The road to Kvatch is littered with other noble estates that we’re not breaking into at the moment. Maybe later. I have a feeling that at some point I’m going to wind up having to kill more nobles.


    The Gold Coast is surrounded by a massive, rough wall known as Varen’s Wall. It extends from the walls of Kvatch to encircle the entire region. It looks like it was built extremely hastily from any bits of stone they could pry from anywhere. Which also means it’s full of handholds and would be trivially easy to climb, and probably wouldn’t hold up to even a single strike from a siege engine.


    The most prominent feature of Kvatch is a spire that I can see almost from the wayshrine. A temple or a mage tower? Probably a temple. These are Imperials, after all.


    There’s a wayshrine conveniently located just outside the Kvatch walls. I don’t spot a convenient outlaw symbol nearby, though. Getting into the city shouldn’t be a problem at the moment, since the gates don’t have gates or even guards.


    There are ways to sneak into or out of any city, although admittedly, some of those would require portals. Usually that’s because of a city being located deep underground or on another plane of existence, though. Someplace like Kvatch might require merely scaling a wall or just strolling in through an open archway, not opening an Oblivion gate. (Who would want to get into Kvatch so badly they’d open an Oblivion gate for it?)


    No sense in getting careless, though. Once I’ve lit the wayshrine, I take a thorough look outside the walls and immediate vicinity to see if there’s an outlaws refuge I can take advantage of. I don’t find one, but I do find something even more interesting. A black door, very much like the one at the Sanctuary near anvil. I’d like to go in and take a look around, and see if there’s a back way into Kvatch from it, but guessing the password might be beyond us.


    “What is life’s greatest destroyer?” asks the creepy door.


    “Me,” I say.


    Ilara giggles. “It seems unlikely they would have made a password like that.”


    “Do you have any guesses?”


    “Death?” Ilara says. “Does it need to include the ‘my brother’ part? Death, my brother.”


    “You are not worthy,” says the door.


    “That might be a bit too obvious,” I say. “Money, my brother.”


    “You are not worthy,” says the door.


    Ilara and I rattle off guesses of fire, cold, mortality, hatred, love, jealousy, and so forth, but the door continues to declare us unworthy. At least it doesn’t do anything bad on a wrong guess.


    “Oh well,” I say. “This has been fun but I don’t care enough to try brute force. What’s the name of our target in Kvatch?”


    “Horatia Angius,” Ilara replies.


    We head back up to the gates and stroll inside like we have every right to be here. The heart of Kvatch is dominated by a massive temple, the Grand Cathedral of Akatosh. I’d like to take a closer look and I’m sure it’s very impressive on the inside too, but a notice posted at the doors tells me that it’s closed for maintenance. Bullshit. It’s not currently my problem, though, so I move on and explore the city.


    Despite him having lent his power to me in order to punch Molag Bal in the face (and I’m quite grateful for that, don’t get me wrong), I don’t really have strong feelings about Akatosh. While it was very nice of the Dragon God of Time to make linear time a thing, because non-linear time gives me a fucking headache, I don’t much see the point in worshipping the Aedra. They’ve already done their part in creation and rarely answer any prayers. It’s like worshipping a mountain. The mountain doesn’t care about you. It simply is.


    Especially considering Akatosh was supposed to be protecting Nirn from Daedric incursions. That has worked out so well. Why does the sanctity of Nirn depend upon having a blessed emperor of a chosen bloodline wearing an amulet of doom? I don’t believe for a moment that Akatosh could not have prevented the Planemeld if he were so inclined. Even a sliver of his power was enough to temporarily inconvenience Molag Bal.


    There’s an inn named the Eight Blessings, and I head inside to pick up some lunch and rumors. The inn is clean and well-kept, and considerably less sketchy than any of the ones in Anvil.


    Aside from the sketchy Khajiit upstairs who claims to be looking for a stolen hat but is obviously just robbing the place. I just apologize for the interruption and tell her “Carry on”, and she gives me some tail pointers.


    A woman by the name of Lerisa, or “Crafty Lerisa” as she calls herself, wants these two shifty-looking Khajiit she just met to help convince her sister that these Akatosh fanatics are nuts. They’ve apparently been being overzealous and hurting people. Specifically, beheading people who disagree with them and forbidding members to see their friends and family. That sort of thing.


    To convince her sister to see this Society of the Dragon for what they really are, Lerisa wants me to spread the word of Boethiah and get arrested.


    I hold up a hand. “This one must object to this plan.”


    “Don’t worry,” Lerisa says. “I’ll come rescue you. You probably won’t get executed.”


