TheCzarsHussar

Skjari Yellow Road Late afternoon The shadows grew longer as the sun began to reach the horizon. They had travelled for a few days and even by horse they had only reached the southern part of The Niben Basin. Skjari halted his horse as he looked at the road sign that pointed to the road the deviated to the right; "Applevale" the sign read. He pulled out the map and looked it over. There were no inns further down the road that they would manage to reach before dark. Even though it didn't bother him if he so had to ride through the night, having spent all day on horseback the last few days, he decided he could afford to give himself and his apprentices the luxury of an early stop. So he folded and put back the map before turning the horse down the road towards Applevale. It took a little less than half an hour to reach Applevale. They passed a small bridge over a small river, and during that time a light mist had formed and now covered their surroundings. The town wasn't large and was almost more of a large village. And it was located near some very large and tall cliffs that made a half decent attempt at forming a small mountain. And even though he could not see it, the smoke and the distant sound of rocks clashing suggested strongly that there was a mine going down under those cliffs. It was a quiet town and with the mist, and if not for the mental scarring, Skjari might have actually thought the place to be a bit creepy. Though the apprentices seemed to think it was as he heard Maximus make a sarcastic joke about how cheerful the place was. The nights silence was broken by a womens loud voice,a presumably annoyed and very angry women, "Useless peasant. If you can't do your job properly, I'll have you and your family thrown onto the streets." And I was starting to enjoy the calm quiet. Skjari thought. And as he rounded the corner of a building he entered the main street of the town. The street was very large and a few yards away he saw a noblewoman with red hair, she looked somewhat familiar but he couldn't quite remember. She was yelling at some young man in simple clothes. She had a guard waiting slightly behind her and a few other commoners stood around watching the spectacle. Skjari didn't pay that much attention as he instead tried finding the inn of the little town as his eyes trailed down the houses on both sides of the street. But he still lent the event an ear. She turned around to see the newcomers, with her face changing to surprised, her voice was also more soft, "Lord Snow-Strider." He turned his head and halted his horse. "Yes? I'm sorry if I don't quite remember. But haven't we met before?" She giggled, which caused the townspeople to raise there eyebrows, "Yes we have. I'm her majesties second cousin, Elizabeth Motierre." Skjari was silent for a couple of seconds as tried to remember. "Now I remember. So what brings you to this town?" "I own it." "Ah. Well I'm on my way from Leyawiin to Cheydinhal. Just going to stop here for the night." Lizzy turned around and said loudly, "What are you filth looking at. Get back to work." She glanced back to Skjari, her voice becoming kind again, "A handsome lord like yourself betrothed to my beloved cousin? I think not. You must stay at my mansion." "Very kind of you m'lady. And what of my apprentices?" Skjari gestured to his little entourage. "They can sleep in the guest rooms if they must." She said rolling her eyes. Skjari turned to his entourage. "Stay at the inn. You got the gold for it. And don't drink too much. That's an order." He then dismounted the horse let it go it's way before turning back to Elizabeth. "Shall we go then?" She offered him her hand, and shyly looked withdrawn, "You will protect me, right. My lord? Its so scary for a lady like me in the evening..." Do I smell like a Dibellan or something? Anyway, haven't had a woman in weeks. Just play along. "Of course m'lady." He then offered her his arm for her to grab. She held onto his arm tightly, "Thank you my lord. Her majesty couldn't compare to your kindness." "She's gotten a bit stiff as of late, I know. But enough about that." Skjari lifted his foot and was about to take the first step, but stopped himself. "Which way is the mansion?" "North of here it'll only take fifteen minutes." He had no desire to cast a spell to point out north. "I think it's better if you show the way." "Follow me then." As the two of them walked, commoners passing by stopped to bow there heads to the pair. Lizzy smiled sinisterly, "Its good these low lives know there place, and they respect there betters." "Hmm." He said while trying to sound thoughtful, as he had no desire to either agree or disagree. "So have you got Dales pregneant yet?" "No." He lowered his voice. "You can probably figure out why." "She's attracted to girls, gross right?" He leaned in and whispered. "Last time we talked you hinted at being the same." "I experimented when I was younger and played around with Dales. Wanted to cheer her up in the imperial city, nothing more." "So you don't prefer the sheath over the sword?" "I don't." Lizzy caught sight of a worker holding a damaged pick axe, her face went red with anger, as she left Skjari's arm lock, and went over waving her hand about, "You. What kinda of imbecile breaks a pick axe." The man bowed his head, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry my lady." She went on for a good five minutes, ranting about various things, including the economy, the price of replacing tools, and the person's inferiority. Skjari himself just stood there and watched and listened for a minute before getting bored. Though he almost felt sorry for the worker as when he started to look like he wasn't paying attention, Lizzy gave him a slap across the face and then grabbed his ear and forced the man down his knees while she continued to lecture the man. When the man looked like he was about to cry, whether it was from the pain of the pinched ear or the lecture or both, Skjari felt like he had waited long enough. He stepped close to Lizzy and interrupted. "I think he understands now." "Hmpth, he better." She dropped the mans ear and walked away, "Honestly I think I'm too lenient with these peasants." "I doubt it." Skjari then offered her his arm again. As if not even paying attention, she accepted it, and started saying, "I know right? I should throw them into the dungeon or put them into stocks." "How do you expect them to be able to work then?" "Exactly. You have to have a shred of mercy, especially since i'm such as kind person-" Just then a shadowy man bumped into the pair, who hastily made a retreat as soon as he did. Elizabeth, whose face once again filled with rage, shouted out, "HEY, YOU-" But before she could finished, she noticed something was missing. That man was a pickpocket. Before Skjari could say anything, Elizabeth sprinted forward, in a surprisingly fast dash of speed. Before anyone knew it, Lizzy was on the man, pinning him to the ground, she got up, dusting her clothes. With a cry, she slammed her feet into the man's stomach with strength uncharacteristic of someone her size and age, she shouted, "Why you miserable low-life." She slammed her foot into his stomach again, causing him to spit out blood, which went onto her clothes, causing her to get angrier, "Peasant.", before putting her boot on the man's face, pushing down with enough force to cause him to cry out in pain, "You lazy, ungrateful piece of shit." Skjari first watched in surprise at it all. And she said she wanted protection? If anyone needs protection it's the thief. He thought before he walked up to Lizzy. "I think he's trying to say he's sorry." "What?" She turned around breathing hard, "Thieves don't get to say sorry." "Just take back what he stole. He's not worth more effort." "Fine." She stopped kicking the man, and took back the pouch he had stolen. "Filth." Skjari offered her his arm and he could hear the thief cry out for a guard's help. "So how is the business going in this town of yours?" Taking it and beginning to walk again, she said, "The mines are pumping out revenue, so business is good." "No bandit raids or pesky competitors?" "We are after all relatives to her majesty, no one would dare provoke us." "What ore do you mine?" "Silver." "So you make jewelry?" "Yep. I was going to give Dales a nice emerald one, but decided not to." She said puffing her face. "You didn't get a chance to give it to her?" He said with a slight disbelief. "No, I didn't want to. She kicked me out of the palace, the only thing I did was attempt to slap one of her maids." "For what?" "Getting water on my dress. Some shylooking mouse with dark hair and glasses." "Sounds familiar. But don't really remember who. Anyway, you live alone in this mansion?" "My father, mother, younger sister, and younger brother live with me, though my brother is the official heir, I do all the work." "When I tell them your Dales' fiancee, as well as nobleman. I have no doubt they'll greet you with open arms." Skjari looked down at his robe and gauntlets. "I bet there will be some doubt though. Have to say I look more like a mercenary right now." "Hmmm. So how do you like the town?" "A bit dreary from what I've seen so far." "The town has a long and rich history of supernatural folklore. It fits, doesn't it?" "Prattle from the commoners more then likely. It still can get very creepy at night, and your eyes tend to play tricks on you." "So lets hurry to the mansion before dark then? I could use a hefty meal and a warm bed." **** As they entered the mansion, the feeling of warmth instantly spread over them. Before Lizzy could say anything, a girl entered into the entrance room. She was pale, had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pair of silver glasses. She looked nothing like Lizzy, but had similar features to Dales, minus being abnormally short. She spoke in a deadpan, and un-energetic voice, "Brought some company over, sister?" Her eyebrows raised. Lizzy responded in her usual happy voice, "Yes Emily, this is Lord Snow-Strider, court mage to her majesty." The young girl didn't react, instead saying, "So, you work for Dales?" Oddly, she addressed the empress by her first name, unlike her sister. "You could say that." Skjari answered. She looked at him, taking in ever detail, and examining him with her cold blue eyes. After a minute, she shook her head, "Nah, you cant be her fiancee can you? I don't think your her type." "I know it's a bit hard to believe." She looked at Lizzy, "No breasts." "What?" Skjari assumed she was talking about him, but it was still quite an odd thing to say. "If you work for her, I know you know what I mean. You have no breasts, hence she would never find you attractive. Must be a marriage of alliance, convenience, or necessity, correct?" Lizzy lightly tapped her, "Emily please not now." Emily shrugged, "Just a question." "So, when's dinner?" He instead said, obviously trying to change subject. "Oh great, I doubt you want to be exposed to father's toxic cooking, he's making his bloody stew." Said the girl, yawning. Lizzy bluntly said, in a loud voice, "Father's stew is amazing!!!" Emily laughed dryly, "Maybe if you want to gain five hundred pounds." "I tend to eat for two anyway." Skjari said indifferently. "Well then follow me-" A loud voice interrupted Emily before she could finish. "EMILY PLAY WITH ME." A little boy entered. He was short looking no older then four, had red hair like Lizzie, and his face was covered in freckles. He turned his head to Skjari, before laughing, "Oh hello mister nord." SKjari returned a little amused smile. "Hello little boy." Lizzy ran up to the little boy, grabbing him and tickling him, he struggled, laughing, "Stop Lizzy, stop..." Emily smiled faintly, before going up to Skjari and saying, "I'll show you to your quarters, before taking you to the dinner table." She motioned for him to join her. Skjari gave a light nod. "After you then." She lead him through a large hallway, which was filled with paintings, of landscapes, and people. She said to Witchie, "So, do you plan to sleep with me, or Elizabeth tonight?" "That's an odd question to ask directly. And you don't seem that interested." "I'm curious. I can tell you straight out I'm not interested, if you know what I mean. I've heard the rumors Lord Snow-Strider, and I'm a close friend with a few noblewomen in the Imperial City. One of which claims to have spent a night with you." "Only a little curious? I prefer more... willing participants." "Good. I see your not a rapist then." She walked a few more steps, "Elizabeth adores you, so I have no doubt she'll be crawling to your bed later tonight." "Are you always this..." "Straightforward? Uptight? Bitchy?" She chuckled, "Most of the time, yes. I see no reason not to state the truth. Is that not a virtue?" "It's a more important talent to know when to say what." "There's a reason Elizabeth heads the family and not me." "What of your parents then? They just sit around waiting to grow grow old and die?" "Yep. Father spends all of his time in the Kitchen or playing with Adam. My step mother, whose quite young, spends all of her time pestering the commoners." "And your real mother?" "Dead. Disease. I'm a bastard you see." "So Lizzy is actually your half sister?" "Yes." She stopped for a second, halting. She looked thoughtful, "Lizzy always knew. Yet she always treated me well and loved me like her real sister, unlike everyone else at court. Which is pretty odd, considering how spiteful she is towards commoners." "Your mother was a commoner?" "Yes, a brothel whore, or so I'm told. Father was kind enough to take me in when she passed." "And Lizzy's mother? I take it the stepmother you have right now isn't Lizzy's mother is she's still young." "Divorced, a lesser noble of High Rock. A horrible women." "Ah." He made a short pause. "I hope I'm not intruding on the dinner or anything." "No, father loves company, as does Camilla, Lizzy, and Adam. Though I do wish Dales would visit sometime." "I'm sure she wish she could too. Being empress isn't easy, especially in these times." "I..." She stopped a second, before blushing heavily, "Nevermind. That was an extremely selfish thought. "You can also make use of the sheath?" She turned around, her tone becoming different, being incredibly embarrassed and uneasy going, "I-dont know what your talking about." "You're going to stop being straightforward?" "Well... Dales was always the kindest to me. When she was a girl, all she would do was pester me, annoy me, but always smile and treat me like an older sister. She...didn't treat me like anything else, like the other noble girls. When she got older...I started seeing her as something more then a little sister." She turned away, her voice changing back to normal, "But that's impossible. We both have our duties to the family, and Dales never saw me as anything but an older sister." "I get it, you and Lizzy did some experimenting in the early years." "Many Noblewomen do. Though unlike Elizabeth, I never grew out of it." "But you still also like the sword, or else you wouldn't be 'curious'." "Depends on the person. As everything. Gender doesn't matter to me." She gave him a sly smile, "Unfortunately for you, my shriveled Icy heart belongs to a young empress, as unrequited as my feelings are." "So where's my room? Or am I staying in Lizzy's room? I also have the feeling we've been walking in circles. Or am I just lost?" "Now that you mention it..." She looked around the corner, "Here." She pointed towards a door. "The guest room?" He said and gave her a little suspicious look. "Yes. It's medium sized, and should suit your needs for the night, though knowing father, he'll insist on having you stay for another day." "Though I'm actually on business. I'll leave in the morning." "Then I recommend leaving early." "How so?" "Wake up early in the morning and go. I'll tell them you had pressing business to attend. Make sure not to wake up Elizabeth, since I know she'll be sleeping beside you when you wake up." "I think I'll need a bit more of an explanation than that." "Then expect to leave later afternoon at the earliest then." "Why?" Now it was getting a bit frustrating not getting a straight answer. "My dad and Lizzy will keep you. Unless you act firm and risk offending them." "They can try. Anyway, dinner?" "Follow me." *** Emily lead him to a large room, with a large oak table in the middle, with several seats. It was covered in food. Emily's little brother Adam, was already seated, as well as Lizzy, who was sitting beside her little brother. The little boy waved his arms, "Yohooo, mister nord, why don't you sit beside me?" Lizzy sternly tapped him on the shoulder, "Don't bother our guest Adam." Skjari walked up to them. "Sorry but I think I'll sit here instead." And he sat down next to Lizzy instead. "Awwww, don't sit beside big bust-Lizzy." Emily nearly fell, choking on laughter, which she tried covering with her hands. Lizzy, got red faced, glancing down to her breasts,"They aren't that big. Adam, were in Oblivion did you hear that name?" "Mother said to father your breasts were too big, and would ruin your chances in getting married. So I came up with the name big-bust Lizzy." Lizzy let out a "Humpth", lightly smacking the boy on the head, "Well don't repeat it again." Skjari leaned in an whispered in Lizzy's ear under a muffle spell. "I'm sure she's just jealous." "Are... they really that big? They're not melons like Lillin Quentas's, just a little...larger then average right?" She returned the whisper. "You want an examination?" "Oh you sly devil. Even when your betrothed? Later." She smiled, before saying, "How goes the writing Emily?" Emily nodded, "Very fine, sister." Looking down at his empty plate and then the barren table, Skjari decided he might as well try to join the conversation. "You're a writer?" "Yes. Historical Fiction." She said, in a snarky voice, "I have to keep the bookshelves of book stores lined with historically accurate drama's, and it's my civic duty to quell the rising sales of books written by that Bathory woman." "Right. So what kind of historical fiction, and what era?" "Second Era mostly, some drama, some romance. Though I did a small novel based on the Nordic night of tears in the Merethic Era, and did an even smaller one on the fabled Dragon War. They were... controversial to say the least, to the point of them now being as rare as Bathory's infamous Camille." "I think the only book I've read from Miss Bathory is The Lost King." "While I think Magdela is a fine, and good women, I cant say the same about her writing. Far too smutty for my tastes, as well as her books portraying events far more romanticized then they actually were, as well as historically inaccurate. Camille, I think was her best work by far. Sons of Skyrim by far the worst. Portrayal of the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion was horribly inaccurate, and there wasn't enough gory details." "I haven't read any of those books so I can't really comment." Though I have a faint memory of burning Lorgar's Camille. Along with the rest of his filthy elf book collection and the rest of his office. "You don't read novels, Lord Snow-Strider?" "Not much. I'm more into tomes of magic, history books and a few books about warfare and civics. I'm a scholar of sorts." "Well, you are court mage after all. Though you should. There's some fine novels out there." Emily said, smiling. Just then, servants arrived carrying plates of delicious looks food. She gave him a nod, "Go ahead, take some appetizers." Emily helped herself to a large amount of food. "Well I'm starving." He reached out to grab some food and he suddenly realized he still had the gauntlets on. He pulled off the gauntlets and put them down on the table besides his plate, tilted almost upside down so the others wouldn't see the royal dragon carvings that covered the plates that protected the forearms. Then he started to grab a little bit of everything that looked like it would taste good. Fruit, sliced and smoked deer meat and something he thought was some kind of root vegetable. The things he couldn't directly reach he had it float through the air towards him with a little magic. Then he began to eat at a quick pace. Lizzy, ate with sophistication, taking small bites, while Emily and Adam gorged there faces. When the plate was empty Skjari was about to take some more, but stopped his hand for a moment. "So I guess there's no stew today or are these just the starters?" "Starters." Said Emily tearing at a deers leg, "Save your stomach." "I really like this root though." He said and stretched for some more. "It's licorice." "Isn't that also used to make some kind of treat?" "Yes. A sort of candy. Children adore it." "Though I bet it's also something adults like." Skjari had now gotten a little bored of the conversation and cast a spell so his left arm looked to be simply resting at the table along with keeping the boy a bit distracted by the food, while it actually began running up the side under Lizzy's dress. Lizzy let out a cry of surprise, before covering her mouth, her face was blushing heavily. Emily's eye brows raised, "Is there a problem?" Lizzy said "Nothings wrong." "She probably just saw an insect." Skjari said, hand going further up till it almost reached her hip and then caressed itself to the inside of the thigh. It was quite amusing poking a reaction out of Lizzy and indirectly, the others. "Do you need to be excused?" Asked Emily. Lizzy, who was breathing a bit more heavily, shook her head. "So what exactly did you write about in your book about the Dragon War?" Skjari asked as he turned to Emily. Now his fingers trailed further in, past her underwear and inside her. "A meeting between the legendary dragon priests, and there liege lord, Alduin-" Emily was interrupted by Lizzie crying out. "Calm down Elizabeth, you're getting a bit jumpy. Almost like you've seen a ghost. Anyway, Emily, please continue." Skjari said calmly and unaffected. Now he began stirring things up a little bit, along with a small spell to increase the sensitivity. "The Nordic god of destruction. Along with a small passage about the fabelled "Traitor" from Skaalish mythology-" Lizzy was sitting with mouth half open and twisting around. Emily sighed before adjusting her glasses causing the light to flash on them, "Lord Snow Strider. You should be aware Dales was not the only one to study at the Synod." "A little bit more self control please." He sent those words inside Lizzy's head along with a calming spell before speaking to Emily. "So wish to speak about the arcane arts instead?" He gave her little amused smile and then made a quick and subtle nod towards the boy on the other side of Lizzy, reminding Emily that it wouldn't be wise to expose him. She rolled her eyes, "I was there for history. Though I'm decent in mysticism and alteration. As well as particularly skilled at spotting Illusion magic." "Isn't mysticism a bit of a dead school today? Though I myself have always thought the concept of schools to be a bit limiting. So for me it doesn't really matter if it's dead." "It's rare, but rather fun to learn. My father is a ten times better mage then me though." "Is it common for nobility to study magic here in Cyrodiil?" "More common then you think." "Lizzy, have you also studied magic?" He said while turning to her. "Yes. Destruction and illusion." She answered quickly. He turned back to Emily. "I have actually studied the Dragon Cult. Alduin is actually more of a God of Time. Or more like the firstborn of the God of Time." He then stirred the fingers a little bit more, along with increasing the power of the spell. "Stay calm." He said with a stern voice in Lizzy's head. "I am aware. Ancient texts refer to him as 'Firstborn of Akatosh'." "You own any copies from Miss Bathory?" "I posses one of only remaining first edition copies of Camille." "No others?" "I donated all of my other Bathory books to the Skaal people when I visited Solsthiem to learn there rich mythology nine years ago, their shaman was quite the fan of her works." "What do you know of the dragon priests?" He moved the fingers a bit deeper, which was hard without getting the arm in a weird angle, hoping for one final twitch. "Lieutenants and servants to Alduin, high ranking members of the Dragoncult. A small group of them supposedly received powerful masks as rewards for there faith and loyalty. The Skaal identify the Traitor, as a former Dragonpriest known as Miraak." "Are you writing on a book right now?" Slightly disappointed by the lack of twitching he increased the intensity of the spell even more. Instead of twitching, Lizzie was digging her nails into the wooden table, biting her tounge, "A simple romance novel. Partial inspired by the third era masterpiece Lilly In The Imperial Garden." Feeling the lack of twitching, but the increase in tension, he increased the spell more, to the level of power required to get a honest reaction out of Maggie. "You think the upcoming war might have some good material for a book?" Lizzie eyes went wind open, her hands started twitching nervously, Emily whose face turned red, said, "Adam cover your ears." Adam nodded his small head, "Okay big sis." He plugged his ears, Emily shouted, in an angry and commanding voice that made her sound like drill sergeant, "Fingering my sister, in front of my little brother, is that any way to act at the dinner table?!" He smiled a bit amused and pulled back his and wiped it clean on his already somewhat dirty robe. I should get rid of cat blood some day. But then he turned his attention back to Emily as his arm and the illusion of it got into the same place on the table. "Just wanted to see how she would react. And he couldn't see. He wasn't even paying attention. Only one who brings attention to it is you." "Yeah, ever though the kid would ask why his sister is drooling like an ape, moaning like a wraith, and spazing around like a mental patient?!" "Emily!!!" Cried Lizzy, waving her arms, "You're overreacting." "She wasn't moaning, nor drooling. And I'm done. And he's none the wiser of what was going on. Unless you wish to tell him." "I-" "Why hello there, Lord Snow-Strider!!!" Just before Emily could speak, a man entered into the room carrying a huge pot. The man himself was huge, and while you could tell he was chubby, he was also big boned, and did have muscle. He was also short. He had light blonde hair, that was mixed with strands of grey, along with having a huge grey beard. He was wearing expensive looking clothing, and had a large ruby ring on his left hand. His voice was Jolly and energetic, matching his appearance. He placed the huge pot on the table, before giving him a bow, "I am William Motierre, uncle to her majesty Dales Motierre, and head of the Motiere family." "I'm sure you are. Though I would argue Dales is the head of the family, although in a different way." Skjari said, trying to sound glad. Then he gave Emily a quick glance along with a small spell under the table that made her hear his voice from behind. "And don't worry about your little brother, I didn't survive this long without knowing how to keep people distracted." Emily gave him a slight smile, nodding her head. William laughed, a loud and jovial laugh, "Little Dales is of course the head of the country, handling nation wide matters. Say..." He looked at him, examining him with same look Emily gave him early at the door, "Couldn't believe it when I heard you were marrying little Dales, you have no breasts." "Here we go again." He rolled his eyes. "Though I have to say I do have 'breasts' as any other human being. They just happen to be made of muscles rather than milk factories." "Dales certainly likes her milk factories!" He said laughing, "She would occasionally tell me about her conquests in her teenage years, always knew she swung that way, instead of simple experimenting." "So, about that stew?" Laughing, he said, "Oh listen to me ramble about the empress. Here." He went over, carrying a large bowl, "Nords eat alot, so here's a large portion." He filled it with stew, made from all sorts of vegetables, and what looked like beef, he handed it to the mage. "Thank you." Skjari said as as he took the spoon and took the first taste. "Tastes good." And it was the truth as he started eating more and more, barely stopping just to catch a breath. "Hmm." Skjari said nodding and with mouth filled with stew. "Well thank you." Adam, Lizzy, and yes, even Emily, had already gotten there portions, and started to dig in. When his bowl was empty, Skjari quickly had the bowl filled with some stew flying through the air. He thought about starting a conversation but instead settled on teasing Emily. So sent another spell at Emily that made her hear him whisper slyly into her ear. "You still curious?" She smiled amused, and spoke in the regular way, "My heart belongs to one person, as I told your earlier. Sorry lover boy." Skjari looked at her, pretending a look of confusion. "What?" As to the others, she was answering an unspoken question. "What was that Emily?" Asked William, sitting down, preparing to pig out. "Who does my daughters sweet heart belong too?" Emily looked at Skjari, giving him an annoyed look, "No one father." Skjari just shrugged at it all like he didn't know what it was about. He knew that what he was doing was childish and unnecessary, but after the last stressful weeks he felt like he could loosen up a bit. At least for a moment. When the second bowl was finished he still felt like he could get down a little bit more. But he refrained from taking a little more stew for the moment. "Will there be any desert?" He asked instead. "Cake. My future in-law is visiting, I thought I would make it a special occasion." Said William chuckling. "I'm surprised you managed to whip up a cake in such short notice." Then his thoughts trailed back to antagonizing Emily a bit more. But he didn't manage to come up with an idea that he felt sure that he could get away with. "I am a master chief, second only to the gourmet." He said laughing. Skjari looked around and saw that everyone seemed o be done with the stew. "Lets have some cake." William snapped his figures, causing servants to bring in a large, chocolate cake. They ate and talked about little things, boring and unimportant Skjari thought, but he knew that he needed to be able to handle some noble socializing. So when the cake was done he didn't waste much time to pick up his gauntlets get up from the table. "Now if you excuse me. I'm going to retire for the night." Lizzy got of her chair, saying "Me too." Skjari left the room and headed down the hallway. The room was one would expect of such a family. A big window with large curtains tied up on the sides on the opposite side of the door. A double bed with clean and soft sheets standing up against the far left door. And a small table with a few trinkets on it and two padded and decorated chairs to the right of the window. And a tall wardrobe on the wall to the right. Skjari didn't really bother with the wardrobe and just took off the robe and threw it at one of the chairs along with the gauntlets. He placed the boots near the legs of the chair as well and the sword left to lean against the armrest. Now all he wearing nothing more than his black woolen pants he sat down in the other empty chair. There he waited. He looked a little closer at the stuff on the table. But there were nothing of interest, just a feather pen, an ink pot and some paper. There were also three Septims on the table, probably left behind by the last guest. Which wouldn't be that surprising given how some nobles treated coin. Some things hadn't changed in the last thousands of years. Lizzy, entered, wearing only a thin nightgown, she asked, "You ready for business?" He gave her a light smile. "I've been warming up since dinner."

Windhelm (continued) Fire-Hand was headed out of the city towards Morvunskar. She had learned early not to conduct practices in public. The Palace of Kings didn't have a private courtyard, and the sight of mages casting spells upset people. Two Grim Ones bodyguards trailed her. When she saw Baldur and Daric, she slowed her pace. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. But it is probably better we address this sooner rather than later." Veleda took the paper from her pocket and handed it over to Baldur. "Someone doesn't like your choice of allies. These are Draugr Dunmer, correct? Could the suspicion be true?" Baldur moved to grab the paper, but Daric took it first, then handed it to him. Baldur took a few moments to look over the names, then unceremoniously tapped it to Daric's chest to hold. "This isn't anything new, Veleda. I had people in the streets spit at me for this same thing. Most of the grumbling died out after reports of the war got out and they heard of what they did in Pale Pass. Who gave you this list? Names of the Grim Ones isn't common knowledge, as they're a small force. Let alone a handful of Dunmer under my personal command. If they were spies, they picked the wrong force to spy on. Being the vanguards of any conflict they're involved in and all." "It was put under my door. It is probably one of your own then? One of the Grim Ones, perhaps, who isn't happy about non-Nords in the force. The fact is, spies have to be a concern of ours. Several people were removed from the court already, Brunwulf Free-Winter the most prominent. Did you know him? I take it that people believe Ulfric and I will react kneejerk to any such accusation." "Brunwulf? Ulfric removed him from court? He's no friend of the Stormcloaks, but that is a bit much. He came to me a few times thanking me for not giving Dunmer the cold shoulder. He isn't a friend of mine, but I know better than to think he's a spy. I'm aware that the Thalmor have a long reach, but Dunmer and Imperial supporters, those are distractions. If any of my men have been trying to make me kick the Dunmer out on suspicion, then they're no better than the actual spies they accuse the Dunmer of being. I'll find the culprit. In fact, I'll address it today. I've got a plan." "He was implicated in some of the activities of this... Sons of Whiterun faction, here in Eastmarch. I believe he's gone to Bruma. I wonder if we aren't exporting problems that will come back to bite us one day. If I can be of service in your plan, let me know. My plate is quite full these days but Ulfric's philosophy is my own:Take care of your men first. And few are so important to Ulfric or to Skyrim as you and your wife." "Ah, well that I can believe. There's always the chance that the Empire is still keeping eyes on us as well. At any rate, I'm going to address the men now. I'll contact you shortly once I have." Baldur and Daric set off then to go about the task of finding the list maker while Rebec was dealing with her second. Whether or not the person was a traitor, Baldur didn't know. He suspected that the man was simply a racist, which wasn't anything new to be certain, but he couldn't rule out the possibility. He called all the royal guard of the palace to the throne room to collect their signatures, saying that he needed a list of their names because he was going to switch out a fourth of the men to be sent elsewhere so they all didn't get lazy standing around all day. Daric helped collect the signatures by handing out ink and parchment, then Baldur had him give all the signatures to Veleda to examine in conjunction with the list of names. Thrice-Pierced was ordered by Galmar to keep a list of reports and happenings in Skyrim while they were gone, so he made sure to offload the large book of loose papers on the High General, happy to finally be rid of it. Baldur had Daric once again reading the reports to him before he finally had the lad go off to bed, sharing a room with Sofia. He was just about to head off himself before something in the throne room caught his eye. "Hmm, Ulfric left his crown in his seat. That's rather careless of him. You, guard. Go off and take that to the king, will you?" The Necro Nord saluted Baldur from his seat at the dining table, then moved to go about his task. However, Baldur suddenly stood up and said, "Wait, I'll do it. Hand it here." The Nord gave him an uncaring look and gave him the relic before going back to his spot. Baldur made his way to Ulfric's room, but after passing his bedroom where he guessed Rebec was by now, something stopped him in his tracks. It was a feeling he got when something inspirational hit him, like an idea for a song. A funny feeling in his groin like excitement. And it was this feeling that made the impish Nord smirk with delight when an idea crept into his mind for the Jagged Crown. Baldur then ran off to a dark part of the hallway and took out his small container of blue paint from a pouch on his belt, before finally going to his room with the jagged crown. He stepped into the room, eyes darting around to see where Rebec was, holding the helmet somewhat behind him so she wouldn't see, and then sliding it under the bed before sitting with his list of reports, not paying Rebec any mind for the time being while he read. She sat looking over the list of navy auxiliaries, moving around bits of hard candy which she was using to color code different ranks. "This is going to be a nightmare," she said absently as Baldur came in, not paying any attention to his mischief. "I've sailed with all of these people for years. Competed with them for contracts. Now they're going to say I'm either betraying them or playing favorites, depending." Distracted, Rebec glanced over at Baldur. "Did you find your culprit?" "No, not yet. Veleda's going to examine the handwriting first and give me her opinion. I would, but I'm too close to this. Too close to my men to give it an honest look. So she's an unbiased opinion. As for the sailors, well. That's politics. Which unfortunately is the other half of our job. Though admittedly, I deal with it less than you likely will. Though I do have some reports of people accusing me of using the Grim Ones to bully the Silver-Bloods in spite, and they are strong supporters of us, but Ulfric told them he stands by my decision to replace their guard captain with my own. It's more control than the High King of Skyrim has exerted on other holds in the past, but this is in a lot of ways a new nation. Fragile. It needs the extra guidance for now." "We don't need any more problems with the Dunmer than we already got. Though you have to consider the accusation might be true." Rebec stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I know you wanted to go to Morrowind, too, and I had other sailing plans for us. Guess that will have to wait now." Baldur made himself ignore her touch and continue to read reports as he talked. "I would have loved to go to the land of the Eastern Devils and send you running mad back to Skyrim from all my heretical devil-talk, heh. But this is just fine by me. I'll keep in mind that the accusations could be true, don't worry. At the end of the day, man is man and mer is mer. Though the Dunmer have disliked the Altmer of Alinor as long as we have." "When they weren't hating us." Surprised that he stayed all business, Rebec leaned down and nuzzled his cheek. He couldn't pretend not to like that one though, so he chuckled and said, "True," then nuzzled her back before going back to his notes, his face sobering. Rebuffed- even if gently so- Rebec stood and wandered back to her rosters. She was bored with them, however, and drifted over to where she'd dropped her axe belt, deciding to polish her weapons. Occasionally she would glance over at Baldur, expecting him to soon tire of his work, too. When he didn't, she gave an audible sigh and stood to get ready for bed. Not even that moved him. He always stole glances at her undressing, even if he wasn't helping. Frustrated, she crossed over and pushed him hard on one shoulder. "What's so fascinating in those reports that you'd rather look at them than my naughty bits?" "Hmm? Oh, I- It's just war reports on the Forsworn. I was just thinking Brund wasn't going about it in the best way. Sorry, I'm just tired. Do me a favor and put this in my pack over there so we can go to bed?" Grumbling, Rebec took the stack of reports and glanced through them on the way to Baldur's pack. Brund was as brutally efficient as expected. "Looks like things are going well," she said, studying the papers, her own thoughts returning to serious matters. "How many more Forsworn can there be? Even if they breed like rabbits, there has to be an end." She bent down and opened Baldur's pack, grimacing at the smell of Alik'r sweat that still clung to it. Even if it was dirty laundry smell, it reminded her of Suri. Still pondering, Rebec stood and turned. She stopped short at the sight that greeted her. "Gods below. Is that...?" The sound of Baldur snapping into an apple filled the room, then soon after he said, "Mmmm," in satisfaction as he stood with a foot on the bed, wearing nothing but his officer kilt and the legendary Jagged Crown. His chest and abdomen was covered with swirl patterns like his cheek, as was his arms and his legs in spots that Rebec couldn't have seen before due to being covered by his clothes. "It is indeed, my queen. And tonight, Ulfric is no longer the king of Skyrim. I am." Rebec picked her mouth up off the floor, then burst out laughing. "You stole Ulfric's crown? How many kinds of treason is that?" She came closer, inspecting him up and down, then back again. "Unh. Now that's a Nord." Baldur smiled and threw the apple to her and said, "He shouldn't have left it on the throne. Careless, that. Now enough of him. I said I was the King. No treason possible. And my first decree is you come closer." Catching the apple, Rebec took a bite and smiled mischievously. "I don't know. I think I might stay over here. Looks like you're going to have to invade, oh mighty king." "If you insist. For Skyrim!" Baldur cried as he came crawling over the bed to make a grab for her waist. Laughing, Rebec took a step forward, forgetting that she was supposed to resist Nord invasion. Her roleplaying as an elf always had had its limits. She still ate the apple, however, forcing herself to look away. "You'll have to get through my defenses, barbarian." That being her uniform. The barbarian in question wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her up before plopping her on the bed. As soon as he was done fumbling with her belt, the pants were off, as he ripped them away along with her boots, flinging them to the wall. He leaned in and pinned her as she unstrung her blouse covering her bosom. He smiled down at her, thinking of where to begin first, then leaned back and fell to his knees. Grunting, he roughly pulled her to the edge rubbing at her through her small clothes with a thumb. Finally, he pulled these away and spread her legs apart, holding them near her ankle as he nuzzled her coarse hair before flickering his tongue at her nub. The apple rolled away into the corner, forgotten. For sport and pleasure, Rebec resisted him, making the job difficult. By the time he took matters to tongue, however, she was already a conquest. Gasping and closing her eyes, she held herself at bay, wanting to draw it out. Sitting up on her elbows, she laughed again at the sight of the fabled Jagged Crown sticking out of her thighs. The laugh was cut off and Rebec bit her lip, head falling back and one leg drawing up to rest on Baldur's shoulder. He paused a bit to catch his breath and also to give her a small break, kissing at her tensing muscles between her thighs and reddening her skin with his sucking before returning to his spot, rubbing at her other thigh gently as he payed close attention to each flap. The sounds of wet skin was music to his ears as he moved from licks to lightly sucking on her nub now and moving his fingers in to prepare for boarding. He stopped abruptly, then stood. This time it was his turn to tease as he pointed to his kilt and said, "Give me a hand with this." "Yes, my king," Rebec answered, giving him a saucy stare. Her uniform top was still only half off, exposing just the top of her breasts. She scooted forward, legs spread, while her hands moved up his thighs and under the kilt. Tracing the contour of his muscles, her fingers brushed at his soft skin from behind, and she left one hand there, teasing, while the other moved around and tugged at the kilt's ties. When his member sprang free, she leaned forward and, grasping the base with her hand, took the tip in her mouth while her fingers still played at his underside. He groaned deeply with a smile on his face from her touch, her fingers sending long intense shivers throughout his pelvis from brushing against his sensitive ridge. He looked down at her and played at her hair, not rushing her so he could prolong it. It was evident from the concentration of swirls on his pelvis that he was planning for this. He'd have used his new found kingly powers to get it, had she not taken things into her own hands. The sound of his moans worked to encourage and reward her playing as his head leaned back. But soon he wanted more and his hungry eyes locked with her Atmoran blues while his hand served as encouragement against her head. Rebec stole glances at him, smiling inwardly again at the decoration he had made of himself- like a present and just her kind- but marshaled her thoughts to concentrate on rewarding him. She alternated between deep, insistent strokes and more playful licks and kisses. When she was sure that he was looking down at her, she put her hand between her own thighs and let him watch her fingers working in the same rhythm as her mouth. This elicited a groan, the sound reverberating on his skin. Finally, as she could bear it no longer, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed, intent on riding him. Baldur had the same thought, as he took off the helmet and threw it aside on the bed quickly and laid back next to it, stroking at himself in anticipation before opening his arms, beckoning her to pounce on him. "Let's make Hrothgar shake, eh? Let me see you close." Shrugging out of her uniform top impatiently, Rebec then climbed up his body, kissing his thighs and stomach at each swirl of warpaint. Much as she wanted to take him between her thighs, she also wanted to feel his arms around her, so she compromised. Straddling his hips, she worked him into her until he was hilted, then lay down along his chest and kissed him deeply. As his tongue wrestled with hers while she filled his mouth, Baldur in his passion seized her tight, his arms wound around her in a constricting grip, making his pecks bulk up while pressing against her bosom. In this way, he made sure she was pressed to him firmly, so that her middle would feel him on the inside and out. The friction and heat was thick as they moved fiercely against each other, putting pressure against the others groin, his pubic bone rubbing against her nub as her wetness streaked down him. His eyes stayed locked with hers as they moved, and he savored the feel of her breath on his face from her sharp breathing and every time her breath caught. Rebec shrugged her hair back and laid her cheek against his and rocked in his arms, breath and breath, their tenderest parts fused together until it was like he said in his poems and they were more one than separate. When heat shot through her from thighs to toes and even her scalp tingled with it, she said his name into his ear and let the wave of love for him fill her up. He never got tired of hearing his name said to him with such urgency in that way. It was almost startling how much emotion was put behind it, especially since this was Rebec, where on the outside world, she was mostly so stoic. He granted her the same pleasure and whispered her name to her repeatedly as if to assure her that he was there with her. When his excitement started to reach its peak, he quickly threw the sheets over them to help the illusion of utter nearness and isolation, then focused on being done as he felt her letting herself go on him, so that it would be shared. She was still coming as he did, or came again, it was difficult to tell. When their rocking becoming more gentle, Rebec whispered soft love noises and caressed him with her entire body. Nipples brushed and tugged at the hair of his chest, her thighs slid between his, and her fingers stroked his cheek and brushed the sweaty strands back from his brow while they kissed. He could feel her breathing as well as her heartbeat against his, which kept the feeling of oneness alive even after they were done. The best part of intimacy with her for him was that even when they were done, they weren't done. The afterglow kept them in tune with one another and on the same plane even when the passion in their loins were lessened and satisfied. He continued to rub at her back soothingly as he eased the covers over her head slightly to see her, but kept her against him still. When their breathing finally settled, Baldur smiled at her and sang while occasionally kissing at her some more, "Down below or in the skies, I see nothing, wonder why? In the Aurbis or beyond, there's only one beauty for my eyes. I feel nothing, that's my woe, without you, warmth I'll never know. I smell nothing in the air, I seek only the scent of your hair. I'm deaf, except for sound from thee, so won't you darling, sing for me?" She lay back, enjoying the sound of Baldur's voice as much as the feeling of it rumbling in his chest and his breath against her. When he finished the song and seemed to be looking at her expectantly, Rebec glanced up, confused. "It was sweet. Sing another." "Not this time, it's your turn now," said Baldur who grinned. "Go on, let me hear you try. It's just you and I." "What?" She laughed, dismissing the notion. Her finger trailed across his chest. "Go on, sing me another." Baldur was unwilling to give up so soon, but his face straightened up and he cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, it is true, my senses are all set to you, I love you, I love you... even when the words to some seems like profanity, Even when it seems like legal insanity, And yet admitting this curse to some may seem like vanity, But yet I love you all the same, you're the one that I should blame, For making me feel crazy. Mother of my baby... Sing with me... No matter how cheesy you may think it sounds, just try. You can repeat those words if you want." Laughing, she put him off further. "Why do you want to hear me sing? Wait til I can get drunk again, then I'll sing you shanties until you beg for me to stop." Rebec lay back, nestling into the covers and preparing to sleep. "Sing it again," she said sleepily, then smiled and added, "My liege." "I want to hear you sing because your voice is soothing to me," he said. He was about to continue to try and persuade her when a knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts. His mind immediately went to the crown... "Uh oh. You think? Ulfric?" Her eyes flew open. "Oh gods. Hide it. No, wait, wipe it down first." Baldur jolted out the bed and grabbed the crown, looking around, unsure of what to do with it. Eventually, he just tucked it under the bed and ran to the door, forgetting he was undressed. "Yes?" "Ah, for the sake of the gods, cover yourself!" "Hey, you came to my room! What are you doing here this late, Wuunferth?" The old Nord quickly pushed an old scroll towards him, then turned to walk away. "I just did you a favor, yet again. I remember your disappointment when the skalds at the Feast of the Dead didn't mention anyone with your clan name. All should know their roots, so I dug a little to see if I could find yours. Your welcome." Baldur stared at the parchment for a while, mesmerized by it, so he didn't notice Wuunferth was already gone by the time he lifted his head to thank him. He walked back to the room near the braziers then to read the scroll, which had a long list of what seemed to be unrelated people, until he saw his last name on one, and realized it was a bloodline that lead down to a pair of people. One named Rudin Red-Snow and another named Thadnh-eli. She had many other names attached with hers, descendents and what seemed to be fathers alike. She was betrothed to all Sarthaal in the manner of the Dibellites, sister to one of the outcasts of Shor. 'For dust shall not mate with dust', whatever that meant. Whichever one of the outcasts was her sibling wasn't clear. They were Rebec the Red's shield husband's ash-uncle Noaheim who was risen also from the Sack, and her ash-aunt Marthelk, the last two of which bore (the first) Guri Nail-Face, Hgaehmhel, Nbikki the Red, Khalokehl, Ysmehka, Jorgal the Child-Skald, Ghem-fegh, and Dolweppa Heimsdotter. Ysgramor's 'Sovngarde Plea' was enough that they be Accounted. Meaning they were considered Companions. They were all ground up into Rebec the Red's ship as dust. "So that's it, then. The Red-Snows are the offspring of a Dibellan and related to outcasts of Shor?" Baldur walked back to the bed tamed, then crawled back under the sheets without saying anything. "Give me that." Rebec sat up, took the scroll from where Baldur had discarded it, and lit the candle at their bedside. Propping herself up on the pillow, she read it over and then did so again. "What does this even mean? Are you related to me or aren't you? And you're descended from this Dibellan? So it does run in the family." She glanced at Baldur, then nudged him with her foot. "What's the matter?" "It's just not what I expected. I don't think I'm related to you, but if I am, it's very very distant. The offspring of the half sister of the son or daughter of the ash aunt of Rebec and ash uncle of her shield-husband. But she was on the ship. As a real companion, or just the ship whore, I don't know. The husband, if you could even call him that, must have died in Sarthaal. How the family name even descended is beyond me. How would she have even known that the child she bore was his? Makes no difference, as someone unlisted carried the name for my father and I to have received it. Glorious bloodline indeed. Not even Shor wanted them." Rebec read it again. "She was sister to an outcast of Shor. Nobody tells me what I get to be because Vilnur went and screwed something up. Or vice versa, more like." Tossing the scroll aside, she lay back down and put an arm over his side. "There was a Red Snow in the Companions, think of that. Most in Skyrim would try to claim the same and can't." Baldur sighed and rolled over to face her, putting his arm over her as well. "Yea, you're right. It's not so bad, I mean you have to fight to be a companion, right? So maybe she was a warrior-priestess. Whatever." Baldur put the paper out of his mind and tried saving what was left of the moment earlier by snuggling close like they were before. Brushing a hand through her hair, he kissed her once more and said, "Good-night, love." "You and our babies will make the name even greater." Rebec kissed him again, leaned back to snip out the candle, then settled in to sleep. "And you," he whispered, before sleep finally overcame him. *** The next morning, Ulfric was sitting at his throne waiting for the queen and the Red-Snows to arrive. He awoke to find his crown sitting in his throne, just like before and was thankful that it hadn't gone missing.... Baldur popped into the throne room behind Rebec, trying not to make eye contact with the king for risk of laughing when he saw him wearing the crown. "Ah, there you two are. I hope you two got your rest, because I have an important matter to discuss, just as soon as the queen gets here as well." Rebec's mouth twitched from trying not to laugh. She would never be able to look at the Jagged Crown in the same way again. The large entrance door opened and Veleda came in, brushing white from her hair. The icy rain had apparently turned back to snow. She had slipped out to visit the Talos temple, mostly to avoid Sofie's hopeful looks at breakfast. Taking her place on the throne platform, she said, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long." "No, these two just got here. You're just in t-...Baldur, is there a problem?" Ulfric asked with heavy annoyance. Baldur's torment from trying not to laugh was very apparent. Straightening up, he said, "No, Ulfric." "Act your age, for Ysmir's sake! Now, if the children are gone, I'd like to get things moving. I've finally decided that I will be passing on what I know of the thu'um. And I'm going to be doing so to you three. I do not make this decision lightly. But it is time we Nords reclaim what is rightfully ours." Rebec exchanged a look with Baldur, now all serious. Learn the thu'um? The queen appeared surprised as well, though unknown to the others, it was only because she hadn't been expecting to be chosen as one of Ulfric's apprentices. It was Rebec who spoke up. "King Ulfric, are you sure about this? I've heard that it takes years and years to learn one word... that only the Greybeards can teach it." "More of Jurgen's lies, I'll bet," said Baldur, having forgotten all about being embarrassed. Ulfric said, "It takes years to master, not learn. I personally was quite proficient with the little that I know now by the time I was a young man. It took me about a year to learn the words, but a good deal longer to become proficient in them by the time I fought in the great war and being able to effectively use all three of 'Unrelenting Force' and 'Disarm'. For you three, you should be able to learn at least a word in a few years and be able to use it on occasion. If you're talented. But that depends on the word, your mentality and personality. The closer fit the thu'um is to you, the faster you should be able to learn it. More than the one shout however, that will take much longer, which is why most tongues before had no more than one or two shouts." "My pa does say that in the old days, bards were a lot quieter than the howlers we got now," Rebec replied. "Because if they sang the wrong word, they might accidentally blow up the inn. Fine. We're Nords and the Nords always had the thu'um. If you're willing to teach, I'm willing to learn." "Good. Then first thing's first. I'll have to assign a shout to all of you, but I'm giving all of you a different shout so what I know can be recorded faster before anything can happen to me and it becomes lost. Before I do that, I'll have to ask you all some questions." Ulfric stood up from his throne seat and took off his crown. "First question. Three Thalmor soldiers are held up in a house with innocent civilians, torturing them for information and because they're Talos worshipers. You have to kill these soldiers at all costs, but you only have yourself and two other soldiers with you. Failure is not an option. How do you go about doing this?" "Three Nords to three elves? Isn't that a little unfair to the elves?" Rebec asked, smirking. She thought a moment, then said, "I'd go in axes first. They're going to kill the captives if they have too much time. A well-aimed axe to the forehead should take out two of your wizards, if you get the drop on them, one-two. Third gets my rope. Pull him off his feet and finish him off." Ulfric took a mental note of her answer, then said, "Okay, Veleda and Baldur? How would you kill the elves?" "Admiral Rebec takes the one woman approach," Veleda observed with a wry smile. "I would rely on my allies a bit more. And since the captives are a concern, on defense. I would try to sneak up on them, perhaps through a back way in, and cast a Silence spell on the Thalmor to prevent any spellcasting. Without their most potent weapons, even a regular Nord soldier could then match a justiciar at blades." Ulfric nodded again and said, "Interesting, ladies. Both seem like they'd get the job done. And finally, the fool who can't seem to stay serious for more than five seconds. What's your answer, Baldur?" Baldur gave him a smirk at the comment, then finally said, "Well, if failure isn't an option, then the elves aren't just common Thalmor. So, I'd lock them all in from the outside and burn the house down. Assuming it was made of wood." The king paused for a while, then said, "Okay, all seem to get the job done well enough. Before I move on, any comments to your fellow apprentices on their answers?" Rebec turned to Veleda. "What if your Thalmor aren't justiciar but soldiers? Then you wasted your stealth approach and they'll have blades." The queen nodded. "A fair point. And I have to ask you, High General, isn't your plan going to burn the captives along with the Thalmor?" "Yea it would. But the targets are dead. The mission parameters were to kill the enemy, not save the captives. Better that than fight the enemy without an advantage of some sort and risking them obtaining valuable information, like with Rebec's option. At least that's how I see it." Rebec stirred uneasily at this rationale, but said nothing about it. Veleda regarded Baldur silently a moment, then said, "Or escape to plague others. I see your reasoning, though it wouldn't comfort the captives' families." "There's lots of families to worry about in war. Lose to the Thalmor, you could lose a lot more than some captives in a house. Though if I knew exactly what information they had, it might be different. All I know though is that failure wasn't an option. Ulfric, is there a correct answer?" "No, Baldur, the answers you all gave is more important than whether or not it was the most appropriate for the situation. Personally, if it was during the civil war, I'd never do something that would tarnish our image like that. The Great War though is different. Ready for the next, you three, or did you have any more comments, or questions for me?" The others kept quiet, so Veleda gestured for Ulfric to continue. "Okay then. You're in a prison for a crime you didn't commit, and you've just escaped. There's one guard left between you and freedom. What do you do?" "Is this guard a man?" Rebec asked, then thought better of suggesting a seduction ruse while her husband was standing next to her. "Uh, I mean, I guess I'd throw a rock to make him turn and then knock his feet out from under him from behind. Maybe step on his snowberries while he's down." Veleda laughed. "But you might catch a sword in the gut if you don't trip him. A mage has an advantage here. If it's not a Nord, I would cast a frost spell to slow response, then take the guard's weapon to finish him off. If a Nord, a fire spell to panic him, and the same." "And if it's a Breton who resists your spell?" Rebec asked. The queen lifted her hands. "Then the snowberry tactic, I suppose." Baldur knew Rebec by now and knew what she meant as soon as she said, "Uh, I mean." But he just laughed at it. "Well, those are better than what you were planning, Rebec. That'd get you sent to Sovngarde for sure. Is there a rule that the women get to speak first?" "No, why? No different ideas on this one, general?" asked Ulfric with a smirk. "The answer doesn't have to be different, you know." "Okay, well the first thing I'd go for if he's armed is probably his eyes. You go for a man's eyes, they won't draw a sword, they'll try to protect their eyes first. Which by then, I'd have gotten to them, then I'd leave after he's rolling on the floor in agony. No, wait. A crime I didn't commit? I guess they're corrupt then?" "Sure I guess. Doesn't really matter," Ulfric said. "Okay, well if that was the case, then I'd take his sword and strip him naked afterwards to humiliate him after his eyes were gouged. Probably would need to knock him out or kill him for that. Then I'd leave. I'd have a disguise too on top of some revenge." "Overkill," Rebec said, laughing. She looked back at Ulfric. "What's this got to do with the thu'um?" "I'm getting to that. This is quite revealing. And in some cases, not surprising. Baldur...." Ulfric shook his head. "What? Overkill is what I call making sure the job is done." "Nevermind. Anyway, one more question, then I'll move on. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when I say the word hand? The first appropriate thing, Red-Snows." Rebec smirked and answered, "Axe. Because I can remember holding an axe before anything else." Ulfric gave her a nod and a smile. Short and to the point. As I expected. "Baldur?" Baldur said, "Weakness. Men rely too much on their hands. It helps us see the world as much as our eyes do, so naturally we're reliant on them. They're essential. Which is why like the eyes and nethers, they're sensitive to touch and exactly where I want to inflict pain to bring my opponent to his knees and terror in his eyes. The Thalmor know this as well. They focused on my hands a lot in captivity." Hmm... "And Veleda," said Ulfric. The queen held out her scarred hand. "Is there any question? It's what I'm named for. One day when I wandered off from a picnic and ran into a giant rat, I threw fire at it even though I'd never opened a spell book. I come from a line of smiths, but to me it seemed the most wonderful thing that I had a weapon that could never rust or break. Almost never." "Good way to look at it. And with that, we can finally move on to the selection. First, Veleda. Veleda, your first question lead to you seeking to render the power of your foes useless. Your second answer was more direct, but in the end, you once again set to make your enemy defenseless and unable to fight. Your third answer shows that you understood what a hand could do naturally, and without thinking. You are not above using the direct approach, but even in doing so, you make the opponent unable to do the same. Although all Nords have an understanding of what hands can do, especially Rebec and Baldur, as a mage and a warrior, you understand the power that lies within the hand better than anyone. And because of this, you also know the importance of disarming that power. For this reason, I assign you Zun, Haal, Viik. Weapon, Hand, Disarm. Does anyone disagree with my assessment?" Rebec spoke up. "You can do that? Take the weapon right out of someone's hand?" She considered that, then said, "Fight mages and you find out one thing. They're deadly if they got range, but up close they're helpless as babes. Well, maybe not you, Majesty, but most are. Shout a weapon out of someone's hand and you're death every which way." The queen listened to both, then glanced at Ulfric and nodded once, approving his choice. Baldur was a bit jealous of the choice, as the possibilities for his own fighting tactics were going through his head. Ripping the weapon out of a man's hand? An 'I win' power. No matter. The next one is the one that throws people. That's mine for sure. "Rebec," said Ulfric. What? Baldur thought. "Rebec, your first answer showed that you tend to charge in and face your enemies head on most of the time, even though as a sailor, you too can be conniving. You take everything your foe and the world in general throws at you and you push back harder. Your second answer too shows this. Your gender cannot hold back your forceful personality anymore than anything else can. All Nords can understand this concept naturally, but as a sailor, no one understands the power of a forceful push better than you, the Captain of the Black Wisp. Kyne demonstrates it with her wind and waves constantly. It is no wonder that when people think of the thu'um, they think of this trademark ability. Your last answer is a testament to your master at arms, but it is clear that no one is more fitting to wield the power of force than the Admiral of the Stormcloak Navy. You are unyielding, untameable. You are Fus, Ro, Dah. Force, Balance, Push. Unrelenting Force. Baldur, as her husband, no one knows her better than you. Do you disagree with my assessment?" Baldur took in every word and the more Ulfric went on, the more he knew that this truly was a perfect fit. Even if it meant there wasn't anything left for him, to his great disappointment. "No, I think it fits her perfectly," Baldur said, hiding his disappointment as best he could. After all, he said he'd only teach them one each and Ulfric only knew two. Baldur assumed maybe he could only teach two at once. "Anyone else disagree?" asked Ulfric. Rebec had seen Ulfric demonstrate this ability in the Battle of Solitude, blasting imperials off ramparts. She pictured being able to clear a ship's deck, or knocking an archer off a scaffold. "No objections here, Your Majesty. Would come in handy." "Good. Well, that's that. Sorry, Baldur. You didn't pass the test." There wasn't many things that could make Baldur cry, well, in public. But at that second, Ulfric was truly afraid that was about to happen. "Bahahaha! I'm just kidding, Red-Snow, I've got one for you, too. You're not the only one that can play a joke." "Hilarious, your Highness. Truly." Baldur's face was completely deadpan. "Well then, lets see. Judging from what I've seen of you over the years, you can be calm one minute and playful like a child the next. Not unlike a single lit flame upon a candle. Still at first, then dancing playfully at the wick. And like a candle light, your presence draws others to your light and warmth of spirit. But, just like a candle light, you have the capacity to do great harm. It doesn't take long for flame to rage out of control and that too is the same for you. You make others feel alive and make our enemies wish they weren't. Your first answer shows that when it comes to achieving victory, you are willing to sacrifice what is necessary, just how a flame burns indiscriminately. Your second answer... reveals a sadist in you, as does the third. And like the dragons who are renowned for this trademark ability, you are prideful in your strength and your rage can be great. Fire can grant painful agonizing deaths and you seem to revel in the suffering of others as they do. A warmth to those that call you friend. A scourge to those that call you foe. For this, you are Yol, Toor, Shul. Fire, Inferno, Sun. Fire Breath. No one is more fitting to wield the power of the dragons, than the one who faced Alduin's hellfire and lived." Turning to Rebec, Ulfric said, "Rebec, soon to be wielder of wind's strength. Behind every good man is a good woman. And as that woman giving him strength as a wind does to a flame, no one knows him better than you. Do you disagree with my assessment?" For once Rebec's face was serious as she thought through what Ulfric had said. Instinctively she wanted to reject the notion that Baldur was a sadist- one who enjoyed harming others- but hadn't she seen it before, in Rommulas and Falkreath? Meeting Baldur's eyes, she thought of Ulrin, and of how her father joked about Baldur slitting his throat in his sleep. Maybe it wasn't a joke, at least not in its implications. Vigge was a keen judge of character. It was hard for her to reconcile these things with the man who was so tender to her. A part of her loved that fierceness, too, though, and knew she wouldn't be satisfied with a man who was only gentleness all the time. "Burn your enemies to the ground," she said, still looking at Baldur. "Like the controlled burn in Falkreath. It fits you." Rebec turned back to Ulfric. "I think this will do." "Good. And you, general?" Baldur took a moment to answer, as he was still muddling through things. A sadist wasn't something he liked being called. Rebec's strength, resilience and forceful powerful personality and Veleda's instinctive, versatile, skilled and scholarly knowledge of hands and their capacity as weapons seemed much more flattering to him, but it wasn't about that, it was about the truth. He supposed that if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed things like Lorgar's torment, or the fear in Do'jhul's eyes at the sight of the heated piece of silver. Or the mutilated wolf men of the legion. And the Blood-Dragoning. If he was like fire, then he needed to be careful that he didn't burn those he loved. "Aye, I agree with the assessment. It'll be nice to be able to deal with mages on their own turf. Or simply to make a foe panic from being set aflame." Ulfric said, "Alright, then. I have notes on each of the words of power, which I'll send to all of you today. Study them, meditate and contemplate daily for at least two hours straight, but also think about it throughout the day. You get what you put into it, basically. When you're able to speak a word, you'll know. Any questions?" Veleda stirred. Two hours a day was a sacrifice for anyone, let alone the people in this room, but it had been her idea that Ulfric should pass on his knowledge to someone. An investment in Skyrim's future. The admiral was obviously thinking something similar. Stepping forward, Rebec said, "Thank you for this, King Ulfric. People say a lot of things about you, and about what you're doing here. They'll probably talk about this too, that the thu'um is dangerous and shouldn't be taught. But I say you're giving Nords a chance to be Nords again, instead of tall imperials. So, both of you..." She looked at Veleda then, including her. "Thank you for what you're doing." "I appreciate the gratitude, Admiral. This decision wasn't easy for me. No doubt, my old teacher has sensed what we are doing here, but they did not grant us this ability, the gods did. If what I am doing is wrong, then let Kyne come down and say it. Now, talk amongst yourselves. I need to go speak with someone." Ulfric brushed a hand over Baldur and Rebec's shoulder, then left for the bedroom wing of the Palace. *** Sofie was at her lessons in her own room, painstakingly copying out words from a book. She had only just learned to read, and since she didn't have her own tutor, mostly was doing so by copying books. This one had funny letters in it, though, not like the others she had read. Arches and dots and... Ulfric came into the room without knocking, forgetting that this room was the child's even though he owned the place. "Child, what are you up to?" he said after closing the door. He took a seat next to her at her little table. The girl jumped and her eyes widened at seeing Ulfric. She stumbled over her words a bit, then finally said, "I'm learning to write. And to read. Sort of." Staring at the king, she then blurted, "Please don't send me away. I like Veleda. I mean, Her Majesty." Ulfric didn't answer her. He was thinking about how he was sent away for the honor of becoming a Greybeard. He eventually moved his hand to see what it was that Sofie was writing. Eventually, he said, "My parents are gone too, you know. So I know what it's like. Maybe not quite, since you are still a child. But I can relate. Do you blame me for your father's passing, child? Don't be afraid, you can be honest with me." Sofie swallowed hard. "They say you're a bad man, that you did bad things, but Veleda likes you. She says those people are jealous. I don't know if the war was bad. My pa said it was honorable, but he left me all alone with a sick old woman and never came back. It doesn't seem fair that the war was more important than his own daughter." Ulfric smiled at her truthfulness and innocence, then said, "I did do bad things, Sofie. Not everything that people said I did, but you'll come to learn one day that in this world, you can't change anything without doing something that is less than beneficial to someone. It's not an excuse though. As for your father, I didn't know him personally, but I'll bet my life that the war wasn't more important than you. I bet he helped me win this war because of you. He didn't want you to grow up under what he considered to be an oppressive Empire. We all risked our lives for the next generation's benefit. Maybe that's not a great comfort for you, but it is the truth. One day you'll come to understand that." She didn't really know what to say about that. Adults were always saying such things, that you'd understand someday. It still didn't seem right. "Yes, Your Majesty. I think he ought to have taken me with him. It says in The Fall of the Snow Prince that a twelve year old girl fought side by side with her mother. I don't know if I could fight, but I could have helped. I can help here, too. I'll help clean the floors or.. take out the chamber pots." "No need, we have servants for that, though I'll require you to maintain your own room so you don't get lazy. If I'm going to let you stay, my first condition is you call me Ulfric or sir. If you're to be my daughter or ward, then I can't have you calling me your majesty. Maybe even pa one day if you ever get comfortable enough to do so. My second condition is that you and I should have a talk and share a meal at least once a day. Veleda can attend as well if that would make you feel more comfortable. So, what do you say? You willing to let me call you daughter in your father's stead?" Sofie's eyes widened. She had hoped for Veleda to be like a mother to her, but had never expected the king to want to be her father. "Yes! I'll do it. Everything you said. Oh thank you, Your- I mean... sir." She jumped up and hugged him, her last fears vanished. The hug caught Ulfric by surprise, but he eventually hugged Sofie back. He had expected her just to say yes, then run off to Veleda, given her feelings about his war and her father. But this was a pleasant surprise, if still quite new to him. "Alright then, your first duty as my daughter is to take a break from your studies and go tell Veleda what I told you." "Yes sir!" Sofie ran out, forgetting all decorum, which had been a hard thing for her to learn in the first place. She found Veleda talking with some of the guards about palace security. Unable to control her excitement, she plastered herself to the queen's side. "He said I could call him pa!" Stopped mid-sentence, Veleda looked down in astonishment. "Who? Ulfric?" She glanced back to catch the king's eye, but he hadn't come back yet. "He said that? So you are to be our ward, then?" Caught up in the little girl's enthusiasm, and touched by her own surprise, the queen scooped Sofie up and hugged her tightly. In the moments they held each other, Veleda thought of her own parents, about how much their rift hurt her, and of all the terrible loss this war had caused. Out of all that, at least something had been reclaimed. Putting Sofie back down, Veleda took her hand and said proudly, "Then let's go tell Jorleif. He's to post a proclamation so that everyone can read it. Your home is here, with us, until you're grown and make a name of your own."

