ã€ŠI Changed My Name to Avoid My Ex and Accidentally Saved the Worldã€‹


 Chapter 1: In Which I Escape from Hell

    I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been in Coldharbour. My memories are scattered and blurry, but I remember is the faces of my friends, or those I had thought were my friends at least, right as they betrayed me. Their betrayal cut deeper than the knife they used to sacrifice me to the God of Brutality.

    Day in and day out I listen to the moans of my fellow prisoners and the snarls of our Daedra jailers. They often take me out to fight for their amusement. The Daedra don¡¯t like it when I talk back, but I do it anyway. They can¡¯t do shit to me. I¡¯m already dead and they¡¯re going to keep torturing me no matter what I say or do. I take joy in my eternal damnation by taking any opportunity to make a terrible joke at a Daedra¡¯s expense.

    Throughout it all, I¡¯ve tried to hold onto who I am. The details of my life have become hazy, but I still remember my name: Nerevar. I was a great warrior, once, even if I no longer quite remember the details of any war I was involved in. It has all blurred together into a long string of violence and emotion. I¡¯ve never stopped hoping for escape, or dreaming of finding Moonshadow, the realm of Azura, Lady of Dawn and Dusk, where my soul should have been destined to go upon death. At this point, though, I¡¯d be happy to see the Shivering Isles, the Madgod¡¯s realm, as I¡¯m clearly mad now even if I wasn¡¯t before. Being Azura¡¯s favorite did nothing to spare me being imprisoned here, so I don¡¯t know what that favor counted for in the end.

    Something shakes me to full alertness, like a beacon in the fog. The sounds outside the cell I¡¯m being held in have changed. A prison riot? An escape attempt? I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re trying to accomplish but none of us have anything to lose. I rush to the cell door and grip the bars, testing them to see if I can¡¯t get something loose.

    Movement. A woman comes into view, a Nord, looking strong and fresh and lively. Either a recent arrival, or having come here in the flesh.

    I call out to her. ¡°Hello! Could you do me a favor and get me out of here, please?¡±

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± she says, coming up to the door and opting for the Nord method of percussive lockpicking. ¡°The name¡¯s Lyris. I hope for both of our sakes that you¡¯ve still got some fight left in you, high elf.¡±

    ¡°The name¡¯s Nerevar, and I¡¯m glad for the assistance, but¡­ I¡¯m not a high elf,¡± I tell her, emerging from the cell.

    Lyris raises an eyebrow. ¡°You look like one. What are you, then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Chimer,¡± I say.

    Lyris¡¯ jaw drops. ¡°You¡¯ve been in Coldharbour that long?¡±

    ¡°Afraid I don¡¯t really have a frame of reference for how long it has been,¡± I admit. ¡°But why do you say that? What¡¯s so significant about being a Chimer? What happened to my people? Did the Nords kill us off? The Nords killed us off, didn¡¯t they? Honestly, I wouldn¡¯t blame you. We kind of had it coming.¡±

    ¡°No, no, we didn¡¯t kill you off,¡± Lyris assures me. ¡°I¡¯m no historian, but I¡¯m pretty sure it has to have been thousands of years. The Chimer were all turned into dark elves. Dunmer.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Come on. We have to get out of here. You can find out more once you get back to Nirn, if you can.¡±

    I nod. ¡°That will require getting out of here in the first place, or this has all been a moot point. Let¡¯s get moving, then!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear!¡± Lyris says. ¡°Let¡¯s see about getting you a weapon. Ah! Here we go.¡±

    The other Soul Shriven have collected some weapons and are arming themselves, and the corridors are littered with dead Daedra, their bodies waiting to dissolve back into the stuff of Oblivion to reform at some later date. Not quickly enough to affect whatever might happen here this day, though. I pick out a battle axe and grin wildly, feeling more alive than I have in ages.

    ¡°I hereby name this weapon Pickles!¡± I declare.

    ¡°¡­ Pickles?¡± Lyris wonders.

    ¡°I always name my weapons,¡± I say.

    ¡°But why Pickles?¡±

    ¡°I always name them something ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Lyris says dubiously. ¡°Well. I¡¯ll not comment on what being in Coldharbour so long has done for your sanity, so long as you can still manage to hit Daedra¡­ with Pickles. Let¡¯s see how it does in a fight, then, shall we? Come on.¡±

    I follow along after her, and get the chance to test out my new weapon on some Daedra along the way. I have not forgotten how to fight, and have gotten a lot of practice in fighting Daedra to finally strike back at these fetchers. I¡¯ve been waiting to spit in their eye for an eternity and a half, and even if this all fails horribly, it will have been worth the inevitable torture that will result.

    An illusion of an old man appears before us briefly, urging us to hurry up and rescue him. And he refers to me as Vestige, whatever that means, unless he¡¯s talking to Lyris. There might have been something about fate in there too but it didn¡¯t make much sense.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I look at Lyris in puzzlement. ¡°Who was that? What was he talking about?¡±

    ¡°The Prophet!¡± Lyris breathes. ¡°He¡¯s a very wise man, and if he thinks you can help me, I¡¯ll trust in his judgment. He¡¯s our best chance of getting out of this horrible place.¡±

    ¡°As you say. Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°I think we might be able to get to his cell through ¡­ that way.¡± She points toward a door.

    Trusting in her directions for lack of absolutely any better ideas, I follow after her and occasionally bisect a Daedra with my axe. At her direction, I run up and hit a giant eyeball with said axe as well, although I¡¯m not sure what good it might do. Everything seems to be going well up until a door bursts into blue flames and Molag Bal¡¯s booming voice taunts us about how pathetic we are and that we¡¯ll never escape or some such blustering. Really, I¡¯ve long since stopped actually being terrified of him, although the same can¡¯t be said of Lyris.

    ¡°We won¡¯t be to get through this way,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Dammit. Maybe Cadwell will know another way through.¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Cadwell must know everything there is to know about Coldharbour. However long I¡¯ve been here, he¡¯d already been here a long time when I first arrived.¡±

    We find the old madman down by the river, strumming at an out-of-tune lute, his usual tin pot perched atop of his head.

    ¡°Nerevar!¡± he says. ¡°Jolly good to see you, and I see you¡¯ve become acquainted with fair Lyris as well, splendid!¡±

    ¡°Always a pleasure, Sir Cadwell,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Say, we¡¯re trying to get to the Prophet¡¯s cell, but the way in has been sealed. Do you know of another way?¡±

    ¡°Oh, now that¡¯s mighty inconvenient,¡± Cadwell says. ¡°But yes, I know a back way in. It¡¯s full of traps and plenty of things to hit with an axe¡ªand that¡¯s a fine axe you¡¯ve gotten yourself, Nerevar. You¡¯ll love this place. Lots of fun.¡±

    ¡°Excellent! I love traps and things to hit!¡±

    ¡°I thought you might,¡± Cadwell says with a grin. ¡°Do give him my regards when you see him. He and Lyris are quite mad, of course, seem to think they¡¯re going to save us all from eternal torment or some such nonsense, but a good uprising now and then is always a pleasant diversion.¡±

    After getting directions from Cadwell, Lyris and I head through the Undercroft. As I dance past traps spewing cold fire and hack apart skeletons, she keeps giving me looks as if thinking I¡¯m just as mad as Cadwell¡ªwhich I am, but never mind that¡ªand that she¡¯s possibly reconsidering having me as the one helping her. Well, beggars can¡¯t be choosers, and most people give up hope after they¡¯ve been in Coldharbour as long as me.

    We come to a cell in which an old, robed human is hovering in a globe of darkness. Lyris stares at it with grim determination for a long moment before telling me that the only way to release him from that sort of confinement is for her to trade places with him. That sounds like a terrible idea, and also seems like an impractical way to imprison someone. Unless Molag Bal did this deliberately. Yes, that sounds like just the sort of thing he¡¯d get his jollies off on, forcing someone to make that sort of hard choice. I chuckle at the thought.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Lyris asks, looking at me accusingly.

    I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m just thinking how the God of Schemes must have set this up intentionally to feed on your fleeting hope and agonized decisions here. He didn¡¯t have to allow the possibility of escape at all if he didn¡¯t want to.¡±

    Lyris makes a face. ¡°You may be right about that, but we have to try.¡±

    So, I operate the Daedric equipment and exchange one lovely Nord warrior for one blind old man. I¡¯m not sure that it¡¯s all that great of an exchange, but whatever, that¡¯s what she wanted and maybe he actually can get me back to Nirn somehow. Might as well see where this road goes, right? It¡¯s not like I was doing anything better with my eternity.

    ¡°Freedom!¡± the old man proclaims, holding his arms aloft for a moment before steadying himself on a staff. For some reason, Molag Bal decided to let the blind man keep his staff. More teasing torment, no doubt.

    ¡°Hi, Prophet,¡± I say. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°A brief pleasure it will be if we do not make haste to escape this place, Vestige.¡±

    ¡°Why do you call me ¡®Vestige¡¯?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Because you are but a remnant of your former self,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Thus the Elder Scrolls foretold¡ª¡±

    ¡°Okay, great, whatever,¡± I say, cutting off whatever talk of prophecy he was going to go into. I really do not care. ¡°I do hope you¡¯ve foreseen which way we need to go to get out of here, though.¡±

    ¡°The Anchor,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°The Lord of Brutality is using Dark Anchors to invade Tamriel. I can use one of these to return us there.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± I say.

    I manage to find the Anchor Mooring, which turns out to be not particularly difficult and why in Oblivion did Molag Bal imprison this guy right next to a place that could get him out of here? More taunting? I don¡¯t presume to guess why the God of Schemes does anything, but it almost feels like he intended the Prophet to escape. This is way too easy.

    And then a huge, shadowy figure with fiery blue eyes emerges from the pit in front of us and taunts us in a booming voice something about the futility of defiance and his intent to dominate the world, and a giant bone creature attacks us. I take that back.

    Once I¡¯ve defeated the bone colossus, I go back to the Prophet. ¡°Okay, now that that¡¯s out of the way. Just how are we going to use this thing to get out of here? The portal is above us. Do you have a levitate spell?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°But first, you will need to use a Skyshard to attune yourself to Nirn again, since you are dead.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ is there one of whatever those are that just happens to be lying around here?¡± I ask.

    The Prophet gives a completely unnecessary cosmological speech about Aetherial energy or something, and I kind of tune him out a bit but the relevant part is that he can summon one, somehow. After yelling at the sky, a glowing blue crystal appears in a column of shimmering light. I look at him a bit dubiously, but shrug and touch it. A flood of energy rushes into me, tingling from my toes to my fingertips and suffusing my entire being. I feel alive in a way that I have not for as long as I can remember.

    I take in a deep breath. ¡°Coool.¡±

    The Prophet begins some sort of spell, starting up some long-winded chant calling upon Akatosh, Dragon God of Time. I have no idea why that all is needed for a levitation spell, but I let him do that, and wander off to poke through some containers in the room.

    ¡°Hey, I found Molag Bal¡¯s secret borscht recipe!¡± I announce.

    ¡°Hurry!¡± the Prophet yells to me. ¡°We must go now!¡±

    ¡°Right, yeah, coming!¡±

    I run toward the Prophet as I feel some sort of spell starting to grip me. I leap into the air over the pit and rise into the air toward the swirling portal, laughing and spinning about with my arms outstretched, and yelling, ¡°WHEEEEEE!¡±

 Chapter 2: In Which I Meet a Cat Man

    I land in surprisingly warm water with an impressive splash that, unfortunately, knocks my axe loose.

    ¡°Noooo! Pickles!¡± I yell as the Daedric battle axe sinks into the depths. Then a moment later, I realize I should pay more attention to myself so that I don¡¯t also sink into the depths. It has been a very, very long time since I have swum in actual water, however, and I flail about splashing madly trying to figure out how to get to shore from here.

    Despite my efforts, I slip beneath the waves and darkness takes me. Well, it has been a lovely, if brief, trip back to Nirn and a tropical ocean, but I guess it¡¯s back to Coldharbour for me. I laugh softly, bubbles bubbling up from my mouth, but then realize I distantly feel hands lifting me out of the sea, and I cough up water.

    Weak and weary, I drift off into sleep and hear the Prophet¡¯s voice in my dreams. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s actually with me, though. He¡¯s telling me that he wound up somewhere else, and also rambles on a bit about fighting evil, tides of darkness, something like that. Fighting evil sounds absolutely magnificent at the moment. For that matter, so does fighting good, because at least that¡¯s doing something, but at the moment I think I¡¯d rather fight evil. It would be my pleasure to kick in the teeth of the Daedra and those who serve them, wherever they might be. Because fuck them all, seriously, just fuck them all.

    I rouse slowly to consciousness and find myself in a warm room with stone walls. No, wait, more like half a room, with a rough bed pallet laying underneath the half of the roof that¡¯s still intact, hopefully with a great deal of confidence that the rest of it will not spontaneously collapse while someone is sleeping under it. The cloudy blue sky overhead is a thing of beauty even if it¡¯s something that one would normally find worrying to be seeing from inside of a building.

    A loaf of bread sits near the pallet, and I pick it up assuming that it was left for me. Food, real food, such a strange concept after so long, even stranger yet is seeing the lovely golden-brown color that makes up the crust. Everything in Coldharbour was shades of icy blue, even the faces of people after they¡¯ve been there for long enough. I tear off a little bit of bread and take a nibble, and it¡¯s the most delicious thing I¡¯ve ever tasted. Slowly, savoring every morsel, I eat down the entire loaf, offering up silent thanks to whatever kind soul pulled me out of the water and left me something to eat.

    Among the items I find laying around in the ruined building that may or may not have been left for me, I find a small knife, like one might use for shaving. I regard the razor-sharp blade wistfully. It¡¯s a surprisingly difficult decision, shearing my hair off. I always kept only the sides of my head shaved and my glorious crimson hair styled up into a ridge, but my time in Coldharbour has left my hair matted and tangled into hopelessness. Best to start over. Who knows what fashion trends are like in whatever year this is, anyway? Bald never goes out of style.

    With that taken care of, I head for the door and step out into the balmy sea breezes. It¡¯s beautiful out here, with green trees, golden sands, and warm sunlight. After Coldharbour, I thought I would never feel warm again. I¡¯d almost forgotten what heat felt like.

    More half-ruined buildings dot the shore. A figure stands against a crumbling wall in front of me, and is that a tail? That¡¯s definitely a long, furry tail attached to a furry body with a furry face, and two pointed ears framing a ginger hair ridge that almost makes me jealous of the remnants of mine that I just shaved off. A well-dressed cat person, so this must be an intelligent being of some sort and not a creature lying in wait to devour me.

    ¡°Ah, my friend from the beach!¡± the cat man says. At least, I think it¡¯s a man. His chest is flat and his voice is deep, at least. Do cat women have six breasts, I wonder? ¡°It¡¯s good to see you awake,¡± he continues, oblivious to my distracted internal musing.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to be awake,¡± I say. ¡°Who might you be? I¡¯m afraid if I encountered you before, I was too busy being unconscious after almost drowning to remember you.¡±

    ¡°This one is Razum-dar, a simple Khajiit.¡± Okay, so these weird cat people must be called Khajiit. Good to know. ¡°And Raz has seen many things in his time, but people appearing out of thin air to drop into the ocean is a new one on him. Raz is wondering, where did you come from? And¡­ keep your voice down.¡±

    ¡°My name is Nerevar,¡± I tell him quietly. ¡°And I just escaped from Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the realm of the Lord of Domination? A dire tale, if true, and you do not sound mad to Raz.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m definitely mad,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m told I was trapped there for thousands of years.¡±

    ¡°A strange thing indeed,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°But you must not seem strange. You must blend in, and not draw attention to yourself. Just another typical high elf.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not a high elf,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m a Chimer. I¡¯m told the Chimer are all gone now, though, so if I am to blend in, then an Aldmer I must pretend to be, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Altmer,¡± Raz corrects me. ¡°They do not call themselves Aldmer these days. Aside from the Aldmeri Dominion, and Raz does not know why that name was chosen.¡±

    ¡°Let me ask you one quick question first,¡± I say. ¡°Does the name Almalexia mean anything to you?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. Raz believes she is one of the Living Gods of Morrowind, along with Vivec and Sotha Sil. Did you know her, as a Chimer?¡±

    I scowl. ¡°Morrowind.¡± Resdayn has a new name, I assume. And new gods? Those three are playing at being gods now? Ugh. ¡°Yes. And since I would prefer to, as you say, blend in and avoid drawing too much attention to myself, it would perhaps be best for me not to use my true name. What would be a typical name for a high elf around here?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Raz muses, rubbing his fuzzy chin with a paw. ¡°They tend to have at least three or four syllables. The male ones often end in ¡®o¡¯ or ¡®il¡¯ or ¡®on¡¯.¡±

    I think for a few minutes. ¡°How about¡­ Neralion? Does that sound like a perfectly ordinary Altmer name to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Raz thinks that would do nicely. Just a perfectly ordinary Altmer soldier from a ship that was lost in a hurricane, washed ashore here.¡±

    ¡°Where is ¡®here¡¯ exactly, anyway?¡± I ask. ¡°Am I in the Summerset Isles?¡±

    Raz shakes his head. ¡°No. This is Khenarthi¡¯s Roost.¡±

    ¡°Is it a very long way from Res¡ªMorrowind?¡±

    ¡°The other side of Tamriel, yes,¡± Raz says, not commenting on my slip of the tongue. ¡°Khenarthi¡¯s Roost is located off of the southern coast of Elsweyr.¡± At my continued blank look, he adds, ¡°That¡¯s on the south side of Tamriel. Would you like a map? Raz is certain there must be one around here somewhere.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Yes. A map would be very helpful.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps there is something you might be able to help Raz with, as well,¡± the Khajiit goes on. ¡°He is here on a mission of some delicacy, and you are an outsider. Not one of the Aldmeri Dominion¡¯s soldiers, but you can look like one. What do you say?¡±

    ¡°I literally have nothing better to be doing right at this moment,¡± I chuckle. ¡°And as you say, blending in and acquiring a cover story would be¡­ prudent.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± Raz says. ¡°Come, then. Let us go blend in, shall we?¡±

    He turns tail and heads off into the¡­ well, town is a pretty generous word for it. More like a camp set up amid the ruins. Some tents dot the area, presumably having better roofs than many of the buildings. The people around appear to be a mix of high elves and cat folk. I have no idea what¡¯s going on or why these people are camping out in ruins like this, but I¡¯m sure going to do my damnedest to pretend to.

    Razum-dar leads me to an Altmer woman in sufficiently fancy armor to mark her as a captain or commander or whatever ranks they use around here. She¡¯s introduced as Commander Karinith. I¡¯m probably going to forget that name immediately.

    ¡°Ah, good to see you up and about, recruit,¡± Commander Karinith says. ¡°We lost many good soldiers in that storm. What was your name again?¡±

    ¡°Nerelion,¡± I say, then clear my throat. ¡°Excuse me. Neralion,¡± having to think for a moment and dammit I can at least not forget my own fake name. I clear my throat. ¡°My name is Neralion, sir. Ma¡¯am. Commander.¡± A thousand years in hell and I¡¯ve already forgotten military protocol, too.

    ¡°Still a bit dazed from the wreck, I see,¡± Karinith says. ¡°You seem less injured than most. If you¡¯ve got your land legs about you, I¡¯m in need of a scout.¡±

    She talks about reports of activity from Maormer, or sea elves, which I don¡¯t admit to her that I¡¯ve never heard of before. I suppose it would stand to reason, though, as this was not the part of the world I ever operated in during my¡­ past? Previous? Old life? I don¡¯t know what to call it. Doesn¡¯t matter, I suppose. Best get used to being Neralion, a perfectly ordinary Altmer soldier, for the time being at least.

    ¡°If I¡¯m to go out scouting in potentially hostile territory, I¡¯m going to need some new equipment,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I lost my axe in the drink.¡±

    ¡°Of course, recruit,¡± Karinith says. ¡°We are short on supplies, after our ships went down, but you may be able to acquire new gear from one of the local merchants. Surely not as fine a quality as what you might find in Summerset, but it will suffice. Here is a small dispensary to cover your expenses. Make it worth it.¡±

    Karinith points out where some of the merchants in question are, and I politely thank her. She also mentions a mage by the name of Ealcil or something like that who found something weird in a nearby temple, because of course mages are going poking around old temples. Since she seems to want me to talk to this fellow before going out scouting, Raz helpfully shows me where he is.

    There is a rock hovering in the air above a well, shooting jets of water out in random directions. I groan internally. This must be the weird thing these mages found in the temple, that of course they pulled out without knowing anything about it. Ealcil extols its marvels to me as I approach, clearly looking for any excuse to extol at anyone within earshot that¡¯s willing to listen for two minutes.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to construct a special room for it when we bring it back to the Mages Guild,¡± he says.

    ¡°What, so you don¡¯t flood the Mages Guild?¡± I reply with a smirk.

    ¡°Yes, there¡¯s that,¡± Ealcil says. ¡°The Mourning Stone appears to have an endless supply of water.¡±

    ¡°Which means it would definitely flood something if you¡¯re not careful,¡± I say. ¡°Why is it called the Mourning Stone? Because it¡¯s crying or something?¡±

    ¡°We found it in an old Khajiit temple called the Temple of the Mourning Springs,¡± Ealcil says.

    ¡°Did you run into any trouble there?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Ugh, after we brought out the Mourning Stone, our camp was overrun by undead,¡± Ealcil complains. ¡°I don¡¯t know why. It was probably just some ancient curse. There¡¯s usually ancient curses involved in these sorts of things.¡±

    I give him a look and bite my tongue to avoid going off on a rant on how careless and foolish they were to be going around blithely triggering ancient curses like it¡¯s no big deal. They couldn¡¯t have cautiously studied this stone where it was before determining if it was safe to move it or not first? It¡¯s so very good to know that people delving into things they don¡¯t understand and poking things they shouldn¡¯t is still a constant in the universe. Hopefully this stone is less likely to come back to bite them in the ass than the Heart of Lorkhan.

    Raz wants to speak with me in private at the edge of camp. Apparently the camp is named Eagle¡¯s Strand, which is an awfully grandiose name for some tents and ruined buildings. I politely excuse myself from talking to the mage, before I say anything that will keep me from blending in, and go off after Raz.

    ¡°There now, your face is becoming familiar to people,¡± Raz says. ¡°They will be used to you and not question seeing you around.¡±

    ¡°It was very, very difficult not to smack that mage back there,¡± I grumble.

    ¡°Ah, yes, they do have a tendency to do some risky things in the name of research. Raz admires your restraint. Best to be able to walk away than to wind up in the stocks for assault, yes? There are much better opportunities for people with mysterious origins.¡±

    ¡°A historian would probably be very, very interested in what I know, but I¡¯m not telling them a damned thing,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t need that sort of attention, and in any case, thousands of years in Coldharbour has left my memory a bit fuzzy. Best to focus on the here and now.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Raz agrees. ¡°These undead Ealcil and his researchers unwittingly unleashed are a threat to the whole island. And those Maormer pirates, the Sea Vipers they call themselves, have been poking their noses around very suspiciously. If you were to help out in one way or another, people would surely be grateful and less likely to question where precisely it was that you came from, yes? And the locals would surely be more likely to believe that the Aldmeri Dominion means well for them, and not that we are here to conquer them and take what we want.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say dubiously. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about the Aldmeri Dominion, but I definitely know about hitting things. Though before I do anything else, I¡¯m going to find someone who will sell me a new axe.¡±

    ¡°Once you are done with whatever you wind up doing, meet Raz at the town to the north called Mistral. He has work to be done there that requires less hitting things, though it may wind up leading into other opportunities to hit things depending on how matters go.¡±

 Chapter 3: In Which I Argue With a Ghost About Books

    Up the hill, I spot more recent buildings made of wood, or at least wooden lamp posts and what appear to be open-air vendor stalls with colorful canopies. Just what I¡¯m looking for. I approach one that has weapons out on display and make to admire the craftsmanship, but to be perfectly honest I don¡¯t even know what passes for good craftsmanship in this day and age. Surely it doesn¡¯t hold a candle to whatever the Dwemer might have made, but also being perfectly honest, Dwemer craftsmanship was weird.

    I wonder how the Dwemer are doing lately. Hopefully they¡¯ve fared better than my own people, but I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d take kindly to my former friends calling themselves gods. They weren¡¯t really a religious sort of people, after all. Nobody has mentioned them, but then we¡¯re very far away from their homeland. I¡¯ll need to look them up at some point, or ask someone discreetly.

    ¡°Fine weapons, imported from the mainland!¡± the Khajiit merchant declares. ¡°You are looking to buy, yes? Palmur-dra has just what you need! Dangerous times, these days, what with talk of pirates about. You look like you can handle a weapon, walker. What do you say? Does one of my swords strike your fancy?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m more of an axe sort of elf,¡± I say. ¡°How much for that one?¡± I point.

    Palmur-dra names a price. It¡¯s slightly more than the amount the commander whose name I have already forgotten gave me for supplies. I manage to haggle him down a few coins, but it looks like I¡¯m not going to be able to get any armor or anything to go along with it. Oh well. At least I have a weapon again now, and that¡¯s the important part. Now it just needs a suitable name. Wait, does it already have a name? I ask the merchant, who gives me an odd look.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a weapon,¡± Palmur-dra says. ¡°Does it need a name?¡±

    ¡°It absolutely needs a name,¡± I say. ¡°Alright, I hereby dub this axe¡­ Bubbles!¡±

    The Khajiit stares at me. ¡°Bubbles?¡±

    ¡°I almost drowned and lost my last axe in the ocean, so it¡¯s a fitting name, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°As you say¡­¡± Palmur-dra says, clearly not feeling like arguing with a paying customer.

    There¡¯s a temple at the top of the hill as well, although apparently not the one I was looking for as there¡¯s just a cat woman inside praying to the moons or something who gets annoyed at me and tells me not to interrupt and shoos me outside again. Cat women only have two boobs, by the way. Just as a note. I¡¯m not quite sure whether I ought to be disappointed by that. This particular temple is apparently named the Temple of the Crescent Moons. I wonder if there¡¯s also a Temple of the Gibbous Moons, a Temple of the One Moon New and the Other Half Full, and so forth?

    As I¡¯m leaving the temple, I spot another Khajiit cowering behind a ledge. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Muzur was just trying to set up a shop!¡± the Khajiit manages to get out. ¡°But there was a ghost! At least, this one thinks it was a ghost. She looked a bit like an elf but you could see right through her and she warned this one to get away so this one got away!¡±

    I examine my newly purchased but completely ordinary axe. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this can hit ghosts, but ghosts can be surprisingly solid sometimes. I¡¯ll go see what her problem is, at any rate. Where exactly did you see this ghost?¡±

    ¡°Be careful!¡± Muzur urges me, pointing a claw trepidatiously at the stone platform behind him. ¡°This one would hate for you to be hurt on account of Khajiit.¡±

    I set my axe down on the platform momentarily to climb up and take a look around. At first I don¡¯t see anything but some broken crates and barrels, but then a translucent blue figure shimmers into view hovering in the air and demands that I come no closer. I pause, smirk, and come closer anyway. She starts rambling something about doom and danger, and I clear my throat and interrupt her.

    ¡°Is this some doom and danger that can be dealt with by hitting it with an axe?¡± I ask.

    ¡°There were three books,¡± she goes on. ¡°They¡¯re a trap for the weak-minded, and they destroyed me, leaving me to haunt this island forever¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are they books that can be dealt with by hitting them with an axe?¡± I interrupt her again to try to keep her from going off about gloom and doom some more.

    ¡°Sadly they resist such mundane methods of destruction,¡± the ghost says. ¡°They¡¯d need to be destroyed in sacred fire, but they would surely ensnare anyone that tried to do so. Can you not hear them calling to you?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t even see any books from here, never mind hear any, but I assure you that if I heard a book trying to talk to me I¡¯d definitely throw it into a magic fire. And was it really necessary to spook that poor cat man over this?¡±

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    ¡°He might have been ensnared by the evil books! But if you are immune to their call, perhaps you might be able to destroy them. Take them to the shrine and cast them into the sacred flame! Do not be ensnared by their evil!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be ensnared,¡± I say. ¡°How does one even get ensnared by a book? Does it shoot webs out of its pages or something? Where are these books, anyway?¡±

    ¡°If they aren¡¯t here, then I don¡¯t know,¡± the ghost says. ¡°Probably scattered around the island.¡±

    ¡°So was it really necessary to spook the cat man away from this particular spot if there are no evil books in this particular spot?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ maybe not,¡± the ghost grouses, then vanishes.

    I snort softly and return to Muzur. ¡°I got the ghost to go away. You can relax now.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank Jone and Jode,¡± Muzur says, breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°This one thanks you.¡±

    ¡°So, what do you sell, anyway?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well, nothing yet,¡± Muzur says. ¡°But come back later and you will see a shop of wonders! This one will even give you a small discount for your assistance.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°Good luck with that.¡±

    To the other side of the temple, I find a small shrine with a cat statue with a brazier in front of its paws. It¡¯s not lit at the moment, so on a whim, I go up to light it. Magic has never really been my thing, but I¡¯m still an elf, after all. Even I can light a fire. The brazier bursts into blue flames, and I jump back in surprise warily. Is my magic still being affected by Coldharbour? No, it¡¯s not the icy blue flames of Coldharbour. This fire is warm and tingly, like Skyshards. Aetherial energy or whatever it was the Prophet was rambling about.

    ¡°You¡¯ve lit the wayshrine?¡± a nearby cat woman says. ¡°Jone and Jode will surely light your path, walker.¡±

    ¡°Forgive this humble Altmer his ignorance,¡± I say, ¡°but who are Jone and Jode?¡±

    The Khajiit chuckles. ¡°Ensa-ko can see that you are an outsider here. Jone and Jode are what we Khajiit call the two moons, that you might call Masser and Secunda. They are sacred to us and central to our culture.¡±

    ¡°The moons,¡± I say. ¡°Okay, sure, why not.¡±

    I like these cat people. Their habit of speaking in the third person makes it easy to remember their names and a lot of people are not polite enough to introduce themselves. Like that silly ghost. Not that it greatly mattered what her name was, but still.

    ¡°The moons still shine upon this temple, but the same cannot be said of all of Khenarthi¡¯s Roost,¡± Ensa-ko goes on. ¡°There is trouble at the Temple of the Mourning Springs, on the eastern side of the island. We avoid the place, but Ensa-ko has heard the waters have dried up. This is bad, very bad.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about the undead,¡± I say. ¡°I was planning on going and hitting them until they stopped being a problem.¡±

    ¡°Simply hitting them will not be enough, walker.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think so,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m betting that magic rock that shoots water that the dumbass mages took from the place is going to need to be put back. Mages never know when to leave things alone.¡±

    ¡°Ensa-ko believes you have the right of it. Look for the moon-stones! They will reveal your way.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the tip,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± With a tuneless whistle, I start to head for the stairs, but then stop and turn back toward Ensa-ko. ¡°Which way is east, anyway?¡±

    Ensa-ko points. ¡°Head down the stairs and turn right.¡±

    ¡°Right, thanks.¡±

    I head out. It¡¯s a lovely day for a stroll. Blue skies, green grass, fresh air, armed cat people patrolling the roads who are doing nothing about the alits and giant blue bugs just a short way off the roads. Some of the trees around here are these odd ones with curved branchless trunks and long, broad leaves in a cluster at the top. No colorful giant mushrooms around here, and it feels very exotic without them.

    The giant bugs on the hillside seem to be a good reason to test out my new axe. With a fierce but not particularly articulate battle cry, I charge at one. Aaaaand it turns out the giant blue bugs shoot lightning. Ow, ow, ow. I manage to hack it apart as it keeps trying to shock me until I¡¯ve lopped off all its legs and split its shell open. Laughing and still tingling, I go tumbling down the hill, the dead bug¡¯s abdomen rolling alongside me. I bump against a tree right at the hooves of a rather puzzled woolly creature, who bleats at me disinterestedly and goes back to chewing its cud.

    There¡¯s a Khajiit sitting on a rock nearby watching over a number of these livestock. ¡°Ziakar thanks you for thinning out the thunderbugs. Sometimes they go after his sheep.¡±

    Sheep. I guess that¡¯s what these white fluffy things are called, who seem too dumb and docile to even run away if a giant bug shows up near the pasture. And ¡®thunderbugs¡¯ seem like a rather on-the-nose description of bugs that shoot lightning. I suppose they couldn¡¯t have been called lightning bugs because those are something else.

    I pick up the thunderbug remains and examine it. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s anyone who might pay me for bug bits?¡±

    ¡°Ziakar hears the wood elves make booze out of them.¡±

    I blink. ¡°Electric booze? Cool! I have got to try that sometime.¡±

    ¡°That merchant right there might take them, though.¡±

    Ziakar points toward a nearby building. Half building. What do you even call a building that has one side, two half sides, and an awning? Though I guess it¡¯s more of a tent since they¡¯re not really walls. Still better than the ruined buildings down on the beach, by far. I take the dead bug over to the vendor stall and manage to exchange it for some coins. Having succeeded at actually making a profit, I go and kill a few more thunderbugs and return with the glands that I¡¯m told are the valuable part and much easier to carry than the entire bug.

    ¡°You¡¯re twitching,¡± the Khajiit merchant says.

    ¡°I might¡¯ve gotten shocked a few times,¡± I say with a short giggle.

    ¡°Ranabi thinks you should lay off the thunderbugs for a bit.¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± My arm spasms. ¡°¡­ might be a good idea, yeah. Hold on.¡±

    I try to hold my hand steady long enough to get off a minor healing spell. It takes a few tries to get it off but I manage. Not sure if it actually helped any, though. I was never good at magic, or at least I don¡¯t think I was, but maybe I could become less bad. An old Chimer might be able to learn new tricks, after all. Especially when I¡¯ve already forgotten half of the old ones. Most of the old ones. Look, I still remember how to hit things, and that¡¯s what really counts, right?

 Chapter 4: In Which I Make Poor Life Choices Regarding Skooma

    As I¡¯m traveling across Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, still not having found the correct Khajiit temple that I¡¯ve been searching for, I come upon a farm that looks like it has been ravaged by a terrible fire. I cross a fancy arched bridge and approach to take a closer look around out of curiosity.

    There¡¯s a couple of Altmer looking around as well not far from the bridge. The one wearing fancier armor introduces herself as Officer Lorin and immediately mistakes me for a field hand.

    I make a face and look down at my rags. ¡°I really need to get some new armor.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re from the shipwreck, then?¡± Lorin asks. ¡°Your armor is at the bottom of the ocean now? A shame about that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I lie. ¡°The name¡¯s Nelarion.¡± I clear my throat. ¡°Neralion. Recruit. Soldier. Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Did you hit your head on something when your ship went down as well?¡± Lorin wonders.

    I pause and rub my forehead exaggeratedly. ¡°I don¡¯t remember, but come to think, I have had a splitting headache all day so I¡¯m sure that¡¯s totally what happened.¡±

    ¡°You might want to see a healer or get a potion for that when you can,¡± Lorin says. ¡°Sadly there isn¡¯t one around here. A shame, that. Azbi-ra¡¯s father was injured in the fire. They¡¯re the ones who run this plantation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m probably too broke at the moment to afford potions,¡± I mumble.

    ¡°There might be some coin in it for you if you can assist in our investigation,¡± Lorin says. ¡°I need to know if this was arson, but Azbi-ra was not particularly forthcoming. Perhaps someone who does not look like a Thalmor inspector would be able to find out more information.¡±

    I pretend to know what the Thalmor is, assuming that it¡¯s some sort of judicial organization if they¡¯re inspecting potential crimes. I¡¯m just an ordinary Altmer soldier who potentially has a head injury, and ordinary Altmer soldiers probably already know what the Thalmor is. At Lorin¡¯s direction, I head off toward a building on the other side of the bridge that I¡¯m not quite sure if it¡¯s a barn or a house or something. It¡¯s a bit open to be a house, but then these cat people don¡¯t seem nearly as concerned about walls as people who live in less pleasant climates are.

    Inside the barn-house is a cat woman kneeling by a cat man who is laying on a mat on the floor wheezing.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say as I poke my head in. ¡°I¡¯m Neralion. I heard about the fire. Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Azbi-ra is fine, but her father, oh, he inhaled sugar-smoke and now he can hardly breathe. He needs medicine, powerful potions, or he¡¯ll surely die.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I can help?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m not the best healer around but maybe I can stabilize it a bit?¡±

    ¡°You are welcome to try,¡± Azbi-ra says. ¡°This one is grateful for the offer nonetheless.¡±

    I crouch close to the Khajiit and try to focus my magicka and let singing golden healing magic flow into the man. Maybe it¡¯s my imagination but his breathing does seem to be getting a little quieter. Or maybe it¡¯s just that his lungs are still weakening regardless of my attempts.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s all I can do,¡± I say, examining him for a moment longer before straightening. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll at least buy him some time.¡±

    ¡°He ran into one of our storehouses to try to save our alchemical tools,¡± Azbi-ra says. ¡°They are very valuable, and maybe they could be traded for medicine that could save him, if any of them survived the fire.¡±

    ¡°I could go take a look,¡± I say.

    ¡°Would you? Azbi-ra would be grateful. Be careful if you go in there. The structures may be unstable and the skeevers have gone mad.¡±

    Skeevers are one thing that I¡¯d hoped not to see in this part of the world, but I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised. They¡¯re basically just large rats, after all, and have a tendency to find their way anywhere they feel like being. I agree to search for the tools and head back to the farm. Officer Lorin asks if I learned anything and I relay what Azbi-ra told me.

    ¡°Why do farmers need alchemical tools?¡± Lorin wonders.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I shrug. ¡°They probably make potions with them. I wish I were any good at making potions. Good money to be had in that. Turning every random flower and weed you find on the side of the road into something useful? Hell yes. I¡¯d be carrying a flower basket everywhere.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Do you suppose there¡¯s a good market for selling raw alchemical ingredients? I might need to start carrying a flower basket everywhere.¡±

    ¡°Probably, but I don¡¯t imagine the more common plants are worth all that much,¡± Lorin says. ¡°You are welcome to go inspect the ruins if you wish. Be certain to let me know if you find anything suspicious.¡±

    ¡°Will do,¡± I say.

    The farm is swarming with mad skeevers who seem to be even more aggressive than usual. I probably look absolutely ridiculous as I try to hit them with my axe while they¡¯re jumping about as if the ground were lava. And for all that, my search comes up empty. All the alchemical tools I run across have been rendered useless by the fire.

    ¡°You!¡± A Khajiit runs up to me. ¡°You dare come to loot my family¡¯s land? Zaban-ma will give you a thrashing if you do not leave now.¡±

    I sigh and roll my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re awfully bold to threaten someone who is carrying a battle axe, when you¡¯ve got nothing but your bare claws. Are you the brother Azbi-ra mentioned, then? She sent me to try to retrieve alchemical tools.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t find any. Zaban-ma made sure they were destroyed. But why would she send you instead of coming herself?¡±

    ¡°She stayed back with your father,¡± I say.

    ¡°My father?¡± Zaban-ma wonders. ¡°But my father was supposed to go to Mistral yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Apparently he didn¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°He was injured trying to retrieve those tools from a burning building. I don¡¯t know why he felt it necessary¡­ it¡¯s just stuff. It¡¯s not worth someone¡¯s life.¡±

    He buries his face in his paws and groans. ¡°Zaban-ma agrees. He did not mean to hurt anyone.¡±

    ¡°You set the fires?¡± I ask. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Zaban-ma caught his sister brewing skooma last week,¡± the Khajiit says quietly. ¡°Foolish and greedy, but Zaban-ma does not think his family deserves prison for it. He was trying to destroy the evidence of it.¡±

    ¡°There have to be less attention-grabbing ways of destroying evidence,¡± I say. ¡°Forgive this humble Altmer a stupid question, but¡­ what exactly is skooma?¡±

    ¡°A vile drug,¡± Zaban-ma explains. ¡°It destroys the body and mind and ruins lives. It¡¯ll make you feel good, sure, better than you ever have before, for a short time, but then you will want more, and more, and you will do anything to get your paws on another vial, and another, and another. Zaban-ma has seen good friends waste away from skooma addiction and would not wish it on anyone.¡±

    ¡°So she was making skooma to get more money, then?¡±

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    Zaban-ma nods. ¡°We were in debt, and Zaban-ma knew something was up when Azbi-ra started sneaking away and acting suspiciously and then the debt collectors stopped coming. Oh, Zaban-ma should be with his father. Stranger, Zaban-ma saw his sister bury something on the beach, marked with colorful shells. No doubt it was skooma. Would you be willing to go find it so that the evidence can be destroyed?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Go to your father. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡±

    I part ways with Zaban-ma and head down the beach in the direction he indicated. ¡®Colorful seashells¡¯ turns out to be a pretty useless description and I only wind up finding the correct spot when I run across someone digging in the sand who yells something about the Crosstree Bandits while attacking me. What sort of bandit group seriously puts the word ¡®bandit¡¯ in their name, anyway?

    Oh well, after killing the bandit, I take a look in the sack that had just been dug up, full of small vials. I sympathize with these drug-dealing cat people and I don¡¯t really see how it¡¯s the business of the Thalmor or the Aldmeri Dominion or whoever is actually in charge of laws around here what sort of recreational substances people choose to use in their spare time. Best make sure there¡¯s no evidence to be found here, then.

    I open up one of the vials and drink it down. It tastes so sweet that it¡¯s almost disgusting, but it tingles on the way down and prickles at my tongue. There¡¯s more vials in this bag than I¡¯d thought at first. It¡¯s going to take a while to dispose of them all. I take out another vial and drink it, then another and another. I lose count as my vision becomes blurry, and spill a few as my hands start shaking uncontrollably. There! Done! Got them all!

    I stand up unsteadily, accidentally stepping on the scattered pile of vials as I do. Shards of broken glass drive through my thin prison footwraps but my mind hardly registers the pain. Colors swim in my vision. The landscape warps and twists before my eyes.

    I¡¯m flying~~~~

    No, wait, I¡¯m falling.

    ¡­

    I wake up naked behind the wayshrine on the hill with no memory of how I got there.

    My head spins as I sit up too quickly. Dammit. What just happened? Ugh. Note to self: Don¡¯t do skooma. Or at least don¡¯t do quite so much of it at once. No, let¡¯s just go with not doing skooma. That¡¯s the more sensible choice.

    I climb to a crouching position (wait, wasn¡¯t my foot injured?) and swipe some laundry from a convenient nearby clothesline. When I slip behind the temple to get dressed somewhere out of sight, I notice a Skyshard perched on the ledge in the back. What¡¯s one of those things doing here? I guess it either just randomly fell here or someone put it here as decoration or something. Although if it were decoration I¡¯d have expected it to be in the front. I touch it to see if it reacts like the one the Prophet summoned did, and sure enough, a rush of energy pours into me. A much better sort of rush than skooma, maybe. One that leaves me actually feeling a little stronger than making me wake up naked somewhere. I don¡¯t know if anyone¡¯s going to be running campaigns on not doing Skyshards and they¡¯re probably not illegal but who knows.

    My attempt to put on my newly stolen clothes immediately fails upon realizing that they¡¯re sized for a small, lithe cat woman. While I, as not actually an Altmer, seem to be on the smallish size compared to the Altmer I have seen thus far, this still isn¡¯t large enough to actually fit me. I creep around toward the Dominion tents I¡¯d seen set up on the other side of the hill to steal their laundry instead. I slink behind Muzur¡¯s stall as he¡¯s working on getting his business set up.

    Muzur twitches an ear and looks about suspiciously. ¡°Is that ghost back? That ghost better not be back.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just me, Nerilian,¡± I reply. ¡°Neralion.¡± Ugh, do I need to get that tattooed on my forearm or something? ¡°Neraaalion,¡± I say slowly. Maybe if I say it enough I¡¯ll remember it. I hate my fake name. Maybe I just need another one. This one¡¯s obviously not working out very well. ¡°You know what, just call me Neri.¡±

    ¡°Why are you skulking about?¡± Muzur asks.

    ¡°I lost my pants,¡± I reply.

    ¡°¡­ How did you lose your pants?¡±

    ¡°Did something that turned out to be incredibly stupid,¡± I reply. ¡°There¡¯s more pants over at the Dominion tents over there, aren¡¯t there?¡±

    Muzur sighs and chucks a towel over the stall at me. ¡°Here. You can say you were bathing and be a little more casual. You are no good at the sneaky thing, not like sleek Khajiit. Bring the towel back.¡±

    ¡°Thanks!¡± I reply, wrapping it around my waist.

    I do my best to try to act casual as I hop down to approach the tents. Fortunately for me, the Altmer there aren¡¯t actually paying very much attention and I manage to slip into one of the tents without anyone stopping to question me. One of the uniforms fits me well enough, at least. Hopefully they¡¯ve got spares here or someone is going to be in trouble for missing their uniform. Once I¡¯m dressed, I return the towel to Muzur with another thank.

    Where in the world did I drop my axe?

    I climb down the hill and make for the beach by the sugar farm in hopes of spotting the shiny glint of Bubbles laying somewhere in the dirt or sand along the way. How do you manage to misplace a battle axe, anyway? Of course, I wind up running straight into another thunderbug, and me without a weapon. Between my own crappy fire spell, punching it in the face, and wrestling a limb off, I do manage to kill the thing, but not before being shocked several times. Ow, ow, ow!

    The worst of it is that I don¡¯t even have the coin I¡¯d gotten from selling the pieces of the last thunderbugs I¡¯d killed. I sell this one to the merchant along the road in exchange for a small dagger (which I dub Poker) so that I¡¯m at least not completely unarmed and can remove thunderbug glands without disgustingly pulling them out with my bare hands. I continue on toward the farm, having already made a mess of my freshly laundered stolen uniform. Before I get to the bridge, however, I spot the two Khajiit and the Thalmor officers standing around by the barn-house.

    ¡°You there!¡± Officer Lorin calls out to me as I approach. ¡°Neralion, you said your name was?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°Father is dead,¡± Azbi-ra rasps through sobs, and I only then notice that she¡¯s kneeling next to a freshly dug grave.

    My face falls. ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ve been asking around about you, Neralion,¡± Lorin says. ¡°Nobody can remember seeing you before the shipwreck.¡±

    ¡°Damn, you mean to tell me everyone already forgot about the new guy?¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I was that forgettable.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re really not,¡± Lorin says. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine that anyone who has spoken to you for five minutes could simply forget you. Tell me the truth. Who are you, really, and what are you doing here? You¡¯re helping these Khajiit smuggle skooma, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t even know what skooma was until today,¡± I say. ¡°Nor moon sugar, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re twitching,¡± Officer Lorin observes.

    ¡°Yeah, I just punched a thunderbug to death,¡± I say. ¡°I definitely did not just down a bunch of skooma or anything like that. Nope.¡±

    Lorin stares at me for several long moments as if weighing whether or not she believes me against whether or not she wants to try to do anything about it. ¡°Right¡­¡± she says dubiously. ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question. You stole that uniform, didn¡¯t you.¡±

    I sigh and lower my voice. ¡°Fine, I didn¡¯t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice. I will tell you who I am. You can¡¯t tell anyone, though. I¡¯m secretly a spy for the Queen.¡±

    ¡°You?¡± Lorin says, raising an eyebrow. ¡°One of the Eyes of the Queen?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve done a pretty good job of making myself look like absolutely anything but a spy, don¡¯t you agree?¡± I say.

    Note to self: Try to actually become a spy for the Queen just in case someone tries to look into my story who would actually be authorized to know that sort of thing.

    Addendum: Also figure out what the Queen¡¯s name actually is.

    Lorin stares at me passively for an agonizing minute. ¡°Impersonating an Eye of the Queen is a serious offense. I¡¯m reporting you, and if your story doesn¡¯t hold water, you will face the consequences.¡±

    ¡°You do that,¡± I say.

    ¡°Now, Eye of the Queen, did you discover any evidence of skooma at this plantation?¡± Lorin asks. ¡°That man just shook himself a death. I know a skooma overdose when I see one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± I say, putting on my best Hortator voice. ¡°If there was any, the fire destroyed any evidence. But, I definitely have a lead on a skooma operation, a group that calls itself the Crosstree Bandits. They¡¯ve been operating along the shore and may have been stealing moon sugar from the farm. They may have set the fires here to cover their tracks, or perhaps because the Khajiit here refused to play along.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is entirely plausible,¡± Lorin says. ¡°I have heard of these Crosstree Bandits you mention and will need to have someone look into them further.¡±

    I nod. ¡°I will continue my own investigation in the meantime.¡±

    Note to self: Figure out another way off the island just in case someone tries to arrest me, too. Possibly with actual skooma smugglers.

    ¡°Seeing as I currently have no evidence with which to arrest anyone, I believe we are done here,¡± Lorin says. She gestures to the other Thalmor and the two of them leave.

    Once she¡¯s out of earshot, Zaban-ma says quietly, ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t do skooma.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never done it before,¡± I mumble, still twitching. ¡°And you asked me to destroy the evidence. What did you expect me to do?¡±

    ¡°Smash it, burn it, dump it in the ocean? If Zaban-ma had known you were just going to take it he would not have suggested it.¡±

    ¡°Whatever, it¡¯s done and it worked, right?¡±

    ¡°Skooma is very addictive,¡± Zaban-ma says. ¡°You would be wise to keep away from it in the future.¡±

    ¡°Oh, believe me, I will,¡± I say. ¡°Second worst idea I ever had, right behind marrying my former wife.¡±

    ¡°Go,¡± Zaban-ma says. ¡°Leave us to mourn our father who died because of that foul drug.¡±

    ¡°My condolences for your father. I¡¯m sorry I could not do more to help.¡±

    I return to the road and continue on my way, feeling a bit guilty about the entire business. Maybe I could actually become a healer. That would be a worthy use of my time, wouldn¡¯t it? All I ever knew was hitting things, and where has hitting things ever gotten me?

    Most likely the world is still going to need plenty of things hit anyway.

 Chapter 5: In Which I Fix a Fountain

    As I near a crossroads, a guttural voice from nowhere says, ¡°Don¡¯t believe her lies!¡±

    I blink and look about, but I don¡¯t see anyone nearby who could have spoken. ¡°Her who? I¡¯ve spoken with a number of ¡®her¡¯s lately. You¡¯ll have to be more specific, whoever you are.¡±

    Then I spot a book laying on top of a large tree stump. ¡°Knowledge is power,¡± says a voice coming from the book.

    ¡°Oh, you must mean that her,¡± I say. ¡°The ghost who was rambling about evil books or something. You must be one of those.¡± I pause. ¡°And now I am talking to a book. Okay, in my defense, the book is talking back. Which is a great sign to throw it into a magic fire.¡± I go over to the book and pick it up.

    ¡°Revelations await!¡± the book tells me. A strange vision appears before me for a moment, as a memory of the last person who touched the book and was apparently devoured by a tentacle monster or something.

    ¡°Sure, whatever,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°Now where the hell was this shrine she mentioned¡­¡±

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t hurt to take a peek, could it?¡± the book says.

    I spot a Khajiit woman walking down the road and wave to her. ¡°Excuse me. Which way to the Temple of the Mourning Springs?¡±

    ¡°Surasha believes it is that way,¡± she says, pointing down the right fork. ¡°Why would you wish to go there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard there¡¯s some undead there that need to be hit,¡± I say.

    ¡°Ah. Surasha wishes you good luck with that.¡±

    I head off down the indicated road, the book continuing to attempt to entice me into opening it along the way. I refuse to dignify this inanimate object with responding to it any longer, though. It¡¯s very annoying. Along the way I shove it into a burning brazier in hopes of making it shut up, but the mundane fire does not harm it at all. Didn¡¯t think so, but one can hope. Am I going to have to keep carrying this obnoxious thing around until I run across the other two? Would burying them or throwing them into the ocean be sufficient? Eh, if they¡¯re this hard to destroy, they¡¯d probably be able to get people to dig or fish them up, anyway.

    On the road to the temple, I run across a young elf woman in mage robes. She¡¯s shorter than these Altmer, with big blue eyes, and her face has more of a pinkish complexion than a golden one. She must be a wood elf.

    ¡°A Dominion soldier?¡± she says. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m glad to see you. I hope you¡¯re here to help.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Eagle¡¯s Strand sent me to look into the situation,¡± I say. ¡°My name is Neralian.¡± I think that¡¯s close enough. Either way I¡¯m not going to keep correcting myself and making it look all the more obvious that I¡¯m not used to this name.

    ¡°I¡¯m Gathwen, apprentice to Rurelion. My master¡¯s life is in danger. If he¡¯s even still alive. The others fled when we were attacked by undead, but he never came out. I know the prospect sounds grim but we have to try to find him. He¡¯s a powerful mage and quite capable of defending himself, but he might be trapped, or unconscious. If there¡¯s any chance he might still be in there¡­¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± I say. ¡°And if not¡­ we still need to find a way to stop the undead, one way or another.¡±

    Gathwen nods with a grim sigh. ¡°I appreciate it. If you can hold off the undead, I can disrupt the wards on the temple and get us inside so we can search the place.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve got a soundproof pack laying around, do you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The secrets of the universe could be yours!¡± whispers the book.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± Gathwen says. ¡°I just have a regular pack, but it could be wrapped in a blanket if that would help.¡±

    ¡°Worth a shot,¡± I say.

    Gathwen leads me to her camp where she brings out the supplies. ¡°What is this book, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Evil book,¡± I say, wrapping it up and shoving it into the pack. ¡°I don¡¯t trust to put it down in case it convinces somebody more gullible than me to pick it up. Or just does something weird like teleport around on its own. I need to get it to a shrine to destroy it in some sort of sacred fire, but the undead here at this temple seemed like a more pressing issue.¡±

    ¡°Ah, good plan,¡± Gathwen says. ¡°I do hope you can help here.¡±

    While the camp is well-stocked with such supplies as clothing, food, and books, it does not appear to contain any weapons suitable for a warrior. It was a mage¡¯s camp, after all. Still, I take the opportunity to grab a small bite to eat before we head inside.

    Another Skyshard lays in an inconspicuous corner amid crumbled stone near the entrance to the temple. I might not have noticed it at all but for the column of shimmering blue light radiating from it. Does no one else notice that? More for me, then. I go up and touch it, and let its energy flow into me. Skyshards are way more addictive than skooma and I must have more.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Gathwen wonders, peering at me curiously. ¡°You¡­ was that a Skyshard? And you absorbed its energy somehow?¡±

    I affirm that, and she questions me as to how I did it, but I really don¡¯t know. All I do is touch them, after all. It¡¯s probably something to do with being a Vestige of a dead person whose soul resides in Oblivion, but I don¡¯t really care to explain that to her at the moment. There are more pressing matters to be dealt with. I push aside the questions and climb the stairs leading up to the temple.

    A skeleton blocks our path, rotting rags clinging to its bones and an unsettling dark aura surrounding it. It makes some blustering about how we should leave or die, and something about wearing people as outfits which is just downright creepy as it seems like his new favorite one is Gathwen¡¯s master whose name is just as hard to say as the one I¡¯ve been using. I knock off its skull with a swift punch and send its bones scattering with a kick to the pelvis, but the malignant black cloud merely slides back into the temple.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a good sign¡­¡± Gathwen says.

    ¡°I was tired of hearing what he had to say anyway,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can get in there and do something about this, shall we?¡±

    This is definitely not a problem I can solve with an axe, but I¡¯d very much like an axe anyway. Or a sword. Or a mace. A club would do in a pinch, too. A heavy tree branch would do a suitable job of breaking bones. In fact, I go and grab one from just outside the temple (and dub it Woody, much to the bemusement of the mage), and proceed to use it to acquire a sword (which I name Rusty) from one of the skeletons. Since the club does wind up seeming better at this than trying to stab skeletons, I put Rusty into my belt for the moment.

    With me providing an ample distraction, Gathwen disperses the wards and we get inside. And there¡¯s some sort of puzzle involving moons to which the advice of that priestess at the temple on the hill actually turns out to be utterly useless. Fortunately the solution is right on the wall anyway. It¡¯s a good thing that it only had a few lunar combinations and not every possible one. There¡¯s, what, like seventeen possible combinations of moon phases, aren¡¯t there? Something like that.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Gathwen has been talking about Rurelion in the meantime, telling me about how awesome it is in such a way that just makes it sound like she¡¯s got a serious crush on him. I make noncommittal grunting sounds in all the right places. Meanwhile, the stupid book continues to try to talk to me, albeit slightly more muffled.

    We reach a courtyard and spot a high elf whom Gathwen identifies as Rurelion standing atop the platform where they discovered the Mourning Stone. He¡¯s surrounded by that creepy black aura though, which is definitely not a good sign either. He starts blustering again about fashion and it¡¯s really getting tiresome at this point. If he weren¡¯t inside the body of Gathwen¡¯s crush I¡¯d be crushing this guy so hard about now.

    After we smash some more skeletons, Rurelion suddenly clutches his head and yells, ¡°No! I will not let you control me!¡± Then runs away from us down the stairs and into another door.

    Upon following him inside, we discover that the room he has entered is chock full of two of my favorite things: spike traps and giant bats. I don¡¯t know how long this temple has been here, but despite parts of it crumbling, all the traps seem to still be quite smoothly shooting spikes up and down.

    ¡°Woo!¡± I exclaim. ¡°I love traps!¡±

    Gathwen gives me a very odd look. ¡°Well, you can go play with them then and find some way to disable them so I can get across without being impaled.¡±

    ¡°Will do!¡± I skip down the stairs cheerfully.

    I put down Woody next to the stairs leading down and draw Rusty, a much better weapon to be dealing with giant bats. With a gleeful giggle, I dance among the spike traps, rolling and hopping, and stab any bats that come close in the meantime. Ah, this is what it means to be alive. When I come to the far side of the room, I witness Rurelion yelling at himself righteously, and the black thing leaves his body and retreats further into the temple. Apparently his name is Uldor. I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to his blustering the first time around. As he¡¯s coming to his senses, I take the opportunity to turn a control switch to deactivate the traps.

    ¡°Well, that was singularly unpleasant,¡± Rurelion says, rubbing his face. ¡°Had you not shown up, I would have been nothing more than winter finery for that creature.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask. ¡°Because it looked like you yelled him out of yourself by yourself.¡±

    ¡°You caught his attention, however, and it felt like he feared you for some reason,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°He would not be able to wear you as ¡®clothes¡¯ like he could me or any of these skeletons laying around here. I do not know why. He simply believed that to do so would destroy him.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that makes sense,¡± I say.

    ¡°You know why?¡±

    I nod. ¡°I think so, yeah. It¡¯s because I¡¯m a Vestige. Although¡­ I¡¯m not entirely clear on what that means, myself. Details probably not important right now.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Rurelion agrees. ¡°I know his plans. He means to raise up an army of undead to take over the entire island. He must be stopped.¡±

    ¡°How many undead can he control at once?¡± I ask, frowning.

    ¡°All of them.¡±

    ¡°Alllll of them?¡± I repeat. ¡°Well, that¡¯s bad. Do you have a plan?¡±

    In the midst of him talking about the two of us going in there and putting some smaller magic rocks back, Gathwen jogs up to us. She¡¯d probably spent a minute waiting to make sure the traps were actually disabled before running over them.

    ¡°Master, I can¡¯t let you do this!¡± Gathwen exclaims.

    ¡°Put magic rocks back?¡± I ask in puzzlement.

    ¡°He means to sacrifice himself to stop Uldor!¡± Gathwen says.

    ¡°If he¡¯s trapped within a living body¡ª¡± Rurelion begins.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say he can control an entire undead army at once?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well, yes, but we¡¯ll still seal him inside,¡± Rurelion says.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying letting yourself become possessed is just a distraction to buy us time to put the magic rocks back where they belong?¡± I ask. ¡°Okay, look. I have a better idea. If it doesn¡¯t work, then we can try your way. Either way, Gathwen needs to hurry back and get the bigger magic rock, right?¡±

    ¡°But the Dominion needs him!¡± Gathwen says, although it¡¯s clear it¡¯s not the Dominion that really needs him so much as she needs him. ¡°I could take his place!¡±

    ¡°Gathwen,¡± I interrupt her, pulling the evil book out of my pack.

    ¡°Surely these mages will appreciate the secrets I hold,¡± the book says.

    ¡°Please ignore the evil book,¡± I say. ¡°But perhaps the necromancer will find it tempting.¡±

    The two mages stare at me for a moment, before Gathwen says, ¡°I¡¯ll go get the Mourning Stone.¡±

    I head inside, with Rurelion trailing behind me, and approach the apparition in the center of the room. He starts denigrating me something about being dirty clothes, but stops when he sees what I¡¯m carrying.

    ¡°I¡¯ve brought a peace offering for you,¡± I say, and read the title on the cover. ¡°Masterwork of the Inducer.¡±

    ¡°Ah, what a lovely gesture,¡± Uldor says. ¡°Perhaps I will spare you when I conquer this island, since I cannot wear you, so long as you stay out of my way.¡±

    I place the book down before him and back away, trying not to look too hurried in backing away. Whatever that book is about to do, I don¡¯t want to get caught up in it just by proximity. As Uldor opens the book, a portal opens behind him from which writhing tentacles emerge. A credit to his strength, he doesn¡¯t immediately get pulled in like whoever it was in that memory I saw when I first picked up the book.

    It¡¯s still enough to keep him occupied while Rurelion and I run around the room sticking the magic rocks back onto their pedestals. By the time he has defeated the creature and turned his attention back to us, the waters have started flowing again. And I think in the meantime, Gathwen must have replaced the Mourning Stone.

    ¡°Curse you!¡± Uldor curses us. Hopefully not literally. ¡°I was so close!¡± He sighs and slumps down, energy rapidly draining out of him. ¡°So close¡­¡±

    ¡°Excellent! That worked better than I¡¯d hoped.¡± Rurelion says. He snaps the book shut telekinetically and floats it over to me. ¡°This had probably best stay with you for now until it can be destroyed. Some of the other mages¡ªnot to name any names¡ªmight not be able to resist the temptation of taking a peek.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± I wrap it back in the blanket and shove it back into my pack.

    With Uldor taken care of, we head back outside to the front courtyard. The large fountain in the center is spurting and bubbling quite happily and there¡¯s a distinct lack of skeletons trying to kill us, which is quite the improvement. Gathwen brought Ealcil with her when she returned, it would appear, and as soon as Rurelion sees him they start up a rousing argument. Ealcil is reckless and greedy, Rurelion is too cautious, and so forth.

    ¡°Ealcil,¡± I interrupt. ¡°Considering your actions almost got the island overrun by undead, maybe you should concede this one, just this once?¡±

    Ealcil grumbles and concedes nothing nor apologizes for anything, but at least he stops arguing quite so loudly, so I¡¯ll still count that as a win.

    Rurelion takes me aside and says to me quietly, ¡°You said some very interesting things back there. A Vestige, you say you are. Now that we are not immediately attempting to prevent a disaster, I would like to know more.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Alright. But seeing as I just saved your life, I want you to promise silence on the matter. I don¡¯t want this to get out, for a number of reasons that will become clear.¡± If I can trust anyone, it¡¯s the one who thought it was a bad idea to poke a magic rock and the one who now owes me his life.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°I promise, whatever you say will not go beyond me. I will even cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping to ensure it does not get out.¡± He does so.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going by the name Nerelion now¡ª¡± I pause. Was that the name? No, I don¡¯t think it was supposed to rhyme with Rurelion. ¡°Neralion. Can you use that name as often as possible so I can remember it? These high elf names are very pretty but¡­¡±

    ¡°You are not an Altmer?¡± Rurelion asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Nope. I¡¯m a Chimer.¡±

    ¡°A Chimer? How?¡±

    ¡°Apparently being trapped in Oblivion at the time prevented me from becoming cursed along with the rest of my people,¡± I say. ¡°My true name¡­ is Indoril Nerevar.¡±

    ¡°Nerevar?¡± Rurelion repeats. ¡°That Nerevar?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that Nerevar,¡± I say. I assume this fellow is much more likely to have read a book at some point. ¡°And if it gets out that I¡¯m alive, I¡¯m afraid that my former friends, who are playing at godhood over on the other side of Tamriel, might just murder me again. Obviously, I would prefer to avoid going back to Coldharbour just now.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°You were murdered¡­ while it would be fascinating to hear your perspective on the early First Era, the danger to you is quite understandable. They will not hear anything from me, Neralion.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to chat sometime, but I¡¯d appreciate your help in maintaining my cover story. I¡¯ve already had somebody wanting to arrest me on suspicion on peddling skooma just because nobody at the shipwreck knew who I am.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, I can see how that would be awkward,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°Rest assured, after your assistance with Uldor back there, I will be certain to vouch for you should anyone question your presence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful. Will you be alright after all of that?¡±

    ¡°I am certain that I will fully recover in due course,¡± Rurelion assures me with a hand wave. ¡°Do not concern yourself further for me.¡±

    At that point, Gathwen comes up and start gushing and fawning over Rurelion, and I excuse myself to leave the two of them to their unresolved sexual tension. Aside from that, the situation here is resolved, but there are still pirates and smugglers to deal with elsewhere on the island. I bid the mages farewell and head out with a spring in my step, steadfastly ignoring the mumbling of the evil book in my pack. Right, need to deal with that annoying thing, too.

 Chapter 6: In Which I Teach Anger Management

    Well, I found the Crosstree Bandits. Also I¡¯ve stolen their laundry. My stolen Dominion uniform is a mess after all the fighting I¡¯ve been doing, and the mage camp near the Temple of the Mourning Springs mostly has mage clothes and I don¡¯t feel like wearing robes at the moment if I can help it. Is there a spell to clean and mend laundry? If there is, I¡¯m betting the high elves probably know it and use it regularly.

    As I¡¯m munching on a stolen pie whilst leaning against a cart and pretending that I have every right to be there (they probably won¡¯t check too closely unless I draw attention to myself), I spot an interesting note talking about some young Khajiit they captured. Apparently their leader is named Hazak, too. I¡¯m betting if I want to put a stop to the smuggling of illicit substances temporarily, I ought to go hit him in the face repeatedly. That should disrupt their operations for at least a few days. I don¡¯t really care what they¡¯re doing with the skooma overly much myself, but it would look good to the Aldmeri Dominion and the residents of the island and I have a reputation I need to build here, and that Khajiit sounds like he needs to be rescued.

    ¡°Knowledge is power!¡± says a voice from ahead of me rather than from my pack. Oh, great, I found another one of these obnoxious things laying on the beach. When I grab it, this time I see a brief vision of a greedy Khajiit being killed by a Daedra. I wrap it up as well and shove it into my pack along with the other one.

    The note in the bandit camp mentioned a back entrance to a smuggling cave along the beach where boats could dock, presumably to send skooma off all around Nirn to make their profits. As I¡¯m walking along the beach looking for the place, a Khajiit woman runs up to me. She¡¯s wearing a sleeveless outfit that shows the spotted fur on her arms and oh gods Khajiit fur is so pretty. (I¡¯m not developing a fetish, dammit.)

    I was paying so much attention to her spots that I don¡¯t catch what she¡¯s saying to me. ¡°Come again?¡±

    ¡°Khari,¡± she says. ¡°Have you seen a young Khajiit by the name of Khari? Zulana has not seen him anywhere.¡±

    ¡°No, but I found a note saying a young Khajiit had been captured by bandits,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s him.¡±

    ¡°Zulana is certain that must be him!¡± she says, frowning deeply. ¡°Oh, my son. He swore to take the battle to those skooma smugglers after what happened with his father, but he would not listen when this one told him he didn¡¯t have to do this himself.¡±

    ¡°The young and stubborn,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Fear not, my fair lady. I shall retrieve your son from the clutches of these bandits. I do hope he¡¯s still alright. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a better idea on where the entrance to their hideout is? The note I read was a bit vague so I¡¯ve been searching the beach figuring I¡¯d come across it eventually.¡±

    ¡°Keep going and you will see the docks,¡± she says. ¡°Be cautious! You may be dressed like a bandit but you will not fool anyone who looks closely. You do not have the bearing of one. You walk with pride, like a bold elven warrior. You do not slink or skulk like you have something to hide.¡±

    ¡°Guess I need more skulking practice,¡± I say. ¡°Although I suppose I should be glad you looked at me and thought I was a Dominion soldier and not a Crosstree bandit.¡±

    I continue down the beach and spot a dock tucked away in the rocks where the water extends into a cavern mouth wide enough to sail a boat inside. And seeing as there are currently no small boats sitting around outside waiting for me to swipe them, it looks like there¡¯s no way to get inside from this end but to swim. I don¡¯t care to try to find another entrance, so I guess it¡¯s time to get wet.

    I¡¯d imagined myself stealthily swimming in and locating Khari, and slipping back out again before anyone notices me. I had greatly overestimated my ability to swim. I flop through the water like an epileptic horker, doubtless alerting absolutely every bandit in the cave that someone is trying to swim in through the boat entrance like an idiot. It¡¯s only a testament to the apparent fact that they aren¡¯t even paying attention that I get to the closest dock ramp without being shot at.

    Strangely, this is no mere cave. It looks more like a half-flooded large building, maybe another temple of some sort. There seem to be a lot of temples on this island, after all. The massive arched ceiling could have been a fucking cathedral at one point, and fortunately for these bandits, its sturdy construction has not collapsed on top of them and buried their smuggling operation in rubble even though there are tree roots breaking in through the roof from above.

    I draw Rusty and attempt my best skulk, trying to use some crates and barrels near the smuggling boats as cover. Having no illusions that I¡¯m actually going to fool anyone that I¡¯m supposed to be here, I determine I¡¯m just going to need to stab anyone who spots me. I proceed to be spotted plenty of times, so I fight my way through the bandits until I spot a Khajiit with spots like his mother tied up at the end of a walkway.

    ¡°Khari still refuses, bandit! He will not join Hazak no matter what you say to him!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re seriously the only one here who is convinced that I¡¯m actually a bandit?¡± I say. ¡°No, your mother sent me to look for you. Well, actually some random note I came across while stealing a pie from some bandits prompted me to look for you since you sounded like you were in trouble, but your mother also asked me. You can call me Neri.¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Oh, mother¡­¡± the Khajiit moans. ¡°Khari has learned his lesson. She told this one to be more patient, to watch and wait and slip in at the right moment, but Khari was foolish and charged in. He thought he could take them all himself, but alas, he could not.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky they haven¡¯t killed you,¡± I say, crouching down behind him to untie him.

    ¡°Oh, no, they wouldn¡¯t do that. Not without giving this one every opportunity to join them first. Pfah! As if Khari would!¡±

    ¡°Is Hazak here?¡± I ask.

    ¡°He¡¯s here,¡± Khari confirms. ¡°He¡¯s inside through that door, but it¡¯s locked. Hazak must die for his crimes!¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say. ¡°If you can slip out of here and get back to your mother, I¡¯ll go kill Hazak for you.¡±

    ¡°No! Khari must be the one who kills him! Khari swore vengeance upon him!¡±

    ¡°Oh, vengeance is it?¡± I say. ¡°Okay. Keep your cool and let¡¯s do this thing, then.¡±

    ¡°Khari is not ¡®cool¡¯.¡±

    I claim an axe from the bandits and name it Headache, and pass Rusty off to Khari since he doesn¡¯t have a weapon. We find a key amid the bandits¡¯ belongings and head in through a very fancy door depicting an embossed Khajiit wearing an impressive hat. This definitely had to be a temple at some point. Nobody puts doors that fancy on mess halls.

    A Khajiit is inside whom Khari identifies as Hazak by yelling something about vengeance and charging at him. Hazak, for his part, snarls something back that I don¡¯t catch.

    ¡°Khari, you can do it!¡± I encourage, standing at his side but pointedly not just killing the skooma lord myself. I could, but what would be the point of vengeance if you don¡¯t do it yourself?

    He¡¯s terrible at this. I¡¯m not sure he even knows how to use a sword properly in the first place. He¡¯s quickly disarmed and starts fighting tooth and claw, and not even managing to scratch Hazak. When Hazak looks like he¡¯s about to land a good hit on Khari, I deflect it and knock him aside, then pick up Rusty from the ground and return it to Khari.

    ¡°You can do better than that,¡± I say. ¡°I believe in you, Khari.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, you sound just like Mother.¡±

    ¡°Khari, adjust your grip,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re wielding a sword, not an axe. I¡¯m wielding the axe.¡±

    ¡°Do you really have the will to kill me, cub?¡± Hazak asks, parrying a clumsy blow from Khari.

    ¡°I will end you, you monster!¡± Khari growls.

    ¡°Khari, you¡¯re still trying to fight with anger, not precision,¡± I say. ¡°Anger¡¯s not a bad thing in and of itself, but you need focus.¡±

    Khari takes a deep breath and adjusts his stance. Less furiously random. More remembering to actually dodge and block instead of relying on me to stop him from being skewered. And perhaps more realizing just how much I¡¯m actually helping him here.

    Hazak spares a moment to look at me. He doesn¡¯t wonder what I¡¯m doing there. He doesn¡¯t beg for mercy. He seems resigned to his end, or maybe he even welcomes it. At least he didn¡¯t have to be killed by his own wife. At least he may have done something to deserve it. At least he¡¯s not being sacrificed to Molag Bal.

    ¡°Where do Khajiit go when they die?¡± I wonder absently.

    I don¡¯t receive an answer. Khari has put his blade through Hazak¡¯s throat. As he slumps to the floor, lifeblood draining out of him, Khari just stands there staring at him, his own shoulders slumping as well.

    ¡°Khari does not know what Mother will say about this,¡± Khari says quietly.

    ¡°You¡¯re not sure whether she will be proud of you, or disappointed in you?¡± I ask.

    Khari shakes his head. ¡°Thank you for your help. This one could not have done this without you. Let us be gone from here. Khari has had enough of this place.¡±

    ¡°Go on out, if you want,¡± I say. ¡°I want to look around here a bit first. Hazak may have been a cornerstone of this operation but removing him won¡¯t stop all the skooma peddling throughout Tamriel. He will have had contacts, and I want to know who they were.¡±

    On a nearby desk, I find a note addressed to ¡®H¡¯, probably Hazak, about some innocuous subject that¡¯s probably code, and signed ¡®R¡¯. I have met a number of people lately whose names start with R and it¡¯s very likely from none of them. I doubt Rurelion is involved in skooma smuggling. I mean, really, he¡¯s a mage. If mages wanted to smuggle things they could just open portals to do it. They wouldn¡¯t need to have ships sail into flooded cathedrals. I shove the note into my mostly-waterproof pack next to the whining books.

    Not seeing another way out of the bandit lair, or most likely failing to find a switch to open a secret passage, we wind up having to go swim out. I hadn¡¯t expected a cat to be better at swimming than me, which is downright embarrassing to be perfectly honest. I doggy-paddle my way back to the beach after him and find Zulana there waiting for us.

    ¡°Khari!¡± Zulana exclaims. ¡°You are safe! What happened in there?¡±

    I let Khari tell the story as I¡¯m trying to dry myself off with ill-advised fire magic, which doesn¡¯t work nearly as well as I¡¯d hoped for. Besides, I¡¯ll cheerfully let him spin it in a way that makes him look less bad. Which he does, and his mother is clearly not buying it as she then comes up to me and asks what really happened.

    ¡°Well, he did need a few pointers on how to use that blade but he acquitted himself well in the end,¡± I say. ¡°He had a bit of an anger management problem that I¡¯d advise working on.¡±

    ¡°So it is done, then. Zulana¡¯s husband is finally laid to rest.¡±

    ¡°Hazak was your husband?¡± I ask. ¡°Khari¡¯s father? He didn¡¯t mention that. Nor did you.¡±

    ¡°He was lost to Zulana, when he became obsessed with skooma,¡± Zulana says. ¡°But Zulana could not bring herself to harm him even as he harmed himself and everyone around him. She did not wish to look him in the eye as his life faded away.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for that,¡± I say. ¡°Wives shouldn¡¯t kill their husbands. Or the other way around, for that matter.¡± I pause and look away, off at the water. ¡°You deserved better than this.¡±

    ¡°Zulana is glad the matter has been finally settled, regardless. Khari! You have done your mother proud. Now we must complete your training. You have come a long way but you still have things to learn.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mother,¡± Khari says. ¡°I will follow your teachings and dance the two moons, and try not to let my anger get the best of me again.¡±

    I look over to Khari. ¡°You can keep the sword if you want.¡±

    Khari stares at the rusty old sword and just says, ¡°Uh¡­ thanks. I think¡­¡±

 Chapter 7: In Which I Exterminate Rats

    I¡¯ve stolen some more clean and dry clothes from the Crosstree Bandits along the way as well as making sure I didn¡¯t miss killing any.

    I arrive at another moon sugar plantation, this one apparently called Laughing Moons. It seems like they grow more moon sugar around here than anything else. Do they just import all the grains and fruits to put it on? I¡¯m sure I¡¯d still eventually get sick of sugar all the time either way.

    I approach one of the farmers who seems to be grumbling about problems. ¡°Hello!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Call me Neri. You have problems? Is it something I might be able to help with? Thunderbugs? Skeevers? Bandits? I¡¯m very good at hitting things.¡±

    ¡°Can you do rats?¡± she asks me. ¡°Juranda-ra is trying to get the farm ready for Thalmor inspection but rats have infested the fields ever since the storm blew in. We have some senche that are supposed to keep out vermin and discourage thieves but they have not been doing their job.¡±

    ¡°Rats, sure, why not,¡± I say.

    There may have been a point where I would have thought exterminating rats was a job that was beneath me. I don¡¯t remember. It was a long time ago, and I am not too proud to kill rats. These farmers will certainly be happy with me if I can help, and they might even pay me for it, too. Ah yes, the mighty Hortator, killing rats for coin.

    ¡°If the Thalmor get here and find out we have rats running around, they¡¯d confiscate our goods or even shut us down. We¡¯d be ruined! What if they decide to burn our farm to the ground like the one to the east?¡±

    ¡°Pretty sure the Thalmor weren¡¯t the ones who burned down Speckled Shell Plantation,¡± I say. ¡°If they were, they probably wouldn¡¯t have offered to pay me for finding out what happened there. It was most likely arson, alright, but I suspect the Crosstree Bandits were involved.¡±

    Why am I better at keeping my cover stories straight than remembering my own name? Right, it¡¯s all those R¡¯s and L¡¯s that¡¯s confusing. I miss my V. If I need to pick another fake name at some point I¡¯m totally going to put a V in it.

    ¡°The Crosstree Bandits?¡± Juranda-ra says. ¡°Oh, those skooma smugglers are a scourge upon this island.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll probably be slightly less of a scourge for a while,¡± I say. ¡°They just lost a number of their members and their leader. At least, I think Hazak was their leader. He sounded pretty important. Not very important now that he took a sword to his throat, though.¡±

    ¡°That is the first good news Juranda-ra has heard since the storm. Neri, if you would be good enough to check in on our senche and find our what¡¯s wrong, Juranda-ra would be grateful.¡±

    Juranda-ra directs me to one of the buildings where the senche are kept, whatever a senche is. I head over there to take a look aaaaand apparently senche are tigers. Very large cats walking on four legs rather than two, and with rather large fangs to match. Fortunately they also seem to be either very friendly or very lazy as they barely glance up at me when I enter the building.

    ¡°Do not worry, walker,¡± says a Khajiit inside the building. ¡°These stupid, lazy senche are too stupid and lazy to hurt you right now even if they weren¡¯t well-trained. Cinder-Tail is not amused.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± I ask.

    ¡°This one told them not to eat the rats, but did they listen? Noooo¡­¡±

    ¡°I thought eating the rats was the whole point,¡± I say.

    ¡°The rats have been eating moon sugar,¡± Cinder-Tail says. ¡°And if the rats have been eating moon sugar when the senche eat them, then the senche are also eating moon sugar. And moon sugar makes you sleepy if you eat too much of it, yes? And now these useless rugs want to do nothing but sleep. Especially Gobani here. Yes, you heard me, Gobani.¡±

    One of the senche flicks an ear but otherwise doesn¡¯t react.

    ¡°This would strike me as a real problem when trying to defend a moon sugar farm from vermin,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d suggest firing them or docking their pay and hiring some better guards and ratcatchers.¡±

    ¡°Hah! This one just might. Did you hear that, Afeh? Good luck finding a new job if you¡¯re just going to lay down and roll over.¡±

    Another senche buries his face in his paws.

    ¡°I could kill the rats for you in the meantime,¡± I say.

    ¡°You would not be able to fit that very large axe of yours inside their nests,¡± Cinder-Tail points out.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯d just need to get creative, then,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s see. Can¡¯t use poison since that might harm the crops. Unless you were really careful in selecting what substance to use, but no, that¡¯s no good. Maybe I could burn them out? No, I¡¯m not actually that good with fire magic and I don¡¯t want to actually burn the farm down even if I could. Hmm¡­¡±

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    ¡°What about thunderbugs?¡±

    ¡°They might be a bit big to fit down in the nests too but they could probably shock them even from the entrance,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t fancy grabbing one and carrying it around, though. Not without a spell or item to protect me from being shocked myself. If I get shocked too many times I start twitching and people tend to think I¡¯ve been doing skooma unless they¡¯ve been standing there watching me punch thunderbugs in the face like an idiot. Or what passes for a face for them at least.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, no no,¡± Cinder-Tail says. ¡°Carrying around a thunderbug would not do at all. But perhaps you could collect some of their eggs. Their tasty, tasty eggs. They will defend their nests but so long as you are carrying their eggs they will not attempt to harm you for fear of damaging them.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t they try to get them back?¡± I ask. ¡°Are thunderbugs immune to their own electricity? Are their eggs?¡±

    ¡°Cinder-Tail has stolen their eggs before and can assure you that they will probably not go out of their way to attack you unless you get close to them.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ just like normal, then,¡± I say. ¡°Are their eggs electric?¡±

    ¡°If you throw one of them into a rat nest they would doubtless go into a frenzy and shock all the rats.¡±

    ¡°Okay, sure, I¡¯ll defer to the expert in pissing off thunderbugs,¡± I say.

    ¡°Be sure to bring back extra!¡± Cinder-Tail adds. ¡°We can have a nice dinner with them later.¡±

    I agree to the plan and grab an empty basket from a nearby building, then go in search of thunderbug nests. It takes a bit to find one, and wind up having to kill a couple of thunderbugs just to get close enough to grab any of their eggs, but I manage to fill the basket right up with the glittery blue spheres. Now to see if this wild plan actually works. A couple thunderbugs trail after me but don¡¯t attack as I trot back into the farm.

    Once I¡¯ve located one of the rat nests, I pull out one of the thunderbug eggs and lob it inside from a safe distance. Sure enough, a thunderbug runs up and proceeds to electrocute every rat nearby, scattering them and digging them out of the ground just to make sure they¡¯re all dead. I can¡¯t believe that actually worked. I¡¯m going to need to remember that trick, in case I ever need to exterminate rats in an area with readily available thunderbugs. (I probably won¡¯t.)

    As I¡¯m walking by working on tracking rats back to their nests, I notice a couple of high elves have arrived at the farm and are standing around looking imperious while Juranda-ra stalls them. Are those the Thalmor? I don¡¯t know people¡¯s uniforms well enough yet to recognize them on sight. It probably is, since she¡¯s assuring them that they¡¯ve called in a specialist to deal with the vermin. I¡¯m a specialist now, apparently? That implies that I¡¯m specializing in something, and not just solving literally every problem I stumble across while wandering around. Maybe that¡¯s a specialist in problem solving.

    I make another pass to ensure that I¡¯ve gotten all the rats before returning to Juranda-ra carrying the basket of remaining eggs. I¡¯d grabbed quite a lot of eggs.

    ¡°Neri, have you gotten all the rats?¡± Juranda-ra asks me.

    ¡°I think so,¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anymore of them scurrying about at any rate. If any of them survived, they¡¯d probably decided there are better places to be at the moment.¡±

    ¡°A creative use of the resources at hand,¡± the Thalmor inspector says. ¡°I will make a note of it. What did you say your name was again? Neri?¡± He doesn¡¯t even bother to give his own, so I don¡¯t feel like giving him anything else.

    ¡°Will you be staying here long, Inspector?¡± Juranda-ra asks. ¡°Shall we prepare you a place for dinner?¡±

    ¡°Ah, no, but thank you for the offer,¡± the inspector says.

    ¡°You sure?¡± I ask. ¡°There will be thunderbug omelettes!¡± I hold aloft the nearly-full basket.

    The inspector makes a horrified face that he quickly attempts to smooth into something a little more diplomatic. ¡°I¡¯m, ah, afraid that I will need to pass on that. Spicy food gives me indigestion.¡±

    ¡°Too bad,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m eager to try them! It¡¯s so exciting going new places and eating new things.¡±

    ¡°As you say,¡± the inspector says graciously.

    I pass the basket of thunderbug eggs along to Cinder-Tail before taking the inspector aside. ¡°Excuse me, inspector¡­¡±

    ¡°Tarma,¡± he says.

    ¡°Inspector Tarma,¡± I go on. ¡°I have a small question for you. Do you happen to know where I can learn a spell to¡­ launder clothing? This island is making a veritable mess of my attire and it¡¯s getting downright embarrassing.¡±

    ¡°You might try a Mages Guild in a city like Vulkhel Guard next time you find yourself in a more civilized part of the world,¡± Inspector Tarma says, leading me further away from the plantation and lowering his voice. ¡°Clan Mother Juranda-ra called you Neri. Your name wouldn¡¯t happen to be Neralion by chance, would it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir, that¡¯s me,¡± I say.

    ¡°Officer Lorin informed me that you were at Speckled Shell Plantation, claiming to be an agent of the Queen,¡± Tarma says quietly. ¡°And now you are here exterminating rats? I cannot imagine that Queen Ayrenn instructed you to deal with vermin.¡±

    So the Queen is apparently named Ayrenn. Good to know!

    I glance about quickly to make sure we¡¯re unlikely to be overheard, and give him a cheeky grin. ¡°Not in such specifics, no. But think about it. You come in here in uniform and they¡¯re distrustful of you, right? But I came in here and helped them, so they¡¯ll trust me now. They won¡¯t be quite as on their guard about me. And coming back to eat dinner with them will give me a chance to get a closer look inside without arousing anyone¡¯s suspicion.¡±

    Tarma stares at me for a long moment. ¡°I can see why you are the spy here, then. Very well. Carry on. I will be very interested to hear if you find out anything of note.¡±

    Hah! I have not yet surrendered my throne as ruling king of guar shit! It¡¯s good to know I¡¯ve still got it. I never really needed the minor speechcraft enchantment on that ring I used to have, wherever it is now, even if it was a nice bonus.

    Yeah, somebody¡¯s totally gonna call me on my shit sooner or later. Fortunately I now know of a hidden base with some boats that nobody is using at the moment. And I probably don¡¯t remember how to sail, if I ever knew. And I don¡¯t know which direction the mainland is. I need a better plan. Hopefully Rurelion and Razum-dar can bail me out. But I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t have contingencies.

    ¡°Cinder-Tail!¡± I exclaim. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be willing to teach me how to make your famous thunderbug omelettes?¡±

 Chapter 8: In Which I Peddle Glow Juice

    Even knowing that there had been a massive storm, I¡¯m still impressed at how far up from the water some of these ships wound up. One broken ship wound up grounded almost as far as the road. Unsurprisingly, there¡¯s also salvagers picking through the wreckage. Salvagers currently taking a break after having found a keg of brandy, at any rate. One of them has a lute and fancies himself a bard. He needs a lot more practice.

    ¡°Are you here to salvage, walker?¡± asks a Khajiit woman.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°Eagle¡¯s Strand sent me to search for survivors.¡±

    ¡°Khalama thinks you do not have the look of a Dominion soldier about you.¡±

    ¡°Just a freelance adventurer,¡± I say. ¡°Name¡¯s Neri. Have you seen any sign of anyone?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a wood elf sergeant by the name of Firion resting over by that rock over there.¡± Khalama points. ¡°She wanted help finding her squad but the beach was swarming with alits and Khalama is no fighter.¡±

    ¡°Did you happen to hear any talking books, for that matter?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Ugh, yes,¡± Khalama says. ¡°It was annoying and seemed suspicious so this one threw it into the water. Khalama¡¯s father always told her, don¡¯t trust anything that talks if you don¡¯t know where it keeps its tongue.¡±

    ¡°Sound advice,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll go find it and fish it out so I can throw it in a magic fire to destroy it along with the other two I found before anyone else fishes it out who might be more gullible than you or me.¡±

    I pick may way through the debris on the beach until I can hear the harsh whispers talking about dark secrets and powerful knowledge or something like that. The tide has come out in the meantime, it seems, and it¡¯s only half-buried in wet sand now. I dig it out and use a shitty fire spell to dry it off, confident in the fact that even if it somehow hurt the thing, I was intending on destroying it anyway. Into the pack with the others! I quickly close the pack again to muffle the chorus of complaints from the annoying evil books.

    I locate a uniformed wood elf not far from the salvager camp. Just far enough away to dampen the sound of the poorly-played lute. She¡¯s clutching an arm but doesn¡¯t otherwise appear to be badly hurt.

    ¡°Are you Sergeant Firion?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m Nerelion. The commander at Eagle¡¯s Strand sent me.¡± Whatever her name was.

    ¡°Good to see a friendly face and not one that¡¯s trying to eat me or kill me with bad music,¡± Firion says. ¡°Did you see anyone else down on the beach?¡±

    ¡°No, but I only went far enough to retrieve an evil book so nobody else picks it up before I can destroy it,¡± I say. ¡°Has nobody else come up from Eagle¡¯s Strand?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the first one I¡¯ve seen.¡±

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I¡¯ve lost track of time,¡± Firion says.

    ¡°Yeah, me too. But I really could have sworn it has been at least a week since the hurricane¡­¡±

    Admittedly some of that was because of skooma. Have I even slept? Does passing out from skooma overdose count as sleep? Is it still the same day? Coldharbour didn¡¯t have a day and night cycle and I feel like I haven¡¯t even been paying attention to the sky at all, but is this island really so tiny that I can walk back and forth across it several times in one day? I think I¡¯m still a bit disoriented from being on Nirn again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know anymore,¡± Firion mumbles. ¡°They might be hurt. They might be unconscious. They might have been captured by pirates.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go see if I can find anyone, or their remains,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re clearly in no condition to go searching the beach or you would have done so yourself by now. You can just stay here where it¡¯s safe. Wannabe bard or otherwise. He might be more dangerous than the alits.¡±

    ¡°Listen, we were carrying healing supplies in our hold,¡± Firion says. ¡°The bottles have been scattered all over the shore and some of them are still intact. I spotted the glow from a few of them from here but couldn¡¯t get close enough to grab any.¡±

    ¡°Glow?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We call it glow juice,¡± Firion says. ¡°The label will say ¡®Torchbug Treacle¡¯. It¡¯s a Bosmer remedy. Very effective. It¡¯ll fix us right up, if you can slip in and retrieve any.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming that this stuff is actually made from torchbugs,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll go collect some. I¡¯m sure it would work better than my own healing spells, which might be very useful if you¡¯ve got a papercut or a mild headache.¡±

    I make for the beach and search for glowing bottles. Of course, I¡¯m immediately set upon by alits, and have to put my latest battle axe, Headache, to good use. It¡¯s definitely not the mild sort of headache I might actually be able to cure.

    Alits are a kind of reptile, but they¡¯re basically just one huge fanged mouth on two legs. They¡¯re also extremely stupid. They think they¡¯re at the top of their food chain and that it¡¯s appropriate to attack anything nearby that¡¯s made of meat. This might not be unreasonable if there weren¡¯t things that are bigger and meaner than an alit even if you don¡¯t take into account the various intelligent races that have hands and can use weapons or magic.

    A bright green bottle half-buried in sand catches my attention. I dig it out and bring it up to Firion. She makes a face as I hand it to her, but drinks it down. The effect is immediate, and she climbs to her feet and stretches.

    ¡°Not everyone¡¯s favorite cocktail, but it gets the job done, alright,¡± Firion says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can find anymore,¡± I say. ¡°Who are these marines of yours that I¡¯m looking for?¡±

    Firion gives me some names.

    ¡°Sergeant, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve got names floating above their heads, and I haven¡¯t seen any names sewn into your uniforms.¡±

    ¡°They might answer if you call out their names,¡± Firion says.

    ¡°And if they¡¯re unconscious or dying?¡±

    ¡°Well, just assume anyone that isn¡¯t an alit or a Maormer is probably friendly,¡± Firion says. ¡°Unless they look like a bandit and are attacking you.¡±

    ¡°What do these Maormer look like, anyway?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°The sea elves are kind of¡­ bluish,¡± Firion says. ¡°With funny shaped ears. They¡¯ve got weird eyes too but I don¡¯t recommend getting close enough to see what their eyes look like if you can help it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, weird-eyed blue elves might be unfriendly, got it. If any of them bother me, I have an axe and I¡¯m very good at hitting things.¡±

    I return to the beach and start collecting more glow juice, winding up tossing the extra bottles into my pack on top of the evil books and having to listen to them mumble about the forbidden secrets of the universe every time. Where in Oblivion is that shrine, anyway?

    The beach is littered with more broken ships. So many of them that I feel like they must have been sailing entirely too close together in the first place. They lost an entire fleet out here, which just raises the question of why anyone was bothering to send an entire fleet to this island in the first place. There¡¯s no way this many ships were necessary just to stop a few smugglers. I might be an old warrior who sees war in everything, but this fleet was definitely bound for war. And this has to be a war that the Aldmeri Dominion will be hurting to have lost so many ships in.

    Khenarthi¡¯s Roost may have just been a staging ground for an invasion, but an invasion of where? I realize I don¡¯t know nearly as much about the political situation of Tamriel in this era as I need to.

    I check each body as I go by for pulse and breath, but there are a lot more dead than living here. Where do wood elves go when they die, anyway? I¡¯ll bet none of these souls here are bound for Coldharbour, at any rate, so good on them. In Coldharbour, the Soul Shriven die again and again at the lash of the Daedra, only to be reborn in the waters of Oblivion. Among the corpses on the beach, I find a handful still alive, and feed them bottles of glow juice.

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    ¡°Oh, this stuff tastes like rancid spleen, but I¡¯m feeling better already,¡± says one of them.

