mind tricks, it'll be trickier to detect." "I was contemplating executing him myself on that very spot in my officer." She gave him a dark smile, "But since i'm practically a saint, my better nature won out. And I was worried about his Bosmer Companion. Instead, I think it's better we keep him on a tight leash. I ordered Lilly to have him constantly monitored, if the Dominion did do something to him, before he can act, there will be a dozen Oculatus arrows piercing his throat." "Just have one agent watch over him closely. Make it someone who's experienced with the sea. Someone friendly. Have him portray a naval officer." "Yeah and someone who can drink alot of whiskey." She drew her black steel knife, which she kept hidden on her body at all times, before expertly spinning and twirling it around in the air, "Any word on Miss Akney?" "You'd be better off asking Lilly about any news on her. But she hasn't told me anything about her so I my guess is she's fled to either the Dominion or some far off corner of Tamriel." "You know, that most likely wasn't Homunal? Her family and her were found murdered three weeks ago in there mansion. An impersonator. Which is odd, since apparently her family were huge dominion fanatics." "And the Thalmor want to kill humans. No real big surprise there." "You play with fire, you get burnt. Simple as that. Hmmmm, funny. We can't bring justice. 'Homunal' and the wolf still remain at large, and instead of hunting them, were busy planning a sham wedding." "Everything in due time." "Yeah...whatever..." "Just have some patience." "Patience hasn't gotten my anywhere." "You need a long term plan as well." He said half jokingly and then went back to his normal tone. "Anyway, we still need to make sure the dinner is good. You got some good chefs?" "Of course." Then they continued to plan for and argue about the wedding for a few more hours before taking up the other duties they had as rulers. Dales was still up at this dark hour of twilight. Sitting on her desk, she wrote on the parchment infront of her. Whenever she closed her eyes for a small break, she saw crimson. She couldn't. "You should get some sleep." Her master said from behind her, sounding a bit sleepy. "I don't need any." "Then why are having trouble keeping your head up?" "Just...a little tired." She looked to the window, "I couldn't sleep anyway if I wanted too." She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Sleep." In an instant, Dales eyes closed, and her body slumped into her chair. Skjari pulled out the chair, lifted Dales up from it and carried her in his arms out from the office and into the bedchamber. There lied her down on the couch. Fetched a pillow from the bed and a blanket from the cabinet. Put the pillow under her head and the blanket over her body. Then he undressed himself and went to the royal bed. Now that the wedding was announced he had to sleep there. But for now he just sat there without any clothes and waited. Lilly and Raine arrived a few minutes later, from the secret passage way. Dressed in slim night gowns. "Greetings my lord." They both said at the same time, bowing. "Hello ladies. Shall we get started with our reconciliation?" He said slyly while also subtly casting a muffle spell over Dales so no sound would get to her. **** Dales awoke with a yawn, getting off the couch. Maybe I should visit Koni. She always say's S and M is a good stress relief. Nah, it's way too late. She undressed and decided to head to her bed. Heading there, she glanced at it. With her drowsy eyes she saw in it her master sleeping at one side of the bed, his head sticking up from under the cover and his body was incredibly big and bulky. Dales let out a sigh, going around the bed to the other side, where she climbed into the bed. Odd, it felt like flesh, and was very warm. "Hello Dales." Dales heard Raine's sleepy voice mumble under the cover. "Raine?!" Dales said, shocked. Before she could finish, someone grabbed her from the side, and brought her closer wrapping her arms around the young empress. She tried to get out of bed, but Raine grabbed her again and brought her closer, snuggling with her tightly. "Your my teddy bear Dales, your not going anywhere." She said, half awake. Dales just gave up. This lunkhead wont get off me. Can't throw her off either. Gods damn it I'm trapped in a prison of flesh!!!! Raine was then suddenly snoring, and was drooling all over Dales shoulder. She sounded like a gust of wind. Dales just stared into the ceiling, How the hell did I get kicks from this back in Skyrim, There was not much she could do. So much for getting sleep. An idea came to her, she pushed Raine closer to Lilly and to Lord Snow-Strider, broke the maids grasp of her, and rushed out of the bed, rolling as fast as she could onto the floor. She then headed back to the couch.

(continued) *** Baldur hadn't seen the queen all day, so he assumed he was either helping Sophie with her studies, or going over the Dwemer stuff Mazoga and Menel found again. After a solid knock, Baldur said, "Veleda, are you busy?" "It's open," Veleda said from inside. She was at her desk, and across from her sat a Dunmer woman in mage robes. Addressing her, the queen said, "Dravynea, thank you for your offer. I'll have to talk to the king about it. If you'll excuse me..." The Dunmer woman nodded and left, giving Baldur an expressionless glance. Veleda watched after her, then said, "High General. You've come about our 'informer,' I take it. I've been going over the handwriting samples you gave me. I had Wuunferth take a look at them as well. We both arrived at the same name, by scrying and simple observation." The queen handed Baldur several sheets of paper: The scrawled note that had been shoved under her door, accusing several Dunmer of spying; the signatures he had taken from Grim Ones for comparison; and a signed note from Wuunferth naming Aki Thunderblade as the likely culprit. Veleda had co-signed this last note and added the royal seal. "It's not a formal accusation," she explained. "We should try to get him to confess. What did you have in mind for consequences?" "What do I have in mind? Ever since you told me that one of my men could be behind this, I had a mind to shove my big Nord boot up the culprit's ass. I still may, if he tries anything, but officially I'm kicking him out of the Grim Ones," Baldur said. Veleda frowned. "I suppose it can't be helped. Discipline is a slippery beast. Is this just prejudice against the Dunmer, do you think? How is morale generally? I should think your men would be glad of a pause between fighting." Baldur took a seat and sighed before saying, "These men aren't like the other Stormcloaks. You know how Brund is. He's not the only one that acts that way. Sometimes men just need conflict. They're restless and in a hurry to start fighting again. They'll get the chance sooner than they think, though it won't be the Thalmor; it'll be themselves. That's the trouble though with having an elite force like this under your command. A lot of them don't have families to go back to so they have nothing to lose, but also nothing to go back to during times of peace. My brother used to be like that as well." "Brother? I wasn't aware you had siblings." "Boldir Iron-Brow. Our bond is of steel, not blood. Unless you count the blood we spilled that is. He was the one that made sure the Pale Pass was closed off while I was captured, along with Jodun Hunding. If he was still in the military, I'd have made him a commander." "Ah, I remember that name from your dispatches. When do I get to meet him?" "I have no idea, really. Haven't gotten a letter from him in a while. I'll try to write him maybe when the town is more established, so we can see about him moving his family with us there. Though there's also always the next Feast of the Dead. Next time, I plan on being the skald that gets to recite the names. And this time I'm putting the whole thing to song." Baldur smiled as he said this, clearly liking the idea of the challenge. Smiling, Veleda said, "Sofie tells me that skalds were ranked second only to the Tongue masters in the First Empire. She's quite the reader. Maybe she'll become a historian. We could use more of those. The trash that passes for history in the empire hasn't been worth its paper in years." "Very true, but I made myself read them anyway. It gives you a cultural context into how they view their subjects. It partly contributed to why I rebelled in the first place. So you see, there's still something to salvage from garbage historical literature in the end," said Baldur. "How is Sofie? And...if you don't mind me asking, how are you?" "We're fine," Veleda answered, guardedly. "We're... making our way forward. I was never very good at family to begin with, and this family has a lot of complications." She wavered, then brightened and said, "But you and the High Admiral are well on your way. Excited about the prospect of fatherhood?" Baldur smiled deeply at first, but it receded as he spoke, "I'll be honest, I'm terrified. I used to worry that I wasn't up for it, but I know better now. Still, Rebec and I, we have a lot of baggage from our past. A lot of which will come up again as time progresses. And then with the war coming only the gods really know when..." Baldur smiled again however as he went on. "But, despite all that, we'll be together through the storm for better or worse. A real family now, and a child between us. I wouldn't have it any other way." You both will have my support. The king's, too. He and Galmar gave you a hard time about it, but we are having to do so much with so little. The pressure is intense and no one feels it more than Ulfric does." "Hmph, I can tell. Ulfric hasn't been Ulfric lately, but I don't blame him. It's not easy being king. You have our support as well. With Sophia I mean, and any future rascals. Takes a village, or in this case a court. Not trying to stress you, I know talking about that is uncomfortable. But we're all different from your average court. We're like a family ourselves, here. You see that now, right?" Veleda smiled. "I know. I was a Stormcloak first before I was a... a Stormcloak." She laughed, then sobered. "You've known Ulfric a long time. Do you have any advice for me? About how to help him shoulder these burdens?" Baldur said, "Heh, I suppose. First and foremost, don't go easy on him. Even when he seems stressed and tired, or like he's about to go bear on you, you tell him what you think he needs to hear. Not what's comforting, mind you, but what he needs to know. He may seem mad, but when he's like that, he's just blowing off steam. He appreciates it when people argue and debate with him and it makes his job easier when all the decision making isn't solely on him. He just won't admit it because he's supposed to be the great Ulfric Stormcloak. He's actually at his best when he goes from mellow to animated like that. When he's quiet or seems inwardly reflective, that's when he's too stressed. In that case, just make him talk, even if he pushes you away. He's not that different from my wife in that regard. All he really wants is your insight without necessarily having to ask for it." "Hm." Veleda considered this, and the fact that Ulfric and she talked so little, she hardly knew what his moods were like. Now Sofie was a buffer, but that was because it was easier to talk to her than to each other. Nodding, she said, "Thank you, Baldur. I hope you'll come to me if think of anything else. Now I guess we'd better go put this unpleasant business behind us." Baldur stood then and lead her out of the room to the throne room where by now Daric had the other men waiting for Baldur to address them. The others were mumbling amongst themselves, wondering who was going to be sent away. Some of them wanted to be sent elsewhere with the other Grim Ones, as it was getting too peaceful there in the capital as royal guards. Others didn't want to lose the honor and prestige that came along with that. As Baldur and the queen finally walked in front of them, the men all grew quiet and watched as he eyed each one of them, analyzing them for some hidden purpose. Falgrum stood on his side when he came out until Baldur directed him to stand with the others as well. He didn't say anything for a while until Falgrum finally said, "Um, what is this about, sirs?" Baldur didn't look at him when he said, "This is about the replacements of course. I lied. No one's getting replaced. This is about a promotion. I'm promoting someone to commander status within the Grim Ones like my second, here. But I couldn't do that because I lacked some information. My queen?" Veleda stepped forward. Glancing at Baldur, unsure of what his plans were, she began, "We received a most serious accusation of spying amongst our elite forces. An anonymous note which named Tavyn Malur, Maenit Asarban, and Fedril Alendu as agents of our enemies." The queen paused as muttering erupted in the ranks, and nodded to Baldur that he should continue. These were his men, after all. "Considering that the Thalmor even now are a serious threat, we looked into all of them on their recent posts. Other fellow soldiers said they thought they were acting strange lately, but I thought that could have just been because they were elves. Turns out they were right." Baldur pulled out the purple magic cloth he had on his person in his pouch. "This is a magic device used by the Thalmor to communicate over large distances. Each was found with one and when we sent a message, each had an obvious Thalmor note returned. It seems we let our desire to assume the best of our mer brothers in arms get the best of us. But whoever sent the queen this note didn't. We have an idea of who sent the note..." The grumbling in the room grew louder. Finally one of the men shouted, "Are you sayin they were spies?! And all along you were the one telling us to treat the Dunmer like brothers!" "They ARE our brothers," another shouted. Standing, this man said, "High General, Maenit's a strange one but I know Fendil. I fought beside him. I could swear..." "We didn't think the imperials would become Thalmor lovers, either," his neighbor said. There were nods of agreement. Veleda watched the growing disarray and, having figured out Baldur's plan by now, followed along. "Brothers! The purpose of this meeting is not to pass judgment on the guilty. That is for the king to do, and him alone. Rather, we want to recognize the one who courageously stepped forward to notify me of this treachery." Baldur kept his eyes moving, but he studied Aki's look from the corner of his eye. It was one of complete surprise and shock. Moreso than the rest. "Now, as I said, I need the person who sent the queen the note to stand out. I'll be starting something called the Grim Trials and I'll need some commanders to help me test it after I've written the curriculum in full. After they help me with that, the rest of you will be the first to go through these trials. So, as I said, we think we know who wrote the note after comparing the handwriting. Aki Thunderblade?" Aki's green eyes again widened between his rough long brown hair when his name was mentioned. He quickly composed himself and stood forward after moving his half braided hair from his face. Clearing his throat, he said, "Aye, it was I. I sniffed the grey skins out," then he saluted Baldur and Veleda both by putting his fist to his chest and bowing his head. Veleda eyed the man coolly. "And you brought this to me instead of to your commanders because..." The man looked confused, clearly expecting praise. "Uh, I thought you'd rea-, I mean I figured you could have a better chance finding the truth since you were a mage." "I see." Or that I'm more naive than your commanders. "Do you know, Aki Thunderblade, that in Atmora the penalty for false witness against comrades was to be beaten to death by the hafts of their axes? You all will have to forgive us a little ruse, but we needed the truth from his own mouth. Now tell me this: You would have seen these three Dunmer men beheaded. Why?" Aki stood stunned and didn't answer at first, looking back to Baldur of all people for assistance. They fought together after all, and Veleda was a newcomer, even if she was the queen. But Baldur said nothing. Nor did the men behind him who were stunned as well at the moment. "I- didn't think it'd go that far. I just thought that you'd throw 'em out the Grim Ones like you threw out Brunwulf from the palace." "And why did you wish them removed? What did they do to deserve that?" Screw these damn questions already. What is this? You gonna have me beat to death or something?" Aki said, frustrated and embarrassed. "It's not like I'm the only one here with the problem. I just did what others were too cowardly to do themselves." "And what was that, commit treason because of petty prejudices?" Baldur said angrily. "Treason? How dare you accuse me of betraying my land!" Aki yelled back. "Over elves?" Baldur said, "This isn't even about your bigotry. I'm not stupid, Aki. I know my men and how they feel about my attitude with elves. I hear the whispers, see the glares. I don't care. What I do care about is that you let this become an issue by lying and purposefully misleading your queen! What if there were actual spies here? You could have distracted us from real enemies, you stupid fool." A female soldier stood up. "High General. I'm not saying what Aki did was right, but you hear the talk around Windhelm. These Dunmer are planning something. If it comes to blows, are the Draugr Dunmer going to defend us or their kinsmen?" "They'll serve Skyrim just like any of you. Or have you forgotten how quickly the others threw their lives away in the Pass to cover the rest of our retreat? Before you start questioning other soldiers' loyalty, remember that it was a Nord that mislead the Queen, not a Mer." Aki knitted his brow and said, "It was also mer that tried to take our land from us!" "Not these Mer!" Veleda's tone turned earnest, almost pleading. "Brothers. This is Thalmor work, alright, but not the kind Aki means. It's the Thalmor way, sneaking notes under doors, whispering in corners. How do we want the Dunmer to trust us if they see Nords betraying them for no reason? Spying is serious, and the man is right that we've uncovered spies in our court before. None of you should fear to bring us suspicions, but do so for good cause only, not rumors. And do so to my face. Now I'll leave you, because it's for your commander to decide what's to become of the guilty party. Good day." The queen nodded to Baldur and left, returning to her chambers. "Right, well I'm not dragging this out any longer. Aki Thunderblade, strip off your armor," Baldur ordered. "What?! You're kicking me out of the Grim Ones? You can't do that, I was here longer than you were! I was here since we were first established! I even fought with Boldir Iron-Brow!" Aki said. "I'm not kicking you out of the Grim Ones, I'm kicking you out of the Stormcloaks with a dishonorable discharge. I need to make an example out of you so the next time someone accuses someone of being a spy, they'll be damn sure of themselves. Boldir would have agreed," said Baldur. "I won't explain myself further, do as I said." "I can't believe this, in the palace of Ysgramor himself, I'm being kicked out in favor of some damn elves! I bled for this army, I almost died for it!" Aki yelled. "And so did those elves," said Falgrum from behind as he grabbed his hilt. "Do as he says, or we'll strip you ourselves. You don't want that, believe me." A few of the men grumbled, but most of them nodded in agreement. Even if they agreed with Aki's distrust of the Dunmer, what he did was stupid and foolish to most present. "You've embarrassed us all, Aki. We are supposed to be the shining example of Skyrim's best. We thank you for your service to your King and your land, but your services are no longer wanted," Baldur said again. Aki heard the deep disappointment in his voice and saw the looks of scorn from his brothers and sisters, then reluctantly and with great sorrow stripped in front of the others down to his raggy underclothes. He walked away in silence at first, then he turned around and said, "I was a war orphan from the Great War. No one ever adopted me. I never got married. Never had kids of my own. I have no family but this army. I'll earn your trust again somehow and prove to you I'm worthy of the Stormcloaks at least, if not the Grim Ones anymore. I swear it, sir. I'm sorry, to all of you." Baldur didn't acknowledge Aki or his promise as he walked past him to go to his chambers. "Back to your posts everyone. Dismissed!" *** Rebec stood on the crest of a cliff above the mouth of Yorgrim Bay, looking out toward the Sea of Ghosts. Or rather, where it should be, since the snowstorm that had been assailing the city had picked up to a fever pitch and she couldn't see past the length of her arm. Winds shrieked and buffeted around her. Mazoga huddled down the slope, watching her back. They had used the opportunity of Baldur being busy with the Grim Ones to slip out for a walk north. Fus. Rebec tried to hear the word in her soul, like Ulfric had said to. The howl of the wind just tore the word away. She repeated it, then shouted it. Nothing happened. Just a word. She kept saying it, trying to hear what the Tongues heard in it. She thought the storm would give her inspiration. The thu'um was supposed to be the breath of Kyne, after all, and Kyne was in the storm. “Rebec, look out!†The words almost didn’t carry in the middle of the storm, but Rebec sensed something anyway. Her axe had just leapt into her hand when icy jaws clamped down, biting through the leather and sinking into her flesh. She started to turn, and a gust of wind buffeted her, knocking her off balance. The ice wraith came with her, digging its teeth into her flesh. Rebec cried out and her axe clattered away as numbness and pain spread from the hand up her arm. She heard the hissing of another wraith, the sound of Mazoga’s harsh war cry. Ignoring the pain, Rebec rolled, trying to force the wraith loose. Thudding against the side of a rock, she stood and with a cry of rage smashed her hand against the frozen cliff. The blow drove the wraith’s teeth deeper into her flesh, but also sent shards of it flying. Two more and by then the creature had had enough. It writhed, trying to free itself. When it came loose, leaving teeth behind in Rebec’s hand, the wraith turned and quickly slithered off into the storm. Rebec propped herself against the rock, trying to master the pain that was shooting up her arm. She paused only a moment, then started forward to help Mazoga. Just then she heard the telltale shriek and saw the wraith coming back for her. Without thinking, Rebec yelled FUS. The creature didn’t go flying as she had seen imperials fly in front of Ulfric’s words of power, but it did pause, tail whipping. It came on again, but by then Rebec’s other axe was in her hand and her fury was high. The fight was over in a few seconds. In the swirl of snow and wind, she found Mazoga, clasping her arm and shouting above the storm, “Are you alright?†At the orc’s nod, Rebec looked back out at the sea. She was about to turn back when there was a shudder of movement beneath her feet. The snow began to cave with a rumble and the edge of the cliff disappeared in avalanche. Crying out and grabbing each other, the two women slid, kicking and clawing, towards the edge. Rebec reached out her axe in a wild arc and caught a crevice of rock. It held. Slowly, painfully, they made their way back to level ground. Rebec lay back on the snow looking up into the storm, and then she knew. In the desert. The sandstorm, the wraiths, the harpies carrying Baldur away. Tava demands a sacrifice, the desert guide had said. The hawk in Baldur’s dream hadn’t been trying to save him. It was trying to take him away. Shor, the serpent, was reaching up to try to save him. The storm took Suri, it tried to steal Baldur, and it would have taken Rebec too if it could. Greedy. Daring her to die. Faltering, buffeted by the wind, Rebec stood, the injured arm held limply against her side. Lifting her axe with the other hand, she brandished it and shouted into the storm. “You haven’t beaten me! Give it all you got, you hoary bitch! I’M STILL HERE! STILL HERE! I WON!†She laughed, the crazed sound torn out of her throat by the winds. “You push me and I’ll just push back! Fus, ro, DAH!†They were still just words, not words of power, but Rebec knew what they were now. She knew where to go inside herself to find them.