Palace of Kings, Windhelm morning Veleda winced slightly as the flute hit a sour note, but she quickly put her smile back on. Sofie sat on the mat before the fire, playing a tune on the little wooden instrument that one of the servants had whittled for her. Both of them, the queen and the war orphan, had books spread before them and had been studying when they agreed on a music break. As the fairly mangled tune came to an end, Veleda clapped enthusiastically, then called Sofie over. The girl leaned against her, and Veleda put an arm around her. "I have something to tell you, Sofie. I believe I have found a family who is willing to adopt you. Clan Shatter-Shield, do you know them? Tova is a good woman, and they lost their own daughter..." Her voice trailed off as Veleda saw Sofie's stricken expression. "What's the matter? I thought you would be happy. I'm so busy and not able to look after you properly. This would be a chance for you to have a real home and family, Sofie." "If that's what you want, Your Majesty," the girl said, close to tears. She reverted to Veleda's title, though she usually called her by name. Veleda sighed inwardly. It had been difficult to follow through on her plan to find someone to adopt Sofie. She was indeed more busy than ever, but looked forward to the rare quiet moments such as these. With Menel gone and her kingly husband still a stranger to her, Veleda had appreciated the girl's company. "Are you saying that you want to stay here? Even though you only have the servants for company most of the time?" "It doesn't matter what I want." Tears still shimmered in Sofie's eyes, but her voice reverted to the hardness and hopelessness that it had had sometimes at first. "It does matter," Veleda insisted softly. "Tell me." Sofie looked up at her, and her tone turned pleading. "I want you to be my mother." The queen sat stunned. She hadn't suspected such deep feeling. "I didn't know you felt that way. But Sofie, it... it's complicated." "I know. You're the queen, and I'm just an orphan. I know I can't really be your daughter, and you need to have real children, the king's children." Sofie's face fell, and she appeared as forlorn as Veleda had seen anyone. The fact is, though neither liked it, what the girl said was true. Ulfric had never been happy about her rash decision to take the orphan in. At the time, the only important thing had seemed to keep a child from freezing and starving on Windhelm's streets. Veleda hadn't thought about what came after, still less about complications for the succession. If she had still been only a soldier, her duty would have been clear, she'd have given the girl a few coins and gone on her way. It was the promise of power as queen that had made her think she could just wave her hand and make things better. Maybe it had been the most important thing to give Sofie a full belly and a warm place to sleep, but it was clear from the little girl's face that it wasn't the only thing. Sofie's eyes raised again and her face brightened. "Wait!" She ran to her pile of books and pawed through them until she found one and brought it back. The title read Skyrim's Royal Lineages. The girl flipped through the pages, searching. "Here it is! Queen Freydis. She had seven natural children, but this one... uh, Thorald Stone-Breaker, he's called 'ward of the crown.' He was a great stonemason and builder. Ward, that means someone who's not her real child, she just took care of him. And you have Queen Freydis' sword!" The implication was obvious in Sofie's hopeful expression. Veleda regarded her, weighing this. Finally she said, "If this is what you really want, then I'll speak to the king. I can make no promises..." The last words were cut off, since Sofie had flung herself into Veleda's arms. "Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you! I'll be a good ward, I promise, and I won't make any trouble when you have children of your own! Maybe I can help you take care of them." Hugging Sofie to her, Veleda laughed, though the girl's words stirred a vague unease. "One thing at a time, young miss. Now back to your studies. I'll look in on you later." This wasn't the only important matter Veleda had to speak with Ulfric about. As Sofie returned to her books, the queen picked up the scrawled note she had found stuffed under her door that morning. It was a list of several of the "Draugr Dunmer," the battlemages who had served so well in the conflicts at Rommulas and Falkreath that there were very few of them left at all. Of those, some had returned to Morrowind already. The names on the paper were among those who remained still in Skyrim. At the bottom of the unsigned note was scrawled one word: SPIES *** "How many, Galmar." "You won't like it." "I know. How many?" "One hundred and fifty, just about. All in a night. It's not a lot all things considered with recruitment. But it's an embarrassment. Weapon shipments stolen, then used to ambush our men at night. The town is theirs, but even with the people slaughtered, it can be repopulated. The Forsworn are in decline, but they're not going without a fight. Should I get rid of the reports? Try to hide the loss?" Ulfric scratched his beard as he eyed the marks on the map in his war room. "No. In fact, spread the news. Let our people know how our kinsmen were shamed. Work it to our favor to boost recruitment even further. Eventually, the Forsworn won't even be able to sneeze without a Stormcloak hearing it. We'll hinder their movement with numbers of angry Nords looking for revenge. It's all we can do with an enemy that fights the way they do." "I agree. I'll send a message to Brund." "How is he anyway? Has he given a personal report? I'm surprised you haven't gone to assist him." "He hasn't said much, he just gives reports on the war. I offered to assist, but he's made it clear that he wants to handle this himself. I see no reason not to grant him that," said Galmar. "Well alright then. Keep me updated." Veleda came down the stairs and into the war room, not surprised to find Galmar there. He saw more of Ulfric than she did. "Galmar." She gave him a friendly smile. "Working hard as always. Is this a bad time?" The latter was directed to Ulfric. "Not at all. Galmar." "Aye, Ulfric. Queen." Galmar nodded with a fist to his chest to her after giving her the formal greeting, then departed. After Galmar left, Ulfric turned back to the Queen and made his way back up the stairs, not wanting the sound of the conversation to carry. "So, what's this about, Veleda?" Trailing, she answered, "A couple things. We should speak privately." When they were in his chambers, Veleda took a deep breath and said, "I told you I would find a good home for Sofie when the time came, but she wants to stay here. I think we should adopt her formally as a ward of the crown." The king gave an involuntary sigh, then said, "Veleda...we talked about this before. This girl is a distraction. We've beaten around the bush on this topic long enough. The king and queen are required to provide an heir of their own blood. The girl is not a replacement for that." Veleda bristled at the patronizing tone, but forced herself to stay calm. "She wouldn't be, and she knows that." Briefly the queen explained about Queen Freydis' ward, and couldn't keep a hint of pride out of her voice when she went on, "Sofie found that example herself. She wouldn't legally become your heir unless you choose to make her one. I'm trying to give her a home, not shirk my duties." Ulfric listened carefully to the account and considered the implication. With the war coming up and the Forsworn war going on now, perhaps people had better things to do than to worry over the specifics of whose blood was whose. "I'll need to talk with Sofie alone first if I'm to consider it. I suppose a place holder wouldn't be the worst thing, with rumors of spies about and reports of assassination attempts on the Empire's latest chair warmer." "You think that is a real danger here?" "Always, as long as the Thalmor remain. We'd be fools to think otherwise, even now." "I suppose you're right. I've expected it myself, honestly, even before this. The Thalmor do not forget." She paused. "You're willing to consider it, then? About Sofie? She's in my chambers if you want to speak with her." He paused, as if to reconsider, but before too long, he said, "Give me some time. I'll approach her myself. Within two days, I'll speak with this g- Sofie. I have a lot on my mind at the moment, however with choosing an ambassador. That should take precedence." "Don't delay, Ulfric. The girl has put her hopes on this." She didn't often call him by name, more often saying "Your Majesty" even after they had been married for some weeks. It had slipped out this time, but the familiarity still felt strange. Using his words as an out, she went on quickly, "Who are your candidates? Someone from the military, maybe someone who could turn this young empress' head?" Ulfric noticed the name drop, but it hadn't made him as uneasy. He had a pit in his stomach almost every time he heard her call him "majesty". This was supposed to be his wife after all. So far, he wasn't sure she was happy with the arrangement. "I've got a choice of one of my commanders or some lad from the Bard's college. He sent in a resume of his credentials. You can look it over later if you wish. He's Cyrodiil born, like yourself. Not many other choices." Not that I looked all that hard. "I'll do that. Thank you. And... thank you for talking with Sofie. I trust you'll be gentle with her, even if you decide against it. I think she's afraid of you, but like a good little Nord, she'll try not to show it." Veleda smiled and turned to leave, then remembered the note. "Oh, there is something else." She took the slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "Someone slid this under my door overnight. I recognize the names. All Dunmer, battlemages for the Grim Ones." Ulfric took the paper, as if it had an insult to his mother on it, then handed it back to her after reading it. "The Grim Ones? Really, now. Well those are Baldur's men, so if anyone's going to review them, it should be him. However, I highly doubt anyone in the Grim Ones is a spy. Dunmer or no. The fact that they were specifically targeted is too suspicious. See if you can look into who the note came from. That's who I'd be more likely to assume is a spy. Especially since they knew the names of all of the Dunmer still with us." "I'll try, but our security is not exactly high here. We should consider posting more sentries in the quarters wing. I've been studying ward technology, as well, if that's something you'd consider." Ulfric's nose twitched at the mention of wards and he moved his mouth to object at first. But, Wuunferth was just lecturing him the other day on useful applications of magic that he shouldn't hold his nose up at. Sighing, he said, "If it'll help catch spies...then fine. Do whatever. Just don't blow us up." He said this as if it was in fact a possibility. "Oh, and thanks." "Don't worry, I'll keep it subtle." Veleda smiled wryly. She turned to leave, then turned back again. Her mouth opened, fell closed. She moved as if to turn once more, then stopped. "I... this..." Gods. And I'm known for my speeches. She tried again. "I'm careful to make no demands on your time, Your Majesty, but I think we might make a point to have a meal together at least several times a week. What would you say to that?" "Do me a favor. Stop calling me your majesty and you have a deal." His face was stone at first, but then a smile suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Relieved, Veleda laughed. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you smile. You should do it more often. Thank you... Ulfric. I think it will go a long way towards building our partnership." "I smile all the time. Just when no one is looking. Comes with not wanting Galmar and the Red-Snows to know I find their stupid jokes amusing. Galmar knows better, though. And maybe that kid I put in charge of my military, which is probably why they all still do it. Anyway, I agree. About building the partnership, I mean. Veleda. Though you should take your own advice on the smiling. You have a nice smile." Brilliant. "I do? People in Cyrodiil used to say I was... what's the word. Intimidating. I thought that was just that I was taller than most of the men. At any rate, I'll let you get to it." "Take a compliment, Fire-Hand. You were intimidating because you were surrounded by milkdrinkers." Ulfric moved then to leave the room. After opening the door to leave, he turned around, then said, "See you at dinner," before finally closing the door. *** The Black Wisp pulled into Windhelm as an icy rain slashed its decks. Some unloading and loading of ships was going on, but anyone who could was huddled under eaves trying to keep dry, or better yet, around a fire indoors. Rebec noticed that there were new quays being built, stretching out along the edge of the bay, and a shanty town was forming on the slopes outside the city walls. On the docks, people said that it was people seeking work in the new capital, and some refugees fleeing unrest in Cyrodiil. There was only so much that the ancient city could absorb within its walls. The rest would have to cling to its skirts. After Rebec had seen to the offloading of her cargo, fought over it with the customs officials, and got it warehoused for sale later, she grabbed hold of Mazoga. "Don't go too far, Maz. I'll want you to come up to the palace after I see to a few things. We should get you formally declared as a naval officer." The orc appeared surprised, but before answering, her eyes shifted to someone standing behind Rebec. It was Sigrid, the vice admiral. The blonde woman smiled briefly before assuming her sober expression. "High Admiral, welcome back to Skyrim. We have matters to discuss." "Hello Sigrid. Always matters to discuss. Good job with the preparations at Kyne's Watch. The rest of it will have to wait until I've reported to the king." "I understand." Sigrid shot Mazoga a sharp glance before withdrawing. Baldur was standing at the docks, waiting for his men to come off the ship, which was just as well, as they were waiting for the same thing and eager to be seen returning home with their leader, even though they were a few less in number. Heavy footsteps were heard and they soon swallowed him up as they surrounded him to keep away civilians and nearby Stormcloaks looking to speak with the couple before they left. The Necro Nords had grown a bit arrogant in their service and status. Baldur could already see Thrice-Pierced waiting for them, having been alerted as soon as their ship was spotted, though he soon walked off, probably only showing up to confirm they arrived. Baldur looked around for Rebec and Mazoga, then waved the two over when he spotted them. He skipped breakfast just so he could have plenty of room for Ulfric's food and he was in a hurry to fill up. "Excuse me while I pull the daggers out of my chest," Mazoga was saying as they walked. Rebec had been thinking about how her naval uniform didn't come with a slicker. "Hm, what? Oh, you mean Sigrid. Don't mind her. She's a bit tightly wound, but that's what we need in this navy. Someone to crack the whip." She smiled as she saw Baldur, and reached for his hand. "Let's get out of here before someone else wants to talk to us in the rain." "Feels a hell of a lot better than a sand storm though," he said as he whipped his long wet hair to the back before placing his Stormcloak officer bear head on for warmth. Ysana caught up with them as well, shivering of course and using Baldur's cape from his armor to cover herself over her robe again. As expected, the entourage of silver and black armored soldiers wedging through people attracted eyes from all around, though most of them went back to doing whatever it was they were setting out to do before, the Nords being mostly unhindered by the freezing rain. Baldur saw more foreigners around than he had before from Cyrodiil, even within the walls. He could already see an Imperial merchant arguing with some Nords as they passed by, but about what wasn't really clear. It seemed that they were just harassing him to harass him. Things would get worse before they got better, it seemed. Sometimes Baldur wondered why it was that he liked the city. Maybe because the ugliness in it was easier to ignore within the castle. Still better than Solitude, though. A voice calling out cut his thoughts short when he heard someone call his name, but he couldn't see with all the Necro Nords around. He heard one of his men say "Out of the way, kid", and he knew then who it was. "Let him through!" Baldur said angrily. The surprised Nords looked at him briefly with puzzlement before stepping aside to let him pass. Before he could say anything else though, the boy came running past them and seized the general around his stomach. "You're back!" said the Breton boy, who to Ysana's surprise was wearing a Stormcloak uniform. "Hey, Daric! You've gotten a bit taller! And your voice is a little deeper too, I see." The boy soldier cleared his throat, then backed up and saluted him. "Uh, yea, I guess so, heh." His hair was soaked too, but Baldur could still tell that it sort of roughened up a bit, less soft. He realized he forgot to greet Rebec as well and quickly straightened up again. "Uh, good day, High Admiral Rebec." "Well, if it isn't the little scrap of Breton that beat up on the big Nord." Rebec punched the boy's arm playfully. "You're not getting any whore money out of us today, kid. Not until I sell off our cargo anyway." Daric's eyes widened, but his hair covered his brightening cheeks. "You told her about that?" "Baldur, what's she talking about?" Ysana said. She was a Dibellan, but they didn't take in boys his age. Baldur squeezed Rebec's hand, then said, "Uh, nothing ma. Just a little joke. Anyway, why don't you come with us? Don't worry about your Captain, I'll straighten it out later." Baldur ruffled the boy's wet head, then put a hand over his shoulder as they walked, knowing that Daric would have already said yes at the opportunity to tag along with his teacher again. "Is Windhelm always this ugly?" Rebec asked. "Guess it looks better in the snow. And with fewer beggars." She pitched a few coins at these as they passed. "Wait for me!" Menel came huffing up behind them, his arms laden with parcels. Rebec gave him a once-over. "You been shopping already, elf? You know you'll get plenty to eat at the king's table." "These are for later. Can't be too careful." "Ain't that the truth..." Baldur glanced over at one of his men carrying his things, where he packed in the last of Menel's sausages and blamed it on the sailors. Hehehehehe. Daric caught Ysana giving him a weird look on more than one occasion, which made him uneasy. Ysana finally piped up and said, "Baldur, who's the Breton? You didn't dally with a Manmer, did you?" "What? Oh, no it's not like that! Daric is my protege. He got in the Stormcloaks because of the militia from Falkreath." "Ah, I see," she said. "What kind of priest are you?" asked Daric. Baldur tensed a little at the question, but he didn't say anything. Ysana laughed to avoid it feeling awkward, then whispered to Daric and said, "Dibella." Daric's hair once again covered his blushing cheeks. Rebec laughed at his discomfort. "That's right, boy, one of those. Part of Baldur's recruitment scheme. From now on, you'll have one weekend a month of Dibellan training." "Dibellan training?" Ysana answered, "Back when I was an active priest, we'd give visitors looking to learn lessons on how t-" "Ehem!" Baldur interrupted the conversation with a loud throat clearing, which caused some of the Necros eavesdropping to snicker until they saw Baldur's glare. "Enough of that. Now in you all go." "Can I get in on that deal, too?" Menel asked as they slipped through the heavy doors of the palace. Rebec just laughed in reply. Inside, they were met by the queen, who strode forward and gave her second a bear hug that lifted the Bosmer off his feet. After releasing Menel, Veleda turned to greet the others. "You all are a sight for sore eyes, even dripping wet. Come in and sit. I want to hear all about your trip." She looked back at Menel, trying to gauge how his presence on the ship had been received. The Bosmer just shrugged his shoulders and hurried off towards the banquet table. The men all departed to their wing of the castle to rest, and put Rebec and Baldur's pack in their room, looking longingly at the table that the others were taking their seats at. Just when Baldur was about to move to sit, Ulfric and Galmar came out of the war room. "Rebec and Baldur, good to see you both! I thought you two decided to stay for a minute, there." Ulfric and Galmar greeted them all, giving Rebec and Baldur hugs before everyone finally sat down. Baldur already scarfed a piece of pork with his gauntlet claws behind Ulfric's back while he was embracing him. Baldur sat next to Rebec while Mazoga was to her right and Galmar was next to him, across from Menel, Ulfric and Veleda. Ysana and Daric sat closer to the end of the table. "King and queen to greet us, well don't I feel special," Rebec said as she sat down. "Is this how they do things in the Imperial City, Majesty?" "How should I know?" Veleda answered with a smile. "It's not like I was ever invited to White Gold. You aren't just common visitors, though. The king is right, I was worried about you. Did all go well with the redguard?" "Oh, I wouldn't say that. We lost good men and are lucky to be back alive ourselves. But we got what we went for, more or less." Baldur said, "Took a little convincing with a side of blood and a little magic, but Stros M'kai, territories under Sentinel and the Alik'r are all on board with our alliance. Even more, they're going to support Skyrim as the lead of it. The other lands will likely fall in under these three main locations. We'll have to send some people to deal with the specifics of giving them Dragonstar. Details, details." "Magic, eh?" Veleda glanced at Menel, who was busy stuffing his face. Rebec added, "We thought the Dragonstar bit, and Elinhir as well, could better be handled by someone going overland from Markarth or Falkreath. Those cities should have better trade ties anyway, and they can, now that we aren't fighting over the border lands. Do well to have overland trade routes besides Pale Pass. Who knows what'll be happening down in Bruma from one day to the next." "Yes, I've already had to order the men there to restrict the flow of travelers to keep so many Cyrodiilic citizens from leaving the Empire and coming in here from Bruma." said Ulfric. "I'll have some commanders cross the border to deal with Dragonstar and the Nord citizens there." "Yes, I figured we could get the Redguards to allow them to stay, and if they want them to leave, they could compensate them to do so if they wish. I'll send a small force there to make sure our kin aren't bullied into doing so until we officially hand it over." Ulfric nodded, then said, "Good. Rebec, are the improvements to your naval port in Kyne's Watch to your liking? It'll be the port to the vanguard of our ships when the inevitable comes and we move to dock in Stros M'kai." "Sigrid's done a fine job so far. We'll need lumber, stone and laborers. The town will pay for itself eventually, of course. What we really need is leadership. Baldur got me thinking about it, what with just me and Sigrid in charge of everything, and a navy being so spread out like we are. We need to build up the middle ranks. Already got the people, they just need the authority." "Right, you need officers. Like the military's commanders. Men and women that are already trained and can help train the others. That is what you mean, yes?" asked Ulfric. "You're the High Admiral. You can appoint whoever you wish. Your authority within the navy is no less than your husband's in the military." "You'll need more money," Veleda added, interpreting between the lines. Rebec nodded. "Like I said, it'll pay for itself later. In the navy moreso than elsewhere. You pay good people well, you get less corruption and fewer wrecked ships." The queen glanced at Ulfric. Whether it was needed or not, their treasury was strained and in need of better order. The silver that wasn't going to the empire any longer could only be divided so many ways, and there were too many hands in the pot before it even got to Windhelm. "We'll see to your requests," she said, turning back to Rebec. "In fact I hope we can start sending our payroll and tax shipments with the navy. Too many of them get 'lost' on the way to the Reach." "I'd look to the Silver Bloods for that, Majesties, not just the Forsworn. You've got to get those bastards in hand. Begging your pardon." Rebec wasn't one to shut up, but she knew even she had boundaries. "I don't think it's them. That's the type of thing I sent my men to stop in Markarth in the first place. If there was anything like that going on from the Silver-Bloods, my guard Captain there would find out. But I'll have him look into it anyway, just in case." Baldur added. Ulfric was pondering the issue with the money still. It wasn't like it was in the civil war anymore, where he could operate half off the cause instead of gold and silver. "The only thing I can think of to make this happen quicker is to take some funds away from the military to compensate for this new payment. Otherwise, you'd just have to wait until this town of yours starts... 'paying for itself.' Or at least for the war in the Reach to be over." Baldur said, "I can manage that, Ulfric. If you just shave off some from the top of what you're already paying the soldiers, you won't have too much to worry about. There'll be grumbling, but most of the men fought in the war, so it'll still be better than what they were getting. The sailors are getting closer to that, and it's a newcoming force. They need it more. We were paying them what we were to simply boost recruitment anyway." Rebec studied this exchange dubiously. "Shipping is expensive, majesties. And high risk. We'll need a better plan than this long-term or captains are not going to happily throw their ships into a fight. It was different before, when we were blockaded. Harder to send men to fight for Hammerfell or Cyrodiil." Baldur said, "Well Rebec, this is at least a good starting point. The navy's not going to get everything overnight. The military started off small and as a militia, working off of dirt pay, no offense Ulfric. They'll get theirs, but they'll have to wait. Our soldiers sacrificed a lot for much less. I know sailors don't operate that way, but that's just how it is. They're not opportunists and merchant dealers making shady trades anymore. They're military." Ulfric cut in and said, "That is true, but we've all sacrificed, and Rebec does have a point. However, this isn't a fight for Hammerfell or Cyrodiil. This is a fight for Skyrim. You'll get your money for officers, but it will have to wait, at least till after this skirmish with the Forsworn is over. Skimming off the military's pay will do for now, as a show of good faith and things to come. But the fact of the matter is I'm already putting in much for the navy's ships and now this new naval base. A lot of those ships are mine, including yours, Admiral. For now, appoint who you will to officer spots and they'll start getting slightly increased pay. Until I can afford to offer more...that, the honor and the cause will have to be enough for now." Rebec shot Baldur a look. She didn't like being reminded that her ship wasn't her own anymore. To Ulfric she only said, "We'll do our best. I just hope the Thalmor aren't in a hurry, either. You should know that the Bretons are fighting again. Or should I say, still. No offense, Daric lad." Daric's eyes popped up, going alert at the mention of his name. He wasn't expecting to be mentioned while talking with the king and queen and he honestly would have preferred it that way. So far, they hadn't noticed him, but now their eyes were set right on him. The High King of Skyrim himself and his new queen. "Uh, no problem. I was born here, so I don't mind." "Who's the wet pup?" Galmar said, piping up for the first time now, too busy eating. "My assistant. I have a lot of things to sort through, I assume. I could use an assistant," said Baldur. "He's a good lad. Stronger than you think. Heh, ask Brund." Ulfric didn't say anything, but his comment reminded him of Sofie again. Rebec gestured with her fork. "You should've seen this wet pup take on a Nord twice his size and three times as ugly. This one's got heart. And I'll say the same for Menel here. He did well, Queen Veleda." "Did he?" Veleda beamed, and turned her gaze to the Bosmer. Mouth full, Menel said, "Thu flook shurprised." "I think Baldur might owe him his life. At any rate, the two of them got separated from the rest of us and had quite a time of it." "What's that? How did that happen?" Galmar asked, curious to how their general owed his life to an elf. "Where the hell were your men, Red-Snow?" said Ulfric. Baldur raised his hands in defense and said, "Hey, hey! We got ambushed in a sandstorm by sand rats and harpies. Me and Menel got taken away. Menel and I forced our captors to land. He used magic and I as usual put my mouth to good use. Afterwards, Menel healed me and took the bone shards out of me from the harpie I landed on and we walked back. Oh and he killed some other harpies while I was unconscious from the crash. Rebec found us just in time. It was close. We were about to give our last stand from another Ra Gada attack." Rebec added, "The desert is like Skyrim only backwards, hot and dry instead of cold, but just as harsh. We were out there like babes in the tundra. My niece almost died. I think she did die, actually, but she's stubborn and came back. Menel helped her, too, after. He was dancing with harpies when it first happened." "Does this mean you'll take battlemages on your ships?" Veleda asked. "No. No way." The queen frowned, and Menel started to protest, blowing crumbs across the table. Rebec wiped saliva-laden crumbs off herself and said, "Of course I'm taking battlemages, silly elf. I'll instruct the other captains." Chuckling, Veleda said, "Well alright then. You can't have Menel again. Not for a while. He needs to work with some of our green troops." Baldur said, "If it's all the same to you two, we don't plan on going anywhere to require that anyway, at least not in the near future. We have... plans." Veleda lifted a brow and glanced at Ulfric, wondering how he would take his commander dictating what his next assignment would be, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Menel making a "fat belly" motion. Fatter than his own, that is. "Ah, I see," the queen answered, understanding. "Our High Admiral has a new boss. Congratulations, both of you." She fidgeted, glanced at Ulfric again, but said nothing more. From the side, Daric had moved his lips to say congratulations, but then a thought dawned on him that made him change his mind and stay silent and crestfallen. Ulfric said, "We all go where the cause calls us. But congratulations to you both." He added a brief smile to his words at the end before it faded away. Baldur didn't bother to argue with him. There wasn't a chance of them being needed elsewhere likely and he didn't much give a damn. He put a reassuring arm around Rebec's shoulder and continued to eat. "You've still got an admiral," Rebec said quickly. "It's not like that. I suppose there are some things I won't be able to do, but we've got time for that yet." She glanced at Baldur and smiled. "All the more reason to get the officer corps built up," Veleda said, standing from her place. "Friends, I've got a practice to run, but I'll see you later. High General, there's something I'd like to discuss with you in particular." The queen bowed her head farewell, shot Menel a grin, and left. "And so here it comes," Galmar said. "Do not think you are too high to come crashing down, High General." Ulfric stood from where he was, then said, "I figured this matter would come up eventually, but I hoped it would still be a time yet. I know you two are duty bound Nords. But a child changes a lot of things. Doesn't it, Ysana?" Baldur's mother looked up from her plate in surprise, as did Baldur. "Indeed it does, king," she said. Ulfric nodded, then spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed on Baldur. "Right. Anyway, I know you'll say you will do your duty, and I believe you when you say it. But, I'll say this regardless, since I know your husband better than he thinks I do, Rebec. As long as you are called a Stormcloak, you will go where I tell you to go. If that is a problem, then remember that no one is above charges for insubordination. Am I clear? We may be friends, but I am still your King." "Clear as crystal, Your Majesty," Baldur said with a straight face. The fingers of his arm around Rebec crossed where he and Galmar couldn't see, but the others could. "Good. Now, all that aside, I am proud of both of you and you could use a break from long trips. I'll take that into consideration. I have another matter to discuss with you two as well as the queen, but it can wait for now until you've had your rest for the day." Rebec looked from Ulfric to Baldur. The king's warning was harsh, and she didn't know what he meant about knowing her husband better than Baldur thought he did. People were wandering off or going back to eating, so she leaned in to Baldur. "That went over like a corundum balloon. Is he thinking he ought to have chosen Brund?" Baldur watched as the king walked away and Galmar moved to go into the city. Baldur shrugged and said, "If that's the case, then he's free to do so. I don't need to have this position, he needs me to. Unless he really thinks Brund or Galmar can hold the confidence of the other nations as lead general and pull off what you and I just did in Hammerfell. No, Ulfric was just flexing his muscle as head bear is all. There's not much going on that would require us to leave Skyrim anyway, short of Thalmor attack. Morrowind isn't likely to get involved in this war as they're still busy with the An-Xileel. I'm not worried." "Alright then. You've had more experience with kings and commanders than me. This shouldn't be so hard. The early Nords had babies, even the warriors. Rebec the Red, with all those husbands, she must have been popping them out all the time." "Indeed. We'll be fine. Now, you continue to fill that belly. I've got to go see what it is that Veleda wants. Daric!" Baldur planted a kiss on Rebec's cheek before getting up. After hugging his mother, he and the boy made their way back into the bleak city of Windhelm. (to be continued)

Wildly-shaped shadows danced across the street, surrounded by a dim orange glow. The dead tree beside the burning general store was the source of these shadows, but it was clear that soon the fires would catch the tree as well, and it would contribute less to the shadows and more to the glow. K'sirr liked the way the heat felt on his fur, but knew that it was time to leave. To remain was to be caught. Do'Senji had started his side of the building more quickly, but his experience with starting fires was far greater than K'sirr's, what this meant though, was that he would already be heading to the spot. "We do not wait for each other." He had said. K'sirr fled the burning building just as his own side began to truly go up. As expected, Do'Senji waited across the street, along with M'darr. "Guards stir now." he said, looking at M'darr with amusement. "It makes it more fun. You should start a fire yourself next time." "Maybe." M'darr said. "But this one does not like how those fires spread. I prefer my fur un-scorched." "We move now." Do'Senji interrupted his thoughts with the one sentence. The older Khajiit did not speak much. K'siir liked that. It made following his lead less complicated. Quiet as a ghost, Do'Senji set out without looking back. M'darr went next. Still grinning, K'sirr followed. This was his first time participating in a breakout. The prospect left him more than excited. It would be easy, he knew. The foolish half-wits had thrown a brother in the least guarded cells in the city. The fire they had started would be more than sufficient in drawing away the few guards who kept to this particular waterfront. They would have their brother free before anyone knew there was an issue. "So who do you think they put into this prison?" M'darr asked in a low voice, almost being a whisper, just as they were approaching the prison. "I think it's one from Elsweyr." "From Elsweyr?" This was getting better and better. K'sirr had met few actual members of the Krin beyond his present company, and only two had been born in his homeland. "This one hopes so." "Either that or he he's a local who lost his boots." M'darr said half jokingly. "What do you think Senji?" Do'Senji put his hand on the knob and looked back. "If they are planning on putting him on a ship, he must be important." With that, he entered. Inside the room were two guards, playing a dice game. One of the was facing them and the other had his back turned towards them. "We're clos..." The guard that was facing said before he looked and when saw who the visitor were, he didn't even get a chance to leave the chair before Do'Senji threw a small knife that buried itself deep in his left eye. The other was chocked at the display of the dead guard's face and when he turned around to see, halfway up from the chair, Do'Senji hit the man in the face with a fist and quickly grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table. M'darr and K'sirr were to take out any other guards but the rest of the room was empty. So M'darr closed the door while K'sirr looked in the rest of the house but only found an empty hallway with the cell doors lining both sides. "No more guards." Said K'sirr. "Good." Do'Senji replied. He was still holding the guards head against the table, still conscious. Drawing his dagger, Do'Senji held it up very close to the eye of the guard. "Where is our brother?" His voice filled with spite. "Who?" Said the terrified guard. "A Krin. He was brought here with a bag over his head." "Second cell door on the left." The answer came very quickly. "Good." And with that, Do'Senji drove the dagger deep into the man's skull. A brief cry was heard and then silence. "You two keep watch while I pick the lock. And put out the light." M'darr and K'sirr both nodded and took positions. K'sirr next to a window while M'darr started blowing out a couple of candles before pouring the water bucket onto the hearth. The room was now dark but it didn't bother their cat eyes. Do'Senji was quick to get to work on the door and very soon he put the lockpicking tools back in a pocket and opened the door. K'sirr kept looking out the window and saw a couple of guards running by towards the fire. Soon after Do'Senji had walked in to get their brother the door slammed shut. M'darr and K'sirr looked towards the hallway and then back at each other. Thy waited a few seconds but when the door didn't open they got a little worried. "I'll go look if there's any trouble. You stay and keep watch." M'darr then said. K'sirr nodded and turned his head back to look out to the street. M'darr walked up to the door, his footing being careful like he was sneaking. He knocked on the door. "Do'Senji?" No answer came. He knocked again. "Do'senji?" He said a bit louder this time. But still no answer came. K'sirr saw a group of people running with buckets passed the house. One of them suddenly turned his head towards K'sirr and slowed down. K'sirr quickly pulled back and pressed himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows. "Come on. Come on. Do'Senji, hurry up." he muttered to himself. He leaned towards the window and peeked out and saw that they all had passed on. He drew a deep sigh of relief and when he heard the door open again he felt glad that they could soon leave. But instead he suddenly heard M'darr scream and when he turned to look he saw M'darr pinned to the door one the opposite side the hallway, with a crystalline spear sticking out of the shoulder. Fear gripped K'sirr and the chock froze him as he just looked at M'darr trying in vain to pull the spear out. Then a black robed man appeared from the cell, the head was hooded so he couldn't see the face from the side. That's when he snapped out of the chock and made it for the door. He quickly opened the door and made a quick glance back inside, just in time to see the man turn to face him. But the man had no face beneath the hood. He slammed the door only to hear something hitting it soon thereafter, like an arrow burying itself into wood. The only feelings K'sirr had were fear and that there were something wrong with all of this, but first and foremost he felt a need to get out of there as soon as possible. He turned left and ran down the street a few yards and then turned left again down the back alleys, only glancing back at the door to see it open before rounding the corner. And now barking and growling was heard behind him. The fear of slowing down kept him from looking back to see what was now chasing him. He kept running down different alleys, tipping barrels a few in his wake hoping to lose his pursuer. But it didn't seem to slow them down that much, but it bought him a little time. He turned right, hoping the reach the main street and from there reach the part of the docks where they had stowed away a rowboat for the escape. But as he was reaching the end of the alley and the open street his path was blocked by the robed man with no face. He quickly turned around and ran down another alleyway to his right. There he kept running straightforward, but as he was about to reach another open street, the robed man appeared again. He ran down the nearby hallway to the left. Is he toying with me, or are there more? He wondered. And he was still hearing the growling behind him. He soon made another turn and now he could see the docks in the far end. He picked up pace, even though he thought it must have been impossible now. He didn't care about the rowboat anymore and was ready to swim across the river. But it wasn't to be as the robed man appeared again the end of the alley. And this time there wasn't any nearby escape routes. So he stopped for a brief second to think what he would do. The thought of trying to get passed the man flashed through his head. Then it suddenly hit him, the man was just standing there. And the growling behind had ceased. The silence and calm around him all just sent a chill down his spine. And then he suddenly felt another chill along with a searing pain in his back and stomach. K'sirr stumbled a little as he looked down to see the same kind of spear that had pierced M'darr was now sticking out of his stomach. He looked up at the man who was now walking towards him. K'sirr tried took to take step forward. Which took every ounce of willpower he had left. Then he felt the pain from a heavy blow against the back of his head and he felt himself slipping away as his vision turned black. *** Hours passed, or was it days? K'sirr was unsure how long it truly had been when his eyes finally reopened. When they did, all he could see was darkness. He was standing, arms raised and, from what he could feel, locked in shackles. After a few seconds, his feline eyesight adjusted, and the details of his prison began to become more apparent. How did this happen? The room was small and bare, save for a dark spot in front of the door opposite him. It took a second, but the details of the figure became more detailed as he stared, and that night's events began to come back to him. The prison attack had been a trap! And the figure ahead... K'sirr suddenly felt a great pain in his stomach as the realization that he had been pierced dawned on him. He looked up in horror at the monster who sat in a chair across the room. The being that could be in so many places at once. The more he recalled, the more frightened K'sirr grew. No. Show no fear. He tried, and he tried hard. But having seen what he'd seen that night, there was no chance K'sirr would fool anyone, and even he knew it. His tail quivered and his eyes were wide like moons. "Where-" he stopped, startled by his own voice, despite having intended to speak. The room was so deafly silent that his interruption of it seemed unnatural. "Where are the others?" "In the cells next to yours." The man replied calmly. K'sirr's head drooped back down. It had all been a set-up. He knew that now. Wherever he was, it was undoubtedly far more secure than the shack he had been caught breaking into. He silently cursed himself and his companions for falling into what was, looking back, a very obvious trap. Now, his arms were shackled tight, and he was at this strange faceless man's mercy. Why does he just stare? K'sirr wondered. The figure was not talking to him. Just watching, as if K'sirr was expected to initiate any interrogations himself. He would oblige. "Who are you?" K'sirr saw no reason to give his real name. It would only make him easier to find if he ever got out of here. "This one is Shassiri." "No. It is not." The man rose up from the chair and took a few steps forward. He clutched his hand into a fist and held it close to K'sirr's face, but he did not make himself ready for a punch but instead opened the hand. And in the palm of the hand lied disgusting worm-like creature, with a large round mouth filled with rows of tiny sharp teeth. Despite the creature lacking eyes, K'sirr could feel like it was watching him with hunger in mind. "Now, what is your real name?" The man asked. "K'sirr!" he answered immediately. Keeping the secret wasn't worth whatever that thing would do to him. "Good." The man withdrew the hand a few inches but still held it so K'sirr could see it. Then he removed the hand, but the worm was still lingering, hanging in the air in front of K'sirr's face while the faceless man sat back down in the chair. "Now what are the names of your friends?" K'sirr knew how interrogations went from M'darr, and he knew that this was about as easy as it was going to get. He had no desire to rat on his brothers, but as he'd just realized with his own, names were nothing. The man would get them from the owners themselves if not from him. "Do'Senji and M'darr." At least at least this way, he didn't end up with a worm eating his insides. "That is correct. And I don't think I should need to explain why I know that. But lets continue. Where are all your hideouts located?" That made K'sirr falter. "The hideouts?" He did not even know where they all would be. Only a few. Do'Senjir would know more, but K'sirr doubted that he would tell. It made K'sirr feel guilty. Do'Senji would die before betraying them so, and now he was prepared to do just that to save his own fur. He figured that perhaps a middle-ground could be reached. He could tell of the smallest hideouts, and no more. "K'sirr knows of only two. One can be found in Redwater Slough to the northeast. The other is K'sirr's camp, south, near the bay." "You don't know any more?" The worm got a little bit closer and even tried to lash out at K'sirr but missed by a mere inch. K'sirr gulped. One more cannot hurt. "This one has just remembered," he said slowly, "there is another at Water's Edge." "Maybe you could remember one or two more?" The worm got closer and this time it could reach the nose. It stared nibbling but did not sunk it's teeth into the flesh. K'sirr jerked his head back, pressing it against the wall and turning so as to put as much distance between himself and the worm. Still, it moved closer. "Undertow Cave!" he shrieked, then immediately hated himself for it. Undertow was the first name that came to his mind, and a home to many brothers, even if he did not know most of them. He knew he had made a mistake. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" The worm floated back while lashing almost furiously at the denied meal. "Now how about contacts working in the city?" "There are two known by me." K'sirr said, ashamed. "Sholani and Zajjan." "Already have Sholani. He was actually the bait for the trap. Anyway. Got any more? And you need to be more specific than just names." That took K'sirr by surprise. They had done all this for the sake of Sholani? This news made the defeat feel even greater. It had not even been for the sake of a fighter or leader. Just a commoner who only helped in the smallest of ways. "Zajjan works at the chapel. She is a healer there, and sometimes hides brothers in the undercroft." Giving up Zajjan seemed like so little after Undertow, but K'sirr knew that it was low to do, and that she would haunt him along with the rest. It couldn't be for nothing. He'd already cost the Krin so much for his own sake, and he did not even know if he would survive. No more until it is known. "Will K'sirr leave this place?" he asked. "You nearly know what can be heard from me." "Maybe. I'll tell you when we're done. Any more than Zajjan?" "No more until it is known." K'sirr repeated to himself, this time aloud. "Known if you're allowed to leave?" The man asked, sounding a little confused. K'sirr nodded. He would not tell everything he knew just to die here. "I will go and look for these people and places. And if I find the information you've given me to be to my satisfaction, you will be allowed to leave." K'sirr was skeptical. "Swear it by your gods." "If I'm satisfied, you will be given the option to leave. You have my word for it. And may I be eaten by Akatosh's children if I break it." K'sirr was satisfied. Though, he had never heard of Akatosh having children. Then again, K'sirr had trouble even recalling the names of all nine Imperial gods, so he was far from a good authority on the matter. "Zajjan lives at the northernmost side of town, in a nice house her family has had for generations. She has no mate and no litter, but there are often brothers there to fill the quiet." "Any more contacts in the city? And what about contacts outside the city?" "There truly are no contacts in the city that I know of." K'sirr spoke the truth. To his knowledge, only a small amount of the Krin in this city actually knew more than a few. "But outside, there is the Khajiit town of Borderwatch. Many there are brothers, or help us all the same." K'sirr knew it was over for him as a Renrijra Krin, but perhaps he could escape to Elsweyr when this ended. He could begin anew as a farmer, or a bandit. Whatever it took to survive. "Any names or other specifics about Borderwatch?" "They scare easy." K'sirr said it from experience. His one trip to Borderwatch had been brief, but he remembered doors shutting at the sight of an accompanying brother's large pet hound. He remembered because the idea of Khajiit being frightened by dogs like common house cats had disgusted him. "And there is one their named Bhisha. This one as met him. Others too, but their names are not known to me. Bhisha could tell you." "Hmm. So anything more you feel like giving up to improve your chances for leaving?" K'sirr racked his brain. There were still quite a few hideouts that he knew of, but the man seemed content in that regard, and K'sirr didn't want to give more information than he had to to satisfy his captor. There had been an elf. The Altmer woman who had come to him with plans regarding the riot starting. He had been skeptical of her on account of the lack of fur, but the plans she had given him had made sense, and only benefitted the Krin. That was over a year ago though, and everything she had given him had long since been accomplished, but to K'sirr's knowledge, no other members had met the elven woman. "There was the elf." he said, thinking that maybe this interesting bit could peek interest. "This one knows nothing about her, but she gave K'sirr riot plans, and they were carried out. Why she would do this, K'sirr cannot say." "Interesting. But well, that only confirms a suspicion I've had. Unless she can she can identified and located, that information doesn't help you that much. And you really sure you can spit out some more information?" The worm disappeared in a small black cloud. And the cloud lingered in it's place and soon a flood of several other disgusting creeps started spilling out from the cloud onto the floor directly in front of K'sirr, from where they headed straight for K'sirrr's legs. The hair stood up on his back and neck as K'sirr frantically began stomping. He felt a sickening crunch under his right boot, and then another under his left. But before another could be squished, two more had slithered up his right calve. K'sirr kicked out and shook them off, then he used all of his strength to wrap his arms around their shackles and lift his feet from the ground. "Stop!" he shouted. "What more is there?!" "More of anything really. Hideouts, contacts, suppliers and such. There's always a few drops left to squeeze out." The faceless man said, still disturbingly calm. And the creeps now started to crawl up the wall. K'sirr was helpless to keep away the creatures, and so he did all he could do. "There is a lodge in the woods to the south! About a mile! And in the abandoned f- Ahhh!" K'sirr nearly bit his tongue when he felt a sharp and sudden pain on his raised left leg. One of the creeps had managed to clamp onto him, and it's many razor-sharp teeth were now digging straight through fur and flesh. "FORT NOMORE!" he cried out as another of the creatures latched onto his right thigh. "Please!" Another sharp pain, this one on his ribcage, the creep having easily eaten through his shirt. He screamed, "Onyx Caverns! That is all! This one swe- AHH!" The creatures were swarming K'sirr now, and he could even see tiny lumps in his own flesh where they had buried themselves inside him. They were INSIDE him! "And Rockmill! Rockmill is the last of them! There are no more!" "I guess that about covers it." The faceless man rose up from the chair and in the same instance the creeps disappeared. "I only needed some confirmation on what Do'Senji have already told me." The realization of what he'd just heard hit K'sirr like a hammer. Do'Senji... All of what he had told, the man already knew. This had been for nothing. A faint "Oh" was all K'sirr could manage to say in response as a wave of nausea took him. "Cheer up. You still have a chance of being released." And with that said the man pushed the chair out of the way so he could open the door and then took it with him as he left and closed the door behind him. "Two thousand five hundred and seventy seven. Two thousand five hundred and seventy eight. Two thousand five hundred and seventy nine..." K'sirr heard a loud crash outside his dark cell, as if something metal had been dropped. He frowned and went back to his counting. "Two thousand five hundred and seventy nine. Two th-... No. That isn't right. No!" he shouted and flung his empty water jug into the darkness. Even with his cat sight, he could only see the shape of it striking, but there was no problem hearing the ceramic jug shatter. "How is K'sirr ever to know now?!" he wondered aloud. He had been wondering aloud a lot in the past few days. Or had it been weeks? It depended on how often the man came and brought him his meal of stale bread and water. After the time before, he had taken to counting, so that he could use it to tell how long it took between meals. He had failed that time as well. K'sirr crossed back to the wall he had originally been chained to. He still wore the shackles, but at least they were no longer attached to the wall. He extended one sharp claw and carved out what was supposed to be a human, then proceeded to scratch all over it. "When K'sirr is free, they will pay. Especially the liar! K'sirr will find the brothers and we will throw all of the humans in this city into cells. And feed THEM to bugs! Yesss." K'sirr let out a dry chuckle at the thought of it. He could see it now, that dark figure crying out as his own creeps tore into whatever was under the hood, and the guards, and the count, and all the others died in cells like he was destined to. That last thought brought K'sirr out of his dream. It was never to be. The hooded demon was a liar, and he the only one who was going to die in a cell was him. He should not have done as he had. It was the violent life he lead that brought K'sirr here. He wished he could escape. Not to get revenge, but to do things differently. Take up a religion, perhaps? Become a servant to gods? That sounded nice. The ones at the chapels and shrines always seemed so happy. But just as with the revenge, he knew it was never to be. K'sirr began to weep. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but K'sirr awoke to the blinding light from the open door. He shielded his eyes as a guard who was not the usual one to feed him ussured in two more figures. They wore shackles, like him. And had tails and fur, like him. They were brothers! K'sirr sat up in the corner and watched the guard shove the pair of them in. He waited to see what they would say. At first the two new cell mates didn't speak but just sat against the wall. After another minute of silence one of them spoke. "So how did you get caught?" He tried to sound a little cheerful, like if it all were just a joke, but the attempt fell flat. "This one was caught trying to break out an imprisoned brother." K'sirr tried not to seem happy that they now shared in his poor conditions, but speaking to others was one of the things he had missed most. "Well, we were taking a nap in Undertow Cave after a small raid. And next thing we knew; guards were swarming in along with some robed faceless freaks." K'sirr felt a fresh wave of guilt. It was his fault. The demon man was a liar. He never let him out, and Do'Senji never spoke. Do'Senji was no coward. He would never give in. Like I did. "This is sad news. Undertow was home to many. It was a faceless man who caught this one as well. You say there are more?" The thought frightened K'sirr. "I didn't see exactly how many, but I'm pretty certain there were at least four of those freaky magic users." "Four?" K'sirr did not like the thought of that at all. Where were these strange beings coming from? He had seen nothing like them before his capture. "That is a lot. Did no one escape?" "I don't know. I hope so. I got disarmed and knocked out. They were keen on taking prisoners. When I woke up I was bound and had a blindfold and was told to get up and walk. When the blindfold was removed I was in a cell like this one. Was interrogated by a couple of guards. Got a good beating. When that was over I was thrown into a cell with my friend here. Then the guards came and took us out. Said they needed to make room for some non Krin prisoners. Tossed us in here as you can see." The khajiit lightly elbowed the other one that had been sitting quite still since he arrived. "Isn't that how it all went?" The first Krin said, trying to sound cheerful again. The second one flinched at the touch of elbow. "Don't touch me!" He almost shrieked out in a mix of fear and panic. Sighing the first khajiit turned back to K'sirr. "He's been like that since we got separated. Anyway, my name is Ja'virr. And my strange friend here is Renji." K'sirr looked from one Khajiit to the other. He wondered if Renji had suffered the same fate as he had. Would he have acted the same way so soon after the torture? Probably. Even the guards bringing his meals had frightened him at first. They all could have been the faceless man. There was no way to know. After a long silence, he realized that his own name had gone unsaid, and that Ja'virr seemed to wait for it. "K'sirr." "If it had been under better circumstances I would have said 'well met', but seeing another brother in here isn't exactly good sight." He sat quiet for a moment. "I wonder how long we'll have left in this cell. I don't want to be a downer but you should at least try to enjoy what little time you got left. If there's enjoyment to be found in this dark abyss." What do you know of the darkness? You have seen two minutes of it. K'sirr didn't answer at first. He only glared at his fellow prisoner who still had hope in him before leaning back against the wall. Finally, after a long pause, he gave his answer. "The only joy to be found here is in your dreams." "You're probably right. Might as well take a nap." Ja'virr turned to Renji. "You could probably also need a nap, Renji." And with that Ra'virr leaned back his head against the stone wall and closed his eyes. K'sirr waited for a while, eyes closed, but awake. He waited until he was certain that both of his cellmates were asleep. He knew Renji was having the nightmares by the way he muttered and occasionally kicked out. It had been a lie, and K'sirr had known it. There was no joy to be found in the dreams. Not anymore. The faceless man haunted those as well. **** Some time later, a few days, according to Ra'virr who claimed that he actually managed to keep track of time, guards came into the cell and took both Ra'virr and Renji away and left K'sirr alone. A minute later the door opened and a man stood in the doorway. The blinding light from behind him made him look like a shadow. But from the outline K'sirr could see that he had no hood on and had shoulder long hair. But the voice made it unmistakable on who it was. "I almost forgot about you. And I will keep my word. So you got two options: One; you go to the block along with you're friends and the end will be quick. Two; you are brought up to the block before the execution and all the names of those who you helped catch are announced. I'd be surprised if you make it to the city gates before some Krin supporters out for revenge or some humans wanting to do some punishment on their own get their hands on you." Some time ago, K'sirr would have been angry by the betrayal, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that he would never escape, and that the man was not going to keep his word. This opportunity was more generous than he had expected. Very generous, in fact. Soon, he would be outside! "This one chooses the second option." He would make it. No matter what this man said. He would escape north, and reach the Imperial City. And he would never see the Krin or this demon man again! "As you wish." The man disappeared from the doorway and soon a couple of guards came in and picked K'sirr up. K'sirr made no effort to struggle, and cooperated as he never had before. It didn't stop the guards from shoving him at every turn or stop, but he had no intention of giving trouble as they marched him through the dungeon passages. The sweetness of freedom was too close to ruin now. He wasn't sure how many halls or rooms they passed through, but it was enough to tell K'sirr that he was deep underground. When they passed through the last door, and finally emerged into the warmth of day, K'sirr had never felt better. The light was nearly blinding at first, but the heat on his fur was wonderful, and his eyes quickly adjusted. They continued further, leaving the castle behind and pushing him on north. One of the city's large bridges was crossed, and soon a hundred voices could be heard echoing in the distance. They were gathered for the executions. They passed several more blocks, more guards joining their entourage as they did, and upon rounding onto a final street, K'sirr could see the crowd. There were many humans, those Khajiit who watched mostly kept to their own group in the back. Before all of them, on a high wooden platform, was the executioner's block. A tall Nord with a large axe stood up top, and several dozen Khajiit prisoners were all lined up in three rows behind him. Guards were everywhere. What caught K'sirr's eye most, however, were the two big barrels beside the executioner. He felt sick as he realized that they were for heads. This is my fault. He realized, as he was marched up the platform steps. K'sirr could not bring himself to meet his doomed brothers' and sisters' eyes, but he knew that every one of them would be watching him with hatred. "This one should be dying with them." K'sirr muttered silently. But it was too late for that. He deserved it, for sure, but that could change. He had not given so much up just to die now. He would leave and be free. If he did enough good in his new life, perhaps it could make up for this betrayal. That was how the gods worked, right? "K'sirr!" A short, bald Imperial man came from behind him and walked to the front of the platform. His voice boomed over the audience. "Unlike many of your brethren, you have sought to go down a different path, the path of morality! The Nine reward those who atone, and serve them in their actions, and our Empire is no different." The crowd was hushed now, and he looked out to address them. "This Khajiit has, despite all pressure from his faction, taken the high ground, and served the Empire greatly. For he revealed to us the locations and names of those who would destroy us! In doing so, he saved more lives than even he could imagine-" Lives I never will know. K'sirr thought. Traded for those of my brothers. "-As Lady Mara forgives us, we too must forgive K'sirr! In the name of the Empire, all past transgressions you have committed are now forgiven." K'sirr glanced out at the crowd. There were some smiles among the humans, but many looked far less forgiving. Among the Khajiit, there seemed only to be malice. Even those not in the Krin found it hard to respect one who would betray his people in an obvious attempt to save his own life. K'siir diverted his eyes to the ground. This time tomorrow, it will all be behind me. He clung to that thought as the clerk turned his attention to a long list of names in his hand. It was time for the executions to begin. As the clerk read the first name, K'sirr was led down the platform and a guard removed the shackles. "Get out of here. Unless you wish to stay and watch" The guard said spitefully. K'sirr needed no more urging. He wanted no more part in any of this. The moment the guard finished talking, he was gone, leaving behind the crowds, the guards, and the Renrijra Krin. The ex-con smiled as he had never smiled before as buildings and people flashed by. They'd want him dead, but he would give them no change. He was too fast, and would be out the gate within the minute. And then he'd be away from this conflict forever. He could see that gate was open as he approached. Whatever guards would normally be there must have been assisting with the execution, save one tired boy atop the wall. This is it! he thought excitedly. He closed his eyes and grinned widely as he passed under the archway. Unfortunate, because this left him blind and powerless to the fist that struck him in the right temple. "Get him!" K'sirr heard a voice say. Then before he could recover from the blow he felt hands grab around his arms, furry hands with claws scratching deep into his flesh. But he could not scream as a gag was stuffed into his mouth and beeing bound to his head. A dirty piece of cloth that tasted like filth. "Really thought you could get away?" K'sirr opened his eyes but was seeing stars for the first few seconds before he could make out his attackers. There were three Khajiit standing in front of him, in addition to the two on his sides, holding him firmly by the arms. NO! K'sirr struggled against his captors. He'd gone so long now and survived. He had done too much to just let these Khajiit get the better of him. He jerked his head and managed to ram back into the one holding his gag. Rather than shouting out, K'sirr used this moment to bite one of his restrainers' wrists, chomping hard, and tearing back a chunk of flesh and fur. He spit it out and extended his now-freed hand's claws. Before he could lash out, there was a boot on his gut, and two more blows struck his face. And then the gag was again covering his mouth. His eyes slowly came open, again seeing stars, but he still struggled. It was no use, however, as the Krin had him well pinned by now. "Arrgh! Bastard bit me." The bitten one said, quelling his voice to not alert the guard above. "Don't worry, he'll pay for that too." Another said. From the authority in the voice and being the one that had ordered the others to get him, K'sirr assumed he was the leader of the gang. They started to drag K'sirr off and when he finally stopped seeing stars again he could see they dragged him closely alongside the wall. K'sirr tried breaking free again but this time the held him even more firmly and also gave him a punch to the gut to calm him down. When they rounded a tower they got they got out of view from the gate and road. Those carrying him then pressed K'sirr and his face up against the stone wall. He felt a hand grab the back of his head and pulled it back. The Khajiit who did it looked at him with spiteful eyes. "We don't like traitors. You turned against your own people. Your family. And thanks to you, we're almost exterminated. Those who you sold out may get a quick death today. But not you." K'sirr's face was then rammed into the wall. Just enough to cause pain but unfortunately not enough to knock him out. Then he felt a hand grab his tail and he knew what was about to come next. K'sirr tried to shout out, but the gag prevented it, and just a few seconds later, he felt the cold bite of steel on his tail. "MMMPH!" Tears soaked into the fur around K'sirr's eyes as he tried to cry out. He felt them being wiped away, only to see that the tool used for the wiping was his own disembodied tail. Next came his ears. The Krin thugs whispered insults and taunts as the knife shortened his long, pointed ears to bloody stumps. He barely took notice of what they were saying, the pain and sudden dizziness overruled all else. Two of them seemed to be debating something, but K'sirr couldn't tell what. Finally, they hoisted him up to his knees. Will I go now? K'sirr wondered, as he had ever since the faceless man originally made his promise. Will I be free? And then they cut his throat.

Tacitus, Maori, Endar, Brutus Castle Kvatch Morning Tacitus sat uncomfortably in his saddle, his body still not used to having only one hand. It left him unbalanced, and hindered his ability to ride. He could still grip the reins fine, but in the event of the horse running or bucking, his stump provided little comfort. He wasn't a very skilled horseman to begin with, as demonstrated by the race he, Maori, and Gracchus partook in from Skingrad to the capital city. "So, what do you think of my new toy?" Tacitus asked Maori, referencing his gauntlet. Currently he had the hook on there, as it was the least likely to cause any problems with the guards. "I've taken quite a liking myself, it's like having several weapons in one!" the rest of the attachments were in his bad, should he need them. They connected to the arm via a screw end, that twisted into the gauntlet. Maori looked at the hook from the corner of his eye and grinned. "It's like all those pirate children's stories. Haha, I should call you Admiral Hook. Now all you need is a talking bird and to paint your ship red or black. Joking aside though, it's a good idea. Hard for anyone to say you're hindered now, I'd bet." "Hindered my ass. I could do as much damage with one hand as most men could do with three! Now it just so happens I can kick people's asses even easier," Tacitus said boastfully, still carrying himself with the same swagger as usual. The High Admiral had dressed up, wearing a black naval vest with golden buttons and embroidery, a white shirt underneath, and black pants and boots. He had also elected to shave his head, foregoing his long golden locks in favor of a short cut. His beard now reached to his belly button, with the ends brought together in a gold band. Maori just smirked and rolled his eyes, then decided to start boasting himself, "Humans and their metal sticks. Nothing beats a well placed arrow to deny even the toughest melee fighter his 'glorious' and 'honorable' death. I could take out three men in one draw of my bow in the time you can pull a swing. What do you say to that?" Tacitus' haughtiness waned, as he realized the Bosmer was right. Mumbling, he said, "I'll have to get a crossbow attachment then...at least I can whittle a stick without being a sentenced to death in my country..." Maori realized his mistake in his boasting was that boasting was supposed to be a bit exaggerating. Oops. "Ha, I wouldn't worry about it, I was just kidding. Besides, even a Bosmer force has melee fighters. Can't really take land with a whole force of archers. And an archer's boon is a nice line of brutes to keep the ilk at bay so we can line our shots up in peace." "So now we're brutes eh? Keep flapping your jaw and I'll show you the meaning of brute," Tacitus jokingly growled, glaring at Maori as he did. Maori grinned and said, "Well, not as a rule, but armies need their brutes, their grunts. If there's a melee fighter on the ground with real brainpower, they're made captains, commanders, legates, generals and so on. Everyone else, expendable muscle. You say "we" but you're not really one of them. You're not just a soldier. Soldiers are supposed to take orders as best they can and only think on how best to follow those orders and succeed in completing them. You, however, give those orders." "Don't flatter me, elf. You've for enough brown on your body already for you to be getting more on your nose. I was a brute, hell, the whole Imperial Navy was just a bunch of floating meat shields for the army after the Great War. In Skyrim we died for what, a peace that should've been brokered in the first place had that dumbass Amaund not had his balls chopped off at birth. I'm glad this new blokes got the right of it, actually utilizing us for something, even if it is simple harassment." "I'm not brown nosing and I don't give out worthless praise. Though I could go back to talking about my Nord friend if you want, hehehe. Just because the Emperor decided to expend you, doesn't mean you were a brute. It just means your leader was." "That man again? By the nine, I swear if I hear another thing about his snow white Nordic ass, I'll mount yours above my mantle. The late Empress Amaund got his when he died though. Brutally murdered by your own daughter, who's barely an adult? Sounds like a bad book more so than actual events." "What can I say, it's not every day you know someone famous. And now somehow I know two. A Bosmer with only two hairy ass gargantuan human friends... how did my life come to this, heh. As for Amaund, I'm honestly surprised it took that long for someone to kill him next. I'd have thought his own guard would just throw him down and slaughter him." "Money boys loyalty. Or at least loyalty until someone else pays more. Though, I doubt it would have taken much longer had she not killed him. He wasn't very well liked, and it was only a matter of time before a general received enough backing to overthrow him. Of course, that likely would have ended in a series of succession wars, which would have been a death blow to the empire." "Money can only buy so much. Or at least, that's what I would have thought. I guess I'm still naive. Or not. After all, he is dead now." "And that 'so much' for some men is their loyalty. I can't understand it, as money isn't as important to me as some men, but everyone has their cruxes," Tacitus said, looking off at the crowded street ahead. Mine would have been my family, but that's gone....I'm to broken to have anything held against me now. "You think you'd have killed him if you had the chance?" "You're damn right. He was a snobbish prick who deserved to have a blade shoved up his ass and out his chest," Tacitus said confidently, although he wasn't so sure. No one could possibly say with any certainty what their reaction would be once they got in a given situation. "Hnh, not quite the answer I expected, but pleasing all the same. I'd have ate him. Take it from me, assholes like him and the Thalmor, they taste best. More satisfying. Especially when hunted in the wilds of Valenwood. You can taste the fear in the meat. Or maybe that's just sweat glands." "Or maybe it's the shit in their pants from knowing a psycho is about to chomp down on tier bodies. I won't ever be able to see how you can stand eating something that could talk. It would creep me out, and give me nightmares even worse than the ones I have now." "I don't see why. I grew up with this custom, though. We've always eaten our enemies, which means my first kill was served at dinner with my family. And the first person I ate was one of our own. It's just our way. I never thought it was any stranger than eating the flesh of an animal. After all, Bosmer and animals are connected. Some males unlike myself are so ugly that they even look like animals. So we don't see anyone else much different than animals of another sort. Animals talk too, in their own way." "Whatever your reasoning for it, I still find it disgusting. I'll stick to beef and pork and chicken, thank you." Maori shrugged and said, "I'm not surprised. We don't do it just because, but now's not the time to go into it. I'm too hungry to keep talking about food. Hopefully this count has some for guests." "I've heard him called mad, as well as a partier and trickster. Who knows what were in for. I just didn't want to be trapped behind my desk again, and this was the easiest way to get back out into the world," Tacitus said, dismounting in a most ungraceful manner before he gave the reins to a stable hand. "Mad, huh? So I guess he's nothing like the other stuffy types we've met. I wonder how someone who's supposedly mad rules a city. Place seems okay, though it looks a bit in decline, with all the shacks on the outskirts of town." "Maybe he's not as mad as he lets on. Regardless, we aren't even here for him, but the Telvanni. I hope he knows what Ceno thinks he does," Tacitus said, as a guard motioned for the pair to follow him. "Maybe he can conjure me an Imga to eat. But yes, that would be nice as well," said Maori. *** Inside the castle, Count Brutus was studying once more the book of Shivering Isles from his master. By now, he showed Brutus just about all he could show of the art of illusion, as far as practical uses that he was seeking went. The rest he would need to learn on his own from practice. Now, Brutus was trying to study the art of conjuration, due to the illusion related principles of binding a conjured creature's mind to one's own mind. He was sitting quietly in the middle of his throne floor with his eyes closed, trying to focus on a creature he wanted to summon, then pluck it from the seas of Oblivion. "Sir, you have guests," said one of the white armored Kvatch guards. Brutus didn't say anything, but he did move his hand to say to let them in. *** An armored guard, who wore a slightly annoyed expression, came for Tacitus and Maori as they waited outside the great hall. "Follow me," the man said, "I'd watch your step in there as well, the count can be a...strange fellow." "Alright. Just take us in before I die of old age," Tacitus said, grumpy as usual. Upon entry, Maori was already creeped out by the castle. The first thing that got his attention was all the strange paintings of the count on the walls in different posses and so on. One of them had a bunch of naked images of himself attached by different parts of his body. Though thankfully not by one that really mattered. If that weren't enough, he saw not one, but two counts, one sitting on the floor with his eyes closed in front of a book, and also one sitting on the throne. It wasn't until they got closer that his sharp Bosmeri archer eyes realized that the one on the throne was just a painting on cloth meant to look like the real thing upon entry of the castle. Maori nudged Tacitus and whirled a finger by his head. I think the rumors were true... It took Tacitus longer than Maori to realize which count was the real one, but once several seconds had passed and the one on the throne hadn't even blinked, or drawn breath, he decided the one on the floor was the real one. "Count Brutus? I am High Admiral Meridius, here on business of the Empire. Where is Master Drenim?" "What business does our fair empire have with my master?" said a voice from the side of them. When Maori turned his head, he saw the count once again, walking towards them. The count from before, missing. As well as the book, which now was in the count's hands as he now stood before them. "What's that all about?" asked Maori. "Just a training exercise, my little mer." The count gave him a crooked smile. "Now, why does the Admiral of the Navy want to speak with my guest? I take it General Gracchus mentioned him?" "Precisely," Tacitus growled, his face slightly clenched. He didn't much like being made a fool of, especially not by some snobby politician who had probably never lifted more than his body weight, and who had likely never once gotten dirty. "My business is with Master Drenim, sir, and not you, unfortunately," Tacitus sarcastically replied. Sighing, Brutus said, "Sarcasm is so boring, don't you think? It's intention isn't to hide your meaning, but to make it blatantly obvious, then offend because of how transparent the attempt is. Like purposefully not washing oneself, then walking amongst others to offend with one's smell. I can tell despite wearing the illusion of the fly, that you are a humble maggot like myself and the good common folk of the land. So, Admiral. Please try to act the part." "Maggots? Flies? Acting and parts? Enough with the mad talk, just take me to the wizard. You know, it's your kind that are the actors. Pretending to understand the common folk, thinking you can justly rule them, when you know nothing about how the average man struggles. You sit here in your palace of pomp, flaunting your extravagance for everyone to see," Tacitus said, motioning up the numerous, self-centered paintings of the count. Brutus kept his smile, and said, "You're right to an extent. I do have this large castle and luxuries while others live in squalor. However, I often host parties where all are invited for free food and drink. Noble and poor alike. And I do tend to give coin away even when sometimes I should not. Perhaps that's another reason why the other counts regard me as mad. Do I really seem that mad to you? Really? Some say that there's method to my madness. I only appear mad to you because I'm more sane than most men. And that, is my illusion. Yours seems to be that you're just a simple man, but that isn't true I don't think. Must take someone special to survive the ordeal that you did, Admiral. Or maybe that's a part of your illusion too, and you're no more brighter than the one over there looking for my food." Brutus pointed over to Maori who got bored of the talk, but was reminded of his hunger at the mention of maggots. He wasn't at all fooled by the painted cloak over the dining table, and soon found the food. "Hey, there's no meat! Don't you got any chicken, or Imga? Beetles?" "I know many sane people who do not rely of painted cloth to mask their presence, and that of their food. And I'm no more special than your guards, or the man down the street peddling his wares. I've just been fortunate to be in the right place at the right time." "Hnh, I'm glad you recognize that, Admiral. And I know of many 'sane' people who murder, steal, and rape, but do so under the guise of a uniform and are called heroes. If all I do is the occasional odd trick or two, perhaps being 'mad' is preferable, no? Anyway, you still haven't said what business you have with my master." "A uniform does not excuse anything, although some would think it does," Tacitus said plainly. I just hope that same blindness applies to me should I ever need. When I need it, more likely. "We came to seek the assistance of your master. The nature of that assistance is to remain unsaid, however." "Then I suppose the nature of his whereabouts is to remain unsaid," said the count, still smiling. "You are impossible. Why can't you just show me to the wizard, and if he thinks you can assist him then he will tell you. But, my place is to keep it a secret, with orders to only tell those that need to know. And you, do not need to know. You want to know, but you don't need to." "Let me put it this way, Admiral. Master Endar is a very busy and private man, and doesn't take kindly to being interrupted from his studies. And since a little side project of ours never came to pass, he's had more time for that lately. Anyway, I have the entrance to his room hidden, and the noise in the hallway muffled. So if you wish to find him, my little maggot man..." Brutus suddenly fell forward onto Tacitus under his chin. While there, he made a circle onto the arm with the stump. "you're going to have to play with me a while and tell me what it is that you want him for. It's only polite. You're in my home, after all. Does the Empire no longer trust their own? I said nothing to the pet Thalmor spy that occasionally visits my castle." Tacitus pushed the man away with his good hand, backing up as he did. His face twisted into a look of disgust, as he thought that the count might be of the...homosexual persuasion. "Fine, just keep your hands off me. We need his help to figure out how we destroy the Thalmor sunbirds. His, not yours." Brutus gave a fake disappointed look, then said, "Aw, I just thought you could use a hand, is all, hahaha!" Maori was shocked at first, but when he saw the count chuckling, he started to laugh himself. "Careful there, big man. I think he's just messing with you." "Am I, mer?" Brutus continued to laugh. He was weird, but not in that way. Though making others feel uncomfortable was right up his alley. "So anyway, Sunbirds you say? If you think that the Thalmor have access to Sunbirds after all..." "We don't think, we know," Maori said. "Well, I can see why you want his help then, I suppose. I'll have the guards go and fetch Master Endar, then." "It's about damn time. And keep your trap shut about my hand, or I'll kick your qu**r, unnatural ass." Tacitus planted a finger in the middle of the count's chest, giving him a stare icy enough to freeze the Alik'r. Brutus' smile at that moment sunk, for the first time that day. Pointing a glowing finger to his head, Brutus said, "I'd like to see you try that, little maggot. Lets get something straight. You are in my castle, not your boat. In my castle, I will not be disrespected by the likes of one who skips to the beat of a fly in frills. Threaten me again, and I'll send you back to your little boss as dinner for our kinsmen." While Brutus spoke, Tacitus' eyebrows arched up, in a mix of surprise and approval. A smile replaced his hard set glare, while the rest of his face changed to that of begrudged admiration. "Hahahaha! Seems "Count Maggot" isn't as yellow bellied as I thought. Good to see you've got some rocks to you. Maybe I was wrong about you. Of course, it could just be another illusion for all I know. Regardless, neither one of us could get away with harming the other, so let's cut the crap and figure out how to stop the Thalmor. We good?" Tacitus offered his hand to shake, but stuck out the hooked hand as a joke. Brutus' spell dissipated from his finger when Tacitus offered the hook. Looking down at it, Brutus' smile came back just as quickly as it went away. "Hahaha! I'll be honest, the consequences of assaulting an Admiral, physical and lawful...hadn't even occurred to me! Haha, my count days would have been over! Ha, who knows, I could have been executed, that is, if we all didn't end up dead from fighting! Isn't that hilarious?" Maori's face was blank. "Uh...yea. Hilarious." Humans... Brutus took the Admiral's han-... hook, then went off, skipping to go and find Endar. Tacitus walked over to the table with Maori, spearing tart with his hook and chomping down. "He really is just as mad as they say, isn't he? But his food is good so who cares. Say, did you find any meat?" "No, n-...hey wait a minute, is that what I think it is?" Maori scooped a pie over from the side of the table with greyish green gloop coming through the pie cover's slits. "Wow, I haven't had this since Skyrim! How'd he get it from here? Try some, Admiral. It's delicious." Maori went and dug in to the pie, which was filled with cream, blackberries and blueberries as well as the mysterious material. "Not until you tell me what it is," Tacitus eyed the pie like it might eat him, and the goo was particularly unsettling. "It's black and blueberry butter paste pie!" Maori said excitedly with a mouth full of the stuff. Tacitus narrowed his eyes at the Mer, then the pie, then back to Maori. "If you're pulling my leg, I swear I'll make you eat a knuckle sandwich. Normals pies don't look so gross." Maori laughed and said, "I eat Imga. A knuckle sandwich would be right up my alley. Here, look." Maori pointed the bitten side of the pie to him. "Okay, so I lied about the name. It's got chicken meat in it, that's that thick white smooth meat you see there. It got that way I'm guessing from the cream he added to it. Then there's the red sauce in it too from tomatoes, peppers, salt and then they add honey. Not a lot of peppers. It's mostly sweet. There's a few carrots and apples normally, but our count seems to have a sweet tooth, so he replaced it with blueberries and blackberries. The goop at the top's just some of that mixed with the cream, and maybe some green from the few peppers in it. Quite the cluster **** of ingredients, but it's great. Like sweet chicken and potato pie. I thought you wouldn't try it since you humans are weird about what you cook with your meat sometimes." "Tomatoes and honey and chicken and berries? Your taste buds are just as mad as the count. I'll stick to these pastries. Sate my sweet tooth." "Hnh, I figured you weren't man enough." Maori chuckled to himself and went back to eating his chaurus pie. "Too delicate to handle it anyway." "Don't try and goad me into eating your nasty minotaur's ass pie. I wonder what's taking the count so long?" Maori grew frustrated and decided to take things into his own hands then pointed to Tacitus' left. "There he is right there. Don't tell me you've let them fool you again with those illusion tricks." As he looked, Maori picked up a new slice of pie... "What? No he isn-" Tacitus started to say, before the insect pie was hived into his mouth. "Gack! What the hell! Is there something wrong with you? Ugh, there's no way that's chicken. Tastes like a gutter rat's toe jam," Tacitus said, scrapping the excess pie off his tongue. "I swear, what is wrong with everyone today? Touching me and shoving food in my mouth...." "Oh come on! It's delicious!" Brutus came out at that moment, finally and said, "Oh, I see you found the chaurus pie! Master Endar's here now to speak with you, Admiral." "Chaurus? CHAURUS? You fed me a bug? An oversized, man eating bug? You're a sick bastard Maori, you know that?" Turning to Brutus as he downed a glass of water, Tacitus said, "Good. I'm looking forward to it." "As you should be." said Endar Drenim, as he appeared from the hall behind Brutus. "I'll have you know that I am in the middle of research that is very important for all of Colovia, so it would be preferable if you could make this quick." "What do you know about Thalmor sunbirds? Specifically their crystalline panels that feed off the sun?" Tacitus asked, cutting straight to the point per the Dunmer's request. A single eyebrow raised on Endar's forehead. "Sunbirds? They were birds made of sun, used in the Merethic Era to try and explore Aetherius. There are a very few texts that would indeed suggest that they drew power from crystalline panels, but exactly what crystal these panels might have been made from is a piece of information that is as lost to us as the sunbirds themselves." He looked away for a moment, and spoke more quietly, as if addressing only himself. "Come to think of it, this wouldn't make for a poor topic of research." From behind the others, Brutus' typical smile started to fade when he heard Endar's comment. But the peculiar and ever chatty count merely stood in silence with his arms crossed. "From the schematics we received, they seem to be variations of the originals. Their structure reminded me of a Dwarven automaton, but made out of crystal and glass ore rather than Dwemer metal. I am not an expert by any means, however, and as such I sought you out, on General Ceno's recommendation. I am glad to see it interests you," Tacitus noticed Brutus' quietness, causing him to smirk slightly. "General who? Never mind. I can assure you, anything regarding the-..." Endar paused, suddenly coming to the realization of what he had heard. An uncommon look of surprise overtook his features. "Did you say schematics? For a sunbird? Surely, you are speaking nonsense. Did Venel send you to say this? Or was it one of those Bosmer twins from Anvil?" "Yes, detailed schematics, but they must be written in an ancient form of the Aldmeri tongue, because scholars we approached couldn't figure out what exactly they meant. All we've deduced is from the pictures and informal notes scrawled in a more recent dialect. And no, I am on official business." Endar held up his left palm and whispered into it, conjuring up a little translucent blue orb that grew a little larger with every word. When he was finished, he turned and flicked the magical orb back into the hall he'd come from. He turned back to Tacitus as it disappeared from sight. "Do you have a copy of these schematics now? I would very much like to see them." "For the sake of security, we brought the least detailed one in the group. It appears to be a sketch rather than an actual schematic, along with several nots scrawled all over," reaching into his vest pocket, Tacitus fidgeted around for a few seconds before producing said paper, roughly squarish and appearing to be hastily drawn. Handing it to Endar, he said, "Here you go. Hopefully you can make more of it than we could." Endar frowned as he looked over the paper. He was somewhat disappointed. It certainly was hastily drawn. That, or the name 'sunbird', and all descriptions he had heard were far from- Oh. Endar quickly turned the upside-down sketch over, and it immediately made more sense. What he held was definitely not a schematic, as any idiot could tell. But it was a believable depiction. He'd seen others, and all had turned out to be fakes from poor sources. This one could be real. It was an Imperial High Admiral who had handed it to him, after all. But there was no way to tell without the original dialect that supposedly accompanied the original. If the Empire wanted answers, they should have brought that. "You called?" Elara, waited behind him. "Yes." Endar looked back up to Tacitus. "How much would it cost me to have my stewardess make a copy of this sketch?" "Cost, erhm....what exactly do you mean by cost?" Tacitus asked, first amused as the touted master held the drawing upside down, then confused as per his question. "Yes, cost..." Endar wondered if the Empire may have hired a dullard in their desperation to fill important military positions. It would not be the first time. "Cost means price." Tacitus's face gave nothing away, so he continued as slowly as he figured would be necessary. "You see, I want to pay you... with money. I do that in exchange for your permission to redraw this sketch on paper that I own. You get my gold. That's the cost part. And I get to keep my own sketch. Do you follow me?" He thinks I'm thick? I'm not the one that held the damn paper upside down, Tacitus thought as he glared at the Dunmer, who spoke in the slow, condescending tone. The admiral held his tongue, figuring another near fight would do him no good, and only said, "Of course. But I would prefer if you waited until we returned to the Imperial City to make any sketches. We can't have them getting out." "This is Master Endar of House Telvanni, we're talking about. Thalmor can't keep up with me, let alone him. If you insist on taking my master away, then you should at least provide some incentive in good faith," said Brutus. Raising his eyebrows, Tacitus asked, "Saving all of us from annihilation if the Thalmor win isn't enough? I'm sure there will be payment involved, as well as access to all of our knowledge so long as it helps you figure out how these things work." Brutus' annoyance at his master being taken from him made Brutus show a rare instance of coherence, which only annoyed him even more. "No offense, Admiral, but as a count, I know just how valuable our Empire's assurances are... I may be mad, but I'm not an idiot. There's no harm in a sketch in the hands of one so capable." Maori said, "Just give it to them. I'll need one myself for when I go up North." "Hold on a minute! What is all this talk about the Imperial City?" Endar asked the Admiral, now realizing that it may not have been confusion on the man's part as to the definition of 'cost' but as to why he would need to buy a sketch at all. "Are you suggesting that I am to return with you?" Brutus opened his mouth to defend his stance, but closed it again when he realized Endar didn't know about that part of the deal. It had confused him as to why he wanted his own copy, but he was just arguing to argue. "That's the plan. For you to come with me back to the capital and research the sunbirds under High General Ceno, myself, the Empress, and the court mage Skjari Snow-Strider. This information be so valuable, we can't part with it lightly, and Kvatch is much to close to the front to risk you staying here," Tacitus said, it dawning on him he had left out that crucial detail. "Because of this, you will have access to every schematic we received, and won't have to make due with rudimentary sketches from your steward, no offense meant of course," Tacitus said, looking over the girl for the first time to find she was actually quite pretty, but the thoughts instantly racked him with guilt, even with his wife having been dead for many years. "What you speak of is interesting." Endar admitted. "Sunbird research with actual schematics is an opportunity only a fool would pass up on. However, what bothers me is that you don't seem to be asking. I have important research and experiments concerning this region that I am currently right in the middle of, and do not intend to be bullied out of here." "If I may make a suggestion, master Endar. I could carry on in your absence. I've gone over your notes and have studied and understood admittedly not most of it, but enough to at least keep it from being idle in your stead," said Brutus. Why, he wasn't certain. Though it was obvious he was leaving anyway. "Besides, who better to continue the research than one that can look through the mirages such as myself?" "At the moment? Nobody." Endar turned to Brutus. "But there is much that needs doing that I have not taught you. Especially the fauna research that must be done here. What of the recent imp migration? Or the Collywobbles plague in the local troll population? That one is admittedly my responsibility, at least in part. But still very interesting nonetheless. I cannot leave until my work here is done." He looked back to Tacitus, "Though this sunbird study more than interests me. It should only take a month to finish up here. Three years at the most. Surely you can wait that long." Tacitus teeth ground like a mortar and pestle, and his cheeks clenched so tight one might have thought they would become stuck like that. "Does anyone in the castle have any common sense? The Thalmor are on our doorstep as is, and if we wait or you to finish your trolls' ass research and imp fondling, then there won't be a Colovia to study! Ceno told me you hated the Thalmor, but all I see is a mer too self involved to open his eyes to the bigger picture. Prove me wrong, and come to the capital, or there won't be a capital to come back to." There was a drawn-out silence after that. A silence that Endar finally broke. "Has anyone ever told you that you are an unpleasant man when you're angry? Because you truly are. Your friend, General Cirlo- "Ceno." piped Elara. "Celo? He was right when he told you that I hate the Thalmor, but that does not suddenly make me a servant, or even friend of the Empire. If you want my help, it will take more than barking orders at me as if I am one of your dimwit soldiers, or trying to scare me into helping with Thalmor horror stories." Tacitus took a deep breath, closing his eyes to let the anger subside, an exercise assisted by his counting down from twenty. Finally, he spoke in a considerably less angry, yet still gruff manner, "This war hits very close to home, and it seems my unbridled passion is both a blessing and a curse...it was foolish of me to try and commandeer your services like that. But, the point that time is of the utmost importance is still very true, and I don't wish to dwell on my petty mistakes any longer. Will you accompany me back?" "Do you truly believe that the Thalmor have sunbirds?" Endar asked genuinely. "I know they do. I'm the one that got the intel confirming it," said Maori. "Not the notes on it. I did some scouting and spying in Valenwood. Heard enough about their 'secret weapon' and the references to 'birds of light' to know it's true." "Then I suppose my other research must wait." Endar looked back to Brutus. "I have to admit, I do not enjoy the prospect of leaving your hospitality. You make for far more interesting company than those at the capital likely will." Brutus lit up from that and gave him a big grin. Though being more interesting than those of the capital wasn't hard to pull off, Brutus learned that compliments from him were not easy to come by. Bowing his head briefly, he said, "My doors are always open for the likes of you and your assistant. I appreciate your help in the understanding of illusions and the others around ours. And of course, finally learning the secrets of... the fishstick!" Brutus triumphantly demonstrated a dance that he was taught by a Mazken after finally forcing her to listen to him after long and extensive illusion training. "Uhh, wat," Maori said, eyes fixated on the strange sight. "What in the hell?" Tacitus mumbled, shaking his head as the man strutted around like a seizing lunatic. Brutus just shook his head with a snooty smile on his face and said, "Simpletons wouldn't understand the many metaphysical applications...of the fishstick." "Yes, that's it. Not that you're strange," Tacitus added sarcastically. "Strange is what the prisoners in the cave called the man who dared to step outside..." said Brutus. "Wha-you know, never mind," Tacitus said, not bothering to fight with the count again. "So," said Endar, after giving Tacitus ample time to comprehend Brutus's fascinating antics. "Are you the one I talk to about payment?" "No, I'll let the bureaucrats in the White-Gold handle that. But there will be payment, you have my word." "Fair enough." Endar turned back to his stewardess, who stood there, seemingly waiting for something to happen as if it was what he paid her for. "Well? Go on! Pack my things! And quickly!" His hand flashed, and he hit her with a spell to fortify her speed. Elara didn't waste any of the spell's duration with responding, and obediently rushed back to Endar's room. "Well, I guess this is good-bye for now, Master Endar. As for you all, it was a pleas-, well. It was something." Brutus stuck his hand out to Tacitus to shake. The wrong hand. Tacitus stuck out the hook warily, still not trusting the count in the least. Shaking it, he said, "It was interesting, I'll give it that." Brutus didn't give a response. At least not with his words. His smile gave all the response he needed to give. When Tacitus looked down, a charred hand was resting on his hook, which Brutus held by the forearm, and in his other hand was a black and red gauntlet. Tacitus rolled his eyes at the strange spectacle, not even bothering with words just as the count hadn't. He simply pulled the hook back, dusting off the burnt bits of skin from the steel and quicksilver. Brutus wasn't disappointed in the lack of the reaction, as he was too tickled from his own joke. "Hehehe, I just figured you could u-" "Don't say it, I already made that joke," said Maori. "No matter, then. A hand is all I can actually summon so far of a Dremora." Brutus threw the charred and bloodied hand at Tacitus' shirt, which dissipated on impact. "I wonder if it gets reattached when it goes back to Oblivion, or if the hand just falls next to them..." *** Meanwhile, somewhere in Dagon's Deadlands.... "Yess....I am back from the glorious waters of OBLIVION! After so long, even for a Daedra! I shall celebrate my return... with a RIVER OF BLOOD AND ENTRAILS... IN THE NAME OF LORD DAGON!! I, Kyluran, shall make all the clans BOW! I SHALL PREVAIL... I... SHALL...KILLL!!! All will quake in fear before m-" The Dremora Lord's outstretched hand suddenly disappeared in a cloud of purple. Then another came back and his hand dropped into a nearby river of lava that he stood before while yelling at Dagon's stormy skies while standing atop a rock. The hand rolled down the slope, then burst into fire as it sunk below. "Well, ****.... Wait, where's my gauntl-" Another cloud popped out of nowhere and a gauntlet dropped into the river as well. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" The Dremora cried towards the sky before jumping into the river of molten rock to go back into the waters of Oblivion to try again. *** "Hmm, well I'm sure it's fine," said Brutus. It wasn't long before Elara returned wearing a single backpack. Everything else, she would've used a scroll to give to Endar's packmule Dremora. "That's everything." "Good." Endar answered, not bothering to check. He knew that by now, she was not likely to screw up easy tasks such as this. "Admiral, I would have a few parting words with my host before our departure." He didn't bother to wait for an answer, and headed over to Brutus. "Keep the most recent research journal I let you borrow. It should have at least a few of the experiments I won't be finishing towards the back. Send me your results if you have the time do carry any of them out." Brutus was delighted that he'd let him keep the journal. He figured that would be the first thing he'd take with him. "Of course, I'll have them sent to you every two weeks." "Good. And I will send you another when this is completed. Thank you for the hospitality, Count Brutus. You are one of the very few men I would truly call my ally. Or friend. Send word if Kvatch has need of me." "Of course, and let me know if those maggot asses don't treat you with the utmost respect." Endar simply nodded before he turned and headed over to Tacitus with Elara in tow. "Let's go Maori," Tacitus called to his friend, then turned to the wizard and his assistant, "Lets go, I would like to try and make it to Skingrad before tomorrow morning. I figure we could stay the night there, then continue on around midday, seeing as we probably won't get to Skingrad before sunset. That alright with you?" Endar nodded. "That will do fine. I'd recommend the wines there, if you have yet to try them. They are among the best in Cyrodiil." "Your tongue is more refined than mine, likely owing to my upbringing as a sailor and recent Nordic lineage. I prefer stronger stuff, whiskey and mead and a nice dark ale on occasion. I may try it, as there is no harm in doing so, especially if it is so highly touted." You should. If I recall right, I met one of my stewards over a bottle of the stuff." Elara rolled her eyes as she shouldered her pack and headed past Endar. "Visiting Skingrad again will be interesting," she said as the group headed from the hall. "I've been there too often recently for my liking. I've been on land too recently for my liking, now that I think about it." *** When the door slammed shut, the involuntary jolt that went up his spine did more to make the count normal than anything else did. That jolt wasn't just the body's surprise to the noise, but the reaction to suddenly being alone. The count looked around, seeing nothing but stiff guards and paintings of himself and suddenly, all traces of mania just seemed to trickle out of him. The count thought then to what he should do next and figured that he may as well continue to do what he was doing before. The guards occasionally checked up on him to make sure the count hadn't fallen asleep sitting on the floor with his eyes closed like that, but eventually, night fell and most of the guards left, leaving only the skeleton crew for the night shift. Occasionally one would swear they heard the count talking to someone in the dark long after the fires died out, calling them 'master'.