    ¡°Have you eaten a lot of rancid spleens?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Only once, and that was one time too many. Bosmer delicacy my ass.¡±

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m all about sampling exotic cuisine, but I think I¡¯ll draw the line at anything that¡¯s actively rotting,¡± I say.

    ¡°Sage advice.¡±

    ¡°Even if they put sage on it,¡± I add.

    One of the marines I locate tells me that an officer had gone to look for shelter in a nearby cave and they¡¯d been waiting for him to return, but that had been a while back and they really ought to be moving by now, particularly since I¡¯d brought them glow juice. Which was scattered all over the beach and they could have gotten themselves, at least the ones who were still even slightly able to walk. Honestly, at this point I¡¯m not sure I have a glowing assessment of the Dominion¡¯s military.

    I search the hills by the beach to try to find the cave mentioned. When I see the stacked skulls and ominous candles, I know I¡¯ve either found the right place or the very, very wrong place. Or both, really. Scowling, I head inside. Skeletons tied to posts, more candles, giant snakes, because of course there has to be giant snakes on top of everything else, why wouldn¡¯t there be giant snakes?

    One body here is fresher than the rest, tied up against a post and wearing a bloodstained uniform. A Dominion marine. And it looks like he¡¯s been ritually murdered. I know ritual murder when I see it. You know, even without all the ominous candles and piles of skulls and why do the sorts of people who do ritual murder feel the need to pile skulls everywhere, anyway? I guess they just get to a point where they might as well do their best to look as evil as possible just in case someone wasn¡¯t paying attention?

    And there are really better ways to light your murder cave than five hundred dim, flickering candles, which are still lit for some reason. Wait, why are they still lit? I carefully look about the cave just to make sure nobody is sneaking up on me and that I¡¯m not about to be the next one to be ritually murdered, because once is enough for one existence, but there¡¯s nobody here but me and the giant snakes, and I¡¯ve already killed the giant snakes. Okay, maybe they¡¯re just using magical ominous candles that stay lit without consuming the candle so they don¡¯t need to have to constantly replace five hundred stupid candles every time they do ritual murder. I put my hand over one of them to see if it¡¯s even hot and fail to get burned. Yep, magic candles.

    I seriously question the competence of the Dominion military in that on a beach strewn with healing potions, the only one of them who managed to save himself didn¡¯t bother to heal anyone else and just went to take shelter in a cave instead. And really, the pile of skulls near the entrance should have been the first clue that this wasn¡¯t a safe shelter. Am I really going to have to take charge here just to make sure something gets done properly?

    After emerging from the cave, I come across Sergeant Firion and the others that I¡¯d peddled glow juice to, looking much better than they were when I first encountered them.

    ¡°Did you find Lieutenant Gelin?¡± asks Sergeant Firion.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who that was,¡± I say. ¡°That might have been him in that cave back there, but it didn¡¯t say his name on his uniform and he was no longer in any condition to speak. Or do anything else, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead, then?¡± Firion asks, leaning past me to peer into the cave.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t go in there,¡± I say. ¡°I mean, you can if you want, I¡¯ve killed all the giant snakes and I don¡¯t think there was anything else dangerous in there, but you probably won¡¯t find the sight to be particularly pleasant.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen plenty of dead mer before,¡± Firion says grimly.

    I shake my head. ¡°He¡¯s not just dead. He¡¯s not even just murdered. He was killed in some sort of ritual. For what purpose, I couldn¡¯t tell you, but considering the amount of skulls and candles in there, I can¡¯t imagine it was anything good. I mean, usually people don¡¯t conduct ritual sacrifices for good purposes, but at least there weren¡¯t any eldritch glowing runes or anything, so I guess it could be worse. The really bad rituals tend to have copious amounts of Daedric runes all over the place. This was probably still bad, though.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Firion mutters. ¡°Ritual sacrifices are way above my pay grade. We¡¯ll pull him out of there and give him a proper burial at least. He deserves better than to be left to rot in there. Listen, one of my squad noticed a beached ship nearby that looked more intact than the others, and there were people moving about on deck. Could you run ahead and warn them that there¡¯s some sort of murderous cultists running around?¡±

    ¡°Will do,¡± I say.

    I head off in the direction I¡¯m given and locate the ship in question. The people on board definitely have tails and are not elves of any sort. I approach one of them who is standing on the beach with a clipboard on hand, a tall blond male with spotted fur.

    ¡°What is your business with the Prowler?¡± he asks me.

    ¡°I came to warn you that there¡¯s crazy cultists running around ritually murdering people,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯d best be careful and not let anyone wander off by themselves.¡±

    ¡°Jone and Jode, that¡¯s just what we need on top of everything else,¡± the Khajiit groans. ¡°Like we don¡¯t already have our hands full making repairs and getting the Prowler ready to set sail again.¡±

    ¡°I found a squad of Dominion marines who might be able to help with that,¡± I say. ¡°Hopefully they¡¯re better at using a hammer than they are at sailing.¡±

    The Khajiit snickers. ¡°Captain Jimila is a far more fortunate one to be sailing with. It seems only the Prowler made it through that hurricane still seaworthy.¡±

    ¡°Are you Captain Jimila?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m Quartermaster Oblan. Unlike some Khajiit, I prefer to actually say ¡®I¡¯ rather than my name.¡±

    ¡°Good to know!¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m Neralian. Are you with the Dominion military?¡±

    Oblan barks a laugh. ¡°Hah! Does this look like a uniform to you? No, we¡¯re privateers! The Dominion pays us to raid enemy shipping. And so long as they¡¯re paying us, then we are loyal to the Dominion.¡±

    Sergeant Firion and her squad catch up to me, and seem less than thrilled when they find out that these are privateers and not proper military. Beggars can¡¯t be choosers, however, and these marines are eager to prove themselves. Oblan tells me what needs to be done to repair and restock the ship. I tell Firion. Firion sends her marines off to do their tasks. Maybe I should just steal an officer¡¯s uniform and be done with it if people are going to need me to give them orders to get anything done. Probably not worth the trouble.

    However, the appearance of these privateers has raised my spirits in another way: They¡¯re a way off this island that won¡¯t care who I am. And they¡¯ll be grateful enough to me for helping them that they¡¯re not going to ask too many questions, most likely.

    Captain Jimila is a pretty, lithe Khajiit woman, and after making introductions, she informs me that a few members of her own crew are missing. Not just washed overboard and drowned when the hurricane struck, but probably kidnapped by those Sea Viper pirates. Apparently the Maormer have a thing for weather magic and are brewing up another storm. I can see it building from the prow of the Prowler.

    ¡°Thaaaat¡¯s not good,¡± I say. ¡°This is what they¡¯re using those ritual sacrifices for?¡±

    ¡°So it would appear,¡± Jimila says. ¡°If they cannot be stopped, then it won¡¯t matter that we¡¯ve repaired the Prowler. That storm will destroy us where we stand.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go over there and see if I can find the right person to hit to get them to knock it off, and rescue your crew members if they¡¯re still alive.¡±

    ¡°You plan on taking on the entire crew of pirates by yourself?¡± Jimila wonders.

    ¡°I¡¯m very good at hitting things,¡± I say. ¡°Those marines are still on the mend thanks to that glow juice, and your crew aren¡¯t up to that kind of battle or you¡¯d have sent them already. It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m kind of a one-mer army.¡± I pull out Headache. ¡°And their mages are probably busy doing weather magic and won¡¯t join in the battle until they have no choice and the rest of them are already dead.¡±

    Jimila wishes me luck, and I make for the very obvious storm brewing over another beached ship. There¡¯s scattered elves hanging out amidst the shoals, and I get my first look at the Maormer. They¡¯re definitely odd-looking mer, but I can hardly judge their appearance, I suppose. I¡¯m just going to be judgy about the fact that they¡¯re conjuring storms and killing people for no good reason. Why would they even do that? I can¡¯t imagine how this actually benefits them in any way.

    Along the way, I spot the glow of another Skyshard nestled in the rocks of a small island and rush over to absorb it, half-ignoring the fact that I¡¯m still being attacked by pissy sea elves as I do so.

    As I run up into the storm, between the rain and wading through ankle to waist deep water half of the way here, I¡¯m completely soaked. I climb up onto the grounded Dominion flagship and find the two captured crew members bound in lightning to a couple of snake-shaped statues. The lightning won¡¯t let me get close, but I spot a weird glowing rock on the wrist of one of the sea elves I¡¯d killed, which lets me release them. Once the second one is set free, the winds instantly die down and the rain stops falling. That was awfully dramatic.

    ¡°Can you two walk?¡± I ask the Khajiit and Nord that I¡¯ve just rescued.

    ¡°Suhr can walk,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Suhr will claw out the eyes of any Sea Vipers who come close!¡±

    The Nord expresses similar sentiment, minus the fact that he does not have claws, and I lead the two of them back to the Prowler. We¡¯re not bothered on the way back, however. It seems that the Maormer have decided discretion is the better part of valor and they¡¯ve already lost this one, and the ones I haven¡¯t already killed have quickly withdrawn from the area.

    As we get back to the ship, I realize that they hadn¡¯t withdrawn. They¡¯d gathered up to stage a hasty attack upon the Prowler. I don¡¯t know what they were hoping to accomplish, but we get back only at the end of the skirmish. Despite their earlier injuries, the marines held their own and fended off the attack. That glow juice must really be something!

    ¡°You have my gratitude for your assistance,¡± Captain Jimila says. ¡°Without you and your marine friends, we would have been sitting ducks here. You will always be welcome on the Prowler, friend.¡±

    ¡°Even if I¡¯m¡­ not actually a Dominion soldier?¡± I ask, lowering my voice.

    Jimila chuckles. ¡°You have done right by my crew, Neri. What does it matter who you are or who you work for?¡±

    ¡°It would be very nice to know I have a way off of this island if they try to arrest me again,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not a skooma smuggler or whatever, mind you. It was all a misunderstanding.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I know the value of discretion. My crew and I owe you our lives and our livelihood. If you need to disappear and change your name, we can help.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    They plan to sail with the tide, and hope to meet up with me in Mistral later. That gives me plenty of time to find that shrine to destroy these stupid books, but first, time enough to scour the beach again and grab every bottle of glow juice I can carry. I wonder what I can sell this stuff for?

 Chapter 9: In Which I Engage in Censorship

    The books in my pack have become so obnoxious with their incessant mumbling that it¡¯s with no small relief that I find that old shrine I¡¯d been looking for, not that it¡¯s really much of a shrine any longer. Just a brazier (unlit) in the midst of some rubble. I wouldn¡¯t have even known that I¡¯d found the right place, considering how many various temples, shrines, and ruins of temples and shrines are scattered about Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, if it weren¡¯t for the sudden intensification in grumbling from the books in my pack. Instead of attempting to entice me into opening them, now they¡¯re attempting to entice me into avoiding this place. Naturally, I¡¯m not going to listen to them this time either.

    There¡¯s a Khajiit woman here calling herself Sahira-daro, claiming to be a ¡®simple Khajiit¡¯ and probably as much full of shit about that description as Razum-dar is. She tells me that this was a shrine to Hermaeus Mora, Daedric Prince of Secrets, and that staring into the ever-burning flame would show the locations of lost tomes of knowledge. This ever-burning flame does not appear to be particularly ever-burning at the moment, however.

    Although I¡¯m half tempted to just hand these books to this unwise knowledge seeker just so she can see what¡¯s coming to her, I¡¯m not feeling that cruel at the moment. Besides, then I¡¯d have to pick up the books from her corpse and have to destroy them anyway, so what¡¯s the point? Her soul is going to wind up in Hermaeus Mora¡¯s realm of Apocrypha sooner or later, if she¡¯s already committed herself to his worship. The books are whispering to me again, trying to encourage me to give them to Sahira-daro.

    ¡°That one is clearly a worthy knowledge seeker,¡± the books whisper. ¡°What harm could there be in allowing her to read us?¡±

    ¡°How about not?¡± I mutter.

    That¡¯s when the ghost reappears. ¡°You must cast the books into the ever-burning flame to destroy them! Quickly, before you are ensnared!¡±

    ¡°Right, about that ever-burning flame¡­¡± I point toward the cold, dark brazier. ¡°I said I¡¯d throw these books into a magic fire, but there is no magic fire here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not possible!¡± the ghost says.

    ¡°I¡¯ve generally found that, contrary to what people might protest sometimes, most things are actually possible,¡± I say. ¡°Generally if something ¡®impossible¡¯ is happening, that¡¯s just weird, but obviously must be possible since it¡¯s happening.¡±

    ¡°I can relight the fire but you must burn the books!¡±

    ¡°No, you must give me the books!¡± Sahira-daro insists. ¡°I can preserve them safely. I know how to handle sacred tomes of knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Nothing good comes of dealing with Daedra,¡± I say. ¡°Even the ones who are supposedly ¡®good¡¯. Even the so-called ¡®Good Daedra¡¯ will turn their backs on you and abandon you in your time of need.¡±

    The ghost lights the fire for me, and Sahira-daro goes quiet as I approach the brazier and pull the books out of my pack. It¡¯s at that point that I hesitate, books in hand, staring at the eerie blue flame.

    ¡°You don¡¯t really want to destroy us, master, do you?¡± the top book asks me.

    ¡°We could teach you such wonderful things!¡± says the second one.

    ¡°Or you will burn instead of us¡­¡± says the third.

    My skin tingles and I quickly develop a headache that builds to battle axe intensity as I try to move my hands toward the brazier. I find my hands gripping the books tightly and my fingers will not obey my commands to let go.

    ¡°Dear books,¡± I grit out through clenched teeth. ¡°I spent millennia being tortured by Daedra in Coldharbour. Do you really think a little pain is going to discourage me anymore than your words will?¡±

    With great force of will, I press through the pain and shove the books into the flame. The books are burning, my hands are burning, but I refuse to back down. Stars spin in my vision and I black out.

    ¡­

    I wake to find myself laying on a pallet inside a wooden building. There¡¯s still pain, but now it¡¯s only in my blistered hands and not in my head. The Daedra-worshipping Khajiit is still with me.

    ¡°This one brought you to nearby Windcatcher Plantation after you passed out,¡± she says. ¡°Sahira-daro wishes you had not done that, but she bears you no grudge for it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur. ¡°Did you bring my pack? There are healing potions in it. The glowing green bottles.¡±

    ¡°Ah! So that¡¯s what those are.¡± She opens up the pack and pulls out one to examine it. ¡°Torchbug Treacle, hmm. Usually the healing potions this one has seen are red.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    She pulls the stopper and holds it to my lips. If anything, the taste is even worse than the Dominion marines complained of, but I hold it down and try not to gag on it, especially since I¡¯m not the one controlling the flow. As it goes down, the pain in my hands begins to subside and the blisters slowly fade.

    ¡°You have my gratitude, Sahira-daro,¡± I say. ¡°I would be happy to bring you non-evil books if you¡¯d like, but be assured that you are better off without those particular tomes of forbidden knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Did you read them?¡± Sahira-daro asks. ¡°Did you look inside? Do you know what sort of secrets they might have held?¡±

    ¡°I tricked a necromancer into opening one of them,¡± I say. ¡°One of those tentacled Daedra¡ªa Watcher?¡ªcame out of a portal and attacked him. You would have been killed.¡±

    Sahira-daro frowns. ¡°Then if that is true, if that was not only a trap for the unworthy, perhaps Sahira-daro owes you her life.¡±

    ¡°Those books kept talking to me the entire time I was traveling the island,¡± I say. ¡°They were incredibly annoying. Real tomes of knowledge don¡¯t need to try to coerce you into opening them.¡±

    ¡°What was that you said?¡± Sahira-daro asks. ¡°About Daedra? You were in Coldharbour?¡±

    I nod. ¡°I¡¯ll trust that you won¡¯t say anything about it, as I won¡¯t say anything about you being a Daedra worshipper. Once, long ago, I was a worshipper of Azura. But my friends betrayed me. My wife betrayed me. They sacrificed me to Molag Bal. I found a way to escape, eventually. Pure chance, most likely, no matter what people might spout about ¡®destiny¡¯. I stopped believing in destiny after Azura abandoned me.¡±

    ¡°Who do you worship now?¡± Sahira-daro asks.

    I shrug. ¡°Nobody, I guess. I haven¡¯t really thought about it overly much. I¡¯m still just kind of trying to adjust to being alive and on Nirn again. To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea what¡¯s going on in the world these days and I¡¯m just faking it and making things up as I go along.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps a little knowledge would not be a bad thing, then,¡± Sahira-daro says cheekily. ¡°Did you stop to read any books along the way that weren¡¯t trying to entice you with forbidden whispers?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t really had the time,¡± I say. ¡°First there were the undead that were about to overrun the island, then there were the Maormer trying to conjure storms to destroy the island, then there were the thunderbug omelettes that were far more delicious than they had any right to be¡­¡±

    Sahira¡¯s whiskers twitch in a grin at my priorities. ¡°There is always time to gain knowledge. Unfortunately for Sahira-daro, the sacred fire went out again after you burned the books, and this one has no idea how to relight it again.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just as well,¡± I say. ¡°The Daedra Lords always exact a price, and it¡¯s never the one you thought they were asking of you. Still, perhaps we can exchange a bit of knowledge, if you¡¯re interested. I can tell you about my time, you can tell me about yours?¡±

    I plan on asking questions of Razum-dar and Rurelion next time I see them, but a different perspective can be invaluable, and she already knows about my dealings with Daedra. Maybe I don¡¯t need to tell her about the specifics of my identity, but either way, it¡¯s likely that a follower of the Lord of Forbidden Secrets would be capable of keeping a secret.

    She brings out some food, and we spend some time talking. I know a lot of very interesting things that have been lost to time, it seems, and while her own knowledge of this time is more general, it does not make it any less interesting to me.

    Tamriel has been divided into three alliances: the Aldmeri Dominion, the Ebonheart Pact, and the Daggerfall Covenant. The descendants of my own people, the Dunmer, have apparently joined the Ebonheart Pact, and my presence here posing as a member of the Dominion puts me in opposition to that. Oddly, they¡¯ve even joined forces with our ancestral enemies, the Nords. I don¡¯t begrudge them that, as the Nords I remember were honest and honorable warriors even if we were on opposing sides. I think for the moment I¡¯m going to try to stay well away from Ebonheart Pact territories to avoid risking coming into contact with my old ¡®friends¡¯.

    ¡°What about the Dwemer?¡± I ask. ¡°You haven¡¯t mentioned them yet. Are they also with the Ebonheart Pact?¡±

    Sahira gives me an odd look. ¡°The Dwemer disappeared without a trace thousands of years ago. Nothing but ruins and machines remains.¡±

    I blink. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°No one knows what happened to them,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s all a great mystery. Sahira-daro was hoping you might be able to shed some light on what happened to them, but it seems you know no more than this one!¡±

    ¡°I know they found a strange, ancient magic rock called the Heart of Lorkhan,¡± I say, putting my face in my hands. ¡°They were performing experiments on it. They¡¯d made some tools that they were hoping could be used to manipulate it. But, I¡¯ll be honest here, my memory is really fuzzy in places, particularly around the time immediately preceding my death.¡±

    ¡°A pity, that. Still, Sahira-daro appreciates the secrets you have shared, especially since you do not plan on making them public knowledge. It might just make up for not being able to read some secret tomes that may have been clever tricks or traps.¡±

    ¡°Always keep your eyes open,¡± I say. ¡°Do people still say that proverb about ¡®if it sounds too good to be true¡­¡¯?¡± I chuckle. ¡°There¡¯s also one about the wise learning from their mistakes and the wiser learning from other people¡¯s mistakes. I didn¡¯t know for sure that the books would do anything bad until I saw the necromancer almost get eaten by a tentacle monster. If nothing bad had happened, though, he¡¯d have at least been distracted and wouldn¡¯t have had a chance to benefit from it anyway, so no loss to me either way. And let me tell you, being eaten by tentacle monsters is unpleasant.¡±

    ¡°Speaking from experience there?¡± Sahira asks.

    ¡°Once your soul belongs to one of the Daedra Lords, you¡¯re effectively immortal in Oblivion,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve died more times than I can count. I¡¯m not sure what will happen if I die here on Nirn. I¡¯ll probably go back to Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Does that bother you?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Nothing bothers me anymore.¡±

    ¡°Does it really, or are you just saying that to convince yourself?¡±

    I grunt softly. ¡°I would prefer not to have to return to Coldharbour. I don¡¯t welcome it. But I hold no fear of it. I don¡¯t know what might await you in Apocrypha. I¡¯ve never been there before. Would it be a paradise of knowledge? Or just another shade of hell? Even if it were the latter, I¡¯d prefer it to a return to Coldharbour, as at least it would be a different shade of hell.¡±

 Chapter 10: In Which I Save a Tree

    Things are not all well in Windcatcher Plantation either. It seems that there isn¡¯t a single speck on this little island where everything is perfect and peaceful. Maybe there isn¡¯t even a single speck in all of Tamriel, for that matter. Maybe I can yet do something about that.

    A sickly green cloud surrounds the large tree at the edge of the plantation. A wood elf woman stands nearby, talking to the tree. Sure, why not. I¡¯m not hearing the tree reply, but whatever. I suppose they wouldn¡¯t have been called ¡®wood elves¡¯ if they didn¡¯t have a thing for trees.

    When I approach, she introduces herself as Spinner Benieth (whatever a Spinner is) and explains that the tree has been sick ever since the storm. That storm certainly did manage to mess up absolutely everything on this island, didn¡¯t it. This tree is apparently an important windbreak and shade and not just a spiritual thing, but the Spinner here certainly seems to be very into the spiritual thing nonetheless.

    Spinner Benieth had summoned a spirit to go down into the caves beneath the tree and heal its roots, but something is preventing it from doing so. She is unable to give an adequate explanation as to why she doesn¡¯t just go down there herself and see what the problem is instead of just standing here talking to the tree and sniffing weird green stench. Whatever, I¡¯ll just go do this myself.

    As I circle the tree toward the cliff, I spot a column of distinctive blue light emerging from below visible through the miasma. A Skyshard! I rush over and hop off the cliff to go get it. Aaaaand the cliff is higher up than I¡¯d anticipated. Ow! I tumble to the ground as my leg crunches beneath me.

    Note to self: Don¡¯t jump off cliffs unless you can see how far down they go. No, wait, let¡¯s just make that don¡¯t jump off cliffs.

    Actually, jumping off cliffs wouldn¡¯t be a particularly serious problem if I just made sure it wasn¡¯t likely to hurt more than I could heal. After making sure there aren¡¯t any bones poking at directions they shouldn¡¯t be going with my own shitty healing spell, I down another bottle of glow juice. It would be worth getting better at healing magic just to not have to drink this nasty shit, no matter how effective it is.

    Or maybe just get good at brewing my own potions. That might be an option, too. This was never much of a consideration when I was Hortator, as I always had an entire staff of people to brew potions for me. My job was to hit things and to tell other people where to hit things. I mean, I could admittedly just buy potions, too, but that would still require a source of income more reliable than people promising to pay me for odd jobs.

    After absorbing the power in the Skyshard, I feel like I could learn anything and do anything I put my mind to, though, no matter what it might be. Every craft and skill, magical or martial, feels like it¡¯s at my grasp, just ready for me to reach out and take my heart¡¯s desire. Gods this is so much more addictive than skooma. Real power instead of false promises and empty pleasure. What could I do? What could I do?

    With a gleeful grin, I fix my eyes on a mudcrab crawling across the beach amid the debris of yet more shipwrecks. I raise my hands and focus my inner power. Energy, bright and Aedric, comes forth like a javelin and impales the hapless mudcrab. Coooooool. Panting in exhilaration, I look down at my hands. That wasn¡¯t a spell, not exactly. It didn¡¯t even take magicka, only my own physical stamina. The Skyshards are becoming a part of me, one by one, filling me up and shaping my very essence. Well, there are definitely worse things to be a part of me than an Aedric spear.

    Heh. Spear. Does my spear need a name, too? (Where did Vehk come up with the name ¡®Muatra¡¯ for his spear, anyway?) (Wait, did that even happen? Something feels odd about that memory.) This has got to be something good. This one¡¯s a part of me, after all. Maybe I should even come up with a name for it that isn¡¯t pointless innuendo, too. (Dammit Vehk.) I¡¯ll think of something.

    Okay, right, cave! The Spinner mentioned a cave around here somewhere. I turn around and locate a tunnel leading into the cliff I¡¯d just jumped off of and head down inside. I find an Altmer sitting not far into the cave who introduces himself as a kwama tender by the name of Naarwe.

    ¡°Kwama?¡± I ask. ¡°Ah! I thought those were scribs I¡¯d spotted on the beach along with the mudcrabs.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with them?¡± Naarwe says. ¡°Not all Altmer appreciate the usefulness of insects like kwama.¡±

    ¡°Sure, they¡¯re good eating,¡± I say. ¡°Nothing like kwama eggs for breakfast to get your day going.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, you sound like those Dunmer savages,¡± Naarwe grumbles. ¡°I don¡¯t raise kwama for food. I use them for mining.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I giggle. ¡°You¡¯re missing out, then. You should try out the thunderbug omelettes while you¡¯re here, too! They¡¯re quite tasty. Just don¡¯t let the Khajiit put too much moon sugar on your portion. I know it¡¯s a whole cultural thing but it¡¯s really not necessary to put moon sugar on absolutely everything.¡±

    Naarwe makes a face. ¡°As you say. In any case, whether or not they would have been delicious to someone with the palate of Morrowind, my shipload of kwama eggs started hatching when the storm ran my ship aground here and most of them ran right into this cave. A sound instinct for seeking shelter, but quite inconvenient, particularly when they started chewing on these huge roots and going mad.¡±

    I have no idea why some kwama munching on tree roots would have made a huge cloud of noxious green shit float about aboveground. Here I¡¯d been expecting to find that the tree had been poisoned or blighted or something. Weird.

    ¡°Did you see a ¡­ healing spirit thing come in here?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Was that what that walking plant creature was?¡± Naarwe wonders.

    ¡°Maybe? The Spinner was not very specific in describing it. I would have expected a spirit to be something more, you know, spiritual, but whatever. Wood elves are weird.¡±

    ¡°That they are,¡± Naarwe agrees. ¡°The smaller kwama didn¡¯t want to bother it. If you have to put down the larger, more aggressive ones to save the rest, do what you have to do. I tried to keep them from eating things they¡¯re not supposed to but kwama are not particularly bright even under the best of circumstances.¡±

    I don¡¯t even wonder anymore why I¡¯m the one who has to do everything. Fine. I go down into the cave and locate the walking plant thing and follow it around to make sure the kwama don¡¯t bother it. It¡¯s busy waving around its woody plant-hands and making things glow. Somehow this seems to affect the scribs, who calm down, and the green cloud dissipates as well. I can only guess that either the tree itself had caused that when it was bitten, maybe as a defense mechanism, or the kwama made some really nasty farts when they gorged themselves on roots.

    In any case, I head outside and find the Spinner on the beach along with the kwama keeper, and she¡¯s talking about how the kwama are now a part of the story of the Great Tree or something and they¡¯ll protect the tree and the spirit and the kwama keeper is just going along with this so long as he¡¯s getting paid and doesn¡¯t much care about all this Bosmer story stuff. At least I¡¯m getting paid for my trouble, too. I guess they really are short on people willing to wade into a cave full of foul miasma and aggressive kwama.

    This ¡®story¡¯ business is an interesting perspective, I think. Bad things might happen but they¡¯re all part of the story, right? It certainly beats agonizing and complaining over every little thing that might ever go wrong at any point. Calling it a story implies that things make sense and happen for a reason, but who knows what that reason might be?

    If this is a story, who is the author? I damned well don¡¯t think it¡¯s Azura. It would be the old gods, Anu and Padomay, the gods of order and chaos, if it were anyone. Honestly, though, this is all way too philosophical for me. Vehk¡¯s attempts at philosophy were always lost on me. I tend to take things too literally.

    With the situation at Windcatcher Plantation resolved satisfactorily for everyone involved, I wander off down the beach. A couple of Khajiit fishermen have pulled a half-drowned wood elf out of the water, although one of them is complaining that they can¡¯t eat him and they should have just thrown him back.

    ¡°I mean, I suppose you could eat him if you really wanted to,¡± I say. ¡°Wood elves might be a bit gamey, though. Also the others might complain so probably best not to.¡±

    The Khajiit woman makes a face. ¡°Elenabi would really rather not. She will stick with fish, thank you.¡±

    I still have glow juice leftover from the shipwrecks so I feed him a bottle to see if it helps. I then ask the fisher Khajiit which way Mistral is, to which they point across the water at some buildings at the top of a cliff.

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say with a smirk. ¡°So more specifically, which way is the bridge to Mistral? Seeing as I do not have climbing gear and don¡¯t see any need to scale rocks as there¡¯s probably a bridge.¡±

    That gets me some better directions, so I bid them good day and head off. It¡¯s about time I met up with Razum-dar again and report in on all the stupid and occasionally useful things I¡¯ve gotten done since I arrived on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost. And I¡¯m very tired, but not in a sleepy sort of way. Just mentally, I think. Dunno why.

    Plenty of time to test out my shiny new Aedric spear power on hapless alits, though. Okay, alits aren¡¯t particularly hapless and are perfectly capable of getting back up again and trying to bite me after I knock them several feet away with a javelin of light, but they¡¯re a simple enough thing to finish off after that and which I don¡¯t feel bad about killing. The spear of light appears out of nowhere and hits them in the blink of an eye.

    I know! I¡¯ll call it Blinky!

    Oh, and I run across a few more camps full of Crosstree Bandits along the way, too, who are stupid enough to attack me on sight. Probably word got out of me killing their fellows on the other side of the island and they¡¯re trying to get revenge or something by thinking one mer walking alone is an easy target. So I practice with my newly-dubbed Blinky on them too, which is pretty fun. Less fun for the bandits, but I don¡¯t have much sympathy for anyone dumb enough to actually attack me. I am the Hortator, fetchers! Or, was the Hortator. Whatever. I am the Vestige! Okay, that¡¯s a pretty stupid title. Eh, I don¡¯t really need a fancy title, although I¡¯m sure someone will give me one at some point anyway.

    If I keep this up, I¡¯m going to draw some attention to myself, but fortunately no one is going to think I¡¯m anything but a skilled Altmer adventurer unless I tell them otherwise. My crazy ex-wife certainly won¡¯t have reason to care about someone on the other side of Tamriel killing a bunch of bandits and giant bugs.

    If only my life were to remain so simple.

 Chapter 11: In Which I Find Misplaced Paperwork

    Razum-dar is casually leaning against a post on the bridge leading into Mistral. Is he waiting for me? I hope he hasn¡¯t been standing there for too long. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s got more important things that he ought to have been doing than waiting while I run all over the island fixing everything. Hopefully I¡¯ve actually fixed everything.

    ¡°Ah, if it isn¡¯t Neralion at last,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°This one has heard you¡¯ve been busy.¡± He lowers his voice. ¡°This one has also heard you¡¯ve been telling the Thalmor that you work for the Queen. Not to worry! Raz has backed up your story. It would not do for you to be mistaken for a skooma smuggler!¡± Although he sounds cheerful enough, he¡¯s giving me a bit of a stern look, like I shouldn¡¯t have said that. Razum-dar is so very not just a ¡®simple Khajiit¡¯ if he was actually able to convince anyone of that.

    ¡°Yeah, thanks,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry, I was just talking guar shit to get out of being arrested for a few more minutes.¡±

    ¡°If that was the only way you could blend in, then so be it,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°A bit more discretion would have been preferable, of course. But it has nothing to do with Daedric Princes or falling from the sky, at least.¡±

    ¡°I may have told a couple of people about that, too,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m reasonably certain it was ones who can keep a secret and one of them likely had already figured it out from what I was yelling about while burning my hands in a magic fire to destroy some evil books.¡±

    ¡°It sounds like you have had quite the adventures already,¡± Raz says. ¡°And you are up for some more, yes? This one is in need of a competent partner and from what he has heard, you surely fit the bill.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say. ¡°What needs to be done? Are there more things that need to be hit?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, but Raz fears it is likely to come to that. Here. Take this token and show it to the Silvenar in the large building in the center of town.¡±

    Raz explains how the Silvenar is some sort of spiritual leader for the Bosmer and had come here to do some negotiating because I don¡¯t know. Because he¡¯s calm and is unlikely to throttle people who annoy him? At any rate, I take the token from Razum-dar, pocket it and head into Mistral.

    There¡¯s another one of those wayshrines overlooking the water. I go up and light it, watching the Aetherial blue flames dance in its brazier. I don¡¯t know if it will actually bring me luck, but it certainly couldn¡¯t hurt. Besides, they¡¯re pretty.

    Before I head for the large building, I take a bit to look around town so I¡¯ve got a better feel for what I¡¯m going to be dealing with here. I briefly peruse the shops but don¡¯t buy anything, visit the tavern but don¡¯t drink anything, and do some eavesdropping but don¡¯t talk to anyone. Casual eavesdropping is a great way to find out all sorts of little things nobody is particularly concerned about you finding out.

    There¡¯s an awful lot of cats on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost. By which I mean the small, four-legged kind and not the medium to large two-legged kind. Sometimes I could swear they¡¯re looking at me like they¡¯re watching me and that they¡¯re a lot smarter than they look, though. It would be really, really easy to eavesdrop if you were a cat.

    Oh, and then there¡¯s the Maormer embassy at the edge of town. I look around, finally getting a chance to take a closer look at sea elves who aren¡¯t currently attempting to kill me. Eyes almost completely white! How do they even see?

    ¡°What are you staring at, ground walker?¡± says the one I¡¯m currently staring at. ¡°Have you never gazed upon the glory of a Maormer before?¡±

    ¡°Nope, afraid I haven¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°The only ones I¡¯ve seen were either trying to kill me, or were dead because they tried to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Is that supposed to be a threat?¡±

    ¡°Not at all!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°If you¡¯re not trying to kill me, then I don¡¯t need to hit you with a sharp object. Everyone can be friends, right?¡±

    I¡¯m going to put in a bet right here that I¡¯ll wind up having to kill more Maormer before I¡¯m done here.

    ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, I¡¯d be quite happy to not have to be here,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t know how the likes of you and those cat men can stand not moving all the time.¡±

    Behind the embassy, I spot another Skyshard, perched on the cliff right next to another one of those snake statues the sea elves seem to love so much. At least this one doesn¡¯t have a cat man chained to it to power a storm spell. I¡¯d have to start killing people if it did. I go up and absorb the Skyshard, receiving a couple odd looks from nearby Maormer as I do so. Maybe that wasn¡¯t the most subtle, but they weren¡¯t moving and I didn¡¯t feel like sneaking back in later to grab it. As I turn to head off, I spot one of them out of the corner of my eye going up to touch the Skyshard to see if it would do anything for him as well, but there doesn¡¯t appear to be any effect.

    Finally, I return to the middle of town and climb the steps leading up toward the largest building. Outside, I run across a fellow whom I shortly discover is named Vicereeve Pelidil (whatever a Vicereeve is). He¡¯s a smarmy fetcher who immediately rubs me the wrong way for some reason. While I can¡¯t blame him for his dislike of the Maormer and I agree with his sentiment that this will all end in bloodshed, his attitude just screams ¡®self-important Altmer¡¯ from here to Sundas.

    Let¡¯s get this out here. It¡¯s not that I dislike Altmer on principle. They¡¯re people, same as any other, after all. They¡¯re people with the typical variance between individuals. But there are reasons why the Chimer and they went separate ways. These Altmer seem to believe they¡¯re the greatest, ¡®highest¡¯, thing in the world. The Chimer believe¡ªbelieved, I suppose, I don¡¯t know what the Dunmer believe these days¡ªthis one Chimer believes that he is part of this world, although seeing as his soul is currently located in Oblivion, ¡®this world¡¯ is a bit broader than merely Tamriel so perhaps ¡®this universe¡¯ would be a better description.

    Anyway. This one Chimer believes he is a great warrior, very skilled, powerful, perhaps not as clever as he wishes he were, but he is still a part of this universe and no higher (unless on skooma) or more worthy than anyone else. This Chimer has also spent entirely too much time around Khajiit lately and is apparently starting to refer to himself in the third person. Dammit.

    Unlike Vicereeve Pelidil, I immediately take a liking to the Silvenar (that¡¯s probably a title but no one has mentioned what his actual name might be). He¡¯s friendly and welcoming, offering me food and drink although too busy to deal with me directly until I show him Razum-dar¡¯s token, and unlike some, his welcome seems genuine and sincere rather than forced politeness.

    ¡°It seems we have a mutual friend, then,¡± the Silvenar says.

    ¡°Our mutual friend thought you might be able to use a hand in resolving the situation,¡± I say. ¡°Just point me at who needs to be hit. Or, if no one needs to be hit just yet, at who to talk at until they capitulate.¡±

    ¡°I should hope this doesn¡¯t devolve into violence,¡± the Silvenar says. ¡°How much do you know about the situation on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost?¡±

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see. There¡¯s a lot of honest Khajiit around here who grow moon sugar and would hate to see it become skooma, and quite a lot of dead smugglers who should have been rethinking their life choices. There¡¯s some Dominion mages who don¡¯t know when not to poke weird magic rocks, but I think they¡¯ve learned their lesson for the moment. There¡¯s some Maormer who for some reason have an embassy in Mistral, and also caused a hurricane that destroyed a fleet of the Aldmeri Dominion. They quite clearly don¡¯t want us here.¡±

    I doubt he¡¯s interested in all the eavesdropping I¡¯ve been doing in finding out who is dating whom and who deserted from the Dominion military.

    ¡°You probably have the right of it there, unfortunately,¡± the Silvenar says. ¡°Also unfortunately, this is technically their territory. The Maormer have a treaty with the people of Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, but no one is willing to let me look at it so that I might know the details of the terms.¡±

    ¡°That sounds awfully suspicious,¡± I say.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Silvenar agrees.

    ¡°I can see about getting my hands on a copy of this treaty, then,¡± I say.

    Although he suggests that I talk to Harrani, the island¡¯s headwoman, or Ulondil, the Maormer ambassador, I know perfectly well that neither of them is going to spare a moment for me if they didn¡¯t want to talk to the Silvenar.

    There are some books laying around that appear to be on local customs and information. Sahira-daro poked at me for having yet to open a book during my time on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, so I suppose it¡¯s time to begin, with something innocuous and not evil at all. If someone were trying to coerce someone into being eaten by a tentacle monster, Khajiiti Honorifics is not really the sort of title I¡¯d bother with. (But then, why not? If you¡¯re going to make a trap book anyway, why not make it one about, say, cookie recipes?)

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    I scan down the information about these syllables Khajiit add to the ends of their names to denote rank and station, or more like honor and achievements, I¡¯m not quite clear. The ¡®dar¡¯ in Razum-dar applies to a male who is ¡®nimble in fingers and wits¡¯, which seems like a polite way of saying they¡¯re a thief, and the ¡®daro¡¯ in Sahira-daro looks like the feminine version of that. I wonder what they would call me, were I a Khajiit? ¡®Neri-do¡¯ with the appellation of a warrior? Or the highly esteemed honorific of ¡®ri¡¯ if they had any idea of who I am? That might be the equivalent of a Hortator.

    ¡°¡¯Silvenar¡¯ is a title, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ask him. ¡°I apologize that I¡¯m afraid I haven¡¯t caught your actual name.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel embarrassed about that,¡± the Silvenar says with a soft chuckle. ¡°Few use my real name these days. Not even my Green Lady calls me ¡®Edhelorn¡¯ anymore.¡±

    Although I feel like it¡¯s probably wasted effort and liable to put them on edge, I go and talk to Harrani and Ulondil anyway, if nothing else than to get to get their perspective of things and watch their body language to see just how much they seem to be hiding.

    Harrani is a white Khajiit with black stripes and a very distracting nose ring. Her fur is practically standing on end from stress at the entire situation. She may not be overly fond of the Maormer, but she¡¯s not willing to tip her paw to alter the balance of an already-fragile situation. Her island is peaceful and does not have its own army. The Maormer have allowed them to live here and protected the island against anyone else that might cause trouble or try to take over¡ªsuch as, for instance, a fleet of a foreign power wanting to take over the island to use a staging ground in a war. I sympathize and believe the Aldmeri Dominion might be out of line here, but seeing as I¡¯ve thrown in my lot with them, I¡¯ll attempt to get them the best outcome I can regardless.

    Ulondil is another matter. While it¡¯s hard to read his milky white eyes, it¡¯s not difficult to figure out that he¡¯s unhappy about the Dominion being here, but that he¡¯s also kind of a fetcher in the general. Still, as much as I¡¯d like to hit him, I¡¯m not going to do it so long as he¡¯s feigning civility. Unless someone asks me to.

    ¡°I agree,¡± I say. ¡°The Dominion doesn¡¯t have much cause in being here.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡± Ulondil does a double take as he realizes what I just said. ¡°You¡­ agree?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say. ¡°They only want a foothold into Cyrodiil, after all, and I don¡¯t understand the obsession with Cyrodiil. They¡¯ve already got the Summerset Isles, after all, what in Oblivion do they want Cyrodiil for?¡± I pause. ¡°I mean. We¡¯ve already got¡­ because I¡¯m definitely an Altmer.¡±

    Ulondil gives me an odd look. ¡°And the Altmer took the Summerset Isles from the Maormer. I won¡¯t allow them to take another island from us.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say easily. ¡°And not like they¡¯d cheerfully trade Summerset for Cyrodiil, either. On the other hand, if the Dominion doesn¡¯t take control of this island, the Ebonheart Pact will be here next. We¡¯re not that far from Black Marsh. And the Argonians can swim a lot better than the Altmer. Sinking their ships would barely slow them down.¡±

    I have managed to look at a map in the meantime.

    ¡°If you disagree with the Dominion¡¯s position, why are you helping them?¡± Ulondil asks.

    I shrug broadly. ¡°They¡¯re my best prospect, really. Now, I know nobody seems to want to show them a copy of this treaty, but honestly, they¡¯re not going to just walk away and say ¡®oh, okay¡¯ just because they got ¡®no¡¯. They¡¯re not really the sort who will take ¡®no¡¯ for an answer. And it just makes it look like you¡¯re hiding something sinister. Now, I¡¯m sure everything here is on the up-and-up, and they¡¯re not likely to be finding any loopholes they can use to their advantage, right?¡± I throw up my hands. ¡°And even if you didn¡¯t have a treaty in the first place, what does it matter? What are they going to do, pull another fleet out of their arses so it can get sunk too?¡±

    Ulondil has to snicker at that. ¡°You seem like a sensible mer, Neralion. For a ground-walker. I would strongly suggest that you find a boat to anywhere other than here and leave your Dominion associates to their own devices.¡±

    ¡°I will take your advice into consideration,¡± I tell him, and bid him good day.

    They¡¯re totally not planning something sinister.

    I inform the Silvenar of what I¡¯ve found out and he discreetly directs me toward our ¡®mutual friend¡¯ who is frequenting a local drinking establishment, so I head out to meet up with Razum-dar. ¡®Establishment¡¯ seems like a generous term for a building with one wall and two half-walls, but as always with Khajiit, walls are optional.

    Next to the open-air pub, a Khajiit is showing off a dangerous caged animal to onlookers, a ¡®dog¡¯ from Glenumbra. Despite having looked at a map in the meantime, I don¡¯t quite remember where Glenumbra is. Probably Daggerfall Covenant territory since I paid less attention to what was over that way. The animal seems pretty docile, panting softly in its cage. Someone might even find it cute, although I find it hard to call anything ¡®cute¡¯ that doesn¡¯t have scales. I¡¯m certainly not paying perfectly good gold for the chance to pet it.

    I casually take a seat at the bar next to Razum-dar. This is hardly the most private place to conduct a spy meeting (am I actually a spy now?). Raz is clearly only pretending to drink, so I decide I ought to follow suit. They probably don¡¯t have sujamma here, or anything else from Morrowind for that matter, so I order a bottle of a local specialty that probably is mostly made of moon sugar. I don¡¯t plan on doing more than taking a taste at the moment, but a bottle is easy to disguise that I¡¯m not actually drinking much.

    ¡°How is your day going, my friend?¡± Raz asks me.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± I grumble. ¡°Having trouble with paperwork and nobody can get me what I need.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always a shame when paperwork gets misplaced,¡± Raz says. ¡°Always complicates things needlessly. Sometimes it helps to know how many drinks it takes to loosen the tongues of clerks. Three, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Where do you suppose the misplaced paperwork might have fallen?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Hmm, this one could not say,¡± Raz says. ¡°Say, did you hear the ambassador increased the guards on the embassy? This one wonders why he felt that was necessary. It¡¯s not like they have anything to hide, after all.¡±

    ¡°Does make one wonder,¡± I say. ¡°And he¡¯s such a friendly and personable mer, after all.¡±

    This Khajiiti rum or whatever is entirely sweeter than I¡¯d prefer, but no matter. It was worth trying and maybe I can bribe somebody with it at least. I bid good day to Raz and head off toward the embassy. It¡¯s looking like I¡¯m going to need to do some breaking and entering, or at least entering. I stash Headache in an inconspicuous place near the bridge, since battle axes aren¡¯t great for subtlety, before heading inside.

    The clerk inside the embassy gruffly informs me that Ambassador Ulondil isn¡¯t present, while I¡¯m trying to discreetly case the place and determine the best way of doing this.

    ¡°I was looking to inquire about passage off of this rock,¡± I say. ¡°Seeing as nobody else seems like competent sailors around here.¡±

    The clerk has to chuckle softly at that. ¡°Sadly there are no ships leaving at the moment, more¡¯s the pity. I¡¯d like to get off of this rock myself.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you could hire me on in the meantime?¡± I ask. ¡°I could sweep your floors, clean your clothes, stab any giant bugs that wander too close?¡±

    He sighs. ¡°I do not have hiring authority even if I were so inclined.¡±

    The clerk does nothing to stop me from making myself at home, however. I ¡®borrow¡¯ some servant¡¯s clothes from a nearby room, then go to explore the place a bit further. There¡¯s a guard inside the building at the room leading into Ulondil¡¯s quarters. Hmm. I still have this rum, and moon sugar makes you sleepy if you consume too much of it. I pour what¡¯s left of the bottle (most of it) into a mug and stir in a couple generous spoonfuls of moon sugar, and take it to the guard.

    ¡°Care for a drink, sir?¡± I ask, putting on my best servant demeanor.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± the guard asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m the new servant, sir,¡± I say. ¡°The clerk sent me to bring you a drink.¡±

    ¡°Oh, did he? Well, maybe he¡¯s not so bad after all.¡± He takes the drink.

    ¡°Could you tell me where you keep the laundry, perhaps, sir?¡± I ask. ¡°He said it needed to be done right away and I¡¯m still learning my way around here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s in there.¡± He points toward another room. ¡°See to that and leave me to my drink, servant.¡±

    I head into the next room, careful to stay in sight of the doorway, and make a show of gathering up laundry while waiting for the moon sugar to kick in. I¡¯m not disappointed. It isn¡¯t long before the guard is dozing away, slumped over at the table.

    With the door now unguarded, I take the opportunity to slip inside and take a look around. I¡¯d expected to have to go through desks, drawers, and bookcases to find it, but it¡¯s just laying right out in the open. After confirming it¡¯s the right thing with a quick skim, I grab it and return to the laundry. I hide it in the bottom of the laundry basket and take my time gathering up the soiled clothing before heading back outside. No one stops me.

    While pretending to do laundry, I take a good look over the treaty to see what the deal is with it myself, and also to ensure that I¡¯ve actually grabbed the right thing after all. The treaty favors the Maormer pretty significantly and from the sounds of things, was signed under duress and threat of violence. And celebrations catered at the expense of the people of Khenarthi¡¯s Roost that they aren¡¯t allowed to join in on? Now that¡¯s just rude.

    I slip out of sight, abandoning the laundry, change back into Neralion the perfectly ordinary sellsword (sellaxe?) and retrieve my axe. Razum-dar is waiting for me on the bridge, casually leaning against the railing.

    ¡°Ah, my friend,¡± Raz says. ¡°Did you get the paperwork squared away?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say, passing it over to him equally casually. ¡°What do you think? I¡¯m not sure how favorable the trade contract might be for us, but I¡¯m sure someone as clever as my favorite Khajiit can find a way to make it work for us, yes?¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Raz says, looking it over and scratching his chin. ¡°Your flattery does you no favors, my friend. Ah, but you should just run this over to the boss and see what he thinks.¡± He passes it back. ¡°He¡¯s staying at the house above the armory.¡±

    ¡°Will do.¡±

    I can¡¯t imagine actually wanting to live in the building where people are banging away at forges and work benches all day, but I assume that they¡¯re not also doing it all night too. I know I¡¯m in the right place when I spot the Silvenar¡¯s wife reclining on a bench on the balcony outside. I don¡¯t know her name, but her title is ¡®The Green Lady¡¯ for some reason, although she¡¯s not actually green. I¡¯d briefly encountered her while poking around the big building but hadn¡¯t really spoken with her much. I was told that she represents the martial strength of the Bosmer people as the Silvenar represents their spiritual side. I have no idea what that actually means but she looks like she could break a Maormer in two if they look at her funny.

    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for the Silvenar, he¡¯s inside,¡± the Green Lady says. ¡°Do try not to bother him too much. He¡¯s been very busy and stressed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just delivering the paperwork he asked for,¡± I say.

    She nods to me. I open the door and step inside, but freeze in my tracks. The Silvenar lays motionless on the floor, a strange red cloud clinging to him. I draw in a sharp breath¡ªsomething about it feels distinctly Daedric, and a whiff of sulfur hangs in the air. I crouch down and check for life signs, but although his body is still warm to the touch, there¡¯s no breath or heartbeat.

    Rage. This was no accident. He was murdered!

 Chapter 12: In Which the Green Lady Is Out for Blood

    The Green Lady storms in past me and kneels next to him, howling in fury. She demands answers of me, but I have none, and at least she believes me when I tell her he was already dead when I came inside.

    ¡°I liked the Silvenar,¡± I growl. ¡°How dare they!? Someone¡¯s going to die for this.¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s going to die at my hand,¡± the Green Lady adds. ¡°Find out who did this!¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I agree, absolutely not arguing that sentiment.

    I go back outside and stride back toward the center of town. At this point, the treaty and its details no longer seem remotely important. I take a deep breath to try to center myself. It would not do to let my rage get the better of me, like I told that Khajiit boy whose name I¡¯ve forgotten already. Death may not mean the same thing to me as someone whose soul has not left Tamriel, but still, the Silvenar¡ªEdhelorn¡ªhas gone somewhere I cannot follow and I will likely never see him again. Not that I would wish an afterlife in Coldharbour on anyone.

    I manage to make it to the big building without killing anything along the way, although my barely contained fury is intent upon lashing out at any handy target. Harrani is there, and she opens her mouth as if to give me the runaround again, but reconsiders upon taking one look at my face.

    ¡°Is something wrong, Neralion?¡± Harrani asks.

    ¡°The Silvenar is dead,¡± I growl. ¡°Murdered.¡±

    ¡°Murdered!?¡± Harrani repeats, jaw dropping in shock. ¡°Who would do such a thing? He was such a peaceful mer!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but your surprise at least rules you out as a possible suspect,¡± I say. ¡°You may not have liked the situation here but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re the sort who would have killed someone in order to resolve it.¡±

    ¡°I would never do such a thing,¡± Harrani retorts. ¡°I will close the port and will not rest until his killer is brought to justice.¡±

    Vicereeve Pelidil and Ambassador Ulondil have overhead me speaking not particularly quietly with Harrani, and proceed to break into a not particularly quiet argument in which everyone blames everyone else for everything. I watch them silently, observing their body language and tone of voice, but it¡¯s difficult to tell anything conclusive seeing as they¡¯re both angry. Pelidil seems outraged, but did Ulondil sound surprised at all? He¡¯s only been varying shades of pissy since I first encountered him.

    ¡°Neralion, would you be willing to help with the investigation?¡± Harrani asks once those two are gone.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already told the Green Lady I would find out who killed her husband,¡± I say. ¡°So I will be investigating regardless.¡±

    ¡°You are not directly affiliated with the Dominion however, yes?¡± Harrani asks. ¡°You are a freelancer. An adventurer. Or did Harrani get the wrong impression?¡±

    ¡°Adventurer, yes,¡± I say. ¡°You won¡¯t find my name on any of their payrolls if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    ¡°I will declare you a deputy of the Mistral guard,¡± Harrani says. ¡°You can read through my reports and question witnesses to see if you can find any evidence.¡±

    ¡°Do you not have your own guards?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Apparently none that were sufficiently competent to prevent the murder of an honored guest on their watch.¡±

    I incline my head toward her. ¡°Very well, then. I accept.¡±

    Pelidil and Ulondil (why so many ¡®dil¡¯s?) have stalked off to different parts of the building. I go up to speak with Pelidil first, who is fuming and expressing wishes to march on the Maormer embassy with torches and pitchforks immediately.

    ¡°Vicereeve,¡± I say evenly. ¡°I know it was the Maormer. You know it was the Maormer. But unfortunately, we can¡¯t act without evidence, no matter how obvious it is to sensible mer like us.¡±

    Flattery mollifies him sufficiently that I don¡¯t think he¡¯s in immediate danger of starting a war, no matter how justified it likely is. Once I¡¯m done heading off that particular potential problem, I go take a seat at Harrani¡¯s desk to look over her guard reports. There are mentions of a number of isolated incidents that, in a vacuum, would not be particularly noteworthy. Strange noises, suspicious behavior¡­ I¡¯ll be here all day chasing after suspicious behavior, so I may as well get started. While I ought to make sure Razum-dar knows what¡¯s going on as well, it¡¯s highly doubtful that he hasn¡¯t already heard just by the shouting. Best that I not be seen speaking with him for the moment.

    First stop: The warehouse next to the armory. As it is very close to the building in which the Silvenar was murdered, it would have been a convenient staging location. I start to take a thorough look around, although I don¡¯t immediately find anything of note downstairs or up, but then I hear footsteps from the stairs and hide behind some crates. I¡¯d been hoping for a chance to eavesdrop on some secret conversation, but it¡¯s a lone sea elf who seems to be here just to leave a note in a dead drop. I leap out of my hiding spot to try to catch her, but she vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

    The note is less than elucidating as well. There¡¯s references to ¡®Unwelcome Visitors¡¯ who are obviously the Dominion, but the rest appears to be either code or really, really obvious. Something about unleashing a tempest. That could be literally another storm, or just an attack. Either way, it¡¯s pretty good evidence that the Maormer are up to something. I shove it in my pack and casually jump off a second story balcony to save myself the trouble of walking back down the stairs.

    Next stop is the apothecary. If the Silvenar were poisoned, it¡¯s possible that the culprit purchased some or all of the ingredients from the apothecary, if not the poison itself. By the time I get there, however, Ulondil has already gotten there ahead of me and has the apothecary on the ground with his hands tied behind his back.

    ¡°Still here, Neralion?¡± Ulondil says.

    ¡°For the moment,¡± I say, scowling and restraining myself from hitting him. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±

    ¡°This apothecary must have had a hand in the Silvenar¡¯s murder,¡± Ulondil says. ¡°I will wrest the truth out of him one way or another.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think the Silvenar was poisoned?¡± I ask. ¡°Did you examine the body at all?¡±

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    Ulondil just gives me a look. ¡°Yes, it was very grim. Most grim indeed.¡±

    ¡°Ulondil, he wasn¡¯t poisoned,¡± I lie. ¡°He was stabbed seventeen times with a kitchen knife.¡±

    ¡°He¡­ what!?¡± Ulondil sputters. Now he¡¯s finally shocked. ¡°No, that can¡¯t be right. I need to talk to someone.¡± He runs off, leaving me alone with the apothecary.

    I crouch down to untie the poor terrified Khajiit, Mizibir, who is grateful for my intervention.

    ¡°My condolences for the Silvenar¡¯s death,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±

    ¡°I need to look at your ledgers,¡± I say.

    ¡°Did you not say he wasn¡¯t poisoned?¡±

    ¡°I lied,¡± I say with a smirk. ¡°And it seems awfully suspicious that Ulondil believed he was when he hadn¡¯t actually examined the body, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Ooooh, I see,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°Yes, then, let¡¯s look through my ledgers and see if you spot anything amiss, shall we?¡±

    I nod, and we go inside. The ledgers contain record of a number of innocuous purchases, but there are also several anonymous purchases of Daedra hearts, blood, and sulfur.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think someone needing this much Daedra blood was at all suspicious?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°People buy all sorts of things from me,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°It has legitimate alchemical purposes, after all.¡±

    ¡°I smelled sulfur in the room and saw a strange aura clinging to him that felt Daedric,¡± I say quietly.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°Oh dear, oh dear. I knew nothing, I swear!¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Do you remember anything about who made these purchases? Gender? Race? Manner of dress?¡±

    ¡°They were different people each time,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°I suppose it would have been too obvious had it been the same one, but I had not even noticed Daedra blood had suddenly become so popular until you pointed it out.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the information,¡± I say, clenching a fist. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to take your ledger as evidence. And you may not want to be here when Ulondil figures out I lied to him.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Mizibir says. ¡°I will lay low for now. I have no desire to feel ropes around my paws again anytime soon.¡±

    I shove the ledger into my pack along with the other slightly-crumpled miscellaneous notes I¡¯ve been collecting. I should probably have shoved those into a book or something too. Oh well. I take a deep breath and steady myself against a post. Keep it together, Nerevar.

    There¡¯s a sea elf ship docked at the docks. Or is it a pier? Or a wharf? I¡¯m not quite clear on the difference. And I¡¯m sure I¡¯d get thoroughly mocked if I asked any of the Maormer that. Anyway, the ship is named the Serpent¡¯s Kiss (what is it with sea elves and snakes, anyway?) and I board it and locate the captain, a surly sea elf woman named Irinwe.

    ¡°What do you want, ground-walker?¡± Irinwe demands.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for passage off of this island,¡± I say. ¡°To¡­ anywhere but here, really. Do you take passengers?¡±

    Irinwe sighs. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere without new rigging, and I¡¯m not taking any passengers regardless. I do need a new serving wench, however.¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose I could put on a dress¡­¡± I say with a smirk. ¡°How much will your rigging cost you?¡±

    She names a price. It is, unsurprisingly, way more than I can afford. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be spilling things all over the place. Bah. Have you even sailed much before? Would you be pissing yourself at the first sight of pirates?¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I say with a grin. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to be a pirate! That would be quite the adventure, wouldn¡¯t it? And I¡¯m very good at hitting things!¡±

    Irinwe gives me a long, unamused look. ¡°Well, you¡¯re going to need to play out your pirate fantasy on another ship, then. I don¡¯t need mad Altmer mercenaries on my ship.¡±

    That didn¡¯t particularly sound like a denial. ¡°Oh well,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll still be here stuck on this island if you change your mind. I¡¯m sure I¡¯d be a great addition to your crew.¡±

    Fortunately, I¡¯m permitted to leave the ship by the gangplank and not over the rail.

    I¡¯d best show Razum-dar what I¡¯ve found, for whatever good this evidence might do. Once I locate him, I pass him Mizibir¡¯s ledger with the other notes tucked behind the cover.

    ¡°Coded messages, Daedra blood¡­¡± Raz mumbles. ¡°What is this message to ¡®H¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. ¡°That would be the late Hazak, of the Crosstree Bandits. It¡¯s probably not connected to this and got mixed up in my other notes. Unless, of course, you¡¯re ¡®R¡¯ and have been smuggling skooma here, but I think you really have better things to do.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Raz says, whiskers twitching. ¡°The Maormer are planning something, but what? And the Daedra blood¡­ not good, not good at all.¡± He passes me a vial. ¡°Here. Take this to the Green Lady. This is a sample of the substance we found on the Silvenar¡¯s body.¡±

    Razum-dar explains to me that the Silvenar and the Green Lady were life bonded and she will soon die. She has nothing to lose now and no purpose but to get revenge. I definitely wouldn¡¯t want to get in her way.

    I return to the armory with the vial and show it to the Green Lady, who denies that any poison on Nirn could have harmed the Silvenar. Some sort of innate poison resistance, I guess? And Daedric poison that may have been specifically used to get around that sort of resistance. Apparently the Green Lady has some really good senses, though, because she can smell the Daedric stench from here to the other side of town. She casts some sort of spell on me that helps me perceive it, and I immediately wish she hadn¡¯t because it¡¯s horrible. And she¡¯s already running off leaving me to hurry to try to catch up and god damn she¡¯s fast.

    I catch up to the Green Lady at a building on the edge of town, and she storms inside before I can even pause to case the place. I suppose I can¡¯t blame her, but I¡¯d best follow quickly.

    A chilling red aura fills the room, and glowing Daedric runes cover the floor. Oh yeah, baaaaad sign. A sea elf woman hovers in the middle of the runic circle, waving her arms and I probably really don¡¯t want her to finish whatever it is she¡¯s doing and for some reason the Green Lady has stopped in the corner of the room and is panting and not getting close. Surely she didn¡¯t get too winded just from that vigorous jog to hit someone, so there¡¯s probably something preventing her from getting close. It¡¯s not stopping me, however, so I break the circle and knock the Maormer to the floor.

    The Maormer lays on the floor hurt and starts mumbling something about having to follow his orders and that the Silvenar was killed because he might be able to stop the tempest. As soon as she breathes the name ¡®Ulondil¡¯, the Green Lady is upon her. It would have been a nice surprise if Ulondil hadn¡¯t been involved in this somehow, but I hadn¡¯t seriously thought there much chance of that.

    I lose sight of the Green Lady as I head back outside, but there¡¯s no question of where she¡¯s going. I make for the Maormer embassy. Before the bridge leading toward it, I find Ulondil, Harrani, and Pelidil standing around in a circle (triangle?) and arguing. Again. Pointlessly. I¡¯m not sure how I got here before her.

    ¡°Razum-dar showed me the evidence you found, but unless the ambassador himself was involved, I can do nothing,¡± Harrani tells me quietly.

    I glare at her. ¡°What was even the point of any of this, then?¡±

    ¡°You again,¡± Ulondil says, with a glare for me of his own. ¡°You lied to me about the state of the Silvenar¡¯s body and then you helped the apothecary escape justice. You are obviously in collusion with these Dominion assassins.¡±

    ¡°We found the Maormer who used Daedric poison to kill the Silvenar,¡± I say loudly. ¡°And she told us your name. I¡¯m rapidly losing patience with this entire farce, but fortunately for you, I¡¯m not the one you need to be afraid of.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Ulondil demands. ¡°The Green Lady is dead, isn¡¯t she?¡± At my continued hard look, he says, ¡°She isn¡¯t dead. She¡¯s coming for me. Oh no¡­¡± He spins about and runs off toward the embassy.

    The Green Lady runs past, yelling something about blood. Harrani waves her paws trying futilely to get everyone to calm down although I¡¯m not sure why she bothers.

    ¡°Do you really want to stand between the Green Lady and her prey?¡± I ask, not sparing a moment to hear her answer before running after them myself.

    The embassy grounds are suspiciously empty of Maormer. Perhaps they decided to do the sensible thing and jump off the cliff into the water when they saw the Green Lady coming like a force of nature. I find Ulondil upstairs, cornered.

    ¡°Leave me to this,¡± the Green Lady says. ¡°This is between me and him. I¡¯ll make sure he gets what¡¯s coming to him.¡±

    ¡°I only came to make sure this skeeving fetcher didn¡¯t get away,¡± I say.

    ¡°Good,¡± the Green Lady says. ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere now. Go tell them he¡¯s dead. He will be¡­ eventually.¡±

    As I leave the embassy, I can hear Ulondil¡¯s screams echo all the way across the yard.

 Chapter 13: In Which Im Blown Away

    I don¡¯t know what Vicereeve Pelidil promised her, but Harrani signed a treaty with the Aldmeri Dominion in due order. I¡¯ve returned Mizibir¡¯s ledger to him and let him know he can come out of hiding. I hope the Dominion can live up to their promises. I¡¯m putting a lot of faith into an organization I know little about, aside from the fact that they seem to be a better prospect than the Maormer. I like Razum-dar. I liked the Silvenar. I just hope they¡¯re good representatives of what I can expect of the Dominion.

    I, for one, am glad for a chance to eat, rest, and maybe read a book or two, before the next disaster rolls in. Because I¡¯m quite sure we haven¡¯t heard the last of the Maormer, and don¡¯t consider their subsequent disappearance to be a good sign. This feels like the calm before the storm.

    ¡°The Maormer are attacking Cat¡¯s Eye Quay!¡± says a frantic Khajiit. ¡°Commander Karinith needs everyone who can fight. Grab your gear and get over there. Zaeri must find more fighters.¡± She runs off before I have a chance to say anything.

    Completely unsurprised, I grab my battle axe, Headache, and make my way to the docks posthaste. It¡¯ll be good to get a chance to hit these fetchers. When I meet up with the commander at the entrance to the quay (what¡¯s a quay, anyway? is that another word for dock, pier, and wharf?) she tells me to go find survivors in the trade district.

    Reports from survivors indicate that the sea elves are carving runes into people¡¯s skin, which sounds like it¡¯s going to result in quite a bit of trouble. More ritual sacrifices? Another storm? Oh, and they have giant snakes with them, because of course they have giant snakes, why wouldn¡¯t they have giant snakes?

    I find the Dominion marines I¡¯d rescued from the beach planning a counterattack along with the mages from the Temple of the Mourning Springs, and it¡¯s good to see them here too. I¡¯m already feeling better about our chances here.

    ¡°I fear they¡¯re planning on some sort of ritual, possibly conjuring another hurricane, or worse,¡± I say. ¡°Like¡­ a bigger hurricane. I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve brought dire sorcery to bear on Mistral,¡± Rurelion says.

    ¡°This sort of magic is beyond me,¡± I say. ¡°I can cut a swath through the attacking forces, but I¡¯ll need someone at my back who knows about ritual magic and how to counter it. Rurelion, are you up to a fight?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m skilled in battle magic and healing, and not just laboratory work and rituals,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°I can handle myself. Lead on. I have your back. Gathwen and Sergeant Firion can guard the gate behind us and make sure none of those pirates get through.¡±

    ¡°Unless they can levitate, in which case we have bigger problems than a bunch of sea elf pirates,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m betting any of their mages capable of levitating are busy with their ritual. We¡¯d best hurry.¡±

    Rurelion and I head into Cat¡¯s Eye Quay. I¡¯ve been itching for a chance to split some of these sea elves¡¯ smug faces, after seeing what they did to the Silvenar. I spear a few of them with Blinky as well, which gets some odd looks out of Rurelion.

    ¡°What sort of magic is that?¡± Rurelion wonders. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like any sort I¡¯m familiar with, and that¡¯s saying something.¡±

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say. ¡°I got it after absorbing several Skyshards.¡± I hurl another spear of light at a sea elf charging at us with a sword. ¡°It seems to be Aedric in nature, but beyond that, I couldn¡¯t tell you. We can experiment with it once we¡¯re done here if you like. The Maormer are a bit more of a pressing matter.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Rurelion says.

    Along the way, we locate a few survivors and send them back toward town, but there¡¯s a lot of dead, and many of them are covered in ritual carvings. Also the sea elves have put up more of those stupid snake statues for some reason. I hurl an Aedric spear at one of them and knock off a good chip. That probably won¡¯t help anything any, but it felt good.

    We run across a Khajiit with a concussion, and I let Rurelion heal him a bit as I question him. He¡¯s complaining about how his group that totally wasn¡¯t skooma smugglers had paid protection and even let them put weird totems in the cave, but the Maormer had come in and slaughtered them anyway.

    ¡°What¡¯s the point of signing bad treaties and paying protection if they¡¯re just going to kill people anyway?¡± I say.

    ¡°Yes, indeed. Never again! You can¡¯t trust them at all.¡±

    ¡°Has the ringing subsided?¡± Rurelion asks.

    ¡°The head feels much better now,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Listen, there was a high elf wizard trying to get into the caves, so they collapsed the entrance. He gave me this note.¡± He passes it to Rurelion.

    ¡°Is there another way inside?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I think there¡¯s a secret door by the cliffs. I¡¯m going to run for safety now. Good luck! You¡¯ll need it.¡± He absconds.

    After a bit of searching, we find a tunnel under one of the buildings. Inside, we run into everyone¡¯s favorite mage, Ealcil. I¡¯d really been hoping that the Khajiit had been talking about a different high elf mage. I feel like Ealcil is as likely to make things worse as better. Unfortunately, we¡¯re out of options at the moment. And of course, he appears to be experimenting with some snake statues that have lightning running up and down them.

    ¡°Ealcil, what are you doing?¡± Rurelion asks.

    ¡°Oh, hello, Rurelion,¡± Ealcil says. ¡°I am studying what the Maormer are doing here. A combination of wind and spirit magic, blood sacrifices on a massive scale. That hurricane that destroyed our fleet was but a puff of wind compared to what they are doing now.¡±

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    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve also figured out a way to stop it, too,¡± I say. ¡°I shudder to think what they could possibly need this many blood sacrifices for.¡±

    He starts going on about how the Maormer use magic rocks to direct the energy through their snake totems and I don¡¯t even slightly understand half of what he¡¯s saying but it¡¯s also looking like I¡¯m the only one here dumb enough to actually test out whether his hypothesis is accurate or whether it¡¯s just likely to fry whoever tries it to a crisp. The worst that could happen is that I need to find a way to escape Coldharbour again, and that¡¯s worth it for a chance to help these nice cat people.

    Fortunately, waving the magic rock at the snake statue turns off the lightning just like it did the ones on the beached ship at Shattered Shoals. Ealcil seems smug that it worked but I refrain from comment. Rurelion is more skeptical, not that I can blame him. We have no better options right now, however, than to fight our way through the cave and deactivate totems as we go.

    Once out of earshot, Rurelion mumbles, ¡°Ealcil means well, but he can be rather¡­ ah¡­¡±

    ¡°Smug? Arrogant? Reckless? Careless? Self-centered? Obsessive? Guar-headed? Annoying?¡±

    Rurelion chuckles softly. ¡°One or more of those, perhaps.¡±

    The entire cave is flooded enough that we¡¯re trudging through ankle-deep water, and a chill wind swirls about the tunnels bringing with it enough energy to make the airs on my arms stand on end.

    There¡¯s a lot of storm totems, and once we¡¯ve deactivated them all, we receive a telepathic message from Ealcil and gods-damn but I didn¡¯t want that mer in my head. Apparently he¡¯d used a magic projection spell thing to find out what they were planning, and it¡¯s incredibly stupid. The Maormer have summoned a storm atronach, a dangerous enough creature by itself, and are dumping all the energy from the ritual sacrifices into it until it explodes in a blast that would destroy half the island and everything on it except the thunderbugs, which would probably be fine.

    ¡°Won¡¯t that kill any of the Maormer that are still nearby, too?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Probably, but I never claimed they were sane,¡± Ealcil¡¯s projection says. ¡°Maybe they have some way of protecting themselves, but it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    He goes on to say something about how I can use the magic rock to unbind the storm atronach, which will make the energies dissipate in a slightly less explosive manner that still probably wouldn¡¯t be a good idea to be near, but wouldn¡¯t destroy the island and kill everyone. And then before he dispels the projection, he mentions how he¡¯s going to teleport himself into open ocean a safe distance away and tread water until it¡¯s safe.

    ¡°That guy would make a terrible Nord,¡± I mutter as we hurry to the exit.

    ¡°Not the most courageous of choices, yes, but at least he got us some important information,¡± Rurelion says.

    ¡°Yes, helpful, in a way that keeps him a safe distance away from anything dangerous. Ugh. Let¡¯s deal with this storm thing.¡±

    Ritual platforms, horns spewing lightning, oh, and giant snakes, lots of giant snakes.

    ¡°I¡¯m really starting to hate snakes,¡± I say. ¡°Rurelion, watch my back but I want you to be able to get to cover before I disrupt the last binding. Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± As he starts to protest, I remind him, ¡°I got out of Coldharbour once. I can do it again. Keep yourself safe. Gathwen would be heartbroken.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± he begins, then thinks better of it. ¡°Very well. But be careful.¡±

    As the bindings break one by one, the winds become increasingly chaotic and it¡¯s hard to keep my footing, never mind fight fucking giant snakes and crazed sea elf mages at the same time. Once I¡¯m sure Rurelion is safely out of the way, I unleash the final binding. The storm atronach yells something about how people were idiots to try to bind it and I can¡¯t argue with that sentiment.

    A blast of powerful wind knocks me off my feet and lightning surges through me.

    ¡­

    I wake up next to a wayshrine, look about and realize I¡¯m back in Mistral. I check to make sure I¡¯m not naked.

    Nope, totally naked. Every time one of the Soul Shriven died in Coldharbour, we woke up naked, because of course Molag Bal wouldn¡¯t award us with the dignity of clothing. I¡¯m quite sure that I had to have died back there on the beach, but this clearly is not Coldharbour. And why the wayshrine?

    Speculation can wait. Rurelion might have an idea on what happened. However, clothes first. Fortunately, people are too busy panicking and hiding from the Maormer attack to care about the naked not-Altmer running through the streets. Fortunately, one of the trader carts near the wayshrine is peddling clothing and the vendor is nowhere in sight, and I consider a pair of pants to be fair repayment for having saved all their tails.

    I make my way back to Cat¡¯s Eye Quay, fulling prepared to punch teeth out of any Maormer that are left alive here, but the fighting has ended and survivors are gathered about the beach resting and tending to the wounded.

    ¡°This one has searched the whole beach and found no sign of him,¡± Razum-dar is saying.

    ¡°He was right behind me but insisted I get to cover first,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°You didn¡¯t even find a body?¡±

    ¡°Not even his axe,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°He must have been blown straight out into the water by the blast.¡±

    Gathwen spots me first. ¡°Neralion!¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°The conquering hero returns unscathed!¡±

    ¡°Rurelion,¡± I say quietly. ¡°Would you cast that spell to prevent eavesdropping? There¡¯s something important I need to ask about and I don¡¯t think it can wait. You three can hear this, though.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Neralion,¡± Rurelion says, waving a hand. ¡°Done.¡±

    ¡°Gathwen, I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯ve inferred by now, but I was sacrificed to Molag Bal a few thousand years ago and have been trapped in Coldharbour ever since, but managed to make an escape with the help of an old mage and a Skyshard.¡±

    Gathwen seems suitably amazed and impressed by all that, but Rurelion is just going on thoughtfully about the puzzle.

    ¡°Skyshards contain Aetherial energy,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°Aedric in nature. That sort of essence would have allowed you to manifest outside of Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t just get blown into the water when I unbound that storm atronach,¡± I say. ¡°Well, maybe I did but it wasn¡¯t for long. I wound up at the wayshrine. Somehow. I¡¯m pretty sure I died and didn¡¯t wind up in Coldharbour for some reason. Not that I¡¯m complaining, mind you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°Perhaps the Aedric energy in the Skyshards that now infuses you drew you back to the wayshrine rather than let you return to Coldharbour? They are shrines to the Aedra, after all. If you lit them with your own magic, you may have forged a connection with them, or perhaps you were simply drawn to the closest one.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, I¡¯m definitely not going to argue,¡± I say.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make you effectively immortal?¡± Gathwen asks.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that,¡± I say. ¡°I might start doing incredibly stupid things. Do you have any idea how many stupid things I did in Coldharbour because I knew I¡¯d just come back anyway?¡±

    ¡°I would imagine,¡± Gathwen says. ¡°Or maybe I¡¯d rather not.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d really rather not,¡± I assure her.

    ¡°So, what Raz is getting out of this is that he should be asking you to do incredibly dangerous things?¡± Razum-dar asks with a feline smirk.

    I grin wildly. ¡°Yes, that would be absolutely fantastic. However, is there a spell to conjure pants? And has anyone seen my axe?¡±

    ¡°It must have fallen in the water,¡± Raz says. ¡°But not to worry! Raz is certain that a reward is due you from Mistral¡¯s armory in gratitude for saving us all.¡±

    ¡°There is likely a variant of bound object spells that would do what you want,¡± Rurelion says. ¡°It is not my specialty, but you should ask at a mages guild when you get a chance. That might help to avoid embarrassing situations.¡±

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say. ¡°Well. Now that that is cleared up, or something, I notice somebody has opened up a keg of something probably alcoholic. I¡¯m going to celebrate never going back to Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Definitely something to celebrate,¡± Raz agrees.

 Chapter 14: In Which I Acquire a Closet

    Harrani awards me with the finest battle axe in Mistral¡¯s armory, which she tells me is named Khenarthi¡¯s Storm. I suspect that word got ahead to her that I always name my weapons something ridiculous if they didn¡¯t already have a name. That¡¯s not going to stop me from calling it Stormy. It doesn¡¯t even look like anything particularly special, no fancy markings or enchantments, but I¡¯m grateful to have it regardless. In any case, last time somebody gave me a magic weapon with a fancy name, it was a one-handed sword, despite the fact that I prefer two-handed axes. Somebody was more interested in giving me a weapon that would be a fine pair with one for my wife, rather than one that would actually be practical for me. Somehow this wound up being finely symbolic of our marriage being useless.

    Captain Jimila has gotten the Prowler fully repaired and is happy to give me a ride for free anywhere I want, so long as I want to go to Auridon because that¡¯s where she¡¯s sailing. A number of Dominion dignitaries are going along, presumably having been done with Khenarthi¡¯s Roost and not wanting to stay a moment longer than necessary, now that the Maormer have been dealt with. Razum-dar asked me to go along because he believes the Maormer may threaten Auridon next and Vulkhel Guard needs to be warned. This will probably (almost certainly) lead to me getting the opportunity to hit more sea elves.

    As we¡¯re sailing to Auridon, the Prophet appears in my dreams, and he¡¯s rambling about destiny or something again. I don¡¯t quite make out what he¡¯s trying to tell me before it devolves into a Daedra-related nightmare, but he does give me the sense of a location of a cave near the city Vulkhel Guard where he wants to meet me. I guess I¡¯ll have to figure out what he wants in person.

    The ride is smooth and thankfully storm-free, and we are unbothered by any Maormer pirates. Almost a pity since I¡¯d wanted to try out my new axe, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get the chance soon enough. We arrive in due course in the port city of Vulkhel guard. It¡¯s¡­ very pretty. Very high elven. White buildings, golden sands, flowering trees. This is what my ancestors left behind when they decided to go to the north and east, to the lands around Red Mountain. This is a soft land for a soft people.

    A number of Khajiit and Bosmer are fishing along the water, and that section unsurprisingly smells very fishy, hopefully just in the literal way and not that there¡¯s suspicious activity going on around there. (There¡¯s probably suspicious activity going on somewhere else, though.) The docks area is a bustling place, with vendors under tents offering a wide variety of goods for sale; I browse casually but don¡¯t buy anything. A nearby poster pronounces the glory of contests of martial prowess; I might check that out later. My first priority is the nearest inn.

    I don¡¯t even manage to get up the first set of stairs leading into the city before a uniformed woman stops me. First it¡¯s wanting to register my visit, state my name and business, not that she¡¯s stopping anyone else to ask that. Fine.

    ¡°My name is Neralion. I just arrived from Khenarthi¡¯s Roost. It was attacked by Sea Viper pirates. Razum-dar sent me to warn Vulkhel Guard about Maormer activity.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll make note of that and ensure the information is passed along to those who need to know.¡± She boredly writes down my name and ushers me along. You¡¯d think they¡¯d be a bit more concerned about that, but whatever. I¡¯ve done what was asked of me and can do my own investigation on my own time.

    ¡°Could you tell me which way to the closest inn?¡± I ask, then pause. ¡°Or, a good inn?¡±

    ¡°The closest one would be the Salted Wings Tavern near the docks.¡± She points to the left. ¡°But if you¡¯re looking for one that¡¯s actually good, you¡¯ll want the Mara¡¯s Kiss Public House.¡± She points behind her. ¡°Straight up the road and just past the wayshrine.¡±

    I thank her and head that way. The wayshrine in question looks different from the ones on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, which probably shouldn¡¯t be surprising as I doubt high elves would put cats on absolutely everything. It looks more like a small high elf-style building like the rest of town, a little gazebo sheltering a raised brazier on a plinth. (Plinth is the right word, isn¡¯t it? Seht would be thrilled at me for remembering that.) I light the brazier and watch the warm blue flames flicker for a few minutes.

    Next to the inn is a stable containing several horses. I wish they were guar. I miss guar. I don¡¯t imagine I¡¯ll be seeing a lot of people riding guar in this part of the world, though, more¡¯s the pity. These hooved animals seem so clumsy and awkward to me. How would you even get one of them over rugged ground?

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    The Mara¡¯s Kiss is a cozy place, with a crackling fire on the hearth with a painting of a waterfall above it. Although, considering how warm it is here, I¡¯m not sure why they felt the need to have the fire burning in the middle of the day.

    I settle in for lunch, and a meal that does not contain fish or moon sugar. I¡¯ll not complain of roast venison and steamed radishes, even if I still find myself missing ash yams and kwama eggs. This has been a great adventure, but being back on Nirn has brought to mind some things I had pushed aside while in Coldharbour. I never felt homesick while in Coldharbour. Now I¡¯m missing a land and a people that no longer really exist.

    ¡°Hmm, you have a look about you¡­¡± a voice distracts me from my melancholy thoughts. A human woman, shorter than a Nord, probably a Breton or an Imperial. I can¡¯t tell the difference between them.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t mean to be rude!¡± She introduces herself as Felande Demarie, goes on about owning property across Tamriel, and makes some really awkward turns of phrase that I graciously ignore.

    ¡°I seeeee,¡± I drawl. ¡°Okay. How much is the room, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no charge!¡± Felande says. ¡°It¡¯s absolutely free!¡±

    ¡°Okay, what¡¯s wrong with the room, then?¡± I ask.

    And then she starts babbling something about freshening her image, problems with previous tenants, and I read between the lines that the place used to be used for blood sacrifices, then was later used to brew skooma, and she wants a fine, upstanding adventurer to make her look less bad.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I say. ¡°And I was told this was the good inn. I hate to think what must go on at the Salty Wings Tavern.¡±

    ¡°Does that mean you don¡¯t want the room?¡± Felande asks, face falling.

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll take it,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s conveniently located¡ª¡± right next to the wayshrine, ¡°¡ªand I¡¯m sure I can clean it up and air it out.¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± Felande immediately perks up. ¡°You can do all sorts of things with it. Store your adventuring supplies, display trophies, maybe put in a bookshelf if you¡¯re the reading sort of adventurer, but that looks like an axe on your back rather than a staff so maybe not. Uhh¡ªnot to imply that you don¡¯t know how to read! People with battle axes can certainly be academic too if they want!¡±

    This human might even be sillier than me.

    ¡°Anyway, here¡¯s the key,¡± Felande says, pulling it out and handing it to me. ¡°It was a bit of trouble to get it back from the previous tenant.¡± She lowers her voice a bit. ¡°I had to find out how to get into the local outlaw refuge, and believe me, I¡¯d rather not have had to know what goes on in the sewers around here!¡±

    ¡°What happened to the previous tenant?¡± I ask. ¡°Out of morbid curiosity.¡±

    ¡°No one could be sure, but the Dark Brotherhood was suspected,¡± Felande says. At my blank look, she adds, ¡°You know, the mysterious group of assassins? I don¡¯t know what he did to convince someone to hire assassins to murder him, and I don¡¯t want to know.¡±

    I unlock the door and open it up to take a look around the room, but stop in the doorway. The smell of skooma smoke is very faint, but most notable is the fact that I can almost touch the far wall and the doorframe at the same time.

    ¡°Felande, this room is a closet.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ yes, I know it¡¯s not very big, but it can still be very useful!¡± Felande insists. ¡°This is a very competitive location, after all. And I¡¯m sure whatever you¡¯d want to fit in there would be better than a bloody altar or a skooma-stained alchemy table.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have no intention of performing blood sacrifices or brewing skooma, I assure you,¡± I say.

    ¡°Anyway, don¡¯t you adventuring types always want a home in every town?¡± Felande says. ¡°It¡¯ll be an excellent addition to your holdings!¡±

    ¡°At the moment, it¡¯s my only holding,¡± I say. ¡°So I¡¯m not going to complain. Gotta start somewhere, right?¡±

    ¡°Right!¡± Felande agrees enthusiastically.

    It¡¯s not completely useless, I suppose. I can at least use it as a closet and store things in it like extra clothes, if I¡¯m going to be dropping everything I¡¯m carrying and wearing every time I die. Still, I was hoping to sleep in a bed that doesn¡¯t move tonight, and there isn¡¯t even room in this room to fit one without blocking the door.

    ¡°I suppose you could also tell me where I might be able to acquire some furnishings?¡± I ask.

    She gives me directions, so I bid her good day and head for the market.

    Harrani had made sure I also received a monetary award for my role in aiding Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, and Raz additionally made sure I¡¯d have money for expenses, with a sly note not to drop it again. Best keep most of it in my house, or perhaps find a bank. Keeping money in the bank in case of death is probably not a high concern for most people.

    I don¡¯t think a normal bed would fit, but that¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t mind more rustic accommodations, and am able to cheaply acquire some fur bedding that looks like it would be sufficiently comfortable. I also order some shelves to be delivered, a wash basin because I¡¯m damned well going to be able to take a hot bath in my own closet if I want, and then I proceed to go on a shopping spree for lovely, completely ordinary clothing that make me think Coldharbour prison rags have given me a slightly skewed idea on what nice clothing is. At least I didn¡¯t have to steal these. (I will probably still raid bandit laundry at some point in the future just for extra disposable clothes, though. I have a feeling I¡¯m going to need them.)

    After spending most of my money on clothes and furnishings, I¡¯m feeling slightly poorer but considerably more confident. Sleeping in my own room with a locked door is a lovely thing. Even if I have to lay in it diagonally. Maybe I can dream of one day owning a manor. Wouldn¡¯t that be something? The world is probably full of plenty of people willing to pay someone to hit things.

 Chapter 15: In Which I Learn to Conjure Pants

    It¡¯s a fine morning in Vulkhel Guard, but every day is probably a fine morning in Vulkhel Guard. I have to wonder if it ever even snows here, never mind has ash storms and volcanic eruptions. The place probably gets hurricanes rather than blizzards, and that would be less than fine but they¡¯re probably considerably less likely when the Maormer aren¡¯t fucking with them.

    The Mages Guildhall is a large building marked by blue banners depicting a fancy eye symbol. Inside, amid the room filled with bookcases and arcane workbenches, a number of mages are working and studying. In addition to the expected high elves, wood elves, and Khajiit of the Aldmeri Dominion, there are also humans, an Argonian, and¡­ a sort of mer I haven¡¯t seen before. Could that be one of the dark elves my people became? His skin is ashen gray, and his eyes are blood red to the point of being almost black.

    ¡°Would you like to make a purchase, or have you simply never seen a Dunmer before and wish to stare?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Ah¡­ no, my apologies,¡± I say quickly.

    He sighs. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m from Morrowind. No, I do not care about the Ebonheart Pact. The Mages Guild is neutral in the alliance war and I care only about guild business. Now, unless you wish to buy soul gems, please leave me to my work. I am very busy.¡±

    I apologize again and continue on to the other side of the guild, where I spot a familiar fuzzy face. ¡°Sahira-daro!¡± I say. ¡°Good to see you here.¡±

    ¡°Ah, good day, Neralion,¡± Sahira-daro says. ¡°Always a pleasure. You also come here to seek knowledge, yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hoping to learn a few useful spells, at any rate,¡± I say.

    ¡°You should certainly join the Mages Guild, then,¡± Sahira says.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not really a mage type,¡± I say. ¡°Is it necessary, or do they offer training to non-members?¡±

    ¡°They, strangely enough, do not seem particularly concerned over whether you can cast any spells at all,¡± Sahira-daro says, then grins at me coyly. ¡°Don¡¯t think this one has forgotten your promise to find rare books.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to bring you anything interesting I run across, and it will likely be much more convenient if you¡¯re here rather than hauling them out to Khenarthi¡¯s Roost.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts precisely. Now that Sahira-daro¡¯s avenue of research on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost has failed to pan out, there was no reason for her to remain there any longer. Plus, this one has heard Valaste, the keeper of tomes here, mention a store of ancient knowledge in a nearby ruin known as Ondil. It sounded too dangerous for Sahira-daro, but you, on the other hand¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take a look when I get the chance,¡± I promise her.

    I bid her good day and wander back toward the entrance to the guild hall, where Sahira-daro has directed me toward an Altmer named Curinure with a distracting nose ring who asks if I¡¯m here on Mages Guild business. The Altmer, not the nose ring, that is.

    ¡°I¡¯m just looking to learn a few spells,¡± I say. ¡°My friend suggested I join, but I¡¯m not really a mage, although she said that wasn¡¯t a problem.¡±

    ¡°Many people know a few spells but aren¡¯t really mages,¡± Curinure says. ¡°There are many paths in the pursuit of knowledge.¡± His eyes fall on the battle axe on my back for a moment. ¡°We do not demand exclusivity, either. Should you also wish to join the Fighters Guild, you are welcome to do so. Although we are often friendly rivals, there is no reason one cannot explore both the martial and arcane arts.¡±

    ¡°The¡­ friendly Dunmer over there said that you guys were neutral in the alliance war,¡± I say. ¡°Does that mean if I join, I would not be able to help in Dominion business?¡±

    ¡°What you do on your own time is your business,¡± Curinure says. ¡°Just please don¡¯t go to war whilst wearing Mages Guild robes and flying the eye banner.¡±

    ¡°Okay, sounds good.¡± I¡¯m not sure how much I really want to be involved in the alliance war, but I¡¯d like to keep my options open. I probably owe Raz a few favors, not the least is that he¡¯s probably going to make me actually be a spy or something after I lied about it so much.

    So I go ahead and join the Mages Guild, even if I feel a bit silly about it. And fortunately, it turns out that dirty clothes and missing pants are common enough problems that there are simple spells to deal with them. That¡¯ll save me a lot of trouble. Admittedly, the bound item spells create items that are swirly, faintly glowing purple, but I can handle briefly wearing purple pants in a pinch. While I don¡¯t care to put in the amount of practice and study it would take to conjure weapons and armor, clothing that doesn¡¯t protect anything but your dignity isn¡¯t difficult.

    As I¡¯m leaving the Mages Guildhall, an unearthly roar echoes through the air, followed by the rattle of chains. What in Oblivion? I turn to the right, and the sky over the building is crackling with lightning, and I spot a large, spiky ring materializing in the sky that distinctly reminds me of Coldharbour. I turn and race out the nearby gate.

    Daedra are falling from the sky onto a stone circle marked with Daedric runes, with a raised platform in the middle of it. An eclectic band of people are already there battling the Daedra, and already seem to have the situation under control, but have no complaints over an extra blade when I pull out Stormy and join in. The fighters run around purposefully destroying each diamond-shaped pinion as they open up.

    ¡°If I cannot control your world, I will destroy it,¡± Molag Bal¡¯s chilling voice echoes from nowhere.

    I¡¯m going to need to conjure myself some new pants now.

    ¡°So¡­ who are you people?¡± I ask. ¡°Were you just¡­ camping here or something?¡±

    A burly Nord with a huge beard chuckles and nods. ¡°We¡¯re with the Fighters Guild. The name¡¯s Scregor. We take shifts watching the dolmens waiting for the Anchors to drop. This one¡¯s particularly important, to make sure the Daedra don¡¯t reach town. Most of these things are further out in the wilderness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see a Nord protecting a city of Altmer,¡± I say.

    Scregor snorts softly. ¡°The Fighters Guild is neutral. When on guild business, we raise no banners and bow to no kings or queens. And in any case, you might be prissy elves, but you¡¯re still people. Nobody deserves to be torn apart by Daedra.¡±

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    ¡°You¡¯re pretty good with that axe,¡± an Argonian who introduces himself as Tests-the-Waters says. ¡°You should join up.¡±

    ¡°I think I will,¡± I say. ¡°Your guildhall is right next to the Mages Guild just inside the gate, right?¡±

    ¡°Close enough to go back for lunch,¡± the Nord says.

    I look up at the sky, now once again bright and sunny. ¡°How often do these things drop?¡±

    ¡°Several times a day,¡± Scregor says. ¡°Some cultists teleport in and start trying to sacrifice people, and we charge in and start bashing heads, but it doesn¡¯t stop the Anchor from falling.¡±

    ¡°Several times a day¡­¡± I repeat. Maybe I don¡¯t have to go back to Coldharbour, but if something isn¡¯t done about this, Coldharbour is going to come to me anyway. Fuck.

    ¡°It¡¯s good exercise,¡± Scregor says. ¡°Keeps you sharp!¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll go sign up now,¡± I say.

    I return to town and head into the building in question. The steward of the Fighters Guildhall in Vulkhel Guard is an Altmer by the name of Aicessar, who reiterates how, like the Mages Guild, members are considered neutral when on guild business, and discusses their current focus on destroying the Dark Anchors whenever they drop. I can imagine that Molag Bal deciding to set up one of these dolmens directly behind their guildhall may have had something to do with that decision. Just a thought.

    ¡°And before you ask why we don¡¯t simply destroy the dolmens,¡± Aicessar goes on, ¡°while the Dark Anchors themselves are simple enough to break once the chains fall, the dolmens themselves have proven quite resistant to damage. A more permanent solution would, of course, be ideal, once we can find one. In the meantime¡­ we hold the line.¡±

    ¡°I have enough things that I need to be doing that I probably won¡¯t be camping out in front of them like those I met out there today,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯ll definitely go break any I see fall.¡±

    Aicessar nods. ¡°We don¡¯t expect everyone to stand out there full-time. But taking the fight to the Daedra in any way helps keep our world safe. Maybe you¡¯ll even get a chance to meet our new guildmaster, Sees-All-Colors. It¡¯s under her direction that we¡¯ve set our focus upon the Dark Anchors.¡±

    ¡°New guildmaster?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Aicessar says. ¡°Our previous guildmaster, Jofnir Iceblade, died suddenly in his sleep, but Colors has proven herself to be an able leader.¡±

    After joining the guild and having a quick chat and introduction with the others around the guildhall (including one who wanted me to get crafting certification, no thanks, I¡¯m not a crafter), I bid them good day and head back outside.