    “No, no,” I say. “Vara-do is not concerned about that. He is simply not fond of Boethiah and won’t spread their word even in jest.”


    “Ah,” Lerisa says. “I understand. Well, if you have another idea to rile up the sermonizers, go for it.”


    This is pretty much the opposite of keeping a low profile. But, it’s alright. Not keeping a low profile is good fun sometimes, and part of the point of being here is to be a more obvious target than Ilara. She can work in the shadows while people are paying attention to noisy Vara-do.


    I walk up to a priest standing on the steps of the cathedral. “Why can’t Khajiit go inside the cathedral? This one just wants to pray at the altar.”


    “There is a sign posted, but perhaps you cannot read,” the priest says magnanimously, making it sound like pity rather than derision. “The cathedral is closed for maintenance. We wouldn’t want you to trip over loose pavers, after all. But not to worry. I and the other priests are more than capable of offering Akatosh’s blessings ourselves.”


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    “But Khajiit wants to pray to Akatosh, not to you,” I say.


    “We are the chosen representatives of Akatosh on Nirn,” the priest says.


    “Chosen by who?” I ask. “Did Akatosh descend from Aetherius to tell you ‘Hey, I want you to go stand in front of my temple and tell people I’m awesome but not let them inside’? Khajiit does not think he did!”


    Having riled up that one, I head over to find another to ask an inane question.


    “Why does Akatosh need street preachers?” I ask the next street preacher.


    The robed human is quite offended at the question. “I am here to spread the word of Akatosh in this holy city.”


    “Why is this city more holy than any other city that has a temple?” I ask. “Anvil might be full of pirates but the temple there is pretty.”


    “It’s a temple of Dibella,” says the priest disdainfully.


    “Is Dibella not also one of the Eight Divines?” I ask. “Is she not just as worthy of respect as Akatosh?”


    “Akatosh is, of course, the greatest of the Eight Divines,” the priest says. “If you wish to give your respects to Dibella, then why don’t you to go to Anvil instead?”


    “This one gives respect to all of the Aedra,” I say. “It would be rude not to. The way you talk, Akatosh is the only one worthy of attention.”


    Once I’ve thoroughly annoyed that priest, I move on. Kvatch has a hedge maze. I don’t know why Kvatch has a hedge maze. I don’t get lost in it. Kvatch also has an arena. Alas, Vara-do has no reason to indulge in such bloodsport or attract fame from doing so. He needs to keep a relatively low profile. Perhaps one day, King Neri can come out here and kick some ass. Honest. I eventually find another priest to harass.


    “Why didn’t Akatosh prevent the Planemeld?” I ask the next priest I see.


    The priest sputters a bit and does not have a satisfactory answer. “I’m certain that the Planemeld ended by his grace regardless. Akatosh works in mysterious ways, after all.”


    “What were you doing when there were Dark Anchors dropping from the sky?” I ask. “Did you go and help the Fighters Guild defend Tamriel from the Daedra? Did you go out and heal the wounded? Or did you just sit around in your pretty temple and pray for someone else to fix it?”


    “Don’t criticize the good works of the clergy,” the priest retorts.


    “Has Akatosh ever actually answered your prayers?” I ask. “Has he ever spoken to you? Has he ever given any indication that he cares about you one way or another?”


    Eventually, an armored woman comes up to me and demands that I come to someplace called the “Chamber of Penance”. I’m sure it’s a lovely place. With kittens and pie.


    I let them tie me up and take me to a dimly lit room full of priests who order my beheading. Seriously? This is rather more extreme than the usual level of annoyance, considering what I said wasn’t even the sort of heresy Lerisa would have had me spouting. They might be more annoyed than had I simply been preaching Daedra worship.


    “This one did nothing wrong!” I insist. “Vara-do’s only crime was asking why you did not help with the Planemeld! He lost good friends to the Daedra! You could have saved them! Why did you not save them?”


    Lerisa’s sister, Josseline, is quite alarmed at the prospect of executing me for basically nothing. Lerisa appears in a puff of smoke, makes a short speech to her sister about “now you see what these people really are like”. Josseline runs off. I take advantage of the distraction to burn the shitty rope they’d tied around my hands.


    “Akatosh forgive Khajiit!” I say, pushing aside a couple of priests are between me and the exit.


    Once we’ve escaped, I meet up with Lerisa somewhere safe. By which I mean in a particularly sunny back alley. No one is giving pursuit, though I’m not sure whether to be glad for that or not.


    “Thanks for not turning that into a bloodbath back there,” Lerisa says.


