Tom sticks with us as we head out in the direction Theryn went. The shipwreck is a really obvious landmark, after all. Or shipwrecks, that is.


    “I am unused to working with associates,” Tom admits as we’re walking that way. “However, I have nothing better to do at the moment since we will not likely be moving on to the Reaver Citadel without you. Most people… frown upon the sort of magic I use.”


    “I’m not greatly concerned about necromancy unless it’s being used against me,” I say. “I’m friends with a couple of liches, in fact. One of them is nice. The other’s grumpy.”


    “Who?” Tom wonders.


    “Vastarie and Telacar,” I say.


    “You know Vastarie and Telacar?” Tom says. “I don’t suppose, once this is over with–assuming we all survive–that you’d be willing to introduce me?”


    “Sure.”


    “You agree so easily?” Tom asks.


    I shrug. “You seem like an alright sort and they’re not exactly great fans of Molag Bal.”


    “You have to be the first person I have met who immediately thought I was an ‘alright sort’,” Tom says.


    “Well,” I say. “Most people I meet are either trying to get me to do something for them or trying to kill me.”


    “Ah,” Tom says. “I understand that.”


    The remains of an entire fleet lay scattered in a cluster around the area of Coldharbour northeast of the Orchard. A group of people huddles around a campfire, and to my surprise, they’re not idiot members of the Fighters Guild who decided to stroll in without preparation or consideration of why they needed to be there. They’re treasure hunters who were out looking for the remains of a lost fleet (The Lost Fleet, with capitals and everything) and got sucked into a whirlpool into Coldharbour.


    Are there Dark Anchors dropping out at sea? That’s a worrisome prospect. No, the Argonian captain (One-Eye) says it wasn’t any Anchor from the sky, but just a giant whirlpool. And that they were sailing around someplace called the “Cursed Sea”. That they chose to sail in despite the name anyway at least indicates they knew it was a risk, but they didn’t imagine that they’d wind up in Oblivion over it.


    (Admittedly, shouldn’t a whirlpool in the ocean have meant a large quantity of water had poured into Coldharbour? It seems like it would have been easier for Molag Bal to drain the oceans than dump Dark Anchors onto inhabited land.)


    One-Eye seems to be making an attempt at ‘pirate speak’ but her accent is so terrible that it just comes out sounding comical. Maybe it would sound less ridiculous to another Argonian? I don’t know.


    “Did you see a Dunmer woman come out this way?” I ask.


    “Yes,” One-Eye says. “She told us about a safe haven and went off to search for some of my crew who had gone off to investigate the ships. Theryn helped us out before, back in Shadowfen. It was quite a surprise to see a familiar face out here.”


    They fell into Coldharbour and this still didn’t dissuade them from looking for treasure. Guess I can’t blame them on that one. It’s not like they were with an expedition here to do something more important than treasure hunting, and they didn’t know about the Hollow City.


    “Alright, the rest of us looking for them is probably overkill, so we’re going to do it anyway,” I say. “Overkill is by far preferable to failure.”


    “You’re hoping to get a share of the treasure too,” One-Eye says.


    I snort softly. “How do you even know there’s treasure here? In any case, if you went to someplace called the Cursed Sea, it’s probably all cursed anyway. That’s just the way these things go. Especially considering the wrecks are crawling with skeletons. In my experience, if there’s undead about and no necromancer in sight, there’s probably a curse or something going on.”


    “Ugh,” One-Eye complains. “Who would waste perfectly good treasure by putting curses on it?”


    “Should we find any treasure, I shall check it over for curses first,” Tom says. “And no, you do not need to worry about me claiming treasure by getting there first. I do not want any.”


    “Mighty generous of you,” One-Eye says. I don’t need to be proficient in reading Argonian body language to detect the sarcasm there.


    “I am from a wealthy noble family and I am an accomplished adventurer,” Tom says dryly. “I prefer to be paid to acquire goods rather than claiming them for myself. Especially potentially cursed goods. In any case, I am here to end Molag Bal’s machinations, not to become even more wealthy.”


    “Yeah, I don’t have much need for cursed treasure, either,” I say with a smirk. “More people not being victims of the God of Schemes is already a win for me.”


    “Not even if you could safely dump it on someone you don’t like?” One-Eye asks.


    “Especially then,” I say. “Responsible handling of cursed objects is important. I once had to clear a bunch of undead out of a mine because a Bosmer guy thought it was a great idea to dump a cursed axe on some Wood Orcs.”


    We head away from the camp and toward the ships. Skeletons mill about the fleet of wrecks. A skeleton crew, if you will. A turn of phrase that I have probably seen more frequently literally than figuratively, but to be fair, I don’t do a lot of sailing.