    As I leave the guildhall, an unearthly roar echoes through the sky followed by the rattle of chains. What, another one already? Okay, I can see how this will quickly go from terrifying to annoying in short order. Most of the people in this part of town barely even glance up at the crackling in the sky, just shrugging and going on about their daily routine as if there weren¡¯t an army of Daedra literally on their doorstep ready to burst into the town if the Fighters Guild failed to hold the line. Admittedly they still wouldn¡¯t get far because the Fighters Guildhall is right there and there are plenty more fighters practicing and working nearby.

    Still, I pull out my axe and go to hit some more Daedra and say hi to Scregor and Tests-the-Waters and the others whose names I didn¡¯t catch the first time around. Now I see why everyone doesn¡¯t go running over there.

    Right. Back to town. I head for the Salted Wings Tavern for lunch and out of curiosity to see just why it wasn¡¯t considered as ¡®good¡¯ an inn as the Mara¡¯s Kiss, considering my room at the Mara¡¯s Kiss is little more than a closet. The place is definitely rustic, with dead birds hanging from the ceiling and a ship¡¯s wheel over the hearth. It¡¯s full of off-duty sailors and more Khajiit and Bosmer than the Mara¡¯s Kiss.

    There¡¯s a bard in the corner playing a lute and singing a song about red diamonds or something. He¡¯s a human with darker skin than I¡¯m accustomed to seeing¡ªdefinitely not a Nord. A Redguard? Sahira-daro mentioned the Redguards in her description of the three alliances but I don¡¯t know that I¡¯ve seen one before. At least on this side of the veil, but any I might have seen in Coldharbour would have long had their skin fade to cold blue rather than warm brown.

    A look upstairs makes me glad I went to the Mara¡¯s Kiss first. Although my room there is small, it¡¯s at least a private space. The Salted Wings only has a common area full of bunks. Around the fire, there¡¯s rugged-looking group that look to be adventurers, drinking. An armored Khajiit (wearing armor while drinking? There¡¯s dedication.) who is apparently named Turuk insults me when I come close, telling me that this is where the Undaunted drink, not milksops.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this the common area?¡± I gesture around to the bunks. ¡°And in any case¡­ milksop? Really? Is that the best insult you can come up with? Not, say, poxy tin-clad skeever with fur full of lice?¡±

    Turuk looks insulted for a moment, then snickers. ¡°Not bad, but can you fight? Or have you only ever used that axe of yours on mudcrabs?¡±

    ¡°I was just over at the dolmen killing Daedra,¡± I say. ¡°Twice.¡±

    ¡°Pfah, Fighters Guild business,¡± Turuk says. ¡°We¡¯ll destroy those Daedra if they come close, but no. We go after stronger opponents than that. Not for duty or honor, but to prove we are the toughest and greatest!¡±

    ¡°Stronger than Daedra?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Certainly stronger than the weaklings Molag Bal has been throwing at the world,¡± Turuk says. ¡°One inebriated Nord could hold off those Dark Anchors by himself¡ªand frequently does. No, if we go after a Daedra, it¡¯s one far mightier than those shock troops. We seek out the greatest challenges in the dark places in the world. Seeking the thrill of battle, finding true danger!¡±

    ¡°Sounds like fun,¡± I say with a wild grin. ¡°I¡¯ve faced things that you cannot even imagine. I¡¯m not afraid.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Turuk says. ¡°You think you have what it takes? You think you can handle yourself as one of the Undaunted? Then prove yourself.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Turuk muses. ¡°There¡¯s a place in the north of Auridon called the Banished Cells. There¡¯s rumors of an ancient curse¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is this the sort of ancient curse that can be dealt with by hitting the right thing enough times?¡± I interrupt. ¡°Because I¡¯m not a great fan of unleashing ancient curses upon the world.¡±

    Turuk snickers. ¡°This one does not know the details, but has heard that it is an undead king that has been imprisoned there. Surely hitting what has been imprisoned there would prevent it from being unleashed upon the world, yes?¡±

    ¡°An undead king?¡± I say. ¡°Fantastic! That sounds like it would a great fight. Do you suppose there¡¯ll be traps there, too? I love traps!¡±

    Turuk laughs aloud at that. ¡°Perhaps you will fit in here better than this one imagined after all. Go pay a visit when you get the chance, and find out, then come back here to tell us the tale.¡±

    ¡°Should I wind up getting to that part of the island, I¡¯ll surely do that,¡± I say. ¡°People around here will probably have some less worthy things to be paying me to do, and I¡¯m broke because I spent all my money on furniture and clothes. Would you believe someone wanted me to kill rats? Undignified, but sometimes you have to make do when you¡¯re broke.¡±

    ¡°Turuk understands. He, too, had to start off with killing rats in his younger years. And booze and moon sugar don¡¯t pay for themselves. But there are far greater treasures that can be found in ancient ruins full of dangerous creatures than you¡¯ll ever get from being paid for pest control.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bet,¡± I say.

    While exploring town, I run across a couple of interesting books: Frontier, Conquest and Ayleid Inscriptions Translated. They¡¯re just laying around out in the open and nobody protests upon me picking them up. Are these fascinating lost tomes, or just casually misplaced litter? Well, they seem interesting enough to me. I take them back to Sahira-daro anyway.

    ¡°These were simply laying around?¡± Sahira-daro asks upon paging through them.

    ¡°Yeah, that one was just laying on a bench in the plaza,¡± I say. ¡°Really, I¡¯d think if it were valuable, people wouldn¡¯t just leave it laying around, and somebody might be annoyed that their book has gone missing, but they really shouldn¡¯t have left it there in the first place.¡±

    Sahira-daro grins. ¡°Never be afraid to take what others do not deserve to keep.¡±

    ¡°Are they valuable?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°They are interesting,¡± Sahira says. ¡°Every bit of knowledge is valuable, even if people have been careless with it. Especially if people have been careless with it, sometimes. Keep your eyes open and your nose sharp for more books like these that people have carelessly left lying around, yes?¡±

    As I step out of the Mages Guildhall again, an unearthly roar echoes through the air and that damned Dark Anchor is dropping again. Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake. With a sigh, I obligatorily pull out my axe and run off to hit some more Daedra.

 Chapter 16: In Which the Prophet Talks a Lot

    In the last dream he¡¯d sent me, the Prophet gave me the impression of the location of a cave on the shore just to the east of the city of Vulkhel Guard. And it¡¯s certainly a fine day for a stroll on the beach in the opposite direction from the dolmen. I even find a treasure chest washed up ashore! With¡­ well, not particularly impressive treasure in it, but hey, I won¡¯t turn up my nose at pocket change.

    The cave, which the Prophet referred to as the harborage, isn¡¯t far from town at all. I have to wonder if he had to incinerate some smugglers or something out of it before he could take up residence. This is the sort of cave smugglers like to frequent, after all. And I doubt the Prophet was the one who left the bottles and broken crates scattered about the ground, but hey, maybe he decided to celebrate escaping from Coldharbour hard.

    ¡°I hear familiar footsteps,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°Is there something odd about the way I walk?¡± I ask. ¡°Or is that just your way of saying you can sense me, like, magically? How¡¯d you stumble on this place, anyway?¡±

    ¡°It had the right smell about it,¡± he says.

    I sniff the air. ¡°Smells like moon sugar rum to me.¡±

    He ignores me and starts going on about wanting me to enter his mind to understand past events, and this sounds really creepy but whatever. Unfortunately, his mind looks a lot like Coldharbour, and I flinch involuntarily when I see the mindscape around me.

    ¡°You find the scenery distressing?¡± the Prophet says. ¡°My apologies. Be assured that this is not actually Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Okay, one, if you chose to make this ¡®place¡¯ look like this, why would you choose this?¡± I wonder. ¡°And if you didn¡¯t, why does your mind look like Coldharbour?¡±

    ¡°Do not be alarmed,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Molag Bal left his mark upon me, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Never mind, let¡¯s just get on with this,¡± I say.

    He starts going on about how he woke up at some abbey with no memory, blah blah, became a priest, blah blah, read some weird scrolls until he went blind because why would you keep reading weird scrolls if they made you go blind? His only answer to that is that the weird scrolls gave him insights into the future or something.

    ¡°Useless,¡± I mutter. ¡°You sacrificed your sight, for what? A fleeting glimpse of something that isn¡¯t set in stone?¡±

    So then he starts going on about destiny again and I would really like to hit him about now. Oh, destiny, destiny, destiny. Fuck destiny. What has destiny ever done for me?

    Perhaps noticing my disinterest and impatience, he changes the subject. Now he¡¯s talking something about Dragonborn, Amulet of Kings, Imperial City¡­

    ¡°Prophet, I think you¡¯re forgetting something,¡± I say.

    ¡°What is that, Vestige?¡± the Prophet asks.

    ¡°I have been trapped in Coldharbour for thousands of years,¡± I point out. ¡°I only have the vaguest sketch of the political situation and recent history. I don¡¯t actually know half of what you¡¯re even talking about.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Yes. Right. Of course. I had hoped to get you up to speed on recent events, but forget you don¡¯t even know about the less recent events. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll need to read some books yourself to fill in the gaps as there¡¯s only so much I can tell you at once, and there are things I need to show you in this setting that you cannot simply read in a book.¡±

    ¡°Right, fine,¡± I say. ¡°Go on and show me what you absolutely needed to show me in your mindscape here like this that you couldn¡¯t just tell me.¡±

    I wish I were able to take a notepad with me inside this mindscape to be able to take notes on all the random things he mentions in passing that I¡¯ll need to look up in detail later, but as it is, it¡¯s hopeless. There¡¯s too many names and faces to keep straight. I can¡¯t even remember my own fake name, how am I supposed to remember Mannimumble and Varen Awhateverus? There¡¯s a reason why I always called my friends by their initials.

    At any rate, the important bit is that Mannimumble tricked Varen into doing something or other with the Amulet of Kings that made a big explosion and let Molag Bal start this whole Planemeld thing.

    ¡°Well, that was a very flashy memory, that,¡± I say. ¡°So which one were you?¡±

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    He¡¯s taken aback for a moment. ¡°This is one of the visions that the Elder Scrolls presented to me.¡±

    ¡°Right, okay, good,¡± I say. ¡°Because if you were about to say that you were this Mannimumble fellow somehow, I¡¯d be obligated to hit you.¡±

    ¡°I am not Mannimarco,¡± the Prophet says with a sigh. ¡°I am, obviously, not even an Altmer.¡±

    And then he feels the need to show me an image of one of the Dark Anchors falling, while continuing to ramble something about somebody named Alessia. There¡¯s another name I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m supposed to know. Did she live before I died, or after? Either way, I don¡¯t remember anything about her.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve already seen the Dark Anchors,¡± I say. ¡°Or, one of them at least. There¡¯s one just outside Vulkhel Guard. The Fighters Guild have been smacking it every time it pops up. Or¡­ pops down. Whatever.¡±

    ¡°And now you see why we must stop Molag Bal, or our world is doomed,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°Whoa, whoa, back up there!¡± I raise my hands. ¡°What¡¯s this ¡®we¡¯ you¡¯re talking about here? How the fuck do you think I¡¯m supposed to help anyone stop a Daedric Prince? If I were capable of doing any such thing, don¡¯t you think I would have done so long ago?¡±

    ¡°The Elder Scrolls have indicated your importance¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Elder Scrolls don¡¯t say shit that actually means anything!¡± I retort. ¡°You just said yourself that the future is fluid. What does any of that mean, anyway?¡±

    ¡°You need not walk this path alone,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what you expect me to do, regardless,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m good at hitting things, sure, but for whatever history has said about me, I¡¯m just a warrior.¡±

    ¡°Do not underestimate yourself or the role you are to play in these events. Come. Let us return to the Harborage. This stroll through my mind has made me weary I am certain that you have more questions.¡±

    The mindscape vanishes in a flash of light and I find myself back in the probably-smuggler cave.

    ¡°Great, bye,¡± I say, and turn to leave the cave.

    ¡°Vestige, wait!¡±

    ¡°And dammit, my name is not Vestige! My name is Nerevar!¡±

    ¡°Please listen to me,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°We still need to rescue Lyris.¡±

    ¡°From Coldharbour? You seriously want to send me back to Coldharbour!?¡±

    ¡°I will need to pinpoint her location first,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°But you know it better than anyone except Cadwell.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going back to Coldharbour,¡± I say firmly.

    ¡°Not even to rescue Lyris?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t make me go back there,¡± I say.

    The Prophet sighs. ¡°No, I cannot. But I must remind you that Molag Bal still has possession of your soul, so you remain tied to it regardless. If you truly wish to be free of him, you will need to reclaim your soul.¡±

    ¡°Okay, the matter of getting my soul back is definitely a more reasonable one than all your rambling about saving the world and your fantasy of defeating a god. I still don¡¯t know how to do that, though.¡±

    ¡°I may be able to help,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°But I will not leave Lyris to suffer under Molag Bal¡¯s lash for long. Be assured that I will be able to bring you out of Coldharbour again, as well. You will not need to be there for long.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I say. ¡°No, wait, actually, I won¡¯t think about it. Thinking about it is likely to make my stomach churn and my blood boil.¡±

    ¡°I understand that you fear the wrath of Molag Bal and are terrified at the prospect of returning to Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid,¡± I insist. ¡°I just¡­ don¡¯t want to go back. That¡¯s all. Not afraid at all. Nope. Not even slightly.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Of course. How foolish of me to suggest that a bold warrior such as yourself be afraid of a land of eternal torment that he cannot fight with a blade.¡±

    I¡¯m really, really, really not afraid of Coldharbour. That¡¯s my story, and I¡¯m sticking to it. (If I were to die in Coldharbour, would I still be drawn to a wayshrine on Nirn? Or would I just become trapped there again?)

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m just a warrior,¡± I say. ¡°If you need something hit, call on me to hit things. If you want me to go read things, you¡¯ll need to give me some subjects to write down that I can look up, because I can¡¯t remember half of what you glossed over back there. In there. Whatever.¡±

    ¡°I am certain that getting a broad spectrum of historical and societal knowledge would serve you well in your journeys,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°But specifically you may wish to brush up on the history of the Empire of Cyrodiil.¡±

    ¡°Lucky for you, I¡¯m currently on a quest to collect every interesting book in Tamriel that I find laying around for a friend I like a whole lot more than you. No offense. Not that I¡¯m not grateful for you getting me out of Coldharbour in the first place, mind you. But you ask too much of me and you talk too much and you¡¯re way too obsessed with destiny.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°And I cannot say that your ire is undeserved. Go, then. Leave me to rest. I must recover my strength and then attempt to find where Lyris is being held. She has been moved from the cell where she so bravely took my place, but I do not yet know to where. I fear for her mind and soul.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m going to go way over there and not think about going back to Coldharbour. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve got any moon sugar rum leftover, do you? Or are all these bottles empty?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have no alcohol for you.¡±

    ¡°Drank it all? Yeah, don¡¯t suppose I blame you. Alright. I¡¯ll go get my own.¡± I pause. ¡°I¡¯ll go get some money to buy booze and then go get my own. No, wait, I¡¯ll get some money to buy things that are more useful than booze and just swipe some booze from bandits or something. There¡¯s probably plenty of bandits around here. These soft elves would be easy prey for criminals and thugs.¡±

    ¡°It would likely be a great help to people to protect them from that which threatens them, great and small,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Molag Bal might be too big of a target for you to handle, but Mannimarco and his Worm Cult threaten the land as well. I sense their machinations reaching far and wide, and they must be pulled out by the roots.¡±

    ¡°Cultists!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Yes! Now there¡¯s a problem I can deal with. Cultists can be hit in the face!¡± I pause. ¡°Or anywhere else for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Prophet agrees wearily. ¡°Yes, you can go root out the servants of darkness wherever they cause trouble throughout Tamriel.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re basically saying I should wander all over the place and solve everyone¡¯s problems.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that would, indeed, suffice.¡±

 Chapter 17: In Which I Set Myself on Fire

    Taking a walk back along the beach, I run across an Altmer sea captain by the name of Erronfaire who is complaining about some missing crew members. Okay, sure, they¡¯re probably just being lazy or don¡¯t want to return, but hey, maybe they were kidnapped or something and need help? I¡¯m heading back into town anyway so it¡¯s no big deal to ask around for them.

    I make sure to write down the names she¡¯s looking for this time, because I¡¯ve acquired a journal in the meantime and otherwise I¡¯m never going to remember. Because this is the sort of thing I wind up using a journal for: remembering names and locations. Daedra know I¡¯d never have been able to keep straight the names of Daedric shrines otherwise. They always wind up being at least six syllables with a couple of Z¡¯s in them. And Dwemer names? Good luck on those! I liked the Dwemer, I really did, but they were a people who considered vowels to be optional. (Oh, Kagrenac, what did you do?)

    As I¡¯m getting lunch at the Salted Wings Tavern, I ask about Tanamo, who is present and extremely drunk. It takes me a bit to get through to him, but eventually he promises to get out there eventually. I won¡¯t count on him eventually remembering, but as I don¡¯t really feel like dragging him out physically, I finish my own meal of radishes in rice and get up.

    Before I leave, something the bard is singing catches my attention this time. Something about ripping out the Heart of Lorkhan. My head snaps to attention as I approach the Redguard bard and listen more closely. The ¡®red diamond¡¯ he¡¯s been singing about is apparently a drop of blood from the Heart of Lorkhan that fell into an Ayleid well as it flew over Cyrodiil. And, of course, they pulled it out and carved it into a gem and¡­ some words I don¡¯t quite catch. That¡¯s¡­ alarming. And this human is singing about it like it¡¯s some sort of awesome thing.

    The bard finishes his song and looks to me. ¡°Did you not enjoy my performance?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± I ask. ¡°Oh. No, your voice is lovely. It¡¯s just the subject matter.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± the bard says. ¡°I suppose this may not be the best place to be singing about killing elves, would it?¡± He chuckles. ¡°My apologies for not considering my audience. I will choose a different song.¡±

    He then breaks into another tune about some sort of sea monster eating people. I guess that¡¯s more neutral subject matter, even if he did misunderstand my cause for distress.

    I head down the market, trying to put this ¡®red diamond¡¯ foolishness out of my mind. After asking around a bit, I locate the next crew member, a Bosmer named Balithil, laying in a bed upstairs at the enchanter¡¯s shop. Between groans and complaints, he informs me that he never intends to set foot on a ship again. Fair enough, although I¡¯m sure Erronfaire will not find that so fair.

    I find the third crew member, a Khajiit named Anala, practicing outside by the Fighters Guildhall. She also refuses to return to the ship, due to rumors of Maormer.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t blame you on that one,¡± I say. ¡°I was at Khenarthi¡¯s Roost and wound up getting the opportunity to hit a whole lot of them.¡±

    ¡°That sounds very brave!¡± Anala says. ¡°Much braver than Anala. Perhaps, then, you could find Degail? She would not listen and went for a walk on the western beach and has not come back.¡±

    I frown. ¡°Hopefully she just fell asleep in the sand, but if there¡¯s Maormer out there, well¡­ me and Stormy will take care of them.¡± I pat my battle axe.

    I jump off the ledge down to the beach below and land next to two people who are lounging about on the beach on a colorful rug. Out further along the shore, around a cliff blocking view from town, a couple of sailboats have landed upon the beach. I¡¯m not sure I recognize their outfits, but their bluish skin tone definitely identifies them as sea elves. A non-blue mer who might be Degail is tied up by some barrels.

    I¡¯m sure Harrani will be pleased that I¡¯ve blooded Stormy on the blood of Maormer, after the way they used and betrayed her. At least they don¡¯t see fit to murder their hostage out of spite once they see me very obviously slaughtering them all. When there¡¯s no longer anyone attacking me, I untie Degail (she does turn out to be Degail) and look around the camp for incriminating correspondence. And apparently a copy of a book titled History of the Fighters Guild, Pt. 1, which I shove in my pack, though I¡¯m not sure just why they¡¯re reading it.

    A note indicates they¡¯re holding some marines hostage at South Beacon, speaks of an ambitious plan to retake the Summerset Isles, and mentions something called the Veiled Heritance, whatever that is.

    ¡°Is South Beacon further along the beach?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s that building on the cliff up ahead,¡± Degail says, pointing.

    ¡°Captain Erronfaire sent me to look for you,¡± I say. ¡°Get back to town where it¡¯s safe. I¡¯ll retake South Beacon.¡±

    ¡°By yourself?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Yes, by myself, I mean, you just saw me take out half a dozen of them here. Unless you think someone¡¯s likely to send me reinforcements, but I¡¯m going in either way. There¡¯s marines being held hostage there, though, so if I can release them they should be able to help.¡±

    Degail wishes me luck and hurries back to town, and I make for the lighthouse. The sky grows cloudy suddenly and I can hear the Dark Anchor dropping again from here, but it¡¯s way up atop the cliff and I¡¯m busy right now. I¡¯m sure Scregor or whoever is out there at the moment have it in hand, anyway.

    Near the lighthouse, I come upon a wounded soldier who looks like he tried to escape and get back to town. He¡¯s still conscious, at least, and introduces himself as Legionary Tanacar.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a very good healer but I might be able to get you on your feet again so you can get back to town,¡± I say, crouching down to heal as much as I can with my limited magicka reserves.

    He stands slowly. ¡°I think I can make it. You¡¯ve got to find Captain Ciranya. She¡¯s being held at their main camp further down the beach. If the Maormer control this beacon¡­¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d have free rein over this coast,¡± I say, bringing out my axe again. ¡°Get back to Vulkhel Guard. I¡¯ll go split some damned sea elf skulls.¡±

    We part ways and I move on. The Maormer camp is easy to identify. They have blue tents with snakes on them and more stupid snake statues everywhere. Ugh. I suspect the captain may be being held in the largest tent, and my hunch turns out to be accurate. Once I untie her, she immediately starts giving orders almost before I¡¯ve introduced myself. (Probably with the correct name.) Sure, at least someone seems to know what they¡¯re doing around here. I¡¯ll give her the benefit of the doubt on being captured by ambush. She starts giving me the names of her scouts that had been captured, and I hold up my hand to cut her off.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just rescue everyone I run across who isn¡¯t blue, alright?¡± I say.

    ¡°Yes, that would work,¡± she says, and mentions a place to meet them at called Skylight Beach.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    As I¡¯m clearing out the camp and untying the prisoners, I come across a book titled Origin of the Mages Guild. Frowning, I toss it into my pack with the other and am now a little concerned about why they¡¯re doing research on the guilds. Sahira-daro probably has already seen these books but maybe I¡¯ll start my own collection. Another book titled How to Prepare Slaughterfish offers instructions on cooking fish at sea with fire salts and a helpful warning not to combine fire salts with kindlepitch. The description of how they accidentally destroyed a ship doing that makes me grin.

    ¡°Are you going to read all day or untie me?¡± a scout asks.

    ¡°Right, sorry.¡± I toss the cookbook into my pack and untie her. ¡°Captain¡¯s gathering everyone at Skylight Beach and you¡¯re the last one. Let¡¯s get moving.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t bothered to actually ask Ciranya where that was, so I follow the scout there, since she clearly does.

    Discussion among the marines indicates that the Maormer slipped past their patrols and through treacherous shallows as if they¡¯d received detailed intelligence from an inside source. Someone higher up than this little band of scouts. Troublesome. And now the Maormer are using the beacon to send signals to their fleet, and the quickest way to stop them is to destroy the beacon.

    ¡°We can¡¯t just retake the beacon?¡± I ask.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way we¡¯d be able to hold it against another assault,¡± Captain Ciranya says. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to wait for reinforcements.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± I say. ¡°I sent a sailor they¡¯d captured back to warn Vulkhel Guard but who knows how long it would take for them to get ready and get out here.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve warded the door, too,¡± Ciranya says. ¡°We need to find a way in, and something explosive to destroy the beacon.¡±

    ¡°Is there any kindlepitch around?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes, I store it in a cave on the back of the island,¡± says the lighthouse keeper.

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say. ¡°The Maormer use fire salts to cook their fish. I should be able to ¡®borrow¡¯ some from one of their ships. And maybe set it on fire, too, for good measure.¡±

    ¡°Good luck, and be careful, Neralion,¡± Ciranya says. ¡°I¡¯ll work on getting us inside.¡±

    I find the cave in question and locate the bag of kindlepitch. Sticky, sticky kindlepitch that I really ought not to handle with my bare hands. I decide I¡¯d best grab a couple of sticks to use as makeshift torches, too.

    Getting to the big ship requires hacking my way through some Maormer I hadn¡¯t killed yet while releasing the scouts. I climb on board and search the ship¡¯s galley to locate a box of fire salts. I empty out a bag of flour so I can carry it more easily. Grinning, I head back up top and sprinkle some along the deck, then stick a stick in the bag of kindlepitch. Once the sea elves realize what I¡¯m doing, they decide to dive into the water instead of keeping trying to attack me, since that would just make me drop the kindlepitch anyway. Double-checking to make sure the two bags are carefully, tightly secured and separated, I run for the stern of the ship. Cackling aloud, I toss the stick behind me as I leap into the water.

    I swim, poorly, toward the beach ahead of me, while very carefully making sure not to drop the fire salts or kindlepitch. Actually I almost drown and this was a terrible idea but I do wind up getting to the beach right next to a couple of Maormer who seem quite annoyed at me. At a glance back at the big Maormer ship burning brightly and beautifully, maybe I can¡¯t blame them for being annoyed at me. Once they¡¯re down, I circle around to the beach where the scouts are waiting, also staring at the burning ship.

    ¡°That was the least subtle and most beautiful thing I have seen today,¡± one of them comments.

    ¡°Well done, Neralion,¡± Ciranya says. ¡°I¡¯ve figured out how they get inside, too. They appear to use a rune they carry to gain access through the ward.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°Because we didn¡¯t bring grappling hooks.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Maybe I should carry grappling hooks in the future. Say, this stuff will still burn if damp, right? Because I may have gotten it slightly damp.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll burn,¡± Ciranya assures me.

    ¡°Let me just stash my books here to make sure nothing happens to them, if I¡¯m going to be playing with explosive substances, though,¡± I say, taking off my pack.

    ¡°Why are you carrying books arond?¡± Ciranya wonders.

    ¡°I really enjoy reading on the beach,¡± I say. ¡°Hmm, come to think, my clothes are very flammable too and I paid good money for these.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me!?¡± Ciranya says. ¡°Are you seriously suggesting going to fight the Maormer naked?¡±

    ¡°What, I don¡¯t have any armor and these barely stop a stiff breeze,¡± I say as I pull off my shirt and stuff it into my pack.

    Ciranya grunts in disgust and turns around as I start to take off my pants. ¡°Divines save us from vain mer who are worried about damaging their clothing.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll keep my pants on, but I¡¯m totally stealing the sea elves¡¯ laundry when we¡¯re done here.¡±

    Axe in hand, I head around the rocks and up toward the lighthouse, cutting a path through the Maormer as I ascend the path. My Aedric Spear knocks one of them off the ledge and I tumble down after him to finish him off. However, it¡¯s too steep to climb up again so I have to circle back around. Fortunately, it turns out that guy had one of those runes on him. Maybe I can try not knocking enemies back with that ability in the future. Once at the top, I wave the thing in front of the purple glowy door to make the purple glowiness stop, and head inside.

    There¡¯s a guy inside the lighthouse with a giant snake. I really should have expected the giant snake. They¡¯re annoying, and that snake is bigger and tougher than usual, but I manage to defeat them and get through the far door. Not convinced the snake is actually dead but it has no hands so it would have to break down the door, and it won¡¯t have time for that. I rush up the ladder.

    At the top, the lighthouse brazier burns merrily, oblivious to the fate that awaits it. I toss in the bag of fire salts first, and it flares up with greater warmth and intensity. And then I pull out the bag of kindlepitch, grinning madly. This will be* glorious*!

    I toss the bag of kindlepitch into the brazier, and the world erupts in heat and light.

    ¡­

    I find myself in a wayshrine, naked. I glance about to get my bearings, and see high elven architecture. Vulkhel Guard. I cast my fancy new Bound Pants spell before anyone notices me, and don¡¯t manage to conjure more than briefs. Good enough, I guess. Needs more practice. I pop into my room in the Mara¡¯s Kiss Inn for some real pants, and then head back out toward the lighthouse, ignoring the Dark Anchor dropping yet again. (I don¡¯t have a weapon on me at the moment anyway.)

    As the lighthouse comes into view, I grin widely at the spectacle. The top of it blazes like the sun from the large quantity of fire salts and kindlepitch I tossed into the brazier, like a bright signal declaring ¡®fuck off¡¯ to the Maormer.

    ¡°Neralion!¡± Ciranya exclaims as I approach. ¡°We thought you were dead for sure!¡±

    ¡°I cast a teleport spell to get me back to Vulkhel Guard,¡± I say. ¡°Uh, unfortunately a teleport spell that does not include my belongings. Might need some work. Have you seen my axe?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you were worried about your clothing?¡± Ciranya asks, putting her face in her palm.

    ¡°I¡¯m kind of a terrible mage,¡± I claim.

    ¡°Did you notify the guard when you were back there about the Maormer?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ no, didn¡¯t really think to,¡± I say. ¡°I just put on some fresh pants and ran back out here. Didn¡¯t want to miss the show.¡± I look up at the shining flames. ¡°It¡¯s very pretty, isn¡¯t it? Much prettier up close, but, well, can¡¯t look at it up close for very long.¡±

    I grab the shirt out of my pack and put it back on.

    ¡°We did find your axe at the base of the tower when we went up to look for you,¡± Ciranya says, bringing it out. ¡°It was all we could find of you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks!¡± I say, hefting it. ¡°Khenarthi¡¯s Storm will live to taste Maormer blood another day. Or the blood of anything else that¡¯s being a pain in the ass, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°The amount of Maormer blood you spilled should discourage them from trying to retake a tower that¡¯s useless to them until we can mount a force to hold it, at least,¡± Ciranya says. ¡°They will no longer be able to signal to their fleet to navigate through the shallows.¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll head back to Vulkhel Guard, then. Er, with my feet, and not the method that leaves me naked at the wayshrine. And then I¡¯ll figure out who I need to let know about this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to tell Watch Captain Astanya, too,¡± Ciranya says. ¡°She¡¯ll need to know to get the guards on alert.¡±

    When I get back to the docks district of Vulkhel Guard, I run across Captain Erronfaire, who is quite understandably wondering where in Oblivion her crew got off to still.

    ¡°Sorry, I got sidetracked killing Maormer,¡± I say. ¡°Oh, by the way, there¡¯s Maormer down the beach. Or, were, I killed most of them and blew up their ship.¡±

    Erronfaire groans. ¡°Maormer? Seriously? I¡¯d better set sail before they lock down the port or I¡¯ll never make it to Velyn Harbor on time. What of my crew? Tanamo stumbled back drunk as a drowned skeever, but I haven¡¯t heard word from the others.¡±

    ¡°Probably not coming,¡± I say. ¡°The wood elf got seasick and the other two were scared off by the Maormer after one of them was captured.¡±

    She sighs. ¡°Soft-bellied, weak-willed¡­ Fine. Thank you for the information. Here¡¯s some coin for your trouble. You¡¯ve saved me a fair bit of hassle. Now I¡¯ve got to toss Tanamo in a cabin and prepare to leave port as soon as possible.¡±

 Chapter 18: In Which I Forget the Queens Name

    I¡¯m so tired when I get back to Vulkhel Guard finally that I just crawl into my closet and fall asleep on top of the pile of furs. Maybe something about coming back to life is draining. Or maybe it was just that I ran up and down the beach several times.

    Watch Captain Astanya turns out to be the first person I¡¯d spoken to when I arrived in Vulkhel Guard, who had boredly asked me my name and business and very clearly did not actually do anything about the Maormer staging just up the beach. She¡¯s also extremely busy this morning and has some errands that she can¡¯t spare guards for, and still doesn¡¯t seem to want to do anything about the Maormer just up the beach. I really hope this involves hitting something, at least.

    Adviser Norion (thank my foresight that I didn¡¯t incinerate my journal) is standing outside a warehouse near the docks. Something about a burglar that stole some important documents and is now cornered inside. Right, I can hit a burglar!

    Inside the warehouse, I am to be disappointed at the prospect that I do not get to hit the burglar. As I enter, some guy wearing all black stabs him, despite his protests that he did as was asked of him. And then the assassin disappears in a puff of smoke. I hate when things disappear in puffs of smoke! Must have been a teleport effect because there¡¯s only one way out of this warehouse and the door doesn¡¯t open nor do I find any trace of someone hiding in the building. What¡¯s more, the assassin didn¡¯t even take the paperwork, so what was even the point of that? I grab them and head back outside.

    Adviser Norion is less than interested when I tell him what happened. ¡°Who cares? Just a criminal feud, most likely. At least this other person didn¡¯t want the plans. You can take them to Watch Captain Astanya. I have things to do that are much more important than running errands like a peon.¡±

    I don¡¯t let his dismissal bother me. If I were allowed to stab everyone who was rude to me¡­ well, maybe I¡¯ll still get a chance to stab him, anyway.

    Next up, I need to talk to Steward Eminway. No, wait, that¡¯s Eminwe. For some reason high elf women seem to frequently put ¡®we¡¯ at the ends of their names but pronounce it ¡®way¡¯. She seems quite flustered and needs help inspecting the food supplies. Some suspicion of poison or sabotage or something. They¡¯re preparing to cook a feast for the Queen (What was her name again? Need to write it down this time.) and want to make sure nobody¡¯s poisoning the Queen.

    So, I go over and search barrels and crates of apples, fish, wine, weird cheese, spices, more wine, what is it with Altmer and wine anyway? Is that the only beverage fit for a Queen? Rumor has it that she did some adventuring in her youth, so she¡¯s probably tried some more exotic cuisine and beverages at some point. Anyway, I eventually come across a crate of salted meat that smells weird (almost as weird as the Bosmer cheese). I take a piece of it back to the steward to see if she can confirm my suspicions.

    ¡°Ah, good!¡± Eminwe says. ¡°Watch Captain Astanya will want to see that.¡±

    I wrap up the tainted meat and head back to the captain. Who, as it turns out, does not want to see that. Something about one of her guards cornering a guy who has been plotting against the Queen. And then she doesn¡¯t even want me to give her the evidence I found.

    ¡°Just hold onto it for the moment.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I say. ¡°You want me to carry around tainted meat while I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this,¡± Astanya says. ¡°This lowborn scum won¡¯t speak to a member of the guard. Just head right up the stairs and talk to my guardsman, Heldil. He¡¯ll tell you want to do.¡±

    I sigh and shove the meat into my pack, glad I¡¯d wrapped it up first, but I¡¯m really hoping the cleaning spell I learned will get the stench out.

    Watchman Heldil is near the wayshrine standing in front of a small house, and once I tell him Astanya sent me he starts going on about how this guy has valuable information and they need him alive but he¡¯s half-crazed and will probably spout nonsense when I go inside. Well, I¡¯m half-crazed too and probably spout what sounds like nonsense to people around me, so maybe that¡¯ll even out to something that makes sense. And right now, I¡¯m more annoyed at these guards than I am at anyone else. Except the Maormer. Well, in the case of the Maormer, it¡¯s more of an honest sort of annoyance, now that they stopped pretending to be the nice, friendly people protecting the innocent catfolk from the invading Dominion.

    I go up and knock on the door. ¡°Excuse me? May I come in?¡±

    ¡°No closer or I¡¯ll cut my throat!¡± comes a slightly muffled voice from inside.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a bit unnecessarily extreme. In any case, I¡¯m not with the guards. Actually, I¡¯m pretty annoyed at them myself at the moment. They¡¯re kind of bastards. I just want to talk.¡±

    Watchman Heldil, still in earshot, just smirks at my badmouthing the guards, probably assuming it¡¯s just part of the act to get this guy to trust me and not entirely sincere.

    There¡¯s a pause. ¡°Fine, you can come in, but no sudden moves, you hear?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly.¡± I step inside slowly.

    Inside the building, there¡¯s an Altmer man who introduces himself as Fasion. ¡°I must tell you quickly, Captain Astanya is corrupt.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± I drawl. ¡°And here I thought she was just kind of a bitch.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s part of a group called the Veiled Heritance,¡± he continues.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of them,¡± I say. ¡°Who, exactly, are the Veiled Heritance?¡±

    That was a name mentioned on some of the sea elves¡¯ incriminating correspondence¡­ and someone high in the ranks with knowledge of ship movements had been feeding them information. This is entirely too plausible.

    ¡°A subversive group,¡± Fasion explains. ¡°They¡¯re going to try to murder the Queen! They believe she¡¯s not a legitimate ruler and they have members everywhere. Please, you have to warn the Queen! She can¡¯t trust her guards¡ªoh no, they¡¯re here.¡±

    The guards come in and arrest Fasion, not particularly gently, either. I do my best to keep my face neutral, and while they assure me that he will be given a fair trial, I¡¯m less certain of that than ever. On the way out, they tell me ought to report to Watch Captain Astanya again, who is at the big manor in the middle of town preparing things for the Queen.

    I¡¯ve been being run ragged with errands all day, people have been rude to me, and I haven¡¯t even gotten to hit anything. Astanya wouldn¡¯t even listen to me about the Maormer! I¡¯m about to go give her a piece of my mind. Not literally. That would be painful.

    The building in question is quite large and is, in fact, difficult to miss. Also there¡¯s a skyshard on an upper balcony. I can see the shaft of blue light from the ground. I¡¯m busy staring up at it and wondering if I can get up there without pissing anyone off when Captain Astanya¡¯s voice grabs my attention.

    ¡°Hold!¡± Astanya says. ¡°Stop right there. You¡¯re under arrest. Did you really think that you could get away with this?¡±

    ¡°Uh, what?¡± I ask dumbly. ¡°Look, I swear I didn¡¯t bring any skooma back from Khenarthi¡¯s Roost!¡±

    Astanya stares at me. ¡°This isn¡¯t about skooma, you fool! Don¡¯t play coy with me. You¡¯ve been conspiring to murder the Queen! I¡¯m going to need to search your pack.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to give you this shit anyway,¡± I say, pulling off my pack and handing it to her. ¡°That¡¯s the evidence you¡¯ve been having me run errands to collect.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Astanya sifts through it. ¡°Deployment plans for the marines? Poisoned meat? And¡­ a Maormer cookbook? You¡¯re involved with the Maormer too! And what¡¯s this, a journal, full of incriminating evidence no doubt!¡± She pauses as she opens it and looks through it. ¡°Neralion¡¯s Journal, and it¡¯s full of names¡­ you¡¯re planning to kill me, Adviser Norion, and Steward Eminwe, too!¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m bad with names and I write them down so I don¡¯t forget them or how to spell them.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no use arguing it, scum,¡± Astanya says.

    They have me surrounded, and while I could probably take out some of them before they got me, starting a fight in the middle of town is liable to attract all sorts of the wrong attention. Not to mention the time it would take to get my axe out and my dagger is less likely to be able to do much against their armor. (What does the Queen do if her own guards are against her?)

    I hold up my hands. ¡°Look, I surrender. I¡¯m not confessing to your stupid accusations, but I¡¯m not going to fight you.¡±

    Being arrested is bad enough when the guards don¡¯t knock you in the head, too. Is that really necessary?

    ¡­

    I wake in a cell with my head still ringing. I sit up too quickly and wind up clutching my head in pain for a minute before I can focus enough to get a weak healing spell off. They took my axe and my knife but at least they didn¡¯t put magicka-suppressiong shackles on me. Probably saw the axe and thought I didn¡¯t know enough magic for it to matter. They¡¯d probably be right.

    Once I¡¯ve managed to get the headache to die down, I take a look at my surroundings. It¡¯s only then that I notice the body beside me. Dead. I turn him over and recognize his face as Fasion. Dammit. I knew that whole ¡®fair trial¡¯ thing was a sham but I¡¯d kind of hoped they wouldn¡¯t have killed him yet. Did they stick me in here with him just to demoralize me?

    The cell door¡¯s going to be a problem. I don¡¯t have anything usable as a pick and I don¡¯t know any unlocking spells. And that¡¯s the only way in or out of this cell. No windows, no grates, nothing. I mean, failing all else, I could probably manage to kill myself and reappear at the wayshrine, but the closest one is in the middle of town and I don¡¯t think I can choose which one to ¡®respawn¡¯ at, so I¡¯d have to slip out of town afteward and that would really defeat the point of trying to protect the Queen. I might as well stay put for now and see what happens. It¡¯s really rather pleasant in here. It¡¯s warm, and there¡¯s no Daedra torturing people, after all.

    After a while, a familiar face appears at the door, topped by a familiar orange hair ridge. ¡°Raz did not think he¡¯d be seeing you again already. He was here looking for Fasion, but it seems he was too late for Fasion, but not too late for you. How are you doing, my friend?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m doing pretty good, aside from being arrested after being framed for conspiracy charges,¡± I say. ¡°It was really not necessary for them to hit me in the head. And it was really not necessary for them to kill poor Fasion, either.¡±

    Raz opens the cell door for me. ¡°Aye¡­ Raz knew him well. He was also an agent of the Queen, and when he would not give up our secrets, well, you can see the aftermath. Raz also thought he knew Astanya. But it seems he did not know her as well as he thought.¡±

    ¡°Veiled Heritance,¡± I say, slowly climbing to my feet. ¡°They¡¯ve been passing on fleet information to the Maormer. Why would they work with the Maormer?¡± I cast another healing spell to make sure my headache is completely gone.

    Raz starts telling me about Astanya¡¯s plans to kill the Queen and how I needed to warn her and the battlereeve, whatever a battlereeve is. I¡¯d already figured that part out. And then he starts telling me to meet someone in the marketplace whose name I immediately forget and tell her a code phrase that I also immediately forget.

    ¡°Raz,¡± I say, rubbing my head. ¡°I have difficulty remembering names even when I don¡¯t have a poorly-healed head injury, and they took my journal from me. Do you know where they¡¯re keeping my belongings?¡±

    Raz chuckles softly. ¡°Apologies. It is likely in the evidence chest upstairs. Eshaba is a Khajiit woman with cream-colored fur and tan stripes. You should be able to find her near the forges and tailors. Remember: You want a souvenir of the First Auridon Marines.¡±

    ¡°Alright. And can you stop insisting you¡¯re just a ¡®simple Khajiit¡¯ and tell me exactly what you do for the Queen now?¡±

    His whiskers twitch. ¡°Raz is, indeed, one of the Eyes of the Queen, as you claimed to be. Raz thought it best that you not be arrested on the island. Little did he realize you¡¯d get yourself arrested here! And not for skooma peddling, either.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather have been arrested for skooma peddling,¡± I say.

    We part ways, and I retrieve my pack and weapons from the guard tower when no one is looking. And take the opportunity to get rid of the stupid poisoned meat and cast a cleaning spell on my pack for good measure.

    A marine guarding an archway prevents me from getting to the marketplace through the middle of town (thankfully without arresting me again, that would be embarrassing) so I wind up having to go the long way around through the docks district.

    I find the correct Khajiit in the marketplace and receive a marine uniform, which I put on after popping into a nearby building to change. Hopefully they¡¯ll let me keep this one. Having a marine uniform on hand could be handy sometimes. The uniform lets me get past the marines guarding the town center.

    And then I see her. Wearing resplendent blue and gold armor, with a winged crown atop her white hair that¡¯s as much a helmet as it is a symbol of royalty. Although not tall for a high elf, she stands upright with a confidence earned from battle, not empty arrogance.

    No! Bad Nerevar! It would be completely inappropriate for an ordinary Altmer soldier to court a Queen! (But not inappropriate for a Chimer lord¡­) And I am not checking out the Queen¡¯s boobs, no no no!

    I take a deep breath and shove my stray thoughts out of my head. I have a job to do, and if I don¡¯t do it, she¡¯s not going to survive the day. Also it would be extremely embarrassing if this regal mer turned out not to be the Queen but the battlereeve or some random noble or something. Well, if she¡¯s not the Queen, the Queen needs to tell her to be a little less eye-catching, and gods-dammit I¡¯m going to remember the Queen¡¯s name this time. She doesn¡¯t even need to murder me to make me remember her name!

    Right, the battlereeve. He¡¯s a mer in golden armor (gold-colored, that is, actual gold would not make very practical armor) with a bird on the front, and his name is apparently Urcelmo. I¡¯ve diligently written it down. He questions what I¡¯m on about when I approach him.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Neralion. I have to warn you, there¡¯s a plot against the Queen¡¯s life. Razum-dar sent me. Captain Astanya is behind it.¡±

    Being a raging bitch is an excellent way to get me to remember your name.

    Urcelmo is taken aback. ¡°What, the captain of the guards? That¡¯s absurd.¡±

    ¡°Absurd is never considering a threat until it¡¯s too late,¡± I say. ¡°Everyone has their price. I wonder what hers was.¡±

    I wonder what mine is? Oh, right, I¡¯ll probably do almost anything someone asks me to because why not? Apparently I¡¯ll do anything just to experience something novel. Probably not kill the Queen unless she turns out to be anything like my ex-wife, though.

    Far from it, though, she¡¯s stepping forward to interrupt Urcelmo and insist that my claims be taken seriously and investigated. And her voice is like the song of a silt strider¡ªwait, Altmer probably wouldn¡¯t find that comparison flattering. Come on, silt striders are helpful and it¡¯s not like I¡¯ve regularly compared my ex-wife to a cliff racer (I totally have). Okay, maybe a kwama, would comparing the Queen to kwama be more complimentary? Shit, I think there¡¯s a reason why I never took up a career as a bard.

    Everyone is looking at me and fortunately I didn¡¯t say any of that aloud.

    ¡°Uhh¡­ sorry, head injury,¡± I say. ¡°Astanya insisted on giving me a hard whack to the head earlier and I¡¯m not a very good healer and I should really see someone about this when we¡¯re done here.¡±

    Urcelmo sighs. ¡°If you¡¯re up for fighting, then, come with me. I¡¯m going into the temple where Astanya is currently.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, slowly bringing my axe to hand. ¡°Stormy and I got your back.¡±

    We go into the temple of Auri-El or Akatosh or whoever, and on the floor we find Steward Eminwe wounded. Weakly, she manages to warn us that it¡¯s a trap, even though it was pretty obviously a trap to begin with, and Astanya appears on the balcony overhead and starts taunting us and going on about how the Dominion sucks.

    Assassins start appearing in puffs of smoke around the room. I much prefer when things appear in puffs of smoke, because then it means I can hit them. Grinning gleefully, I cut down every cutthroat she sends after me.

    ¡°Bah!¡± Astanya yells. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you myself!¡±

    ¡°Overconfident a bit, are you?¡±

    I knock her down with a well-aimed javelin of light, which she still manages to recover from, but the battlereeve and I finish her off anyway. She¡¯s a better fighter than most, but far from a match for the two of us. Maybe if she hadn¡¯t thrown her assassins at us two at a time they might have¡­ no, they¡¯d still probably have died, they were terrible, honestly.

    ¡°Sorry about the mess, Auri-El,¡± I say to the air.

    We go back outside and tell the Queen what happened. She¡¯s highly disappointed in Astanya, not that that¡¯s entirely relevant for a cooling corpse, but rather impressed with me.

    ¡°It would seem that despite troubles and head injuries, you have gone out of your way to protect me and foil a plot against me,¡± the Queen says. ¡°I need people who are loyal and capable. You are already acquainted with Razum-dar, the head of the Eyes of the Queen. Would you be willing to join him, and be my hand in this realm?¡±

    ¡°Fuck yes,¡± I say. ¡°I mean,¡± I clear my throat. ¡°It would be my deepest honor to serve you in any manner, my Queen.¡±

    The Queen, far from being offended, quirks a small grin, and then formally pronounces me to finally actually be an agent of the Queen so I don¡¯t have to keep lying about it.

    ¡°May I ask you one small thing, my Queen?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Neralion,¡± she says. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± I look about sheepishly. ¡°What is your name?¡±

    The Queen actually laughs aloud at that. ¡°Ayrenn. My name is Ayrenn.¡±

 Chapter 19: In Which I Make Tamriels Worst Tea

    I¡¯ve apparently wound up working for a queen just by falling out of the sky and having an undercover spymaster notice, and then proving myself sufficiently competent. It¡¯s enough to practically make my head spin¡ªno, wait, that¡¯s the head injury.

    Queen Ayrenn makes sure I¡¯m seen by her best healer, which means I¡¯ve got to stop using a head injury as an excuse. For the moment. Honestly, some of it probably was due to the head injury. I also remember to grab that Skyshard on the balcony; nobody seems to mind me being up there. I wonder if I can use the power from these to become better at healing? I wonder if it would be a worthwhile use? Stupid question, of course it¡¯s worthwhile.

    Razum-dar shows up briefly at some point and we get Queen Ayrenn up to speed on who exactly I am and why we¡¯re keeping that quiet. Even if I were inclined to try to keep that from her, he certainly isn¡¯t. She takes it pretty well, I think, but best that we get that out of the way right away, especially if I¡¯m going to be working directly for her. When I¡¯m not wandering the countryside righting wrongs and doing trivial errands. She¡¯s also pretty encouraging about the whole adventuring business, for that matter. It seems like the Eyes of the Queen basically are her personal adventuring band.

    I give her a detailed report on the incursion I deflected at South Beacon as well. Honestly, it¡¯s good to have someone I can report to about things like that. She at least makes me feel like she appreciates my reports and doesn¡¯t dismiss my concerns and probably wasn¡¯t involved in it like certain dead mer. The problems of the world are too big for one warrior, and while I¡¯d like to think I was a good general once, I always preferred leading from the front.

    Queen Ayrenn wants me to meet her at some ruin called Tanzelwil (diligently written down) where she¡¯ll seek the approval of her ancestors or something. At least reverence for one¡¯s ancestors is something elves seem to have in common. She¡¯s in no particular hurry to get out there, though, and I have plenty of time in the interim to take care of other things and possibly solve every problem that might pop up between here and there.

    I¡¯m also given money, because gods forbid one of the Eyes of the Queen is broke. I consider buying some fancy leather armor and debate between whether it will keep me from getting killed or whether I will feel bad because it got destroyed when I inevitably get killed. Would it be unreasonable to learn to craft my own armor? There was that wood elf woman in the Fighters Guildhall who was offering crafting training, after all. Maybe I¡¯ll give it a shot.

    Her name is Millenith, it turns out, and she¡¯s eager to get me to run all over the place. ¡°Harvest some jute,¡± she tells me. ¡°Mine some iron,¡± she says. ¡°Chop some maple.¡± This is way more work than I had bargained for. I was expecting just to learn some pointers on crafting, not the whole process of locating, harvesting, and processing materials.

    My homespun gloves have two fingers stuck together, a thumb slot sewn closed accidentally, and are sized for a small child. Millenith¡¯s smile at my work is probably supposed to be encouraging, but looks more like a grimace to me.

    ¡°Right, good try,¡± she says. ¡°Now why don¡¯t you go back to the crafting table and deconstruct that? You can learn more about what you did wrong from taking something apart, and you can learn more about what other people did right from taking apart their works.¡±

    My attempt at making a maple bow looks good enough at first, but it snaps like a twig when I attempt to string it. Millenith doesn¡¯t miss a beat and diligently tells me to deconstruct that, too.

    After those, I¡¯m dreading working at the forge. And even more dreading ruining a perfectly good iron ingot. Well, I suppose it at least should be easier to turn iron back into something usable than wood or cloth. My iron dagger isn¡¯t even completely awful. It¡¯s at least dagger-shaped, even if it¡¯s uneven and completely blunt.

    ¡°Good effort!¡± Millenith says. ¡°Now deconstruct it.¡±

    ¡°Right, of course,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sure I could do better than that if I put in the time and practice¡­ I¡¯m very good at hitting things.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you are.¡±

    Maybe I should just stick to deconstruction for now. I finally opt on the side of just buying some leather armor. Learning to craft armor that isn¡¯t terrible would be entirely too time-consuming and I have other things to be doing. I should be making enough money in the adventuring business to regularly replace my equipment anyway. And I can always steal more from bandits or Veiled Heritance, who might as well be bandits.

    Since the crafting for weapons and armor didn¡¯t work out as well as I¡¯d hoped, I decide to see the fellow in the Mages Guildhall who offers training in alchemy, enchanting, and provisioning, to see if I¡¯m any better at that. Surely I can cook, right? I must have cooked at some point in my previous life, but damned if I could tell you any details anymore.

    Danel Telleno is a bald Dunmer and I am never going to get used to seeing those red eyes. Maybe it¡¯s just as well that I don¡¯t see too many of them in Aldmeri Dominion territory. Seeing what my people became is always unsettling. Are they even my people anymore?

    Enchanting is completely beyond me. The less said about these bizarre runestones, the better.

    I feel more confident about the provisioning bit. Danel wants me to roast a pig. Seems simple enough. Heat meat over a fire. What could go wrong? I mean, besides setting it on fire or leaving the middle cold and raw. Okay, no longer feeling confident. Was the Hortator a great chef? Probably not, or I¡¯d have been a chef and not a general. Damn Coldharbour for crushing my memories of such simple things as good food and drink. After a while, nothing is left but violence, fear, and hate.

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    Hunting down an animal to cook is the easy part. Danel graciously makes no comment on the meat that looks like it¡¯s been carved up with a battle axe. Did I manage to clean off all traces of blood from when I last used it? Whatever, the blood of traitors would make for a fine spice. I take the meat to the hearth in the Salted Wings Tavern, and I¡¯m really, really careful to get everything just right like the recipe says. Success! Something edible!

    ¡°Hmm, interesting flavor,¡± Danel says, munching on a bit. ¡°Did you use Bosmeri spices in this? No, I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t.¡±

    Alchemy is one I¡¯ve been looking forward to figuring out, but it turns out to be more complicated than I¡¯d expected. I thought it would be as simple as dumping two plants into a cauldron and magically getting a potion out of it. But there¡¯s so many more things to take into account, like the quality of the water, the interactions of the ingredients, and avoiding unwanted side effects.

    I don¡¯t know what any of the plants do and there are no helpful recipe books. Everyone¡¯s advice is just to mix up two things and see what happens and that¡¯s ridiculous, inefficient, and wasteful. This, of course, inevitably results in me wandering all over the immediate vicinity picking mushrooms and flowers, throwing them in a cauldron, and winding up with nothing but Tamriel¡¯s worst tea. I decide to simply set up a section of my journal for cataloguing alchemy effects. If I¡¯m expected to just throw random things in a pot, I¡¯d better be keeping track of what happens.

    Seemingly oblivious to the near-miss and the presence of traitors high in the ranks of the Aldmeri Dominion, a parade marches through town celebrating whatever it was Ayrenn was celebrating, I guess. Fireworks fill the skies and flower petals strew the ground. (Would those make for good alchemy ingredients? I scoop up a few.) Somebody even has a very flashy spell that shoots rainbows everywhere.

    While wandering around collecting plants, I stumble upon a door leading into a ruin marked with a strange multi-pointed symbol painted on much more recently than the ruin had been built, and decide to take a look inside. Turns out it leads to a sewer/ruin underneath Vulkhel Guard. Ah, this must be the outlaw¡¯s refuge the lady who gave me my closet mentioned. And there¡¯s even a note here telling people not to deal with the Veiled Heritance, so I¡¯ll give them that. I make a note of the place in case I ever need to offload stolen items or trade in illicit goods. There¡¯s a sewer entrance located behind the temple, as well, so that might be useful if I should need to get in and out of town quietly. I kind of wish I¡¯d known about this before the incident with Astanya.

    Outside what appears to be a mine entrance, I find a book titled History of the Fighter¡¯s Guild, pt. 2 sitting on a barrel, and shove it in my pack. Something else for my collection. I should really wait until I get home to read, instead of standing around next to suspiciously abandoned buildings while potentially being attacked by wildlife or bandits or something, but Auridon in general has seemed so¡­ non-threatening. It¡¯s probably the lack of half the island being on fire and swarmed by overly aggressive giant bugs, but it¡¯s liable to make me complacent.

    I decide to go in and explore the mine (a sign proclaims it to be ¡®Del¡¯s Claim¡¯, whoever Del is.). There might be mushrooms in there. Or bandits.

    Well, I was close. Turns out it¡¯s mushrooms, and Veiled Heritance. Who, of course, promptly attack me on sight. I¡¯d not be able to tell the difference between that and regular bandits until I spot a note titled ¡®Our Dupes, the Sea Elves¡¯, from someone called the Veiled Queen. Judging by the dead bodies, it appears that they killed all the miners. I¡¯d best see if they¡¯ve got any prisoners, or if not, just kill them all. They¡¯re way too close to Vulkhel Guard, and what are they doing in this mine, anyway? Probably nothing good.

    A journal next to a body expresses the regrets of someone named Vareldur, from Mathiisen, wherever that is. (Need to get a map of this island.) Poor fetcher realized too late that the Veiled Heritance are murderous scum and tried to stop them by himself. It didn¡¯t end well for him. I toss the journal in my pack; if I get out to Mathiisen I¡¯ll see if I can find his next-of-kin.

    I don¡¯t find anyone still alive inside who isn¡¯t trying to kill me, but I do damned well kill everyone who isn¡¯t smart enough to evacuate the mine as soon as they realize a madman with a battle axe is killing them all. I pack up a few more incriminating notes Queen Ayrenn will probably want to see, and I even find a Skyshard inside for some reason. I thought they fell from the sky, hence the name. No, there¡¯s a shaft of sunlight coming down here, there must be a hole in the ceiling for it to have come down. Must have been some very precise aim to have gotten in this mine. Are the Aedra chucking them from the sky having contests to see who can get it in the most inconvenient possible hole?

    Back outside, I come across some sort of weird black monolith on a small island, with a hole in the middle and some dots and lines. When I touch it, a rush of energy flows into me, the lines and dots light up, and a blue column reminiscent of the Skyshards ascends into the air for a few moments. Maybe that¡¯s a constellation? Can¡¯t figure out offhand which one it might be, but it seems to have done something, given me some sort of blessing, I¡¯m not quite sure. I certainly feel a bit tougher, at least.

    I run across another wayshrine (which I light) near a ruined house full of some weird furry little animals apparently called monkeys, judging by a torn page I find there. They¡¯re all over the area, and they have faces like humans, which is kind of creepy really.

    When I return to town and proceed to waste most of the plants I¡¯ve spent all afternoon collecting, I do eventually manage to produce a health potion like Danel asked for. I used the blue mushrooms and the purple water flowers (whatever those are called). I don¡¯t care to keep my terrible alchemy attempts a secret. Maybe it would help to learn the proper names of the plants, though. If nothing else, I think I¡¯m starting to figure out how to better identify alchemical ingredients in the wild.

    Queen Ayrenn is understandably concerned and alarmed about the massacre in Del¡¯s Claim. ¡°They¡¯re nothing more than butchers, slaughtering anyone who disagrees with them. Good work in there. It¡¯s diligent of you to search and secure the area around town.¡± She pauses and quirks a grin. ¡°Or did you just decide to explore a cave because it was there?¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°The latter, mostly¡­¡±

    Ayrenn chuckles. ¡°I know how that goes. The lure of taking a peek inside every cave and ruin is irresistible for an adventurer.¡±

 Chapter 20: In Which I Dont Know What a Canonreeve Is

    As I¡¯m leaving Vulkhel Guard the next morning, I come across an injured woman just outside town being tended by a guard.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Veiled Heritance,¡± she replies. ¡°They¡¯ve attacked Silsailen! The town is ablaze! You look like a warrior. Can you help?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Where¡¯s Silsailen?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just down the road, north of here.¡± She points.

    I take off down the road at a brisk jog, thinking I might want to acquire a mount of some sort at some point. And definitely not getting distracted by every plant along the way. Dammit, I just spent hours staring at plants and now all I see is plants. Plants are not important right now!

    Some ways down the road, I come across two mer standing on the near side of a large stone bridge. The woman, I shortly learn, is named Elenwen, and the other is the canonreeve, whatever a canonreeve is. Who I think is her father, but I¡¯m a little unclear on that.

    ¡°They¡¯re wearing the uniforms of the First Auridon Marines, but no true marines would burn down our town!¡± Elenwen exclaims. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯d be so bold! This is an outrage!¡±

    I nod and make small noises of acknowledgment as I quickly jot down names she¡¯s mentioning: Canonreeve Valano; Elenwen, Valano¡¯s daughter; Teldur, canonreeve¡¯s assistant. A canonreeve sounds like somebody important. I guess ¡®reeve¡¯ seems to mean someone who is in charge of something, but I don¡¯t know what a ¡®canon¡¯ is that someone would be in charge of. Maybe he organizes books of lore? That must be it. How dare they assault a librarian!

    I head across the bridge and into the town, cheerfully dispatching anyone that attacks me. The first person I run across who doesn¡¯t attack me is a man hiding behind the well.

    ¡°Are you Teldur?¡± I ask. ¡°Elenwen sent me to help.¡±

    ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not one of the imposters?¡± Teldur demands.

    I look down at the blood dripping from my battle axe. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re the sort of people who would kill half a dozen of their own just to maintain a ruse, but they don¡¯t seem particularly concerned about spilling blood.¡±

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just kill them!¡± Teldur says. ¡°Put out these fires while you¡¯re at it, too!¡±

    ¡°Fine trick carrying a battle axe and a bucket at the same time,¡± I say. ¡°Why don¡¯t I kill them and you follow behind me with a bucket?¡±

    ¡°How dare you speak to me in such a manner!¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Do what you will, but I¡¯m not going to attempt to throw buckets of water at anything until people aren¡¯t trying to set me on fire, too.¡±

    Leaving him to continue hiding or actually help as he will, I go to cut down a few more fake marines who are threatening civilians, who run back across the bridge for Elenwen to deal with. Of course, none of them are feeling brave enough to help put out the fires, either. Where¡¯s a frost mage when you need one, anyway? Once I¡¯ve rescued everyone that¡¯s cowering and calling for help, I toss a couple buckets of water onto the flames, to very little effect. Fine, the civilians can deal with this, there¡¯s probably still people who need to die.

    Back on the other side of the bridge, the injured and terrified survivors are huddled up in a warehouse. I stop and toss around a few minor healing spells; I can at least do that much, even if it¡¯s just to ease some bruises. Elenwen informs me that a runner from the real First Auridon Marines has shown up.

    ¡°How can you tell it¡¯s a real one this time?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡­ well, he just seems more professional, but you¡¯re right, I suppose I can¡¯t be certain. Either way, he wants to talk to you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re quite capable of dealing with him if he should turn out to be another impostor.¡±

    I agree with that sentiment, and go over to introduce myself to the armored mer.

    He salutes me. ¡°Hanilan of the First Auridon Marines, at your¡ªare you writing down my name?¡± He peers over my shoulder. ¡°My name ends with A-N, not O-N.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I can hardly spell my own name half the time,¡± I say, then realize what that makes me sound like. ¡°¡­ look, I¡¯m really very good at hitting things.¡±

    Although his face isn¡¯t visible behind the full helmet, I can practically feel Hanilan¡¯s dubious gaze. ¡°Right. Well. Captain Tendil¡ªyes, that¡¯s with one L¡ªand his detachment should have been here by now but I think they were ambushed by these lowlifes.¡±

    After uttering a few more insults regarding the ancestry and sexual habits of the Veiled Heritance, he informs me that one of the civilians I rescued mentioned seeing bound captives being taken into a cellar. He really could have led with that.

    I quickly return to town and locate the cellar in question, not really facing much resistance to speak of on the way. A couple stragglers showed up to gawk at the dismembered corpses of their brethren whilst being too stupid to realize whatever dismembered their brethren might still be nearby. Also half the town is still on fire, including the one above the cellar in question. Down below, dozen Altmer are tied up in the cellar amidst crates and barrels.

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    ¡°Is one of you Captain Tendil?¡± I ask as I go to start untying them.

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± one of them says.

    After a few utterances of his own regarding the ancestry and sexual habits of the Veiled Heritance, he informs me that they had a stash of armor and weapons somewhere nearby and I should pick them up for them. Seeing as I¡¯m the one with the battle axe and none of them look ready for doing more than punching thunderbugs in the face, I agree.

    Apparently a ¡®stash¡¯ means that they stuffed their gear in a shed by the pasture, and a couple of racist bandits (¡®Veiled Heritance¡¯ is a much too dignified term for them) have discovered it and are poking around. I call upon Blinky to shove shafts of surprisingly solid light through them before introducing them to my battle axe. Now if only they¡¯d sent someone along to help carry all this crap.

    ¡°Any luck?¡± asks Tendil when I return to the cellar.

    I just give him a look and dump a pile of weapons and armor at his feet. ¡°I couldn¡¯t carry it all. Could at least one of you gear up and held me schlep this shit?¡±

    ¡°Right, of course,¡± Tendil says. ¡°You have my gratitude.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately I¡¯ve probably killed all the racist bandits in the immediately vicinity,¡± I say. ¡°Unfortunately this building is still on fire and you should probably get out of here and try to put it out now.¡±

    Tendil turns to his squad. ¡°You heard the man. Move out!¡±

    When we leave the cellar and get back out into town again, Elenwen runs up to me, thanking gods who probably had nothing to do with guiding her to me for finding me.

    ¡°Teldur has betrayed us!¡± Elenwen exclaims.

    I open my journal to look up who Teldur was again. Canonreeve¡¯s assistant. Right. As I¡¯m checking that, Elenwen is going on about how she saw Teldur holding the canonreeve at knifepoint. She saw them heading toward the manor, which is probably locked, although if it¡¯s her own residence why doesn¡¯t she have a key to it? I don¡¯t bother asking. Everyone around here is very silly.

    Conveniently, there¡¯s a smuggling tunnels on the beach, because of course the canonreeve¡¯s manor needs a smuggling tunnel. Do librarians frequently have skooma problems? Again, I don¡¯t bother asking. I don¡¯t feel much need to go climbing around the cliffs, either. I might as well just go in through the front and kill as many racist bandits as I can. No sense letting them live to regroup and cause more problems later.

    The manor is a large building across another bridge spanning over a picturesque waterfall that also makes me glad I didn¡¯t bother messing around with the cliffs. It takes some rifling through pockets, but I do find a key amidst pocket change and keepsakes, all of which I keep for the sake of reselling later. The key I found works, and I head inside. There are¡­ not as many bookshelves as I might have expected a library to have, but it does have a fair number of them and a lovely reading area. I scan the titles, seeing parts 1 of Rislav the Righteous, The Song of Pelinal, The Ruins of Kemel-Ze¡­

    The marine Captain Tendil sent with me as backup clears his throat. ¡°It looks like someone is behind that divider over there.¡±

    ¡°Right, I can come back to read later. This building at least does not appear to be on fire.¡±

    I head over to where the marine indicated, and find Teldur, leaning against a wall and wounded. He gasps out something about how the canonreeve betrayed everyone and is a member of the Veiled Heritance. I lean down to try to heal his wounds, but they¡¯re too much for my meager healing ability, and the mer expires still insisting I need to stop Valano and leave him be.

    ¡°Dammit,¡± I mutter, and sigh. ¡°Be at peace in Aetherius, Teldur. I¡¯ll stop him.¡±

    I head upstairs to find Canonreeve Valano and proceed to hack the shit out of him. I would have been more concerned about Teldur lying to me if Valano hadn¡¯t spouted some racist bandit nonsense before I vanquished him.

    Not content to simply kill and be done with it, I search the building for incriminating correspondence as well. There¡¯s a note laying on a hearth but not actually in the fire to Valano from someone signed as ¡®N¡¯, in the name of the Veiled Queen. (Amusingly telling him not to forget to burn this letter. It seems he got careless.) Before I go and run down my journal to see who I¡¯ve encountered whose name starts with N, I find a less subtle letter from Valano to Norion, clearly unsent. Something about meeting him in Tanzelwil. Shit. I need to warn Ayrenn. I also grab Teldur¡¯s journal (not bothering to stop to read it), and shove the incriminating notes inside, and toss the lot into my pack.

    Out on a balcony, a Skyshard sits atop a fountain, apparently placed there as decoration. No further incriminating notes on the balconies. Well, I had to be thorough. I head back downstairs and find Elenwen in the entryway, flanked by a couple of marines who appear to have gathered their armor in the interim. She¡¯s asking for news of Teldur and Valano. Shit. I just killed her father. Now I have to tell her I killed her father. Right, best that I show her the incriminating notes.

    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ well, they¡¯re both dead now,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but it wasn¡¯t Teldur who was the traitor. Take a look at these messages.¡±

    Elenwen reads over the notes, eyes widening, putting a hand over her mouth in shock. ¡°Oh, father, why would you do this? Why would you conspire against the Queen and slaughter your own people?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t tell you that,¡± I say. ¡°The actions of these racist bandits don¡¯t make much sense to me. For people intent upon high elven supremacy, they¡¯re not shy about primarily killing high elves.¡±

    I leave her to her grief and head outside, where Captain Tendil and his marines are standing amidst the bodies of the racist bandits I¡¯d killed. And it looks like Razum-dar has shown his fuzzy face here too, along with a couple others in leather armor who are definitely not marines.

    ¡°Raz heard of the troubles here and came to provide backup. We¡¯ve arrived too late, as it would appear that someone with a battle axe has been quite busy.¡±

    ¡°They kind of annoyed me,¡± I say. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why they did this. Isn¡¯t slaughtering high elves kind of counterproductive to whatever it is their aim is?¡±

    Raz shakes his head. ¡°Whatever their reasons, this one has sent agents across Auridon to root out any further traitors in positions of power. He fears this was no isolated incident.¡±

    ¡°Raz,¡± I say, pulling out the incriminating notes again and showing them to him. ¡°We need to warn the Queen.¡±

    Raz reads them over, scowling, then turns to one of the others in leather armor. ¡°Get to Tanzelwil, quickly, and let the Queen know Adviser Norion is a traitor and intends to ambush her there.¡±

    The other gives a terse nod and runs off.

    The fires have been put out and a lot of wooden roofs and furniture will need to be replaced, but fortunately most of the town was made of stone. They generously offer to let me stay the night in the manor, since it still has a roof. I decide to take them up on that so I can do some reading. One of the books even mentions me in an incident I¡­ only vaguely remember, if at all. I have no doubt that it happened, but the details elude me.

    I doze off with a copy of Rislav the Righteous in my lap. In my defense, most of it was surprisingly dry. I¡¯m not sure how someone managed to make something that involves a beheading sound so dull.

 Chapter 21: In Which I Steal Alchemy Notes

    I might just need to break down and buy a horse (I can probably afford a horse now) and learn how to ride the stupid thing. While I feel like I could walk anywhere at an easy pace, that¡¯s not necessarily useful if I¡¯m in a hurry to get somewhere. And even if I could find a guar to ride out here, a perfectly ordinary Altmer might be noteworthy and attract unwanted attention.

    Am I in so much of a hurry that I can¡¯t stop and pick alchemical ingredients? Probably. I¡¯m sure Raz¡¯s runner got to Tanzelwil before I crashed last night. (Would Queen Ayrenn even be at Tanzelwil yet?) It¡¯s too bad whatever was left of that glow juice got washed into the sea by the Maormer¡¯s storm atronach. I wish I¡¯d had some when I came across Teldur. While I don¡¯t think I could have saved him had I gotten there sooner, maybe a potion could have. I should either stock up or learn to make my own.

    I spot a wayshrine from the road, and go over to light it. Laying on a bench nearby, someone has left a scroll about the Dwemer. I sit in the morning sunlight reading for a few minutes before reminding myself that there are places I need to be and things I need to be doing, so I shove it in my pack and get going again. It sounds like it¡¯s pretty clearly fictional, anyway, and written by someone who hadn¡¯t the faintest clue about the Dwemer. I can read inaccurate historical fiction on my own time. (Why would someone put bad fiction on a scroll, anyway?)

    Note to self: Angry letters to publishers regarding inaccurate depictions of the Dwemer would probably not be good for avoiding attention, either.

    I pull out the map of Auridon I¡¯d acquired in Silsailen and try to figure out where I am. Would it kill these high elves to put up some signposts? Also, this map doesn¡¯t mark wayshrines, which are kind of more important to me than most of the landmarks it does note, so I proceed to deface the map by adding in wayshrines. This wayshrine appears to be next to a bridge by a crossroads near a town called Phaer.

    As I¡¯m poring over the map to determine which way to go from here, an Altmer woman with a white horse comes down the road from Phaer. I greet her, and she warns me to stay away from Phaer because there¡¯s a plague. So I proceed to do the most sensible thing to do when warned to stay away from someplace because of a plague: I head for Phaer.

    A plague is not something that I can use an axe to deal with. But if a necromancer, cultists, or racist bandits somehow started it deliberately, I¡¯d be able to hit them. Might as well stop and investigate, since it doesn¡¯t seem too far out of my way. I¡¯m sure the Queen will understand.

    The town of Phaer is full of agitated Altmer, and I piece together the situation from speaking with a few of the townspeople. The situation here has been going on for about a week, and a number of the sick have been quarantined inside an old mine. One woman thinks contact with mangy Khajiit and poxy Bosmer was responsible for spreading the plague here, but another thinks there¡¯s something fishy about the entire situation in general.

    One man is complaining about, ¡°Why isn¡¯t our new Queen doing something about this plague? This never would have happened in the old days!¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°Actually, Queen Ayrenn did send me to investigate the plague.¡± Technically true, if in a non-specific manner.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he says. ¡°Well, good! I hope you can get this cleared up in due order, then.¡±

    Okay, so I¡¯m not much of a healer, and while I do know how to make a healing potion, that¡¯s for wounds; I don¡¯t know how to make one that cures disease.

    An alchemist by the name of Hendil (I write this down) has been tending to the sick and distributing a salve, and is currently in an old barn with a number of people groaning on pallets and a bunch of alchemy equipment in the back. Why a salve? I¡¯d have expected a potion. Is this disease a rash?

    At any rate, when I speak to him, he informs me that he¡¯s out of salloweed, one of the main ingredients in the salve, and asks me if I can go collect some for him. I have to press him a moment to describe the stuff for me since I don¡¯t know what it even looks like and he¡¯s so sleep-deprived that he forgot that detail.

    Once out of sight, I cross-reference this with my alchemy notes. I probably threw this stuff into a cauldron at some point to see what happened. Large, spiky red plant? That might be it. My notes indicate this made me numb and drowsy when I was being silly enough to drink my own questionable potions to see what they did. (There are times that being basically immortal makes you a tad reckless.)

    I run across another scroll while collecting plants and as I¡¯m glancing at it, I promptly get attacked by a woman yelling ¡°BLEH!¡± What the fuck? If she¡¯s the one who has been leaving questionable literature everywhere, she seems a bit deranged to be angry about it now. In fact, she seems sick and out of her mind. After dealing with her violently (having no better way to deal with her), I take a more cautious look around the area. There¡¯s a number of others milling about the area in a zombie-like state, whom I avoid as I collect some more plants for Hendil.

    His flat response to my informing him about the overly-aggressive diseased people in the fields raises my suspicions a little. What is going on here? The alchemist here says he¡¯s making ¡®an aloe¡¯, but I thought aloe was a kind of plant, not a salve? Weird. In any case, he tells me he¡¯ll send mercenaries to ¡®treat¡¯ the sick farmhands (really? I could have done that myself) and asks me to distribute this batch to some townspeople who are ¡®the next victims on the list¡¯. (What is going on here!?)

    Maybe I could at least feel him out for being a racist. ¡°Do you know where the plague came from? One of the townspeople thought it came from Bosmer or Khajiit. Do you think that¡¯s possible?¡±

    Hendil seems a bit caught off-guard by the question. ¡°I¡ªI suppose that¡¯s possible. My son was the first victim. He may have had contact with outsiders for that.¡± He hands me a jar. ¡°Here¡¯s the latest batch.¡±

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    That was a lack of racist rant, at any rate. I toss the jars of salve in my pack and wish I had a reputable alchemist I could ask about analyzing this recipe. Someone I can trust. Hmm, but maybe I do, in a roundabout way. Hendil probably keeps alchemy notes or journals locked up in his home. I feel like there¡¯s way too many plants and possible interactions thereof to memorize all of them.

    I approach the woman (whose name is Velatosse) who thinks there¡¯s something not right about the situation. ¡°Do you know where Hendil lives?¡±

    ¡°His house is that one right over there,¡± Velatosse tells me, discreetly indicating one. ¡°You don¡¯t trust him either?¡±

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You came out of that barn looking like you just discovered a skeever tail in your soup,¡± Velatosse says.

    I chuckle softly and nod. ¡°Something very strange is going on here and I mean to get to the bottom of it. And I want to know exactly what this salve of his actually does. I don¡¯t trust that he¡¯ll come out and tell me¡ªalchemists tend to be a bit secretive¡ªbut he¡¯s probably got notes somewhere about it. Gods know I do, but my own alchemy notes are probably a complete mess since I don¡¯t know the proper names of half the plants I¡¯ve experimented with.¡±

    Not to mention that there isn¡¯t a single plant that grows in the area that I¡¯m familiar with. A pang of homesickness leaves me missing the sight of coda flowers lighting up the swamps of the Bitter Coast at night.

    I tell her the names of the ¡®victims¡¯ I¡¯d written down. ¡°I¡¯m not giving this stuff to anyone without knowing exactly what it does.¡±

    ¡°He asked you to give it to my son, Nelulin?¡± Velatosse says in alarm. ¡°But he¡¯s not even sick! They¡¯ve already had my other son locked away in that mine for days.¡±

    Hendil¡¯s door is locked, of course, but one of the windows is broken and I can get inside that way. Very carefully. It almost looks like this window was broken from the inside out, judging by the way the glass is scattered on the ground. Weird.

    Note to self: Acquire lockpicks. Addendum: Learn to use them, too. (Or remember how?) Breaking down doors with an axe is not very subtle and best kept for when I don¡¯t care if anyone notices me breaking in.

    Rummaging through the house, I locate a book that might just be a journal, presumably because it has ¡®Hendil¡¯s Journal¡¯ stamped on the front. As I¡¯d already surmised, the salve is a sedative, but there¡¯s something very odd going on with his son. He doesn¡¯t specify what, but seems very worried about the townspeople finding out the truth.

    I make sure to steal any alchemy notes I can find while I¡¯m at it. They¡¯re a little light, and he¡¯s clearly not the greatest alchemist on the island, but he¡¯s still worlds better than me. Also I suspect this is going to end in him being dead or arrested, so he won¡¯t miss them.

    I need to get into that mine and see what they¡¯re hiding in there. The most obvious source of incriminating evidence tends to be in places people are trying to prevent you from getting into, and nobody is allowed in there but Hendil, his assistant whose name I forgot to write down, and the mercenaries he hired because of course you hire mercenaries to deal with a plague rather than an actual healer.

    To that end, I sneak into the mercenary barracks and steal a uniform. (Actually, this looks exactly like my Vulkhel Guard marine uniform¡­) Fortunately, no one is inside at the moment, probably all out guarding the mine, although I¡¯d have thought the night shift would be napping here at least. What a shoddy operation. They¡¯re also clearly not very tight-knit, as they don¡¯t recognize my face but take one look at my stolen uniform and do nothing to stop me from going into the mine.

    There¡¯s no one immediately inside, but as I go further in, mad, diseased people attack me. I really need a better way to knock people out rather than killing them, as I can¡¯t avoid these. Could these still be saved, or are they too far gone? I¡¯m probably sending some of them to Aetherius just to get through, but no help for it. I at least try to knock them out rather than dismember them. (Could they still be healed? They¡¯re unnaturally pale and completely out of their minds. Which suggests¡­ Oh no.)

    Up ahead, Hendil¡¯s voice says, ¡°Hold him, Amuur! We can¡¯t let him find out the truth!¡±

    Well, if I didn¡¯t already suspect something was up, it¡¯s pretty clear now. Amuur is a far better fighter than a simple alchemist¡¯s assistant should be, but hardly a match for me.

    As it turns out, Hendil¡¯s son is a vampire and he¡¯s been sending people in to be fed off of. A vampire is something that I can use an axe to deal with.

    ¡°Please, I¡¯m just trying to save my son!¡± Hendil insists. ¡°This will all be over once I can find a cure.¡±

    ¡°Is your son more important than Velatosse¡¯s?¡± I aks. ¡°Or any of the others you¡¯ve dragged in here?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him! He¡¯s just sick! He¡¯ll get better!¡±

    I shake my head and brush past him, axe at the ready. As I go into the next room, the vampire attacks me, intent upon feeding from me and making me its next thrall, saying incredibly creepy things all the while. Yes, yes, I¡¯m sure a vampire would find my body delicious, but that doesn¡¯t make it any less creepy. Hendil draws in a choked breath from across the room as I get a good swing of Stormy in and behead the vampire that was once his son.

    ¡°Oh, Tancano, my son¡­¡± Hendil sobs.

    ¡°Hendil, there¡¯s got to be a line between feeling sympathy for your son and feeding people to a vampire,¡± I say. ¡°Is it possible to still save any of the surviving thralls now that he¡¯s dead?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hendil says, hanging his head. ¡°You¡¯re right. I deserve to be punished for what I¡¯ve done.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least we¡¯re in agreement about that,¡± I say. ¡°But don¡¯t think I¡¯m letting you off easy by removing your head like I did your son¡¯s. The people you lied to have got to see your face and hear your confession.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can face all those people¡­¡±

    ¡°Then you should be attacking me to force me to end you with violence,¡± I say.

    ¡°What¡¯s even the point anymore?¡± Hendil mumbles, slumping down to the ground.

    ¡°Ugh.¡± I tie him up, just in case. ¡°But first, let me just ask you one thing. Are you with the Veiled Heritance?¡±

    ¡°What? No, of course not.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s just completely coincidental that your son got infected with vampirism right when all this trouble started,¡± I say. ¡°¡¯Kay then.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about the Veiled Heritance, I swear,¡± Hendil says. ¡°If I did, I would tell you.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯m just going to get the guards.¡±

    Velatosse is waiting angrily outside the mine. ¡°What¡¯s going on in there? Did you see my son, Iwelien?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°Nobody in there was in their right mind. They¡­ well, in short, Hendil¡¯s son was a vampire and had been feeding on and enthralling the ¡®plague victims¡¯ that were being sent in there. There was no plague.¡±

    ¡°By the stars, how horrible!¡± Velatosse exclaims.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if the thralls can be cured now that I¡¯ve killed the vampire,¡± I say. ¡°They were attacking me and I tried not to harm them more than necessary, but it might not be possible to help them regardless. And a lot of them were already dead by the time I got inside.¡±

    ¡°What of Hendil?¡± Velatosse says. ¡°Where is that ill-bred skeever who was behind this foul scheme?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s tied up just inside there,¡± I say. ¡°He lost his will to live after his son lost his head, but I didn¡¯t feel like executing someone who wasn¡¯t fighting back. I was going to turn him in, but if you want to take over here, I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll deal with him, alright,¡± Velatosse says with a scowl.

    I¡¯m past the point of caring if an angry mother wants to get revenge. I do, however, stop and let the mercenaries know just who it was they were working for before moving on. Needless to say, they¡¯re utterly thrilled about it.

 Chapter 22: In Which I Violently Calm Down Ghosts

    By the time I finally locate the old ruin that is probably Tanzelwil, the Queen¡¯s entourage looks like it has been standing around for a while and is getting increasingly annoyed at delays. I hope they weren¡¯t waiting for me. It¡¯s a fairly large ruin and I approached it first by a wayshrine but it turns out the entourage is set up south over the hill from the wayshrine, at the end of the other road leading in this general direction. Who designed this place, anyway?

    Everyone important on Auridon is here, along with a number of people who wish they were important. There¡¯s the Queen¡¯s brother, Prince Naemon, and his wife, High Kinlady Estre. Plus Vicereeve Pelidil, still looking like he¡¯s swallowed a live scrib. I totally remembered who all of them are, and didn¡¯t just discreetly ask the hangers-on to remind me of their names. Most of the hangers-on think this is all a waste of time, an outmoded tradition, and that the Queen ought to be paying more attention to the living than the dead.

    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s the Queen¡¯s favorite,¡± Prince Naemon says as I approach.

    My heart leaps to my throat. ¡°I¡¯m her favorite?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think so, given how she¡¯s been paying far more mind to you lately than to her own brother,¡± Naemon says.

    ¡°We were mostly just discussing reports of Maormer activity,¡± I assure him.

    ¡°In any case, we have a problem here and she¡¯s probably expecting you¡¯ll be the one to solve it,¡± Naemon goes on. ¡°Far from giving wise counsel, the dead here seem intent upon trying to make us join their ranks prematurely.¡±

    I give him a blank look. Well, it seems high elven ghosts are normally considerably more polite than their counterparts in the north, who are as likely to decide to test you in combat before they¡¯ll give you their blessing as anything else.

    Queen Ayrenn is with Battlereeve Urcelmo further in the ruins, attempting to commune with the dead and getting only angry threats in response.

    ¡°Neralion, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here,¡± Ayrenn says.

    ¡°I¡¯d have been here sooner, but there was a situation in Phaer involving a vampire and a lot of people are dead,¡± I say.

    ¡°A vampire?¡± Ayrenn says in alarm. ¡°That¡¯s troubling. I trust you took care of the matter?¡±

    I pat my battle axe and nod. ¡°Did you receive my message from Silsailen?¡±

    Ayrenn nods. ¡°I did. I haven¡¯t seen any sign of Norion since we arrived, but it¡¯s very possible that the situation here may be his doing. He¡¯s an accomplished mage, and he may be controlling the ghosts here through some vile necromancy. The news of Silsailen is also troubling. I¡¯d hoped that the Veiled Heritance was a small group, but if they could organize something on that scale¡­¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I say. ¡°Do you have any idea who this Veiled Queen might be? Someone who thinks they should rule this realm instead of you? Do you happen to have any cousins that are feeling jilted?¡±

    Ayrenn shakes her head. ¡°I wish I knew. It might be an upstart bandit queen, or even one of my nobles plotting against me. Difficult to say at this point.¡±

    She informs me that her priestesses are needing to perform ceremonies elsewhere in the ruins and asks me to protect them. I agree, and go off to find them.

    Another priestess nearby is examining a black crystal that¡¯s surrounded by purple swirls in the air. They appeared overnight, apparently, and then the spirits went mad and started attacking people. She thinks there¡¯s probably a connection. She thinks there¡¯s probably a connection? The deductive reasoning skills of high elves never cease to amaze me.

    Oh, and she¡¯s got a holy symbol she wants to try using on the stones to see if it does anything but hasn¡¯t been able to work up the nerve to try. Seriously? It¡¯s a holy symbol. The worst it could do is explosively make bad things go away. Fine, if she needs a brave Chimer to come up and wave a holy symbol at evil rocks, then I¡¯ll do it. When I use the symbol, a yellow glow surrounds the stone, which then pops like a bladder of spoiled milk and is gone. Considerably less explosive than she feared. She¡¯s so impressed that she bids me to find and destroy the rest of the evil rocks, too.

    So, I make my way through the ruins, smashing ghosts in the face and destroying evil rocks, then helping the priestesses which involves smashing more ghost faces. Along the way, I find some incriminating correspondence signed from Norion next to the bodies of people he assured would not be harmed by the ghosts and he was either in error or lying. I love incriminating correspondence. I¡¯d be making a fine collection of blackmail if it weren¡¯t for the fact that the incriminators so frequently wound up dead at my hand immediately after incriminating themselves. I even find a Skyshard sitting on an altar near the second priestess, who gives me a very odd look when I absorb it as if trying to decide if that¡¯s blasphemy somehow or just weird.

    The final evil rock is located on top of the entrance to an underground area, and once I¡¯ve destroyed it, the ghosts all become passive again. At least, the ones who weren¡¯t temporarily banished via battle axe.

    Queen Ayrenn and Battlereeve Urcelmo are also nearby, having made it through the ruins while I was busy smashing ghosts and destroying evil rocks. They could have waited a few more minutes for me to finish up with the evil rocks and they¡¯d have had considerably less trouble, but I¡¯m sure they can handle themselves. I make my report.

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    Ayrenn is planning on performing the final rituals in the crypts down below. And, having been a warrior before she was a Queen, she insists on leading the charge herself. I can respect that, but I insist on staying at her side.

    ¡°Being a warrior doesn¡¯t mean you have to do everything by yourself,¡± I say.

    ¡°Of course, my friend,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°I would be honored to fight at your side.¡±

    I grin cheekily. ¡°Who, me? You¡¯re the Queen. I¡¯m just a perfectly ordinary Altmer warrior.¡±

    She chuckles. ¡°We¡¯d best be careful, though. I¡¯ll bet you three gold coins that Norion is down there waiting for me.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bet against that,¡± I say.

    We head down. As we¡¯re traversing the labyrinthine corridors of the ancient ruin, a projection of Norion appears to taunt us and he sends two strong ghosts against us. I take the one on the right and Ayrenn takes the one on the left. I finish off mine and turn to see the other hurl Ayrenn to the ground. With a yell, I charge in and cleave the other ghost through the wispy purple face.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I ask, helping her to her feet and casting my shitty healing spell.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°That might bruise, though.¡±

    ¡°Well, my healing spells can¡¯t really cure anything more than bruises, so it¡¯s just as well, then,¡± I say.

    ¡°Let¡¯s continue on,¡± she says, then grins at me. ¡°Unless you think you need a rest.¡±

    I shake my head with a chuckle, and we move on.

    Norion is waiting for us in the final chamber, and he is incredibly annoying. He keeps taunting us about how Ayrenn is not the true queen and summoning racist ghosts to attack us while yelling about how awful Bosmer and Khajiit are. (Honestly, I like both of them better than the Altmer at this point.) (Except Ayrenn, of course. Ayrenn is awesome.)

    No matter how many ghosts Norion sends at us, though, we still manage to smash his face. And his everything else.

    Now that no one is trying to kill us any longer (for the moment, at least), Ayrenn performs the final ceremony while I look on, and gains the blessings of some ghosts that are either considerably less racist or considerably more liable to trust in the judgment of the current ruler. What do ghosts know about the modern political climate, anyway? Nobody¡¯s been coming down here and telling them news, and they haven¡¯t been wandering around reading books and talking to people like I have. Although I have no doubt that even when the world is allied against them, some Altmer are still too proud to join forces with ¡®mongrels¡¯.

    Speaking of books. As I¡¯m leaving the ruins past considerably more tranquil ghosts, I run across an overturned cart with some books spilled at its side. The title of one of them catches my eye: Monomyth: Dragon God & Missing God. I grab it and toss it in my pack. A bit too philosophical for my tastes, but Sahira-daro might like it.

    While I¡¯ve got my pack open, I look through the various notes I¡¯ve collected thoughtfully. Norion always uses his actual name in his incriminating notes, but one of the messages I found in Silsailen was signed simply ¡®N¡¯ and was considerably more paranoid about wanting to make sure the note was destroyed. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s different handwriting or not, but it makes me wonder if there¡¯s someone else whose name starts with N involved in this conspiracy. I run back down my notes about people, but most of the ones whose names start with N are highly unlikely to have been involved. Shrugging, I shove my notes back in my pack and head off down the road.

    I return to Phaer to rest for the night and check up on Velatosse. The ruin Sahira-daro mentioned is near here, but it¡¯s getting late and I¡¯ve had a very busy day and would like to get some rest first.

    Needless to say, Hendil did not survive the afternoon, and while Velatosse and the captain (Netanye or Netanwe or something) had a bit of an argument over what his fate should be, they wholeheartedly agreed that he should not get away with feeding people to a vampire. So they opted for public confession and execution instead of quietly murdering him in a mine. People needed to know that the plague was over and what really happened to their loved ones. The mood in town is mixed but relieved.

    ¡°I found Iwelien¡¯s body down in the mine,¡± Velatosse tells me. ¡°Oh, my poor Iwel.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± I say.

    ¡°The surviving thralls have been rounded up and locked in the mine and show no sign of improvement,¡± Velatosse says. ¡°I¡¯m going to start writing letters to see if anyone knows anything about curing thralls.¡±

    ¡°I can take some if you like,¡± I say. ¡°I have an errand for the Mages Guild to perform in the morning and then I¡¯ll be heading back to Vulkhel Guard.¡± I pause. ¡°Well, if you consider delving into a dangerous ruin to try to find old books that may or may not even be there to be an ¡®errand¡¯.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a very busy adventurer and I¡¯m glad you stopped by, even if the news wasn¡¯t all good,¡± Velatosse says. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t, I may have lost both of my sons. I¡¯ll write letters to the Mages Guild and the temple of Auri-El for you to take to Vulkhel Guard tomorrow.¡±

    I squat in Hendil¡¯s house for the night, since he doesn¡¯t need it and nobody else wants to go near it and it¡¯ll give me a little privacy. I really need to organize my notes a bit better, ugh. Also maybe I should be writing them in Dwemeris or something so that people can¡¯t just casually read them, not that there¡¯s anything incriminating toward me in them. Plenty of incriminating things toward other people. Mostly dead people, now. I¡¯ve been trying to be more organized in my new life and my mind isn¡¯t what it used to be, though.

    I¡¯m fortunate that most nights, I have been exhausted enough to drop down into deep sleep, and that the Prophet occasionally usurps my dreams for the sake of rambling about destiny or something. (He¡¯s probably going to do that again once he finds Lyris and asks me to¡ªno, don¡¯t think about that.) I¡¯m fortunate that I don¡¯t dream of Coldharbour every night. I¡¯m fortunate that I don¡¯t lay awake in bed afraid of what might await me in my dreams. There are times Tamriel hardly seems real, but if it¡¯s a delusion, it¡¯s a pleasant one.

    And then there¡¯s Ayrenn. She reminds me of Ayem, in some ways, but there¡¯s something more genuine about her than Ayem ever achieved. Maybe that¡¯s just the lens of hindsight speaking, though. It¡¯s easy to see all the warning signs I should have noticed, knowing now what my dear old friends planned to do. How far in advance did they plan it? Were they ever truly my friends? Does it make it worse to be false to someone and pretend to be their friend, or to turn against someone you truly liked and cared about for your own gain? Was it worth it to them?

    It doesn¡¯t bear thinking about. I have new friends now. And I cannot imagine the likes of Ayrenn and Razum-dar sacrificing anyone to a Daedric Prince. (But I couldn¡¯t imagine that of Ayem and Vehk, either.)

