“You’re always welcome aboard the Prowler, of course,” Captain Jimila says. “So, what are you heading to Anvil for? Business or pleasure? Or knowing you, this is going to somehow wind up with a lot of people dead and the current establishment toppled.”


    I chuckle. “Well… you’re probably not wrong. We’re going there to murder someone who ordered Baandari Trading Post to be wiped out.”


    Jimila’s tail twitches. “A nasty business. Who in Anvil would have it out for the Baandari?”


    “Someone named Faltonia Lerus,” I say. “At any rate, we’re going in disguise.” I pull on my cat mask. “This one is Vara-do, of the Baandari, and his sister and partner-in-crime here is Kisha.”


    “Do the Baandari know you’re doing this?” Jimila asks, whiskers twitching in amusement.


    “Yep! They even provided the disguises.”


    “Hmmrr,” Jimila hmmrrs. “The Baandari do recruit non-Khajiit, but whether you can fool anyone into thinking you’re actually a Khajiit is another matter. Your accent is… not completely terrible, but you couldn’t pass for an Elsweyr-born Khajiit.”


    “Ilara-daro has been coaching me,” I say. “And I have this!”


    I pull a fake Khajiit tail out of my bag, squirming a little on its own. I’m glad that I’ve gotten in plenty of practice with the clothes-changing spell, to avoid any potential embarrassment or leaks when this Chimer changes from an Orc to a Khajiit.


    “You splurged on a fancy enchanted prosthetic for your disguise?” Jimila’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well. That might work, although it probably won’t fool any actual Khajiit. You weren’t born with a tail and it might take you years of wearing it before you’d be able to make it move in a manner that a Khajiit would be able to translate. To be fair, though, any Khajiit you encounter here would likely be polite enough not to give you away if you don’t seem like you’re trying to screw them over.”


    “I’m not sure whether I’ll actually claim Vara-do is with the Baandari, though,” I say. “They said they’d back me up but I might wind up doing things they may not want to be directly connected with. I’d have gotten to this sooner, but I wanted to take care of it personally and I was busy accidentally saving the world.”


    “How do you ‘accidentally’ save the world?” Jimila wonders.


    “By charging in and hitting things without regard to whether or not it will actually help,” I say. “I honestly had no idea what I was doing and it was only divine intervention that let us succeed at all, and I do mean that quite literally.”


    “Perhaps next time we save the world, we could do it deliberately?” Ilara suggests cheekily.


    “Mrrr,” I say, attempting my best fake Khajiit-purr and getting winces from both Khajiit so I quickly stop. “Ahem. This one would prefer not to have to save the world for a while. Vara-do just wants to stab people. With King Neri off to war in Cyrodiil, he also has the perfect alibi. This one trusts you will be discreet, yes?”


    Jimila chuckles. “Of course. Good luck with that.”


    We don’t even manage to set foot in Anvil before problems begin. The Prowler is stopped at the docks by someone extorting Captain Jimila. By which I mean tariffs, taxes, and fees. Jimila then suggests we rob the dockmaster for her before we go murdering people, to which I readily agree.


    The new governor of Anvil is a “former” pirate by the name of Fortunata ap Dugal. Either a fake name or highly aspirational parents. That Captain Jimila doesn’t like her is already a black mark against her because I like Captain Jimila. (And not just because she’s smuggling me across the bay.)


    To find the dockmaster’s stash, Jimila suggests that I find his lackeys, who are playing dice on the docks. (I assume whoever rolls the dice into the water automatically loses.) Now, an important part of a false identity is not to be caught in an obvious lie. Vara-do is a member of the Baandari, a fact which they will back up if asked. While I might be able to trick these scrubs once into believing that I work for their boss, I don’t want to squander my new identity on a lie quite so quickly.


    So I just bribe them instead. You can always tell the quality of a leader by how cheaply you can buy the loyalty of their subordinates. These pirates are willing to send their boss into financial ruin for a paltry sum.


    There’s a wayshrine just outside the walls of the city and I love it immediately. I go up and light it, and observe the area around us. Far enough from the gates that I can teleport in or out unseen. And a little bit further along the wall, we run across a grate marked with a familiar symbol indicating the entrance to the local outlaws refuge.


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    “This is very convenient, yes?” Ilara says.


    I spot the blue shaft of a skyshard on a small island just offshore, and take a quick dip to go absorb it before continuing on to find the treasure.


    The dockmaster’s stash is down along the beach outside the walls. There’s just one tiny detail the pirates didn’t mention. A moderately large river troll makes its home in the shallow cave in question. The chest itself is tucked away amid piles of bones. I can only guess that the dockmaster must sneak in when the troll is away hunting. And that the pirates probably figured if I got killed by the troll, it was free money for them, and if I could kill the troll, they certainly didn’t want to mess with me.