    It doesn’t take us long to locate Theryn. The Khajiit first mate (Jalan) is trying to open a door on one of the wrecks while Theryn defends him from skeleton attacks. It isn’t going well until my group arrives to take the pressure off the overwhelmed Dunmer woman.


    “Thank Vivec you’re here,” Theryn says. “Thanks for the backup. That was a few too many even for me.”


    “Got it!” Jalan opens the door and rushes inside. “Treasure, sweet trea–heyyy, why can’t I move?”


    “You’re welcome,” Merry says flatly.


    “Let me go!” Jalan says. “I want my share of the treasure!”


    “Give me one moment to make sure it isn’t going to turn you into a skeleton if you touch it,” Tom says, strolling into the room and examining the inexplicable piles of gold almost casually. (Why is there just gold and stuff piled about the room?) “Hmm. Yes. I do believe if you had touched this, you would have turned into a skeleton.”


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    “You’re lying!” Jalan exclaims, struggling against Merry’s spell. “You’re just trying to take my treasure!”


    “I could probably break the curse, but it would require more time than we currently have to spare,” Tom says.


    “Let’s meet up with One-Eye again and see what she wants to do here,” I say.


    “How did you know the treasure was cursed?” Theryn asks as we head off, ignoring that we’ve practically kidnapped Jalan.


    “How did Jalan know there’d be treasure here at all?” I wonder, looking at the Khajiit that’s still struggling a little against the spell holding him.


    “The fleet sacked Thras and carried back treasure from it, of course,” Jalan says.


    “Oh, so it’s not just cursed treasure, but cursed Sload treasure?” I say. “Fantastic. That just makes things an entire order of magnitude worse.”


    We meet up with One-Eye again, who appears to be shy one more crew member.


    “Jalan!” One-Eye says. “Good to see you’ve still got meat on your bones.” She turns to my group. “Thanks for saving my first mate. One of my more over-eager crew members rushed to grab some treasure and got turned into a skeleton, and we had to kill him. Fortunately, the rest of us were sensible enough to hold back after your warning. It’s not like being the first one to stuff your pockets is going to get us out of Oblivion.”


    “You mean the treasure is cursed?” Jalan groans. “And the human wizard wasn’t just lying so he could take my share?”


    “Can I release you now without you doing something foolish?” Merry says tiredly.


    It never ceases to amaze me how many people need to be saved from themselves and ignore explicit warnings. At least these weren’t (yet) my people, but it’s still worthy of a sigh and a hand to the helmet.


    An Argonian skeleton shows up to talk to us. He tells us about how an Admiral is trying to build a tower to reach the portal in the sky. They can’t refuse because the Admiral has a magic crown that lets him control skeletons.


    “Wait,” I say. “There’s still an active portal up there?”


    Eran frowns, staring up at the sky. “I would have expected a waterfall or something… but an open portal under an ocean is more than a little worrisome either way. Can we close it?”


    “We do not currently have any means with which to do so,” Merry says. “Let us tell Vanus Galerion once we get back to the others.”


    “Yep, the great and powerful Vanus Galerion can undoubtedly fix this,” Gelur drawls. “What do we do about the skeletons and the cursed treasure, though?”


    The skeleton (who hasn’t deigned to give us a name and we are henceforth going to refer to as “Lizard Bones”, so says One-Eye. For once someone else was the one who gave someone a stupid name and not me.)… the skeleton points us to a journal in which he hid a key. A literal key, that is, and not some tricksy riddle like One-Eye assumes. I’m not the only one around here who uses terrible puns.


    One-Eye has great faith in my group defeating the Admiral and getting the crown from him. She certainly should. We head off to do that while she wanders off to scrounge up her ancestors or something. I can only wish her luck with that.


    As we’re making our way through the wreckyard, we run across a talking skull sitting on a table who asks for a favor. He (I think?) says that the crown doesn’t work on him so they took him apart and scattered his bones. He wants some new bones attached. Simple enough.


    “Sure thing,” I say.


    “Do you agree to every random request you get from talking skulls?” Theryn asks incredulously.


    “Yep.”


    “Do you get requests from talking skulls that often?” Farry wonders.


    “Yeeeeep.”


    “We ran into another one back in Valenwood,” Eran says.


    “I encountered a couple of them in High Rock,” Tom adds.


    “What if he’s evil and intent upon betraying us and taking over Tamriel?” Theryn asks.


    “I have a battle axe,” I point out.


    “Also it would be very impressive to take over Tamriel…” Eran says. “Anyone capable of doing that by force would not have been so easily dismembered.”