    Okay, listen, Nerevar. Ayrenn is a (probably) good person and you don¡¯t need to be paranoid about her turning against you just because your former wife whose name started with the same letter did. (I¡¯m not sure if I could bear it a second time.) (I¡¯m not sure if I could bear it the first time, for that matter.)

    Can I just be Neralion from now on? Being Neralion is so much easier. When I can spell my name.

 Chapter 23: In Which I Catch Butterflies

    It¡¯s a bright new day with a distinct lack of nightmares or regrets.

    The bloodthralls have been cleared away when I return to the ruins where I picked the salloweed. This is definitely the place I was directed to. Probably. The map says it¡¯s Ondil, at any rate.

    It would seen that magical lighting was very popular among the high elves¡¯ ancestors. Come to think, these were probably my ancestors, too. These ruins probably pre-date the split of the Aldmer into the Altmer and the Chimer. Glowing yellow crystals light up much of the old ruin.

    Oh, and it would seem that the mercenaries missed that the ruins are full of bloodthralls. Perhaps they¡¯d been in here before and they just didn¡¯t feel like coming in here. How many thralls did the alchemist¡¯s son seriously create? Or is there another vampire in here? Perhaps the one who turned the boy? Still, kinder to send them to Aetherius than leave them like this.

    I make my way through the ruins, collecting some very old, worn books along the way, and although I try to avoid the thralls wherever I can, I¡¯m not pulling any punches with them any longer. The townspeople are less likely to come down here than the mine and see the severed limbs of their loved ones.

    One of the books is glowing purple and hovering in the air, making it clear that this one is weirder than usual. When I jump up to grab it, it summons a projection before me of a robed Nord who tells me to take this apparently-blank book back to Valaste and says that fire will show the words. Naturally I attempt to set the book on fire to see what it says, and while it still remains blank, fortunately it¡¯s non-flammable. Must need a magic fire.

    Turns out there¡¯s another vampire in here after all. His name¡¯s Aluvus, judging by the various notes I find laying around. At least until he meets Stormy and winds up in five pieces. Then it no longer matters what his name is. (Also not sure if he¡¯s a Maormer or if being a vampire makes someone¡¯s skin and eyes weird colors.) He was the one who turned the alchemist¡¯s son, and sounded very pleased with himself in the process. Good riddance to bad bloodsuckers.

    In front of a shrine, I find a Skyshard sitting in a large sconce like a light. Not sure who this is supposed to be a shrine to, but the statue depicts some robed guy with a sword, book, and his foot on a skull. Good gods usually don¡¯t have skulls in their motifs.

    I return to Phaer with the vampire¡¯s notes in hand. ¡°I killed the vampire who turned the alchemist¡¯s son,¡± I tell Velatosse. ¡°He was holed up in Ondil. There¡¯s a lot more bloodthralls in there, by the way. Do you have those letters written?¡±

    ¡°Yes, here you go,¡± Velatosse says, handing them to me. ¡°At least one less vampire in the world is good news.¡±

    ¡°And bad news is that I don¡¯t know who turned him,¡± I say. ¡°He hadn¡¯t been a vampire very long and he met some enchanting woman in Vulkhel Guard, it seems. I¡¯ll have to keep my eyes open there.¡± I grunt. ¡°I didn¡¯t set out to become a vampire hunter, but I don¡¯t exactly have any love for Molag Bal¡¯s bastard children and they keep putting themselves in my path.¡±

    I take the notes and leave Phaer. I have a good bit of walking to do if I want to make it back to Vulkhel Guard before nightfall.

    I sit at the wayshrine outside of Phaer to rest for a few minutes and have a bite to eat, and wish there were a quicker way to get back to Vulkhel Guard. Dying near here would make me appear at this wayshrine, after all, but maybe there¡¯s some way to exploit my apparent connection to the wayshrines for the sake of teleportation. I have no idea how, though. I need to speak with a real mage about the possibility. Where did Rurelion get off to, anyway?

    The walk is a quiet one, though, marked by a dearth of overly aggressive wildlife and overconfident bandits (racist or otherwise). I even stop to pick a few flowers along the way, purely for alchemical purposes of course. Say, didn¡¯t the alchemist¡¯s notes mention that butterfly wings could be used in health potions? Maybe I should catch a few and try it out.

    Catching butterflies turns out to be a much tougher prospect than I¡¯d thought. As I¡¯m leaping about trying (and failing) to grab one, a passing merchant stops and approaches me.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Nadonil. Can I interest you in a butterfly net?¡±

    I stop trying to catch them with my hands. ¡°They make nets just to catch these?¡±

    ¡°You might have noticed it¡¯s hard to catch them with your bare hands,¡± Nadonil says. ¡°Just like it¡¯s hard to catch fish with your bare hands. I sell fishing rods and bait, too.¡±

    I peer at him. He¡¯s definitely not holding any visible fishing rods. ¡°You are¡­ carrying considerably more than I would have guessed.¡±

    Nadonil laughs, takes off his pack, and opens it up wide, displaying far, far more than I would have thought someone could carry. ¡°And no, the bag is not for sale, but you can probably find a pack merchant in a major city that¡¯ll sell you a magic bag of your own for a pretty gold piece.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is very good to know,¡± I say.

    I buy a butterfly net from Nadonil, and toss him a tip for the tip about the bags. It occurs to me that maybe the marines back in Silsailen expected that I, as an adventurer, would already have a magic bag that could fit all their armor and weapons in to carry back to them. Huh. I wish they¡¯d mentioned it, but then, we were kind of in a rush and the building was on fire. I try out my new net, and while catching butterflies is still tricky, it¡¯s at least possible with the net.

    Back at Vulkhel Guard, I drop some things off in my inn room which is conveniently near the gates of town, deliver Velatosse¡¯s letters, and explore the marketplace. There¡¯s a building with a sign depicting a bag, and I had just assumed that it sold, well, bags, and not magic bags.

    ¡°The name¡¯s Quaranon,¡± says the Altmer man inside, giving a distasteful look to my pack. ¡°Ugh, where did you find that? Lying on the side of the road? Let me sell you something so you don¡¯t look like an impoverished brigand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here,¡± I say. ¡°Let me see what you have.¡±

    As it turns out, Quaranon¡¯s bags are expensive. For the top-tier price, I could buy a house! Then again, they¡¯re probably considerably more portable than a house, even if I could teleport.

    ¡°Are they difficult to damage?¡± I ask.

    Quaranon looks at me like I¡¯m daft. ¡°The packs themselves have a number of protective enchantments on them, however, as their contents are not actually inside the bag, they are impervious to harm. You will not break any glass bottles placed inside of them even if you sit on them.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t understand,¡± I say.

    ¡°Ugh, do you know nothing of interspatial transliminal¡ªno, of course not, you¡¯re an adventurer, you just hit things for pay.¡± He takes a deep breath. ¡°Each pack is a portal to a pocket space tucked away in the folds between Nirn and Oblivion. This space is centered on you, and the physical pack only serves to access it. As such, that items inside cannot be damaged or stolen from you.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I am incredibly impressed at the advances in magical convenience that have been made over the past few thousand years. Or the intent of high elves to be as lazy as possible and spend copious amounts of magical research just so they don¡¯t have to carry things. I¡¯d assume this sort of magic is less common in human lands.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the difference between the packs?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Style, of course,¡± Quaranon says. ¡°You¡¯d hate for your look to be mismatched¡ªwell, perhaps you wouldn¡¯t¡ªor to be wearing last decade¡¯s fashions. But, the bulk of the price is on the inventory expansion spells. That is to say, the pack can hold more because the interspatial pocket adjacent to you is larger.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± I say.

    This sounds like the sort of thing my dear old friend Seht would be interested in. I¡¯d bet he¡¯d take this sort of magic to its natural conclusion and carry an entire city around in his pocket or something.

    I can¡¯t afford more than the initial investment right now, and that takes almost every coin I have to my name at the moment, but I¡¯ll definitely be throwing more gold at this later. I then proceed to feel even more ridiculous by shoving everything I own that I could conceivably want to have on hand into my pack.

    I think maybe I could brew potions and sell them for more money, but I impress the alchemy vendor considerably less than I¡¯d hoped for and only get offered a few coins for my trouble. I could get more than that by selling the ingredients! But not to this vendor. While Siriwen is very patient with me, she¡¯s not too keen on buying my shitty potions and mangled ingredients.

    ¡°You might want to try selling your alchemy reagents through a guild vendor instead,¡± Siriwen says.

    ¡°What, like the Mages and Fighters Guilds?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, merchant guilds,¡± Siriwen says. ¡°Although they might be happy to take your potions should your technique improve.¡±

    I thank her and decide that this is something I may need to look into further once I¡¯ve taken care of my business with the Mages Guild. I hadn¡¯t really planned on being a merchant, but selling my excess junk for better prices certainly couldn¡¯t hurt.

    I return to the Mages Guild and show my various finds to Sahira-daro, and my new pack makes it much easier to carry large quantities of books. She goes to sort through most of them, but directs me to take the blank book to Valaste.

    As it turns out, the Mages Guildhall does keep around a magic fire that shows invisible words, as opposed to a magic fire that destroys things that are hard to destroy. I¡¯m not sure how good of a method of keeping secret texts this is. I mean, if I were trying to hide the text of a book, I¡¯d not make all the pages blank. That¡¯s too obvious either something is hidden or someone didn¡¯t just get around to writing it. No, better to put the secret text on top of recipes for ash yam biscuits.

    The book apparently left instructions for summoning Shalidor, so we summon him, glowing purple, straight out of Aetherius, as if he were a scamp or something. He also thinks I glow with ¡®good fortune¡¯ but he¡¯s probably just detecting the Aedric energy I¡¯ve absorbed from the Skyshards. So he starts going on about how he made an island sanctuary called Eyevea (he kind of rolls his eyes at me when I ask him to spell that), and he¡¯s quite enamored with it and wants to steal it back from the Madgod, Sheogorath.

    ¡°Wait, Daedric Princes can just steal entire islands from Nirn?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Well, there was a bit more to it than that, but that¡¯s not important right now,¡± Shalidor says. ¡°Rest assured that Eyevea is a very small island and it would take a Daedra considerably more effort to remove something the size of¡ªwhere are we? Auridon?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how reassured I am,¡± I say dryly.

    Shalidor wants to open a portal to the Shivering Isles and send me, of course, through to retrieve some books. Everyone else in earshot quickly takes backward steps in hopes of not being volunteered.

    ¡°The Shivering Isles, huh?¡± I say with a wild grin, pulling out my butterfly net. ¡°Sure, this sounds like fun.¡±

    I skip through the portal Shalidor opens, and find myself in a big stone room that looks like it could be anywhere Daedric. An aging human man works behind the desk. Not nearly flamboyantly dressed enough to be the Madgod, turns out he¡¯s the Madgod¡¯s chamberlain, Haskill.

    ¡°I was honestly expecting more butterflies,¡± I say.

    ¡°If you¡¯ve come to the isles to hunt butterflies, I¡¯m certain you can be obliged,¡± Haskill says flatly. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Er, no, actually I¡¯m here hunting books,¡± I say. ¡°Shalidor is absolutely obsessed with his stupid island and convinced me to jump through his portal and I¡¯ve always wanted to visit the Shivering Isles.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, you may have been better off with the butterflies,¡± Haskill says. ¡°You may be obliged in that as well. First, however, you must obligatorily prove yourself worthy by a gratuitous display of mindless violence. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do fine.¡±

    I put away my butterfly net (is a butterfly net considered a weapon to be given a name?) and draw Stormy as a portal opens and begins spewing forth scamps. Easily dealt with, and once that¡¯s done, Haskill lets me through a door leading outside.

    The left hand side is ashen and volcanic, like Vvardenfell. The right side is verdant and bright, like Auridon. I make my way down the middle road, occasionally dealing with other minor Daedra along the way. At the end of the path, a larger-than-usual clannfear guards a library (hopefully). And of course as soon as it catches my scent, it tries to jump me. I love to play with clannfears. All the rolling and jumping and dodging and swinging. This one puts up a good fight, but my reflexes are too quick for it.

    In the back of the room, four glowing purple books hover above pedestals, fluttering like butterflies just out of reach. I pull the net out of my pack and, after a couple tries, manage to catch one.

    And then a mad voice echoes through the air, declaring me a puppy killer.

    ¡°Aw, I was just playing!¡± I say. ¡°With a battle axe. It¡¯s a Daedra¡ªit¡¯ll be back.¡±

    Sheogorath appears before me, looking like a human in a fancy, garish gold-and-purple suit. Now here¡¯s one Daedra who doesn¡¯t see the need to make himself look more intimidating just by being enormous with flaming eyes and covered in black spikes. His demand to know why I¡¯m here should sound more terrifying.

    I give a bow. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to meet you, Lord Sheogorath. I¡¯m here because I was the only one crazy enough to let Shalidor convince them to go to the Shivering Isles and look for some stupid books. I honestly don¡¯t care one way or another but it sounded like fun.¡±

    Sheogorath throws back his head and laughs madly about that. ¡°Well, then! Maybe you¡¯d be up to some more fun and games?¡± He describes a contest of some sort, in order to win each of the other books.

    ¡°Just to be clear, there¡¯s no penalty for failure or delay beyond simply not getting the books?¡± I ask. ¡°Because if you want my soul for failure, you¡¯re going to need to get it back from Molag Bal first¡ªwhich if you can, you¡¯re welcome to it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that would tweak Rosie¡¯s nose, but no,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°No penalties for failure. In fact, if you tell Shalidor you don¡¯t want to help him anymore, the look on his face will be worth a piece of cheese!¡±

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard Azura referred to as ¡®Rosie¡¯ before. ¡°Tempting,¡± I say with a grin.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just summon ol¡¯ Shally here to let him know what we¡¯ve agreed on, then, shall we?¡±

    Shalidor (still glowing purple) appears with a pop. He starts yelling at Sheogorath but I cut him off.

    ¡°Hey, Shalidor,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t want to help you anymore.¡± I pause. ¡°I¡¯m going to anyway, because it sounds like fun, though.¡±

    Sheogorath chortles. ¡°Oh, the look!¡± A wedge of cheese appears in my left hand.

    Shalidor pins me with a stare. ¡°Did you seriously tell me that because he promised you cheese?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say, taking a nibble. ¡°Totally worth it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad someone here is easily amused, but I am not,¡± Shalidor says.

    ¡°Too bad; I¡¯m what you¡¯ve got,¡± I say.

    Sheogorath tells Shalidor about the contest I¡¯ve agreed to, and also curses the books so Shalidor can¡¯t read them just to add insult and make things more difficult. I honestly don¡¯t even like this self-important Nord, but things are bound to be entertaining.

    I return from the Shivering Isles with a book in a butterfly net in one hand and a wedge of cheese in the other. Nobody asks any questions.

    I go over to Valaste and relay what happened and about Sheogorath¡¯s little contest, and let her take the book out of the net. She¡¯s going to have difficulty translating these without Shalidor being able to help directly, but she¡¯s determined to see this through.

    ¡°This one does not wish to be involved in anything related to the Madgod,¡± Sahira-daro tells me quietly. ¡°She will leave the translation to Valaste.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d think you, of all people, wouldn¡¯t object to dealing with Daedra,¡± I say.

    Sahira-daro makes a face. ¡°Not all Daedra are equal. With the Prince of Madness, there is no telling what you may encounter. Valaste seems foolish enough not to care what may come of delving into the Madgod¡¯s mysteries.¡±

    ¡°And what of me?¡± I ask with a crooked grin.

    Sahira takes one look at me and snickers. ¡°Valaste steps into the storm thinking her wit and power will let her control it and see her through safely. You step into the storm knowing you will be blown away and thinking it will be a fun ride.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d argue that, but¡­¡±

 Chapter 24: In Which I Go Back to Hell

    The Prophet¡¯s in my dreams again. Did he notice I¡¯d returned to Vulkhel Guard, or is it just coincidence that this is when he found Lyris and decided to contact me?

    He¡¯s found Lyris. And he wants me to save her.

    I sit bolt upright in a cold sweat and almost hit my head on the shelf in my closet.

    Calm down, Nerevar. You¡¯re safe. You don¡¯t need to go anywhere or do anything if you don¡¯t want to.

    It occurs to me that I was never afraid of Coldharbour and Molag Bal until I had something to lose again. Hope is the most dangerous thing you can give someone, and it can bolster them or, if broken, it can destroy them.

    Lyris deserves better than this. No one deserves Coldharbour. (Okay, maybe some do¡­) I can¡¯t save everyone, but maybe I can save one person. So, reluctantly, I gather what equipment I think I might need for this and head out to the Harborage. Butterfly net probably won¡¯t be necessary but it¡¯s in my pack anyway.

    As I come into the moist cave, it occurs to me that the Prophet has an awful lot of books for someone who is blind. He greets me as being good to see me, but sees me as some sort of wound in reality, like that¡¯s supposed to be reassuring. This, of course, leads him back into rambling about fate again and I kind of tune him out.

    ¡°More to the point,¡± I interrupt. ¡°You told me you found Lyris?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Her soul is in great danger, and she needs our help. I can open a gate to Coldharbour, but once inside, you must hurry.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly planning on dawdling there,¡± I say. ¡°And you¡¯re sure you can get me back out again?¡±

    ¡°Nothing is certain, least of all where the Daedra are concerned,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°But I can keep his attention while you are there so that his cold eyes might not turn upon you.¡±

    He describes how his mind is somehow linked to Molag Bal and doesn¡¯t that just sound reassuring, too. This all just sounds like a terrible idea.

    ¡°Right¡­ and what happens if I die there?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You will likely re-manifest there,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°The path ahead will require courage, Vestige. Shore yourself.¡±

    ¡°Courage,¡± I say dryly. ¡°Right. Open your portal before I think better of this terrible plan.¡±

    Just a stroll through Coldharbour. No big deal. I used to do it all the time, right? I used to go wherever I wanted and take any dumb risks I fancied at a whim. It would not do for Molag Bal to think I¡¯m afraid. Fear is his greatest power.

    The Prophet opens a shimmering blue portal, and I step through and immediately look behind me to make sure it¡¯s still there and not disappearing on me. I relax a little as it seems that he¡¯s keeping it open and I can return whenever I wish, but I¡¯d best not take too long regardless.

    I¡¯ve emerged into caves in what might be one of the foundries named something like Despair, or Detritus, or Dentistry. Probably not Dentistry. Not enough teeth laying around.

    Lyris Titanborn is clad in rags and in something of a daze, and it takes some convincing to get her to realize that I¡¯m really here and I¡¯m not leaving without her no matter what stupid thing Molag Bal has done to her. Apparently he¡¯s torn apart her psyche and locked pieces of it away. Ugh, it¡¯s never pleasant when someone gets Molag Bal¡¯s special attention.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Lyris,¡± I say. ¡°Just stay behind me. We can do this. And if you don¡¯t have faith in yourself to do it, then have faith in me. Alright?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Lead on, Nerevar.¡±

    Fine to tell someone to have faith in me when I barely have faith in myself.

    We make it out of the foundry, cutting through a handful of Daedra to get to the doors. Outside, incongruously, is a place that looks a lot like Skyrim, aside from the spiky black rocks making up the cliffs to the left and the spiky black rocks that hover off the ledge to the right. Lyris is talking about her family, but voices from a burning building up ahead get my attention.

    Inside, a Daedra attacks me, taunting me about how she already belongs to Molag Bal and is still mid-taunt when I cut him off with a spear of light to the throat. Never stop to taunt, guys. The ghost of Lyris¡¯ father is there, possibly even her actual father and not just an apparition to torment her.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°How could he pull you out of Sovngarde for this?¡± I wonder. ¡°I¡¯d hope you¡¯d be safe there if anywhere.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the ghost says. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about this sort of thing. I was a simple warrior in life. Maybe he used my connection to my daughter to drag me here somehow.¡±

    ¡°And now he¡¯s using that connection as an anchor to keep her here,¡± I say. ¡°You two have any unresolved feelings you need to work out here?¡±

    It seems Lyris¡¯ mother was a Nord who died giving birth to a part-giant child and everyone blames each other for it. I decide to patrol the perimeter while they¡¯re having a heart-to-heart, but no other Daedra are visible in the immediate vicinity. When I return, the ghost is gone and Lyris is ready to move on.

    The next area resembles an army camp. Why does Molag Bal care about this woman so much that he was willing to build all of this just to fuck with her head? Apparently when Lyris was in the military, she had to wear armor specially made larger than most Nord women, and the fetchers in her unit liked to hide it as a prank. Seriously? And this is why mer often consider all humans to be children, because this is the sort of behavior you¡¯d hope a mer child outgrows by the time they¡¯re fifty. Because this is just childish. Sure, play pranks and have fun, but not the sort of pranks that compromise the integrity of your unit! How would any of them be able to trust one another in battle if this is what they do to one another?

    The role of the soldiers is probably being played by Daedra in the shape of humans. Soul Shriven are often used for background roles in shit like this, but these were too lucid and talkative for that. I return the armor to Lyris and give her a little privacy to put it on inside one of the tents. With it on, she already strides more confidently.

    Out the next door and down a path, and a projection of a human man appears before us. Lyris recognizes him as Abnur Tharn, and they start arguing. Abnur¡¯s a traitor, Lyris is too hot-tempered, something about Mannimumble, and I wander off to find something to hit. And I find it, in the form of a large clannfear, black rather than green like Sheogorath¡¯s one. And he¡¯s standing on top of a very nice battle axe.

    Once the clannfear is dead, Lyris runs up and says, ¡°Nerevar, that¡¯s my battle axe!¡±

    I chuckle and stand aside to let her take it. ¡°I suppose that means I don¡¯t get an upgrade. All yours.¡±

    Lyris hefts the axe. ¡°It¡¯s good to have it back. Being unarmed is like missing a limb.¡±

    ¡°Resorting to punching things can be downright embarrassing,¡± I agree.

    The next path is blocked by a lot of rocks. Lyris goes up and just hits them to clear the way.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I say. ¡°I know what they say about giant strength, but can you normally cause huge rocks to tumble down like an overturned ash yam cart just like that?¡±

    We fight our way past some more Daedra, and for all her newly-regained confidence, Lyris also doesn¡¯t know how to get out of the path of a charging ogrim. Really now? Those things are so slow and dumb and it¡¯s always obvious what they¡¯re about to do. Then again, she probably hasn¡¯t spent as much of her existence as I have dodging ogrims.

    ¡°You okay?¡± I ask, helping her to her feet.

    ¡°Nothing hurt but my dignity,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±

    In the next room, we come across another projection, this one of a bound human by the name of Sai Sahan. He¡¯s in considerably poorer shape than the other one, and he tells us that Molag Bal is torturing him to try to find out where he hid the Amulet of Kings. Right before he vanishes and leaves Lyris screaming fruitlessly at the air.

    ¡°Lyris, he was never actually in this room,¡± I remind her.

    ¡°We need to rescue him!¡± Lyris says.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s anywhere even nearby,¡± I say. ¡°But if the Prophet could find you, he can probably find your friend, too.¡±

    Lyris sighs. ¡°You¡¯re right. We have to go tell him.¡±

    There¡¯s still one more piece of herself Lyris needs to find, it seems, and it become apparent as we emerge into another room with a huge, ugly statue of Molag Bal and she suddenly feels all her fears and insecurities returning in full force.

    ¡°Come on, we can make it,¡± I say. ¡°For the sake of¡ªuh, what was your friend¡¯s name again?¡±

    ¡°Sai Sahan,¡± Lyris supplies. ¡°Yes, I have to be strong for Sai.¡±

    ¡°For Sai Sahan!¡± I say.

    A door behind the statue opens on its own, which is really never a good sign around here, but no help for it. A large room lays beyond, and a hatch in the middle opens up to allow a Watcher to emerge, all tentacles and eyeballs.

    ¡°Oh, I love these things,¡± I say. ¡°Lyris, word of advice: don¡¯t let the eyeball beams hit you. They smart.¡±

    ¡°Eyeball beams,¡± Lyris says, nodding. ¡°Got it.¡±

    We charge in with our axes, dodging eye beams and slicing off tentacles. I¡¯m faster and more nimble, but Lyris has more reach and power behind her swing. It stands to reason, I suppose, considering she¡¯s tall enough to make me look like a Bosmer next to her.

    The Watcher dies, and we spot a column of light with a portal leading out of Coldharbour. Either the Prophet pulled through and made sure we didn¡¯t have to backtrack, or Molag Bal is fucking with us again. No help for it. We head through, and emerge into the Harborage. Probably the Harborage. Coldharbour would probably still have spiky black rocks everywhere.

    Lyris slumps down into a chair to catch her breath, and the two of us debrief with the Prophet what we¡¯ve seen. The visions of the others we¡¯d seen.

    ¡°If Molag Bal seeks the Amulet of Kings, then we must find it before he does,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°Why is this amulet so important?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Its misuse caused the veil between Oblivion and Nirn to tear,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°And it is the only thing that can truly mend it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, well, let it just be said that I really do not trust any magical item that could do such a thing,¡± I say. ¡°

    ¡°Your wariness is fair,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°First and foremost, however, I must locate Sai Sahan so that he can be rescued. I am quite drained from that last venture, however. It took more out of me than I had hoped. I will need some time to rest before I can begin my search, but I will not leave Sai to the machinations of the Lord of Domination.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll agree on that part,¡± I say.

    That jaunt wasn¡¯t too terrible. I guess I could stand to do it again. Saving one more person seems reasonable enough.

 Chapter 25: In Which I Take a Long Walk on the Beach

    I head up to the Fighters Guild in the morning, after having totally not spent the remainder of the last day messing around with alchemy and joining a trading guild, just to unwind after my little jaunt into Oblivion. (I might have to look into acquiring my own alchemy equipment at some point, to give the alchemist Siriwen a break from using hers all the time. Provided I can find a spot to fit it.) When I reach the Fighters Guildhall, I discover that the new guildmaster, Sees-All-Colors, has arrived. Seems like a strange name even for a lizard, but what do I know? It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve actually met many Argonians. And most of the ones I have met were dead.

    ¡°Well met, comrade,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°I have a task for you. Are you familiar with the Dark Anchors?¡±

    ¡°How could I not be?¡± I say. ¡°One of them is dropping right behind the guildhall half a dozen times per day. Many things might be said about the God of Schemes, but he¡¯s sure not a quitter.¡±

    ¡°Two of our comrades were investigating other possible sites nearby, but they¡¯re late in reporting back in,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°Could you check in on them? They were searching the coast east of Vulkhel Guard.¡±

    I agree, and head out. It¡¯s a beautiful morning, but then every morning seems beautiful in Auridon, and there¡¯s a distinct lack of any Maormer on the shore today. Kind of a pity, as I wouldn¡¯t mind hitting a few more of them, but I¡¯m sure there will still be plenty of skulls to crack when I meet up with the Fighters Guild folks. I scout along the beach but don¡¯t see any sign of them before I reach the Harborage, so I pop inside to check on Lyris. She seems to be doing pretty well, considering what she¡¯s been through.

    ¡°While this cave might be nice enough for the Prophet,¡± Lyris says, somehow keeping a straight face, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m likely to get stir-crazy in here. And I¡¯m liable to draw attention here in Auridon, not like if we¡¯d wound up somewhere around Skyrim. What if they mistake me for a member of the Ebonheart Pact?¡±

    ¡°You could join up with the Fighters Guild,¡± I suggest. ¡°They¡¯re neutral in the alliance war and are focusing on fighting Daedra.¡±

    ¡°Now that sounds more like it!¡± Lyris climbs to her feet. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°What, right now?¡±

    ¡°Is there something you¡¯re waiting on?¡± Lyris asks. ¡°Best that I¡¯m seen walking with a Chimer who can pass for an Altmer. You can put in a good word for me with your guildmates.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t really gotten the chance to know any of them very well yet.¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy running all over half of the island that will probably turn into running over the rest of the island, and now I¡¯m actually going to check up on a couple of them who have been searching for cultists nearby. But I can introduce you, and definitely wouldn¡¯t say no to some backup in case things go south. And to introduce myself, I¡¯m going by the name Neralion around here. ¡®Nerevar¡¯ is not really a typical high elf name and I don¡¯t want word getting back to my former friends that there¡¯s someone running around calling himself that.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Lyris says. ¡°No alias for me, though. My own name will suffice.¡±

    The two of us head out of the cave and back along the coast. Colors had directed me to find a Redguard man and a Khajiit woman. Probably not a lot of Redguard warriors around here. I finally spot them not too far from the beach entrance to the local outlaw¡¯s refuge. (They probably have no idea what people are doing in that ruin.) They¡¯re fighting when we first spot them, and we rush across the beach to try to help, but by the time we catch up to them, the cultists are already dead.

    The Redguard, Merric, is friendly and glad to see us, but doesn¡¯t stay to chat for very long before running off saying that he needs to investigate another location near the city of Skywatch, to the north. He leaves us with the snarky Khajiit, Aelif, and instructs us to search the bodies.

    ¡°Keep an eye on our new comrades, Aelif,¡± Merric says. ¡°Colors won¡¯t be happy if we lose anymore new bloods.¡±

    As he¡¯s running off, Aelif mumbles, ¡°Yes, yes, Aelif will watch the new bloods. Aelif is quite sure they look like they can take care of themselves. Aelif thinks the tall Nord could break her with one finger, if she could catch her.¡±

    So we search the bodies and find some odd trinkets, and then a projection of a Dremora appears and blusters something about how the Redguard¡¯s soul will fuel the¡­ Mumbling Vivec? That can¡¯t be right.

    ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t sound good,¡± Lyris comments.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I say. ¡°Anything involving souls is generally automatically bad.¡±

    ¡°Aelif does not know why someone would want Merric¡¯s soul. It is so bright and shiny; perhaps they need a new lamp? Aelif must go warn him, though. You two head back to the Guild and tell Colors what we found, quickly!¡±

    We part ways with the Khajiit and return to Vulkhel Guard. Lyris draws a number of looks as we walk through town, not just for being a Nord but for being a Nord woman taller than most Altmer.

    ¡°Comrade, you¡¯re back,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°Did you find Merric and Aelif?¡± She looks to Lyris. ¡°And who is this? A new friend?¡±

    ¡°My name is Lyris Titanborn. I¡¯m here to take the fight to the Daedra.¡±

    ¡°Good! That¡¯s what I like to hear,¡± Sees-All-Colors says.

    ¡°We found them,¡± I say. ¡°But an image of a Dremora woman appeared saying she wanted Merric¡¯s soul, in order to feed it into¡­ uh¡­ Mortal Vivec?¡±

    ¡°Mortuum Vivicus,¡± Lyris supplies. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me to spell that, though.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is, it definitely can¡¯t be good if it¡¯s something that wants souls fed into it,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°I¡¯ll get the guild to look into it and see what information we can dig up. Meanwhile, could you two meet up with Merric and Aelif at Skywatch? They¡¯re going to need the backup and I need to rally the forces here.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Lyris says.

    I nod in agreement. ¡°Merric could be in serious trouble if the Daedra are targeting him specifically.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Skywatch, anyway?¡± Lyris asks.

    Sees-All-Colors shows us a map. ¡°To the north, about midway up the eastern coast.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a horse, Neralion?¡± Lyris asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Nope, can¡¯t afford one. Especially after I bought a magic bag¡­ no regrets. Merric and Aelif were on foot, in any case. We can walk, if you¡¯re feeling up to it.¡±

    ¡°Am I ever!¡± Lyris says. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, then. We¡¯ve got a lot of ground to cover before dark.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Now, you might have gotten the impression that I am apparently some sort of super-mer that can cross Tamriel on foot in the span of an hour. That is, of course, completely accurate and no intrusion of reality will make me admit otherwise. Really. Anyway, is it greatly important whether it took us ten minutes or ten days to walk from Vulkhel Guard to Skywatch?

    I take the opportunity to catch Lyris up on what I¡¯ve been doing since escaping from Coldharbour, greatly amusing her and thereby thoroughly convincing her that I am completely mad. I feel that I haven¡¯t done anything too ridiculous. Aside from, you know, take skooma and fall off a cliff, repeatedly play with thunderbugs, deliberately set myself on fire twice¡­ okay, maybe I have been pretty mad.

    Somewhere along the road past Phaer (where we totally didn¡¯t need to stop for the night), some books lay beside a broken cart. Trials of Saint Alessia looks interesting, so I toss it in my pack.

    ¡°Reading material for later?¡± Lyris asks.

    I nod. ¡°That, and I¡¯ve got a friend in the Mages Guild who likes books like this. Or¡­ books in general, honestly. She¡¯s pretty indiscriminate. At least I managed to keep her away from books that will literally try to eat you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, those are best avoided,¡± Lyris agrees, and takes a deep breath of fresh air. ¡°You know, this is¡­ healing, in a way. I think I needed this.¡±

    ¡°I think we both needed this,¡± I say. ¡°I guess there were worse places on Nirn to wind up in.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s so peaceful,¡± Lyris says. ¡°If this were home, I¡¯d be expecting to have been attacked by wolves and saber cats at least half a dozen times by now.¡±

    ¡°Or if mine, it would be nix-hounds and alits,¡± I add. ¡°It¡¯s eerie to walk so far and have nothing attack you.¡±

    Off to the left, the skies grow dark and the howl of Oblivion echoes across the landscape as massive chains rattle to the ground.

    ¡°¡­although Daedra falling from the sky definitely count,¡± I say.

    ¡°Akatosh preserve us,¡± Lyris breathes, bringing her axe to hand. ¡°That¡¯s what these look like from this side? This is even worse than I¡¯d feared.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen the half of it,¡± I say as we head over to join the handful of fighters battling the Daedra that have started dropping.

    At least Molag Bal¡¯s taunting is just irritating on this side, when you can¡¯t even see him. What is it about Daedra being so fond of boasting pointlessly? His greatest weapon is terror, but as the fighters finish off the Daedra and destroy the anchor pinions, they don¡¯t seem even slightly terrified. They simply break for lunch, as if they¡¯d just finished unloading cargo from a ship rather than keeping Auridon safe from the forces of darkness.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine not far away, and we stop there to light it and rest for a minute.

    ¡°Auridon is certainly a beautiful place,¡± Lyris says. ¡°A bit warm for my tastes, though. All this color and greenery is refreshing to see, though.¡±

    ¡°There was a time I never thought I¡¯d see a color that wasn¡¯t blue again,¡± I say quietly.

    We continue on. Next to another wrecked cart, I find a book titled Triumphs of a Monarch, ch. 3. How many book carts can there possibly be left on the side of the road like this?

    Further down the road, by the beach, I spot the red swirls of portals in the distance, and we rush to meet up with Aelif who is already battling Daedra. The voice of the female Dremora who had spoken to us before echoes in the air, but there is no immediate sign of her. Once this batch of Daedra are dead and the portals stop opening, Aelif tells us that Merric ran off down the beach after some other Daedra, so we hurry off to catch up with him.

    We do manage to catch up to Merric, just in time to see him disappear along with a brief projection of possibly that Dremora again but it¡¯s gone too fast for me to get a good look.

    ¡°Mara¡¯s mercy, we¡¯re too late,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Damn it!¡±

    Aelif catches up to us, looking winded. ¡°Did that simpering Dremora actually manage to best Merric?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what happened,¡± I say. ¡°I was still too far away to get a good look.¡±

    It¡¯s something of the perversity of the universe that you¡¯re always just slightly too late or just in the nick of time. Or maybe it¡¯s just that the times you¡¯re there with plenty of time to spare or when you¡¯re way too late aren¡¯t as memorable.

    ¡°We should meet up with Colors and get help figuring out where they went,¡± Lyris says.

    Aelif scoffs. ¡°Waste of time. We can figure this out ourselves. Did either of you find anything interesting on the bodies before?¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a note mentioning an island tower,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s probably a few of those around here.¡±

    Aelif suggest that it¡¯s some Ayleid ruin whose name starts with a B, and points out the location on my map. ¡°Aelif will go tell Colors. You two better hurry and see if you can find Merric. He is in grave danger that cannot wait for backup.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve faced worse than this Dremora woman,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Getting out to this island might be tricky, though. How do you swim, Neralion?¡±

    ¡°Like a sack of ash yams,¡± I say. ¡°Which float, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s better than a sack of potatoes, which don¡¯t,¡± Lyris says. ¡°There¡¯s a small boat on the beach. Do you suppose it¡¯s still seaworthy?¡±

    ¡°Probably more seaworthy than me,¡± I say.

    With Aelif off, Lyris and I right the old boat and make sure that it doesn¡¯t leak. The oars are broken, but we can still make this work. At least it beats swimming. I really hope we¡¯re pointing at the right island, though. This is going to get incredibly annoying if not.

    When we finally make it ashore, the ghost of a Nord appears before us wanting to speak with us, which is a good indication that even if this isn¡¯t the right island, it¡¯s probably at least an interesting island. Boring islands don¡¯t have ghosts on them. Apparently he¡¯s the former Fighters Guildmaster, Jofnir Iceblade, telling us the Dremora named Doshia has taken Merric into the vaults below the ruins. And gives an unnecessary warning to beware of Molag Bal¡¯s followers, which we were already likely to do anyway. How much more ware could we be? He vanishes before we can even ask him anything. Or figure out what we¡¯d ask him beyond the obligatory silly questions Lyris is shouting at the air where he¡¯d been hovering moments before.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone, Lyris,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s figure out how to get inside.¡±

    ¡°Right. Yes.¡±

    After some searching, we find a huge stone door which turns out to be easier to open than it looks, opening into a wide set of stairs leading down into someplace lit by glowy blue rocks. Also it¡¯s full of scamps and Molag Bal¡¯s echoing voice, so yeah, definitely the right spot.

    ¡°Ugh, that voice sends shivers down my spine,¡± Lyris says. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s just blustering like always.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you eventually get used to it. I don¡¯t think I could.¡±

    ¡°Most go mad first,¡± I say. ¡°Takes a special sort not to.¡±

    ¡°The sort who were already mad?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m generously going to assume you are speaking of Cadwell,¡± I say with a grin.

    We turn a corner and spot Merric and the Dremora woman. She¡¯s got her hands raised and some sort of purple energy twining into Merric and I think that¡¯s an excellent time to practice my long-distance aim with an Aedric spear. I sling a shaft of light through the air, and Blinky strikes true! Doshia goes sprawling to the ground and her spell stops. That gives time for Lyris and I to hurry across the room with our battle axes. And this might have been an easier fight if she hadn¡¯t turned into one of those giant snake things with four arms, but we manage.

    ¡°Doshia, you have failed me!¡± Molag Bal¡¯s disembodied voice declares.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± I comment. ¡°If I were them, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d want to work for someone so unsympathetic to the plight of his followers. Here they are, getting killed trying to fulfill his orders, and all he can do is shout disdain at them. Next time I respawned, I¡¯d be looking for a new employer.¡±

    ¡°Are you alright, Merric?¡± Lyris asks, ignoring me and offering a hand to help Merric to his feet.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, I think. I¡¯m glad the two of you arrived when you did.¡±

    While Lyris is checking on Merric, I explore the room to see if the Dremora left anything¡­ well, I¡¯d say incriminating but I¡¯m quite certain that people are liable to attack a Dremora on sight regardless of whether they¡¯re committing any crimes. Among her supplies I find a book that¡¯s written in gibberish. Some code or a language I don¡¯t speak, either way probably the best clue toward whatever the God of Schemes¡¯ scheme here is.

    When we get back outside, Sees-All-Colors and a number of other guild members have already arrived along with Aelif. Our sluggish crossing probably gave them ample time to catch up. Great, that means somebody else can row me back.

    We debrief with Sees-All-Colors, and I hand over the journal for somebody else to decode. That can be somebody else¡¯s problem.

    ¡°I¡¯m heading back to Vulkhel Guard with the Fighters Guild,¡± Lyris says. ¡°I want to check in on the old man. Are you coming, too?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Nah. I haven¡¯t even explored half of this island yet. Who knows how many interesting caves I missed along the way when we were hurrying to get here? Every last one of them is probably full of cultists, bandits, or racist bandits.¡±

    ¡°Racist bandits?¡± Lyris asks.

    ¡°The Veiled Heritance,¡± I explain. ¡°High elf supremacists. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll hear more of them later.¡±

    ¡°Well, have fun,¡± Lyris says. ¡°I¡¯d tell you to be careful, but, well, it¡¯s you.¡±

 Chapter 26: In Which I Speak Out Against Casual Racism

    A town is visible across the water from the island tower, whatever the name of the Ayleid ruin was where we rescued Merric. I decide to simply row my boat up to the docks, although if anyone asks me to pay a docking fee I¡¯m going to give them the side-eye while I just park my boat on the beach ten feet away.

    I didn¡¯t expect Razum-dar to meet me on the shore. ¡°A fine day for fishing, is it not, my friend?¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± I mutter. ¡°I should have bought a fishing pole!¡±

    ¡°Would you like one for your cover?¡± Razum-dar suggests. ¡°Raz could even throw fish at you to complete the disguise.¡±

    ¡°I think that won¡¯t be necessary,¡± I say. ¡°What are you doing here, Raz? Don¡¯t tell me that I just happened to pick the beach you were on to dock at.¡±

    ¡°The Fighters Guild passed through town not too long ago and mentioned you were rowing very slowly across the water and would probably arrive here soon,¡± Raz says, whiskers twitching in amusement.

    ¡°Hey, they had more than one person rowing!¡± I protest lightly. ¡°Okay, then what are you doing in this town? And uh, what town is this, anyway? Is this Skywatch?¡±

    ¡°This is Mathiisen,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°Raz came here investigating the Veiled Heritance.¡±

    ¡°Are they operating here too?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Raz thinks so, although not quite so openly as in Silsailen. No, no one is setting fire to buildings or slaughtering citizens in the streets. Yet. But Raz thinks they may be getting weapons from here. Mathiisen is known far and wide for its fine steel. Now, it seems, they may be known for fine racists, as well.¡±

    ¡°Who do I need to hit?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Raz is not certain yet, but you will be the first to know, yes? Raz needs you to go into town and meet with someone. He would go himself, but his handsome face is very recognizable, while you? You look more or less like every other Altmer in town, yes? Your contact is named Fistalle.¡± He describes where to find her house. ¡°Raz will sneak into town and meet you after.¡±

    (He mentions some other names of interest which I write down: Canonreeve Malanie, Forgemaster Condalin. I write the name Fistalle in Dwemer script, however. Should I just rewrite this whole journal? Ugh, it would be time-consuming but I really need to organize my notes better. Maybe next time I have some downtime in town.)

    With my new mission in hand (figuratively speaking), I head in to take a look around. In a corner by the walls, I spot a book titled The Anuad Paraphrased. This is clearly someone¡¯s cubby-hole. They have a hammock and laundry here. I take the book anyway.

    While I¡¯ve got my pack open to put the new book in, I notice a journal I¡¯d been carrying around for some time that mentioned a place with a name similar to the one Raz said this place was called, if someone pronounces the ¡®th¡¯ as a ¡®t¡¯. That¡¯s probably it and they¡¯re just pronouncing it weird. I¡¯ll have to see if I can find someone who knew the journal¡¯s former owner while I¡¯m here. Who, upon flipping through it again, I remember had died realizing the Veiled Heritance were just racist bandits and trying to get them to knock it off.

    After asking around a bit in the market area (which primarily comprised of Khajiit and Bosmer doing the heavy work), I find his mother and let him know what happened to her son, and give her the journal. It¡¯s not good news, but I¡¯m sure she¡¯s glad to know nonetheless. We part with her expression of hope that I kick in the teeth of more of those fuckers who killed her son. (She doesn¡¯t actually say ¡®fuckers¡¯, but that was the gist of it.)

    It¡¯s difficult to sound out people who might be in league with the racist bandits given the general background noise of casual racism among high elves in general. It¡¯s probably why they¡¯ve been able to make such headway, when even the average Altmer on the streets believes Khajiit are simply useful, unusually intelligent animals, not necessarily through any particular hatred but through ignorance and what they¡¯ve been told their whole lives. In my time, I was considered a bit of a weirdo for having Dwemer friends and loving their machines even if I hadn¡¯t the foggiest idea how they worked, but at least they were other mer. And I disagreed with the mistreatment of slaves for the simple reason that people who like you are less likely to murder you later. Boy was I wrong on that account, but I still see no point in being cruel simply for the sake of being cruel.

    I¡¯m probably supposed to be undercover here, but I can¡¯t help but make a few counter-comments to these people. This one is talking about the wage gap and that the forgemaster hires on immigrants so that he can underpay them.

    ¡°People should be paid by their work and not their race, shouldn¡¯t they?¡± I ask. ¡°Surely there are Khajiit who are better smiths than some Altmer. I daresay every Khajiit working the forge here is a better smith than me.¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, not every Altmer is trained in smithing, that¡¯s true, I suppose,¡± he allows reluctantly. ¡°But there¡¯s no way that a Khajiit with their brief lifespans could come close to an Altmer smith with centuries of experience.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°Sadly, we¡¯re trying to equip an army here. Are there enough Altmer smiths with centuries of experience to make enough swords in a short period of time to turn the tide of battle?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± he admits. ¡°A true masterwork blade is a work of art, and takes months to craft. Art cannot be rushed. Practicality¡­ requires some flexibility.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The foreman (forewoman? foremer?) is less racist than many of them, and tries to be nicer to the Khajiit and Bosmer, and also has some complaints to make about her boss. Everyone always complains about their boss, although I feel that her criticism might be more grounded than most.

    It turns out Fistalle was already dead. It¡¯s no wonder that Queen Ayrenn was so willing to recruit someone she¡¯d just met; she must be running low on Eyes at this point. Searching the body and the room, I find a strange note that looks like code in the form of a children¡¯s story or something. I also find a very interesting book written in Dwemeris of all things with a partial translation, peculiar reading material for a spy. I toss it in my pack; she doesn¡¯t need it anymore.

    I leave the house, trying to look nonchalant, and locate Raz. He¡¯s snuck into town in the meantime and is currently hiding behind a boulder. His face falls when I inform him of his friend¡¯s death; it¡¯s pretty clear that these Eyes are friends and not merely coworkers. He reads over the note and sends me to investigate the forge area.

    Want to take a wild guess what happens in the forge? That¡¯s right, I¡¯m attacked on sight. You know, people who aren¡¯t up to shady business tend to just tell trespassers to bugger off and not go straight to trying to kill them.

    While searching the area, I find a manifest of a large number of weapons explicitly marked for the Veiled Heritance, approved by the canonreeve and the forgemaster. I¡¯m still not entirely sure what a canonreeve is, but it seems this one is a racist bandit too. I grab it and slip out of the forge area (and by ¡®slip¡¯ I mean ¡®kill a few more racist bandits along the way¡¯). Raz has moved to hiding behind a different boulder, and I hand him the incriminating sheet of paper.

    ¡°The canonreeve herself is involved? Raz thought better of Malanie. It seems there are far too many people lately that Raz did not know as well as he thought he did.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I know how that goes, sadly. I¡¯m sorry about your friend.¡±

    ¡°We all know the risks of this job,¡± Raz says, shaking his head.

    ¡°Someone seems to be startlingly good at finding and killing Eyes, however,¡± I say.

    ¡°It is something we will need to look into later, yes,¡± Raz says. ¡°Right now, we have work to do.¡±

    By which he means I should sneak into Malanie¡¯s home to find more incriminating evidence and clues. So I head into the building in question for a close look around. Let¡¯s see. No questionable literature on the bookshelves, but I swipe a book on alchemy while I¡¯m at it. And what¡¯s this, a uniform in the dresser? I grab it and head back outside.

    Raz is behind the building, cleaning a knife with a fresh corpse at his feet. I show him what I found, and he identifies it as a uniform of an officer of the Veiled Heritance. And that¡¯s when he reveals his big plan to me.

    ¡°They¡¯ve seen you sneaking around town, yes? But they have not seen Raz. You stroll into the barracks, make some public accusations, pick a fight, and get captured. Then Raz will slip in and free you, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s the point when we kill everyone involved in this?¡± I ask. ¡°Because I¡¯m not quite clear on how me getting captured helps that any.¡±

    ¡°They will think they have their troublemaker and let their guard down,¡± Raz says. ¡°You trust Raz, yes? Trust Raz. It¡¯s not like they can kill you, anyhow.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± I say. ¡°But I hope you¡¯ve brought potions for my next inevitable head injury.¡±

    I do have a few self-made healing potions that will probably work precisely as well as my shitty healing spell, so there¡¯s that, at least.

    I go up to the guard standing outside the barracks. ¡°Stand aside, in the name of the Queen.¡±

    ¡°And just who might you be?¡± the guard says dubiously. ¡°Only authorized personnel are allowed in here.¡±

    ¡°I am Neralion, agent of Queen Ayrenn and hero of Khenarthi¡¯s Roost,¡± I say. ¡°I have done battle with villains and monsters¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine, whatever, hero,¡± the guard says, interrupting my monologue. ¡°Go on in, then, for whatever good it will do you.¡±

    I swagger inside. This is going against my every survival instinct and why can¡¯t I just kill these people? Sure, murdering people in the middle of the barracks probably isn¡¯t the most subtle way of going about things, but neither is this. But fine, I¡¯ll do what Razum-dar asked me to do, because he¡¯s Raz, no matter how stupid I think it is. I¡¯d rather be riding a guar naked through an Argonian temple.

    ¡°Canonreeve Malanie?¡± I say. ¡°I have evidence linking you to a terrorist group called the Veiled Heritance. In the name of Queen Ayrenn and the Aldmeri Dominion, I am hereby placing you under arrest on accusation of treason.¡±

    And that¡¯s when they laugh at me and knock me upside the head. Ow!

    ¡­

    I wake in a cell with a splitting headache. Again. Dammit, why do people around here think hitting people in the head is the best way to capture them? I mean, they¡¯re high elves! You¡¯d think they¡¯d use spells for that and not dirty their hands with common fisticuffs. I was in the middle of a good monologue, too!

    Head still ringing, I try to at least get the pain down with some healing magic, and spot Raz standing outside the cell door.

    ¡°Next time, Raz, you¡¯re the one who¡¯s getting a concussion,¡± I say, climbing to my feet and putting a hand against a wall to steady myself.

    ¡°Mm, perhaps,¡± Raz says. ¡°This one would not discount the possibility.¡±

    He instructs me to go kill the forgemaster whose name I have already forgotten, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. How do people keep doing that? I need to learn that trick.

    A trail of dead bodies leads down the hallway outside the cell. That wasn¡¯t particularly subtle, either. What even was the point of this? At least my belongings aren¡¯t far away. I fish out and down one of my shitty healing potions, and my headache recedes from ¡®stepped on by a nix-ox¡¯ to ¡®stepped on by a nix-hound¡¯.

    I locate the building in question, and the forgemaster doesn¡¯t even try to play dumb and yells at me something about the Veiled Queen, and is still blustering about how Altmer are better than everyone else when I take his head off.

    I meet up with Raz again and he¡¯s tracked the canonreeve, who is now trying to escape through some old smuggler tunnels under the forge because of course there are old smuggler tunnels under the forge. After chasing her through a tunnel full of ankle-deep water, we finally corner her, at which point she starts going on about how awesome the Veiled Queen is or something and we proceed to kick her ass. (Not literally. She¡¯s a mage and it¡¯s more sensible to use an axe than a foot.)

    ¡°You lot¡ª¡± I roll out of the way of a spell. ¡°¡ªare nothing but¡ª¡± Block. ¡°¡ªracist¡ª¡± Dodge. ¡°¡ªbandits!¡±

    She¡¯s so focused on me that she doesn¡¯t notice Raz coming up behind her until she¡¯s got a knife in her ribs.

    ¡°You make a very good distraction, my friend,¡± Raz observes. ¡°No one pays attention to this handsome Khajiit when you are being noisy.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°I think.¡±

    ¡°Raz is heading to Skywatch to meet up with Queen Ayrenn. Head there once you are finished kicking over every nest of giant wasps in central Auridon.¡±

    ¡°Will do!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Give the Queen my best.¡±

 Chapter 27: In Which I Give Therapy to Elves With Long Names

    After smashing the nearby Dark Anchor one more time (the fighters let me break the pinions this time), I run across a broken cart with a copy of The Lunar Lorkhan. Gods, I¡¯m never asking for library delivery on this island.

    There¡¯s an Altmer woman nearby huddled next to a small campfire, who doesn¡¯t notice or care that I picked up the book. She introduces herself by a name that is very long and starts with an E. She tells me about how the Queen¡¯s entourage (thankfully not including the Queen) has been kidnapped by a mad mage and taken to a nearby tower, and begs me to rescue them.

    ¡°The Queen¡¯s not going to be happy to hear about this,¡± I say. ¡°Although more so if she had to send someone else out to deal with it. Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.¡± I pull out my journal. ¡°So who exactly am I rescuing?¡±

    She tells me a few names. Twisty, long high elf names.

    ¡°¡­ Could you spell those?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m bad with names,¡± E-name admits.

    ¡°I can relate, hence the journal,¡± I say with a sigh and put it away. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m just going to assume I need to rescue anyone there that isn¡¯t a mad mage.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve met him before, too, but I don¡¯t remember his name,¡± E-name says.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll make it obvious which one he is,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to see about getting inside this tower.¡±

    ¡°If you can find it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to see about locating then getting inside this tower,¡± I amend.

    ¡°He teleported them there, so it might even be someplace you can¡¯t reach on foot.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can manage,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like I can¡¯t use my hands and feet to ascend a steep slope, right?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, you¡¯ll get your hands dirty,¡± she cringes.

    I try very, very hard not to roll my eyes. Damned high elves. She does give me a handful of teleport scrolls to get them out if I find them. I wonder if I can buy these at market? They¡¯d be very useful, although I can¡¯t imagine wanting to pay money to go places unless I have to or I¡¯m in a serious hurry. I seem to have been in a serious hurry a lot lately.

    As it turns out, I don¡¯t have to climb any rocks, just run through a tunnel full of giant bats. Always fun! Do you know how hard it is to hit flying creatures with a battle axe? Quite the challenge! It¡¯s great fun!

    The tunnel opens up in a high mountain valley with a small tower, an overgrown well, and far more wolves than I would have expected in such a small area. Inside the tower, I find a high elven woman who is rifling through a pile of junk mumbling to herself about rare trinkets. When I approach her, she gets wary and declares all the junk to be hers.

    ¡°Are you a mad mage?¡± I ask.

    ¡°What? No,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m not a mage, and I¡¯m certainly not mad. Say, could you give me your battle axe? It¡¯s probably worth a decent amount of coin.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I tell her firmly. ¡°Are you a member of the Queen¡¯s entourage, then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± She introduces herself. Her name is very long and starts with an L. She tells me how a mage teleported them there, and his name is very long and starts with an S. I keep having to redirect her from coveting everything I¡¯m wearing. I¡¯m hoping that¡¯s because of some enchantment on her mind and not because she¡¯s normally this creepy.

    ¡°Do you know where the others are?¡± I press.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen them since they refused to give me their pants,¡± L-name says. ¡°Are you sure you won¡¯t give me yours?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I repeat.

    ¡°What about those scrolls?¡± L-name asks. ¡°They have to be very valuable.¡±

    ¡°N¡ªactually, you¡¯ve talked me into it,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m only willing to part with one of them, I¡¯m afraid. Here you go.¡±

    I pass her one of the teleport scrolls. She grabs it greedily, reads it and disappears, thereby becoming somebody else¡¯s problem.

    A projection of a bald elf man appears in the middle of the room. ¡°Congratulations on distracting that accountant.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Ruling king of distractions.¡±

    S-name then goes on about how he ensnared the members of the entourage with their personality flaws or something, in order to¡­ I don¡¯t know, experiment on them? Honestly I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s hoping to accomplish here and this whole setup sounds stupid, but hey, that¡¯s why I¡¯m not a mad mage, just a mad warrior. And as a mad warrior, hitting him in the face sounds like great idea.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It looks like it¡¯s going to be harder to rescue the others than it was for L-name. S-name tells me that he¡¯ll open portals to¡­ their minds? Pocket worlds? Whatever. I really hope I¡¯m going to get to hit him later. He¡¯s kind of obnoxious.

    The first location (or something) that I find myself in is full of lava and fire atronachs, which apparently represents the rage of someone with a very long name that starts with an M. It¡¯s rather pleasant, actually. It reminds me of the Ashlands, right down to the flowering trees. I don¡¯t know why an Altmer has the Ashlands in their mind, but I guess that was the best way this mad mage could think of to represent rage for some reason. I locate M-name, and after beating the shit out of the manifestation of her rage, hand her a teleport scroll and really hope it¡¯ll actually work wherever we are. She does disappear, so I guess it worked.

    Next up, S-name opens a portal to a cave full of large mushrooms and winged imps. After looking around a bit, I locate an Altmer man who is completely enamored with a woman he has completely failed to notice is blue and transparent. Around him stands a couple of bookshelves and a bunch of alchemy equipment, and he mumbles something about recipes involving mushrooms before getting distracted with discussing his impending marriage to¡­ whatever that thing is.

    I locate his journal and pack, containing information about the properties of mushrooms and a recipe for a magic resistance potion that he believed would protect him from illusions and mental manipulations. Excellent! I quickly copy the information into my own journal because he¡¯ll probably want his own back. And might not want to part with his secrets if he were in his right mind. Also according to the journal (since he didn¡¯t bother to introduce himself and I forgot) his name is Merion, so at least one of these mer has a name shorter than four syllables.

    Collecting the mushrooms from the cave is quite relaxing, since I get the chance to hit some imps and giant bats along the way. I return to the little alchemy lab and make the potion. Merion refuses to drink it, so I just throw it at the spirit, and for some reason that works and she dissipates like blue smoke. Well, whatever works. He seems to be much more lucid now (also remembering that he¡¯s already married) so I give him a scroll and he disappears. S-name¡¯s projection starts taunting me about how cruel I am to deny true love or something like that and I really want to hit him in his stupid, smug face at this point.

    The final area is an ice cave that wouldn¡¯t look out of place somewhere in northern Skyrim. The things I do for the Queen. Here I find a man with a long name that starts with an N, as if I didn¡¯t already have an N-name to try to keep track of in the vicinity. This cave represents his despair or something, and he wants me to warm things up and my shitty fire spell isn¡¯t good enough for him. Not that I can blame him for that.

    According to a note I find while exploring the ice cave, S-name was apparently a former member of the royal inner circle and was expelled. It doesn¡¯t clarify why but given what I have seen of the man already, I can imagine it was because he¡¯s a fucking lunatic. I locate some suitable kindling and get a fire started in front of N-number-two (it¡¯s something like Nuletil but I just know it¡¯s not spelled anything close to that), and he becomes lucid enough to read a teleport scroll.

    The last portal takes me to a small cave with some cages, and tools that I¡¯d imagine might have been used as torture implements if someone were feeling particularly sadistic. S-name is here, not even bothering to taunt me anymore, not that I give him much chance.

    ¡°I have no idea what you were trying to accomplish here, but it was creepy and weird,¡± I say as I knock aside a summoned creature to get at him. If he were going to reply, he doesn¡¯t manage to get anything out before I plant my axe in his stupid, smug face.

    I search the area for interesting notes or journals and only then realize that this cave has no way out. Thankfully I still have one more teleport scroll, or this would have gotten really annoying. The scroll deposits me back outside next to the campfire.

    ¡°Alright, that sure was something,¡± I say. ¡°Is everyone okay?¡±

    ¡°They seem to have gotten their wits about them again,¡± E-name says. ¡°We¡¯ll see about catching up to the Queen now. She¡¯s got to be in Skywatch by now.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to meet her there later myself.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad she sent you to look for us,¡± E-name says. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about what would have happened to them if you hadn¡¯t found us.¡±

    ¡°Yep, yep, the Queen totally knew you were missing and asked me to find you,¡± I say.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that you weren¡¯t affected by whatever sort of magic was placed over the tower as well.¡±

    I snicker. ¡°Maybe I was, and my inclination had been to solve everything by trying to hit it anyway.¡±

    The sky crackles with dark thunder and the sound of a foghorn from hell splits the air.

    ¡°And the Dark Anchor is dropping again so I¡¯m gonna go hit some Daedra.¡± I pull out my axe. ¡°Safe travels. See you at Skywatch.¡±

    After breaking yet another Anchor, I continue on. I find another chapter of Triumphs of a Monarch sitting outside of a cave. People are truly careless with their literature around here. I decide to take a look inside and see if there¡¯s any of Merion¡¯s mushrooms in there (or cultists or bandits or whatever). I didn¡¯t think to collect extra, also I¡¯m not sure how real half of that was but I do seem to have the notes I copied out.

    The cave is full of spiders. No gleamcap mushrooms I can collect spores from, no cultists of dark gods I can hit with a battle axe, just spiders. Lots and lots of spiders. Spiders crawling in the tunnels. Spiders creeping in the corners. Spiders dropping from the ceiling. Webs covering everything. Oh, and a giant wasp nest! Now I can tell Raz I went and kicked over a giant wasp nest like he told me to. (He probably didn¡¯t actually mean that literally.) And an insane, spider-loving Khajiit who is very annoyed at me for killing his pets, at least for the short time he remains alive after attacking me.

    I¡¯m really not one to speak for people¡¯s sanity but it seems like today I¡¯m proving to be the more rational one out of most of the people I¡¯ve encountered lately who weren¡¯t camping at a dolmen killing Daedra as they drop from the sky.

    My obsession with exploring every random cave I stumble across is vindicated when I locate a Skyshard in the middle of another giant wasp nest. Next to a ¡­ tree? Growing in a cave? A shaft of sunlight streams in from overhead, so it seems like the gods have been playing ¡®chuck the Skyshard in the hole¡¯ again. I¡¯m not going to complain. More power for me.

    I¡¯m not addicted. Really. But why would I refuse to use the Skyshards when I find them in front of me? It¡¯s not like there¡¯s any drawbacks. Are there?

 Chapter 28: In Which Everyone Is Stoned

    On the road near a small town, an incredibly detailed statue stands depicting a mer in a state of running away from something. Her dress is stiff against the breeze, and her arms and legs are outstretched in such a manner that she really should have tipped over by now as this really doesn¡¯t look very well balanced.

    You know, if I were a sculptor, I might just carve incredibly detailed statues in alarming poses and put them in strange places. As it is, this is probably just a petrification effect and not a prankster artist. High elves don¡¯t strike me as having nearly the sort of sense of humor that would go in for that sort of thing.

    Curious, I touch the statue to see if I can tip her over, but not only does she not budge, the ¡®stone¡¯ is actually warm to the touch. Could she still be alive underneath this? De-petrifying people is honestly beyond me, but maybe I¡¯ll be able to find out more in town.

    Other statues dot the town, similarly in improbable poses such as begging and weeping. One robed mer, however, is still moving around. He introduces himself as Merormo, and I make him repeat that and spell it for me as I write it down because damned am I going to go around thinking of anyone else as ¡®M-name¡¯ if I can help it.

    ¡°So, let me get this straight,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s animals around here that, thanks to some weirdness, are normally peaceful¡­ and now they¡¯re highly aggressive and potentially possessed¡­ and your first instinct was to turn the people to stone instead of the animals?¡±

    ¡°Well, uh¡­¡± Merormo stammers. ¡°I kind of panicked and I don¡¯t think the spell would work on aggressive, possessed animals anyway. It¡¯s basically just a souped-up Stoneskin spell.¡±

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°Okay, wellllll, this was incredibly stupid but this is apparently the situation we have to deal with. Please tell me this is a problem that can be solved with hitting something? Because I¡¯m not sure I know how to de-possess a bunch of wild animals short of slaughtering them all.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no no no, that shouldn¡¯t be necessary.¡± He starts describing some energy flows of some magic rocks in the forest and I interrupt him as he starts getting too technical and getting suspiciously insistent that no true Altmer would ever consider consorting with Daedra. Right.

    ¡°You want me to go dispel Daedric energies from magic rocks?¡± I ask. ¡°How? Do I look like a mage to you? Why didn¡¯t you just do this yourself?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ dangerous animals out there,¡± Merormo argues weakly. At my look, he quickly says, ¡°I can show you the trick to it. It isn¡¯t that difficult. Any mer should be able to do it, even if you can only light a candle or heal a bruise.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a fair assessment of my magical ability,¡± I say. ¡°But fine. Show me. This might be useful at some point that doesn¡¯t involve cleaning up the mess you were¡ª you know, I don¡¯t even feel like lecturing you right now. Maybe later.¡±

    He instructs me in a simple dispelling spell, and I head out into the forest to wave glowing hands at standing stones with weird swirly markings on them until they no longer glow red. I do wind up having to dispatch some of the local wildlife along the way, but I manage to avoid the majority of them. I also run across a tent with another chapter of Triumphs of a Monarch and a box full of tiny jars of salve for some reason. Possibly a criminal dead drop? I get the distinct feeling these were stolen. I shove them in my pack to either use or fence later. (I wonder if these were made with salloweed? The label says they¡¯re for joint pain.)

    Not too far from the final magic rock, there¡¯s a tower and a Skyshard gleaming next to a well. Given the apparent aim that led to so many of these things winding up in caves, I¡¯m lucky it didn¡¯t fall into the well. I absorb it, by which point Merormo has caught up with me. I¡¯m surprised that he stopped pissing himself long enough to do so, given that whatever it was that I did to the magic rocks, it didn¡¯t work and the animals are still glowing red and snarling at every bush. At least I assume glowing red is bad.

    ¡°Did I do it wrong?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, I think we¡¯re going to need to do something more,¡± Merormo says, rubbing his beard. ¡°I want to try extracting the Daedric essence directly from one of the animals.¡±

    ¡°Soooo, you want me to stand there and keep its attention while you fiddle around with magic, or what?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, no, that won¡¯t be necessary. I¡¯ve been researching the monoliths and have been able to reproduce their effects on a smaller scale. Here, take this gem and use it on one of the animals. That should calm it down and make it follow you for a while. Sadly the effect is only temporary.¡±

    I reluctantly take the magic rock from him. ¡°Right, and I¡¯m sure your mysterious research didn¡¯t cause this mysterious effect, either. I¡¯m sure you took every precaution when dealing with magic you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Er¡­ yes, yes, of course,¡± Merormo says hastily. ¡°I¡¯ll just be inside the tower waiting for you to get back.¡±

    With a sigh, I obligatorily go out and wave the magic rock at one of the bears. It is spectacularly unimpressed and I wind up having to hit it in the face a few times before the gem works and it stops trying to maul me. It is very disconcerting to be standing next to a large animal whose eyes and body are glowing red that isn¡¯t trying to maul me. Best hurry this back to Merormo before it changes its mind.

    Stolen story; please report.

    When I return to the tower with my dubious ¡®friend¡¯, Merormo directs it over to a ritual platform surrounded by candles and starts doing some magic in its general direction. Momentarily, the bear bursts into flames and collapses into a rain of ash, and then a fire atronach emerges from the ash and it also collapses into ash.

    ¡°Tell me that wasn¡¯t what you were trying to do,¡± I ask Merormo dryly.

    ¡°It could have definitely gone better,¡± Merormo mutters. ¡°Something is interfering.¡±

    He directs me to a nearby cave where he claims he can sense a more powerful Daedra who is doing¡­ something. I¡¯m quickly getting the urge to hit Merormo as I go off to take care of this, too, naturally without him at my back. Not that I particularly want him at my back. He¡¯d probably turn me to stone and claim it makes me more durable or something.

    I locate the cave in question, or at least I think it¡¯s the right cave, given that there are two Altmer laying on the ground outside of it. One of them is probably dead, and the other looks weak but is still breathing. I cast a bit of healing magic at her and give her one of my home-brew potions (or not-actually-brewed-in-my-home home-brew, at any rate), in hopes that one of those will help the blood loss at least.

    The woman¡¯s name is Anenwen, and she¡¯s quite (understandably) angry with Merormo. According to her, this was all his fault. ¡°He was trying to create possessed animal soldiers,¡± she explains.

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°I knew this couldn¡¯t be a coincidence, given how he mentioned his experiments with the magic rocks.¡±

    ¡°And he didn¡¯t even mention me?¡± Anenwen growls. ¡°There¡¯s a stronger Daedra in this cave who is controlling the animals now. I hope you can handle it yourself because it¡¯ll be all I can do to concentrate on remaining conscious, never mind fight.¡±

    ¡°I can handle it,¡± I assure her.

    The cave is full of fire atronachs, but at the back of it I find a female Dremora who is presumably the ¡®stronger¡¯ Daedra. I kill her and return to the surface, mildly more singed than I was when I went in.

    My shitty healing potion seems to have done its job well enough that Anenwen can walk, either that or she was hurt less badly than she looked and is just very determined. We head back to town, Anenwen muttering about making Merormo pay along the way. Fortunately, killing the Dremora has removed her influence over the animals and they are now much more placid than normal bears and wolves would be. They don¡¯t attack us or even shy away and it¡¯s honestly kind of creepy.

    Back in town (Shattered Grove is apparently its name), Anenwen berates Merormo and demands that the townspeople be restored immediately. And Merormo does restore them immediately: In one blinding flash of white, all the statues are moving and breathing again. Dayamn. That¡¯s impressive. I might not be well-versed in the arcane, but even I can tell that¡¯s powerful magic. It¡¯s too bad that it¡¯s in the hands of a bleeding idiot.

    Anenwen restrains Merormo with a spell to keep him from escaping. Merormo, for his part, starts begging me for mercy, fearing execution if his part in this were to become known to the canonreeve. (You know, at this point, I think canonreeves aren¡¯t just library keepers.)

    ¡°You are highly gifted with the art of transfiguration magic,¡± I say. ¡°Why are you wasting your time trying to turn possessed bears into army when you can turn an army to stone?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ look, it can only be cast on friendly targets,¡± Merormo protests. ¡°My plan would have let us not have to risk the lives of our own people. Even if I used the normal version of that spell to protect our people, it would still require going into danger myself along with our soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Coward,¡± Anenwen spits.

    ¡°Like you put everyone nearby in danger with your guar-brained scheme?¡± I ask. ¡°It would only be fitting to undertake penance in such a way.¡±

    Merormo sighs. ¡°Penance is infinitely preferable to execution, true.¡±

    ¡°Now, I might be persuaded to spin your story here to one that didn¡¯t involve you summoning a bunch of Daedra to possess animals that attacked people,¡± I say. ¡°I might omit that tiny detail. But¡­¡± I leave my sentence hanging expectantly.

    ¡°Do want me to sign up for the war in Cyrodiil?¡± Merormo asks quietly.

    I make a face. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely convinced that the war in Cyrodiil is a reasonable one myself, but I don¡¯t know enough about it to judge. No, I don¡¯t think you should go to war. I think you should pay penance by actually helping people. You¡¯re a mage, and a powerful one, if that statue spell is any indication. You can do better than this.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Merormo agrees quickly. ¡°I can help people. I can absolutely help people.¡±

    ¡°And no more dangerous experiments,¡± I say pointedly.

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡±

    ¡°If you can turn people to stone and back, you can also heal,¡± I say.

    ¡°Alteration and Restoration are completely different schools of magic,¡± Merormo protests, then softens. ¡°But I get your point.¡±

    I give a look to Anenwen, who releases the spell holding Merormo in place.

    ¡°I hope you know what you¡¯re doing,¡± Anenwen says. ¡°This scum shouldn¡¯t get away with this.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°And he should be well aware that should he try to nix his way out of this and disappear, I won¡¯t be giving him a stay of execution next time I see him.¡±

    Anenwen gives me an odd look. ¡°Nix?¡±

    Crap, they don¡¯t even have nix-hounds around here, do they? ¡°Like a nix-hound? If he dug himself any deeper he¡¯d have to kwama his way out of it.¡±

    Anenwen snorts in amusement. ¡°I get it.¡±

    I go over to speak with the canonreeve, who is regaining her wits although still clearly confused about the situation. Straightening my back, I put on my best Hortator bearing to project the image of authority, like someone who needs to be listened to rather than someone who is simply good at hitting things with an axe.

    ¡°What just happened here?¡± asks Canonreeve¡­ crap, I forgot to ask for her name.

    ¡°Merormo was studying the monoliths in the forest in order to determine how they function,¡± I say. ¡°He made a mistake.¡± I give a sidelong glare at Merormo. ¡°And accidentally made the animals aggressive, so he turned everyone to stone temporarily to protect them while he fixed it.¡±

    ¡°Merormo¡­¡± the canonreeve says in a dangerous tone. ¡°And who might you be?¡±

    ¡°Neralion, an agent of the Queen sent to deal with the situation,¡± I say. ¡°And Merormo is very sorry for his mistake and is coming with me to Skywatch to pay penance in the Queen¡¯s service.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± the canonreeve says. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear Queen Ayrenn is looking out for her people.¡±

    I feel that earning the Queen some goodwill might be more effective than simply killing whatever racist bandits I come across. It¡¯s not going to make them less racist, but it might make them less likely to commit blatant treason. That¡¯s something, right? I hope that¡¯s something.

 Chapter 29: In Which I Don a Fake Beard

    Morning sees Merormo and I on the road to Skywatch. He¡¯s profusely thankful at not being dead, so I take the opportunity to try to glean some arcane information from him. Sadly, he¡¯s not very well-versed in translocation magic and knows nothing about wayshrines, so he can¡¯t help me there.

    ¡°Your theory is sound,¡± he assures me quickly. ¡°I just don¡¯t know enough in that field to help you. If I knew how to teleport, I wouldn¡¯t have walked through a forest full of aggressive animals in order to get back to my tower.¡±

    ¡°Do you know anyone else I might be able to ask about it? I didn¡¯t have any luck in the Mages Guild in Vulkhel Guard either.¡±

    He has a few suggestions, which I immediately forget to write down. As we approach Skywatch, we come upon a fenced pasture by a stable, full of horses and feathered animals that look a little like bantam guar that go ¡®buh-gock!¡¯ and scatter when we approach. Chickens, I¡¯m told they¡¯re called.

    The city looks like it might be about as large as Vulkhel Guard. There¡¯s a merchant camp set up outside, and a wayshrine up the stairs near the gates, which I go up and light.

    Merormo gazes into the flickering blue flames that result. ¡°So¡ª¡±

    I cut off whatever he was going to say. ¡°No, I am not letting you experiment with this.¡±

    Merormo shuts his mouth and holds up his arms in surrender.

    The marine captain I¡¯d met in Silsailen is standing near the gates leading into the city proper. His name starts with a T¡­ I look it up in my journal before embarrassing myself again: Tendil.

    ¡°Captain Tendil!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Good to see you here.¡±

    ¡°Neralion,¡± Tendil says, nodding to me. ¡°My sentiments as well. Welcome to Skywatch.¡±

    Tendil mentions that Queen Ayrenn and ¡®our mutual Khajiit friend¡¯ are already in town and up at the manse. (I guess Altmer are too fancy just to call it a house.) He also mentions that there¡¯s a celebration going on in town at the moment, commemorating that time the high elves kicked the tails of some giant slug people or something.

    It¡¯s good to see that Altmer know how to have fun, although their idea of celebrating is a bit more sedate than I¡¯m used to. There¡¯s drinking, but it¡¯s wine. There¡¯s music, but it¡¯s a bard strumming out a tranquil tune. There¡¯s dancing, but it¡¯s more ballet than lava foot stomp.

    ¡°I completely forgot about the Festival of Defiance,¡± Merormo says quietly at my side as we walk through town. ¡°I was so caught up in my work I lost sight of everything beyond my own foolish project¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, you can settle in and enjoy the festival for a bit, then,¡± I say. ¡°I need to go speak with the Queen. I¡¯ll meet up with you later at the Mages Guild, alright?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Merormo murmurs. ¡°There might be people there who wouldn¡¯t appreciate my presence.¡± He makes a cough that sounds a bit like, ¡°Telenger.¡±

    I snort softly. ¡°Fine. Then I¡¯ll meet up with you later at whichever tavern is closest to the docks. That¡¯s least likely to have mages in it and most likely to have the saltiest food in town.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. I doubt he¡ªahem, anyone I might not want to see¡ªwould be down slumming at the docks. Good luck with the Queen.¡±

    Skywatch is a very pretty city, although it looks enough like Vulkhel Guard and the other places I¡¯ve seen (that weren¡¯t on fire or something) that it¡¯s really just more of the same. More Altmer. Not that that¡¯s unexpected in the land of the Altmer or anything, but¡­ I don¡¯t know what I was hoping for. At least the wayshrine is in a sufficiently different spot that I should be able to tell where I¡¯ve wound up should I wind up there.

    I take the opportunity to browse the shops and see if I can find anyone selling teleport scrolls. If the Queen¡¯s hairdresser or whatever she was had a stack of them just laying around, you¡¯ve got to be able to just buy the things somewhere. They¡¯re probably too expensive to use just to be lazy, but I¡¯m doubtless going to run into no end of emergencies that would make me glad to have a couple of them on hand. A Khajiit in one of the tents is offering teleport scrolls for a fairly reasonable rate.

    ¡°How do these scrolls know where to take you?¡± I wonder. ¡°I¡¯ve used them before but they took me to a makeshift camp that I doubt anyone deliberately wrote scrolls to teleport people to, but neither I nor the others who used them made any attempt to specify our destination.¡±

    ¡°Mazil-jo is glad you asked,¡± the Khajiit says, and then proceeds to go into an excessively technical explanation that I don¡¯t understand.

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    I gather that the destination can be set or changed if you know how to. I don¡¯t, and am a bit busy right now to learn an entirely new field of magic. I guess the lady back at Glister Vale (so my map named the spot with the crazy mage) was already making preparations to rescue her companions when I came along, and so had the scrolls keyed and ready. Fine, that knowledge isn¡¯t really of dire importance.

    ¡°I¡¯ll look into that further when I have time,¡± I say, having no intention of doing so. ¡°Can I get a couple scrolls keyed to Skywatch?¡±

    ¡°Where in Skywatch?¡± Mazil-jo asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I say. ¡°The middle of town, the wayshrine, the manse, wherever? I travel a lot and it¡¯s not like I¡¯m so lazy and rich as to use these things just to get out of walking across town.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be amazed, then.¡± Mazil-jo hands me two scrolls. ¡°These are keyed to the marketplace outside my tent.¡± I pay him, and he bids me a good day.

    I know I¡¯ve found the right ¡®manse¡¯ when I walk in on Queen Ayrenn and High Kinlady Estre arguing about the racist bandits. I stand near the door awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt them. Once Estre is gone, I go up to Ayrenn and give a bow and a greeting, but aside from some pleasantries and welcomes, she doesn¡¯t want to discuss anything sensitive in public.

    A voice from the side hall tries to get my attention with a, ¡°Psst! Over here.¡± Now, that sounded very much like Razum-dar¡¯s voice, or at least a Khajiit male who sounds suspiciously like him, but there are no Khajiit in that direction at all, just an Altmer man with a smooth head and a luxurious beard. When he speaks again, it¡¯s very amusing to hear a Khajiit accent come out of an Altmer mouth.

    He leads me into the kitchen and a nook below the stairs, before taking off an earring and transforming back into a Khajiit.

    ¡°How long have you been loitering around here looking like that just to get people used to seeing that face?¡± I ask quietly.

    ¡°Oh, a while, not too long. Raz is glad you are here, though. We need to investigate the Veiled Heritance, and you are the perfect one to do so.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say lightly.

    He gives me the earring, a passphrase, and sends me to a tavern down by the docks. After putting on the earring and trying to examine my disguise (it doesn¡¯t really look too different from my normal appearance), I rub my chin to see if it actually gave me a beard or just an image of one. Nope, my hand clips right through the beard. Razum-dar probably would have had the same problem with an invisible tail. Somehow I think just putting on an actual fake beard would have been more effective.

    I do a bit searching of the manse (and Raz is amused but does not protest), and locate a bushy brush and some glue and improvise my own fake beard underneath my illusion of a beard. It didn¡¯t need to be flawless, since an illusion would be smoothing out the rough edges, but nobody would think someone would bother to wear a fake beard and an illusionary disguise.

    ¡°You know that glue will not come off skin easily, yes?¡± Raz asks, peering over my shoulder.

    ¡°That was kind of the idea,¡± I say.

    ¡°It will not come off easily when you are wanting to remove the beard again when you are done, either,¡± Raz points out.

    I shrug. ¡°Then I¡¯ll make sure to have a healer on hand.¡±

    Raz gives me an odd look. ¡°You are quite cavalier about pain, yes?¡±

    ¡°Pain is nothing,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve experienced worse things than tearing off a fake beard.¡±

    ¡°Ah, and Raz was hoping you¡¯d say you were willing to suffer any length for the sake of Queen Ayrenn,¡± Raz teases lightly.

    ¡°Having to do the stupid things you ask me to do is worse than any pain,¡± I tease right back.

    As I leave the manse, I spot the blue shaft of a Skyshard on top of the building to the left. Looks like it¡¯s the Fighters Guild, and a considerably smaller one than the one in Vulkhel Guard. Nobody protests as I head in and climb upstairs to absorb the Skyshard.

    ¡°Comrade, a word!¡± a Dunmer woman says, running up to me as I¡¯m leaving the building.

    ¡°Pardon me?¡± I turn around to look at her.

    ¡°Oh, my apologies, you¡¯re not who I thought you were.¡±

    I spot Merormo down by the docks, engaging in¡­ frog racing? Whatever, at least he¡¯s staying out of trouble. He doesn¡¯t recognize me, so at least I can be sure the disguise works well enough to fool someone who was just speaking to me and not some Fighters Guild member who probably wasn¡¯t even looking for Neralion anyway.

    The inn by the docks is named the Barbed Hook. (A sign outside mentions there¡¯s vacancies.) Raz wasn¡¯t specific about who I should be speaking to here. Apparently I¡¯m going to need to find my contact on my own. I proceed to gossip to everyone in sight about how the wine here is made with Alik¡¯r grapes, a name I would never be able to guess how it¡¯s spelled without having seen it written before. People react¡­ very oddly. One woman thinks I¡¯m coming on to her. Really now.

    When I finally give the passphrase to the right person, he gives me a good once-over before determining I look racist enough, then tasks me with a ¡®test¡¯ to ¡®end the threat¡¯ of the royal guard by taking one of their swords for some reason? He probably intended me to kill one of them, but was rather non-specific about it. Not the time to question people who are asking me to do weird things.

    Now, I suppose I could just sneak into the barracks or something and swipe one, but that would be a bit of a hassle and I¡¯m sure there¡¯s simpler ways. I head back to the manse and find Razum-dar where I left him under the stairs, and give him an update. As it turns out, Raz happens to have a sword of the appropriate type laying around because he¡¯s been sparring to get out of going to meetings, the clever cat.

    I return to my contact (whose name I never got) and ask awkwardly, ¡°Do you want me to say that thing about the grapes again, or just give you the sword? Because I¡¯ve got that sword you wanted right here.¡±

    ¡°Well done!¡± he says. ¡°And so quickly, too! You could be officer material!¡±

    This guy isn¡¯t even being particularly subtle about using this tavern to recruit for the racist bandits. Everyone is either pretending very hard not to hear this or is too drunk to care. He offers me a drink and a toast, and I pretend very hard not to be suspicious of accepting drinks from known racist bandits even if I doubt they¡¯d actually poison someone they thought could be racist officer. I drink it anyway. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?

    I black out.

 Chapter 30: In Which the Veiled Queen is Unveiled

    I wake up somewhere else. Next to a beach, in an old Aldmeri ruin. My head is still a little woozy, but I am thankful that this time they just drugged me instead of hitting me on the head. I am quite glad I actually put on a fake beard for this. The way they must have manhandled me to get me out here, they¡¯d have to have noticed.

    My contact/abductor is leaning casually against a pillar when I wake. Keeping an eye on me. ¡°About time you woke up. I was afraid I¡¯d given you too high of a dose.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a lightweight,¡± I mumble, rubbing my head. ¡°But was it really necessary to kidnap me? I¡¯d have come¡­ and looked a lot less suspicious than dragging my unconscious body out of the inn.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Our people are everywhere. Welcome to the Veiled Isle. You¡¯ve been invited to become an officer of the Veiled Heritance. A high privilege, but you are clearly a cut above.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t catch your name, though¡­ nor gave mine.¡±

    ¡°A time for proper introductions, then. I am Palomir. And you are?¡±

    ¡°Raveren,¡± I tell him. (Don¡¯t give me that look. It was the best I could come up with on short notice. At least I won¡¯t forget this one.)

    ¡°Excellent. Now, you¡¯ll be free to come and go as you please, of course, but first you have to take the oath.¡± He gestures to a black soul gem sitting on a crate beside him. ¡°Be certain you are serious about this. You commit your life and soul to our cause.¡±

    Even if my soul were still in my body, I¡¯m pretty sure just breaking these things will release the souls in them. Has every racist bandit pledged their soul on a black soul gem like this? If that¡¯s true, no wonder they¡¯re all so loopy and committed even to the point of stupidity. Can they even soul trap someone just like that, or is this just for intimidation? Will they notice there¡¯s no soul involved anywhere nearby here?

    Well, I¡¯m not about to back out now. I haven¡¯t gotten this close to cutting out the heart of the racist bandits before and I¡¯m not about to pass up the chance. And no sense in letting Palomir watch me hesitate here, either. I take the oath¡­ under the name Raveren.

    He then starts going on about how officers must pass three trials, and sends me to someone whose name starts with O. Ugh. And here I can¡¯t ask people to spell names and write them down without anyone noticing that there¡¯s probably nobody else but me in Auridon who does that.

    It¡¯s eerie having this island full of racist bandits who aren¡¯t currently trying to kill me. Also imps who are, but they¡¯re avoidable. Next to O-name, I find a copy of a book titled Illusion of Death.

    ¡°Could I borrow this?¡± I ask. ¡°It looks interesting but I don¡¯t have time for reading right now.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± O-name says. ¡°Have you come to test your mind?¡±

    I agree, and it turns out that this vaunted ¡®test of the mind¡¯ is a simple riddle contest. The first one is extremely easy (a book), and the second is trickier but considering I only have to choose from a bunch of items laid out on a table, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s going to be something incredibly abstract like ¡®love¡¯ or ¡®the urge to pee¡¯. Through process of elimination, I pick the skull, which turns out to be correct. I don¡¯t know what the consequences for failure would have been, but it would probably just have resulted in someone or something trying to kill me.

    O-name sends me off to speak to someone with a long name starting with V in order to test my heart or something. This turns out to be a race around the island. You know, the island full of aggressive imps that shoot lightning at anyone that annoys them, and get annoyed by anyone coming within ten paces of them? This whole thing sees me rushing around getting lightning shot at me, stumbling around crates and ramps to try to get at glowing blue markers, and I¡¯m kind of glad no one can see my real face because this is almost embarrassing. V-name tells me that my time was impressive, but I just know she was watching me try to jump up on a crate repeatedly before realizing I could just go around.

    Next, I¡¯m sent to someone with a long name starting with A, for a test of strength. After the last two, I really hope this doesn¡¯t involve seeing how many bricks I can lift. I have no idea what a footrace has to do with being an officer. Are they just trying to weed out soft Altmer who have never had to do anything more vigorous than peel grapes? ¡­ Probably.

    The test of strength does not involve weightlifting. It¡¯s a test of combat. Every officer candidate has to kill the others, because ¡°the Veiled Queen deserves only the best.¡±

    So, every one of their officers has had to kill to get their position? And not even killing someone who could conceivably be thought of as an enemy, but simply a rival who is in the way, because their superiors told them to? No wonder this whole organization is so fucked up. This isn¡¯t the sort of setup you¡¯d use to build a stable government, even if their leader does call herself a queen. This is the sort of setup you¡¯d use to keep bandits in line. What, exactly, is their long-term plan should they actually succeed in assassinating Queen Ayrenn and taking over the government? This Veiled Queen would be nothing more than a warlord (warlady?) keeping hold with violence.

    Under ordinary circumstances, I¡¯d be ranting about how stupid this is, refusing to participate on principle, and probably winding up taking over the organization because whoever runs it is a fucking idiot, but you know what? I¡¯m *not *helping these racist bandits run their organization more efficiently. I¡¯m just going to take the opportunity to cull a few of them with impunity. (There are so many more of them on this island I wish I could just deal with right now, though.)

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    The other officer candidates, though? They¡¯re so terrible that I feel like I¡¯m doing the Veiled Queen a favor in getting rid of them anyway. How can you possibly aspire to be a bandit officer and be this bad at fighting? This was probably supposed to be a battle royale free-for-all, but once they realize how outclassed they are, they gang up on me and still fail to hurt me.

    A-name congratulates me on my victory. It doesn¡¯t feel like one. It feels like I just killed a bunch of bullies with sticks just to stop them from beating the other children to death. Something that needed to be done, but not exactly a worthy test of my skill or strength. Fortunately, neither I nor they really give a shit if that was a worthy test or not.

    The Veiled Queen will be making a speech soon, speaking through a magical projection from a safe location. (Isn¡¯t this a pretty safe location? No, it¡¯s more likely that she¡¯s somewhere else and doesn¡¯t want to break her cover by coming here in person.) A-name directs me into the keep where the others are gathering to wait for the speech. Great, this will be my best opportunity to find out who this Veiled Queen is actually is, even if I¡¯m not going to get the chance to stab her in the face yet.

    Once inside, I feel a tingle and my hands shimmer, revealing the slightly darker Chimer skin underneath the illusion. Damn, some sort of anti-magic or just anti-illusion effect on the door? Now everyone is going to see what a piss-poor job I did on my fake beard.

    A female voice echoes through the halls, announcing that one of Ayrenn¡¯s agents has infiltrated the compound and to kill them. And people proceed to attack me. How did they know? That door trap that disabled the illusion must have detected it and alerted her. Maybe it would have been better just to use a non-magical disguise in the first place.

    I can¡¯t complain too much, though. Now I can just kill everyone and don¡¯t have to stew in the fact that I¡¯m walking through hallways full of racist bandits and be unable to raise an axe against them for fear of blowing my cover. I hope I¡¯ll still be able to find out who she is, though. Did that voice sound familiar? I can¡¯t tell.

    Fortunately, the Veiled Queen isn¡¯t about to pass up the chance to give a speech just for me. A projection of an Altmer woman in a dress starts ranting about how awful Ayrenn is for not being racist. And, as the snowberry on top, the Veiled Queen is also a worshipper Mehrunes Dagon. Seriously? Like being racist bandits wasn¡¯t bad enough in and of itself, they have to be hypocritical Daedra-worshipping racist bandits on top of that? I can just imagine the Prince of Destruction has to be getting off on the amount of chaos they¡¯re causing.

    ¡°I am the Veiled Queen!¡± the projection proclaims, and I could swear I¡¯ve seen this mer before somewhere.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± I say dryly. ¡°Now who the fuck are you?¡±

    She¡¯s already vanished by that point, and does not answer.

    Wait¡­ long dress, short hair¡­ wishes she were Queen¡­ Didn¡¯t I see her standing next to Ayrenn¡¯s brother back in Vulkhel Guard? His wife? Who would have been Queen had Ayrenn not returned from adventuring? This whole thing was plainly obvious from the start and I¡¯m kicking myself for not realizing it sooner. I take a moment to pull out my journal and look up her name: High Kinlady Estre.

    Who is currently in Skywatch with Ayrenn. Dammit!

    I¡¯m sure Ayrenn will be happy to compensate me for the teleport scroll used to keep her from being backstabbed by her scheming sister-in-law. Not wanting to waste anymore time here, even if it means wiping out a bunch of racist bandits, I pull out a scroll from my pack and read it, reappearing among the market tents in Skywatch.

    I find Raz outside of the manse. ¡°Raz,¡± I say quietly when I come up to him. ¡°Where¡¯s High Kinlady Estre?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s safe inside with Queen Ayrenn,¡± Raz says. ¡°No need to worry.¡±

    I shake my head vigorously. ¡°No, no. You know how she really wanted to be Queen? Well, she really wanted to be Queen. She¡¯s the one behind all this. She¡¯s the Veiled Queen. Also a worshipper of Mehrunes Dagon, as if that wasn¡¯t bad enough. And yes, I¡¯m sure, she thoroughly gloated at me about it before ordering her goons to kill me. Obviously they failed.¡±

    ¡°This is truly serious, then,¡± Raz says, scowling. ¡°Come, then. We must speak with the Queen immediately.¡±

    We hurry inside, to where Ayrenn and Estre are speaking with one another in front of the manse¡¯s two thrones. It would have been so easy for Estre to have killed her at any time, but instead she keeps sending ineffectual minions after her. What has stayed her hand so far? I don¡¯t imagine any worshipper of Mehrunes Dagon would be afraid of getting their own hands bloody, but who the fuck knows with these high elves.

    ¡°Who let that cat in here?¡± Estre sneers disdainfully as she sees Razum-dar approach.

    ¡°You might want to dial back the racism, Estre,¡± I say. ¡°Someone might think you¡¯re a racist bandit. Excuse me, ¡®Veiled Heritance¡¯.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s out of line,¡± Ayrenn says.

    Estre¡¯s eyes widen in alarm when she sees me, but Ayrenn is looking at me, not her.

    ¡°Sorry about the shitty fake beard,¡± I say, and fix my eyes upon Estre. ¡°I infiltrated the Veiled Heritance and their dear Veiled Queen spoke to them through a magical projection. Take a guess who it was? The one who made absolutely no secret to anyone within earshot how she¡¯d really wanted to be Queen?¡±

    ¡°But Estre doesn¡¯t even know magic¡ª¡± Ayrenn says, turning around just as Estre opens a magical portal and vanishes before anyone can grab her.

    ¡°Apparently she learned some since you last saw her,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Damn. She¡¯s out-nixed us. Well, at least she¡¯s not going to murder you today. Unless she teleports into your bedroom or something. Fucking mages.¡±

    Ayrenn makes a sour face. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to have wards puts up on my chambers. I can¡¯t believe it¡­ Estre? I knew she was unhappy and was planning on honoring her here today, and now this?¡±

    ¡°A spit in the face,¡± Raz agrees quietly. ¡°Raz is finding far too many people lately he did not know as well as he thought he did.¡± He shakes his head.