Siltdown Bay, western Morrowind nighttime The boots were bold, Dres Seloren had to give them that. Pickings were sparse in southern Morrowind these days, even though the lost was being rebuilt. Pirates knew better than to attack the Telvanni settlements on Azura's Coast and face the wizards' wrath. The richest take was on the northern coast, if you could avoid Redoran vessels.The two Argonian ships were attacking villages in the border lands between Blacklight and Skyrim, bold as you please. Seloren nearly lost them in the ash mists, but as night drew in, he followed the sight of burning huts. It was too bad about the destruction. There was nothing Seloren could do about that. He had a hardy crew, but only one ship to the Argonians' two, and they could take to the water if need be. It didn't pain him too much to wait. Whatever booty he took would be his, and a man needed to live. Once his family had been nobles, proud inheritors of the slaving trade, which included sailing interests. When Baar Dau fell from the sky above Vivec City, they lost everything. An alliance with House Hlaalu- fiercely opposed by his own family but ultimately pushed through in House Dres- came just in time to curse them once House Redoran emerged on top. Seloren was reduced to piracy, though of a semi-official sort. Blacklight paid him for captured reavers. They would pay a hefty sum for Argonian raiders. After nearly a week of raiding the lizards' ships were low in the water, heavy with their take, so they would be turning back to their swamps soon. It was time for him to strike. His ship moved into Siltdown Bay while most of the Argonians were still off pillaging. Their lookouts were easily dispatched, then Seloren waited. When the lizards returned with arms full of booty just before dawn, a single Dunmer stood on the shore, arms crossed. "Welcome to Morrowind," Seloren said cheerfully, then whistled. At once the Argonians' smaller ship went up in flames while Dunmer battlemages streamed out of the forest lining the shore. They surrounded the raiders, killing several and capturing the others. It took an hour to offload the Argonian booty, then they fired the main ship as well, and headed back out to sea. At the mouth of the bay, they were blocked by a row of long, low galleys and a clipper. The captain of the clipper hullooed them, but Seloren already knew who he was dealing with. With a sigh he ordered the dinghy lowered and rowed out to meet the Nord captain. "I'm getting tired of this, Oarsinger," he complained as he was lifted onto the Nord ship. "Find your own reavers. The usual rate?" Eilif Oarsinger shook his head. "Not this time. You and your ship are coming with us." "Cut the nonsense. We've been over this. You and I make more money working together than trying to steal from each other, and I help keep Blacklight off your back. That was the deal." "Now I want a different deal." Seloren's grey face purpled two shades darker. "Go ahead and kill me, Nord. My crew can outrun your toy boats any day." "Not loaded down with all that booty they won't," Eilif said, flashing a toothy smile. Seloren cursed. It was the first law of the seas. There was always a bigger fish. *** Office of Clan Shatter-Shield, Windhelm docks morning Rebec listened to the shouting for a while, then gave a sharp deck whistle to halt it. When the raised voices died down to a grumble, she said, "The king has already approved my recommendations, so this is how it's going to be. You all know how this works. If you want to move up the officer ranks, then prove yourselves. And I don't mean prove who can whine the loudest. I can hear that for myself." She had announced the new officer promotions, including the bonuses that went along with the job. As expected, not everyone agreed with her appointments. The navy was no less rowdy than the army when it came to that. A man stood. "And what if we don't accept your terms? What if we don't want to be part of this navy business any longer? You'll raise our taxes, then your ships start attacking ours?" The admiral gave the man a withering look. "Once your auxiliary contract is up, you're free to take your ship and go. This is a professional navy, not some band of pirates. But if you change your mind down the road, don't come crawling back to me. We're a navy, but still Stormcloaks. Ulfric wants committed warriors, not soldiers of fortune." Rebec had once been that, they all knew, but that just meant she could spy a weak belly when she saw one. "Fine. Then this is the last you'll see of me and the Blue Dawn." There were a few other nods. Their auxiliary roster was going to get lighter. Just as well, Rebec thought. The chaff always blows away. Someone yelled out, "What about the orc?" Rebec gestured to Mazoga, who stood up front along with the other new officers. "What about her? Thorn-Orc has long served aboard my ship and distinguished herself in the lifting of the imperial blockade. She deserves this honor as much as any Nord." There were dissenting voices, but these were shouted down by the other crew from the Black Wisp, so Rebec didn't need to say another word. She did glance over at Sigrid, wondering if the vice admiral would say something. The older woman's expression remained stony. Whistling for order again, Rebec said, "That's all for now. I expect to see all of you one month from today at Kyne's Watch for the naval exercises. No exceptions. Don't worry, we'll be done before the summer's shipping season gets under way." Just then the doors of the office blew open and a crew of Nord sailors walked in, smelling of the salt of the open seas. They were led by a tall man with shaggy blonde hair and a beard braided and studded with rough-cut gems. It was the ostentatious way old Nords used to carry around their wealth. "I've come to see Rebec Red-Eye," the man boomed, "and I hear this is where she may be found." Rebec stepped forward and crossed her arms. "You found her. Though it's Rebec Red Snow, now. Who might you be?" "I'm Eilif Oarsinger, Red wench, and I've come to offer you my ships. If you haven't heard of me, you soon will." There was a buzz of chatter, then a representative from the East Empire Company stood up. "Admiral, these men are deserters and pirate scum! You'd do better to arrest them rather than to hire them." Eilif turned and looked the man up and down. "Listen to the horker calf bleat. EEC, are you? Steal a man's wages, then call it desertion when he goes to find his bread elsewhere. Still, if not for us, the Blood Horkers would have bled you dry. Little enough that your imperial navy did about them." That stirred enough of Rebec's memory that she realized who she was dealing with. "That's enough of that, both of you. By the ear hairs of Shor, like I needed another drunk with a leaky tub telling me my business." "Our longboats are the finest on the seas, and you'll want to hear what I have to say," Eilif insisted. "Nor did I come here empty-handed." He gestured for Rebec to follow. Outside the shipping office, the admiral gaped as she saw a row of six large, low galleys and in the midst of them, a ship with Dunmer banners. Nord crewmen were offloading it of both cargo and of Dunmer and Argonians with their hands bound. "What in Oblivion is this?" Oarsinger stretched his arms out expansively. "My gift to the new king of Skyrim, and to his admiral! These Argonians were raiding not half a day's sail from Windhelm. The Dunmer captain there is an old friend, but you're welcome to him, too. He's not above sinking a Nord ship now and again, if he gets desperate." Rebec was still staring, but finally turned to the Nord captain. "I guess we'd better go find some mead. For you, anyway." Eilif grinned, flashing a row of gold teeth. "It's been a long time since an heir of Rebec the Red shared mead with a Son of Wulfharth. These are strange times we live in." At Candlehearth Hall, Eilif drank mead and Rebec sucked miserably at a mug of apple juice. Meanwhile she got the man's story. Oarsinger and his men were the last remnants of the Sons of Wulfharth, who in the days of Ysgramor's Companions were bitter rivals of Rebec the Red. Eventually the Sons attached themselves to Tiber Septim's navy and became known as the Longboat Legions, while the Reds had remained independent. After the Oblivion Crisis, the imperials had stopped paying, so some of the Sons had come home to Skyrim. They they lived off raiding, too rowdy for the merchant seaman life. "I've kept to pirates and reavers, I swear," Eilif told her. "You've sailed these waters a long time. Have you heard any different? Has your ship ever been attacked by one of our longboats?" "It'd be your long-lost longboat if you had," Rebec replied. "Why now? Why do you want to join a navy again?" "Because I want to come in from the cold. In a manner of speaking." The man grinned. "I heard about what you're doing here and we want in. We've caught some Dominion ships, you know. Out near Solstheim and probing the Sea of Ghosts from the Morrowind side. The way I hear it, you're fortifying in the west. But what if the Dominion comes around from the east this time, attacks Windhelm directly? I know those waters. And we know how to fight." Rebec thought about the meeting earlier, and the auxiliaries they were losing. She could replace them with new ships, but all they had to man those were green crews. Much as she hated to admit it, the Sons of Wulfharth were exactly what she needed. "I'll talk to the king," she said finally. "I assume you've got some bounties, even though you swear you haven't touched a Nord soul." At the man's sheepish smile, she nodded. "Right. You'll have to pay those off. The booty from that Dunmer and Argonian raid ought to help. Or else cut your beard and sell those baubles." "Bite your tongue, woman. So, you're going to let me keep the Dunmer's haul?" "I suppose. After the usual customs fees and taxes. Now I have to figure out what to do with the captives." "If I could make a suggestion..." At Rebec's nod, he went on, "Give the Dunmer back his ship, and turn the Argonians over to him. He'll be able to sell them back in Morrowind. They need slaves for their mines, and this batch of scum deserve no better fate. It'll score some points for you with Blacklight. You need Morrowind's help against the butter elves, don't you? And, if you would, tell him it was my idea. For old time's sake." From there Rebec went down into the palace dungeon and looked over the jailor's report. Inside the prisoner area, she found Menel inscribing wards around the cell of the Dunmer ship captain. It was to prevent him from casting, the Bosmer explained. Seloren was sitting on the edge of his bed, eyeing the pair with a bored expression. "If I wanted your slackjaw guards dead, I would summon the ghost of a blessed ancestor right behind them, and your scratching and muttering would not save them, wood elf." Rebec crossed her arms skeptically. "Is that so?" "It is. But I would not have my guardian see the wretched condition to which his kinsman is reduced." Menel rolled his eyes, muttering, "Dunmer. Always the chirpy outlook." "You're not exactly making good account for yourself, dark elf," Rebec agreed. "He's the queen's second and I'm the admiral of Skyrim's fleet, so we could make sure you and whatever ghosts you carry around in your pocket stay down here a long time." "Am I supposed to be impressed? You have no cause to hold me, not even for a day. I wasn't in Skyrim waters and I wasn't doing anything unlawful. On the contrary, I was protecting Morrowind villagers from those stinking scaleskins down there." He gestured to where the Argonians were housed, a few cells down. "Considering your ship is loaded down with Dunmer bricbrac, you weren't doing a very good job." Dres waved a dismissive hand. "None of your affair, Nord. Now I suggest you release me, return those stolen goods and my ship, and I'll be gone from this skeever-ridden hole you call a capital." Rebec gave a wry smile. "Well as it happens, that's just what Oarsinger wants me to do. Minus the stolen goods part." That elicited a look of surprise. "Oh, sure. According to him, you two are thick as thieves. And since that's what you both are, I'm not sure I should account his opinion any higher than yours." "Oh yes? Admiral, was it? I've heard of you. Word is, you're not much better than a pirate yourself. And a murderer of innocent Dunmer sailors." Her expression darkened. "Those were no murders. But I'm sure you know that. I can't imagine what you think to gain by provoking me." "A moment's peace too much to ask? Do what you will, admiral. Just do it quickly." Rebec exchanged a look with Menel, who shrugged. Turning back to Dres, she said, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Have to take this up with the king, so you get to enjoy our skeever hole a bit longer." She moved off to talk to the Argonians, but they just hissed and made clicking noises, apparently not able to or willing to speak Tamrielic. "What is this continent coming to," Rebec muttered as she walked back up the line. "Menel, make sure you ward down by the Argonians, too. Gods only know what devils they can conjure up. I'm going to find Baldur or the king, or both. Kyne's garters, I need a drink." *** "Hey, watch where you're running or I'll crush you, milk drinker!" "I'm only a milk drinker because your mother's got such a plentiful supply!" "WHAT!? Get over here and say that again!" "See ya!" Daric jumped over a table two Nord workers were carrying through the streets of Windhelm. He dared a glance behind him to see if the fellow Stormcloak he insulted was close to catching him, but even without the crowded streets and now the men with the table in his way, the Breton scout was too quick for him and was left to eat the snow in his wake. Daric came bursting through the palace doors then, not stopping to answer the Necro Nord guards that ordered him to halt for being alarmed at his running after tracking snow in past the doors. Sprinting as fast as he could, but breathing at a calm and steady pace, Daric hopped up on the bench at the dining room table and stole a drumleg off of Ysana's plate. But before he could escape with the booty, Daric felt a fierce grip on his hair, which stopped him in his tracks and had him falling to his back from the momentum of his moving feet. When his eyes met the ceiling, he was greeted with the sight of Ysana catching the drumleg in her mouth. After taking a bite, she crossed her arms, then said while it was in her hand, "Sorry, my reflexes are something else when food is threatened, dear. Do me a favor and hand this to Baldur for me." Ysana returned to the table and handed Daric a little brown hat with what was supposed to be little bear ears at the top. Daric remembered the news Rebec gave at the table and didn't have to ask what it was for. Not that a little mini bear hat was hard to figure out the purpose of. "Where is he? He was eating here last time I spoke to him. He told me to run off and return a letter to a messenger soldier to take to General Brund." Ysana remembered what her daughter-in-law said about him to her. Enough for her not to like that man one single bit. "What does fat head want with my son?" The nickname given from the Admiral was not common knowledge and caused Daric to give her a worried expression. Brund was one man most people wouldn't dare insult, even behind his back, lest it get back to him and they pay the price. Not that he could do anything to family of Baldur. Daric said, "He had a soldier in Windhelm waiting on his arrival, giving him an invite for Baldur to join him in the fighting, now that Brund has mostly worn out the Forsworn forces. Surprising, as Baldur had a deal with the Redguards to help finish them off, but it seems like that won't be necessary. They'll be going into hiding largely now, I imagine. Waiting to replenish their numbers, I imagine. Maybe try to hide in High Rock. Anyway, Baldur said no and that he was too busy here." Ysana was surprised herself to hear that news after all she saw on her way to find her son. "Baldur's in the war room. Tell him he better come talk to me soon. I'm getting lonely. Bjol's offering to let me stay with him in his house while we're in the city." Daric saw a smirk creep up on her face, which caused him to chuckle after he got the implication. Daric got off the floor then and ran off to the back room. "I will. See you later, Dibellan!" "It's Ysana!" Daric didn't have a chance to answer by the time she spoke, as he was already in the war room by the time she finished uttering her words. Upon entry, the startling sight of the permanently scarred back of the High General greeted him, causing him to gasp from surprise. There was from what he could tell at least twenty four or so slashes clearly visible to his eyes, but he couldn't really tell, and some of them seemed to overlap, while others were so faded, he could barely see them and he hadn't counted them. He guessed that the Thalmor must have healed him some for there to be some so faded while others remained pronounced. Probably to continue the onslaught without him fainting or dying. Some of them healed badly and looked swollen and soft. That was to say nothing about the crudely burned capital T darkened and contrasting strongly with the rest of his pale skin. He was able to see all of this because Baldur was sitting atop the war table with his legs crossed, sitting perfectly still and wearing only his tan furred officer kilt, boots and gauntlets. Why that was the case had eluded Daric at the moment. "Uh, sir?" "Oh, you're back. That was really quick," Baldur said with his eyes closed. "So... what are you doing?" Daric asked. "I'm meditating on the thu'um. Fire to be specific," Baldur said. Daric gave an understanding nod, having remembered him mentioning all of Ulfric's talk with the other two students of the thu'um as well. Daric walked around the table and leaned on the stone wall, bored, then noticed that one of Baldur's hands was tapping the table in some sort of rhythm or beat, and his head was slightly rocking. "So you're just meditating?" he asked, confused by the sight. "Well, sort of. I got a little bored by just thinking about fire, so I started practicing this thing I've been working on." "This thing?" "Yea, a bard thing. It's a new kind of way of telling poetry. I got the idea when I thought about the Ra Gada drum beats and when I tried putting words to it," said Baldur. "Shouldn't you stick to focusing on the thu'um? That seems like it would be hindering your efforts, sir," said Daric. Baldur said, "Ah, but cannot a fire spread its flames to burn two targets or even more, same as how I focus on two things? Does not fire burn quickly before getting bored and spreading, moving on to other things?" "Haha, I think you're getting a little too liberal with the metaphors, if you don't mind me saying, sir," said Dalk, chuckling at Baldur's deflated look. "Heh, I suppose so." "So what is it?" Daric asked. Baldur said, "I don't know, really. It's kinda strange, but I like it. It's not that different from what I'm used to doing, it's just the same thing, except no singing. Sort of...talking confidently. Like this. Repeat after me. Yes I'm a Breton, a fact I'm not sweatin, I'm quick on my feet and even quicker with a weapon, a very lethal lesson that a foe learned from me, I sent him falling down like a stone in the sea." Daric forgot that he was supposed to repeat the words at first, but after giving an enthusiastic clap, Baldur urged him on. "Oh, right, uh...Yes I'm a Breton, a fact I'm not sweating..." "Sweatin." "What's that?" Daric asked. "It's the same word, just made different so it will rhyme. Something I've been trying out. You like it?" asked Baldur. Daric smiled and shook his head, then tried again. "This is fun, sir, but shouldn't you be focusing on the thu'um?" Daric asked again. Baldur hopped from the table and started walking around it with his eyes closed. His mind was going through past memories that he could recover, with him facing fire, like when facing Imperial battlemages and fending them off with shield walls as best they could. And even more memorable, the way the heat of Alduin's thu'um seemed even more alive than flame already did, angrily consuming the flesh of the dead Imperials that weighed down on him as protection. He could feel the heat above them growing more intense, as if the fire was trying to fight its way to him at the bidding of its master. Finally, Baldur's eyes snapped open and he spun around to face Daric. "Give me a drum beat, Daric." "Huh?" "Just do it, boy." Daric obeyed eventually, looking at Baldur confusedly as he watched the general's head bob again and his foot tapping while Daric patted at the wooden table at the center of the room. "Yes, that's the spirit. Make the beat, let me hear it. You said talk about fire? Well this room I'm 'bout to singe it. Because I have some rhymes containing words that I must say, so pay attention Breton and keep the beat up okay? My name is the Unkindled, in battle I cannot be touched, and the attempt will end with someone's skull getting crushed, The Unkindled Kindler's coming at you with something hotter than me in the sheets, My thu'um, my soldiers, my wife and her fleet, So Thalmor best all beat feet, 'cause a Red-Snow's setting them on fire, Like a burning falling tree, I topple Empires, Coming from this windy city with twenty five score of Nords, we put the N in Necro so you know we'll settle this score.... I'll set my men upon you like an unending pyre, And my children will continue slaying you long after I retire, Incineration, a conflagration and this nation of men, If war is Season Unending, your defeat will have no end, Alduin learned you can't burn that which already burns, As did the Legion's wolf pack and their leader in turn, That's what happens when you play with what can bring the night day, And if you screw with my kin, well I have something to say, The last man who tried...lay in sand bloodied and died, scorched by the desert heat and was left there to fry, Won't hesitate, resuscitate, I'll just take your life, and the same goes to those who try to put their hands on my wife, The last one lay on the ground with my hands at his throat, Lucky he didn't end up in a moat and afloat, Incinerating and cremating, turning dust into dust, Then I'll throw you in Kyne's wind to settle in Nirn's crust, I couldn't get any hotter, or her skies would combust, And womens' passion burns for me hotter than any virgin lust, Kindling flames in more ways than the Thalmor have days, I've got a blood dragon for each of you, before setting you ablaze, My victory's assured, and its already been sung, I kindle poon with my mouth, guess I'm already a Tongue, Bard Baldur closing off, and now I'm ending this soliloquy, And I'll be spitting hot fire, figuratively and literally." "....Woah..." Was all Daric said by the time Baldur finally finished. After a few more seconds, he finally said, "I've never heard anything like that before. And it still doesn't have a name? You just came up with this... poetry yourself?" "Heh, they don't call me a master bard for nothing. Now, that's enough of that. Back to meditating." Baldur climbed back up on his spot on the table, but this time he left room for Daric as well, even though Daric wasn't going to be learning to thu'um. Sitting next to him, Daric stood as still as Baldur did until the General ruffled his hair, causing both of them to laugh as Daric tried doing the same to him, which lead to a round of playful roughhousing, having forgotten all about meditating on the thu'um for the sake of doing something both of them had a lack of in each of their childhoods. Rebec had come up the hallway towards their quarters just as Baldur's song began. The sound echoed loudly in the dark stone of the ancient palace. She paused, listening in from the hallway, and had to suppress laughter at the line about kindled poon. Stepping around the doorway, she stood with hands on her hips, smirking and watching the dogpile of Nord. "Am I interrupting an intimate moment?" she said finally. Baldur had Daric in a headlock and was yanking at his hair, but immediately stopped and pushed Daric away off the table at the joke. "For the love of Kyne, gods no." Daric just lay on the stone floor, groaning in pain from where his face landed. "Walk it off. Anyway, go on. You needed me for something?" She sighed, tossed her ledgers onto the side table and flopped down on a chair, propping her feet up on the nightstand. "Is handing out promotions always so hard in the military? We need to get another war on. Everyone seems happier then." Baldur yanked Daric up from his blue tunic and had him run off to send a message to his men that they'd all need to meet up with him outside the palace later. When looking back to Rebec, he seemed confused. "Uh, what's wrong with the promoting, are the sailors jealous or something? Those bunch, I thought they were more tough than that. They seem to be as whiny as the Imperials are." "Competitive. Always been this way. Only thing's that changed is now I'm in charge instead of just one of the slobs. Anyway. Was that song about your new thu'um powers? Go on, shout on that loaf of bread and make me a toasted cheese sandwich." "Hah, I wish I could. But I've got squat coming out of my mouth, except hot air. This is going to be quite the tedious affair," he said. "And you? How's your meditating going?" "Meditating?" Rebec looked at him like he was crazy. "I read over Ulfric's notes, if that's what you mean. But like you said, nothing actually happens when I say the words." "Don't you remember that you're supposed to be meditating on the words? For about two hours at least. Thinking about what they mean, what they are and how they are you. You gotta find a way to become close with your word." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You know how goofy that sounds?" Baldur jokingly matched the glance with his own. "Did it sound as goofy when Ulfric explained why he assigned us these shouts? It's the same thing. I can see the similarities in you right now, being difficult to accept new ideas, or in other words, changing the direction of your strong winds." She tried to let out a burp to demonstrate, but nothing came out. Damn it. No mead. "Well I don't know how to 'meditate.' What in Oblivion does that even mean." It was Baldur's turn to give a genuine sidelong glance, but he made sure not to sound condescending. "Hmm, have you ever just sat to think about something? Just close your eyes and still your mind to try and figure something out? Or simply just to rest without sleeping. It's like that. Here, come up on the table and try." Baldur got back to his position to sit, this time positioning himself to face her when she sat too. Holding his hands out for her to take, he said, "Come on, then. Try it." "Get up on the table?" She laughed, shaking her head. "How is that supposed to help you 'get close to your word?'" Baldur smirked, then whispered while smiling, "It's a big secret, but I'll let you in on it. Rumor has it that all the best Tongues did silly things like sitting on tables and chanting stuff with their eyes closed to learn the Thu'um. Oh and there was something about being up on the table mimicking Kyne sitting up in the sky on high. So it makes us closer to her and makes learning the Thu'um easier. So I heard." "Well it looks like you're about to take a dump. I guess that's a form of meditation." Rebec got up and nosed through the snack pile until she found a honey nut treat. "You go on and thu'um. Meanwhile let me tell you what else happened today." Baldur chuckled, as he thought it appropriate since his comment was horker shit in the first place. Moving his crossed legs so that he could lay down on the table with his eyes closed instead, he said, "Can't really meditate while talking, so you go ahead and tell me." "Oh. Well I can try to be quiet then." She munched on candy, tilting her head to peek under his kilt. When he looked over she averted her eyes quickly. "Alright, I'll tell you." She went on to describe meeting Eilif of the Sons of Wulfharth, and the Dunmer and Argonians he had in tow. "Now I need to decide whether to let them join the navy. They're a rough lot, but we sorely need experienced crews." Baldur rolled to his side and said, "Well, I think your comment on Honmund to Brund pretty much sums up what you should do, in my opinion. I see no harm in letting him in, as long as he understands he can't buy respect with pirate booty. And that goes double for officer spots. With a gift like that, Ulfric's likely to keep an eye on him anyway, which I know personally goes quite a long way. As do you, for that matter." "I wasn't planning on handing him the admiralty. Even if he thinks he deserves it. These Sons of Wulfharth apparently had a rivalry with the Reds. A little healthy competition is good, though. If he shows up at our exercises and his crews can fight, that's enough for me. So what's Daric up to? You going to bring him to Kyne's Watch?" "I suppose so. He's just sitting around asking to go to the Reach otherwise. But he doesn't need to fight right now, not yet anyway. And he could use more training. He seems a little off though. Depressed, but I haven't inquired. Maybe he misses his ma. Speaking of, I haven't seen mine around today..." "You all could help do the scouting for the road improvements Ulfric wants, towards the Reach. Don't want any Forsworn creeping up on our town." "I suppose real combat's the best teacher, so that's not a bad idea. Even if he doesn't get to kill someone, seeing it will prepare him." "Probably find some trolls and spiders, anyway." Rebec stood and came over to where he lay. Stroking his cheek, she went on, "As for your ma, she's probably off with Waverunner. Do you think there's anything to that?" A look of sudden realization flashed across his face for a moment when he remembered he completely forgot about what Daric said to him about his ma. He was too busy meditating and honestly, close to sleeping for it to register. Baldur closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know and I don't want to really. I won't get in the way, we have our own life and she needs hers. She deserves someone, whether it's just for temporary comfort, or something more. Waverunner's okay by me. Him being a sailor though means he'll be gone a lot, but maybe that's what she wants. Keeps it from getting too serious. He's getting up in years himself though. Maybe he'll finally retire." "She deserves to be happy, if she can be," Rebec agreed. She glanced down at Baldur's relaxed face and smiled. If Ysana could be half so happy as she was, it would heal a lot of wounds. The tensions of the morning receded at the sight of him, and from the warm scratchiness of his beard under her fingers. Maybe this "meditation" he talked about would be a good excuse to leave behind the worry that piled on her every day now, the weight of responsibility. Didn't she already have her own kind of meditation, when she put on war paint? The wings of Kyne. An enemy cannot strike the wind. Force, Push, Balance. An idea occurred to her, and Rebec glanced down at Baldur again, starting to tell him about it. Then she stopped herself. He wouldn't like it, especially with the baby now on the way. Taking a different tack, she said, "I should go find Ulfric, before he hears about our guests in the dungeon from someone else." Baldur leaned up and kissed at her hand. "I suppose I've laid around enough for the day. Want me to come with you? I have to mention some things I have planned for the men myself in Kyne's Watch while you're directing naval exercises." "Come on then." Rebec grabbed his hand and pulled him up, right into a kiss. That lasted a while, until she forced herself to let him go. *** Mournful whistles of the greyed city surrounded the King as he stood in front of the pathway to his palace as he watched the people under his rule being assaulted by snow go about their lives despite it. And despite him. Arms crossed, he turned when he heard the groan of the palace doors behind him, seeing his admiral and general quickly approaching. "How goes things, you two? Training diligently I hope?" "Sort of," Rebec answered vaguely. "It's a little hard to wrap my head around. Not like wielding an axe. There's news about the navy, Sire." "Yes, I got wind of it from the port. What's the specifics? Anything I should be immediately concerned with?" Rebec repeated the story of Eilif and the Sons of Wulfharth briefly and said, "I told him to pay off his bounties. If he does that, I'd like to take him on. We need the ships and especially the experienced crews. As for the Dunmer and Argonians... I'm inclined to do what he suggested. If this Seloren Dres were a reaver of any note, then I would know him. And you don't want those Argonians walking free in Skyrim. They're not like the imperialized ones. If you agree, I'll send the Dunmer back with a message to the government in Blacklight, thanking them for the Draugr Dunmers' service. They ought to hear Reval's name back there." Ulfric only barely remembered the name of the mer because he remembered seeing Baldur train them for the maneuver "Reval Formation". But he didn't let on that he almost forgot who he was. "And all he wants is a spot in the navy? He won't come with grandiose thoughts of being made a Jarl, or future admiral like that Honmund character Hammer-Fang mentioned?" "Oh, probably. Maybe not jarl, but he'll want to throw his weight around. Thinks very highly of himself, but that's most Nords for you, and I can handle him. We'll see how he plays with the others during our exercises at Kyne's Watch." "Well, I'll keep my eye on him. I appreciate the help for certain, but nobody buys favor in the Stormcloaks. Navy or army. That sort of thing is reserved for south of the border. If this is simply a way to show his commitment however, then that is perfectly fine. Let him know that." "Will do. I made the officer appointments we discussed. Some grumbling over favoritism, and about making an orc a lieutenant. You should know that the vice admiral isn't pleased about that either, probably because Mazoga being captain of the flagship puts her in the way of competition for the spot of admiral when I have to step aside." Ulfric's eyes widened at that and he took a step closer to the two and said, "Hold on a second, I think I missed something here. You intend to make an Orc the next Captain for my flagship, Rebec? When was this exactly?" Rebec's eyes flashed with anger. "Not just any orc. She's my first mate, been so for years. The Wisp might be your flagship, but it's my ship and my crew. Maybe you don't know, but to perform the kind of maneuvers like we did during the naval war, that's not something that can be taught. It comes from knowing the man beside you on the rowing bench and knowing what the captain wants before she even calls out the order. That's what you get with my crew, and they follow Mazoga. I'll not have it any other way and neither will they." You'll have it however way I say, or you'll end up missing a ship entirely, Admiral. I don't know what's gotten into you two as of late, whether you forgot who your king was while you were off in Hammerfell, but no one eats my food, in my palace, using my ship and tells me what they will and will not do! If this was any other ship, it wouldn't be an issue, but this is the ship of the Stormcloak navy. How's it going to look when our best ship is being captained not by a Nord, but by an Orc?" Baldur stepped forward and said, "With all do respect, Ulfric, that ship is not yours to command. That ship rightfully belongs to my wife. Do not forget that she gave her ship to your service freely and willingly, with no intention of anything in return. And it was destroyed during the war, leaving Rebec without her only means of making a decent living. If an Orc captaining her ship is that big an issue, then I think you should look at making another ship. That is only fair." Rebec's color was up, and so was her ire, but she took a breath. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn, Sire, but my ship wasn't just my livelihood. My sweat and blood was in those timbers, literally. And Mazoga's, too. My crew didn't have to follow me into this war, and some didn't, but the ones who stayed proved their worth. You don't want another captain at that helm. Take a look at those imperial ships on the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts if you want to see what happens when captains get their place because of politics. Is that what you want for the flagship?" Ulfric narrowed his eyes and said, "That's enough. We'll continue his discussion later. Any more and I'll lose my patience with the both of you. One thing I do know is that when it comes to promoting someone to High Admiral, that's solely my decision. That person will be the current Vice Admiral, no matter who is captaining the Black Wisp. I assigned her that rank for a reason and that's the way it will go. Now, was there anything else?" She had a lot more to say, but even she knew when to shut up occasionally. "Nothing from me. Baldur, you wanted to discuss something about training?" Baldur said, "Yes, I've got ideas for recruiting new Grim Ones. Rebec mentioned before that we should be looking into getting some more, but that they should also get used to ships and water in case they're called to serve there like with Hammerfell. I agree, but I also see this as an opportunity to make the Grim Ones better. So I'll be designing a series of tests in the form of long periods of daily training. The final week will be something I'm calling "Week of Oblivion", or "Orkeywihk". That's Orkey's Week. I'm calling it the Grim Trials. Thing is, what I'm planning will likely replace a large amount of the soldiers already serving as Grim Ones. But the end result will be a force that will be talked about long after we are dead. Falgrum and I will be setting the test requirements ourselves by going through them first. Could be dangerous. Some of the men and women, if there are any that come to try may die." Ulfric said, "That's going to upset a lot of your men, you know. And this sounds like a big undertaking." "It is and it will, but this is the military, and the Grim Ones are called such for a reason. This isn't a club or a political party. Either you're strong enough, or you aren't," said Baldur. Rebec's brow knit, as she knew Baldur wouldn't hold himself back from this dangerous training. Still, she couldn't object. "Kyne's Watch will be perfect for this. Rough living and no distractions." "Right. Well, you better not get yourself killed over this, Baldur. Last thing I need is to lose any of my leaders in a training exercise. That goes double for these naval exercises, since that would also cost money. And of course with you two gone, there'd be no one around to keep my blood running hot to stay warm in this cold." At that Rebec had to grin. "You've got a wife who can do that now, Your Majesty." Her grin turned into a little smirk. Ulfric wasn't smiling after he told his joke, so he gave them no signs of his discomfort by way of a sinking smile. Though he didn't need to, as Baldur's knowing look with Rebec said that they could tell things weren't yet in the up and up. "Right. If that's all, then I have matters to attend to," said Ulfric. The admiral assumed Ulfric was just in a foul mood, so it was better to leave him to the winds. As they turned to enter the palace, she glanced up at the sky. The snow blew in her face, with no sign of letting up. Smiling, she turned to follow Baldur. (to be continued)

Stalks-Deep-Waters, Brund Border between of Falkreath near The Reach Noon It had been a few days since the chase from Whiterun Hold had begun. At some point Lilith seemed to have picked up a horse on the road. At least there was a murdered hunter that smelled like horse on the road in the direction of which the chase went. And while the twins were fast, but their armor still weighted them down and Stalks got frustrated with them always falling behind. So one morning he woke up and left early without waking them up, leaving them to catch up at their own pace. But he had no plans on letting them catch up. His plans were to kill Lilith, take her head and be gone before they arrive. Now he was following a trail of hooves and some other wolf-like creature along the road towards The Reach. The road was paved with stone but the dirt still covered enough of it for the footprints to show up about every yard or so to leave a good trail to follow. Stalks ran at a good pace, glancing down at the dirt patches to see if they had changed direction and gone off road. By now, the trees were starting to clear away and become more spaced. The soil turned hard and limestone and granite was plentiful. As the hills and mountains started to show less and less green, it was evident that Aela and Lilith had made it into the Reach. Not too far from the road where Stalks was, a blood curdling cry from a feminine source could be heard coming from a forest of dead trees near what sounded like a rather large river channel. Stalks picked up pace and drew his bow and arrow, the bow in the left hand and the arrow in the right hand. As the sounds of screaming grew louder, another noise overshadowed that of the woman from before. An earsplitting howl rushed through the trees and the sound of what seemed to be metal against metal clashing fiercely was coupled with snarling and more pained and evidently horrified yelling from the female, even if she was also laughing. As Stalks got closer he slowed down and soon began to crouch as he instead sneaked forward. He went off road and up the left rocky hill where he hid behind the cliffs as he made his approach. Soon he saw Lilith and a beast that made him barely believe his own eyes, a werewolf. They were fighting, or more like Lilith using the werewolf for target practice as she tried hurling balls of fire at the beast while it tried getting close enough to rip Lilith's head off without being lit up. Stalks moved behind the cliffs slightly more uphill so he could get a better vantage point. There was no point in getting involved just yet. Lilith gave up on the fire balls and decided to charge at the creature blindly, with her ebony sword in the air above her head. The creature seemed to have a look of disbelief itself at the mad charge, but soon, the creature charged as well in a mad rush, much faster than Lilith's. Just as the two foes were about to meet, Lilith's sword floated from her briefly before being shot away towards the werewolf's torso. Instead of evading the attack, the creature kept running for the Dunmer, and her eyes widened as a large swipe came flying towards her body, sending her flying back before hitting a tree hard on her skull, putting her out cold, possibly even killing her. The werewolf howled out triumphantly before slowly making her way to its prey. But before it could reach her, the werewolf stopped and turned, sniffing the air as in search of something, or someone. Suddenly, its eyes widened and it snarled in anger, turning its yellow eyed gaze around this way and that. And Stalks quickly pulled back behind the rocks and then only leaned out a little in order to peek at the beast. Run away you little dog. Don't feed. And if you do, don't ruin the head. Stalks thought as he readied the arrow onto the bow but not drawing the string. There was silence for a while and nothing could be heard. Not the beast's breathing, not it's growling, not even a breeze could be heard for that matter. All was silent at the moment. Lilith, one who was so animated was still out cold, her insanity being stilled, which only added to the eerie atmosphere. Carefully, Stalks stuck his head out from the cliffs more and more to get a better look. But the beast was miraculously gone, nowhere to be seen. Stalks didn't hesitate to jump down the cliff and run downhill towards Lilith. He wanted to get the head and be long gone before the big wolf could return. It wasn't even a moment's time after Stalks came out of hiding before the barren wooded area was filled with another earsplitting howl. But it came not from behind Stalks, but above him. From behind a large decaying and rotted tree, the werewolf crawled its way to the front to see the Argonian trying to claim its prize. Obviously it took issue with that, because it was now falling with clawed hands and paws outstretched to swiftly claim the Argonian's life. Stalks quickly threw himself to the side and rolled half around so he lied on his back. Then drew the string of the bow and the let the arrow lose, without taking proper aim, in the direction of the werewolf. The beast although large, was frighteningly agile, though the large size meant that at such close distance, it only barely missed the projectile. Not taking time for pause at the near blow, the werewolf continued charging the Argonian. From behind, the Dunmer woman just started to stir and she was now observing the scene with a smile slowly creeping on her face. Her red eyes were more red than most, being red in color and in what they were so attuned to seeing and longing to see. Which was no different now, as she and her eyes both wished fervently to see the Argonian's blood spilled on the rocky ground. Several thoughts on how to survive rushed through Stalks head. Invisibility was not an option when the beast so close. He would be dead before he could even get another arrow onto the bow. And he had barely gotten up in a crouching position as the beast made it's first swipe towards him. The long arms would make it hard to keep a distance but they could also work against the beast. He let go off the bow and leaped towards the werewolf with arms outstretched as he went to latch onto the beasts belly. And surprisingly the move worked. The swipe missed and his arms latched on around the beasts neck and his feet around the belly and his own claws on all four, the claws on his feet cut through his boots, buried themselves into the thick leather skin to make sure he stayed latched on. He opened his mouth, displaying the rows of razor sharp teeth, and tried to bite at the beasts throat. Before it knew it, the rows of thick needle like teeth from the Argonian was at the creature's throat, which due to the shape was just the thing to pierce its tough skin. Calling out in pain the werewolf angrily grabbed at Stalks in an effort to try and force him off. From behind, Lilith slowly stood, sword in hand after she picked it up from the ground, which was bloodied from after the creature tore it out, then she crept as silently as she could towards the two to strike while they were distracted. Stalks gnawed till he could feel a steady stream of blood come from the throat. Turning around his head to spit out the blood he saw a tree approaching very quickly as the beast was apparently going to smash him against it. He quickly threw himself off the beast to the side, rolled and got up on his feet as he turned around to face the beast again. "Hey! Stop!" "Farkas, you idiot, shhh!" Too late. The twins finally caught up to the scene and Farkas came running at the Argonian at full speed, which was considerable for a man his size and in heavy armor, though the downward slope helped. Vilkas surveyed the scene and saw Lilith running towards Stalks now with her blade over his head. "Behind you, lizard!" Stalks felt a little confused with the situation. Farkas in front of him who he was half turned to, the beast on hes side and something more behind him according to the twins. He threw himself again to the side, this way towards the only direction which seemed to be empty. Rolled and got up on his feet again to turn around again, this time with the dagger drawn and held outwards with the hand. I'm getting tired of throwing myself and rolling here and there. Just as Lilith was about to move in for another strike, an arrow shot out of nowhere burying itself in the werewolf's shoulder, the second wound that it sustained since the fighting started. The beast, turning towards the direction of the shot in surprise of being surprised, took off into the woods and soon tackled a woman from behind the tree at once. The snapping of bone and tearing of flesh was all they heard until more arrows came flying. Soon, the forest was alive with the battlecries of men and women they could not see. The werewolf ignored all of this, even as another arrow struck it and consumed the heart of the savage looking female. Strength renewed, the beast stood on its hind legs with renewed vigor and let out the most heinous of howls released all day. Lilith felt the howls pierce her very mind, filling her head with grotesque images of death and murder, maws tearing her asunder. But all she did was smile with a longing stare as if fantasizing about the blood that would soon be spilled. To answer the beast's call, more of the savage men and women came running out from their hiding places from many different sides to ambush the fighters standing center stage. The beast was the first to strike, hopping up in the trees, pulling victims away along with it to be torn above them as their angry and fearful cries fed its blood lust. Stalks quickly managed to sheath his dagger and pull out his spear in time for the first savage to get close enough to have his throat impaled on it. For Stalks, fighting with the spear had always had a feel of fishing, but with less water. Another came running from the side and made a swipe with the strange spiky bone sword. Stalks quickly ducked and swung around, hitting the man's legs with the tail causing him to lose balance and stumble forward. And Stalks wasn't about to let him regain balance as he quickly pierced the bare back of the reachman with a few strikes from the spear. The man stumbled forward for another few steps before tumbling dead to the ground. Seeing as more of them came towards him, Stalks quickly ran uphill in order to get the high ground. The spear allowed a bit more reach than his adversaries, so he managed to keep them at bay, taking stabs at them and maybe landing a few hits before quickly retreating. It was very important to not get surrounded. More arrows came flying up and more Reachmen kept coming to send them at the werewolf who was hopping from branch to branch, until the beast finally caught one in the leg and fell to ground level on top of a man, who it quickly dispatched. The twins were standing back to back, dropping the poorly outfitted and equipped men like skeever, but eventually they started to try and retreat, as they were quickly being surrounded. The werewolf too saw this and tried bull rushing its way through a line of the Forsworn. Lilith was already gone and nowhere to be found yet again. Need to get out of here. Stalks desperately thought as he tried looking for a good escape route while also dealing with Forsworn trying to get to him. Still stabbing at them from his elevated position among the cliffs between his retreats uphill. Fleeing uphill would be hard as it got steeper and steeper the further up he went. Another Forsworn came running from the side and tried climbing up a steep cliff to flank him, but Stalks just gave the mane a kick in the face, poking his eyes out with the claws at the same time, so he fell to the ground screaming and holding his hands over his now bleeding eye sockets. At least the archers focused on the werewolf or he would probably have been a pincushion by now. As the hill got steeper, he grew more and more desperate. And he was bleeding more and more as the Forsworn started getting some hits at his legs. A relief washed over Stalks as he pulled out the spear from the head of the last Forsworn that had come after him before they retreated from the blue clad warriors. But as the adrenaline passed he felt blood dripping from his maw. Another type of panic welled over him as he realized the blood was that of the werewolf and that he might have swallowed a few drops in the heat of combat. He frantically started spit on the ground as he reached for his water sack, filled his mouth with water before spitting it out together with the blood. Rinsing and repeating till half the sack was empty. He would still need a potion to be fully sure he wouldn't turn. But he could brew one later when he was in a safer place. Right now he started by making his way down the hill to the road where the Stormcloaks were standing. And hopefully they wouldn't pay him much attention. As that thought passed, one of the men who wore a bear head over his came over and tapped Stalks on the back. "You, lizard." "I'm just a merce..." Stalks then suddenly saw something approach at high speed from the corner of his eye as he turned around. And before he could even turn his head to see what it was, it hit him and everything turned black. **** "Here, lizzy lizzy lizzy... Wake up!" Stalks felt a splash of water against his face which caused him to fully snap out of his half sleep. He looked up and the first thing he saw was a rugged nord, clean shaven and bald on the sides of the head with thick line of brown hair in the middle. The nord also a had a big ugly scar on the neck. Even though the nord was a terrifying sight, Stalks couldn't help but to strangely find the nord's appearance remind him of an ugly and deformed fish, that also had a scar a bit under it's mouth, he had once caught. At least it brought some a amusement to an otherwise grim situation. The nord held a bucket in one hand, with water dripping from it's rim but it was otherwise empty. Now looking around he could see he was in some kind primitive looking fur tent with a brazier in the middle, where Stalks and the nord was, but the fire wasn't enough to cast light too all the corners of the tent so the outer rims were left in the dark. The flap was closed so he had no vision of what was directly outside the tent but another flap in the roof was half open to let smoke from the fire out. Through it he saw that the sky was dark and a few stars and half a moon peeked forth behind the clouds. Stalks now turned his attention to himself and he felt he was sitting in some kind of simple wooden chair, hands bound behind his back and feet tied to the front legs of the chair. Feeling around the fingertips he felt he could scratch at the ropes with his finer claws but any attempt at escape would probably be hours away. But then another thought sprung to mind and he frantically started to look over his body, the parts that he could see from his bound position, to see if any hair had begun to grow anywhere. At least the moon wasn't full and so far he didn't see any hair on his body. Maybe he was just getting worked up for nothing. But the risk of turning into a feral werebeast still lingered in his mind. The general was a lot more pale than he used to be, though not necessarily more than normal Nords, as he always had a tad more color in him from his years in Hammerfell. The Nord's face was blank, no emotion in it. As if it were stone. His stance was perfectly still and his eyes dead still. He didn't even blink the entire time he watched Stalks. Brund ran a hand through his hair and started to pace back and forth before he finally said, "What were you doing all the way out here, lizard? And what is your name?" Looking up at the nord again Stalks just stared in silence for a second before snapping back to his senses. "I'm a bounty hunter. I'm hunting a bounty on a dunmer woman named Lilith. And my name is Stalks-Deep-Waters." "Heh, yea I'll bet you do," Brund said, taking "Stalks Deep Waters" as a euphemism, since he wasn't accustomed to Argonians and their quite literal names. Suddenly, the Nord's boot came flying out into Stalk's gut, making the chair tip over. After dragging it close so he was back near the fire and paying no attention to his tail that he just dragged Stalks over, Brund stood over him and knelt. His expression wasn't angry still. Just blank. Still not blinking, he said, "Lies. The Companions told us about you. They said you were a spy for the Forsworn. Tired of us Nords back east, so you decide to unite, eh? Enemy of my enemy and all that shit?" "What? Black Marsh is far from Skyrim. Why should we care about Nords? And it's the Companions that lie in that case. I'm a mercenary, or a bounty hunter depending on what jobs are available. And the Forsworn don't hire mercenaries as far as I know. I don't even think they have the gold for it given what armaments they run around with. And my name is Stalks-Deep-Waters. It's the Cyrodiilic term for the name I was given in Black Marsh, which is," Stalks then proceeded to say something which sounded like some kind of strange word mixed with a hiss and a couple of clicks. Brund finally showed some emotion and laughed at what he thought was a stupid way to communicate. "You trying to play me, Stalks-Damp n' Deeps? You're aware we have Argonians from Morrowind and Black Marsh in Windhelm. And you most certainly aren't from here, coming in my land and calling our most honored warriors liars. It makes sense that the Argonians would seek their help, now that the Legion no longer can take Skyrim. They're desperate. Just like your pathetic attempt at this lie. You know what we- no... you know what I did to spies back in the legion?" Brund walked away for a bit, then came back with a skull from his pack. "It's an elf's skull. Altmer legionnaire. Spying against us back in Hammerfell. Swore again and again that he wasn't a spy and that the real spy must have set him up. I knew better." Brund left again to get a bottle of mead from the same pack, which he poured and drank from his Great War souvenir. "I'm from Black Marsh. Any Argonians outside Black Marsh and not from my tribe are not my concern. I ventured out of the great swamps and my fishing village to find gold and adventure. I'm a mercenary working for whoever pays me the most. Right now my job is chase down Lilith. If you've gone through my stuff you've probably already found a note from the steward of Windhelm declaring said bounty. And the Companions want this bounty as well. They simply don't want competition." Brund made a thoughtful noise to himself, then said, "It's true, you did have that note. A good cover-up. That's what it is. You did after all say that you work for who pays you the most. The Forsworn may not be able to afford your service, but the Thalmor could. They likely still have contacts in Skyrim. The Forsworn also could have offered you stolen coin from us, but they aren't likely smart enough to give you a bounty letter from Windhelm... But, lets say I give you the benefit of the doubt and this is all true. Tell me, why should I care? The Companions don't want you involved and you're suspicious. That's enough reason for me to kill you. Just to make sure. The men will understand. Or I'll make them understand. What do you say to that, Poon Stalker?" Now he forgot about any werewolf blood that might be circulating in his body turned all his attention to the crazy and bloodthirsty Nord. "Why not hire me instead? I work for the highest bidder. And I'm a good tracker." Though he had no intentions of working for that man, all he wanted now was to buy time. "Do not try and play me like a young maiden, lizard. I'm not so easy. We don't use mercs. We don't pay for outside assistance. We use loyal men willing to piss blood for us. For precisely the reason of possible spies. I hire you, you run with whatever information you may be carrying. Worse case scenario, I help out the Companions which is plenty fine by me. The men are riled up as of late. Still pissed off about their lost brothers and sisters in this dragged out scuffle. I think I'll make a spectacle out of you just before we head out in the morning, hehehe. Sleep tight, little one. Men!" Brund turned sharply and stepped out of the tent, then shortly after, a gang of Stormcloaks came in to apprehend Stalks again and take him to his holding place. To prevent struggle, the same Nord officer that Stalks met before came to put his lights out again with the same shield. *** As Stalks woke up with a headache. Now he was sitting on the ground and tied to a pole. Now he was in another tent with the entrance open. He could see two guard standing at each side of it. And beyond the guards was the night sky and below it could several fur tents and the lights from fires between them be seen. He sighed and leaned his head back against the pole. "I never thought it would end like this." He thought loudly. "Shut up, spy," said one of the guards from the entrance. "Or I'll remove that tail of yours and stuff it down your throat." "I'm a bounty hunter. Not a spy. I'm on a job from the steward of Windhelm. You can ask him if you don''t believe me." Stalks shouted back. "Convenient when we're all the way in the back ass of the Reach, fool," said the other man. "Perhaps I should hop skip my pale Nord ass up High Hrothgar to ask Kyne next if you're innocent on my way there?" The other man snickered. "I didn't see it. Boss says you're a spy, so that's good enough for me. I'm not the general, here." "Your boss is wrong then." An idea popped into Stalks head. "Can I at least get a final meal?" "Yea, I got your final meal right here," the Nord to the left grabbed at his crotch and caused the other Nord to laugh once again. "Come on, we can at least give him a final meal. He's gonna need it after the general gets his hands on him." "Hah, true. Fine, we can maybe get somethin' for ya as I don't really buy the spy line, but I wouldn't count on it. No one wants to lose their rations and I'm certainly not giving you mine." "I got a small delicacy from Black Marsh among my belongings. Squashed fish eyes. Poisonous to humans though. It's in a small leather pouch that feels like it's filled with a gooey liquid." Stalks said. "Ech, I could have gone without knowing what it was." The guard walked off for a few minutes, and by the sound of it, to a chest behind the tent where Stalk's stuff probably was being held, then came back with the pouch. "Here," The Nord reluctantly opened the small leather sack and held his nose away from it, not wanting to smell whatever garbage was in there that he described. He put the concoction to Stalks' mouth and tipped it in quickly. "Should've asked for something with some real substance, but no skin off my sack. Now keep quiet." Stalks drank as much as he could and even stuck his tongue out to lick the inside of the pouch as much as he could before the guard snatched the pouch away fro him. As the sap had many years ago back in Black Marsh, he felt an invigorating feel flow through his body, but not as potent as it had been back then. Maybe it was because the sap was old or maybe because he was far away from the trees. But it was potent enough for now. And as the time back when he had ingested the Hist sap last time, he felt a presence whispering to him. But the presence felt distant and whispers were vague. And the whispers did not consist of words but more of a pure understanding. And Stalks just sat there staring silently into the distance. The guard didn't seem to care and just went back to his post right outside the tent. With his increased strengt, Stalks pulled silently at the ropes which he could feel was straining to keep him. The claws would be needed and he quickly and silently cut deeply into the ropes that soon gave way. The guard didn't seem to have noticed a thing. In fact one of them was yawning. Now free from the ropes that had been tying him to the pole Stalks crawled under the wall of the back of the tent. And as expected the chest with his belongings were there. Silently Stalks fastened the bags and weapons to his sides and back. Looking around Stalks could see that the camp lied in a valley like most others in The Reach. Half the camp lied against a steep mountain wall. And to his luck he was at the far end of just that half. He would have to through at least half the camp unless he wanted to take his chances at climbing what looked like a treacherous wall. Stalks instead reached for his pocket for an invisibility potion but stayed his hand. The presence was gnawing at him. After a second of doubt he instead let the potion be and stepped forth from behind the tent. But he vanished from sight all the same. The sap also made him feel light on his feet as he silently and quickly sneaked between the tents. There wasn't many out and the flames of the fires had turned to a glow among the charcoal. But there were still some soldiers sitting or patrolling around the camp. One of which turned his head towards Stalks as he made a misstep. But seeing no one there he just continued his patrol. Stalks made his way past a large tent with a Stormcloak banner hanging just beside the entrance. As he passed the half open entrance he peeked in for a quick look. A low gruff voice from within the dark of the tent said, "This ******* thing, how am I supposed to go about getting any with this now? Guess I'll just leave my shirt on. Still, it'll be worth it. My time is coming. And it'll be his heart that gets ripped out next." It was the same man that had interrogated Stalks. The man with the odd haircut, rough looks and big scar along his neck that still reminded Stalks about that deformed fish. But it was less amusing now after that that man had ordered his death. But now he could see another odd thing, the Nord had his shirt open and even though he was standing with his side towards Stalks, Stalks could still see what looked like a piece of metals stuck onto the man chest, about where the heart would be. The presence gnawed at him again, but this time it made him feel uneasy. So he quickly left the tent and continued through the camp. When he reached the other side of the camp he saw a road a few yards down a small hill away from the camp. He went down and followed the road north, as that was the direction Lilith had headed before the werewolf had attacked. The vigor the Hist sap had given him passed as he got further and further away from the Stormcloak camp and the presence he had felt left with it. Soon he found the familiar footsteps of the heavy armored twins. He would still have to make camp and brew himself a potion for the werewolf blood. But that would have to wait for later as for now he needed to get as far away from the Stormcloaks as possible before they realized he had escaped.