    If I had a spray mechanism on hand like the Dwemer used for their traps, and some troll pheromones (if trolls have pheromones) I’d set up one to spray troll pheromones on the next person to open this box. I do not have either of those things. I do, however, have a bucket and some twine along with a potion that, when poured on someone, sticks to their skin and clothes and makes them smell like rotting meat. (Don’t ask me what that potion was supposed to be. Let’s just say half my brilliant concoctions are accidental.)


    I don’t think I can stress enough how much less stressed I am being back on Nirn with my soul back in my body and no Dark Anchors falling from the sky. Even just strolling along the beach with stolen goods burning a hole in my pocket, I feel purely ecstatic over nothing and everything. And when I think about my wives and the prospect of seeing the face of a child of my own… ahem, I’m getting distracted again and Eran isn’t around to keep me on track. I’m impressed that my friends found Ilara sufficient to keep an eye on me, after everything. But I suppose I’m less in need of a minder now.


    The Gold Coast has such pretty turquoise nixads with fluttering shiny wings and I kind of want to catch one for a pet. As I’m eying one, Ilara nudges me to get my attention.


    “Let us return to the captain before anyone suspects her, shall we?” Ilara says, slyly wording the reminder as a question.


    “Yes, of course,” I say, picking up the pace.


    Back at the Prowler, Captain Jimila is mid-argument with the Dockmaster Qamar, who turns out to be a big Redguard with big poofy hair that, at some point in the next week, is going to wind up smelling quite delicious to trolls.


    “There you are, Vara-do!” Jimila says. “Head for my cabin and bring me my purse so I can pay the Pirate Queen’s thieving scum. I want to keep my eye on him.”


    “Aye, Captain,” I say. I duck inside, and dump the dockmaster’s tariff money, find the purse and return it to Jimila so she can smugly pay the pirate out of his own (former) stash.


    Once the dockmaster has left us, Ilara and I meet back with Jimila in her cabin for one more private chat.


    “It gets more ridiculous every time we come in here,” Jimila says. “Let me tell you, I’m not coming back here again until Anvil changes hands again. Fortunata and her thugs are more than I can deal with.”


    “You think that’s likely to happen just because I’m here?” I ask with a grin.


    “I would estimate the chances will increase exponentially for every day you’re in Anvil,” Jimila says. “I can’t imagine you will be fond of her, and people you’re not fond of tend to wind up with their heads on pikes. Dominion rule would only be a benefit to Anvil, as well, and its current ‘ruler’ is unpopular enough that many would be glad for it at this point.”


    “I do want to get the lay of the land, so to speak, before making any serious moves,” I say. “The pirates are a very obvious local problem but they’re unlikely to be the only one. Although I’d rather deal with them than Sea Elves or Veiled Heritance, to be perfectly honest.”


    Jimila barks a laugh. “Yes, if there is one good thing that can be said about the Red Sails, it’s that they’re not racist! They’ll just rob everyone, regardless of your tail, ear shape, or coloration.”


    We hang out around the docks for a bit longer to let people get used to seeing us around and make sure that we don’t stand out too much. I’ve been practicing Khajiit body language, but I feel like it still needs a lot of work.


    “It’s still too exaggerated,” Ilara says quietly. “Relax. Be nonchalant. Don’t lift your tail so much unless you’re angry or trying to flirt with someone.”


    “Noted,” I say, my tail drooping. “It’s hard to control this thing.”


    “It is meant to be instinctual. Most people who get them are Khajiit whose tails were cut off or of a furstock that are born without a tail. Ohmes Khajiit hate being mistaken for mer, but you’ll need to claim to be one if anyone sees you without your cat-mask. Just be sure to feign great offense if anyone questions you being a Khajiit. They like to wear tattoos and face paint, too, so that would help.”


    The fact that there is a type of Khajiit that looks a lot like mer gives my stupid disguise a bit of a safety net. But in my experience, people don’t look too closely beyond what they see. Few people who saw me dressed like an Orc and acting like an Orc ever questioned if I were actually an Orc. (And honestly, racism probably works for me in this case. If someone sees a Khajiit acting strangely, they’ll think they’re a Khajiit being suspicious and probably up to no good, and not a mer pretending to be a Khajiit.)


    We take a stroll along the boardwalk, casually checking out the shops that have been set up near the docks that people can peruse without having to even go inside the walls. Many of them are… mildly sketchy, but that’s really to be expected from the docks district of a pirate-controlled city. There’s a tavern called the Mudcrab and Suds, which has eighty-three ales on tap but eighty-two empty barrels (many of which seem to be being used as barstools), and it’s the sort of dive where if you want a meal you have to cook it yourself. This is very obviously the front for something or a secret meeting place for an illicit group of some sort.


    I decline to give the gate guards my gold and just come in through the outlaws refuge. (Though considering there isn’t even a gate on the gate, like the Hollow City, I doubt they’re capable of actually keeping anyone in or out anyway.) The fancy statues down here would seem to indicate that may have once been much more than a den of thieves, but what do I know? Maybe someone stole them and deposited them down here with a magic bag and telekinesis. (Probably not many thieves actually do that, though.)


    Time to make some new friends and get some information.