    ¡°You need to find her and stop her,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°My Eyes tell me that the canonreeve of the town of Dawnbreak is sympathetic to the Veiled Heritance. She may seek to take refuge there to make her next move.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t envy whoever has to tell her husband this, either. You should be aware that there¡¯s a lot more racists in the city, too. Enough that it seems nobody batted an eye at me being drugged and dragged through the docks to a boat. And a bunch on that island they took me to that I didn¡¯t kill as I was in a hurry to get back here and warn you.¡±

    Ayrenn sighs. ¡°It¡¯s worse than I feared, then. We must stop Estre before she tears this entire land apart.¡±

    ¡°First, I¡¯m going to need to get this beard off¡­¡± I tug at it. ¡°I may need to see an alchemist and/or a healer for this.¡±

    ¡°Raz told you not to use that glue.¡±

 Chapter 31: In Which I Violently Free Ghosts

    Queen Ayrenn does not scream and throw tantrums and order impromptu executions when angry, but her quiet fury is probably even more terrifying. I would not want to be Estre right now.

    Once my beard is removed, I meet up with Merormo at the Barbed Hook Tavern, although now that I know what goes on in there I¡¯m considerably more wary about the place. I¡¯m starting to see enemies around every corner, but is it really paranoia if there are? These are people who did not speak up or look for help when they watched someone be kidnapped right out in front of them.

    ¡°Been keeping out of trouble, Merormo?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I have not cast a single spell,¡± Merormo says. ¡°You were taking a while so I explored town. I did not encounter Tel¡ªahem, I mean, no one I didn¡¯t want to see. I even helped a mage repair a Dwemer construct. And¡­ I met a woman who wanted someone to pray at the gravesites of her four children, who were buried around the island. May I go do that? It seems like a somber sort of pilgrimage, and I need to remember that I¡¯m not the only one who has lost people.¡±

    I think about that for a moment, then nod. ¡°That sounds good. I have some other things to take care of that will see me traveling for a while. Some things have come up that require my attention. Meet up back here when we¡¯re done, provided we don¡¯t run into one another out there?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merormo says. ¡°Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.¡± He pauses. ¡°One thing. If you have time, could you check in at the nearby ruin of Ezduiin? The Mages Guild is conducting a dig there and I heard there was some trouble. While I don¡¯t particularly like certain of them, I wish no harm upon them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll check it out and see what I can do.¡±

    I head for the gates. It¡¯s been a busy day, but I want to get moving before nightfall even if it means I need to camp in the (not particularly dangerous) wilderness and not stay in the (not particularly safe) inn. I don¡¯t think I can catch up with someone who can teleport, though. I check, and Mazil-jo isn¡¯t selling any teleport scrolls keyed to Dawnbreak, alas. That would be entirely too convenient.

    Out by the wayshrine, I run across a wood elf who says he¡¯s been waiting for me, and seems to be one of the Eyes of the Queen. He has a list of high-ranking Veiled Heritance agents for me to kill, along with their last known locations, and I write down the information with barely-suppressed glee. Wiping out their rank and file can be useful, but a targeted strike on their ¡®racial purity advisor¡¯? (Why in the names of all the Daedra would anyone need a racial purity advisor? Fucking racist bandits.)

    ¡°If these are officers, it¡¯s likely that they had to murder their rivals for their positions,¡± I say. ¡°The racist bandits have lovely practices like that. I¡¯ll find them and take care of them, don¡¯t you worry.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t take me long to find the first of the racist officers, although someone else appears to have gotten to him first. His corpse is lying near Skywatch; if he was fleeing the city, he didn¡¯t make it very far. No sign of who killed him, but this close to town it might have just been a guard patrol.

    Ezduiin (whose name I got Merormo to spell for me) is located hardly a stone¡¯s throw from Skywatch, so it¡¯s no great delay to stop by and see what¡¯s wrong. Approaching the camp leads me out of the bright afternoon sunlight and into heady mist and a sky flashing with silent lightning. Well, that¡¯s not ominous at all.

    One of the tents has a book titled Why Don the Veil? sitting outside of it. Great, racist bandits here too? And there¡¯s a tent with a full bookcase in it. Why would they bother hauling large pieces of furniture¡ªnever mind, they¡¯re mages, they probably just used magic to teleport and levitate it there or something.

    And this is where I first meet Telenger. Telenger the Artificer, self-proclaimed greatest mage in all of Tamriel, blah blah blah, and I can immediately see why Merormo is trying to avoid him. He thinks I¡¯ve come with supplies and starts barking orders to me, and then when I tell him I¡¯m not a courier or hauler or whatever it is you call people who move stuff around, he gets annoyed and tells me to make myself useful in going to talk to somebody else about some mysterious artifact and, oh, by the way, some of their expedition members have disappeared and he seems more annoyed than worried about it. The worst of it is that I¡¯m probably never going to get the opportunity to actually hit this guy. Alas, I can¡¯t hit people for simply being annoying.

    I find a woman with a long name starting with S who gives me a magic rock covered in itty bitty runes and tells me to point it at ghosts and think hard at them to make them go away. Did I mention the ghosts? Yeah, apparently whatever Telenger and his companions were doing here caused some ghosts to bubble up out of the ruins. The idiots probably poked that artifact Telenger mentioned, and why do mages always see the need to poke artifacts they know nothing about?

    As I make my way through the ruins, releasing ghosts as I go, I come upon a group of mages taking shelter behind a magical shield. One of them looks wounded, and they¡¯re all grateful to see me. The wounded woman has a long name starting with C, and the other mages call her Cannie, which is absolutely spectacular. Finally, even these high elves realize their names are ridiculous.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Andewen, the one Telenger sent me to find, tells me some of their members were taken and are probably in the undercroft and they need runes to open it up. Naturally, I¡¯m going to be the one to have to find them. Fine, that¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.

    I free some ghosts, collect some runes, and meet Andewen at the entrance to the undercroft. According to one of the researchers we find inside (by the name of Meldil), someone with a long name starting with U is doing something bad and probably needs to be hit repeatedly. I need to release the students to stop U-name from using their souls to power something bad. (Meldil mentions I could also kill them but if I can stop U-name without doing so, why would I?) Also something about Aetherius that I don¡¯t really understand. I don¡¯t think I need to.

    There¡¯s also some things called ¡®soul thirsters¡¯. I get too close to one and everything goes blue and I get attacked by pissy ghosts. Right, was this what Meldil was talking about an Aetherial overlay or whatever it was? I really hope this isn¡¯t representative of the afterlife where a lot of people go when they die. Admittedly, it¡¯s still better than Coldharbour, I guess. This is probably just Aetherius that¡¯s too close to Nirn or something and is full of ghosts that couldn¡¯t quite get away from Nirn? The runed gem S-name gave me doesn¡¯t work on them, either. Sirinque. Siri. Let¡¯s call her Siri.

    Freeing the students without killing them requires killing a lot more pissy ghosts. That¡¯s fine. I always appreciate a problem that can be solved by hitting it, and ghosts are often surprisingly hittable.

    Once the students are freed, Andewen leads them out of the crypt and sends me to kill U-name. Uricantar. Uri. You can¡¯t arrgh? Uri decides to taunt me through a projection, calling me ¡®Telenger¡¯s pawn¡¯.

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve met the guy once and I don¡¯t think he even knows you¡¯re in here. He¡¯s annoying and I don¡¯t give one guar turd about him. You, on the other hand, are trying to hurt people and poke artifacts that are best left alone. Why do mages always insist on doing that?¡±

    He starts ranting about his plans to suck out people¡¯s souls and take control of a piece of the Aether. It¡¯s a little tiresome, so I ignore him and walk away. We¡¯ll see who¡¯s still ranting once he meets Khenarthi¡¯s Storm. He left a journal nearby. I skim it, and it just contains more rants. Whatever, I toss it in my pack. Someone might be interested.

    I find Uri and some other guy further in, saying something about the secrets of Aetherius.

    ¡°Hey, Uri,¡± I say. ¡°Would you like to see some secrets of Aetherius?¡±

    That gets him to pause and look at me long enough for me to throw Blinky at him, then at the other high elf with him, knocking them both down with shining spears of light. They¡¯re less than thrilled about this particular secret of Aetherius, although they don¡¯t have much time to contemplate it as I charge forward and introduce them to my axe as well.

    I find a runed talisman on Uri¡¯s body, presumably the artifact in question, and grab it for safekeeping. Hopefully to figure out where it goes and put it back so nobody else can tamper with it.

    After I leave the undercroft and am heading back to camp, a spirit appears to me and directs me to another part of the ruins. He has a long name that starts with Q. Let¡¯s call him Quaron (¡®Quarry¡¯ would be silly). Quaron says his brother did something bad that made all the spirits trapped here but there¡¯s a relic that can release them, so I go in and solve a stupid floor puzzle and get it. Siri might know what to do with it. I find her just outside, speaking with Quaron.

    ¡°Okay, you¡¯re sure you can use this thing to make the situation better and not worse?¡± I ask. ¡°Because I¡¯ve spent far too much of my existence watching mages make things worse by poking at relics.¡±

    Both of them reassure me, so I reluctantly hand over the spell lattice or whatever they said it was, and Siri does¡­ something with it. There¡¯s a shift in the air, and the remaining spirits milling about the ruins seem considerably less agitated.

    ¡°They¡¯re free now, though they may not realize it yet,¡± Quaron says. ¡°They will move on once they realize there is nothing holding them here.¡±

    ¡°In the meantime, will they at least stop attacking anyone that comes close?¡± I ask. ¡°They look calmer, at least.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we shouldn¡¯t need to worry about that anymore,¡± Siri says. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to camp. Telenger will want to know what we¡¯ve found.¡±

    I didn¡¯t exactly do this for Telenger, who is still sitting safely back at camp and doesn¡¯t even seem to have moved from the spot where I last saw him. I¡¯m not even sure if I want to trust him with the talisman I got off of Uri. It¡¯s really a pity that there isn¡¯t some heavily warded museum or something that can safely hold things like this. I don¡¯t even know what it¡¯s normally supposed to do when people aren¡¯t using it to suck up souls, but from what Quaron said, that was what it was made for.

    ¡°This thing really ought to be destroyed or nullified in some way,¡± I say, pulling out the artifact. It had some long name starting with M. Nobody bothered to spell it for me.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Telenger says reluctantly, taking it from me and examining it. ¡°I will make sure that it is dealt with. There is much we could learn from something like this, but it is too dangerous, particularly in the hands of people like Uricantar. That fool. I knew he was trouble when I cast him out and forbade him from using magic again.¡±

    ¡°Seems he ignored that penalty,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a pity you can¡¯t kill people just for being fools. Not until they start abusing ancient artifacts and trying to suck people¡¯s souls out, by which point it might be too late to stop them from causing harm. I¡¯m glad I got here in time to stop anything worse from happening.¡±

    ¡°How did you know we were having problems here?¡± Telenger asks.

    ¡°Someone got word back to Skywatch, possibly whoever you sent to get supplies,¡± I say. ¡°And a ¡®friend¡¯ passed it along. Another of your former students, I believe, by the name of Merormo.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, him,¡± Telenger says. ¡°Him and his ill-advised experiments. Has he been behaving himself, at least?¡±

    ¡°Well, on pain of being hit with a battle axe, yes,¡± I say. ¡°He was doing something else stupid recently, but nobody was hurt and I think I may have scared him straight this time. He was very keen on avoiding you, too¡­¡±

    Telenger snorts softly. ¡°I would imagine. What is he doing now?¡±

    ¡°I sent him on a pilgrimage to pray at some gravesites around the island,¡± I say.

    ¡°Solemn contemplation,¡± Telenger says. ¡°Well enough, so long as he stays out of trouble.¡±

    ¡°Oh, believe me, if he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯s getting a good introduction to Khenarthi¡¯s Storm.¡± I pat the butt of my axe.

 Chapter 32: In Which I Kill Two Groups of Racists

    I¡¯m still trying to find my way to Dawnbreak. It doesn¡¯t help that these high elves don¡¯t seem to believe in signs. It¡¯s like they assume everyone is carrying around a map with a ¡®You Are Here¡¯ marker on it.

    I wonder if I can buy a map somewhere that has a ¡®You Are Here¡¯ marker on it.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine not too far from Telenger¡¯s camp, with a Skyshard near it, which I grab. By which I mean absorb, as I don¡¯t feel like filling up my inventory with large chunks of magic sky rock.

    Leaning up against the wayshrine is an injured mer with a corpse at his feet. He¡¯s a member of the First Auridon Marines and has a very long name starting with R, so let¡¯s call him Rolly. (Perhaps it¡¯s just as well he¡¯s too weak to protest.) The corpse is a former racist bandit, who have apparently taken his daughter, Palith. I silently commend Rolly for having greater naming sense with his child than his parents did with him.

    I¡¯ve absorbed a number of Skyshards, and decide to try turning some of that Aetherial energy into healing power, with some success! It¡¯s a much stronger healing ability than my normal magic, and Rolly looks considerably better after I¡¯ve hit him with it, although it¡¯s hell on my meager magicka reserves. I can only cast it once before having to rest, but that¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not going to be any mighty combat healer, but maybe I can help a few people stay on Tamriel for one more day. If there¡¯s a way to make that cast from my (much stronger) physical stamina, like my Aedric Spear does, I don¡¯t know how it might be done. I¡¯m still just experimenting blind with this power.

    ¡°These Veiled Heritance bastards killed my wife in Silsailen,¡± Rolly says. ¡°I won¡¯t let them take my daughter from me, too.¡±

    I grimace. ¡°Yeah, Silsailen was bad. And there¡¯s way too many treasonous canonreeves on this island, but at least I put a stop to that one. You should know, it turns out High Kinlady Estre is actually the ¡®Veiled Queen¡¯. Be wary should you encounter her.¡±

    ¡°Estre,¡± Rolly spits. ¡°Lorkhan take that woman for all the death and chaos she¡¯s caused. Can you save my daughter? I have a potion of invisibility to help her slip away, if you can get it to her.¡±

    This will be a slight detour, but stopping the racist bandits is what I¡¯m out here to do. I agree, and toss the potion in my pack. Rolly directs me to a nearby tunnel. I readily kill the racist bandit sentries that had been stationed in the tunnel and make my way through.

    The situation on the other side turns out to be a little more complicated than just racist bandits, as I discover when I encounter an Argonian of all things in a tent near the tunnel. Her name is Delves-Deeply (do female Argonians really have boobs or do they just stuff their shirts so us silly mammals don¡¯t misgender them?) and she¡¯s not particularly happy with the situation. The Ebonheart Pact is here, and while she should be treated as a free ally now, instead her magicka is bound and she¡¯s still treated like a slave.

    (Was I born a slave? Memory of my childhood is very foggy, but I could swear my dislike of slavery had some basis in experience.)

    ¡°You¡¯re not with the Veiled Heritance, yes?¡± Delves-Deeply says. ¡°And you¡¯re certainly not with the Ebonheart Pact.¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe I¡¯m secretly a long-lost Chimer who avoided being turned into a Dunmer due to being in Oblivion at the time,¡± I say lightly. ¡°Though even if I hypothetically were, I¡¯m still not exactly a huge fan of slavery. The Chimer enslaved their own kind before they ever encountered yours.¡±

    ¡°Will you help me?¡± Delves asks.

    I hadn¡¯t really planned on tangling with the Ebonheart Pact, but that was more due to not wanting to draw the attention of my former friends than having any particular sentimentality to the Dunmer from purely common ancestry. It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t also technically have common ancestry with the Altmer, too, and most of them are fetchers too. A beachhead deep in Dominion territory being uprooted by a perfectly ordinary Altmer warrior? No one is going to bat an eye at that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m here to kill racist bandits, and if there happen to be gray racists as well as gold ones around here, I¡¯ll deal with them too. The gold ones are bad enough without colluding with the gray ones too.¡±

    Delves-Deeply hands me a crystal that can blow up the Pact¡¯s magic supplies if it gets close, and also might hurt me. No problem. Even if it spectacularly blows up in my face, there¡¯s a wayshrine just outside the tunnel leading into this valley.

    ¡°This arcane cargo,¡± I say. ¡°Did the Pact bring it here for the Veiled Heritance?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Delves says. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what they¡¯re getting out of it, but they¡¯ve brought many crates of cargo and have been offloading them here.¡±

    ¡°Right, that definitely needs to be stopped.¡±

    I head into the valley, destroying cargo as I go while looking for where they¡¯ve taken Palith. The crates of arcane goods burn with a lovely blue fire that makes it highly unlikely either group of racist bandits is going to be getting any use out of them. The first large ruin I go in and explore contains undead rather than racist bandits, although judging by a note near the entrance, they were wanting to take over the place. Seems they failed. Some of the Pact have managed to hole up inside, though.

    I find Palith tied up in a room inside another part of the ruins. She asks me to rescue her brother as well, who has a long name starting with E, which immediately makes me revise my assessment of Rolly¡¯s naming sensibility. I agree, especially considering I¡¯m still going to be killing them and blowing up their shit anyway. She takes the potion and escapes.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    When I do find her brother, it turns out he¡¯s not just an innocent victim in all this, either. He¡¯s been giving military intelligence to the racist bandits.

    I sigh. ¡°Dammit, Eran. This is the sort of cause you¡¯d commit treason over? Seriously? Do you have any idea what the racist bandits have been doing to this island? They killed your mother!¡±

    Eranamo frowns and looks at the floor. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they were in league with the Pact. We can still get the information I gave them back.¡±

    ¡°The Pact nothing,¡± I say. ¡°Auridon has been split down the middle and set on fire because of the Veiled Heritance before the Pact even became involved. Sea elves raid the shores using information the Heritance gave them, canonreeves turn against their people and set their own towns ablaze, and family members betray one another.¡± I pin him with a glare.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± Eran says. ¡°I didn¡¯t know any of that. I thought I was doing something good for my people.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss your poor judgment later,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to go get that intelligence and indiscriminately kill every racist in between here and there. It¡¯s a pity I don¡¯t have any kindlepitch left or I¡¯d set their ship ablaze for good measure.¡±

    ¡°I have some of their uniforms that I hid,¡± Eran says. ¡°We could sneak by.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m just going to kill them all. You are welcome to hide behind me and pretend you¡¯re not with me. Also I still have some arcane cargo to destroy that I think I saw along the beach.¡±

    Eran trails along after me as I cut a swath of destruction through the camp and make it to the ship. It doesn¡¯t take him long to decide whose side he¡¯d rather be on, and takes up a weapon and joins me. Once the last of the arcane supplies have been destroyed, we get to the ship. Below decks, the leaders of the gold-skinned racists and gray-skinned racists are meeting. Good to make sure their leaders have been wiped out at once. They die pretty quickly between us. The intelligence on the desk that Eran gave them looks like it had been a message to his father.

    ¡°So you stole your father¡¯s post and handed it to these fetchers¡­ why exactly?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m still not clear on this.¡±

    ¡°What do you want me to tell you?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to tell me the sort of racist guar shit any number of Veiled Heritance members have spouted at me right before I hit them with an axe,¡± I say as I head back up on deck. ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to tell me how Ayrenn is a false Queen and has betrayed her people by throwing in with tree-hugging short mer and flea-bitten beast mer. So yes, think long and hard about what you want to tell me here.¡±

    Delves-Deeply has caught up with us and is waiting out on deck. Eran warily goes for his weapon upon seeing her, but I raise a hand and stop him.

    ¡°You are certainly thorough, my new friend,¡± Delves says. ¡°It was not difficult to walk over the corpses you left to get here.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s the lizard?¡± Eran wonders.

    I elbow him hard. ¡°Don¡¯t call them lizards, Eran. What did I just tell you about racism is bad?¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Eran mumbles half-heartedly.

    ¡°Delves, we killed the Pact captain,¡± I say. ¡°Is there anything else we need to do to unbind you?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a crystal in the aft cabin,¡± Delves-Deeply says. ¡°Once it¡¯s destroyed, then I will be free.¡±

    The three of us destroy the crystal. Delves bids us farewell and casts a weird sparkly spell and disappears. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen a teleport spell that looks like that before. Like stars in a cloud of mist.

    ¡°Eran, does your father know you stole his post?¡± I ask as we head out through the valley, which is now pretty peaceful aside from a couple stragglers I missed (and now take care of).

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ entirely likely,¡± Eran says. ¡°He¡¯s not here, is he?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s waiting outside the tunnel,¡± I say. ¡°And what am I to tell him, then? That his son is a traitor who deserves to be executed? Or shall I lie? You could hide out here until he¡¯s gone, or slip around along the coast to make it to Skywatch, though you¡¯d probably have to swim in a few places.¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°You can tell him how helpful I¡¯ve been? Surely I¡¯ve made up for my mistakes.¡±

    I give him a look. ¡°You might be better off disappearing, changing your name, and moving to Skyrim.¡±

    ¡°How about Elsweyr?¡± he says meekly. ¡°At least it¡¯s warmer there.¡±

    I grunt. ¡°Look, I can speak up in your favor, but considering you¡¯d likely be facing execution otherwise, I will consider it a life debt and will expect to be able to call on you later if I need you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s definitely better than dying,¡± Eran says.

    We head outside, where Rolly and Palith are waiting by the wayshrine. Rolly does not appear to be happy to see his ¡®no-good son¡¯.

    ¡°Sir, your son here successfully infiltrated the Veiled Heritance in order to put a stop to their activities in¡­ what was the name of this place again?¡±

    ¡°Quendeluun,¡± Palith supplies helpfully.

    ¡°Quendeluun,¡± I repeat. ¡°The Veiled Heritance were in collusion with the Ebonheart Pact and receiving shipments of arcane supplies. Thanks to Eran¡¯s brave actions, we were able to destroy the shipments and kill two high-ranking members of both groups.¡±

    Rolly and Palith are both silent for a long moment. Palith¡¯s expression is unconvinced but realizing what I¡¯m trying to do. Rolly seems like he wants to believe me.

    ¡°Who¡¯s word is this on?¡± Rolly asks quietly.

    ¡°Neralion,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m one of the Eyes of the Queen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of you,¡± Rolly says. ¡°I¡¯ve heard what you¡¯ve been doing across the island. Fine. If that is what you will vouch for, then I am forced to believe you.¡±

    Honestly, I¡¯m not sure why I keep sparing these fools. Pity only goes so far. If this were Coldharbour, I¡¯d just kill them and accept their contrition next time they emerge from the waters of Oblivion, but we¡¯re not in Coldharbour and people don¡¯t return from Aetherius quite so easily. Having an ally later who will do some stupid thing I need to ask of them might be worth a conditional pardon, though. I feel like I¡¯m going to need allies more than examples.

    Once out of earshot of her father, Palith thanks me for speaking up for her brother, bless her merciful soul. Rolly and Palith stay by the wayshrine to rest for a bit longer, but Eran follows me as I make my way back in the general direction of the main road.

    ¡°Where do you want me?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Sir, I think? Should I call you sir?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Would it make you more likely to listen to me?¡± I gauge the look on his face and smirk. ¡°Probably not.¡±

    ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t really follow the chain of command there, did I.¡±

    ¡°You most certainly did not,¡± I say. ¡°Can I count on you at my back against more of these racist bandits? Or shall I just ship you off to Elsweyr?¡±

    ¡°I think I need to see for myself what you say they¡¯ve been doing,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m willing to fight them.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°I was on my way to deal with a potential situation in Dawnbreak when I took a detour that was totally not getting lost. I don¡¯t suppose you can tell me how to get there? Because I¡¯m still lost.¡±

    Eran chuckles. ¡°That I can definitely help with.¡±

 Chapter 33: In Which I Almost Keep a Town from Getting Set on Fire

    ¡°You know, if you¡¯re supposed to be a secret agent of the Queen, you¡¯re certainly not shy about telling that to random people,¡± Eran says.

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m bad at secrecy.¡±

    ¡°Why did you stop at Quendeluun if you needed to be in Dawnbreak in a hurry, anyway?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°I took a wrong turn on the way back to the main road from Ezduiin,¡± I say.

    ¡°Why did you stop in Ezduiin?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Somebody said there was trouble there and it was right next to Skywatch,¡± I say. ¡°Or at least within spitting distance, and it did sound like they¡¯d done some spitting at some point. It was only a slight detour. I¡¯m sure nothing terrible could have happened in Dawnbreak during whatever slight delay that might have caused.¡±

    ¡°You sure about that?¡± Eran points ahead of us, where we¡¯re approaching the town.

    Dawnbreak is swarming with Daedra. I¡¯m going to take a wild guess that Estre has gotten here first and shown great love and support to her would-be subjects. Canonreeve Sinyon confirms that, and that she¡¯d been here and left town just a few hours before the Daedra showed up. (Whether or not he was actually sympathetic to the Veiled Heritance, he is definitely not sympathetic to his town being wrecked by Daedra.)

    At this point, I have no idea what the Veiled Heritance is trying to accomplish anymore. Upon seeing that we¡¯re armed and not terrified of Daedra, Dawnbreak¡¯s guard captain (by the name of Landare) sends me and Eran into town to try to find and rescue missing citizens.

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± I mutter. ¡°What in Oblivion is Estre trying to do? It¡¯s not bad enough just to be a traitor trying to assassinate the Queen, she¡¯s got to burn everything down so that if she can¡¯t have it, no one can?¡±

    ¡°This is the sort of thing the Veiled Heritance is doing,¡± Eran says hollowly as he strikes down a banekin. ¡°You were right about them, and I want no part in trafficking with Daedra.¡±

    ¡°Have I told you the part about how their officers have to swear their souls on a black soul gem and then slaughter their rival candidates in combat?¡±

    ¡°Last week I¡¯d have thought that just an exaggerated rumor¡­¡± Eran checks the body of an old man and shakes his head. ¡°This one¡¯s dead.¡±

    We split up to cover more ground, as the Daedra still milling about town are not particularly dangerous types, and search the houses to find people. Some of them need to be persuaded to get out of here and stop looking for trinkets. I have to tell them that it¡¯s highly unlikely that the Daedra are going to bother taking their stuff and they¡¯ll be able to come back once it¡¯s safe.

    Once we¡¯ve found who we can (and Eran has acquired a shield from somewhere), we head for the partially-collapsed manor house. There¡¯s a Skyshard on top of a collapsed staircase. Eran, like most people, gives me an odd look as I absorb it but makes no comment. On the other side of the manor, we find Captain Landare and give her our report. As we¡¯re debriefing, a frantic runner comes in with a report that the Daedra are back in force, and the building shakes and I really hope more of it isn¡¯t going to collapse on top of our heads. Maybe this wasn¡¯t such a great spot for the captain and her guards to hole up in. The manor is now half-collapsed and on fire.

    We head out to relieve the marines. They¡¯re fighting fire atronachs, not the toughest Daedra around but a good deal more so than the banekin we¡¯d dealt with before. Once we¡¯d dealt with that situation, the runner (whose name is Arti, plus some syllables nobody¡¯s bothering with) runs up to us and tells us the captain ran off to fight the Daedra in some cave by herself.

    ¡°And is she as much of a one-mer army as me?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Two-mer,¡± Eran puts in. ¡°I¡¯m here too. And also awesome.¡±

    I snicker and don¡¯t bother arguing. It¡¯s not like he¡¯s bad. He just doesn¡¯t have millennia of experience and a complete lack of fear toward the prospect of pain and death. Normal people always hold back and try to avoid hurting themselves, after all, and Eran is no exception. He acquits himself well enough with his sword-and-shield, but he¡¯s just not crazy.

    ¡°She went in with a small group, but from the looks of things, she could really use your backup.¡±

    We find the cave the captain went into and head inside, although I¡¯m not particularly optimistic about her chances of survival. Little banekin dance over the bodies of dead mer. Only two of them are still alive by the time we catch up to the group, and one of those looks badly hurt. I hit the wounded mer with my new healing power. The nearby people promptly call it ¡®Restoring Light¡¯. And here I¡¯d just been calling it Blinky. I guess Blinky can heal as well as stab things.

    ¡°Thank you, good sir, but you should save your magicka for the Daedra,¡± he says.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to be using magicka against the Daedra anyway,¡± I say. ¡°I was going to hit them repeatedly with a battle axe until they stop being an immediate problem.¡±

    ¡°I overheard High Kinlady Estre speaking with the Daedra forces here by magical projection,¡± Captain Landare says. ¡°They¡¯re planning a massive summoning ritual. They have to be stopped!¡±

    ¡°Do you two feel up to a fight or do you want to get back to relative safety while we take care of it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I believe I¡¯m out of immediate danger thanks to your spell, but I¡¯m far from one hundred percent,¡± the man says. ¡°I can fight if I must.¡±

    ¡°Best stay behind me, then,¡± I say. ¡°And be sure to move out of the way if a clannfear tries to leap at you.¡±

    I charge ahead up the tunnel, plowing over several more atronachs and clannfears. There¡¯s a pair of dremora in the last room, standing in front of a swirly red portal, and Estre¡¯s voice is echoing from somewhere but I¡¯m honestly not paying much attention to what any of them are saying, being entirely too busy hitting them in the face.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Once the Daedra are down, the captain says, ¡°They mentioned Firsthold¡­¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Eran whispers.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to send a runner to Skywatch to warn the Queen,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll continue on north. Whatever they¡¯re doing in Firsthold, we¡¯re probably not going to want to let them do it.¡±

    There¡¯s a door in the back of the cave where I can see sunlight filtering through the cracks, and figure it must be a shortcut outside. It opens up onto a ledge five paces wide with a lovely view of town at the bottom of the cliff.

    ¡°Why would someone even put a door there?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°To keep out the rain?¡± Eran suggests with a shrug. ¡°Maybe they really wanted a balcony.¡±

    I¡¯ve yet to see it actually rain in the time I¡¯ve been in Auridon, but I suppose it must if the place is this green and lush.

    ¡°Best head out the other way,¡± Captain Landare says. ¡°You cleared out all the Daedra on the way in, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that should be safe,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like walking all the way around, myself.¡± I jump off the cliff.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran cries out in surprise.

    ¡°What?¡± I call back up as I heal the resulting bruises. ¡°No big deal. Nothing¡¯s broken.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Eran says on the verge of laughing.

    ¡°Are you coming?¡±

    Eran looks behind him, where the captain and the other guy (whatever his name was) have already gone out of sight, presumably to take the safe and sane way back down. He looks back to me and shrugs. ¡°Sure, why not¡­¡± He leaps off the small cliff, although it winds up being more of a tumble and he lands face-first in the dirt. ¡°Ow¡­¡±

    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± I heal him as well. Then cast a cleaning spell on his clothes as he climbs to his feet. Man, if I learn a few more handy spells, I could call myself a wizard! Well, I could call myself a wizard now if I really wanted to, people would just find it very funny.

    Eran is actually starting to laugh now. ¡°You really are insane.¡±

    ¡°Never claimed I wasn¡¯t,¡± I say lightly, heading off.

    There¡¯s a copy of Aedra and Daedra down by a fishing spot on the river bank (I wish I had time to fish) which I toss in my pack. At Eran¡¯s question, I explain that I¡¯m collecting books for a friend in the Mages Guild, although I have to wonder at the absent fishermer¡¯s (or maybe fishercat¡¯s) proclivity toward religion and philosophy (I assume, I didn¡¯t actually open it and see what the book was about). I keep finding books in the strangest of places. I mean, I might not have even noticed if I weren¡¯t specifically looking for them, but now that I¡¯m looking for them it seems like high elves are both very literary and very careless with their reading material.

    We circle the perimeter to make sure there¡¯s no more Daedra stragglers around. While a flame atronach isn¡¯t a particularly formidable foe to me, best that no civilians get caught by one. As it is, a number of wooden roofs and doors have suffered the inevitable consequences of flame atronachs meeting wooden roofs and doors. I feel that, deaths aside, the Veiled Heritance has been a boon to Auridon¡¯s construction industry. It¡¯ll probably get outsourced to Bosmer and Khajiit, though.

    ¡°How¡¯d you get so good at fighting Daedra, anyway?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°You seem to know all their tells. I¡¯m not sure how you could be so agile with rolling out of the way of pouncing clannfears while wielding a battle axe.¡±

    ¡°Practice,¡± I say. ¡°Lots of practice. With the way things are going, I think a lot of people are going to be getting lots of practice, too.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve secured the area, we meet back up with Captain Landare at the ruins of the manor house. Most of the others we¡¯d rescued are nearby. One highly optimistic mer is sweeping with a broom, next to some collapsed masonry; I¡¯m not sure why he bothers.

    ¡°We¡¯ve cleared any remaining Daedra from the area,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the situation here?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s been a lot of damage, and a lot of deaths,¡± Captain Landare says. ¡°We¡¯ll be rebuilding for some time, but at least there are people here to rebuild, thanks to you.¡±

    I nod tersely. ¡°Are there people in good enough shape for messenger duty?¡± I ask. ¡°We need to send runners to Skywatch and Firsthold.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it,¡± Captain Landare says. ¡°If you want to rest here for the night before getting on the road again, the two of you are welcome to sleep in one of the more intact buildings.¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯ll just sleep on the road,¡± I say. ¡°I mean. Not on the road, as someone might step on us if they¡¯re not paying attention, but beside the road. You know what I mean.¡±

    I feel safer somewhere in the middle of not-particularly-dangerous wilderness than in buildings that may or may not be liable to collapse at any given moment, just because they look intact. The manor house is in really terrible shape at this point.

    I¡¯m probably developing some bad habits toward just laying down a bedroll anywhere I feel like it, and it will come back to bite me in the ass once I get somewhere more dangerous than fucking Auridon, whose primary danger is crazy racist bandits. Doubtful, though. I spent my life in a dangerous ash-choked wasteland full of giant bugs and my afterlife in a dangerous hellscape full of Daedra. Paranoia is pretty ingrained in my psyche about now.

    I check my journal. ¡°Before we go, have you seen someone named Karulae around here?¡± I ask Captain Landare. ¡°My notes indicate they were headed for Dawnbreak.¡±

    ¡°Karulae? He left town shortly before the attack. Said he was going fishing up by the Isle of Contemplation. That¡¯s not far from here.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Karulae?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Veiled Heritance officer,¡± I explain. ¡°Probably was involved in the attack.¡±

    ¡°Damn, and I thought he seemed like an alright sort,¡± Landare says. ¡°I hope you can catch him.¡±

    She helpfully gives directions, and we leave town, promptly ignoring the directions to take a more direct route which only involves us getting wet. It¡¯s a little out of the way, but best make sure this guy not be involved in any further racist bandit activity.

    ¡°Was it really necessary to swim?¡± Eran asks. ¡°There¡¯s a bridge right there.¡±

    The Isle of Contemplation is painfully picturesque, with quaint wooden bridges and babbling brooks. Those purple water flowers are growing along the banks, and I grab a few of them real quick.

    ¡°Do we really have time to be picking flowers?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°They¡¯re for healing potions!¡± I protest.

    ¡°Water hyacinths can be used in healing potions?¡± Eran says. ¡°Huh, I guess that¡¯s useful.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re called water hyacinths?¡± I say. ¡°Great, I¡¯ll have to put that in my notes and cross-reference them with the ones I stole from the alchemist who was feeding people to a vampire.¡±

    Eran stares at me. ¡°What in Oblivion has been going on in Auridon?¡±

    ¡°A lot of stupid things that make me glad to have healing potions on hand,¡± I say. ¡°Ah, there¡¯s a guy fishing over there. That might be him.¡±

    Karulae (presumably) drops his fishing rod and yells, ¡°I was only following orders!¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Karulae, is it? Would you like to know how much damage was caused by you following orders? How many people did you have to kill in order to get your rank, anyway?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t bother to answer that, but he does fight back. He¡¯s more skilled than I might have given him credit for, but he¡¯s not even slightly a match for us. Once he¡¯s dead, I head for the bridge leading back to the road.

    ¡°Are we just going to leave that here?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Eran points to the racist bandit¡¯s remains. ¡°The body? Or the pieces of it, at any rate. Somebody can come out here and contemplate why someone cut somebody into three pieces with a battle axe.¡±

    ¡°You were complaining to me about wasting time,¡± I say. ¡°Auridon is already being littered with dead bodies as it is. If you really want to bury it or haul it back to town, you¡¯re welcome to do so.¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°No, not really, but we can at least tell Captain Landare. She¡¯ll want to know the traitor is dead, in any case. And if somebody did run across it, they¡¯d probably, you know, go to the guards. That¡¯s one less murder for her to wonder about.¡±

    ¡°Granted. Fine. Back to Dawnbreak for a quick stop, then.¡±

 Chapter 34: In Which Im Dragged Into Saving the Island

    Eranamo and I stop at a wayshrine up the road from Dawnbreak next to a watch tower. A nearby fancy bridge leads toward a large building which my map notes as the College of Aldmeri Propriety, and Eran confirms that. That kind of just makes me want to go in there and hit someone until they change the name of the place.

    Near the bridge, a couple of Khajiit and a wood elf are talking and one of them mentions being afraid of being thrown in a cave if she¡¯s late. Well, that sounds a bit unpleasant. I go up and ask a few questions and learn that the place basically exists for high elves to be racist toward Khajiit and wood elves. Aside from being generally detestable, this sounds like a breeding ground for the Veiled Heritance.

    ¡°We¡¯re in a hurry to get to Firsthold to stop High Kinlady Estre from launching a full-scale invasion of the island, and you¡¯re stopping to check out a college racism problem?¡± Eran says incredulously.

    ¡°It might be related,¡± I say weakly. ¡°In any case, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s going to take more than a few hours, most likely. We need that time to slow down and rest. We¡¯re not going to be in any shape to fight Daedra if we¡¯ve sprinted the whole way there without sleep.¡±

    ¡°I doubt whatever we might wind up having to do here could be construed as ¡®resting¡¯,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Besides, I only rescued you and your sister because I took a detour on the way to Dawnbreak.¡±

    ¡°And Dawnbreak was swarming with Daedra by the time we got there, too,¡± Eran points out.

    I page through my journal. ¡°Oh, wait. I¡¯ve got a hit ordered on a Veiled Heritance officer who was last seen here. Fine, I¡¯ll just pop in real quick to murder this guy and we can be on our way.¡± I pause. ¡°Or lady? Is ¡®Aranias¡¯ a man¡¯s name or a woman¡¯s name?¡±

    Eran gives me an incredulous look. ¡°That sounds considerably sketchier than it probably is. Tell me that this is an order from the Eyes of the Queen and not the Dark Brotherhood?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not a member of the Dark Brotherhood yet. I wouldn¡¯t even know how to contact them.¡±

    ¡°That would have been more reassuring without the ¡®yet¡¯,¡± Eran says. He goes up to the wood elf, Baham, and asks, ¡°Excuse me, miss. The situation here sounds bad, but how urgent is it? We¡¯re on our way to Firsthold to save the island from a Daedra invasion.¡±

    Baham¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°By all means, go take care of that! We can handle a little unpleasantness.¡±

    ¡°Right, I promise we¡¯ll be back to look into the situation here once we¡¯re done hitting a Daedra-worshipping traitor,¡± I say.

    The Prophet has been showing up in my dreams again wanting me to go to Vulkhel Guard to investigate something or other. Dammit, I¡¯m on the other side of the island doing something pretty urgent. I¡¯m sure whatever it is can wait, and in any case, Eranamo¡¯s hardly going to let me run all the way back to Vulkhel Guard and he¡¯s pretty insistent about me staying on task. I suppose I can¡¯t really argue.

    As we approach Firsthold, off to the left, the skies grow dark and the foghorn of doom heralds the falling of chains.

    ¡°By the Eight, what is that?¡± Eran breathes.

    I pull out Stormy and run over that way. ¡°So yeah, have I mentioned the bit about the Worm Cult and the Dark Anchors yet?¡±

    ¡°Like Estre isn¡¯t bad enough, we have to deal with this too?¡±

    The Fighters Guild members at the dolmen have the situation well in hand, and we barely manage to get in a few hits onto the Daedra before they break the anchor pinions and send the thing back to Coldharbour. (One of them has a weird bear with glowing blue eyes. What¡¯s up with that?) I mention the situation in Firsthold to them and they agree that they care spare a couple people as backup if necessary.

    We head up the road toward the bridge leading into Firsthold with a Khajiit archer and a petite Bosmer woman with a greatsword as big as she is (I have no idea how she even lifts it). A group of First Auridon Marines stand watch on the near side of the bridge, along with a handful of dejected refugees.

    ¡°Are we too late?¡± I ask.

    ¡°There¡¯s a Daedric attack underway in the city,¡± one of the Marines says, taking a look at our weapons. ¡°I hope you¡¯re our reinforcements.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I work for the Queen.¡±

    ¡°I work for this guy,¡± Eran indicates me.

    ¡°We work for the Fighters Guild,¡± the wood elf, Lariole, says. ¡°I assume we¡¯re getting paid for this, but, well, not like I won¡¯t hit Daedra popping up where I happen to be.¡±

    ¡°I assure you, you will be compensated for any assistance to you can render. Battlereeve Urcelmo is trying to put together a plan to fight back these creatures. Meet up with him and he can tell you where he needs your group to be. Meet him at the Mages Guildhall. The local mages are trying to find a way to crack the ward High Kinlady Estre is hiding behind.¡±

    We head into the city. Fighting in the streets is rampant, between clusters of Dremora and Altmer locked in deadly battle, where there aren¡¯t bodies of Dremora and Altmer where one or another of them lost and won their battles. The four of us are able to cut a swath through the Daedra and relieve a number of marines along the way.

    A fortified position has been set up at the Mages Guild. Altmer in heavy armor, but also wood elves in leather and a handful of Khajiit. And I¡¯m pretty sure some of those are Eyes of the Queen. I recognize Battlereeve Urcelmo and approach him for his report. Needless to say, he¡¯s glad to see me, and likewise glad that I¡¯ve brought a few extra blades (and people wielding them).

    He sends me inside to talk to someone named Sinien who has a plan involving a bunch of magic. Apparently the mages are going to stand here in the guildhall and think hard in the general direction of bad things, and she gives me a talisman to help focus what they¡¯re thinking at in order to blow stuff up.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    We cut our way through town again (because more Daedra showed up in the five minutes our backs were turned) and I point the talisman at a pair of evil black rocks that are keeping the swirly orange barriers active and stopping us from getting into the middle of town. Once those are down, we head across one of the small bridges over the canals. Razum-dar is on the other side waiting for us, but the Oblivion gate is the main thing that draws my eyes. Not the hateful blue of Molag Bal, but the angry red of Mehrunes Dagon. Not that it particularly matters to the marines in the streets whether the Dremora fighting them came from Coldharbour or the Deadlands.

    ¡°Raz is glad to see you, my friend,¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°You were the one who brought the wards down, yes?¡±

    ¡°I helped!¡± Eran pipes up. ¡°I¡¯ve been very helpful!¡±

    ¡°Raz is sure you have.¡± His whiskers twitch in amusement. ¡°And he is certain you will also be helpful in bringing these gates down, yes? The gates are each maintained by a sigil stone. Your party will need to enter each gate and destroy the stone in order to close them.¡±

    ¡°Great, uh¡­ how will we get back out again, though?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Destroying them should expel you from Oblivion, Raz was told by those knowledgeable in such things. If it does not, well, you will need to take that up with the mages for giving inaccurate information, no? Once you manage to find another way out, at least. Raz is certain they can open their own portals to the Deadlands if need be.¡±

    I snicker. ¡°I¡¯ll do it myself if you want to stay back and make sure nothing else comes out of the gates.¡±

    ¡°You know, that sounds like a wonderful idea,¡± Eran says. ¡°Hold the line, and all that!¡±

    I head into the first gate, for some reason considerably less concerned about paying a visit to the Deadlands than I was about returning to Coldharbour. Of course, compared to Coldharbour, the Deadlands is quite pleasant, but then again, I say that from the perspective of someone who used to live somewhere volcanic. I make my way through past more Daedra and locate a sigil stone, and smash it. Whiteness overcomes my vision for a moment and I find myself back outside in Firsthold. (Honestly, I have no idea why it works that way, but you know what? I¡¯m not even going to question it.)

    ¡°Huh, I guess that did work,¡± Eran says. ¡°Good to know!¡±

    Eran and the two Fighters Guild members still opt to remain outside clearing away Daedra while I go into the second gate. There¡¯s plenty of Daedra to be cleared out and they aren¡¯t likely to go poof back to Oblivion just because I closed the gates.

    I make my way through the next area, dancing over some fire traps and killing a huge spider Daedra. Then the next area, cleaving past a bunch of Dremora and a clannfear that¡¯s tougher than usual for its size. Once those are done, I meet back up with the others outside.

    Raz has gathered everyone for a push into the last gate, where Estre is hiding. This gate is in the middle of Firsthold¡¯s castle, and I really don¡¯t envy whoever has to clean up this mess after we¡¯re done here. It¡¯s even blocking the thrones. I hope whoever¡¯s castle this is has a backup castle (provided they aren¡¯t already dead).

    ¡°Let¡¯s kick some ass!¡± Lariole says.

    ¡°I second the lady¡¯s expression,¡± Eran says.

    We head inside, and take the battle to Estre, and by all the fucking gods I cannot believe this woman takes so much work to bring down. I¡¯m guessing her skill in protective magic has also served her well in stopping her from getting torn to tiny pieces after being hit quite so many times by swords, axes, arrows, and spells. She summons flame atronachs around us and taunts us in an incredibly annoying manner.

    ¡°Oh for love of fuck, just shut up and die already,¡± I mutter.

    Eventually, finally, she does go down. After making sure she¡¯s actually going to stay down, the team breathes a sigh of relief, pats one another on the back, and one of the mages opens a portal back to Nirn. Raz tells me to destroy the sigil stone on my way out.

    Near the sigil stone, I spot some slightly singed paper. I don¡¯t bother to stop and read it, but I grab it and shove it in my pack before smashing the sigil stone. Once safely back on Nirn, then I stop to read it. And it looks like Estre and Mannimarco might have been getting ready to get in bed together? I mean, figuratively. Probably not literally. Ugh, bad mental image, Nerevar, bad mental image.

    ¡°Huzzah, the bitch is dead!¡± Lariole exclaims. ¡°Okay, it¡¯s been great, but Kira-do and me are heading back to the dolmen.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t had enough fighting Daedra for one day?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Nah,¡± Lariole says. ¡°There¡¯s always more Daedra. No sense in saving Firsthold from Dagon only to let Bal overrun it.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Kira-do is getting a drink before returning to the dolmen, if he can find any booze in this city that has not been spilled.¡±

    The battle over, people make sure there¡¯s no Daedra lingering around still and tend to the wounded. Firsthold is going to be a long time in recovering. At some point, we even find the guy who this castle belongs to (High Kinlord Rilis). He expresses gratitude, but he hasn¡¯t seen what the inside of his castle looks like yet.

    Queen Ayrenn turns up, and I feel that her idea of touring her kingdom has kind of completely bollocksed up by this point. Bad things have happened everywhere she¡¯s visited so far. Maybe she should just stay home. Though I get this feeling she¡¯s just going to make me visit everywhere she plans to go first and un-bollocks it. And now she¡¯s here expressing regret that Estre had to die.

    ¡°Estre made her choices,¡± I say. ¡°Terrible ones, to be sure. By the way, you might want to see this.¡± I hand her the note addressed to Mannimarco I¡¯d found in the Deadlands. ¡°In case you don¡¯t recognize the name, Mannimarco and his Worm Cult are the ones behind the Dark Anchors that keep dropping.¡±

    Ayrenn frowns as she reads over the note that proclaims her as an enemy, then hands it back. ¡°That is certainly a poor choice. And High Kinlady Estre may be dead, but this Worm Cult remains at large and a danger to Tamriel. With you as our spearhead, however, we can strike back at any danger that threatens us. There is yet much work to be done.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± I say. ¡°I feel that there¡¯s still a number of things that I need to see to on Auridon that I bypassed to get to Firsthold as quickly as possible.¡±

    Ayrenn nods. ¡°I have much to do here as well. Explore as you will on your own time. When you are ready, I want you to meet me in Elden Root, in the Grahtwood region of Valenwood. You can take a ship there from Skywatch or Vulkhel Guard.¡±

    A figure comes up the steps behind Ayrenn. It¡¯s her brother, Prince Naemon. And his reaction to learning of his wife¡¯s death is deadly sarcasm, and that he¡¯s gotten entirely the wrong idea about the situation here.

    ¡°They tell me you declared my wife a traitor and ordered her death,¡± Naemon says. ¡°And now she¡¯s dead. But it was all for the glory of the Dominion, was it not?¡±

    ¡°Prince Naemon,¡± I say fervently, stepping forward. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve noticed yet, given the Oblivion gates and dead Daedra around, but your wife was a Daedra worshipper. You should consider yourself fortunate that she did not ritually sacrifice you. Daedra worshippers will betray their husbands and wives, their friends and family, their Queen and country, all for the sake of some fleeting advantage for themselves.¡±

    Naemon looks at me as if regarding a particularly loathsome scrib. ¡°My wife would have never harmed me.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think mine would, either,¡± I say quietly, and shake my head. I show him the note I found, too, because incriminating correspondence is the best.

    Naemon reluctantly looks at the note. ¡°This is her handwriting¡­ Why would Estre call this Mannimarco person her lord? I suppose it is too late to ask her that now.¡±

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, little brother, I¡¯m sorry that it had to come to this,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°But she left a swath of blood and ruin in her wake across half the island.¡±

    I watch him intently, examining his tone of voice, his body language, to see whether or not he might have had any idea what his wife was involved in. Was he an accomplice or a victim? It¡¯s hard to say. I suppose I can sympathize with him at the same time as being suspicious of him. This can¡¯t be easy for him. I just hope he doesn¡¯t do anything stupid next. This sort of situation could make anyone irrational. Speaking from experience here.

 Chapter 35: In Which Im Bad at Religion

    Now that I¡¯m not rushing around from one emergency situation to the next, time to make sure I haven¡¯t missed any interesting caves full of treasure, bandits, racist bandits, gratuitous undead, traps, Daedra, Skyshards, or idiots that need rescuing from their own stupidity. And take some time to practice alchemy while I¡¯m at it, too, once I find some equipment for it. I¡¯d hoped to brew some potions in Firsthold, but the Mages Guild doesn¡¯t have any suitable equipment for it and whichever building might have contained an alchemy shop apparently got burned down.

    ¡°You know, Eran, you could just run ahead and meet me at Skywatch or something,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m probably just going to be spending a bit of time taking a breather, picking some fl¡ªalchemical ingredients, and poking my head into every cave in Auridon.¡±

    ¡°No, I think I¡¯d better keep following you around,¡± Eran says. ¡°Somebody might decide I¡¯m a traitor after all, and aside from that, you have absolutely no common sense or rational priorities.¡±

    ¡°What if you disagree with how I handle something?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m probably considerably more annoyed with racism than you.¡±

    Eran shrugs. ¡°Far be it from me to argue with the guy with a battle axe who can probably single-handedly destroy the Ebonheart Pact with it if he felt like it. Besides,¡± he gestures back toward Firsthold with a sigh. ¡°Look at what racism has bought us. Cities left in ruins by the very people who claimed they would keep our islands ¡®pure¡¯ and protect us from the influences of the ¡®lesser races¡¯. If this is the direction that sort of attitude is taking us toward, then I¡¯ll just have to get used to hugging Khajiit.¡±

    We¡¯re heading back to the main road after smashing another Dark Anchor when I spot a light up ahead and find a priestess kneeling inside a protective circle. We approach and she tells us about how the holy site of Torinaan (she patiently spells that for me) has been overrun with Daedra. Naturally, we agree to help. She directs us to speak to the Aldarch (whatever an Aldarch is) who, of course, is on the opposite side of the Daedra-infested ruins.

    The ruins are crawling with scamps and clannfears, not the toughest or brightest Daedra around but still fun to fight. Along the way, we find another terrified priest hiding inside of a protective circle, who tells us something about relics that need to be retrieved from the ruins before anything bad happens to them. We assure him that we¡¯ll locate them for him and try to convince him to get to safety, but he refuses to budge without those relics, so we move on.

    The Aldarch, a woman by the name of Colaste, paints a lovely picture of how all this trouble started after High Kinlady Estre came through here. Ugh.

    ¡°Estre¡¯s a Daedra worshipper,¡± I say. ¡°Also dead now. She invaded Firsthold, opened a bunch of Oblivion gates, and subsequently got killed for it.¡±

    ¡°By us,¡± Eran adds. ¡°I guess she set the Daedra on Torinaan as a distraction to slow us down? Too bad it didn¡¯t work.¡±

    ¡°Because you dragged me there and ignored everything else between Dawnbreak and there,¡± I say.

    Aldarch Colaste is taken aback at that news. ¡°Oh dear. I¡¯m glad you were able to stop her, even if it did mean delaying assistance for us.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully we can cleanse these shrines for you now like we cleansed the world of Estre,¡± I say.

    We head back into the ruins, where we¡¯d at least thinned out the Daedra a bit on our first pass through. The first shrine we come upon is lit by those glowing yellow crystals and contains a statue of that god with the book, sword, and his foot on a skull, whoever that is.

    ¡°Eran, what god does that statue depict?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯m a fighter, not a priest,¡± Eran replies. ¡°But I think this was the shrine of Anu and Y¡¯ffre, so it¡¯s probably one of those. Or neither. I don¡¯t know.¡±

    There¡¯s a fancy cup next to a dead priest, along with a note saying something about a sacred chalice, blessed waters, or whatever. I shrug, and pick up the cup, fill it in the pool, and splash it onto the altar, which promptly stops glowing red and starts glowing yellow. That¡¯s probably a good thing? (Is there something inherently evil about the color red, anyway?)

    The next shrine has a statue of a guy with a book and a sword again, but this time he¡¯s standing and the sword is sticking through the skull at his feet.

    ¡°Is this the same guy, or a different one?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I never really thought too much about who the statues depict,¡± Eran says.

    I take the chalice to the next pool and splash water on the altar, but this has no effect beyond getting the stone and tablecloth wet. ¡°Did I miss something here?¡±

    Eran finds a note. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to use fire for these ones, apparently.¡±

    ¡°What, burn the tablecloth?¡± I pick up the rod he¡¯s pointed at.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Eran says. ¡°Maybe just try waving it in the air?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m happy to have someone along who is just as clueless about this as me,¡± I say. ¡°It makes me feel less silly when I have no idea what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    Eran chuckles. ¡°There is that.¡±

    I light the rod in the brazier and wave it over the altar, which proceeds to start glowing yellow instead of red as well. The next room has one of its braziers unlit, so I light it with the rod and repeat the waving thing, to success.

    ¡°Well, that wasn¡¯t so bad,¡± I say. ¡°Next shrine¡­¡±

    ¡°You say it wasn¡¯t so bad, but we had to kill four clannfears, six scamps, and two angry ghosts to get this far,¡± Eran points out.

    ¡°You were keeping count?¡±

    The next shrine wants more fires light. I don¡¯t know what Mara wants things set on fire. Burning love in the heart? No, it¡¯s probably the hearth thing. That would make more sense. I wind up having to light Stendarr¡¯s fires a couple times because they keep going out after being lit for less than a minute, stupid thing. And of course Eranamo isn¡¯t helping and is just snickering at me, the fetcher.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    We return the relics to the scared monk and enter the last shrine, which he¡¯s standing next to. As I¡¯m wondering what I¡¯m going to need to moisten or ignite this time, that weird voice I¡¯ve been hearing (and ignoring) tells me to destroy the interlopers. Or at least I think it¡¯s telling me that, and not telling the interlopers to destroy me. In any case, there¡¯s dremora in this shrine who need their asses kicked. Alas for them that it¡¯s a bad day to be a dremora attempting to corrupt Aedric shrines, as a Chimer warrior and his battle axe (and sidekick) are here to send them back to Oblivion.

    Okay, so that wasn¡¯t actually the last shrine. There¡¯s another one in the middle that we need to cleanse. The way these things go, it¡¯s probably going to contain whichever of the Daedra is in charge here who will be stronger than the others.

    We go inside and head down the stairs and around the corner. The large room at the bottom is illuminated by the swirling red disc of an Oblivion gate. Another dremora stands in front of it.

    ¡°I really hope we¡¯re not going to need to go in there to shut that gate down,¡± Eran whispers.

    ¡°What, you¡¯re not looking forward to a return to the giant toasty furnace?¡± I say lightly. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll do it if it¡¯s necessary.¡±

    I charge in and attack the dremora, who starts taunting us but I¡¯m honestly not paying attention to what he¡¯s blustering about. It probably wasn¡¯t anything important anyway. Fortunately for us, the gate dissipates upon his death, sparing us the hassle of going inside and smashing a sigil stone.

    Once the dremora is down, we meet up with Aldarch Colaste again on the way out, who has relocated to a corridor outside the big chamber. She, of course, thinks we were sent by the Divines, because religious people always seem to think anything that happens by chance or for completely unrelated reasons is clearly because of divine providence and not just because someone happened to be in the right place. I don¡¯t bother arguing with her about it.

    The Aldarch goes on to say that the Divines have a vision to show me, and directs me to an altar. In a flash of light, I witness High Kinlady Estre praying to Mehrunes Dagon, begging for power and claiming that her family has been faithful. Her family has been faithful? Who else besides her? Troublesome. If the Divines have a reason for showing this to me, it¡¯s not for proving that Estre is a traitor, which I already knew, but that the trouble hasn¡¯t ended simply with her death. I¡¯m going to need to look into who her parents were, if she has any siblings or children, and track them down, aren¡¯t I. Ugh. I just know high elf genealogy is going to be annoying.

    We¡¯re on our way back to the College of Aldmeri Propriety and I¡¯m lost in my own musings when Eran speaks up.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a little talk about who are you, Neri?¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m sure people you¡¯ve only met briefly wouldn¡¯t have noticed, but I¡¯ve been travelling with you for a bit now and have been taking notice of a few slightly odd things about you. And I don¡¯t mean the fact that you¡¯re a reckless idiot who can get away with being a reckless idiot because he¡¯s has weird powers that aren¡¯t quite magic and is very good at hitting things?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m an Eye of the Queen and I¡¯m very good at hitting things,¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°You are completely unfamiliar with basic facts about the Summerset Isles and you¡¯ve got an accent I can¡¯t quite place,¡± Eran says. ¡°So I¡¯m quite sure you¡¯re foreign-born. Plus you seem entirely too disdainful of Altmer in general. I keep hearing you grumbling about them when you think nobody¡¯s listening.¡±

    ¡°More like I don¡¯t care if anyone¡¯s listening,¡± I say.

    ¡°So, foreign-born, likely adopted by another race,¡± Eran goes on. ¡°Definitely not any of the human races, though, and the beastfolk are unlikely too. Accent is¡­ Dunmer? I think it¡¯s Dunmer. The ones I spoke with briefly in Quendeluun sounded kind of like you.¡±

    I grin widely. ¡°You¡¯re doing very well. You¡¯re almost there.¡±

    ¡°Can I add that you seem to be ignorant of basic facts about modern-day Tamriel in general and not just Auridon?¡± Eran continues. ¡°That¡¯s even weirder than just being a foreign-born Altmer adopted by Dunmer in Morrowind who decided to come back to your ancestral homeland. Were you living in a cave on top of being from the other side of Tamriel?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I would have gotten more information about current events from a cave,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve seen some very fancy caves around here.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s not even getting into just how you got in with Queen Ayrenn!¡± Eran exclaims.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy,¡± I say. ¡°I dropped out of the sky in front of her spymaster.¡±

    Eran stares at me for a long moment. ¡°Teleport accident?¡±

    I pause. ¡°Sort of.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ I can understand why you didn¡¯t trust me before, given¡­ circumstances and everything¡­ but have I proven myself yet? Will you tell me the truth?¡±

    ¡°How about you keep guessing and I¡¯ll tell you whether you¡¯re hot or cold?¡± I say with a grin. ¡°That sounds like more fun to pass the trip.¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t dispute that.¡±

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll play along, then,¡± Eran says. ¡°Are you from Morrowind?¡±

    I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Warm.¡±

    ¡°Were you raised by Dunmer?¡±

    ¡°Mm, cool,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it can¡¯t be humans,¡± Eran says. ¡°You don¡¯t sound anything like a Nord.¡±

    ¡°Nope, that would be ice cold,¡± I say. ¡°Icy cold enough that they¡¯d jump naked into it because Nords are insane.¡±

    ¡°Fine, if you¡¯re not from Morrowind, you must have spent a good bit of time there?¡±

    ¡°Warmish,¡± I say. ¡°To be fair and throw you a bone, I don¡¯t actually remember where I was born, but it wasn¡¯t Morrowind.¡±

    The world looked very different then. Whatever might have been my original birthplace has been lost in space and time.

    ¡°That¡¯s still less than helpful.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your next guess?¡± I ask.

    Eran stares off at the sky. ¡°Have you been¡­ away from events in Tamriel for a while?¡±

    I grin. ¡°Blazing hot.¡±

    ¡°Hah! I knew it! Nobody is that clueless!¡±

    ¡°Eh, I¡¯m sure some could manage,¡± I say. ¡°You greatly overestimate the general cluefulness of people.¡±

    ¡°Were you¡­ in magical suspension in a cave or something somewhere?¡±

    ¡°Cold.¡±

    ¡°In Oblivion?¡±

    ¡°Hot!¡± I laugh. ¡°Or also cold? It was Coldharbour. Also, fuck Molag Bal.¡±

    ¡°So, was you appearing in thin air in front of the Queen¡¯s spymaster you escaping from Coldharbour?¡±

    ¡°Volcanically hot.¡±

    ¡°How long were you there?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Take a guess, Eran,¡± I say. ¡°Take a wild guess.¡±

    ¡°Well, it has to have been longer than the Three Banners War has been going on,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°That¡¯s so hot it¡¯s burning with obviousness.¡±

    ¡°And you have my sympathies for being stuck in that sort of hell for years,¡± Eran says. ¡°No wonder you were so flippant about going into the Deadlands back in Firsthold.¡±

    ¡°The Deadlands was really rather pleasant,¡± I say.

    ¡°Because it reminded you of Morrowind?¡±

    ¡°Hot,¡± I say with a chuckle.

    ¡°So, you were trapped in Coldharbour for over a decade. Over a century? Over a millennium??¡±

    ¡°Hot, hot, and hot,¡± I say.

    ¡°Sweet Mara¡¯s mercy,¡± Eran whispers. ¡°No wonder you¡¯re batshit.¡± He frowns. ¡°Wait, are you even an Altmer?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°¡­ A Chimer?¡± Eran says. ¡°Divines, you¡¯re a fucking Chimer, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    I grin widely. ¡°Now you¡¯re molten.¡±

    ¡°Now it all makes sense!¡± Eran exclaims, throwing his arms wide.

    ¡°I trust you¡¯ll keep that to yourself, though,¡± I say. ¡°Like I¡¯m keeping to myself the fact that you were trying to betray the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Eran says. ¡°Why do you even care about the Dominion if you¡¯re a Chimer, though?¡±

    ¡°Because Ayrenn is awesome.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Eran says with a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re basing your loyalty to the Dominion primarily off of whether you think the Queen is hot.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I raise my hands. ¡°Hot.¡±

    ¡°What happens if she dies?¡±

    ¡°After making sure to thoroughly avenge her by slaughtering anyone even remotely connected to her death?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d likely head to Daggerfall with some fake tusks and green face paint and see if I can convince anyone I¡¯m an orc. Or maybe just go hang out with the Khajiit. They seem like alright sorts and I¡¯m sure they wouldn¡¯t mind the lack of fur and tail.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t go back to Morrowind?¡±

    ¡°I technically have never been to Morrowind,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been to Resdayn. And no. Fuck no. My ex-wife is still there. I¡¯d rather pretend to be an orc.¡±

    ¡°Ex-wife?¡± Eran says. ¡°You know what? I think I¡¯m quite done guessing. I¡¯m not sure I want to know anymore.¡±

    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± I say.

 Chapter 36: In Which Im Officially Tired of Racists

    The bridge leading up to the College of Aldmeri Propriety (yes, I had to write that name down) is quite impressive. The wood elf Baham is once again out in front of the bridge by her cart (I assume it¡¯s her cart) with a couple of delicious-looking pies sitting in front of her. I¡¯m not sure if they were supposed to be for sale or not, but I¡¯m starved after the walk from Firsthold and fighting Daedra and I forgot to eat lunch, and she¡¯s happy enough to take money for them.

    ¡°How did it go in Firsthold?¡± Baham asks.

    ¡°We killed the traitor and stopped the Daedric invasion,¡± I say around a bite of my pie. ¡°All in a day¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, Neri, don¡¯t talk with your mouth full,¡± Eran mutters. ¡°You don¡¯t have to act like you were raised by barbarians.¡±

    I swallow, and chuckle. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°If nothing else, I can attempt to teach you proper table manners,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Anyway, we can regale you with the whole story later,¡± I tell Baham. ¡°What¡¯s the situation here?¡±

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t changed any since you were here last,¡± Baham says. ¡°This doesn¡¯t seem very important next to doing battle with Daedra, but I¡¯m glad you came back nonetheless.¡±

    I pull out an actually-official paper I got Ayrenn to give me when I told her about the potential issues here. (More accurately, she let me write any stupid thing I wanted on it and gave it her official seal and signature. That was fun.)

    ¡°I even brought some fancy paperwork to help open the door if need be,¡± I say. ¡°There are very likely more people involved with the Veiled Heritance plot who may be at the college here. So not to worry. This is actually what we¡¯re supposed to be doing anyway. Wow, that sounds kind of weird when I say that.¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯re not just poking your nose into everything because it¡¯s there?¡± Eran asks.

    We bid her good day and make for the college.

    ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯m blaming you if A-name isn¡¯t still there,¡± I tell Eran lightly as we cross the bridge.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t mean that,¡± Eran says with a smirk. ¡°The situation in Firsthold was rather more pressing, though. Besides, even if they got away, how much trouble could one person cause?¡± He pauses. ¡°Don¡¯t answer that.¡±

    We head through the college grounds, eavesdropping at the not-particularly-quiet discussions going on around us. If they can even be called discussions. The students are all Bosmer and Khajiit, and they¡¯re all being berated by the Altmer teachers about how worthless they are. At this point, I just have to sigh.

    ¡°This all seems so counterproductive,¡± Eran mutters. ¡°What I don¡¯t get is why these Bosmer and Khajiit are putting up with this?¡±

    ¡°Because they might get thrown in the cave otherwise,¡± I say. ¡°Whatever this cave is.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to think Altmer are better than this,¡± Eran says. ¡°Better than simply being bullies. Isn¡¯t this sort of behavior beneath us?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to tell these ¡®teachers¡¯ that if you like,¡± I say. ¡°Though I doubt it will get you anywhere.¡±

    As we approach, one mer in armor tells us, ¡°Sorry, we¡¯re not hiring new teachers right now.¡±

    Eran scowls. ¡°Well, maybe you should be.¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°We work for the Queen herself and she has sent us to conduct an inspection of this facility.¡± I hand him my paperwork.

    ¡°And so far, we don¡¯t like what we¡¯ve seen,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°Ah. Well. I am Tanion, the headmaster of this facility,¡± he says, raising an eyebrow at my document as he reads it over, then passes it back to me. ¡°Are our instructors not being strict enough? The lesser races are so difficult to keep in line sometimes, but we will whip them into a shape suitable for the Thalmor, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not setting a particularly good example for those lesser races here, from what we¡¯ve seen,¡± Eran says. ¡°I mean, look. I believe in Altmer superiority as much as the next mer, but we can¡¯t be behaving like this. We need to hold ourselves to higher standards as well. We can¡¯t be calling people worthless to their faces if we expect to turn them into soldiers.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Tanion says evenly. ¡°Well, I will certainly take the advice of the Queen¡¯s inspectors under consideration. Why don¡¯t you tour the facility some more, sit in one some classes, and test our combat trainers? You will see that everything is above board here. Yes, we are strict, but we will get results without coddling people simply because they have fur or are short.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be certain to take a thorough look around, Headmaster,¡± I say smoothly.

    Eran takes on an increasingly sour expression as we explore the facility. A group of wood elves are being forced to repeat that they renounce the Green Pact (whatever that is) and that they acknowledge the Altmer as their betters. A terrified Khajiit is being ordered to tuck in her tail. She¡¯s a brown-furred Khajiit with red hair who reminds me of a female version of Razum-dar.

    ¡°This is painfully embarrassing to watch,¡± Eran hisses to me. ¡°Why is any of this necessary?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here, Eran,¡± I say.

    ¡°Why, because I needed to see this?¡±

    ¡°No, because if I weren¡¯t listening to you freak out about this, I might have started hitting people by now and we¡¯re not done investigating yet. Oh, hey, look what I found.¡± I hold up a book with the words Aranias¡¯ Diary stamped on the front, and flip through it. ¡°Very interesting! It seems our dear Headmaster Tanion works for the late High Kinlady Estre. He probably doesn¡¯t know she¡¯s dead yet.¡± I continue reading. ¡°They went to Quendeluun? Did you see them there?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Eran says. ¡°Maybe. I didn¡¯t exactly ask the name of everyone involved there. Although it does ring a bell, now that you mention it, but I think you¡¯re pronouncing it wrong.¡±

    ¡°Probably. Well, either they¡¯re dead along with everyone else there, or they went to Greenshade like they were hoping.¡± I toss the book in my pack. ¡°Either way, they¡¯re not here and for some reason left their highly incriminating diary behind.¡±

    ¡°If they went to Quendeluun, they were probably already long gone before we came by here the first time,¡± Eran says.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    We head back to Tanion for a little chat. (He probably wants us to go spar with the sparring people, but I don¡¯t care and he¡¯s probably not actually checking anyway.)

    ¡°So, how is your inspection going?¡± Tanion asks.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve been finding some interesting things already,¡± I say. ¡°By the way, my condolences on the death of High Kinlady Estre.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± Tanion is taken aback.

    ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate that she choose to throw in her lot with the Daedra,¡± I say. ¡°Can you believe it? A kinlady of her stature turning out to be a Daedra worshipper! The scandal!¡±

    ¡°That¡ªthat¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Tanion sputters.

    ¡°I could hardly believe it myself,¡± I say gravely. ¡°Fortunately for you, we have detected no signs of Daedra worship here so far, although as you might imagine, we will deal with it harshly should we discover it.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course!¡± Tanion says quickly. ¡°We won¡¯t tolerate that sort of blasphemy here!¡±

    We move on and once we¡¯re out of earshot, Eran snickers. ¡°Did you see the look on his face? The Veiled Queen got caught trafficking with Daedra! Reverse harder!¡±

    I politely refrain from pointing out that Eran did exactly the same thing. Baham is coming up to us anyway, apparently wanting to show us some more bad stuff. Students have been injured in training, and not just in accidents. Not just in things they¡¯re even pretending were accidents. Since we¡¯re inspecting the place anyway, she sends us to collect and distribute medical supplies.

    The Khajiit named Nurad panics when he sees us come inside one of the dorms, begging us not to hurt him and pleading that he doesn¡¯t know where these supplies came from.

    ¡°We¡¯re not here to hurt you,¡± I say. ¡°Baham sent us.¡±

    ¡°Altmer?¡± Nurad says. ¡°How does this one know you were not sent by Tanion?¡±

    I pull out my paperwork and show it to him. ¡°Nope. We¡¯re working for Queen Ayrenn. We¡¯ve already found evidence that Tanion is connected to a treasonous group involved with multiple attacks on civilians.¡±

    Nurad¡¯s eyes go wide and he takes on an expression as if Mara herself has descended from Aetherius to answer his prayers. Then he finishes reading the paperwork. ¡°This says you may at your discretion confiscate any delicious moon sugar biscuits you find?¡±

    ¡°I developed a taste for moon sugar while on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost,¡± I say. ¡°I needed to pad out the word count and didn¡¯t think Tanion would actually read that far.¡±

    ¡°This explains so much,¡± Eran mutters.

    ¡°Sadly, Nurad must disappoint you. We have no delicious moon sugar biscuits here, alas.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± I say.

    ¡°The Baandari trader may be able to help you, though,¡± Nurad says, lowering his voice.

    ¡°We¡¯re working, Neri,¡± Eran says with a groan. ¡°He¡¯ll still be there later.¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°Baham wanted us to help pass out bandages,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯ll throw in some of my own healing potions as well, though I¡¯m not very good at alchemy. I think I¡¯ve got some plants I can use to make more potions if I can find some equipment, too.¡±

    ¡°Nurad does not believe there is any here, but he is grateful for the offer. The Baandari camp would be your best bet for that, if they have any.¡±

    I shove the bandages in my pack and bid Nurad good day. As we step outside, two of the instructors are berating the red-haired Khajiit, Ilara, again and declaring that they will take her to the cave.

    ¡°Hold a moment,¡± I say, stepping forward and putting on my best Hortator face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re coming to this worthless cat¡¯s defense,¡± the man says.

    ¡°You misunderstand,¡± I say, showing him the paperwork I haven¡¯t put away yet. ¡°I am Inspector Neralion, here under orders from the Queen. I need to take this Khajiit for questioning.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± His eyes light up at the Queen¡¯s seal. ¡°Of course, of course! You are more than welcome to make use of our equipment if needed as well.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind if this does not go smoothly. Ilara! Follow me.¡±

    Meekly, the Khajiit pads after me into a nearby building. ¡°Ilara will tell you anything, just don¡¯t hurt her, please!¡±

    ¡°Calm down, Ilara,¡± I say, putting my document away. ¡°My first question is¡­ are you alright?¡±

    Ilara looks up at me with a dumbstruck expression. ¡°Ilara¡­ has been better, but¡­ You do not intend to hurt her?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not,¡± I say. ¡°And you can bet your money on some Altmer dying before the day is done. Eran, would you stay here with her while I distribute the medical supplies? Just in case they¡¯re still watching.¡±

    ¡°Not ready to start killing people yet?¡± Eran asks with a smirk.

    ¡°Not in the middle of the school,¡± I say. ¡°The students might get hurt. No, once I¡¯m done with tending to the injured, I think I need to inspect this cave people keep talking about.¡±

    ¡°By yourself?¡±

    I snort softly. ¡°If you¡¯d like to come along, I¡¯ll come get you before I go.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate you trying to keep me away from having to fight other Altmer,¡± Eran says. ¡°But you need not worry. I can handle killing people and not just Daedra. These bastards sound like they have it coming, anyhow.¡±

    I nod, and head out to visit the other buildings, and quickly realize these people don¡¯t need bandages, they need actual healing. I leave them the bandages but I also pass out my entire supply of shitty healing potions, too. I expend all my magicka on Restoring Light for the worst of them.

    Baham finds me when I¡¯m done with that. ¡°Ilara tells me you saved her from the cave. Thank you for that. Your friend Eran tells me that you plan to pay that cave a visit.¡±

    I grin widely. ¡°Yes. And I have a plan. Keep your people safe, Baham. Or the ones who are in a condition to fight might want to find some weapons. Things are about to get¡­ spicy.¡±

    I collect Eran and head off to locate Tanion again, who is looking rather sour at the moment.

    ¡°I trust you didn¡¯t find any signs of Daedra worship in the student dorms, either?¡± Tanion says. ¡°I heard you intercepted a Khajiit who was destined for the cave.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, the cave,¡± I drawl. ¡°I think it¡¯s about time you gave me a little tour of this cave, hmm? Caves are often prime centers of Daedra worship and foul rituals. Where is this cave? I believe I need to inspect it next.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, of course,¡± Tanion says in a pleasant voice with a murderous undertone.

    Before we go, he informs a couple of the other teachers (the ones who were just pushing Ilara around) where we¡¯re going, and leads Eran and I off down a worn path toward the beach. He moves in no particular hurry, making noises about how awful Daedra are and so forth and assuring me once again everything is on the up-and-up here.

    The cave is naturally full of overly aggressive giant spiders and bats, Auridon¡¯s favorite cave-dwelling vermin. Pure fun for an armed warrior, but if they¡¯re sending students in here unarmed, well, I doubt they¡¯re giving them training for hand-to-hand combat against giant spiders. The cave is also full of vibrant plants, and I¡¯m always amazed at how lush and green even the caves in Auridon are.

    Also naturally, the two teachers brought in some racist bandits to ambush us, apparently thinking that just because there are two of us and six of them, that that means we¡¯re outnumbered.

    ¡°Bad move, Tanion,¡± I say. ¡°You could have walked away from this with your life. Even if you somehow managed to kill us, do you seriously think that the Queen would ignore the loss of her agents?¡±

    ¡°Ayrenn is a false Queen!¡± Tanion exclaims. ¡°You lied about Estre. The Veiled Queen will lead us to glor-aaaaAAAAH!!¡±

    That¡¯s the point where I remove his arm. Never monologue, kids. It will distract you from lunatics wielding battle axes.

    ¡°In the name of Queen Ayrenn, I hereby proclaim you too dumb to live,¡± I announce, and decapitate him.

    We finish off the rest of them and head back out after thoroughly inspecting the cave. There¡¯s no Daedric paraphernalia in there, by the way. Not that it really matters at this point. But we had to make sure no one else was still in there, either friend or foe.

    Once we return to the college campus proper, we discover that the students have led a revolution while we were gone. As it turns out, training people to fight and making them angry enough to kill you is not necessarily good for your survival rate. They¡¯d been terrified and beaten down before, but a bit of healing has gotten them back in good enough shape to fight back.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Baham exclaims when she sees us. ¡°Good to see you¡¯re alright. I noticed Piromir and Malangwe slip away and hoped they wouldn¡¯t prove too much for you.¡±

    ¡°Her name was Malangwe?¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s not a name, that¡¯s a choking sound. Which also happens to be the last sound she made. No, they didn¡¯t give us any trouble. Nor the three Veiled Heritance members they brought in to back them up, either. What¡¯s the situation here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve retaken the school,¡± Baham says. ¡°We took some injuries, but we caught them by surprise and you successfully lured out their leadership and probably the most competent of them.¡±

    ¡°Whichever of your classmates is fit to travel will need to get a message to Firsthold,¡± I say. ¡°We can escort them as far as North Beacon but we¡¯ve got business there and somebody to find and murder who may or may not be there.¡±

    ¡°You really need to word these things better, Neri,¡± Eran says.

    I clear my throat. ¡°Does it help if I say ¡®a traitor to execute¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Eran and Baham say in unison.

 Chapter 37: In Which I Relax on the Beach With Friends

    With the actual work taken care of, I decide to check out the Baandari traders (I guess those are Khajiit) and see if they¡¯ve got moon sugar biscuits or alchemy equipment I can use. I need to restock my supply of shitty healing potions. Maybe even manage to make some that are less shitty.

    All the Khajiit at the trading camp are dead. It appears that one Zaban had been trying to send word to Razum-dar to send help as he¡¯d determined Tanion was secretly a racist bandit (as opposed to being not-secretly just a racist).

    ¡°Looks the Veiled Heritance got here before we went to the cave,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I say, then start rifling through their goods.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Looting, what does it look like?¡± I reply. ¡°You want to help me look for anything we might need? The students can have the rest.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s cold, Neri,¡± Eran says. ¡°Some of the students might have been friendly with them.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you think I should give them first pick?¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s only fair.¡± I pause, then frown. ¡°Oh, wait, right, you mean grief.¡± I put my face in my hand. ¡°Eran, you should know that for a lot of my existence, death has meant basically nothing. If your buddy died, all you could do was go through their things and wait for them to respawn, and you could never tell how long that would take or where they might re-emerge from the waters of Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not in Oblivion now, though,¡± Eran says, his voice softening a bit.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°When people die here, they theoretically go somewhere better. So it¡¯s¡­ still hard to think much of it?¡±

    Eran looks away, shaking his head. ¡°I guess I can¡¯t really blame you for that perspective. You did literally go through hell. We should really just tell the students, though.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± I pause thoughtfully, looking back toward the bodies. ¡°I was just thinking that it¡¯s too bad we already killed the ones responsible for this, but did we really? I¡¯ll bet you there¡¯s more racist bandits lurking about than just the handful of goons Tanion brought in to ambush us with on short notice.¡±

    ¡°It does seem like there¡¯s no end to them,¡± Eran agrees.

    We return to the campus proper and inform the students of the traders¡¯ death. They are, unsurprisingly, upset and angry about it, particularly after learning that the traders were trying to help them, not just profit from their suffering. Some of the strudents go off to bury the corpses and collect the goods. Practicality always wins out over simply letting food supplies rot in the sun.

    We don¡¯t find any alchemy equipment, so I heal the injured students one by one over the remainder of the day as my magicka replenishes itself. Fortunately, none of them died.

    The next morning, we head out with Ilara, taking the road to the north to circle around toward Firsthold by a more direct route (we¡¯d come in from the south the last time). As we near the beach, I hold up a hand to usher in quiet, and whisper that I hear something. I creep forward to peer over a large boulder. Down on the beach, a large number of racist bandits have gathered.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I whisper. ¡°The Veiled Heritance are here.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s them?¡± Ilara hisses.

    ¡°Positive,¡± I reply.

    ¡°Can we take them?¡± Eran asks softly, looking out at them beside me.

    I shake my head. ¡°No, I think we ought to get backup for this one. Their leader there¡­ he makes my skin prickle for some reason. I get the feeling he¡¯s a lot tougher than he looks. Ilara, that message to Firsthold will need to wait for a bit.¡±

    We return to the college to prepare a strike team.

    ¡°Baham, I think we¡¯ve found the Heritance¡¯s main camp in the area,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re out on the beach not far from the cave.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of them¡­¡± Ilara says quietly.

    ¡°We can¡¯t let them stay there,¡± Baham says. ¡°The college is vulnerable right now. I¡¯ll get the students equipped and organized. We¡¯ll take these bastards by surprise and remove them from our shore.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    We meet back up on the road leading north in half an hour, with several students equipped with bows and swords, and return to the bluff overlooking the camp. A group of of wood elves sneak around to flank them by one side as Khajiit archers array themselves behind the boulders at the top of the bluff. Eran and I go to meet them head on, although by the time we get there, the wood elves have already stealthily killed several of them near the edge of camp. The archers pepper the rest of the beach, leaving us with their commander.

    The commander seems to have some sort of enchantments or magical armor protecting him, deflecting most of the blows we try to land upon him. It takes a concentrated effort to get through, but eventually he drops.

    Once he¡¯s down, one of the Khajiit runs up and viciously stabs the body several more times. ¡°That¡¯s for Zaban, you shave-skin!¡±

    I don¡¯t feel it necessary to point out that this particular shave-skin may or may not have been directly responsible for the Baandari traders¡¯ deaths. It was probably Tanion who ordered their deaths. But given that Tanion is already dead and this lot had to have been working with him, that¡¯s close enough.

    We don¡¯t have many injured this time, so I go up and heal Nurad, whose fur is soaked with fresh blood who looks like he¡¯s the worst off at the moment.

    ¡°Nurad thanks you,¡± he says. ¡°But why not heal yourself, Neri?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, then look down to notice I¡¯m also bleeding profusely. ¡°Oh¡­ right, pain.¡± I sit down heavily in the sand.

    ¡°Nurad will get you a bandage so you don¡¯t bleed out before you get your magicka back.¡±

    I don¡¯t have the heart to tell him not to bother. I don¡¯t really feel like explaining to these people that I don¡¯t exactly die like normal people unless I have to. Normal as in people who have never died, had their souls bound to Oblivion, and then had Skyshards shoved into them. I just sit in the sand, a bit woozy as the Khajiit patches me up.

    ¡°Sorry my shield wasn¡¯t there fast enough this time,¡± Eran says to me.

    The students go through the racist bandits¡¯ supplies in the meantime, helping themselves to their provisions and searching for incriminating correspondence. It turns out their leader was a high-ranking Veiled Heritance member named Anurame. No, Aruname. Aranume. (I diligently copy this down this time.) Anarume. Fucking high elf names, anyway.

    ¡°So, this is what the Thalmor really do, isn¡¯t it?¡± Baham says. ¡°Keep the Dominion safe from bad people? Even if those bad people are high elves.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say, assuming so at least.

    ¡°We really can do this,¡± Baham says softly. ¡°We avenged the traders¡¯ deaths and made this part of the island a lot safer.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ever let anyone tell you you¡¯re worthless,¡± I say in my best inspiring voice. ¡°Excuse me, I think I need to be taking a nap now.¡±

    I flop down in the sand and pass out.

    ¡­

    I wake to having my face slapped. Also for some reason I¡¯m soaked but the water isn¡¯t even cold.

    ¡°Wake up and heal yourself, you idiot,¡± Eran says, slapping my face again.

    I groan softly. ¡°Dying might be a quicker way to heal myself¡­¡± I mumble.

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Eran rolls his eyes, then slaps me again.

    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I mutter, and call on the light of Blinky or whatever to heal myself, although I don¡¯t even remember being injured. ¡°There, happy? Can I go back to my nap now?¡±

    ¡°By all means,¡± Eran says graciously.

    I close my eyes again.

    ¡­

    I wake again to the smell of food. It seems in the meantime the students have hauled away most of the useful supplies, disposed of the bodies of the racist bandits, and started up some sort of event involving food and music. Someone found a lute and is playing what I assume to be some sort of haunting Khajiiti funerary dirge. Either that or it¡¯s Tamriel¡¯s worst drinking song.

    Mourning and celebrating at the same time. Is that what Khajiit do? Or just what this group felt was appropriate for the current circumstances? I don¡¯t know. So I ask. And we spend the evening discussing the funerary customs of the different peoples. I graciously let Eran fill in the Altmer perspective because I haven¡¯t the faintest idea aside from their ghosts being occasionally pissy.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet, Neri,¡± Ilara says timidly.

    ¡°Eran can probably tell you more than me about Altmer customs,¡± I mumble.

    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Because you¡¯re not from the Summerset Isles?¡±

    I look up at her. ¡°How can you tell?¡±

    Ilara¡¯s whiskers twitch in amusement. ¡°Ilara knows what the voices of Altmer sound like, even when they are not sneering. You speak with a different accent, yes? Where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± I ask.

    Ilara shrugs. ¡°It is not so pronounced as how a Bosmer or Khajiit would speak differently from an Altmer, but it definitely has a different quality to it.¡±

    ¡°I might have to work on that,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°Fine, you got me. I¡¯m from Morrowind. I haven¡¯t been back there since long before the Ebonheart Pact was formed, though.¡±

    A half-truth wrapped in a truth. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s got to be enough foreign-born Altmer that this is unusual but not particularly astounding.

    ¡°Ah! Yes, that makes sense. Perhaps you could share some of the Dunmer traditions, then? They may be our enemies currently but maybe not forever, and it is always good to learn about other people, yes?¡±

    I have no idea how my descendants might have changed their traditions when they changed from Chimer to Dunmer, when they took to worshipping my stupid friends instead of their old gods. They might have changed nothing or everything, so far as I know.

    ¡°Not much to tell,¡± I say. ¡°They honor their ancestors, which is a worthy tradition, but I can¡¯t say I approve of worshipping three mer who decided to pretend to be gods.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, the¡­ Triad, was it?¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Tribunal,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s kind of disgusting.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I suppose it beats worshipping the Bad Daedra, though. No good ever comes of the House of Troubles. I just don¡¯t really trust the Tribunal, you know? They weren¡¯t born gods. They¡¯re just powerful mages playing at godhood to people who don¡¯t know better.¡±

    ¡°Best to keep faith in the Eight Divines instead, yes,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 38: In Which I Meet an Orc and Blow Things Up

    Come morning, Eran, Ilara and I are on the road for Firsthold again, wondering if that¡¯s the last of the racist bandits in the area aside from the one I¡¯m trying to find and kill. Hopefully they¡¯re still where the note I got quite some time ago about their last known location. I decide to head up along the beach rather than down the main road in order to scout out the area and make sure no one else is hiding around here.

    Turns out my instinct on that was good. We run across an Altmer woman hiding underneath a rock outcropping. When she spots us, she declares her love for concealing facial accessories and proceeds to attempt to electrocute us. The three of us are able to take her out, although not without being zapped a few times.

    ¡°Ilara hopes this is the last of these Veiled Heritance she has to deal with,¡± the Khajiit spits.

    ¡°There¡¯s probably still more of them,¡± I say lightly. ¡°I haven¡¯t had time yet to overturn every rock on Auridon. But this is the last of the officers I was given the names of. Well, assuming this one¡¯s name was ¡®Calanyese¡¯ or however you say that. Let¡¯s head back for the main road.¡±

    We head up the slope by a waterfall and pass a small ruin full of workbenches that have an odd magical feel to them. Wonder what¡¯s up with that.

    A book sits on a stool at a fishing spot. An anonymous journal by a mer who wound up joining the Veiled Heritance after an unfortunate series of circumstances. No idea how it got out here, unless it belonged to the one we¡¯d just killed. Still, I don¡¯t have much sympathy.

    We make it back to the road next to a bridge, where an injured high elf woman in filthy scout¡¯s garb is leaning against a rock. A couple of corpses lay before her, in unfamiliar armor. They look human. I go up and give the Altmer a touch of healing.

    ¡°Stars bless you, traveler,¡± the woman says.

    She introduces herself as a long name starting with E. I¡¯m going to call her ¡®Endy¡¯. According to her, they¡¯d been bringing an orc defector from the Daggerfall Covenant back to Auridon, but the Daggers followed them back and are now attacking North Beacon.

    ¡°Damn, I wondered what that ship I saw out in the water was,¡± I say. ¡°Ilara, you should run ahead to Firsthold.¡±

    Ilara pauses. ¡°Ilara thinks she might be able to help here. If you¡¯ll let her.¡±

    ¡°We can probably handle the combat so long as we don¡¯t get overwhelmed,¡± I say.

    ¡°The combat, certainly,¡± Ilara says hesitantly. ¡°But you are two big Altmer stomping around making a lot of noise. What if you need arrows and sneakiness too?¡±

    Endy climbs to her feet. ¡°With your healing, I think I can make it to Firsthold in good time, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m up for fighting again unless I really have to. Your Khajiit friend here looks to be in good shape still.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say. ¡°Ilara, hand her the letter from the College and then we¡¯re heading in.¡±

    The Daggerfall contingent appears to be primarily comprised of small, pale humans I assume are Bretons and slightly taller, dark-skinned humans that are probably Redguards. (While I¡¯ve seen a few humans about, particularly in the Fighters and Mages Guilds, I haven¡¯t felt it particularly important to pry into their genealogy.)

    Ilara keeps behind us and covers us with her bow as we make our way into the town. (Or fortress, or whatever it¡¯s supposed to be.) She hisses to get our attention as we come inside the main walls.

    ¡°There is an Altmer hiding behind those trees,¡± Ilara whispers. ¡°No, do not look that way. Tsss! Ilara thinks he wishes to avoid attention, yes?¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯d draw attention right toward him if the three of us noisily stomped up to his hiding spot,¡± I say. ¡°Good eye, Ilara. Can you sneak in there and see if he¡¯s alright while we noisily stomp over in this direction?¡±

    Ilara nods, and slips over toward the rocks while we provide a distraction.

    ¡°I hope we don¡¯t bring down the attention of the entire damned battalion,¡± Eran mutters.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure we can kill them all if they obligingly come at us two or three at a time,¡± I say lightly.

    Ilara returns to us momentarily, and we slip inside a nearby building to talk without distractions. ¡°His name is Arfanel. He noticed you and knows you by reputation, apparently. It would seem you have made quite the name for yourself, Neri.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully in a good way,¡± I say.

    ¡°He told Ilara some of his people were trapped behind enemy lines and¡­ wanted her to steal some uniforms and distribute to them to help them escape,¡± Ilara says slowly. ¡°Do you think Ilara can do it? There are so many Covenant soldiers about and Ilara was never good at tucking her tail in.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tuck your tail in, Ilara,¡± I say. ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything bad to you, did he?¡±

    Ilara shakes her head. ¡°No. No, he was fine. Just¡­ sometimes when Ilara talks to Altmer she can¡¯t help but hear the¡­ the voices of the teachers. Those awful teachers. The nightmares might stop eventually, but Ilara does not wish to be like them. Ilara does not wish to hate people just because of what they are.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°I have faith in you, Ilara,¡± I say. ¡°You can do this. You¡¯re a sleek Khajiit, light on your paws and quick as a shadow. You can slip in and find their hiding spots without us drawing attention to them.¡±

    ¡°Ilara can do this,¡± she tells herself insistently, then starts searching the building. ¡°Yes. Here are some uniforms, too. Ilara will gather them up and find our missing people.¡±

    We split up, and Eran and I head for the ship to find this orc defector. We find her in the hold, tied up but still wearing armor made of some weird greenish material. Her name is a mouthful of consonants starting with L, so I¡¯m going to call her Lakh, which is preferable to dislodging my larynx trying to say her full name. Orcs seem to be almost as bad as Dwemer about that.

    ¡°Lakh?¡± she says with a smirk. ¡°Getting awfully familiar with me, are you? Or are orc names just too much for you to handle?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally, Lakhazga,¡± Eran says. ¡°Neri¡¯s just bad with names in general. He can¡¯t say Altmer names properly either. You know how many times he messed up my name before finally figuring out that it¡¯s ¡®Eranamo¡¯?¡±

    Lakh snickers softly. ¡°Well enough.¡±

    She tells us about her husband, Moroth, who was an advisor to some orc king whose name I don¡¯t catch and is the one the Covenant are really after here, not a line soldier like her. Which segues neatly into her explaining that we need to go blow some shit up good.

    ¡°Yes! I love blowing shit up,¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Eran deadpans. ¡°They¡¯ll all be looking at us, and at least not at our Khajiit friend sneaking about.¡±

    The shore is peppered with several siege engines poised to start bombarding the lighthouse. That shortly becomes several flaming piles of sticks poised to be bonfires for a short while. You¡¯d think with how common fire salts are, people would make the slightest attempt at making things fireproof. Lakh is eager to fight, and between her warhammer, my battle axe, and Eran¡¯s sword, we wind up making a number of humans regret their decision to enlist in the Covenant military. (Although they¡¯ll mostly be doing their regretting from wherever it is Bretons and Redguards go when they die.)

    Once the trebuchets are all burning, Lakh directs us toward the barracks where the Covenant leader probably is. Eerily, there is no one else inside the large building at the moment. I guess they must all be outside. The only one inside is the commander (whose name is Bernardine, not that this is ever going to matter) and he¡¯s in an office with a desk covered in maps and a fancy bed. I¡¯d give a blow by blow of the fight, but the outcome is probably obvious.

    I jump off the a second story balcony in the barracks, Lakh looking on in alarm and Eran in exasperation. Both of them do the boring, slow thing and just go back down around the stairs.