Skjari Late noon Cheydinhal It had taken another few days to reach Cheydinhal. The city surrounded by forests and beyond the green trees the Jerall and Valus Mountains could be seen rising to the sky in the distance. The day was bright with only a cloud dots here and there on the blue sky. But Skjari didn't care about the landscape at all and had only one focus in mind: To reach Cheydinhal and get the count to settle down. After leaving their horses at the stable and passing the western gates the castle was conveniently just a few blocks to the north and up a hill. Then another set of gates to the castle courtyard before finally getting stopped by the guards at the doorway into the castle. "I request an audience with the Viranus, Count of Cheydinhal." Skjari told the guards with a commanding voice. "And tell him... that I want to speak about a grey child." "Who should I tell him is here, sir?" the middle-aged guard asked, his voice betraying a hint of annoyance. Apparently he wasn't one to take kindly to Nords, not so soon after the war. "Lord Snowstrider, from the Imperial City." The guard snapped to attention, then said, "Yes, m'lord. Right away." The man ran off, but appeared not five minutes later and said, "Right this way, m'lord. The count is ready at this instant for your meeting." "Good. Lead the way then." Skjari said as he gestured for the guard to walk ahead. "Sir, yes sir," the man said, awkwardly saluting. They then entered the castle, walking through a large and grand central hall, but it was not where Skjari was to meet Count Claevius. "The count prefers to meet in his private office, if you don't mind, m'lord." "I expected as much." Skjari then turned to his companions. "Maximus, Bormir, you come with me. Rest stay here. And don't do anything stupid." Skjari paused for a second as he was almost about to turn back to the guard. "Try to not do anything at all till I get back." Then he finally turned back to the guard. "The count?" "Of course," the Imperial man said, once again taking point as he led the trio of wizards to an outlying spire, and then began ascending the stairs. "The count loves to be able to see the countryside and the city while he works. Reminds him of who he is working for. Although I think it may also have to do with fleeing the countess, as she has been known to hound him on occasion. But she doesn't take kindly to stairs, and as such he is safe from her clutches up here," the guard was uncharacteristically blabbing, but he was equal parts nervous and anxious that the court mage was here, as it could mean only one thing. The capital was fed up with his master's speaking out, and the mage was here to stop it. That, and he usually didn't treat high ranking visited, but the butler or steward was currently disposed, so he had to do it, and as such wasn't sure how to address the Nord, whom he liked more now that he knew who he was. Skjari only listened in on the guards chattering because he might mention something worthwhile. But he already knew about the count and his relationship with his wife. But throughout the whole walk he remained quiet and with a neutral expression, sometimes just giving a light nod or a simple word or even just a "hmm" to assure the guard that he was listening so guard wouldn't stop talking. The guard continued to blabber on, until the group reached the top of the tower. "The count's office, m'lord. He said to send you in," the guard said, pushing the door open. "Thank you." He said in a neutral voice. "You two stay outside for the moment." He then said in a commanding voice, without turning around, which was directed at the two following apprentices. And with that he stepped into the office. Count Viranus Claevius, a pale man of his early forties, sat facing the large windows that overlooked the city. His rust colored hair didn't reach his shoulders, but one would still call it shaggy if they saw it. The count's right hand sat on the armrest, mindlessly drumming to some unknown rhythm. The left reached down to the floor, where a large shepherd style dog lay, his muzzle brown and long, hope the rest of hits body was black. It pointed ears, always standing up, were considerably more perked as the stems her walked in. Unlike its owner, who paid no heed to the Nord, the dog, Gus, walked over and sniffed the newcomer, eager to see who it was that climbed all the way up here. Just to play friendly, Skjari reached down and patted the dog on the head and then scratched it a little behind the ear, before looking to the count. "I doubt much explanation will be needed." He then closed the door behind him. The dog accepted the Nord affections, but only for a few seconds before he meandered back to his owner, who resumed his petting almost as if it had never stopped. "No, none at all. We both knew this day was coming. Take a seat, if you wish," Viranus said, still staring out the window, but pointing to chair against the wall that the large window was on. Skjari walked across the room and took the seat. "So will you stop your barking and fall in line?" He said, no spite or anger or anything, just calm indifference in his voice. "And why should I? For you, for this girl? Had I just walked into the palace and murdered her father like she did would I have had a hero's welcome? Funny, we went to war with Skyrin because one man challenged their king to a duel, in accordance with their beliefs, and we labeled him murderer and a usurper. But a former Thalmor bitch does it in cold blood and suddenly she's the savior of the Empire!" Count Claevius said, still staring out his window. "Because if you don't, I'll let everyone, especially your wife and her family know about your little grey and pointy eared mistress. But more importantly, her son who just happens to be a little bit too old for them to be able to tolerate it." The count didn't turn, but his face clenched up and he shifted in his seat, noticeably uncomfortable. "I regret nothing. I was young and foolish, and sometimes things like this happen. But that racist witch downstairs will no doubt never let me hear the end of it, and her family as well. I just can't see how I am supposed to support a young woman whose crimes were worse than those of Ulfric Stormcloak, as he at least challenges Torygg to a duel before killing him. And yet one was praised and the other shunned. This I am supposed to accept, without question?" "I do not really care about what doubts you may have. And I wasn't a part of this political climate before Amuand's death, so I cannot really comment. But I will not risk civil war." "So this is it? I now have to sit back and watch as this basically teenage lesbian run us into the ground. The populace may be too distracted by war to see the writing on the walls, but I see it all too well. Even if you do manage to produce an heir, what then? You think you, a relative unknown until a few months ago and this young girl can rule this province? I dare not call it an empire any longer, because if High Rock has any sense at all they will drop us like a hot stone. It matters not, I'm sure I'll have been assassinated and replaced by then. My wife speaks very favorably in regards to the empress, so she would be an excellent candidate, especially if you wish to alienate all the Dunmer as well," Viranus said, while his dog peeks it's head up, looked at both his master then the Nord, then laid his head back down when he found nothing of interest to him. "I haven't run any kingdom or empire into the ground yet. And I don't think you'll be the one to die if the knowledge of your illegitimate child got out. My guess is that you'd be grounded while any threats to your legitimate children's inheritance would be removed." "Surely you don't think me stupid enough to actually keep the child here? No, I long ago sent both the mother and child off to Morrowind. Even then, if I stop you must never tell Syloria or her family. They are too influential in this city for me to oppose them. Thankfully Mr. Afronia tends to like me more than his wife, but it would be a death sentence for my reign in this city if it gets out I have a bastard." "Especially a dark elf of that age. And I know the child isn't here. But I do you send and receive letter from him and his mother every now and then. Just in case anyone doubts my accusations. And I wont tell anyone if you agree to my terms." "How could you possibly...never mind, just lay the terms on me so I can be rid of this business." "You already know them. Stop barking and fall in line. Or more clearly: cease your claim for the throne and start cooperating with the new ruler of the Ruby Throne." Count Claevius finally turned to look at his visitor, locking eyes with him and saying, "We do it your way then. I submit, I cease my claim to the throne. But I cannot follow someone so ill equipped as Dales Motierre. What credentials do you have, since it seems you are to be the true power." "The only thing I can show for now is that I've ended the remains of the skooma syndicate in Bravil. And that I've literally painted the streets of Leyawiin red in terrorist blood. I also stopped Tullius and his friend Jon from starting a civil war here in Cyrodiil." "So what do you know of getting the Elder Council's support for a law? Or diplomacy? Or the inner workings of the several bureaucratic committees? What about before this, what did you even do?" The count asked, getting up and walking to his window, which was he opened to let in the soft breeze. "I'm still figuring out how some Council member works. I know some diplomacy. And I've been studying some bureaucracy. But in the end of the day, all you need to know is a few simple rules. The rest is just figuring out who you're dealing with. And I've done a lot of things. You wouldn't even believe half of it." "I'm sure you could regale me with your exploits for weeks without getting tired," Viranus said dryly, as he looked over the city. "Is that it? Are you done blackmailing me into submission?" "I am. As long as you keep your end of the deal." "I don't have much choice in the matter it seems." "No. Stay as count and don't do anything stupid. And you'll have peace, and maybe one day, prosperity." "I doubt I'll ever have both. Peace, maybe, but war is on the horizon, and soon no one will be peaceful. And as long as you have me in your grasp, I'll never he at peace. You have assured that." "I was more referring to your county. You're still far from the southern border. You can still make this a good place for your children to live in." "But always with the shadow of what I've done hanging over them. One foolish night years ago...I may be far from the border, but I am by no means safe with this information known." Skjari frowned a little for second as his voice got an impatient and annoyed undertone. "Your situation hasn't actually gotten worse. You're still count, you still rule this city and it's surrounding lands, but you still have to answer to the Ruby Throne." "If you found out, it is only a matter of time before others do. Do not think that you coming here will have gone unnoticed. The next blackmailer may not be as generous as you. But we all make choices, and they come with consequences. I just should hope my children and my people do not have to pay for my mistakes." "Better take some steps to cover up the information a bit better then. Anyway, I think it's time for me to take my leave." "You will excuse me if I do not bid you a fond farewell, I hope. I doubt you would if someone had just blackmailed." Skjari got up form the chair. "I don't need you to like me. I need you to understand and cooperate. Good day to you." And with said, Skjari left the room, leaving the count to his self pity. As Skjari left the count's room, he gathered his apprentices on the way out of the castle. Once they've picked up their horses and was a league away from the city a courier ran up to him and handed him a message. A message from high General Gracchus. Asking about telling the count about a request for some troops as well as some information about an idea to move orcs to the mountains bordering to Morrowind and Black Marsh. I have to go all the way back? Skjari thought as he a little frustrated had to turn his horse and the entire company around just to go back to the city. ****** Alduin's Fire, I need a bath. Skjari thought as walked into the garden of the Imperial Palace. But then he suddenly heard dales' voice from somewhere into the garden. "And you would be happy to know Raine's alright...she isn't drinking as much as before..." Skjari wondered who Dales was gossiping with. And walked in the direction from where he heard her voice. He found her in a slightly secluded part of the garden. Dales was wearing a black dress, along with a pair of fashionable dark gloves, contrary to her white skin and pale blonde hair. She was standing over a ornate gravestone, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. Just by her voice you could tell she was holding back tears. "Your with Miku, right? I...hope she's not being too annoying." She chuckled, a hollow chuckle. Her eyes were getting watery. Skjari quietly walked up behind Dales and put a hand on her shoulder. "She's not coming back." Dales turned around in surprise and embraced the mage, burying her face into his chest. "Master..." "Yes, yes." He responded,his voice somewhat indifferent to Dales' sadness. He patted her a little on the head at first, but then he suddenly caught a glimpse of someone else some distance into the garden, he gave her a full embrace as he instead spoke a low and comforting tone. "I'm here." Just in case anyone was watching. "Are you sure...there isn't anyway to bring back the dead? I would do anything to see her smiling face again." She turned, weeping, "All those girls I had sex with...I always imagined I was doing it with her. It just made me want her even more. I cant stand living without her anymore. I cant take it..." "Her soul is blessed by Arkay. There's no bringing her back." "No...way...." Her features becoming downcast, she asked, in a shy voice, "You...you told me once you loved somone dearly, and she was taken from you. How-how did you cope? I've tried...I've tried to detach myself from my emotions...but that doesn't help." "I don't know. But I know wallowing in it doesn't help." "What can I do? Bury myself into my work. All that does is make me feel worse. I've tried asking Lilly, she's a physician, not a psychologist." She lowered her voice considerably, "Your like ten thousand years old, surely you have infinite knowledge." He lowered his voice as well. "I've only been active for a bit more than a thousand of those years. I just keep going, because giving up is never my way. And there's no joy or gain in giving up. There's always a tomorrow." "I suppose your right." "Lets get back to the palace?" She gently layed down the bouquet of flowers. Then she smiled, offering him her slightly small hand, "Take a girl for a walk?" "Of course my dear." He said as he took her hand, which he could feel very well despite still wearing his gauntlets. And then led her back to the palace. She let her head fall on his shoulder as they walked away. Once inside the palace he stopped for a second so some servants could see. "I got a little present for you." He held up his free hand, but it was empty. Then he closed and opened it and there lied a delicate gold ruby ring in Nibenese design. "Oh...how pretty..." He held up her and put the ring on her finger, then leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Just don't ask where I got it." "Giving your bride to be shady rings, now?" She smiled, giving him a peck on the lips. "Well lets just say; to the victor goes the spoils. And there's a lot of dead losers in Leyawiin. Anyway, I'm going to take a bath. Can you go tell Lilly I want her company?" "Good girl." He said in a cheerful and playful voice and ruffled her hair a little and then gave her a kiss on the cheek, before going back to whispering. "And tell her to be discrete." "Of course." She said leaving her master. Skjari himself went his separate way into the almost endless and winding halls of the palace till he finally reached the bathroom. The bathroom was quite big with a dragon statue on the other side of the bath, constantly pouring fresh warm water from it's gaping mouth into the bath. The bath was formed in a large circle and the imperial dragon symbol could be seen at the bottom in dark red mosaic. There was also a large wooden screen between the bath and the door, probably to prevent any curious soul from peeking through the keyhole. Skjari removed the armor and armaments and put them in a corner on some towels and then threw off the clothes in a pile next to it. And after traveling for some weeks now and with little time to relax, slipping down into the warm clean water felt like a blessing from the gods. "Lord Snow-Strider." Lilly entered into the bathing area, clad in Oculatus leather armor. Skjari turned his head to get a better look at her. "Hello Lilly. How have things been going since I left?" "Cyrodili is stable. However, I wish I could say the same about High Rock." "What happened? I picked up word on the road that their usual internal strife has gone up a notch. And why don't you get that armor off? The water is lovely." Lilly stripped naked, taking off everything except her panties. She went into the water, dunking her head in for a second, "Full on civil war. Some families are resisting King Theodore's rule. Dales has already given him permission to utilize legion forces stationed there." Skjari put an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Hopefully it'll be dealt with soon enough. But if he doesn't get it under control soon, I might take a few men and go there myself." She gave him a sly smile, "Take on the rebels yourself? That would be a sight." "It probably would." He paused for a second. "Anything else happened?" "A certain admiral, Tacticus dissappered, and returned recently. He was taken prisoner by the Dominion." "He actually managed to escape?" His voice had a hint of disbelief. "That's what he claims." She paused for a moment while she got a thoughtful expression. "And I think I should tell you; a sister from my coven attempted to seduce Dales with magic perfume. A real snake, my third cousin, Mary Quentas. I dealt with her." "Snake? Karsh told me about a nice brunette with a pet snake he met in your house. Same person?" "Yes. I should have filled her with throwing knives while I had the chance, along with her pet." "I would be careful with that. If she dies people might start wondering why she died. And I thought we were going to tone down Dales' sexual preference." "It isn't Dale's fault, that perfume messed with her head. Thank the nine Captain Imperius was the one who caught her in the act, he's discreet and will remain quiet. She hasn't had sex with anyone in a month." "While she probably isn't trustworthy, I would be careful in what judgement to pass before we know what she was after. Death is a punishment usually reserved for traitors." "I was joking by the way about turning her into a pincushion." "As long as she doesn't mess with Dales any more, I doubt she would be much of a threat. And regarding Karsh..." "Ah, the annoying raven. Little Helen took quite the interest in him, me on the other hand..." "I don't want to have to travel all the way to Bruma or even Skyrim just to catch another one of the nordic breed. And then spend another month enhancing and teaching it. You don't have to like him, just tolerate him and keep him fed and safe." "Fine." "And why so hostile towards him to begin with? I know he can be annoying. But I don't think that warrants the treatment you've given him." "Raven's are naturally distrustful animals. They steal and laugh at everyone. Don't like them, especially talking enchanted ones." "They're also quite clever, even without enchantments. Anyway, anything else I should know?" "Dales seems to be recovering physically and emotionally." "I found her in the garden in front a grave, talking." "Really? To who?" "Elen, I think her name was. The girl who died in Skyrim." "Elan. Raine told me about her. Her and Dales shared puppy love. Shell get over her." "Hopefully." Skjari paused for a second. "So how did the docks warehouse go? Was he looking to sell?" "Everything went smooth. No one expects a things." "Good. Can you do me a favor and find another suitable 'seller'? Take your time, don't want to rush." "Sure." "Thank you." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "So, how is the new high general doing?" "He's alright. Don't like some of his subordinates though, that General Retrius doesn't know what I'm capable of it seems." "What about this Retrius?" "Insulted you, is extremely disloyal and rude about Dales, insulted me. If he wasn't a damn good general, I would have already turned him into a frog." "He's not above insubordination, or the law. I doubt he will dare to throw insults around for long." "Turning him into a frog can wait for after the war. For now, he's of use to the empire." "You don't have to deal with him. Just send any reports with an agent." "You're the boss." "And your boss got you a present." "And what may that be?" Skjari put the tops of his fingers together in front of Lilly and when he pulled them apart a silver necklace appeared. It was had a elegant design with vines and leaves along with with three flowers, one big and two small and in the center of each flower was a sapphire. "What do you think?" "Its beautiful." She said her eyes glittering, "I can't accept this...." "Why not?" "It...must have been expensive. You should give this too someone you consider precious." "But you are precious." And I only had to spill a bit of thieving cat blood for it. "I....am?" She said blushing. "You are." He said and brought the ends of the necklace around her neck and fastened them together. Letting the necklace rest slightly above her breasts. And she let her head fall to his chest. "Want to have some fun before we leave this warm bath?" "I would love that." She said and then cast a water breathing spell. And gave him a kiss before she slipped down under the surface. ****** Still a bit wet in the hair, Skjari had now changed to his more colorful noble's clothes with red and blue with gold trimmings. He knocked on the door to the new high general's office. Gracchus was reading a letter from Engineer Valvius, detailing that he was in the process of streamlining the catapult designs to make taking them apart easier, which would in turn make transportation easier. He had just finished when a knocked at the door drew his attention, so he set the letter off to the side. "Come in," Gracchus said, wondering who it could be. Skjari opened the door and walked right in. "Hello. Lets just skip the pleasantries and get right to the point." He said as he quickly walked to and sat down in the chair opposite of Gracchus' desk. "I managed to find a copy of your service record. You'll get to keep your position for now. Just don't lose your head. But there's one more thing, there was a quite recent entry into your record, detailing very dishonorable action on your part that cost a lot of men and that you then blamed your mistake on a fellow legionary who got executed. So I wonder; are you trying to lighten your heart before getting this position or are someone trying to frame you." Gracchus' shock was evident, as he had never heard of any such entry on his record. The most recent entry he could remember was the Falkreath Incident, and that wasn't anywhere close to the circumstances Skjari described. "Framing. It must be. My most recent entry should be Falkreath, or Hammerfell if they are that up to date. But who is trying to frame me? That seems to be the mystery." "I don't know. It says that these events happened during the more chaotic part of the Great War and was just recently brought to light. And I suspect this would just be the first step, as they would also need to draw attention to this for it to have real effect." "Who would have access, not only to the records, but the means to change them? Until we could figure that out, it seems we must wait and see who tries to reveal this information," Gracchus said, still perplexed as to who would do this. Lithin, possibly, as Lilly had said ther was some animosity between them. Maybe another general who kept their discord quieter. Besides that, Gracchus couldn't recall any other enemies with access to military records. "Either someone with authority or someone very sneaky. And if this fella is smart, he wont reveal this information himself but rather tip someone off. And while we wait, I suggest you take some steps to assure people this is a lie." "What steps would that be? If I deny something that isn't even out yet it looks suspicious, to say the least." "I don't know right now. Need to think on it a bit more before I can come up with a good answer. Anyway, something else you would want to discuss?" "Yes, actually there is. Now that my job here is permanent, I hope you and the Empress will include me in any decisions that affect the military. I want to be sure that any mistakes my predecessors made will not be repeated. Also, I trust you received my letter?" "Yes, I did. Had gotten a good deal away from the city when it arrived. I don't like having to play messenger. And you also want to attract orc immigrants to the border mountains near Cheydinhal." "Considering the recent unrest in the county, I thought it prudent that you deliver the message, or else it might not be heeded. As for the Orcs, reestablishing ourselves as a diverse province again, with the help of our long allies the Orcs seemed a wise idea. It would also give us another ally in the next war." "I doubt they would migrate in large enough numbers for an alliance with them was to matter much in the next war. First you need to make them believe any promise you make. Then organize so they can pass through Cyrodiil without much trouble arising. And after that you'll need to help them settle in properly. Making promises doesn't cost anything but I don't know how much they'll believe us. But getting them through Cyrodiil and getting settled will cost money and manpower. And with the southern border and the looming war, there wont be much left to spare for this venture." "It will be considerable undertaking, but we need something to look forward to besides just war. We must continue to build for after the war, otherwise we will have a generation of children who know nothing but war and preparation for war. I do, however, fail to see how this will cost us any substantial amount of money. The orcs will walk, or ride, or travel how they see fit, while all we have to do is allow them passage into Cyrodiil. There will be those that take to stealing or trespassing once here, and we will deal with them as we deal with all thieves and law breakers. Once we inform their leader of the boundaries of their land, they can begin to settle there, or anywhere in Cyrodiil for that matter. While we are not the most attractive destination as of now, the influx of travelers and settlers will add another source of income, as will trade with Orsinium once they are established. All we must do is provide the idea, and the land, and they will do the rest." "I was referring to any supplies that would be needed for the travel and building of houses. While not exactly necessary, it'll definitely speed things up and give it all a much needed jump start. And I'd prefer if these orcs stay to a predetermined route to this new land. One that got more patrols. To help keep an eye on them for their and others' sake." "We'll use a route that utilizes established roads so we don't have to pull additional guards to watch over them. As for building supplies, I would expect they can mine and pull down trees from the mountains, but yes I can see if any ship builders and stone masons have surplus supplies to donate, or buy at a cheap rate. That'll allow them to settle quickly, and hopefully attract more immigrants." "Though I wouldn't put my money on that the first immigrants have much in the way of tools to work the stone and wood. And you just pulled guards from Cheydinhal. Their roads will be less patrolled. And if you've done the same with Bruma, their roads will be less patrolled as well." "Only Chorrol and Cheydinhal have had their guards reduced. I can supplement them with patrols from my legion stationed here in the city, as they are growing restless as is, and maybe they can clear out some bandits while they're at it. As for tools, I'll see if I can find some more cast off or cheap tools in bull to provide them. The orcs have been good miners in the past, so stone working tools shouldn't be in short supply. I hope they can even get to some of the deeper veins in the mountains that were too expensive for us to mine. Then we would have a direct line to a new source of ores." "I'm just expecting those that will jump at the opportunity of a new start will be those that have little to nothing as they have little to lose when leaving their previous home behind." "And hopefully they can become more prosperous with our help. I have a list of Elder Council members who I think would be the ideal candidates to go meet with both the Dunmer and the Orcs. There's really not a lot to meet with the Dark Elves about, just to warn them about the possibility of raiders should some Orcs decide to go that path." "Try to make more like a peace treaty so the Dunmer don't get any ideas of making preemptive strikes." "I'll pass that on to the diplomats. Do you want to look over the list or shall I handle it all? I can have a copy made, if you wish." "I'll let you handle it. Though I wouldn't mind a copy." "I will have one sent over soon. Well, is there anything you would like to discuss? I am sure you have a lot to get to since you've just arrived." "Is there anything else I should be aware of?" "You may remember Eduard Laenius, who served with me in Skyrim. He's coming back to the Legion, in an assisting role with me." "Nothing else?" "I met with the generals of the other legions. We decided to lower the draft age to fifteen, institute a lighter plate mail armor in place of our heavy armor, and to pull guards from Chorrol and Cheydinhal to supplement the forces in Anvil and Leyawiin. General Antonia also requested using her legion to fight bandits, as they are quite green apparently. We also discussed suggesting to the navy that someone watch Admiral Meridius, seeing as he was captured by the Thalmor after all," Gracchus said, leaning back in his chair. He suddenly snapped to attention, though, when he realized he had forgotten the most important news of all. "Sunbirds! By the nine, I almost forgot to tell you that a mysterious package wax left in the High Admiral's office, and it contained numerous and detailed diagrams and blueprints of the supposed Thalmor Sunbirds. The High Admiral went to retrieve a Telvanni mage from Kvatch by the name of Endar Drenin, who has experience in these matter. We hope he can help us figure them out." Sunbirds? Sounds oddly familiar. "Okay. And what about these diagrams? Can I have a look on them?" "Yes actually, I have them here," Gracchus said, reaching for a group of scrolls on a table near him. "Here you go. To be honest, we have no idea where they came from. They just seemed to appear." Skjari took the diagrams and looked them over. Even they looked familiar. The elven texts were also of a very old version. But one things stood out for him among the elven texts were small notes written in the ancient runic alphabet of the nords. And they were his notes. Though they weren't in his handwriting. Skjari got a very thoughtful expression along with blank stare as he tried to remember where he had seen this before. A vague memory of his servants doing a raid somewhere and that they came back with magical artifacts, diagrams and schematics. Some of which seemed to have been experimental or in various stages of development. But he had only given it some minor attention as he had been almost obsessed with trying to unlock the secrets of the Soul Cairn, and death itself, at the time. Snapping back to reality Skjari looked over the diagrams again and then to Gracchus. "Interesting. Though we should get this texts translated if we're to really make sense of it all." "I hope that's what Master Drenim will be able to do. The less people that know about this, the better. Unless you can translate it, of course," Gracchus said. "Might have a lexicon somewhere. If you have them sent to my office I'll see if I can have them translated. I'll leave them with you for now if you want to have any copies made." "I'll have a copy of each one made before I send them off. We don't want something to happen to the one set of diagrams and us be without the information." "No, we don't. Anything else, or is it time I get back to the world of political scheming?" "Nothing else. In sure you have plenty you need to do. Good day, Lord Snow-Strider," Gracchus said, rising and extending his hand. "Good day." Skjari said as he also got up and shook Gracchus hand. Then he left the room and shut the door behind him.