Eduard, Livia Laenius- Eduard’s Home, Dawnstar, Morning “And you’re just gonna go back?! What, are you just wanting to die in battle?! I seriously. I… I can’t believe you’d do this!†Eduard didn’t move an inch as Livia continued to fume. Tempers, well more like a temper, had been flaring all morning. “Listen. I don’t like leaving you all here anymore than you. Alright? I’m not doing this just to worry you! But for the first time in a long time, I have both of us in a good home, and a safe place. I feel like it’s time I start letting you live your life the way you want it, rather than the way I need it. Don’t you agree?†“Like HELL I do! If living my life the way I want to means you’re going to risk your life in the Legion for nothing, then I’m making Jon take me back to the safehouse!†“You’ll do no such thing, Liv. This isn’t your decision to make. I already sent a letter saying I’m going to accept. Just like you’re going to live your life, I’m going to live mine. I’ll do that however I feel fit. And please, don’t say I’m doing this for nothing, because it isn’t true.†“Then what?! What are you doing it for! Just enlighten me, Eduard! More money?! It’s always about the damn money. You’ve got enough alright!†Finally, Eduard had heard enough. “It isn’t about the money this time Liv! Don’t act like you know everything about me when you clearly don’t!†he erupted, as his hand swept all of his journals off the table. And as they fell to the ground, the mood changed drastically. Livia’s body language went from aggressive and angry, to shocked and timid. “Don’t be like that. The point is, I’m not going for money. I’m really not.†Eduards shoulders dropped, and he began to sit back down again. “I… I. Could you just tell me why?†Livia pleaded softly, her voice beginning to shake. “Don’t Livia. Just please don’t. You want to know why I’m going? Here, see for yourself,†he said calmly, his usual tone of voice beginning to return. He sifted through the scattered mess of journals and papers on the floor for a second, before giving Livia a letter. She took it from him, and began to read. She didn’t look Eduard in the eyes when she handed him back the note from the general. At this point, more than ever, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to make him stay. “I just… when…†It was Eduard who was now trying to fight down his emotions, though he wasn’t doing his best work. “You see now, I imagine. I wouldn’t leave here just for money, though that will probably be a nice benefit. I’ve been asked by a friend to help. Personally. I won’t turn a blind eye when I’ve got the abilities that he seems to require. Besides… I’ve got Jon to think about too. He’s given up a lot just to help me out. Though I paid him well, and he’s never once said anything to support this, I know him well enough to know that he doesn’t need or want to be here. So, he’s going too. To Cyrodiil, I mean. We discussed it last night.†“I don’t really know what to say Eduard. When… when are you leaving?†Livia asked, her voice beginning to strengthen. Her tone was still quiet though, and she wasn’t looking up much. “In a couple of days. I’ve got things I need to do first.†“Right... You probably have to drop this on Karita too.†Eduard had to do his best not to look completely bewildered.He hadn’t even thought of her when this all came up. Dammit… “Among other things, yes. She’ll understand, right?†“I’d uhh… bring a shield.†That wasn’t the answer Eduard had been hoping for. He would get to her soon enough. For now, he had more important matters to attend to. “...Right. Now, unless you’ve anything more to say, I want to get started with my business here. The sooner I get done, the better chance we have of doing a little something on my last day.†She nodded. “Right. Jon too. I owe him a lot,†she said, as Eduard walked with her to the door. “I’m… I’m sorry for blowi-†“Don’t be. You had every reason to be upset. Just enjoy your day alright?†“... I’ll do my best. I love you Eduard. I just wish you’d settle down.†“Of course. Sometimes I do too. I love you too, Liv. Goodbye.†Eduard gave Livia a hug before they both exited the house, and headed in opposite directions. ~~--~~Later that day~~--~~ There was an odd sense of excitement inside the Sanctuary, as many of the members conversed with each other. As Eduard walked, he listened to whatever tidbits caught his ear. “You should have seen the look on his wife’s face. The mixture of shock, horror, and sorrow.†Though Eduard was more than used to hearing his ‘family’ speak of their kills in such a manner, that didn’t stop him from being rather disgusted. The difference between him and the average member was clear. “And that’s when I torched him!†He then heard a familiar voice, belonging to Jak. He was talking to one of the newer recruits. "It would've been me on that contract in Riften, but they are specifically asking for a mage. Sad. I have many traps yet to be tested on humans." The other assassin didn’t seem all too engaged in the conversation when Eduard glanced at him, right before he entered a small room. “Ahh, Eduard! You wanted to talk?†Nazir said rather loudly, motioning for Eduard to have a seat. “Yes, that’s right,†Eduard replied, sitting down. Nazir was busy looking at the small note Eduard had left him the night before. “What’s this? Moving? That’s a shame, really. Where are you headed?†“Cyrodiil. Assassin or not, I’m still in the Legion.†“That is true. Of course, I do have one question to ask you before you go.†“Fair enough. Go ahead.†“Will you still be available?†“Depends. I can’t see why not though. It’s more of an advisory role, my new position.†“Make sure you find out for sure, and write me… or actually. You can just write the sanctuary leader there! I’d forgotten about them.†“Right. So, is that all? Not to be rude, but it seems pointless that I came in to answer such a simple question.†“Rude? No. That’s understandable. But don’t you worry, I wouldn’t have called you in without a reason. There’s a contract that I want you to take. It’s on the way, so it shouldn’t be much of a hassle.†“That’s fine by me.†“Good. Here, you’ll need this,†Nazir said, handing Eduard a rather old looking steel dagger. “May I ask why?†“That’s what you’ll be using to kill your target, of course.†“... Alright then.†“See? This meeting wasn’t pointless after all!†Good to know he saved the worst for last… “... Right. Goodbye Nazir.†Nazir was too busy chuckling at his own joke to bother with a goodbye. Eduard just shook his head, and began to head for the exit.

REBBA The Black Wisp Abecean Sea, nighttime Mazoga leaned against the rail, her hand on the steering as she kept an eye on the horizon for more sign of pirates. It was a mild, beautiful night, however, and with most of the crew stealing some sleep on their pallets, she could savor the quiet. To other people, even some sailors, the isolation and discomforts of a sea voyage were something to be endured. Being at sea meant being cheek by jowl with the smells and annoyances of your fellow man or mer, with little privacy, frequently at war with the elements if not actually at war. It was a strange mixture of dependence and isolation, interspersed with sometimes long periods of boredom and financial uncertainty. And the competition and pirates were always breathing down your neck. Many sailors also had no real home. Mazoga didn’t, either. She knew why Captain Rebec had stayed married to a man she hardly saw. At least someone, occasionally, was waiting for you when you got home, and a pair of strong arms could get you through the night. The men who weren't married could go to the whores, and could get away with things that would cause a female running a crew to lose respect, but Rebec had to be more careful. Now that she was also responsible for running the crew, Mazoga understood that better. Yet, despite the deprivations and pressures of the life- made even more acute now that they were on war footing- the orc loved this life more than any other she could imagine. She thrived on the uncertainty even more than Rebec did. Let others take comfort from having the ground under their feet. There was far more satisfaction in making your way through the vast and menacing sea on spit and will alone. Mazoga’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Hjarn Broadhands. “I was thinking of getting to work on that little surprise of ours. You think now is a good time?†“Probably so. The captain went down about a half hour ago, but she’s got her husband in there with her, so...†Normally Rebec didn’t sleep much when they were at sea, so finding a time when she wouldn’t appear on the deck would be impossible. Not so with Baldur aboard. “Go ahead, if you want.†The Nord nodded, and went over to the stash taken from a dwarven ruin on an island off Stros M'kai, covered over with tarp. Rebec was curious, but as the orc suspected, hadn’t pressed to see their spoils. In a crew mission, booty belonged to the ship and you had to wait til the end of the run for your pay and whatever bonuses the captain felt like doling out. This was a side mission, though, and Rebec had said they could keep whatever they looted for themselves. Their surprise was safe for now. After a few minutes Mazoga got up, stretched, and called a crewman over to relieve her at the helm. She then joined Hjarn, and picked up a sanding cloth. Ulf, the ship’s weapons master, had gotten the mechanisms on the old dwarven instruments working, but there were a couple eras worth of tarnish built up on the ancient metal. As they worked, Mazoga glanced at Hjarn. The quiet, surly Nord kept to himself, and she was surprised when he volunteered to go with them to the ruin. He was a good addition, though, especially when some of the ruin’s old defenses proved to be not quite dead. “What are you going to do with your share of the loot?†she asked him. Immediately he said, “Bring my wife and son to Skyrim. I’ve been saving up for it, but this ought to put me over.†“They’re in Anvil?†At his nod, Mazoga said, “Why don’t you want to go back to Cyrodiil?†Hjarn shrugged. “I’m a Nord. Skyrim is our home. At least, it ought to be.†“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.†He fell silent again, and Mazoga thought that might be the end of the conversation, but shedding blood together had a way of bonding people- even if the “blood†was Dwemer oil. “Skyrim isn’t really my home, either,†he continued finally. “There is no good place for Nords like me anymore. The empire was supposed to be our home, but it's changed. I thought Skyrim would feel like home, but it's just a strange place. People look like me, but they’re no more my kinsmen than you are. Those who say otherwise are just peddling sentiment.†“And how do you think the orcs feel?†He looked up from his polishing. “You mean because Orsinium was sacked?†Mazoga snorted. “Being sacked was the whole reason Orsinium ever existed. Orsinium is just a game, the orcs players in it as much as anyone else. They throw up a few walls and when they get knocked down, they move somewhere else and do the same thing, daring their enemies to come do it all over again. Anyway, my family is from Leyawiin and has long roots there, so Orsinium doesn’t mean much to me. Even less than Skyrim does to you, I imagine.†“Why did your family leave?†“Same reason as you left Cyrodiil, I guess. Because everything changed and the Thalmor wouldn’t leave us alone.†Hjarn said, “Thorn-Orc.... you know, I seem to recall a story about that name. Maybe it was a different family.†Mazoga smiled and kept polishing. “No, that was probably our family. We had our own legend in Leyawiin, though in the end it meant no more than Orsinium did. My family were knights, if you can believe it. Going back two hundred years. I’m named for the matriarch of the clan, an orc woman who somehow managed to squeeze a knighthood from the Leyawiin count. To her it meant 'doing good deeds,' and unlike most orders of knights in the last couple centuries, they stuck together and somehow managed to never turn bandit. Then the Great War happened and Leyawiin came under Thalmor occupation. The leader then, my grandmother, took the remaining White Horse knights into the forest and joined some partisans. She declared that the most important good deed they could do then was to be a thorn in the side of the Thalmor. The justiciar ruling Leyawiin apparently heard this story from an informant, because when my grandmother was captured during one of their raids, they said 'if it's thorns you want, thorns you'll get.' They tied her to a stake, covered her in thorns, and left her to bleed and dehydrate in the middle of the town square. She was too well guarded for a rescue, but one of our archers shot her dead to end her suffering. The rest of the family took the name Thorn-Orc out of pride in her sacrifice. Soon, there were so few left that it was clear we couldn’t survive. My parents came north to Skyrim and settled outside Riften, where I was born shortly thereafter. Come to think of it, they probably should have changed our name, but orcs are stubborn that way." Hjarn had stopped his work to listen. When Mazoga was finished, he smiled. “That’s quite a tale. And as it seems, you’re a Skyrim native and I’m not.†“Home is something you carry with you, Broadhands. You and your wife will do just fine in Skyrim.†As she continued to work, Mazoga thought about how she wasn't that different than the Orsinium orcs. Home was wherever the ship was in port, and her family wore defeat like a badge of honor. "I'm an orc after all, I guess," she muttered. Broadhands had gone back to his pallet by then, and Rebec would be waking soon. Mazoga covered the Dwemer haul again and went below to catch a few hours sleep. Below decks in the Captain's quarters, the Captain's husband just stirred from slumber and was briefly recovering, remembering where he was. The salt in the air coming from the port window sped that process up, as did the warmth and presence next to him. A few blinks and a yawn later brought back memories of his dreams. Same dream again. Rolling over to his side, Baldur put it out his mind and thought of other more troubling matters, like the Thalmor. Last time they came for blood, it was Baldur who was the child while his father went to war. Now it was his turn to leave a child behind. Though he could remember briefly hoping that Ulrin wouldn't return. But only briefly. He was his father, after all. And soon he would be one. He knew nothing about raising a child, and yet he so badly wanted one. He married the first woman he fell in love with, was never in any relationship before, gave coin to a child to buy a prostitute and called him a soldier, and yet somehow he convinced not only himself, but Rebec as well that he could be a good father. He wanted a child with Rebec to be sure, but remembering his letter to Boldir made him realize it may have been for more selfish reasons, that being to hold on to her. Or maybe he was just being a coward now, and he would be just fine. Whatever the case was, he couldn't be any worse than his father. Right? Rebec didn't dream much at sea, her mind always half aware of the ship even when the other half was sleeping. Baldur being next to her had a calming effect, though, as if the warm weight next to her anchored her. Maybe it was his own tension that woke her now. With a groan she rolled to her back and then sat up. Glancing over, she gave Baldur a sleepy smile and got up to use the chamberpot. From the pot she said, "You can't sleep?" "Just the waves, Rebby," he said, smiling and pushing his doubts away for her sake. "And excitement from finally being home." "Not quite home yet." Rebec finished her tinkle and got up, stretching first and then starting to wash herself at the basin. "We've been lucky not to hit more storms, being winter and all. Maybe you just bring me fair winds." Just as the words were out, a wave of nausea hit her and she was back at the chamber pot, this time kneeling in front of it. It took another moment before the rest of last night's dinner came up. "Aw, shit," she groaned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I thought maybe I wasn't going to get that part." Baldur got up after that and stretched briefly before going to his pack to get his skin of water. "So the fun begins. Ma warned me about this part." He handed the water over so she could wash her mouth out. "Maybe you should stay and rest. I could go and check on stuff for you. I pretty much got the hang of things." "No, no, can't start going soft. I just need a minute." She took a sip of water, warily, and though her stomach roiled, nothing seemed to be coming up. "What I really could do with is some mead, damn it. I guess you're not going to want a good-morning kiss now." Grinning, she sat on the bed and fought the urge to crawl back under the covers. "That was the answer I expected," Baldur said, smiling. He took his place next to her on the bed, then seized her head for a close mouthed kiss. "I always want my morning kiss. Anyway, it's still early, and as always the ship will be just fine without Rebec's watchful eye glaring at the ropes to make sure they all stay fastened. You can sleep for a little longer at least, under the circumstances." She was surprised when he actually kissed her, vomit mouth and all. It took her breath away. "No, I slept long enough already. After this run, Mazoga takes over and she can choose a first mate. But my crew deserves a captain." There was time for a little cuddle, however, and she took that. Finally forcing herself to get up, however, she started dressing. A coffee smell wafted in from the galley. They had picked up some beans in Hammerfell. Baldur too dressed, though not in armor like he did normally on duty. Instead, he threw on a regular green tunic and some leather trousers, deciding to forgo weapon training today and help the others with whatever they were busying themselves with. "I'm off to see if I can't catch a quick card game with Vigge and some others then, while it's still early. At least get some breakfast first before you start climbing the ropes, Captain." After one last hug, he reluctantly left the little cabin room, grateful that none of his nightly anxiety showed. Rebec appeared on the deck shortly thereafter, coffee in hand. There was a chill in the air that hadn't been there the morning before. "Skyrim," she thought, smiling. They would stop by Northwatch- Kyne's Watch, now- and then go on to Windhelm to report to the king and queen. She took a turn at the helm, then Mazoga came over and said, "Cap, I've got something to show you. The general, too." The two women went to collect Baldur, then Mazoga led them to the Dwemer stash and said, "This is a wedding gift. Just the sort that you two would appreciate, I think." With that introduction, she threw the tarp back, revealing two now-gleaming Dwemer ballistae. Baldur's eyes lit up from the gleam alone, but when his eyes registered to what he was looking at, his jaw dropped. "You guys found these? They're beautiful! And quite rare too! Collectors would kill to get their hands on Dwemer ballista!" Baldur enthusiastically ran his hands over the design, looking at the symbols on them embedded among the pattern of the weapons. Menel came up behind them, coffee in one hand and a Hammerfell spicy sausage in the other. "I'll have you know that I personally fried scores of horrible metal spider... things... to get to these. Enjoy them in good health." Baldur looked at him skeptically with a smirk and said, "How do you burn metal spiders?" "You overheat them until the soul gems in them start crying out for mercy. Ha!" Rebec was quiet during all this, finally leaning in and saying to Mazoga, "Thanks, Maz, but you don't need to do this. That haul was supposed to be yours." "Nonsense! I can give you a wedding present, can't I? Besides, if we mount these on the ship, then it's a present that keeps on giving to all of us. Oh, and there's more." The orc opened a chest and removed a smaller, hand-held crossbow, which she presented to Rebec. "There was only one of these in the armory. Maybe it was a prototype. The wooden bows are always breaking, aren't they? Not this one. And Ulf says he thinks it will fire with more force than the others. We think we got her working, but I haven't fired it yet. That should be your honor." Rebec took the crossbow and gave it her usual skeptical once-over. Then she took the quarrel that Mazoga handed her, and fiddled with the mechanism to set it. She had thought it might be hard to draw, but the dwarven metal was fairly light for being so strong, and a special lever aided the draw-back. Aiming at a dummy, Rebec loosed the bolt towards it. The bow had no more kick than her usual weapon, but the bolt fired with such force that it disappeared, fletch and all, into the dummy. Baldur's eyes again shot open when he said, "Wow, that would cut through even my armor..." "And that's the point," Mazoga declared happily. Rebec looked at the crossbow, not happy to be using a devil bow, but you couldn't argue with results. "Thank you, Maz. And you too, Menel." The Bosmer, cheeks full, preened and nodded. "We'll talk to old Oengul in Windhelm and see if he can make the mounts." Menel started to say something, but had to chew first. Finally he got out, "I made some diagrams of how they were mounted in the ruin, but I daresay we might improve on the design. They were fixed on some ramparts, which is fine when you're just guarding a door, but on a ship they should be able to swivel." The admiral tilted her head. "Elf, you're in danger of actually making yourself useful." Baldur ran off quickly to grab a piece of paper and a journal of his, and he quickly copied the symbols on the ballistaes for later reference. "It's almost a shame to keep them on the ship. But they are weapons first and foremost. Strange, these symbols look like the ones Baladas Demnevanni included in his translation of Divine Metaphysics. On how they tried to make Numidium. This is advanced, but not that advanced. Or maybe it was at the time? Could be an early Dwemer model." Rebec looked at her husband as though he had just started talking Sload, which everyone knows is unhealthy. Shaking her head, she walked back to the helm. Menel, meanwhile, was puzzling over what Baldur had said. "These would have been Rourken weapons, unless there were Dwemer in Hammerfell prior to the War of the First Council. Which I suppose is possible, since the Dwemer were a secretive lot after all, and nobody was really paying attention. Do you suppose these have capabilities other than the obvious, and the inscriptions are firing solutions? The Dwemer were said to use music as a weapon. Maybe these could launch aetherial bolts of some sort." Baldur ran his hands over the symbols, then said, "They do look like runes, don't they? Could be. Maybe it's a phrase to wake up the capabilities. Like... like a magic scroll. Of course, I can't actually translate or speak the language myself, so if it is, it's useless. At least, in the magic sense." "Yes, I doubt we'd ever get it to work that way. Probably they're a self-destruct sequence put there just for curious looters like us. Ha, ha." Menel gestured at the pile. "There are other curiosities in there. I wanted to take more, but we had enough to do to haul the ballistae out. And there were rooms that were closed off. We found some of the cube keys, but not all. The ruin had already been looted before, mostly by fools who were just skeletons littering the floor." "I'm sure Veleda will love to pour over those when we get back. I'd have liked to as well, but I'll probably be too busy. Her knowledge of magic would probably make her more likely to find something anyway. Regardless, these are a great find, even if we don't find something." Baldur patted the round mer on the gut, then said, "You've been a great help, by the way Menel. I'm glad I didn't throw you overboard." "Oh, that." Menel laughed nervously. "A good disciplinary tactic, general. Respect the hindquarters. If I didn't remember it before, I surely will now." Baldur laughed a little menacingly while he cracked his knuckles, thinking on his reaction to Bel, then said, "Yea, that's the way I see it. Alright, I'm off to help you clear out some of those sausages before we get back. Would be a shame to see them go to waste, no?" Nervously Menel replied, "I laid in a good supply, but... how long until we're in Windhelm again?" He appeared to be counting. Mazoga cut in. "We can always raid passing ships if you run out." "Really?" "No." Turning to Baldur, she said, "I'll go relieve Cap so she can join you down in the galley for lunch. She looked a little pale this morning." Vigge was already in the hold, nursing a cup of mead and nibbling from a plate of bread, cheese and pickles at his side. When he saw Baldur, he gestured at the rowing bench across from him. "Take a load off, son-in-law." Baldur came over with a bowl of pork chunks, some goat cheese and some extra sausages in his pocket that he snuck out from Menel's barrels. He kicked off his leather boots by the ship wall before plopping down across from Vigge. He didn't bother with wearing socks. Baldur hated socks. Too restricting for his big feet. Sighing as he wriggled his toes, Baldur threw a pork chunk up and caught it in his mouth. Grinning, he said, "You can just call me Baldur, you know." Vigge stared silently at Baldur's feet a moment, then looked back down at his plate and continued eating. "Mm. You don't like being my son-in-law?" Baldur stopped chewing for a moment as he regarded Vigge. He couldn't tell if he was truly worried about that, or if he was just curious. He still didn't understand the man as his wife did. "It's not that, it just sounds so formal. I hear 'General' 'Unkindled' and 'Red-Snow' all day. No need for more formalities or titles between you and I." "You don't see me using any of those fancy titles, do you. Other men would be proud to be called husband of my daughter. Just you remember that." Rebec came down in time to hear the last of this conversation. Resting her hand on Baldur's shoulder, she gave Vigge a chastising look and asked, "What are you two boys talking about?" Baldur knew Vigge mistook his meaning, and opened his mouth to say all he meant was he didn't think family had to refer to each other with full titles like that, but he thought that was obvious. Vigge to his memory never once used his actual name, but he just sighed and let it go. "Oh nothing." Baldur went back to stuffing his face. "Your husband was telling me how he was going to slit my throat in my sleep," Vigge muttered. In spite of herself, Rebec laughed. It was all you could do with grown men who acted like children. Leaning over to kiss Baldur's temple, she said, "He doesn't know you keep an axe under the pillow." "Gotta be ready. You never know." "More like up his ass," said Baldur to himself. "All I said was that he could use my actual name for once instead of just 'son-in-law'. We're family. Ma doesn't call you 'daughter-in-law' all the time. It's not a big deal, it was just a suggestion, is all. I am proud to be called her husband, pa. Believe you me. For once I'd like a conversation with you where that wasn't called to question." "Get used to disappointment." "Papa!" Vigge waved a hand at her while Rebec sat down next to Baldur and started raiding his food. In between bites she said, "I know what your problem is, Papa. You're jealous. I was supposed to stay your little girl forever, and you were supposed to be the only man in my life, then here comes this upstart general and usurps your place again." "Don't be ridiculous, girl." "Mm hm." She smiled knowingly at Baldur. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ysana on the other end of the ship, working on something. "Hey ma! Come join us. You can bring whatever you're working on there." Ysana looked behind her to the group with a look of annoyance. She caught most of the conversation, but was too busy finishing up her little project to butt in. "Just a second, dear." A few minutes later, she came over and roughly scooted Vigge over before handing Rebec the little woolen and fur booties she was busy making. "Just something to keep me busy. I plan on making some other things too." Vigge glanced over at the booties. "Bit small." "They're not for me," Rebec said, beaming. She waited to see if Vigge would catch her meaning, but he looked at her blankly. Exasperated, she said, "They're for the baby. We're having a baby, papa. A little Nord needs his fur boots. Thank you, ma." The old sailor dropped his piece of cheese he was about to eat and it bounced from the bench to the floor and with the pitch of the ship, rolling into the corner. Vigge looked from Rebec to Baldur and then to Ysana. His white moustache bobbed as his jaw worked, but no sound came from his mouth. Baldur waited along with the others to see what he'd say, if anything. Though his nervousness at what he'd say made him grow impatient, and so he met Vigge's look knitted brows. "Well, old man? That to your liking or do we have to take things top deck?" "Baldur..." Ysana said in a warning tone, not wanting things to escalate over what was supposed to be a happy moment. "Are you sure?" he finally asked, this directed to Rebec. "Yes. I'm sure." She knew what his speechlessness was hiding and started laughing, then jumped up to throw her arms around Vigge's neck and then plant a kiss on his cheek. Telling her father had helped kindle some of her own excitement, which she'd always been holding back a bit. "You're going to be a grandpa, you old fool." Vigge still sat stunned a while. Finally he took Rebec's hand and squeezed it, smiling up at her. Rebec lowered her voice. "I know what you're thinking, papa. It's going to be different this time." Tears started to shimmer in the old man's eyes at that, but he held them back. Still holding Rebec's hand, he looked across to Baldur. "Yes, son-in-law. Baldur. That's alright with me." Baldur was taken by surprise at his reaction, more so at hearing Vigge use his name. Turning to where Rebec was seated, he picked up the little boots Ysana made and placed them in the palm of his hand. Ysana watched him as he did this, smiling from the memory of him wearing a pair just like them. Baldur stuck two fingers in them, thinking how the same hands that hurt and killed so many were now holding these cute little booties and would soon be putting them on a real baby. His baby. Our baby. He smiled at that, fending off tears himself, then said while still looking at them, "Well alright, then. I was afraid I was going to have to look bad for hitting an old man." Vigge snorted and waved a hand. "You'd better thank the gods for that, bard." The tender family moment had apparently passed, though the sailor used the moment to quickly wipe at his eyes. He squeezed Rebec's hand again and gestured for her to return to Baldur's side. Suddenly Vigge stood up and raised his voice so all the ship could hear. "Now listen here, you deck rats. Listen, all of you." He waited until the milling or working sailors stopped what they were doing, and more peeked down from the up above. "Papa..." Rebec started nervously. Ignoring her, Vigge waited until he had a suitable audience, then lifted his mead mug. "Double liquor rations today, on me. I'm going to be a grandfather!" There was a pause while the crew waited to see if he was joking, then the sailor crowd broke into clapping and whistles. Some of them, more impressed by the promise of liquor than the news, went back to their work. Others crowded around Baldur and Rebec, slapping backs and offering their hands. Ysana's almost boyfriend, Bjol Wave-Runner came over and head-locked Baldur to ruffle his hair. "That double ration doesn't count my homemade mead, so don't get too excited!" said Baldur between the old sailor's arm. Bjol backed off, a little disappointed, but he still tapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him, then gave Rebec a pat on the back before stealing Ysana away to talk while Baldur was occupied. Sidano, the Khajiit assassin, appeared at Baldur's side next- silently, of course. "High General Red Snow. You work fast, my friend." Baldur was taken by surprise for the second time by a khajiit, but this time thankfully, not with a dagger at his throat. Turning to him, he smiled and said, "Ah, you know us Nords, quick to court. Also quick to conceive it seems. Making up for lost time." "May your litter grow swift and strong, High General." The Khajiit offered his hand. Menel came down from the upper deck, looking bewildered. "What's going on?" "The Captain's going to pop out another freeloader, so you won't be the only one on the ship!" said Baldur over the noise of the sailors. The Bosmer appeared confused, so Rebec shouted, "I'm pregnant, you ass!" Eyebrows lifting, Menel said, "Aha. Another freeloader like me, eh? Meaning your bundle of joy is going to be a mage?" "Not a chance!" By then Vigge had tapped a cask of redguard wine and was handing around cups. Turning to Baldur, Rebec shook her head. "Well that's that. Not a lick of work will be done on this ship the rest of the day." She was smiling, however, and flushed again rather than pale. "Good, then you'll have no excuse not to sit on your ass like you're supposed to, then," he said as he pulled her to him by her waist. Smiling close to her and ignoring Vigge's presence, he said, "Right, mama Red-Snow?" "That makes me sound so old." She leaned in and kissed Baldur's cheek, then put her head on his shoulder. Watching her crew milling around laughing and drinking, the new ship making its way north towards their home, Rebec impressed the moment on her memory, so that she could always remember what complete happiness felt like. *** Since the minute they told Baldur they were close to Kyne's watch, Baldur stood at the rail, waiting for the moment when they'd finally be home on frozen ground once more. Luckily it was a clear day as far as falling snow went in the area, though it was still a bit fogged and the sky was covered in clouds. Yet it wasn't long before he could clearly make out the fort and a few small ships nearby. Those being the men doing preparations for building as Rebec ordered since before they left. Devoid of snow as it was now, Baldur's old officer gear he now wore was still covered in it from a few hours before and was stuck in his bear furs on his shoulder and caught in his hair. Just as it should be. It was early in the morning when they arrived and Baldur hadn't bothered to sleep, figuring he could do that by the time their two ships reached land. Baldur sighed and closed his eyes, taking in the satisfying moment he had been craving since after escaping the harpies, then blowing on his warhorn as signal of their arrival. Rebec had been up for a while already, guiding the ship in towards shore. She was grateful to see that Sigrid had already set up buoys to signal ships where the harbor was, and what to avoid. The site had a good, deep approach, which would be important for merchant traffic, but there were some islands off the coast that needed to be marked. On one of these stood a tall, looming castle. As they passed it, Rebec felt a chill up her spine, though she couldn't say exactly why. The site was long abandoned, so people said, but at least it would give any potential invaders pause. The pier was still under construction, but as the Black Wisp got close, a Stormcloak with a torch in his hand waved it in, and two others appeared soon to help lash the flagship to the quay. When all was set, Rebec met Baldur at the gangplank and put an arm around his waist. "Welcome home, general." "And welcome home, Admiral." Baldur gave an impish grin as he enthusiastically hoisted her up off her feet in his arms, not concerning himself with any protesting she may give him before walking down the plank to finally touch ground. Rebec laughed, a little nervous, and also surprised. In her some thirty years of sailing, no one had ever done that before. A young sailor in Stormcloak uniform waited for them, equally nervous and seeming unsure what to do with the pair. He gaped, then remembered himself and saluted. "High General Red Snow. High Admiral Red Snow. I've been assigned to welcome you to Kyne's Watch. Your quarters in the fort are ready, and I am to show you around the town site and brief you on the status of harbor preparations." If it were up to Baldur, he'd have carried her the whole way just to see her smile up at him like that, but Rebec was no baby, even if she was his baby. He was about to put her down, but at hearing someone else say that name, he paused. Kyne was on decline these days, so it was refreshing hearing the name recognized officially for somewhere by the military. With eyes closed, he sighed and said, "Ahh, doesn't that name just sound grand? Do me a favor, soldier. Say it again." The young man hesitated, then said tentatively, "Kyne's Watch?" Rebec, her arms still slung around Baldur's neck, smiled at him. "She'll have her due here. In storms and blood, most likely." She had had a complicated relationship with her patron, but that's how Nord relationships tended to go. "Aye, that she will. As will the other gods soon enough. I'll give to the new generation what those old wise men of Bruma gave me. A culture of our own." Baldur finally placed Rebec down on her own two feet, then said, "Alright young man, continue with the tour, if you please." The Stormcloak smiled, and saluted again. He gestured for the Red Snows to follow. Casting glances at the pair, he said, "If I may say so, sirs. It's a real honor. I just joined up. Couldn't stay away when I heard the stories about the naval war and the Battle of Pale Pass." Rebec smiled at this, amused to hear that they were inspiring patriotic duty. A year or two ago, she'd never have put herself in that role. "Where you from, Stormcloak?" "Windhelm, sirs. My pa's Kovir Blackbeard. I'm Koljun." "I know your pa. You're a shipbuilder, then." "Yes ma'am. Been on the docks my whole life. I can build other things, too. Construction, woodwork." "We'll need your expertise here, that's for sure." Her crew had already made a beeline for the fort, eager for a hot meal and a warm bunk. Stormcloak banners flapped from the ramparts of the small fort. There was a rowdy breakfast going on in the mess hall. It was a normal fort like dozens of others across Skyrim, except the basement which had been converted entirely to a dungeon and interrogation center by the Thalmor. "We buried the bodies," Koljun explained as he unlocked the torture chamber. "The Thalmor killed most of the prisoners when they realized the fort was under attack. Otherwise this room was kept as it was, just as you ordered." Inside, the walls were streaked with blood and what looked like excrement. Torture implements were laid out, some of them with bits of flesh still clinging to them, the Thalmor torturers apparently surprised in the middle of a workday. Rebec surveyed the scene, then glanced at Baldur. What had gone on here was left to her imagination, but he didn't need to imagine it. Despite that, it had only been days that he was in Thalmor care. Granted, they had dire need for the knowledge he had, and he was high ranking, so things were quite intense. But he was still lucky to have escaped at all, and in one piece. His captor's methods being more sophisticated and not requiring missing pieces. He could still remember the smell of his own burning flesh. Mingling with that of his own urine, and the stench of old blood. He remembered how the white hot heat didn't at first fully register in his mind, and the smell of himself was no different than that of your average cooked beef, except the metallic smell of the blood still in him, unlike with slaughtered cattle that is bled first. Maybe it was justice for those he hurt, though the experience hadn't killed the bit of sadist in him. If anything, it made it worse. "Why'd you have them keep this place in tact?" Baldur asked in a slightly tame tone that was unlike him. "So that recruits like Koljun here could see it. To understand what happened here, and what it means that we reclaimed our homeland." The young man's face was grave. "Yes, ma'am. We'll show everyone who gets assigned." A thought occurred to Baldur at that moment that made him laugh despite himself. "Kyne once showed us the color of blood when it is brought by betrayal. Even more fitting this place has the name that it now does." Perhaps it wasn't the best way to put it, given the Nord's recent alliance, but it was what it was. "And then there's the smell of betrayal," Rebec said wryly. "Pretty foul, that." She nodded at the young recruit and left the torture room. Koljun locked it behind them and led them out of the fort to where the town site had been surveyed, a short distance west of the fort, under the protection of some cliffs. Survey posts and markers were stuck into the icy ground. Pointing, Koljun explained, "There'll be a quay here, too, for smaller craft. I laid out some plans for longhouses near the shore, if that's agreeable with you. Those go up pretty quickly, then you can decide later if you want a bigger place." He gestured at the mountains behind them. "The talk is that the king wants to improve the passes so this can be an alternate trade route out of the Reach. The long overland journey from there is pretty dangerous." "Tell us about it," Rebec agreed. "We couldn't go two paces without some kind of Forsworn ambush." "That should be improving some with this recent war, though the Reachmen will likely never be gone for good. This war in all honesty is simply to lower their numbers for the time of the next Great War," said Baldur. "So I guess we'll be getting the first choice of a house spot?" "Don't think that will be a problem," Koljun answered. "It's pretty cold and remote up here. I doubt there will be a flood of people wanting to settle." Rebec snorted. "Just as well. Milk drinkers need not apply. A longhouse will suit me just fine, til we can figure out where we want to build something bigger." Koljun gestured out towards the sea. "You'll have no end of fish. Best fishing there is, out there." Looking over to Baldur, Rebec asked, "What do you think? Can you see us living here?" Baldur took a while to answer, trying to picture their life out here, with kids playing in the snow, laughing. Having the childhood he never did. "You know, I used to hate the snow. Bruma was always thick with it, and it was as cold as my father was. But now, with a family coming and you to warm up with, I look forward to the chill. We can hunt, fish...have another sauna. It's perfect. I can see us living here if you can." Rebec smiled. "Definitely a sauna." "What's a sauna?" She gave the Stormcloak a wry look. "Youth nowadays. Don't know your own traditions. This is one you'll wonder how you lived without. Now let's get back to the fort. Not sure what I want more, a bath, a meal or a nap." "I say we go in that order. Always easier to nap with a full belly, though I don't really need much help in that." They were the ranking officers at the fort, so the commander's quarters were set aside for them. This was normally a single officer, so it was a bit cramped, but neither Baldur nor Rebec cared since they hadn't slept much on the ship. They dozed on and off most of the day. Rebec woke up first that evening just as the sun was setting. She went out to retrieve some food, and when she came back, found Baldur still asleep. While she sat at the table carving an apple, he made a groaning noise in his sleep. Going over to the bed, Rebec peered across his shoulder and saw that his teeth were clenching. "Baldur." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead." He didn't stir at first, almost being unresponsive. But eventually his eyes opened a little, then he gasped out strongly, remembering that he was dreaming and being thankful to awaken. He peered at Rebec through slightly throbbing eyes that came from going too long without sleep. "Dinner I take it?" Feeding him a piece of apple, she replied, "It looked like you were having a bad dream." He used the apple to buy him some time, then said after swallowing, "Aye, but it was just a dream." He lifted a hand then towards her hair hanging over him and ran his hand through it, smiling. "Uh uh. Not good enough." She fed him another piece. "What was it about?" "You're the pregnant one, I should be feeding you in bed, not the other way around," he said with a mouthful of apple. He rolled over then and closed his eyes. "I already told you about it anyway. Kyne and Shor." "Again?" She thought back to what he had described. "You're carried by a hawk while a snake tries to kill you. What's Shor trying to kill you for? He'll have to go through me first." Taking his advice and that of her growling stomach, she bit into the rest of the apple. "Well, the hawk was supposed to be you anyway, or at least that's the feeling I got. Who knows, maybe he thinks I'm getting soft. The snake though, it always changes its face to look like pa. Or me. I don't know what it means, it's just a dream, Rebec." "One you keep having." She thought a while, considering what he said about the snake having his father's face. "You still feel like your pa is after you, even after he's dead and gone? I guess you didn't see him when you went to Sovngarde." "Supposedly went to Sovngarde," Baldur said smiling again as he rolled back to see her. "We both start saying that for a fact, and people will think we're crazy. I can believe it, I'm a bard. You have to remain the sensible one. At any rate, I don't know. I try not to think about him, especially now. With everything good that's been happening lately. Sometimes I still hear his voice though, putting doubts in my head. You get that with your ma sometimes, right? Maybe not doubts, but words of wisdom maybe?" "Yeah, my ma was full of those. She's up in Sovngarde making a list of all the things she forgot. I'll have to spend the first two hundred years up there listening to a lecture." Rebec grinned, then bit and chewed. "If you hear your pa talking, you tell him to shut his trap because he's got nothing left to say to us. As for believing your stories, well. I don't disbelieve them. Maybe it sounds like I do, but that's because I take things as they come, true or not. If you say you went, you went. Tamriel's a strange place. I've seen things out there on the waters for sure. I don't mind their business and they don't mind mine. Your problem is that you take all that stuff to heart too much. It's too real for you. I guess that's your bard sense." "I take it to heart to much? I don't know what you mean, Rebby. As for pa, it may be his voice, but that's probably because it's easier to ignore my doubts if I think they're not my own. Maybe that's why I can't tell if the snake's really me or him. Heh, you'll probably look at me funny, but I hear you in my consciousness too, pretty much countering the doubt. Which is I guess why I think you're the hawk." Rebec smiled. "I hear you talking, too. That part's normal. I think." She laughed, tossed her apple core violently toward the rubbish bucket, and licked her fingers clean of juice. "You take things to heart, meaning you actually believe all that stuff and it means something to you. The gods. All those stories you like, even the elven ones, and I'm telling you, those will lead you to no good. I never thought about Kyne being my patron, but it really means something to you." Baldur laughed at her suspicion of elven stories. "You know, I love that about you, your suspicion of elvish tales and so on. Sometimes I'll purposefully spew out some random elven rabble, just to see that face you give. Like you're listening to someone else talk in the background. It's cute. Anyway, yea you're right. I do think they're all real, in a way. Not every detail, but it's a scholarly thing. Somewhere in the middle lies the truth, and in that middle, lies the truth about ourselves as well. These stories, even the Nordic ones have some basis on reality, and we pride ourselves on making things up. Look at Alduin, who the Imperials told us for ages was just our version of Akatosh. I believed in the stories before, but after Helgen, it was different. And Shor being my guide, it means a lot because it helped to think someone was watching out for me even if my mother wasn't. I've felt like it was true all my life. Maybe I had to. But then the Sovngarde stuff happened. And then you. Favored of Kyne." Rebec smiled ruefully, her finger playing through the hair at his temple. "That bitch has been trying to sink me for years. She gives and she takes away. If that's what being her favored means... Anyway, I like that you live in that bard world of yours. I could listen to you go on for hours." Nuzzling her nose against his, she then looked down at him, her smile turning impish. "This reminds me of Fort Neugrad. Our first night together. Ravishing the commander doesn't seem so naughty anymore, though." Baldur too let his eyes wander down to her hanging bosom in her blouse between her admiral coat, then smiled.and said, "I have some ideas that could fix that tonight. You never did take me up on my offer with the rope. Uh, no Justiciar stuff this time, though. Too close to home...so to speak." Going serious again, he said, "About Kyne, she is a mother of tough love, true. She brings the rains in times of misery and in times of need. Just like how it's irresponsible for a parent to spare a child of spankings, so is it the same with the gods and our trials. Even the eastern devils hold to the same philosophy. Some would say that a god's attention is a curse, but look how strong it's made you." Rebec made a noncommittal noise. Standing up, she went back to the table and started attacking a wheel of eidar cheese. "You really believe all that? I don't say what I've done is because of my own work, because my parents put a lot into me. Seems ungrateful to attribute all that to a god and not to them. You saw how we gave offerings and the like, but that was just something we did. I thought everybody did it until I figured out later that we were the odd ones. Me, I was usually thinking about the hot cider mama had left on the hearth for when we got back." Baldur leaned up in the bed, then said, "Hmm, true. Maybe I do attribute more to the gods than I should. But then, it's easy to when the alternative is admitting that maybe my ass hole father had a point. Though, he wasn't the one that put me through the things I went through when I was on my own. But maybe he prepared me for it." Chewing thoughtfully, Rebec said, "Those were good memories, anyhow. Maybe it's enough to do what your forefathers did because it connects you to them. Even if the things they did make no sense." She glanced over at him. "Of course, you can choose to be different than they were, too. Like the way your pa raised you. You're going to be a much better father than he was, even if it means our baby turns out a milk drinker." He hesitated at that, then looked to his feet. "Well, whatever the case, our baby won't be a milkdrinker. Maybe I didn't want to fight at first, but that was only because I already did so much fighting at that point. So the novelty of it wasn't there for me. We're warriors, you and I. Our child will have that raising. Even if there is some singing in between." "My parents didn't beat me, much. And I didn't turn out soft. I guess Kyne took up the slack. Anyway, all this god talk makes my head hurt. I imagine you'll want to have a shrine of some sort here? Like the Skyforge. Write Boldir and tell him he and Carlotta have got to move here because we're making a new Skyforge and there's nobody to work it." Baldur stood then and stretched as he yawned. "Boldir will definitely be coming up here even if I have to get my whole army to bring him. But as for shrines, maybe someone else can do that. My shrine to the gods was and always is how I live my life, and the stories I pass on. That's what the old men in Bruma taught me. That's what they want to see, not statues or shrines. And you know what? You're right. I'm going to be a damned good father. Not because of the gods, not because of Ulrin, but me. And you, of course. I had doubts, but not anymore. I'm going to be a good father for my child no matter what the cost." Rebec put aside her cheese knife and stood to face him. Looping her arm around his waist, she said, "I never had any doubts. Not about you. You got a hardness in you, Baldur, but it doesn't cover over the soft and sweet to me. I'm sure that's what our baby will see, too." She released him, but grabbed his hand. "Let's go for a walk. I want to breathe some frigid Skyrim air after all that desert."

Lucenius, Dev, Jon, Sal- Dawnstar Lucienus sat in pitch darkness, with his luminous purple eye's closed. On his lap was his gold/ebony shortsword, and clutched in his hands was an emerald locket. Inside of the trinket, was carved, "For my dearest Claudia. Your brother loves you." The ancient vampire was deep in thought, A waste of time. Desprte as I am, I should have known Jon wouldn't relented. So much for being a good mercenery. I understand though, betraying one race is always a difficult thing due, for mortals anyway. My speech on duel meanings didn't help in the slightest. There's almost zero chance he'll give me the information. At the same time, a Nord of great size was making his way towards a clearing with a cave outside of Dawnstar. He was very careless in his approach, even going out of his way to kick a tree branch quite high into the air. He knew better than to try and approach someone like Lucenius without making his presence known right away. Lucienus's fine hearing picked up noise coming from outside of the cave he was staying in. Most likely one of Jon's men. I suppose it would be rude not to greet him. Disappearing in a cloud of darkness, the vampire reappeared blade slightly drawn from it's sheaf behind the huge nord. An arrogant smirk appeared on Lucienus's face, Dev. My, my...how flattering Jon. "Not very stealthy I see, Dev is it?" He said, out loud, A hearty laugh came from the huge Nord. "Wraith! Just the man I was looking for. Do me a favor, and put your toy away. Cutting a man of my stature up would make one hell of a mess! Besides, Jon and Sal await us," he said with a laugh. He didn't turn to face Lucenius directly, instead motioning for him to follow him to the meeting spot. "Been a long time you old brute." He said, walking behind him, while sheaving his blade, "How goes thing?" Dev smiled when he heard the oldest guy he'd ever met put his weapon away completely. "Now that's more like it! I've never been better! Got my money, my fair share of destruction to cause. You know, the good stuff! And how about you? What kind of mayhem have you been entertainin' yourself with?" Dev responded, while kicking some fallen branches away. "Joined up with a special operations unit in Valenwood. Been doing stealthy stuff of late. Besides that, taking the odd contract. Killing nobles, the same old thing." "Ahh. I can't say I'm fit for the stealth life," he said, glancing at his massive biceps. "Oh well! I'd rather meet my enemy head on anyway. And Valenwood you say? My my. Long way out. Though I guess I'm quite far from my usual spot too. Luckily for my Nord blood, I ain't bothered by the cold as much as the others seem to be." They were nearing the clearing now, where Jon and a Dunmer awaited them. "As a vampire, I welcome the cold." He muttered. Glancing at Jon, he strode forward ignoring him. A Dumner was beside him, an aquitance of Lucienus's, Sal, "Jon, i'm truly touched you would get such elite warriors guard you, while you told me bad news. Truly touched." He said sarcastically. he later nodded at the dumner, "Sal." "Wraith..." Sal responded in a dry voice. He'd never been much of a talker. Less so when situations could get intense. Jon smiled, almost as if he was doing it on Sal's behalf. "Hey now, don't take my caution for fear now. Besides, the three of you are well acquainted. I figured you could catch up, regardless of what the news was. But, as you've suspected, the decision isn't the most favorable for you. I do have this," Jon said, tossing a journal towards Lucenius. "But as you'll find out, most of the information isn't anything special. Nothing you shouldn't have guessed already. I don't apologize for it, though I feel for your desperation. It's not often that one comes to me looking for such information." "It's fine. I suppose i'll have to get the information through the order. If they don't kill me that is. Or do it manually. Haven't infiltrated and scouted out an army encampment in centuries, might be fun" He said, grabbing the journal in the air, "I'd have to recommend the second one, if anything," Jon said, as he watched some snow slip off a nearby tree branch. "Whatever the case may be, I hope that you remain safe enough. It'd be a shame to lose you after all this time, now wouldn't it?" "Normally death would be a very welcome respite. However, were i'm going when I die, i'd very much rather stay alive for another milliiuem or two." Jon couldn't help but chuckle a bit. If irony was his favorite form of humor, dark humor wasn't all that far behind. "I figured as much. Now, is there anything I could help you with that's in the realm of possibility for me to give you?" "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to know how her majesty is doing. It was very rude of me to light one of her warehourses on fire, and slaughter her soldiers. Wouldn't mind knowing how the lass is." "She's alive and well. Attempts on her life have been minimal, nothing too serious from what I can gather. Though with politicians such as herself, you can never be sure. For all we know, she could have been stabbed 12 times and barely survived. I doubt anyone would ever let the severity of any attempt be known to the public." "Nearly killed , several months ago by a dominion agent impersonating an old friend of her, several stab wounds to the stomach. That agent is infact my units handler in Valenwood." Starting to wipe his now drawn blade with a cloth, "Damn. Best guess I've had in a little while. I'm glad to hear she's alright though. No need for any more political turmoil than there already is. Now, may I ask you something?" "Yes?" "Don't worry, it's shouldn't be too difficult. How's the wolf doing?" "The wolf? Fury-eye is fine. Much better. Seems to be almost fully recovered from his...trauma, reverted back to his cool, and stoic self. Thinks logically and remorselessly, guided by cold reason." "Yes, wolf. He does lead the Bloodwolves, no? But anyways... yes. That's much better than the last I heard of him. I can only hope he continues to become more stable as time goes on. More and more lives are depending on it." "Edaurd telling your horror stories I presume?" "Now now, Lucenius. You know Eduard isn't into fictional tales. He told me that he was impossible to read, as his demeanor could change completely at the drop of a hat. Does that sound very stable to you?" "Follows of his highness Sheogroth view insanity as a blessing, I may add." "Blessing or not, it's also a liability. I don't think you'll argue that. Like you said though, he seems to be coming along well." "True. Didn't really affect his performance though. I doubt the Jarl with the wolf dark arrow in his throat would disagree." "I wouldn't expect it to have all that much effect on what was basically a solo operation. Eduard shot a different man entirely on that day, as a matter of fact. In any case, I'm not disputing the man's ability to fight. How could I? It could have been more problematic for his leadership skills, that's all. You wouldn't follow an idiot," Jon said, looking directly at Lucenius now. "I'm an idiot. Idiot's follow other idiots, no?" He said, flashing an arrogant smile, "That's besides the point. Another question, if I may ask, how is the court mage?" Jon didn't react to the sarcastic joke, as it wasn't really his cup of tea. "The court mage, like the Empress, is alive and well. Very much so, actually. As I'm sure you're aware, he's quite the power. Got a lot going for him, and not much going against him. At this point, he very much seems to run the place. I wouldn't want to be the one on his bad side. Not sure I'd want to be on his good side either, though." "Very true. Sorts like him tend to betray you. He suspects nothing thankfully about my wolves, which is a relief. Frightening even for me to face." "It's not just betrayal that would worry me. He by all accounts seems to be... controlling. And you know how much I dislike that thought of that. And, really? You're sure no one suspects anything about the wolves? They must not have as many mercenary contacts as they used to. Of course, my contacts are currently unavailable. Could explain some of it, I suppose. It's just a little hard for someone like me to fathom missing the hints. Mercenaries from all over getting recruited into some organization. I would've been kicking in some heads, had I been the mage. And looking for you. Lucky for you, he wasn't thinking mercenary. Or, another possibility, he had other concerns to attend to. In any case, you have your unit. And you seem to have them where you want them. Right?" "Yes, Dales assassination attempt came at an opportune time. Distracted his train of thought, and made him sloppy. Of course, there's the imperial spymaster Lilly Quentas, smart girl, also uncorruptible, Fortatunley, I got into contact with her before the court mage found my lord. Gave her information that forced her to halt reinforcements coming in from the navy, and clear the blockade which was put out under orders from an intelligent Occultus commander, and afterwords made a deal." "What'd you tell her? And a deal?" "Her pregnant sister was in one of the ships that was about to leave the imperial city. Who happens to be my masters wife. Afterwords, I agreed to give her all the information I had on were she was going and her status. I also told her no harm would come to her precious sibling. In return, she would keep the court mage off my wolves backs, and instead of wasting resources looking for us, they would be put to good use for the next conflict. I also told her, that it wouldn't be my fault to what would happen to her if the court mage caught wind of us. That made her cooperate." "I see. Always sad to have to resort to threatening one's family, especially when there's a child involved. It can't be helped sometimes, I suppose. Oh, I've got another question for you." "I didn't tell the wolf. He wouldn't understand the necessity of this. And yes?" "Yeah, that's for sure. Wouldn't be your best move, telling your commander that you threatened his pregnant wife. And my question. What can I expect from a reaction standpoint when you tell Lorgar that I turned down your request?" Jon asked. He was more curious for Eduard's sake, than his own. Jon could disappear in a day, never to be found. Eduard had more political and military ties. A bit harder for him to hide for too long. He seemed to understand whom the question was aimed for, "He considers Edaurd a comrade and a friend, don't worry. He's much too busy to go on a hunt for the assassin. I didn't tell him I was going to your for the information though, he just gave me a general order, which I followed. I am bounded to him after all." "That's a hunt both you and I know he'd never complete," Jon said, with a non-threatening tone. "And what about yourself? Surely you're a bit disappointed." "Don't underestimate him. Literally, he'll feast on you with his abyss dark fangs shrouded in moonlight if you doubt a beast like that man." He said, in an equally non-threatening tone, just a deadpan monotone, "And meh. I suppose i'm annoyed. Will have to stain my ebony shortblade soME more, along with some boring observations and scouting." "I'm aware of his relentless determination," he replied, unimpressed. "It would just be far from his best idea to ever pursue him, or me for that matter. Anyways, like I said, that information is the best I can give you considering the circumstances. Now, do you have any other requests or thoughts before we part ways?" I wouldn't mind tasting sweet brotherhood blood, and stain my blade with his crimson liquid n the name of Sithis. But meh... "One more. I'm far too busy to do it myself, but can I ask a personal favor?" "You can most certainly ask." He took out a small locket, dangling on a platinum chain. It looked extremely expensive, "Southeast of the Applevale, a small town in Cyrdoli, there's a shallow grave marked by three stones by a stone bridge. Can you lay this there for me?" "I can't see why not," Jon said, motioning for Lucenius to hand him the locket. "Athen is actually leaving for Cyrodiil tomorrow morning. With all the border security going on nowadays, it's hard to move more than a few guys through at a time." Jon never once thought about asking to who was in this crudely marked grave. If Lucenius wasn't going to mention it, he didn't care to know. He gave him a genuine smile, the first one Lucienus had ever shown, "Thank you. Means quite a bit to me." He said giving Jon the locket, "It turns out your trip here did serve a useful purpose, it seems," Jon replied, pocketing the locket. "Be careful with that, despite the spell of protection, it's centuries years old." Jon gave a half-smile, before opening the pocket he had placed the locket in as far as he could. The pocket was lined with a very soft fabric, unlike the rest of his attire. "I always leave a spot to put something antique or valuable. Not everything I take is durable." "Well. I suppose I should be off. If you see Sentinel, tell him I send him my regards." He gave all three of them nods, "Jon, Sal, Dev, it's been a pleasure." "It's always a pleasure to see me!" Dev said, laughing at his own joke. "Until next time," Sal said quietly. "I'll be sure to let him know," Jon said, returning the nod. "The pleasure was all mine. Goodbye Lucenius." Putting his hand to his chest, he did a mocking bow, before disappearing in a cloud of shadow. "Well, that was boring! Good to see the old guys doing alright though. Now, how about we all go and have ourselves a good feast. I'm starving!" Sal just shook his head. Jon smiled, also shaking his head. "When are you not in the mood for a feast?" "When I'm... uhh... feasts are great, dammit." With that, they left towards Dawnstar.