    “Would Khajiit do a thing like that?” I say entirely too innocently.


    Lerisa snorts in amusement. “You move like a killer, Vara-do. You might try to play it casual, but I can tell from one look at you that you’d be ruthless if you had reason.”


    “Ah, so you weren’t terribly worried about Vara-do to send him to the chopping black,” I say with a chuckle.


    “This might have been even better than if you’d spread talk of Daedra worship like I suggested,” Lerisa says. “I overheard what you were telling those street preachers, and this just makes them come off as completely deranged. Which they are, but it’s good to have absolute confirmation of that. For the record, from what I heard, the Akatosh fanatics spent the Planemeld safely locked away in their pretty temple and wouldn’t even lift a hand to heal people unless the wounded were shoved in their face.”


    “Disgraceful,” I say. “Perhaps Akatosh did not stop the Planemeld because he was disappointed in his clergy.”


    Lerisa says Josseline might have gone to one of the shrines near Varen’s Wall and asks me to help look for her. I’ll need to report back about Ilara’s target once she’s done, which will be along the way. I think.


    “I don’t suppose you have a map with them?” I ask. “This one saw one in Anvil but it didn’t have any Akatosh shrines marked.”


    “Ugh, yes, but I need it myself,” Lerisa says.


    “May Vara-do see, then?” I ask. “He can remember the spots.”


    “Fine, fine,” Lerisa says, pulling a map out of her pack and unfolding it. “Just ignore any markings but the hourglass symbols.”


    Lerisa shows me her map. I memorize it, including the markings she told me to ignore, before she puts it away.


    “This one guesses the skulls are extremely dangerous monsters and not hidden treasure,” I say.


    “If you want to get yourself killed by a giant minotaur, that’s your business,” Lerisa says. “I’m going to look for my sister.”


    I meet up with Ilara again at the wayshrine. “Did you find whats-her-name?”


    “This one took care of it.”


    “You found her and killed her already?” I ask.


    Ilara nods. “She wasn’t hard to find. It was just a matter of waiting for her to step out of sight.”


    I don’t ask if she found out why someone might want this woman dead. I fill her in on the business with Josseline, and we set off along the wall rather than teleport back through the wayshrine.


    We find Lerisa’s sister at the most inconveniently located shrine in the Gold Coast, overlooking another ubiquitous Ayleid ruin.


    “Ah, it’s you,” Josseline says. “I’m glad you were able to escape. I can’t believe they were actually going to execute you just for criticizing them.”


    Lerisa shows up shortly after we find her. They have a little family drama before everyone parts ways again and Lerisa pays me for my trouble. Not sure why I was terribly needed for this, but whatever.


    We return to the Sanctuary to see Elam Drals and report that our target is dead. After paying us, the Dunmer assassin points to a nearby book on a lectern and explains that we can pick out contracts written in it that have not been completed yet.


    This is the Dark Brotherhood’s target book? This is potentially more valuable than anything I might have hoped to run across here. And they probably have no idea that I’ve just memorized it. I don’t even know what I might do with that information yet. I now know the answers to quite a lot of murder mysteries that I did not actually care about.


    They assume that no one who sees this book is a traitor. They assume no one will break the Tenets and betray them. And I’m not going to. But there are far more uses for information than betrayal. I can use this. Who hates who. What house has suddenly been weakened. What scandals are going on. I’ll just read through every bit of it in my copious spare time. (Perhaps next time I’m stuck at a pointless, overly long Altmer ceremony. I swear, for a race that prides itself on long life, they are certainly intent upon wasting as much of it as possible.)


    “Hey, Elam,” I say. “What do you know about the Kvatch Sanctuary?”


    “Oh, that?” Elam says. “It was abandoned after a wall collapsed. Part of the Speaker’s chambers wound up plummeting into a natural cavern below it.”


    “Ah,” I say. “So the rest of it was likely in danger of sudden holes too? Hmm…” I muse about that for a moment. “Well, if nobody’s using it… what’s the password?”


    “Why?” Elam wonders.


    I shrug. “You can never have too many secret bases.”


    Elam chuckles. “Ask Speaker Terenus. He knows. He might even tell you.”


    I do so. The Speaker is in a room with a bunch of platforms that look like they should be holding statues or relics, but they’re all currently empty.


    “The Kvatch Sanctuary,” Terenus says. “An unfortunate case. But in the end, time destroys all things.”


    I groan and put my hand to my cat-mask. “The answer is ‘Time, my brother,’ isn’t it. We really should have guessed that.”