Castle Skingrad morning At the edge of town, Maggie sent Leni on ahead and paused to watch some pickers hurrying to harvest a last batch of grapes for the season. Overnight the frost had half frozen them. They would make a dense, sweet ice wine. Finally she forced herself to go on to the castle. There, Maggie half expected the guards to seize her, but all was as normal, and the steward reported that Count Darius was gone. No one knew where he’d gone or when he would return. At a loss, Maggie went up to her mother’s room. Anna Bathory was at her dressing table, Leni plying her face with powder. “Oh, darling!†Anna cooed when she saw Maggie. “How lovely that you are here. Janus has stayed away for days, the naughty boy, and won’t come see his mother. You both are terrible children. Always running off to the Imperial City or Elsweyr or some such place, and leaving your poor mother to fend for herself.†“You manage quite well, Mother,†Maggie said, leaning down to kiss Anna’s forehead. She came away with lips caked in powder. As if a vampire should need to be paler. Exchanging a knowing glance with Leni, Maggie asked casually, “Where is Father?†“Oh who knows. In his study. Hunting. I hardly know. None of you care a whit for me. You’re all so cruel. But not Toffee and Pumpkin.†These were her enormous cats, who remained on the bed, curled up in a mass of fur. Anna looked from them to Maggie. “Have you heard the dreadful news about Elenburo?†Elenburo was Jocasta’s estate, now wrecked and burned by Khajiit terrorists. “I have. A dreadful thing. Let us pray that the violence doesn’t overtake Skingrad.†“Do you think it might?†At Anna’s fearful tone, Maggie recognized her mistake. There was no sense bothering a mad woman about the reality of the Thalmor threat. “No. No, our legions and our walls will protect us, never fear.†The countess smiled, docile once again. Suddenly she clapped her hands. “I think we should have a dinner. A ladies’ dinner. That Fidenas woman is a wretched creature but I suppose we cannot do for better company on short notice. You’ll deliver our invitation, won’t you, darling.†It all sounded like perfect torture, but Maggie only smiled wanly. “Jocasta may not be up for socializing, but I shall call on her.†Much to Maggie’s surprise and dismay, Jocasta accepted the invitation. With Darius gone, there was nothing to do but wait. From the bedrooms, Maggie went down to the lower floors and the servants’ quarters. She found Jem’s valet, Gervais, sitting ramrod straight in a chair, apparently doing nothing but staring straight ahead. She questioned him about Jem’s whereabouts, what he had been doing and if he had said anything about their father, but got no coherent answer from the man. His dark eyes followed Maggie’s movements like that of a snake watching its prey. Or another snake. For a moment Maggie wondered what arts Jem had employed to keep a mortal under such perfect control. There was more life in a dremora summons than in this man. At a loss for what to do with herself, Maggie found her favorite stable boy and took him to her rooms for the afternoon. She needed to loose the restless energy, and feed, before she confronted Darius. At dinnertime she kicked the boy out and dressed herself in a dark burgundy shift and sheer black arm gloves. As she stepped out into the hallway, Darius was waiting. He glanced at her attire. “Going somewhere?†“Mother’s giving a dinner.†“There’s no time for that. Come with me.†Maggie followed along, half marveling that she still did whatever Darius told her to do, like a marionette on a string. She regretted that her sword was back in her room with her riding gear. Had Darius timed his return for just that reason? When they arrived at Darius’ study, he walked around the room, inspecting it, then turned and fixed his eyes on her. “What do you know of your brother’s... activities, lately?†“Nothing.â€â€¨ “Nothing?†The count's tone implied that he knew otherwise. Maggie was about to repeat her denial when she recalled something. “He wanted money, a few months ago. Four thousand septims.†“And you didn’t think to tell me?†“Jem always wants money. I didn’t give him any, if that’s what you’re worried about.†Darius’ eyes flashed with anger, then his expression eased. “No matter. I know where he is and what he’s been doing. You are going to kill him for me.†Maggie controlled her reaction. Darius was watching her, gauging. She recalled the night Darius had sent her to Rufus Imbrex’s room with a vial of what she believed to be poison, his laughter the next morning when she had done exactly what he told her to do. Her mouth twitched, and she shook her head once. “No. No, I’m not going to do that.†Instead of raging, Darius turned and contemplated the little Dwemer tonal clock on one of his bookshelves. “Jem is the one who tried to kill Samuel. The money he wanted from you was to pay the assassin.†Now Maggie could not prevent her surprise from registering. “Jem hired an assassin to kill Samuel? A mortal assassin?†Her brother was stupid and clumsy, but this was a new level. "A good one. Not good enough, as it happened.†“Is this why you sent Samuel away? Because you thought Jem might try again?†“More likely that Samuel would learn the truth. I could manage Samuel, of course, but this has gone far enough. An Order member loaned him the money. An associate of Sofia’s. The fool believed that Janus was asking on my behalf.†“I assume this banker is now provisioning slaughterfish in Lake Rumare.†“He’ll be dealt with in due course. What I need right now is for you to go to your brother, and kill him.†At her pause, Darius sighed and went on, “Surely you see that once Samuel was out of the way, you were going to be next. Our little count considers his position as heir to be in jeopardy. He believed Samuel was too close in my trust, that he might usurp the whelp's place, with your assistance. Or the other way around.†Darius was watching her again. This scenario was uncomfortably close to the truth. Not usurp Janus’ place, dear Father. Yours. “And you want me to kill him. Why not do it yourself?†Her only answer was a little crook of Darius’ mouth. Of course she knew why. Another test. "Who is to be your heir?" "It will have to be another member of the family. You and I both know that Jem would never be a suitable heir anyway. He has forced my hand now. I will not have such disorder in my house. Of course you must be discreet." Maggie turned and walked over to a chair, her hand resting on the back as her mind turned. Looking up, she said finally, “I will do it, but only under conditions.†His tone flat, Darius repeated, “Conditions?†“When this is done, things are going to change between you and me. No more orders. No chain-jerking or leash-shortening. I am going to open a publishing house of my own. You will not interfere. Ever. I’ll support the Order’s interests, but no longer as courtesan, and I will do so by my own lights and not yours. Who you choose as heir to Skingrad is up to you. I want nothing to do with it.†There was a pause, then she added, “And you will let me take Mother to Skyrim to be cured of our 'gift.' You will let her live out her mortal days in peace then go to her rest in Aetherius, neither in thralldom to our lords, nor to you. Your time of controlling every aspect of our lives is over.†Darius had been calm as Maggie spoke of her own independence, but at talk of Anna, he came slowly around, stepping between her and the door, and faced her. This is it, she thought, her mind still. His voice was low. “And that is all you demand, little bird? You want to... fly free, is that it?†“Yes. What you need, Father, is a partner, not a slave. Surely you see it now. I am not like Jem, and I am not like you. I’m going to be my own person, and our Order will be better for it. The empire will be.†There was another long silence, then he said, “I almost strangled you in your crib, you know.†Maggie looked up, shocked. Darius smiled. “I can remember standing over you, about to do it. I needed only one heir. Two would be a complication. I knew there would be rivalry. It made you both easier to control, but it would be a risk. I knew this, and so it has proved to be. With my hand around your little neck, I found I couldn’t do it. It is strange, in one so old as me, that a little Colovian farm girl and her get could have such a hold over to me, to stay my hand again and again. It is a weakness I will amend. You will kill Janus. Your mother will remain by my side for as long as I require her. And you will do exactly as I say, or I will strangle you as I should have done so long ago.†A tremor of rage went through her limbs. Darius said all of this with perfect assurance, a fully realized arrogance, as if it were already true. Maggie had an image of clawing his eyes out, of her fingers sinking into his brain. The longing to do it had never been stronger. Inexplicably then, she thought of Jon Hard-Heart. A formidable, talented man, who had wasted everything on simple pride. Maggie had lectured the Nord on putting his own pride before the good of the empire, on using chaos to further his ambitions. At the time, her own conscience had been pricked, as she realized that hers and Samuel’s plan was the same sort of selfish ambition. Yet when it came down to it, it wasn’t for the empire that she was going to obey. As if some other voice than her own was speaking, Maggie heard herself say, “Alright.†Something in her moved. Crumbled. She wished that Darius had actually strangled her as she lay in her crib. That would at least have had an end. Maggie now understood Gervais’ empty shell. It was fitting that a vampire, someone who sucked the life out of others, should have her own life drained from her. Darius smiled briefly, but was not one to gloat. That would indicate that his victory had ever been in doubt. “Very well. You should leave tonight. Janus is hiding out in a priest’s home in Kvatch. Even wary as he is now, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to get close to him. He always had a soft spot for you. Finish him, and then return to the court mage’s bed. He’ll be emperor soon, I’m told.†Maggie barely heard him, numb as she was. She would do exactly as her father bid. The door moved. It parted, first a crack, then wider. Anna was standing there. Before Maggie even saw the dagger in her mother’s hand, its tip was protruding from Darius’ chest. Both Darius and Maggie stared at it, this alien thing. It was one of the weapons in display cases in the corridor. The dagger was not the strangest thing, however. That was Anna’s voice. It was clearer than Maggie had ever heard it, such that at first Maggie didn’t even realize that it was her mother speaking. “...my babies. You get me, but you can’t have my babies. That was our deal, Darius. You lied. You made them into monsters like yourself. My babies, my beautiful little ones...†As Anna spoke, it gave her a new energy. She yanked on the dagger until it came free, then plunged it into Darius’ back again. He turned, tried to grab her arms. Anna grappled with him briefly, blood streaking her white gown, then she pushed him and backed away, leaving the dagger protruding from her husband’s back. The countess looked at her bloody hands, confusion returning to her eyes, the hard lines of her face softening back into their childlike contours. Maggie watched this, rooted in her place. It must be a dream. Leni’s scream from the hallway brought her back to waking. Darius knelt on the carpet. He reached around, trying to grab the dagger still stuck in his back. It tore his tunic open as it came out. Under the bloody cloth, Maggie saw the dagger wounds recede. He was healing himself, beginning to stand. Leni was still screaming. Guards were running towards the study. Her eyes moving from Anna to Darius, Maggie stepped forward, took the dagger from her father’s hand, and plunged it into the back of his neck. He jerked and tried to cry out, a spell flaring in his hand. Before he could release it, Maggie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his neck. The Lover’s Kiss would paralyze a mortal. A vampire could resist its effect, but not entirely. Darius was still struggling, though more feebly. Pulling the dagger out again, Maggie turned him and plunged it again and again into his chest. Guards tried to drag her off, but she threw them back with a telekinesis blast. No one tried to stop her then. Only when even the last glimmer of undeath had left Darius Bathory’s eyes did she stop. There was a bloody cavity where his chest had been, though under her hands the flesh began to turn grey and powdery. Maggie saw Darius’ distinctive features dissolve into the dust that alchemists prized so much. The sight brought her out of her frenzy. He was dead. Her father, and their patriarch, a man that even the most powerful vampires revered and feared. Through days and nights of remaining locked in isolated rooms, with his the only face she saw, he had become the whole world, her very life. She felt a sudden panic that the dust she saw on her gloves was not his, but her own. Anna came up behind her, kneeling. “Oh my. There, there. Don’t cry, Magdela. He’s alright. Your father needs his rest. Come along to dinner. Don’t cry, darling, you know you get all puffy when you do that. He’s alright. He’s alright." *** The guards and servants were easily managed. There had been a family argument between the countess and the rebellious daughter, that was all. Count Bathory had not yet returned from his travels. He may stay away yet a while. Important business for the empire. Anna Bathory was likewise easily dealt with. She sent Leni to beg Jocasta’s forgiveness and retreated to her room with her usual malaise, complaining about her naughty, neglectful children who did not come to call even when both their parents were ill. Maggie took what was left of the remains back to the hunting lodge. The raven was gone. She didn’t bother to light a fire, only remained there in the dark for a while, trying to make sense of a world without Darius Bathory in it. All her conspiracies, all the plotting with Samuel, and it had been... Her laughter echoed in the rafters. Finally, while it was still dark, she left the bag of ash and congealing blood behind and set out on the Gold Road, west, towards Kvatch.

Theodore Adrard Camlorn Morning Theodore sat at his desk, lost in thought. He had just returned from Northpoint the previous day, but there was little rest for those in the brink of war. Brink, hmph, the war has practically started. The last reports from Farrun told of a force marching from Evermor to assist Jehanna in the siege. Hopefully they last long enough for Lord Traven to arrive. As long as Colin stays away from any brash actions, they should be fine. It's time already I see. No sense in putting off the announcement any further. Theodore rose from his desk, still dressed in his night clothes. The silk garments slid of easily, an he handed them to his man servant that assisted him in dressing. First came on the socks, then the black trousers next. An undershirt fell over his rotund stomach, followed by a black shirt with gold trimmings. Next was the fur lined robe, styled after the Emperor's robes the Imperials generally wore. His wasn't as bright, replacing most of the reds and blues with browns and blacks, while still keeping with the extravagant design. Finally the boots slid on, finishing the outfit. "How do I look?" Theodore asked his helper. "Marvelous, your highness. Truly a splendid sight," the man replied in an even and practiced voice. "I am sure you will enjoy your time off. Thankfully your duties do not extend to the battlefield, harhar!" "Quite so, sir." "Yes, well, I do believe that is it. Ah, give me an extra handkerchief, will you? I can get seem to rid myself of this blasted cough I picked up in Northpoint. Always knew the place was poisonous to ones health," Theodore said, taking the spare cloth and shoving it in his pocket. Striding out of the room, two guards waited on either side of the door to provide escort to the war room. "Lovely day to start a war, is it not?" Theodore said with a playful air. "Yes, sir, a very....nice day," one replied, while the other took the silent road. They walked the halls, Theodore stopping by his son's room to call him to the meeting. Leaning in to open the door, his hand was on the doorknob when he heard giggling, moaning, and groaning. The king pulled back, and turned to one of the guards stationed by the door. "Once they're done, tell the Prince to meet me in the war room, as quickly as possible. Also, make sure Princess Lyenna is well looked after, after he leaves. Spare no expense for her comfort. That last part you can tell to her ladies' maid." "Yes, your majesty," the blonde haired young man replied, bowing slightly as he did. Walking away, Theodore began to think about his marriage, and how his first months together had been. What it was to be young, so full of joy and energy. I was thin then, well, thinner. I always leaned on the robust side. Hopefully this war sheds some pounds from my body, or I may not be much use against the Thalmor, harhar! But he needs to figure out rather quickly he cannot sleep and have sex his entire life. Hmm, I had not considered that with Elayne being pregnant, and Lyenna soon to be as well, that Roland's brother or sister will be the same age as his son. A truly strange predicament. That is if Elayne's pregnancy holds out. To bear children at her age brings a whole host of problems. I should hope it does not put any undue stress on her. I must tell her the ideas I have for names. A girl, Elisa, after my grandmother, and for a boy, Christopher, after her great-grandfather. I wonder if- Theodore's internal monologue was cut short, as his wife turned the corner in a pale green and blue dress, smiling at her husband. But, anyone who knew her could tell the smile was forced. Theo didn't day anything, however, knowing she would tell him in good time. "Hello dear. Off to the war room?" Elayne asked, glancing at the guards as they retreated slightly to give the royal couple some privacy. "Precisely. Although, I did want to speak to you about our child. I have two names picked out, Elisa and Christopher, if you like them. Also, if you are looking for Roland, I should hope you would avoid Roland's room for a while longer, as it seems he was trying to get Lyenna to join you in pregnancy," Theodore said, smirking at his clever wording. Elayne just rolled her eyes, but something seemed off even as she playfully patted her husband on the stomach, "If you don't lay off the sweets, you may join us as well! But, it was actually you I was looking for. A message from Farrun arrived, with sorrowful news. It seems as though the city is besieged, as we expected." Theodore's smile, which sprung up from his wife's joke, quickly dissolved into a frown. "And what of Colin and Irene? Are they safe?" Elayne grabbed Theodore's pudgy hand, stroking the back of it as she solemnly said, "I am afraid not. The newborn, Dilborn after my father of course, is safe, but Colin and Irene...his guard captain, a cousin of Duke Maul, was apparently working for the Jehannians, and managed to pay off a few guards to join him in assassinating Lord Ryger and Lady Ryger. I'm so sorry, I knew you were fond of them. Thankfully, Duke LaRouche and Duke Endre were able to regain order, and the city is supposedly holding strong, and the baby is being well looked after. But, they need reinforcements as quickly as possible." Theodore sighed, shaking his head as he did. "Gods damn Lielle and her piss-worth allies! There will be no solace for any of them, man woman or child!" Elayne hugged her husband, and he returned the embrace. "You had better go now, or risk irritating your allies. Here, take the letter as well, although I have told you all of its contents." The queen turned and walked back down the hallway she came, her head hanging as she did. Theodore set off again, his drive and purpose renewed. The guards kept their distance, knowing that the man from earlier who had joked about starting a war was dead and gone. A minute or so later, they reached the war room, a large room with a central, rectangular table. On the walls were several maps, as well as a free rolled up on a shelf. Gathered around the table were men from every city that had allied with Theodore. Lord Estermont, along with his vassals Duke Otus, Duke Wirich, Baron Tilwald, and Baron Perrick, all were present, seeing as they would be marching from here soon. Representing Daggerfall was Duke Gondwyn, while the rest of the Daggerfallians waited for the fleet to sail south and there join them. For Camlorn, Theodore, along with the young Duke Theirry, Duke Vette, Baron Eardwulf and Baron Kirbath, with Theirry and his ships sailing to join Northpoint, along with Kirbath. Vette and Eardwulf would travel south with Theo and his ships. Legate Reyderic Montrose hovered near the table, while the lone man from Northpoint, Lord Traven's cousin Thonir, stood next to the legionnaire. "Good day, sirs," Theodore addressed his allies, but he was solemn and downcast, or at least showed to be, "or, it would have been had I not just received a letter from Farrun. As we long suspected they would, the Rolston forces began the siege of Farrun. The letter was marked as having been sent four days prior, so no doubt they are in the thick of it. But it was not in my nephew, Lord Ryger's hand the letter was scribed, but that of Duke LaRouche, for Colin Ryger and Irene Ryger were both slain in cold blood, the latter only days after giving birth to a proud son Dilborn Ryger. The vile, low-born man who did this was their guard captain, but he is killed and the baby alive and well." "The bastards...I assume the city is safe?" the man who spoke was Duke Vette, a handsome man in his early forties, and an expert archer. "The city is secure. But this attack shows that our enemies have little soul left, and deserve to rot in the dirt. That is why I shall make a proposal, radical as it may be, but so that we can ensure that nothing like this sort of treachery happens again. The lords of these lands have king rebelled, undoubtedly with the assistance of their families. When we win, and we discover any treachery beyond that of the lord himself, such as a wife slandering me or a son participating in battle, I move that we eradicate, down to the youngest member, their entire family. As we have seen, they are very capable of doing to same, and feel no remorse about it. We must steel our nerves and ensure a safe, peaceful world for our children, one where they need not fear retaliation from some traitors child. What say the, my friends?" Theodore asked the men, who wore varying looks of disgust, sly happiness, and sorrow. "They've made the first move, struck the first blow. Why should ours not be that much more potent? I say we slay them all, so as to prevent any future danger, as our king said so well. Kill them all!" Baron Eardwulf said, while several men echoed with cries of "Here here!" and "Aye!" while fists pounded the oaken table. While those that supported the notion were the louder party, there were several that felt uncomfortable with the notion. Duke Theirry and Baron Kirbath both looked ill at ease, the former appearing as if he might vomit, while Legate Montrose looked decidedly upset about the entire thing. "It is settled then. As King of High Rock, I decree, from this day forth, that any treachery or traitorous activity outside of the lord himself will result in immediate execution of his entire family, down to the smallest child and oldest grandmother," the king said, writing down the order as he did. Turning to a guard, he said, "Take this to the scribe, and have him send copies to all the traitors. Make sure they get this decree." "Yes, my liege," the man said, scurrying off quickly. As he did, Roland Adrard slipped in quietly, his hair slightly rustled but otherwise inconspicuous. "Now, the war plan. Lord Estermont, you are to take the Legate's forces as well as your own on the road to Wayrest. Is that fine with you, Legate Montrose?" Montrose was still visibly uncomfortable at the prior announcement, but seemed relieved to move on. "We shall be glad of the company on the long march." "Good. I should hope it wouldn't be too lonely. Estermont, did you also left some behind to guard the road north to Shornhelm and Northpoint, yes? Did you as well Thonir?" "Yes, my king. I left around a third of my forces back home, guarding the narrowest mountain pass," Lord Estermont said in his deep, strong voice. Thonir nodded. "A fifth of our own men remain to guard the roads, and another fifth, the beaches. An attack on Northpoint is unlikely, and our men are well trained. No more should be needed." "Excellent. As for the rest of Lord Traven's men, they will join with two-fifths of my men, led by Duke Vette and Baron Kirbath. I will, along with Duke Mon, Duke Theirry, and Baron Eardwulf, sail south to unite my remaining forces with those of Daggerfall, and from there we can trap the Wayrestians between my own forces and those of Estermont," Theodore said, tracing the path of the armies with his pudgy finger on the map. "Now, if there are no other questions, it would prudent that we move now, as time is of the essence." The king swept his head around the room, looking to see if there was any indication that someone may want to speak. "What word is there of enemy group movements?" Thonir asked. "We know of the forces marching at Farrun, and those of Wayrest. What of the other rebel lords?" "Evermor seems to have moved their forces in a two fold fashion, half of them assisting Jehanna while the other half assist Wayrest. They seem to believe their forces adequate in Wayrest to destroy any force that attacks. It would not surprise me to learn that that she views Evermor as near impenetrable, considering its mountainous position and being bordered by the Bjoulase River on the other side. She is foolish to think anything of the sort, obviously," Theodore said, not missing the chance to slander his enemy. Several men nodded in agreement, with some genuine in their disgust for Lielle and others taking the opportunity to look good in front of their king. But no one uttered another question, so with a bow Lord Estermont led the procession of nobles out of the war room. "Roland," Theodore said, indicating he wanted his son to stay. Soon everyone had filed out, leaving on the king and the Prince behind. "You were late, I noticed. But with good reason I presume?" the father asked. "It takes two to produce and heir, of course," Roland said simply, toying with an enemy army marker on the map. "You missed my decree, however, and it is one I think you should hear. Anyone outside the lord or duke or baron that commits treachery condemns their entire family to death. Of course, I was forced to do this in light of the Jehannains murdering Lord and Lady Ryger, but it brings me little pleasure." Roland looked up quite surprised by the revelation his cousins were dead, and the startling realization that they were in a very similar situation to his own was striking. Young, recently married, with a newborn, something that the younger Adrard lacked but likely not for long. "I'm sorry to hear," he finally said, his fingers setting the marker back in its place. "I am sure you are," Theodore said dryly, causing Roland to suspiciously glance a his father, who continued, "but the fact remains that you missed this meeting, and while the business was urgent, you neglect the fact that all of my work and effort, scheming and murdering and compromising will be for naught if you do not follow my lead. No more maids or whores or other noble's daughters. You will devote more time to both Mido and Seles' teachings, once we are done. As for that, be sure to pack warmly for Farrun. And be careful. Remember what Mido and Vette taught you, and use that brain of yours." Roland rolled his eyes slightly at his father's suggestions, but only because he didn't want to admit Theo was right. Lyenna had mentioned the same thing, oddly enough, that he should buckle down now more than ever. He was quite fond of her, Lyenna. She was sweet and kind, but he doubted she would bat an eye at the news of this decree or any atrocities attached to a war. She had a toughness to her Roland liked, as well as a willingness to please her husband, in more than one way. No doubt under her father's orders to produce an heir as quickly as possible, but it mattered little to Roland the reason in which she bedded him. "I know," the prince said, straightening up into the correct posture his etiquette teacher would no doubt enjoy much more than his slouch. "I am trying, father, as I too know that the days of old are just that, old and gone. I just wish I could be in a more exciting place than Farrun. Especially with Baron Kirbath, he is so dull, in every sense of the word. All he talks about is stonework this, masonry that, as if I care what improvements he's adding to his lousy keep." Theodore chuckled slightly, recalling all too well that almost every conversation with Kirbath led to talks of castles, no matter what the occasion or subject. It didn't change the fact that Roland's safety was much more important than his happiness, so he quickly replied in his stern, fatherly manner, "Regardless of rather you like one of your vassals, or one of your vassal's vassals, you must learn to pretend to. Study up on Kirbath's land, Vette's archers, Eardwulf's dogs, and be able to speak with knowledge on these subjects. Pick up stories to tell, true or not, elicit laughter and smiles from your subjects, and they will love you. And once they love you, they will die for you, and that is true power. But first, listen to the Dunmer when she tells you which fork to use when, and the Imperial when he tells you when to parry and when to block. The other stuff will come soon enough." Roland sighed, but again it was to hide having to admit his father was right. "So I have to go to Farrun?" "Yes, and try and slay some traitors while you're there. It would be rather pointless for you to complain about going to not even register a kill. But be careful." Roland smiled at he stood, and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if I killed more men in this war than you ever have." "Fat chance. I must have never told you of what happened after the corsairs sacked Wayrest, much as we will soon. That was a one-sided battle if there ever was one, a true rout," Theodore boasted, although he was usually not one to do so. "Until you do tell me, I remain skeptical. I had better go pack, and tell Lyenna we mean to leave soon," Roland said, dipping his head in a slight bow before leaving. Theodore smiled after his son left, but it was soon wiped away when a cough broke out. Once that fit subsided, he thought, I've done alright with that one. Hopefully i haven't lost the touch when it comes to raising the next one. Gods be willing, we all make it though these wars healthy enough to raise our children. That would be a blessing indeed.