    ¡°Balconies aren¡¯t just there to jump off of, Neri,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    ¡°What else is the point of them?¡± I spot Ilara waving to us from the nearby gate. ¡°Ah, good, looks like Ilara¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°You made bright fires and big noises!¡± Ilara exclaims when we catch up to her. ¡°They were all looking in every direction but at Ilara.¡±

    ¡°Did you find all the missing soldiers?¡± I ask.

    Ilara nods. ¡°And she got to set fire to a building, too!¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± I say. ¡°Sleek work there. I didn¡¯t even spot you sneaking about myself. You ever dreamed of being ¡®Ilara-daro¡¯?¡± I grin.

    Ilara¡¯s eyes widen at me. ¡°You think she could be?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I think I see the First Auridon Marines up on the bluff ahead.¡±

    The marines are holding the next (wooden) bridge leading up to the lighthouse, which is perched precariously high atop a huge rock formation jutting out into the air over the shore. I¡¯m not jumping off of this one.

    Ilara goes up to the scout she¡¯d spoken to before and a wood elf woman with hair so red it¡¯s almost magenta, and reports in about her success.

    ¡°Well done,¡± the scout says. ¡°Keep up the work like that and you might have a future in the Eyes of the Queen ahead of you.¡±

    ¡°Neri made a good pick in bringing you,¡± says the red-haired wood elf, smirking in my direction. ¡°For all Raz has crowed about how effective he is, he¡¯s not very good at subtlety.¡±

    Ilara is swaying under the praise.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve met,¡± I say.

    ¡°Cariel. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll meet again. Although I¡¯m more likely to notice you before you notice me.¡±

    ¡°Fair,¡± I say.

    Inside the lighthouse, an orc man with a smooth head and a massive beard is waiting. His eyes light up when he sees Lakh, and they embrace and say some very sweet things to one another that I pretend not to hear.

    I clear my throat after a minute. ¡°We¡¯re happy to have been able to help.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you could help,¡± Moroth says. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d have done without my Lakh.¡±

    ¡°Roaring rampage of revenge?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Yes, probably that,¡± Moroth says with a faint curl of a lip.

    ¡°Why did you decide to defect to the Dominion, Morothmash?¡± Eran asks.

    I¡¯m glad at least one of us here is good at names.

    Moroth gives a grim description of how the orcs are treated by the humans of the Daggerfall Covenant. It sounds like the orcs were bribed with land in order to support their war, as the orcs had been ancient enemies with the Bretons and Redguards.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard good things about your Queen Ayrenn, though,¡± Moroth goes on. ¡°Tales of her good heart and strong arm have reached even Orsinium.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Ayrenn is awesome,¡± I say. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t have treated the orcs that way. She¡¯s embraced and welcomed the Bosmer and Khajiit with open arms.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone agreed with her decision,¡± Eran says. ¡°But the faction who disagreed most vehemently turned out to be led by a Daedra-worshipping bitch who is now dead, so there¡¯s that.¡±

    ¡°She probably didn¡¯t expect us to have the balls to follow her into the fucking Deadlands just to kick her ass,¡± I say.

    Moroth laughs heartily. ¡°You¡¯ll have to tell me the rest of that war story sometime.¡±

    Another marine comes in and cordially welcomes the two orcs, and opens a portal to Skywatch for them.

    Eran looks to me. ¡°Should we take the portal and save ourselves the walk back south?¡±

    ¡°Nah, there¡¯s still things in the north half of the island I want to poke into,¡± I say. ¡°There was this place the Undaunted mentioned to me¡­¡±

    Eran groans. ¡°Trinimac preserve us.¡±

    ¡°And I bet there¡¯s an amazing view from the top of this.¡± I head for the top of the lighthouse.

    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re not planning on jumping off the cliff,¡± Eran says, following me up.

    ¡°No, no, you can relax.¡± I smirk.

    At the top of the lighthouse, sitting right next to its beacon, a Skyshard gleams in a vivid blue shaft. That had to have taken some good aim to hit the top of the lighthouse like that. I absorb it, and then absorb the view, which would probably have been a much better view had it not suddenly decided to start raining.

    ¡°What¡¯s up with you and these crystals, anyway?¡± Eran asks, poking it.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say. ¡°I touch them, glowy stuff goes into me, and then I turn it into spears and healing. I haven¡¯t exactly had time to sit down with a mage and figure it out. Or at least a mage I felt like telling about some of the weirder bits. I met one on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost who was going to work with me on that but I don¡¯t know where he wound up. Maybe he went to Elden Root. I¡¯ll have to ask, I guess.¡±

 Chapter 39: In Which a Bastard is Sorry

    ¡°I¡¯m going to regret coming along on this, aren¡¯t I,¡± Eran mumbles.

    ¡°Nah,¡± I say, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun!¡±

    ¡°Your idea of ¡®fun¡¯ involves copious amounts of fire and sharp objects,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Very true!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Oh, hey, look, there¡¯s someone by the road.¡±

    Along the side of the road, a Khajiit and an Argonian are arguing loudly over a campfire (unlit). From the sounds of it, they¡¯re having difficulty getting it lit. Clearly, neither of them is an expert in survival skills nor a novice at minor spells. I do the courteous thing and go up and light their fire for them.

    ¡°There, see?¡± I say aside to Eran as we move on. ¡°The ¡®fire¡¯ part of that has been covered already.¡±

    Eran smirks. ¡°That was totally not what I meant and you know it.¡±

    At the end of the road, an Altmer woman wearing a red dress stands at the near side of a crumbling stone bridge, calling out a name. We approach and ask her if there¡¯s a problem. She introduces herself as Elanwe and explains that her son, Sorondil (who I am going to call Sorry because he sounds like he¡¯s going to be) has gone into the ruins looking for treasure or something. We agree to head in and look for him and make sure he¡¯s okay.

    We head into the ruins past some unusually passive skeletons who don¡¯t even move as we go by. And then we come upon a guy who is yelling something about his birthright and waving magic around, and a voice from nowhere calls him a bastard and the skeletons promptly start looking a lot more murderous.

    ¡°Well, that looks like it could have gone better,¡± I say. ¡°But did he really need to call you a bastard for it?¡±

    The mer (Sorry, probably) clears his throat. ¡°Well, it was impolite but I am fairly certain that he did mean it in the ¡®illegitimate son¡¯ sort of way. My mother was his mistress, not his wife. But I am still a Rilis by blood, whether he acknowledges me or not!¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say with cheerful apathy. ¡°Are you alright here? It looks like those skeletons have just turned fun! Want me to go hit them for you until they stop being fun?¡±

    Sorry gives me a strange look as I go knock one apart.

    Eran sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He¡¯s completely insane. Your mother mentioned you were looking for some sort of treasure here?¡±

    He starts ranting again something about how his mother doesn¡¯t believe in him until I stop hitting skeletons for a moment to interrupt him.

    ¡°Hey, Sorry?¡± I say. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t care if your father is Auri-El himself. I¡¯m just here to prove myself Undaunted aside from the fact that they were a little vague on what they wanted me to do aside from the fact that it was in this general vicinity and involved some dead king or something. Am I in the right place?¡±

    Sorry also sighs. ¡°Yes, they were probably referring to the Banished Cells. No, that¡¯s a different part of the ruin from the artifact I seek, but so long as you are here ready to hit things for glory, are you willing to hit things for pay as well? Seeing as you seem intent upon bashing apart all the skeletons here anyway, I¡¯ll give you coin to bash apart the ones between me and the wards I need to lower to claim my birthright.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good!¡± I grin. ¡°Point the way, Sorry!¡±

    ¡°Would you please not call me Sorry?¡± Sorry groans. ¡°My name is Sorondil. ¡®Sor¡¯ if you¡¯re feeling particularly lazy, but only my mother ever called me ¡®Sorry¡¯ and I was only twenty!¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say cheekily.

    ¡°I hate you so much,¡± Sorry says.

    ¡°Want me to hit him for you?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Sorry mutters. ¡°Just¡­ come on, the first ward is over this way. I will just stay behind the two of you.¡±

    We traverse the ruins hitting skeletons, some of which are tougher than others and spew taunts and insults at us (or maybe just at Sorry). Sorry waves his hands at some crystals and makes them stop glowing different colors. That¡¯s when a particular Altmer mage shows up.

    ¡°Neralion?¡± Merormo says. ¡°I should have guessed you¡¯d be involved in this somehow.¡±

    ¡°Merormo!¡± I exclaim. ¡°What are you doing here? To be fair, I had nothing to do with the skeletons becoming pissy. I¡¯m just forcefully making them passive again.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I noticed that when my quiet contemplation at the grave marker on the cape was interrupted with the sound of distant battle.¡±

    ¡°This is really just a tragically violent island,¡± I say. ¡°Did you visit all the graves?¡±

    Merormo nods. ¡°It has been a¡ª¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, who is this mer?¡± Sorry demands. ¡°Is he with you?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, this is Merormo,¡± I say. ¡°Merormo, Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Sorondil,¡± Sorry insists.

    ¡°I am grateful that you have not started calling me Merry,¡± Merormo says.

    I cock my head thoughtfully and grin. ¡°Well! Okay, you¡¯re Merry from now on. You suggested it!¡±

    Sorry and Merry put their faces in their palms.

    Eran clears his throat. ¡°Merormo, was it? My name is Eranamo. A pleasure to meet you. We appear to be acquainted with the same lunatic with a battle axe. Would you like to assist us in recovering a treasure for this young mer, so long as you are here?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m not that young,¡± Sorry mumbles in weak protest.

    ¡°Yes, come join us, Merry!¡± I exclaim. ¡°We¡¯re hitting skeletons and I think we¡¯re about to go inside now that the wards are down. I¡¯ll bet there will be more things to hit down there. There might even be traps!¡±

    ¡°You sound entirely too excited by that prospect,¡± Merry says. ¡°Fine, I will accompany you on this errand.¡±

    The four of us head down into the vault, Sorry bringing up the rear because he¡¯s unarmed and useless, although he insists that once he gets this magic hat he¡¯ll be invincible or something. I am very much doubtful that it works that way, but it might be a pretty powerful magic item. More likely it¡¯s a mildly useful magic item with a powerful legend behind it bolstered by the fame of those who used it.

    There are no traps in the vault. Just incredibly annoying ghosts that stalk us and occasionally send more skeletons at us. Then, we come to a large room with a hole in the ceiling letting a shaft of sunlight fall upon a pedestal. (If I could levitate, I could just go straight out of here!)

    ¡°The helm!¡± Sorry exclaims, rushing across the room. ¡°It¡¯s mine! It¡¯s all mine! I am a Rilis! I am a Rilis! I am a Rilis!¡±

    ¡°I feel like he¡¯s the only one who cares whether he¡¯s a Rilis or not¡­¡± Merry mumbles as we follow after the fool before anymore skeletons show up.

    Sorry grabs the helm in wild glee and shoves it onto his head, then immediately starts writhing in pain. A few more ghosts appear and start calling him a bastard some more, and denounce his ¡®impure¡¯ blood. (Really? His mother looked like an Altmer to me. Or are some high elves so racist even other high elves aren¡¯t good enough for them? Or do the Rilis just marry their sisters or something?)

    My musings on Altmer blood purity are interrupted by Sorry screaming and turning into a werewolf. Sorry growls and charges at Merry, but Eran steps in front of him and knocks him onto his tail with his shield.

    ¡°I knew this artifact sounded bad,¡± Merry says with a sigh, quickly freezing the werewolf in place with a spell while Eran has his attention.

    ¡°He¡¯s kind of an idiot, but do we need to kill him?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°If we got that helm off him again, would he change back?¡± I wonder, approaching the immobile werewolf. ¡°Wait, the helm fused into his body? Shapeshifting magic is guar shit.¡±

    ¡°I believe I may be able to force a reversion to his original form,¡± Merry says. ¡°You are fortunate that a transfiguration expert happened to be available. Were I a more religious person, I might imagine that it was the grace of the Divines that led me to be in the right place at the right time, by setting me on that pilgrimage.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Neralion, Eranamo, I will need the two of you to restrain him while I attempt to work this magic, as I will need to undo the first spell I cast him on him before I can attempt to revert him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d object, but considering the alternative is being forced to kill him, I don¡¯t imagine you can make things worse,¡± I say, then pause. ¡°Just don¡¯t turn either of us into a werewolf, summon Daedra, or collapse the remainder of this ruin on top of our heads. Or some other way I haven¡¯t conceived of immediately to make things worse.¡±

    ¡°I promise I will not make things worse,¡± Merry says in a strained voice.

    Merry releases the werewolf from his spell, and Eran and I proceed to keep his attention while Merry tries to do his work. Sometimes it¡¯s harder to not kill something than it is to kill something. Still, dodging and rolling is fun, and I¡¯m sure Eran is having a blast blocking and bashing with his shield.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can hurry this up, Merormo?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Don¡¯t rush me!¡± Merry says. ¡°This is a very delicate spell!¡±

    The werewolf swipes his claws furiously at Eran¡¯s shield. I sweep the beast¡¯s legs out from under himself and send him sprawling.

    ¡°Almost there¡­¡± Merry says, the glow from his hands intensifying.

    Suddenly, the werewolf¡¯s body shrinks and warps, and when the magic is done, one very puzzled-looking yellow rooster stands in its place. The helm clatters to the floor and rolls away. The cock cocks his head, ruffles his wings, then pecks Eran¡¯s boot.

    ¡°Congratulations, Merry,¡± I say, picking up the helm for safekeeping. ¡°You have, indeed, managed to change him into something other than a werewolf.¡±

    ¡°Just, maybe he¡¯d rather be a mer again rather than poultry,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°I meant to do that,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Really?¡± I say.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Merry insists. ¡°A chicken¡¯s head is too small for that helmet. Anyway, I¡¯ll turn him back into a mer now. You might want to bag the helm so he doesn¡¯t just grab it again if he¡¯s feeling particularly foolish, because if he does I¡¯m just going to leave him as a chicken.¡±

    I shove the helm into my pack, and nod to him. Merry waves his hand, and the chicken expands and returns to his former self.

    Sorry pats his body and looks down at himself. ¡°I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯m me again? Oh, Divines, that was horrible! The pain! Pain and all-consuming rage!¡± He sits down on the ground, clutching his head. ¡°The helm¡­ it was supposed to give me great strength and power. It was supposed to make me into a great warrior. I would have been able to protect my mother, and everyone I cared about.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, you don¡¯t need some crazy old helm to be a great warrior,¡± I say.

    A ghost appears, and says, ¡°So, the bastard lives. He is fortunate that he did not have to pay for his mistake with his life.¡±

    Other ghosts drift through briefly, each of them speaking bits and pieces of bloody tales ending in the deaths of family members at their own hands.

    One last ghost stops before me and says, ¡°Put that back before you leave, lest you be cursed as a thief.¡±

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re even sensible enough to threaten me with curses seeing as that¡¯s about all you¡¯ve got on me since it¡¯s not like your skeletons can stop me. Also I don¡¯t actually want a cursed helmet anyway.¡± I pull out the helm again and say, ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re not going to try to grab this again, are you?¡±

    Sorry refuses to even look in my direction. ¡°Leave it and let¡¯s get out of here. I need to see my mother.¡±

    I put the cursed helm back on the pedestal and bid the ghosts good day as we leave the vault. Outside, the skeletons have pulled themselves back together but are no longer inclined to attack us on sight.

    Sorry¡¯s mother is waiting for us outside, and she runs up to hug him when she sees him. ¡°Oh, my dear boy, are you alright? I was so worried about you.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I think so,¡± Sorry says. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do now, though. I was counting on that relic to make me a mighty warrior, but it¡¯s a cursed thing and makes people into monsters instead.¡±

    ¡°If I might make a suggestion?¡± I put in. ¡°If you want to be a mighty warrior, why not earn it for yourself? In fact, there¡¯s a college just down the road that can teach you to fight.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let me tell you, Neri and I aren¡¯t relying on fancy magic items just to be able to fight,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°The College of Aldmeri Propriety?¡± Sorry¡¯s mom (whatever her name was) says.

    ¡°They recently had some problems due to some staffing irregularities but the students are good folks and I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll start regular classes back up once they bring in some new teachers who aren¡¯t secretly plotting against the crown and also assholes. Long story, I¡¯m sure the kids will tell you all about it if you decide to head there.¡±

    ¡°You really think I can do it?¡± Sorry says. ¡°On my own?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Just whatever you do, don¡¯t be a racist asshole. What in Oblivion were those ghosts on about purity for, anyway?¡±

    ¡°The Rilis were¡­ just a long line of bloodthirsty madmen,¡± Sorry says quietly. ¡°After hearing their stories, I wonder if I ought to be glad I¡¯m a bastard.¡±

    ¡°Can you handle working with Khajiit and Bosmer, though?¡± Eran asks. ¡°There¡¯s going to be a lot of those at the college.¡± He looks at me. ¡°Actually, did any of the Altmer at the college survive?¡±

    ¡°I think we didn¡¯t kill the janitor,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure he wasn¡¯t Veiled Heritance. He could go five words without insulting any non-Altmer within earshot.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t really had a chance to meet a lot of Khajiit and Bosmer,¡± Sorry says. ¡°But I¡¯ll give it a chance.¡±

 Chapter 40: In Which Im Pretty Daunted

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, Merry, that maybe if the wildlife around here were normally more aggressive, people might be less of assholes to one another.¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t see how that follows,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Or at the very least it would give me something to fight other than racist bandits, angry dead people, and the occasional Daedric incursion,¡± I say.

    ¡°Occasional?¡± Eran says. ¡°Those Dark Anchors fall every time we walk by.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the entrance to these Banished Cells or whatever they were, anyway?¡± I wonder. ¡°There¡¯s some stairs leading down over here¡­ and hey, there¡¯s a ghost here! One that¡¯s not attacking me!¡±

    The ghost introduces himself as Lissy (or something) and explains that he dared to criticize the court jester of the previous Lord Rilis and wound up being tortured to death and soultrapped for good measure. He seems shocked that I immediately agree to help, even after realizing that this isn¡¯t the entrance to the Banished Cells.

    The ruin is full of some absolutely delightful fire traps. I stand and watch them hiss-spark-whoosh a couple times until Eran and Merry mistake my fascination with me trying to time jumping over them.

    ¡°Come on, Neri,¡± Eran says, bashing a skeleton to pieces. ¡°Let¡¯s find this soul and get out of here. I¡¯m surprised you were so willing to jump to help this guy.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask, hopping over a fire trap. ¡°We¡¯re here. We¡¯re capable of helping. There¡¯s no reason he should be stuck here for eternity. Let him get to Aetherius and be done with it. I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s nice there.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Admittedly, beating up a clown was not what I¡¯d anticipated doing today, but I can work with this.¡±

    This section of the ruin isn¡¯t large, and in a moment we run across a ghost with a jester hat on his head. Fortunately he¡¯s a very solid ghost, because listening to a fool tell bad jokes without being able to hit him would be just obnoxious. We liberate Lissy¡¯s soul, and return to him.

    The next door we try actually manages to be the correct entrance to the Banished Cells. Around the corner come sounds of fighting from what turns out to be an armored Altmer doing battle with a group of banekin and in something of a stalemate.

    ¡°Do you need help here?¡± I ask from the doorway, although Eran charges in to render aid before he can answer.

    ¡°It would be appreciated,¡± the armored mer yells back.

    Once the banekin are dead, he introduces himself as Keeper Cirion, and explains how Daedra have freed a dead previous Rilis from his prison and scattered his fellow Keepers. He urges us to flee this place and warn Tamriel of the danger.

    ¡°This sounds like it needs immediate attention,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry and his mom haven¡¯t left yet, have they?¡± I ask my companions. ¡°We can have them get a message to Firsthold while we investigate the situation here. If it proves too much for us, we¡¯ll wait for reinforcements, but we should be able to clear a path through the Daedra and rescue the Keepers you mentioned at least.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Sorry?¡± Cirion asks.

    ¡°The, ah, illegitimate son of the guy you have imprisoned here,¡± I say. ¡°Long story and most of it was stupid. We¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Sorry and his mother are camped on the opposite side of the bridge leading into the ruins, having been planning to set out for Firsthold in the morning. They¡¯re both quite alarmed when I explain the situation to them. They agree to set off immediately, and also warn me of how powerful this particular Rilis is and that I shouldn¡¯t try to take him on until reinforcements have arrived.

    We return to the dungeon and start fighting our way in. Even if we can¡¯t take on Rilis ourselves, we can at least make sure whatever reinforcements arrive don¡¯t have as many skeletons to kill. And these skeletons are tougher and more numerous than usual, so we thoroughly scatter their bones after every fight to make sure it takes them longer to put themselves back together.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s your story?¡± Eran asks Merry.

    ¡°I did something stupid and Neri made sure I wasn¡¯t executed for it,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Same here,¡± Eran says. ¡°And now we¡¯re following around a lunatic into insanely dangerous situations.¡±

    ¡°Divines help us both.¡±

    We find the first Keeper trapped behind one particularly nasty specter that takes the three of us quite the concerted effort to kill. Unfortunately, according to Merry, transfiguration is much more difficult to work on undead and Daedra than it is on beings made from living flesh and blood. I reluctantly give Merry permission to summon atronachs to help us in combat if he thinks he can make sure they¡¯re more likely to hurt our enemies than us.

    Once the specter is dead, Cirion catches up to us (possibly having been tailing us as we killed undead) and checks on the other Keeper. They confer with one another on the situation and agree that they will need to trap Rilis in a better prison to keep him contained.

    The next large room is lit by the incredibly disconcerting view of blue clouds and unearthly motes of light, with a corner of the room knocked apart into floating rubble to give a view of a spiky black floating island reminiscent of Coldharbour.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Eran breathes once the latest batch of skeletons are down. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±

    ¡°Not good at all,¡± Merry agrees.

    We press a couple of switches to try to get the gate into the next hallway open. A ghostly voice taunts us, and a black clannfear appears in the middle of the room. So far as clannfears go, this one is incredibly powerful, and it has an ability that lets it summon shadow copies of itself. Eran and Merry are finding the fighting less entertaining than me.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°It really gets your blood pumping, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I say with a wild grin.

    ¡°That was harrowing,¡± Eran says, bending over panting next to the corpse of the clannfear.

    ¡°We should really wait for reinforcements before continuing further,¡± Merry says and he starts slowly healing our injuries.

    I shake my head. ¡°We should be able to make it to next Keeper at least, provided they¡¯re not being held by Rilis himself.¡±

    The two of them reluctantly follow me down the next corridor. In the room at the end, I¡¯m pretty sure one of the Keepers is being held behind another group of dead people. I charge in headlong into battle.

    My vision erupts in flames and every time I manage to roll out of the way of another fire spell, the mages cast more flames on top of me. Arrows rain down upon me, piercing my body.

    ¡­

    I find myself naked next to a wayshrine indoors. I quickly conjure a pair of purple shorts and look around to figure out where I am. I seem to have appeared at a wayshrine just inside the entrance to the dungeon. Conveniently close to where I died; inconveniently nowhere near my closet. Inconveniently, even though my ¡®inventory¡¯ is probably safe, I have no way of accessing it without my pack, either. Strange, though. I don¡¯t remember lighting this wayshrine, or even noticing this wayshrine when we came in.

    This means Eran and Merry are probably dead, though, and my heart sinks. I¡¯d actually started to like those fools, and now I¡¯m likely never going to see them again. Sometimes I forget that this isn¡¯t Coldharbour, where you and your companions can do stupidly risky things secure in the knowledge that you¡¯ll still be in hell when you respawn.

    I¡¯m surprised and relieved when Eran and Merry climb up out of the dungeon.

    ¡°You guys are alive!¡± I exclaim cheerfully.

    ¡°Merormo blocked the corridor with a rock barrier and we ran away after we saw you die,¡± Eran says. ¡°Also? I¡¯m quite sure we saw you die.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, that,¡± I say. ¡°Uh, long story short, but I¡¯m sort of immortal and respawn at a wayshrine when I die.¡±

    Eran and Merry exchange a look. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to inform us of that before you dragged us into an insanely dangerous situation in which we could get killed in?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I know we should be grateful to you for the stay of execution,¡± Merry says. ¡°But perhaps you could have us pay penance in a less insanely dangerous situation? We really need to wait for backup here.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I say with a groan. ¡°Does anyone have any spare pants?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the Keepers have some laundry,¡± Eran says. ¡°But you¡¯re going to unshorten your long story while we wait for reinforcements.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll already be sending reinforcements to retake North Beacon,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long it might take them to get here, too, but I¡¯m sure we can hold the line in the meantime. Why does everything on this island go wrong all at once? Oh, right, it¡¯s probably the Daedra¡¯s fault.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll get here eventually,¡± Eran says. ¡°You can¡¯t do this by yourself and I refuse to go back down there without more backup. Anyway, don¡¯t evade the question. I¡¯d like an explanation.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even dare speculate,¡± Merry mumbles.

    ¡°There we were, feeling bad about your reckless ass getting yourself killed, and it turns out you were fine the whole time, and you knew you¡¯d be fine?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sorry, alright?¡± I say, holding up my hands. ¡°It wasn¡¯t really something I wanted to get out. I¡¯m sure you can understand that, right?¡±

    ¡°I understand why you didn¡¯t trust us,¡± Merry says. ¡°But you still knowingly dragged us into great danger.¡±

    ¡°I got impatient and overconfident,¡± I say. ¡°I haven¡¯t encountered anything on this island that posed a serious challenge aside from what¡¯s-his-name at the racist bandit camp by the school.¡±

    ¡°And you waited for reinforcements for that,¡± Eran points out. ¡°Fine. You were stupid and reckless, like usual. I don¡¯t know why I should be surprised at that and clearly you need someone at your back who has some common fucking sense, or you¡¯d be just throwing yourself in there and dying repeatedly because you¡¯re an idiot, wouldn¡¯t you? Now how about starting with why you didn¡¯t die.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s because I¡¯m dead, sort of,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s complicated and it doesn¡¯t make much sense to me, either. Anyway, as you know, I¡¯m a Chimer¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a Chimer?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Okay, Merry didn¡¯t know that,¡± I say with a chuckle, and go into an explanation of my long-story-short-but-not-too-short. Which eventually leads to Merry figuring out who exactly I am.

    ¡°You¡¯re Indoril Nerevar,¡± Merry says quietly.

    ¡°Well, to be technical, ¡®Indoril¡¯ was my married name,¡± I say. ¡°My birth name was Nerevar Mora. I was a commoner and my wife was noble-born, so I joined her House rather than the other way around. I¡¯m pretty sure ritually sacrificing your husband to a Daedric Prince counts as a divorce under most jurisdictions, though.¡±

    ¡°You are amazingly cheerful about having been ritually sacrificed,¡± Eran says.

    I shrug. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to stay enraged for millennia. In any case, my former friends would probably murder me again if they knew I was out walking around on Nirn, so please keep this to yourselves. Enough people already know about this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly on speaking terms with any false gods,¡± Eran says. ¡°At any rate, I understand. My lips are sealed, ¡®Neralion¡¯.¡±

    ¡°The reaction of a Vestige to Skyshards and wayshrines sounds fascinating,¡± Merry says. ¡°I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say flatly.

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t even finish making my suggestion!¡± Merry protests.

    ¡°I am not letting you experiment with this,¡± I say with a smirk.

    Merry sighs. ¡°Fine, but could I at least make some hypotheses and suggestions?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll listen, as I¡¯m not going anywhere, but I can¡¯t guarantee I¡¯ll understand or want to take you up on them.¡±

    I¡¯d acquired some pants in the meantime, but my real equipment is still down in the dungeon and I won¡¯t be able to reach it without reinforcements.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Merry says. ¡°The issue of winding up naked at the wayshrine after dying¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s somewhat irritating, yes,¡± I say. ¡°Not that I want to sound ungrateful about not-dying or anything.¡±

    ¡°There may be a method to ensure you can take items along with you,¡± Merry says. ¡°Soulbinding. It¡¯s usually used to keep a Daedra or spirit bound to Nirn by attaching them to a soul gem or runestone or similar, like that poor ghost we just freed, but it may be possible to modify the technique to bind an object to you. Needless to say, this sort of thing is utterly useless to normal mortals.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like an absolutely splendid thing to not let you experiment with,¡± I say. ¡°In any case, would that even work? My soul is still in Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Your soul is in Coldharbour, your essence infused with Aetherial energy and linked to wayshrines. There¡¯s no way gluing a pair of pants to you would make you actually stay in the location of the pants when you die somehow.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me if I want to get a second opinion first,¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± Merry says. ¡°I¡¯d like to confer with another mage on the technique as well.¡±

    ¡°Rurelion knows who I am and I was hoping to speak with him about my,¡± I wave a hand, ¡°weirdness.¡±

    ¡°Rurelion?¡± Merry asks. ¡°Hmm, yes, I don¡¯t believe he hates me. Very well. I will confer with him on my speculation and observations when we see him next.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re still wanting to travel with me? I¡¯d thought you¡¯d rather pay your penance in service to the Queen in a less insanely dangerous manner.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, as Eranamo says, you seem to be lacking in the common sense the Divines gave an alit. While it¡¯s hardly your fault that Oblivion rattled your brain¡­¡±

    ¡°You think I need a nanny,¡± I infer.

    ¡°You absolutely need a nanny,¡± Eran says with a smirk.

    ¡°And I am certain that you could also use magical backup,¡± Merry says. ¡°I am, at that, available and in your debt. I would imagine you¡¯d also want to keep an eye on me to make sure I haven¡¯t wandered off and started experimenting with Daedra again.¡±

    ¡°You were doing what?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I know, it was a terrible idea and if Neri hadn¡¯t come along when he did, I would have likely been eaten or executed.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d say you¡¯re right on all accounts there,¡± I say. ¡°Very well. Welcome to the party! I¡¯ll try not to get you killed.¡±

    Merry sighs. ¡°I am brimming with confidence.¡±

 Chapter 41: In Which I Jump Off Cliffs

    Once our reinforcements show up, we head back down into the Banished Cells, with me borrowing an axe off of someone. There¡¯s some faces in this lot familiar from the siege of Firsthold, Lariole and Kira-do of the Fighters Guild among them, who presumably had been promised pay for this. While the rank and file had gone to retake North Beacon, the elites had come here, which fortunately included some mages capable of warding and healing us.

    There¡¯s some epic battles in which I distinguish myself greatly and avoid getting killed stupidly again, and I manage to retrieve my pack and Khenarthi¡¯s Storm in the process. The leather armor I was wearing had taken more damage than my shitty spells were capable of dealing with, so I suppose I¡¯ll need to see an armorer or something. In any case, enough of that, it¡¯s not worth talking about. I mean, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m terribly embarrassed by the entire mess or anything.

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s taken care of,¡± I say confidently. ¡°I¡¯m sure this will never be a problem ever again. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Where are we heading next?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Eh, that way,¡± I point vaguely. ¡°Whatever¡¯s that way.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re doomed,¡± Merry mumbles.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to the aimless wandering and running off after anything that sounds interesting,¡± Eran says. ¡°You know he tried to have us investigate Veiled Heritance connections at the college while we were rushing to Firsthold to stop a Daedric incursion?¡±

    ¡°I missed a Daedric incursion?¡± Merry says. ¡°Oh, thank Mara.¡±

    ¡°There isn¡¯t even a road this way, Neri,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°No, but there¡¯s, what did you call these, water hyacinths?¡± I stop by the water to pick some.

    ¡°Now he¡¯s picking flowers?¡± Merry mutters.

    ¡°They¡¯re for healing potions,¡± Eran says generously.

    ¡°I like the glowing plants, too,¡± I say. ¡°I love the way they hum.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Hopefully listening to their hum doesn¡¯t do anything bad.¡±

    ¡°No, nirnroots are completely harmless,¡± Merry says. ¡°Unless you eat them. Don¡¯t eat them.¡±

    I come to the edge of a waterfall. ¡°Lovely view from up here.¡± Before either of them can protest, I leap off into the pool below.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran yells in annoyance.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright!¡± I call back up. ¡°Although this pool was shallower than I thought¡­ It¡¯s okay, I can heal myself!¡±

    If I could see him right now, I¡¯ll bet Eran is rolling his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re going around, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    As I reach the end of this stretch of river, I come upon a Skyshard perched atop the next fall, and absorb it. Of course, the only way off of this ledge is jumping, too, so I leap down off the waterfall again. Fortunately, the water at the bottom is deeper this time. Oh, hey, this is the lake where we killed the fishing traitor.

    Eran and Merry, looking somewhat irritated, meet back up with me coming down from the stairs leading up to a ruin (probably the one where we killed the Daedra that Estre had left).

    ¡°Will you quit doing that?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d have been fine,¡± I say. ¡°In any case, there was a Skyshard up there I probably couldn¡¯t have gotten short of jumping or sliding down something.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°You don¡¯t suppose those things are addictive, are they?¡±

    ¡°I have only speculation,¡± Merry says. ¡°But it¡¯s doubtful that you¡¯d become addicted in the manner of, say, skooma. Either your body requires a steady influx of them to remain cohesive on Nirn, in which case you should get as many of them as you can, or they simply grant additional power and the effect is purely psychological, in which case getting as many of them as possible to become more powerful is a perfectly reasonable reaction so long as you do not let it overwhelm whatever you have that passes for common sense.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re what he has that passes for common sense,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    We stop in at Dawnbreak for the night. They¡¯ve gotten the dead buried and are starting to rebuild, and they¡¯re quite grateful to hear that Firsthold was saved and Estre is dead. Come morning, we take the road leading west.

    ¡°Greenwater Cove?¡± Eran asks. ¡°What¡¯s there?¡±

    ¡°Dunno!¡± I say brightly. ¡°Maybe Skyshards, or rare books, or things to hit!¡±

    I¡¯ve also found several other books in various places I didn¡¯t feel like specifically mentioning. There¡¯s only so many times I can mock the high elves for their proclivity toward literary litter.

    ¡°Yeah, sure, why not,¡± Eran says. ¡°Lead on, so long as this involves no more cliffs.¡±

    ¡°Oh look, a cave!¡±

    We go into a cave full of giant snakes and kill several of them, including one very tough one and I¡¯m really glad these are the sorts of snakes that probably crush their prey or eat it whole and not the kind that bite and poison. The fight¡¯s rough enough as it is, but at least it¡¯s just a snake, albeit a quite large one, and not a small horde of undead archers and mages plus some Daedra.

    ¡°Ah, that was fun,¡± I say.

    ¡°You almost got eaten by a giant snake,¡± Merry deadpans.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± I exclaim cheerfully.

    ¡°Getting your pack out of the belly of a giant snake might have been tricky,¡± Eran adds.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Ah, come on, we totally had that,¡± I say.

    ¡°I feel that we are likely to be getting more practice with running away from things, Eranamo,¡± Merry says.

    Eran sighs. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s all fine. Let¡¯s just go find something else stupidly dangerous to do, why don¡¯t we? I might still get horribly killed but at least I¡¯ll go down fighting and not being executed by my own father for treason.¡±

    ¡°You did what?¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± Eran says. ¡°It was a terrible idea and if it weren¡¯t for Neri¡¯s smooth tongue and connections I¡¯d be a goner.¡±

    When we get to the village of Greenwater Cove, we discover that it¡¯s under attack by sea elves. ¡°Oh look, it¡¯s these fetchers again,¡± I say.

    ¡°You¡¯re not my scouts,¡± the captain says as we approach the barricade at the edge of town. ¡°Identify yourselves.¡±

    I attempt to introduce us, but Eran interrupts with the names that aren¡¯t the stupid nicknames I keep giving people. ¡°We¡¯re adventurers who work with the Eyes of the Queen and solve problems.¡±

    ¡°Neralion?¡± the captain (Cirenwe) says. ¡°Were you at South Beacon?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°I was hoping that would be the end of it for Maormer on Auridon, but I don¡¯t mind putting my axe through a few more of their faces.¡±

    ¡°Captain Ciranya is my sister,¡± she says. ¡°She told me about how you saved them. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here to help.¡±

    She tells us about how the town had some sort of ancient device that protects the harbor but that it¡¯s currently powered down, and directs us in to figure out why it wasn¡¯t activated and get it working again. Any of their people we can rescue in the process would also be helpful.

    We find a wounded scout inside the stable, and Merry and I work on healing her up a bit while she tells us about where to find the magic rocks that power the device. (Because it clearly would have been entirely too sensible to keep them in the same place.)

    Inside the manse, we kill the Maormer captain (who briefly tries to taunt us until I clip him in the shoulder with Blinky, knocking him to the floor) and retrieve one of the magic rocks. The captain¡¯s log sits on a nearby table, and I quickly flip through it for incriminating evidence.

    ¡°Do we really have time to read right now?¡± Eran mutters.

    I toss the book in my pack. ¡°It seems they had an agent in town who prevented the beam from being activated. There is always time to find incriminating evidence. Unfortunately it doesn¡¯t mention a name or we¡¯d know whose ass needs kicking.¡±

    We retrieve the other two magic rocks (¡°Welkynd stones,¡± Merry insists on calling them) from the dead mage¡¯s house and from the inn. With those in hand, we make for the cliff where the ancient device is located, perched high above the water and overlooking a lovely pair of extremely flammable Maormer ships.

    I carefully slot the rocks in the slots where they glow (through a bit of trial and error), and a beam of light beams out of the top, into another stone, and then beamed down to another spot below the cliff. Nothing is immediately blowing up and there¡¯s no indication here of a switch or lever to activate it.

    ¡°I think this will need to be done from down there,¡± I say, pointing at something I can spot from here. ¡°Do you guys terribly mind if I jump off this cliff to go press the button?¡±

    ¡°Thank you so much for asking this time,¡± Eran says. ¡°Yes, go ahead. You may jump off this cliff.¡±

    I hop down from rock to rock and land in front of the crystal with the beam, and activate it. The lovely beam of golden light turns into a lovely ray of golden fire that sets both Maormer ships ablaze.

    As I¡¯m watching the gleeful view of burning ships, Eran and Merry catch up with me after having gone around. ¡°The marines are here and we¡¯re retaking the town,¡± Eran says. ¡°If you care to split a few more sea elf skulls before we run out of them, at least.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± I pull out Stormy and join them.

    Once the town is secure and we¡¯ve rested up a bit, we leave town by the north this time. We¡¯d informed Captain Cirenwe that we¡¯d found evidence of a traitor in town, but no indication as to who it was, so we leave that matter in her capable hands.

    ¡°Are we heading back to Firsthold?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll get there,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m really just looking to see what¡¯s over here, as I haven¡¯t had a chance to look around in this corner of the island yet.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, by all means let¡¯s explore every last corner of Auridon,¡± Eran says. ¡°Why not explore every last corner of Tamriel while we¡¯re at it?¡±

    ¡°We can skip the northeast part of Tamriel,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, I do want to head down to the beach and make sure there¡¯s no more Maormer loitering about between here and Firsthold. They¡¯re sneaky like that.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say that in the first place?¡± Eran asks.

    I point. ¡°Oh look, a wayshrine!¡± I run up to light it.

    ¡°I¡¯m happier to see wayshrines than caves full of giant snakes,¡± Merry says. ¡°You can ¡®oh look¡¯ at those anytime you want.¡±

    There are no more sea elves on the beach, but there is a spooky cave by a waterfall. It appears to contain an old Daedric ruin, full of Daedra, with red banners hanging from the walls depicting a few wiggles above a couple of wavy lines. A little like a stylized sunset over water, maybe.

    ¡°Great, a Daedric temple,¡± Eran says. ¡°Totally my favorite. Which Daedric Prince does that symbol represent?¡±

    ¡°Mehrunes Dagon,¡± Merry replies. ¡°This must be Mehrunes¡¯ Spite. I¡¯ve heard of it, but it was never really a place any sane person goes intentionally.¡± He and Eran give me twin looks as I charge forward to hit a clannfear with a battle axe. ¡°At least we can be sure that this lunatic is just here to kill things and not offer worship to dark powers.¡±

    The best part of this particular Daedric temple? A bunch of racist bandits have holed up inside, doubtless hiding out following the deaths of their Veiled Queen and so many of their comrades. I also find a number of pieces of incriminating correspondence between Estre and the King of Worms, that guy who has a long name starting with M.

    ¡°Mannimarco,¡± Merry says, reading over the letters. ¡°So there was some point in coming in here after all.¡±

    The King of Worms would probably try to kill me if I started referring to him as ¡®Manny¡¯.

    ¡°Neri stumbles upon the strangest things completely by accident,¡± Eran says. ¡°Did I mention how he only saved my ass because he got lost?¡±

    ¡°This explains so, so much,¡± Merry says.

    After killing one Dremora, I notice a scamp following us around, not attacking and just looking up at us with big black eyes. According to his collar, he belongs to someone at the Mages Guild in Skywatch.

    ¡°Oh, this must be the missing scamp Gaireth mentioned,¡± Merry says. ¡°I don¡¯t know why she was so attached to it. It¡¯s not like you can¡¯t just summon another. But I suppose it was some sort of pet.¡±

    ¡°People keep these things as pets?¡± Eran asks. ¡°I guess it takes all kinds.¡±

    When I touch the collar, the scamp gets sucked inside, and I shove the collar into my pack. ¡°We¡¯ll be back at Skywatch sooner or later.¡±

    The old temple contains a sizable library, and I help myself to a few choice books that sound interesting and not evil. The Veiled Heritance have even set up a small kitchen, and I help myself to their freshly-baked venison pies. No sense in letting them go to waste. Up around the bend, a Skyshard rests in a shaft of sunlight, and I help myself to that, too.

    ¡°Aha!¡± I exclaim. ¡°I knew there¡¯d be a Skyshard in here!¡±

    ¡°In a cave?¡± Merry says, examining the small hole in the ceiling. ¡°How likely is that really?¡±

    ¡°Dunno, but you¡¯d be amazed just how many Skyshards I¡¯ve encountered in caves like this,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s like they find those holes in the ceiling attractive or something, although my personal theory is that the Divines are practicing their aim on them.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s as good a hypothesis as any,¡± Merry graciously allows.

    And then we find the Heritance¡¯s slaughterhouse, where a dead Altmer is laying on the counter next to a butcher¡¯s knife.

    ¡°Oh gods, we already ate those pies,¡± Eran says, retching.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was just venison,¡± I say uncertainly. ¡°Anyway, how was I to know they¡¯re cannibals on top of being treasonous Daedra worshippers? It¡¯s like they¡¯re trying way too hard to be obviously evil here.¡±

    Merry makes a disgusted face. ¡°Let¡¯s just add the mer pies to the list of things we are never telling anyone.¡±

 Chapter 42: In Which I Go Shopping

    A short stay back in Firsthold gives me a chance to rest and catch up on my reading a bit. (Did you know high elves are racist? I can hardly believe it! The Thalmor even have an instruction manual on how to at least pretend to be less racist.) I get my armor patched up a bit, but I think I ought to just buy a new set once I get back to a town that has not recently been on fire.

    We make a stop to check in on the College of Aldmeri Property. Prosperity. Propensity. Posterity. Oh, whatever the stupid thing is called. Sorry has arrived in the meantime and is doggedly practicing swordsmanship with a wood elf. I stop to catch with him a bit when he takes a break.

    ¡°This would be less embarrassing had my mother not come along,¡± Sorry says quietly. ¡°I hope she will go away once she is certain that I am settling in well here. It¡¯s going to be a lot of work.¡± He lowers his voice. ¡°I still have nightmares about what happened in the Rilis vaults.¡±

    I¡¯m a little unclear on the timeline here. Sorry doesn¡¯t seem that old, maybe two or three hundred at most, but people talk about his father as if he¡¯d been imprisoned in the Banished Cells for a long time. I guess a few centuries does feel like a long time when you¡¯re guarding a prison and not when you¡¯re being a young and naive elf.

    A new headmaster for the college has not been arranged yet, but Firsthold was able to spare a couple of tutors to fill in the gap until more permanent staff could be found. Considering how the First Auridon Marines have been running around in my wake putting out fires (frequently literally) over half the island, I¡¯m surprised that they managed to spare anyone at the moment. Most of what¡¯s going on here right now is just students practicing with and tutoring other students in what they know.

    Ilara approaches us timidly, trying to gather her courage. ¡°You are going out again, yes? Out into the world, for adventures? Out to find treasure and help people who need help?¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s a sufficiently accurate description of what we wind up doing,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m planning on covering the remainder of the island and making sure we haven¡¯t missed any pockets of racist bandits, sea elf pirates, or whatever,¡± I say. ¡°And then we¡¯ll be making for the mainland and meeting up with the Queen in Grahtwood. Why?¡±

    Ilara chews her lower lip hesitantly for a moment before deciding to throw caution to the wind. ¡°Ilara would like to go with you.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± Merry says. ¡°We get into some amazingly dangerous things.¡±

    Ilara nods. ¡°Ilara is skilled. Ilara can be brave. It will be some time before things return to normal here, or whatever passes for normal after so much wrong has happened. But maybe Ilara could learn more out in the world with you, and be a swift and clever adventurer like Neralion and Eranamo and whoever this new person is.¡±

    ¡°My name is Merormo,¡± Merry says with a chuckle. ¡°I never exactly planned to get into the adventuring business, myself, but¡­ well, circumstances.¡± He gestures toward me. ¡°This mer is a lunatic who will lead you into random caves and dungeons, off roads and cliffs, into battle with undead and giant snakes and any stupid thing that might be threatening people. Are you really prepared for that?¡±

    ¡°Ilara can be brave! She is sneaky and quiet and good with a bow. Let this one help.¡±

    ¡°Well, so long as you know what you¡¯re getting into,¡± Eran says. ¡°I sure didn¡¯t.¡± He snickers.

    ¡°Welcome to the team, Ilara!¡± I say, clapping her on the back but pulling away upon seeing her flinch. ¡°Sorry. Not going to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°It is alright,¡± Ilara says. ¡°This one will go pack her things.¡±

    With Ilara in tow, we bid the college farewell and head out.

    There¡¯s another old ruin down on the coast near Dawnbreak. I find a chest washed up ashore outside, and find a rather lovely landscape painting inside. That might look nice in my closet. Good thing I can just shove that in my pack, because that would be a paint in the ass to carry around. (Eran is smacking me for that pun now.)

    At this point, my companions aren¡¯t even bothering to complain about me deciding to go in and explore this ruin just because it¡¯s here. And we hardly get down the first set of stairs before we run across one of those stupid Maormer snake statues.

    ¡°The bloody sea elves are in here,¡± I say, indicating the statue.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Eran says. ¡°Are they just hiding in here, or plotting something?¡±

    ¡°Probably plotting something,¡± Merry says.

    We find a note indicating that they¡¯re looking for some sort of relic that will ¡®blast the smug look off their stupid faces¡¯. While I can¡¯t argue with the sentiment regarding high elves looking smug, I¡¯m hardly about to let them blast anything if I can help it. Ilara follows behind us, making sure to keep me and Eran between her and anything aggressive, but she¡¯s a crack shot with that bow of hers.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    A ghost appears and calls to us, and directs us to what I assume is her own body, laying dead in a corridor with a fancy box laying in the sand by her hands. She introduces herself as a Mages Guild member named Beddi Alielle, and explains that she had had a bet with a fellow mage at the guildhall in Vulkhel Guard regarding finding more relics than her. Which, when the sea elves unexpectedly showed up and killed her, would have just been unfortunate but she¡¯d apparently cast some sort of binding contract spell on the wager.

    Merry sighs. ¡°And people say I¡¯m foolish with magic?¡±

    ¡°You were,¡± Eran says. ¡°Although at least you were just trying to help people with your foolishness and not simply being greedy and petty.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know, it was a terrible idea,¡± Beddi says.

    We agree to take the relic back to Vulkhel Guard whenever we get back there and speak to the person (Angrel) she made her bet with so that she can concede her defeat and move on to Aetherius.

    This probably wasn¡¯t what the sea elves were looking for in here, of course. I toss the relic in my pack and resume our search of the ruins.

    In a large room flooded with ankle-deep water, I spot the blue shaft of a Skyshard, but it has a rather large snake coiled around it. It¡¯s nowhere near any holes in the ceiling, so I¡¯m guessing that these snakes just brought the lovely warm rock back to their nest from wherever it landed. Which was probably a sweet bonus to them up until a Chimer with a battle axe came along who wanted it.

    In the next big room (that isn¡¯t flooded), we spot what the sea elves are probably here for. Very likely the brightly glowing yellow rock affixed to a fancy sconce in the middle of the room. Their captain is next to it, so we kill him and page through his journal, in which he expresses his frustration about being unable to remove the crystal. They might have figured it out eventually, though, so it¡¯s just as well that we came along and put an end to their attempts. Once we¡¯ve made sure there are no more Maormer left in this ruin, we head back outside and move on.

    ¡°Congratulations, we¡¯ve accidentally saved the island again,¡± Eran says lightly.

    ¡°Does that happen often?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°More than you would ever believe,¡± Eran says, then looks to me. ¡°So, where to now, fearless leader?¡±

    ¡°There might still be more caves we haven¡¯t stumbled across yet,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°But for now, let¡¯s head back to Skywatch, shall we? We¡¯ve got a few things to return or report on, and I want to make use of these flowers I¡¯ve been picking.¡±

    ¡°What if Telenger is there?¡± Merry whispers, glancing about as if afraid the mage in question were somehow listening in even here.

    ¡°Then you¡¯re clearly not Merormo, the mage he dislikes for whatever reason, but Merry, the cheerful adventurer who he has never met before. Would shaving off your beard help?¡±

    Merry groans. ¡°Well, it might, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Or dye it black! And change your robes into something more badass. Maybe with spikes!¡±

    ¡°I am not wearing spiked robes,¡± Merry says flatly.

    When we get to Skywatch, he does visit one of the traders outside the city to look for some fresh attire. I¡¯m not sure how much I trust a vendor that says that she represents the ¡®Trusty Skeever Emporium¡¯, but Merry decides to buy a fancy red robe she claims was imported from Elsweyr, along with a matching hat with a face mask.

    ¡°How do I look?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Stylish,¡± I say, giving two thumbs up. ¡°It¡¯s really a look that says ¡®I am not a racist asshole¡¯.¡±

    I find the wood elf Eye of the Queen who had given me a hit list for the Veiled Heritance officers, and inform him that they¡¯re all dead except the one with a name starting with A (¡°Aranias,¡± Eran helpfully supplies after even the Eye fails to pronounce it correctly), who may have already departed for Greenshade.

    Merry locates the woman who had asked him to pray at her children¡¯s graves. She thanks him, pays him generously, and then immediately turns into a ghost and wisps away. Ilara jumps back in startlement at that.

    ¡°Uh¡­ was she dead the whole time?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I guess so,¡± Merry says, looking at the payment he was given. ¡°And I guess she didn¡¯t have anyone left to give her money to, either, or I¡¯d feel bad about being paid for this.¡±

    ¡°But where was she keeping it if she was a ghost?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°Eh, ghosts are surprisingly solid sometimes,¡± I say.

    ¡°If I ever wind up as a ghost, I want to be the kind that has pockets and can hit things and not just the kind that can¡¯t do anything but whine at passing adventurers for help to fix their problems,¡± Eran says, looking at me.

    ¡°I would prefer not to be a ghost at all,¡± Merry says.

    We return the scamp¡¯s collar to a wood elf at the Mages Guild, who is grateful to us for returning her ¡®dear little friend¡¯.

    ¡°Where did you ever find him, anyway?¡± she asks.

    ¡°He was up in Mehrunes¡¯ Spite,¡± Merry explains. ¡°Some dremora had him for some reason.¡±

    ¡°Oh my! Well, I hope he doesn¡¯t manage to get lost again. Here¡¯s the payment I promised for returning him.¡±

    I take the money and toss it in my pack and hurriedly walk off before Eran can start speculating aloud on what she does with that scamp. There¡¯s no need to be crude; it¡¯s not really any of my business.

    Telenger fails to make the appearance Merry had feared, so with the coin in hand from various sources, we go shopping to make sure everyone is properly equipped. I need a new set of leather armor, as does Ilara, and she could definitely do with a better bow as well. She¡¯s completely flustered and embarrassed by the amount of money I¡¯m spending on her.

    ¡°This is a lot of money to spend on little Ilara,¡± she says quietly.

    ¡°This armor will protect you better,¡± I say. ¡°And the new bow will let you do more damage. This one¡¯s got more piercing power behind it. Or, hey, we can get a bow that will set things on fire!¡±

    Ilara has a terrified look on her face.

    ¡°Maybe not that one,¡± I say. ¡°You okay, Ilara? Was it the fire? I¡¯m a little over-enthusiastic about setting things on fire sometimes.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it wasn¡¯t the fire,¡± Ilara assures me. ¡°Never mind, don¡¯t worry about Ilara! She is happy with the things she has.¡±

    ¡°Ilara,¡± Eran says. ¡°Just take the stuff. Adventuring makes plenty of money but we¡¯ve got to keep our gear up to do it.¡±

    ¡°With all the junk I just sold, I can still expand my inventory and set aside money to buy a house on top of the equipment upgrades for us all,¡± I say.

    ¡°You want to buy a house?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Yeah, I mean, I have an apartment in Vulkhel Guard, but uh, I don¡¯t think we¡¯d all be able to fit inside of it,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s more of a closet. Getting an actual house would be nice, though. And furniture! Maybe I should take up a hobby in interior decorating.¡±

    ¡°This is not what one would normally take as a ¡®hobby¡¯,¡± Merry says. ¡°How many houses would you have to buy and furnish on your own time and coin in order to consider yourself as having an interior decorating hobby?¡±

 Chapter 43: In Which I Promote Goblin Equality

    We cross the island and take a walk down the western coast. There¡¯s a shipwreck full of ghosts underneath a surprisingly isolated thunderstorm. There¡¯s quite a lot of them and I get that feeling of there being something more dangerous than usual here. While I¡¯d be content to rush in swinging, I decide I¡¯d best heed my companions¡¯ advice of this being possibly more than we can handle right now. We¡¯re here looking for further signs of Maormer incursions, and these ghosts have clearly been here for some time and aren¡¯t bothering anyone or leaving their wreck.

    Washed up on the beach, I find a copy of Boethiah¡¯s Proving, and absently read a bit of it while walking before tossing it to one of my companions with a ¡°this is why you don¡¯t fuck around with Daedra.¡±

    There¡¯s a cave on the western coast of Auridon that I have not explored yet, possibly because the last time I was in the area, I was too busy dealing with somebody¡¯s annoyed racist ancestors to lounge around on the beach. We interrupt a confrontation between two people and fail to catch what they were arguing about.

    This gully, according to the Altmer man we run across just inside of it, is full of goblins. Unusually well-dressed goblins apparently wearing (presumably goblin-sized) Altmer-style armor. We agree to help investigate the place.

    ¡°A cave full of goblins!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Isn¡¯t that great?¡±

    ¡°Properly adventuring there, yes,¡± Merry mutters unenthusiastically.

    ¡°The goblins might disagree,¡± Ilara says quietly.

    ¡°True!¡± I say brightly, nimbly hopping over a bear trap. ¡°Let¡¯s not be racist. We can ask the goblins what they think. They are, after all, impeccably dressed.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re probably just going to attack us,¡± Eran points out.

    I run up to the first goblin I see. ¡°Excuse me, sera goblin!¡±

    The goblin cowers. ¡°Do not hit Byz! Byz only sweeps!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s alright!¡± I say. ¡°We just want to talk.¡±

    ¡°Surprised to find a goblin that¡¯s both willing and able to talk,¡± Eran mumbles.

    ¡°Byz very wise! What nice elfs and cat-lady want know?¡±

    I chat with the goblin to try to figure out what the deal is with this place. The deal is apparently that someone made a deal with the goblin tribe (Toothmaul, they call themselves) to provide them with equipment. They even gave the goblins a contract for it.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m terribly sorry that your former masters hit you all the time,¡± I say. ¡°That seems a bit unnecessary. I am, however, very interested in seeing the details of this contract.¡±

    The contract, of course, is not in Byz¡¯s (Byz¡¯? Whichever) possession, and is instead in the most inconvenient part of the cave, so we¡¯d best get moving. Unfortunately, none of the other goblins seem to be as inclined to chat as Byz, and attack us on sight. While we are, admittedly, breaking into their home, I¡¯m not sure how much sympathy I actually feel for anyone dumb enough to attack us while we¡¯re trying to talk to them. The smart ones at least just run away.

    In the far back room, we come across a Khajiit tied up near a table covered in books and paperwork. I direct Ilara to untie him while I search for the contract. Undeterred by his captivity and impending stewing, the Khajiit (Jilan-dar) offers to cut us in on a deal if we can retrieve some of the high elven weapons from the goblins to resell.

    I find the contract in question and read it over. It would appear that it was the Veiled Heritance who made a contract with the goblins.

    ¡°Why in Oblivion would the racist bandits hire on goblins?¡± I wonder aloud.

    ¡°Probably just wanting to stick swords in their hands and use them as fodder,¡± Eran says.

    On the way back through the cave, I spot a Skyshard on a ledge and absorb it. I wonder if I¡¯ve managed to collect every Skyshard that might be found in Auridon, or if there¡¯s still a ton of them somewhere in spots I haven¡¯t even thought to go. I¡¯ve been pretty thorough in exploring the island but I can only see them from so far away and there could be plenty of them in places that might not even be readily reachable, for all I know.

    When we run across Byz again, the First Auridon Marine investigator (Pirry) that we encountered near the entrance to the gully is threatening him.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I say. ¡°You can probably leave him be. He¡¯s been the most friendly goblin we¡¯ve encountered here.¡±

    ¡°By which he means he¡¯s been the only one who didn¡¯t attack us on sight,¡± Eran adds dryly.

    ¡°At any rate, Byz here told us about this contract.¡± I show it to Pirry.

    Pirry reads it over, frowning. ¡°Seriously?¡± He rants a bit about the foolishness of the goblins and a few unpleasant things about the Veiled Heritance for good measure.

    ¡°Still, if their chief was willing to deal with one high elf, maybe he¡¯ll be willing to deal with another one,¡± I say. ¡°And unlike the Veiled Heritance, I¡¯m actually authorized to speak for the Queen.¡±

    Byz¡¯s ears perk up at that. ¡°Byz tell chief you want talk!¡± He darts off inside a nearby door.

    ¡°You¡¯d deal with them?¡± Pirry asks. ¡°I mean, they¡¯re just goblins. We could just wait for reinforcements and wipe them all out from these caves.¡±

    ¡°You know, people could say the same about the Khajiit,¡± I point out.

    Pirry gives Ilara a look, frowning. ¡°That¡¯s different. The Khajiit are civilized beastfolk and willing to talk and deal with people¡­¡± He sighs. ¡°Fine, I guess you have a point, although I doubt that these goblins are going to want to behave in a civilized manner and continue to deal with people. You are, however, welcome to try.¡±

    We head inside to meet the chief. He¡¯s wearing a hooded robe and much of his room¡¯s decorations involve skulls and ribcages.

    Byz says, ¡°This Chief Koth!¡±

    ¡°Chief Koth,¡± I say, giving a bow. ¡°It is an honor to make your acquaintance.¡± I give some quick introductions, and for goblins, I cheerfully use the nicknames that are not four syllables long.

    Koth stares at me, probably never having been bowed to by an elf in his life. ¡°Polite elf want speak? Speak. What say you?¡±

    ¡°I have looked over this contract you made with the Veiled Heritance,¡± I say. ¡°It does not appear particularly favorable toward you, but I understand you probably have not had a lot of polite dealings with elves.¡±

    ¡°Yes, elf tribe make deal,¡± Koth says. ¡°Elf tribe give weapons to Toothmaul! Toothmaul use weapons for killing enemies of elf tribe.¡±

    ¡°About that¡­¡± I say. ¡°We killed the chief of that elf tribe along with a large number of its members. They¡¯re no longer in a position to keep any deal they had with you. However, I am willing to offer you a new deal instead.¡±

    ¡°New deal?¡± Koth says. ¡°How Koth know this no trick?¡±

    ¡°How did you know the other elf tribe¡¯s deal wasn¡¯t a trick?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Elf tribe give weapons,¡± Koth says. ¡°What Neri offer?¡±

    ¡°Well, for starters?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m offering not killing anymore of your people if they quit attacking us already.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Is that threat?¡± Koth asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°We already had to kill some of them because they refused to let us pass even when I tried to talk to them. This is not polite or civilized behavior, and if you wish to be members of the Aldmeri Dominion, you will need to avoid attacking fellow Dominion members on sight.¡±

    My companions are standing behind me practically audibly biting their tongues at this conversation. I am grateful that Eran knows when to hold back the snark so as not to fuck up my attempts at diplomacy.

    Koth is stunned into quiet. ¡°Members? You would let goblins join big elf alliance? As equals?¡±

    ¡°They let Khajiit join,¡± Ilara says quietly.

    ¡°You would, of course, be obligated to fight our enemies, but in return you would also be protected from anything that might threaten you, including, of course, overzealous adventurers who think they¡¯d like to kill a few goblins for sport. You would be able to freely trade with the people of the Dominion to offer what goods and services you can provide in exchange for things you want or need.¡±

    ¡°Neri make deal elf lords have to listen to?¡± Koth says. ¡°Neri is strong if he kills chief of elf tribe. Goblins respect strength! Tell Koth of battle. Tell Koth how you fight elf chief.¡±

    We settle in for story time, and my companions relax a bit and make interjections about our adventures. Koth and Byz listen with rapt attention at our description of all the stupid things we¡¯ve killed. The goblins seem impressed at the sheer breadth of our violence.

    ¡°Dead things, Daedra, snakes, sea elfs, spiders!¡± Koth exclaims. ¡°Such glory!¡±

    ¡°We have been pretty busy, haven¡¯t we,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°How you make other elfs not attack goblins?¡± Koth asks.

    ¡°Put Dominion banners outside of your cave,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe keep a guard out front wearing a tabard.¡±

    ¡°What banner?¡± Koth asks.

    ¡°The yellow one with the bird on it,¡± I say. ¡°You might have wound up with some of them along with the other elf stuff you¡¯ve got.¡± I wave a hand. ¡°They¡¯re kind of like those skull totems you put everywhere, I think. They let people know what tribe lives there so they¡¯ll know not to attack.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Koth understand. Byz! See if we have yellow bird banner.¡±

    ¡°Yes, chief!¡± Byz says.

    ¡°Koth go talk tribe, tell them no attack. This might still be trick, but this might not, and you quite able to kill goblins. Koth no see reason for more goblins to die today. Wait here.¡±

    The two of them leave the room.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably just going to try to trap us in,¡± Merry says quietly.

    ¡°Then we kill them,¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°Are we really authorized to admit them into the Aldmeri Dominion?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Probably not, but the process has to start somewhere,¡± I say. ¡°I can definitely get Chief Koth an audience with Queen Ayrenn, though.¡±

    ¡°Would she be¡­ happy about that?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Dunno!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°And what might happen from there would be ought of my hands. But if one is to make a staunch commitment to not being racist, there shouldn¡¯t be exceptions just because someone is green, right? The Dominion did take in that orc lady, after all.¡±

    ¡°And now goblins,¡± Eran says, throwing his arms wide and giving a short laugh. ¡°Sure, why not, why not fucking goblins, too. Why not have goblins in dresses selling pies in the Skywatch marketplace?¡±

    ¡°Just not mer pies,¡± Merry says. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to tell them eating people is bad.¡±

    ¡°Ilara hopes Jilan-dar made it out alright,¡± Ilara says softly.

    Koth returns after a minute, and we head for the entrance to the gully without being harassed by goblins this time. They watch us distrustfully as we go by, but make no move against us.

    On the way by, we locate the hidey-hole of the Veiled Heritance agent who had recruited the goblins. I¡¯m calling her Nellie. She¡¯s slightly miffed at being called Nellie but doesn¡¯t protest. She doesn¡¯t protest extra hard when I inform her of what has happened to her Veiled Queen or the rest of her organization, either. I inform her that she¡¯s unlikely to be able to sneak out of here and sell her a teleport scroll to Skywatch for the low, low price of way more than I paid for it and an agreement to get on the first ship sailing anywhere else.

    While we were talking, Pirry¡¯s reinforcements have shown up, but have remained at the entrance. Byz has found a Dominion banner and is holding it up like a shield and cowering behind it.

    ¡°There you are, Neralion,¡± Pirry says. ¡°Did you have a riveting conversation with these creatures?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I say. ¡°I believe I may have worked something out. The goblins seem willing to work with the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°Good, I can have them shipped back to their masters straight away¡ªwait, with the Dominion? You¡¯re not suggesting that these goblins join the Dominion and not simply go back to being slaves.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± I say. ¡°The dark elves freed their slaves and allied themselves with the Argonians.¡±

    ¡°But the Argonians are¡­ ah¡­¡± Pirry trails off, working up his face as he tries to come up with an argument.

    Byz says quietly, ¡°Byz just wants to sweep clean, dry house and not dark, wet cave.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more sensible than most Argonians,¡± Eran says cheerfully.

    ¡°You know what, this is above my pay grade,¡± Pirry says with a sigh. ¡°If you wish to try to civilize these individuals and promote goblin equality,¡± he can hardly say it with a straight face, ¡°that¡¯s your business, and I¡¯m very glad that I do not have to be the one who has to make any official decisions regarding anything.¡±

    ¡°No more hitting?¡± Byz whispers.

    ¡°Definitely no hitting,¡± I say. ¡°Hitting should be reserved for enemies, not servants, soldiers, and students.¡±

    ¡­

    I didn¡¯t expect to have a small entourage of goblins coming with me when I return to Vulkhel Guard. The Queen is, of course, not in Vulkhel Guard at the moment, and while Chief Koth wanted to stay in his gully until he could get an official audience with the Queen (even the Veiled Heritance hadn¡¯t been able to promise that, but I didn¡¯t either lest Ayrenn be annoyed at me), a few others had wanted to come along on the thought of being able to walk around an elf city as free beings and that their best chances of doing so right now was while following a group of elves (and one Khajiit) around.

    One of them by the name of Thek isn¡¯t too thrilled by the idea of fighting for his former masters, but his eyes practically lit up at the thought that he might be able to join the Fighters Guild. That¡¯s our first stop when we arrive in town by the west gate (after smashing a Dark Anchor again on the way in; it¡¯s just Scregor at the dolmen today, and he¡¯s so drunk that he tried flirting with Togga, who was flattered).

    Eran and Ilara head off to the Salty Wings Tavern to settle in, leaving me with Merry and the two goblins. Lyris is in the guildhall at the moment, and her eyebrows shoot up when she sees us come in.

    ¡°Thek want join guild!¡± the goblin exclaims enthusiastically.

    ¡°A goblin?¡± Lyris says with a touch of surprise.

    ¡°Thek hear Fighters Guild take all races,¡± he says. ¡°Thek hit things good!¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± says the Altmer hall steward whose name I don¡¯t even slightly remember. ¡°That¡¯s true. I didn¡¯t expect any goblins to sign up, but there are no restrictions against it. Well, then, you said your name was Thek? Then, Thek, I shall officially welcome you as the Vulkhel Guard Fighters Guild¡¯s first goblin member.¡±

    ¡°Just Vulkhel Guard?¡± Lyris says.

    ¡°I¡¯m not personally acquainted with every guild member across Tamriel,¡± the hall steward says. ¡°For all I know, the Morrowind branch might also have goblin members.¡±

    ¡°Thek happy to join!¡± Thek says. ¡°Have shirt with picture for Thek wear? Neri say people wear shirt and wave flag that have picture on for showing what group you from.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s an excellent idea,¡± the hall steward says. He gives Thek a red tabard with the Fighters Guild¡¯s sword symbol. ¡°Here you go. This one¡¯s Bosmer-sized but it should fit. Now they¡¯ll know you¡¯re with the Fighters Guild and not a target.¡±

    As the hall steward leads the goblin off to test his hitting-things skills, I escort my other charge toward the Mages Guildhall. Togga (who turned out to be a lady goblin, and I¡¯m a little embarrassed to say I couldn¡¯t tell the difference) has aspirations to be a great wizard. She spent the whole trip here bugging Merry for magic pointers and I feel like he was only humoring her because he was bored and it was a nice change of pace from mortal peril.

    Then again, he did try to turn possessed animals into an army. A goblin army would be capable of slightly more complex orders than atronach bears. Atronachs are intelligent enough to speak and stubborn enough not to bother, obedient enough to obey an order to go destroy something in that general direction and single-minded enough to not feel like being subtle about it. Maybe I¡¯m just gauging the atronachs I¡¯ve personally encountered.

    Togga stares wide-eyed around the guildhall as we go inside.

    We approach the hall steward, who looks at Merry. ¡°Greetings. I am Curinure, steward of the Vulkhel Guard Mages Guild. Are you here to join the guild?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m already a member,¡± Merry says. ¡°We¡¯re here for the little lady here.¡±

    ¡°Togga want be wizard!¡± the goblin says enthusiastically.

    Curry stares at her in open disbelief. ¡°You want to enroll your goblin slave in the Mages Guild?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not a slave,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Merry say Mages Guild not just for elfs,¡± Togga says, then pauses. ¡°Elves. Togga learn talk right.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s true, but¡­¡± Curry trails off, frowning.

    ¡°Watch this,¡± Merry says. ¡°Togga, show him.¡±

    Grinning wildly, Togga raises her hands and slowly makes a few careful gestures, and a small, flickering light appears above her hand.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Curry says. ¡°You have taught your goblin a parlor trick.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t discount her,¡± Merry says. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting much, but that light spell? I was able to teach that to her in the time it took us to make a leisurely stroll halfway down the western coast. An Altmer child would have taken a month to learn that. We forget that our main advantage is that we have many more years available to us to master our skills.¡±

    Curry¡¯s expression quickly turns from skepticism to astonishment. ¡°Alright, well, there¡¯s that, I suppose, but can she even read?¡±

    Togga shakes her head. ¡°Togga learn!¡±

    Our conversation has caught the attention of an Argonian. ¡°What¡¯s this? Do we have a young aspiring mage here? Hello! I¡¯m Demeepa.¡±

    Curry mumbles, ¡°My Guildhall will be the laughingstock of Auridon for accepting a goblin, but I am bound by the Guild rules, which do not specifically exclude any race. I hate to think what the fighters are going to say about this, though.¡±

    ¡°The Fighters Guild just accepted a goblin, too,¡± I tell him.

    Curry¡¯s attitude shifts immediately. ¡°Oh did they now. Well then. We can¡¯t have that. It would be easy to turn a goblin into a fighter.¡±

    I believe I¡¯d underestimated the Guilds¡¯ competitiveness.

 Chapter 44: In Which I Run Errands in Town

    I meet up with Sahira-daro to drop off what has wound up being a fairly substantial stack of books. She gives a quick sort through it and returns to me the books of which she already has a copy, and thanks me. I let her know I¡¯ll be heading to Grahtwood soon, and she¡¯s thinking about acquiring a building somewhere she can turn into a private library (and probably secret shrine to Hermaeus Mora for good measure).

    ¡°Valaste isn¡¯t in today?¡± I ask.

    Sahira-daro shakes her head. ¡°She went to the mainland to cross-reference some things with the Mages Guildhall in Elden Root. If you¡¯re in Graftwood at some point in the near future, you might want to check in and see if she¡¯s had any luck.¡±

    There was something else I needed to do here, and I have to look up in my journal to remember what. I¡¯m supposed to deliver a relic (that I hopefully still have) to someone named Angrel and get her to release someone named Beddi from a bet. I¡¯m sure glad I wrote that down because I totally would have forgotten that and poor Beddi would still have been stuck. Angrel is in the Mages Guild and she¡¯s a bit of a smug bitch but at least Beddi is able to move on to Aetherius now.

    With the books and relic dropped off and the goblins left in the capable of hands of the Guilds, I go off with Lyris to discuss the business our ¡®mutual friend¡¯ who lives in a damp cave wanted me to do.

    ¡°Goblins,¡± Lyris says, taking one last look back at the guildhalls. ¡°I never would have thought it, but it¡¯s easy to forget that they aren¡¯t¡­ well, I¡¯m part giant and people think a lot of the same things about giants, too, don¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Merry, do you want to go meet up with the others at the tavern?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯ve got some business with Lyris here.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says. ¡°Enjoy your date.¡±

    I smirk at him and don¡¯t even bother arguing, and we part ways, with Lyris and I heading out toward somewhere private to speak for a moment.

    ¡°The Prophet has been waiting on you,¡± Lyris says quietly. ¡°Where have you been?¡±

    ¡°Terribly sorry about that,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been running all over Auridon stopping invasions of Daedra, Maormer, undead, and racist bandits. Sometimes more than one of those at once. I really need to learn a cheaper way to teleport.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Lyris says. ¡°I suppose if this were really urgent, he could have opened a portal for you himself. He keeps trying to find Sai Sahan, but in the meantime I¡¯ve been keeping an ear open for clues in Vulkhel Guard. Unfortunately, I haven¡¯t been able to do closer investigating myself since I¡¯m somewhat obvious.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where I come in?¡± I say.

    ¡°You can pass as an Altmer and ask some questions around town,¡± Lyris says, giving me some names (that she can¡¯t spell) and descriptions.

    My first stop is a Bosmer by the name of Diranor, located in the gardens in front of the temple of Auri-El. A poor bard without an instrument is hardly a bard at all. For pity¡¯s sake, I pull a lute out of my pack that I¡¯d picked up somewhere (don¡¯t even remember where) and hand it to him.

    ¡°Here, think of me at your next performance,¡± I say.

    ¡°You¡¯d just give this to me?¡± Diranor says. ¡°Wait, you just happened to have a lute in your pocket?¡±

    I shrug broadly. ¡°I¡¯ve been killing racist bandits and sea elves, and I have a magic bag that gives me an excuse to be a packrat. I¡¯m not even sure why I picked it up. I don¡¯t even know how to play.¡±

    He¡¯s happy enough to pass along some rumors about suspicious characters hanging around near the old lighthouse, and I thank him and move on to the next person Lyris mentioned after dropping off a few things in my closet that I want to hang onto but don¡¯t need to carry around everywhere. Packrat. And not the adorable kind they sell in Mournhold.

    Mehdir is a spotted Khajiit fishing down at the docks. He also mentions a strange person seen around the lighthouse in question. I can¡¯t imagine this suspicious person is all that great at doing suspicious things if he¡¯s so obviously acting suspicious.

    My next stop is the Salted Wings Tavern, where my friends are currently eating. ¡°Hey, guys. Who wants to come help me investigate something suspicious at the lighthouse?¡±

    They exchange looks. ¡°You mean we have a choice?¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Is it urgent?¡± Eran says. ¡°Can we finish eating first, or are Daedra about to descend upon the city any moment now?¡±

    ¡°It can probably wait,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°I might as well go tell the Undaunted I didn¡¯t get eaten by a ghost while I¡¯m here, too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s only true in the most technical way,¡± Eran points out.

    I head upstairs, where the group of Undaunted seem to be drinking in exactly the same place they were last time I was here. They take me for my word that I went into the Banished Cells and came out again, without even bothering to hear about the specific details of it, which is probably just as well. And then they sing at me. Badly. I excuse myself as soon as they¡¯re done and order myself a plate of stir-fried garlic beef, quietly determining to ignore the fact that I¡¯m technically a member of the Undaunted now.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Ilara wants to send a letter she¡¯d written to her brother, so we drop that off on the way through town. It¡¯s evening by the time we get out to investigate the lighthouse, so hopefully this won¡¯t take too long. My companions, tellingly, don¡¯t even bother asking for too many details, just assuming this is another case of me being me and poking my nose into absolutely everything that sounds interesting and anything someone asks me to. They¡¯re probably not wrong¡­

    ¡°Are we after racist bandits or sea elves today?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Ugh, now you¡¯ve got me calling them ¡®racist bandits¡¯ too.¡±

    ¡°Neither!¡± I reply cheerfully. ¡°We¡¯re after Worm Cultists.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Eran says. ¡°That means we¡¯re probably going to be going up against undead and not Daedra or giant snakes. Undead would be a nice change of pace.¡±

    ¡°It really wouldn¡¯t,¡± Merry disagrees.

    The lighthouse is empty, but there¡¯s a trapdoor leading down into a cellar. The cellar is, indeed, full of undead. And also spike traps. Ah, traps. Beautiful, beautiful traps. All smoothly moving like the devices Dwemer built, with their heavy shunk and their light shink, metal sliding against metal in perfect precision.

    At the bottom of the cave, we come across a very pale Altmer with glowing red eyes. Perhaps it would have been better to wait for morning after all.

    ¡°Vampire?¡± Ilara asks softly.

    ¡°Vampire,¡± Merry confirms.

    I call upon Blinky to knock the vampire down with a spear of light just as he notices us, and we charge in. Or at least, Eran and I charge in, Ilara and Merry just take aim from where they¡¯re standing. The vampire goes down in due order.

    Over on a nearby table sits a magic sphere that Merry says might be a communication orb, so I go over and pick it up, accidentally activating it in the process. A projection of a human man appears above the table. I¡¯m quite sure I¡¯ve seen this man before. Wasn¡¯t he the one who appeared to Lyris and me in Coldharbour? Fortunately, he¡¯s polite enough to declare himself to be Abnur Tharn, saving me the embarrassment of having to look it up. Also demands that I identify myself.

    ¡°They call me¡­ the Black Wolf,¡± I say slowly, after wracking my brain to think of some animal on Auridon that¡¯s even slightly dangerous.

    ¡°Your alias is just as stupid as your costume,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Do you have something to report, then, or did you contact me by accident? Ugh, competent minions are so difficult to come by sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, I have some very strange activity to report that I¡¯ve seen in Auridon,¡± I say. ¡°Some sea elves attacked a few places on the coast, High Kinlady Estre turned out to be a worshipper of Mehrunes Dagon and set a lot of towns on fire, some goblins decided to become productive members of society, an idiot mage turned a town to stone¡ª¡±

    Merry grunts and restrains himself from protesting.

    ¡°¡ªa lot of ghosts have been very angry because people keep poking them, the Daggerfall Covenant attacked North Beacon, oh, and somebody¡¯s been asking about a Redguard warrior, what was the name, Sai Something?¡±

    ¡°Sai Sahan,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Not to worry. He¡¯s quite securely locked away. Well. Your report is certainly thorough. You¡¯ve gotten around a bit. I already knew about some of those¡ªThe Master was negotiating with High Kinlady Estre to join us. Do you know where she is now?¡±

    ¡°Ah, dead,¡± I say. ¡°Dead in the Deadlands. It turns out when you invade a city with Daedra, people might send an army to get rid of you. It didn¡¯t work out well for her, but she certainly had a good run of spreading chaos and destruction before someone finally put her down.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Too bad. She seemed promising, but rather foolish and impulsive. Perhaps it¡¯s just as well. Do you have anything else to report?¡±

    ¡°Nothing comes to mind but I might be forgetting something,¡± I say.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Abnur says with a sigh. ¡°If you remember or learn of anything else, be certain to contact me again and I might not think you¡¯re completely incompetent.¡±

    He cuts off the connection, and I manage to pick up the orb without activating it by accident this time and toss it in my pack.

    ¡°Why did you give him any information?¡± Merry wonders.

    I shrug. ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything that was either important or any great secret. By the way, muthsera Tharn, there¡¯s still a war going on! I¡¯m sure he would have noticed on his own.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do with the orb?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Got a friend who might be able to do something with this and glean some information about the Worm Cult from it,¡± I say. ¡°Hopefully. He¡¯s kinda weird.¡±

    ¡°Do we get to meet him?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go. He¡¯s squatting in a cave near town because he¡¯s weird.¡±

    When we arrive at the cave, Lyris is there playing the lute. Either entertaining the Prophet or practicing where she can¡¯t annoy anyone, one or the other. She¡¯s not bad, though.

    ¡°I hear several feet,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Are they friends?¡±

    ¡°Hello!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯d like you to meet my new friends. These are Eran, Merry, and Ilara.¡±

    ¡°Merormo,¡± Merry mumbles.

    ¡°Eranamo,¡± Eran says. ¡°Not that it terribly matters.¡±

    ¡°And guys, this is the Prophet. Also Lyris. They¡¯re the ones who helped me escape Coldharbour.¡±

    They stare at the old blind human. ¡°Does¡­ the Prophet have a name?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°Or did you forget that, too?¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°Dunno, probably,¡± I say.

    ¡°It is good to meet the Vestige¡¯s friends,¡± the Prophet says, evading the question. ¡°Stout companions are a boon in any quest.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Prophet! I did some investigating following Lyris¡¯ tip and found a bunch of undead and a vampire who was also undead but a rather more lucid sort of undead, although they¡¯re all just dead now. There was a cultist hideout underneath the lighthouse. I found this orb they use to speak and made a ¡®report¡¯ to Abnur Tharn when I accidentally activated it. Maybe you could make some use out of it.¡±

    I carefully remove the orb from my pack and place it on the table. The Prophet says he should be able to use it to find Sai, and then starts going on something about Abnur Tharn and destiny or something and I don¡¯t know what and politely decide to go say hi to Lyris instead and compliment her on her lute playing. She isn¡¯t terribly fond of Abnur for various reasons primarily related to him being a weasel, a donkey, a toad, and various other animals I¡¯m not too familiar with.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± I say finally. ¡°We¡¯re about to head for the mainland, and unless you¡¯re coming with us, it might be a while before I can get back here unless I can figure out a quicker way to travel, because I managed to recruit a mage who knows more about turning people into chickens than about opening portals to places.¡±

    ¡°We all have our specialties,¡± Merry says, folding his arms across his chest.

    ¡°Oh, I do appreciate yours,¡± I say. ¡°I certainly don¡¯t know half of what you do about magic and I¡¯m assuming portal magic is difficult. I¡¯m impressed that a blind man is so good at it, honestly.¡±

    ¡°Blindness probably actually helps with scrying and targeting,¡± Merry says. ¡°Not that I was ever keen on the idea of deliberately maiming myself in order to gain a slight advantage with some types of magic. In any case, if this human is capable of opening portals, why don¡¯t we just ask him for a shortcut and save ourselves a lengthy boat ride?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to tax his strength when he needs to be focusing on other things,¡± I say.

    ¡°Yes, I will need to commit all of my energy to divining the location of Sai Sahan,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°You are resourceful. I have faith in you for finding solutions. I will contact you again once I have gleaned some information.¡±

 Chapter 45: In Which Some Pirates Arent Racist

    I¡¯m looking forward to visiting Valenwood. There will hopefully be fewer racist bandits there, too. (You¡¯d think their Veiled Queen dying would have discouraged the Veiled Heritance, but noooo¡­)

    We meet up with Captain Jimila, the Khajiit captain of the Prowler that had brought us from Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, visited Skywatch presumably on very important business that wasn¡¯t just partying and getting drunk at the Festival of Defiance, and then come back conveniently in time to take us to a town called Haven, located on the south coast of Tamriel. I looked at a map.

    ¡°These privateers will take us?¡± Merry asks dubiously.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Jimila says. ¡°Neralion and his companions will always have a place on the Prowler.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, he saved you from sea elves?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°That would be an excellent guess,¡± Jimila replies, whiskers twitching in amusement.

    ¡°He does that sort of thing,¡± Eran says.

    On the trip over to mainland Tamriel, we are fortunately not beset upon by any sea elves nor waylaid by hurricanes. Or would that be the other way around? Whatever. The privateers take an opportunity to give Ilara a few tips in being a sleek, sneaky Khajiit.

    ¡°So, Ilara, you have a brother?¡± I ask.

    Ilara nods. ¡°Two brothers. One of them is an adventurer like you. He¡¯s the one Ilara sent a letter to, but she does not know if it might find him. Her other brother is¡­ not very bright, but we love him anyway.¡± She gives a small grin. ¡°Ilara¡¯s mother has a farm in Elsweyr.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a nice place to visit should I manage to get to that part of the world at some point,¡± I say. ¡°The cuisine must be exquisite.¡±

    ¡°Mother¡­ did not approve of Ilara leaving the farm. Ilara told her she meant to travel to Skyrim and join the Bard¡¯s College in the city of Solitude. It was far enough away that Mother would not be able to check and find out Ilara was not there. She did not think Mother would approve of joining the Thalmor and becoming a soldier. Mother certainly would not agree with another of her children becoming an adventurer, so Ilara has not told her yet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve met Eran¡¯s family, but what about you, Merry?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you have anyone to speak of?¡±

    Merry shakes his head. ¡°No one to speak of, no.¡±

    Merry reminds me of Seht in some ways. The questionable experiments, the curiosity even when it might not be wisest. But he has a quality about him I could have never imagined from Seht, although I don¡¯t know how much of that is because of his failure and me pulling in his reins. Eran¡¯s sharp tongue reminds me of Vehk¡¯s clever wit, but without the pretension. Ilara, refreshingly, does not even slightly remind me of Ayem. Not that I was planning on marrying her or anything, either.

    As we¡¯re making the approach to Haven, that is when we get attacked by pirates. We couldn¡¯t have gone the whole trip without any trouble, oh no, that wouldn¡¯t do at all. At least it¡¯s not sea elves this time. This is apparently a group called the Jackdaws, who are at least considerably less racist. I clearly spent too much time dealing with racist elves to be refreshed by the sight of being attacked by a diverse group of miscreants.

    Unfortunately for said pirates, this ship was carrying an adventuring party around. Still, while we¡¯re able to secure the ship and put out the fires, Haven is under control of pirates at the moment and we¡¯re unable to put into port. I jump into the water and start to swim awkwardly to shore.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran calls from the deck. ¡°You know there¡¯s landing boats for a reason, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I reply.

    When we make it to shore, there¡¯s a mer complaining about how if the Queen could see them, she¡¯d sent help.

    ¡°Never fear!¡± I tell him. ¡°We work for the Queen and we¡¯re here to help!¡±

    A Khajiit lieutenant protecting the refugees directs me to someone named Lord Gharesh-ri, Speaker of the Mane, which is an incredibly important-sounding title that I have no idea what it means but I diligently write it down anyway. She doesn¡¯t know where he is right now, but asking around camp we learn he¡¯s been being heroic or something out in the swamp.

    Laying around the camp, I find a fascinating-looking book about wood orcs. I didn¡¯t know those were a thing! I¡¯ll have to read up on them later so I know what to expect should I run across them. Right now I kind of have pirates to deal with.

    ¡°A stroll through the swamp sounds lovely,¡± I say as we head away from camp.

    ¡°Sometimes I¡¯m not sure whether you¡¯re being sarcastic or not,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Have you ever been to this particular swamp?¡± I ask. ¡°Just think of all the fascinating new plants and animals we might see here!¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°All the fascinating animals that might try to rip our faces off,¡± Merry amends. ¡°The plants might, too, for that matter.¡±

    The swamp is full of bugs with red domed shells, about knee high and liable to attack in small groups. We find some of them chewing on the bodies of unfortunate mer who escaped from pirates only to run into giant bugs instead.

    We find an Altmer hiding behind a rock cradling his ankle, and approach to give him some healing. He introduces himself by a long name starting with E, and is apparently an innkeeper. He asks us to find his workers who are probably lost in the swamp.

    ¡°We¡¯ll look for them,¡± I say. ¡°Get back to camp where it¡¯s safer. We¡¯ve probably killed all the bugs between here and there.¡±

    ¡°The ones larger than your palm, at any rate,¡± Merry says, swatting at a mosquito that landed on his hand. ¡°The regular-sized ones are still being annoying.¡±

    While I didn¡¯t have much hope of finding them alive, we actually run across some people in the thorny clutches of some sort of carnivorous plant creatures who are probably planning on digesting them or something. I love this place. It reminds me of home.

    A wayshrine sits outside the walls of the city, and I light it before heading inside. I¡¯d wondered why no one was guarding the gates, but the fighting just inside would be a good indication. After figuring out who is on whose side, we join the fight and drive the pirates away from the walls.

    A group of refugees is holed up in a house just inside the walls. We find the innkeeper¡¯s cook there (who sends us off to collect ingredients for some unspecified ¡®totally not illegal¡¯ product that totally isn¡¯t skooma), along with Lord Gharesh-ri (doesn¡¯t the ¡®ri¡¯ honorific basically mean ¡®lord¡¯ anyway? Maybe he¡¯s just making extra sure us dumb elves get the right idea.)

    Gharesh-ri wants us to go learn the pirates¡¯ plans so that we can organize a force to retake the fort. Sounds simple enough. He also sounds mildly annoyed at someone named General Endare who withdrew her troops just before the pirate attack and left the city defenseless. That doesn¡¯t sound suspicious at all.

    We make our way through the occupied town, cutting a swath through pirates and collecting things. There¡¯s a Skyshard sitting in a sconce outside the Mages Guildhall, so I absorb that on the way by.

    The Khajiit cook had asked us to meet with her contact to deliver the goods inside the Mages Guild, and under the circumstances I find it very doubtful he¡¯s in here. Which he¡¯s not. But there¡¯s conveniently some alchemical equipment and a note on how to make the product in question, so I do so. It also mentions I should meet the contact on the beach instead. Fair enough, I suppose, but how or why did he bother getting a note in here for that? Whatever.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t skooma, is it?¡± Eran asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Skooma doesn¡¯t normally have Hist sap in it. And it¡¯s less sticky than this.¡± I accidentally spill a few drops on my fingers. ¡°Wow, this is really sticky.¡± I try to wipe my fingers off but only succeed in getting it everywhere.

    ¡°You are not going to lick that off your fingers now,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t exactly handle a battle axe like this.¡± I lick the sticky substance off my fingers.

    Merry puts his face in his palm. ¡°You could have just washed your hands.¡±

    Anyway, needless to say, I¡¯m feeling really good as we finish clearing out pirates and gathering information. Something about a ritual and necromancers, the usual stupid shit. Also something about an aquifer and a wamasu (whatever that is).

    Down on the beach at a tent, we run across the quartermaster of the Prowler, Oblan, a bit far from his ship just lounging about alone by a tent as if waiting for something.

    ¡°Boboblan!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Great to see you!¡± I plop down by the fire next to him.

    ¡°Oblan,¡± he says patiently. ¡°My name is Oblan. That should be short enough for even you to get right, shouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just high,¡± Eran says in exasperation.

    ¡°He, ah, took a sample of Khezuli¡¯s special mixture,¡± Ilara says quietly. ¡°And Ilara thinks you must be our contact, yes?¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Oblan says. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to¡­ well, never mind that. Do you have it, then? Neri didn¡¯t take all of it, did he?¡±

    Ilara pulls out the vial. ¡°No, Ilara nabbed this before he could ¡®accidentally¡¯ take anymore. He only had a few drops.¡± She hands it to him.

    ¡°You have my thanks,¡± Oblan says. ¡°And my payment, of course! And don¡¯t worry about Neri. If it was only a few drops, he shouldn¡¯t be too high to kill plenty more pirates.¡± He laughs heartily.

    ¡°Yes, they¡¯re apparently planning some sort of necromantic ritual, so we¡¯d best go stop them quickly now,¡± Merry says.

    Eran drags me to my feet. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve got to go crawl around in a sewer and hit more things.¡±

    ¡°Ah, great! I love hitting things! Sewers are great fun. Will there be traps?¡±

    ¡°Why would there be traps in a sewer?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Really, yeah, he¡¯s only being slightly weirder than usual,¡± Eran says. ¡°Let¡¯s go save this town.¡±

    The sewers are filled with pirates and bugs (hoarvors, I¡¯m told they¡¯re called). Before I know it, I¡¯m fighting a giant lizard that crackles with lightning. So that¡¯s a wamasu! Are they all this size, or is this just a larger than usual specimen?

    We climb a rope, turn a turny-thing (levers are more pully-things aren¡¯t they? I forget what the turny kind are called.), and go outside to meet up with Gharesh-ri and a bunch of Khajiit who are shooting arrows at zombies. I guess the turny-thing was for opening a gate, but also assume that the pirate necromancers have been busy already.

    Ghareshi-ri directs us to the Fighters Guildhall to hit things (I immediately forget the details and hope one of my friends was paying more attention). Inside the Fighters Guild, the dim blue lighting and ominously glowing purple crystals are probably not a good sign, nor are the piles of bodies. We charge in and hit things until nothing is moving, and break the crystals for good measure to make sure none of the things that aren¡¯t moving don¡¯t start moving again. Wait, was that too many negatives? I lost count.

    Outside, we find the lieutenant, who was wounded in the fight with the pirates. I hit her with some Restoring Light before crouching down to talk to her and give her a healing potion. She thanks me, drinks it down, and reports about how the pirates have surrendered or fled. The town is littered with necromancers who are tied up and being guarded by Khajiit soldiers, which is a hilarious enough sight, but a little disorienting as that all apparently happened during the few minutes I was inside hitting things? The drugs must be distorting my perception of time.

    We report back to Gharesh-ri, who commends us and rewards us, and gives Ilara a pair of boots as part of the reward for some reason.

    Ilara squees as we get out of earshot (although possibly not out of earshot of squees). ¡°The Speaker for the Mane gave little Ilara boots! Ilara will treasure them always.¡±

    Eran cranes his neck to inspect the footwear. ¡°Not to put a damper on your high spirits, but I¡¯m pretty sure he just pulled those off of the feet of a pirate.¡±

    ¡°Ilara does not care.¡± She hugs them to her chest. ¡°The Speaker gave her boots!¡±

 Chapter 46: In Which I Eat a Frog and Talk to a Tree

    We head north out of Haven, intending on making for Elden Root and completely failing to remember to ask for directions first. I¡¯m going to need to remember to buy another map.

    As we¡¯re traveling along the road, a wood elf man intercepts us, wanting a word with us before we enter his village.

    ¡°Village?¡± I ask. ¡°Is this Elden Root?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid you must have taken a wrong turn, travelers. This is the forest of Brackenleaf, one of the oldest trees of Grahtwood. I am Eringor, of Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars.¡±

    ¡°Is that like a local guild or something?¡± I ask.

    ¡°A guild?¡± Eringor repeats. ¡°I guess you could call it something like that. We are elite hunters and protectors of the forest.¡±

    ¡°Can I join?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Why do you always have to join everything?¡± Merry mumbles. ¡°You joined both the Fighters and Mages Guilds even though you can barely do magic. At least they¡¯re likely to be less insane than the Undaunted, I suppose.¡±

    Eringor talks about how joining is a difficult trial but I¡¯d receive blessings of some sort while traveling in Grahtwood if I were to successfully join.