Aerin, Maul Riften The night's atmosphere was pleasant, a cool but not cold evening that cradled the previously drinking Aerin in its cooling embrace. He waddled home, gripping the sides of the platform hanging high above the canals. Several rounds of mead led to this, because of what was happening with Boldir and Carlotta. Aerin felt he was to blame, for their hiding, and his only release was to drink his guilt away. So he staggered home, getting dirty looks from the few pedestrians and guards. He fumbled with his key, only getting it in the lock after several attempts. Aerin pushed it open, walking towards the candle in the corner so as to illuminate the room. That took three matches, and one burnt finger, but he finally got it lit. Turning around, he headed across the room to the stairs, planning on getting some sleep. A few clumsy creeks of the wooden steps, and he was there. Though when the door opened, there was a lot more waiting for him in the room besides his soft welcoming bed... "Welcome home..." said a low menacing voice from the dark room. Before he could make out a face, a fist came into view first, sending him to sleep a little more effectively than his normal means. *** Aerin slowly came awake, his nose's sense of smell coming to terms with his new surroundings more quickly than his eyes. The stench of putrid fruits, gross human excrement, and a whole host of other stink emanated from the central stream of sewage that ran the length of the tunnel Aerin sat in. His sight was coming around, and the fuzziness cleared away and before him stood the large, shadowed form of Maul, Maven Black-Briar's lap dog. "Whatda you wants," Aerin said, slurring his words through fattened lips. Maul was no more pleased to be down here than he was. It smelled just as it should. Like the backside of sload whore's ass. "You know." "I aven't done noffin. You're not worf it anymore," Aerin said, his head slumping over as he threatened to black out again. Along with the punch, and the alcohol, he had hit his head on a table as he fell, and his head had bounced off the hard wooden floors of his house. The dizziness was enough to make him puke, never mind the rank smell of the sewer and his being drunk. Maul uncrossed his arms, then grabbed a handful of Aerin's hair to pull his head back. With Maul's face an inch away from his, he said, "You know who I am. Maven's lapdog. And you, you follow behind that Lioness woman's backside every single day like a good hound. So you and I should be able to understand each other, don't you think? I know better than to think she keeps anything from her favorite toy. So, how long are we going to play this game? Where is this Boldir man, and who tipped him off?" "Boldir? Whose Boldir?" Aerin asked innocently, but his face was pained as Maul pulled on his hair. "You're just a lafdog to a bitchf. I don't know anyfing." "Okay." Maul unceremoniously threw Aerin down, positioning his head near the water so that it hovered just above the putrid disease ridden stream of filth. After placing a boot on his back, he said, "Smell that. Let it linger in your nostrils. I hate this ******* place. Yet every single day nearly, I end up down here because I have to deal with little shits. Like you. Little shits that think they can stand against Maven. Little shits that think they can 'get one over the old bag'. Well, little shit, here's where they all end up. And here's where you'll end up too, unless you tell me what I want to know..." "You're foolish if you think Maven tells you everything, just like Mjoll keeps her secrets. Like I said, I don't know anything," Aerin held his head up as best he could, but the smell of raw sewage was overwhelmingly awful. Maul didn't hesitate to do what he did next. Grabbing Aerin's feet, Maul lifted him up and dumped his head in, holding him there for a few seconds before pulling him out finally. "She tells me what I need to know, I have no thoughts to the contrary. But the Lioness woman isn't her. Tell me. What I. Need. To know. Or you'll die." Aerin thankfully had closer his mouth, and shut his eyes in anticipation, but the feces and garbage rushed up his nostrils, choking him. He came up gasping, only half listening to what Maul was saying. "I don't...know anything....I don't....know anything." Aerin huffed out, gasping for breath. A loud metallic echo came ringing through the tunnel, and was immediately followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. It wasn't long before a torchlight came around the nearest bend, the carrier turning out to be a man in full Riften guard armor. One of Maul's. He was followed by a figure a half-head taller than him, wearing a full suit of thick iron armor and with long, unkempt hair. Mjoll's hands were visibly bound in front of her. Her usual weapons nowhere to be found. When the second guard rounded the bend, their whereabouts were clear. A green malachite glass blade reflected the torchlight from his hip, and the handle of a battle axe protruded from over his shoulder. Mjoll's face was difficult to make out down the tunnel, but her anger was more than apparent when she shouted their way. "I'll kill you, you damned dog! Aerin has done nothing!" "I'll be the judge of that. And if anyone's doing any killing, it's going to be me!" He stomped on Aerin's lower spine to make his point. "AHHH!" Aerin cried out, momentarily losing all feeling below the point of impact. His teeth ground together, and his face wrinkled up in pain. At least Mjoll had the sense to not shout out. It would've only driven Maul to do it again, but as the guards brought her closer, her expression became more visible, and her anger was apparent. "What do you want?" "If I have to keep answering questions you already know, it'll be his life. But for now, I'll settle for the location of the big man you were talking to before. Boldir. And who tipped him off. Only time I ever fail to get my man is when there's a weasel about. Where's the weasel, Lioness?" "Weasel? Boldir?" She looked confused. "Will you let Aerin go if I tell you where he is?" He walked away from Aerin and stepped towards her so that he was directly in her face. "Yes. And if he's not there, Aerin dies. Choking on the filth of this stream." "I swear by the nine, Mjoll, you don't tell them a thing!" Aerin said, still restrained and leaned over the sewer canal. Mjoll's anger turned to worry and sadness before Maul's eyes. It was a look he was accustomed to seeing. "I spoke to Boldir at the Bee and Barb Inn. That's all I know of where he can be found." Maul stared at her a while before backing of and turning around. After a moment's pause, while facing Aerin, he said, "Give me her axe." "No!" she shouted, obviously to be ignored as the guard pushed past her. "You lied! I told you what I know!" "I already visited the Bee and Barb, and he wasn't there. Neither was the woman and little girl he was with. One of you is lying. Maybe one of you tipped him off. Doesn't matter. I'm tired of the games. Hmm, I think a foot for now will do...." "Go ahead, pig. Don't want to disappoint mommy Maven, do we? You might get put in the corner. You're nothing but a coward, who fights battles for the greediest, lowest scum on earth," Aerin said, glaring at Maul. Maul chuckled, then said, "Yea. So? I've got the axe, and you don't. That's all I care about." "We don't know where they are!" Mjoll insisted. "They didn't want any part of what we do here." "Like I said, we haven't done anything, nor do we know anything. And this sewer reeks like an ox's ass," Aerin said, still watching from the ground. Maul considered what they were saying while he held the axe above his head. There was no way the man could have enough spine to hold back info. And Mjoll was too much of a bleeding heart to let him be injured or killed.... Still with the axe in the air, Maul said, "I believe you." Maul looked behind him to her with a soft expression, then sighed as he lowered the axe. "So you'll let us go?" Mjoll asked wearily. "Yea, I'll let you go," said Maul. And that's exactly what he set to do when the axe came back up with a loud grunt just before the swing. "No!" The guard with Mjoll's weapons grunted as he fell toward the water, and the glass sword was pulled from his belt. Mjoll, hands still bound, raised her blade in both hands just in time to block Maul's swing. The metal clashing on metal echoed throughout the tunnels. "Aerin, run!" Aerin did the only thing he could think of, rolling straight into the sewage to avoid the blow. The stream of feces carried him away from the his captor, but also his friend, who's faced was as shocked and angry as ever as she fought off guard and lap-dog. Maul turned to the other guard and yelled, "Don't just stand there, go get that little bitch, or it'll be you who gets to float in the cistern next!" Maul turned his attention back to Mjoll, knowing she was too dangerous to keep his eyes off of for long. "I was told not to kill you, but that doesn't mean I can't cripple and beat you within an inch of your life!" Maul ran towards her then and put all his strength into a side swing in an attempt to disarm her, knowing all she could do was block in the small space. Even bound, the Lioness was far from weak, and the tough malachite blade held up when his axe stuck it. But the sheer force was enough to drive her back against the wall. She raised her blade in both hands and aimed a powerful strike at Maul's neck. Maul blocked the strike with the pommel of the her axe. She was strong for a woman, but Maul was strong for a man. "What kind of man runs and leaves a woman to take a mauling for him?" he said as butted her in the face with the axe's handle, causing Mjoll to rear back. A red mark could be seen where she'd been hit, but she didn't seem to notice as she pressed forward, slashing out again. "One who isn't as strong as her." she said through gritted teeth. Maul let his armor protect him this time, and moved to knock her in the face again. On any other day, Maul knew even as a woman, she'd have proved to be a better fighter, but there was only so much one could do with a bound hand against a stronger opponent with a bigger weapon in a closed space. "Give up. Unless you want more scars on that pretty face of yours, girl." Mjoll didn't respond this time, and simply pressed her attack, trying to mix her swings and make the overall assault less predictable. Not that it did much between Maul's blocking and the thick armor he wore. He could tell that she was trying to move in close, to remove the advantage of range that came with her axe. One of the strikes did land, as regardless of the circumstances, Mjoll was skilled. Something that Maul remembered when he felt her blade's sting across his cheek and ear. The frost enchantment tried to bite him as well, though Maul was a Nord, and it actually helped to numb the pain. Regardless, he was angered even more, and tired of being held up with this bitch. She was a pain in his ass ever since she came in the city. And he was playing with the idea of 'accidentally' failing to comply with Maven's orders. But only slightly. He knew better. And besides, he couldn't hear Mjoll's screams if he killed her. With that in mind, Maul delivered a strong stomp to Mjoll's kneecap in retaliation of the cut. Her greaves would have protected from any standard weapon blow, but Maul was a big man, and so much of his weight went into the stomp, that her leg gave. A sickening crack was followed by a scream of pain from Mjoll as she collapsed, her leg now bent in the wrong direction. Through it all, somehow she managed to hold onto her sword, as she fell, she drove the blade towards Maul's leg. He moved it just in time to avoid an impaling, but the edge of the blade did slice the edge of his leg, just behind his own plating. Wincing in pain, Maul again retaliated by stomping on her sword hand to finally disarm her. After kicking Grimsever away, Maul looked at her twisted figure while trying to ignore his injured leg -so as not to appear weak- and said, "You should have let him die. I was going to use him to send a message. So now it's going to have to be you. You won't die, but you'll wish you had." A pair of bound, iron gauntleted fists to his shin was the only response Maul received. Those same armored shins went flying to meet with her face. "You've got real balls, I'll give you that. I hate your guts, but I have more respect for you than almost any man that I know. Which means I won't enjoy this quite. as. much," said Maul, sending his fists to the painted side of her face. "You'll need to limp, so I guess this will need to go back..." With that, the Nord grabbed her damaged leg and kicked it back in place. Mjoll's scream of agony bounced off the walls throughout the sewer, but it had worked. Though her actually walking on her own was very unlikely. Mjoll lay there for a while, until he forced her up. She made no more struggle. Like so many before her, Maul had beaten the will to fight straight out of her. Aerin, frantically swimming out of the sewers, could hear the echoes of numerous screams, but it was the final one that curdled his blood and sent chills down his spine. I'm so sorry, Mjoll, he thought, wondering if she could even bear to look at him after this. On his way out, Maul almost tripped on something that made a loud clang throughout the tunnel. Looking down, Maul's eyebrows went up at the sight of Mjoll's sword. "Wasn't in the Thieves Guild for nothing," he said, bending down to take his new blade. Well, this trail went cold, and sending a message won't be enough. Only lead I have now is Vex. She didn't mention he was with two others, and it's not like her to give inaccurate info. I don't expect much from that end, but it's all I've got.... *** Vex, Maul, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Vex's home Carlotta made their bed. It was the third time today she had done so. But it seemed that every time she returned to their attic room, it was messed up again. The bed itself was small, no bigger than Mila's back home, but at least it was comfortable. Probably the only cozy thing about their little hideout. She remembered the attic from when she was a little girl. She had gone up there numerous times when playing hide-and-seek with Aerin and some of their friends. When they were very young, even Vex had joined in, but most of the others didn't like it when she did. They could never find her. Carlotta remembered those games being her favorite, because Vex had always helped her get to the best spots. And now I'm hiding up here again. But if I lose this time, it's a lot worse than being made 'It'. That wasn't all that had changed. What had been a storage space, was now a thieves den. The bed was for her sister's acquaintances, to give them a decent place to sleep while losing any heat that may be after them. Along the walls were trophy shelves, no different from those downstairs, but containing the most valuable of her collections. No doubt Vex put them up here as a form of bragging to any thieves who ended up under her protection. And perhaps even as a challenge. Besides the bed and the cabinets, the room had one large round table to seat six people, and two smaller ones made for two. All of these were at the same end of the room as the trapdoor to the rest of the house, while the bed was at the far side, near a single round window overlooking the canals and market beyond. When Carlotta finished making the bed, she crossed the room, over to the trapdoor, and called down. "Mila, It's getting late. Come on up." Mila heard the call, but made no effort to answer it. Why should she? She'd been stuck in this old house all day, and if Vex was right, would be for several more, all because they had lied to her. Besides, it's not even bedtime yet. She was too intent on her mission to let it go to waste on her mother's command anyway. It had been an hour, or at least felt like it, and she had managed to hide from them this whole time without being found. Carefully, she cracked the closet door and peeked her head out of the darkness. She did so just in time to see the trapdoor across the hall closing again as her mother went back to practicing her healing magic, or whatever it was she was doing. The trapdoor practically vanished when it closed, the only sign that it existed being a thin square line that no one could ever notice unless it was pointed to. Vex had told her mom that she'd painted it to match the ceiling years ago, to make it harder to see. Mila didn't care about that. She hated the door just like she hated the room it lead to. When nobody was in there, it was just an empty room with shelves full of creepy paintings and shiny busts of people she didn't know staring back at her. When somebody was in there, it was always Boldir or mother, and she didn't want to be around either of them. She much preferred her newly discovered closet. It had been locked previously, but she watched Vex open it with one of her little hooked sticks to put some bag inside. Mila had no trouble finding one of the sticks herself, Vex had many laying around, and after a half an hour of poking around in the keyhole, she felt a click, and the hook turned, opening the door. Inside was a small closet space with just enough room to sit, and on the shelves were little vials and sacks of red and yellow powder. She found that the smell they let off was sweeter than any treat. And feeling victorious at her first picked lock, Mila decided that this was her new room. It was darker than her old one, but at least she had it to herself. She would stay here until the people looking for them gave up. They had to eventually, and that is when she would finally get to go home. Until then, she leaned against a shelf and fiddled with the paper she had originally tried to write a song on, wishing she had grabbed something to write with before going into hiding. She almost jumped when she heard a knocking sound coming from the door downstairs. Vex said there would be no visitors. Boldir and Vex shared a glance as the door vibrated from a powerful knock. He could see that she was every bit as surprised as she was. His hand naturally went to his axe, but he knew that fighting was an option that would likely get them all killed. He slowly stood up, and whispered. "Give me twenty seconds, then answer it." He didn't wait for an answer, and as quietly as he could, Boldir crept upstairs. He passed by all the rooms in the hall and stopped at the hidden trapdoor. He was the only one tall enough to reach it without aid, and pushed it open, before grabbing the ledge and pulling himself up, not waiting for Carlotta to drop the ladder. As he silently closed the door behind him, he looked to his wife, who wore a terrified expression. Immediately, he knew what it was about. No... No! NO! Carlotta gave voice to the question that terrified both of them. "Boldir... Where is Mila?" *** Outside, Riften's skies started to cry, soaking Maul and giving him an even more pissed off appearance than normal. To the side of Vex's place, seven guards stood by, waiting in case Maul needed them and gave the signal. But so far all they heard was Maul's continued assault on the door. The door finally swung in, and Vex stood at the entrance. "Damnit, could you not hear me shouting that I was coming? That door had better not be cracked." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. "You lied." "Lied about what?" Vex peered past him and saw the guards. "I'd invite you to come in out of the rain, but I've got a feeling you plan to do that anyway." "There you go again. Never wrong. Which is exactly the problem. Move." Maul pushed past her into the room and signaled for his men to move inside as well. *** Boldir and Carlotta could hear numerous feet bounding into the building. How could they know? he wondered. It didn't matter. They did. He gripped his axe tightly as he slowly opened the trapdoor. If Mila was down there, he wasn't going to leave her. He'd kill every one of them if it came to that, and they would just have to find a new place to hide. At the last second, before he could climb down, Boldir noticed a movement. The closet door across the hall cracked open, and half of Mila's head poked out. From the look on her face, she knew what was going on. He knew how quiet she could be, and waved for her to come to him. There was a heavy crash downstairs, and she quickly shook her head before retreating back into the closet and shutting the door. Boldir did the same with the trapdoor, and whispered to Carlotta. "She's hiding in the closet. I don't think she thinks she can reach us." Carlotta was terrified, but relieved that her daughter had at least found a place to hide. "What do we do, then?" He hated it, but Boldir knew that the best option for now was to let her hide. There was no way either of them could reach her silently or quickly enough, and if she was discovered, he could reach her in seconds. "We wait. If they find her, I'll make sure they don't leave this house." *** Vex swore. "Do you know how much that was worth?" One of Maul's goons had accidentally bumped into a silver model ship, knocking it to the floor and bending the mast in half. "I'm serious, Maul, what in Oblivion are you doing? I haven't stolen from anybody under Maven's protection. Trust me, I'm not that stupid." "I don't give a damn about your ill gotten goods, steal another one. What I want to know, is why we were told that this Boldir man was alone when he has a girl and a woman traveling with him. You're never wrong on your info, yet suddenly now you forget this detail." "That?" Vex looked incredulous. "You're kidding right? I tailed that guy for all of a minute for an eavesdrop, just to find out if he was against the guild. I didn't scout out his room or stalk him around the city. When I listened to him, he was alone. He didn't say anything about friends, and I didn't see any." "Yea. Lazy work for you, which I think you and I both can agree, is quite unlike you. There's also the problem that when I went to snag him, he was nowhere to be found in his room. Someone tipped him off. And I'm gonna find out who it was, one way or another." "It's not lazy if it doesn't pertain to my goal. I couldn't have cared less if there were more of them so long as they weren't a threat. As for the snitch, I didn't have a thing to do with this man, but I wish you the best of luck in your hunt." Now get out, asshole. "Don't feed me that bullshit!" Maul stood up from the table and threw it aside. "No one, NO ONE hides in this city without the help of the thieves guild! No one. I'm not leaving this house until I get some godsdamned answers." "No one hides from the Black-Briars at all, Maul!" Vex kept from getting too loud, but she's managed to appear visibly annoyed. It wasn't a hard look for her to pull off, considering he's just flung her table. "And the guild doesn't harbor people from Maven. You know that. Take this shit up with Brynjolf. I hear he has loads of tables to flip." "Oh I'll take it up with Brynjolf. I'll put the whole damned guild on lockdown if I have to. You're damned right no one hides from the Black-Briars, not within the walls. But if they did, the guild would at least find wind of it. I go to Maven about this and tell her I turned up nothing, and no one in the Thieves Guild knows? She'll have you all watched constantly. Brynjolf won't even be able to scratch his nuts without me knowing about it. If that's what it comes to, that's what's gonna happen so everyone knows not to try this shit again. And when I find the rat, what I did to Aerin's protector is gonna look like a night in Haelga's Bunkhouse." "Go for it. I don't care about whoever this rat is, and if someone in the guild is hiding your man, I'll gladly turn the idiot in myself. We know better." "Well I'm glad you approve, then. Because I'll be needing your help as well on my search. I want you to do whatever you can to find this man, and Aerin as well. I'm not convinced he doesn't know anything yet. Didn't get a chance to put the screws to him. Though that's why I left his woman friend alive. Among other reasons." Maul turned around to leave, then said to Vex without looking at her, "Have a daily report of your findings ready for me in the mornings. And let the guild know they're on shut down. Men!" On their way out of the house, Maul whispered to one of the guards, "Keep guards watching on this house constantly, as well as the others the guild owns. And I mean constantly." "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Vex muttered as the last of Maul's goons shuffled out, though she wouldn't have minded it one bit if the door had given each and every one of them a splintery whooping. Shit! Shut down on the guild? Can Maul even do that? What the hell am I doing? *** "They're leaving." Carlotta said to Boldir from the window across the room, though still in a hushed voice in case she had counted them wrong. "Good." Boldir remained beside the trapdoor, axe in hand, in case anything were to happen. He opened it a little and saw Mila peeking back at him from the closet door across the hall. There was a long pause, and finally the door opened all the way, and she came running over to the trapdoor, where he took her outstretched arms and pulled her up. He hugged her like never before, and she returned it. "Gods, Mila. We were worried. How did you get into that closet? Vex locked that door." When she finally pulled away, Mila smiled slightly and held up the little metal hooked stick she'd used to get the door open. "I used this." "A lockpick?" Boldir wanted to frown, but his relief was too great. Not only at the fact that whoever had come failed to find them, but because Mila seemed to have forgiven them. At least enough to leave the little room she hid in and come be with them. "Boldir! Carly! Get down here, we need to talk!" Carlotta had only just gotten her own turn in embracing her daughter when Vex called. "Wait here, Mila. We'll be right back." They met Vex downstairs, where her table rested upside down at the wrong end of the room. "Y'mind helping with this, big guy?" she asked, already on the other side, preparing I lift it. Boldir made the task easy, and soon they had a table to sit at any talk once again. "So getting you three out isn't going to be as easy as I'd originally expected." Vex said with a scowl. She was far from happy with Maul's plans to impose on her chosen underground family's way of life, with no knowledge of what had even happened. "It was supposed to be easy?" Carlotta asked skeptically. "No. But now, Maven's top man, Maul, is taking this search to a new level. He's soon going to be pressuring the guild hard, and I have no doubt that he'll have somebody watching my house. I'll be sure of that one way or the other by tomorrow. I have no idea how we're going to pull this off quickly like I wanted. We'll just have to hold out and wait for an opportunity." "I thought we needed to hurry." Carlotta answered. "I thought that you said that Maven would hire even better trackers than Maul before long." "She most likely will. And we can't do a damned thing about it anymore. I could've at least tried to throw them off with false leads, but now they're watching me too closely. There are a few I trust in the guild, but no doubt they'll be in the same state as I soon enough." "Is there any chance we can send a courier?" Boldir offered. "Someone to get outside help?" "Us? No, not without Maul finding out what he's carrying before he leaves. And all of the birds are kept in the castle. We don't have much ability to contact anyone outside Riften." "Damn." Boldir swore. "But what about the sewers? Is there no way out through them?" "None. All exits lead back into Riften." That have Vex an idea though. "But there is the canals! We will have to work out a way to get all of you across the city to the lake, but if we can get you hiding in the water near one of the gates, you could swim through next time a fishing boat comes through." Boldir grew more and more excited as Vex laid out her idea. He even thought that maybe they could sell some of Vex's truckers and have her but some invisibly-type potions for crossing the town. But then his heart sank when he remembered a vital flaw in their ability to pull this one off. Carlotta remembered too, and said it before he could. "Mila can't swim." "Damnit!" Vex slammed her fist on the scratched up table. "Is there no way she could lea-" "Hey!" Mila's voice cut her off from upstairs. "Come up here, you'll want to see this!" By the time the three adults had made it up to the attic, Mila was already standing near the window, looking down on the market below. They reaches her to see that there was a large crowd gathered around something just beside one of the bridges. "What is it?" asked Carlotta, straining to catch a glimpse of whatever the people gathered around. Nearby guards moved in to order them back. Most relented, afraid to challenge the men with the weapons. But there was a certain anger among those who remained, and the guards had to use force to get them to back away. Pushing, shoving, and in one bold case, punching were utilized. As the people distanced from their point of focus, it became more clear to Boldir and Carlotta what they were looking at. It was a person, fully-armored, left laying in the street. Boldir's eyes widened as he recognized the figure. It was Mjoll.

Theodore Adrard Northpoint Midday A bright, yet harshly cold sun shone over the king's entourage, with no clouds at hand to dilute the already meager warmth emitted. An even harsher northern wind blew straight from the north, some would say right off the frozen continent of Atmora. Wherever the bone chilling draft emanated mattered little, as it froze Theodore all the same. His cheeks, red like tomatoes, while his nose stood out like a cherry atop a fruit pie. The plump monarch hunkered under a swath furs, bear and wolf and fox, all in an attempt to stave off the bitter, biting cold. Beside him rode his son Roland, dressed in a similar manner. In front and behind them, around thirty or so guards, some Vette archers while most where simple Adrard swordsmen. The dilapidated stone pathway wound round a curve, until the road straightened out and aimed right at the city of Northpoint. Tall buildings and taller battlements, stone mostly with mixes of spruce and pine, all hidden behind the near impenetrable stone walls. Thick, thicker than any in High Rock, the stone barricades proved to be more than enough defense for most of the city's history. Only through starvation was the city ever taken by an outside force, with the cost always totaling in the thousands of lives, as the walls had never been penetrated by an opposing army. As they neared the main gate, Theo cast ahead a man to alert the guardsmen to raise the portcullis and open the massive doors. Soon the party filed in three abreast, until the final man entered and the gate closed behind them. The city itself was lacking in grandeur, almost nothing like the southern capitals of Camlorn, Daggerfall, and Wayrest, although the later was still suffering from the corsair attacks of recent memory. The streets, frosted over from the cold, were almost as much mud as road, while ragged looking peasants shuffled past, silent as the strange party neared. The nicer, middle class district was somewhat more lively, although on a day like today most citizens had elected to stay inside, as the smell of burning wood and the smoke rising from almost every chimney was a testament to. Still, Northpoint was an attractive strategic point, bordered by the sea on two sides, and it's port a very important hub of trade. And to secure the town, Theodore had to treat with Lord Louise Traven, a man every bit the politician Theo was, although without the drive the now king possessed. To assure that his fiendish sister-in-law didn't send anyone to woo the Lord-of-the-Point, Theo had ordered Lord Estermont to carefully watch the road passing between the main southern highway and Northpoint, one that thankfully ran through Shornhelm territory. So it was that they'd intercepted at least one messenger from Lielle Rolston, offering up Shornhelm land, were it to be captured in the war, in return for Northpoint's fealty. Thinking back, Theodore scoffed at the attempt at negotiations. Foolish woman, your naïveté in such matters will be your downfall. I'm sure Lord Imbel advised you offer more, he was always much shrewder a player than you, but your vanity and bloated ego blocked any chance at that. I wouldn't be surprised if Imbel and Birian didn't send their own couriers, with concessions of their design. Maybe they slipped through, or your advisors aren't as bright as I suspect. They can't be very sharp if they still side with you. Lost in thought, Theodore almost didn't notice their arrival at the castle, which stood imposingly tall above the city, it's curtain wall just as large. Northpoint always impressed him, but he knew the lack of fertile land and the harsh climate prevented it from growing too powerful. Still, it was critical to the war and his rule, something Lord Traven knew quite well. So, for the first time in a long time, Theodore was on the lower end of the political game, being the one who must concede, and not the master asking for concessions. Not that it showed, as his face only had room for the stoic expression that fought off the cold. The group dismounted before the steps, Adrard and Vette men forming a line on either side to block onlookers from the king. Theodore and Roland entered the great hall, the instant warmth from numerous fires beginning to thaw their limbs and bones. Theodore brushed the frost and snot from his mustache, while Roland shook the sleet from his hair. Theodore was dressed in a layered tunic, black and brown, with similar pants. On top of that, he wore a large sleeved wolf fur cloak. Roland's tunic was brighter, blue and gold and hints of red, and he had on a hooded cloak rather than a fur one. Up ahead, the father and son could see a figure seated on the throne, while behind them shuffled in their guards, who followed the king like a pack of loyal dogs, eyeing as a potential threat. Approaching the throne, Theodore could see several other members of the Traven family, and not just the immediate kind. Banners depicting brown elk of house Traven, set on a green background, hung from ceiling to floor. The king stopped before the throne, eyes sparkling with kindness, or so he hoped. His head dipped slightly in a sort of bow, but it would be unbecoming for a king to go any further. "Lord Louise Traven, and family, Lord of Northpoint and keeper of the northern holds, your king requests an audience," Theodore said simply, wanting to get through the pleasantries rather quickly. He was also careful to not say 'commands' or 'orders' an audience, although it was his right to do both, it still wouldn't sit well with Lord Traven. "Well this is something." The Lord of Northpoint said in a deep, firm voice, His eyes moved up and down, studying Theodore and his entourage. "Almost a year ago, my king demanded my audience halfway across High Rock over matters regarding elven warships passing north and east, through my waters. Some weeks ago, my king demanded my audience halfway across High Rock to attend his coronation... and execution, as it would be." Lord Traven glanced over to a young man standing to the side, likely a cousin, given similar traits such as the same dark hair and slender jawline. "Garrus, what was it that you called him the other day?" "King-For-A-Day, sir." That brought a dry, cold chuckle out of Northpoint's lord as he turned back to Theodore. "Yes, that was it. Fitting. Now where was I? Ah, I was telling you things you already knew, wasn't I? Here's something you likely didn't know: three days ago, I received a letter, this one from my queen, requesting my aid. And now, here you stand, my king requesting audience. I must admit, the sudden royal requests are a refreshing change of pace from the demands I'm used to." A slight smile slipped across his lips. "But now I ramble. You're here, and I'm here. You have your audience, your majesty." Theodore didn't smile, he was in no mood to smile, as this man pinched his every last nerve. His face was stoic though, as he couldn't afford to reveal his displeasure. He presumes to mock me, does he? Mustn't let it show, that would only make him that much more insufferable, Theordore thought. "A sensible assessment if I ever heard one," Theodore said plainly, it being his turn to inspect Lord Traven and his entourage, his chin held high as it swiveled with his head to take in the entire family. "We attempted to stop all messengers, but there was never any doubt one would get through. Usurpers have a way getting under people's skin," with that, Theo briefly narrowed his eyes at Lord Traven, but soon his face became stone-like again, "And it is this usurper I come to speak to you about. You know the circumstances of his trial, but yet you abstained from voting, and I can't help but wonder, why that is. Many, many people thought the evidence overwhelmingly in may favor, yet you did not. Have some reservations, do we, Lord Traven?" "Reservations?" The corner of Lord Traven's lip twisted up. "I suppose that would be the word for it, yes. I won't deny it. I have some reservations. That entire week was a mess. Our long-time ruler finally sucumbs to his illness and his heir turns traitor, losing his power along with his head, that's when his allies immediately came together and began preparing for war, as any good allies would. The strange thing though, is that your own military forces were already prepared, and had been for some time. I must say, if you were truly preparing them for a conflict down south, with the witch elves, you could not have had better timing... and I am sure that this is in fact, the case." His face looked stern as he said it, but those last words were laced with sarcasm. "but if you saw this war coming, your use of the term 'usurper' would be rather ironic, would it not?" Lord Traven smiled. "My reservations came solely from caution, my king." "Caution is a virtue we both share, and as such I have had my forces at the peak of preparation, all in anticipation for the next Great War. I of course couldn't have foreseen the treachery by the late Lord Rolston, but it is a fitting use for my army to put down these traitors, who chose to side with those who would kill their own kin, without warrant," Theodore said, his face still as stone like as a statue. "It is bold to insinuate I may be the usurper, Lord Traven, yet you have never been one to shy away from bold words. I respect a man willing to speak his mind, but I would not suggest continuing that line of speech," Theodore's gaze hardened, eyes narrowing with resentment. "Very wise," Lord Traven said, brushing past the threat as if he had not even heard it, "-even when neither of your predecessors made public mention of involvement with the war, you prepared for it. Perhaps you are the most worthy king we've had in some time." Lord Traven's smile faded, and his typical stoic expression returned. He did not appear in any hurry to apologize for his insinuation. "Regardless of your level of preparedness for this unexpected war you march into, your enemies, this... usurper, clearly feel far more strongly about the circumstances of your rise to power than I, and as you can see, I have made no move to support them." He leaned forward in his throne, "Perhaps I am reading you wrong, but if I am not, I would ask: have I given you cause to believe that I am your enemy?" "Not as f-" a fit of violent coughing overtook Theodore, wracking his whole body with shakes. He pulled out a handkerchief, and continued coughing into it for several seconds, and as it stopped, he quickly shoved the unseemly neckerchief in his pocket. "Seems this blasted weather has brought me down with a cold. As I was saying, however, as far as I know, you have given me no reason to count you among those that seek to destroy me. However, you have not given me many reasons to count you among those that fully accept my rule either. You straddle the fence, it seems, not a poor position but a side must be chosen at one point or another. I am sure I could influence your choice, in some way," Theodore flashed a smile, but it vanished like an assassin in the shadows. Theo stood regally still, his presence that of one who had been king for years rather than weeks. Lord Traven leaned back a bit. "I am glad we can speak of this as it is. You are right, of course. I have made no decision to help either you or your enemies. Why rush it when both sides need me? I am no fool. Our good queen's strategists know that they are less prepared. They would have me flank your forces as you travel to meet her. It's the only way that they can almost guarantee a victory. On the other hand, you cannot safely move on her with me at your back, and my numbers would be a significant bolster to your own. A potentially game changing bolster, even. Even so, I see no reason to throw away the lives of my own men for either of you. At least, not yet. Please do tell me how you believe you can influence me in this." Theodore smiled, and chuckled a bit, before resuming his stone-faced expression. Clearing his throat, and glaring at Lord Traven, he said, "Your one mistake is to believe you are essential to my effort. Crucial, but not essential. Lord Estermont is a perfectly capable leader, and our plans, while benefited by your possible allegiance, would manage well enough. But I refuse to take any chances, even the slightest ones. I know Estermont is looking for a wife, and my dear mother-in-law is more than happy to take your younger sons and nephews as wards, so I think these concessions are reasonable." "Your concessions are a marriage proposal and the opportunity to send my own kin to live in Daggerfell? I admit, my sons could almost surely learn a thing or two from Lady Gaerhart," a brief, knowing smile flashed but was gone in an instant, "but what does my family gain from joining with Estermont? Queen Rolston would make my eldest son her one-day king if I were to only win this war for her. Perhaps the offer would be more tempting if he had seen more than eleven winters. Though I admit, I don't relish in the thought of my son being raised as a figurehead's puppet. "I could let my daughter squeeze out Lord Estermont's lordlings, but..." Traven's eyes shifted, for the first time, to Roland. "I'm sure she would much prefer to do the same for a prince." While the idea was obviously foreseen by Theodore, as he brought Roland along in the first place, he had not wanted to broach it himself, so as to let Lord Traven find he was the architect of the deal, and thus stroke the northern lord's ego. Sometimes, being a good politician meant not always being the engineer of every idea. Now, Theodore had to work his brand of magic so that the deal was favorable to himself, Estermont, and Traven, which would mean juggling all three men's wishes. His allies were his most important resource, the fist with which to crush rebellion, or a force to seat his son on the throne should Theo die. "A rather splendid proposal, Lord Traven. I dare say that it does offer you many more benefits then sending a boy off to wed a soon to be dead false "queen." A do abhor you calling her that, if you must know. But I will quiet my tonguenon the matter, so we may work out the particulars of this deal. Your daughter's hand is what you offer, but I ask which one, as it is the most pertinent question of the day. I recall you have two, and if I am not mistaken, they are both unaccounted for and of age. Will you present them to me, and of course to my son, Roland, as well?" Theodore turned his stoic gaze over to the large family that grouped around the throne, like fish to the underbelly of a whalers maybe more aptly a shark, as he attempted to pick the daughters out from their brief encounters at some social function in the past. Lord Traven nodded. "Of course." He looked over to a short, brown-haired man standing to the side. "Go and fetch Lyenna and Abelle. Both should be attending their classes at the moment." "Yes, my lord." the young man said before hurrying off. "So," Lord Traven began as he turned back to Theodore, "I know how we gain from this marriage. But what of this war? I have my own people to take care of, and not many of them care one way or another if my daughter one day sits on a throne. A good lord does not remain so in the eyes of his subjects when he makes them fight a war for his own gain alone. I would see more economically aligned concessions besides the marriage. No doubt damages will be expected to be paid when this is over. I would see a portion of that in Northpoint's coffers. A sizable portion, untaxed." "I will see what we can do, Lord Traven. I have Duke Jhared Mon organizing our monetary assets, as well as upgrading contracts with the East Empire Trading Company, and with Henry Leland, who has given us a sizable portion of his fortune in exchange for a title, and a prominent place in Wayrest once we win. Hopefully these men can allow us to stay above the cusp of debt, so that none of our lands must shoulder the burden alone. Also, there will be plenty of profit to be made from the coffers of the rebels, and as I understand "to the victor go the spoils." Does this suit you, or would you like to alter the deal further?" Theodore asked, smiling his grin that some would say held a hint of condescendence. Lord Traven seemed contemplative for a moment, but finally nodded. "Yes, these terms are suitable. Your son will wed my daughter, and Lady Gaerhart will take in my sons and kin as wards. In good faith to my new king, I will trust you to insure that Northpoint is properly compensated for its efforts." "I have another stipulation I think you would like, Lord Traven. Your second daughter, is unwed, yes? Because I know the youngest Estermont boy, a sixteen year old, to also be unwed, and of age. It is not an ideal situation for her to marry, but with the previous proposal of you sister marrying Lord Estermont, she could blossom under both of them. And with war incoming, his prospects could improve drastically. We could have a triple wedding, at the end of the week," Theodore said the last part with enthusiasm, trying to sell the deal. "A triple wedding, yes I like the sound of that." Traven sounded genuine enough. "My younger daughter, Abe-" He was interrupted by a loud door being shut hard. The little brown-haired servant from earlier came forth with two girls in tow. Both had long hair that matched their father's, and strikingly similar facial features, with green eyes and slender jaws. No one could ever doubt that they were sisters. Or that they were Traven's children for that matter. "And here they are now." Lord Traven motioned for them to step forward. They did so without a word. The shorter one, who also looked somewhat younger, gave no trace of emotion, but the taller and more shapely of the two wore a genuine looking and friendly smile, the biggest difference between her and her father. "My daughters. Lyenna and Abella. Beauties, aren't they? Each of them will be more than happy to carry out their duty. My sister however, I will not speak for." Roland jumped ahead of his father to speak, and bowed in front of Lyenna, "As beautiful as the dawn, my lord. If I may introduce myself, I am Prince Roland Adrard, of Camlorn, dearest Lyenna. Our fathers wish us to be married, a notion which I hope suits you, and does not come as too much of a shock." Theodore raised his eyebrows, quite amused at his son's flirtatious and flattery filled greeting. "I hope my son's words do not offend you, Lord Traven, he means well, but is a romantic. Your daughters are very beautiful indeed. I hope they are not too surprised by the sudden proposal." Lyenna's vibrant smile grew even warmer at Roland's flattery, but it was Traven who spoke. "He'll make an interesting king, one day. As for my daughters, I am sure that any surprise or shock will fade." "As I would hope. Abella, your father and I have also pledged you to Lord Estermont's youngest son. I will write to both the Estermont family and my own family, so that we can have the weddings in the coming week," Theodore said, glancing at the younger girl before looking back to her father. Roland cleared his throat and smiled at his soon to be bride, before turning to her father, just as Theodore did. "My lord, I would like to get to know your daughter further, so that we are not total strangers as our wedding comes. May I take her to your library, so that we make speak more personally? Along with a chaperone, of course." Lyenna turned back to glance at her father. She nodded as he met her gaze. "You may." Traven said stoutly, before his eyes went back to Theodore. Roland and Lyenna left, along with what appeared to be a ladies maid to watch over them. "I will talk to my sister tonight, so I would recommend holding off on Lord Estermont for the time being. That said, I think it is obvious enough by now that this alliance is a go. With these terms, you have my support. Which means I am going to war." he looked back to the man Theodore assumed was his cousin. "Garrus, go and speak with Thonir. Tell him the news." "Of course." the man was gone in an instant. Traven looked back to Theodore and smiled slyly. "You will be glad to know that there will be no need to wait for us to prepare. We already have." Theodore raised his eyebrows, but it was more gesture than actual shock. "I am not surprised, as it was to be expected by a man as wise as you. I will still write Estermont, as he will come for his sons marriage whether he marries or not. My family should be here in a few days, as I suggested that they be ready to come at a moments notice, in case Roland was to marry. I had to be prepared for all circumstances, you see, although not procuring your aid was not one that I would accept. I would like to speak to you more privately, perhaps later tonight? So that we can discuss the plans decided upon by the rest of our alliance. Of course, I would like to see my room first, if I may. Allows me to rest a little after our trip and you to talk to your sister, who I assume will need some persuading." "Of course. The road is not a short one." Traven looked again to the servant who'd fetched his daughters. "Escort King Adrard to the Imperial guest quarters. They ought to prove suitable. As for tonight," he said, addressing Theodore, "I agree, a meeting in private would be appropriate." "Thank you, Lord Traven," Theodore said, repeating the slight bow he had made at the beginning of their meeting. "If you will fetch me whenever you deem it apt, I would be most grateful." Theodore then followed the servant, eventually arriving in the quarters designated for him and his son. They were...modest, to say the least. Two rooms, with beds sizable for two people, a latrine area, and a desk. But the overall feel was bland, with narrow, slit-like windows, no tapestries, a shoddy looking rugs. Northpoint was always a little backward when it came to decor and fashion. No matter, it will make no difference, Theodore thought, as he unpacked his bags and laid down for a much needed, and deserved, nap. ** It was several hours later, after a brief but well cooked supper. According to Lord Traven, his cooks were the best in High Rock, which Theodore doubted until he tasted the delicious cuisine of orange zest grilled duck, roasted garlic goose, elk steak, and slow cooked venison. He joked how the cooks should've been included in the deals, which elicited a fair amount of laughter, and even Lord Louise Traven chuckled. Theodore was then asked to join his lordship in his drawing room, which the king was happy to oblige. The-Lord-of-the-Point was already waiting for him, seated on a comfortable looking couch, with a glass of wine in hand. "Lord Traven," Theodore greeted, taking a seat opposite his host. "Your majesty." Traven raised his glass in greeting. "I trust you enjoyed your dessert well enough." "The soufflé was superb, and the tarts impeccable. As I said earlier, your cooks are a rare breed indeed. How ever did you find them?" Theodore asked, genuinely interested, as his girth attested to. "Old Muira was my father's cook, and likely his father's as well, old as she is. She trained some of the others, and it wasn't long before we were well-known for our cuisine. It was one of the few bright things in Northpoint. Talented cooks sometimes come here, just wanting to be a part of it. I don't deal with them. That's up to Muira. Though I hear plenty are deemed unworthy and sent packing." "I guess it only takes one to start a chain of excellence. Something I hope to do as well," Theodore said, much more relaxed than he was earlier. "Yes... A chain of excellence. I like the way that you word things, your majesty." He took a sip of wine before setting the glass on a table beside the couch. When he looked at Theodore, his expression was as serious and business-like as ever. "I'm sure by now that you know I am no fool. I was not going to press this in public, as it would have only made things worse between us, but I will not lie to you; I still believe every word and every implication that I made in the throne room... not that I care about any of that. It benefits my lands as much as anyone's, but I must ask, why? Starting a 'chain of excellence' is no small matter. And few who attempt to do so live to be as old as Muira. Why do you want to be king?" "An astute question. My life expectancy is not as long as it would have been had I stayed a simple lord. But, I did not see my brother-in-law to be an adequate replacement for in the death of my father-in-law. He was vain, self-absorbed, a spineless coward. It was his intention to sit out the next war as best he could. I could not let a man like that rule. I realized this many, many years ago, when I got him drunk after his wedding. It wasn't long after I realized I wasn't the only person who felt this way. My mother-in-law, Lord Estermont, my sister Lady Phoebe Ryger, and her husband Lord Jadier Ryger, and now their son Lord Colin Ryger after they passed on, they all agreed with me," Theodore was still relaxed, but his face was calm and stoic. "So it was because you saw our ruler as inadequate. You follow noble motivations for a schemer. Indeed, these are poor times for weak rulers." "Precisely my point. The ends justify the means, I believe. It was not my only motivation however. I felt a duty, to those families that stood with me, who supported my cause from early on. And now, I feel that same duty towards your family, now that we side together. The Lady Gaerhart taught me that, as she was adamant that family comes before everything, am I consider my allies extended family." "That will become very literal between you and I soon enough." "Exactly. Well, I should let you in on our war plan, which we decided on before I left. I will lead a fleet south, with half my men and all of Daggerfall's while Lord Estermont leads half his men, half my men, and the legion men via land to attack Wayrest. We hope to catch them off guard, and surround their force. Meanwhile, you will lead your men, and half of Estermont's to relieve the pressure on Farrun, which I expect to be besieged soon. Is that suitable bough for you, Lord Traven?" "More than suitable. Farrun is strong. Between Estermont's forces and my own, it should not prove difficult to break Rolston forces against it. What of your son? Is he to march with you?" "I am glad you approve. As for my son, I have not decided. I would like for him to accompany me, but that brings the risk-" Theodore broke into coughing again, bringing the handkerchief up to his mouth," Excuse me. As I was saying, it brings the risk we both die in the same battle. But, I ultimately think he will come with me, unless you have some idea I find more appealing." "That you will find more appealing? No, I doubt it. But I would share it anyway. With our recent concessions, your son's life is as valuable to me as one of my own. Farrun will be an important battle, yes. But there is no doubt in its outcome. Unless the city falls before I arrive there, they will have no strategic advantage, no passes and no chance to flank. The same can not be said of the south. I would feel more secure in his well being if he were to march with my own forces." "Indeed, relieving the siege of Farrun and then besieging Jehanna will be a simple, if monotonous maneuver. I may consider your option, Lord Traven, because I agree with the concept of keeping him safe. Of course, at that age, he will no doubt want to join in the fray. If I do ultimately agree, I would trust you to keep him safe. As I said, family above all. No doubt your daughter will find Camlorn a suitable home during the war, and as my wife is pregnant, she can hopefully provide some youthful vigor to the birthing process." "Thank you for your consideration. I can assure you that if he travels with me, his safety will be of the utmost concern. As for my daughter, I have no doubt that she will do well in Camlorn and with your wife. It is not her first experience with either the city or an expectant mother. Nor her second or third for that matter." "Indeed, she attended our Winter Solstice Ball two years ago, I believe. It was our turn to host it. And I'm glad she has experience, as it has been awhile since we had any children. Nineteen years, in fact. It will hopefully be a welcome change." "Edre and I never went more than six. It has been a welcome change every time." Traven stood up, "I much admit, this has been far more enlightening than our public meeting, but the night grows late, and I grow tired. Is there anything more that you would like to discuss before morning?" "No, I found our conversation to be quite helpful indeed. And, I think, I will allow my son to accompany your troops to Farrun and Jehanna. I will talk to my wife, to see what she feels, but I believe she will follow my lead. Now, I will release you, and myself, to get some much needed sleep. Good night, Lord Traven." Lord Traven bowed and wordlessly exited the room, leaving his wine glass behind. Theodore bowed as well, before following the Northpoint lord out the door.

Lucenius, Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Night On yet another frigid night in Dawnstar, Jon sat inside alone, near the fireplace. He was busy reading another batch of information that had just come in, as well as progress reports from his members. It wasn't his favorite way to spend his evening. It's called work for a reason, I suppose. He was about to begin on the next stack of papers, when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly slid the papers into the chest which was positioned perfectly beside him. He didn't open the door just yet, however. Instead, he just called out from behind the door. "Name?" "Wraith." A cold and dark voice responded. At this hour? Splendid. He didn't hesitate to open the door, as Lucenius didn't really pose a direct threat to him. Or at least, he had no reason to anyway. "And what brings you back into town?" Wraith was wearing an expensive looking Black Longcoat, along with dark leather gloves and dark leather boots. On his shoulder was a blood red wolf path. His cold purple eyes shone under the darkness, and half his face was practically shrouded in the night. He flashed his trademark smile, filled with arrogance and a hidden smugness, "Is that any way to greet a friend, Jon? Information." Jon just nodded his head, and returned a half smile. "Oh, don't act like you're offended. It's far too cold for me to be pleasant at the door. Besides, most guests announce to the host that they will be coming, no? Come in, I'm eager to know what information you're wanting. Though I have my suspicions." "Oh do you?" Lucienus stepped inside Jon's home, revealing a messy sight. The candle light illuminated Lucienus's face, half of which was blackened and heavily scarred. Jon was very quick to notice the disfigured face his acquaintance was sporting, but he didn't mention it or even acknowledge it for that matter. They would get to that in due time. He motioned for Lucenius to take a seat in the chair across from where Jon had been sitting before his visitor arrived. "I've always got an idea, don't I? Can't get to where I am by just letting people tell you what's going on, can you? Now, where do you want to begin?" "Status on the Imperial Military Legion, Skyrim's Army, and if possible Hammerfall's mercenary force. Troop deployments would be appreciated if possible." "I figured as much. Now, I have some information on all of that. Nothing extremely top secret, of course. I'm not in the military business, persay. However, you're already aware I don't just give out this kind of information. I don't enjoy the thought of what the ramifications could be should the information get into the wrong head. So it's only fair I ask, what exactly do you want it for?" His tone was polite, but stern. It was a well known fact that Jon wasn't one to bend his own rules. Also a well known fact about him was his extreme dislike of being lied to by a supposed ally. He expected the truth out of Lucenius, as that's what he would give him. Lucienus voice, was strict, and unemotional, "Analysis of critical weak points, possible exploitation's, and it's flexibility." "That's a start. But I'm gonna need more. Possible exploitations. To what extent and for what purpose? Blackmail? Or personal use? Oh, and by the way. Your face is quite obviously not in the same condition as last time I saw it. Would that have anything to do with the disturbance in the Imperial City I heard about?" Jon was listening quite intently now. Lucenius was treading on thin ice with his request. "No, a run in with the Daemon of a Thousand Faces, he sunfired my face, haven't bothered to repair it yet.. And the information is for my own personnel use." "Ahh, I see. And personal use, huh? Bloodwolves?" "You could say that." "Please answer in absolutes. Yes or no. Compromising the security of a land isn't something I take lightly." "Yes and no. Some information will be used in counter measures against the invading forces by our unit, we wont be sharing with the Dominion Justicars. Other information, will be used solely by me, and my master, Saladin." He laughed at Jon's other statement, "Were mercenaries are we not? It's what we do." "I understand your point obviously. But I've never been a mercenary in that sense. I don't often do war, not like you. Not like Eduard. So my priorities differ in that regard. Besides, you brought up Cyrodiil. You're obviously aware that Eduard is still technically in the Imperial Legion, right? You can understand my reluctance to give up any information that may end up compromising his safety. So I'll be taking many of my own countermeasures should I give you the information I have. As for what you are using it for... that sounds legitimate. But Luc... Wraith... come on. You know better than to hide from me. Just explain what you and... Saladin need it for. Otherwise, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you. It's just too risky." Though it seemed like Jon was beginning to close up, he started to gather some journals and books and putting them on his side of the table. He made it very clear that Lucenius wasn't to touch, however. "I'm well aware of that dark brotherhood fil-" He stopped himself for a second, his face becoming extremely pained. As quickly as it came it went, Lucienus's face once again was a cold mask, "Of the assassin. He will be in no danger, as I said, the information will be used to analysis weak points in the allied invasion. Critical strikes. Supply line sabotage. The works. Edaurd is a specialist, I doubt we will run into him if he's deployed." "Careful, Lucenius. I'm aware you don't like his new affiliates. Neither do I. But you will speak respectfully. You're in his house, after all. As for your request... Let me get this perfectly, perfectly straight. You're asking me to give you information to assist in cracking the upcoming allied invasion. An alliance which includes both the places I take residence in. You better have a damn good explanation. We're friends. But don't take that as a free pass. It doesn't mean as much as you might think it does." Jon was obviously a little annoyed by Lucenius' outburst, and offended by his request so far. "You misunderstand the duel meaning of "critical analysis"." He said, in a slightly confusing way, also shooting the same smile as before "Loyalty to the end, after all?" "Alright, fair enough. So now it seems to me as though you want me to give you this information so that you can analyze the information, find the weak points, and help fix them? I could give the same information to Eduard and have him point out any and all flaws within hours. Unless you want to enlighten me to some other possible meaning to critical analysis. And if there is one, I encourage you spill it now. It's only continuing to get later. And I'm a very busy man." "Duel meanings, as I said. There's no befit from Eduard doing it, since he isn't in the Dominion's pay roll. Misdirection, Deception, and suggestion. My unit is, and there our way's of avoiding the Justicars eye from small...transgressions. As good as Eduard is, he doesn't have the...benefits, me and my CO have. Also, Eduard isn't rolling in septims, my bank vault in the Imperial City, is as you know, very fat from the centuries of doing jobs. Unravel the package from the inside, as they say..." "And your CO isn't the strategist Eduard is. As for the money, you're looking at one of the best sources available. Besides, he'd be telling the Legion, Wraith. They've got some coin to their name, especially with the Empress supporting them like she does. The sword cuts both ways, and you know it. I'm all for tricking the enemy and getting paid for it. But you're making this far more risky than I want it to be by keeping all of your secrets. Have I ever divulged sensitive information between us before? The answer is an emphatic no. So, what is with all the hesitation?" "The legion is in turmoil, my master made sure of that. Tullius's death divided the factions even further. Saladin trusts Lord General Ceno to put it back together, and make it stronger then before. Until then, however, we cannot rely on it. Edaurd is also under strict operational guidelines. I and my unit, however, aren't." Lucienus ran his hand through his jet black hair, "A Wraith is the ghostly image of someone who died. That's what I am, an image of the man once known as Lucienus Valerius , for all I i'm concerned, he died in the fires of Castle Liliac. I cant have secrets. What I do have however, are truths. The war is going to be brutal and costly. Pressure will be needed. Me and Saladin intend to apply that pressure from the inside of Valenwood. Cause little by little untilit bursts." "Evil, versus Armageddon , am I wrong?" "You assume things about Eduard that aren't necessarily true. You may want to get an update on his situation in the future, though he isn't the topic at hand. Neither is what you are, or want to be. Sorry to be so blunt, I'm sure you're used to it with me. The fact of the matter is, I don't deal with war tactics enough to make this call anymore. I will consort with Eduard on the matter when he returns home tomorrow morning. Stay around town, but not in it. We'll talk more tomorrow. Besides, I'm about to have more company." As he said that, both him and Lucenius could hear a knock on the door. "Is that alright with you?" "Fine." Lucienus, opened up his palm, "Remember Jon. Tomorrow, I cannot linger here long." As if consumed in shadow, Lucienus vanished in a cloud of darkness, Theatrics, always with the theatrics. "Alright, you three can come in now. My guest has left." With that, two large Nords and a very battle torn Redguard entered the house. They had much to discuss.