Gracchus Ceno Imperial City Late Morning The red cape of the interim High General flew after it's owner like a leaf in the wind, his brisk pace accounting for this. He was running late, as his last meeting with a long winded alchemical guild leader ran far past it's requisite time in Gracchus' schedule. His boots stomped furiously on the floor, echoing up and down the halls. His armored skirt bounced around, the slits providing the movement necessary for the general's near running. He finally reached the desired destination, a meeting room guarded by four soldiers and four battlemages, both inside and out. With the recent attack on Dales, he could afford no slip ups today. Straightening his chest plate, which was gold in nature with a red dragon in the center, he entered the room. Already filled with every general besides himself, their conversations subsided. The generals saluting their superior, and everyone moved to take their seats. Gracchus strode to the head, where he sat facing his coworkers. "Good morning to you all. I hope my calling this meeting did not interfere with any business you might have otherwise attended to, but I found it absolutely necessary. Before I begin, are there any questions as to why I have called you all here?" Gracchus asked, his face plain and stoic as he scanned the room. His eyes lingered on three generals in particular, Retrius, Lithin, and Fury-Blade, who all were reported to be none to happy with the empress. That too would be addressed, whether it be in this meeting or afterward, in private. Lets not make a spectacle of this gentlemen. Civil and clean, or else you will end up looking foolish, I guarantee that, Gracchus thought, in the moments immediately after opening up the floor. General Hell-Cry was busy cleaning his sharp teeth with an iron knife, his animal furs sagging over his shoulders, his voice was deep, but friendly, "Yeah boss, when can I sink my axe into those dominion yellowskins." He did a downward attack with an imagery weapon. Gracchus raised his eyebrows at the savage display of hygiene, but made not comment on it, addressing the question instead. "Unless the Thalmor initiate the attack, I do not foresee us doing so in the next few weeks. The Nords and Bretons aren't as mobilized as the Redguards and us, so it will take time for them to march their forces south. Months, not weeks, is the most likely timeline, considering that the alliance has not even met together, which will undoubtedly happen at some point." General Martullus spoke, in a polite, yet stern voice, "I don't trust these so called allies sir, especially those Stormcloaks. They'll backstab us before long." Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gracchus simply said, "I highly doubt that, General. They cannot take on the Thalmor alone, and after that they will be too war weary to do much of anything, same as us." "You would know quite a bit about backstabbing, sir." Said the deadpan voice of the spymaster. Lillin was clad in full Oculatus plate mail, without the helmet. She wore a blue flower in her platnium hair. Martullus smiled politely, "I don't know what you mean, Colonel. I'm sure if the High general wanted the Oculatus' opinion he would ask." "And you, Colonel, would know nothing about war. When we need someone to pick flowers for our hair, we'll let you know," said General Retrius standing up for his good friend. Retrius was an averaged height colovian, but even so, he was a seasoned warrior and respected by a lot of the others. He wiped a hand over his black cropped hair that always seemed to be a little wet, then he turned his gaze to Gracchus with his steel colored eyes. "I do not think the Stormcloaks would be so foolish to do something like this... before the war. But after... that is something else entirely. You all see the writing on the wall don't you? I hope for our sakes that Empress Dales is preparing for after we've either won or lost the Great War II." "I wouldn't." She whispered into Grom's ear, who was seated beside her,"I know who they all sleep with though." Grom snickered and laughed at that, Lilly, smiling said, "I highly doubt his majesty Ulfric Stormcloak has his eyes on Cyrodili gentlemen. I may know nothing about war,but I'm well versed in intillegence gathering, and the intelligence says otherwise." "Who says he wanted Cyrodiil? I certainly didn't. But I guarantee he wants it to be as weak as a babe, relying on the alliance for survival as much as possible. We're bound to go back to the days before Tiber Septim at this rate, having Cyrodiil split into sections and warring with our own," said Retrius. "Blame the greedy nobility for that, not the nords." She said shrugging, "Her majesty won't let that happen." Retrius raised his voice and said, "Is that our motto now? Blame the nobility? Who the **** cares about the nobility? What about them? The nobility can kiss my greyed sack, it's the White Gold that I'm concerned with. When it comes down to it, the nobility doesn't control the legion. Their hold on this land is a ruse." "They have the power. They control the flow of money, which is our pay. The elder council had Titus by the balls, which is basically the nobolity. Look what happened to him. We're simply soldiers, I'm afraid." She said glancing at Grommash, who was picking at his teeth. "Hey, Grommash, we get it. You're a big orc that has to pick his tusks with a knife. Anyway, you're a spymaster. You should know better than to think that the nobility has anything to do with preparing ourselves against any actions from our allies in the future, which was my point. Ulfric may not want Cyrodiil, but the Redguards may. Not everyone will be devastated from the war. There will be winners and losers even among our own, and the Stormcloaks even if they did hold to their word will be in no position to actually keep it whether they want to or not. Meaning helping defend us." Gracchus watched the arguments unfold, finding it better to let Retrius and Lilly and Grommash duke it instead of jumping in. Retrius has a point. As much as I like the Nords, we must prepared to defend ourselves from intruders, whether it be the Redguards, Nords, or even the Argonians. "Politics be damned, all I care about is smashing skulls." The orc said raising his arm, "I don't give a **** if the nords,or the redguards attack. More skulls to smash, more enemies to fight. more looting. Ask any of my men, they'll say the same." Lilly frowned "If we don't trust our allies, then I doubt this war will go well." "For Shezzar's sake, how did you ever become a general?" Retrius stood from where he was and started to walk around. "This isn't about trusting them for the war, it's about trusting them after. I don't. There's not much we can do about it now, but we need to be prepared to take drastic measures. Like stepping up drafting numbers considerably to make up for our inevitably large casualties. And we need to do that before the fighting so it can be enforced, and mix the drafting numbers with the men we have now, then leave a number of them in Cyrodiil so we have something to fall back to. More than the last time. Or we're going to be a carcass waiting to be picked at by everyone in Tamriel, right in the center." "I'm good at smashing skulls and leading other men in smashing skulls." He said shrugging. Lilly watched the scene before adding, "What are we the dominion? Drafting is already at an all time high, unless you want children, elderly men, and teens." "You know good and well we can get more without needing the elderly and children. Adolescents however, I'm not above drafting. They won't fight in the war, but they can be trained while the war is being waged. Even if our allies don't act against us, they'll be vital in preventing more riots at the very least and ending up with another Bravil situation," explained Retrius. "This is the survival of the Em...Cyrodiil, we're talking about." "I don't know, teenagers tend to be poor soldiers. There skinny, and don't break bones well. Suppose they could be good meat shields." Grommash said. Martullus added, "I think that's an excellent idea Retrius." "Thank you, friend. And they'll be older by the time they're called to be used. Unless the war doesn't last as long this time. Even so, a shield wall with blades and spears is a fearsome foe, no matter who is behind it. Train them hard. Train them thoroughly. And start as soon as possible, and we'll be that much more prepared. On top of the other percentage of men and able bodied women we haven't yet taken. Whether it's in Valenwood or Cyrodiil, one way or another the war or its after effects will be involving all of them anyway. Better to do so with a legion shield between them and whatever troubles we have in the future. We get the Empress on board with that, then perhaps I won't be so fearful of her leadership. Perhaps." "The little pup has been much better then her father. She's also been very supportive of the legion. I don't see your problem with her. Who cares how short she is." Grommash said taking a large piece of meat from his mouth. Retrius turned his attention away from the others to another friend of his and said, "Lithin can help me out with that. I've spoken on my own enough for the moment. Though that question should be obvious." General Lithin nodded to Retrius, his pale face fixed in the same unhappy expression it always seemed to be in. "I would gladly speak my mind. This is an open meeting, yes?" He looked at the Orsimer general. "Grommash, you would be the only man in this room to not see the problems with her, and that is because you have trouble seeing anything beyond your next meal or your next kill. You have admitted before us all that you care little and understand less about politics, even at their most basic. I can assure you, her height is the least of our concerns. In fact, I find Retrius's judgement to be beyond fair, even optimistic." Gracchus ears perked up as Lithin spoke. The man, according to Lilly, was displeased with both Dales and the new High General, and that made Gracchus all the more intent to listen. Before he could say anything, another general jumped in. "Yes yes, you Imperials think you're so wise at politics," General Floyd Renoit, a Breton with fiery orange hair that matched his temperament, "but you both fail to see that it doesn't matter! The empress is a slave to us, especially in war time, and her soon to be husband the court mage is just as hungry to settle things down as we are! Look, he is now dealing with more problems than she has in her tenure, and he's not even emperor yet! She is a non factor, as he is the real muscle. Besides us, of course!" Gracchus just sighed and shook his head, the current argument just as all others had been, in meetings such as this. Always petty bickering, always fighting. But, to jump in now would only serve to weaken the point he planned to make later, so he sat quietly as the red-haired Breton spoke. Around the table, he noticed that several others shared his viewpoint. General Flaccus, General Antonia, General Bical, General K'avar, and General Fork-Beard. An ensemble cast of races, yet they all kept quiet in this argument, much as he had hoped. "And who is he?" Lithin shot back. "Can you tell me a single thing about Lord Snow-Strider, Renoit? Because a year ago, his name was one that had not been heard by a one of us. Now, he virtually leads this Empire. I cannot believe that so few question this!" "Question? I question everything, dearest general. It does surprise me you question him, seeing as the title of lord is attached to his name. Or are you jealous that you do not own the title as well, much as Ceno does? Oh yes, Snow-Strider may have been obscure, but his drive and purpose is sound. We were all nobodies at one point, oh, except for you. Daddies' fortune fed you well, I am sure," Renoit sneered, despising the noble upbringing of his colleague. "This is not about me, and has nothing to to with jealousy." Lilith answered with a roll of his eyes. "Many here came from nothing, and I respect each of them. But the matter with Skjari is different, and you know that. A new personal servant of the Empress, and a powerful wizard at that, goes on to become Court Mage. That is believable. But for the Court Mage to take command of legions, to order executions? I would see any one of you on the throne before a man so mysterious. Grommash excepted." He glanced at the Orc. "No offense." Looking back, he said, "Good leader or not, we do not know him. Nobody but the Empress does." Gracchus finally saw a chance to jump in. Even if he was their leader, it was better not to antagonize them with interruptions because be ranked higher. "Actually, that is not entirely true. I met the man back in Skyrim, and while I cannot vouch for his past, I certainly can vouch for his character, his will, and his drive. He hates the elves just as much as any of us, and has proven himself now more than Dales, Amaund, and several of our past emperors. To continue to bicker does not serve our cause any more so than does turning our arms over to the Thalmor. Look here, at Flaccus and Fork-Beard and Bical and K'avar, all different races yet they see little point in arguing like squabbling children over a toy. They embody this alliance, represent our diversity. This is what our Empire was, but it has whittled down to just us. We must stop fighting, or soon we'll have whittled it down to nothing. If it pleases everyone, I will look into Lord Snow-Strider's past, most likely personally. I dare say we got along well enough in Skyrim he would do me that honor." Retrius said, "What we've seen of him now, we know he works well enough as a court mage. But as Emperor... I don't want someone like him giving the orders. Him and his puppet. During the war, I want someone I can trust. Which, despite Lithin being a friend, I do disagree with his stance on Ceno. If we're to be marching into war and we must have this unknown as our Emperor, which we don't, by the way, then I would prefer that one of our own is the only one giving those orders. Not the upstart Empress. Not the upstart mage." General Fork-Beard spoke, his shaggy mane true to its name, the two prongs hanging down onto the table as he leaned over. "What are you suggesting Retrius? We disobey this man? That we supplement Ceno or someone else on the throne?" "Well, if Ceno here were ambitious enough, I'd most certainly support him and present him to the council as another viable option. Let's be honest, if the Council wanted to, it would work. They haven't yet lost their grasp of power over the throne. It's the only reason I feel no fear in expressing this matter with all of you," explained Retrius. Gracchus was astounded, but he covered it as best he could. General K'avar, a Redgaurd who stroked his pencil thin beard, turned and asked in his soothing voice, "What say you High General? Are you open to such a presentation? Your recommendations to High General came from high places, and your name is more known than Snow-Strider's." Gracchus cleared his throat, and looked around at the men seated with him. Ten legions, with Gracchus being the eleventh, were represented here. Along with Lilly, the head of the Oculatus. All of them held considerable sway over Cyrodiil, with their men almost devoutly loyal to the each of them. A pit formed in his stomach as he thought about not only leading them, but the entire nation as well. "I...I frankly had not considered the option. I do not see myself as the right for personally, but I would be inclined as to hear everyone else's opinions on the matter." Lilly got out of her chair, looking angry and very annoyed, she said firmly,"Treason. This coversation is simply treason. If I recall most of you, minus High General Ceno were content to suck Amaunds ****. Dales did somthing." Martullus, as chill and cool as ever ,raised his hand. "While a poor choice of words, I agree with the sentiment. Ursuping her majesty is a little too extreme." The foul mouthed General Flaccus, who had been strangely quiet, finally growled out, "We should always be lookin' to upgrade. If the young ***** isn't cuttin' it, then kick here to the road. But, she's done no harm to the empire yet, and survived two fuckin' attempts on her life, if the rumors are true. Sounds like she's got a more balls then some in this room." Gracchus nodded his assent, recalling how Dales had somehow taken out the Thalmor assassin back at Fort Pale Pass. While the fact she did it was still perplexing, no one could deny that she wasn't one to shy away from a fight. "I agree. Dales is a tough son of a bitch. Tougher then dadies little boy here." Lilly said nodding her head. "Hold your tongue, Colonel," Gracchus said sternly, "while most of us are equals, do recall that you are of a lower rank, and as such I suggest you keep comments like that to yourself. That goes for all of you. The name calling and petty bickering is unbecoming of people of our station, and we should act like we belong here, and not in a cheap one-Septim brothel." Martullus cleared his throat, "Colonel Quentas is also her majesties personal advisor, as well as a countess, physician to her majesty, and a member of the elder council as spymaster. I think she has the right to talk as an equal, as much as I disapprove of her foul mouth." He continued "While I have no doubt of her majesties personal courage and strength, a few of her decisions lead to...barely averted disasters." "Well what do you expect, High General, from Ms. Floppy Teets over here who advertises herself as such? She sure looks the part to talk as if this place were a brothel." Retrius smiled at the other generals, catering to their hurt egos from her words. "And speaking of sucking.... I heard you comment that you know who we all sleep with. But everyone in Cyrodiil knows who pokes your sload hole, don't we boys?" This comment was greeted with laughter around the room. "Perhaps you don't like the idea because your man won't be Emperor?" Retrius slammed a fist on a table and yelled, "Perhaps SHE wishes to be Empress!" Now Retrius was picking up traction as grumbling and suspicious finger pointing started to go around. Easy to do when she alienated everyone in the room the way she did. "Oh please general. I know who you stab your excuse for a sausage into, which is quite unimpressive or so I here." Her face remained blank, "At least at a brothel I would be getting payed to deal with imbeciles such as yourself." Lilly yawned, "If I wanted her majesty dead, I could have easily poisoned her all the times I've given her herbal medication." The General turned around and faced her with a blank face, then dropped his armored skirt, revealing his 'pathetic' sausage. "You were saying, Floppy Teets?" Now Retrius successfully turned the meeting into a circus with the other generals enjoying the show and laughing hysterically. Just as he planned, as he wanted to keep the suspicion against the Empress and her fiance up. "Behold the skills of your esteemed Spymaster! I put my money where her mouth likely is a lot. Now it's her turn. She hasn't yet disproven the accusations and she moves straight to immature name calling to dismiss it..." Lilly who looked like she was about to rip off her braiser and expose her parts was stopped by General Grommash, "LETS CALM THE **** DOWN. All of us." Getting up, Martullus raised his hand, "I agree with Grom this has gotten far out of hand." Retrius, skirt still dropped said, "Oh no, let her finish I say. I think exposing herself would be rather convincing in proving she's not the mage's whore." "Getting a lady to expose her privates is barbaric." Said Martullus. Grom who was looking at everyone said, "She's right though. Your junk is tiny and pathetic, like a boys. Feast your eyes on orcish meat." In that moment Grom exposed his huge orcish "sword" casueing martullus to facepalm. Retrius just laughed and pulled his skirt up. Yes, keep it up, Orc. You're doing the Empress and Spymaster so many favors right now. Lilly hand was reaching for her chest, when Martullus put his hand to her shoulder, "Don't. Your a lady. Swooping to his very low level won't do you any favors" Lilly hesitated before nodding her head. "You call yourselves men, and generals of the legion, yet all I see here is a the most childlike display of inadequacy in the entire legion. I know several legates who would better serve us than you miserable men. If you will not be respectful and courteous, there's the door. Now sit down!" Gracchus slammed his hands on the table, while Fork-Beard, and K'avar cried out "Here here!" "I've already shown what I needed to show. You wanted proof of the Empress and the mage's incompetence? Her spymaster is a glowing and shining example. I asked her to put her money where her mouth was as I did, in reference to proving my comments of her being tied to the mage and working in his favor for romantic feelings and for a desire for the throne to be wrong. Not to get her to expose what I can already get a good look at even with cloth. I don't apologize for my display. It had a point to it. But sure, lets continue," Retrius said. "You tried pressuring a lady of the Chorrol court to expose her private areas, friend. That only proves your an indecent child with a small penis." "Good lord, the stupidity is strong with these ones. Like I said, childish and clearly inaccurate name calling. If this is what this meeting is going to be all about, then I think we should end it here, right boys?" The others gave nods of approval. "Yes, this is getting rather old. She's supposed to be our equal, yet she's treated like a victim? Retrius is at fault because she's in such a hurry to take her clothes off?" said General Bical, in his monotone voice. "Nothing will get done with this distraction around, General Ceno." "No. Both of you stop or I will have you restrained. And publicly shamed for that matter. Sit down, and if either of you say another word about it you will leave this meeting, and how've no say," Gracchus commanded still standing up. "Of course, sir." Martullus bowed his head, taking a seat. Retrius sat, grin on his face and without saying anything. "Now, General Retrius, and General Lithin, while I truly appreciate the show of support, we did not come here to seat one of ourselves on the throne. Now is not the time for usurpation, nor will it be anytime soon. Our job is to beat the Thalmor, not flaunt our manhoods and breasts about like beasts. Be seated, and remain so until I dismiss you, or you are escorted out of here like a common thief. Do I make myself clear? That goes for you as well Grommash, and Lilly too. Keep your pants and blouses on and your mouths shut," Gracchus eyed those he addressed, his gaze steely and cold. Both Grommash and Lilly said "Yes sir." At the same time, "Let us refer back to the draft issue. What do you think should be the minimum age to be eligible for service?" Gracchus sat down once everyone else did, resuming his usually calm nature. "Defeating the Thalmor was the whole point of the discussion. How can we do that with incompetency at the height of the chain of command? I don't want any of those fools getting in the way of what it is that we do," Retrius said. "There's too much at stake to rest on Dales and her concubine wizard. Anyway, fifteen, Ceno." Grommash raised his hand "Sixteen or seventeen . Mandatory for both males and females." He turned his head to Retrius "I don't appreciate your disrespect for Lord Snow-Strider. I've fought beside him, and he's a talented warrior, as well as a cunning strategist." "I don't give a damn what you appreciate, I'm worried about Cyrodiil, not you or his hurt feelings," said Retrius. "Well, whining to the High General despite not even knowing the man and what he's cable of is really pissing me off." Said the orc showing his tusks in a display of anger. Gracchus' face clenched up at the men resorting back to the previous conversation. "If I hear another gods-damned about either the empress or her consort, I'll have both of you locked up, together, so you can work out your differences there. Not. Another. Word. As for age, fifteen is an acceptable age, I believe. Hopefully this can keep some hooligans off the streets as well. Shall we put it to a vote? Majority dictates winner. The other option shall be sixteen." Retrius smiled at hearing Ceno call him a consort, then raised his hand. "I'm in favor." Lilly raised her hand, "sixteen". She was followed by Grommash saying "sixteen." Martullus looked like he was disputing it before saying "sixteen." Gracchus raised his hand for fifteen, as did K'avar, Flaccus, and Fork-Beard. Renoit voted for sixteen, probably just to spite Retrius, while Bical added in his vote for fifteen as well. All that remained were Antonia and Lithin, the former who had said nary a word and the latter who had let Retrius take the reins in the argument. Antonia, who had been silent so far, raised her voice. "I say sixteen. The young recruits in my army are already quite small." "Fifteen." Lithin stated finally, to no one's surprise. Gracchus flashed a quick smile, but it faded just as quickly. "Then it's settled. We will set the minimum draft age to fifteen. Now, I have considered doing away with almost all of our heavy armor units in favor of a more medium style armor of added chain and leather. I believe this will especially help in Valenwood, in the dense, wet, and hot jungles. This is all preliminary of course, and I seek additional opinions." "I think a lighter platemail would be more favorable to a chainmail if we're going up against those pointy eared archers." Antonia said. "I would have to agree," General Flaccus added. "My legion being right on the border, we've found plates to block arrows better than chain mail." "Agreed. Light steel plate reinforcing the leather. Would be lighter and cheaper than chainmail, unless you mean light reinforcing like our Stormcloak 'allies'. That would be fine, but it would be better if our units had more varying armor so the Bosmer are forced to switch arrow types," said Retrius. "It seems plate mail it will be, then. Thank you both for your insight," Gracchus said, "another point that I mulled over was the border cities. Bravil, Anvil, Leyawiin, Kvatch and Skingrad are all in immediate danger, so something needs to be done to fortify them against any sort of Thalmor push. I considered pulling guards from Chorrol, Bruma, and Cheydinhal, to supplement our reserves there." Retrius said, "I don't agree. That would only welcome opportunists and thieves to have their way in our cities. The troops deployed at the borders already should be adequate enough." "Bruma is filled with Sons of Whiterun Militia, as well as many nordic loyalists. I think we can afford to relocate some legionaries from there." Said Lilly "Your numbers are wrong, miss. Those "many Nord loyalists" have long since departed to their homeland once it was established as a new kingdom," Retrius said. "The Sons of Whiterun are serving to replace the guards that were killed fighting Jon." "I helped fund them for several months during there aggressions against Skyrim, general. I would know. Brumas population has calmed down since the riots. I have no doubt plenty of nords would take swords in the name of the empire over there." Retrius said, "Check again, most of the able bodied individuals there are already enlisted by me. Have you even bothered to speak to Balgruuf lately? Bruma's been picked clean lately by drafting. Nords after all would be the first target of the legion. Them and Colovians like myself." "Not military I'm referring too. Nords are strong,regardless of age or gender. If a town is attacked by simple bandits I'm sure the local guards and townspeople remaining can handle them." "And that's all that is practically remaining, aside from those taking refuge there. This isn't a matter of opinion. Facts are the Legion's already laid claim to as much as we can in Bruma without numbers being absurd. And now with the new draft parameters set here, they'll be picked at even more. This was largely in response to those trying to leave for Skyrim. Facts are, Bruma can't sacrifice much more. If you must take from the other cities, High General, I recommend you look elsewhere," Retrius said. "May I recommend Chorrol then,sir?" Said Martullus, Gracchus listened to the conversation intensely, but ready to jump should they get out of hand again. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, so once they finished, he said, "Chorrol has remained relatively unscathed throughout these recent hard times, as has Cheydinhal. Both will be ordered to sacrifice a few of their troops to their sister cities. We all have to make sacrifices, it seems." "Isn't Cheydinhal opposing the empress?" Antonia asked. Gracchus looked over at General Antonia, nodding as he did, "Yes, unfortunately. But that is beside the fact. They are still apart of this province, and as such they are expected assist in the coming war. They can do this by gifting the other cities extra guardsmen." "What if Cheydinhal refuses?" "I'm sure they will, at first," Gracchus said, "but once they are made to see the errors of their ways, they can contribute all the same. One point, we must be careful to choose those guards whose family is either nonexistent or willing to move. I recommend a slight pay increase for those that do, to make the prospect more enticing." "That's not necessary sir, I can get my mother to hand other the Chorrol troops without difficulty." Said the spymaster. "Cheydinhal may be a little more...difficult." Gracchus smiled slightly, but as he talked it faded away. This business suites him no more than to kill, but like that, it had to be done. "I know it is not necessary, but these men are being uprooted from their homes, places they probably grew up since they were children. While many will want the new adventure moving brings, are still being asked to leave behind their childhood homes, friends, and places. The least we can do is compensate them, especially given how dangerous their new assignments will be." "There's also the matter of cost. There's not much we can give considering all the drafting we are doing. This war effort is costing us an arm and a leg," said Retrius. "Helped by the fact that the Empresses is pouring a considerably more amount of money in the legions coffers then before, I may add." Said Martullus, "But I concur with Retrius, we need to limit the costs as much as possible, and giving a certain part of the legion a special bonus, wont sit well with the rest." "They'll still make less than a normal legionairre, as guards always have, and the increase wouldn't even bring them up to that level. If money is such an issue, I would be willing to sacrifice a portion of my salary. My strongbox is full enough as is, and it would do far more good in the hands of a young man than the safe of an old general." "I would have to agree with the High General. These men are leaving relative safety for the cities right in the path of Thalmor destruction should they invade. The least we could do was supplement their salary with an extra ten septims for the first six or eight months," General K'avar added, as he leaned back in the ever relaxed look he continuously held. "Well if that's the case...I would be more then glad to donate a portion of my salary." Martullus said, with a slight smile. Retrius said, "No offense, but I don't think your salary alone will cover this High General, unless you're just talking about a handful of men. How many guards are we talking, a portion? Half the city full? Everyone is sacrificing and being pulled from families and homes to serve on the front lines. What makes them special? They can receive a normal pay just like anyone else. But if you insist, I won't argue over something small like this." "I think the general is expected all of us to sacrifice a small portion of our salary, Retrius." Said Martullus calmly. "I got the hint. I'm asking if it will even be enough for all the men he's trying to hire. If not, I'd rather give my salary to more legion soldiers." "I appreciate your difference in opinion. And while it seems there is support for the supplemental money, you are right in that they are being asked to do no more than the rest of us. My humanity wants me to pay them extra, but it seems now that this decision is not a wise one. I will heed your advice, I believe. As for a number, I think one-hundred men each from Chorrol and Cheydinhal would suffice, to be divided up with forty men going to each of the border cities." "To split such already small numbers even thinner may not be the best course of action." General Lithin said. "Chorrol and Cheydinhal may be able to spare a hundred, maybe a little more, of their guards, but to distribute forty per city would barely even make the difference the trouble is worth. With its moat and position on the Niben, Bravil is more than capable of withstanding siege using the devices it already has. Likewise, Kvatch is fairly safe behind Anvil and Skingrad. I think Leyawiin and Anvil are in dire enough need to warrant all of the attention from the men we pull out. Leyawiin sits dangerously close to the border, and is far from help if things go bad, and it is crucial to deny Anvil to the Dominion navy. I think sending all we can of these guards to Leyawiin is a good start, and the legion men they relieve there can be sent to defend Anvil." "I agree with General Lithin, strange as that sounds," General Renoit added with a chuckle. "Ugh, I think I'll need to scrub my tongue after that sentence. But yes, he seems to have the right of it." "The Nibense area has been plagued by Khajit terrorist cells as of late, sending troops to Leyawiin might have merit." Said Lilly. Gracchus raised his eyebrows at Renoit's support of Lithin, but said nothing of it, choosing to address the matter at hand instead. "I can throw my support behind that plan. Thank you, Geneal Anotnia and General Lithin. Your contributions are invaluable in this aspect. Are there any other matters you all would like to discuss?" Antonia spoke up. "Most of my army is quite green. I was thinking of spreading some legionaries to the more bandit infested parts of Cyrodiil to give them a taste of blood. Though that'll make it harder to get the whole army assembled if they Dominion attacks." "Half of my army used to be bandits..." Said Grommash laughing "Go ahead General Antonia. I think it would serve us better that they be late in case of an attack, than that they be too inexperienced to contribute. Plus, our border defenses are secure enough that any attack would take at least a few days to break through. Speaking of which, I would like each of you to send your best engineers along with the new men to Leyawiin and Anvil, so they can shore up their defenses in case of attack. They must be able to withstand until we can arrive to help," Gracchus said politely. "One quick matter that I think we should discuss," said Retrius. "I understand that you spoke with the Admiral, yes High General? He was somehow miraculously rescued from the Thalmor... sounds convenient, don't you think?" Gracchus wrinkled his brow, not expecting the High Admiral to have been brought up, but he quickly said, "I would not say his rescue was either miraculous nor convenient, the way he and his companion tell it. To lose a limb, and to undergo much worse sounds nothing short of terrible, not to mention the Bosmer lost several of his comrades in breaking out the admiral. But, I can see how you might be skeptical, General Retrius. He was only held in Thalmor captivity for a few weeks, which is a surprise. But, I doubt they had enough time to brainwash him, from what past instances tell us." "That is all well and good," General Bical droned in his flat, plain voice, "but I believe we should watch him intently, as intently as possible. Who knows what their mages could have managed." "If he was in there for weeks, then I assume they didn't know who he was at first. Otherwise he'd probably have already been broken in half that time. If he wasn't already.... Empress Dales giving him a pass didn't surprise me in the slightest. But, the matters of the navy are not our own. I only let the matter go because I trust your judgement, High General Ceno." "I assure you, I will keep an eye on him, as Bical suggested. As we should of all those that make it out of Dominion hands. It is a sad day, though, when our allies must be watched as well as our enemies. But, it must be so, and so it will be," Gracchus said, his face betraying that he liked none of this business. "Now, unless someone has anything they'd like to add, I will free you all of this meeting, as it has gone on long enough, and we all are quite busy." "From some of what I've heard the Thalmor do. Only losing a hand after weeks of torture is quite mild. I don't know if it's true but I once heard about a man the Thalmor cut into pieces and then reassembled him into something grotesque. I wonder if maybe the Admiral still has his hand." Antonia said, trying to hide the undertone of disgust and fear. "No one ever leaves the torture chambers of the dominion the same, or with perfect psyche. Her majesties understands better then anyone that the dominion takes, she was high inquisitor after all" said Martullus solemnly but his tone having a slight sinister edge to it, "I trust she knows whats she doing by letting the admiral retain the command of the Navy." "True, she knows the Dominion's practices better than most, but I doubt that is a fact any of us would like to dwell on. As for Admiral Meridius' hand, that is also something I would prefer not to discuss. But it is a sobering thought indeed," Gracchus said grimly. Martullus said, putting both of his hands on the table "What we need to do is make sure, Tacticus's mind isn't clouded, and still has his old strategic ability intact. I recommend we send some one from the legion in the form of a liaison to the navy, to watch the good admiral." Lilly nodded her head, "I second that." "A unwise suggestion, as I find that the High Admiral would not take kindly to being looked after like a child, at least not by us. Let the navy handle that, I say. It is not our job nor place to be the navy's sitter," General Fork-Beard said, stroking on braid of his facial hair as he did. "He wouldn't be aware, the...liaison, would simply be a liaison to him. He would be there to simply monitor his mental health and decision making. Of course this is the High General's decision, but it would be unwise not to at the least take precautions in regards to the admiral. I've heard stories of Dominion sleeper agents causing all kinds of chaos, and there's a chance the admiral might have suffered, ehem, "re-programming" Said Martullus calmly. "I agree with Fork-Beard." said Lithin. "It only makes the Empire look weaker when we send someone to babysit our own leaders. The High Admiral does not work alone. If he shows signs of suspicion, it will not go unnoticed by his crew and fellow officers. They are well aware of his time in Valenwood. Let them look after it." "I surprisingly agree with them, to an extent. It shouldn't be one of us, however. Someone in the navy perhaps," said Retrius. Grom started to scratch his black beard, "Hmmmm. In the great war, one of my officers, who was rescued from a POW camp, suddenly went batshit crazy on my Cohort, and we were forced to put him down before he killed any of us. Dont want the same thing to happen. I say we should wait, if he shows any lesser signs of...being batshit crazy, then we send someone to observe him." Gracchus drummed his fingers on the table as he thought over the options. On one hand, if the High Admiral ever discovered he was being watched, by the army no less, he would be disgusted, and it could ruin our working relationship. On the other hand, if he were to snap in battle it would be catastrophic. But it is not our place to watch over him, so I'll suggest to the other naval officers they keep an eye on him. "He will be watched, but not by us. It is not our place nor our job, and I doubt any of us would feel welcome if he suggested we needed to be looked after. But I will recommend to the naval officers that they scrutinize his every move," Gracchus said, finally deciding on an acceptable outcome. "That's suitable." Said Martullus, bowing his head. "I'm glad. It shouldn't be too much longer before he returns to the sea and begins raiding again, and then we can see just how much he was affected," Gracchus said, hoping that Tacitus wouldn't be altered at all. "Well, I think that concludes the latest topics, don't you High General? I'm a busy man, as we all are, especially you so I think we should wrap things up," said Retrius. "I concur. Unless anyone has something they'd like to add, you are all dismissed," Gracchus said, rising and straightening his chestplate as he did. General Hellcry, General Martullus, and Colonel Quentas sharply saluted. Retrius gave him a nod and then saw himself out before anyone could ask him any questions. He had to make preparations in case any of his talk against the Empress came back to bite him, though he doubted it would with the war so close. The remaining generals stood and saluted as well. Gracchus returned the salute, before leaving. He was headed to the office of the Empress, if he was still there. An idea had struck him earlier in the meeting, and he hoped to catch Dales before he forgot. As it was he was already walking at a brisk pace towards her office. He knocked as he arrived, and straightened his chest plate once again. "Enter." Gracchus walked in, using his hand to sweep his cape out of the doorway before he closed it. "Your majesty," he said with a bow. "During my meeting with the other generals, I had an idea. You can credit Retrius and Grommash's arguing for it, which is likely the only good thing to ever come out of those two talking. I think you will find it quite intriguing, if you will hear it." "I'm all ears, Gracchus." She said, though her eyes still had large bags under them, she was tidy, and her hair was organized. "I was listening them argue, specifically Retrius sarcastically call Grommash a "big bad Orc," and that set me thinking about the orcs out in the world. Skyrim has quite a few refugees, as do we, while some are still in the Wrothgarians and some are trying to set up between Hammerfell and Skyrim. They're scattered, fractured, but we could offer them a home. The Valus Mountains to the east are largely empty, especially the southern portions. I move we allow the Orcs to establish their homeland there, safe from Redguard and Breton oppression," Gracchus said, visibly excited. "That's a splendid idea." The young empress said, "Restablishing Orismer as a province would win us in the eyes of the orcish people, which we've been close to traditionally for a long time." "We would probably need to send emissaries to both the new Orsinium and Morrowind, to warn them about the possibility of raiders. Once the Orcs are established, what they do is there own business. But as you said, it would go a long way to win us the favor of not only the Orcs, but those that see us in an unkind manner. Of course, they will undoubtedly think we just seek to control another group of people, but ignorance cannot be helped in many cases," Gracchus said, smiling as he did. "Of course. There will always be ignorant fools who frown in our concept of order. I trust you will handle this?" "I can pick out the emissaries, if you wish, by I will be much to busy to handle it myself. Hopefully a couple of members of the Elder Council will be happy to go," Gracchus said. "I can always count on you, can't I?" "I should hope so. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go. It seems we never get any rest," Gracchus said, as he headed back towards the door, and headed back to his office. Once there, he quickly penned letters to both the count of Chorrol and Lord Snow-Strider. The former told of the requested guards, as did the latter, but since the Cheydinhal count was speaking of rebellion, the High General thought Skjari should relay the news, as he was the one who had to deal with the count. After that, he continued his work, which was never ceasing.