    We ascend the Coral Tower (which is just a tower made of coral, but they felt the need to capitalize it), hitting skeletons and collecting bones along the way.


    “Once we get this crown away from the Admiral, I should be able to wrench control over the skeletons,” Tom comments.


    The Admiral turns out to be nothing more than a bag of bones that a party of eight competent people makes quick work of. We’re definitely overkill here. I’ve got no problem with that. I separate his skull from his body with my axe and pry the crown off.


    “And that’s taken care of,” I say.


    I cheerfully jump off the balcony and injure myself falling into the shallow water below. Ow.


    “Neri, are you alright?” Farry calls down.


    “It’s fine!” I yell back. “I can heal myself.”


    “You can also shield yourself from getting hurt in the first place,” Eran shouts. “You might have thought of that before jumping off a balcony again.”


    “… you know, that would be a good use for that spell,” I say.


    Crown in hand, I head over to meet with One-Eye while the others are working their way back through the tower, less inclined to jump off balconies than me. She has found some long-lost ancestors in the meantime, whose skeletons are following her around without attacking her now. One-Eye wants to use the crown to free the skeletons rather than destroy it.


    “I’m… not sure how good of an idea that is,” I say. “This thing is almost certainly cursed. I probably shouldn’t be touching it but most curses don’t affect me terribly much. It would probably turn you into a skeleton or something too.”


    “I think I might be able to use it to free the spirits of those who are trapped here,” One-Eye says.


    “Even so, I think I’d rather hear Tom’s opinion on the matter first,” I say.


    “Fair enough,” One-Eye says. “You trust your friends judgment?”


    “Oh, he’s not my friend,” I say. “I only just met him like last week. I might have to kill him eventually.”


    One-Eye gives me an odd look. “Is this an Orc thing?”


    I shrug. “Ah, here he is. Tom!” I wave over to him as the group approaches. “How cursed exactly is the cursed crown?”


    “Quite cursed,” Tom says. “I would not recommend wearing it. Why?”


    One-Eye catches him up on her plan.


    Tom just gives her a look and sighs. “That really is not necessary. I am quite capable of freeing these undead myself, with or without the crown. Although it seems like you’re as interested in acquiring a tireless, merciless crew of your own. I would suggest simply learning necromancy. It’s much safer and more flexible than using cursed items that are liable to hurt you as much as help.”


    “Can you not de-curse it?” I ask.


    “I suppose,” Tom says. “However, this would take more time than I would prefer to spend on it right now.”


    “Having a small army of skeletons would help you against Molag Bal,” One-Eye says, still eying the crown avariciously.


    “Not really?” I say. “If I wanted an army of skeletons, I could just ask a couple friendly necromancers to send some. No need for messing around with cursed Daedric items.” I shrug. “That said, you’re an adult and capable of making your own stupid choices. Just be warned that if you decide to put this on and you wind up attacking me, I will remove it from you with a battle axe.”


    “I’ll take that chance,” One-Eye says.


    “Captain One-Eye!” says the Khajiit first mate, finally catching up to us. “Don’t touch that crown! It’s not worth it!”


    One-Eye deflates on the reminder that she still has some living crew members to take into consideration. “But I really wanted to be a pirate captain with a skeleton crew!”


    “Of course you did,” Tom says. “Just learn necromancy. You can never fully trust any powers that don’t arise from yourself.”


    One-Eye sighs. “Fine. Do what you will with the crown. I’ll deal with these skeletons myself.”


    We bid her luck. On the way down, I give some bones to the friendly talking skull. He proceeds to go off to get revenge against people I don’t care about, so there’s that.


    There’s a cave near the shipwrecked fleet. I, of course, completely ignore it because I never go into any cave ever. Caves are scary and never contain any valuable treasures or… yes, we’re going into the cave.


    Not far inside the cave stands a poor mer bemoaning about how some Daedra took his soul. He’s actually a Dunmer, but he’s so pale and his eyes are white, causing me to mistake him for a Bosmer or Altmer until I hear him speak. He wants us to smash the soul gem, which is just behind a door that’s barred from the other side, forcing us to go all the way around.


    “Seriously?” I say. “I have a battle axe. It’s probably easier to just go around, though. Might be more treasure and fun things to hit.”


    “I was going to warn you about the nasty things in the cave but it looks like you are well-equipped and can handle yourselves.”


    It’s really just an excuse to go explore another cave that I was going to explore anyway. Because even in the middle of assaulting a Daedric Prince’s stronghold, I can pause to poke my head into every cave and ruin around.


    The gem we need to smash is quite obvious, hovering in the air and glowing purple-black. Fortunately, it’s just as breakable as the ones that don’t hover.