Skjari Outskirts of Leyawiin Noon The trip south had been mostly quiet since they set out from Bravil. The most exciting that had happened was that Maximus and Bormir had gotten into a brief fistfight over one of their arguments and that they were ambushed by some bandits, though after Karsh had left to carry out his orders, Skjari had begun to cast a detection spell with regular intervals. So when over a dozen bandits, most ill-equipped except for a few wielding elven weaponry, charged against them, they group of mages had their spell already charged and a few atronachs and elemental bolts later only corpses remained of the ambushing bandits. The rest of the trip was uneventful. The day after the ambush the walls of the port city of Leyawiin appeared in the distance. When they got closer to the walls the sound of people inside the city didn't give the feeling of trade that masses of people haggling in the market would give but instead the air was filled dread and strife. Guessing from the nature of the shouting and screaming of masses, another riot was in effect in the city. Skjari dismounted his horse and the other mages did the same. "Bormir you get the horses to the stable and then catch up with us." "Yes, sir." Bormir didn't sound that eager about that task and he looked both rather disappointed and even annoyed. Skjari didn't pay any attention to Bormir's disappointed response and strode quickly through the gates and into the city towards the source of the sound of an angered mob. Walking past the chapel and further south till he reached a large square. Two bodies of people were gathered at either side of the square. The one Skjari's left consisted mostly of humans but also a few argonians. The other side was purely khajiit, while the group of khajiit was smaller than the other group, their shouts were equally as loud and vicious. Both groups stood less than a dozen yards apart, both shouting and flailing with their arms in a threatening manner. Both trying to insult and provoke the other but none daring to throw the first rock or punch. Looking a bit more carefully around Skjari could see that no guard were in sight, the rioting crowds were left to their bickering and non one really attempting to stop it. After a moment of assessing the situation Skjari charged a spell and released. A large roaring dragon made up flame appeared where he stood, the dragon standing on two legs and wings stretched out and the head roaring down on the masses. It was little more than a light show but the dragon was imposing nonetheless. The crowd silenced and looked horrified at the large dragon that had now gone silent starred at them with wing outstretched. "Disperse, disperse! Go back to you homes. This riot is over for now." Skjari shouted at the masses with magically enhanced voice so all could hear. A few on both sides started to protest but the dragon drenched their voices in another roar. This time people got the message and started to leave, some more eagerly than others while some were also quite reluctant to leaving and only left by slowly backing away from the dragon. Skjari waited and slowly walked towards the center of the square with the dragon and mages in tow. There he waited till the square had emptied and things had quieted down. The fiery dragon dispersed into the air and Skjari looked around again to see if the guards may finally decide to show their faces. The square remained empty for several moments, then finally, the door to an orange, two-story building slowly opened, and a black bearded man bearing the golden horse emblem of Leyawiin on his coat stepped outside. The man wore a sword at his belt and chain-mail under his coat. He was obviously a guard. The guard looked off in the direction the most Khajiit crowd had retreated in, then made his way towards Skjari. "Do you often leave your duties to others?" Skjari said to the guard as soon as he came close enough. "N-no sir." the guard stammered. Clearly he'd seen the apparation of the dragon, and was still a little shaken up. "But there's hardly much I can do when fights like that one break out." "True, but luckily a fight hadn't fully started yet and if a fight had started, it might have taken a real dragon appearing to separate them. But it's your job that neither gets close enough to start a fight." "Well," the guard stammered, "I uhh... I couldn't do much to stop them sir. I mean not all by my lonesome anyway. I tried shouting but that didn't a bit 'o good." "And where's your colleagues? Taking a break in the tavern?" "Some might be." the guard admitted, "We ain't got numbers we used t'have. And most of 'em do their guard'n at the other side'a town when these things start up, ya follow me?" "Bloody cowards." Better send a letter to Grommash and order some troops down here to get these guards to grow a spine. "I'll try to deal with your friends later. For now; do you know what started this riot?" "If you mean, 'who' started it, then no, I don't. I only arrived after the shouting started. But just seein' the sorts involved, and going by the other fights like it, I got no doubt that it was either them Khajiit, or a some of the Khajiit haters. Plenty of both 'round here, and they been starting all sorts of riots and such. They usually don't end well unless guards show up. This time, I was alone, and a bunch o' those men threw stones at me when I tried to stop 'em. Usually it ain't like that. Usually a few of us show up and stop things from gettin' bad." "Well I'm here from the Imperial City to try to put an end to these riots. Any suggestion on where to start on that? And also, is the count in the castle? I want to speak with him as well." "The Imperial City ,eh? Well I can tell you that the Count oughta be up in the castle. He'd be holding court right now. There's no shortage of folks who've got things they want him to hear. As for the riots, I can't say much. Always someone different that's startin' 'em. Usually it's Khajiit, they got some o' those extremist types. The New Renjia... or Renrija, I don't know how to say it, but the second word's Krin. They got a lot of people riled up. And between you'n me, the other folks ain't always much better. Most are scared with the Dominion so close, and they ain't fans of the Khajiit because of it." "Well great. I'm off to the castle then. And you go get your friends and make sure they don't try to riot again." He then turned to his mages who were standing and talking lowly behind him, a few were also toying with a little spell in the hand like a small fireball. "Lets go." He ordered them and started walking east towards the towering castle in the distance. After passing a few streets he cam to a large and very, very tall bridge, crossing the river of the Niben to the big and tall island in the middle where the keep and the castle stood with high walls and towers. As Skjari walked across he couldn't help but to look down, a few of his mages did the same and some of them almost immediately got dizzy from the height. Skjari was used to the tallest peaks in Skyrim, so the height didn't bother him. The bridge itself had massive arch tall and wide enough for even some of largest ships to be able to pass through. Looking to the north he could see another such massive stonework that bridge the deep ravine between the town and the castle. Once the through the gates of the the walls on the other side of the bridge he was greeted by the courtyard that was filled with trees.The green foilage decorated the sides of the roads leading through the courtyard, but the trees and plants were unkept and the courtyard looked more like a forest with roads than a courtyard. Not paying much attention to the guards or the foliage Skjari quickly walked through the courtyard and into the castle. The large hall had a high ceiling like most castles, and long green and gold banners of Leyawiin adorned either side, leading to a staircase at the far end, with a doorless archway at the top, most likely leading to the throne room. A pair of guards stood at either side of both the large entrance doors they passed through, and the far archway. "Hold it!" Not long after passing through the large doors, they were approached by another guard. He was a plain enough looking middle-aged Imperial who, judging by the bags under his eyes, hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. "Are you here to see the Count?" he asked, eyeing their weapons all the while. "Yes I am." Skjari answered calmly while resting his left hand the sword's pommel. The guard nodded, and looked over his shoulder to the far end of the hall at the pair of guards standing beside the archway. One of them briefly peered through it before turning back and shaking his head. The speaking guard nodded again. "I'm sorry, but Count Douar is currently holding court. You will have to wait your turn if you wish to speak with him." He eyed Skjari's company again, undoubtedly aware of the fact that they currently outnumbered and were better equipped than the guards in the room. Still, if he was afraid, he hid it well. "And before even that, I would know who you are." "I'm here from the Imperial City to look into these riots. Should I go back and tell everyone the count is too busy entertaining quests rather dealing with the problems of this county?" The guard's frown momentarily tightened. "If you think he's taking social calls right now, you are wrong. Count Douar is discussing the riots with another as we speak." He composed himself. "Though, if you are here to help, then we should be glad to have you. I can see if the Count will allow you to enter now, considering that your business relates, but I will need to know who you are so I can tell him something other than a "big Nord from the capital" is here to see him." "Official title: court mage. Unofficial duties, as you can guess; keeping this Empire running." "Court mage?" A look of familiarity crossed the guard's face. "Then you're the one people have been talking about, aren't you? The one that killed that traitor General. I'll be right back, sir." He turned and headed through the archway. The remaining guards in the room watched Skjari's company uneasily for a couple of minutes before he returned. "Count Douar will see you now." "Good." And Skjari quickly walked passed the guards and into the throne room. The throne room was much like the first hall in appearance, but with more guards, a balcony, and a throne. From the high ceiling hung many Leyawiin banners, and lit braziers lined the walls. The throne sat up a small flight of stairs, putting it just above the audience hall. Count Inius Douar leaned forward in it. He had to, as otherwise his feet would have only just scuffed the floor below. He appeared young, twenty years at the most, and wore a fine green coat with a golden horse covering much of the front. He was engaged in conversation with a man in a fine, dark red outfit when Skjari arrived, but broke away when he noticed them. "Tidings, Lord Snow-Strider," he said in a voice that was a bit lower than one would expect, given his appearance, "I hear that you are here on account of the riots." "That I am. And maybe you can give me a more detailed report on the situation?" The wizard said while he approached the throne. "I can try," said the young Count, "depending on what you already know. I am afraid that my own knowledge, and that of our guards is more limited than we'd like. That is why Treven is here." He motioned to the red-wearing man before him. "I can tell you the basics. That most of the fighting has been between the local Khajiit and our own Nibenese folk, and there is a Khajiit faction fashioning themselves the "New Renrijra Krin" that has been making our attempts at bringing the peace difficult. We think that they are at least in part from across the border. That's not to say that the locals have made it easy. I know for certain that many of the fights have begun thanks to our own citizens, on both sides." "I assure you, my Count," the red-wearing man butt in, "the Khajiit are of sole blame for any hostilities that have arisen. There have been men fighting them yes, but it is always in retaliation, not as an act of-" "Quiet!" barked a tall bald guard standing to the right of the throne. "Do not interrupt the Count when he is addressing another! And I know for a fact that there have been lynchings of unaffiliated Khajiit." Count Douar looked as if he might say something in the man's defense, but seemed to decide against it. "Treven here claims that the Khajiit are to blame, and that he even knows some of those who are members of these New Renrijra Krin. We are not so sure about the first part, but if these Khajiit are in fact a part of this extremist group, then it is certainly a matter of importance." Skjari just crossed his arms at the argumentation. "Well I'm sure there is someone of both sides that is riling each mob up. And I don't care if it's any of it is in retaliation right now, right now I want some stability. I would say we find at least one riot starter of both sides and execute them in public for treason. One of each will make sure we do not appear that biased so that they use the execution to cause another riot." "Are you mad?" shrieked the man named Treven, "I just told you that none of the men are guilty! Any non-Khajiit that you kill will be murder!" "Stuff it!" the bald guard said, turning to the Count, "Sir, I can have a suitable guilty man arrested for the northman's example within the hour, with your leave of course." Count Douar looked nervous. "I don't know... Father never held public executions when he was the Count." "Sir, with all due respect, this problem was never so prominent under your father." The guard glanced at Skjari, then back to the Count, "I believe that Lord Skjari had the right of it. After all, he came down here for a reason." The count didn't look happy, "Fine," he sighed, finally relenting as he turned to Skjari, "do as you must, and tell any of my guards that they are to assist you as you need." "Murderers!" shouted Treven as he headed from the room. "Don't expect any help from me!" Skjari placed a hand on the man's shoulder to stop him, along with a light paralysis spell to keep him from trying to break lose. "While you don't need to help with the human traitors, you should me catch some Krin cats, if your suspicions are correct. And if you don't help me, those Krin extremists will walk free. Free to cause more mayhem. You don't want that, right?" Treven's head moved slowly thanks to the spell gripping at him, but it was soon clear that he was shaking it, as if to say "No, he did not want that". Skjari lightened the spell. "So what do you plan to do about them?" "I can show you where they live," he answered slowly, "or any of the guards, if you don't have the time." "I got time." He turned to the count. "Don't have anyone arrested just yet. Have the guards dig up some evidence on who's inciting these riots. Go have them ask around, I'm sure someone knows who yelled the rallying cry for either side. Arrest them then when you're at least quite certain on whom to arrest." "Of course." The Count nodded at the bald guard beside him. "I'll gather a few men at the barracks and get straight on that." said the guard. "Problem as of late is getting competent men who are willing to actually help." "Short on guards or short on guards with a sense of duty?" Skjari asked before letting go off the red and black clothed man. "Both." he answered sadly. "I don't know how you handle recruitment here but I would say that you should go out and say you need more guards to help fight these khajiit extremists. Hopefully that might give people an alternative to starting riots against all the khajiit. Though then you might also get a few guards who are a bit too eager to fulfill that duty. Your choice. Just make sure I don't have to pull legionaries from the front to keep order in this city." "I'll see what I can do." the guard answered. "Anything else?" "Not for the moment." He turned to the man in red clothes. "Shall we?" He gestured with his hand to the exit. The man nodded shakily and headed out. He waited until they were well into the entrance hall before speaking. "So... I have two names. I don't know how important either of them are to the whole group, but I know for certain that they are in it. My friend swears that he heard them speaking of inciting another attack." "Who and where?" Skjari asked calmly and indifferently. "Do'Senji and Sholani. Sholani lives at the southwest end of town. Immediately across from the tavern there. It's the only house that isn't two stories in the area, so you can't miss it. Do'Senji isn't a resident, but he's staying at the Second Sun inn." "Good, I'll look into it. Now go get a drink to calm your nerves. You look like you could use it." He said and quickly turned away from them an and walked out of the castle before the man could respond. Once they've walked halfway through the courtyard he stopped and turned to his companions. "Once we're over the bridge, Bormir and Maximus will go find this Do'Senji at thee Second Sun. Just keep an eye on him and don't let anyone know you're doing so. The rest of you will follow me and see if we can't scare Sholani." "Yes, sir." They said in unison. But as they started walking again Bormir said to Maximus. "Just keep your dirty jokes to yourself." "Don't worry, I got other bad jokes to pester you with." Maximus replied jokingly. Bormir didn't reply and just rolled his eyes in a sigh. The kept walking till they came to other end of the bridge and Bormir and Maximus split away from the group. Skjari led the rest deeper into the southwestern part of the city. The people seemed to have calmed down from the earlier riot and things looked to be back to normal. But there was still an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Then at some point he felt he had gotten a bit lost and had to ask a guard for direction to the tavern. After walking around a little bit more they finally found the tavern and as the man in red had said, there was the house half as tall as all the others surrounding it, which made it stand out quite a lot. Skjari walked quickly across the street and knocked firmly at the door. There was a shuffling sound on the other side, and after a few seconds the door opened, revealing a short, Khajiit with brown fur and long ears. He wore typical enough middle class clothing. "Yes?" "We're here to ask about this New Renrijra Krin extremist group." Skjari said, trying to sound polite. The Khajiit nodded and opened the door to them. "Come in, then. I welcome any questions." Skjari was a little surprised and had expected a more nervous reaction. But he still kept a calm demeanor as he walked into the house with the other six mages in tow, with the two of them constantly eyeing the cat for any sudden moves. "Take a seat anywhere." said the Khajiit as he motioned towards several chairs and a couch. The room they were in was fairly sizable, consisting of both a sitting room and a dining area. "Thank you." Skjari sat down in the middle of the couch so he took up so much space as possible. One of the other mages tried sitting down as well but Skjari immediately gave him a stern look and he quickly walked away from the chair to the others to keep a watch in every direction. Skjari then turned to the khajiit. "What do you know about these terrorists?" "I know what others know." The Khajiit sat in a chair across from him. They are bandits and highwaymen, rioters and smugglers, and they bring mischief where there is peace. The name means something different in a Khajiit's tongue. Some would say it is "The Laugh of the Landless", and others "The Smiling Scum. And of course, they are impossible to find, for they deem it necessary to run." "What do you know about their activity in the city?" Skjari said and then glanced down on the floor and subtly cast a detection spell to see if someone was hiding in the cellar. A plump shape lit up, but it was impossible to see what it really was. The only thing certain that it was a living being of flesh and blood that was of this world. Skjari didn't show anything as he simply looked back at the khajiit. "Only that they exist here. Their whereabouts and movements are a unknown to me. Any other Khajiit would tell you the same." "Well someone must have been yelling the rallying cry for these riots. Not something you can do without stepping into public." "If the New Renrijra Krin start their riots with shouting, I know nothing of who is behind that. Perhaps it is other Khajiit? One does not have to be a terrorist to hate the oppressive." "You mind if we look around a little?" "Not at all." Skjari gave the other mages a quick nod and four of them started to slowly go around the house and look. "Do you know anyone by the name Do'Senji?" He then asked. The Khajiit blinked twice. "Do'Senji? He is the one staying at the inn, yes? I have met him, but do not truly know him." "How did you meet?" He took a moment, as if recounting the meeting. "It was of little importance. I bought a drink in the tavern adjoining the inn. He did the same. A few words were shared, they were not of interest. Just talk of my homeland." Skjari was thinking of what question to ask next when one of the mages shouted out that he had found something. It was a hatch hidden under a large dirty carpet. "Cellar door?" Skjari asked as his eyes trailed from the cat to the hatch in the floor and then back to the cat. The Khajiit nodded slowly. "It is little used." They remained silent as Edward that discovered the hatch started to climb down the ladder, followed Gildi. "There's a really big damn rat down here. Look's to be domestic though." Edward shouted back up the hatch. Slightly disappointed that it wasn't a terrorist, Skjari looked slightly curious at the khajiit. "A giant rat?" The Khajiit smiled and shrugged. "Her name is Jei'Ma. Bucket Child. We found her in a bucket." "A bit of an odd pet. Anyway, what do you think is the general opinion of the Krin among the khajiit in the city?" "It is mixed. Many respect them, as one respects a soldier who fights for his people, but most believe their methods go too far. Me? I am indifferent." Skjari looked around a little. "What do you work with?" "I am an assistant to Jeral, the woodworker across town." "Business going slow?" "Ehhh not as far as I know. But I am just an assistant." Edward came climbing up from the hatch in the floor, empty handed, and walked up to Skjari and whispered into his ear with the cover of a muffle spell before then backing off. Interesting. Skjari thought. "I think that's about it. Got other places to visit." He said as he rose up from the couch. A hint of surprise crossed the Khajiit's face, but was gone in an instant. "I hope this has helped you. Farewell." Skjari stretched out his hand to the khajiit. "Goodbye. And thank you for being cooperative." The Khajiit shook it. "May the heat be always on your back." And while in the middle of the handshake, Skjari quickly cast a spell that froze the cat and covered him in a thin icy layer. He chuckled and was about to say something when Edward interrupted. "At least Maximus isn't here to pull any lame ice jokes." Skjari looked at Edward a bit surprised while also hiding a slight feeling of both disappointment and relief for not getting to tell that lame ice joke that he actually almost just did tell. "Anyway, Edward and Gildi, get this cat to the castle dungeon. If they doubt that he's a terrorist, just show them the note you found." "Yes, sir." The said in unison and the two mages got to work of trying to lift the cat off the ground while the rest headed outside. "Lets find this inn." Skjari said briefly before quickly walking away in one direction. After another minute of swift walking they arrived at the right inn, the Second Sun Inn. Skjari quietly told the mages to wait outside and cover any possible escape routes while he walked in. They gave him a nod and spread out. Then Skjari entered the tavern and looked around the room to see if Maximus and Bormir were there. The tavern wasn't much, just a bar counter and half a dozen tables with two or three chairs at each. There were mostly khajiit in the inn but also a few humans. Among them were Bormir and Maximus, sitting at the counter and drinking some kind of ale and talking magic. Skajri sat down besides them and they stopped talking. "So who is it?" Skjari asked calmly. "The guy sitting in the corner holding a bottle and looks to have passed out from all the booze." Bormir said and then leaned closer. "Though I think he's not even had a drop of alcohol." He whispered. Skjari left the counter before the innkeeper could offer anything. Walking up to the cat he stopped besides the khajiit, so if he tried to escape he would have to go over the table or through the mage. This cat wore leather armor and a short sword at his side. The Khajiit's whiskers twitched, and his eyes half opened. "Go away." He waved a bottle towards the bar. "You block the warmth from this one's fur." "Are you Do'Senji?" Skjari asked politely. The Khajiit's eyes opened all the way, and he suddenly looked notably more sober. "The name is unfamiliar. And what of you... Are you Do'Senji?" "Do you know someone by the name Sholani?" "Sholani?" The Khajiit peered with one eye down his bottle. "The name is unfamiliar, but this one thinks-" He broke off his sentence and immediately flung the bottle at Skjari. A moment later, in an impressive display of speed, the Khajiit was over the table and across the room, making for the door. Skjari managed to duck for the bottle but when he turned around he just managed to catch a glimpse of the khajiit running out the door. Setting off at full speed after the khajiit he summoned two wolf familiars that ran out the door before him. The mages waited outside, blocking the Khajiit's path in most directions, but he somehow managed to close the distance between himself and one of them without being hit. Skjari caught a glimpse of the cat's knee leaving the shocked mage's gut before he took off around a nearby street corner. The wolves were close in tow of the fleeing khajiit as they ran down the same street. Skjari on the other hand had trouble keeping up despite running at full speed. Running around the corner he saw the fleeing khajiit running through the people in the street without much effort or being slowed down by the dismayed citizens that backed away when they saw the khajiit being chased by two spectral wolves and a nord in black robes. While Skjari seemed to fall behind the wolves were actually catching up with the khajiit. And the cat noticed that as well. Soon someone opened a door on the right a few feet in front of the khajiit and the cat seized the opportunity and pushed the imperial that had opened the door and ran inside with wolves closely behind. Skjari however reached the door a bit later and when he came in he saw that it was a bakery with breads covering the shelves along the walls. And he didn't need to cast a clairvoyance spell to know at first where the kahjiit had gone as some of the bread on the counter lay in a mess as if someone had swept across the counter. Jumping over the counter, ignoring the terrified looks on the people that were in the store, and entering the doorway right behind the counter he found himself in a two way corridor and he quickly cast a clairvoyance spell that led him to the right, through the kitchen where the bread was being baked and out an open door that lead to a backyard. The backyard wasn't much except a couple of small alleys leading out and some barrels that were stacked on top of each other. A few had fallen down and broken, quite recently by the looks of it. He found the two wolves sitting in the middle of the yard looking up, Looking up himself he saw a glimpse of a tail disappear up on the roofs. He knew what he needed to do even though he felt reluctant to do it. But he couldn't afford to hesitate and quickly cast the spell to levitate upwards. Though it was more like flinging himself high up the air while aiming to land on the roof as the speed at he went upwards felt more like falling in reverse. He got up a few feet above the roof before he went down and landed unsteadily on the leaning rooftop. It took a few seconds to regain balance and he had to freeze his feet to the roof so he wouldn't slide down. When he was certain he wouldn't fall down he looked around and saw the kahjiit having quite advantage as he was already quite far away. Running in that direction and using ice for certain footing he soon found himself now running as fast as the kahjiit that only had his claws to keep him from falling down. The chase went on for a couple of rooftops till the cat ran around a corner and when Skjari came around the corner, he found it to be leading to a dead end and the khajiit was gone. The dead end was simply a somewhat flat roof ending in a big junction that might as well be a plaza. The nearest roof was several yards away the khajiit couldn't have possible jumped there. And even he could have done so, he was no where to be seen among the roofs. Running ahead to the end of the roof he looked around and down at the junction, which was quite filled with it's share of khajiits. This was the more cat populated areas of the city. Skjari searched quickly as he let his eyes travel from one khajiit to another, trying to find him among the crowd. When a long moment had passed without success of spotting him he drew a sigh and lightly shook his head in defeat. He jumped down from the roof and landed safely with a levitation spell. Some people jumped at the appearance of the nord jumping down and landing right besides them but Skjari didn't pay them any attention as just started walking with quick steps towards the castle. The apprentices soon caught up with him using clairvoyance. One of them were about to open his mouth but when Skjari gave him a cold glance he shut the mouth and simply followed. The rest kept quiet as well for the duration of the walk as they passed through the streets and then the large bridge leading to the castle. Count Douar awaited them, along with a retinue of his own guards in the castle courtyard. "Lord Snow-Strider," the young man greeted him with a nod, "how went the search?" "Well I found one. He should be in the prison by now unless my mages got lost on the way. The other was faster and got away." "One was all you required for what you intend, if I recall correctly." "True. But I never like to let a fish get away. And what are you doing out here? Got tired of sitting on the throne?" "I come to the yard often when court is not in session." replied the Count. "You can't expect me to spend my every hour collecting dust under a roof, can you? Besides, our gardens are far more inviting than that dank, empty hall." "Where's your guard captain? I need to speak with him about the prisoner." "Captain Geldis is in his office. It adjoins the barracks." Count Douar pointed across the courtyard to a large tower. "That would be the barracks." "Thanks." Skajri said and walked across the courtyard to the large tower. Before the door he stopped and turned to his mages. "You wait here for a moment." And he turned again to open the door while the mages waited outside with a few of them starting to chat. Well inside he was greeted by a large room with a few rows of long tables and benches along them. There were a few doors along the sides of the room and two at the far end along with a set of stairs directly on his left that went up along the curved wall of the large tower. There were a couple of guards sitting in at the tables, widely spaces apart and each eating a small meal in solitude. Skjari walked up to the closest guard. "Which way is the captain's office?" "Tha wuh." the guard said between a mouthful of food. He motioned with a nod of his head at a half open door at the far end of the room, then resumed eating. Skjari didn't bother to thank the guard as he seemed too busy with the food to hear it. He quickly walked down the room to the far and through the half open door without knocking, as it was half open already. The captain's back was turned to Skjari when he entered the room. He was on one knee in the center, armor off, and his other leg was protruding out at an odd angle. It looked like a painful position for any man to be in, but the captain seemed at ease, at least from behind. At the odd sight Skjari stopped for a second before taking a few steps into the room and carefully closing the door behind him. "Are you hurt?" He said, not sounding worried but instead curious. "No." came the captain's response after a deep breath. He slowly drew his leg in and turned around. "I would've been if you'd walked in on me in that position a couple years ago. Do you stretch?" "Only a little after sword practice. Is that what you're doing?" The bald captain nodded as he threw on his mail coat, followed by his green tunic bearing the sigil of Leyawiin. "A form of it, yes. Va'sakan. It's good for the muscles. You can learn a lot from the Khajiit if you give them the time of day." "Well I can't say that my time of today spent chasing and catching them has been that teachable. Anyway, have my men come back with a frozen khajiit yet?" The captain nodded again. "They took him to a holding room down the hall." "I'll interrogate him later. First I need to ask if you got any... less safer prisons?" "Less? Well the actual prison is under the castle. It is considerably less accommodating." "I want something where a breakout attempt with outside help is more likely to occur." The captain looked puzzled. "That's an odd request, but as it happens, we do occasionally throw the rich drunks into some extra cells by the northern docks. Mostly to sober them up. They're never too guarded because they don't really hold any dangerous criminals." "I think that will do. I'll move the terrorist there later today." Skjari turned around and put his hand on the door handle before turning half way back to the guard captain. "By the way, have you found any riot starters yet?" "Indeed we did. Two men. Their names are Surus and Miles Denian. They're brothers. I had some men take the pair of them down to the prison." "Well you certainly work fast and effective." Skjari opened the door. "Pity you don't always do so with some of the riots." He then walked out and closed it behind him before the captain could respond. But when he got was about to take a few down thee hall he realized that the captain hadn't told him behind which door the prisoner had been brought. Not really eager to head back and ask he started walking down the dining hall while subtly casting a detection spell. Shapes started to glow up behind the walls of some doors, mostly just several shapes in a lying position a couple of feet from the floor. Ignoring the night shift guards he continued down the hall till he saw a shape of someone standing a relaxed manner and with a hand stretched out in front of him, not moving the slightest. Skjari quickly went up to the door, which obviously proved to be locked, but nothing a little spell couldn't handle. Then opened the door and looked inside to find a small bare room with only a worn out table and chair in a corner and with the frozen khajiit standing in the middle, still in the handshaking position he had been frozen in, but this time with a little less ice covering him. Skjari closed the door behind him and locked again with a spell and then applying a muffle spell around the room. He then grabbed the chair and put in front of the khajiit up against the door and sat down. He looked at the kahjiit for a couple of seconds before summoning two dremoras with helmets, one at each side of the khajiit, both of which grabbed the cat's arms before the wizard cast a simple fiery little spell at the cat that slowly started to melt the ice. The process didn't take long. Within half a minute, all of the hard icey casing had melted off and soaked into the shivering Khajiit's brown fur. He slumped, only not falling to his knees because of the two Dremora holding him up by his arms. The cat's teeth chattered, and when he glanced up to see Skjari standing before him, his eyes immediately went back to the floor. Skjari tilted his head a little at the reaction. "Not even going waste time to swear and curse at me?" The cat's eyes remained downcast for several moments, then he muttered a curse in ta'agara between his clacking teeth and lifted them back up, meeting with Skjari's. They were yellow, with black slitted pupils, and they betrayed him by so poorly hiding his fear. "Why-... why am I he- here? I said all that I kne-... knew." "Well one of my men found a little note from the Krins saying that they need a bit more information on varying things around the city, along with some help in setting up a few deliveries for weapons. Now the question is only how much time do you wish to waste before telling me all you really know." "I know nothing. You-... waste your time." Skjari sighed but remained calm. "I got a couple of ideas on how we shall proceed. But I'm going to let you decide which one. Failing to make a choice will result in all ideas being applied. So I'm thinking between having something crawl around your insides, sticking some freezing spikes into you and breaking a few bones." "What?" The cat's scared eyes widened, and the teeth chattered harder. "I swear to you! There is no more to tell! All that is known is in the letter!" "So it's all three then?" "NO!" The khajiit blinked and tears appeared. "I can think of nothing! What do you want to know?!" "Simple. Names and locations of other Krin members and hideouts. And if your information isn't good enough or proves to be false..." "Do'Senji! He is often found at the Second Sun inn." "I've already spoken with him and he managed to get away. I doubt he's going back to that inn anytime soon." "He was the one I worked with!" the cat cried, "I know no other names! Only faces!" "There's still hideouts and such. Better come up with something good then." "There is an empty building near the chapel where we met. It is locked always. Do'Senji carries the key. All else is the inn." The Khajiit looked at Skjari pleadingly. "This is all I know, I swear!" "Anything special about this building? And don't you know any more hideouts? Doesn't have to be in the city." "It is just an old house. I do not know if there is an owner. And I know of no other hideouts. I only work in the city." "Then we got a little bit of a problem here." "You told me to tell you what I know! I did!" Skjari looked at him thoughtfully for a couple of seconds. "How well would you say that the other members know each other?" "Some know others well. Some know little, and act on their own. Do'Senji knew many." "Does anyone know everyone?" "Doubtful. Do you know what the Renrijira Krin are?" "Criminals and terrorists." "We are liberators." the Khajiit said with a trace of pride. "We rule ourselves, and no one being leads us." "How nice." Skjari's voice dripping with irony. "Anyway..." Skjari got up from the chair moved it to the side and opened the door and left the room quickly, leaving the khajiit still hanging by the dremoras. Closing and locking the door behind him he hurried down the hallway to the captain's office. There he opened the door and walked in without even knocking. "I need some leather armor the khajiit usually use. And a black bag for covering heads." He said as he as soon as the door was closed. The captain didn't question him. He easily found a usable bag among his own belongings, but he did not personally own a suit of leather armor like the one Skjari wanted. "Try checking the evidence cabinet in the room down the hall." he said. "Take what you need." Taking the bag Skjari hurried down the hall again to the nearest cabinet but when he opened it all it contained was the simple dinnerware that the guards used. Slightly annoyed he closed it and went to the second cabinet. There he found lots of stuff, from daggers to a small pieces of jewelry to the leatehr armor he wanted. Though the boots seemed to be missing. He grabbed the armor and went back to the room where the kahjiit was held. After opening the door he dropped all the armor and the bag in front of the cat and then closed the door. "Put on the armor and then put the bag on your head. And don't try anything. These two will be watching." He gestured to the dremoras. He then opened the door again and walked out from the room, locked the door behind him and walked out the tower where his apprentices waited. "Maximus! Bormir! Get over here!" He shouted and turned to walk into the tower before the mages could respond or react. Sitting down at the bench outside the cat's holding he leaned back against the table. Maximus and Bormir came walking up to him in a fast pace. "What are we to do, sir?" Bormir said. "First wait a minute or two. Then you are to carry the khajiit again, not frozen this time though, to a new prison." Maximus and Bormir looked at each and shrugged. Then just stood there while waiting, not speaking a word. And the expression on their faces suggested that silence was getting a bit awkward for them. But Skjari didn't care and just sat there and waited. When some more time had passed he rose up and went to open the door and looked inside. The Khajiit stood in the center of the room, armored minus boots, and with the bag over his head, which tilted slightly at the sound of the opening door, but he remained silent. Skjari waved the two mages in. "Grab him." He ordered and dismissed the daedra back to Oblivion. Maximus and Bormir obeyed and grabbed one of the cat's arms each and led the khajiit as the followed their master. They went out of the guards' barracks and headed north to the docks. First they passed through another couple of walls till they reach the docks. The docks lied outside the castle walls and went along both sides of the island, with houses, workshops and warehouses covering much of the land between the waters of the Niben River. There were no houses or docks at far northern cliffs of the island however but instead a well crafted and big lighthouse that stood tall and mighty above everything else. Skjari continued further north till he saw a guard not far from a small crowd of khajiit. Skjari walked up to the guard with his entourage in tow. "Guard. We've caught this Krin terrorist and he's to be taken north to a fort in two days for interrogation. Can you tell me where the docks prison is?" The guard's brow raised. "You're the one they talked about, aren't you? The one from the capital." He pointed down toward a collection of buildings, beside which several ships were docked. "If you mean the drunk tank. It's down that way. The little wooden building by the warehouse." "Thank you." Skjari then walked down the docks to where the guard had pointed. He found the house with and it wasn't much of a prison. Walking inside he saw that the first room was somewhat small and only had a couple of tables with a few chairs each where a couple of guards sat playing dice. Skjari shouted at the nearby guards. "Put this Krin terrorist in a cell." "Krin terrorist?" the guards didn't move. "His kind belong in the castle dungeon." "It's just temporary. He's to be moved north by ship very soon anyway." They looked skeptical, but finally one consented and moved the Khajiit to a back room. The sound of a rusty iron barred door closing shut could be heard, and the guard returned shortly after. "So uhh... how long will we be holding the cat?" "A day, maybe two at most. I hope you don't mind if I stay here as well during that time?" "Two days?" The guards looked a bit nervous. "Umm... You can stay, but there's no bed in here." "Doesn't bother me." Skjari turned to his mages that stood waiting at the door. "And you're dismissed for the time being. But don't leave the docks, don't get drunk and never let your guard down." "Yes, sir." They said in unison before eagerly leaving the building for some time off. Skjari himself ignored the guard and walked into a corner where he sat down in a chair and put his feet on the table as he leaned back. There was nothing left but to wait, and ponder on all the things that could go wrong.

Gracchus Ceno Imperial Palace Morning The letter that had been delivered several hours ago lay on the edge of Gracchus' desk, which was large and horseshoe shaped so as to maximize the space on which he could spread out maps, charts, or piles of scrolls and books and parchment. If that letter had been able to see, it would have watched as visitors came and went, several pots of tea were brewed, a bottle of whiskey opened and partially consumed, five trips to the bathroom, three visits to the window for fresh air, and twenty rehearsal attempts at explaining to his wife, why Gracchus did not make it to dinner for the fifth time this week. The letter would have felt the warmth from the ever raging fire, smelled the fresh tea leaves and strong whiskey, as well as the salted meat the general ate for his meager lunch. Curse words and insults and praises would have entered its ear, all having to do with the work the interim High General slaved over. It would have listened in on conversations with the visitors, from a few congratulatory nobles, legates stationed in the surrounding area, along with merchants and tradesmen and ship builders, all who passed beneath the doorway, without the slightest acknowledgement of the poor, half forgotten letter. Of course, letters can't see, but they can wait, and so the letter sat, perched on the edge of both the desk and the memory of Gracchus, until chance finally brought the two together. It so happened that the candle was burnt out, almost completely so, and as Gracchus was on his way to leave, he decided to change it now instead of in the morning. This letter also happened to be right above the drawer where the spare candles were stored, and so Gracchus picked it up and quickly opened it, lighting the new flame with a snap of his fingers. Who did the courier say this was from? Bah, I can't remember. Too many names have run through my head today to recollect any one of them specifically, Gracchus thought, tearing at the seal with the point of his index finger. Unfolding it, he was shocked to read that it was from Eduard Laenius, his friend and former comrade. It was brief, but contained more conversation than the friends had shared since their events in Skyrim. General Gracchus Ceno, It’s been awhile since we’ve had any contact. Too long, you might say. I don’t have all that much time to write this, so I will keep it as short as I can. You’re probably getting busy enough as is with Cyrodiil going like it is. Speaking of Cyrodiil, I’ve heard of it’s many struggles, as well as all of the political games going on. As capable a man you are, I’m sure you’re well aware of the impending danger. Stay safe, and don’t get pushed around too much. As for me, I’m doing fine. I do odd jobs here and there to keep the money flowing, and everything is relatively quiet. How long that will last, I couldn’t tell you. One last thing. If you ever need anything, Legion business or otherwise, don’t be afraid to ask. I travel fast. - Eduard Laenius P.S. I’m sorry about any and all losses you’ve suffered during all of this. It’s never easy on anyone, even those hardened by war. I wish you and your wife the best in all of your endeavors. Gracchus smiled as he read the letter, remembering the brief but lasting friendship the pair had formed the previous year. He hardly knew the man, he realized, but yet they had been fast friends, mostly in part to Eduard's willingness to assist Gracchus in the planning of the siege, and the events after it. They trusted each other, even if they weren't as well acquainted as one expected friends to be. Grabbing his quill and ink for the final time tonight, the High General began jotting down his reply. Dear Eduard, You are right when you say it has been too long. I do appreciate your writing of this letter, though, as it gives us a chance to talk again. Cyrodiil is restless, as usual, but that is to be expected. I have kept my hand out of the troll's maw that is politics, but somehow I got roped into the High Generalship. I mustn't complain, as it gives me renewed purpose, but it comes at the cost of losing Tullius. He was convicted of inciting rebellion, along with a former general, and was executed. It seems many of our former colleagues have had rough goes of it. Lorgar is missing, branded a traitor, while Marius was killed as well, along with Pilus in the war. I should hope you have faired better, and it sounds like you have. Still, I would like to extend to you an offer to rejoin the legion, with a promotion no less. Your hasty retreat after the incident left you without the promotion you deserve, and that is a fact I will not have you deny. I need someone I trust to help me, advise me, in the upcoming conflict. You would of course not be limited to the command tent once war arrives, and there will be plenty of opportunities to dirty your hands. If you would accept, my wife and I will welcome you into our home with open arms, until you find a place of your own. Speaking of my wife, I thank you for the generous gift, which turned out quite well. I have since recommend Iver to all those that I know, and he has many a high ranking customer. Such should be the case for one who posses great skill as he does. Again, you writing has generally improved my temperament, and your presence would do so even more. With friends dropping like flies these days, it would do us both well to stick together. Nevertheless, I would not pressure you into a decision. Having rambled on enough, Gracchus Ceno The letter was finished just in time too, as the ink pot that sat upon the horseshoe desk was as empty as a beggar's coffer. Gracchus folded the letter in thirds, then stamped his seal in wax to close the parchment. Dowsing the fire, he grabbed his cape and latched it underneath the golden clamps, then hurried as quickly as he could down the stairs. On his way out of the city, he stopped and found the courier who had delivered Eduard's letter, with instructions to give Gracchus' letter to Eduard, since he knew of his whereabouts. After that, it was a quick ride through the streets, across the bridge, and out onto the countryside to his homestead. He pushed Lil Ceno as hard as he ever had, deciding he would not miss dinner for the sixth night in a row. There was something about the letter, maybe it was discussing all those that had passed or been lost, that renewed Gracchus' drive to make every day count, every moment. And so he was determined to make it to supper, as he knew not how many he had left. The horse panted as it's hooves clobbed along the stone road, the wind whipping its mane all about in a mess of hair. The sun was just beginning to set, the fading sunlight sending cascades of orange onto the clouds like a haphazard painter, throwing paint on his canvas in a messy, yet beautiful way. The stable boy, seeing Gracchus ride up from afar, was waiting for the general as he dismounted, handing off the reins and trusting the boy to take care of his oldest companion. He took off his cape in the foyer, hanging it upon a hook on the wall, while the butler alerted his wife to his arrival. "Fancy seeing you here before midnight," Catia said sarcastically as Gracchus entered, who beamed at his wife. "And who might you be, some sort of soldier?" she said in heavily sarcastic tones. "A soldier come to pillage and raid the palace of a queen," Gracchus replied, grabbing his wife and pulling her into a long embrace. "Would this soldier do me the honor of dining with me before he ravages me?" Catia said slyly after they broke apart, staring at Gracchus' lips as if to say more, yet backing away to the dining room like a true tease. "The honor, is all mine, my queen," Gracchus said, following her to the dining room, where smells of cooked meats and fruit pies lingered long after the couple had finished their meal and went to enjoy another form of dessert. ** Gracchus rose early, as he had to do if he was to arrive on time at the palace. Much to his surprise, his wife, and his mother were already awake. Catia sat in front of the fireplace, a book by Albecias Plebo in hand, although he wasn't quite sure which one. Lyra Ceno, his mom, was wrapped up in a shawl and closer to the fireplace, and she was crocheting a scarf. "You're both up early," Gracchus said as he scarfed down a plate of eggs and pork sausage. "I have a lot on my plate for today, thank you very much. I need to swing by the Fox, before I go look at some rugs at Erita's store. And our wine supply is low, so that needs to be refreshed. I think Mr. Carter will accompany me, so we can tackle the tasks head on," Catia said, never looking up from her book, just as the aforementioned butler walked in. "Oh dear, when did you come in? I must've been asleep...what was I doing? Oh yes, my scarf. How do you like it, Gracchus?" his mother asked, holding up a mangled piece of cloth. Lyra had been going blind for some time, so it was no shock that her scarf came out poorly. Along with her blindness, she was having lapses in her memory. Catia had been good to her, along with the maids, so she had little stress or worries. "Beautiful mom. I have to go back to work today, so I'll see the both tonight," Gracchus replied, as his mother began crocheting again, and Mr. Carter walked in. "M'lord, your horse is saddled and ready when you are," Mr. Carter said in his deep voice. Gracchus had hired him once they moved out here, as it warranted with his title of Lord General. Mr. Carter, a Breton, had once been a butler in the palace, but he had retired, looking for something a little calmer. Gracchus scooped him up soon after, along with a stable boy, a cook, a kitchen maid and a house maid. Their house was large enough to warrant a staff, but not so large that they had to hire more than one maid to clean the house. Catia liked the servants, even if being called "M'lady" was a strange change for her. "Thank you, Mr. Carter," Gracchus said as he rose, kissing his wife before going out to repeat yesterday's events, albeit with a new sense of drive and purpose. He even smiled as he left, and managed to enjoy the view of the rising sun as he rode towards the gleaming White-Gold.

Lilly Quentas, Gracchus Ceno, Imperial City Morning, "Water, Raine. Water." Lilly pleaded, as she struggled to put on her knee high socks, along with her white/green dress. Raine gave her a smirk, as she chugged, a large bottle labelled "Seventy percent", rushed forward, and planted a kiss on Lillies lips, before releasing the liquid from her mouth into Lillies. Lilly struggled away, waving her hands, "Not that water." She scanned her surroundings, she was in Raine's apartment, which was covered in books, trinkets, and other junk. Looks like it was going to be one of those days **** Pentuilas Occultus HQ "Ma'em. Letter." A black armored Occultus Soldier offered Lilly a sealed document as she looked up, with a strange red wolf seal. Lilly gulped in a mouthful of air, dreading to read it. She accepted it, before tearing up the envelope, Dont bother, Colonel. You know you wont be able to track my unit, or the wolf. Keep your end of the deal. I gave you all the information on your sisters status and whereabouts, keep the mage off our backs, Your just wasting resources searching for us. Focus your assets on the upcoming war, and assisting her majesty. Your sister is safe, if you don't silence your hounds, I wont be able to guarantee that. Remember, I can bury you and your career. Burn this letter after reading it. -LS Lilly used her right hand to conjure a ball of flame, torching the letter in an inferno. She got out of her chair, before saying to the guard on duty, "I'll be visiting General Ceno." *** Imperial Legion HQ Lilly cleared her throat, and knocked on the wooden door, "High General Ceno are you there?" She said in a polite voice, "Enter," Gracchus said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading. He's married, and quite faithful to his wife, so no need to act seductive, Lilly gently opened the door, and entered into the High General's office. Lilly approached, and bowed her head, "Sir, allow me to introduce myself, Colonel Lillin Quentas, Spymaster to her Majesty Moitre." Gracchus stood and returned the bow, those his wasn't as low as he was of a higher rank. He motioned to a chair, for her to sit. "I am aware of who you are, Colonel Quentas. Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to finally meet. Would you like some tea? I find it clears out the odor of the awful cigars Tullius was so fond of," Gracchus said, walking over to a kettle of water that he proceeded to put to a boil in the fireplace behind his desk. " That would be lovely thank you." Lilly took a seat,"Gaius always loved smoking imperial golden, though they were horrible for his lungs." "And everyone else's too," Gracchus said, bringing the kettle over to pour two cups, one for him and one for Lilly. "Sugar?" "Yes please. If you have any cream, could I steal some? No need to limit myself with a diet." She smiled and felt her stomach. "No need, I have plenty," Gracchus said, stirring a sugar in his before adding the sugar and cream to Lilly's. "What brings you here, Colonel? I assume it isn't my tea making skills," Gracchus laid the saucer and cup on the edge of his desk closest to Lilly, as he sat down. Lilly nodded in thanks, before taking a sip,"Ah how marvellous. Almost as good as Raines." She layed her cup gently, "Well, I wanted to meet you and congratulate you on your promotion." "I appreciate the sentiment, but it is not official until Snow-Strider returns to make it so. I urged the Empress to permit it on an interim basis only, as he would no doubt want a say. He is a little more, shall we say, thorough than she. He does not know me as well, although he contributed I our cause in Skyrim, and will be less likely to let personal feelings influence his decision. Since they are also to be married, it seemed pertinent the future Emperor had a say in who leads his military," Gracchus said sincerely, drinking his tea as he finished. "He is not emperor yet, I'm afraid. He's a simple court mage playing general." She said, in a snarky way. She smiled cheerfully "Forgive my rudeness, I tend to talk without thinking." Gracchus raised his eyebrows, arching them in a quizzical manner. "No, it's quite alright. I had just heard you two were fairly close, so that reaction was...unexpected, to say the least. As for him being a mere Court Mage, while this is momentarily true, the wedding has been publicly announced, and to rescind it would open the Empress up to further gossip and humiliation, which would be worst given the previous rumors of her sexual orientation." "I'm quite sure that we both know the validity of those "rumours", my dear general. My loyalty is to her majesties well-being before Lord Snow-Striders ego. Truth be told, our personal relationship has been...quite strained recently, though doubt he notices." "I am sad to hear. Losing a friendship is always a difficult ordeal. Where is he now, if I may ask?" Gracchus brought his tea up to his mouth and drank slowly, letting the aroma replace that of the lingering smoke. "Well, the man should have thought about the consequences of cutting off Tullius's head. Still can't believe he was a traitor" She took a sip from her tea, "Dealing with unrest among the counties. He assisted general...Drogoth in clearing a city of skooma dealers." "Bravil, I believe. I'm glad to hear General Drogoth assisted him, as I have heard good things about our Orcish friend. What of you, Colonel Quentas, what works draw your interest these days?" Gracchus had finished his tea, and set the cup and saucer aside. "Digging up dirt on the noble families. Never know when you can use it." "The world of politics and spying is too underhanded for me. What use would this information be? And is there not another endeavor that would be a better use of your time, than spying on our allies?" Gracchus frowned, as he didn't take kindly to someone's whose time was ill spent on the brink of war. "Blackmail. Dales has a...very heated relationship with the nobility. The count in lewaijain has already challenged her rule. Pile dirt on them, it shuts them up and saves Dales face, while keeping then quiet." "I would think reasoning with them would work just as well, but I am not fluent in politics as you seem to be. Anything you are working on that involves the upcoming conflict?" "You don't know. Nobles are like greedy pigs, no matter how much trash you give them, they want more. More power. And yes, I am." "I don't think all of them are that way. I have met several, Count Bathory and Count Brutus among them, who seem to want nothing more than to rule peaceful counties. Care to elaborate on what are you working on, war wise?" "One is mad, the other one stays in the shadows. Better then the rest aye." She finished her tea, "Doing my best to to purge dominion agents, along with...sniffing out the loyal from the unloyal officers. Its dark and dirty work, but someone has to do it." "It seems you do indeed have your hands full. What news of Cheydinhal? Is the count still acting out?" "Yes. My opinion, he's acting out on a spoiled Tantrum. Shouldn't being count be enough for the man?" "As you said earlier, politicians seem to always want more, whether that be more power, more money, or more prestige," Gracchus looked down for a moment, trying to suppress any sort of anger before he spoke. "What news do you have about Lorgar, if any? You seem to be the one to ask, and I have not heard any rumor of his whereabouts." That caused her to laugh, "Grim-Maw? Do you really think I would know were that enigmatic ghost is? If he wants to disappear from view, he's the kind that can with ease. What, you want to meet him? I fear you might end up like the soldiers he cut down on his way out." "No, but seeing as he is a very high risk individual, I thought I should know any information there was to know. Iassumed the person to ask would be the Spymaster, given your contacts and such. Any information I should know, while you're here?" She simply said, "Well, since I like you Mister Ceno, you should known General Lithin is very unhappy with your promotion, along with some very angry noblemen." Mr. Ceno? A bit formal for a lower ranking officer, and a noble at that...never mind, best not to pick fights, Gracchus thought as he listened to the Spymaster talk. "Lithin? Of the 12th Legion? Why does he have a problem? I've met the man only a handful of times, and never for more than a few minutes, in a crowd at that. Nobles as well? Seems I need to reevaluate just how likable I thought I was," Gracchus added the last part with a laugh, as he cared little about what the nobility thought. "Lithin comes from a noble family, south of the Imperial City. As you can tell by looking at his pathetic military record, he got the position simply because of his family connections. Besides him wanting the postion, very much disliking Dales, he looks down upon you for your..." She tried to word it carefully, Lilly didn't want to offend, "Commoner roots." "I will have to see about changing that in a week when the generals come to meet with me. Whether he likes me or not doesn't change the fact I am his superior, or at least equal if Skjari finds me lacking the requirements. We must all put our petty differences aside to beat the Thalmor, and not just Imperials, but every race as well. Hopefully he, and anyone else who thinks poorly of Dales, will be able to see that. If not, there are plenty of eager legates waiting for a promotion." "I'm under orders to silence anyone who publicly talks beyond insulting things about her majesty, one way or the another. Lithin, I think, doesn't like taking orders from a young women like her majesty. Just between you and me, dont expect him to hold the position long. I utterly hate backwater people like that." "Does he not have the right to talk as he wishes? Are we so backwards, so tyrannical that we limit a man ability to speak freely? I understand that in his line of work, he is a looked up to figure by his men, and his opinions should be private, but have you not consider the backlash if every one of Dales' detractors dies? Imagine if people found out, that this Empress is no more than bullying authoritarian who murders those who slander her. That would make us no better than the Thalmor and their purges. Ulfric Stormcloak was defamed, labelled a racist and murderer, but those people were not hunted down like animals. The Battle-Borns were left in peace, for the most part, and many others. I will deal with Lithin, and anyone else that would smear Dales, before any drastic action is taken. Let us not be so quick to abandon our sensibility, Colonel Quentas," Gracchus said enthusiastically, beseeching the Spymaster, face stern and fists clenched. "Were not different then them in many ways." She said, putting on a humorless smile, "But fear not, as in silenced, I simply meet a stern talking too. Sending hitmen would be as you said, backwater, and quite frankly, a complete waste of resources. It's fine to state your opinions, but it's quite different to publicly insult in a very disgusting manner, your liege-lady, especially if your a figure of authority. General Lithin is just that, a figure of authority, to the military, and to the nobility. Words can harm someone, as much as swords and arrows." "I am glad to see that you aren't as hasty as I suspected. We cannot do with silencing all those that oppose us, but must work to negotiate and understand the differing viewpoints. In a less cruel world, we could do the same with the Thalmor, but an entity so bent on our destruction just cannot be reasoned with." "I agree to an extent. Always use your words first. However, that's not always an option. Violence is sometimes the only answer. My duty is to her majesty Dales first and foremost, i'll always look after her well-being before politics, and other trivial matters." "Exactly. I believe in country before all, I assure you. I hope I haven't talked to much, Colonel. Do you have any questions for me?" Gracchus asked, his enthusiasm considerably cooled off. "Ah, I do. If you dont mind, of course." The same cheerful smile was back, "I was wondering what your honest opinion, on her majesty. I've been asking around of late, especially higher ups. And of course, how is your wife?" "Her majesty means well, no doubt, and she has improved much of late, but I think she could do with the stern guidance of Lord Snow-Strider, you, and myself. She is just a young woman, after all. As for my wife, she is doing well, although I don't think she likes my new job. I'm not sure I like it much either, at times, but so is life. The things you just do and the things you wish you could do do not always coincide." "I know what you mean I really do." She starred beyond Gracchus, "Before this entire fiasco, I was considering just settling down far away in the country side of Chorrol, Buy a homestead, get away from the court, politics, and all that espionage. Just me, and my younger cousin Helen, were we could pursue our passion of gardening." A small smile appeared on her lips, "However, our mutal friend Tullius approached me and offered me the position of Spymaster. I never could say no to him, helped him considerably when he was in hiding and building up his mercenary unit. I, now and at the time, had a large spy network centered in Cyrodili, and the former imperial controlled holds of Skyrim. My intel is what kept him afloat, along with the funds I provided him. When he asked if I wanted the job, I had to say yes." "It did seem strangely well off when he joined our forces. I only wish he had joined sooner, truth be told. But, the tables turned in our favor, so there is little use in thinking about what might have been." "There never is. Just gnaws into you, until it's too late." " Is there anything else you wanted to ask? I hope I haven't kept you too long with an old men's yammering." "Oh your being no bother, I very much enjoy having long coversations just for the heck of it on the occasion. Hmmmm, have you ever thought of having children, General?" "I am glad I haven't been too boring. As for children, not for a while, no. I'm far too old, and my job is far too strenuous. I'm afraid my wife is too old as well. Why do you ask?" "Oh just popped into my head.". She laughed "That's practically all my little cousin talks about, asking when can she have a baby. Its quite adorable." "I would urge her not to rush. She has her whole life ahead of her, and there will be plenty of time for rearing a child. What about you, Colonel? Are you married or currently attached?" Gracchus asked, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner. "Well, I'm In an on and off relationship, I was engaged once though, a very long time ago." "I am sorry to hear that it didn't work out. Relationships can be so messy at times, and usually someone is bound to get hurt." "I was only a teen at the time. I was wracked with insecurities, and really didn't want to wed. But my mother insisted. He wasn't a noble, but his father was so rich, he might as well been. He was thirty years older then me, despite this he was very kind. He caught me crying, and later called the thing off†“That was very noble of him. Where is your family from, exactly? I'm afraid my nobility knowledge isn't quite up to standard†"Chorrol, perhaps you've meet my sister, Millnerius?" "Ah yes, Chorrol. I presume it's been quiet there? I have my heard any news latley. As for your sister, I attended her wedding, actually. On Lorgar's invitation, of course." "It has. Milly was beautiful in her wedding dress. Never seen as happy as she was on her wedding. It was a shame, I watched from a distance. Even worse, my mother saw fit to disown poor Milly." "That is sad. What happened to her, if I may ask. She stayed at my wife's inn, but Lorgar took her away. She was pregnant, supposedly." "She was on a ship heading to Solsthiem. Lord Snow Strider most likey wanted her caught. I delayed things long enough for her to get clear." She laughed, "I hope you don't repeat that." "I assume you questioned her about Lorgar's whereabouts first? Because if not, I can't help but feel you must. He's an extremely dangerous man, and needs to be found and brought to justice before he does something drastic." "Milly was unaware of Lorgar's location. She wouldn't have told me anyway's, she loves that man. And I wasn't going to force her to tell, she's pregnant with my niece or nephew, and my sister after all." "I don't think her being related to you is a free pass. This man undoubtedly knows many of our secrets, and if the Thalmor find him be we do they will extract them, of that I have no doubt. And like you said, she loves him, and I would think she would withold information from you if it meant saving her husband. "Are you suggesting I "extract" information from my pregnant sister?" Her expression didn't change but her first curled into a ball. She contuined "Lorgar is invisible, shrouded by enigma. He could pass as an entirely different person if he wished, I highly doubt the dominion would find him. There is however, a chance he went to them." Gracchus' mouth fell open, but he closed it rather quickly. "He...went to the Dominion? It shouldn't be such a shock, after all Tullius fell off the wagon in the end, but still, it comes as such a shock. Why do you believe this to be true?" "He manipulated Tullius to commit treason, did he not? He sat on the knowledge of Homunal being an assassin? And he nearly murdered General Baldur Red-Snow." "I wouldn't say nearly murdered, but yes I heard of the events in Solitude. Whatever happened to him, do you really believe it is safe for Milly, and the baby, to have any association with him? Surely you cannot think he is a good man, not now, not after what he has done. Do you really want him to have influence over Milly and her child?" "Of course not, however, Milly left by herself. For all of his flaws, he did go back for her, and she seemed to truly love him .Its her life, and her choice. . Most likely he doesn't want her involved in his work." "I see there is no reasoning with you then. Let your sister stay in the ashen tundra of Solsetheim, away from those who love and cherish her, under the guidance of a madman. He assaulted my wife, murdered your men, and now works for the bane of man's existence. And yet you stick up for him continually. I was his friend too, you know. Some things, though, are unacceptable, and Lorgar has done more than enough to qualify as our enemy." "My mother just disowned her, stripped her from the family records , she isn't even a Quentas in my families eyes anymore. She's dead to the family. Do you know what it's like when your torn asunder in a noble family? They stop viewing you as a person, and ignore you entirely. They wont even acknowledge your presence, to others, and infront of you. I'm simply stating the facts. Shadows watch Lorgar as well." She gave him cold eyes, "I hate the man, as much as anyone. He took my sister away from me. He killed my men. However,things would have been very bad for Milly here if she stayed. She would have been disowned anyway's to save face for the family, humiliated infront of the entire court, and would most likely have to go into exile, away from the public eye entirely. Don't get me wrong, if I saw him right now, I would...try to kill him. However, I agree taking Milly away was the best option at the time." "But to Solsethiem? Have you even been to the place? Beautiful at times, but dangerous, fatally so, and to raise a child there would be unimaginable. High Rock, Skyrim, Hammerfell are all more suitable places, and I would think much preferred by her as well. Or let her stay with Catia and I, as those two got along quite well it seemed." “No, but I researched it extensively. I know the dangers. However, my...source tells me, Lorgar intends for her to be taken up north, to the Skaal village, he has family there, and is infact a former member. The Skaal people are known for there hospitality, and wouldn't leave the pregnant wife of one of there own in the frozen cold. She'll be well taken care of. I'm sure your wife is a wonderful women, however, the imperial city, and all the places you mentioned, have a high chance of becoming war zones soon, while Solsthsiem is off the radar." "My plans do not call for the Imperial City to be taken, and I would think that Skyrim or High Rock would be suitable as well, but I concede that it is none of my business, as she isn't my family. I wish you both the best of luck." "I highly doubt the sacking of the. Imperial city in the last war, was planned. My dear general Ceno. And besides, she isn't technically my family." She looked at the minute, before suddenly standing up "Oh I'm sorry, its about time I left. I have to pick up my cousin from school before heading back to work. It was very nice chanting with you." She offered him her hand with a smile Gracchus rose, and smiled faintly, but it was not as sincere as before. "It was a pleasure, Colonel Quentas. Again, I wish you and your sister the best of luck. And your cousin and her shooting as well." Lilly gave Ceno a warm smile, while shaking his hand, "If I offended you in anyway, I offer my humblest apologizes. Haven’t gotten much sleep recently, so I tend to talk without thinking" Quite alright," Gracchus said, shaking her hand firmly, "with our jobs, sleep is not a luxury we can afford." "By the way, Tullius used to keep a herbal mix in his bottom drawer, the one to the right. Personally made by me. Will give you a jolt of energy if you think you about to pass out, feel free to have some." She said, warmly, "Thank you, I will be sure to use it if the need arises. Good day, Colonel Quentas." She gave him a sharp salute, before waving her hand as she left through the room.

In the land where all color together flees, bring the people to their knees, First go to where the mead runs free, then don't forget the wonderful cheese, Spread it around, spread it around, on the ground throughout the town, Then put them somewhere safe and sound, in the grate! Don't let them drown, Watch them run, watch them grow! Sit back and enjoy the show, Do this to make them all fear, unless they agree to shave their beards, Where my chosen failed, you shall succeed, now go and do complete this deed, Madness is an ensnaring tree, and in this land you'll plant my seed. "What the hell are you babbling about, Dunmer?" said a guard to a cloaked mer on the road to Whiterun. "They were thought gone, but they left behind their children," she answered. "Say what? Okay, crazy bitch, stop right there." The guard pulled out a sword and pointed it towards the rambling elf before nodding at the wagon that her horse was pulling It had many crates in the back, much more than one would expect one person to carry. "What's in the wagon?" "Why, it's only cheese, sir." "What? Pff, yea right. Where in the hell would you find all that...." The man walked to the back of the wagon and popped open one of the crates with his sword, then said, "....cheese." "See? I told you, my handsome Nord man. I'm a cheese dealer, and today I'm going to have a festival celebrating cheese! Would you like some?" The hell? Well, I guess there's no law against someone being insane and wasting a trip. I'll let the others deal with it. Don't feel like explaining where I got a whole wagon of cheese from. "Just get the hell out of here, you crazy bitch. I don't have time for this." The guard shooed her off and left her to go wherever. After he left, one of the boxes under the others started to shake, until she kicked the side of the wagon. Smiling at the little ruse of hers working, the mer continued her walk to Whiterun, mumbling words to herself as she did. *** Stalks-Deep-Waters Whiterun Early Morning Stalks woke up with a major headache. The bed sheets he was lying on were soft. He didn't open his eyes but he knew what the headache usually meant. Feeling movement from the other side of the bed he stretched out his arm. Please let it be scaly, please let it be scaly. his hand crept under the He thought to himself as he lied his hand crept to the other side of the bed. As he the hand felt something round and soft, he found to his dismay that the skin wasn't scaly. Drawing a small sigh he carefully pulled back the hand so he wouldn't wake up the bed mate. He carefully sat up in the bed, threw his legs over the edge and put his face in his hands as he tried to cope with the hangover. After a minute of sitting still he looked up and around the room. It looked to be a middle class house with a decently sized bedroom. The bedroom only having a double bed, a dresser with a few books on it on the opposite side of the room and a small chair and table in the corner to the right. The door itself was a little bit to the right, in front of Stalks. And Stalks gear and clothes lied in a pile on and around the chair. Waiting another minute to get used to the headache he slowly got up from the bed and walked over to the chair and started getting dressed. Careful not to make too much sound as he put on the armor and the weapons he looked back to the bed and saw a nord woman with short blonde hair. She looked to still be in deep sleep. When all he had equipped his clothes, armor and other gear he took quick look at the books on the dresser before opening the door. As expected a couple of the books were about an argonian maid. With that curiosity sated he sneaked out the door and through another slightly larger room and out the back door. Outside the door was a quiet back street of Whiterun. Looking up he could see that the stars still lingered in the sky as the sun was about to rise in the horizon. He silently made his way out from the back street and onto the round market square with the well in the center. Feeling very dry and thirsty he walked up to the well as fast as he could in his hangover. Once at the well he leaned onto it's edge for a while, still trying to cope with the headache, before he started to pull the rope to haul up the bucket of water. Once he got the bucket out of the well he started to drink with even stopping to catch a breath till half the bucket was empty. Then he dropped it down the well again in a very unceremonious fashion. Having only arrived late last night, most of the information he had gotten from people when asked about Lilith had been vague and he had instead been directed to the steward at Dragonsreach. He headed off towards the big towering building high up in the northern part of the city, the Jarl's palace wasn't hard to miss. It took him some time to walk all the way through the city and up the stairs till he reached Dragonsreach, the sun had already begun the peek up over the horizon. The big wooden doors lied on the other side of a bridge that crossed over a large pond of water. The guards gave him the usual suspicious look as he walked over the bridge. Feeling more sober now he opened the big door on the left just enough for him to slip though and quietly walked inside and closed the large door. Inside he found a very large hall with two long tables on the side of a large hearth. The throne itself was in the middle at the far end. But the throne was empty and no steward was in sight. Only a few guards here and there, some of the yawning. Their yawns also affected Stalks as he opened his large mouth and yawned himself. He sat down in a chair at the end of the table on his left, leaned back and closed his eyes waiting for the sun to rise and the city awake. But soon he found himself taking a nap. What seemed to be only a few moments later, Stalks felt at first a firm tap on his back, which then turned to a strong punch on his shoulder. "Wake up!" said a feminine voice from behind him. A young and tall Nord woman with sharp features and grey hair stood behind him, impatiently tapping her her foot with her arms crossed. Now stone sober Stalks quickly got out of the chair and bowed before the woman. "Sorry, I got up a little too early and was still a bit tired." The girl still wasn't quite used to seeing people bow to her. "I am Olfina Gray-Mane, Vignar's Housecarl. What is your business here? The Jarl hates it when he has visitors first thing in the morning." "I was directed here for more information on the bandit Lilith." "Lilith? I don't know of any bandits here. What did she look like?" "A dunmer woman. She looks like a... dark elf. And she may be wearing a bronze like scaly armor." Olfina raised her eyebrows, then said, "Oh, you mean that insane freak! Gods, she tried to come into the city and sell a bunch of cheese, but the guards wouldn't allow it. Said she was too suspicious. So when they told her to leave, she threw a bunch of crates filled with little skeevers at them! One of the guards got swarmed, and the other was killed by her magic. In the scuffle they got a good look of her armor, they said it looked like real dragon scale armor. Anyway, she left, and the guards tried to finish off the rest of the little skeevers before they ran in the city, but they didn't get them all. We're still trying to kill them all. They've been a constant nuisance to the market district." "Any idea in which direction she left? I've been tracking her for a few days now." "Not a clue. There's a bounty out on her for seven hundred and fifty septims, but Vignar sent a request for the Companions to handle it. The twins are handling it themselves personally. Apparently, Vilkas stepped on one and got it on his boots, and is taking this personal. Or maybe that was a joke from Vignar... whatever, in any case, I wouldn't bother if I were you, but if you really want to try and beat them to her, I doubt they'd mind the competition. The Harbinger's gone, but Aela should be there still. Try not to get on her bad side." "Any idea where they went?" "Not a clue. Like I said, you'll have to ask Aela," said Olfina. She turned at the sound of someone yelling upstairs, then said, "You better get moving. Old man's not in a good mood already." "And where's Aela?" Olfina scoffed, then shook her head and said slowly, "She's... a Companion. She's where the Companions are. The big boat building you walked past? Surely you know about the C-, nevermind, I'll let them tell you. Now scoot!" "Yes ma'am." Stalks then hurried down the large stairs, out of Dragonsreach and down more stairs. He walked past the big Talos statue and the big tree. And he almost bumped into some yawning priest that was on his way towards the big statue. When he reached the big upside down boat he looked it over for a few seconds in a slight wonder. Then he walked in through on of the doors on buildings front, or the boat's side, and found a large oval room with a long hearth in the middle with tables around it. And at first glance there seemed to be no one there. "Is Aela here?" Stalks yelled. From a bench in a more shady part of the hall, Aela watched the lizard with amusement as he called out her name. Obviously he hadn't noticed her yet. Her steely eyes sized him up the way she did everyone she just met. Measuring their worth. Putting down a large slab of venison steak, she said with a full mouth, "Who calls for me?" Stalks turned his head to where he heard the answer and saw the nord. "Someone who wants to see the twins." Aela's face went from curious to hostile in a second. "I suggest you reword that phrase there, stranger." "Sorry, that came out wrong. I'm tracking a bandit and I was told the twins might know where she is." Her face settled, and her eyes narrowed as she picked up the slab of meat and took a sizable chunk off into her mouth. With the meat in hand, she chewed, still regarding the lizard curiously. After finally swallowing and burping, she said, "You mean Farkas and Vilkas then. Yes, they were sent after her. She's likely already dead. You're wasting your time." "I have a feeling I'm not. They don't know her as I do." "Hm, it's true they said she was a tricky one. Magic user. We're not normally in the business of sharing information for our contracts...but if you can actually kill her first before they do, that would be something. Vilkas would especially be upset. So, last time I spoke to them, they said that they picked up a trail leading to a road south of this city that goes east, leading away from here opposite of the one that goes to Riverwood. They think she may be held up in a cave the bandits that took refuge there call White River Watch. They're probably almost already there. They left a half day ago, and they travel very fast." "Great. And I haven't even eaten breakfast yet." He voiced his thoughts before quickly leaving through the door again. Walking in a quick pace through the city he snatched some dry meat and an apple up from one of the bags and started eating without stopping. He kept walking through the gates and to the road south of the city where the farm fields went alongside the road. There he turned east towards the big towering mountain that lied in the distance. The sun rose and stood at it's highest when he reached a stone bridge crossing a river the flowed down from the cliffs far in the south. Keeping his quick pace he started walking faster and faster till he was almost running. And the sun began it's descent and was closing in on the horizon as Stalks found a somewhat well traveled dirt road deviating from the stone beaten path. Crouching he looked down at the dirt road he examined the footprints. Mostly leather and fur footprints but also some of the smooth, evenly shaped and deep prints of someone wearing heavy armor. He walked up the path carefully and more carefully as he got further up the path till he was practically sneaking. "Well, did you find another way inside, brother?" "Nothin. Though I did see a guard further up above us, but there's no way to climb. Sometimes I almost wish we didn't go with the Harbinger to Ysgramor's Tomb just yet. I could've smashed straight through this door no problem if we hadn't." "Stow that talk, Farkas. I'm glad we did. A real man relies on his own strength. Or in this case, his brute brother's, haha. Ram that door as hard as you can. Put that knucklehead of yours to good use." Stalks slowed down as he heard voices ahead but he couldn't yet see exactly who it was, but he could make an easy guess. A few feet ahead he peek forward behind a cliff. What he saw was two nord men wearing full heavy armor with lots of fur trimmings and the steel had, despite looking quite clean, a slight brownish tint to it. They were standing in front of the cave which a bit oddly enough had a wooden wall and door covering the entrance. One of the men charged the door and a loud thud was heard along with a light crack, but the door didn't open and the nord staggered a little from the impact. Stalks lightly shook his head at the thickheaded display and walked forward from his little hiding place and approached the nords, with the hand visible at hi sides. "You Farkas and Vilkas?" He asked before they could notice him. None of them responded, and the man Stalks assumed was Vilkas continued watching the other one try to break down the door with his arms crossed. Stalks stopped a couple of yards from the men. "Are you the twins from the Companions?" He then asked, a little louder this time. "Beat it! We're busy. I don't know how you found us here, but we're not taking new members right now. You wanna join, you'll have to wait till the Harbinger gets back, though I wouldn't get your hopes up if I were you. Not just anyone can join the Companions." "I'm here to ask about Lilith." That made Vilkas turn with alert eyes as his steely glare settled on the Argonian. "So you've come to try and steal my coin and Farkas' fun, huh? Well listen here, friend. That. Isn't happening. I bet Aela's the one to blame for this isn't she?" "Yeah, she told me. And I don't mind if you charge in first. I don't think you can take her on anyway." "Ha! A cocky Argonian, huh? Cute. I'm not impressed by the notion. You don't seem to understand who we are, lizard. We're the Companions, best band of drunken rabble in all of Skyrim. When there's a problem, you come to us. My brother and I trained the High General of the milkdrinkers they call Stormcloaks personally. And that man runs the Necro Nords, who aren't like the rest of the rabble the King calls soldiers. So what does that say about us? That we're the best of the best. I'm not boasting. Boasting is for fools that soon paint the ground with their own blood. I'm just stating facts. Now, if you wish to tag along, I suppose another dead milk drinker wouldn't make me shed any tears. As soon as Farkas breaks down that door, we'll be on our way." "If you say so." Stalks walked up a small hill to the left of the cave entrance and sat down besides a somewhat broad pine tree while waiting for the nords to break down the door. I'd be surprised if they aren't filled with arrows or fireballs once they beat down the door. He thought to himself, half amused but also half worried of might come out of that cave once the door was open. A few moments later when Farkas finally did break the door down, Stalk's suspicions were correct. The Nord disappeared inside the cave along with the door, and some shouting along with an explosion could be heard from where he and Vilkas stood. Vilkas was sitting on the ground, bored, and stood up half halfheartedly when Farkas finally made way for them. "Well, lets get a move on, then." When Vilkas peered inside, he was greeted with the sight of Farkas' boot resting on a slightly charred door with two bodies under it about twelve feet away from the cave entrance. A bow could be seen next to one of the bandit's outstretched hands beneath it. "Are you done letting the bandits know we're here?" Stalks shouted from where he sat. "Not by a long shot," yelled Vilkas, smirking as he took his sword off his back. "Vilkas, who's that?" said Farkas. "A spectator. Don't worry about it." Stalks stood up on his feet and walked up to the cave entrance so he could peek inside without getting into range for anyone who might be lurking inside. "Go on then." "Farkas, take point." "Right." said Farkas. The cave was rather cramped, and so far, it didn't seem like the place was very populated, though Vilkas noted all the empty mead bottles spread about everywhere. Though with Nords, that wasn't always the greatest indication of numbers. Eventually, the passageway started to open up, and they were in a room with a small opening in the back that seemed to go up further in the cave. As they entered, eight bandits came pouring out, but they stopped when they saw Vilkas' armor. "Crap, it's a Companion!" "Oh great, what the hell do you three want with us? We haven't caused the Jarl any trouble. This Jarl, anyway." Stalks who had followed a couple of yards behind, snacking on an apple, just looked at the bandits' hesitation with a mix of surprise and suspicion. "Are you going to fight or not?" "Fight for what? We didn't do nothin! You came into our hideout!" "What kind of bandits are you? Have some backbone, or it won't be any fun slaughtering you," said Farkas. Vilkas decided not to interfere, as he found this all rather amusing. "But if you're bandits that means we can kill you legally." Stalks said while also shewing on the last bites of the apple. "We're not bandits! Well, I mean we are, but we didn't do nuthin lately. Too many soldiers around n' such," said a Nord in the back. Vilkas said, "Well, you did something before, which means I bet at least one of you raped or killed someone weaker than you because you could. Only fair we get a shot at it, right? Farkas." "On it. Enough talk." Without another word, Farkas charged at the eight men, swinging his sword and knocking one bandit wearing leather armor aside by his arm, though the impact didn't sever it. It merely broke it. The man behind him however who wore leather hide armor got a steel blade in his belly and died slowly after being lifted in the air while Farkas' steely eyes pierced through him as his sword did. "Well now we're getting somewhere." But Stalks just leaned against the cave wall with one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. If they say I'm a spectator, I'll be a spectator. Vilkas watched as the bandits started panicking and drew their blades. Farkas shoved his blade in an incoming bandit, using the body on his sword to prevent being hit. Another bandit, a slightly smarter one tried getting behind him, until Vilkas tapped him on his shoulder, then cut him down when he turned. The other four tried swarming them, but the brothers went back to back, keeping them at bay with the length of their greatswords and forcing them to fight on their terms. Vilkas impaled a bandit in front of him, then punched another charging bandit with his left hand before he could strike, leaving him open for Farkas to cut down. Another one tried jumping Vilkas now as he yanked his sword out, using his boot to help, but Vilkas couldn't bring the sword up quick enough, and he saw the Argonian standing around watching. So, smirking from an idea coming to him, he ducked to dodge the decapitation attempt, then slipped his arm between the bandit's crotch, lifting him up over his head before throwing the bandit in Stalk's direction. And the last standing bandit took the opportunity to run out of the cave, so only the injured one on the floor remained, as well as the one Vilkas just tossed. Stalks quickly jumped over the incoming bandit and stretched out his tail to trip over the running bandit as soon as he landed. When the fleeing bandit fell over Stalks quickly drew his dagger and embedded it in the bandit's neck. The bandit that had been tossed however seemed to have been knocked out, at least he didn't move. "Don't toss people at your audience!" Stalks shouted back at the twins. The brothers just looked over at Stalks and laughed as they finished off the last one on the ground with the broken arm. "Good reflexes there, friend. I thought you were done for," joked Vilkas. "You grow up in the wilds of Black Marsh, you die if you're not quick." He said as he cleaned off the blood from his dagger on the bandit's back before sheathing it and then checking the fallen one's pockets where he found two Septims and some junk. Noticing a few elven bandits in the mix, Farkas said, "Vilkas, was any one of those men Lilith?" His brother shook his head and put a hand on his brow and said, "Lilith is a girl's name, Farkas." "Hey, you never know with elves. I've heard some pretty feminine names from them before." "Hm, true. Don't let Athis hear you say that. By the way, feminine? Big word for you brother!" "Oh come off it, brother. Your sword arm's getting pretty slow, I noticed..." Being done looting the tossed bandit, who proved to be still alive but was breathing unevenly, Stalks glanced over the other bandit corpses t decide on which corpse to loot next he saw that one of the bandits' swords had begun hovering in the air. "Don't drop your guard you fools." He shouted at the twins while making himself ready to duck and dodge. Shortly after he said that, the blade shot at the brothers while they spoke. Vilkas heard the sound of magic, and instinctively jumped to the side, but Farkas hadn't. A loud clang echoed through the cave as the blade impacted his steel armor as he puffed out his chest to block it. "Who needs to dodge when you've got thick armor!" he said. "Hmph, just like your skull," said Vilkas when he got up. "Okay, coward. Enough tricks. Show yourself!" Stalks stayed silent as he grabbed his spear and put himself in a battle stance as he almost frantically looked around to see the attacker. Even throwing a few glances over the shoulder towards the cave entrance. "WILD CARD!" A woman's voice was heard in the middle of where everyone was standing, and suddenly from beneath the darkness, Lilith popped out of nowhere with her ebony sword flying towards Stalks' head. An empty bottle could be seen at her feet. "Why me?" Stalks managed to mutter to himself before quickly dodging to the right and avoided the sword. "Because I remember you, my pet!" she yelled as she pulled her arms back with the blade to get ready to spear at Stalks. Before she could, a strong hand gripped itself around her cloaked arm, preventing her from moving it. When she looked behind her, Farkas was towering above her with his great sword above her, about to shove it down the back of her neck. Just before the plunge, her magic picked up a nearby boulder and she threw it in her own direction, diving just in time to knock Farkas away into the dark of the cave. "Farkas!" yelled Vilkas as he charged the eastern devil. Stalks backed off a few steps so he got out of reach for her sword and then prepared to charge her himself while waiting for the other nord got her attention. Vilkas was on her quicker than she expected, but she managed to side step his large swing in time, choosing not to parry such a large blade for risk of ruining her edge or losing her sword. Afterwards, she popped the contents of a small white bottle into her mouth and threw it at the enraged Nord, then said, "Skooma!" before starting to slash at him recklessly, and surprisingly fast. Stalks circled a little around them as much as he could so he was behind her but a bit to her right, then he took the opportunity and charged her as she was busy swinging her sword at Vilkas who looked to have some trouble trying to keep and parry her blows. Stalks' blow struck her, though the drugged up Dunmer didn't seem to notice. Not because of the armor which was clearly visible now that the two had cut up her robe in ribbons, but because Lilith didn't care about the pain of what was surely a few broken bones and probably some internal bleeding, though the armor was holding up for the most part. In the midst of this and her demented laughing, a loud battle cry split their ears from the darkness of the cave. Farkas came charging at the trio with the boulder in his arms, running at them like a mad bull before he tossed the great stone at the group, with Lilith in the center. Stalks quickly withdrew his spear from Lilith and jumped back when the boulder came flying. Vilkas did the same thing, but all Lilith could do was stare wide eyed as the boulder came flying at her. Even high, she knew that shit just hit the thu'um. At the last second however, she managed to catch the boulder with her telekinesis spell. Before she could laugh from relief though, a bear sized boot came flying into the side of her face, knocking her down flat. Farkas was pretty sure he heard a crunch. While she was down, her off hand twitched, and she glowed with a golden aura, then sheathed her blade and scurried off to the back of the cave, leading up into the rest of the hideout. "After her!" yelled Farkas as he charged their prey after picking up his blade that he dropped. As the other two nords charged after the dunmer Stalks didn't charge after her but instead walked at a fast pace, letting the nords go on ahead. The eastern devil was fast, but somehow, the brothers were faster, just barely, and they were hot on her ass like hounds. Being so close to death put the fear of Boethia in her and sobered her up mighty quick. "Stop running and face your mauling like a man, elf!" yelled Farkas as he dragged his blade on the stone cave wall with one hand, making a loud scraping noise that made the hairs raise on Lilith's neck. Finally she reached the top of the cave, and a blinding light signified that they reached the outside. She was trapped now, standing on an area on the side of the small mountain overlooking a cliff leading down to the cave entrance below. The brothers could be heard not to far behind her from within, but there was nowhere to go but down. Stalks was a bit behind, surprised that there were no traps in place. And when he saw the first glance of sunlight against a wall far into the tunnel he picked up pace and ran as fast as he could to catch up. Even faster than the twins. Farkas came into the light first before Vilkas, neither of them stopping to cut her down. She had expected them to stop and say something like 'nowhere to run now!' but the look in the brutish one's eyes told her they were too excited and worked up for that. She did the only thing she could have in that situation. Jump. Farkas and Vilkas watched as her body skidded on the side of the mountain at an alarming rate. She was really working that dragon scale armor for all it was worth. She landed hard, but she was lucky. Lucky that the only thing she broke was her sword arm. Only someone insane would be crazy enough to attempt something like that. Lucky for her, she was. Farkas and Vilkas were brave, but not stupid enough to attempt what she just did. Looking up at them, she smiled and said, "Hah haha! The Madgod provides!" Just coming out coming out of the cave to see the twins standing at the edge and looking down when he heard Lilith scream he knew what he had to do. Turning and running back into the cave he ran for all his legs worth. Past the bandit corpses, for which he felt a little regret for not having to loot, and straight out of the cave and up a nearby cliff to get a better view. From there he stressed as he looked up along the mountainside and the surrounding landscape. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her. While Stalks was running to find her, and the twins ran to do the same, Lilith turned around to scram out of there as fast as she could. Except when she did, her red eyes settled on the figure of a slender Nord in skimpy looking "armor", if you could call it that. Her eyes were fierce, and she had dark green warpaint in streaks over her face as though it were a swipe from a beast. The drawn bow in her hand made Lilith stop in her tracks. Aela smiled as she said, "All mine." She anticipated her running away at the last second, and adjusted her aim on her skull, then let fly. The arrow hit its mark, sticking out of one end of her face and through the other. Lilith fell hard on the rough cobblestone of the road, where she finally laid. Dead. Aela smiled with satisfaction and placed her bowstring around her, resting the bow on her back and taking out a steel sword to remove her head. Vilkas and Farkas got to where Stalks was just in time to see Aela in the distance a few yards away from Lilith's body. "I don't believe it..." they both said in harmony. And almost on cue, Lilith yet again stood up from where she was, arrow still in her face, and took off like the wind. The arrow went through one end of her cheek and out the other, knocking out several teeth, and wounding her tongue as well, yet the skooma coursing through her veins continued to dull the pain as she took off. Aela stood wide eyed at the unbelievable luck of this Dunmer, but soon recovered, taking after her as fast as she could into the wilderness. With new invigorating hope to make this bounty his, Stalks jumped down the cliff and ran after them with the twins in tow. The armored brothers kept up well but soon started to fall behind the faster argonian.