Lorgar Grim-maw, Unknown Sniper (WitchKing), Valenwood, Noon, "Halt Sergeant." Lorgar put up his black gloved hand in a fist, crouching onto the ground. He began to observe it for faint footprints or anything that showed humanoid feet had past through this area at some point. At the corner of his eye, he could see his companion, Sergeant Reverus, waiting patiently. The commando was clad in the standard issue longcoat of her unit, with dark green leather cameoed armor underneath. She had black leather boots and leather gloves, and was wearing a Balaclava to cover her face. Lorgar himself was clad in the same equipment, with his Balaclava having a white wolf skull painted over it. The NCO had her hand to her shortblade, and was glancing around nervously, despite the sunlight. "Sir, that Dominion officer wasn't too happy to speak with us, maybe these coordinates are faulty?" Lorgar shook his head, "No, I smell dried blood. The ambush happened here." His enhanced hearing picked up nothing but the ambiance of the forest, along Lorgar and his companion's breathing. A gust of wind came from the side and made the leaves rattle and whiz in the ears. Next thing Lorgar heard the thud and he turned around to see Reverus have an arrow sticking out from her throat. The arrow had enter the back of her neck and gone halfway through the neck. The arrowhead was barbed. Reverus's stare went empty as she tried to open her mouth as if to say something, but the arrow sticking out right under her jaw prevented her from opening it much. Lorgar made a move, drawing his longsword from his back, as he caught the women in a dash of speed, before she fell to the ground, with his right arm, "Sergeant!!!" He shouted, ignoring the fact he just gave away his position, Suddenly he felt more than heard an arrow swish by his neck. He felt the pain as the skin broke and blood started to pour out. Bringing the other hand around Agrippa and putting it over the wound, he could tell it was shallow and missed the jugular by less than an inch. Swearing, Lorgar gently lifted Reverus over his shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he rushed forward with supernatural speed into the cover of the tree, placing the commando behind the tree trunk, he quickly took a bandage from his pack, and futilely tried to stop the bleeding coming from the arrow wound, "Hold on Sergeant, stay with me." He softly said to the wounder soldier, The Sergeant tried to say something, but only managed to cough out a mouthful of blood. Lorgar slapped her on the face lightly, "Dont you die on me." After applying the bandage, Lorgar took a peek beyond the tree trunk, using his enhanced vision in an attempt to spot the sniper, to no avail. Putting his longsword back in it's sheaf, Lorgar drew his ebony greatbow, notching an arrow with his right hand. He scanned the area for a target. Suddenly Lorgar heard a branch crack from the side and he turned around, another arrow buried itself in the upper arm and through it. The arrow tip also went a little bit into the side of Lorgar's chest. Not far, but far enough for the first barbs on the arrowhead to get under the skin. The arrow was just in the same height as his heart and would most likely have penetrated it if not for the branch breaking. "ARGHHHHH ****." Lorgar dove to the side, whilst he let loose his own ebony arrow in the direction of were the arrow came from. Taking cover behind another tree, Lorgar grabbed the arrow's shaft, igorning the pain coming from his arm, and broke the wooden arrow shaft in two, muffling his scream of pain. Lorgar tried focusing, thinking away the pain. He tried drawing a cloak of darkness around himself, but the shadows weren't pure enough at this hour. Suddenly he heard an arrow be let loose in a nearby tree above him. But the arrow sailed over him, far above him. And when looking up at the tree from where the arrow was let loose, he could see that there was a lot thick branches between him and whoever was firing at him. He then also looked directly above him to see what the arrow may have been aimed as he heard some leaves rattle from above. What he saw was a large green snake taking up almost all of the view as it was about to hit him in the face. In a flash of speed, Lorgar enhanced reflexes caused him to instantly draw his longsword slashing in the air above him. Cutting the snake in half, Lorgar went back behind the tree, knowing the general location of the sniper, Lorgar sprinted through the forest, leaving the cover of the tree behind, with his longsword drawn out, An arrow came whistling from the right towards Lorgar, who slashed his sword, deflecting the projectile. He ran forward from were the arrow came, running onward he got closer- Suddenly the ground on were Lorgar stood , vanished, and Lorgar would have fell if he hadn't leaped at the last moment, a pitfall trap. He landed softly on the dirt of a small forest path. Not bothering to glance back, he continued his sprint, Hircine damn it, does this guy have the entire forest rigged?! Another arrow came straight towards Lorgar's face, coming from his front, instinctively Lorgar avoided it by moving his head to the right, Lorgar, knowing were the arrow had come from, estimated from which tree it had been shot from. observing the area for any traces of the sniper. Lorgar knew this man was an excellent marksman, and survivalist. He most likely could remain unseen in the forest if he wished, so Lorgar needed to lure him out. He decided to play Posum, Letting out a realistic sigh of pain , Lorgar dropped to one knee, holding his arrow wound with his right hand, dropping his sword. As Lorgar did this, he made sure his hearing was able to pick up any sounds of movements, and let his eyes scan the area. It was quiet for a moment and at first nothing moved but leaves in the wind. But at one area the bark was also moving a little with the leaves. In the flash of a second, Lorgar let loose a throwing knife from his belt, aimed with almost pint point accuracy at the part of the tree that was moving. He picked up his longsword, dashing forward, But to his disappointment when he reached the foot of the tree that what came falling down was actually just a piece of bark in which the knife was buried in. The tip was sticking was sticking through on the other side of the little piece and what was most remarkable was that a little bit of the tip was red. And above he heard the sound of movement. But when he looked up it was gone behind another tree. Lorgar drew the knife from the tree, sniffing the blood, and taking in the scent, I got you now, Using his keen nose, he tried picking up the smell of blood from anywhere else, orgar's arm, while hurting like hell, wasn't completely disabled. He scanned the tree tops, searching for his prey, but could only see branches and leaves. He swore under hIs breath, sheathing the knife. His nose couldn't detect any more blood, Must be using the bark to mask his scent, smart. Lorgar let out a sigh, as he ran around the entire forest floor glancing above to see if he catch a glimpse of the sniper, looking in every direction and every tree. His instinctive selection was much greater then a normal human's , so he made quick progress eliminating each tree, Suddenly he thought he saw something, the stock on on of the trees suddenly got a little thinner above a branch. If that was the archer it was now gone behind that behind that tree. Lorgar, wasting no time, charged towards the tree, jumping on it, grasping it's large trunk, and climbing on top it's branches, Up there it was quiet and still. The big branch he was standing on had lots of other branches sticking out and almost forming sparse bushes. A gust of wind came and rattled the leaves. Then as the forest stirred for a moment he felt pain in the back of the left shoulder. He managed to turn his head only to see the thing, it almost looked like a spriggan with a bow as it was covered in bark and leaves, jump down from the branch he was standing onto another and run away in zigzag and up and down as the thing jumped from branch to branch, from tree to tree. Lorgar's vision started to become tinged with red, the hunter was awakening. He couldn't feel the pain coming from his shoulder, he shut it off, as he snarled. Bloodlust filled his body, he crushed the wooden shaft, and charged ******* arrows, why does it always have to be ******* arrows!!! With lighting fast speed, Lorgar ran from branch to branch, jumping like an ape with precision. His wouldn't let the sniper get away again, as he burned the image into his mind as he chased the archer, The archer drew an arrow, then spun around and fired it in one motion as he jumped to another far away branch. Looking at the thing almost missing the branch, only managing to grasp onto the tip so the branch bent for the weight. As he swung forward, bending the branch quite a lot. Lorgar, in a blur of movement caught the arrow with his hand , crushing it underneath his grip. But right when he was about to reach another branch, one came flying towards Lorgar in mid air, hitting him square in the face, Lorgar fell from the treetops into the ground, hitting hard, knocking the wind out of him. Before Lorgar knew it, an arrow came straight down aimed at his chest, Lorgar rolled away, avoiding it. Glancing to his side, Lorgar caught sight of the, ehem, "tree-person" running away. **** no Lorgar drew his previously sheaved throwing knife, took aim at the humanoids leg, and let the dagger fly. The knife hit the other leg though the side. The tree-thing lost balance for a second and slipped on the next branch and started falling. But right before he reached the ground he managed to grab onto another branch right before hitting the ground. And the branch bent down and allowed for an safe landing. He immediately disappeared into a bush, apparently unaffected by the knife in the leg. Lorgar followed, presuming he ran up the tree adjacent to the bush, Lorgar climbed up the same tree, As he climbed he was about to grab another branch for balance but before he knew it, he felt a sting in the hand. And when he looked he saw a knife made of bone impaled into the hand. And the tree-person was already on it's way to another branch. Pain...this is why I fight... Foaming under his Balcava, Lorgar couldn't help himself, as he let out a howl, tearing the knife out of his hand with his left hand, while he used his damaged right hand to pull himself up the tree, he followed the tree person The elusive figure was jumping tree to tree, attempting to avoid the Bloodwolf commando. Lorgar followed his pace, always keeping him in his vision and sight. Then he suddenly disappeared behind one of the trees. And when Lorgar came around he suddenly saw the thing standing in a foliage further out on the very large branch he was about to land on, it was aiming an arrow at him. But he couldn't do anything as he was in the middle of the air with nothing to grab to change course. All he could do was watch as the arrow almost in slow motion traveled through the air towards him. The arrow struck into his his knee and crunch was felt as kneecap broke. He landed first on his healthy leg but when the other foot touched the ground that was the branch, the leg gave way and he fell down. He managed just to reach his arms out to save him from landing on the knee. Luckily the branch was so large, he was in now real danger of falling off. He got up and ran, or rather limped, as well as he could after the thing into the foliage from where he could still hear the thing running through. When he reached the other side of the foliage he saw the thing standing out near the end of the branch. With nothing around to flee to. Looking around he saw that the tree they were standing on was seated on a high cliff and the forest lied like a green fluffy cover on the land below them. Lorgar stood up, his adrenaline dulling the pain to the point he could barely feel it. No we're to run Lorgar smiled, his trademark wolf grin under his Balacava. He raised his longsword, before bringing it up repeatably, as if saluting, "I salute your skill in archery elf. Your ability surpass mine in that regard, your pretty good, much to good to be fighting a loosing war on your on." Lorgar glanced at him curiously, waiting for a response "If I may ask, were did you learn to shoot like that?" The character didn't respond and just threw the bow away. Then teared at the bark covering the mouth till he could see what he assumed was the mouth. There were no lips and the there were more scar tissue than regular skin around it. The figure opened the mouth wide and displayed wooden teeth mixed with the regular ones. But the most prominent thing was the lack of tongue. Lorgar grimaced at the sight, He sheaved his blade, this man was no longer a threat to him. He put his hands up, "I understand, the dominion gave you that?" This man could be extremley useful to Lorgar, his skills in archery were unmatched. The man just closed the mouth and just stood there, waiting. Lorgar took off his Balacava, revealing his eye patch and his heavily scarred face, "Dying now would be a waste of your talents." The bosmer pointed an accusing finger at Lorgar, then reached the hand to his side and pulled out from a small slit in the bark a small piece of jewelry. The elf threw it at Lorgar and he caught it midair. And when he looked at it he saw that the little thing was small sigil of the Dominion, half covered in dried blood. Lorgar shrugged "I admit the dominion is my chosen employer. I don't fight for ideology, only for coin. I was once in the imperial legion, had ideals.Those were crushed. What have you accomplished? Yes a few dozen dominion grunts are dead. There'll always be more." The bosmer pointed at Lorgar again, though more at the hand in which he held the the sigil, then pulled the finger across the throat. "Vengeance won't do you any good. That hole you have will only grow larger,until your not even the same person who started. What you need is clarity. I can give you a new life, a new purpose." The person shook the head and lifted high in the air like was awaiting the gods to give something from above. Still shaking the head while looking down. The whole display gave the feeling of "I don't care". When the elf stopped shaking the head and looked back up at Lorgar, the arms came down but were still outstretched along the sides. The wood elf took another step back, now going onto the thin tip of the branch "Don't throw your life away." He looked solemn, before he said offering his hand, "Friend, we may have given up our homes, but were still fighting. And there's always another reason to keep on living." The elf gently shook the head again for a second before trying to say something. Lorgar guessed that the edges of where the lips once sat formed the word "no". The elf almost had a solemn look, despite only being able to see the now closed eyes among the bark and the disfigured mouth. The elf took another step backward and then started to slowly tilt backwards, till bark covered archer started to fall. Lorgars eyes opened, as he ran forward in an attempt to grab him before he fell, he yelled, "No!!!" But he missed by a large margin, even with his speed and reflexes, the elf was already half a yard away from him. Falling till the figure disappeared in the treetops far below and several birds flew up from the surrounding trees soon after. Lorgar dropped his head down, and uttered a prayer, "May your tortured soul find peace by the All-Makers side." **** Lorgar returned to we're left his companion, and too his amazement, she was still alive. Still clutching the bandage in a desperate attempt to stop herself from bleeding out. Lorgar knelt beside her, she had taken off her balacava, and her face was covered in sweat, Lorgar said to her, "Stay with me sergeant. I need to get you a combat medic immediately." As he went forward to prepare to lift her up, Lorgar was stopped by the sergeant grabbing his arm with her hand. She still couldn't speak with the arrow lodged in her throat, but he could tell she was trying to say, "end pain." Feebishly, she drew her shortsword, and guided Lorgar's hand to the pommel, aiming it to her own chest. Lorgar looked downward, though it was impossible to see with Balacava on, Lorgar's features were downcast and full of sadness, "I understand. Are you sure?" She nodded, Lorgar whispered a prayer "From the All-Maker we are born, to the All-maker we return. Find peace Bloodwolf." Lorgar thrusted.

Boldir, Vex, Carlotta, Mila Riften, Vex's house Nine days into hiding The hour was late, but Boldir and Carlotta still poured over maps of the city and surrounding lands. By the second day of hiding, Boldir had figured that they needed a plan to escape more than just the city. The Rift was huge, and if the way Maul's men searched the city was any indication, he was sure that word would be out to any of the bandits, travelers, or Rift patrols that there was a large Nord with a price on his head. Maven was not fool enough to put everything on his inability to get out of the city, though right now, even that task was beyond daunting. "How well does Vex know the sewers?" he asked. "Better than most." Carlotta responded. Her husband had asked Vex herself the same question days ago, and gotten a similar answer. Boldir still had not given up hope that there was some way to escape under the walls. If Vex knew of no way out through the Ratways, then she was certain that there wasn't one. Her sister had been exploring those foul-smelling tunnels since she was little more than a child. "But does she know them entirely?" Boldir knew he came across as somewhat desperate, but in truth, he was. Walking out of either gate was not an option. Even reaching one of them would be tricky with their hideout being so close to the center of town, and with neither gate near the canals. The only other ways were going under, or through the water. "What if there are ways she does not know? Riften is huge, and older than anyone. And you see here?" he pointed to a spot on the map where the boundary lines faded, as if there was no wall in the spot. It is not entirely complete. Surely she does not know the entire sewers?" Carlotta pointed at the map. Vex had drawn it herself. "If it's not on here, she doesn't know of it, and if that's the case, no one else knows either. And we certainly won't be finding any." She looked at Boldir and smiled sadly. Her husband was exhausted, she knew. She awoke every morning to find him sitting up staring at maps, or downstairs sharpening his axe. More than once these past few days, she'd come up on him frowning muttering quietly to himself. Baldur's name came up multiple times, along with a couple she'd never heard, but her husband would always brush the subject away when she inquired. He did most of the planning, or attempted planning, but he still liked it when she was with him for it. And at times like this, when he was going on little sleep, her input and reminders of things he couldn't recall were actually helpful. Still, she had a bad feeling inside her. They had all been trying to come up with ideas to escape almost constantly for the last ten days. If they had not thought of anything in that time, odds are that it was because the Black-Briars had thought of how to counter it in their decades of running the city. Carlotta reached over to brush Boldir's hair with her fingers. There were a few new faint strands of gray among the dark black. "You are too young for gray hair," she said. Boldir allowed his frown to fade a little, and he brought his hand up to hold hers. "And you are too young to be married to a graying Nord." Carlotta laughed dryly. "At this rate, mine will quickly follow." There was a slamming of the door, and they both turned to see a very unhappy-looking Vex storm into the room. She wordlessly came over to them and took a seat. "You two are supposed to do this stuff upstairs." she said, turning over a small bag on the counter and spilling out some coins, which she immediately took to counting. "Mila's sleeping up there." Carlotta answered, letting go of Boldir's hair. "We didn't want to disturb her with this." It was true, but another crucial reason was that they didn't want her to see just how little they had accomplished, or how frustrated they were. They didn't want to scare her more than she already was. "Well that's tough shit." Vex responded annoyedly. "It'll be even tougher if Maul kicks in the door one day and walks in on you two twiddling your thumbs in the middle of my kitchen... So, did either of you come up with any miracle plans while I was gone?" "What do you think?" Carlotta said. "Though we did wonder how much of the sewers this map covers. I take it you're aware of the missing spots." Vex shrugged and pushed her paltry amount of coin back into the bag. "Those are just faded. They aren't the best maps. Trust me, there's nothing down there that leads out of the city. I'd know if there was, and it wouldn't matter, because so would Maul. "And speaking of the brute, You may be interested to hear the latest news. This morning, a couple guildmates, the Crow-Mouth brothers, decided they weren't happy with his lockdown. One of his thugs was harassing them as they always do, and the brothers snapped. Maul's guy was bigger than the two of them together, but that didn't save him when their daggers poked him a couple dozen times." "Where are they now?" Carlotta asked, although she knew she wouldn't like the answer. "Stuck on spikes atop the keep wall." Vex responded. "They can do that?" "They can do whatever they want. Our 'decorated' Commander of the guard is as deep in Maven's pocket as the Jarl and anyone else. I'd imagine Maul urged him to use this as an example. Though more likely, his reason's to scare us. He wants whoever's hiding you to to see he that means business. Just like with Mjoll." "Speaking of her, is there any word on Aerin?" "None." Vex shrugged. "Odds are little brother's dead or fled himself." Carlotta had lost a lot of sleep worrying about her little brother, but coming to terms with losing him was easier with her family around. She had to stay strong for her daughter. "I'd probably be able to find him, dead or alive, if everyone in the guild was not being watched so closely. I've been reporting empty news to Maul every day, and it only makes him angrier. They have no leads to find you, and it has been some time now. I think they are finally starting to grow desperate." "They have to give this up eventually." said Carlotta. She looked to her husband for confirmation. He hadn't spoken since Vex came in. "Right? I mean, they can't keep the guild cut off and the city on alert forever. If we hold out long enough, they'll stop looking and that will be our chance." "That won't work." Boldir finally said. "This city is large, but so long as there's no escape, the Black-Briars know they can find us eventually." Carlotta was not one to curse, but she had never wanted to as much as she did at that moment. Instead, she grinded her teeth and breathed deeply. "It has been over a week. If we do not come up with something soon, what you speak of will come to pass. Vex already said that they will hire more skilled searchers as they get more desperate." "They probably already have." Vex admitted. There was a long silence as they took that in. They could not remain here for much longer. "How guarded are the gates by now?" Boldir asked, suddenly feeling much less tired as an idea began to formulate. If their hunters would soon be taking drastic measures, they must as well. "Heavily." answered the thief. "There's always a Black-Briar man waiting, and four or so archers up on the wall. Plus one or two guys outside." "Heavy for a city wall, but not too heavy. I can handle the ones on the ground, but the archers..." "Boldir," Carlotta felt bad for her husband. He was tired and desperate, and normally would know that the three of them could never reach the gate together, let alone get past those guarding it. "you need some rest. We can't just fight our way out of here." "Why not?" She believes that I'm not thinking clearly. "I can handle the men on the ground, just so long as the archers can be distracted. Killed would be even better. We can steal horses from the stables and ride for Eastmarch. It'll be a weak head start. Only minutes most likely. But if we ride hard, we can beat them. They cannot touch us in Windhelm, especially not once Baldur is back." "And what about us?" Carlotta asked, "Do you really want to put Mila at risk by bringing her into a fight? She could be killed!" "Of course I don't, but if we stay here much longer, she will be killed. I am not so slow that I cannot deal with two men. You and Mila will do no fighting. I can shave my head and beard. That may at least make reaching the gate a little easier. Vex, do you know anyone that you trust? Someone who could help us deal with the archers?" "For free? No." Vex shrugged, "but I do have a few friends in the guild who may do something quick so long as they can be assured that it will not be traced to them, and that they are paid well. One, a fella named Molgrom Twice-Killed, hates the Black-Briars more than most. They hired him for a fake job and then arranged for him to be caught. He was their scapegoat. They even let him rot in this city's prison for several years. He'll do it just for the chance to spite Maven. He's said nothing yet, but I think he's close to snapping and doing what the Crow-Mouths did. This'll let him blow off that steam where it's useful." "He would kill these men, if asked?" "Without a second thought." "Good." Boldir looked at Carlotta. "I am not making this decision without you, but after almost ten days of hiding, I see no other way." "I say we do it." Fear gripped at Carlotta. It was her only natural reaction to the fact that, despite all of the killing and danger in this plan, she actually was willing to go along with it. "That is good to hear. Vex?" "Hey, I don't have to get my hands any more dirty than they are, so what the hell? I'll talk to Molgrom and some others tomorrow." She looked at her sister as she stood. "Maybe one of those gods you like will notice me for this." Carlotta chuckled as Vex left the room. "Maybe." she said before turning to Boldir. She ran a finger through his hair again. "Can you make me a promise?" "Of course." "Promise me that you will leave out the gray bits when you grow this back." Boldir chuckled as she continued, "Because you're right. I'm too young to be married to a graying old brute." Boldir turned and kissed her. They sat there together for a while, deep in thought, but hopeful for the first time in a while. Crude as it was, they now had a plan, and it helped both of them sleep easier. *** The next evening It was not quite dark yet, but the moons were already visible nonetheless. The single window in the room gave way to them, and despite their light not being yet apparent in contrast to that of the sun, it was still enough to bring out the power in Mila's dagger. Her eyes were fixated on the beautiful glowing blade, it's fox-shaped carvings were just visible beneath the white radiance. Boldir sat in the chair beside her, right beneath the window. He was explaining to her the importance of keeping the weapon clean and in good shape. Not that that had ever really been a problem. She cleaned and polished the dagger regularly, despite the fact that it was never used. Since they'd held up in Vex's house, regularly had become every few hours. At Boldir's urging, she handed it to him. "I've seen you keeping it up on your own time." he said, as if he'd heard her thoughts. "Even before we came here. That's a good habit. Don't ever drop it." Mila took in his praise, but didn't say anything. Her anger towards him had subsided with the passing days, but that did not mean that her mood was positive. Being trapped inside the same home for so long was more than frustrating. Boldir turned over the dagger in his hands, looking it over. "You know, when people have a valuable or special weapon, they often name them. Have you put any thought into that?" He handed the dagger back. "A name?" Naming it had never even crossed Mila's mind. Although now that she thought about it. It was fairly common. All of the great heroes had named weapons. Everyone knew of Ysgramor's great axe Wuuthrad, or the burning Goldbrand sword that is said to pass from hero to hero, never remaining with one for long. "No, I hadn't thought about..." Mila paused, trying to think if a good name but drawing up blank. It was harder than she'd expected. "I can't think of anything. "You made it. Do you have any ideas?" Boldir chuckled. It may be brief, but his plan to distract her mind from all that anger seemed like it could work. Mila deserved a happy moment with all that she was going through. "I made it, but it's yours. You should be the one to name it. You don't have to right now. I'm sure it'll come to you." "Yeah, I think I'll wait. Naming something shouldn't be so hard!" For the first time in over a week, Mila's angry frown faded. She looked like the thoughtful young girl that he knew and loved. "You'd think that, but it seems to me that most people would agree with you. I think it's because if you care about something enough to name it, you want to give it the right name. A fitting one to be proud of." Mila nodded. It made sense. She glanced at Boldir's own weapon. The large war axe that had not left his side since things got bad. But weapon's can't be proud of names... A thought dawned on Mila, one that never had occurred to her before. "Boldir... can I ask you a question?" He looked at her curiously. "Sure Mila, go ahead." "Did- err... Do you have a kid?" "Huh?" Boldir looked at her, surprise written all over his face. It seemed like that happened to both him and mother when she asked questions like this. It made her feel guilty for it, but she had to ask. She had been with mother before the marriage, after all. She had been very young, too