    ¡°It seems the thing to do, doesn¡¯t it, Merry?¡± Eran says. ¡°We just arrived in Valenwood and have no idea what¡¯s going on, so naturally we¡¯ve got to get acquainted with things, make ourselves at home, run headlong into every stupid thing we come across, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been traveling with Neri for too long,¡± Merry says.

    Eringor dubiously directs us to speak with someone named Glaras if we¡¯re serious, and then proceeds to not give directions to find this person, perhaps hoping we¡¯ll just go away instead.

    We head into the village, and I get my first good look at what wood elven architecture is really like. To say they live in trees is completely missing the point. There¡¯s nothing natural about the pod-like buildings they live in aside from having been grown from plants. They remind me somewhat of the Telvanni mushroom buildings, although more along the plant side of that than fungus. There are holes in each building framed by large bones, some of them covered in leather ¡®doors¡¯, and oval amber windows dotting the sides. Although there¡¯s some stonework on the ground, almost everything that doesn¡¯t look like it was grown from a plant is made of bone and leather.

    My companions and I split up to explore the town. I find a book laying on the ground titled Aurbic Enigma 4: The Elden Tree, and excitedly scoop it up. Somebody more interested in Aurbic enigmas than me is going to love this! Let me tell you, mythic lore makes my head spin sometimes. Skimming it does at least give me a chance to figure out how to spell the name of that stupid red diamond drop of blood of the Heart of Lorkhan thing the Ayleids had: Chim el-Adabal.

    Near some sort of altar, I run across a man playing a flute, who happily gives us directions to find Glaras. If you can call ¡°head up to the top of the tree¡± directions, at any rate. And I¡¯d been so busy running around on the ground that I¡¯d walked past a ramp leading upward five times. I come across Merry browsing a potion shop.

    ¡°Oh, there you are, Neri,¡± he says. ¡°If you¡¯re finished exploring the town, Eran and Ilara already went upstairs. Well. Upramp, I suppose. They were eager to get started, but I will not be participating in this venture.¡±

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say, and hand him the *Aurbic Enigma *book. ¡°Could you read this and tell me if there¡¯s anything important in it, then?¡±

    Merry takes the book and raises an eyebrow. ¡°Do you consider the nature of the cosmos to be important?¡±

    ¡°Maybe I should say ¡®relevant¡¯¡­¡±

    He hands the book back. ¡°You know what, joining these Briars sounds like a splendid idea after all.¡±

    I toss the book back into my pack, and we head up the ramp. The room at the top, where Eran and Ilara are (along with a couple of wood elves), contains a number of stone altars painted with red markings resembling vines, or veins. Red markings on Bosmer architecture look considerably less threatening than Daedric ones.

    ¡°Merry, decided to come along after all?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Neri threatened to make me read a book about Tower lore if I didn¡¯t,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°This promises to be much more interesting,¡± Eran says. ¡°Glaras here,¡± he gestures to the woman, ¡°has been telling us¡­ well, mostly about old hunts, but now that you guys are here, maybe she¡¯ll actually tell us what we¡¯re supposed to be doing to join.¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t really planning to be staying in this town for very long,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite alright,¡± Glaras says. ¡°You¡¯re travelers and we¡¯d hardly expect you to stay here all the time. You¡¯d miss out on all the hunting out in the world, after all. It¡¯s good to see that our taller and furrier cousins wish to honor our traditions and give respect to Brackenleaf, though.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    She starts telling us about some trials we will need to undergo, something about an outsider trying to steal the heart of the tree, which all sounds very symbolic but who knows. She won¡¯t tell us any details about that yet, instead instructing us to visit some shrines and listen to some masters and heed their wisdom.

    You¡¯d think having wandered all over town, I would know where these shrines are by now. Fortunately, the village isn¡¯t particularly large and they¡¯re difficult to miss if you¡¯re paying attention. I am always incredibly attentive.

    The three shrines are based on various animals. The sneaky snake, the ferocious tiger, and the wolf who hunts in a pack. We¡¯ll have to choose which totem (I guess they¡¯re totems?) to represent, and after some consultation with one another, we decide we¡¯ll go with the obvious one, the wolf.

    And then Glaras tells us that we need to go eat a hallucinogenic frog.

    ¡°A frog?¡± Merry says. ¡°Really?¡±

    Glaras grins. ¡°Too fancy for eating frogs, high elf?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve consumed plenty of stranger alchemical reagents,¡± Merry says. ¡°I mean, does it still need to be alive? And do we each need to eat an entire frog?¡±

    Glaras laughs. ¡°It just has to be fresh. It doesn¡¯t need to still be wriggling. But you¡¯re each gonna need your own frog, and you¡¯ve got to eat the entire thing.¡±

    We head off into a forest chock full of giant wasps, thunder bugs, and walking plant things. There¡¯s a cave not too far from the village, full of frogs. Normal sized frogs, not giant frogs. Are there giant frogs somewhere? And for some reason, there¡¯s another book about the Ayleids laying on the floor of the cave. Naturally, we are able to immediately capture the frogs without any great effort, and don¡¯t wind up soaked and muddy in the aftermath.

    Yeah, we totally wind up soaked and muddy. Merry¡¯s cleaning spells are better than mine, at least.

    Once we¡¯re momentarily clean again, Merry inspects his own frog. ¡°The things I do¡­¡±

    ¡°Are you reconsidering Aurbic Enigma yet?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, not really,¡± Merry says. ¡°We might as well all do this if we¡¯re doing this, right? Are we all doing this?¡±

    ¡°Ilara is doing this.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t muck around catching frogs for nothing,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Alright!¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Time to get high for the second time in two days.¡±

    We eat our frogs, and the world goes woogly. A plant woman spirit thing comes and speaks to us, telling us not to be afraid. She¨CI guess it¡¯s a she? The voice sounds feminine but it¡¯s not like those are actual breasts or anything¡­

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say. ¡°Are you a she, or a he, or an it or they?¡±

    The spriggan makes an amused noise. ¡°You may refer to me as ¡®she¡¯. And you may refer to Brackenleaf as ¡®he¡¯. Not many think to ask. You must go and speak with him now.¡±

    The forest outside the cave looks strange now. The sky is blurry and the creatures seem positively spectral. (They still attack us on sight, of course.) I wonder how I can tell which tree might be Brackenleaf, then realize it¡¯s probably the big one with a face.

    I come up under the huge wood nose. ¡°Excuse me. Are you Brackenleaf?¡±

    The slits that vaguely resemble eyes light up. Yep, this is Brackenleaf. Upon being told that we wish to join Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars, he asks us why.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I say.

    ¡°It sounds like it would be quite the experience,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°This one wishes to test herself as a great hunter,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Because my companions decided to,¡± Merry adds with a broad shrug.

    ¡°Hah!¡± Brackenleaf replies. ¡°You are a strange mix, but you lend one another your strengths and are stronger as a whole, yes?¡±

    We speak of the spirit animals and the tree tells us to embody the wolf, we must go hunt a tiger. This naturally leads to quite a bit more trudging through mud. Maybe it sounds better to say we¡¯re stalking through mud. That makes it sound more purposeful. Anyway, we eventually find and kill the spectral tiger that may or may not actually exist.

    Then the spriggan lady shows up and tells us that we need to kill a snake, too. Mostly we¡¯ve been proving adept at killing large numbers of giant wasps. So we slog through the mud some more to eventually find a wolf shrine, light it, and kill a spirit snake that shows up.

    ¡°You tired of mud yet, Merry?¡± Eran asks.

    Merry sighs. ¡°It¡¯s fine. If this is what I can expect of Valenwood, I had best get used to it, as we are likely to be here for a while.¡±

    ¡°Probably until we solve absolutely every problem we stumble across,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°It is a nice place,¡± Ilara says. ¡°It was a nice place when Ilara was not having visions, as well.¡±

    We return to Brackenleaf, and there¡¯s a wolf sitting at his roots who isn¡¯t attacking us, just kind of chilling there. I guess this is also symbolic. He (the tree, that is, not the wolf) sends us on our last trial, which is to¡­ defeat ourselves or something? This is getting a little unclear here. He sends us into his roots to fight the master Briars. The wolf comes along to fight with us.

    I don¡¯t want to kill them and I¡¯m not even clear on how much of this is real and how much is just a shared hallucination. Fighting non-lethally is a lot harder than simply killing people, but we¡¯re up for it. They¡¯re probably going to have headaches later, if they¡¯re even real. Dammit, Brackenleaf, if these are fake people, it would have been easier to just tell us that up front so we can go all out on them. Not that it matters too much as honestly they¡¯re not even a match for us, so trying not to kill them is possibly the only handicap that makes it even slightly a fair fight.

    Brackenleaf¡¯s heart appears to be a fire, twirling about in shapes no normal fire would. We go up and touch it, one by one. It doesn¡¯t burn, but instead we absorb it a bit like a Skyshard. Brackenleaf¡¯s voice echoes through the chamber, that we now carry a piece of his heart within us, and he sends us out again.

    Once outside again, the world has returned to its normal colors. Also, we¡¯re immediately attacked by hoarvor, so thank you, Brackenleaf, for teleporting us into the middle of a bunch of hoarvor.

    ¡°That was really cool,¡± Ilara whispers once the bugs are dead and we¡¯re slogging through mud to get back to the village.

    We find Glaras when we¡¯re back in town and speak with her for a bit.

    ¡°Are the masters okay?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t actually fight the real masters,¡± Glaras says. ¡°They were just illusions Brackenleaf summoned up to test you.¡±

    I groan. ¡°We were trying really hard not to hurt them too badly.¡±

    Ilara grins. ¡°It is fine. It was good practice.¡±

    Glaras chuckles. ¡°It speaks well of you that you would not wish to harm your allies even in a test.¡±

    She directs us to go over and light the wolf brazier and we¡¯ll be able to complete our initiation, so we do that. Consider ourselves fully initiated into Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars, even if Merry still has no idea why we joined.

 Chapter 47: In Which I Go Native in Record Time

    The cook prepares a feast in our honor full of an impressive array of meats, including the tiger, wolf, and snake, along with (non-hallucinogenic) frog legs in some sort of sauce that reminds me of scrib jelly. Talk of how we actually tried not to hurt the illusory combatants in the test ripples through the crowd, impressed that we even tried and that we won anyway.

    ¡°What a day,¡± Merry says over a plate of mammoth tongue he seems to be fervently attempting to pretend is not mammoth tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s actually been several days,¡± the tiger master says. ¡°The vision distorts your perception of time.¡±

    ¡°This is an excellent feast,¡± I say. ¡°My compliments.¡±

    Over dinner, I tell them a bit about our adventures, the very obvious things that can be publicly spoken of at any rate. Which is most of them, really. I¡¯m not particularly subtle most of the time. The battle with the storm atronach on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost was going to be known by everyone there. The battle with the gianter-than-usual giant snake near Greenwater Cove was stunningly unimportant in the grand scheme of things but still a good hunt.

    ¡°The sea elves were obnoxious, but the racist bandits were the worst,¡± I say. ¡°Veiled Heritance, they called themselves. Give me giant snakes any day. These people wanted to assassinate Queen Ayrenn and pull the Summerset Isles out of the Dominion, which was bad enough even if it hadn¡¯t been for the Daedra worship.¡±

    ¡°The Daedra worship part of that was weird,¡± Eran says. ¡°You¡¯d think conservative Altmer wouldn¡¯t have wanted to truck with the likes of Mehrunes Dagon.¡±

    ¡°That would have thrown Tamriel in disarray and likely would have led to an invasion of Valenwood, too,¡± Merry says quietly.

    ¡°Ilara is not sorry that so many people are dead now who hate Bosmer and Khajiit so much that they¡¯d rather play with Daedra.¡±

    We tell them about how the God of Schemes is scheming to conquer Tamriel and his agents are causing chaos everywhere. Some of them have seen the Dark Anchors falling in other parts of Grahtwood, but fortunately there¡¯s none particularly near Brackenleaf.

    ¡°Hunting a Daedric Prince is an impressive endeavor,¡± says the wolf master.

    ¡°I¡¯m not looking to save the world,¡± I say. ¡°Not by myself. The world is too big for one mer. Mostly we¡¯ve been solving problems and hunting down Molag Bal¡¯s agents.¡±

    ¡°Saving the world one bit of it at a time,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°A worthy endeavor, nonetheless,¡± she says.

    ¡°So, you just arrived in Valenwood and you came straight here?¡± one of them asks. ¡°Had you heard of us on the islands?¡±

    Eran chuckles. ¡°No, we just kind of got lost.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t question where my feet take me, sometimes,¡± I say with a lazy shrug. ¡°So I was looking for Elden Root, took a wrong turn and ended up here. Who¡¯s to say that the forest didn¡¯t mean for me to come here?¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Eran says. ¡°He also saved my life just because he got lost, too.¡±

    After dinner, they give us a house that I immediately dub Snugpod. Snug as it is, it¡¯s still bigger than my closet at the Mara¡¯s Kiss Inn. All the furniture being bone, leather, and occasional stone is a little weird, but I can live with it. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s any weirder than wearing armor made from bugs or living in houses made from crabs. (My current context of ¡®weird¡¯ might mainly be informed by spending the majority of my new life in the southern islands where high elves and Khajiit live.) I even hang up that painting I found somewhere that¡¯s been sitting around in my pack taking up space.

    Once we¡¯ve settled in for the night, Eran says to me quietly, ¡°For someone who was betrayed by his friends, you are certainly quick to trust people.¡±

    ¡°I resurrect at a wayshrine when I die,¡± I reply.

    ¡°Point.¡± He looks off in the direction of the door. ¡°This lot seem like good sorts, though. I never excepted the Bosmer to be so open and welcoming.¡±

    Fur bedding and leather hammocks can be surprisingly comfortable, and no one has cause to complain about sleeping somewhere safe, soft, and dry. We nibble on some warmed-up leftovers from last night¡¯s feast for breakfast and step out into the morning forest. Brackenleaf Village is nestled so close into the forest that the animals come right up to the edge of town, and they can clearly be heard moving about and calling to one another in the distance. I can pick out the cries of at least four or five different kinds of bird, none of which are familiar to me.

    A wood elven woman by the name of Mendil approaches us.

    ¡°Are you heading out of town?¡± Mendil asks.

    ¡°Just getting ready to,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll be heading for Elden Root.¡±

    She asks us if I can help someone named Firaelion (I make her spell it for me twice), who went into a cave full of spiders to make a dress or something. I promise to look for him should I manage to find the cave in question.

    Just as we get to the edge of town, another woman runs up to us. ¡°Hold on! Good thing I caught you before you left town.¡±

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m Gelur, if you missed my name. It¡¯s probably been a lot to take in and I saw you taking notes on who is who.¡± She chuckles. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve been speaking with my husband. About what you¡¯re doing, and I want to go with you. He¡¯s older than me and doesn¡¯t feel up to trekking all over the world again, but I can help. I¡¯m skilled at restoration magic, and you don¡¯t seem to have a good healer. No offence.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°None taken,¡± Merry says. ¡°It¡¯s not particularly my specialty. And Neri has one spell that isn¡¯t awful, but he can¡¯t cast it very often.¡±

    ¡°And I know my way around Valenwood, too,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Judging by your stories, you seem to get lost regularly. I can help there too.¡±

    ¡°I certainly won¡¯t turn you down,¡± I say. ¡°You should know it¡¯s going to be dangerous, though.¡±

    ¡°Insanely, stupidly dangerous sometimes,¡± Merry mumbles.

    Gelur just grins. ¡°So much the better, then! Did I tell you about how I met my husband, hunting a bear? It was very romantic!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re about to go looking for someone called Firaelion,¡± I say. ¡°Mendil said he¡¯d gone off to some cave full of spiders, but I¡¯m not sure where it is.¡±

    ¡°Oh! She must have been talking about the Scuttle Pit!¡± Gelur says. ¡°Firaelion went in there by himself? Oh, that silly boy, always biting off more than he can chew. If he hasn¡¯t come back yet, he could probably use the backup. Let¡¯s go. It¡¯s this way.¡±

    Gelur leads us off through the marshy forest, and soon enough we come upon a cave with an entrance mostly covered in vines and roots that I completely would have missed if a local hadn¡¯t pointed it out to me.

    To say the cave is full of spiders is probably not a necessary statement. The bodies of dead mer lay on the floor or strung up with webs, and while Gelur recognizes a couple of them, none of them is Firry. There¡¯s also a Skyshard situated beneath a crack in the ceiling, which I go up and absorb. Gelur doesn¡¯t even comment on it.

    After some winding tunnels, we reach a high point in the cave and encounter the biggest non-Daedric spider I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ¡°That¡­ is a really big spider,¡± Merry breathes.

    ¡°And there¡¯s more cocoons on the far wall,¡± I point out. ¡°Firry might be back there.¡±

    ¡°No sneaking by it, either,¡± Ilara whispers.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± I say, grinning madly as I call upon Blinky. A radiant spear, aimed precisely, strikes the huge spider in just the right position to flip it over onto its back.

    ¡°Oh, nice shot,¡± Gelur says.

    I¡¯m surprised that the javelin didn¡¯t pierce right through its exoskeleton. This spider is made of tough stuff. We charge in and take advantage of the opening to finish the spider off before it can recover, then set about to cutting open the cocoons to see if we can find Firry. Most of them are dead, but a gasp for breath emerges as we pull the last one apart.

    ¡°Firaelion!¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Oh, Gelur, am I glad to see you!¡± Firry exclaims. ¡°Did Mendil send you to look for me?¡±

    ¡°She absolutely did,¡± Gelur says. ¡°What were you thinking, Firry? Only Neri here could have taken on that spider queen by himself and emerged victorious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Eran admits. ¡°This guy is terrifying.¡±

    ¡°And who are our new friends here?¡± Firry wonders.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get a round of introductions going outside the spider cave, shall we?¡± Merry says.

    We make our way back toward the village with Firry in tow. Gelur has healed him up but he¡¯s still weak and hungry, having missed last night¡¯s feast and spent the night tied up in a spider cave. No wonder Mendil was so worried about him.

    ¡°So you¡¯re the newest Briars?¡± Firry asks. ¡°Ah! Now I remember seeing you come into the village. I didn¡¯t realize you were actually looking to join. You didn¡¯t, ah, seem like the type to me.¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t look like Bosmer, you mean?¡± I say with a crooked grin. ¡°We¡¯re full of surprises.¡±

    ¡°At least I got enough silk to make a dress for Mendil,¡± Firry says. ¡°So something came up that venture.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what this was about?¡± Gelur says. ¡°A dress? Firry, you almost got yourself killed. I think Mendil would rather have you than some dress, no matter how fancy.¡±

    Firry looks down sheepishly and doesn¡¯t reply.

    Mendil, not content to wait at the edge of town, rushes toward us when she sees us approaching, fortunately not tripping over any thunder bugs along the way. ¡°Firaelion! You¡¯re alive!¡± She profusely thanks us for saving him, promises not to let him out of her sight for a good long time, and drags him off. I¡¯d almost pity him if I hadn¡¯t just had to cut him out of a spider cocoon.

    We take one last opportunity to grab a few provisions for the road, but there¡¯s no need to stock up for a long haul since we¡¯re going straight to a major city from here.

    ¡°Alright, with that taken care of, we ought to head to Elden Root,¡± I say. ¡°Is there a road loading there?¡±

    ¡°Bah, the roads will take you the long way around,¡± Gelur scoffs. ¡°I know a shortcut. We can just head up to the wayshrine on the bluff and come down to the lakeshore.¡±

    ¡°A wayshrine? That definitely sounds good.¡±

    ¡°Why are you so intent upon getting this wayshrine thing working?¡± Merry wonders. ¡°For all this trouble you could just hire us a portal mage. And if this takes long enough to figure out, I could learn translocation magic the normal way.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to be careful over there,¡± Gelur goes on. ¡°There¡¯s a nasty nereid bitch who hangs around down by the lakeshore who likes to kill mer who wander too close to her territory. If we¡¯re looking for a fight with her, we¡¯d better mean it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a nereid?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Water spirits,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Look kinda like blue mer women, if mer women went like levitating two feet above the ground at all times. You¡¯ll often find them around lakes and rivers. Some of them are pretty harmless and just want their particular patch of river to be left alone. Lady Solace, though, she¡¯s a killer.¡±

    Wood elven wayshrines are made of roughly hewn stone covered in carven vines and moss, but the brazier blazes with the same flickering blue flame when I go up and light it.

    The nereid Gelur mentions turns out to be quite the bitch. As soon as we to the lakeshore down from the wayshrine, she comes upon us with wind and water powers. We¡¯re alert, however, and Gelur really does turn out to be good at restoration magic. Ilara keeps shooting arrows at the nereid whenever she can get past the wind. I spend as much time tumbling about to avoid her water attacks as I do swinging Khenarthi¡¯s Storm at her. Which is how I wind up losing my axe at the bottom of the lake and very nearly join it.

    ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I mutter, staggering to my feet again. Upon seeing that the stupid nereid is still up and trying to kill us and I don¡¯t have time to fail at swimming, I just summon up Blinky and stab her repeatedly with some quick puncturing strikes. One might even call them biting jabs! At least this is a weapon I can¡¯t lose. (Or so I hope, anyway.)

    Once the nereid is down, I wade ankle deep into the water to see if I can spot any sign of my axe, but I don¡¯t see it.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Gelur asks, making sure I¡¯m healed up.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, wiping mud off away from my eyes. ¡°But it looks like Khenarthi¡¯s Storm ironically got blown into the lake.¡±

    ¡°Well, that blows,¡± Eran says.

    I smirk at him. ¡°Oh come on, I¡¯m supposed to be the one who makes bad puns.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re contagious,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Ugh, and I¡¯m not a strong enough swimmer to go diving down to a muddy lakebed to try looking for it,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose anyone else¡­?¡± My companions are shaking their heads.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to check the guild stores in Elden Root and see if they¡¯ve got anything good,¡± Merry suggests. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find you another battle axe.¡±

    ¡°Guess so,¡± I grumble. ¡°You have no idea what this means, though.¡±

    ¡°I guess you were attached to the axe?¡± Eran says.

    I chuckle. ¡°Well, it was a bit sentimental, yes, but it also means I¡¯m going to name a new weapon something stupid.¡±

    Merry says, ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®How bad could it be?¡¯ but you dubbed me Merry.¡±

 Chapter 48: In Which I Climb a Tree

    Elden Root is such a large tree that we can¡¯t mistake it even from the other side of the lake. Huge limbs and roots curve off in every direction, and if we were feeling particularly adventurous, we might even be able to just get into town by climbing one of them. No one feels like doing that today.

    In addition to whatever is inside the tree itself, a small city¡¯s worth of tents, carts, and more conventional buildings sprawls around the base of the tree. There¡¯s a Skyshard tucked away behind a bit of ruin near the bridge leading into the city, which I definitely stop to absorb on the way by.

    Eran cranes his neck to look up now that we¡¯re close enough to really get a sense of the scale of this thing. ¡°Not to state the obvious, but that is a big tree.¡±

    Amber windows spiral along the trunk, and at the base of the tree stands an archway large enough to admit a ship, provided there were a seafaring vessel sailing around this far from the ocean. The opening dwarfs the various carriages of different types that are resting about its base. At least it¡¯s also wide enough that no one is going to complain about us coming in slowly and staring at everything. Gelur is grinning over my shoulder, just quietly letting us take in the sight.

    The ground level of Elden Root is a broad marketplace with a wayshrine standing in the middle up some rough stairs. Remarkably, the place is so big that there are more normal-sized trees growing inside of it and even a small pond. The ceiling arches high overhead, covered with vines and leaves along with orbs of light of some sort giving an ambient glow beyond the sunlight streaming in from the broad doors and the braziers flickering away near each of the stalls.

    I wave the others off to explore town, go shopping, or settle in at the inn while do my own errands. We¡¯ll meet up at the Outside Inn later. I¡¯ll need to go up top to see if Queen Ayrenn has arrived yet or if she¡¯s just waiting for me to un-bollocks whatever might be wrong with the entirety of Grahtwood before setting foot here. I really hope there isn¡¯t anything going on here half as annoying as the Veiled Heritance. (I¡¯d better not jinx this.)

    I spot an advertisement for couriers and make note of it. I¡¯m probably going to wind up traveling a lot, so I may as well get paid a bit of extra while I¡¯m at it.

    Several guild vendors have set up a cluster of stalls just outside the left exit from the tree, and I browse their selection and listen to their dubious claims. This one is a minotaur¡¯s cleaver, they say, and this one was allegedly used to fell a dragon. Here¡¯s an axe suitable for an Alfiq (whatever that is; I don¡¯t ask), and here¡¯s one that would be good for killing vampires. An axe of Dwemer design catches my attention.

    ¡°Say, is that Dwemer?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yep!¡± says the Bosmer vendor. ¡°Pulled right out of the ruins of someplace whose name I can¡¯t pronounce that starts with an N or something.¡±

    ¡°I feel you on that,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe that was what really caused them to disappear. They tried to find some vowels.¡±

    The vendor laughs at that, and I purchase the Dwemer axe from her and immediately dub it Dumzy, after an old friend who I liked too much to call ¡®Dummy¡¯.

    I head up to the second level of the giant tree, and marvel at the fact that it¡¯s still huge and even the second floor is paved with stone, too. And has a forge amid its crafting setup. Long banners in red and blue marked with the symbols of the Mages and Fighters Guilds hang from the ceiling and drape to each side of two enormous doors leading off into different parts of the tree. The third branch, situated between them at the far side of the huge chamber, is adorned with green banners bearing a symbol I don¡¯t recognize, presumably symbolizing Valenwood or the clan of the current king or something. Few places have such literal branching corridors as when you¡¯re talking about Bosmer architecture.

    I stop in at the Mages Guild first. I love the windows here. They¡¯re huge (I keep saying everything is huge) and comprised of blue cloudy glass with golden vine motifs running across it around the fancy eye Mages Guild symbol. I wonder if they open? They¡¯d be an excellent landing point for levitating mages or ones riding a flying mount, but I haven¡¯t seen either such thing around here. Nobody in this part of the world seems to want to levitate more than two feet off the ground for some reason.

    After taking a look around, I have to grin as I spot a couple of familiar faces, only grinning slightly less at the third familiar face. It¡¯s the mages I met on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost. Including the annoying one, ¡®Eel-Kill¡¯. Valaste is here as well, and has finished translating the last book I brought her and has been waiting for someone crazy enough to go into the Shivering Isles for her to come along. I promise her that I¡¯ll get to it once I¡¯ve run some errands and gotten a good night¡¯s sleep. She looks like she could use a good night¡¯s sleep herself, and I¡¯m not shy to tell her so.

    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± I exclaim as I go up to Gathwen and Rurelion (after making sure I¡¯m not interrupting anyone in the middle of delicate rituals or alchemy; that would be bad). ¡°Good to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Neralion!¡± Gathwen says, smiling as she sees me.

    We take a moment to catch up. They¡¯d apparently come straight to Elden Root after Khenarthi¡¯s Roost and have been here since doing research. I¡¯ll consider them fortunate to have missed the debacle that was Auridon.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been considerably busier than us,¡± Gathwen says. ¡°But then, we¡¯ve been considerably safer than you, here, so I suppose that¡¯s a trade-off.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve got a little project here I was hoping you guys could help me with. About teleportation. Do you think wayshrines might be able to be used for teleportation?¡±

    Ealcil scoffs at the notion (I hadn¡¯t even realized he was bothering to listen). ¡°I am quite certain that they could, but why would you bother? A needless limitation. Just learn to teleport the proper way.¡±

    ¡°Well, sure, I¡¯d love to, but seeing as I barely know how to cast a few basic spells and I do not currently have a century to spare, I¡¯m either going to need to learn a shortcut or hire a portal mage. Are you volunteering, then?¡±

    Ealcil makes a disgusted noise. ¡°No, I am much too busy to play chauffeur for adventurers. I will acknowledge that limitations and reliance upon enchanted items and anchor points can make magic much easier for a dabbler such as yourself.¡±

    A dizzying discussion ensues between Ealcil and Rurelion, which I have great difficulty in following, regarding the Aetherial energy my body has absorbed and connections I¡¯ve made with the wayshrines. I exchange a look with Gathwen, and it seems the level of arcane terminology is beyond even her, too.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to run some experiments,¡± Ealcil tells me ominously.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say smoothly. ¡°What will this entail?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go down to the wayshrine,¡± Ealcil says. ¡°I shall need to measure some thaumic readings.¡±

    Ealcil and I head down to the ground floor, with Rurelion and Gathwen going along to contribute storms of jargon and to ensure that Ealcil does not do anything unwise. I¡¯m wary about Ealcil doing anything unwise, too, but at least he knows how to teleport, unlike Merormo.

    At least Rurelion has the good sense to not bother to explain to Ealcil why I have Aedric essence in my body. Fortunately, Ealcil¡¯s pride and curiosity are working in my favor this time. He sees this as simply a puzzle to be solved, and it¡¯s a bonus that it¡¯s one that will ensure that I solve problems so that he doesn¡¯t need to worry about them. They¡¯ve heard about what happened in Firsthold and would find it highly inconvenient if the city they happen to be in were to be invaded by Daedra.

    After taking some readings and having another discussion I can¡¯t follow, they instruct me to put a hand on the wayshrine and start making suggestions on what to do. At first nothing seems to work, but right as I think I¡¯m making progress, I¡¯m finding their continuing discussions to be rather distracting.

    ¡°Pardon me,¡± I say. ¡°Could you be quiet for a moment, please? I think I¡¯ve got something here but I need to focus.¡±

    At least they¡¯re not even offended. I suppose being mages, they¡¯re used to not wanting to be interrupted when doing something that requires focus.

    I close my eyes and reach out, trying to follow the instructions I was given, and then something clicks. (Not literally. There is no actual clicking sound.) In my mind, I get a sense of a network of lights like stars, and I realize that each of them is a wayshrine that I¡¯ve lit and established a connection with. Reaching further, I think I might even be able to identify which one is where. Like this closest one must be the wayshrine next Brackenleaf. Reaching further¡­

    The air shifts, and I suddenly feel a breeze on my nethers. Yep, I¡¯ve just teleported naked. Of course. Taking a look around, this does appear to be the wayshrine I was thinking of, and I can see the lake from here. I try to repeat what I just did so that I can get back to where my clothes are. Now that I know what I¡¯m looking for, it doesn¡¯t take nearly as much blindly groping around, although it¡¯s clearly going to take some practice. The ground floor of Elden Root reappears, and I¡¯m standing on top of a pile of clothes and my pack and axe.

    ¡°Well,¡± I say, pulling my pants back on. ¡°Let¡¯s call that ¡®it works, but¡­¡¯.¡± I snicker softly.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the most basic of beginner errors with translocation magic,¡± Ealcil says. ¡°You will need to extend the bounded field around your body, although you should at least feel fortunate that you are able to teleport your entire body. It is inconvenient when incompetent apprentices leave behind pieces of themselves. So which method wound up working for you?¡±

    I make no comment on those unfortunate apprentices (I hadn¡¯t even known that was possible) and simply explain what I did as best as I can. Ealcil¡¯s response is to go ¡®ah, yes¡¯ and then repeat what I just told him in excessive levels of arcane jargon. Now that the puzzle has been solved to his satisfaction, however, he¡¯s ready to head back upstairs to the Guildhall, and dismisses me to getting advice on ¡®extending my bounded field¡¯ from someone whose time is less important than his. Fortunately, Gathwen is able to give me some pointers on that. She might be less of an expert, but she¡¯s also less of a s¡¯wit.

    It will be something to play with more later. For the moment, I go to check out that branch with the green banners. And it¡¯s full of well-dressed mer standing around and a guy on a throne. Queen Ayrenn is not currently in the audience chamber, but I do recognize Prince Naemon and Vicereeve Pelidil, who are totally my favorite people and I¡¯m utterly thrilled to see them here.

    King Camoran Aeradan (not Aeradon, Aeredin, or any of my other attempts at spelling it) is seated on a throne made of vines and dotted with flowers, and is wearing an crown of antlers. He radiates every image of a wood elven lord. I ignore the Prince and Vicereeve and approach the King instead. He calls me bold for approaching and asks if I have something he can pretend he summoned me for so his petitioners don¡¯t think I just cut the line.

    ¡°Queen Ayrenn sent me,¡± I say. ¡°I specialize in solving problems either by hitting them until they stop moving or by talking at them until they capitulate. Do you have problems that need to be solved?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that was kind of her!¡± the King says, and then starts telling me about some problems regarding the construction of a Khajiit embassy. This is probably a problem that can be solved by finding the right person to talk at until they capitulate. He then tells me to start by asking Prince Naemon about it.

    I groan softly. ¡°Is that necessary?¡±

    ¡°Eh, he acts like he has a graht-oak lodged up his arse, but it¡¯s his people who are failing to fulfill their promises in the matter.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that the last I spoke with him, I¡¯d just killed his wife for opening Oblivion gates to invade a city,¡± I say.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the King says. (Am I supposed to call him King Camoran or Aeradan?) ¡°I can see how that would be tense. Still, he¡¯d best get past that¡ªit¡¯s not like you didn¡¯t have good cause, by Y¡¯ffre! If nothing else, though, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be happy to pass the blame onto whichever of his underlings is slightly more directly at fault here than him.¡±

    Prince Naemon is definitely not happy to see me. His eyes have been following me around the room as if trying to keep tabs on what I¡¯m doing here, and he gives a small sigh of resignation when he sees me finally approaching him. After finding out what I¡¯m here for, he surrenders the name ¡®Ambassador Tarinwe¡¯ to get me to go away.

    Seeing as the situation has been at a standstill for months, I gauge this to be not particularly urgent and resolve to deal with it after I¡¯ve taken care of some other things in town first. Because at the moment, I¡¯d rather jump through a portal to the Shivering Isles than deal with high elves probably being racist again.

 Chapter 49: In Which I Retrieve a Fork and a Stick

    ¡°Hey guys,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got a small errand for the Mages Guild to do, so unless anyone else wants to make a quick trip to the Shivering Isles, I¡¯ll see you later.¡±

    ¡°Pass,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Hard pass,¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Merry comments.

    ¡°Tell me about it later,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Okay, since you guys are wisely staying behind, could you do me a favor and recap our new friend on why I changed my name to avoid my ex?¡±

    ¡°Will do,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°This I have to hear,¡± Gelur says.

    I head back to the Elden Root branch (heh) of the Mages Guild and go let Valaste know I¡¯m ready to do something insane. She¡¯s excited about the prospect, and seems to be enjoying herself quite a bit. Also I feel like she¡¯s been flirting with Shalidor. Not that it¡¯s any of my business, but I hope she¡¯s not expecting a long-term relationship with a dead Nord. Who is still glowing purple. When he leaves this world again, he¡¯ll be returning to Sovngarde, while she¡­ may wind up in the Shivering Isles with how much she¡¯s gushing about Sheogorath¡¯s genius and witty wordplay.

    In any case, speculations on the final resting place of people¡¯s souls notwithstanding, Valaste sends me to speak to Shalidor to open a portal to the Shivering Isles for me.

    The location we step out of the portal at looks like it could be anywhere on Auridon, aside from the fact that the sky is shrouded in a thick haze that casts a violet hue upon everything in the distance. Sheogorath¡¯s chamberlain (Haskill I think his name was?) is standing before us when we arrive.

    ¡°I hope you haven¡¯t been waiting here the whole time,¡± I say.

    ¡°No, although I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up again at all,¡± Haskill says.

    ¡°Sorry, I had to deal with some issues involving a couple of far more boring Daedric Princes attempting to make a mess of Nirn. You know how it goes.¡±

    ¡°Some of them do enjoy their pointless invasions,¡± Haskill says. ¡°It¡¯s positively tiresome, really. Now, you are here to retrieve a book for that Shalidor person, yes?¡±

    ¡°I am, indeed, still the only library courier who the Mages Guild could find who was crazy enough to go to the Shivering Isles for them, yes,¡± I say. ¡°What will I be playing today?¡±

    Haskill dryly informs me that I will be retrieving a fork and a staff, and a portal will take me to the fork. Which Sheogorath ¡®misplaced¡¯ in Skyrim a very long time ago, apparently. This claim is probably nonsense, of course.

    ¡°So, wait, is this portal going to take us to Tamriel now or then?¡± I wonder.

    Haskill sighs and replies as if explaining to a particularly dull child, ¡°The portal will not transport you through time. The fork has simply been there for a very long time. This would be a much more lively trip for you otherwise. Since then you would be dealing with living dragon priests and not dead ones.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure death has not improved their temperament,¡± I say, heading for the portal.

    Shalidor and I come out in a frozen tomb, the floor covered in hard-packed snow and icicles longer than I am tall hanging from the ceiling.

    I shiver. ¡°Brrr. And here I am, dressed for the balmy south.¡±

    ¡°Be on your guard,¡± Shalidor says. ¡°There are likely to be draugr here.¡±

    ¡°And traps?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Very likely,¡± Shalidor says. ¡°My ancestors certainly loved their traps.¡±

    We head in, and the longer we go without springing any traps or being attacked by draugr, the warier we become. One door is blocked by a barrier of ice, preventing us from going forward. When we inspect the treasures in the area we can get to, we¡¯re ambushed by draugr, but we were so wary by that point it¡¯s not like it was even a surprise. The dragon priest in question (I already forgot his name) taunts us and tells us to come face him, and the ice barrier drops.

    ¡°Happy to oblige,¡± I say.

    The thing that bothers me most about this tomb isn¡¯t the door that was obviously blocked by an ice barrier, but the other doors that we simply have no way of opening. It almost feels like Sheogorath has figuratively put us on a mine cart to keep us on the rails and not wander off. I¡¯m still thoroughly looting everything I run across that looks even slightly valuable and will fit in my inventory.

    ¡°It does feel like that, doesn¡¯t it,¡± Shalidor says when I comment on it. ¡°It would not surprise me if the Madgod were still messing with us.¡±

    We find the dragon priest in question (it has to be him) hovering two feet above the ground in a shaft of light. I wonder if the tomb was intentionally built like that, or if he blasted a hole in his own ceiling just for that effect. In any case, he¡¯s been taunting us in what I think is supposed to be the dragon language but his accent is absolutely horrible. The Nord Tongues I fought back in the day would have mocked this guy senseless if they heard it, if they weren¡¯t too busy pretending to be respectful of him. And then they¡¯d mock him over drinks when they think he can¡¯t hear.

    In any case, we beat him up and take the fork, and Haskill shows up to send us to Hammerfell to locate the next trinket Sheogorath wants us to retrieve for his little game.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Another tomb, this one considerably warmer. Shalidor instructs me to collect essences and imbue seals on statues, something about crystals or whatever, which aside from the arcane terminology basically just amounts to catching little glowy bits floating in the air while running around hitting dead things. A lot less complicated than he makes it sound. Like collecting butterflies without a net, just by capturing them into orbit around me.

    A gravely voice echoes over the valley, taunting us. Really, why do they always insist on taunting? ¡°You¡¯ll never best my generals!¡± says the voice of dead prince whoever. Why don¡¯t they ever say things like ¡®hey, how are you, welcome to my tomb, would you like a drink, let me tell you about some very fascinating things in my life!¡¯ It¡¯s just rude, let me tell you. If I were spending enough of my afterlife stuck in a tomb aware enough to yell at anyone who shows up, I¡¯d be glad for somebody new to talk to.

    I look over to Shalidor and notice the purple motes flitting around him have turned into a veritable torrent of purple motes. ¡°Shalidor, are you quite alright? You¡¯re looking more purple than usual.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, this is perfectly normal,¡± Shalidor says, then points me toward going to beat up the dead prince¡¯s dead generals, which I cheerfully oblige.

    The bigger and glowier essences of the generals (which Shalidor has to remind me to stop playing with and get on with it) activate the other two statues so that we can make the big glowy orb in the middle make a glowy line that opens up the tomb. I am entirely completely confused as to why any of this was constructed. It seems like a bit of a cumbersome way to open a door, and if he really wanted to just keep people out, he wouldn¡¯t need a door at all. Although not so confused as to refrain from looting it on the way through. (I wish I could fit this entire bookcase in here. It¡¯s very pretty and fancy. Maybe if I emptied out some of the junk I don¡¯t need¡­ Shalidor is complaining at me, fine, I¡¯ll get on with it.)

    ¡°You¡¯ll never have the staff!¡± exclaims dead prince what¡¯s-his-name.

    ¡°Why do you even want it so badly?¡± I wonder aloud. ¡°Isn¡¯t it an artifact of Sheogorath? Or at least one he apparently likes enough to send us after.¡±

    After beating up the dead prince, I continue my looting of the tomb, barely remembering to pick up the staff we came here to get in the first place. There¡¯s a lute, a harp, and some sort of stringed object that might be an instrument I don¡¯t quite recognize. I opt not to put a lit candelabra into my pack.

    ¡°Are you quite done looting yet?¡± Shalidor asks.

    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t fit anything else,¡± I say, stuffing a fancy pillow into the last bit of space. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Outside, Haskill¡¯s got another portal for us to return to the Shivering Isles, which would definitely beat trying to figure out where exactly in Hammerfell I am in order to climb out of here and locate civilization.

    Sheogorath is there when we arrive, along with a glowing purple book fluttering around like a butterfly at his side. The Madgod fondly greets the fork, and me as an afterthought. I return the fork to him, and he hugs it and practically fondles it in a way that¡¯s almost embarrassing to watch. (How much of this is just him being weird, and how much is him deliberately trying to make Shalidor and/or Haskill uncomfortable?)

    The staff, it turns out, is the Wabbajack itself. Even I have heard of this one. Sheogorath tells me to take it and go zap some of the robed people standing around in this weird fake temple of the Divines sort of place. I¡¯d really just taken them as part of the scenery and I¡¯m still pretty sure they¡¯re not even real anyway. (Although if they¡¯re real, they should be used to weirdness in the Shivering Isles by now.)

    I run around waving the Wabbajack around, giggling gleefully as I turn people into statues, pigs, cats, pumpkins, and cheese. Sheogorath seems pleased enough, and takes the staff back and gives me leave to take the book. I pull out my butterfly net and capture it, and as I do so, the Shivering Isles vanishes in a flash of light and the Elden Root Guildhall reappears.

    ¡°No cheese this time?¡± Valaste asks with a faint grin as she takes the book out of the butterfly net.

    ¡°No, Sheogorath had me turn people into cheese,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they were actual people or just illusions but it still would have felt weird eating it after that.¡±

    Valaste suppresses a giggle. ¡°Yes, I understand that might be awkward. Good work. I¡¯ll get started on this right away. The Circus of Cheerful Slaughter is it? Quite the upbeat title, that!¡±

    I go off to meet up with my friends and sort through my bounty, to see what to sell and what to keep. And where to put what to keep. Being able to use a wayshrine to teleport isn¡¯t going to be especially useful until I can do it without winding up naked at my destination. My friends rented one of the upper pods of the Outside Inn, and are in the midst of chatting, eating, and/or reading when I come in.

    ¡°I see you¡¯ve arrived safely back from your mad venture,¡± Merry says, sliding a bookmark into his book and setting it aside.

    ¡°How did it go?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°Things went pretty well,¡± I say, setting my pack on the floor and opening it up. ¡°The Madgod only asked me to solve some stupid puzzles and turn some people into cheese. You know how it goes.¡±

    ¡°Back up a moment here,¡± Eran says. ¡°You turned people into cheese?¡±

    ¡°To be fair, I¡¯m not sure they were actually people,¡± I say. ¡°They were mostly just standing around and weren¡¯t very responsive, so either they were illusions or their minds were already pretty much gone. And really, when you¡¯re in the Shivering Isles with no portal out and the Madgod tells you to turn people into cheese, you turn people into cheese, or he¡¯ll start thinking you¡¯re boring and do annoying things to you.¡±

    ¡°You were the one who chose to go to the Shivering Isles in the first place,¡± Merry points out.

    ¡°Shalidor¡¯s very persuasive,¡± I say, pulling items out of my pack. ¡°Or annoying. He kept complaining about me stopping to load up my pack.¡±

    Eran stares at the growing pile emerging from the expanded space inside-but-not-inside the pack. ¡°Did you rob a tomb?¡±

    ¡°I, in fact, robbed two tombs,¡± I say. ¡°The Madgod also had me swipe ¡®Forky¡¯ and the Wabbajack. Sadly, he took them back. That could have been fun.¡±

    ¡°Wait, the Shalidor?¡± Merry asks.

    I smirk. ¡°Yes, the Shalidor.¡± I wave vaguely toward the big tree. ¡°He¡¯s probably still loitering up at the Mages Guild if you¡¯d rather go chat with him about history than me. He probably remembers more of history than me. And is saner.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sorry, just confirming,¡± Merry says. ¡°I never expected to be bumping into quite so many famous historical figures in such a short period of time.¡±

    ¡°You should have come with me to the Mages Guild, then,¡± I say. ¡°I got to make the acquaintance of, and repeatedly hit, a long-dead dragon priest and some Redguard or Yokudan or something prince. I don¡¯t remember their names but apparently they were pretty famous at some point!¡±

    ¡°And then you robbed their tombs?¡± Ilara asks, absently pawing through the items I¡¯ve laid out on the floor. She holds up an extremely dusty pillow and sneezes.

    ¡°In hindsight, maybe the ancient pillow wasn¡¯t such a great idea,¡± I say, coughing. ¡°Oh, hey, Ilara, did you actually want to play an instrument or was the Bard¡¯s College just a blind excuse? I found a lute, a harp, and a¡­ whatever this is.¡± I hold up the board with strings.

    Ilara puts a paw on the harp curiously. ¡°Ilara is interested in music, although she is surprised you remembered¡­¡± She plucks at the harp strings experimentally. ¡°By Jode, this is very old¡­ and extremely out of tune. It would probably need its strings replaced.¡± She moves back, covering a giggle with a paw. ¡°Perhaps it would be better to simply sell them to a museum and use the money to buy a new one, or at least a used one that is less than a century old. Ilara is afraid to even touch the lute.¡±

 Chapter 50: In Which I Find a Shiny Thing

    I stop in at the Fighters Guild to see if anyone there can tell me how their own project has been going, translating an encoded journal found on a dremora woman. Mirroring the Mages Guild branch, the Fighters Guildhall also has fancy windows in it, except these are golden rather than blue, with green vines around a red Fighters Guild emblem. (Wait, it might be more of a green-gold color for the vines. Is it the same color that just looks more green against the gold glass? I don¡¯t feel like running back and forth to compare them.)

    Elden Root¡¯s resources apparently drew Sees-All-Colors here too, and she¡¯s gotten the journal deciphered. She tells me how the journal indicates the dremora in question was after some sort of artifact hidden in a Dwemer ruin with a name starting with M.

    I¡¯m impressed that this Argonian even tries to pronounce the Dwemer name, and don¡¯t bother telling her that she¡¯s pronouncing it wrong. It hardly matters anymore and I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t mangle plenty of Dwemer names in my time, either. Dumzy¡ªmy old friend, not my axe¡ªused to poke fun at me endlessly for it. People who aren¡¯t Dwemer always like to put enough vowels into words that they don¡¯t bump quite so many consonants into one another, but the Dwemer were too good for such silly concepts as vowels. ¡®Gaps of tonal harmony in between percussive spaces¡¯, one of them described them as. Dwemer vowels weren¡¯t just vowels, but tones, and they never bothered to write down anything about the nuance in their language. (Probably intentionally; they¡¯re bastards like that.) I really, really don¡¯t envy any archaeologists trying to study them today.

    ¡°Neralion?¡± Sees-All-Colors interrupts my line of thought. ¡°Are you paying attention? You look distracted.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± I say. ¡°Just thinking about the Dwemer. I¡¯m something of a scholar of them, you see.¡±

    ¡°I never took you for a historian,¡± Sees-All-Colors says.

    I chuckle. ¡°Yes, not everyone who studies history wears a robe. It turns out that many historical locations are full of pissy ghosts, skeletons, constructs, or bandits.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± she says. ¡°Are you familiar with the location we are heading to? It¡¯s located in the mountains of Hammerfell.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to Hammerfell before today, when I took a portal there on an errand for the Mages Guild.¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be taking another portal back there.¡± She chuckles. ¡°I am also familiar with portal magic, so I will be opening it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s excellent,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been learning some teleportation techniques lately, myself, but it¡¯s been tricky. I haven¡¯t yet gotten the knack of teleporting with my clothing.¡±

    Come to think, it probably doesn¡¯t actually take a century to perfect if humans and Argonians are capable of doing it. They¡¯re probably smarter than elves, though. Elves can¡¯t learn to put on pants in less than a decade.

    ¡°Do you want to do this just with us, or should I gather my party before venturing forth?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just keep it to us,¡± Colors says.

    Aelif and Merric, the Khajiit and Redguard I¡¯d encountered before, are also here but aren¡¯t coming along with us. I wonder aloud if Colors had simply been waiting for me to show up to do this. I can understand that the Mages Guild couldn¡¯t find anyone else willing to go to the Shivering Isles (¡°You went where?¡±) but I¡¯m guessing I must have just had good timing or they really didn¡¯t trust anyone else for this job.

    I like Aelif¡¯s snark, but not her disdain for the necessity of fighting Daedra. She¡¯s also a bit miffed that Colors refused to share anything she learned from the journal with her.

    ¡°It did take a while to get the journal decoded and acquire the information we needed,¡± Colors says. ¡°I tried sending Bera Moorsmith to you with a message but you were always moving around. Then I got word you were seen at Haven and figured you¡¯d be here soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I was busy saving Auridon from racist bandits and sea elves. Let¡¯s go, then.¡±

    Colors opens up a portal, and we step through into a Dwemer complex. It¡¯s¡­ eerie seeing a place like this. I haven¡¯t been in a Dwemer ruin before, and it¡¯s spine-chilling to look around and think that it wasn¡¯t so very long ago, these halls echoed instead with the voices of the deep elves, living their lives and plying their trades. And then in the blink of an eye, they all vanished without a trace, not even leaving bones behind, or so says all the books that mention them that I¡¯ve run across.

    I never really thought of myself as a hero, you know. Calling someone a hero implies that¡¯s what they are rather than what they do, but heroism is an action, not a person. And frequently I perform this action accidentally or unwittingly. Just by being in the right place at the right time. Except when someone, like Sees-All-Colors here, insists on waiting specifically for me to come along and I¡¯m not entirely clear why. It¡¯s not like these otherwise competent people are incapable of getting anything done without me. And there¡¯s something else strange about this, that I get an odd note in her voice, hesitations in weird places. She knows more about what¡¯s going on here than she¡¯s letting on.

    I strike up a conversation to try to distract myself from my thoughts and the noise of Dwemer machinery clicking and rattling away unattended. ¡°So, Colors, maybe you could give me some pointers on teleportation magic, from the perspective of someone who is more of a fighter than a mage,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ talked to mages about it and have attempted to listen to discussions that have all the clarity of a sulfur pool.¡±

    ¡°What are you having problems with?¡± Colors asks.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve learned a technique for teleporting between two wayshrines,¡± I say. ¡°I have not, however, learned how to take my clothes with me, never mind my party.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Colors replies with a chuckle. ¡°I can see how that would be a problem. Wayshrines, huh. Yes, I can see how that would work.¡±

    ¡°The mages said something about ¡®expanding my bounded field¡¯ without explaining what that meant,¡± I say.

    ¡°Mages,¡± Colors says, shaking her head. ¡°They give an explanation that would make sense to another mage.¡±

    She goes quiet and holds up a hand as voices can be heard from up ahead. Not Dwemer voices, either. Ayleids? Here? Not so much ghosts as memories, talking about hiding a weapon. The apparitions vanish after a moment.

    ¡°What was that?¡± I wonder. ¡°And why did it just appear as we were walking down the hallway?¡±

    ¡°It does seem rather strange,¡± Colors agrees. ¡°I¡¯ve seen this happen before. Sometimes events can leave an impression upon a place like that.¡±

    ¡°And they just show themselves to anyone walking in,¡± I say with a snort. ¡°That would make so many mysteries more answerable if it were more reliable. Like why is it showing these Ayleids, but not a single one of the Dwemer who used to live here?¡±

    ¡°That I cannot tell you,¡± Colors says. ¡°Let¡¯s move on, and I¡¯ll try to help with your teleportation problem in between hitting these constructs.¡±

    It would appear that without their masters, the Dwemer constructs have just been left on defense and maintenance. No wonder everything that hasn¡¯t physically collapsed is still working however many centuries later, and they¡¯ve probably done a good job of discouraging any looters who weren¡¯t really serious about what they¡¯re looting. I wistfully look upon a couple of pristine schematics along the wall and politely ask Colors if she minds if I take a moment to collect a couple of things to study, and she says that she doesn¡¯t mind if I don¡¯t take too long. We¡¯re on an actual mission here and not an archaeological expedition, after all.

    ¡°I think your problem is that you¡¯re teleporting too hastily,¡± Colors says. ¡°You¡¯re focusing only on your destination.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s probably true,¡± I say.

    ¡°Next time you try it, take a moment to breathe before you cast, and be aware of yourself. Don¡¯t just think about trying to carry things or people with you, but consider how they¡¯re a part of you. You¡¯re no true fighter without your axe, and no true adventurer without your party. All are one.¡±

    I nod thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ll try that. Thank you.¡±

    We open the next door, and another group of Ayleid apparitions appears before us. One of their number has died, and this is apparently a problem because they need a living sacrifice for¡­ something.

    ¡°Sacrifices now?¡± I say. ¡°That sounds unpleasant.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Colors says, then bends down to pick up a book on the ground next to a skeleton, and opens it. ¡°Look, they left a journal here.¡± She shows it to me.

    I skim through it. ¡°These Ayleids were Meridia worshippers? Huh. And something they call a Prismatic Core? I guess Meridia is all about light and colors, right?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Colors says.

    We move on, with Colors marveling at the skill of the Dwemer along the way, and I suppress a sigh at my own melancholy thoughts along those lines. We run across another journal sitting next to a skeleton slumped against a wall. It sounds like these Meridian Ayleids had a desperate fight. The next memory we see is of this particular mer trying to lead enemies away from the group to buy them time.

    ¡°Heroic, but where were they going¡­¡± I murmur.

    ¡°Further in, it would seem,¡± Colors says. ¡°But this complex is sprawling. It must have been a great city at one point.¡±

    I want to tell her, badly, but I feel like she¡¯s hiding something, so I hold my tongue for the moment. Is it just me being paranoid? It¡¯s probably nothing, but I¡¯ve already told more people than I meant to. However, it was absolutely necessary that I be able to trust my party, and I don¡¯t feel like any of them are hiding anything sinister. I already know their worst secrets, after all.

    Another memory. The Ayleids are down to three and one is dying. As we watch, the dying one begs her beloved to ¡®do it¡¯, and I infer that ¡®it¡¯ is soultrapping her to power this shiny weapon.

    The penultimate Ayleid died a little further on, holding off a swarm of constructs to let the final one make a break for it toward the heart of the complex. Colors admires their bravery aloud. And as we¡¯re looking around the room, comments on how creative the Dwemer were for a godless race. Something about that phrasing strikes me.

    ¡°That¡¯s what they were doing!¡± I exclaim suddenly.

    ¡°Who, the Ayleids?¡±

    ¡°No, the Dwemer,¡± I say. ¡°They were trying to build their own god!¡±

    ¡°You think that¡¯s why they disappeared?¡± Colors asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I run a hand through the scruffy red hair that has grown out since I last shaved my head. ¡°They¡­¡± I shake my head. ¡°Never mind. Let¡¯s keep going. We can worry about the archaeology later.¡±

    ¡°Right you are, comrade.¡±

    The door is sealed behind one of those stupid crystal locks that you have to make glowy lines connect through, and I need to replace the crystals in the stands to link it up again to open it.

    Finally, we see the last memory, in which the sole surviving Ayleid places the crystal containing the other¡¯s soul inside of a steam centurion, and then is promptly cut down by said steam centurion.

    ¡°Looks like you and me and Dumzy here¡ª¡± I pat my axe. ¡°¡ªare gonna have some fun getting that shiny thing out of that construct.¡±

    The last Ayleid¡¯s journal lays on the floor near the chest where he¡¯d hidden the old book that supposedly details this weapon they¡¯d devised. I skip to the end where it¡¯s becoming increasingly bleak, leaving the final words as a wish that their story didn¡¯t have to end this way.

    ¡°Hopefully the rest of them at least made it to the Colored Rooms,¡± I say. ¡°Wonder what it¡¯s like there. It sounds pretty.¡±

    Colors is giving me an odd look. ¡°You seem well acquainted with the planes of Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, Colors,¡± I chuckle. ¡°You tell me your secret and I¡¯ll tell you mine.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m keeping a secret?¡± Colors asks.

    ¡°I could just play a guessing game and see how you react,¡± I say lightly. ¡°Those are always fun. But I don¡¯t see as how that¡¯s necessary. In any case, yes, I have indeed traveled to several of the realms of Oblivion. Most of which I would not recommend as prime vacation spots. My brief visit to Moonshadow once was the least bad of them, and I¡¯m not too thrilled with Azura lately, but never mind that. That was a long time ago. Ugh. Actually, I don¡¯t even want to talk about that right now¡ªlet¡¯s just hit this thing.¡±

    Without waiting for her to say another word, I charge in and start hitting the centurion with Dumzy while trying to avoid getting bisected with its very large slicing arms. It¡¯s a tough fight, to be sure, but not actually a difficult one, exactly. I mean, Dwemer constructs are extremely predictable if you know how they move, so it¡¯s just a matter of hitting them in the right spots to make them stop attempting to tear you to pieces. We hit the centurion until it stops moving and retrieve the shiny object we were looking for from it.

    Colors, far from wanting to stick around and discuss anyone¡¯s secrets, just opens a portal for me back to Elden Root and says that she needs to go somewhere unspecified to do something unspecified. A Nord voice tells me to wait until she¡¯s gone, and once Colors darts into the portal, the ghost of the dead guildmaster appears again. He has a cryptic and not particularly helpful warning to me about how he¡¯s anchored somewhere against his will and how someone intends to betray me, and it¡¯s difficult to speak and he doesn¡¯t have enough time to do anything but waste time being vague. Then he vanishes.

    Right, that was less helpful than he thought he was being, clearly. I hop back through the portal before I wind up stuck there, and re-emerge into the Guildhall where I was before. Colors is already gone, so I just hand off the book and crystal to Merric.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re a legendary smith, because I can¡¯t make head or tail of this,¡± I say.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about legendary, but Stendarr willing, I shall do my best. I¡¯ll get to work on reading this right away.¡±

 Chapter 51: In Which I Look Into Construction Delays

    I lean against the wayshrine in the middle of Auridon¡¯s wilderness, having finally brought my pack along and not just my pants. My repeated nude appearances in the middle of Elden Root drew some attention from passersby, but more in the way of amusement at the inept mage who can¡¯t teleport properly than anyone thinking this was particularly weird.

    The thing about wayshrine teleportation that I¡¯ve noticed, after doing it two dozen times without resting, is that it does not require magicka or even physical stamina. It doesn¡¯t even really feel like magic. All it takes is a few minutes of concentration, and in the process I feel some odd things both about the place I¡¯m traveling to and about myself, like I¡¯m more in tune with the world for a moment.

    When I return to Elden Root this time, a couple of people applaud jovially in my general direction. ¡°Congratulations on being not naked!¡± says someone.

    I laugh aloud and take a bow, then head toward the Outside Inn to see if my friends are in. Ilara is napping in a sunbeam that has found its way through the leaves of the giant tree, but she stirs when I come in. She informs me that Merry went to the Mages Guild, Eran to the Fighters Guild, and Gelur said something about shopping.

    Up in the Mages Guild branch, I find Merry in rapt conversation with Shalidor. They break off when I approach, Shalidor excusing himself to say he ought to help Valaste with deciphering the next book.

    ¡°Are we leaving town now?¡± Merry asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Not yet. There¡¯s something we¡¯ll need to look into in Elden Root first, but there¡¯s something I need your assistance with first.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says graciously.

    We arrive at the ground floor and I go up to the wayshrine.

    ¡°Hold my hand, Merry.¡± I offer him my left hand.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Merry replies in surprise.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten wayshrine teleportation to where it can take what I¡¯m carrying with me,¡± I say. ¡°You up for a potentially dangerous magical experiment?¡±

    Merry smirks and takes my hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The first couple attempts go no better than my nude teleportation, and on the third one I feel like I¡¯ve almost got a hold of something but it gets pulled out of my hand as I go. No, that¡¯s not right. I need to actually encompass him with the effect, not just try to drag him along. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, and imagine him as belonging with me just as much as my clothes and my pack. I haven¡¯t known my party for very long, but I feel like we¡¯ve got something good going.

    It takes a few more tries, but finally, when I appear at the wayshrine in mid-Auridon, my hand doesn¡¯t clench on nothing.

    ¡°You did it!¡± Merry exclaims. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if this was even going to be workable without proper training.¡±

    ¡°I did get some tips from Ealcil and Sees-All-Colors,¡± I say. ¡°The latter of whom was considerably easier to understand¡­¡±

    ¡°I wonder if I can do it too, or if it requires having Aetherial energy from a Skyshard within you,¡± Merry muses.

    ¡°Let¡¯s find out, then,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d like to practice teleporting around with someone to make sure I can do it reliably, anyway.¡±

    Merry lights the (already lit) wayshrine with a basic fire spell, and I teleport us to the wayshrine near the house of monkeys in southern Auridon (after failing to bring Merry twice).

    ¡°Alright, let me try this, then,¡± Merry says. ¡°How did you do this? You¡¯re not even really a mage, so I¡¯m sure this shouldn¡¯t be a problem for an experienced spellcaster.¡±

    It turns out to be not quite so easy for an experienced spellcaster, much to Merry¡¯s frustration. Our audience here is a handful of monkeys who are quite puzzled about what we¡¯re trying to do. One of them starts climbing up Merry¡¯s leg when he¡¯s not paying attention. He jumps in surprise and firmly informs the small creature that he is not a tree, gently removes it and puts it on the ground again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Merry says, returning his attention to the wayshrine. ¡°I can¡¯t even sense through the wayshrine what you say you¡¯re sensing. It must be the Aetherial resonance. I don¡¯t have that connection, anymore than I have your Aedric light powers. I could surely reverse-engineer something that has a similar effect, but it would take time and would not be as easy to access as it is for you.¡± He sighs as he notices the monkey has is clinging to him, and peels it off again. ¡°You¡¯d best stay here, little one, unless you really want to see Elden Root that badly. Now that would be an awfully big tree to climb for someone so small.¡±

    ¡°I guess you¡¯ll just need to make sure not to misplace me, then,¡± I say with a grin.

    ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect anything to come of it,¡± Merry says. ¡°You learned to teleport in, what, less than a day? You probably could have figured it out yourself if you¡¯d spent more time meditating at wayshrines than hitting things with a battle axe and jumping off cliffs because it was quicker than walking around.¡±

    After making several more jumps as practice, visiting every wayshrine I¡¯ve activated so far, I bring us back to Elden Root. The upside of traveling by wayshrine is being able to immediately get to any other wayshrine I¡¯ve activated. The downside is that I¡¯ll probably need to be at a wayshrine to do it.

    Gelur spots us and approaches. ¡°There you are! I saw that magic bag you were using and thought I¡¯d see if I could get one of my own.¡± She shows off a new leather pack. ¡°I could keep a whole stock of potions in here if I had any potions. Or just quite a lot of food, animal parts from hunting, or random pieces of junk if I were feeling half as much like a packrat as you.¡±

    ¡°Nice,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ve been practicing wayshrine teleportation. Want to see if I can teleport both of you at once? After that, the King asked me to look into an irregularity with the Khajiit embassy.¡± I pause. ¡°I have a stupid question for you, Gelur. Do you call him ¡®King Camoran¡¯ or ¡®King Aeradan¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Not a stupid question,¡± Gelur says with a grin. ¡°Not like you¡¯ve been to Valenwood before. ¡®Camoran¡¯ is the House name, as you¡¯d think of it. You¡¯d call him ¡®King Aeradan¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Ah! There we go. Thank you.¡±

    Teleporting with two other people turns out to be much more difficult than just one. After giving it half a dozen tries and only managing to get one or the other when I manage to bring anyone at all, I decide that¡¯s enough teleportation practice for now. Gelur bids us good luck and returns to shopping. Something about needing a new staff. I wish her luck in finding something¡ªI want my companions to have the best equipment we can acquire, after all.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Merry and I make our way over to where we might find Ambassador Tarinwe, with Ilara joining us along the way. Our directions lead us past the tent where the Undaunted are doing things like drinking questionable beverages and juggling knives. The embassy turns out to be an Altmer-style building a short way away from the Elden Tree and not a fancy branch like the Guildhalls or a set of house pods like the inn. Clearly the Altmer weren¡¯t feeling like ¡®roughing it¡¯ too badly. Some unhappy Khajiit are sitting outside, which would probably have been more comfortable for them had it not started raining.

    While the guards don¡¯t seem very happy with the loitering Khajiit, they aren¡¯t inclined to try to stop us from going in, which is just as well since then I might have to climb up the tree and get King Aeradan to sign some questionable papers that tell people I¡¯m officially supposed to be annoying people into compliance. Once I step inside the building, it¡¯s like I¡¯ve stepped right back into the Summerset Isles again. If anything, this building is trying even harder to pretend than it¡¯s in the Summerset Isles than ones that are actually in the Summerset Isles.

    We locate Ambassador Tarinwe upstairs. I¡¯ll call her Tarry, which seems to be what she¡¯s been doing for the most part. She¡¯s not too eager to speak to us until I mention Prince Naemon¡¯s name. According to her, she did order stone excavacated and set aside construction supplies for the Khajiit. She makes it quite clear that whatever the problem here is not her fault, and then she runs off to find Prince Naemon.

    ¡°Something fishy is going on here,¡± Ilara says quietly once Tarry is gone. ¡°This one¡¯s nose can smell it.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Merry says. ¡°This bears further investigation.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with inspecting the construction supplies, then, shall we?¡± I say. ¡°See if whatever she arranged for was actually adequate for building a Khajiit-style building.¡±

    There¡¯s a guard standing in front of the building in question, who is very firm that no one is to come in without Ambassador Tarinwe¡¯s permission.

    ¡°This one thought these supplies were for the Khajiit,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but the ambassador was very clear,¡± the guard says.

    ¡°What about Queen Ayrenn¡¯s permission?¡± I ask. ¡°I am Inspector Neralion. We work for the Queen, not the good ambassador, and the Queen is very concerned that her orders are not being met.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but without written orders¡ª¡±

    I pull out my paperwork from the college and wave it at him.

    The guard¡¯s eyes widen at seeing the Queen¡¯s official seal, but then he grabs it and actually reads it. ¡°This is for something else entirely! Stop fooling around.¡± He throws it on the ground. ¡°I cannot leave my post except in an emergency, and that¡¯s final.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I guess that¡¯s how we¡¯re doing things, then,¡± I say. ¡°Merry, please set fire to something. Ilara, kindly start a riot, would you?¡±

    Ilara is grinning gleefully at the prospect, but the guard just holds up his hands.

    ¡°Gah!¡± the guard exclaims. ¡°There¡¯s no need to cause trouble! I¡¯m not getting paid enough to deal with crazy adventurers.¡± He looks away from us. ¡°Oh my, this wood elf cuisine is not agreeing with me. I really need to use the privy and I might be in there for a while. I hope nothing burns down while I¡¯m otherwise occupied.¡± He hums loudly to himself and walks off.

    We take the opportunity to step inside, and split up to inspect the place more quickly, and we just as quickly realize the supplies in here are worthless. Broken tools, ragged blankets, and spoiled food. Ilara crinkles up her nose at a barrel of rotting meat.

    ¡°Why did they even keep this!?¡± Ilara exclaims. ¡°This one hopes this is not some fine Bosmer delicacy.¡±

    ¡°It might be, but it seems like someone¡¯s trying to pull a fast one here,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. I have some questions for someone. Now I just need to find the right someone and pin them down long enough to question them.¡±

    ¡°I could paralyze Tarinwe long enough to get answers if you like,¡± Merry offers.

    ¡°Splendid idea,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°She said she was going to talk to Prince Naemon, didn¡¯t she? Let¡¯s head up the tree and see if he¡¯s around. Hopefully we¡¯ll be able to intercept her before we have to actually talk to Prince Naemon.¡±

    No such luck. We run into Naemon before we¡¯ve even left the embassy grounds. When we let him know what we¡¯ve found, he pauses being annoyed at me for killing his wife long enough to be annoyed at someone else¡¯s incompetence and corruption. The supplies were supposed to be available and the stone ready for construction by now.

    ¡°What was her excuse when she talked to you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°She hasn¡¯t actually spoken with me recently,¡± Naemon says.

    ¡°Odd,¡± I say. ¡°She ran off in a hurry saying she was going to find you.¡±

    Ilara sniffs at the air. ¡°Mm, yes. Definitely something fishy. This one smells carp.¡±

    ¡°Something¡¯s definitely wrong here,¡± I say. ¡°Merry, Ilara, see if you can find her and detain her. Gelur might have seen her come through the marketplace. I¡¯m going to go figure out the problem with the stone.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re on it,¡± Merry says, and they hurry off toward the big tree.

    ¡°I hope they do not detain a Dominion ambassador too forcefully,¡± Naemon says. ¡°But yes, I have questions for her myself, and this is making us look bad.¡±

    The place the stone was being excavated from isn¡¯t actually a quarry, but an ancient ruin that they¡¯re dismantling for building materials. I suppose that¡¯s recycling them, but some historians might be horrified at the thought. In any case, the work crew appears to be dead, and I doubt it was due to angry historians wanting to preserve the ruins. The workers and their carts have been hacked apart with axes (I know what something being hacked apart with an axe looks like) and left for the hoarvor.

    Honestly, I have no idea why someone would bother murdering common laborers, but it¡¯s been months. Surely someone would have noticed that not only have they not delivered the stone, but they haven¡¯t even come back for dinner. Something about this definitely doesn¡¯t add up. I hurry back to the big tree.

    Gelur intercepts me on my way past the guild traders. ¡°There you are! Ilara told me what was going on and we had a little chat with one of them Vinedusk Rangers. Says the King¡¯s been suspicious of the ambassador for some time and she¡¯s been involved in smuggling and criminal activities! Would you believe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe it,¡± I say. ¡°Where¡¯s Merry and Ilara?¡±

    ¡°This way,¡± Gelur says, and we hurry off. ¡°She¡¯s hiding out in a literal shithole here. The Middens. All sorts of lowlifes and scum down there. Probably going to try to pay someone to smuggle her out of Valenwood.¡±

    The Middens is a hole at the base of the Elden Tree, partially covered by vines. I doubt I would have even noticed it if Gelur hadn¡¯t pointed it out to me. That seems to be a common trend here in Valenwood. Everything¡¯s obscured by foliage and I haven¡¯t learned how to pay attention to it and recognize what the forest is showing me. Ilara and Merry are standing just inside, making sure no one slips out this exit. (There¡¯s got to be more than one entrance to a place like this, though.) The caves are full of beggars and madmen, over half of whom are Khajiit.

    ¡°Spare some coin?¡± asks one of them quietly. ¡°Or some skooma?¡±

    ¡°Oy,¡± Gelur says, nudging the beggar gently. ¡°Did you see a poncy high elf come through here? Fancies herself an ambassador?¡±

    ¡°She went that way,¡± the beggar points.

    We head past more unfortunates, up until we turn a corner and run into heavily armed Altmer yelling about the Veiled Heritance while attacking us on sight.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I say. ¡°Racist bandits? Here? And I was hoping I was done having to deal with you lot.¡±

    A firm application of violence (that is, the gruesome slaughter of all the racist bandits in the Middens) inspires Ambassador Tarry not to tarry in surrendering. It¡¯s probably not going to save her in the long run, although she¡¯s probably hoping that she can escape from Dominion custody while they¡¯re attempting to question her. We get her back to the surface to turn her over to the proper authorities, and I toss some coins to the helpful beggar on the way out.

    Ilara hesitantly approaches Prince Naemon. ¡°Prince¡­ Your Highness, sir¡­ Ilara must speak with you. She has important information.¡±

    Naemon sighs, and seeing that he¡¯s not getting out of this conversation, says, ¡°Yes, what is it? Make it quick.¡±

    ¡°Ambassador Tarinwe was speaking to another mer in the Middens when we approached. This one¡¯s sharp ears heard what they were saying. They mentioned you, Your Highness. They seemed quite concerned that their activities had drawn your attention, and they¡­ ah¡­ they wanted to control you. They intended on making you their puppet.¡±

    ¡°Did they now?¡± Naemon says, scowling fiercely. ¡°Thank you for bringing me this information. Did you hear anything else of note?¡±

    Ilara shakes her head. ¡°No. At that point, they spotted us and attacked, and only yelled ¡®For the Heritance!¡¯ after that.¡±

    Naemon thanks her with some extra coin, surprising Ilara, who bows when dismissed and scurries off in the direction of the marketplace.

 Chapter 52: In Which Im Easily Distracted

    ¡°Eran, are you miffed that you missed everything?¡± Gelur asks, grinning.

    ¡°Not really, no,¡± Eran says. ¡°Fortunately, Neri didn¡¯t get distracted by something shiny and wander off this time.¡±

    ¡°Heyyy¡­¡± I protest weakly.

    Eran goes on, ¡°I¡¯m almost glad that you didn¡¯t miss out on beating up Veiled Heritance but I think I¡¯d rather them not having wound up in Valenwood too. Seriously, their precious Veiled Queen is dead. I helped kill her!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a mere inconvenience that could readily be solved by use of necromancy,¡± Merry says with a shrug.

    ¡°Ugh, no,¡± Eran says firmly. ¡°No, no, no. I don¡¯t even want to think about the image of an undead Estre.¡±

    With the latest racist traitor in custody and being interrogated, I take the time to do more teleportation practice. I take my friends to every wayshrine we¡¯ve previously visited, sometimes having to bring them one at a time at first but slowly getting the hang of it. The real difficulty in it is that it requires both focusing and relaxing simultaneously, which is paradoxical and complicated. Kind of like battle, I guess. You¡¯ve got to stay mobile and flexible, but have to apply firm force where it¡¯s needed.

    We stop by the college so Ilara can say hello to her former classmates and see if they¡¯ve managed to replace the teachers with people who are less racist. Although they¡¯re still dealing with staffing shortages, the senior students have been promoted to teaching assistants in the meantime, and the junior students now appear to include several goblins. The new headmaster is a tough-as-nails elderly Altmer woman with a very long name starting with a vowel, but I¡¯m not entirely sure which one without asking her to spell it and I really don¡¯t feel like it. I ask Ilara to discreetly ask a few questions and ensure that there are no beatings going on here toward anyone of any race.

    We check in at Phaer and learn that a couple of priests of Arkay have shown up and are having success in recuperating the former vampire thralls. They apparently have methods of dealing with things like vampirism, and inform us that should we ever believe we may have been infected, to stop by one of their temples immediately to ensure that we do not transform.

    A stop at Vulkhel Guard, and I sort through what I want to store in my closet, take to my new house in Brackenleaf, or sell. I check in at the Mages Guild and leave some books for Sahira-daro (who isn¡¯t present at the moment) while I¡¯m at it. She might find that one on the Towers interesting. She might even be able to make sense of it. I also let Lyris and the Prophet know that I¡¯ve gotten a transportation solution worked out.

    Dropping in at Skywatch leads us to running into Telenger, who has finished up at the ruin I encountered him at before and is making preparations for a trip to the mainland. Much to Merry¡¯s relief, he does not recognize him as Merormo. I spot a few goblins here as well, generally in menial positions but appearing clean and healthy. In the manor house, I find Byz sweeping the floor and stop to talk.

    ¡°Byz happy! Byz sweep big elf house. Chief Koth talk to Queen!¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask. ¡°How did that go?¡±

    ¡°Elf Queen is nice!¡± Byz says. ¡°Gave Byz job for sweeping and tell people no beating goblins! She speak with Chief Koth like she speak to elf. Koth seem happy! Koth no tell Byz all about meeting with Queen but Byz think everything good!¡±

    ¡°Is the Queen here now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Queen upstairs! Queen work on lots of papers. Queen very busy and gotta be everywhere.¡±

    I head up to speak with her, quietly informing the guard that I¡¯m with the Eyes of the Queen here to make a report, and he lets me in. Queen Ayrenn looks frazzled and overworked, and relaxes upon seeing me as if glad to take a break from endless paperwork.

    ¡°Neralion, it¡¯s good to see you,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°Are you heading to Elden Root now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already been there,¡± I say. ¡°Also I found a way to teleport to any wayshrine I¡¯ve been to, so that¡¯s convenient. There¡¯s been some things going on in Grahtwood you need to be aware of, though.¡±

    ¡°I was afraid of that,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°Has there been trouble?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve uncovered Veiled Heritance activity there,¡± I say. ¡°It turns out Ambassador Tarinwe is a traitor.¡± (I am needlessly proud of myself for remembering that name without having to look it up.) ¡°She¡¯s in custody now, but there¡¯s no telling what she might have done to sabotage your ceremony or how many others there might be lurking about.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Ayrenn mutters, putting her face in her hands. ¡°I had hoped their influence had not spread beyond the Summerset Isles. It seems if anything will be the death of me, it¡¯s optimism and wishing to see the best in everyone.¡±

    I give a small grin. ¡°And yet where would we be if we didn¡¯t? That¡¯s what a potential Empress has to do, isn¡¯t it? Bring everyone together, regardless of the difficulties along the way.¡± I pause. ¡°I heard you met with the goblins.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Ayrenn says, brightening. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I was skeptical at first when I heard a goblin wanted to negotiate for admittance into the Dominion, but I realized that not treating them as I would any Bosmer or Khajiit would be the same sort of racism the Veiled Heritance embrace. And they¡¯ve surprised me. As slaves in Alinor, they work slowly and begrudgingly, doing the bare minimum and doing it poorly at that. As free people, they¡¯re cheerful and enthusiastic, and willing to put their faith in the ¡®yellow bird flag¡¯.¡± She smiles at that. ¡°I¡¯m ashamed to say I¡¯d never thought about it before.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear!¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯d seemed reasonable enough when I spoke with them, at least the ones who I didn¡¯t have to kill for being idiots.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, this is resulting in even more paperwork in attempting to free the remaining goblin slaves in Alinor, ensure that their owners are compensated so that they don¡¯t revolt, give the goblins education and job opportunities¡­ I envy you getting to fight enemies you can handle with an axe.¡±

    I speak with the Queen for a short while longer before bidding her good day and letting her return to her paperwork.

    Silsailen, Dawnbreak, Greenwater Cove, and Firsthold are all busily rebuilding and grateful for the relative peace they¡¯re now enjoying. Here¡¯s to hoping fewer places in Grahtwood are on fire when I get there. Here¡¯s also to hoping Elenwen turns out to be a less crazy canonreeve than her father. (It¡¯s hard to get crazier than setting fire to your own town, although I¡¯m sure someone could find a way if they were trying. Maybe hurtling your entire town into Coldharbour? I¡¯ve seen that happen a few times.)

    Finally, we return to Brackenleaf to sleep in our own beds for the night. This is possibly the most convenient thing about teleportation. It won¡¯t help us travel to new wayshrines faster, but once we reach one, we can just come home for the night and teleport back out there in the morning.

    ¡°That was quite a trip, hopping all over Auridon like that,¡± Gelur says over dinner back in Brackenleaf. ¡°You¡¯ve had quite a bit of adventure already.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes I feel like we¡¯re only getting started,¡± Eran says. ¡°It¡¯s like we can¡¯t take five steps without tripping over some sort of problem that requires hitting.¡±

    ¡°These are chaotic times we live in,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Hopefully I can help with the next problem you trip over.¡±

    Come morning, I teleport us back to Elden Root (only needing to take three hops to get everyone there this time; I¡¯m improving!). Prince Naemon is looking even more sour than usual this morning, and that mood does not improve any when he sees me.

    Naemon looks toward Merry and Ilara instead of at me. He mentions how the interrogation of Tarinwe is going (it¡¯s not, or at least they haven¡¯t done anything but politely ask her questions that she has refused to answer, since the Thalmor are being slow to give permission), and that it¡¯s likely she has attempted to sabotage some sort of ritual Ayrenn was going to conduct with the Bosmer. Something about an Orrery (isn¡¯t that a thing that shows how the sky is arranged?) that will somehow tell Ayrenn is fit to be Empress of Tamriel. He clearly isn¡¯t very clear on the whole thing either, and is stupendously unimpressed with it in general.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°If Ayrenn became Empress of Tamriel, would you become King of Summerset then?¡± I ask.

    Naemon pauses and finally deigns to look in my general direction. ¡°That thought had not occurred to me, although that would make sense, wouldn¡¯t it? I will need to speak with my dear sister on the matter, I believe.¡±

    Since we¡¯ve proven ourselves sufficiently competent, he sends us to a Bosmer by the name of Melaras or something to make sure the ratification ceremony thing proceeds without any further problems. While I doubt he¡¯s ever going to be exactly fond of me, he¡¯s not above making sure I make myself useful toward something he needs done.

    Mel (who turns out to be standing right next to Naemon and waves his hand when he notices I¡¯m looking around the room for him) tells us about how the Orrery is going to need an operator (by the name of Daraneth), an Ayleid power source, and a ¡®divine spark¡¯. This is going to involve wandering all over the general vicinity collecting things. Fortunately, the ¡®divine spark¡¯ he mentioned is apparently an artifact of the Khajiit thief god, and nothing to do with Lorkhan. I¡¯m sure the Khajiit thief god wouldn¡¯t mind his things being stolen.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get started, then!¡± I exclaim. ¡°This sounds like a splendid adventure.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you do that,¡± Naemon says deadpan.

    I¡¯m honestly glad that this isn¡¯t really an urgent quest, either. Eran doesn¡¯t need to drag me into saving anything right this minute, at least. Still, it¡¯s hard to tell where to start. I¡¯ve acquired a map of the Grahtwood area and made notes of the general locations Mel mentioned to me, and they¡¯re definitely all over the place.

    On the bridge overlooking the Middens, there¡¯s a mer looking in the opposite direction of the Middens, who waves to get our attention as we walk by.

    ¡°Are you adventurers?¡± he asks. ¡°Maybe you could help me out with something.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course!¡± I say.

    He looks at me dubiously. ¡°But I haven¡¯t even said what my problem was.¡±

    Eran nudges me. ¡°Yes, perhaps we should find that out before blindly agreeing to whatever?¡±

    The mer introduces himself as Orthelos, and tries to explain something called the Right of Theft, looking to Gelur for some help in clarification. Apparently in Bosmer society it¡¯s okay to steal something if you¡¯re clever about it and give it back when asked or something. Anyway, he stole a bow, an orc stole the bow from him, and now he can¡¯t give the bow back, and he¡¯s forbidden to leave town so he needs someone to go find the orc for him.

    ¡°Yes, of course!¡± I reiterate.

    ¡°Fine, now that we know what we¡¯re agreeing to, we can agree to it,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Do you know which way he went?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Last I heard, he was heading toward a place called Vinedeath Cave,¡± Orry says.

    ¡°Why would anyone want to voluntarily go to a place called Vinedeath Cave?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Probably to prove how much of a great warrior he is or something,¡± Orry shrugs broadly.

    He marks on my map the location of the cave in question, which is a good ways east of here and nowhere even close to any of the locations I was told to go for the Orrery. I bid him good day, and head off.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing we¡¯re going to put off the Orrery thing for a bit,¡± Eran says with a smirk.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Orry first, then Orrery! There¡¯s too many R¡¯s in that word anyway.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I¡¯m voluntarily going to a place called Vinedeath Cave, then,¡± Merry sighs. ¡°I will note that I will be standing firmly behind Neri and Eran, as usual.¡±

    ¡°This is honestly as much about activating wayshrines as anything else,¡± I admit. ¡°That and making damned sure the racist bandits aren¡¯t causing more trouble here. Or Worm Cultists. Fortunately, we are probably unlikely to run into problems from sea elves this far inland.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d feel very silly,¡± Eran says. ¡°We might have to stop and give them directions.¡±

    Not too far from Elden Root, we come upon a temple, if the word ¡®temple¡¯ could be construed as including a structure made from living trees whose branches weave together into pretty patterns overhead. The smaller tree in the middle holds small statues and bone windchimes, and a wood elf woman is reciting a prayer as she circles the temple. I light the wayshrine at one side of the temple, and stop and listen to her for a bit.

    As we¡¯re resting, a Khajiit woman comes up to us and tells us how her husband and dog (whatever that is) are missing. I quickly agree to go find them, much to Eran¡¯s amusement.

    ¡°Right, I¡¯m sure the orc we¡¯re looking for us more likely to be able to take care of himself?¡± Eran chuckles.

    ¡°He¡¯s a thief,¡± Merry says with a shrug. ¡°Who cares if he meets his death in Vinedeath Cave? Let us find this poor lost dog, then.¡±

    ¡°And hopefully the husband, too,¡± Gelur says.

    The dog¡¯s name is apparently Eat Eat. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a story in there somewhere. Probably one involving eating. It doesn¡¯t take us long to locate the animal in question. Apparently a ¡®dog¡¯ is a furry animal with four paws. Oh, right! I saw one of them in a cage on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost. Ilara thinks he¡¯s cute, but I¡¯d still rather have a guar.

    Eat Eat leads us up the road and right up to a ravine where a Bosmer man is laying, injured but conscious and feebly yelling for help when he realizes someone is near. Gelur and I climb down carefully to give him some healing and get him on his feet again.

    Rather than try to climb up the steep sides again, we follow the bottom of the ravine down to where it comes out closer to the road. We meet up with the others who had stayed up top, and part ways with the Bosmer and dog, who head back toward the temple. Something has caught my attention, though, and we run across a small camp and a skeleton hanging from a tree. This poor fetcher certainly didn¡¯t fall down a ravine. An amulet (obviously magical) hangs around his neck, which I take, and a journal lays nearby talking about his adventures and misfortunes. Mostly misfortunes after finding the amulet. Also, a voice in my head is calling me a murderer.

    ¡°Did I just pick up a cursed item?¡± I ask, showing the journal to my friends.

    ¡°Yep, looks like you just picked up a cursed item,¡± Gelur says lightly.

    Merry sighs as he reads over the journal. ¡°And it won¡¯t let you get rid of it?¡±

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t seem to let go of it, at any rate,¡± I say, waving it in my hand, which refuses to unclench.

    Suddenly, Eran slams my arm with his shield, almost breaking my wrist and causing me to drop the amulet. Gelur immediately heals my arm.

    ¡°That¡¯s one way of dealing with it, I suppose,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°On the downside, we should probably dispose of it so somebody else doesn¡¯t run across it,¡± I say.

    ¡°It¡¯s hardly our responsibility to dispose of every cursed item,¡± Merry says. ¡°In any case, it¡¯s already been here long enough to turn this person into a skeleton.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t take as much time as you¡¯d think here in Valenwood,¡± Gelur points out. ¡°Some scavengers don¡¯t even wait until you¡¯ve stopped moving¡­¡±

    ¡°This one agrees with Neri,¡± Ilara says. ¡°We may not be responsible for stopping every misfortune that might befall someone, but if there¡¯s something we might do to help, why not do it?¡±

    ¡°From the looks of things, this amulet made this person feel so guilty that they killed themselves,¡± I say. ¡°If I tried that, I¡¯d just respawn at a wayshrine naked. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m in much danger from that. And failing all else, Merry could turn me into a chicken.¡±

    ¡°Let me see first if any of my magic can harm this thing, although magic items are usually quite resilient,¡± Merry says. ¡°We would feel quite foolish if we did not check, though.¡±

    Merry tries a number of spells and succeeds at doing nothing more than charring the dirt it¡¯s laying on. He shakes his head. Seeing as that¡¯s not working, I go to pick it up again, but again Eran stops me.

    ¡°You know, the sensible thing to do would be to try to find a way to destroy it before picking it up again,¡± Eran says. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t think it would be much of a problem for you, there¡¯s not much need for it, is there?¡±

    ¡°Would we be able to find this spot again?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I sure could,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We¡¯re not too far from one of our shrines, actually.¡±

    We take the skeleton down and bury it, making sure to cover the amulet in the process. It¡¯s probably for the best. If my slightly more sensible friends hadn¡¯t been here, I¡¯d probably have worn the thing until it drove me mad. I mean, more than I already am.

    ¡°Does this happen often?¡± Gelur asks Eran quietly, although not quietly enough not to overhear it. ¡°Random people approaching us asking for help? The easily distracted legendary hero flitting off from one shiny thing to another?¡±

    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Eran says with a sigh. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why we decided to follow him around and make sure this easily distracted legendary hero stayed pointed at anything that was actually urgent. Oblivion left him a tiny bit mad and his judgment¡¯s shot. I must say, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here to make sure that us following him around to keep him on track doesn¡¯t get us killed.¡±

    With that taken care of and the not-cursed journal in hand, we stop and pray at the shrine Gelur mentioned as we head back to the temple. The Bosmer we rescued and his dog have made their way back in the meantime and have been reunited with the Khajiit woman. It¡¯s good to see.

    Less good to see is the sky to the east growing dark and crackling, and the distant sound of a Dark Anchor dropping. The newly-reunited couple look worriedly in that direction, but the priestess just continues her prayers unabated. I am constantly impressed at the determination of people to ignore the impending doom of their world as it announces itself several times a day. It might be more worrisome if any of that impending doom became sufficiently doomy to actually involve an attack on this temple. As it is, I grab my axe and head toward the dolmen, and my party follows suit.

    The group of fighters holding this dolmen at the moment is comprised of an Altmer with a bow, a robed Dunmer, and the biggest Khajiit I have ever seen wielding a hammer like a mallet and swatting scamps as if it were a game. They don¡¯t complain of the assistance.

    When we finally locate Vinedeath Cave, we find that it contains a number of angry plant creatures that attack us on sight. Gelur had mentioned that the Green Pact many Bosmer follow forbids the harming of plants of Valenwood, but apparently the sort of plants that fight back don¡¯t count or something. Further in the cave, we find a Skyshard across from the body of a dead orc who was carrying a nice bow.

    ¡°Fortunately,¡± I say, holding up a piece of paper, ¡°he wrote down his name and what he¡¯d done, or we might have to wonder if we¡¯d been looking for a different orc who¡¯d stolen a bow in a cave full of angry plants.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, he knew how to write,¡± Eran says. ¡°Although I¡¯m sure we could have inferred it regardless.¡±

    When we get back to Elden Root, Orthelos is happy to have his stolen stolen bow returned so he can return it to the mer he stole it from. All in a day¡¯s work. (Or a week¡¯s, or whatever.)

 Chapter 53: In Which I Tell Off a Smug God

    I don¡¯t dream of Coldharbour anymore. The nightmares had been tapering off during my travels on Auridon, but they¡¯ve completely stopped since I started spending my nights in Valenwood. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s something that¡¯s happened or simply where I am, but I¡¯m not about to complain. Most nights we¡¯re either camped out in the forest or back in Brackenleaf, depending on how far from a wayshrine we¡¯ve wound up.

    ¡°Do you have any children, Gelur?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Two of them, a son and a daughter. They¡¯re grown and have their own lives now, though. We might run across them in our travels at some point.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t keep track of them?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Why?¡± Gelur wonders. ¡°I don¡¯t own them. I love them very much but I don¡¯t see much need to tell them what they ought to do.¡± She gives a small grin. ¡°I¡¯m not an Altmer.¡±

    Not far from Elden Root, we come across a Bosmer named Enthoras who I vaguely recall having read a mention of in an advertisement looking for couriers. That he immediately tries to hire us for a job would seem to corroborate that. He wants us to travel to someplace called Redfur Trading Post and speak with a customs clerk who has a very long name starting with A. I ask him to spell that, and still can¡¯t manage to write it properly.

    ¡°She¡¯s got to be a high elf,¡± I mumble. ¡°Only high elves insist on naming their children like that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d take pity on you and write it down for you, but¡­ what in Oblivion language are you writing your notes in?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Dwemeris,¡± I reply with a smirk.

    Another group comes by on the road, and I overhear a Bosmer tour guide describing a nearby ruin (with a long name starting with L) to a couple of Altmer and a Khajiit. ¡°Daedra have been seen in the area,¡± he says.

    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± I call to my companions. ¡°Want to go kill some Daedra?¡±

    ¡°But what about my shipment?¡± Enthoras protests.

    ¡°What?¡± I say innocently. ¡°The ruin is right there. We can deal with the Daedra problem and be on our way in no time.¡±

    Eran shrugs broadly. ¡°There¡¯s not much sense in trying to talk him out of it. And besides, your shipment is already late and does not seem more important than a Daedric incursion.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s a good point,¡± Enthoras admits. ¡°Y¡¯ffre guide you, then.¡±

    We head up the road to the ruins of L-name. (¡°Laeloria,¡± Merry supplies in exasperation.) I get so distracted at the shiny golden wisps drifting about that I almost don¡¯t notice I¡¯m being attacked by little, annoying banekin.

    Then, as we get a bit further in, a female voice echoes from nowhere, ¡°Approach, mortals.¡± A very familiar feminine voice.

    ¡°Oh fuck,¡± I whisper.

    ¡°What is it, Neri?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Who was that?¡±

    I point toward a shrine, with banners depicting a star with eight points, and a statue of a woman holding two staves topped with a moon and a star. My hands are shaking. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m surprised, though. I knew well enough that sooner or later, I would run across one of the Lady of Twilight¡¯s shrines or worshippers. I just don¡¯t think I was quite mentally prepared to deal with it yet.

    ¡°A Daedric shrine?¡± Eran says. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Azura,¡± I say, the name hanging heavily in the air.

    ¡°Is she responsible for the Daedra roaming around here?¡± Merry wonders.

    I take a deep breath and steel myself, and step up into the shrine. I can¡¯t bring myself to kneel or bow, not now, not after everything.

    ¡°Ah, so my champion has indeed returned to the world, just as I foretold,¡± Azura¡¯s voice speaks from the statue.