Saladin Fury-Eye, Night, Valenwood The moist atmosphere of the forest was further enhanced by the torrent of rain failing down upon the large trees of Valenwood. Rodents of various sizes scutered about the forest floor, trying to avoid the large drops of water falling like a volley of arrows. The large overgrowth's of vegetation were in abundance around the area, shielding Fort Bahlok from vision. The perimeter around the ancient fort was devoid of most wildlife, with it being exclusively birds, and small rodents, but slightly to the south, the area was covered in animal life. It's original name was Abasel, which meant Forbidden Hall in Ayleid. From what the Dominion could tell, it was used as a wayward outpost for the vast empire during its height. Many centuries later, the Empire found it, and renovated it to suit it's needs as an imperial Garrison. When the Empire was driven out of Valenwood, the dominion adapted it as a prison for political rouges. Finding little use for it, the dominion later de-commissioned it, before being giving it to the Bloodwolves as a base of operations. It suited their needs, as a force primarily used in special covert operations, and anti-insurgency ops. It had a larger than usual prisoner holding area, and built in were advance interrogation centers. The Bloodwolve's commanding officer, Saladin Fury-Eye, renamed it "Bahlok", which meant Hunger in ancient Nordic/Skaalish. The fort itself was medium in size, big enough to hold around four hundred people, and was made of solid stone. The old Aldmeri fort was actually built over by Modern Imperial stonework. Colonel Fury-Eye was in his office, readying himself for tonight's operation. He secured his belt, which contained vials of poison, flashpowder, and blinding dust. He gently checked his sheaved Jagged dark-steel combat knife, which he tested with the tip of his finger. He left his gold-ebony shortblade in his equipment chest, it wouldn't do much in the dark. He wore his dark green dyed clothing, colored with camouflage, along with dark leather gloves, vanbraces, boot's and a chest guard. Swiftly, he put on his black longcoat, On his back, he strapped two steel longswords, along with a quiver of large ebony arrows, and his trademark ebony greatbow. Finally, he put on his wolf-skull Balcava, while bringing up the hood attached to his longcoat. Double checking everything, Saladin, walked out of the room, and into the hallway. As he passed by Bloodwolf personnel, each stopped to clear the way and salute there commanding officer, which Saladin lazily returned. The hallways were illuminated by candlelight, Saladin would have preferred pale moonlight to light his way, but the moon was blocked by the stormclouds today. Uncommon to most people, most Bloodwolf personnel were up at this late hour. Almost all Bloodwolf operations took place at night, so to help the soldiers eyesight in the dark, Saladin ordered all training sessions to be conducted at night, from twelve AM to six AM. It took awhile for the men to get used to, but they soon got into schedule. Which, unsurprisingly, lead to the men sleeping during the day. Saladin's mind soon trailed to Miss Homunal's orders, Hmmmm a lone wolf operative. Capable of shooting a barrage of accurate arrowfire in less than thirty seconds, before fleeing into the woods. Reminds me of someone. I hate judging skill on race, but it's almost certainly a Bosmer. The only archers whom I have meet that equal my skill in the bow is Edaurd, and Bosmer. Of which resistance cell, I have no clue. No Thalmor Intel on insurgence cells in the area specified. I should make a note of me writing a report, and requisition for more agents in that area, to Justicar Vernius. Can’t have my men going in completely blind. Surely he would see the need. Oh yes back to the mission, the Dominion office in his report, mentioned all attacks occurred in a certain area of forest. Very close to a major road. I'll first need to double check with him in the town, before doing a scan of the area. I could of course request the use of a Dominion military task force, but I highly doubt my request would be granted- "Excuse me sir?" A voice brought Saladin back to the real world. She was wearing the standard issue longcoat of the Bloodwolves, but unlike most, it was white in color. Signifying her as a member of the medical corps. Even without looking at the rank insignia, Lorgar knew who she was, "Yes, Warrant Officer Valecia?" Warrant Officer Avia Valecia, the Bloodwolve's Chief Medical Officer, was formerly a member of the Imperial Army, second legion. She was a kind. if stern imperial woman. She was in her early fifties, had blonde/greyish hair, and was quite tall. Her and Lorgar had served together during the great war, when Valecia and him were part of the seventh legion. They had a short relationship, and when it broke, they nonetheless parted as friends. She eventually rose to the rank of Tribune, and chief medical officer of the second legion. Unfortunantlety, a senior legion officer, had her dishonorably discharged when she failed to save the life of his son, to no fault of her own. She happily accepted Lorgar's offer. Her, Lucienus, and Homunal were the only ones in his outfit to know his true identity, "I want to talk about treatment of prisoners." Not this again... "Look, Warrant officer, we've already discussed this. Non VIP prisoners are only to be given basic medical treatment. We can’t afford to waste valuable supplies. Those orders come straight from Justicar Vernius."" Her face filled with shame at the mention of their chosen employer, Valecia had taken the news about them working under the Dominion hard, She sheepishly said, "Aye sir." Valecia had a kind heart, a rarity among the mercenary unit. She always had been compassionately to the wounded, regardless of which side they were on. Which was weakness. However, her skill in surgery and medicine was unmatched in the armed forces of Tamriel, and was very handy with a knife. Meaning Lorgar made an exception, Saladin frowned under his Balcava, before saying, "If anyone is in dire need of medical attention, and if i'm not ordered otherwise, I'll have Captain Velrius and Lieutenant Havani use magic. That's all I can do." And without further ado, Lorgar walked past the women, sharply saluting. Of course, he would like to gently reassure her that they would do his best to assist the wounded, regardless of their affiliation, but Saladin couldn't afford to show weakness. Finally reaching the door out of the fort, Lorgar stepped outside into the torrential downpour. The area outside of the fort was being pelted with rain, as was the Blood wolf officer. He slowly walked south of the base, before being stopped by a voice, “Boss, Sir.†Lorgar turned around to see two dozen Bloodwolf soldiers saluting, along with another one infront. None of them were wearing their unit’s longcoat, instead wearing solely long leather pants. The cold rain fell upon there muscular body, most of them were covered in scars. The one infront, presumably the leader, was wearing a Balcava, along with the camouflaged leather armor of their unit. Lorgar knew this soldier, Sergeant Bjorn Hell-Axe. He was formerly a member of the Stormcloak army, an officer. He was one of the gangleaders involved in the infamous rapes that happened in the city. Before he could be brought to justice, he escaped from prison, and joined up with a group of bandits. Lorgar appreciated the irony, when Lucienus told him of his recruitment. His brutality was well suited for his job as the Bloodwolves trainer, He crisply returned the salute, before saying, “Yes, sergeant?†To Lorgar’s annoyance, Bjorn tended to refer to him as “boss.†Bjorn straightened his back before asking, “Were doing a session on advanced Close Quarters Combat. I was wondering if you would join us, and provide a demonstration of how useful it can be. Saladin wasted no time throwing of his strapped longswords, and taking off his longcoat. Nodding his head, he went side by side with the Non-Commissioned OIfficer. Saladin could tell, Bjorn was smiling under his Balcava, he stepped forward, and addressed the line of soldiers, “Listen up Pups. Boss over here is going to be joining us. We’re going to have a little demonstration. Anyone who wants to get there ass kicked, but has balls, step forward.†Ironically, the first one who did was a female soldier. Who saluted sharply, which caused the rest of the men to flush in embarrassment, “Well then, it seems lance Corporal Emily has more junk then you do, men.†Unlike the rest due to them being all men, the soldier was wearing a braw over her…parts. Her hair was done very short, and had a scar on her right cheek, “Ready boss.†She simply said, Damn it, “Try to take me down…†Lorgar approached the women, under the falling rain. She ran forward and threw a punch. As lighting flashed, and thunder roared, Saladin side stepped to the right, before grabbing the women’s arm, twisting her into an armlock, and forcing her to her knees, Lorgar treated her like how he would treat any other enemy soldier, regardless of her gender. She struggled for a bit, but was stopped by Lorgar applying more pressure, before she tapped out. Lorgar released her. After that, he stepped forwards, and said, in a rather serious, and gruff voice, “Close Quarters Combat, or CQC for short, is the basis of hand to hand combat. If you are disarmed, or happen to lose your weapon, your hands can be invaluable to saving your life.†The rain began to come down ever harder, causing a sort of ambiance to the scene. It was nearly pitch black outside now, as Lorgar continued, “A weapon is nothing, without the hands to wield them. To master your blade, axe, mace, or bow, you must first master the use of your hands. Which is why knowledge unarmed combat is always valuable to learn.†He turned around, “Listen up, for us, there is no victory. We are Bloodwolves, hounds of the battlefield.†As he began to walk away from the group all of the soldiers saluted crisply, before one spoke up, “Sir in revolution, do you not win, or die?†Saladin chuckled,

Brund The Reach, Stormcloak Encampment Night The Stormcloak's war with the Forsworn was still raging on, though they managed to keep it contained now that they took Hag's End and could better protect the borders of Haafingar and the Reach. The Bull-like General sat at his new weapon sharpener, made custom to be able to handle a big enough blade like the ancient Nordic pendulum he now carried with him. He named it Alfr Vega, which was as close a translation in old nordic as you could find for Elf Slayer. He had it shipped to Windhelm to be enchanted with absorb stamina so he could keep on swinging and swinging and swinging and... The court mage was the one who gave it the name, Brund not being knowledgeable enough to know old Nordic. He stayed in that position for hours, though to him it could have been days. He'd been self reflecting for weeks now, ever since the change. The men didn't seem to mind this new quiet and reflective bull general. It was a wonderful change of pace from before, and they could only hope that whatever Hag's End did to him would last a great deal of time from now. Embers rose up into the night sky from the campfire as soldiers lay around the fire, laughing and slapping backs, enjoying temporary respite. The men and women's voices filled the air with camaraderie and cheer, though all Brund could focus on was the sound of the grind, as it seemed to grow louder and louder. And then louder some more. It wasn't his imagination. The general was putting more and more pressure onto the blade and stone, but the stone couldn't handle such force from this kind of steel. Louder and louder it grew as the Bull put more and more pressure on as he thought more and more about the man that he so hated. Eventually, the grindstone could no longer take it and the peddle beneath Brund's foot gave away, snapping off completely and unable to continue further the way Brund mistreated it. "Sir?" Brund looked up from his seat to see a young Legionnaire before him staring at him in confusion. Brund lifted his hand up to shield his eyes from the harsh and unforgiving Hammerfell sun. Looking down in his hands, he saw that he lost concentration of what he was doing from daydreaming, and he managed to ruin the axe he was sharpening for himself. "Sir?" "What!" Brund yelled, his voice no longer gruff and intimidating, but merely gravelly. Even somewhat pleasant to hear when he wasn't yelling. Not that this was surprising from men in their early twenties. "The Captain is back, sir. He awaits your orders." The soldier regarded the incredibly young legate with extreme skepticism, as did many under the boy's command. He himself only saw nineteen winters, and yet their so called Legate was no more than four years above him. Completely ******* ridiculous. And all because he was the closest Praefect around when their last Legate was slain. And he was only Praefect because his uncle was a council member, and his father had friends in the Legion. This is why politics did not mix with the military. The young so called Legate didn't say anything to him, only handed him his orders in a scroll and dismissed him with a hand wave to the main encampment where the Captain waited. The only reason anyone still had faith in the chain of command at all was because the Legate's captain was still around. The legion soldier handed him his orders now, which the man took in haste. He was a tall man, even for a Nord, standing at six feet, three inches tall, with golden cropped hair, a neat short trimmed beard, gaunt strong face and strong icy soul piercing blue eyes. He wore the standard legion captain armor, except the steel used for their heavy armor was replaced with a lighter leather equivalent, like what the "legate" wore as well, but without a red cape that Brund wore. The man's eyes raced across the paper quickly, so quickly in fact, that the young soldier who gave him the orders wondered if he even read the orders at all. "Just as I expected. The Legate plans to handle this attack by the books. That isn't going to work. You, go back with your fellow soldiers and prepare for the attack. I need a word with Legate Brund." The legionnaire smiled, then saluted him before running off to do as he was ordered. The Captain's face gave away nothing on his approach to Brund. Only his icy eyes showed any real emotion at all. Looking at everyone as if they were lesser than what anyone else knew. Like no one was ever good enough even to themselves. Brund continued his grinding, hating those eyes almost as much as the elven scourge bearing down on their position. Speaking without looking at him, Brund said, "What is it now, Captain." "I think you know, sir." "I do. You have another issue with my orders, yes?" The Captain said, "Sir, I never take issue with orders. I'll do as you command if I must. But..." "Always a but," said Brund. Ignoring the interruption, the Captain said, "But...I must insist that you heed my warning. Your battle plan, it isn't efficient enough. The Thalmor, they caught wind of our moving into Cyrodiil and abandoning this province. We have them cut off by the general's main force, but if we take this risk by attacking them head on to run through, they could have someone escape in time to warn their army in Cyrodiil. We should work to defeat this force, and do so by not attacking head on like this. We have the manpower, but they have the firepower. We-" "Our orders are clear, Captain. We are to make a hard retreat through these forces to meet up with the general, then prepare to continue our march east. The Imperial city is sacked. This is what the General has ordered me to do. That is final." "The General ordered us to come to him as soon as we could, yes. But if you told him the situation here and why we were held up and took the extra losses, Decianus would understand completely. Better it be this and go into Cyrodiil with a little less men than before than to let them get the chance to prepare for the at-" "Enough!" Brund finally stood from the little grindstone with a new axe freshly sharpened, and positioned against the Captain's throat. The young Legate was rather large, standing a foot taller than even the Captain, yet the Captain's composure, age gap and overall air about him always made him the dominant figure between the two. Even as an axe edge lay plain at his throat flesh. "I am tired of people telling me how to do my job...I will NOT be disrespected like this! Our only priority is to make sure we get with that main force for the retaking of the Imperial City. We cannot risk an all out battle with the force blocking us, or the main force could perish. They need every man on that attack for it to succeed. Now I don't want another word from you, Captain, or I'll have you arrested! Out of my sight!" The Captain's eyes again did all the talking for him, even as he stayed silent. Without another word, he left, leaving Brund to his grinding. *** "Sir, are you sure that is a good idea? We could be executed for this..." "Maybe, but right now that's a risk we must take. The Legate thinks that Decianus needs all of us, but I know how he thinks. I've served under him. He's not going to abandon this province, no matter what the Emperor says. Some of us will likely be remaining here anyway to repel the Thalmor forces in this land. So our duty to the Empire is to make sure this force can't get back to Cyrodiil before the main force does, and to make sure our surprise attack on the IC remains just that. I have scouts who have been watching their force, and they managed to intercept their messengers before they got too far, but it's been a few weeks now, and they're going to realize soon that their messengers did not make it. Our time to act is now. I have guards watching out for the Legate. When he sleeps, have the men march off as silently as possible. We attack at dawn, when it is bright enough for the enemy to see dust up, but not bright enough to see it clearly." "Yes sir, Captain sir!" "Not so loud!" "Oh, right, yessir." The Nord captain shook his head and watched as the soldier left his tent. He wouldn't have to worry about betrayal, the other soldiers did not respect their legate enough for that. He was more worried about the plan. This wasn't his first battle, but it was his first time going against orders. If his plan failed, he'd risk a lot more than his life alone. *** The Captain Dawn The Captain watched the sky unravel the rose reds and purples while the sun began to rise slowly to bring back the heat of the desert to burden them once more. The men suffered from skin damage often out here due to the haste of deployment and lack of preparation time for the uniforms to be more fitted to the desert, but it was only a small part of their problems. The Captain himself had to deal with intense sunburn on more than one occasion on his fair skin, though at the moment he was fully healed, and also thankful to be leaving this gods forsaken desert soon. As he continued watching the sky, a soldier behind him approached, then said, "Beautiful, isn't she? You Nords have a greater appreciation for the sky than most. So I'm not surprised to see you watching her as I do." The Captain turned around to see a Dunmer legionnaire approach him, staring at the sky's red with his matching eyes. "I take it your patron is Kyne?" The Captain didn't immediately answer at first, and for a moment the Dunmer thought he would not answer. "No. My guide is Boethia." He didn't see it since he was still looking at the sky, but he could imagine the Dunmer's widened eyes from the sound of his voice. "Really? Well that is a rarity. Can I ask why?" "It's not as strange as you think. I do still revere Kyne. As well as Ysmir, and by extension, Talos. But it was not Kyne that took revenge for her husband. Boethia was the one who ate Trinimac and birth-defecated the Dung-God. Her sphere is not unlike that of Shor's either. He is after all, a snake. A trickster. And she is the Prince of deceit, conspiracy, treason, and so on and so on. The daedra are just spirits like any other. The only difference between our divines and the daedra is that the daedra kept their ultimate immortality. Even though by doing so, they missed out on what Shor made, and are jealous. Boethia is the avenger of Shor, and a master of deceit. She is worthy to be my guide. And we shall all need it this day to make this plan work." "You're an odd Nord, to be sure sera." "I'm a scholar as much as I am a warrior. When pen is combined with sword, there is no deadlier force on the battlefield. Now, return with the others. We attack soon. For the Empire." "For the Empire," said the Dunmer. Smiling, he walked away with confidence. He was sure that whatever the Captain had planned, he would certainly succeed. *** "Men! I will not bore you with a pretty speech and flights of fancy. We've come to kill some goddamned Thalmor, nothing more, nothing less. We will kill them all, down to the very last mer. Any survivors are to be slain on sight. Now....I've got sword, shield, hairs on my balls and a hard on for Thalmor blood! So I'm ready to do some killing! Are you?" "Yes!" "I said ARE YOU?!?" "Yes!" "Then let us show these scullery maids the ******* a Legionnaire can give! Battlemages, march! Left side, march! Right side, march! Rear guard, march! Move out, and do your ancestors proud!" The air was filled with the cries of the men as they moved in on the enemy below the large dune of which they stood. The Captain watched proudly as man and mer alike, all donned in legion red moved as one united strong force. Now more than ever, he was proud to be a legionnaire. And he prayed to all the gods that would listen that he'd live to see his son in Bruma become one as well. *** "Sir, do you see this?" said a Thalmor soldier to his Justiciar commander. "I see it. The legion has finally decided to make a push for the main force east of here. They've sent their entire force towards us in a head on assault, judging from that dust up. No matter, we'll greet them with the power of Magnus. For the Dominion!" *** The Captain took point with the front line of soldiers behind the battlemages in the front. They were already being beset with waves of lightning and fire, but the battlemages protected them with their wall of wards. That wasn't the only thing they did, however. With their other hands, they launched firebolts from their hands in front of them into the ground, so that the magic would impact the sand and create a dust up that made it look as though their force was larger than it really was. Finally, the battlemages, hearing the approaching Thalmor rather than seeing them, fell back behind the shield wall of the Legion and pulled out their own swords and shields. The Thalmor had only moments to be surprised and even amused at the small force that attacked them before they heard the sky shattering screams and calls of soldiers attacking them from behind on their side and their flank, charging down from dunes as well. The Thalmor were taken completely off guard, unsure of which force to focus on and unable to adapt or maneuver their way out of their predicament. Surrounded, and thoroughly defeated, they had no choice but to surrender. Unfortunately for them, the Captain's orders were clear. The only good Thalmor was a dead one. And there were no bad Thalmor left in the desert that day. *** When the Captain and his men arrived back at the camp, the young Legate Brund wasted no time in meeting them on their return march. By the looks of him, one would have thought he too was in the battle, covered in blood like he was. The Captain knew better than that though. "Taking your anger on the Thalmor prisoners again I see." Enraged, and breathing heavily, Brund stared into his icy eyes with his own and said, "Don't approve of that either?" "Oh, you'll have no sympathy for them from me." "In my tent, NOW!" said Brund, ignoring the looks of scorn his soldiers gave him as he addressed their beloved Captain with such venom in his voice. The Captain's face as always betrayed nothing. As he stepped in the tent, Brund paced by his map of Hammerfell with his arms behind his back, breathing heavily still, and trying to compose himself. "You are dishonorably discharged. You will be arrested, stripped of your rank, and sent away to survive the desert on your own for disobeying orders." "Sir, permission to speak freely?" "Permission denied." "I guess I'll just take the liberty myself then, since you need to hear this. You can't discharge me. You can't do a damn thing to me." "Is THAT SO?" "It is, boy. What I did here today, it makes me a hero in the eyes of your men, and will likely make me a hero in the eyes of the General when he gets word of our victory. You discharge me for this, and the story will get out. They'll see my reasoning, and all they'll see is a veteran being punished for disobeying orders that would lead to a tactical failure, all because the boy legate went on a temper tantrum and wouldn't listen to the man left here for the very purpose of directing you." "Orders are orders! They'll see that and know that my decision was just. You do not disobey your Legate and challenge his decisions when they are made!" The Captain laughed now, giving a toothy grin. The only bit of emotion he'd ever shown in days. "Yes, the widdle wegate made a decision. But given it was a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it. Go ahead, arrest me. But you'll be committing career suicide." The Captain threw down his sword at Brund's feet, and turned to walk away. But, Brund knew he was right. He could not touch this man without hurting himself. In his rage, the young Nord let his emotions get the better of him, and he charged the captain's back, looking to put him in his place and beat him into the ground. As soon as Brund got in arm's reach, the Captain spun around and delivered a blow to the head with his legion boot in a spinning kick. Stunned, Brund could only turn his head back to try and see his opponent, which allowed the Captain to deliver a blow to his face with a punch. And then another. And another. While he was dazed, the older Nord grabbed the Legate by the back of his head and ran towards a wooden chair. With his hand still behind his head, the Captain jumped so that his weight would help him slam his face into the seat. The young Legate's face could take a lot of punishment, the Captain gave him that. He was still awake, though he was too dazed to move. The man placed his arm behind his leg and wrapped it around his so that when he bent down, Brund could not move his body without causing himself great pain. "Listen here, Legate. You are nothing to me. You are ten winters short of mine, and even shorter on brains. You are a brutish fool. A bull, charging into the fray only to be slain by foes more clever. My left nutsack has more greatness contained than your entire bloodline. And you should be honored to lay beneath my feet. If you are smart, you will pretend as though you went along with my plan, if you wish to remain Legate long enough to prove yourself. If not, then let your pride get in the way and screw us both. Your choice." "I-I am...going...to kill you. I swear it," Brund said, weakly. "That so? Well then, remember that my name is Ulrin Red-Snow. Lest you forget it and you can't find me and are unable to keep that promise." Letting go of the Legate, Ulrin made his way out of the command tent. "Good day, Legate Brund. And congratulations on your victory." *** Brund snapped out of his thoughts when a Stormcloak soldier with blonde hair and a braid in it sprayed mead into the camp fire and scared one of the soldiers by calling out 'dragon!' The other men all cackled with laughter as he returned to his thoughts. Ulrin Red-Snow. The man he vowed to kill. He was offered a promotion to Legate when they met up with the general, but he refused, wishing to keep his duties as a simple captain rather than seeking glory as Legate. Brund found out about this by his word, and from chatter of the other soldiers. Brund was determined to regain his honor, so he stayed behind in Hammerfell when Decianus announced he'd be leaving behind "invalids". He thought surely the Empire would see his worth once he helped to slaughter many of the Thalmor in Hammerfell. But upon his return, he found out that the Legion did not want to take him back because of rumors of his disposition, which was the real reason he never got in. Not because he spoke against the WGC. After all, he wasn't the only one that did. He knew he owed only one man for this. Not that he tried to hide it. Ulrin sent him the letter of recommendation to not reinstate him personally. Another insult that demanded his blood. But he was still unable to. Then later when he joined the Stormcloaks and word got out that the Bull of Hammerfell left their ranks, Ulrin found a way to get a messenger to deliver him another letter, saying that the Stormcloaks was a club for whiners, losers and wannabe heroes. And that is why the only legionnaires they had were common footsoldiers and failed officers such as Brund himself. That was just as well, as Brund took that messenger and did horrible things to him to find out his enemy's location. And with the backing of an army, he could finally have his revenge. But it was not to be. For Ulrin would once again have the last laugh as his son of all people killed him first. And then again when his son was in charge of him. And then again when that son was promoted to general, and then promoted him to general. And then finally again when that same son took the High General position, and even worse, convinced Brund himself that he wasn't the best man for the job. He watched that man from afar in secret, monitoring his military career even before Falkreath, hearing how he saved the King himself from Alduin's dragonfire. Growing more and more hateful of not only Ulrin, but of his mark on the world beyond the grave. It was as if he hadn't died at all. Yes, Brund watched him carefully for a long time in secret. Letting no one know he knew him or his father. Brund thought about that promise to Ulrin, and how he gave up on it finally when his protege beat his in the duel. He lost to Ulrin in almost every way imaginable. So there was no longer any reason to pursue revenge on the Red-Snows. Until now. When he got wind of the abilities of the briarhearts, and that the hagravens were responsible, he knew what he had to do, and that he could finally gain his revenge by slaying Ulrin's son and humiliating him. Brund finally stood and walked away with Alfr Vega and stepped into his tent to rest for the night, thinking on when the perfect chance to strike would be. He had the chance to do so when the werewolf had him distracted, but that was too easy. He wanted him alone, one on one. As Brund took off his tunic, he held a candle light up to his chest to look again at the spot where his heart once was. Instead, a square diamond shaped piece of steel covered it. Burned and stuck into his flesh and the bones of his ribcage to protect his secret. Pounding on it, he smiled to himself before blowing the candle light out. He had forgotten his promise once. But as always, Brund found a way to get what he wanted.

(continued) "Ah ah, you can't just yank at me like some scullery maid and have your way with me! You gotta get me in the mood." Baldur batted his eyelashes like a woman to complete the gender switch in approach. "I remember those moves of yours if Falkreath... our wedding night. I'd love to see that again." "The Ra Gada outfit? I guess, when in Hammerfell... Alright, you go get in the love nest, and no peeking." She figured Ysana had to have put some goodies in the bag for her, too. "Hazzah!" he said triumphantly. Kissing her on the cheek first, he said, "For a lapdance, that'll be easy, haha. Don't take too long, or I'll have to start without you." Baldur didn't waste any more time chit chatting and quickly dashed off to the canopy bed and hopped in, awaiting his surprise. "Lapdance?" She hadn't heard it called that before, and wasn't really sure what that involved, though the word was descriptive enough. Mumbling, Rebec looked longingly at the bottle of spiced brandy, but went to Ysana's bag of tricks instead. Minutes passed, with more mumbling, and some shuffling of clothes. "No peeking!" Rebec reminded him sternly. At last she threw back the canopy flap, and leaned in to pull Baldur forward to the edge of the little platform bed. She was covered up in a dressing gown, though it was apparent when it fell open at the top that there wasn't much else underneath. "Ra Gada dancers need accompaniment," she said slyly. "Here." Into his hands she thrust a little skin drum, and demonstrated holding it under his arm and alternating rolling softer beats with hard taps. "Now give me some rhythm. Fast or slow, you get to decide." His first instinct was to reach out at her when he saw what she was wearing, though the drum going in his hands reminded him what was going to happen first. "Oh, I got this," he said, wriggling his fingers before starting a slow rhythm while bobbing his head to it. He remembered the beats the Ra Gada used in Falkreath. To anyone else this might have seemed patronizing, but he knew Rebec knew better than to think that of him, so he could enjoy this. Rebec laughed, a bit nervously, though the drum made her relax even without alcohol. It was ridiculous, two Nords playing at Ra Gada music and dance, but with the waves from the evening tide crashing onto the beach, and the breeze wafting in scented with the spice of the cardamom trees nearby, it was easy to get into the spirit of the moment. Turning her back to him, Rebec was still for a moment, then almost imperceptibly her hips began to lift and roll. Then her arms. After a moment these seemed to shrug and the dressing gown fell away. Underneath she wore a pair of bright yellow silk pants slung low on her hips, and a top that left her midriff bare. On her hips also hung a gold chain fringed with tiny seashells, one strand hanging straight down her bottom that gave accent to every movement. Her "T" tattoo was visible above this, just on the rise of her lower back. For a while she danced with her back turned, casting a coy glance back at him once in a while. Rebec knew he liked this view, even if it made her self conscious. Finally she turned and moved in the lamplight closer to him, though still not close enough to touch. The small top was held with a gold clasp, and her Kyne amulet hung between her breasts, one concession to Nordliness. Remembering what she'd learned from Ra Gada women, she kept her center still while everything else move around it, slow, luring his eyes to every ripple of her skin. Baldur's eyes were constantly moving as well, hungrily trying to see every ripple, every movement. The sight of the T on her rolling hips made him long to see it closer and under him. He knew what he asked, but didn't know quite what he was in store for when he got it. He saw Rebec's moves, but this was much different, more enthusiasm. He could sense her slight nervousness, and he knew she'd never done this for anyone. This was a side of Rebec only he would ever see. And it was so damn intoxicating and sexy. Just in time too, before the baby made this impossible. The baby.... Baldur's growing libidinous state only continued to do so as she came closer. A few times he messed up and skipped a beat for being so distracted, which was appropriate for what he thought his chest just did when his heart raced. The beat of the drum consequentially grew faster as his excitement increased, which was clear from what his trousers was showing. He inched forward on the edge of the bed to get closer, then with a sly smile laid down and parted his legs a bit to give her room while he kept the beat going. Rebec smiled as the tempo picked up, and she obliged, rolling her hips and occasionally stopping to shimmy. She kept her eyes on him, too, drinking in the lust in his eyes and the swell in his trousers. Her hands were as active as the rest of her, drawing long seductive curls in the air. Once she stopped and gave him a mischievous smile as her hand cupped the air in similar motions as what he got that morning. Slowly she danced into the space between his legs, then turned and made to sit on his lap, though her bottom only brushed the front of his pants. When she turned again, she put a hand on his shoulder and with the other reached down to pull at his trouser laces, gaze fixed on his, daring him to stop her. He was the one with the drum and keeping the pace, but at this point Baldur couldn't tell if her dancing was being lead on by his beat, or if his beat was following her hips. And when she started to press her bottom against him finally... that feeling of soft warm firmness rubbing against him with the sensation of the smooth fabric... so damn good. So good in fact, that in that instant he found himself even feeling bad for Aksim. And not just him, but pretty much anyone that wasn't him right now with her, all alone with this on an island to himself. Off the market for good and with eyes only for him. Not that he felt bad enough to do anything for them or Aksim. Heh, no they would just have to suffer. He wanted to put his hands on that glorious rump of hers so badly, but somehow the drums added so much to this that he was compelled to play them out until he could no longer hold a beat and had to seize her. Almost like a challenge of how long could he go. When she started undoing the string on his trousers, all he could do was stay trapped by Rebec's gaze with alert and heavily lust laced eyes as he wondered what she was up to. Ever one for the dramatics, Baldur tortured himself longer holding the beat, but it slowed down again, turning into a suspense building rhythm to match the atmosphere that Rebec was creating. Rebec tugged at the trouser fabric until she could see the "sling" underneath. Laughing a little, she then took the drum out of Baldur's hands and tossed it on the easy chair behind them. They were going to make their own rhythms now, with breath and flesh. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she kept the slow swaying of her body going, now against him so that he could feel the movement as well as see it. Her hip jostled his hardness, and then once again she turned and caressed him with her backside, a little more insistently this time. Still with her back to him, she took Baldur's hand and brought it around to her front, letting him help her undo the clasp at her top. Her breasts were free then, though he couldn't yet see them, only steal a squeeze before she danced away and turned. Slowly, bare on top, she repeated her dance movements, the sway of her breasts and the little shells on her gold belt keeping tempo with her hips. Then with a push her loose pants fell away, too, leaving only the belt. She returned to Baldur and helped him lift his tunic over his head. Her breasts at just the right level for him to taste them, she began to massage his shoulders while he did so. Impatient and aroused, at last she pushed him back onto the bed and jerked the trousers down around his ankles. Keeping him pinned, she climbed astride and ground herself against the little piece of fabric that remained between them, then slowly climbed up to straddle his shoulders. In her ship's cabin, Rebec had been embarrassed at this stance, but now she was confident and excited enough to revel in it. Her look commanded him to set to his work. Baldur stopped himself from greedily tasting her, and first inched closer, letting her feel his hot breath on her first. Smiling up at her from where he was, he took his fingers from behind her and around her leg to her sweet spot to make her squirm over him before finally placing his hands on her backside and shoving her forward onto his mouth. His hands helped her movement now, and he could feel the power of her legs, of her entire body as she moved her hips in the same way as before. He pulled his tongue out from her, then moved up to suck and rub roughly at her sensitive clit in a shock of pleasure before mercifully moving back down to her center and slipping his tongue inside again. His arousal was so strong that his hips moved too as if she was riding his groin and not his tongue. His hands were constantly moving, helping her along, and one of them played with the golden belt with seashells, pulling the little string that hanged on her back down with his finger as it slid down the middle of her backside. Groaning while smiling up at her so she could feel his vocal cords reverberate through her, he urged her to grind and ride harder by moving his head back and forth at her like his hips soon would, using his beard to tickle her inner legs, and his mustache to rub at her clitoris. Seeing her exposed breasts and hardened nipples only made him push at her harder as his long arms helped him reach up from behind her to grab at them. Senseless with arousal, she fell forward to one hand and simply rode his tongue's motions until the black behind her eyes turned to exploding light. Crying out from it, she greedily let him draw out the last, long series of shudders. Rebec's limbs felt weak as a doll's, but her thighs were still on fire. She climbed forward and turned, remaining on her hands and knees, an invitation. Baldur quickly moved up and followed her from behind. Her wetness was all along his beard, but he let it stay there instead of wiping his mouth, too drawn to the welcoming sight before him that's been teasing him this entire time. He approached her slowly at first before suddenly seizing her and aggressively pulling her towards him so that his filled sling rested against her cheek, just under the 'T'. He ran his hands over her slowly, over the roundness of her buttocks before kissing the tattoo and then the cheek below it. He took one of her hands and placed it on his sling and pulled it aside, instead of all the way off. It was too much work to pull it all the way off his legs and out his backside anyway when he had what he wanted right there. When he was free, he placed himself back on the same spot, rubbing at her cheek with all of his groin before sliding down to her hot center again. He teased her a little longer, rubbing at the surface before suddenly plopping it in past her resistances. He moved slowly at first, giving her a chance to recover from her earlier shudders. But it wasn't long before his hands sunk into her hips above her belt and at the tattoo matching his brand, using it for grip as he thrust into her harder, but not fast. Not yet. Her murmurs rewarded his teasing, and then a soft groan as he entered her. Clutching the rich fabric of the bed, Rebec moved her hips slowly in counterpoint, driving him deeper, the soft clank of her belt and the wet sounds of skin against skin the music to which they danced now. In this stance she was helpless, dependent on Baldur both for pleasure and for caresses. This passivity and the unique sensations from him butting against the front wall of her belly were maddening, so erotic that she could taste it, more exquisite than any liquor. When he started to lose himself to the pleasure he was feeling, he moved his hands from her waist to rub at her back before finally gripping her shoulders to brace as he picked up the tempo. He was too caught up with being interwoven with the love of his life to think of really anything but the incredible level of lust that love brought. His grip hardened as his tempo grew and the little love nest was filled with the sounds of her cheeks slapping against him and the little golden chain dancing around, occasionally brushing against him as it shook and rattled. He realized only later that his hands were gripping too hard at her shoulder, so he moved them to her bosom as he bent towards her to kiss and gently suck her shoulder in apology and loving tenderness, which was a sharp contrast to the hard thrusts she was receiving from him. With the way they were going, the whole canopy was shaking violently and banging loudly against the cabin wall, and since all they could see was inside it, it was as though the entire world were shaking. He was almost making as much noise as she was, but he managed to say her name, letting her know he was near. Rebec turned her head so her cheek nestled against his, breath against breath. She flustered encouragement for him to take his release. She herself was so aroused that she didn't know if she had come once or twice or was about to again. Knowing they had the whole night together and nothing to do for a night and day but more of the same, it didn't matter. In the last moments she lay down under him, craving the safe feeling of being pinned under his weight. As she did, Baldur quickly flipped her over to look into her eyes as he worked to be done. He put his arms under her head and looked at her almost curiously and in the same way he did when he watched her sleep. His body seemed to be fighting his desire to finish, almost in protest to prolong it further, but he was too near, too ready to have the final push. When he did, it was so overwhelming, that the big Nord had to bury his cries in her shoulder as he came so hard that the initial release almost hurt, and he could feel it push from his groin as his two boys rested against the sheets and Rebec's bottom. He was breathing hard as his eyes were shut closed fiercely and he mumbled something in old Nordic that meant 'By the gods', or more accurately, by the et'ada. In the confusion of their overwhelming feelings, vulnerable as they were to each other, Rebec wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly. Even pinned as she was, it felt like they floated together, an illusion heightened by the sound of the waves outside the little hut. Caressing his back with her hands, she whispered his name and kissed at his cheek and ear. When he rolled to his side, she went with him, nestled close. Pausing briefly to remove the chain around her waist, Rebec tossed it away, then returned to his side, tucking her head under his chin. He watched as her pretty head rose and fell along with his chest from his breathing. His blood was still going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to calm down and rest as he did. Feeling his blood rush like that when he was stilled was always exhilarating. He could feel the heat in his blood rush through his limbs more acutely, especially in his ears and arms. He ran his hands along Rebec's back then, still not tired of the feeling of her skin, or the burning from their heat combined together. Such exertion and heat in combination was purifying, almost like the sauna, except they needed no hot coals to accomplish what they did. "You were unbelievable. Like you were possessed by Dibella." She laughed happily. Voice languid but with a bit of pride, she said, "You can tell your ma her magic worked, then." "Ha, no I don't think I will. That was all you. Not magic, and not Dibella. Just the mother of our child being amazing as always." "Hold on to that thought when I'm too big to fit through the door and passing gas every time I get up from a chair." Laughing at that thought, he said, "I will. And I'll say the exact same thing. It will take someone truly amazing to have that going on and still remain the most beautiful thing there is to my eyes." Rebec turned her head to look up at him, looping her fingers through his. "Or, you could just be a bard full of horker shit," she said, grinning. Matching her grin, he said, "Or I could be a bard who, as you said earlier, sees more than what is, but also what can be simultaneously. Perhaps where others see useless rocks, I see the building blocks to civilization. Where others may see a big heaving pregnant woman farting every time she exerts herself, I see the love of my life putting her body through hell to bring our child into the world through the power of creation. 'And that truly...is beauty'." He looked into her eyes and let her see his smile fade to show he was serious. Then smiling again, he said, "Besides, when you start launching thu'ums from your backside, that means I can do it too with impunity, hehe." "Like you don't already," Rebec said, laughing. She watched his face in the bits of firelight that came in through the canopy fringe. Each contour was familiar now, and she loved every one, even the scars. Shield brother, lover, father of her child. Children, maybe. Rebec warned herself not to get too far ahead. In any case, the present moment held more happiness than she had thought could possibly be hers. Putting her head back down on Baldur's chest, she murmured, "You better get some sleep. I'm not done with you tonight, Red Snow." And she wasn't. Not by a long shot. *** Three days later they found themselves in less blissful circumstances, seated before a redguard man of some sixty years. He wasn't tall but cut an imposing figure nonetheless, mostly because of the intensity of the gaze that regarded the Nords like errant schoolchildren. Idem Zubiri was born to a sailor family, though he had been a soldier and only came back to sailing after the war against the elves. He was promoted quickly through the ranks of the Hammerfell navy, taking over as admiral eight years prior. He was, evidently, not impressed at the young female Nord admiral who had requested this meeting. Following redguard hospitality customs, he had offered them stubgrass tea, but there were few pleasantries before he was ready to get down to business. Glancing between Rebec and her husband, he asked stiffly, "What is it that you want from us, sirs? You have your own navy. We've heard all the glorious stories about your war with the imperial fleet." The admiral's tone betrayed no sarcasm, though it was certainly there. Baldur leaned back in his chair informally, feeling well relaxed from the previous day's activities. He felt like he just shed ten years from his body. Regarding the old man, he said, "You say that as though you were jealous. Nothing was stopping your fleet from jumping in to take revenge, admiral Zubiri." He lifted a brow. "It wasn't our fight. You still haven't answered my question." "We want to make sure that in the next fight, no one goes it alone," Rebec replied, jumping in. "We'll tell you the same thing we told Jeleen and Kematu of the Alik'r. If the Thalmor attack Hammerfell, we'll send aid. If the imperials attack you, likewise, as long as they struck first. What we want is a promise of the same from you, and your cooperation in any Dominion assault on the old empire. We'll stand stronger together than apart." "You've come around to that realization at last, have you. It's a bit late." The admiral leaned back on his desk, a slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth. Baldur said, "It only is if you accept that, admiral. We're all still alive and free from Thalmor rule. Until that changes, it's never too late. I think we proved that personally when Nord, Redguard and Imperial united together against the Thalmor in the middle of our civil war." "That was a freelance operation on the part of some our... firebrands, if you will, High General. A foolish venture, many would say." "If we hadn't had their help, Skyrim might still be at war, and that means we wouldn't be in the position we are now to make this alliance," Rebec said. "Listen, we get it. After Cyrodiil signed away its soul, Hammerfell stood alone. You showed us all what could be done when someone stands up to the Thalmor. You got the bragging rights, as I know you Ra Gada crave. Do you want us to grovel about it?" "That would be nice." "Don't grow too complacent, Ra Gada, lest it be you that sits out of the war while everyone else fights this time around. Don't forget that the man who rules Skyrim now and the ones who originally followed him were the ones who too called for war again with the Dominion. And we represent those men and women." Baldur sat up in his seat now and gave the old man a stern look. "You and I know how this is going to work. You sit there in your chair, milk the whole concept that we need you for a while and revel in it, then eventually after you're bored of that and you've frustrated us enough to the point to where it looks like we'll give up and leave, you stop us and accept the alliance. Why? Because without Stros M'kai, we don't have a large enough naval base away from Thalmor waters to invade Valenwood. And if Cyrodiil falls, the first place their navy will go to afterwards is Hammerfell. Stros M'kai specifically, just like in the first Great War." "There is a place for everything, High General Red-Snow, including the formalities. This isn't just about gloating. You need to convince me that I should trust your promises. To me, you're just imperials of another sort, and I daresay we all know how empty their words can be. I've already proven that I have no interest in exploiting the chaos of war for Hammerfell's gain." Warily Rebec asked, "What does that mean?" Idem's eyes shifted to her, glittering sharply. "We had messengers from the imperial navy around the same time others were declaring the blockade in Solitude. They wanted us to come along for the ride. I declined their offer, despite the promises of spoils and future trade advantages for Hammerfell. You are welcome." Baldur shook his head and said, "So I'm supposed to be surprised you weren't stupid enough to work with the very people that abandoned your province. I see. I'm more interested in the fact that you didn't warn us first, though I suppose it wouldn't have done any good. In any case, you want me to prove that our word isn't empty? When's the last time you heard of an Imperial going through your blasted deserts and helping your people deal with a problem separating them when you are supposed to be united? You may not see the actions of Jodun Hunding as important, but we do, and we return favors of those who help us in our time of need. You're welcome." Well, Gracchus did come to do just that, but he doesn't need to know that, heh. Trying to prove a point here. The redguard admiral regarded them levelly some moments. "I'm not surprised that one with a name so fated took up that quest. And died for it. As for not warning you, I didn't take their threats seriously. Not at first. Even if I had, I and many others here weren't convinced that your upstart rebellion would last the first Skyrim winter." Zubiri straightened again and walked around to the bookshelves lining his office walls, filled with nautical, military and scientific tomes. As he did so he went on, "It seems you stand now where we were twenty five years ago. A victory or two in hand, but our country in shambles, to say nothing of our army, and with almost no navy left at all. So call it nostalgia, but I am willing to help you. I'll need some concessions from you, however." "Everybody does," Rebec replied curtly. "We're listening. That's why we're here." "I hear you dropped a lot of coin on Breton shipyards when building up your fleet. I want that coin in Hammerfell instead." "We had to try to keep the Bretons out of the fight. It's a good thing, too, since apparently the imperials were looking for more ships. I wonder now they didn't get at least some merchant auxilaries to join in." "Not enough coin to go around, I wager," Zubiri guessed. "Well, at any rate, the orders are a done deal and there won't be more any time soon. The royal treasury is dry." Rebec hesitated, considering. "Some of the yards there gouged us good. All I can promise is that next time, we pass them by and bring the orders to you. Anyway if there's a fight with the Dominion, Hammerfell will have to be our resupply and repair base, especially if Cyrodiil is blockaded. Isn't that enough for you?" "It appears it will have to be." The redguard took several books down from the shelves and walked slowly back to face the Red Snows. "I've heard of your family, Admiral. And I've asked around about you. You can sail, they say, but are new to military tactics. Take these. I want to know the people I work with are capable." Rebec looked over the books he handed to her: Handbook of Naval Strategy, Maritime History of Yokuda and Old Hegathe, and Coastal Geography of Southern Tamriel. She glanced at Baldur. Being basically told that she was in short pants and not qualified to be an admiral galled her, but there was some truth to it, as well. "Thank you," she answered stiffly. "I thought we could plan some joint naval exercises for next summer, if we make it that far before the Dominion hit us. Maybe then I'll get to see if you're capable." Zubiri shot her a sharp look, but said nothing of her jab. "That can be arranged. In the meantime you'll want naval intelligence as well, I imagine." Baldur was surprised that Rebec hadn't thrown those books at the man, though his grandfather image made it seem sincere, whereas from anyone else, it would have sounded like an insult. But it didn't matter, Rebec had a war victory under her belt on two fronts, whereas this man had none. "Such as what? You have knowledge on the Thalmor fleet?" asked Baldur. "We keep an extremely close eye on anything happening in the Abecean. The Topal Sea is a bit more difficult, but we have our sources. When you speak of a Dominion assault, are you referring to an invasion of the Isles, or do you plan to wait and see if they attack the mainland again?" Baldur said, "There's no way we're invading the Isles. I'm not the Admiral here, but I know better than to try what Talos preferred to use Numidium to achieve, though unlike Altmeri critics, I don't think he needed to use it. No, our primary target is Valenwood. The capital is right on the coast as well, so putting strong pressure on it by sea is going to be necessary to take some of the heat off of my land force. Though Rebec was telling me she thinks we can and should do some lightning strikes on the Isles while they're distracted." "I see. And after you retake Valenwood, what then? You expect them to care about the Bosmer? The Thalmor threat will never truly be contained until they are destroyed at their root." "One step at a time, my friend. Valenwood is their biggest foothold on the mainland, and is the only thing keeping them a player here at all. Elsweyr is secondary. I suspect they'll simply leave the Dominion after Valenwood is gone. They'll know they're next and I doubt would be so bold as to hold with them once defeated. After that, it doesn't matter if they exist or not. Valenwood is key. They only attacked Hammerfell because they were able to distract the Legion from their southern borders, knowing that Cyrodiil would be their biggest priority. I have a plan, but I need the support of Hammerfell to make me lead General of the alliance to pull it off. Under me, there won't be any provinces taking priority over others." Zubiri studied Baldur skeptically. "You sound very confident of all that. I myself am not so confident that we were simply a diversion. They mean to rule this continent, all of it." He walked to the window, looked down over the jumble of waterfront buildings and the forests beyond. "Do you know why I am based in Stros M'kai and not Sentinel? It's not just to be closer to our greatest threat, though there is that.This place was the last place that held out against imperial rule. It was the first place the Dominion hit when they came to impose their own. Here was where they were finally humiliated and sent packing. If Stros M'kai is free, Hammerfell is free." Turning back to Rebec and Baldur, he said, "I aim to see that it remains so. I'll take whatever help you offer towards that goal. Even if it means fewer bragging rights for the Ra Gada." He glanced at Rebec and smiled. "You misunderstood, I meant that they only attacked Hammerfell because they were able to distract the Legion from Valenwood and Elsweyr. Their southern borders. Everyone knows Hammerfell was their main target. I doubt they realized Cyrodiil was as weak as it was, which is why the priority seemed to switch. Which the Ra Gada should be thankful of, since the Legion, that being Nords, Bretons, and Imperials, took most of the damage, which allowed you to have your... 'bragging rights'." Baldur said that last part while regarding Rebec with a smirk. Baldur wasn't one for letting the Ra Gada have an ego stroke, not when it came to things like war. That, and it demonstrated that Baldur knew what he was talking about and wasn't just some young upstart. "In any event, the Ra Gada already have such by being the first to stand with us in this alliance since the civil war. Without you and Stros M'kai, the alliance doesn't really work, so there's that. We could just attack by land, but that would be much more brutal, much less effective, and much less likely to succeed. So if Stros M'kai's admiral is on board, then things just got a hell of a lot less bleaker." "Let me make a few things clear. I want no operations in my waters without my knowledge or consent. Though if you really want to throw yourself at Dominion ships, I won't object. The new imperial admiral was doing that down in the Topal, until he was drowned recently by some sort of sea monster. And I trust this will give your king incentive to keep favorable trade relations with our merchants. If not, you'll be hearing from me." Zubiri approached them and held his hand out, shaking Rebec's and Baldur's in turn. "High General. Admiral Rebec. A pleasure. See my aide on your way out and let him know how we are to contact you. I'll also send over some current charts of the southern waters to your ship. The Black Wisp, wasn't it? Unusual choice, pirate colors." "You can blame me for that one," Baldur said, chuckling. "Though it fits. The Royal guard that accompanies it, their name is a dark one as well, and it works great for staying hidden at night." Not that this was ever Baldur's intent. He just thought it would look impressive. "Best ship in our navy for the best sailor in our seas." Zubiri crossed his arms, obviously not impressed by the boast. Rebec, embarrassed and taking the hint, stood with the books under her arms and turned to leave. "Fair seas, Admiral." "And to you." Outside in the foyer, they spoke with Zubiri's aide, then headed off to prepare the ship for their departure the next morning. On the wharf, they bumped into Bel Aksim heading the other way with some of his crew. He stopped when he saw them, lifting his hands defensively towards Baldur to show he wanted no trouble. Rebec looked at her husband, wanting to stop to talk to her old comrade, but unsure how that would go over. Baldur's brow wrinkled only from natural reaction, but when he saw Rebec looking at him just to talk to someone, even if it was one of those friends, he immediately felt like an ass again. Looking to Bel, he said, "Uh, look. About the other day...you gotta understand that you just caught me off guard is all. I know Rebec better than to think what I said. And I know you didn't know she was married anew, so...sorryerwhatever." That last part took a while for him to get out, and was mumbled, barely understandable. Bel crossed his arms and glanced from one to the other. To Rebec he said, "This one's not like the other one." She nodded proudly. "No, he's not." "Yeah. Well, you look happy, so I guess that's alright. Not sure what I think about all this admiral business, though." "That's different, too, but maybe not as much as it looks. I'm still sailing and still busting skulls. Just under a flag." "For you, that makes quite a difference." Bel gestured at the books under her arm. "Been up to see the old man, eh? He's got a stick jammed up his ass, but he's not bad under all that. Pays me a little coin now and again for information. You ever need someone to do some special jobs for you, Rebec, look me up." "Maybe I'll just do that. We've got a lot of leeway on auxiliary contracts." Bel nodded, then shuffled, uncertain what to say or how to act around her now. "Well I guess I'll be seeing you then, Rebec." He glanced at Baldur and gestured. "Keep an eye on her. She's moon sugar crazy, this one." "Look who's talking," Rebec said, grinning. "Take it easy, Bel. Don't get yourself into too much trouble." "Not unless it pays." The sailor returned her grin, and gave a mock salute as he walked past. Rebec watched him go, then leaned up to kiss Baldur's cheek. "Thank you." He smiled from it and put an arm around her shoulder. "You don't need to thank me for that. I'm your husband and friend, not your master." "Can't say I'd be so charitable with that red-headed tart in Falkreath. Anyway, let's get a move on. All this has been fun, but I'm ready to go home. Papa bear." Her smile turned impish, but still proud. Baldur laughed at that as they walked away to prepare to leave, then said in a low tone, "I hope that nickname sticks. Wouldn't mind you using that name while we're making more cubs." Laughing, she replied, "We'll see." *** Two days later, as the Black Wisp once again headed out into the Abecean and north towards High Rock and home, Rebec sat in her cabin poring over the new maps sent over to her by Admiral Zubiri. They were the best she'd ever seen, with notes on skirmishes and regular patrol routes of the Dominion navy besides. The old man did indeed have a stick up his hind quarters, but if he kept giving her such valuable information, some condescension was a small price to pay. On one of the maps, Rebec noticed a small island in the archipelago off Stros M'kai named Bel Island. "Well I'll be damned," she said, laughing. In her captain's log, she wrote up a report of their last days in Hammerfell- skipping over the juicy parts, which were for her and Baldur's memories alone- and adding a final note: Gods willing, what we did here lays a foundation for something that will be to the good of all our children- Nord, Cyrodiil and Ra Gada alike. Baldur stood outside by the rails, once again in his general's armor now that the trip was almost over. His mind wasn't filled with thoughts of war, but of his coming child. Things were different now that this was a reality. He watched as their ship sailed by the escort one with his men, and he smiled and saluted as the remaining men saluted him as well. They were his brothers once. He'd fight and die for any one of them before. But now... Now he had much more reason to not let that happen. He noticed the change already before when his throat was almost slit. The desperate will and refusal to die for his wife's sake. But now that there was a child involved, he no longer saw his primary duty as fighting for his country, but rather to fight for his family. Some may see those two things as the same...but they were not, not for him. Other men can die for their family. But I'm going to live for mine. That is my only real duty now. And nothing else matters.