young to even remember much, but she had once had a real father. What if Boldir had had a wife one time as well? And a kid of his own? He recovered himself quickly though, and he answered easily. "No, Mila. I've never had a child of my own. I wouldn't keep something like that from you." "Oh," she glanced around awkwardly, hoping to find something else to talk about. "So what did you name your axe?" She pointed at the one at his side. "Or the broken one back home?" "I never named either." he said. "I'd thought about it before, but had the same problem as you, then I figured they were fine without names. Named weapons are special, and belong to heroes and great people. Why do you think I expect you to name yours?" That made her smile, which in turn, made him smile as well. "Then yours should have names too." Mila said the words before she even knew she meant to. Boldir had done a lot. He had helped stop the elves down south, and he'd fought the bandits that threatened Whiterun. He was the reason she was able to come out on this trip and meet Aerin and Vex. She'd gotten to ride a large boat, and swim in the hot springs, and touch the magical standing stones. All because of him. And he planned to do so much more. I haven't been fair. she realized. Boldir brought them here with good intentions, and almost managed to get them out as well. So, he lied to her. But he had done so much good as well. Mila carefully sheathed her dagger and reached over to wrap her arms around him in a hug. "I'm sorry." she said. Boldir enclosed the girl in his arms. "So am I." After the long embrace, Mila finally pulled back with the biggest smile on her face Boldir had seen since the day they'd been forced to leave the inn. "What about Milk Spiller?" she asked. Boldir looked puzzled. "What?" She nodded at his axe. "For a name. Because it upset so many southerners in the war." Boldir began to chuckle, and before long, he was laughing as he had not in a very long time. A year ago, the term milk-drinker was one Mila wouldn't have heard but in passing. Being around him, and most likely Baldur as well, had impacted the girl more than he knew. The thought was a scary one, but hearing his stepdaughter make milk-drinking jokes tickled him more than anything in the world. By the time he began to catch his breath, Mila had begun laughing too, and Carlotta was standing in the doorway with a worried expression. "Sure," came Vex's voice from somewhere off behind his wife, "let's just make as much noise as possible while hiding from thugs and assassins." He ignored her and closed his hand around the axe's hilt. "You know, I like that." It wasn't a heroic name that would be remembered in songs or tales, but then again, neither was his. "Now you work on yours while I go upstairs and get something." That something was his journal. He'd not written in it since things went downhill, and he was still unsure if he would include all that had transpired in Riften. The real events were shameful enough. Writing them down would only serve to one day remind him of things he fully intended to put behind him. But Baldur would not forgive him if he neglected to write down what caused him to start calling his axe something as ridiculous as 'Milk Spiller'. He got out of his seat and made his way upstairs, where he lifted the trap door and climbed up into the large attic room. He headed towards the window at the other side, but stopped at one of the large "trophy" shelves along the wall on the way. He found himself staring in slight awe at a golden ornamented dragon statue. It must have been worth a small fortune on its own. It's no wonder she never sold this stuff. These are items that belong to Jarls and Thanes. She keeps them because of her pride. Boldir couldn't believe that of all people, it was Vex who was helping them. He'd killed plenty of soldiers who were probably better than her, thieves as well, but not as good at what they did. And now he was putting his life, and the lives of his family in her hands. It made him feel a little sick to his stomach. Just one more day. By this time tomorrow, we will be riding for Windhelm. He turned from the case and began to head for the round window at the far end of the room. The "whooshing" sound registered in his ears after just three steps. He didn't have time to make a move before a searing pain blasted across his upper back, the force behind it sending him forward onto his knees. The unexpected burning sensation forced a pained shout out of his lips as he fell. *** "Aaaaargh!" Mila jumped from her seat in fright, drawing her dagger. "What was that!?" the girl cried. "Aunt Vex? Ma? What was-" "Shut up!" Vex hissed. Shit. We took too long! "Get to the back door! And sheath that dagger!" Mila obeyed without question. Carlotta appeared from the kitchen. "Boldir is up there." she said, eyeing her sister. There was some muffled yelling from up above. The tone of it sounded taunting. "The big man can handle himself." Vex said. "If they're bad enough to stop him, we aren't gonna make a bit of difference. What matters is your daughter." Mila drew her dagger again. The fear on her face was still apparent, but there was a braveness there that Boldir would have been proud of. "We should help!" . Vex balled her fists. "For the love of-" "Vex is right." Carlotta said, "I need to get you out of here first. We'll send help for Boldir once you are safe." She wasn't sure how, but that would come later. "How can you say that?!" Mila's eyes began to blur. The tears were of shock and anger more than sadness. "We can't just him!" There was crash upstairs. It sounded like glass was breaking. Shit! Vex thought, They're breaking my stuff! "Look, This will go a lot easier if I don't have to carry you unconscious across town," Vex shouted. "but I am five seconds away from doing just that if you don't put up your damn dagger and listen to me!" Mila looked from one woman to the other. Her expression defeated. "He could-" "You've seen what Boldir can do, sweetie." Carlotta was surprised by the lack of fear in her own voice. She needed to appear brave for her daughter. "Even more than I have. He'll manage, and he'd want you in as safe a place as possible." It pained her to say it, as she wanted nothing more to go upstairs and help in whatever meager way she could, but Mila was the priority. She always had been. She opened the door and ushered Mila out. The girl's feet reluctantly moved along with her. Vex followed and locked the door behind them. "Besides," Vex said, as she led them over a fence and through a neighbor's backyard, "you aren't gonna do much with that dagger that he can't do alone. He's a fighter. You can't help him." Mila sheathed her dagger and tucked it under her coat as Vex lead them away. "You're wrong." she muttered as her mind went back to her wooden sword and Silent Moons camp. I've helped him with less. *** Boldir didn't have to reach back and feel to know that the back of his shirt was on fire. Quickly, he tugged it off and threw it away, then immediately dived to the right, behind the freshly-made bed. It was a good thing he did. A second fireball scorched the wood where he'd been kneeling. His back felt aflame, and he wanted to shout out, but didn't. There'd be a burn scar, no doubt, but he'd worry about that later. He had to stop this person before they could do any more damage, or worse, go downstairs. He felt a ping of dread when he realized that whoever it was, they must have slipped by everyone downstairs in order to set up this ambush. "What was your plan if the first hit didn't kill me?!" He shouted, slowly raising up with his newly-named war axe in hand. This time, fully prepared to dodge whatever was thrown his way. The room was empty. "No!" Boldir hurried for the trap door. He couldn't think about what would happen if this assailant made it to Carlotta or Mila. A pair of lights appeared in the far corner of the room, one small orange and one large and green. The orange one suddenly grew larger and larger as a fireball hurled toward him, once again catching Boldir off-guard. "Damn!" He barely managed to dodge to the left, and felt the flames lick at his bare shoulder, scorching his skin, but grazing by rather than striking him. He didn't cry out this time, but it hurt like the pits of Oblivion. Now Boldir saw that the larger green flash revealed the previously-invisible caster. She wore dark black leather armor with red padding mixed in. Her face was hidden behind a dark hood and a red mask that covered all but her shadowed eyes. Boldir charged. Now ready, he easily dodged a third ball of fire as he crossed the room. The assassin didn't remain idle though. She was not big. Barely taller than Mila, but she was agile, easily hopping onto a small table along the wall as she used both hands to fling two weaker fire spells his way. One of the spells immediately dissipated as Boldir caught it with Milk Spiller. The other flew past and struck the far wall, beside the window, blackening the wood, but otherwise doing no damage. When Boldir reached the assassin, he swung his axe high diagonally. He was surprised when he struck the wall, sinking his blade deep into it. The woman had leaped over his strike and landed cleanly on the larger round table behind him. She turned and flung another fireball his way. Boldir dislodged his axe and backed up with the momentum of it, so narrowly avoiding this spell that he could smell the singed hair in his beard. He kicked a wooden chair her way and pressed after her. The assassin easily blew the chair to bits with a fireball, then charged a green illusion spell in her left hand, and another fire one in her right. She was prepared to avoid another axe swing, but Boldir instead used his left side to ram the table, flipping it, and sending both it and her across the room. The assassin fell back and did a roll upon hitting the ground, ending up crouched on her feet. The table, however, didn't have her grace, and crashed into one of Vex's display bookcases along the wall behind her. Thousands of septims worth in stolen goods crashed to the ground, most breaking on impact, and littering the ground beside the beds in shattered glass and pottery. Her easy recovery frustrated Boldir. He'd have to get some solid blows on her eventually, he knew, or she'd wear him out with all the spells. At least the green ones she'd been charging were lost when she fell. He pushed in, not wanting to give her time to remedy that. The assassin dodged his next swing, and his next, swiftly and gracefully dancing around them the way an ice wraith does. Though this one wielded fire and tricks. Even as she dodged, her left hand sent short spurts of flames his way, forcing Boldir to avoid them the same way he would any blade. Fortunately, the flames were weak, and dissipated as soon as they hit the quicksilver axe. There was a flash of gold as her right hand drew an elven dagger, holding it backwards with the blade facing outward rather than in. It was a purely offensive style for a purely offensive weapon. She was quick, and dodged well, not needing to block, just parry. Fortunately for him, Boldir was almost as quick and many times as strong. She could not get close enough to get a good strike with the dagger, thanks to his axe's better reach, but he could not allow her to get far from him, as that was when she could use her slower, but more powerful spells. That proved difficult, given her speed and magic. Every time Boldir came close to landing a killing blow, her hand would glow, and the assassin would disappear but for a shimmer, and reappear clear of the swing, and so he found himself all over the room, attacking a target he could not hit. When he did lock weapons with her, it was always brief. She would parry and dodge and send flame his way, and then disappear soon after. It took a while, but eventually, she began disappearing less, and dodging lower, farther to his left. Boldir could tell she was trying to get around him, to get a jab at his back and end this with one strike, and was probably getting nervous about her own magic supplies as well. Finally, she went for it. It was a risky move that she hoped would leave him open. The assassin parried a blow from his axe and then feigned to his right before spinning to his left. She brought her dagger and her flaming palm around and drove both towards his exposed rib cage. The dagger was caught in the hook of his axehead, and the hand found itself burning nothing but air. Boldir had been prepared for the move, and dodged forward accordingly. The hooked axe was a move he had never attempted to block a dagger, but it worked, and he didn't hesitate to capitalize on it. He stepped in and grabbed her free hand with a much larger one of his own, clenching it hard so that she could not summon up another thrice-damned spell. He heard a finger bone break in his grasp, and the woman made a noise for the first time as she shouted out. He only gripped her hand tighter, and then did something he hadn't done in a long time, and despite everything, it felt good. Iron-Brow flung his forehead forward, meeting the area between her eyes with a loud, satisfying crack. He let go of her hand, and the assassin immediately stumbled back, moaning and disoriented. Boldir smiled at the light trail of blood he saw between her now-crossed eyes. The blow threw her hood off, and he found that she had matted brown hair nearly down to her shoulders. "How did you find us?!" he shouted. Stepping closer to her to keep within striking distance. He wanted an answer, but wouldn't hesitate to kill this woman if he had to. The dazed assassin had lost her dagger, and she had a hard time focusing to conjure up a spell. Still, she was a professional, and she had no intention of answering. She backed up, towards the small table she had jumped on earlier, all the while trying to clear her head. "Does anyone else know we're here?" He shouted, stepping closer. "Does Maven?!" The assassin closed her eyes and focused. Calm spell. She needed a calm spell. A powerful one. Her hands glowed green and when she opened her eyes, the big axe was being raised to strike. She let the spell fly. "You don't want to hurt me." she said calmly, but with a commanding tone. Still midcast, it almost sounded layered. Boldir felt the spell hit him like a punch, and he planted one foot back. She had a sweet voice, one of the sweetest he'd him ever heard. It almost seemed unreal. She's right. he thought. She's not Maven. I've got no quarrel with this woman. He noticed that the assassin no longer looked so confused as before. But there still was a thin trail of blood running from her hair down to her mask. I headbutted her! "I'm sorry about that." he said. "It's fine." said the assassin sweetly. "Now how about you put down your axe and head over by far window over there?" "Why the hell would I do that?" "Because that was a very strong spell, friend. My magicka is too low to cast any more. I need to drink a potion, and I don't feel safe doing it with you standing there with your axe in my face." "Seems fair." Boldir threw Milk Spiller aside and walked across the room. So we're friends now? That's what she said, isn't it? Something felt wrong about that, but he had a hard time placing it. She's not your friend idiot! She's using a spell! You saw her charge it! What? If that is true, why would she- Boldir forced his eyes shut as he walked. She's messing with your head! Turn around and get ready! Boldir turned, and all doubt left his mind. He groaned. "Damn mages." There, across the room, stood the assassin. Her hands glowed as a ball of flame the size of a campfire engulfed them. "Dodge this one." she muttered irritably. She let the fully charged spell fly. Everything felt like it was moving at half speed. Boldir instinctively dove to the right to avoid the massive fireball. That would have turned out well had it been the same fire spell as the others. Just as Boldir hit the ground and covered his head, there was a deafening BOOM, and what seemed like the entire world went up in flames. He closed his eyes and felt himself leave the ground, wind rushing through his hair. It felt as though he was flying. Flying and burning. His left arm and back were blistering with heat, and it was spreading. He could feel the fire burning straight through his left pants leg as well, stabbing at the old scar Lorgar had given him in what could've been a lifetime ago. The pain was immense. Greater than any he'd ever felt. Boldir couldn't focus on anything at that moment. Not the assassin, not his well-being. Even thoughts of Carlotta proved elusive. It was just the burning, searing, melting pain, and him. It was the greatest bliss he had ever felt when the back of his head finally struck something hard and everything faded away. *** Everyone in the city heard it, many of them saw it, when Vex's house, just across a canal from the market district, seemed to explode from the inside. They all turned and looked in shock, seeing the giant tower of smoke billowing from the now roofless top floor. Everything that hadn't been blown to bits seemed to be on fire. People were screaming, children were crying, windows were opening, and everyone was hurrying to get closer for a look. Carlotta had rarely seen Vex phased. Never had she seen her afraid, or upset, or depressed. It had always been anger. Now, her big sister looked nothing short of distraught. "No..." Vex didn't bother to remain hidden anymore. She stepped away from the alley behind the orphanage that they hid in and simply gaped. It was barely even a risk. No guard was paying mind to her. They were all focused on the house. Gathering to it like wolves to a wounded deer. "It's all gone." she muttered. "All of it." she could barely hear the her sister and niece behind her. The screams of fury and sadness, the swears no child should know, the sobs of a newly-made widow. It was all lost to her. Her life's work, her entire life's work was in that house! She could've bought three more of it with the contents inside, and now they were all gone. "I'm going back." she said, half-way understanding what she meant. "I need..." I need to see if there's any..." she didn't bother to finish, and simply shuffled forward in her daze. "Do you even here me?!" Vex did, but she didn't care. Carlotta could scream all day, but none of it mattered. It didn't concern her. She continued on, only to feel a hand on the back of her shoulder stopping her. Immediately, Vex's hand went to the hilt of her quicksilver dagger. It was the last thing she'd ever stolen, and the only thing of value that she had left. She didn't have time to draw it though, as by the time she'd turned, a tightly-balled fist filled her vision and put her on the ground. "Snap out of it!" Carlotta screamed, kneeling over her. She couldn't believe she'd hit her own sister, but she didn't care at this point. The bitch hadn't cared about Boldir. She had only worried about what she had lost, the trinkets and the heist plans and the gold. Boldir was dead. And they needed to get Mila to a safe place now. Vex was the only one who could do it. "For the sake of your family, Vex, ALL you've got left! Snap out of it and get us somewhere safe! We can move now, the guards aren't watching!" Mila still wailed from behind. "My father! You bastards killed my father!" The wailing went on, but she did nothing. Her legs had given out, and she sat on her knees, eyes red and tears flowing freely. The dagger at her side had never felt so useless. She wanted to do something. To take it and go kill the people responsible, but if he couldn't do it, how could she? "Damn you!" She screamed. "You gods-damned monsters!" "Shh!" Carlotta looked back at her. "I know you're sad Mila, but you've got to stay calm for now, or you'll give us away. I'm going to get you some place safe. We can be angry there." Or sad. she told herself, Save the tears for then. "Shut up!" the girl shouted back. "You left him! Both of you! You made me leave him! And now you want to leave again instead of fight!" Mila fought back the tears, trying to hide the sadness and look as angry and strong as she knew Boldir would. She couldn't do it. A new fit of sadness hit her and she broke down again, falling to her shaking palms and crying her eyes out. Carlotta didn't know what to say, but she knew that her first job as a mother was to get Mila to safety, no matter how badly it hurt her to put what had happened behind her. She turned back to Vex, who looked at her with a scowl. "Will you help us? Now is the best time to move." Vex had gotten over the shock of what her sister had done, and was now thinking about what she'd said. Her family had never been around, except for Carlotta. Now, just like when they were children, her sister was all she had. Her and her girl. She wanted to hit her back and leave, and it took every ounce of will not to, but doing so would ruin the last thing she could truly say was "her's". It was "her" family. "Fine." she said, getting up and ignoring her sister's hand offering to assist. "I'm not going!" Mila got out between sobs. "You're both... You're both Milk-Drinkers!" "You are." said Vex, casually walking her way. "Get up now." Mila remained where she was. "If we run... No!" she screamed again, this time finally standing up and drawing her dagger. "I'm going to kill Maven!" "Shut your trap or you'll get us killed!" Vex growled. Even with the commotion across town, such words were dangerous. She glanced around to make sure nobody had heard. Fortunately, there was a large gathering at the canal around her burning home. This side of town was deserted. Even the shopkeepers were away from their stands. "Look, the sewer entrance isn't far, and it should be safe long enough for the three of us to come up with a way to escape town together. My friends will be there, so it'll be easy. Come on, we're going right now." Mila shook her head. The sobbing had let up. "I mean it." she said, her voice hoarse and still very saddened. "So do I." Without warning, Vex snatched Mila's dagger from her, spun her around, and wrapped an arm around the girl's neck. "Stop!" Carlotta shouted. It was too late. Vex eased up, and the unconscious Mila slumped to the ground. "What?" Vex shrugged as she lifted Mila over her shoulder and grabbed her dagger. "You are the one who made it clear that family isn't off-limits anymore. Like I said, we aren't far at all. Let's go." She set off, with Carlotta following close behind, eyeing her carefully. Within minutes, they were down beside the canal, and after that, in the sewers. It would be a bit of a trek through them, but soon enough, they would be in the "Ratway", or as Vex had once referred to it, "The Worst Place in Riften." *** "Uuugh" Boldir couldn't move. There was a massive weight on top of him. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils, and as he came to, the powerful burning sensation hit him again like a million daggers. There were no flames on him anymore, but whatever weighed him down pushed hard against every burn he had, and there were many. He slowly opened his eyes, only to see darkness. Something was covering his face as well. He struggled a bit, slowly and carefully, and managed to, with no small amount of pain, remove his right arm from under his side. He brought it up and pushed on whatever blocked his vision. The object happened to be a piece of shingle, and moved easily. He now saw what had happened. The damn mage had blown the place up! A dark, smoke-filled evening sky looked down on him where the roof should have been, and the entire front wall, with the window, was missing. The fires had yet to spread across the entire room, so he couldn't have been out for long at all. He turned his head and saw the assassin. She hadn't found him yet it seemed, as she was crouched nearby, beside the missing wall, looking down towards where the canal would be. She thinks I fell down there. It was no wonder. The entire room was covered in rubble and fire. She must have lost sight of him in the explosion. Boldir carefully and quietly tried his best to feel around for his axe, but found nothing. Then he silently cursed as he remembered that the witch had managed to get him to throw it aside across the room. He couldn't move much with all the weight on him. It looked like one of Vex's tall bookshelves that was used for trophies. It was hot, and smelled of smoke as well. This thing is on fire! he realized frantically. Calm down. Calm down. It's not hurting you yet. It's the top that's burning... I need to get this off of me. It'll be loud. I need to reach her before she can cast again. Boldir put both palms on the case and began to push. "Mmph!" He bit his lip to keep from shouting out. Just trying to move this thing felt like driving a new wave of flaming knives into his burned arms and back. You can do this! You HAVE to get to them. Boldir wiped the blood off his lip and prepared for another go. Alright, PUSH! "Aaaagh!" The assassin spun around at the noise. Her eyes went wide as a large flaming bookcase flew through the air her and crashed into the ground. Before she'd put together what had happened, the large burned Nord was leaping through the fires in her direction. Her potion of nimbleness had worn off just after she'd hit him with the calm spell, and the inferno she'd summoned up had more than drained her magicka. Now it was all she could do to cast a weak ball of fire. The berserked, adrenaline-filled Nord didn't even seem to notice it hit his chest as he lunged her way. It happened fast. Her first thought was that it felt as though she'd been hit by a huge troll, and then they were airborne. The heat and the smoke of the house finally left Boldir as he tackled the assassin straight through the missing wall. He took a deep breath as they fell. The waters of the canal rushed up to them. There was a loud smack and then they were sinking. The assassin struck the bottom first, and Boldir held her there. He opened his eyes in the murky water, and got close enough to see her own. They struggled for a bit. The assassin tried to kick and thrash, but she had no chance with such weight pinning her to the canal floor. Boldir watched as her head thrashed in every direction and bubbles pushed off her red mask. The woman's fighting eased, and she began to quickly inhale water. Bubbles began forcing out of her mouth in droves. Her eyes briefly bulged, and her fingers dug deep into his forearms, but then it all stopped, and she was dead. Boldir let go of the mage's corpse and kicked hard on the canal floor, bringing himself up to the surface. He inhaled deeply when his head came up, and he allowed himself to momentarily float there, at ease. The water was filthy, but it felt wonderful. His burns stung, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain brought upon by contact with the air. He could have floated there with his eyes closed forever, but he knew that he had to find his family. There was no way that they would have remained in the house throughout all of that. Even more pressing though, he had to escape this scene before the guards- "Hey you! Can you hear me!?" Damnit! Boldir turned towards the caller. As he'd feared, it was a Riften guard, fully armored, standing on the boardwalk along the side of the canal. Along the walkway were four more guards just like him. A thousand pairs of eyes looked down on the scene from the market above. "That's a 'yes' then." the guard said loudly. "You need to come with us. We can see about doing something for those burns." Boldir ignored him and turned away, back towards the opposite side. There were two more guards waiting there, bows drawn, but no arrows knocked. Above them, Vex's entire house looked to be ablaze. Smoke was rising far above the city walls. "Come on!" the guard urged. Boldir simply shook his head and slowly began to swim down the canal. The familiar sound of a bowstring pulling back stopped him before he went far. "Listen," the guard said. "You can come with me now, or we'll put an arrow in you for resisting arrest." He had little choice. Boldir swam to the guard. One of the others joined him and they both hoisted him by the arms out of the water. "Heavy bastard, aren't ya?" Boldir didn't answer, he could barely think at all. After everything, how could he get caught now? Maven's assassin failed, but she had him anyway. Maybe that was the plan all along. He ignored the onlookers as the guards escorted him up out of the lower levels and through the market. Everyone in the city could see him right now. It was over. All he could hope was that Carlotta and Mila had escaped. If they did, that would be at least one bit of revenge Maven could never get. Too bad it wasn't likely that he'd ever find out. No, he thought, if she has them, she'll tell me. She'll want the pleasure of showing me just how truly she'd won before it's over. They marched him up to Mistveil Keep. There were guards everywhere. He raised his head as he passed up the steps. Behind a row of guards stood three people. One was a younger man with short hair and a familiar, yet unknown face, twisted in a smug grin. He had to be a Black-Briar. Next was a young woman who looked equally familiar. To her right, however, was the one Boldir recognized and dreaded. She stood tall and with a composure only carried by those used to being in charge. Her dark gray linens with simple silver trimmings could have belonged to any lesser noble, but she was anything but lesser. She had long, dark black hair and pale skin. She looked older than he had expected, and thinner, but of all the guards and men around her, not one radiated as much power. Boldir matched Maven's gaze. She didn't look smug or happy that she'd gotten him, or angry for what he'd done. She looked completely neutral, even more professional than the assassin she'd hired. He turned away and looked back ahead. They took a sharp turn away from the gates of Mistveil, and headed down to the right of the castle. Of course they did. That is the way to the dungeons.