Baldur and Rebec Stros M'kai, off the southern coast of Hammerfell afternoon Rebec sat perched in a chair and draped forward over another one. Wearing nothing but her underclothes, she was still sweating while the redguard man behind her worked away. Occasionally she cast Baldur a look or smirk where he sat across from her, though she tried to keep quiet, and eventually closed her eyes and tried to doze. The minimal pain from the tattooing didn't bother her in the slightest. "What's the T for, anyway?" Stirring, Rebec answered without looking back. "It stands for Talos." She cast a glance at Baldur and smiled. "Never knew you as the gods-fearing type, Red Eye." "That's Red Snow. And I'm not, but you got to admit, these are the times we live in. Everybody in Tamriel nowadays is marked by Talos in one way or another." "Not usually so literally," the tattooist muttered as he went back to work. Baldur of course wasn't crazy about the tattooist working on her in her underclothes, but he did a good job not letting that get to him or show. After all, she was willingly marking herself to match him. The notion was more than touching to him, which made it hard for him to act wary of the tattooist even if he wanted to be, given he was too busy smiling back at his wife when her eyes met his. He was back in his Ancient Nordic armor now that they were thankfully out of the desert. His right gauntlet and steel armband was resting on the floor however, so his arm would be ready to be tattooed as well with an arm band, since Rebec had one. He too wanted to match. After reaching a hand out to hers, he said, "If you must know, it's because I got branded during the war as a prisoner in the same spot. We're taking a grim thing and making it better. If I were being honest with myself, I'm not truly as into Talos as I proclaim either. But he is Ysmir, like Wulfharth, and an extension of my patron Shor. And this will represent our right to do what we want as well as our bond." The tattooist raised a brow at this account, but said nothing. Rebec squeezed Baldur's hand. "The thrice-damned Thalmor branded him," she added. "Things like that make you wish for vengeful gods." "The elves aren't making friends, that's for sure." The man straightened and inspected his work. "Done. You want to take a look?" This last was said to Baldur. Not that there was much to a plain "T." Rebec had decided against any kind of flourish. Her arm band was made with sparse, plain hash marks. The hawk of Kyne on her hip was about as fancy as her tattoos got. These were warrior markings, not pretty adornments. Baldur stood from his chair and took a look at the man's work. "I like it," he said, smiling from thoughts of seeing it again later in more private circumstances. "To bad you can't see it, love. But I sure can, hehe." "That's kind of the point," Rebec answered, grinning. "Alright, your turn." She stood and retrieved her clothes, lazily pulling them on while Baldur took his turn in the chair. After returning from the desert, they had passed a day or two in Sentinel giving their report to Jeleen, spending time with Vilnur's family and preparing the ship, then had sailed south to Stros M'kai. While there were elements of the redguard navy all along the coast, the forward base was on this island, known in the past for its pirates more than any official presence. The redguard admiral was out to sea, however, so they had some days for rest and exploring while they waited for his return. Rebec and Baldur were looking forward to their long-awaited honeymoon. In the meantime, Mazoga had convinced Menel and some of the other crew to take an excursion of a different kind, exploring a dwarven ruin on another island off the coast. Baldur's adventurous senses made him want to visit that ruin as well, at first. But this day was turning out to be much better than trying (and failing) to scare Rebec with elven tales while staring at ominous looking ancient dwemer metal faces on the walls. While he was thinking about what he wanted, his desire for something with a snake on his arm made him think of how Kematu was faring against the Satak warriors, and if they too would submit to him or not eventually. Kematu sent some of his goons to apprehend the spy, and Jeleen sentenced him to death by "Day of Cuts". The Alik'r men spent the entire day slicing the man with precision, until he died. He was left in the heat of the sun in the desert, where his sliced skin would roll up from him and fall off, effectively but slowly flaying him to death. A worthy death for a traitor, they all agreed. Though no one ever found proof of who he worked for. He claimed it was the Satak warriors, which they had no choice but to believe. Jeleen forgave Kematu for having a spy in his midst, now that Kematu was working with him and the Nords. Even if it wasn't for him like he wanted. Yet. The tattooist brought over a book of some various cultural designs for armbands in Tamriel. The Nord and Breton designs looked quite similar, almost to the point to where he couldn't tell the difference due to their partly shared ancestry and culture, so Baldur didn't mind that the design he picked was actually Breton, not Nordic. The armband had some sort of furry dragonhead on it, so Baldur told the man to replace that with a king cobra head and a snake tail. Rebec nodded approvingly at the design, then said, "This will take a while, so I'm going out to make some arrangements for our trip. Medul here will take good care of you, love." They were staying at an inn near the docks. Rebec looked in on their parents, then went to hire a little skiff that could take them up the coast to a remote private cove she knew about. A merchant who owed her some favors had a fishing hut there, small but more lavishly appointed than some people's houses. It would be a perfect place for a honeymoon. The merchant said he would send his steward to prepare the hut and take supplies for them, but that it wouldn't be ready until the following day. Satisfied, Rebec returned to the tattoo shop, carrying bottles of chilled coconut water for herself and Baldur. While she was gone, Baldur was struggling trying to deal with the pain of the tattoo being applied to his skin. He didn't know why it hurt so bad, he'd been hurt worse than most people ever would have in their entire lives. Unbeknownst to him, the torture he received still effected him in small ways. One of those ways being that when adrenaline wasn't pumping, his sense for pain was made more acute. Luckily for him, the healing he received dulled this consequence greatly. But that didn't stop the tattooing from feeling like a dagger was being dragged over him. When Rebec popped in, he straightened his face, so as not to look like a big baby. Casually, Baldur said, "Oh you're back. Look, it's almost done." Thank Kyne's sweet sweet ass. Gods, this hurts like a bitch! Rebec handed him his drink and stood back to watch. Noticing the tension in his face- she knew it too well by now, no matter how hard he tried to hide it- she grinned a little. "He's almost done. You probably should have picked something with less detail." To distract him, she went on, "We're all set for our trip but can't go til tomorrow. Not as exciting as the Dwemer ruin, but less likely to get you a blade trap up the ass. Maz likes those creepy pits, though. Says we never have time to see any in Skyrim. As if I would anyway." Baldur was about to say he was fine, but another sharp wave of pain in his arm made him change his mind. "She should be glad of that, I read reports every so often about some foolish snowback recruits trying to explore some. The same Chaurus and Falmer I told you about were reported to be living in those ruins. Hopefully Mazoga only runs into blade traps and nothing else. Doubt they have those here. I'm not too jealous. What we're going to be doing will make the moons blush red... mhmmm, hehe." "What, sleep in?" Rebec gave him a mischievous smile. "Are you sure you're going to be up for it? No offense, love, but you're looking pale even for a Nord in Hammerfell." "What? I'm perfectly fine! And I'll be glad to prove that to you tomorrow, you'll see. By the time I'm done, y- Ow!...wwls. I'll...get..you an owl," said Baldur pretty weakly, obviously trying to play off a cry of pain. "Just never you mind, I'll be rearing to go. You should be hoping you can keep up with me." "Do you two want the room to yourselves for a while?" the tattoist asked, deadpan. Rebec laughed. "Just hurry up. I can't bear to see my man cry unless it's me applying the torture." He was putting the finishing touches on the snake by then, and finally pronounced it done. "Damn, Baldur," Rebec proclaimed proudly. "You're all tatted up. I think we should do the other arm." Baldur was grinning like a khajiit taking body shots of skooma off a tavern wench, flexing his arm to admire the work. That was until Rebec suggested doing another one. "Ahh, maybe on our next trip to Stros M'kai, eh? I'm sure the nice man would rather not hear more about what we plan on getting up to, isn't that right Medul?" "He'd take the other half of our coinpurse gladly, wouldn't you old man? I was just kidding anyway. Can't have Baldur passing out the night before our honeymoon." She elbowed her husband, then started counting out coins for the tattooist. "Always a pleasure, Captain Rebec. Keep sending your green crewmen my way." Outside, she said to Baldur, "We've got some time to kill tonight. How about I take you to a real historic dive? There's five taverns on Stros M'kai now called the Draggin Tail Inn, all of 'em claiming to be the tavern from the stories about Cyrus. Only a few people know where the real one is and that it's actually called Lucky Lu's. A real knife-em-up bar. We ought to be able to get in some trouble there." Rubbing his hands together, her husband said, "Trouble? Sounds fun to me. Haven't had a tavern brawl in a while. Anything to make up for the milk drinking in the tattoo shop..." "Alright, we'd better go spend some quality time with your ma so she'll bail us out of jail if need be." Vigge had departed to an old sailors' club, so they spent the day walking around the open air market with Ysana. Stros M'kai was a seafaring island through and through. The buildings were ramshackle and painted in bright colors, not built to last so much as to be replaced at little expense after a big storm or a change in ownership. There was every kind of merchandise laid out, both for the tourists and in the storefronts of warehouses meant to lure in the wholesale traders. Its position as a naval base hadn't slowed down the black market, Rebec observed. Flashing a little coin was all that was needed to be shown the merchant's "special stock." Rebec made some trades to fill the Black Wisp's cargo bay for the trip home, and then they had a meal at a barbecue pit Menel had raved about. He had apparently made the rounds of several of them on their first day on the island. The Bosmer suggested the smoked pork with moon sugar glaze, but Rebec opted for green chile lizard. Baldur didn't know what to get, so he just decided to get whatever the heck it was Rebec said she'd get. "I'll get the drinks while you get the food, dear. Don't suppose they have mead here either, so do you want an ale? Or that sujama stuff?" "Just a melon juice for me," she answered. And then Rebec realized the flaw in their plan of a night of hard drinking at Lu's. She didn't think a mead now and then would hurt anything, but was afraid to slip into her old habits of hard drinking, which she thought might have contributed to her baby's death. Baldur gave her an acutely perplexed stare, then said, "A melon juice? Getting old on me, are you? I'm seven years older than you though dear, but whatever you say. One melon juice coming up, hehe." Baldur didn't waste any time arguing or giving her trouble for her drink of choice, given that he was too damn thirsty to wait too long. Ra Gada ink torture tended to make one parched. She mumbled something in reply and speared her lizard. Menel was right, it was pretty tasty lizard, though she had a moment of guilt thinking she was eating some lesser cousin of Fafnir. To Ysana Rebec said, "What do you think of Hammerfell, ma? Ready to go back to Skyrim yet or do you need more adventure?" "I've had plenty of time in Skyrim already, dear. It's not going anywhere. This place is as alien as anywhere I could have dreamed of as a little girl. Believe me, I'm just fine right here, for now. So, Baldur doesn't know yet I take it?" she said, picking up on what the change of drinks meant in her expression. Rebec choked on her bite of lizard, then stared at Ysana. "Do you read minds or is it that obvious?" Ysana smiled triumphantly, then said, "Women's intuition, honey. I can't believe it, I knew it! I'm going to be a...oh dear, I'm old..." Rebec bit her lip and glanced around to see if Baldur was coming back. "I haven't told him yet. I didn't want to, what with all the..." She stopped before she'd have to explain just how many times they'd faced death in the desert. "... stress of the mission. He's got a lot on his mind. And I'm not sure... you know, maybe it won't... take." Ysana was going to try to comfort her, but she knew Baldur could come in at any moment. She remembered how she felt when she was pregnant. It was a much different situation then. But she knew how important it was that she revealed it when she was ready. "Say no more, hon. My lips are sealed. Just don't wait too long, or he could take it the wrong way, okay?" "I know. He gets weird about that kind of thing." The man himself was on his way back then, so Rebec went back to her meal and tried to look innocent. That night, after they had returned to the inn to drop Ysana off and heard Vigge in his room already snoring, Rebec stopped Baldur in the foyer and said, "I'm kind of tired. We'll go to Lu's and just have a drink or two and come home, eh? No bar fights." "Want your rest for tomorrow eh? Ha, I'm just kidding, that's fine. I'll stay on my best behavior. Come on then," he said, placing arm around her shoulder. He thought something was a little off with her, but not enough to say anything about it. Perhaps she was getting tired of Hammerfell. After getting to the tavern, Baldur made sure to place his tired wife in a corner table away from the hubbub of the other people there. He took the time to admire a large picture in the center of the tavern as a centerpiece of a slender athletic looking handsome Ra Gada man with Yoku writing on his arm and a scimitar in his hands. Near the bottom of it, the framed painting said clearly 'Cyrus the Restless'. He stood there a while until another Ra Gada man bumped into him, then excused himself, in which Baldur remembered what he was doing and continued to bring he and his wife some drinks. Melon juice again for Rebec, of course. Rebec was looking around to see who was there, who was doing deals, and the ones it was best to steer clear of. She didn't see the man coming before an arm slipped around around her shoulders and a voice spoke in her ear. "Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes." Jumping, Rebec turned. "Bel!" "The very same." The man flashed a toothy grin and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. He had big barrel arms, the short sleeves showing his scars and that he had visited the tattoist, as well. His were more colorful, though, and made up mostly of Yoku symbols. Glossy black hair was affixed to his head in short braids, and he wore gold rings all up the lobe of one ear. "Thought I was dead, huh?" "Or in prison." At his look, Rebec laughed. "You were in prison." He raised his hands, expression innocent. "The wind blows this way some of the time, that way the other. I been out a year now, but I don't come mainland much anymore. You won't believe it, but I got my own island." "The hell you do." "On the map and everything," he insisted. "Bel Island, pretty as a picture. Pretty as you." Rebec stirred nervously. "Listen..." He pressed on, "Got me some good contracts now, though. War is good for business. Always has been. You got some shore time, I'll take you out there to the island, treat you like a queen." "I can't." "Come on, Rebec. Be like old times. In fact, we can go tonight. Lose the big fella over there and meet me at the southside quay. Who's he anyway, one of your brother's friends?" Baldur almost froze where he was. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing from where he was when he came over with the drinks. What happened next, he could hardly control when he saw another man with his arm around his wife's shoulder kissing her on the cheek. Whispering. And Rebec didn't immediately sock him in the face? That was just as well, as Baldur was over there quicker then he knew, laying one on him before placing his hands around his throat in a death grip. Out of the corner of her eye, Rebec saw Baldur hurtling towards them, fist first. By the time she got a yell out, the two men were on the ground. "Baldur! BALDUR!" Bel Aksim had been jumped more times before his fifteenth year than most men were all their lives, so he was already reacting as the Nord came at him. For a big man, he could also move fast. He tried to dodge the punch and only took it glancing, and as the two men fell he was already rolling to get out from under the pin. They were half under a table, so while he tried to hold Baldur off with one hand, Bel reached up for a bottle that was teetering on the edge. Baldur saw the man grabbing for the bottle, so he dragged him away from under the table and punched him in the nethers before getting him in a better chokehold, pinning his arms down with his greater weight by resting his knees on them. He heard Rebec's call, but seeing her do nothing to push Bel off made him angry at her as well, so he ignored it for now. Finally he let go some to let the man breath, but he spat on him as he regarded the man under him. Turning to Rebec, but keeping an eye on the Redguard, he said, "EXPLAIN!" Rebec was going to jump into the fray, but after watching the two men roll around she changed her mind and stood back with her hands on her hips. If they wanted to act like two little boys, she wasn't about to stop them. "Explain what?!" she shot back at Baldur. "We were talking!" "I got this, Rebec," Bel heaved, grappling back at Baldur and planning his next move. "This pig-brained... Nord... messed with the wrong... redguard..." "You don't look like you got this, and that pig-brained Nord is my husband!" "Husband?" That took the wind out of Bel's sails. He still held Baldur's arms at bay, but regarded him like something washed up from the open sewers. "That's right! Her husband!" Turning to Rebec fury eyed, Baldur said, "You call letting him kiss you and putting his arms around you talking, Rebec? Maybe I should invite Narri to our new town so we can just 'talk', hmm? You think that's okay?!" Muttering, Rebec shook her head. "He just kissed my cheek, you ass. Get up. You two look like you need to get a room yourselves." The Argonian innkeeper had come over. That was Lu, so called because his Saxhleel name was unpronounceable. "Sorry, Lu," Rebec said, turning to him. "No tables broken or anything. We'll just be on our way." Meanwhile Bel used the distraction to kick Baldur in the knee and push him off in order to get to his feet. Baldur was about to go back at him, but he let him go for now. "Oh ok, so you're allowed to let men kiss you now huh? On our 'honeymoon'? I'll remember that next time I see one of my 'friends'. That's who this is, right? One of your bedmates?" Looking to Bel, he said with strong venom in his voice, "Well listen here, you little bitch, if you so much as touch my wife, even a handshake, I'm going to cut your limbs off and feed you to a crow." Baldur unsheathed an axe to show that was no idle threat. It crackled with electricity as he did. "I will NOT be Toki. I love you too much for that, Rebec." At that, Rebec put her own metaphorical weapons down. Stepping closer to Baldur, she laid a hand on his arm and held his eyes. Her voice was tender. "It's nothing like that. You know it's not. Let's just get out of here." Turning to the redguard, she said, "I'm sorry, Bel. Uh... meet my husband, Baldur Red-Snow." "Yeah. Nice to meet you." Sarcasm laced the sailor's voice, as he straightened his clothing. He had more friends in the bar than the Nords did, and these were gathering around him, spoiling for a fight. Bel appeared about to say something else, but then he only looked at Rebec a moment, muttered a curse and shook his head, turning to walk back towards the bar. Rebec's eyes returned to her husband. "Can we go now, or you want me to draw my axes, too?" Baldur was watching the others approach and thought about doing just that, but Rebec's voice did something to him. The way it sounded made him feel even more sick than he already felt. His words cut the wrong person. He closed and averted his eyes from her in guilt and to avoid shedding tears from his testosterone induced anger, feeling very much like the fool he was for accusing Rebec of such a thing. So finally he did sheathe his axe, stepping out of the tavern in silence. Rebec pushed through patrons grumbling about there being no bar fight after all and ran after Baldur. Coming alongside him, she looked at his face, trying to figure out how bad this was. The streets were thronged with street musicians, prostitutes plying their wares, and with drunks and those on their way to being drunk, so she had to keep dodging and weaving through them all to keep up. One of the women on the boardwalk grabbed Baldur's arm as he passed. She was a dark-haired woman with olive skin and a flower in her hair, maybe an imperial. "A Nord! Come dance with me, big man. I'll warm you up." Before Baldur could answer, Rebec shoved an arm between them and pried the prostitute's grip loose. "He's dancing with me, thank you." The woman made a disappointed face and went on to the next prospect. That wasn't the last of the night ladies who approached, attracted by the sight of Baldur's gleaming armor and the fact that he was cleaner than most men who walked by. Rebec's glare kept them at bay. Finally, when they got to the quieter part of town where their inn was located, she stepped around in front of Baldur to halt him. "Talk to me." Baldur still avoided her eyes in guilt. Now that his blood flow had slowed and he could think more clearly, he knew Rebec wasn't thinking of doing anything, even if the Bel character did. It still bothered him though, and he did have questions. "Why didn't you push him off the way you pushed that whore in the street off me? You didn't even tell him you were married until I came." "I was getting to that part. It's still strange for me, you know? And he's a friend. I wasn't going to hit him with the flat of my axe just for kissing my cheek. You wouldn't knock Boldir on his ass for doing that." Rebec stopped, and added, "If you could knock Boldir on his ass, that is. Which is something I'd pay to see." If I had to... "You also never screwed him, either. He's not just some friend, Rebec. This man saw you in your most vulnerable. I don't consider anyone I was with like that a friend anymore. Because I know how it would make you feel. Even if you don't the other way around. He's a man, Rebec. Men don't think like that, not really. Not after you've had sex. If you let him, he'd have jumped at the chance first chance he got." "I know, but there was no chance of that, so..." She stopped, sighing in frustration. "I suppose I should find this gallant or something, but it makes me feel bad, like you don't trust me at all. You don't own me, Baldur. I told you that when we fought about the name. Maybe I rattled your skull one too many times in that fight and you forgot. I can un-rattle it, if you like." Baldur sighed and shook his head. "I know that. It isn't about trust, I can't make my body stop feeling what it feels. You put a woman through a table for the same exact thing. What happened to you're mine and I'm yours? I don't own you like an object, but you are my wife. Can you honestly tell me you'd be okay with Narri hugging up on me and kissing me? You trust that I wouldn't sleep with her or leave you for her, but does that make seeing that any better? Knowing that I shared a bed with her?" "Hey, horker breath came after me," Rebec replied, poking a finger at Baldur's chest. "It's not the same. Alright, so I enjoyed grinding her face into the floor almost as much as splitting Thalmor skulls. But what happened between me and Bel, or me and Toki, or..." Realizing she was reminding Baldur that there were others out there, too, she quickly ended that line of that. "Anyway, what's past is in the past. But you got to at least give me a chance to get the words out. These are my friends, these sailors, and people flirt even with other men's wives. It doesn't mean anything unless I make it mean something. And you know the only man I want now is you." "I'm not a sailor, Rebec. I know the only man you want is me, but I cannot, and will not put up with another man you slept with placing his hands on you like that. Meeting them and talking to them is one thing. I still would obviously be uncomfortable with it, but I wouldn't try to kill them. But you are my wife. If you can't understand how that makes me feel, then fine. I'll just have to beat their face in every time you let that happen. I honestly can't believe I'm the bad guy for feeling this way..." Baldur walked away towards the inn now, tired of talking. Turning back around briefly, he said, "Hmph, still think I'm too good to be true?" "Maybe." Angry again, Rebec pushed past him and stalked up the stairs to their room. Inside, she started getting ready for bed, muttering about stubborn, jealous Nords. Baldur considered briefly sleeping on the floor in Ysana's room, but he realized doing something like that could be the beginning of the end, so he made himself go to their room to again face his wife. It wasn't because of what she did or said. It was more because he knew his jealousy was toxic, and he still felt guilty about it. It left a burning sensation in his gut that made him just want to stab it out. He took a bit to get to the room, wondering what he should say, if anything. When he entered the room, he avoided eye contact for a while, stripping his armor to put on his night pants. His back was starting to ache, as it did every now and then from the scars, but the stress of tonight made it feel worse. His tattoo was itching and burned slightly, so he got some ointment from his pack from the Whiterun healer and sat at the edge of the bed. He was about to put it on in silence, but instead, he waited and said, "I really don't even know what to say. We've never had a real argument like this before, so I'm not entirely sure how to deal with it besides saying that I love you more than anything in all the world. My love is great, but unfortunately that means so is my jealousy. And I know that it's not healthy. You're the only woman I've ever cared about like this, so I can't help it. And for that, and making you think I don't trust you...making you feel chained to me, all of it. I'm sorry." He didn't know if that made it better or not, but he said all he could, so he started rubbing the ointment in on his sore skin so he could sleep soon. Rebec glanced over, instantly melting again at hearing Baldur contrite again and sounding more confused than angry. She still hesitated, though, wanting to stay angry. This had been what she'd always fought against, having a leash on. If Baldur shadowed her every move, she was afraid the old need for independence would emerge again. It seemed important to beat that out of him while they still had a chance. But maybe she had just enjoyed the attention from a man, and let Bel talk for a bit too long. Pondering this, she wandered closer, then reached to take the pot of ointment out of his hand. "Here, let me." She sat down on the bed and started gently rubbing the medicine onto his arm, frowning in thought. "I knew Toki occasionally slept with other women. He'd talk about his customers, and sometimes his voice changed when he mentioned this or that one. I thought I liked the way we did things. It seemed freeing, not to have to think about everything I said or did, scratching an itch if I had one and knowing he'd always accept me back anyway. This is new for me, Baldur. I don't know what the rules are anymore. But if you had any idea how I felt about you, there'd be no cause for you to be jealous." Baldur thought about the tattoos they both just got, and everything they'd just been through recently, and even before. "I do know. That's why this is so unbearably confusing for me. I've never felt jealousy like this. I hate it and what it turns me into." Putting the ointment aside, Rebec touched his cheek to lift his eyes towards hers, then tickled his beard as she liked to do. Smiling, she said, "It's not the worst thing, Baldur. We're both still new to this. It's strange, being here with you. This is a sailor's world, not a soldier place. I didn't realize til we came here how much my life had changed. I still wouldn't want it any other way." A bit of worry creeping into her voice, she asked, "Would you?" Baldur smiled from the tickling despite himself, then straightened at the question. "Of course not. I'd rather have this fireball inside me for you, then nothing at all. I wouldn't bother tussling with you about this if there was nothing worth fighting for. Or rather, if there wasn't everything to fight for." He lifted his hands and reached towards her head slowly, as if he wasn't worthy to do so. He ran his fingers through her hair, holding her head gently on her sides, then said, "I...don't know what to say. Love feels like such a weak word to use right now, but I'd rather be sent to Coldharbour than hurt you." "Dallying with Molag Bal, eh?" More confident again, Rebec slipped her arm around his waist. "I just worry you think less of me because of my past. You had your women, but you weren't married at the time, so maybe you think it isn't the same. It wasn't a year out from our wedding in Riften that Toki and I both knew we'd made a mistake. We were Nords, though, so we preferred making a hundred new mistakes to admitting one." Exhaling from relief that they were done arguing, Baldur placed his arm around her shoulder. "You two may as well have been single by then, so it's not like you were betraying him. I don't think less of you, I knew when I first met you that you were a strong person with potential. Though maybe that was my pants talking, heh. It had been a while. Pants talk or no, I was right, High-Admiral, Savior of the Sea of Ghosts." He smiled proudly at that, before continuing. "We are who we are. I knew about your past coming in this. Well, most of it. I just tend to not think about it since it has nothing to do with us. So when it came shooting out so abruptly like that, just suddenly seeing him there...I just went a little crazy." "Maybe you could just turn it down a notch or two," she replied, grinning. "Instead of MURDER, more like shoulder shoving and tunic pulling, that kind of thing." Rebec kissed his nose, then stood to finish brushing her hair. Over her shoulder, she said, "How do you suppose the old Nords did it? Rebec the Red and all those husbands she had. Must've kept a schedule or something." "Uhh, hehe, that's a good question. Probably the way they always did things. Through proof of might. Or maybe she just chose whoever she felt like being with. I'm sure the pity husbands had it the worst." "I've got no pity for anybody, so you don't have to worry about that." Rebec tossed the hairbrush aside and leaped into the bed next to him. The cheap inn bed creaked dangerously at her exuberance, threatening to collapse into the floorboards. Turning to look at the bedspring, she said, "I guess we ought to pity your ma and the other neighbors and not test this thing out tonight." "Yea, you're probably right," Baldur said. He then rolled over and put an arm around her before closing his eyes to try and sleep. Then again, pity was for fools and Rebec the Red. A short time later, the sound of creaking bedsprings and a slamming headboard was loud enough to wake the dead from Sovngarde. *** By the next day, Baldur woke up a lot earlier than he ever would have before, almost around five or six. Which was good, since they had to leave a bit early anyway and have their stuff ready. With all the stress from the night before being forced out of him in only the way Rebec could manage, he was well rested and once again in a tizzy over the trip they were about to take. As far as he was concerned, last night was just a warm up. He took a glance over at his wife's slumbering face, which caused him to grin happily in excitement. Not only for the trip now, but also because once again they proved that they could and would make this work no matter what. He was about to stir her by shaking her gently, but in the spirit of the day, he smiled mischievously as a better idea came to mind. Rebec's nose itched and she brushed a hand over it, smearing the drool in the process. A moment later she realized what was going on down below and her eyes flew open. "Oh... hey. G'moning. Did you.." Baldur's hand had moved deeper and suddenly even half-asleep Tamrielic failed her. Clutching his arm, Rebec gave up on conversation, though he certainly had her attention. He chuckled from the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, which made him consider treating her further the way he loved to so much, but decided against it. He'd save his bard tongue for later. For now this was simply an exhibition taste for things to come, but that didn't mean he couldn't indulge her a little. Moving down, he rubbed a rough finger with his right hand at the surface of her clit while he simultaneously moved two of his left fingers inwards, moving them upside down and as if they were legs 'running', almost like scratching at the top of her warm dripping insides. Her body jerked once and she gasped, closing her eyes and holding on to Baldur's arms as if drowning. She was fully awake by then, though more from instinct than anything else, she rolled her hips, riding his fingers. That felt so good that she almost finished right then. The quivers over his hand told him that she was close. Rebec drew it out longer, though, her body arching into his. It was one of the best parts about this kind of pleasuring, being cradled as well as indulged. He had since then moved back to hold her, now that it was evident she was close. He straightened his fingers to move a little quicker, working to please her so that she could finish. Smiling, he cradled her head while he worked, whispering about how beautiful she was and by doing so, breathing his warm breath lightly upon the rim of her ears before kissing her neck gently at first. Then more urgently to match the increasing tempo of his fingers and her hips. Rebec turned her head and leaned in to catch his mouth, kissing him passionately and in the same tempo as his fingers moved. The mixture of love and arousal was more intoxicating than any drug. When she could no longer keep up the kiss for gasping, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders more tightly and held on, saying his name, while the waves moved over her. As the passion eased she kissed at his ear and cheek, grateful and having forgotten all about their arguing the previous night. "Sweet gods, Red-Snow," she breathed, turning to kiss his mouth again, this time more tenderly. As she did so, her hand slipped under the sheet to see if he was as caught up in the moment as she was. He was. And evidently so, as the Under King was standing at full attention, cocking back and pulsating from excitement. When she grabbed at him, Baldur was distracted by her kissing, causing a surprised groan at her touch. "Maybe we shouldn't. Not yet." He didn't say this as an objection, more like a suggestion. Though the way he was worked up today, it probably wouldn't matter. Ysana also packed another one of her goody bags for them. Regardless of any of that though, Rebec had a hold of him and he wasn't going anywhere one way or the other. "I think we should," Rebec said, smiling against his cheek. "You've got it in you, I'm sure." She had already started to caress him, feathering her fingertips along his under side and lingering at the tip. Her kisses continued along his neck and down his chest. There she paused, her fingers encircling his head in a constant gentle pressure while her mouth and tongue teased at his nipple. After a few minutes of that torture, she sat up so that she could devote both hands to the main event. Smiling up at him, she stroked him with one hand while the other cupped and caressed him underneath. Riveted by the sight, she was tempted to climb astride him, but held herself back. They could save that for later. Sensing him close, Rebec loosened her grip and leaned forward, letting her breasts do some of the work. By now she was breathing hard as well, almost as aroused as he was. Gods...that was about all he could say or think mentally, as that's how good Rebec made him feel at that moment. The sight correlating to the feeling of what she was doing...the feel of her soft bosom putting pressure on him as he slid between her chest...the erotic nature of it excited him as much as the sensation did. He couldn't help himself as he laughed from just being that heightened in spirits. Soon, he had to grab onto her shoulder as he came closer and closer to falling over the proverbial edge while his hips thrust against her, his other hand resting over hers against her bouncing breasts. Gods, how dare I ever doubt- He couldn't finish the thought, as his mind went white with ecstasy and she finally took him all the way, making his cup runeth over, and his voice call out her name in deep uprooted satisfaction. Rebec still held him against her breast a while, stroking her palm across his hip and kissing at the slightly rounded rise of his stomach. That was her favorite pillow, so she laid her head on it and enjoyed their afterglow. When she started getting notions about going at it some more, however, she forced herself to sit up. Crawling up to the head of the bed, Rebec kissed him and brushed a hand through his hair, letting him get a good look at her chest still glistening with his fluid. "No more of that until tonight," she warned, smiling. He felt like he was going to melt and fall through the floor at the moment, and only managed a weak nod with half opened eyes. Though the sight of her chest made him stir to soberness again from hungering for more, which meant only now did what she say really register. He thought that doing anything before they left would have been detrimental, but really it only made him crave more. Wasn't that always the nature of it? For young ones it was. He was lucky their warrior lifestyle took off some extra years for the both of them, though it was obviously more than that. That was apparent when he held her eyes with his. How dare I ever doubt her, he thought. The thought finally finishing itself after being interrupted from earlier. And while he always knew she'd never cheat on him, the thought still crossed his mind. That was doubt, even if he wanted to deny it. Doubt born from irrational fear. And what did it say about him that he realizes this only after sex? I'm just a man. No one's perfect I guess. With that thought, he smiled up at her both from gratitude and lingering lust, then he stood to fetch the wash bucket for them both, helping her clean herself first. "You're not talking," Rebec said, faintly amused though it did make her nervous. She was usually the quiet one. "The Under King got you tuckered out?" That got him to open his mouth, making him chuckle before he said, "Well, the real Under King was apparently blasted away when he visited the Greybeards. If you believe the tale. So I guess it's fitting you laid me out when climbing your High Hrothgars." Baldur moved behind her and put his arms around her waist while resting his head on her shoulder. "But no, I'm not tuckered out. Though you did a hell of a job trying, that's for sure. I was just... self reflecting. You're too good to me to get what you got last night. I was just thinking it's a shame I realize that only now after this. Just like a man, right?" Rebec was still laughing about his nickname for her girls. Hugging his arm, she said, "I should've pushed Bel off, you're right. It was habit, I guess. Not that I let any man hang on me like that, but I've known him a long time. Still, you don't even know, Baldur. You're my man, so much it hurts. Sex doesn't even seem like the same thing any more. I do things I never did, for one. And it feels different. Better. A lot better. For one thing, I know you aren't here just for the night, or just doing your duty by me." Patting the side of his head, she pulled at him. "Come on. Daylight's burning and we got some rowing to do." Baldur thought about responding, but by now she knew what he'd say. Her words were a great comfort though. She didn't say much, but always knew what to say when she did, though it was amusing to him that he could be so cheered up by an ego stroke. Silly man, as usual. Kissing her on the cheek, he said, "You're right. We'll continue talking later. Plenty to talk about too and we'll have all the time in the world to do so. You already got everything? Ma's apparently got some gifts for us before we leave." "Gifts?" Rebec let him go and started throwing on clothes. "Ohh, I know. Honeymoon. Dibellan stuff. As if we need any help." Laughing, she hurried through dressing and slung on her axes. She had kept most of her things packed. "Alright, let's go to it." Baldur excitedly ran down the stairs laughing with Rebec right behind him. As expected, Ysana greeted the two at a table by the inn entrance and dropped a heavy sack full of junk in his other hand. "Shor's snake, ma, what is all this? You know we're only going for a few days right?" He said, laughing. "Oh I know. I was just in the market, and I saw all sorts of things I thought you could use, so... I just got it all. Redguards have good taste. Your brother-in-law and his wife gave me a lot of spending money, so..." While Ysana was talking, Baldur went rummaging through the pack, and pulled out a black piece of fabric with a pouch attached to it. "What is this, a slingshot?" Baldur said, confused. Rebec grabbed it and held it up by the strings just as Vigge walked into the room. He looked from Rebec to Baldur to Ysana, his expression growing sterner by the minute. Undeterred by her father's glare, Rebec said, "I think it's an Under King Sling. Right, ma?" Baldur's eyes widened when he realized what she meant, and before Ysana could answer, he snatched the underwear and quickly threw them back in the pack while Vigge stared. Clearing his throat, he said under his breath so Vigge couldn't hear. "You told ma about that?" His confirmation was Ysana's giggling. "You just did." Rebec elbowed Ysana and joined in the giggling. "I think we better save the rest of the goodie bag for the cabin. G'bye pa. Cheer up." She went over to Vigge and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Suddenly she wished she had already told him about the baby, but Baldur didn't even know yet, so that would have to wait. Rebec took possession of the gift bag- lest Baldur toss it into the harbor on the way- and headed out with her husband's hand in her own. Their little skiff had a sail, so once they were out of the quay, they were able to set the oars and hoist it. Rebec steered, keeping them close to the shoreline. As they rounded the island, she saw a ship off in the distance and had a nervous moment thinking about pirates or Thalmor. It would be a perfect time to grab them up, alone as they were. She banished that thought and kept an eye out for the right beach. It wasn't hard to spot, since its sand was a deep rose red streaked with purple and metallic green, unusual even for Hammerfell. There was a little dock, and up a short path was the hut, shaded by date palms. It had a porch out front big enough for two, and an outdoor fire pit and clay oven which were already smoldering. The merchant's steward had stowed some meat in there the night before, for slow cooking. Inside, the hut was basically one large room, with a kitchen off to one side, a table and some easy chairs around a small hearth, and a canopied bed. The privy was in back. Rebec drew back the bed canopy and peered in. Tone sly, she said, "Oh yes. This will do nicely." Baldur was admiring the setup of the place, thinking that his wife had great taste to get this all arranged. In a perfect world, they could just drop their responsibilities and stay here forever, just the two of them alone with a small island all to themselves. Perhaps one day they could even do that, though not forever. Vacation time maybe, whenever they got the itch to go sailing here again. The place was so exotic and different from anywhere in Skyrim, and the cool ocean breeze on his skin in his loose blue noble Nordic attire from Solitude felt invigorating. He couldn't have picked a better time not to bring armor. Ulfric probably would throw him across the room, literally in fact, if he knew the two had left themselves so vulnerable in a spot like this. But you know what? **** Ulfric. The trip was supposed to be primarily about this, after all. Till Ulfric got wind of it that is, though Baldur had expected it. Baldur looked and saw that Rebec was peering into the canopy bed, and apparently was enjoying the view inside. Baldur was enjoying another view altogether, however. Menel, when you're right, you're right. Slinking over to her from behind, the big Nord lifted his enormous hands and brought it down on Rebec's voluptuous booty with a loud 'smack!', then pushed her inside as he jumped in. Looking around, he said, "Oh, this will do nicely tonight..." Laughing, Rebec rolled over and punched him. "I told you, you're shut off til tonight." She did take the opportunity to kiss him, still laughing at first, and then more languidly. Finally she pushed at Baldur's chest and got up. "I'm going to change and then lay out on the beach. First things first. Where's your book?" "It's in my pack," he said as he stood up. "Come on, I'll bring the stuff." After she went off to find a spot, Baldur took a large red blanket along with a bottle of red wine for them both and finally his book. He laid out the blanket for her first, then sat the bottle in the sand before removing his shirt and boots to really enjoy the breeze and sun. He placed a pillow from inside the cabin on the blanket and handed her the book before laying down with the opened bottle of wine next to him. Rebec had changed into a loose skirt and sleeveless top from her store of Ra Gada clothing. She kept her axe belt next to her on the sand, just in case, but the only thing that threatened them that afternoon was a blue crab that waved its claws and then scurried off, more shy than its mudcrab cousins. Shading her eyes, Rebec propped herself on Baldur's chest and flipped until she found her place in the book. The chapter title caught her eye immediately, and she smirked, poking at his chest. "Wulf Maiden-Hunter?" "Oh, that..." said Baldur rolling his eyes at what he thought was clever at the time. "Don't ask. I was young, heh. You're not that far along in it yet though, are you? Last place was before the attack on the bandit fort I thought." She flipped back to check. "No, I read that part. Maori chomping on the Thalmor, that's not something you can forget. D'you suppose Menel eats his enemies? When he's not collapsed from fright or exhaustion after a fight, I mean?" "Nah, that's a Valenwood born thing, and most Bosmer aren't open about it with outsiders. Maori's a weird one. Menel's got a strong stomach, but so far I think the only meat he plans on eating is cooked non sapient meat. Well...usually." "Oh, I bet he'd eat raw milk drinker, if it came to it." Glancing at the previous chapter, Rebec noticed the epilogue and said, "Oh, I did miss something." Her expression turned sober as she read of Baldur's meeting with Ulrin, his fateful promise, and its fulfillment during the civil war. A lump formed in her throat. After finishing, she was quiet a few moments, then sat up and held Baldur's eyes. "Do you think he was right? He lives on in you?" He didn't say anything for a while, wondering at the question himself. He hadn't thought in detail about that note in a long time, not even when he wrote about it. "Hm, somewhat. He always wanted me to be a soldier, and as you saw, I still have his jealousy and anger. However, I was a soldier for the Stormcloaks, and now I even lead them. Not only that, but I have you. I told you how he tried convincing me there'd never be a woman worthy of trust. And you've proven him wrong. Not only that, but I've always wanted to be a real bard. I did that for a while, gave it up, then here you come and inspire me to start it up again and even write a book of poetry. Maybe I haven't fully shaken that fear of trust; it was instilled inside me since I was very young. But this was a huge leap for me, though you made it easy to take. I'm glad I did. All kids carry some of their parents. But there's no way in hell Ulrin can claim to be me now. I'm much better than he ever was, and you helped me see that." She smiled at his mention of trusting her, then sobered again and said, "I suppose Ulrin would try to take credit for you being better than him, too, by saying he made you what you are by testing you. Same thing people say about Nirn, that it's the Arena. I guess it doesn't matter. What you had starting out came from him, maybe, but you make what you are now. And you being a bard, you've got more imagination on that score than most. I think that's what makes you such a good general. You don't just see what is, you see the possibilities. The old Nords were on to something. There's more to a battle bard than just entertaining the men in camp." Baldur took a swig of wine when he blushed from what she said, then squeezed her with his arm around her to show gratitude for her words. "You're right, he would say that. I had a talk with Vigge and told him about the time I caught him drunk enough to where he admitted he thought what he was doing was for the best. Who knows, maybe he wrote that note so I would resent him and strive not to be him. I think that's a crock though, and unlikely. If he did, then he's still a bastard. I won't do that with our kid. Or kids. Whichever." Rebec made a thoughtful noise. That was her prompt, but when it came to saying the words, she just couldn't. It made her fearful somehow, this bit of news with all its temptation to hope. Later. Settling back down to read, she flipped over to the tale of Wulf Maiden-Hunter. "Hmph. Redguard, long legs," she muttered, then smiled in satisfaction as she read about Baldur kicking the woman out, even if it was because of guilt over that other woman. "This Toralf is quite a character. Let me guess. This is about that Falmer cave you mentioned." "Aye it is. And your legs are longer, hon," he said, smiling and ruffling her hair. She gave a little chuckle. It was the right thing to say, true or not. Rebec read on, laughing again over his "lady killer" song, then on to their mercenary adventure. "This guy is dead," she predicted, pointing at Alfjorn's name. "Too stupid to live." She continued, and jumped in tension at the appearance of the insect monster. Turning quickly to the next page, Rebec groaned to find it empty. "Haven't you finished it yet?" "Nope, sorry, heh. Though if it makes you feel better, it isn't a terribly long story. Though I did end up being in that place for almost two weeks I think. Alfjorn actually doesn't get killed by those things. He's not stupid, he's just one who does by instinct. Not unlike Brund. Couldn't lead a merc band if he was stupid. Why don't you tell me about one of your stories. Surely there's something you've done you haven't told me about yet with all your years at sea. Ever see a sea monster?" "I've seen all kinds of monsters. The Sea of Ghosts didn't get its name for nothing. My first ship was called The Morndas when my parents had it built for me. Because I was born on a Morndas, I guess. It got the name Howling Harpy after I took some prospectors up north looking for mines in the frozen lands. We had docked off a barren rock and some of the crew and miners went ashore to take ore samples. They went into a cave, and some time later we heard the most ungodly screeching. Those men were put to such a fright that some of them ran straight into the sea and froze before I could pick them up. We hightailed it, but there was this thing, a grey shape. It would sometimes look like a woman, but not like a wispmother, this was bigger. It was howling, like a storm wind, only more... keening, sort of. Like a woman wailing for her dead. It followed us the night through and only disappeared the next morning. The story spread far. Not many people dare to go that far north anymore. No reason to. I think she was the ghost of a giantess. There aren't any of those in Skyrim that anybody knows about, but there must have been once, in Atmora." Her husband felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought of that. He never saw any sort of ghost before, let alone something like that. "You mean to tell me that giants can have ghosts? That's... And you found a female one! Poor guys, no wonder you hear stories about giants capturing women in Skyrim. They have to come from somewhere. Maybe Ness came from an already mixed giant and a human woman. That could be why he's so small. Well. Relatively." "That's what papa's story claimed, didn't it? The one about giants in the time of the witch king. This ghost, maybe she was guarding something. A giant's hoard or some such. Think of all the treasure that must be buried under the ice of Atmora. Anyway, people talked about that so much that I changed the ship's name. Kind of a boast, I guess. I got to thinking I was invincible after that, and well... Howling Harpy I met a bad end. Then Harpy II did, as well. Maybe that was the giantess' last revenge. It's probably better we changed the name on the new one." Baldur knew how she felt about what she saw as past failures and the sore topic her ships sinking was, so he thought he'd try lightening the mood and cheer her up. "Here, stand up. I've got an idea." "What now?" she said, laughing, though she did as he asked. Smiling as he put a hand out for her to take, he said, "We've never really danced together, have we? There was the time a long while ago in Markarth, but not really." Her face lit up. Normally she would have to be drunk for this sort of thing, but alone with Baldur was a different matter. "You'll have to sing something." "Of course, let me think...." Baldur took her hand and brought her closer to him so that her body pressed on his, holding her right hand with his left while his other went around her waist. He had his eyes closed as they rocked side to side for a bit while he thought, then eventually he started humming. Trying to work out a rhythm and a tune to start forming words with. Finally, he smiled and opened his eyes. Which signified he had a basic idea for a song. He hummed the tune for a little while longer while he worked out some steps to it so they'd both get the hang of it, occasionally twirling them both around before snapping back together. It started out at a somewhat quick pace, before slowing down at the second part of the song. "You'll have to excuse the sappiness of it, dear. I just made it up. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hm hm...hm hm....hm hmm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm...h-hm, h-hmm huh hum! (I see a vixen before me. I wonder what will be her story? Why is this perplexing and heart stopping vexing woman standing right here before me? I'll be forty. And I'm shortly... going to spend my life with she! And I always wonder, as this vixen slumbers how on Nirn I got so lucky!) x2 As we whirl in the wind wondering what's within that would make us want to wake each day! With her next to me and as we stand by the sea I scream out so the gods hear me say... Thank you oh gods, and I pray..... That I'll always see her before me. And that I'll be in her story. And that this perplexing and heart stopping vexing woman will stay right here before me... I'll be forty. And I'll shortly... be living my life with she... And I always will wonder as this vixen slumbers, how on Nirn I got so lucky. And if Sai comes along, after hearing this song, to take some of that luck away... Then I'll grab my axe and I'll bring her back, and I swear that Sai will rue the day..." Rebec was laughing, as much from her turning her as from the words, and from a different kind of intoxication. It was better than mead, and that was saying something. Resting on his arm as they swayed, she asked, "You really watch me sleep, or is that just for the song?" He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her head. Smiling, he said, "All the time. I sometimes wait for you to sleep first, or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, and I'll watch you, thinking about whatever. Us. Occasionally you'll drool, and I'll wipe it off. Heh, creepy, huh?" "It doesn't sound like much of a substitute for sleep." Against his neck, she was smiling, however. "I never thought a man would look at me that way. Not some burly soldier man, for sure. You sure are something." There didn't seem to be more to say than that, so she shut up and listened to the waves, felt Baldur's heart beating in his chest, and impressed on her memory how it felt to have his strong arms and hands holding her firmly against him. It was a simple thing, and everything. By the time the sun was low in the sky, and Rebec's stomach gave an audible growl. Laughing, she released Baldur but kept hold of his hand. "Let's go see what's cooking in that firepit. We can grill some plantains, too. Stros M'kai fire bananas, that's good eating." A haunch of pork and coneys were in the firepit, wrapped together in banana leaves. Rebec took the meat out, then kicked up the smoldering coals and put the grill on. Quickly she sliced up plantains, washed little gemstone peppers, salted everything and threw them on the grill while Baldur got the table ready. There was date wine and spiced brandy, and Rebec had requested the merchant bring fresh juices also, for her. Baldur was excited to try exotic foods, especially since they were cooked by Rebec, which was a rarity. He was popping in a little bit of everything by the time it was done, especially the things that Baldur thought was bananas, which he only heard about in Skyrim, since they did not have any. But they were more starchy in taste, rather than being sweet, and of course these were cooked. Normally someone would eat with more care and perhaps nuance, but this was Baldur. Not that his wife wasn't used to his table manners. These were Nords, after all. Baldur took a short pause in his inhaling of the pork on his plate to regard Rebec and her juice. "I know why you've stopped drinking...." After a pause, he said again, "You're worried about hurting the baby, right? So you're getting used to going without before you finally start swelling up, heh." After saying that, he pushed his own cup of wine away and poured some of the juice she had for himself, remembering his promise that he'd swear alcohol off as well when she did. Rebec had been shoving bits of pork in her face and stopped abruptly, regarding Baldur with surprise. Did he know? She guessed not. He thought this was something still off in the future. Rebec knew why she was afraid. To put words to the thing, that would make it reality, and then they would have to deal with disappointment if that came around. Sooner or later she was going to have to tell him. Breaking off another piece of meat, she avoided his eyes. "Yes, it's for the baby. You know why I want to be careful." "Yea, I know. Sorry to bring it up, I just want you to remember we're in it together. So if you want to start giving up on mead now, then...so will I. I'll be honest, it's really not as hard as I said it would be before. But you know, Nord. Can't let Imps catch wind of that." She laughed, replying, "You don't have to do that. Just... keep the Baldurbrau out of sight for a while. Damn, I could use a Baldurbrau. By the way, this isn't theoretical." Sometimes, it was better just to blurt. "What do you mean?" said Baldur, not knowing what she meant specifically. "A baby." Rebec allowed herself a little smile and stole a glance at him. "We're not alone on this honeymoon. Got a freeloader with us." Baldur had since been chewing on a piece of pork, but stopped mid-chew at the news. His eyes widened in realization, and before he could stop it, a tear rolled down his cheek. Clearing his throat while trying to hide his face while he wiped it away with a shaky hand, he said, "Sorry, this pork is spicy." After recuperating, he smiled shyly, then said, "So for real? It's real? How do you know? Your..." Baldur stole a glance at her stomach under the table. He didn't know much of anything on how pregnancy worked, and didn't know how it would start, but was sure that he'd notice first before Rebec told him. Rebec noticed the tear but just smiled nervously. "The healers at the monastery told me. I hadn't really noticed. I mean, I'm not regular anyway, and it must be early. To happen so fast... though we've been going at it quite a bit." Laughing, she straightened so Baldur could see her tummy, which was no more rounded than usual. She patted it then, looking down thoughtfully. It pained her to think about something so little and helpless dependent on her. Seeing Rebec tap her belly somehow made it more real to him. Smiling more deeply, Baldur started to laugh from the shock of it. He thought he'd be ready to hear she was pregnant, but somehow actually hearing it was going to happen was completely overwhelming. But in a good way, even though he did have his fears of being a father. That didn't compare to how he felt knowing something made of both their blood was growing inside his wife's stomach. Like some sort of stamp of approval from the gods. Baldur stood up then and walked over to her side of the table and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel the moistness on his cheek as his rested against hers. Rebec stood into his arms and kissed the wet cheek, then kissed him again as her own eyes watered. All her words were caught, too. Despite her fears, the thought of making Baldur so happy, of having his little one, and maybe putting the past behind her, all of that made her heart swell. Pulling back finally, she laughed and wiped his cheek and then her own. "You sure you're ready to be some little Nord's papa?" "Hahaha, oh Kyne's ass, you're gonna have to give me some time to be used to that idea. I can't believe it!" Sobering a bit at a thought that occurred to him, he said, "Uh, what about you? You ready to hear someone call you mama finally?" He remembered Jala never got that chance. "I'm trying not to think about Jala. It isn't fair, not to her and not to this little one. Gods, I can't believe it yet, either. Even after they told me, I thought they must be wrong, but the little signs do add up. I didn't want to tell you until we were out of that mess. Your ma already guessed, though. Obviously it's like a hairless Khajiit to see a day go by with me not drinking." "Or a Nord with a Tail?" he asked jokingly, referring to a song he sung a long while ago about a khajiiti Nord. He was glad she was trying so hard not to think about the past. Thinking about it himself made him feel guilty about being so happy, but not after her words. It wasn't something he'd have ever asked of her himself. "Looks like we'll have something to celebrate, then," he said as he put his hands on her shoulder. "Maybe now Vigge will stop eying me as much." "He'll melt like butter in the Alik'r. But don't expect to see it much outwardly. You know how he is. Worse than me." She pushed on him to sit down again and then followed to sit on his lap so they could finish their dinner. "We'll have to head home now. Got to get Kyne's Watch set up a bit before I get so big I can't waddle up a gangplank." "We'll probably need to take one last trip to Dragonstar, but if you start swelling up by the time we're done in Stros M'kai, then we'll send a second diplomatic team through Markarth to take care of the rest. Shouldn't be difficult." Baldur was good on food at the moment, so he only nibbled occasionally while holding her. He was so smitten by the idea that they were now three, that he was already starting to help nourish the both of them. Smiling, he said, "Here, take from my plate too. Gotta get you nice and plump." "I'll have no trouble doing that on my own. 'Course, I don't have mead to fill me up..." With that she started cleaning Baldur's plate. When she couldn't hold any more, Rebec started clearing the food away and said, "Alright. The pregnant admiral wants to see you that slingshot put to its proper use. Hop to." "Heh, it's already on. I slipped it under while you were preparing the food and I pretended to go take a piss. Though if you want to see... you're gonna have to work for it." Rebec's eyes lit up at the challenge and she tugged at his trousers. "You been sitting with that in your crack this whole time? Come on. Let's see it." (To be continued)

Dales Moitre, Lilly Quentas, Mary Quentas (Witchking Of Angmar) Afternoon, Imperial Palace, "Your majesty, Countess Mary Quentas wishes to speak with you." Dales looked up from her desk to see Captain Imperius saluting, Hmmm a relative of Lilly? "Send her in." Soon afterwards walked a young and pretty looking woman with brown hair and a plain but elegant green dress. She stopped before Dales and curtsied. "Good day, your highness. I'm Mary Quentas." "Your a relative of Lilly?" Dales for a second glanced at her wholesome breasts "I'm her cousin. I came to the city to visit her and Helen. And I heard you fell ill some time ago. But Lilly told me it was something worse than simple nausea." "I...don't know what your talking about." Dales said firmly, "Of course you don't." Mary said with a small and kind smile. "But there's no need to dwell on the past. I came to see how well you've recovered from your 'illness'." She glanced at the maid by empress's side and then back to Dales before taking a seat in the chair opposite of Dales. The red headed maid put her hand on the empress's shoulder, in a rare display of warmth, dales put her hand on her hand and said kindly,"Raine, get us some tea please." Raine gave a bow, before leaving the room, waiting for her to leave dales said, "Fine." "So how's your recovery been? I hope Lilly have been of much help nursing you back to health." "Lilly's been giving me herbal brews to nurse my physce. She's a wonder in herbal medication." She is. You look healthy too. A proof that her potions work. Probably healthy enough to carry an heir soon." "Yes...of course. As soon as I find an edible husband, first thing is to solidify the claim." "You don't look so happy about the prospect of becoming a mother." Mary said with a slightly worried and sympathetic voice. "It's not that..." "So the rumors are true? The maids and..." Mary cut herself off and let the rest of the sentence go unsaid. "Of-" For some apparent reason, this woman made Dales feel very nervous, and she herself...very alluring, "That's preposterous....I simply think I wouldn't be the best mother." "I think you would make an excellent mother if you just gave it a try." She said with an assuring smile and tone. "I want...a little girl." "And I'm sure you'll get one in due time. You'll just have to be a bit patient." "I'm in no rush. Busy enough trying to hold the empire together." Mary glanced over her shoulder towards the door. "When do you think the tea will arrive?" "Raine usually takes awhile, its worth it since her tea is perfect." "I'll take your word for it." She made a pause. "And how have the council been treating you after your illness. Surely they must have put their disputes with you to the side to give you time to recover." "The council is being very kind. Lord Esmerduls visited me yesterday." "And what did he say? I don't mean to be nosy. But I'm curious." "Just a few pleasantries." "At least that hopefully shows the Empire is on right path." She paused a little. "I talked with Helen yesterday. Lovely girl, once she feels secure to talk to you that is. She told me she's your... handmaiden now. Is that correct?" "Yes. Very timid, bit she seems like a kind girl." "What do you think of her?" Dales stopped for a second, What do I think of Helen? "Well...she's sweet, respectful, a bit shy, but that's to be expected of someone her age. She has poor social skills and manners, but that's acceptable. "Do you think she's doing a good job as your handmaiden?" "Excellent job. She works very hard, and obey's very well." And her face is adorable... "I am pleased to hear that." She ran her hand up to the necklace that had a small golden leaf. She felt at the leaf a little bit before lowering her hand. "So how goes the hunt for a husband? I've heard a bit of rumors already. But I want to hear it from the source." "Very fine. Many potential candidates. I can assure you, all rumors are simple speculation." "You're right, they're just rumors. And I bet Lilly would be a bit upset if you took away her toy." Dales eye's sharpened, and she lost her friendly smile. They were as cold as ice, and sharp as daggers, "Toy?" "I'm sorry, your highness. But Lilly once jokingly called him that. I'm sure it was no ill meant." She said almost submissively and she also looked a little ashamed. "Ah you must be referring to my court mage. I'm aware of the Tryst he's had with her." "How long till the tea? I'm getting a bit thirsty." As she said that, Raine entered the office, with a tray which held a porcelain tea pot, and a set of fine tea cups. A small plate with biscuits were also present, Raine, smiled warmly at Dales, "Made with my special ingredient Dales." Dales gave her a sly grin and nodded, before pouring both women a cup. She gently began to sip. Raine bowed, before leaving the room. Mary also took a sip from her cup. "Can I ask what the special ingredient is or is it a secret?" She said with a soft smile. "Secret." She didn't return the smile, Love "My condolences for your family. Must be a shame to have a disgrace like your cousin Milly apart of it." "We don't speak of her. We've also struck her name from all of family records. She's not a Quentas anymore. She doesn't exist to us." Mary's voice got a little stiff as if speaking about something unpleasant. She smiled, "Tell me, did you know she was ******* a werewolf? Or did you find out after he stole all that money?" "All I knew is that he was a really odd fella till I heard about the incident in Solitude in Skyrim. But at least Lilly managed to get back a sizeable portion of what Lorgar stole." "Your cousin is a remarkable person, as was Milly. As was her Husband. And it seems, you are too, Mary." She continued smiling at her, "By the way, what perfume are you wearing, milady?" "Just a little something from Chorrol. It's distilled from some of the common wild flowers that grow in the county." "It smells lovely." Dales showed off her eyelashes, causing them to go up and down, "You think so your highness?" She gave a kind smile in return. "You are a very lovely person Mary, are you by any chance married?" "Sadly I haven't found anyone worth the effort." But she said it with a hint of eagerness in her voice and she ran her hand up to the golden leaf again. "What kind of "men" Dales put a strange emphasis on that word, "Interest you?" "Those that can be both firm but still flexible. Someone that knows what 'he' wants." Dales got closer, leaning over her desk, and whispered into her ear, "Am I firm, yet flexible?" "Is that so?" She looked at Dales with a little surprise. Mary rose up from the chair and walked around the desk to Dales. When she got close she put her left hand Dales's shoulder and leaned down to whisper closely in her ear. "How flexible?" At the same time she let her hand slide down the shoulder and down the arm "Very." Dales let out a slight moan at her soft touch, Mary ran the hand down to Dales hand and picked it up and brought it to her breast as she put the other behind her head and brought the empress in for a kiss. When she had Dales attention she reached out with her right hand to Dales tea cup and her pet stuck out of the sleeve with a small vial in the mouth. The vial contained a liquid with a color mixed between purple and pink. Mary grabbed the vial from the snake and the snake then put the teeth into the cork and quietly pulled it out. Mary then dripped a few drops into the tea cup while she was busy sticking her tongue deep into the young empress's throat. When she held up the vial the snaked corked the vial and grabbed it in it's mouth and moved silently back deep into the sleeve. Mary carefully sat down in Dales lap and grabbed Dales tea cup held it up to Dales as she pulled back from the kiss. "More tea your highness?" She said with a warm smile. Dales put her hand to Marries....private area, and told her rather lustfully, "Only if you pour it for me into my mouth, my lady." "Of course, your highness." She said and then brought the cup up to Dales lips. Just then the door busted open, revealing a guard, "Your majesty-" As he glanced what was going on his face blushed, "What....." Mary turned her head quickly towards the guard and in the surprise dropped the cup of tea into her own lap where it then bounced down on the floor, spilling some of the tea on the side of her own dress as well as a little on the front of Dales dress. She quickly got up from Dales lap and backed off a few steps before she bowed. "I'm so sorry empress." As if awakening from a trance,Dales voice regained its steel, as she backed away, "Quite alright. Sergeant, Lady Quentas was just leaving.Escort her out." The soldier quickly regained his professnialism, and nodded "Your majesty." Mary nodded herself and started walking out of the room without another word. She also put a hand on the side where the tea had spilled and the wet stain quickly vaporized. And with quick steps she walked past the guard without paying him any attention and down the corridor On her way Mary, stumbled upon one of Dales hand maids, the one who poured the tea for her and Dales, Raine "Hello dear. Raine was it?" Mary stopped and said to the passing maid. She smiled a gentle and reassuring smile. Raine gave her a cold look, "Yeah, whose asking?" "Mary Quentas. I spoke with the empress when you brought us tea." Mary still maintained her gentle and kind voice. "A relative of Lilly? Your certainly not like her at all..." What do you mean?" Mary got a curious look to her. "Half of our conversations involve of us bad mouthing each other. She has a huge potty mouth.' "I'm sorry to hear that. What are you arguing over? I don't mean to be nosy, but I might be able to speak with her about it." "Nah its just for fun. We love teasing each other before the bedroom." If anything Raine was very straight forward. "Oh." Mary paused for a bit. "Do you share bed with the empress as well? I saw the smile she gave you." "Really shouldn't be giving out Dales sex life, sorry miss." Mary leaned a bit closer and lowered her voice. "It's fine. You can tell me. I almost got a taste of it myself if it wasn't for a little guard interrupting." "Oh?" Her eye brows raised "You'll keep it secret?" "Of course I'll keep it a secret." "Me and dales go way back. Been her maid since she was fourteen. Yeah, I've slept with her quite a bit over the years. Have had a few orgies with her and the other maids." "Other maids? And does Lilly sometimes join these... orgies?" "Kongami, Claudia, Floentia" Her face filled with intense sorrow, "Miku." She continued, "Nah. I've offered, but she says she's busy. She works quite a bit." "Miku?" Mary's face got a worried expression at the sorrowful maid. "One of Dales maids. She passed away recently. Disease. Her and Dales were very close." "Disease? Wouldn't the mages have been able to take care of that?" Raines face was unchanged, "Both Dales and Lord Snow-Strider were away. Before anyone could do anything, she was far gone." "Is this related to when the empress fell 'ill'? I've heard the rumors." "No she was away visiting family." Raines voice was particularly nasty "All rumours are simply rumours. Spread around by gossiping noblewomen who have too much time on her hands." "So Lilly has been lying to her own cousin?" Mary said skeptically. "Oh?" "Lilly let her tongue slip once. She immediately dismissed as a rumor afterwards. But I'm not so sure. I'm just worried about the empress health and mental state. And don't worry, I wont tell anyone." She said in her gentle voice and gave her reassuring smile again. That dosen't sound like Lilly...her lips are sealed shut, Raine thought, "Her majesty has been through quite a lot. Which is why I offer myself as stress relief for her. There's nothing to be worried about." "That's kind of you. If it's true, being gutted by her own best friend. The betrayal must have hurt more than the dagger." "I have duties to attend, excuse me my lady." Raine said, blank faced as she turned around. Unknown to Mary, she was heading too the office of the spymaster. At first Mary frowned at the maid leaving her but then she let a small smile creep onto her lips. And with that she started walking down the corridor. Later Lilly smoked an expensive Argonian Cigar, as she walked through the garden. Helen was a marvel with flowers, and her tender care kept the flowers healthy. Lilly was clad in full black Occultus plate, along with a long black cape. At her belt was a broad sword, along with a dagger, As Lilly looked over the garden she saw Mary sitting by a tree and reading a book. She was still wearing the plain green dress where she sat in the grass, leaning against the broad tree. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep as she didn't react to Lilly's presence. "What the hell are you doing here, "dear" sister?" Asked the furious looking spymaster. Mary opened her eyes and looked at Lilly. "I'm visiting my dear sisters. And I'm also bringing a couple of news from home." "Oh please. You've never considered either me or Helen "dear", Marry." "Who's to say the good times of our youths have changed so much? We're still family." She said gently. "I still consider Milly my sister. You see how we treat each other. Family is never saying much, I'm afraid." I'm sorry to hear that. I still hold you and Helen in high regard. Whatever you may think of me." Mary's voice was filled with a low sadness. "And about home: We got a new member. Nice girl." "You ignored and gave her the cold shoulder the poor girl with all the other harpies when she was little, simply because she was plain. I highly doubt you regard her with anything." Lilly sounded angry, "How is that news?" "Well the new girl is young and comes from one of the minor families in the north of the county. The Cecia family. There's also begun a small petition whether your sister should be formally excluded from the coven now that's she's practically left us. And Rose has taken on a new apprentice. You should go see her by the way, remove that wrinkle and smooth out the skin. No ill meant." Lilly's hand crushed into a fist and her face was pained, "Those idiots. It's not her fault." "She left us. Whether it's her fault or her husband's. I'm sorry, but there's nothing anyone can do about it now." "Who forwarded the petition to the council?" "Your mother. She said she felt this chapter about her daughter should be closed. Milly left us to go her own path. She should not be tied by us then." Damn you, Lilly turned around, and slammed her fist into the tree. "****, that bitch, along with her whore of a husband." "You think she liked what she put forward to the other sisters? She said: 'If Milly wants to be free. Then we shall let her.' She said it reluctantly and with tears in her eyes." "Yeah ******* right. Mother doesn't care about her daughters, only there uses to her." Lilly was feeling awful inside, What the hell have I done...I...hurt her. I'll never...be able to see my own sister again... "I'm sorry. At least you have Helen." That brought Lilly to reality, she was pissed, "I still havn't payed you back for what you did to Helen when she was younger." Pure venom laced her words, "You told the other girls to ignore her, didn't you?!" "I did not. Why would I do that? You remember Floria? She was the popular girl at the time and she ignored Helen. And everyone wanted to be like Floria, so they mimicked her and ignored dear Helen. I was busy dealing with other things and I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for Helen." "Your deceiving forked tongue falls on deaf ears, snake. Your just like your pet, Asmodeus." Lilly angrily snarled at her, as she practically spat, "I dont know why you were coming onto her Majesty Dales this morning, but you stay away from that girl, you hear me?" "She just wanted some fun. And so did I. It's just a little harmless sex." "I know for a fact Dales hasn't slept with anyone for a month. Why would she start now, with a person she doesn't even know? She's troubled. That girl is vulnerable, and I wont let you take advantage of her." "She hasn't? Her behavior said otherwise to that of a troubled and vulnerable girl." Lilly caught a scent...she reconised it, "Perfume. What perfume are you wearing, "dear" sister?" "It's just a little something made from the wild flowers in our county." "You know how skilled I am in alchemy, Mary dont play dumb with me. You intoxicated her majesty." "No I did not. I just... heightened her senses a bit. Don't tell me you've never done so yourself." Lilly rushed forward, and grabbed Mary by the throat with her black gauntleted hand, slamming Mary into the tree trunk. Her Lapis Lazuli eyes filled with hate, and anger, "You think you'll get away with messing with the mind of my lady?!" "You've worn the same perfume yourself to get some fun. What makes it so wrong for me to do the same?" "I don't do it to mentally traumatized girls!!! I try to help them with there problems, not ******* violate them." She began to squeeze, Mary choked a little. "You can't kill me. You can't hurt me. For if you do, the coven will have you for your crime. I... only wanted a little fun." Her voice was still quite calm. Cursing, Lilly threw Marry onto the grass beside the tree, and angrily said, "Listen to me, and listen well, Marry Quentas. When ever you see a wayward shadow, it's me watching you. When you see a dark man in the tavern, that's my eyes trailing you. When you hear a noise in the forest, that's me haunting you. You wont piss, eat, or **** without me knowing, bitch." She went over to Marrie's downed body, and gently cupped her face with her gauntleted hands, she smiled. "If I ever, hear your near Dales or Helen, I will personally, embed my blade into your stomach, cut your body into little pieces, and feed you to you pet. Do you understand?" Lillies eyes became soulless, as her ocean deep orbs stared into her, "As you wish. I'll pack my things and leave as soon I'm done. Get me a carriage if you want me to get as far away from them as soon as possible." "Already done, including your bags. There's a loaded carriage, along with a squad of imperial legionaries waiting for you at the city gate. I recommend you go...now." "Could you let go of me then so I can get up?" Lilly got off the women, and moved to the side, Mary got up on her feet and brushed some dirt of her dress with a little magic as help. She didn't seem that bothered by what had just happened to her and when she was done with her dress she gave Lilly a slightly amused look. "You will not always be here, dear sister." With quick steps she turned around and started walking towards the garden exit.

Tacitus, Gracchus Imperial City Midmorning Tacitus slept late, the drunkenness of last night still affecting him. This had been the third night this week he had Maori had been out drinking, and it was starting to take its toll on Tacitus. They both figured that they deserved to drink, after all that had happened, but today was to be Tacitus' first day back, and he was already quite late, so he dressed quickly in his black vest and white shirt with his trousers and boots, along with his cutlass and scabbard, and hurried outside. It was then he realized that he had no idea where Maori was, so he ran back inside and and went to Maori's room, which was Tacitus' guest room. He found it empty, except for a note that said he was gone to the arena to catch a few matches. Lucky bastard, Tacitus thought, but heading back outside onto the bustling streets. There, a few guards awaited to escort him, as they had ever since he arrived. It was a new policy implemented with the recent assassination attempts, so the High Admiral went along with it, although begrudgingly. "Before we go to the place, I have something to do. The Market District," he told the guard in front, who just saluted then pivoted and began walking at a brisk pace to the markets. The crowds were already thick, in the Market District, with peddlers peddling, a few street performers dancing or juggling or spouting off some song. The guards pushed through the crowd, with yells of "Move!" or "Out of the way!" to make sure the message was clear. "Right there, the smithy," Tacitus said, pointing. He'd heard about the place from General Ceno, when they were discussing their swords. In fact, many of the officers had taken a liking to Gracchus' saber, and had been coming to Iver for their own weapons. So, Tacitus figured it the best place to get exactly what he needed as well. The guards stopped in front of the blacksmith, and Tacitus entered the shop, while two followed him in and the other two stayed outside. "I'm looking for Iver," Tacitus said in his gruff voice, to the man behind the counter. Hakar was quite used to Legion soldiers entering the shop nowadays, so he didn't hesitate to get his fathers attention when Tacticus asked. "Pa. We've got visitors! Legion men," he called towards the open door, that one could feel heat emanating from. He was doing his best to not look too long at Tacticus' stump, though his curiosity was probably obvious. "I'll just be a minute," Iver shouted back, flattening out one last piece of iron. After he finished, he took a rag and cleaned his hands the best he could and stepped out of the forge room. "And how can I help ya out today?" He extended his hand, making sure to match it with Tacticus' good hand. Tacitus gripped the man hand firmly, and was glad to see the man knew how to properly shake someone's hand. "I'm High Admiral Tacitus Meridius, and you most be Iver. Your son?" Tacitus asked with a nod towards Hakar. "That's my name indeed! And ya, that's my boy, Hakar." He glanced back with a bit of a stern look, as he had caught the boy staring at Tacticus' stump. He didn't hold the look long, as Hakar was quick to realize what he was doing. "Now, you said High Admiral?" "He's a strong looking lad," Tacitus said with a slight smile, "and yes, High Admiral. Recently back from Thalmor custody. Where I got this." Tacitus held the stump up, the clean cut and cauterized flesh where his wrist should be. Hakar's eyes lit up at the High Admiral's mention of returning from the grips of the Thalmor. He was going to say something, but his father had already began to talk. "He does a lot of heavy lifting, that's for sure," Iver said, obviously beginning to lighten up. "And damn, back from Thalmor custody ya say? I didn't know that was even a thing. Most people who are taken don't come back." "I'm one of the lucky ones, though I wouldn't say I'm in the business of good luck. I had some help in escaping, because as you can see, I needed a hand or two," Tacitus chuckled at his joke, thinking it would serve to lighten the mood a little more. Hakar didn't hesitate to share a laugh with Tacticus, and not even Iver could hold back a smile from the pun. "Well, don't ya worry then. Hakar and I are always willing to lend a helping hand. Is there anything specific you need? Swords, shields, armor, I do it all. Your comrades seem to like my work too." "So I hear. General Ceno recommended you, but he was only the first. It got to the point where it seemed almost everyone had some sort of knife, chest-piece, or shield from you," Tacitus said, still slightly smiling, "But, I have something I think you'll enjoy working on more than your average blade." "General Gracchus, huh? He's a good man. He doin' alright? As for your request, you've got my attention." Iver got a curious look in his eyes, waiting to hear more about this request from the High Admiral. "I've got this idea, for a gauntlet, but with different attachments. A buckler could attach at the forearm, which would make it hard to knock off, and where the hand would go, maybe a knife, or an axe, or a hook. Not all at once, mind you, but I'd like to be ably to switch off if need be. I'd also like the ability to adjust, with leather straps maybe? Well, what do you think?" Tacitus asked eagerly, hoping his ideas weren't too farfetched or outlandish. Iver ran his fingers across his temple for a second, trying to take the request in. "Let me make sure I got this all right. You want a gauntlet with interchangeable parts? That it?" It was easy to see Hakar's interest in the matter. His eyes were huge, and his head was cocked to the side slightly. Both him and Iver waited intently on Tacticus' response. "That's exactly what I want. Is it too much?" Tacitus asked, worried over the temple rubbing. "It is a lot to take in, something new as far as I know, but I'm just the first person. Think about after the war, how many men will come home from the battlefield missing arms, legs, hands and feet. This could open up a market for ya, I believe." Iver nodded his head a bit at Tacticus' words, but one could tell he was deep in thought. "You know, I would love to make this for you... but there's something I gotta ask," he said, rubbing his temple again. Hakar was looking at his dad with curious eyes, wondering what kind of information his dad could possibly want that would make this gauntlet possible. "I swear to the gods, if you have some convoluted joke up your sleeve man, I'll have a mind to knock you about!" Tacitus said sarcastically, chuckling a bit as he did. "Oh, I don't think there will be any need fer that. My question is," Iver said. He didn't intentionally pause before the question, though it caused Hakar's curiosity to skyrocket. "What material shall we make this newfound gauntlet out of?" "I'm not sure. Something lightweight, but sturdy? I have plenty of coin, so you may factor that in. The job of admiral doesn't pay as well as you might think, but I'm a frugal person, always have been. You're the blacksmith, you tell me what material you would use," Tacitus said, although it probably sounded gruffer than he meant. Iven nodded his head at the High Admiral's input, before finally pointing at a material that Hakar brought over. "I've got just the thing. Here, how does this feel to you?" he asked, motioning for Tacticus to take the sample, which was a mix of mithril and quicksilver. Tacitus lifted it in his right hand, tossing it up and catching it to get a feel for its weight. "Will it hold up? It feels light enough, but I'm not too sure about its strength," said Tacitus, brow furrowing slightly. "Leave it to Hakar, he should be able to test it's strength. He's a strong lad, after all," Iven said with a grin. Iven fastened the mixed material onto a practice target, and then motioned for Hakar to grab his steel hammer. Hakar did so, and then took his best shot at the sample piece of armor. "URGH!" Hakar grunted, putting as much power as he could behind the swing. Iven motioned for Hakar to come back over. "Why don't you be the judge of that? It's going to be worn by you, after all." "Strong indeed," Tacitus grabbed the ingot out of Hakar's hand, and looked it over. The only indication of where the hammer had hit was a scuff market, as the slightest indentation. "I'll be damned, that held up better than I expected. You'll do it then? Make the gauntlet?" "It'd be my pleasure. It's not everyday someone walks in with an idea that could help a lot of people out ya know? Now, about the attachments, I'll need a list as I'm afraid my memory ain't the best." "If you'll find me a quill and parchment, I'd do that for you. I've for several in mind, from traditional to strange. It'll be fun for you, I'm sure," Tacitus said, smiling again. Iver looked at Hakar, who immediately fetched Tacticus a quill and some parchment from under the counter. "I'm sure I'll have my work cut out for me, in a good way of course," Iver said with a smile. "Thanks," Tacitus said, then scrawled out a small list of times. Hook, Knife, Sword, Axe, Buckler "I think that will do it. Have any more questions?" he asked, handing the paper to Iver. Iver scanned over the list, and then nodded his head in satisfaction. "No, I think all of these will work just fine," Iver said. "The only thing left to discuss is price, and I have a policy with custom jobs." "Name it," Tacitus said simply, prepared to pay whatever he needed to for this gauntlet. "We'll get to that soon enough. First, my policy. If you don't like what you get, I'll make it again free of charge. On my honor. Now... for a price. Hakar, what do you think?" "I don't know pa, we've never made one. But looking at the size of your hand, and the attachments listed. Uhh. How about 3,500?" "Damn, your boy drives a tough bargain. I'll pay, and I accept your policy as well. Do you want payment ahead of time, or after completion?" "We can do whatever you want. I don't expect you to try an' steal from me, so if you want to pay when you've got your gauntlet, I'll say fair enough. Though the sooner you pay, the better," Iver said with a grin. "I'll be by this afternoon then, with the coin. If that's all, I've for work to do, and I'm sure they'd have my tail if I show up any later." Iver motioned towards the door, signaling he was free to leave. "Then I'll see you in the afternoon. Nice to meet ya, Tacitus." "Nice meeting both of you as well. G'day," Tacitus said, leaving with his escort right on his heels. Several minutes later, after more crowd wading and yelling, they finally managed to reach the palace. Tacitus bid the guards farewell, ascending the stairs up to his office. He walked in, sighing with relief that a massive pile of papers didn't await him. Instead, a package sat centrally on his desk, in a female's handwriting. He didn't recognize it, nor was there any signature, so he pulled out a letter knife and opened the end. He tipped the package over, and out poured schematics, blueprints, all kinds of plans and drawings of a massive, winged ship. "By the gods," Tacitus muttered to himself, as he realized what it was. Plans to the Thalmor Sunbirds? How is this even possible? It had to be there tightest kept secret, if they even kept plans on paper at all, he thought, not even realizing he had already begun walking to General Ceno's office. He burst through the door, tossing the plans onto the desk of the grey haired general, interrupting a very boring report about leather distribution. "Excuse me, but a knock would have been a fair warning before you burst in here. And then you throw papers all over my desk, drawings of a b-gods, is this what I think it is? How in hell did you come by these?" Gracchus asked, awestruck and dumbfounded. "I didn't do anything. They were just sitting on my desk when I came in today. Seems we've got some friends in very, very high places in Alinor," Tacitus said, leaning onto the desk with hand and stump. "But, can they help us? I presume so, otherwise it would be fruitless to give them to us," Gracchus said, leaning back with one hand tracing his goatee. "You're damn right they'll help. You see this," Tacitus sorted through the papers until he found a schematic unlike the rest, that showed a blown up portion of the back of the bird, panels crystalline in nature, "that's the power source, giant mirrors that harness the sun. And that crystal in the center, the one that looks like a giant soul gem, I would expect to be the secondary power source. Both tough as hell I'm sure. How we'll destroy it is beyond me, but you being a mage, surely, you could help," Tacitus said eagerly. "I'm terribly sorry, but this is far beyond my capabilities. Skjari, the court-mage, may know, or the Synod or College of Whispers, but I know someone just as close who should be of great help, and would take a great interest in a project like this. Endar Drenim, in Kvatch, is staying with Count Brutus. I can send for him, or-" "No, I'll go myself. This is too important a task to risk a messenger f****** it up. I'll leave tomorrow, see if Maori wants to go. Damn, this could change everything. I can't even begin to think about how much this cuts down their naval advantage." "No doubt it will turn the tide in our favor. I would send word to the Empress, before you leave. She will want to know about something as major as this." "I will. S***, this is a welcome back gift." "Yes it is," Gracchus said simply, watching as Tacitus practically strutted out of his office, and Gracchus smiled as he watched him leave. We will need some a few miracles if we are to win. Looks like the first one has already arrived. And thank the gods for it.

Rebec, Baldur The Oasis of the Alik'r Noon The general had long since meant to step out from the canopy on Fafnir to walk with the others, but the sway of the lizard combined with the hazy heat created by the shade that dulled the more intense warmth of the Alik'r desert proved too much. He stayed there sleeping for most of the trip, even with Menel and his disgusting feet, though eventually he did kick him out. He only stirred again when he heard one of the Ra Gada say something in their rare tongue, though one of the words he did manage to pick up, which meant 'city'. When he got the blur of slumber from his eyes, he could make out a large rocky area with two small mountain-like formations covered in rich earth and tropical trees. From here, he could make out the smoke of fires probably from cooking in front of cave dwellings. From the rocky area came a large stream that pooled into a sizable spring which had a scant amount of trees around it with decent shrubbery, but not much plantlife elsewhere due to the spring pooling over sandy ground unlike where it trickled from. On the other side of the spring a good ways away from where they were, Baldur could make out some creatures nearby that looked like some sort of turtle, except the legs were thicker and longer, and its top was flat and had plants growing out of it. And from there, he also could make out yet another half bird creature, though this one looked like a half ape, half magpie, or parrot with a mix or red fur and feathers, along with a bit of blue. It didn't look as freakish as the harpies, but it made him nervous all the same. Rebec had slept more than she intended on the trip, as well, even with her nervousness about more attacks. As Baldur stirred, however, so did she. The sight of vegetation on the horizon and a few wispy clouds above it was striking, after what seemed like weeks of nothing but the desert. Taking out her spyglass, she observed the activity in the oasis, and spotted some blonde heads that stood higher than the others. "Looks like our men made it here, anyway," she said over her shoulder. "Of course they did. They take after their leader," said Baldur, smiling with pride. It didn't take him too long to see the men break off from the group they could see ahead coming from the activity of the people further into the oasis and towards them. In the distance, a tall man with red hair could be seen along with a Ra Gada beside him, and he knew immediately it was Kematu and Falgrum. Wasting no time in meeting their entourage. Rebec put away her spyglass and glanced down at the ground. "Nobody explained the dismount procedure here. I guess we jump and hope for the best?" Baldur looked over from where they were to the side, then pulled back. "Eh, maybe. Let me try something else." Baldur got up from behind her, then crawled out from the canopy towards Fafnir's head. Baldur didn't know what he was doing, but he figured the thing was trained so well, maybe it would know what he wanted. "Uh, Fafnir...down?" Baldur remembered the word he responded to for up was tang, so the likelihood of him responding to tamrielic was unlikely. Rubbing the top of Fafnir's head while pushing down, Baldur said again, "Down!" This time the lizard did obey. Coming to a stop, Fafnir bowed his head as if to drink, allowing Baldur to slide down his head, albeit ungracefully and landing on his hands and knees. "Okay, you're good to go!" he said to Rebec near his head ready to assist with the landing. Rebec was pondering swinging down by her rope, but ended up sliding, getting caught half way down so that she turned sideways, then tumbling off into the sand at Baldur's feet with a thud. Rising up on her elbows, she spat sand from her mouth and stared up at him. "We'll have to work on that." Baldur stifled a chuckle as he helped her up, then brushed sand off the both of them before grabbing Fafnir's reins and continuing the walk to what one of the guides called a city. From what he could tell, it was more like a large village with cave dwellings and large yurts. By the time Kematu and Falgrum met up with them, Falgrum and the other Grim Ones that met up with them were all gawking at the lizard that accompanied their Admiral and General. Kematu on the other hand went straight to the pair, then said, "Thank the Alik'r you stubborn Nords are still kicking. Where in the world did you find a pack lizard?" Rebec, still dusting herself off, came along after Baldur. "It's a long story. We met up with a few other desert inhabitants who were, shall I say, less than happy to see us. Ended up at a monastery of the Ebon Arm. That's where this beast comes from. I'm surprised to see things so peaceful here. I expected we might find a bloodbath." "Yes, well. I still hold some respect with the others, it seems. I came in peace, so while Anazar tried so hard to make what you expected happen, it did not, and his followers were willing to listen. Falgrum also helped and assured them you all were coming. Anazar tried to persuade them that you all were gathering an army. Your arrival will obviously gain us some trust, but obviously there's still something bothering them. But they will not reveal it to us until the gathering. Anazar must want me ill prepared to defend myself from the accusations." "Well you're in luck then. We brought a friend along with us," said Baldur signalling to one of his men. The Nord came over with a gagged Ra Gada mercenary and pushed him to his knees. Wide eyed with delight, Kematu said, "Good...now we're getting somewhere. The gathering will commence later in the day. We should take the time to question this man, then come up with a strategy. They'll have a yurt set up opposite of theirs and surrounded in a circle of the villagers here to observe, including our men. They'll have them mixed up so that neither side can organize against the other. We're not the only ones here, though. The Satak warriors are here as well, and they'll be watching. Waiting." "Are they the ones who attacked us?" Rebec was unfamiliar with all the tribal names, and worried about her own and Baldur's inexperience and how that could jeopardize their mission. But mostly, she was mad. The attackers weren't responsible for Suri's injury, but they would have ended all of them if they could. Kematu said, "No, it was Anazar. The prisoner you brought, that will be useful in proving so, as his tongue is not forked. I tried convincing them that was why you were not here, but they wouldn't listen. Now, they must. Though he'll probably say he had no knowledge of it. And since we'll be physically coercing him, his word won't amount for much either. So if you want to blame anyone, it will be that man." Baldur raised an eyebrow as he took note of the name. Payback is definitely something I want...but it seems unlikely that will happen with this setup. And peace is preferable...but... "Take your prisoner by the spring. The others will be arriving soon, as will the entire village," said Kematu. "Fine." Rebec studied Kematu a moment, still not sure that the whole thing hadn't been a setup and he was involved. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the female guide who had accompanied them the whole way- her name was Tala, Rebec had overheard- leave their group and slip into the collection of yurts at the edge of the settlement. They had no friends here. Maybe, the Nords had no friends anywhere anymore. *** Baldur watched as the Ra Gada started setting up the meeting area, making up their separate portable tan colored yurts while they watched. When it was finished, Rebec and Baldur's entourage sat around guarding it while Baldur, Rebec and Menel went inside along with the prisoner Baldur tied to a wooden chair. Kematu came in shortly later, looking frustrated and weary eyed even more so than usual. "Okay, so who wants to start? I can translate," he said. The Ra Gada was a lean bald man with a tattoo that looked like a beast's claw swipe over his face. His eyes were closed, but you could still see his frustrated expression. "I've got questions, sure." Rebec stood up from the low stool where she'd been perched. "Did the Crowns hire them? And if so, who, and why?" The man remained silent with his eyes closed as predicted, though did mumble something in Yoku, probably something not polite. Rebec glanced at Baldur, then at Menel. "You got something for this?" The Bosmer shrugged, then stepped forward and cast a Calm spell on the man. The man opened his eyes as if frenzied, then suddenly got a hell of a lot more talkative, though it didn't seem like anything useful. In fact, Baldur was sure he heard him say every curseword in Yoku that there was. Baldur looked to Kematu in confusion. Kematu sighed, then said, "Ra Gada aren't keen on magic users... in fact, our people hate it even more than yours, though there are some exceptions, such as individuals like myself, and we have our own Ra Gada magic. This one's got a strong will it seems, to have resisted whatever spell you used." "Soften him up, Rebec," said Baldur, who was uninterested in why it didn't work. Though he took note of the magic hate. Rebec had actually laughed at the stream of profanity. They weren't any closer to their goal, but she had picked up a few words. "Ah well. I guess we do this the hard way." Earlier she had taped her hands for this reason, having interrogated pirates more than once. Axe hilts and clubs were faster but risked knocking the subject unconscious. Stepping up to the redguard, she grabbed the man's forelock and pulled his head back so that he was forced to look up at her, and said in Yoku, "Too bad your mates aren't here to see you get beaten up by a woman." Still holding his head, with the other she socked him a sidelong blow across the nose with her backhand. Blood spurted out onto the man's tunic and her hand, but she didn't let him recover before hitting him again, then once more. After that, she paused. Just when the man relaxed, thinking the first round was over, she gave a quick kick to his manly assets, connecting with a satisfying thud. Baldur was probably enjoying seeing her work more than he should, and he had a slight smirk on his face when the man gasped in pain from his nethers being assaulted. "Menel, take his armor and clothing off from his chest and arms." The Bosmer's hands had instinctively moved to shield his own nether region when Rebec's boot landed on the redguard's. He mumbled something, not used to all this tough stuff but fascinated by it in a clinical way, and started removing the prisoner's cuirass. Meanwhile Rebec stood back, arms crossed. When the Alikiri raised his eyes to give her a hateful look, she flexed her hand and smiled back. "I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot." "Hopefully after this we will be, actually. Hold his left arm up, Rebec." Baldur lightly pinched at the muscle near his tendons in proximity to his own armpit to signify what he had in mind. The prisoner's feet were tied together, and although his hands were now untied, he knew better than to try anything. Rebec did as she was bid, for good measure prying the man's middle finger from his fist and holding it back an angle. If the prisoner was worried about a finger breaking, his mind would be less prepared for what Baldur was about to do. Menel, meanwhile, was examining the man's armor to try to figure out how he had resisted his spell. Baldur rubbed his fingers on his robe to get the finger oils out for a better grip, then he lifted his boot where some sand still was and used that to wipe on his fingers to make what he was about to do hurt more, as well as so he'd grip onto his flesh better. While Rebec held his fingers, Baldur said, "Tell us who sent you and why." The man said in Yoku that Baldur was the son of a Sload fucked by Molag Bal. Evidently Molag Bal was similar in Tamrielic as it was in Yoku, so Baldur got the gist. With that, Baldur quickly jammed his fingers into the man's arm below the pit at the pressure point, then he gripped it with all the strength he could muster. Then, he pulled. He did it quick, but the damage it did was very apparent. The man had a small bloody hole in his arm with a few bloody strands coming out. Anyone else would have blacked out from the pain, but this man resisted Menel's spell, so Baldur knew he wouldn't. Though, that didn't keep him from screaming out like someone dropped lava on his groin. No doubt the pain was at least doubled from him being focused on what Rebec was doing with his finger before Baldur acted. "While you're at it, break the finger too, Rebec." Before her natural hesitation could make her think otherwise, she wrenched the man's finger back until it made a sickening snap. The man naturally tried to draw his hand in to protect it, but Rebec grabbed it back, heedless that she was further injuring the broken finger. "You'll never draw a bow again," she said in a friendly tone, using Yoku. "Of course I could get my friend here to heal you... but, no. That offends you. Next finger." She grasped another one, giving the Redguard a moment to think it over. "Stop! Stop! I'll talk, I'll talk, you pale bastards, I'll talk!" "Oh, so you do speak Tamrielic! Would you look at that," Baldur said in an amused tone. Kematu wasn't phased by the torture, but he looked impressed at the Nords' handiwork. "Well then traitor, if you're going to talk, then talk," Kematu said. The Ra Gada prisoner looked to Kematu with hateful spite, then spoke in a rare Yoku dialect so Rebec couldn't understand, now that he knew she knew some of the language. "Not...to you. Them," said the prisoner in strained breaths. "Like hell, you traitorous s-" "That is...my price." Turning to Baldur with half open eyes, he said, "I speak to you. But not that one." "This isn't up to him, I said-" "Get out, Kematu," said Baldur. Kematu shot him a glare that he was used to sending to insubordinate members of his merc group. "Nord...careful. No one insults my honor and tells ME to get out." "Don't you see what he's doing? He expected that. He wants to make us argue. Now are you going to squabble, or are you going to let us get some answers? Get. Out," said Baldur. Kematu's nostrils were flaring now, and his fists clenched, especially at the sight of the weak smile on the prisoner's face, but eventually he did leave. When he did, Baldur walked over to him and yanked his finger back in place forcibly to remove his smile. First question my wife asked you. Who sent you?" "Grah! Damn Nord, Anazar!" "And who does Anazar work for?" Rebec asked. "Crowns or one of your desert tribes with a grudge? Or for the Thalmor?" "Thalmor? Don't insult us, Nord, no one here would ever work for the yellow skins. Anazar works for no one. He does what he does because of the honorable actions of one of our own. Kematu has a spy planted in the service of Jeleen. That spy found out that Jeleen is trying to take over Hammerfell to be High King, and that you are helping him do it. And so is Kematu." "His spy is a fool, then. Or deaf. What you do in your own country is none of our affair." Rebec released the man's hand and walked around to face him, hands on her hips. "Think about it a minute, if that thick skull of yours will let you. We just fought two wars so that Nords could determine their own fate. You think we'd come here and start acting like imperials? You killed our men and were wiped out yourselves over a rumor as empty as a fart in the wind." "This spy is one of Kematu's personal chosen. He'd never say something unless he was sure. Even if you are not here to do this, Jeleen is. And Kematu. Have you ever considered that Kematu is using you? Lying to you? Why do you think I chose to speak to you in private? And...why he was so insistent on staying in here..." "Of course we've considered that. You Ra Gada love your plots as much as the average Breton. We're here to negotiate continued support against the damned elves, that's all. Not at the expense of becoming pawns in your constant bid to kill each other off. Whatever your man heard, maybe that was Jeleen floating an idea, but there is no pact between him and us." Rebec tilted her head, noticing the man's face was still sweaty and pale with pain. "You want the elf here to spell you or what? He's good. Make you feel like a new man." "No," said both him and Baldur. "No healing for him. Not yet anyway," said Baldur. "No spells. I'll get over it myself. Well if this is true, it doesn't much matter. Anazar is hell bent on taking over the Alik'r. He and a few others think Kematu's spent too much time around you Nords. He'll just think you're lying. You coming straight from Jeleen's palace to here with Kematu only makes you look more guilty. I'm still not convinced myself. You asked me why you'd come after your cause to do this to us? Not everyone believed the words of your Bear of Markarth, so making sure you have soldiers for your war seems possible to us, Thalmor or no. Who's to say you don't have some deal to take Cyrodiil and make this Ulfric Emperor after the war? Like the Talos you all love so much... You're already trying to make him leader of the alliance with the large one here as head general. Anyway, you don't have to convince me, so don't bother answering these questions. It's Anazar you have to convince. And I'm telling you right now, that is impossible. You best prepare for a blood bath. Then another, as the Satak warriors will wipe this place out when a victor is decided." Rebec snorted in disgust. "Isn't there a redguard so-called chief with a lick of sense in this whole country? You want to kill each other off, fine. The Nords'll call this little venture of ours a failure and leave you to it. We can fight the blasted elves ourselves." Turning her back on the Alik'r warrior, she said to Baldur, "I guess we've heard enough out of this sand rat. Let's go find this Anazar. If he wants to taste my axe, he'll get his chance." "No, not just yet. I've been thinking about this on our way here and since you saved me. If this man really is as stubborn as he says, then I think I can deal with him another way. A man who attacks people before he truly knows what they're about...he doesn't care if we're here to take Hammerfell for Jeleen or not. He just wants the Alik'r. And if that isn't true, then he's too difficult and stubborn to negotiate with anyway. So...lets give him what he wants." Baldur dug into his pack for a bit and pulled out some ink and his journal and tore out a piece of paper from it. "Menel, do you know any conjuration?" Menel looked up from the armor, appearing confused, as was Rebec. Stammering, the Bosmer replied, "Well there was that lecture series I attended at the College. 'Atronachs and You.' Where do they come up with these titles. And I read an interesting paper on channeling illusions from daedric auras. I've overheard Veleda's training, though conjuration is restricted strictly to..." "Elf!" Rebec shouted. "Answer the damn question." Ruffled, Menel scowled from Rebec to Baldur. "Basically, no. Not in any practical sense. What did you have in mind?" Baldur bit his lip, looking nervous. He had put a lot on the hope that Menel's magic could once again help, though from the sounds of this man, and Baldur's art of speech, he could probably still make the plan work. Though if Menel could help, it would be a much more successful attempt. Baldur looked over to the Ra Gada behind him, then had Rebec and Menel come closer to him so he could whisper what he had in mind. "Then let me take care of the rest." Menel frowned briefly. "Hm. Ah yes, I see. Could be useful, that. Give me a moment." He took the parchment and went off to a corner. Patting himself until he found a notebook in one of the pouches on his belt, the Bosmer began flipping through his notes, muttering. Rebec watched him a moment, and turned back to Baldur. Leaning in, she whispered, "Magic tricks aren't going to go over well with the Alikiri. Supposing whatever you're trying here even works." "I'm counting on that, love," said Baldur with a smile. "Axes are faster, if that's what you want." She smiled a little, looking up at him and remembering the empty, lost feeling she'd had when he was missing. Rebec wanted nothing more than to whisk Baldur away and leave war and redguard politics far behind. A flash in the background caught her eye, Menel practicing some spell. A moment later he jumped up, presenting Baldur with a piece of parchment. "Here you are, General. I make no guarantees, not even the boilerplate College of Whispers warranties, which were never much good anyway, if truth be told. Magical liability insurance rates having gone through the roof after the Oblivion Crisis, especially with conjuration, as I'm sure you can understand..." At Rebec's scowl, the Bosmer stopped and laughed nervously. "Hm, yes. Well, I think it will serve. I hope." The admiral rolled her eyes. "Very reassuring." Chuckling, Baldur took the scroll, then started writing on the parchment. Though before the others could see what he was writing, he rolled the scroll up, then tucked it into his sleeve. "Okay, lets see this Anazar. Hopefully this won't be necessary, but who's to say? They should have the meeting table ready by now." "Alright, let's give big tough guy here back to his guards." Rebec pulled the Alik'r prisoner to his bound feet and began leading him, shuffling, out of the tent. Once the others left, Baldur turned off his facade of confidence and pulled out the scroll to look it over. If he had to use this, things could go very wrong, very fast, unless he executed the plan to perfection. It was the only way he could avoid an all out battle in the Oasis if this Anazar wouldn't see reason. "Talos, you may have been a conniving bastard as a mortal, but you were a smart conniving bastard. So, time to take a page from your book. Shor guide me." Walking out of the yurt, Baldur could already see the villagers gathering all around the meeting point. As Kematu said, the soldiers were mixed among the others, all gawking at the two yurts by the spring. In the center of the two yurts, Baldur saw a round wooden table large enough for all the big players to attend. Kematu was standing on the side, waiting for Baldur and Rebec to arrive. He was particularly frustrated now, which was understandable as he was in the dark, which is what Anazar preferred, Baldur imagined. The man in question was standing at the table as well, wearing a black hood with a cloth that wrapped around his neck before trailing to his back, but nothing covering his athletic physique. He also wore tan baggy pants, but no kind of footwear. His body was ornamented with many golden piercings, such as on both nipples, his lip, ears, eyebrows and so on, and he was covered in exotic purple and violet paint designs that looked like what Baldur assumed was depictions of Yoku gods. Before Baldur and Rebec could be seated, the Ra Gada guide woman came up to them and insisted that she let her hold their weapons, as no weapons were permitted for the meeting. "You're not getting my axes for love or money," Rebec told the Ra Gada woman, batting her hand away. "Not after what we went through to get here." To Anazar, she said loudly, "We came here in peace. You lot are the ones who broke your precious hospitality rules and drew blood. You can talk to us armed or not talk to us at all." Anazar blinked, but didn't say anything. Baldur drew his axes and handed it over to the woman. "Just do it, Rebec. Kematu's unarmed as well, and so is this man." "Baldur..." Rebec regarded him uneasily. He was planning something, but that didn't make her feel any better. Finally she spat in disgust and drew out her axes, handing them over. The redguard woman took them, then pointed at Rebec's hip sheath. Snorting again, Rebec unlaced the dagger and slapped that on the pile, too, before turning back to the others. Kematu stood where he was as Baldur and Anazar took a seat. Kematu had a look of hatred on his face as he bore witness to the meeting with his traitorous rebel. Baldur took off his golden square agal like a crown, then placed it on the table. Looking at Rebec, he gave her a reassuring smile as he took off his white kufiyah and Anazar took down his black hood, revealing black short hair twists with reddish brown highlights. "As you know, I am High General Baldur Red-Snow and this is my wife High Admiral Rebec Red-Snow. I speak for the King of Skyrim here, so for all intents and purposes, to you, I am the King. And as such, you should know the ramifications of sending men to attack one such as myself before even knowing what we're about. What did you think that would accomplish? Besides our men pouring into this desert and doing exactly what you feared simply in retaliation?" Anazar blinked slowly, as if he wasn't paying attention to what was being said. After a while, he said, "And what is it that you think I fear?" "Spilling your blood on the sand so that the other clans despise your memory as being too weak to lead them," Rebec answered. "And too foolish. We're not here for Kematu, or Jeleen, or anyone else. We're here because the Thalmor threaten all of us." "So you say. Yet I have inside information that says otherwise. Even if you are here for what you say, you are just pawns to this man, and the fat cow, Jeleen." "You mean the spy Kematu has in Jeleen's palace?" Kematu turned to Baldur as he said this with surprised eyes. "How did you know, Nord?" "The prisoner told us. That's why they think we're here to serve Jeleen. He overheard some words at a meeting with us, and he drew conclusio-" "He overheard everything!" Anazar said, slamming his hands on the table. "Every word." "How about when Baldur told Jeleen where he could shove his bid for kingship, and Jeleen said he had only been testing us by proposing that?" Rebec fired back. "We're going to everyone to ask for this alliance. Crown, Forebear, Lhotun and Alik'r. You came together after the empire abandoned you and fought off the Thalmor. How long do you think that is going to last if they take Cyrodiil? They'll be coming for you again, and us." Kematu and Anazar both shared a look. His was accusing, while Kematu's was of confusion. Kematu had no idea about Jeleen's supposed schemes. His spy reported nothing, though now it was obvious why. Anazar said, "Even if that is true, why would the spy lie? And even so, do you really believe that bakyaka shit? He was testing you? Yes, he was. To see if you'd willingly and knowingly help his bid for king. Instead, he's sent you here to try and thin our numbers by fighting this one who stands watching. He too tried convincing me while you were away. It didn't work. The Thalmor will not be held as an excuse to allow Jeleen to take Hammerfell for his greed. It would be no different to the Ra Gada Jeleen rules with the sword of a foreign "alliance", or if the Thalmor tried to take us again. Here's how this is going to go. Either Kematu stands down as leader of the Alik'r, and you go back to Skyrim, or we all turn the springs of this Oasis red with our blood. That is final." "And how are you any different than Jeleen, then, with your demands?" Rebec replied. "We want no part of your tribal squabbles. If there's to be blood, then let's do it the old way. Your people and mine both settled conflicts in the same fashion. You and Kematu, at arms, to the death. We and all the others here will bear witness." Baldur looked to Rebec, as did Kematu in surprise. Baldur wasn't crazy about the idea of putting everything on the line by Kematu's skill, but it was an interesting proposal. It put Anazar in an interesting position, at the very least. Similar to Torygg. Kematu smiled, thinking he'd finally receive a window to end this. "No," Anazar said, unimpressed by the notion. "No?" Baldur and Kematu both said in unison. "Are you a coward, then? Are you afraid to challenge your old leader?" said Baldur. "I'm not surprised. You took almost half my men on some cause and you were never even Ra Gada enough to come to my face and express your grievances!" Kematu said angrily. "This is bigger than me! This is about the fate of my people and the Alik'r itself! I will not let my own personal pride get in the way of this! Call me coward all you want, but I hold the cards here, and I will not let you take them from me because of pride. You have my demands. Surrender Kematu, leave this place, and let Hammerfell decide its own fate absent of foreign interference! Or there will be blood." Anazar stood up suddenly, then left the table to return to his yurt, leaving the others to talk. "Well that's that, then," Rebec said. "I'm going to get our axes back. It figures we'd have to beat the sense into them." "Rebec, leave the axes," Baldur said. Turning to Kematu who was about to receive his weapon as well, Baldur said, "I came prepared. Let me see if I can make him another offer, got it?" "You're wasting your time, Nord. You heard him. It's over! We need to prepare to do what's necessary. My men all are ready to run from the crowds and fight at my side, and I imagine his are as well. You'd best do as your wife says and prepare." "Not yet. Just let me talk with him one more time, just one. If he still says no, then at least we'd have been sure to explore all paths before us." Kematu sighed and let out a grunt in frustration. "For a Nord, you sure are quick to avoid violence. Whatever, do what you will. It'll be a shitstorm no matter what we do." Kematu walked off to have the Ra Gada guide tell Anazar Baldur was ready to speak. Rebec leaned in to whisper, "If your plan A doesn't work, we need to grab Azanar and cut him down quickly. I don't need my axes to kill, but he's got a strength advantage on me, so it should probably be you." "We can't, it would take too long, and the mercs on both sides would pour in on us too fast. Our only play would be to use the chaos to run through the crowd with our men and escape. We're not dying here for this. But don't worry, it won't come to that, I promise you." Baldur placed an arm around her shoulder and put his head against hers. "You know, right now I'd much rather be in Skyrim making our new house and trying to make our family. But working together like this, it's kind of fun, isn't it?" Rebec brushed at his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. "It's all twisted up. Trading is cleaner than this. But you always got something up your sleeve, and sometimes it actually works." She smiled briefly, and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. It could be the last. Sadly, there wasn't more time to share words, as Anazar was already making his way back to the table, evidently expecting the Nords to give in already. Though Baldur held Rebec's hand under the table to let her feel what it was he wanted to say then but couldn't. "Well, Nord? What is it? Do you accept my demands?" said Anazar, looking at Kematu. He could tell something was up, as Kematu didn't look like a man who was about to give up his forces. Baldur had to stifle a laugh when he realized Rebec's words about him having something under his sleeve proved in this particular case to be rather literal. He pulled the small makeshift scroll from his sleeve and pushed the parchment over to Anazar. "My counter offer." Rebec was just as curious as the redguard at what was on the page, but she gave it only a brief glance, and kept her eyes on the men- and on the door, where she expected an ambush as soon as Anazar gave the signal. When Anazar opened the paper, what he saw instead was a list of supposed offerings of peace to be given to him and his warriors in exchange for existing in peace with Kematu. Baldur wrote over the syllables, disguising them as other words instead. When that proved impossible, Baldur simply scratched them out and made it look like errors. The magic was already sealed into the paper, so one could not deactivate or mess anything up by doing so. Something he learned long ago from reading. Anazar's eyes went wide on some of the offers, and he looked over the paper towards the yellow haired Nord to see if it was a joke. "Your penmanship is horrible. I imagine your swordsmanship is just as sloppy. Which explains...this." "Just keep reading. Read aloud so Kematu and my wife know the terms," said Baldur. Anazar chuckled with amusement, and said, "This won't work, but fine. High General Baldur Red-Snow of the Independent Kingdom of Skyrim, hereby offers one Anazar, leader of the Alik'r Warriors for his alliance and cooperation in Hammerfell for the fight against the Thalmor menace... 15,000 gold coins from the King's coffers, the city of Dragonstar in its entirety, title as Thane in the land of Skyrim, a tax free trading relationship for Dragonstar as long as Anazar is ruling said city...." Inwardly Rebec gagged, but she kept her expression stony, not wanting to give away that something was afoot. "What's the matter? Not generous enough for you?" "Ha, not generous enough? I'm surprised he hasn't offered me you yet in this thing. Too bad..." Baldur's eyes suddenly flashed in acute hatred at that moment, though he forced himself not to act. It took everything in him not to, and his grip on Rebec's hand tightened, though not too much. You'll pay for that. Rebec only snorted in disgust, shaking her head. She gave Baldur's hand an encouraging squeeze. Anazar continued naming offers until he finally approached the last line and said, "All of these offers upon the agreement of Anazar are official upon his signature in the name of High King Ulfric Stormcloak and.... Rebbabo? AE AXE CE ALTADOON, The e-, huh?" As quickly as he spoke the ehlnofex word for weapon, a burst of purple light flashed in front of everyone, and before anyone knew it, besides Baldur that is, a large shimmering Daedric sword appeared and forced itself in Anazar's grip. As surprised as everyone was, no one was more surprised than Anazar himself. The crowd stood silent as what was a boring event of staring at figures they couldn't even hear turned into one of treachery and bold cowardice in full display of everyone. Anazar's shock turned to anger as he saw Baldur's smug grin on his face. Everyone stood from the table at once, but it was Anazar who struck first. Baldur was expecting Anazar to strike at Kematu before anyone. Though while that did happen, it didn't happen the way he expected. Anazar in his anger moved to strike Baldur down where he stood, and while he was ready to dodge it, Kematu acted too fast and jumped across the table, taking the full impact of the magic blade across the side of his arm, and the upper portion of his face, slicing off part of his ear before he hit the sand, bleeding. Anazar too was shocked, but he was pleasantly surprised to see his enemy do something so foolish. That didn't last long. Before he could move to take down the Nord as well, Baldur was already on him, pushing the whole table to the side to get to him. Anazar thrust his blade towards Baldur's middle, though the Nord sidestepped it and pushed his sword-hand away with Baldur's left hand as his right hand grabbed his throat. Using both their momentum to his advantage, Baldur lifted Anazar off the ground and slammed him down by his neck. Before the Ra Gada warrior could recover his lost wind, Baldur already brought the blade as it still was gripped in the Redguard's hand into his exposed gut. "Y-you...conniving pale skins...you're no b-better than the elves. And now my p-people will forget me, thinking me the coward." "Don't worry, I'm a bard. You'll be remembered in song when I sing of your failure to my children." Anazar tried to say something, but blood filled his mouth and his throat, preventing him from speaking. The sword then dissipated, though Anazar continued to live, albeit barely. Baldur looked around at the gawking crowd. A group of Alik'r warriors came running to see to Kematu, but for the most part, everyone else was still shocked that Anazar would stoop to magic and deceit. Satisfied at this reaction, Baldur looked down into Anazar's eyes. Through them he could tell he was fighting desperately to cling to life's edge. Deciding to help him let go, Baldur stuck two fingers in his wound, wriggling them around roughly to cause the Ra Gada prodigious agony. As he began to cough from choking on his own blood, the Nord General stood up and stomped his head in, sending him falling into the void of death for good. Rebec had been ready to help Baldur subdue the man, but as it was apparent the Alik'r warrior was bested, she merely stood with flinty expression and watched him die. He had tried to end them using surprise and deceit, and had found the storm swallowing him up instead. She stepped to her husband's side and took his hand again, giving him a little smile of satisfaction. Baldur watched as the Alik'r helped Kematu up to his feet. After he stood, cheers from all around them thundered, calling him 'Kematu the Honorable' for his selfless deed. Even the men who had rebelled against him. Approaching the couple, he said, "I don't know what gods blessed us, but thank the gods they did. I don't know what possessed him to be so stupid. And to use conjuration to do it... Well done, you two. Glad you didn't die. Couldn't risk your Kingdom retaliating for it." Rebec smiled grimly, pleased that no one had guessed at Baldur's trick. "At least the trouble seems to be over. I suppose congratulations are in order. You better see to that wound. We can talk later about how we'll go from here, in regards to the alliance against the Thalmor." "You worry about the other Hammerfell groups. Now that my people see Anazar for the treacherous swine he is, there's no need for negotiating. All I ever wanted was to kill those elves. You can tell Jeleen the Alik'r will be joining his militia, once we've worked out an agreement for my men's hiring. I don't like calling us mercenaries, but it's true we don't work for free. But then, no one does. We'll focus on the Satak now, work to get back to controlling the Alik'r. The upstarts will either fade or be absorbed. The only matter I need to attend to is finding that spy. If you report back to Jeleen, say nothing. I'll deal with it myself when I go speak to him. And be honest about me planting a mole in his midst." After Kematu finished, Baldur nodded, then lead Rebec away towards the other Nords and Menel. "See? I told you, I always have a plan, though I owe that one to the Arcturian Heresy. And my next plan says we deserve a break." "The Arctu..." Rebec grimaced. "More elven nonsense?" Menel rushed up to them, gesturing with his staff and practically dancing with glee. "So, it worked? I told you it would work!" "It sure did, my stinky Bosmer friend!" said Baldur, pulling Menel to him to scratch his head forcibly with his knuckles. "If not for that, I'd have had to try to piss him off myself. I made him summon the blade by hiding the words under a list of offers. Then we had free rein to kill him. I was just saying to Rebec how the Arcturian Heresy was the inspiration, sort of. Make the Ra Gada think he was attacking us as Tiber was claimed to do with his battlemage after trying to soul trap Wulfharth. Good thing no one noticed the paper disappear after he summoned the blade." Looking to drive Rebec crazy with elf talk, Baldur said, "I didn't know the scrolls used ehlnofex words. Is it always like that? I recognized the word for weapon from Vivec's teachings." "Keep your voice down," she replied, elbowing her husband and grinning. "We got away with it, but not if someone overhears you two boasting. And I don't want to know anything about scrolls or ehlno-fucks or that eastern devil. You two babble about that if you want. I'm going to go take a piss and then maybe pass out. Or eat something. I could eat a bakyaka." "As sure as day ends with the fall of the sun, Rebec rides in to ruin our fun," said Baldur whilst smiling, though he realized she was right. Sometimes it paid to at least have one practical person in the relationship. "Anyway, we could all do with some rest, but not for too long. I'm tired of this desert and I want to leave as soon as we can. Menel, tell the men I said be ready to leave in the morning. We'll see about swinging back for a trip to Stros M'kai. That's where we need to go for the Crowns anyway. Oh, and the prisoner. They know what to do with him." "What about Dragonstar? The Nords and Nord allies there won't like that we gave it back to Iliac Bay. Or maybe they won't care, since as far as I know, that's been the case anyway for all purposes." "We haven't given it back yet, but we'll need to discuss the terms with them, allowing those Nords who still live there to stay there, unless they agree to leave when compensated by the Ra Gada. But we can take care of that later. We could send another delegation there, but I suppose we should do it ourselves. Either way, it can wait for now. Bigger bears to slay. Besides..." Baldur leaned in and whispered in her ear. "It's time to get to the honeymoon part of the honeymoon, don't you think? I say we deserve a break. And if someone disagrees...**** them." Grinning, Rebec nodded. "Alright. Dragonstar is probably the least of our problems. Though those might end up famous last words. Maybe since we laid the groundwork, Ulfric can send another delegation overland, to Dragonstar and Elinhir. I should really see to the navy side of things, and the redguard navy is in Stros M'kai." It didn't take a lot to convince her. They had already had enough brushes with death for one trip, and with what she now knew she was carrying inside her, their time had to be spent wisely. At the entrance to their tent, Tula, their Alik'r guide, was waiting with their weapons. "You carry death in your hands, Nords." "Best your people remember that," Rebec answered icily. "It is not the worst thing." With that, the Alik'r woman turned and disappeared again. Rebec looked after her, puzzled. That had been a compliment? It was obvious they were no closer to understanding the desert people than when they'd come. *** The remaining journey out of the desert was largely uneventful. They encountered more sand wraiths and nearly fell into the burrow trap of a huge desert spider, glass-colored and more spindly than the frostbite spiders they knew from home, but easily defeated. There were no more casualties. At the monastery, they found Suri up and about, though not yet engaging in sword training. The Ansei had her reading and studying mathematics and philosophy, saying that she had a lot to learn and unlearn. In private, Asafu told Rebec and Baldur that he feared Suri's heart would never be strong enough for the exertions of battle. "Don't count her out," Rebec replied. "You did that once already." Asafu smiled. "The student teaches the master. You are right." Two travel days later, before the gates of Sentinel, the Alik'r guides took their leave and their last pay. Tula gestured at Fafnir. "He wants to go home again. He can find the way." Rebec turned to regard the giant pack lizard. "Is that so, Faffy?" The creature flicked his big tongue at her placidly. She turned to Baldur. "What do you say, love? Maybe we can get the stables here to put him up for a day or two, give Timur and Cy a chance to ride him. Then we've got to let him go. Not much use for a beast like this in Sentinel, let alone on a ship or in Skyrim." Her husband's look was disheartened, going from her to Fafnir, then to the guide then back. Baldur tried thinking of something to say, though he only stammered, as there was nothing to say, really. He supposed he should have known they couldn't keep it, but they just got it, and already he'd grown attached. He never had a pet of his own, let alone one so fantastical as this. "I guess we'll have to let you go, then. All kinds of dangers in that desert of yours. Hope you'll be okay. The kids should have fun with you while we're gone. And Suri will like you too, I'm sure." After rubbing the side of his head for a short while, Baldur realized if he stayed too long, he was going to embarrass himself, so he walked ahead abruptly towards the gates. Rebec watched Baldur with the beast, curious and touched to see him so attached to it. She gave instructions to the stable owner and paid him in advance, then ran to join her husband.

Karsh Imperial City Afternoon "So then... she touched my arm, starred into my eyes, and told me she wouldn't hurt me." Muttered the incredibly shy and nervous Helen Quentas, putting away her blushing face. Lilly didn't even bother to pay attention to little Helen's gushing, she was pissed. She felt furry towards that scamp Elizabeth Motierre. That whore. How dare she try to slap my injured Helen. That useless... Oh I'll make her pay. Lilly then heard a knocking on the window and as she looked she that raven again, pecking on the window. When the black bird noticed that he had gotten her attention he raised one wing and started to wave with it. That stupid bloody bird. She kindly smiled at Helen, before saying: "Excuse me dear, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have some work to finish. Don't worry love bird. You can tell me about all the details at dinner." Helen nodded a couple of times, before taking her leave of the rest room. Lilly opened the window and snarled at the bird. "What the hell do you want magpie." Karsh waved with the wing for to lean closer and as she did he stretched his neck to get the beak right next to her ear. "If you take away that p you'll get the name of someone who treated me much better. Maybe you should do the same? I'm the messenger of your boss after all." "Does it look like I give a ****?" She said putting on a furious expression at the mention of the name of Maggie. "I'm his number one lover, magpie. Not that stupid author. Don't mention her name again, magpie." Lilly crossed her arms in annoyance. "I'll ask again, what the hell do you want? It's my day off, and I'd rather spend it with my cousin." "You do know everything will go back to him right? Should I really mention how you mistreat me and that you almost killed me? I'm the only raven he got." Karsh then paused for a second before continuing. "And if you don't remember; about a week ago I came with that request about Cheydinhal." "Then I'll enchant an even bigger bird to hunt you down and eat you." She said, her voice saying she was serious. She started to mutter something under her breath, as she took out a sealed scroll from her chest area. "Here." Karsh grabbed the small scroll with his beak and then moved it to his talon before turning the head upwards to her ear again. "You really think it's good idea to impress someone by sticking their eyes out? Why don't you play nice and I'll tell him nice things about you instead." "Look here bird-brain..." Lilly's sharp hearing picked up a noise coming from the door. She turned away from the raven before calling, "It's alright if your curious Helen. Come in." The door opened slightly, revealing the small, glasses filled face of Helen Quentas. She quietly called out, "I'm so sorry Lilly...." Lilly shot a warm smile, "It's fine Helen, come here." She quickly ran over to Lilly, hiding behind her and going close. She whispered, "Are you a talking bird?" Karsh turned to look at the newly arrived little girl and raised one wing and waved a little as in a greeting. Helen asked in a timid voice, "Whats your name Mister Birdie?" The raven then waved with the same wing for to come closer. Helen look at Lilly for confirmation, who nodded her head while rolling her eyes. Helen nervously approached the bird, and lent her ear to him. Karsh looked at her with a slightly titled head before putting his beak near her ear. "Hello, little girl. Or rather, girl smaller than the other girl here. You're quite a giant to me. My name is Karsh. Anyway, what's the bigger girl's problem with talking ravens?" She squealed in surprise and joy at the sound of the Raven's voice. At the comment about "The bigger girls problem" her face puffed up, "What, is Lilly mistreating you?" "Calling me names, throwing me into the ground, threatening to kill me, almost killing as well." "Lilly!!!" Helen's adorable face was annoyed, "That's not very nice. Are you hungry Karsh?" She asked, to which Karsh took a step back and nodded his head eagerly at the girl. Lilly put her palm to her face, "Don't feed the bird dear." Helen ignored her, and took an olive from a bowl on the table. She offered it to him. The black bird grabbed the olive and swallowed it whole and then gave off a small croak. She smiled, "You look cute when your eating, mister Karsh." This time she picked up a chunk of ham and put it close to the Raven. Karsh grabbed the ham and dropped it down on the window frame, put one talon on it as he started to rip smaller pieces of it and gulp them down. The bird looked up at her with a piece of ham hanging from his beak and nodded his head before going back to eating. "You have a mate, or some little birdie babies?" He gulped down the last piece of ham and shook his head. "Oh..." Tilting his head the bird looked at Helen with a slight curious look. Noticing the strange looks, the girl once again went close to his beak. "Is something the matter?" "You look a little disappointed." "Oh it's nothing." She said, blushing a shade of red. "Oh come on. Tell me, tell me, tell me." "Ehhhh?!" She looked away before saying, "I've.... always wanted to be a mother and have children. But... recent events have called the possibility of that into question." "Eeeeh? What?" "It's nothing." She said, raising her hands. "Anyway, you got some more food? And a pillow to nap on?" "You can sleep on my pillow, and there's some more meat in here if you want?" She said kindly. "Good. Give me your arm. Need somewhere to sit." "You want me to carry you instead, mister Karsh?" "Flying isn't exactly ideal for tight spaces such as corridors and small rooms. And one step for you is several hops for me. So of course I want to be carried." Karsh said a bit promptly. She offered him her two hands and he moved the scroll from the talon to his beak and climbed aboard the two hands and sat down. Helen carried the bird out of the room and across the hallway, ignoring Lilly's strange looks. When she reached he room, she used her small legs to open the door. Inside, was a large room, filled with pink color, along with fluffy stuffed toys, and books. A huge amount of books. She went over to her large queen sized bed, and gently placed the bird there, while grabbing an embroided pink fluffy pillow and placing it beside the raven. And after putting down the scroll on the bed he hoped up on the pillow and made himself comfortable. She said, giggling, "Anything else you need?" Karsh put his beak next to her ear as she leaned down. "Some more food. And do tell that bigger girl to start treating me nicely." She laughed, "Mister Karsh, too much food is unhealthy for you. You don't want to be a fat Birdie do you?" "Well, to boss's dismay, a side effect of his enchantments is that I can now eat much more food than a regular raven. So give me more food, ey?" She ran to the larder, and got a bunch of sausages, before heading back and placing them on a plate that she placed it on the bed. She then sat down besides the bed while resting the head on crossed arms at the edge near the plate, before saying, "Whose your boss?" Taking a few steps off the pillow towards the plate he stopped next to it only to put his beak next to her ear. "Big fella from the north. Black hair." The raven then started eating on the sausages. "Lord Snow-Strider? Lilly's friend?" Karsh looked up from the sausages and titled his head a little as he looked into the distance for a few seconds before he then gave a nod and began eating again. "Hmmmm, Mister Snow-Strider is very nice to me, though he's a tad bit cold. Does he treat you properly Karsh?" Karsh looked up at her and titled his head again for a few seconds before stretching his beak to her ear. "I don't know what working conditions for birds are considered 'proper', but I'm fed and don't have to suffer anything like the big girl put me through. Worst part though is having to fly long distances with little food or rest." She laughed softly, "Lilly is normally a very nice person. She lets me stay at her place, feeds me, pays for my tuition, and always listen to me when I want to talk. She works very hard, and very long, but she never yells at me. Maybe she just doesn't like birds?" "And what's not to like about me? I'm charming, cute, got nice fluffy black feathers and I can talk." "Maybe it's the stigma Ravens have, for being thieving carrion eaters. I read in a book that Raven is a delicacy in the Blackwood region. Maybe Lilly tried it and didn't like it. Hence why she doesn't like you." "Then Blackwood is filled with crazy people with bad taste. And it's not my fault people have their shinies laying around for others to grab." She started to stroke his back, "Well that's dumb, your as cute as a kitten, you little Birdie you." Karsh just lifted his wings in a shrug and went back to eating. "So karsh. Have you ever been in love before?" Karsh looked up at her with a slice of meat hanging from the beak, giving her an annoyed stare and then gulped down the piece. Then he quickly shook his head and started to tear off some more pieces. Helen put on a angry expression before sulking into her bed,"Hmpth, well same to you." Karsh let her sulk while he ate till he could no longer stuff himself. When he was done and there were still a few sausages left, he walked over the bed to her ear. "I wanted to eat without you interrupting all the time. Now that I'm done, you want to say anything else before I take my nap?" "What do you find attractive in women, Karsh?" Her eyes getting dreary. "Hmm, its strange. All I can think of is lush blonde hair, sweet cherry red lips, deep blue eyes and... shortness." "You fleshy people are a strange bunch. No appreciation of an ink black plumage." "Well, people don't have Plumage. Unfortunately, people tend to judge your attractiveness on your face, ummmm... butt-ox, and how large your breasts are." "So according to that, the big girl should be really attractive because of her breasts. As I said before: you're an odd bunch." "I think Lilly is very attractive. From what I hear from Laurel, Lilly's maid, Lord Snow-strider finds Lilly very attractive." She blushed, "I'm probably at the bottom though, I'm very plain." "Well I'm off to take my nap." The raven then walked away from her and placed himself comfortably on the pillow and closed his eyes. Helen stretched out on her bed, careful to avoid hitting the bird, "I think I'll join you." She closed her eyes, and let the void of sleep taken her. Some time later on Karsh woke up from his nap. Looking over at Helen he saw that she was still asleep. But he didn't pay her much attention as he started to explore the room. Poking at the fluffy stuffed toys with the beak and reading the the title on a few books that lied around. A few of the toys fell over but otherwise they were quite lifeless. The books were mostly novels so the titles came off as nonsensical to Karsh. "Lilly of the Imperial Garden" read the title on one book and Karsh simply assumed Helen was into gardening. When he got bored of the room he walked out the half open door and into the large corridors of the mansion. Suddenly an unfamiliar voice entered Karsh's ear, "My, my. An enchanted raven. How so unlike Lilly." Karsh stopped up and before he could turn around he felt that he was hit by some kind of magical force, it was quite subtle as it went through his body and then left him in the direction he had heard the voice. Leaving him with a slight feeling of being drained yet he couldn't feel that anything was missing. He then turned around to see who had spoken with and cast the strange spell at him. The person in question was a human female. By Helen's words on standards, and from behaviors and talks Karsh had watched and listened to, she was apparently quite attractive. She seemed to have the all the curves in the right places. She had fine brown hair and was quite tall. She looked like she was in her mid twenties, with no wrinkles or any imperfections on the skin to speak of. She was wearing a plain green dress. She gave him a smile. "Ah. I see. You one of those familiars. You cannot communicate without me being close, correct?" Karsh looked at her with a titled head for a few seconds before giving a nod. She leaned in ,"May I have your name?" He carefully stretched his beak up to her ear. "Karsh." "A pleasure to meet you Karsh. Obviously you don't belong to Lilly, I'm afraid she doesn't have the knowledge and experience to make such a fine and advanced specimen as yourself. Who is your master?" "Big fella from the north with black hair." "Ah Lord-Strider? I've heard quite a bit about the man. A powerful mage, and formerly a brother from another coven." "He doesn't like to talk about it. Bad experience I guess." "Poor man." The human woman said, putting on a sad face, "Covens aren't for everyone. He must have a heart made of glass. Poor dear." "As I said: he doesn't talk much about his past. You'd be better off asking him." "As much as I would love to. He is absent, is he not? Business in Cheydinhal?" "On his way to Leyawiin last I saw him. But I'm only telling you because he's on official business." "How unfortunate." She glanced over the raven, "Is Helen sleeping?" "Yes. How so?" "Just curious. She's very dear to me." "You heard her snoring, didn't you?" "Oh I did. But I was unaware of it being Helen. Lilly... really doesn't like this mansion. Too many bad memories. I didn't know if she was staying her with Helen or not." "Bad memories?" "Lilly was bullied quite a bit by her older sister, Milly, along with her father in these grounds. Poor child." "Reminds me a little of what I heard about Dales. Anyway, you here to meet Lilly?" "Yes. But it seems she's away." Karsh was silent for a small moment. "Hey, can I sit on your shoulder?" He then said. "I'm afraid you can't do that." The woman gave him an apologetic smile, as suddenly, Karsh heard the hissing of an animal coming from the females sleeve. Soon the head of a snake could be seen at her wrist. Karsh slowly started to back away with eyes fixed at the snake. The snake just stared back with the occasional forked tongue flapping out. "This is just my little pet." The woman said calmly as she straightened back up. Karsh just kept walking backwards away from the snake. Not giving as much as a croak in response. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite." She said with her kind voice. When Karsh had backed away a few feet from the woman and the snake he quickly turned around and flew away in the opposite direction. He flew through the corridor till he reached a large stair leading downwards to the entrance hall and a servant was just opening the door only to be greeted by a raven flying at her. The servant ducked as Karsh sailed over her head and out on the street and then high up in the sky above the rooftops. He was about to fly south as he remembered the note he came to pick up in the first place. Quickly turning around he flew back to the mansion and started checking window to window for Helen's room. He reached the pink of Helen's room, the black haired girl was still sleeping sounding cuddling one of her stuffed animals. He started pecking hard and intensely at the window to get her to wake up. Helen yawned loudly and left her large bed. She tiredly opened the window.She sleepily said, "Karsh is that you?" Karsh jumped past her and flew onto the bed and started looking frantically after the note but it was nowhere to be found. "You want sleep in my bed?" Helen asked curiously. Karsh started croaking at her for a moment before he then flying over to her desk and starting to look over the stuff there. After making a bit of a mess of the desk he flew over on to the dresser and starting ruffling through the stuff there. Helen suddenly got very flustered and called out, "Don't look through there!" But the raven didn't stop and after going through a couple of clothes and other small trinkets he found the note and he picked it up in the beak and looked at Helen with a tilted head. "Just... please stop looking in there." Karsh didn't really bother with her discomfort over the situation and instead stretched out his wings and flew through the room, past Helen and through the window and then up into the night sky.

Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Late Evening It was another cold night in Dawnstar, as Jon finished pouring himself a drink. He was expecting to have a relaxing evening. Marcel is supposed to be in town. More news for me. Which is good. I’ve been needing something to take my mind off the mercenaries. Frustrating business, that is. He sat down, and comfortably finished his drink before stepping outside. He was greeted by the now familiar cold, along with a heavy wind sweeping across the snow. I could do without this, honestly. One thing Cyrodiil has on Skyrim for sure. He continued on, pulling up some fabric to cover his mouth. Jon had never really enjoyed the cold all that much. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get completely used to the bite, like all of his Nord neighbors around town. As he made his way out of Dawnstar, he checked to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. It was out of habit, and not worry. Some of his employees thought he was a bit paranoid in that regard. Jon always replied with the worn-out but true ‘Practice makes perfect’. Should be just around this… As he cleared the bend, a familiar noise pierced his ears. … Renee. “Jon! You made it!†Renee basically shouted, even though Jon was only ten or so feet away. “Is that really so surprising, Renee?†“Well. I guess not. But. It’s really nice to see you again!†“Right. Always a pleasure. I take it Marcel and Siri are inside?†“Of course! I’ll go-†the Imperial began. “No, we can just go inside. I’d rather be out of the wind anyways.†“Oh… uhh. Right! Come on then,†Renee said, stumbling on her words as she motioned him inside one of the traders very spacious tents. As they entered, Marcel was quick to greet. “Jon! How good of you to stop by. I’d venture to say you’re my favorite customer, and you don’t even buy that much!†“I’ve barely stepped inside, and we’re guilt tripping me already? It’s good to see you too, Marcel.†“I’ve got to make money somehow, don’t I?†Jon returned a small smile, before taking a seat. “I take it you’re here for the usual?†“Of course he is! That’s all he’s ever bought from us, sir,†Renee cut in. “He’s always going to ask. It’s the businessman’s way, after all. Unfortunately for you Marcel, she is right. I’m here for just the usual. Where is Siri?†“You don’t have to worry about that! I can go get it from her,†Renee responded quickly. “That’s quite alright. I’ll go see her myself this time. I didn’t speak to her last time I was here, if you remember.†“She’s not m-†she started to say, before Marcel interrupted sharply. “Why of course, Jon. After all, you’re the only customer she seems to enjoy talking to anyways.†“I can’t imagine why…†Marcel laughed, before motioning to Jon to look outside with him. “She’s in that tent over there. Remember to come back and pay me,†he said, still laughing. “Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I shouldn’t be too long.†He headed out towards Siri’s tent, hearing Renee mutter something under her breath. As he arrived at the tent, he stopped. “Siri?†“Jon? You actually stopped by this time, how nice of you. Please, come inside. You must be freezing,†she said with a gentle voice. “You still seem to know me better than both of them,†he remarked as he stepped inside the tent. “You know as well as I do that’s not true.†“All about the memory, right?†“You know me just as well as I know you. Now, I take it you’re here for this?†She held up a small journal that was in pristine condition. It almost shined. “It’s not the only thing I came for. Intelligent conversation can be hard to come by around here.†She smiled softly, as Jon took the journal and then sat down. “So, honestly, how are things going around here?†She sighed. “It’s… not going to great to be honest. I’m sure you must be aware of that. Wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t already know…†“How bad?†She opened up a large book, muttering to herself as she flipped through the last couple pages. “We’ll be done within the year if things don’t take a turn for the positive. It’s the regulars, Jon. Other than you, they just seem to not be around anymore. Either they died, went away, or just don’t do business with us anymore. And it’s not Marcel’s fault either. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. This is all I’ve ever known. If this goes under, we’re all screwed.†Jon stood up, facing towards the entrance of the tent. “I figured as much. Marcel… he didn’t come out to greet me. Even Renee has lost a little of her bite,†turning back to face Siri, who was still looking at the book. “We have good periods though. Maybe I’m wron-†“You’re never wrong. Not with numbers. You know that.†Siri turned from her desk, and looked Jon in the eyes. “But I want to be. Just this one time,†she said, her voice breaking off as she finished speaking. Jon approached her, tapping her shoulder. “Hey, there’s no need to fret. It’s a difficult world. And I don’t have to double check your numbers to know it looks bleak. But you know as well as I do, Marcel will find a way. He always has. There’s no reason for me, or you for that matter, to start questioning his abilities now.†Siri blinked her eyes a few times, collecting herself. “Uhh… right. He’s never let us go hungry before, I guess.†“Exactly. Now, Marcel’s probably waiting on me. I should probably get going.†He nodded, and then turned to head out of the tent. “Jon, wait. May I ask you something?†He stopped, and glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Of course.†“How come it seems like you always know what to say? To me, I mean.†What… It was a rare moment. He was caught off guard. He regained his train of thought quickly however, barely hesitating. “We think a lot alike, Siri. Now, may I ask you something?†“... fair enough.†“Why would you ask me something you already knew the answer to? It’s not like you to copy me,†Jon said with a smile. He then glanced back, seeing he caught her just as off guard as she had him. He had almost left the tent, before turning back quickly. “Goodbye, Siri. Good luck with all of this.†“... yeah. Right… Good luck to you as well,†she mumbled as Jon left. She turned back once again to her books, flipping through every page. He quickly walked back towards Marcel’s tent, where he could see Renee standing outside. “Goodness! You were gone for a while. She didn’t cause any problems, did she?†“Oh come on Renee. You know she’s incapable of doing that.†She rolled her eyes. “Right…†she said, stepping inside. Jon wasn’t far behind. “I take it you found everything alright?†Jon tossed a bag across the table. “Of course. I always do.†“That’s why we love you.†Jon nodded, and turned to head out of the tent. He then turned around for a brief moment. “Renee, Marcel?†“Yes Jon?†Marcel said, feeling the bag for weight. “Take care of yourselves.†Marcel looked up for a moment, before nodding. “Of course, Jon. Have a good one.†“Right.†“Bye Jon! Are you sure you can’t just stay here for the day?†“Quite sure, Renee. I’m a very busy man. Good luck in your travels,†he said, stepping back outside. It was now snowing a bit, which was severely compounding visibility due to the heavy wind. Great… He pulled up the fabric a little bit further, shook his head, and then headed back towards Dawnstar. He did a quick scan of his surroundings as he entered town, and then continued at a quick pace back to the house. He let out a small sigh of relief when he reached the front door. He kicked as much snow off his boots as possible before entering. He always hated having a wet floor. Now, for a little bit of relaxation, he thought as he sat down in the now comfortably worn-in reading chair. Between Eduard and himself, it saw a lot of use. He then pulled the journal out from his pouch. He could tell that Siri had spent more time on this one, as it had elaborate patterns on the cover. Why she spent such time on something Jon filed away in a chest, was one of the few things that truly baffled Jon. Boredom? No. That can’t be it. Ahh. I’ll never figure it out. Let’s just get started. He flipped the journal open, and began to scan through it. This one’s been organized by category. How nice… hmm… Major News, Noble Disputes, City News… Well, best to start from the beginning. Major News… hmm. High Rock? Why would she write about… Oh. Well, that’s why. A change in the kingship. A messy affair. It might interest Eduard, actually. A failed assassination attempt… what is this. Resulting in the crowning of the victim of as King? Theodore. I always hate to assume the worst. It could be coincidence. But it could be more. I suppose that’s not really something for me to know, now is it King Theodore? Fair enough. Now… on to the shallow problems of Cyrodiil’s nobles. Oh goodness. Your daughter ran away with a boy without permission. Put her down, she’s obviously not worthy. And look at this. Why in the world would someone burn down your personal library? I would chalk this up to your ignorance, and not that of foul play. And then. Wow. Yeah, moving on. He quickly flipped to the rather fancily labeled section ‘City News’. Let’s see. Ordinances… minor crimes… hmm… what’s this?... Bravil… Skooma problems?... Not just problems either. A full blown epidemic, looking at this. Even the Count couldn’t stay safe? Lost their life to the whole ordeal. Just another statistic to add to the problems that nasty little product has caused. Punishment. Make it swift, make it harsh enough to last. He put a small tab in the journal, quickly getting up to get some water. From the size of the journal, he was going to be here for a while. He then returned to the chair, and began to scan around some more. What else do we have… hmm… Laws, Bills, Purchases… Hmm… What’s this? Special Notes… Well, that needs to be checked out. Let’s see here. Oh? This section is labeled “Empress Dalesâ€. Siri must have caught on to my interest from my letters. Good. Now… This is quite concerning. It seems our Empress is set to be married to the Court Mage? Nothing formal… but it definitely seems as if it’s a strong possibility. That reaffirms my suspicions, sadly. It seems as though our new Empress is a puppet, at least to some degree. I guess nothing awful has happened yet. So, who knows. Maybe her being a puppet isn’t all that bad. I can’t help but recall how Eduard told me the man was pressing quite hard for the Thalmor’s destruction. Almost as if… that was all he cared about. Hmm… let’s just look over at the newer laws and bills… Interesting. If you were to ask me, Dales is doing her best to try and jumpstart the economy. Could be successful. But maybe not. Not really my expertise. Now… look here, this is more up my alley. Arming the military up, are we? It seems as though even more fighting is in the future. Fair enough, can’t blame anyone for that. Not in these times I can’t. Tread carefully, young lady. I can’t help but fear the worst. Empress, you’ve done nothing to deserve such fear. Well, except for being young, impressionable, and seemingly a puppet. But the question in politics seems to be who isn’t a puppet nowadays. And because… assassination attempts? On the girl? Interesting. Thwarted... By the Mage. Of course they were. A dead puppet is far less useful, I suppose. He closed the journal for a second, allowing himself to get a sip of water as well as stretch. Lorgar Grim-Maw/Saladin. With it’s own section. Good. Well, maybe not. Let’s just see what you’ve been up to. Hmm. Now, this. This is either concerning, or a good turn of events. I hate to assume the worst, but again. It’s what I do. You and the Bloodwolves are on Dominion payroll? Please. Just let this turn out to be some undercover op. We really don’t need someone like you on the other side. It’d almost be sad for you to die in such a situation. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Pick the right side Lorgar. You have to be smarter than you appear. After all, you were quite respected even before this supernatural bogus I’ve been hearing more and more about. We’ll find out if my faith is misplaced sooner or later. I’ll have to ask Eduard what he thinks is going on. He knows you better. Somewhat. What else did he say about you?... ‘Knowing him might just be an impossibility, given his seemingly unstable mind.’ Hopefully you’ve stabilized a bit since the war. Hopefully. Finally, he decided that he had read enough for the night. He closed the journal, and put it in the correctly labeled chest. He then grabbed some paper, and began to write. Lex, This news is to spread only to our members, and keep it close to the hip. I don’t want this leaked. There is a traveling merchant, by the name of Marcel. You’ve met him once. I have included his travel schedule. You, as well as everyone else, are to buy your supplies from him for the time being. Don’t let him haggle you too high, as he will suspect something if business gets too easy. But don’t be extremely stingy either. I also included a good sum of gold. That is to be given to someone other than you, to buy the enchanted Elven sword. Can’t miss it. -Jon ~~-~~--~~-~~ Eduard Laenius, Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Early Morning It was another windy morning in Dawnstar, as both Eduard and Jon went about their mornings. Eduard was busy grabbing practice arrows out of the weapons chest, while Jon was looking to finish the news journal he had purchased the day before. “There’s been a lot of interesting news as of late,†said Jon, with just the slightest hint that he was still tired. “Are we talking your kind of interesting news, or mine?†Eduard replied. Jon shook his head as he grabbed the book out of his chest. “Both.†“Why don’t you start with the news that would interest me,†Eduard said in a curious tone. “Where do I even begin? Skooma lords are taking over cities in Cyrodiil, riots are breaking out. The turmoil seems to be ramping up down south. On top of that, the Empress is getting married to the Court Mage. And your old partner Lorgar is now running a unit under Dominion payroll.†Eduard sat down, and looked down thoughtfully for a quick second. “Lorgar hasn’t changed at all it seems. Hopefully he’s doing that for the right reasons. Last I heard he was a traitor, but you never know. As long as Livia is in Skyrim, I won’t have to worry about that Nord running Cyrodiil. Unless he starts branching out from his Elven hate to just hating all races but the Nords. Though his command is troubling to say the least. But all of this turmoil in Cyrodiil has me thinking…†“The general,†Jon cut in, with a slight nod. “Yes. Gracchus Ceno. I didn’t make much in the way of friends during the war, but he was an exception,†Eduard said, standing up. “Right. You know, you could always write him. Rila can find and track anyone down for a fair price.†“She’s coming into town? That’s almost a coincidence. I shouldn’t waste any time then. I’ll have to move training to the evening. Which won’t matter too much, it’ll be just as freezing then as it is now.†Jon chuckled at his partners mutual dislike of the recent cold spell in Dawnstar. He had been reading the journal this whole time, and came across more relevant news. “Also, General Tullius is dead. Says here he was guilty of following a formal general in a rather messy insurrection attempt. I would say I’m sad to see him go. Maybe someone else is though,†he hinted. Eduard didn’t need the hint, but he nodded his head anyway. He proceeded to grab some paper out of his desk. General Gracchus Ceno, It’s been awhile since we’ve had any contact. Too long, you might say. I don’t have all that much time to write this, so I will keep it as short as I can. You’re probably getting busy enough as is with Cyrodiil going like it is. Speaking of Cyrodiil, I’ve heard of it’s many struggles, as well as all of the political games going on. As capable a man you are, I’m sure you’re well aware of the impending danger. Stay safe, and don’t get pushed around too much. As for me, I’m doing fine. I do odd jobs here and there to keep the money flowing, and everything is relatively quiet. How long that will last, I couldn’t tell you. One last thing. If you ever need anything, Legion business or otherwise, don’t be afraid to ask. I travel fast. - Eduard Laenius P.S. I’m sorry about any and all losses you’ve suffered during all of this. It’s never easy on anyone, even those hardened by war. I wish you and your wife the best in all of your endeavors. Eduard folded up the paper perfectly and signed his name on it. “How much do you think it’d cost me to get this first priority?†Jon squinted for a second. “450? Should get it there faster than anyone in Tamriel, and she’d probably be willing to take the return mail if need be.†So much… “Fine. Better be damn quick. I’m almost considering taking it myself at that price.†“Oh come on. She’s a friend, and not just to me.†“Right, I know. But that’s quite the bonus. I guess I’m not spending any of this at the moment though. Speaking of spending money though, what do you think of purchasing a safehouse? In case the war ever ends up coming to Skyrim’s coast?†Jon shrugged his shoulders. “Could be a good idea. Make it somewhere warmer, if you do decide to get one.†Eduard laughed, before heading out to find Rila.

Gracchus Ceno Ceno Homestead/Imperial Palace Morning "So, where will you stay?" Catia asked, as she held her hands out towards the fireplace, not wanting Gracchus to see her eyes twinkle with the beginnings of tears. "Morndas through Fredas I'll be in the Imperial City, and I'll probably stay in the office. I think Tullius kept a cot there for late nights, so I'll use that. If I can be home for Loredas and Sundas I'll try, but it may be easier for you to come see me, as I don't know how busy I'll be," Gracchus said, slightly downcast. The realization he was going to have to leave Catia again was just now hitting him, and it was a sad thought indeed. "I'll get up there as often as I can," Catia said, rising and walking behind her husband, who sat at the table,wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "Don't be upset, this doesn't change anything. I've dealt with you being away for years, and a couple more won't hurt me in the least." "I know you'll be fine, I'm more worried about myself," Gracchus said with a smile, grabbing her hand and kissing it. "Oh hush up. Now, you better get going or you'll look bad to the Empress," Catia said. Gracchus rose and kissed her, then left quickly out the door before he changed his mind. Outside, the stable hand had Lil Ceno in hand, and Gracchus climbed up and took off south, towards the gleaming White-Gold tower that stood high above all. I'm the worst husband in the world, constantly leaving like this. At time I wish we were like the Red-Snows, always together, traveling to exotic locations all around Tamriel. But I couldn't have her in harms way, there's no way I could do that. I can't let the Empress know I have any reservations about the job. I really don't, not about the work, just the hours. It'll be worth it once this is all over. I can take her to see the auroras of Skyrim, the great sand dunes of Hammerfell, the huge Wrothgarians, which I'd personally like to see. What a day it'll be when I no longer have to deal with thoughts of war. ** Gracchus sat at his desk, and getting his first order of business done. It was a meeting, of all the generals, that he knew he needed to get accomplished. He could sort through all the problems with anyone who was disgruntled, along with setting down the new protocols he had in mind. All heavy armor changed over to light, as the deserts and jungles would be hell in any sort of heavy armor. No spears, not a one should be in Valenwood. Too long, too gangly for jungle fighting. Elsweyr was going to be a challenge too, with all the sand and uneven dunes. The sieges there would be long and hard, and supply lines were crucial, so they had to figure that out. But that's why he was calling this meeting, to set down all these ideas and mandates, and open it up to let the other generals have input as well. He may be High General, at least for now, but that didn't mean he was a dictator. So, he penned letters to all the legions, minus the fourth that was almost completely destroyed in Skyrim. It was simple and quick, and read, Generals of the Imperial Legions, I have been given the post of High General on an interim basis, but I do not see this as a detriment or a hindrance. I would call all of you to meet with me in the Imperial City in two weeks time, so we may discuss the protocols and procedures we will employ in our assaults upon Elsweyr and Valenwood. It will be a discussion, not a dictation, so feel free to present any ideas you might have. I will also deal with the disgruntled feelings some of you seem to harbor, as word of that has reached my ears as well. For the glory of the Empire, High General Gracchus Quintus Ceno The letter penned, Gracchus gave it to his secretary, a small Imperial man who's name escaped him. "I need ten copies, on my desk by this afternoon for my signing," Gracchus commanded. "Yes sir, I'll be on it sir," the man said, drawing his quill and starting right away. "I'll be in meetings, if anything comes up," Gracchus said, leaving. He walked down the hall to a meeting room, which had a long, old table surrounded by chairs. Inside was a wagon maker, who had provided the army in the past. "Ah, General Ceno, I was hoping you wouldn't forget," the elderly man said. "No, an I hope you haven't either. How many wagons have you made now?" Gracchus asked, taking a seat. "One-hundred and fifty, with the other one-hundred and fifty coming soon. By two and a half months time they'll be finished," the man said. "Good, good. I find it easier for us to provide the transportation to our comrades than them having to be held up with transporting their own wagons across those distances. And if we are attacked on a moments notice, I should find it important they get here in the smallest amount of time possible," Gracchus said, more to himself than to the elderly wagon maker. "Of course, general, of course. Also, I congratulate you on your appointment to High General, although it is still saddening about that Tullius business. He was gruff, but it's still sad," the man said. "He started this venture with you, did he not?" Gracchus asked. "Yes, and I'm glad to see you're continuing it. But I must go, other business you see. Thank you for your time, general," the man said, bowing and leaving. "Good day to you," Gracchus said. The next few hours went much the same way, successions of leather makers, blacksmiths, farmed and shippers and all kinds if people the army needed. Maybe a smaller force could cover its own expenses, but the legion was too large to cover it all. Eventually, the last man walked in, and it was finally someone Gracchus knew. "Valvius? Valvius Hateria? What're you doing here?" Gracchus asked, standing to shake his legions head engineer's hand. "Well, I had some business with Tullius, but since you're the new High General I guess my business is with you," Valvius said. "Really? What did he have you doing?" Gracchus asked. "He ordered larger versions of the onagers we used in Skyrim, along with some battering rams and other siege machinations. The cities of Elsweyr will call for it he said. So, I was coming for my annual status report," Valvius said with a smile. "Well, what is it? How are the machines coming?" Gracchus asked eagerly. "They're coming, although we've had problems translating the onagers to a larger size. We need stronger rope, is the problem, so I've ordered some and it should be in soon. The battering rams are nearing completion, and we're set to test them in the coming weeks," Valvius said triumphantly. "That is good news. Continue on, and report to me as you would Tullius," Gracchus said with a smile. "Of course, High General," Valvius said, saluting him then leaving. Gracchus followed him, since that was the final meeting. By now it was midday, so he returned to his office, where half the letters awaited his signing. Once done with those, he moved on to another pile of paperwork, but was taken aback by a name he saw on the papers. Prisoner Regulus, in one of our solitary condiment cells, has been indicted in a potential breakout plot. No one was harmed, but the prison committee recommends adding a minimum of five years to his sentencing. That would bring the total to thirty more years of prison. The prison committee on sentencing. Gracchus sighed heavily, a frown crossing his face. Damn it Regulus, why can you just keep your nose down and finish our your term. You dumb fool, you always were more trouble than you're worth. Gracchus picked up his quill, writing that he agreed with the recommends five years, with a further recommendation that he me moved to maximum security if he already hadn't. With that, his mood was ruined for the day, so Gracchus solemnly set about signing and mandating and recommending whatever he needed to, until the sun set and he fell asleep at his desk, quill still in hand. It was a rough job, but he loved it nonetheless.