    ¡°I am not your champion, Lady Azura,¡± I say evenly. ¡°You left me to rot in Coldharbour for an era.¡±

    ¡°You were beyond my reach,¡± Azura says. ¡°In that one red moment when events converged, I was to foretell that you¡¯d return to throw down the cursed false gods, and so they sought to ensure that I would not be able to send you back into the world. They attempted to disrupt the thread of prophecy. And yet I knew you would return. So I had foreseen, regardless of their trickery.¡±

    I stare at the statue. I want to be angry. I really do. I want to hate her for the callousness, for the carelessness, for all the torments the Daedra subjected me to. But I don¡¯t really have any anger left in me for her. I spent it all in my first century of imprisonment. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s even saying anything I wouldn¡¯t have expected her to say. Still, that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m happy with her, or that I¡¯m about to forgive her and start worshipping her again.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure you did,¡± I say. ¡°And I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m still not your champion. I am not bending the knee to you ever again.¡±

    ¡°I will graciously let your insolence slide,¡± Azura says. ¡°There is something I need done in the ruins that are now called Laeloria, and if you will not do it for me, then do it to strike back at Molag Bal.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°What¡¯s going on here, then?¡±

    The voice from the statue tells me about how some priestess (whose name I immediately forget) is being tormented by Molag Bal and that the pain caused a hole to Coldharbour to form. That can happen? Clearly everyone else getting tormented in Coldharbour isn¡¯t worth sugared ash yams if this one priestess¡¯s screams are enough to do that. The annoying bitch god goes on, talking about how somebody else tried to help the priestess a long time ago and screwed it up somehow, so now I have to find out what she did wrong and fix everything.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I say once she¡¯s finally stopped talking. ¡°Poke Molag Bal in the eye, save somebody, and make Valenwood a little safer in the process hopefully. But don¡¯t think distracting me with a quest is going to make me stop being miffed at you. And your damned prophecies. Did you prophesy that someone would eventually show up and fix everything here? Prophecies are such guar shit anyway.¡±

    The statue has no further words for me and does not respond to my ranting.

    I short softly and turn back to my companions. ¡°Did everyone hear that? Great. Let¡¯s go find that wizard tower the bitch god mentioned.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably the intact building that looks like it was built by Altmer, and not the crumbling ruins that look like they were built by Ayleids,¡± Merry points out, pointing it out to me.

    ¡°Hah, that takes some balls,¡± Gelur says as we head off. ¡°You told off a god to her¡­ face, sort of.¡±

    While the exterior of the building is undamaged, the interior is a mess. Furniture lays overturned and broken, books are strewn across the floor, and the room is lit by those blue glowing crystals the ancient elves loved so much as well as the flicker of firelight. There¡¯s a fire burning on the hearth, with the pieces of a broken crate feeding it. Is someone still living here?

    We split up and search the building thoroughly, sifting through trash to piece together useful information, and running across no squatters in the process. A rather peculiar mirror stands out, but we can¡¯t figure out anything to do with it offhand. Some scattered notes mention a strange tablet and the name ¡®Irrai¡¯. When we find the tablet and speak the name, a small winged twilight appears before us, fluttering upon dusky purple bat wings. She says that she works for Azura and tells us that to get inside, we¡¯ll need to charge up a magic rock by killing Daedra. Also she¡¯s rather annoying and has a grating voice like nails on a slate.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Ilara does not trust this Daedra,¡± my Khajiit friend whispers. ¡°Ilara thinks she smells wrong.¡±

    One of the notes we found mentions that the wizard in question assumes winged twilights all work for Azura, but I¡¯ve spent enough time in Coldharbour to know that¡¯s a deadly assumption. There were winged twilights there too, plenty of them, servants of Molag Bal who would cheerfully pull out your entrails for fun when they were done having fun with you. Honestly, though, I wouldn¡¯t trust her no matter who she works for. Maybe a younger Nerevar would have been blindly eager to do Azura¡¯s bidding here. A younger Nerevar who hadn¡¯t been betrayed by his best friends, his wife, and his own god.

    We don¡¯t have any better options, though, so we charge up the magic rock and use it on the glowing thing to open the door into the ruins. Irrai seems really, really happy about it. Something called the ¡®Twilit Heart¡¯ might just be the heart of a winged twilight and we powered her up or something. I¡¯m not sure and don¡¯t actually care, but her saying she wants us to see her Prince¡¯s glorious domain is a little ominous considering we were going to be dealing with Coldharbour here, not Moonshadow.

    As we descend into the ruins, Irrai runs across something ahead and shrieks in surprise. The wizard, Vastarie (not to be confused with Valaste, a completely different female high elf mage), is apparently still alive down here. Or undead? Her eyes are glowing blue and that¡¯s definitely not a normal trait for Altmer. From what they¡¯re saying, I can infer that Irrai is indeed a servant of Molag Bal and betrayed Vastarie.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯d be more upset about this if I hadn¡¯t expected it,¡± I say lightly. ¡°Kill that winged s¡¯wit!¡±

    Upon realizing that she¡¯s outnumbered and outmatched, Irrai tries to flee, but there¡¯s really nowhere for her to go. We catch up with her soon enough, and Vastarie freezes her with a spell and asks me to stick her in the magic rock. I don¡¯t quite understand why but I¡¯m hardly one to argue considering the creature was just trying (badly) to kill us. Irrai takes a moment to taunt us about how we¡¯re going to be trapped in Coldharbour forever.

    ¡°You know, ¡®forever¡¯ is kind of a silly word considering how much of a revolving door Oblivion can be sometimes,¡± I say.

    ¡°What¡¯s a¡­ revolving door?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°A¡­ Dwemer thing,¡± I say. ¡°Never mind. Anyway, I¡¯m well-familiar with Coldharbour and it¡¯s not like I can¡¯t get out of there again.¡±

    ¡°Fool!¡± Irrai exclaims. ¡°If you escaped from Coldharbour, it was because my Prince allowed it in order to fulfill his schemes!¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, very cunning,¡± I say. ¡°You have no idea, otherwise Molag Bal would be quite annoyed with you for tipping his hand. Anyway, your voice is really starting to annoy me and I¡¯d like to stop hearing it now, so into the rock you go.¡± I absorb Irrai into the geode like I¡¯d done with the banekin outside.

    Before moving on, we make a round of introductions so that we¡¯re not having to yell ¡®hey, you with the stick¡¯ in combat. The lich (I think she¡¯s a lich) had apparently decided that sitting trapped in a library beat being trapped in Coldharbour, and the gateway to Coldharbour was the only way out of the library. I¡¯m guessing at this point she¡¯d be really happy to see some new books.

    ¡°Can anyone perhaps explain why one person being tortured caused a gateway to Coldharbour to appear?¡± I ask as we start down the stairs.

    ¡°Oh yeah, I found her journal,¡± Gelur puts in. ¡°She¡¯s got some sort of voice powers. I guess this is because of her screaming.¡±

    ¡°Voice powers?¡± I ask. ¡°Like the Nord Tongues?¡±

    Gelur shrugs. ¡°I dunno, maybe? The journal didn¡¯t really go into detail on that part.¡±

    We make our way into the misty ruin full of Daedra, and come to the portal. I¡¯m still leery about voluntarily going into Coldharbour, even after having successfully been there and back to save Lyris. But Vastarie assures us that she can get us back out again, so I¡¯ll take her at her word on that. (Honestly, I think the Prophet¡¯s probably on top of things and might just open a portal for me eventually.)

    The portal opens into a small cavern where we kill more Daedra and break a couple of crystals. Up a set of stairs, a skeleton lays on a table, with a translucent figure hovering over it, contorted in pain. I hadn¡¯t expected her ghost to be separated from what¡¯s left of her body, but I guess the ghost will follow if I move the body, maybe? I gather up the bones, and the ghost whispers her thanks.

    Vastarie uses the magic rock I¡¯d stuck Irrai in to open a portal back to not-Coldharbour, and I carry the skeleton out and lay it in the shrine. A pillar of blue light shines down upon the old bones, and rose petals fall from nowhere upon it. The statue starts talking about how much she appreciates her beloved priestess being laid to rest.

    I sigh. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t wish Coldharbour upon my worst enemy. Though I¡¯m not quite sure who my worst enemy is right now; there¡¯s several options. Anyway, I¡¯ve done what you asked, and I hope she likes it in Moonshadow.¡±

    She left her beloved priestess to rot in Coldharbour for¡­ however long this was, but it sounded like a long time. And here I walked in and solved the problem in under an hour. Is it really a matter of Azura being callous, or her servants being incompetent? Though I should give Vastarie at least a bit of slack, in that she was betrayed.

    We decide to hang around for a while and help Vastarie clear out the remaining Daedra and start getting her house in order again. Cleaning up this building is going to be a long-term project, but she¡¯s determined to reclaim her house because it¡¯s her house. I can¡¯t exactly blame her for that. She¡¯s been trapped in that ruin for almost a century and lost all her friends, so I feel the least we can do is keep her company for a while before continuing on our travels, and catch her up on current events a little.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re Vastarie,¡± Merry says. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with your work.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least someone still remembers my name,¡± Vastarie says with a sigh. ¡°I do hope you¡¯re not with that judgmental Mages Guild, though.¡±

    ¡°Technically I think I¡¯m still a member,¡± Merry says. ¡°One of them disliked my¡­ ah¡­ experiments with atronachs and told me off, but I don¡¯t think anyone in the Guild ever bothers to check anyone¡¯s credentials. It was quite rude even if some of those experiments had been ill-advised.¡±

    ¡°They are overly cautious sometimes, but some caution is warranted nonetheless,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°There are still some lines you do not cross.¡±

    ¡°Oh, certainly,¡± he agrees. ¡°And Neri over there spared my life after I did something particularly stupid, so I¡¯ve been helping him and I doubt I¡¯m going to be getting back to experimenting on anything anytime soon. I¡¯d probably be looking into a different field, anyway, perhaps delving instead into the field of Alteration rather than Conjuration. I think traveling has been good for me, though. I¡¯ve been experiencing things and seeing perspectives that I never would have considered, and I find myself gaining a great deal of respect for the Bosmer.¡±

    We rest that night at Vastarie¡¯s tower in Laeloria after having made the place slightly less of a disaster area and triple-checked to make sure there¡¯s no more Daedra lurking about. This particular part of Valenwood has been made considerably safer.

    I take the opportunity to reorganize my notes a bit, and I¡¯m copying passages out into a fresh journal when Eran comes and looks over my shoulder.

    ¡°Is it really necessary to write your journals in Dwemeris?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I am bound and determined not to be leaving incriminating journals everywhere, unlike many of the people we¡¯ve encountered.¡±

    ¡°Are we doing anything incriminating?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Not at the moment, I don¡¯t think?¡± I say. ¡°We might, I mean, I haven¡¯t bothered to figure any of the local laws aside from ¡®don¡¯t pick the flowers¡¯.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not so much a law as a pact,¡± Gelur pipes up. ¡°And the Green Pact mainly only applies to Bosmer.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still rude, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡­

    I get up in the middle of the night and go out to Azura¡¯s shrine. I don¡¯t care if she responds, but I know she¡¯ll be listening.

    ¡°Lady Azura,¡± I say quietly, then pause for a long moment as I search for the words. ¡°I don¡¯t know how a god can be so helpless that you can¡¯t help your followers. You couldn¡¯t help me. You couldn¡¯t help your priestess. You couldn¡¯t even help Vastarie. I know you couldn¡¯t reach into Coldharbour itself to save us, but Vastarie was on Nirn.¡±

    She¡¯s listening, alright, and she feels the need to defend herself, too. ¡°Ah, Nerevar¡­ a compact with your sometime friend and betrayer, Sotha Sil, binds my hands, as well as those of several other of the mightiest Princes.¡±

    ¡°Wait, Seht did what?¡±

    ¡°I do not wish to go into the details, but know that our influence on Nirn is limited and we must act through intermediaries.¡±

    ¡°What in the fuck did he promise you or threaten you with that anyone agreed to that!?¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°You would not understand,¡± the smug bitch god says.

    ¡°Did Molag Bal agree to this, too?¡± I ask. ¡°Because he¡¯s certainly not being shy about making a mess of Nirn.¡±

    ¡°He did,¡± she replies.

    ¡°So it¡¯s okay for him to launch a large-scale invasion of Tamriel, but not for you to help a single one of your followers in such a way no one else would even know about it?¡±

    Smug bitch god doesn¡¯t respond for a long moment and I sigh in exasperation before she finally replies, ¡°Plans are in motion. More than that, I cannot say. Know that the fate of the world hinges upon your actions. You have been put into play to avert this impending doom.¡±

    I stare at the statue, expressionless and imagining expression upon that stone face. ¡°So, I¡¯m still nothing more than a tool, as I always was. Honestly, though, I don¡¯t expect anything else and I don¡¯t even care anymore. And if you¡¯re just going to start in about destiny then I¡¯m going back to bed, and don¡¯t you dare show up in my dreams.¡±

 Chapter 54: In Which I Resolve Family Disputes

    The next morning, as we¡¯re eating breakfast (or at least, my friends and I are eating breakfast, and Vastarie is a lich who doesn¡¯t eat and is chatting with us like she¡¯s been socially starved for a century), Vastarie asks a favor of us to check in on her husband. She has a lot of work cut out for her in cleaning and making repairs, or she¡¯d come herself, but I read between the lines in that she¡¯s hesitant about seeing her husband again but this is necessary because she apparently put him in ¡®time-out¡¯ for what was supposed to be a decade after they had an argument about something and now it¡¯s been a century. I get the feeling their relationship is complicated.

    We had a brief talk about souls and how important it was for me to get mine back (I¡¯m not sure how she could tell but I guess that¡¯s kind of her area of expertise), and also she noticed me go out to ¡®pray¡¯ at the shrine last night but gave me my privacy (because ¡®praying¡¯ was totally what I was doing). Even after being trapped for almost a century, she¡¯s still quite faithful to Azura and she gives me a little speech about Azura¡¯s love and I hastily extricate myself with an excuse in having to get ready to travel. That¡¯s probably unfair to her, but I¡¯m not ready to talk about this yet.

    The location she gives us looks to be between the wayshrines near Brackenleaf and the one at the Elden Root temple, so we decide to just not bother with the wayshrines and walk there, smashing another Dark Anchor along the way. Nobody argues about this particular detour, again nowhere near where we¡¯re supposed to be.

    As we approach the ruin in question, we spot a wounded mer, and Gelur runs up to heal him.

    ¡°Oh, stars bless you, traveler,¡± he says. ¡°But you should turn back now. It¡¯s dangerous ahead. The undead walk!¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask, helping him to his feet.

    ¡°We¡¯re with the Mages Guild,¡± he explains. ¡°We were on an expedition, uncovering relics from the ruins, but we must have woken something up!¡±

    ¡°Is Telenger here?¡± Merry asks in a strained voice.

    ¡°No, more¡¯s the pity. Maybe he could have done something about this. Andewen¡¯s in charge of this expedition. And there¡¯s still people trapped inside, probably wounded. If I don¡¯t do something, they¡¯re done for. I¡¯ll probably be alright now with your healing, but I¡¯m still weak.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re adventurers,¡± I say, pulling out my journal to look up the name ¡®Andewen¡¯ to see if I¡¯ve met her before. ¡°We can fight undead, no problem. We¡¯ll go find them and rescue them. Ah, Andewen, yes, I encountered her on Auridon. And now she¡¯s here and in trouble again.¡±

    The ruins are full of angry ghosts, and we fight our way through them to find the mages held with translucent purple chains.

    One of the mages we rescue tells us about how some Dominion soldiers showed up and made demands about their findings, and insisted they work faster without their usual safeguards (which frequently wind up getting them in trouble anyway). They¡¯d found some weird bone scepter and one of the soldiers grabbed it.

    The rescued mages lead us back to their base camp, which is guarded by what looks like the Dominion soldiers in question (some of them wounded, who Gelur heals). And as it turns out, their orders came from one General Endare and that they¡¯d been sent here from their garrison in Haven. The lieutenant (Urien) seems quite shocked that Haven was attacked by pirates almost immediately after they left.

    Andewen recognizes me when I approach and is visibly relieved. ¡°Neralion! Oh, I¡¯m glad to see you here. Maybe you can do something about this mess like you helped at Ezduiin. And you¡¯ve brought backup, too! Did you receive our message for help, or did you just stumble in here by chance?¡±

    ¡°Neither,¡± I say. ¡°Vastarie sent us to check in on Telacar and make sure nothing stupid was going on. I think this counts as something stupid.¡±

    ¡°His wife is around here?¡± Andewen asks. ¡°What is she doing here?¡±

    ¡°She helped us to close a gateway to Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°Long story. I¡¯ll tell you about it once I¡¯ve dealt with these shades. Kelly mentioned you¡¯d found a bone rod?¡±

    ¡°My name is Kelurmend!¡± the bald Altmer we¡¯d rescued protests.

    ¡°Don¡¯t complain,¡± Merry puts in. ¡°He calls me Merry.¡±

    Andewen gestures to her pack, and explains how the shades appeared when someone picked up the scepter, and that it¡¯s engraved with Ayleid writing meaning ¡®pale sentinel¡¯ which might refer to a pale sentinel near the center of the ruins, which talked, or at least whined. No one seems to have been brave enough to try actually doing anything with it, probably for fear of making things worse somehow, so I take the scepter and try to locate the shade in question.

    We find him, alright. He speaks with the voice of a boy and possesses a corpse to attack us, so I wave the scepter at him. He freaks out about this and begs us not to wake Telacar.

    ¡°I was trying to escape, but if he wakes, I¡¯ll be trapped forever!¡± he wails.

    ¡°I¡¯ve generally found that ¡®forever¡¯ rarely has to be,¡± I say. ¡°Look, Vastarie sent us¡­¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± the ghost exclaims cheerfully. ¡°You¡¯ve met her? Where is she? Maybe I can visit once I¡¯m free!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s at her tower north of Elden Root,¡± I say. ¡°She was trapped for a long time but we were able to free her.¡±

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why the sparkly door isn¡¯t so sparkly anymore!¡± the ghost says, then explains that we need to find her book and a bunch of glowy things in order to keep Telacar trapped.

    ¡°I think she meant us to free him if he¡¯s been behaving himself,¡± I say. ¡°But if he¡¯s been misbehaving I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll agree that we had to make sure he stayed locked up.¡±

    The ghost directs us to places he calls the ¡®moaning room¡¯, ¡®smelly room¡¯, and ¡®forbidden room¡¯ to get glowy things, leaving Merry muttering something about that these sound like names I¡¯d give things.

    We made our way past some more angry shades and find Vastarie¡¯s journal. She hadn¡¯t given too many details about what we ought to do or why this came about, so I read it and discover the truth. This friendly child ghost that¡¯s been following us around? Their son, Calion, who died an untimely death and Telacar couldn¡¯t bear to lose. Telacar bound the boy¡¯s spirit into a flesh golem and then wondered why Vastarie was horrified.

    I sigh and rub my forehead. ¡°Well. She could have mentioned why she locked him up, but¡­ yeah, let¡¯s see what we can do here. Do you think Telacar has learned the error of his ways yet?¡±

    ¡°Not a chance,¡± Calion¡¯s ghost says. ¡°He still wouldn¡¯t let me escape! I just want to go and not be trapped here forever.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t be trapped here, no matter what happens,¡± I say. ¡°If we can¡¯t make things work here, we¡¯ll go and get Vastarie and she¡¯ll fix things somehow.¡±

    For all that this is an old Ayleid ruin, the place is well-furnished with bookcases, tables, and beds, with rugs spread across the floor. It looks like it might have been a nice home once, before this happy couple lost their son and one of them proved to be not the sort who could handle grief. Surely the child would have gone to Aetherius¡­ but his parents are undying liches and probably intend to never go there themselves if they can help it.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Under Calion¡¯s direction, we collect the old skull, the glowy vial, and the milky rock (as he describes them, as I might have described them). We take them to the constellation room, where there are images of the twelve constellations on the walls. I¡¯m apparently supposed to place these items in specific places, but where? I puzzle over it a bit until Ilara, taking a look at Vastarie¡¯s journal, points out that last entry has some unusual capitalization, hinting at what should be done.

    Far from making anything start sparkling again, a projection appears demanding to know why we¡¯ve invaded his home. It would appear Telacar isn¡¯t actually asleep after all. Transparent chains appear around the ghost, holding him in place.

    ¡°Vastarie sent us,¡± I explain for the third time. ¡°Telacar, I presume?¡±

    ¡°What, she wouldn¡¯t come herself?¡± Telacar asks. ¡°Did she send you to renew the wards? Because they haven¡¯t been able to hold me for some time.¡±

    ¡°No, not exactly,¡± I say. ¡°She just sent us to check on you. I think she actually meant to release you, as she hadn¡¯t intended to keep you trapped for so long. Circumstances led to her being trapped in an Ayleid ruin after a winged twilight betrayed her to Molag Bal. Once we freed her and took care of the situation, the first thing she did was send us to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Telacar says, deflating. Whatever he might have expected to hear, that wasn¡¯t it. ¡°Has she reconsidered, then? I¡¯ve been continuing my research. I believe I finally have it. I can restore our son!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± the child ghost shrieks. ¡°Don¡¯t let him do this to me!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she would have wished you to do anything to your son that he¡¯s screaming and begging you not to,¡± I say.

    ¡°He¡¯s afraid and doesn¡¯t understand,¡± Telacar says. ¡°He¡¯s only a fraction of himself.¡±

    ¡°Please, it hurts!¡± Calion cries.

    ¡°How exactly can you stand hearing even a fraction of your son weeping in pain?¡± Eran says. ¡°I don¡¯t claim to know anything about this sort of magic, but this is horrible!¡±

    ¡°Small-minded fool,¡± Telacar mutters. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to hurt this creature. If I had my scepter, I could restore him properly and make him whole again.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a monster again!¡± Calion exclaims.

    I sigh, and say softly, ¡°Let him go, Telacar. Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s suffering? It¡¯s not like you even need to bind a ghost if it wants to stay in the world for a while, but when he does decide to move on, would you really deny your son the paradise he deserves? Nirn is violence and hardship, and while that¡¯s the sort of thing I like, and you might, it may not be what he wants. You¡¯d been so focused on what you want, even if it causes your son suffering and drives your beloved wife away. She still loves you, Telacar. I know she does. Don¡¯t you want to reconcile with her?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do!¡± Telacar exclaims. ¡°And once I¡¯ve convinced her, we can be a family again, us three!¡±

    ¡°Are you even listening to him?¡± Ilara hisses.

    Now I can see why she sent us. She was afraid of this and didn¡¯t want to see the people she loved¡ªloves¡ªreduced to this. I can sympathize with one¡¯s spouse turning out to be not the person you thought they were. How can I get through to him where Vastarie failed? If she were here, would this just have devolved into another argument that resulted in her sealing him away again?

    ¡°Telacar,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re not going to convince her. It¡¯s horrible to bind someone like this against their will even if you think it¡¯s for their own good. Listen to your son for once and don¡¯t just assume that his screams of torment are just because he¡¯s confused. You say you don¡¯t want to hurt him, then quit hurting him.¡±

    Telacar¡¯s projection stares at me for a long moment, then he sighs the chains around the ghost loosen and he stops screaming. ¡°It was¡­ difficult to listen to that, at first. I kept telling myself I could fix this, though¡­¡±

    ¡°I just want to leave,¡± the child ghost says. ¡°You¡¯ve hurt me so much and I¡¯ve been trying and trying to escape.¡±

    ¡°Is it worth bringing back your son if you have to control him in order to keep him from wanting to get away from you?¡± I ask. ¡°Is it worth alienating your wife?¡± I shake my head. ¡°Necromancers don¡¯t need to be putting together cults and causing problems for people, like Mannimarco is doing, in order for people to think they¡¯re doing bad things. While some of that is people being judgmental, what does it say when people you care about disagree with it?¡±

    ¡°I never wanted her to hate me,¡± Telacar says. ¡°We parted ways from Mannimarco and his teachings. We wanted to be different from him. I¡¯ve sunk so much time and effort into this that it feels like if I fail and give up or let go, then it has all just been a waste. But I¡¯ll never reconcile with my wife if I don¡¯t let it go¡­¡±

    ¡°Sometimes the most difficult thing in the world is to apologize,¡± I say softly. ¡°Your pride doesn¡¯t want to admit you were wrong. But the person who can admit when they¡¯re wrong is actually stronger than one who stubbornly clings to their own certainty. It takes great courage and strength of character to apologize.¡±

    ¡°I should apologize to my wife,¡± Telacar says. ¡°I should apologize to my son. Calion, oh Calion, I only ever wanted to help you. I thought, like setting a bone or lancing a sore, it would hurt for a moment but then it would be better. But it never would have been better, would it? I regretted your death, and you never having had a chance to grow up. But that I couldn¡¯t let go¡­ was my own failing, not yours, and for that, I am truly sorry. I don¡¯t know that you can ever forgive me, but you deserve better than I¡¯m capable of giving you.¡±

    Telacar makes some gestures, and the ghost spins stretches, then spins about in a circle.

    ¡°I¡¯m free!¡± Calion exclaims, then turns to me. ¡°Thank you. I didn¡¯t think it was even possible to convince him! But now I¡¯m going to go far from here. I don¡¯t want to ever see this place again. It makes me think of bad things and hurting. I think I¡¯ll go visit my mother, if I can. Bye!¡± He zips away and vanishes.

    Telacar sighs. ¡°I suppose it was worth it just to hear him actually sounding happy again, even for a moment.¡±

    ¡°You did the right thing, Telacar,¡± Merry reassures him.

    ¡°I should pry my bones out of that chair and go to see my wife,¡± Telacar says. ¡°I¡¯ve been in here for so long, even after I broke through the ward and could have left anytime I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yeah, there¡¯s one other matter,¡± I say. ¡°The Mages Guild are here trying to excavate the ruins. Archaeology stuff. I don¡¯t think they realized someone was still living here and your shades attacked them in defense. Shall I tell them to go away?¡±

    ¡°Please do,¡± Telacar says. ¡°I¡¯ll call off the shades, but I don¡¯t want anyone pawing through my belongings. Bah, they were probably just looking for Ayleid trinkets, weren¡¯t they? Tell them I¡¯ll graciously donate some junk I don¡¯t want anymore if they leave me alone.¡±

    Telacar¡¯s projection vanishes, and we make our way back to the surface.

    ¡°Sometimes I feel like people capitulate just because they think you¡¯re going to keep standing there talking at them until they give up,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be able to talk that old necromancer into anything!¡± Gelur says. ¡°I thought for sure we¡¯d have to be hitting him in the face before the day was done.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just impressed that you didn¡¯t call him ¡®Telly¡¯,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Contrary to what it might seem like sometimes, I don¡¯t always go out of my way to annoy everyone around me.¡±

    We return to the mages¡¯ camp, and the shades outside have already gone passive and are starting to fade away.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did, but it looks like the shades have stopped trying to attack the camp,¡± the lieutenant (whatever her name was) says. ¡°We¡¯ll wait until they¡¯re gone before resuming the dig.¡±

    ¡°The dig will not be resuming,¡± I say.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Andewen asks, coming up to us. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    ¡°Telacar kindly requests that you not invade his home and steal his belongings,¡± I say.

    Andewen blinks in surprise. ¡°The necromancer!? He¡¯s still alive in there? By Auri-El, are we in danger here?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°If I thought he were actually likely to attack you, I¡¯d have hit him until he reconsidered that course of action.¡±

    ¡°But he did attack us,¡± Andewen says. ¡°Those shades came out of the ground and hurt people.¡±

    ¡°They were an automated defense that got tripped,¡± I say. ¡°He called them off as soon as I told him you were out here.¡±

    ¡°He¡­ did?¡± Andewen looks puzzled. ¡°But, I was told he was an evil necromancer, and Mannimaro¡¯s greatest pupil.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°They say that, don¡¯t they? He and his wife Vastarie rejected Mannimarco¡¯s teachings. Telacar¡¯s been holed up here trying to find a way to heal their son, not putting together a cult and invading anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Andewen says. ¡°I had no idea. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t be so quick to listen to rumors and make assumptions, then. I wouldn¡¯t have even come to this dig if I¡¯d realized.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, Telacar also said that he¡¯d donate some artifacts he didn¡¯t want to the Mages Guild,¡± I say. ¡°That was generous of him. He¡¯ll probably be out shortly once he gets his things in order.¡±

    ¡°Really!?¡± Andewen¡¯s expression seems torn between panic and excitement.

    ¡°We ought to be heading back to report in with Vastarie,¡± I say. ¡°You know, Valenwood is so much harder to walk through than Auridon.¡±

    ¡°I definitely feel that,¡± Andewen says. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen so many overly aggressive plants in my life.¡±

 Chapter 55: In Which I Criticize the Worm Kings Decor

    As we leave the camp, the ghost of Calion floats out toward us. ¡°Are you going back to my mother?¡±

    I nod. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s going to want to know what happened back there.¡±

    ¡°Can I go with you?¡± Calion asks. ¡°I was going to go there myself but I¡¯m not sure where it is or how to get there exactly.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± I say.

    ¡°Glad to have you along,¡± Ilara adds.

    We destroy another Dark Anchor on the way back to Vastarie¡¯s place. Calion is terrified at first, who wouldn¡¯t be? But after seeing us and the Fighters Guild taking it all in stride, he zooms in to help. (The Fighters Guild take the assistance of a random ghost in stride, too. These n¡¯wahs have seen some shit.)

    When we arrive, Calion asks, ¡°Is this the place?¡± and zips ahead to go inside before waiting for an answer.

    Vastarie does not shriek like she¡¯s seen a ghost. She merely draws a dignified gasp of surprise.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be scared, mother!¡± Calion says, sounding more terrified himself than she does. ¡°Please don¡¯t think I¡¯m a monster.¡±

    ¡°Neralion, what is this?¡± Vastarie asks.

    ¡°He followed us home,¡± I say. ¡°He didn¡¯t want to stay back at the ruin with Telacar.¡±

    ¡°Self-awareness and free will?¡± Vastarie whispers. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a mindless shade? This is my son¡¯s true spirit¡­¡±

    I leave the two of them to the privacy of their heartfelt reunion and go to make myself at home.

    That evening as I¡¯m reading, a projection of the Prophet appears before me, because something or another is prophetic I guess.

    ¡°You decided to use a projection?¡± I ask. ¡°And not just appearing in my dreams?¡±

    ¡°I have been using a projection each time I have contacted you,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°So I was just hearing your voice in my sleep?¡± I say. ¡°In that case, you keep calling at terrible hours.¡±

    ¡°I did not wish to interrupt whatever you may have been doing,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°I see much blood and death around you, and violence requires a sharp focus.¡±

    ¡°Fine, let¡¯s go with the reasonable answer,¡± I say. ¡°Do you have something that needs to be done right now, or can I sleep first and pop over to the Harborage in the morning?¡±

    ¡°We have an unexpected guest who demands your presence,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°Who?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°You should come here and speak with him yourself,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to be less cryptic for once, because I¡¯m not moving from this house before morning unless I know it¡¯s for something important.¡±

    ¡°I do not see any battle around you right now.¡±

    ¡°No, but I¡¯m elbows deep in this book a friend recommended to me.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°Well, if it will help draw you from your fine literature, then I will explain, if I must expend the energy. I¡¯ve spoken with Abnur Tharn by projection, and he demands to speak with you directly.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I ask.

    The Prophet sighs in exasperation. ¡°One of the Five Companions. Of the noble Tharn family of Cyrodiil. Surely you must have heard of them by now, at least?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t ring any bells,¡± I say.

    ¡°A necromancer, a powerful mage, currently in the employ of Mannimarco, but the situation may not be so simple,¡± the Prophet says. ¡°He has impressed upon me the urgency of his message.¡±

    ¡°Fine, so why doesn¡¯t he just send a projection directly to me if I¡¯m the one he wants to talk to?¡± I ask. ¡°If it¡¯s so urgent, I should be speaking with him right now.¡±

    ¡°He has not even met you before and you are not the one who has the communication orb,¡± the Prophet says.

    ¡°I spoke with him on the communication orb before and he seems to be well aware of my existence to ask to speak to me. And if he¡¯s such a powerful mage, he should be perfectly capable of casting a projection to speak to someone he¡¯s had a brief conversation with once.¡±

    The Prophet is silent for a minute, then says, ¡°I must conserve my energy. He says he will contact you.¡±

    The Prophet¡¯s projection vanishes, and another one of that human I¡¯ve seen a few times before appears. Right, him.

    ¡°You impugned my abilities as a mage or I would not bother,¡± Abnur says. ¡°¡®The Black Wolf.¡¯ Hmph. You are well in your rights to demand less vagueness from that old fool, as inconvenient as it might be to myself. If Mannimarco were to learn that I am speaking with you, he would have me killed.¡±

    ¡°I take it you¡¯re having second thoughts about working for Manny?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Mann¡ª¡± Abnur Tharn makes a soft choking sound. ¡°Ahem. Yes, you might say that. I am invested in Tamriel¡¯s continued existence and do not believe that being more like Coldharbour would be an improvement upon the place. Lines have been crossed that are too much even for one such as I.¡±

    ¡°Sensible,¡± I say. ¡°But why did you want to talk to me?¡±

    ¡°You seemed uncommonly competent from our previous conversation,¡± Abnur replies. ¡°I knew you must be a Hero.¡±

    ¡°How did you guess?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°You showed more¡­ personality than most minions,¡± Abnur says evenly.

    ¡°Oh, yeah, personality is something I have in droves!¡± I say. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you were calling me up for my winning personality. Most likely you were just interested in the ¡®winning¡¯ part.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Abnur says. ¡°You are, I believe, the only one both foolish enough to venture into Coldharbour to come to the rescue of someone you barely know, and competent enough to succeed. Therefore, I,¡± he gives a long list of titles I don¡¯t bother to remember, ¡°formally request asylum.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I say.

    ¡°In return¡ªI haven¡¯t even gotten to the part about what I¡¯m offering you and you¡¯re already agreeing?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°You asked nicely and you seem like an alright sort.¡±

    ¡°I seem like an¡ª,¡± He takes a deep breath. ¡°Well. Far be it from me to discourage your sense of personal judgment. I hope I will see you shortly, then.¡± We wrap up the conversation, and the projection vanishes.

    I head out to the main room, where Eran and Gelur are tending to their equipment, Vastarie and Merry are discussing magey stuff, and Ilara is napping, although she opens one eye when I approach and speak.

    ¡°Hey guys,¡± I say. ¡°Who wants to go to Coldharbour to rescue a necromancer?¡±

    ¡°Pass,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Hard pass,¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Merry comments.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Vastarie puts in.

    I¡¯m surprised at that. I hadn¡¯t expected that she¡¯d even be interested. ¡°Are you able to provide transportation?¡± I ask. ¡°Because I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d be able to teleport you with the method I use. Or if not Coldharbour, would you be able to teleport to Vulkhel Guard?¡±Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°I have no connection to Coldharbour to be able to open a portal there,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°I can get us to Vulkhel Guard, though. Also, I still have Irrai¡¯s geode, so I should be able to open a portal to get us back here at least.¡±

    She opens a portal, and we step through and I lead her off down the beach toward the Harborage.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you were so eager to go back to hell already,¡± I say. ¡°How did things go with Calion?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a dear and it fills me with joy and pain to have been able to speak with him again after all these years,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°He wanted to see the big tree and went off to explore Valenwood, but he promised to come by to visit regularly. This is the least I could do to repay you for all you¡¯ve done for my family.¡±

    ¡°Well, I appreciate your confidence and trust in me, then, considering you didn¡¯t even ask any questions before agreeing to come,¡± I say. ¡°The one we are looking to retrieve is a human by the name of Abnur Tharn, who has decided to defect from Manny¡¯s side.¡±

    ¡°Manny¡ªMannimarco?¡± Vastarie says, struggling to keep a straight face. ¡°Oh, he is going to love you.¡± She clears her throat. ¡°Turning one¡¯s back on Mannimarco is an endeavor I can wholeheartedly support. The news you and your friends brought of the Worm Cult¡¯s current activities is unsettling.¡±

    We locate the cave and head inside, and I make a round of introductions. The Prophet has heard of Vastarie, of course, and he also pretends that he knew she was coming and something about destiny and I interrupt him before he can get too far on that vein.

    ¡°Can we talk about destiny some more after Abnur Tharn is safely back here?¡± I ask. ¡°I am really eager to go back to Coldharbour before hearing anything else about destiny.¡±

    ¡°He made his bed,¡± Lyris says. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother if he didn¡¯t have information we need.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome to just stay here, then,¡± I say. ¡°Vastarie and I can handle this.¡±

    Lyris¡¯ fear of being thought a coward winds up outweighing her desire not to have anything whatsoever to do with Abnur Tharn, and the Prophet opens a portal for the three of us and we head through. Once in Coldharbour, we receive a projection from Abnur letting us know that Manny is not in his castle at the moment, but the gate is sealed so we¡¯ll need to find another way in.

    We step outside of the decrepit house we wound up in and I look to the sky to get my bearings. ¡°Ah, this must be the Wretched Squalor,¡± I say.

    ¡°Coldharbour has some lovely place names, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Lyris says.

    While the dark thoughts seem brighter when I¡¯m on Nirn, back in Coldharbour, every memory of pain and torment comes spilling back into my mind and it takes me a moment to reorient myself and focus on what we¡¯re doing.

    ¡°Let us see if we can find a way into this castle, then, shall we?¡± Vastarie says, thankfully breaking me out of my grim reverie. ¡°I would hate for the young Tharn¡¯s confidence in us to be misplaced.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I ever tried to get in here, but let¡¯s ask around and see if any of the Soul-Shriven have any ideas,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe Cadwell¡¯s around somewhere. He could help.¡±

    Most of the Soul-Shriven around are the usual kind, their minds so broken that they just stand around staring at the ground and barely respond if they respond at all, but I pick out a few lively ones and learn that Cadwell is indeed around somewhere. (One woman is offended at being asked, as if I were assuming that it¡¯s because she¡¯s an Imperial. She becomes even more offended when I inform her that I can¡¯t even tell the human races apart for the most part.) We locate him, after beating up a few cultists along the way.

    ¡°Ah, thanks for the assist,¡± Cadwell says. ¡°These cultists are such antisocial chaps, aren¡¯t they? Good to see you again, Nerevar, and fair Lyris, of course. And a well met to the lovely lady you¡¯ve brought with you as well.¡± He gives a bow. ¡°I am Sir Cadwell, and it is my deepest pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must say, your pallid skin and glowing blue eyes are quite fetching.¡±

    ¡°Why, thank you,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°But did you say ¡®Nerevar¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I say. ¡°I forgot to mention that, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°That would explain why Azura sent you to help,¡± Vastarie says.

    I open my mouth to start arguing that Azura didn¡¯t send me, that I just overheard some people mentioning Daedra and thought it would be fun to hit them, but then close it again. It¡¯s not worth arguing about. Religion causes people to make up their minds that something happened by their god¡¯s will, and not by anything completely unrelated. And in any case, Azura implied to me that I¡¯d been ¡®put in play¡¯, like my escape from Coldharbour had been arranged somehow, by someone who must have assumed that me being out in Tamriel would just result in a lot of annoying things being fixed. In any case, I let it go.

    I introduce Vastarie, and Cadwell kisses her hand with a ¡°Charmed.¡± After I explain why we¡¯re here, he directs us to the cistern and tinkers with some machinery to get us inside while we beat up every Daedra that shows up to protest Cadwell tinkering with machinery. He opts to watch the door while we head inside.

    ¡°Sir Cadwell is certainly a clever fellow,¡± Vastarie says.

    ¡°He is that,¡± Lyris agrees. ¡°And he¡¯s just as mad as the kleptomaniac Chimer over there who is stopping to look in every box¡­ Nerevar? We really ought to get moving before anymore Daedra or cultists show up.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say, absently tossing a chunk of starmetal I found at the bottom of a barrel into my pack.

    We head up to the tower, passing by one of those rooms packed with Soul-Shriven, all just standing about mindlessly two feet apart. Those are the ones that are the most far gone, that they don¡¯t even realize where they are anymore. Their minds couldn¡¯t handle respawning again and again just to be exposed to more horrors and torments. Maybe if I can get my own soul back, I¡¯d be able to release theirs, too, so that at least some of these poor fetchers might finally be able to pass on to Aetherius.

    Another of Abnur¡¯s projections appears before us, informing us that there¡¯s a warded door blocking the way between us and him. He mentions that there¡¯s a laboratory nearby and suggests we make a flesh atronach to break down the door.

    ¡°Ah, that might do the trick,¡± Vastarie says.

    ¡°Do you require instructions, or are you more capable of apprentice-level necromancy than a lunatic with a battle axe and an ice-brained half-giant?¡±

    Vastarie chuckles. ¡°I am, indeed, experienced with necromancy. Let us find this laboratory, then.¡±

    As we press on, Vastarie instructs me to help collect suitable pieces of flesh, and that task dutifully falls to me since Lyris is too squeamish. Probably more about the necromancy than the meat. The whole place is chilled, so it doesn¡¯t really smell too bad.

    Lyris examines some wall art, of people¡¯s bodies being contorted in pain, reaching out and screaming. ¡°Such lovely statues here, too.¡±

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t statues,¡± I say lightly, gathering another chunk of flesh. ¡°They were people petrified in the midst of being tortured. Manny might have even released and re-froze them repeatedly just to get them into the perfect poses, too.¡±

    Lyris shudders. ¡°Didn¡¯t need to know that.¡±

    ¡°I must say, though, that I don¡¯t think much of the Worm King¡¯s choice in decor,¡± I go on. ¡°Too many skulls. I don¡¯t have any problem with skulls, mind you, but when you have entire pillars full of skulls at ten foot intervals down every hallway, it starts to be a bit much even for Coldharbour. It¡¯s tacky.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Just because someone is a necromancer does not mean they need to put skulls absolutely everywhere, even if it does mean that they have an army available on short notice to animate and attack any intruders.¡±

    Lyris freezes and gives a long look at one of the pillars of skulls again, gripping her axe tightly. ¡°Let¡¯s¡­ stop talking about the decor.¡±

    We make it to the library, and I pile up the bodyparts in the indicated location. We probably did not need quite this much meat. Vastarie performs the last step, and the pile of flesh obediently gets up and goes over to the shimmering door. The ward sizzles around it, quickly resulting in the smell of charred meat, but it smashes the door open and disrupts the ward before collapsing again.

    ¡°That was quite the serious ward,¡± Vastarie says to Abnur¡¯s projection. ¡°Most people would have found it sufficient to keep someone out and not incinerate them. Mannimarco must have been afraid you¡¯d figure out a less lethal ward.¡±

    ¡°Most likely,¡± Abnur says. ¡°I¡¯m glad that they brought someone competent along. I did not relish the thought of attempting to instruct one of these two in basic necromancy. Or watching them incinerate themselves like idiots, leaving me still stuck in here.¡±

    ¡°I totally probably wouldn¡¯t have done that,¡± I say. ¡°I mean. I might, but only if I thought it would get the ward down and Lyris would be able to finish up here herself while I respawn. Heroic sacrifices only make sense when they actually solve the problem at hand.¡±

    ¡°If what your friends have been telling me is any indication, you would have yelled ¡®Whee!¡¯ while flinging yourself at the barrier,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°And you might have taken off your pants first.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is probably accurate,¡± I say.

    Once through the door, more Daedra teleport in onto the ramp leading up to the summit. They must have found out their defenses have been breached and are making a last-ditch attempt at stopping us by throwing three dremora at us at a time. It¡¯s not very effective.

    At last, we make it to Abnur Tharn in person and not in a transparent monochromatic image that¡¯s floating above the ground. He starts trying to talk to us (and I get the feeling that this is a guy who loves to hear himself talk), but I interrupt.

    ¡°Nice to meet you, let¡¯s get out of here,¡± I say, turning back toward the way we just came in.

    ¡°We won¡¯t be able to get out that way,¡± Abnur says. ¡°They¡¯ve probably sealed it back up.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite an assumption,¡± I say. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°With the aid of my magical skill, I have determined that the door your atronach smashed open closed itself off again after you passed through. We will need to find another way out.¡±

    ¡°I have a sigil geode I can use to open a portal back to Nirn,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Let me just¡ª¡±

    A voice from nowhere interrupts, and an image of an Altmer appears on the platform in the middle of the room. He¡¯s blustering and taunting, just like Molag Bal, and it¡¯s frankly a little tiresome.

    ¡°Abnur Tharn, how dare you betray me!¡± probably-Manny says. ¡°And now you¡¯ve gotten Vastarie to attempt to extract you? I¡¯d thought she was gone and sealed away. How long have you been scheming with her?¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°I only just met the woman, not that it matters. She¡¯s not the one who is scheming to overthrow Molag Bal and rule as a god in his place.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s trying to do what?¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Oh, that fool. Always one to overreach.¡±

    ¡°Manny, knock off the trash talk and fight me already,¡± I say, hefting Dumzy.

    Manny does not knock off the trash talk, but he does oblige me with animating some of the ubiquitous bones laying around to attack me. And then more skeletons once we¡¯ve knocked those apart. And then a bone colossus for good measure. Then Manny and Abnur do some weird magical attack at one another, and I smack Manny¡¯s projection while he¡¯s distracted and make it disappear. At least, I think it¡¯s a projection. Or a ghost. Sometimes it¡¯s hard to tell and it doesn¡¯t matter right now anyway.

    ¡°That won¡¯t keep him down for long,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Vastarie, get that portal open, quickly.¡±

    Vastarie pulls out the magic rock and works her spell, and a glowing portal appears, which we waste no time in jumping through. Or at least, Lyris and I waste no time in jumping through; Vastarie and Abnur proceed in a slightly more dignified manner.

 Chapter 56: In Which Nobody Actually Cares Who the Prophet Really Is

    We emerge back at Vastarie¡¯s tower near the Ayleid ruin whose name has too many L¡¯s in it, almost stepping on Ilara¡¯s tail in the process. A quick round of apologies, and Ilara slinks off to find a warm spot to curl up in while the rest of us head downstairs. Vastarie wants to rest for a moment and get her bearings about herself before we head back to Vulkhel Guard.

    ¡°Fighting him again after so long brings back some unpleasant memories,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°While I was trapped down in the ruins, I spent a good deal of time entertaining myself over speculation on what was happening in the outside world, from the plausible to the ridiculous. Mannimarco becoming a god fell squarely into the ¡®ridiculous¡¯ pile, to be concluded by his defeat at the hands of Sheogorath.¡±

    ¡°You imagined that?¡± Abnur asks, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Sadly, I did not have access to any writing materials at the time, so you can be spared the details. You try being trapped in a ruin for a century without thinking of ignoble ends for Mannimarco.¡±

    ¡°I see your point,¡± Abnur says. ¡°I was already thinking of ignoble ends for him simply by being trapped for weeks in a tower whilst being forced to carefully inspect overflowing crates of soul gems.¡±

    The situation devolves into fisticuffs when Lyris demands of Abnur where Sai Sahan is, and Abnur admits that he doesn¡¯t actually know where Sai Sahan is specifically, and seems to think that his knowledge was why I went to rescue him.

    ¡°You must think very poorly of me if you didn¡¯t believe I¡¯d come to the rescue of any complete stranger that asks me for help,¡± I say.

    Eran snorts in amusement. ¡°Anyone. Even if he¡¯s in the middle of doing something else, he¡¯ll drop everything just because someone asked him to find their dog.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not an exaggeration,¡± Merry adds. ¡°That actually happened. That, in fact, actually happened just a few days ago.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Abnur drawls. ¡°I suppose I should not mock the blind heroism when it benefited me. We seem to be missing the old man here, though. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°Holed up in a cave like some sort of bum,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know if there was anything important about that specific cave of if we can convince him to come somewhere less damp and more convenient.¡±

    We (by which I mean Abnur, Vastarie, Lyris and me; the others feel no need to crowd into the damp cave) portal back to Vulkhel Guard and return to the Harborage, where the Prophet is waiting. Abnur repeats his report and Lyris refrains from dislocating his jaw this time. And that¡¯s when the Prophet decides that he has some sort of secret he wants to reveal.

    ¡°I am Varen Aquilarios,¡± announces the Prophet.

    ¡°Who?¡± Vastarie asks me.

    I shrug. ¡°Beats me.¡±

    ¡°Did¡­ you not read anything about recent Imperial history?¡± the Prophet (Varen, I guess?) asks. ¡°Or remember what I told you about before?¡±

    ¡°That name is about five syllables too long for me to remember,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯m the former Emperor. The one whose hubris resulted in the weakening of the liminal barriers and led to Molag Bal¡¯s invasion of Nirn. I¡¯m responsible for all the chaos and death across Tamriel these past few years.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ no?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that, unless you were somehow masterminding everything telepathically, most of it really isn¡¯t. Hell, a lot of it isn¡¯t even Manny¡¯s fault, for that matter. Most of the problems on Auridon stemmed from an overly ambitious worshipper of Mehrunes Dagon.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, he would not have had the opprtunity to commit the terrible crime against the world that he did if it weren¡¯t for my actions,¡± says the overly self-loathing former Emperor. ¡°I know you must be angry. You must hate me for it.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t ¡®must¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°And anyway, it¡¯s not like you were messing around with the Heart of Lorkhan or anything.¡±

    He clears his throat. ¡°The red diamond in the Amulet of Kings is a drop of blood from the Heart of Lorkhan.¡±

    I stare at him incredulously. ¡°That red diamond? Oh for fuck¡¯s sake.¡± I put my face in my palm. ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡±

    ¡°Now do you hate me?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I think you¡¯re a bleeding idiot for even touching that thing.¡±

    ¡°I told you it was a bad idea,¡± Abnur says aside to him.

    ¡°Then you realize how imperative it is for us to find it,¡± the pointlessly secretive old man says.

    I recoil in horror. ¡°Find it? No, that thing should be left alone and buried somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Would that we could, but we must not allow Mannimarco to get his hands upon it.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    I stare at him for a long moment, then look aside to Abnur. ¡°You said Manny was trying to attain godhood.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Abnur says.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I utter.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that that amulet alone would be sufficient to attain apotheosis,¡± Vastarie muses. ¡°But someone as clever and ruthless as Mannimarco might just find a way to do it.¡±

    ¡°Keeping that thing out of his hands is imperative, yes,¡± I say, taking a deep breath. ¡°But I¡¯m not rescuing Lyris¡¯ friend whose name I already forgot again just because of information he might have anymore than I did Abnur. I¡¯ll rescue him because it¡¯s the right thing to do. Just find him and point me in the right direction and I¡¯ll hit everything in between.¡±

    ¡°I can respect that,¡± the guy who gives people stupid titles says. ¡°We will need to divine his location.¡±

    There¡¯s a bit of discussion as to where, precisely, they should be doing their divining from. Vastarie eventually convinces them that she¡¯s got a perfectly good house, albeit one that¡¯s still kind of a mess at the moment, and she has a bit of a personal stake in Manny not fucking everything up. Abnur, for his part, is also entirely too dignified to want to loiter around a damp cave for who-knows-how-long. Finally, the old man reluctantly acquiesces, and we portal back to Grahtwood after gathering everything up. Seriously, why had he even picked that spot in the first place? I can understand at first wanting to hide because we had no other allies at the time, but it¡¯s totally unnecessary.

    ¡°My cave was perfectly adequate,¡± Varen says, sinking into a dusty armchair. ¡°A sense of destiny permeated the air.¡±

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake, there¡¯s no destiny in¡­¡± I throw up my hands. ¡°Why do I even bother to argue about that?¡±

    ¡°You, too, will fulfill your myriad destinies in time, Vestige,¡± Varen says.

    ¡°Ugh. I don¡¯t care if you were the former Emperor or any of that, but I¡¯m so very tired of hearing about prophecies and destiny. And I¡¯d also prefer not to be called ¡®Vestige¡¯, as if the most important thing about me is that I don¡¯t have a soul.¡±

    ¡°Which name would you prefer, then?¡± Varen wonders.

    ¡°Yes, what is your actual name, ¡®Black Wolf¡¯?¡± Abnur asks wryly.

    ¡°Would you like to hear some titles to rival yours, most of which aren¡¯t important anymore?¡± I retort.

    ¡°Oh, be my guest,¡± Abnur says. ¡°This should be interesting.¡±

    ¡°Very well, then,¡± I say, folding my arms across my chest. ¡°I am Indoril Nerevar Mora, Moon-and-Star, sometime Hortator of the Six Great Houses and Great Ashkhan of the Velothi, King of the Chimer and First Councilor of Resdayn.¡± I pause, gazing at his incredulous expression. ¡°Not that literally any of that matters anymore, since my so-called friends betrayed and murdered me, and sacrificed me to fucking Molag Bal.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± Abnur finally says. ¡°I will admit, that was¡­ not what I was expecting. Here I had been about to bemoan how my own titles and lands, even my life, are forfeit with my betrayal of Mannimarco, but it would seem that you have lost far more than I.¡± He frowns. ¡°You¡¯ve been in Coldharbour for thousands of years? How are you still sane?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not,¡± Eran pipes in from across the room.

    ¡°Completely batshit,¡± Merry agrees.

    ¡°Thankfully, I¡¯ve been on Nirn long enough that Coldharbour is largely becoming a blur at this point,¡± I say. ¡°In this era, in the interests of my former friends¡ªyou know, the ones who are are over there on the other side of Tamriel pretending to be gods¡ªnot finding out I¡¯m on Nirn again and trying to kill me in such a way that might stick more this time, I¡¯m going by the name Neralion, a common Altmer agent in the employ of Queen Ayrenn. The only ones who know the truth are the people in this house, Queen Ayrenn herself, and her spymaster. And a few mages who helped me out shortly after I escaped Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°I will keep your secrets, then,¡± Abnur says, and looks around at the building some more. ¡°This place is a great improvement over that cave, although it could use some work.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Vastarie agrees. ¡°I was not planning on receiving guests already, and have not had long to clean up the place, I¡¯m afraid. With the help of Nerevar, I was recently able to escape from being trapped behind a ward in a nearby ruin due to betrayal by a servant of the God of Schemes.¡±

    ¡°He does quite a bit of rescuing,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°We will need to bring together the Five Companions again,¡± Varen says. ¡°And minus the traitorous Mannimarco this time, you ought to be the final member.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m flattered that you want me to join your party, but I already have one,¡± I say.

    ¡°It has been ordained by prophecy. ¡®The soulless one will become the brightest of five stars¡­¡¯¡±

    ¡°Oh, I guess that one¡¯s accurate enough, then,¡± I say. ¡°If rather vague. I mean, there¡¯s a lot of Soul-Shriven in Coldharbour. At least some of them have to have wound up in groups of five.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll join?¡±

    ¡°No, I already have my own five companions,¡± I say, gesturing in the general direction of my friends. ¡°I mean, four other than me. We¡¯re pretty tight.¡±

    Abnur snorts softly in amusement. ¡°You take things far too literally sometimes, Varen. You thought you should have been preordained to be Emperor, but now you believe that even this prophecy is talking about you. You¡¯ve been breathing in destiny for so long you can no longer see what¡¯s in front of you in more ways than one.¡±

    ¡°You may be right, old friend,¡± Varen says. ¡°There are things about this one that even I cannot make sense of. He is a puzzle, and not one that is mine to decipher.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Ruling king of confusion since the First Era.¡±

    Abnur looks over toward my companions. ¡°I believe I missed a round of introductions here, as well. These are your associates, I take it? Hopefully adequately competent ones?¡±

    Eran says, ¡°We¡¯re usually pretty good at keeping him from doing anything too crazy or wandering off after shiny things when there¡¯s something actually urgent that needs to be done.¡±

    I attempt to give a round of introductions, but Eran interrupts me to give people¡¯s longer names. ¡°Eranamo, Merormo, Gelur, and Ilara-daro.¡± Upon hearing that, Ilara¡¯s eyes widen in surprise. I hadn¡¯t realized Eran had actually read my book on Khajiit honorifics.

    ¡°And none of you care that Varen is the former Emperor, either?¡± Abnur asks.

    ¡°Not particularly,¡± Merry says amid the others shaking their heads. ¡°I¡¯ve been meeting a surprising number of historical figures lately. One upstart human warlord doesn¡¯t make much difference to me.¡±

    ¡°I would protest that description,¡± Varen says, ¡°but in hindsight, it does seem like that¡¯s all I truly was, doesn¡¯t it.¡±

    ¡°The way I hear it, there¡¯s a lot of so-called ¡®Emperors¡¯ in Cyrodiil these days,¡± Eran says. ¡°Rumors in Elden Root say that at any given time, there are six people claiming to be Emperor. There is one undead Argonian by the name of Dies-Quite-Often who becomes ¡®Emperor¡¯ for an hour or so a few times a week.¡±

    Abnur groans. ¡°I would dearly like the situation in Cyrodiil to become stable again. Theoretically, my daughter Clivia is supposed to be in charge, but she¡¯s just a puppet for Mannimarco and holds no regard for her own father, and she clearly cannot do the slightest thing to keep order there or to prevent lizards with foolish names from briefly dancing upon the Ruby Throne.¡±

 Chapter 57: In Which We Discuss Necromancy With a Widow

    We take Vastarie out to where we buried the cursed amulet (also to make sure it¡¯s still there and no hapless graverobbers have stumbled upon it in the meantime). We uncover it very, very carefully using a shovel and making sure no one actually touches the thing. (I¡¯ve added a shovel to my inventory. I¡¯ve dubbed it Diggy.) She attempts to destroy it with her own magic, without success.

    ¡°There are more extreme methods that I might yet be able to use if necessary,¡± Vastarie says, ¡°but your best bet is to simply find the person who created it in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Well, the journal we found near it mentions someplace called Goldfolly,¡± I say. ¡°So that sounds like the place to start.¡±

    Vastarie puts up a minor ward around the area to discourage anyone disturbing the grave and wishes us luck. We set off down the road again.

    ¡°Apparently we¡¯re putting off going and finding the things needed for the Orrery as long as possible,¡± Eran comments lightly.

    ¡°The what now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± Eran says with a smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s deal with this amulet.¡±

    Along the road, we come upon a wood elf who is yelling at a Khajiit for eating a flower. I sigh, and stop to explain that this is a cultural misunderstanding and he can explain about the Green Pact without yelling and waving a hand axe around like it¡¯s meant to be cutting hands. (I mean, clearly a wood elf isn¡¯t meaning to use them to cut wood or anything.)

    We also run across the fellow who had wanted us to look into his late packages, who asks us if we¡¯ve found out anything yet. I apologize for the further delays and explain how we had to deal with Daedra and undead first but that we¡¯re totally on the way now, and don¡¯t mention that I¡¯d completely forgotten about it.

    I love walking in Valenwood. It¡¯s so lively here. Gelur¡¯s been helping me learn to recognize the calls of the various animals we can hear around us. The monkeys are so fearless that they practically crowd the roads in some places.

    We come upon another Bosmer temple, the sort with entwined branches of multiple trees forming a large ¡®building¡¯. I decide to head inside and check it out and see if there¡¯s another wayshrine in the vicinity or if anyone has any lost pets or relatives they need rescued. A Brackenleaf shrine sits off to one side, so we stop and light it first. There¡¯s an old Bosmer in the temple who tells us about how she regularly pours sacred water from the temple down a waterfall to cleanse some ruins down below, but she¡¯s getting too old to go climbing around waterfalls and her son is lazy.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you out here,¡± Gelur volunteers, then looks toward me. ¡°This isn¡¯t really the sort of thing that needs five people stomping around the woods for. Go on, then. I¡¯ll meet back up with you at Goldfolly.¡±

    I open my mouth to protest, but Eran elbows me and I get the hint that she¡¯s trying to stave off another distraction. ¡°Alright,¡± I say. ¡°Be careful.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I will. I wouldn¡¯t normally expect any sort of trouble in this part of the forest, but the world¡¯s weird these days. Should more Daedra than I can handle randomly decide to invade the particular patch of forest I happen to be in, I assure you I will run away.¡±

    While she¡¯s collecting a vial of sacred water, I look around the temple a bit more to make sure I haven¡¯t missed a wayshrine or lost literature or something, and only finding some orc who urges me to buy a shield. From someone else, because he doesn¡¯t sell shields. Even though he¡¯s in a room full of work benches. Weird guy. On the way out, I do run across a scroll, another of Marobar Sul¡¯s atrocious misrepresentations of the Dwemer. I toss it into my pack to read later after skimming the first paragraph. Reading strange things about the Chimer would be more entertaining if I had more people I could complain about their inaccuracies to. At least my friends are good at pretending to listen and be offended on my behalf.

    ¡°To be fair, it¡¯s not like there¡¯s a lot of Dwemer around in this era to tell anyone otherwise,¡± Merry says. ¡°Did their contemporaries know a lot about them, either?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ no, not really,¡± I say. ¡°I was probably the closest among them. They were quite secretive and tended to live apart from the Chimer. There was trade, but not many people living in each other¡¯s cities. Not like today, when in a place like Elden Root or Vulkhel Guard, you¡¯ll not only see members of Dominion races, but others from across Tamriel.¡±

    We come upon a graveyard with a wayshrine, and after lighting it, head inside to find an orc woman praying over a gravestone. After speaking with her a bit, we learn that her husband was buried here, and had been the owner of the cursed amulet prior to the hapless fetcher we found near Vastarie¡¯s place. We explain how we found the amulet and my common sense (also known as Eranamo) told me to bury it instead of carry it around until we could find a way to destroy it.

    ¡°You are fortunate to have good friends looking out for you,¡± the orc woman (Azubeth or Azibash or something) says. ¡°I wish I¡¯d realized the danger. I should have never let my beloved go alone. I¡¯d learned that it had been made in Cormount, and he¡¯d volunteered to go and take it there. But¡­ he never made it.¡±

    ¡°Cormount, is it?¡± I ask, writing down the name. ¡°Hopefully we can get this thing destroyed and the dead human we found it on be the last in this chain of misfortune.¡± I look at the name on the journal and frown. ¡°At least, I think that¡¯s a human name.¡±

    ¡°Breton, I believe, to be precise,¡± Merry says helpfully.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Cormount, anyway¡­¡± I mumble, pulling out my map. ¡°Oh, there it is. Other side of Grahtwood, of course. Fortunately not too far from where we left the stupid cursed amulet.¡± I give her my thanks and condolences, then pause and look back at the tombstone. The name of her husband is much too long and flowery to be an orc name. ¡°Your husband was an Altmer, wasn¡¯t he?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Azzy says.

    ¡°Where do orcs go when they die?¡± I muse quietly. ¡°I apologize. Funerary customs and the realms of Aetherius and Oblivion are something of an interest of mine.¡±

    Azzy gives me a sour look. ¡°We go to Malacath¡¯s Ashpit. High elves live so much longer than orcs that I never imagined he¡¯d be the one to leave this world first, but I don¡¯t think I can follow where he went. Are you a priest, then? Of Aedra, or Daedra? Or just a scholar?¡±

    ¡°A traveling scholar, maybe,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that someone who died under such circumstances didn¡¯t wind up lingering as a ghost, but perhaps the amulet itself may have had an effect on that,¡± Merry says. ¡°There are ways to speak with the dead, if you are so inclined.¡± He pauses. ¡°But don¡¯t ask me. I¡¯m not a necromancer.¡±

    ¡°What would he even say to me?¡± Azzy says. ¡°That he¡¯s sorry and he loves me? Maybe it would be some comfort to hear it from his own lips, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s necessary. Maybe it¡¯s time to move on and let him rest. You know, I married an Altmer because I didn¡¯t want to be some clan-chief¡¯s third or fourth wife, but I didn¡¯t really give much thought as to what might happen afterward. I never thought it would matter.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still young,¡± I say. ¡°At least I think you are? I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯ve never seen an old orc.¡±

    Azzy barks a laugh. ¡°An old orc! Ah, thanks for that laugh. I needed that. Orcs tend to make sure to die before they get old and weak. Still, you¡¯re right. There are plenty of people in the world, and maybe there¡¯s another for me. Lesahanar wouldn¡¯t want me to grieve over him forever. Thank you, strangers, and good luck in destroying the accursed thing that slew him.¡±

    We part ways, and start to scout the area as Gelur hasn¡¯t shown back up again yet, but we don¡¯t get far before I spot a man sitting at a campfire. A Nord, surprisingly enough. We approach to speak with him, and learn that his name is Sabonn, and he¡¯s a vampire hunter. As we speak (and of course agree to help him kill some vampires), his companions join us, a Redguard and an orc whose names I immediately forget.

    From what they tell us, the town of Goldfolly is currently abandoned and they want to use it to lay a trap for a coven of vampires in the area. (A group of vampires is called a coven, right? Or is that just witches?) Sabonn¡¯s plan is full of holes and involves putting his companions at great risk, splitting us up and spreading us all out, and I immediately reject it as strategically unsound.

    ¡°What, you think you can do better?¡± Sabonn asks.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say firmly. ¡°For one thing, if you¡¯re fighting vampires, never split off to let anyone be by themselves if you can at all help it. If they¡¯re turned while your back is turned, your own friend might turn on you, and that would turn out badly.¡±

    Sabonn stares at me. ¡°You¡¯re a funny elf, but I see your point. There¡¯s a good seven of us here, so I guess there¡¯s no need for that.¡±

    I lay out a new plan, one that puts solely me in the greatest danger (I¡¯m pretty sure I can¡¯t be turned into a vampire in my current state. Not without some sort of weird shenanigans, anyway.) I put Merry and Ilara at high points to get a good vantage to attack the vampires at range, and assign the orc to guard Merry and the Redguard to guard Ilara. They don¡¯t know me well enough to know I¡¯ll get better if anything happens to me, so putting them in charge of guarding a mage and an archer should give them a greater priority than doing something stupid like coming to my aid when I don¡¯t need it. I pair up Sabonn and Eran to scout the perimeter and see if they can locate the vampires¡¯ lair. I trust Eran to make sure Sabonn doesn¡¯t do anything stupid, either.

    (Why yes, I did get the immediate impression that these guys are kind of silly and in over their heads. A vampire might say they smell like prey or something, but I wouldn¡¯t know, as I don¡¯t have a nose any better than any other Chimer¡¯s.)

    Sabonn gives me the magic rock that he intended to use as bait, a stone that turns water into blood. He wants me to toss it into the well at the center of the village. (You know, if vampires had this, they wouldn¡¯t even need to attack people. Unless they were just feeling like being assholes.)

    I don¡¯t recognize the sort of buildings that make up this village. Too much bone and leather to be Altmer, too much wood to be Bosmer. Maybe they were the wood orcs that book I found mentioned. Did they get eaten by vampires, then? Or turned into vampires?

    I still reserve ¡®talking¡¯ as an option with anyone that actually bothers trying to talk to me. There¡¯s a difference between killing someone yelling ¡®Blehhh!¡¯ and someone yelling ¡®I will feast upon your blood!¡¯, but if anyone comes up and says ¡®Out of the way, let me at that delicious-smelling well!¡¯ I think I¡¯ll just let them at the well and smack anyone yelling ¡®blehhhh!¡¯

    Once the bloodstone goes in the well and turns it into a blood fountain (kind of cool), vampires swarm out of nowhere yelling ¡®blehhhh!¡¯ Definitely not the articulate sort of undead. I make quite a lot of noise and taunts toward them, and none of them respond to my taunts in any way aside from yelling ¡®blehhh!¡¯ and trying to rip my throat out. Sadly, I get to kill fewer of them than I might like, as they wind up being incinerated or shot with arrows through the heart before they even get within arm¡¯s reach of me.

    After a while, the vampires stop coming, without any sign of a more powerful one. Sabonn and Eran return to report that the master vampire had been too smart to fall for this sort of stupid trick, but they found his lair in a nearby mine.

    ¡°Can we get the magic rock back?¡± I ask, carefully looking into the well without getting spurted in the face with blood. ¡°Or is it just going to keep doing this and attract more vampires? Where did you even get that?¡±

    ¡°We can fish it out once we¡¯ve nailed the master vampire,¡± Sabonn says. ¡°We¡¯d best make sure he doesn¡¯t flee the area.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then. Point me in the right direction and I¡¯ll take point.¡±

    ¡°You really love your wordplay, don¡¯t you,¡± Sabonn comments.

    ¡°Being easily amused keeps me sane,¡± I say.

    Merry snorts behind me.

    The mine in question, which apparently once belonged to someone named Faltonia, is surrounded by more vampires. Not all of them were foolish enough to rise to the obvious bait. I head in first to say hello, but the vampire in question has no interest in talking, so we kill him and head back to the village.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you even bothered to try to talk to them,¡± Sabonn says.

    ¡°Would you want to go killing someone just because a random person you met in the forest told you to?¡± I ask. ¡°For all I knew, this guy was innocent¡ªmore or less¡ªand you and your buddies were a group of bloodthirsty werewolves or something they¡¯d been trying to stop.¡±

    ¡°This is more sensible than I¡¯ve come to expect of you,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯d be offended about that, but I see your point,¡± Sabonn says. ¡°You know nothing about us and had no reason to trust us.¡±

    We fish the magic rock out of the well and return it to Sabonn. Before we part ways, I share with them a few more tips for strategy and tactics, as these folks are clearly not fighting for Ayrenn¡¯s enemies but to keep Tamriel safe from monsters. Humans always seem so young to me, though.

 Chapter 58: In Which I Perform Violent Dentistry

    We make camp at the wayshrine near the graveyard, not particularly feeling like hanging out amongst the abandoned buildings where the vampires were coming from. We¡¯d just pop over to Brackenleaf again but Gelur can¡¯t use the wayshrines to teleport on her own, so we¡¯ll just wait for her here.

    ¡°So, how are you so good at wordplay, anyway?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°I¡¯d have thought if you were in Coldharbour for thousands of years, you wouldn¡¯t have been good enough at modern Tamrielic to be making a constant stream of terrible puns.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like we never got in new influxes of Soul-Shriven,¡± I say. ¡°And most of the ones who spoke Chimeris would have gone mad or catatonic after a few centuries. I think I was deliberately kept away from any incoming mer and put in with the humans. Molag Bal loves doing things like that. Not only being dead and in hell, but forever separated from my own people. Still, it helped me learn other languages. I¡¯m sure I would have been completely lost had I been in solitary confinement that entire time.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear a lot of news from Tamriel?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Not really,¡± I say. ¡°Most people didn¡¯t care much about what was going on there, or would rather try to remember love and warmth and good food for as long as they could. And any news I actually heard, I probably immediately forgot anyway.¡±

    ¡°True, you immediately forget what you heard five minutes ago, too,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Me trying to forget Coldharbour is rather more intentional, though.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t take long for Gelur to show up, at least. She jogs up to our tents when she spots us roasting some meat over a magical fire that isn¡¯t actually burning anything.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be staying in town,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Did the wood orcs turn you away from the inn? Usually they¡¯re pretty friendly, so far as wood orcs go.¡±

    ¡°Ah, about that¡­¡± I say. ¡°The town¡¯s abandoned now. Vampires killed everyone, it seems.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Y¡¯ffre, that¡¯s terrible!¡± Gelur exclaims. ¡°Tell me you at least killed all the vampires responsible for that sort of slaughter.¡±

    ¡°That we absolutely probably did,¡± I say. ¡°Or at least we killed a bunch of vampires in the vicinity who may or may not have been the ones responsible. They weren¡¯t exactly being very chatty.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least you probably avenged them,¡± Gelur says with a smirk. ¡°And if nothing else, got rid of some antisocial bloodsuckers.¡±

    ¡°You got all the water watered alright?¡± I ask. ¡°Didn¡¯t run into any trouble along the way?¡±

    ¡°No trouble on the way down; only ran into the priestess¡¯ son, who realized she needed help,¡± Gelur says, then rummages around in her pack. ¡°I even found one of those scrolls you like so much.¡± She hands it to me.

    It¡¯s another Marobar Sul scroll. I chuckle and toss it in my pack. ¡°Thanks. You are so going to listen to me complain about that later.¡±

    ¡°Looking forward to it!¡± Gelur says. ¡°Did you find out anything about the amulet?¡±

    ¡°Yup!¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll just need to take it to Cormount.¡±

    ¡°I ran into something odd, too,¡± Gelur goes on. ¡°When I got to the bottom of the waterfall, I ran across a dark elf Ordinator who said he¡¯d been sent by Almalexia.¡±

    My blood runs cold at the mention of that name. ¡°What was an agent of Almalexia doing here?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯d apparently foreseen trouble at the ruins of Gil-Var-Delle,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Seems a bit out of her jurisdiction, but whatever. There is, indeed, trouble there. The place was swarming with undead and even the Ordinator didn¡¯t seem to feel like charging in by himself. Funny thing about it is, he told me Almalexia said to look for the ¡®soulless one¡¯.¡±

    I frown. ¡°Does she know about me specifically? Or was solving whatever problem here just a task that requires a Soul-Shriven?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t specific, exactly,¡± Gelur goes on. ¡°The Ordinator didn¡¯t even seem to know if you¡¯d be male or female or of what race. It was kind of weird.¡±

    ¡°We can eat on the road,¡± I say, poking at the meat, which is done by now. ¡°You can fill us in on the details on the way.¡±

    I¡¯m nervous about being involved in something with one of Ayem¡¯s servants, but it seems she doesn¡¯t specifically know who I am. Still, I borrow Merry¡¯s mask before we get in sight of the Ordinator in question. It doesn¡¯t really mesh with my ensemble, but I doubt this fellow has good fashion sense and anyway, it¡¯s not like I have fashion sense that would make sense in this century. I¡¯d probably look old-fashioned if I tried recreating the outfits of last era rather than just buying whatever¡¯s supposedly popular (or stealing laundry, more frequently).

    Gelur tells us about how a group of Fighters Guild members had gone to destroy a Dark Anchor in the town of Gil-Var-Delle (or what was once the town of Gil-Var-Delle before Molag Bal smashed it a good while prior to the most recent smashing.) And they¡¯d gone missing. She and the Ordinator had gone in to look for them as the undead near the entrance were just basic shitty skeletons whose only telling point was regularly getting back up to do some shitty fighting again. (They¡¯d probably be good for housework, at least. Telacar had some undead who were sweeping his ruin before they spotted us and tried to kill us, but most of the necromancers I¡¯ve encountered were just trying to destroy the world rather than being more practical about it.)

    Anyway, the two of them rescued the one surviving Guild member who told them about how Molag Bal has some weird purple crystals around the ruins, which instantly killed the hapless Fighter who tried to destroy one. They¡¯ve got some magic rock or something Almalexia gave them but it would destroy whoever used it, so he told her that they needed one who was soulless and deathless. So Gelur came up to get me while the Ordinator guarded the path leading out of the ruins to keep any shitty skeletons from wandering out from that particular spot.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to wind up needing to walk back from the wayshrine after destroying every one of these ¡®fangs¡¯, aren¡¯t I?¡± I comment with a chuckle.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Prolly,¡± Gelur drawls. ¡°Prolly gonna do it naked, too.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I know how to conjure shorts!¡±

    The skies are angry as we approach, and I can hear the distant crackle of an open Dark Anchor, but can¡¯t actually see it past the cliffs. As we get closer, I realize it¡¯s not a cliff, but a tree like Elden Root, or what¡¯s left of one at least. We arrive at Gil-Var-Delle shortly enough and are introduced to one High Ordinator Danys, which sounds exactly like the sort of bullshit title Ayem would give someone. (There are more bulls in Summerset than guars. I¡¯ve been trying to sound less like a refugee from Morrowind.) Why in Oblivion does someone need to say a word like ¡®Ordinator¡¯ when they just mean ¡®guard¡¯, anyway?

    Danys has a ¡®Tear of Almalexia¡¯ that¡¯s really just a magic rock, and I don¡¯t believe even while pretending to be a god that Almalexia tends to cry rocks. I¡¯d be very concerned what was going on in her tear ducts in that case. This is nothing but showmanship, something Ayem was always good at. Everything was larger-than-life and overly dramatic, where she was concerned. And this bit about no one being able to wield this magic rock without being slain by Almalexia¡¯s anger is doubly overly dramatic.

    ¡°I have no idea why Ayem would be angry us for fighting the God of Schemes,¡± I mumble at this additional dollop of bullshit drama.

    I thought I¡¯d said that quietly, but the Ordinator¡¯s head snaps over toward me and I abruptly realize the face on his helmet is based on mine. I¡¯m suddenly glad I thought to conceal my face. I hadn¡¯t realized Ayem would put it everywhere.

    ¡°You are more familiar with the Tribunal than I would have expected of an Altmer,¡± Danys says.

    ¡°I read a lot,¡± I say, hoping he¡¯ll buy that excuse and trying extra-hard to suppress my accent.

    Fortunately, he seems to accept that at face value and starts going on about how more non-Dunmer need to appreciate the glory of the three damned fake gods and I tune him out and go hit some necromancers. Like Vastarie¡¯s magic rock, Ayem¡¯s magic rock needs to be charged up by killing things, which fortunately counts the shitty skeletons milling about.

    And of course, they were looking for a ¡®soulless and deathless¡¯ one for this because yes, doing this kills you. I spend the remainder of the evening walking back from the wayshrine repeatedly. Fortunately, my friends picked up my junk (because of course I haven¡¯t figured out how to make things not fall on the ground when I die yet) and have gotten the stupid rock charged up again by the time I get back so I just have to blow myself up to blow up the next one and this gets really annoying.

    ¡°Are we quite done with this yet?¡± I ask after returning from destroying the fourth ¡®fang¡¯. My magic shorts disappeared at some point and Ilara is averting her eyes but I¡¯m damned well not putting my pants back on until I know I¡¯m done doing this shit. At this point, High Ordinator Danys had gotten a good view of my face, and the rest of me as well. Why did I agree to do this again? Even shaving recently won¡¯t have gotten around him seeing red hair in places I don¡¯t normally shave.

    Still, while Ayem modeled the Ordinator¡¯s helmet after my face, I doubt she did the same for his codpiece.

    ¡°We have but to destroy the Dark Anchor itself now,¡± the Ordinator says, also not looking at me but trying to be dignified and casual about it.

    ¡°Which we probably could have done while you were walking back for the fourth time,¡± Eran says. ¡°But there¡¯s one of those big snake Daedra down there and I thought you¡¯d be disappointed if you didn¡¯t get much of a chance to fight anything.¡±

    My irritation drains out of me. ¡°Ah, Eran, that was kind of you! Let me get dressed and then we¡¯ll go hit the giant snake thing.¡±

    ¡°We gauged our chances against the foul Harvester to be considerably higher with the addition of your skills,¡± the Ordinator says, clearly attempting to put a damper on my high spirits by claiming they couldn¡¯t have done this part without me, so I ignore him.

    Harvesters aren¡¯t as fun to fight as clannfears, but they¡¯re entertaining with their four swiping arms, and it¡¯s always funny to see how far up they can go with as little tail as possible still attached to the ground, as if levitating would be too pass¨¦ but gravity is something for mortals to worry about.

    It¡¯s a pity that I can¡¯t just make sure Danys has an ¡®accident¡¯ and doesn¡¯t get back to Almalexia. My lack of defending him in combat stems purely from my confidence in his skill and equipment and not because I¡¯m leaving it to the Daedra to decide whether he walks away from this or not. I would never murder someone who had done nothing wrong solely for my own sake, after all.

    I¡¯m a lying sack of shit.

    What plane of hell do worshippers of false gods go to when they die? Here I am, debating the finer points of philosophy while in the middle of life-and-death combat with fiendish monstrosities from the depths of Oblivion. I¡¯m getting sloppy. Sloppy enough that when the Ordinator falls, it¡¯s not even intentional.

    Once the Harvester is down, I look over to where Danys has been thrown against the ground. Wounded, but still breathing. Danys rasps at me, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me! Destroy it, quickly!¡±

    I break the pinion, just as I¡¯d done with the Fighters Guild with so many other Dark Anchors. Rapid spinning, a shattering into nothingness, and the skies quickly clear. The stars are out already and I¡¯m exhausted.

    Gelur looks to me in question rather than simply rushing to the Ordinator¡¯s side with healing magic. Has he recognized my face by now? Why would he? Why would he have the slightest inkling that the former husband of his ¡®goddess¡¯ is out slumming in the forests of Valenwood? Can she read his mind, with her fake-god powers? Can she lift the image of my face from his very thoughts and look into my eyes? She¡¯ll know that he found the ¡®soulless one¡¯ to perform violent dentistry upon Molag Bal¡¯s latest plot. She¡¯ll have her eye on me as more than simply an ordinary Altmer adventurer. Is it worth the risk?

    I give a terse nod to Gelur, and she goes to start healing him. Whatever Ayem might do, Danys helped here. If she still doesn¡¯t know who I am, I¡¯d imagine healing rather than murdering her agent would put the ¡®soulless one¡¯ in better standing with her. (Should I be capitalizing that? Soulless One, that sounds like another incredibly stupid title even worse than Vestige. I mean, in this case, it was primarily relevant just because they needed someone who wasn¡¯t technically mortal, but really now.)

    Danys thanks Gelur for the healing, and me for my willingness to blow myself up because some random mer I met in the woods asked me to. Okay, he doesn¡¯t put it quite like that, and I¡¯m not looking at him the entire time even though I put Merry¡¯s mask back on for whatever good it might do. (Danys has been polite enough not to comment on someone who looks like an Altmer wearing a Khajiit mask, dressed like a Bosmer, and wielding a Dwemer axe.)

    We part ways, and he heads off to wherever it is he¡¯s going next. My friends are tired and ready to set up camp right where we are, but I hold up a hand to stop them and shake my head.

    ¡°Fuck it being late,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s head for the wayshrine and get back to Brackenleaf. I want to go to sleep in my own bed, and not near this place.¡±

    As tired as we all are, no one is inclined to argue about that sentiment.

    ¡°Do you think that guy will be a problem?¡± Eran asks quietly, glancing about in a completely non-subtle manner to check that the Dunmer in heavy armor is not sneaking about in the undergrowth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°I couldn¡¯t just kill him, though. It wouldn¡¯t have even solved the problem at hand, never mind have been rude after he¡¯d been a help to Valenwood.¡±

    We opt to wait until we¡¯ve teleported through the wayshrine before speaking of anything that shouldn¡¯t be overheard.

    ¡°Dunno how much that so-called goddess of his can even see,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Didn¡¯t sound like she could ¡®see¡¯ you very clearly at all. Maybe something to do with that lack of soul thing.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope that holds true, then,¡± I say. ¡°The last thing I need is her attention.¡±

    ¡°What do you think she¡¯d do if she realized you were out of Coldharbour?¡± Gelur asks.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I say. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know why she killed me the first time. The circumstances surrounding my death are incredibly fuzzy. Like a haze surrounding one sharp point of blood and pain. There is no doubt in my mind, though, that she will try to kill me again eventually. Maybe in the next era. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, best I can do is keep out of sight. She can¡¯t be omniscient.¡±

    ¡°I really hope that any future marriage I might have is less complicated than yours,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 59: In Which I Teach Trap Dancing

    We spent most of the next day asleep, and wake in time for dinner to tell the other Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars what we¡¯ve been up to lately. They¡¯re particularly alarmed by the problems at Telacar¡¯s place being right on their doorstep, and I¡¯m quick to assure them that the Mages Guild weren¡¯t the ones responsible for it, but the people who were there on General Endare¡¯s orders. (I looked up her name.) Also that things should be fine there now since I convinced Telacar to turn off the defenses. (Nobody¡¯s been up that way recently, but they haven¡¯t had any problems in the village or near Brackenleaf itself, so if there¡¯s still problems of some sort there, they haven¡¯t spilled out into the surrounding area.)

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to have someone head up that way and check in on things,¡± Glaras says. ¡°Knowing Telacar is awake and actually has been for some time is a shocking revelation. He¡¯s made for a good, quiet neighbor so far. I hope that continues.¡±

    I nod. ¡°We¡¯ll head up there along with them, then. And then¡­ let¡¯s see¡­¡±

    I look in my journal, which I totally didn¡¯t have to look in to remember Claras¡¯ name or anything; that would be pathetic. Glaras. Her name is Glaras. Not Claras.

    ¡°A late shipment to look into at Redfur Trading Post, and we¡¯ve got a lead on a way to destroy a cursed artifact that has been responsible for the deaths of multiple people.¡± I snort softly and put my book away. ¡°Well. The latter is more important, the former is more time-sensitive. And I don¡¯t want anyone but me handling that artifact. And I don¡¯t want to handle that artifact again just yet because it makes you suicidal and I just had an uncomfortable encounter with someone who works for my ex-wife and while I don¡¯t stay dead when I die, this would still be very unpleasant. So hey! Looking into a trader¡¯s missing shipment sounds nice and uncomplicated.¡±

    My friends seem to be getting used to the fact that I have zero brain-to-mouth filter and that I¡¯m actually pretty terrible at keeping a secret when I¡¯m not putting on my lying face, also known as my Hortator mask. I think I was pretty damned messed up.

    We head out the next morning along with a couple of hunters, and make for the Mages Guild camp at the edge of the ruins. They haven¡¯t packed up yet, but they seem considerably less agitated than before. The woman in charge there (Andewen) is glad to see us.

    ¡°You were right about Telacar,¡± Andewen says. ¡°He came out with the most incredible, priceless relics and just donated them to the Guild. And he made it sound like we were doing him a favor in cleaning out some junk from his house! He was surprisingly pleasant underneath the grumpiness and I wouldn¡¯t have taken him for a lich if I hadn¡¯t known he was one beforehand.¡±

    ¡°Nothing too dangerous, I hope?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We¡¯re still in the process of just sorting it all, never mind fully cataloguing and analyzing it,¡± Andewen says. ¡°We¡¯re just doing the preliminary checks to make sure it¡¯s safe to move into a Guildhall more equipped to do in-depth studies. Not taking anymore chances on triggering more traps, intentional or otherwise!¡±

    We take the wayshrine back to Goldfolly and from there, set off to the north. Whatever problems might be going on at the trading post have to be better than dealing with Ordinators and frequent nudity.

    As we approach Redfur Trading Post, I hear a familiar Khajiit voice arguing with a guard. It¡¯s Cinder-Tail, the one who taught me his secret recipe for thunder bug omelettes back on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, along with one of his senche friends. They¡¯re quite happy to see a friendly face. And no matter what this guard thinks, Cinder-Tail clearly did not steal any moon sugar, no way, no how.

    ¡°You clearly have the wrong Khajiit, my lady,¡± I say smoothly, putting on my lying face. ¡°Cinder-Tail here is a fine, upstanding Khajiit who would never steal anything.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, we can¡¯t do anything without evidence, anyway,¡± the guard (Tulira, I think her name is) says. (Or was it Tumira? No, definitely Tulira.) She gives me a quick rundown of the politics around thievery at Redfur Trading Post. A group called Jode¡¯s Chariot keep order, and they¡¯re generally soft on thieves because they¡¯re good for business.

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t have the authority to investigate further?¡± I say.

    ¡°We¡¯re adventurers,¡± Ilara pipes up. ¡°Would we get a reward were we to bring back the missing moon sugar?¡±

    ¡°Very likely,¡± Tulira says. ¡°I don¡¯t have the authority to make that call, either, but I am certain that the merchant will be quite pleased to have his goods returned and grateful enough to give a reward.¡± She gives a sidelong look to Cinder-Tail. ¡°Provided you can find any of it, of course. Perhaps your good friend Cinder-Tail here might have some ideas on where our mysterious thief could have hidden the goods.¡± She heads into town, leaving us alone with Cinder-Tail and Gobani (the latter of whom is quite stoic).

    ¡°Ah, thank you for vouching for us,¡± Cinder-Tail says. ¡°Although about that moon sugar¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll pay you for it,¡± I say with a grin, opening my pack to find my coin pouches.

    ¡°You would?¡± Cinder-Tail says. ¡°Well. Hard currency is definitely a better thing to have on hand than moon sugar of questionable origins.¡± He chuckles. ¡°A clever scheme. You get the merchant¡¯s goodwill, I owe you a favor, and we both get paid.¡± He looks to Ilara. ¡°But this one believes he did not catch the sleek lady¡¯s name.¡±

    ¡°This here is Ilara-daro,¡± I say.

    ¡°A sleek name for a sleek Khajiit,¡± Cinder-Tail says, giving a bow.

    I pay Cinder-Tail (at a discount, for the courtesy of not having to haul stolen goods across Valenwood), and he shows us where he stashed the goods and tells us that it belongs to a Khajiit merchant named Kigam-dar. He feels that he and Gobani have outstayed their welcome and that they ought to take the money and be moving on, but before he goes, he hands me a token for something called the Hollow Moon, who help people or something. I wish him luck and tell him that next time I see him, I want a book of his favorite recipes. We return to town with the stolen moon sugar. Kigam-dar is indeed grateful enough to pay for return of the moon sugar. Not enough to break even, but that wasn¡¯t the point at all.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Redfur Trading Post is a bit of an odd place. There¡¯s a wayshrine (Khajiit-style) by the river, which I light on the way into town. A number of Khajiit-style and more exotic tents have been erected and several Bosmer-style tree pods have been grown around what looks like an old temple. Some carts are parked underneath the big, fancy bridge and some vendor stalls are scattered about. There¡¯s even small Mages and Fighters Guild outposts that have been set up. Those folks really get around, but I suppose they¡¯ve got to have somewhere to rest in between destroying Dark Anchors.

    We track down the package we were supposed to be looking for (needing my journal both to remember his name, his company, and the name of the person we were supposed to talk to) and learn that it was impounded and thrown behind a building for disposal due to an ¡®infestation¡¯. That is to say, it¡¯s full of kwama. No appreciation for exotic cuisine. Rude. Into my bag it goes (after ensuring no more kwama are going to escape and ruin my stuff).

    I spot an advertisement requesting combat assistance at an archaeological expedition at a nearby Ayleid ruin, and make note of it and toss a copy into my pack. Something to look into should I feel like delaying dealing with the cursed amulet longer. (Who am I kidding? Of course I want to delay it.)

    So, the Hollow Moon. They¡¯ve got the whole ¡®robbing from the rich and giving to the poor¡¯ sort of thing going on here. We wind up talking to some people about it who are surprised Cinder-Tail had any of those tokens left to hand out, and I¡¯m guessing he just gave me the last one he had before skipping town, as I doubt they¡¯re valid currency anywhere else. Well, long story short about the politics here is that someone named Shan-ra is in charge and getting tired of thieves, and the Thalmor might be called in, which would be bad for the Hollow Moon because the Thalmor are harsher on thieves than Jode¡¯s Chariot.

    The Hollow Moon has the clever idea of bribing Shan-ra with some sort of treasure that it would take adventurers to get, because nobody else is insane and skilled enough to have successfully robbed the tomb in the middle of town.

    We meet up with Tulira, the same guard who had stopped Cinder-Tail outside of town, who seems slightly surprised that we¡¯re involved but then upon thinking back to our earlier interaction realizes she probably shouldn¡¯t be surprised since we were suspicious as fuck. (And here I¡¯d thought my lying face had been more convincing.) She lets us down into the tomb, and we climb down the ladder and get a good look at a long corridor full of fire traps turning on and off.

    ¡°You know what,¡± Eran says, staring uneasily at the traps. ¡°You can have fun with this one. I¡¯m going back upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Likewise,¡± Merry says, and Gelur also nods. The three of them start climbing back up, leaving me with Ilara.

    ¡°You sure about this?¡± I ask her, seeing that she¡¯s not budging. ¡°It¡¯s likely to be dangerous.¡±

    She nods. ¡°Ilara¡­ Ilara-daro wishes to prove herself.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got Restoring Light and healing potions if you get hurt and I¡¯ll show you some tips.¡±

    I have her watch the traps, observe their movements and timing, and move right after one of them shuts off. We dart through there, past some spike traps, through some fire spouts, and come to some stairs flanked by statues with no traps in sight. I think that looks suspicious so I direct us around behind the statues and giving them a wide berth.

    ¡°You okay there?¡± I ask. ¡°Not too singed or anything?¡±

    ¡°This one might have lost a few hairs on her tail, but she is fine,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Great, because I think this is a weird floor puzzle,¡± I say as we enter the next room. ¡°I love weird floor puzzles. Almost as much as I love traps.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re a good test of one¡¯s cleverness,¡± Ilara agrees. ¡°Can Khajiit try?¡±

    ¡°By all means,¡± I say, standing back to watch. (After poking around through a bunch of urns to find anything of interest and winding up with an ancient recipe for kelp kaveh, whatever that is.)

    The floor puzzle is like a game depicting what appears to be a thief and two guards. It takes Ilara a few tries before finding the trick of it and successfully unlocking the chest.

    ¡°Yes!¡± she exclaims. ¡°Ilara-daro got it!¡±

    After giving the chest a cursory inspection to make sure there¡¯s no more obvious traps, I give Ilara the honors of opening it and retrieving a pendant with a large, pale gem from it.

    When we get back up into town, we find Tulira, Shan-ra, and the Hollow Moon guy whose name I forgot speaking in the middle of town. Jode¡¯s Chariot and the Hollow Moon have joined forces in their blatant bribery and also had supreme confidence in my ability to succeed. This would have been quite embarrassing for them had we wound up incinerated by traps.

    Shan-ra is a big beige Khajiit almost as tall as an Altmer, standing on a platform that makes him look even taller than that. ¡°So! Are you the ones Tulira and Valirr spoke of? Shan-ra hears you have something for me.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro here has it,¡± I say, gesturing to her.

    Ilara offers Shan-ra the pendant, who takes it and gives a fanciful myth about how it was the tear of Jone, the Khajiit name for one of the moons (I¡¯m not sure which one). Fortunately, this one is known to be just a myth, but what is it with people and improbable mineral tears, anyway? It would be uncomfortable to pass a rock out of my eyes, even if I were a moon god. I need to quit thinking about this.

    ¡°This is a princely gift, Ilara-daro!¡± Shan-ra says. ¡°Such a prize deserves a reward, of course. What boon would you ask of me?¡±

    ¡°This one was in training to join the Thalmor when she decided to become an adventurer,¡± Ilara says. ¡°She does not think they would be a good for Redfur. Not as they are. They wouldn¡¯t understand what good the Hollow Moon are doing. They don¡¯t really understand Khajiit, or even Bosmer for that matter, although they¡¯re trying. Jode¡¯s Chariot understands, but they don¡¯t have the funding or authority to do what they need to.¡±

    Shan-ra grins broadly at her words. ¡°Tulira, Valirr, you are blessed by the moons to have found someone so skilled and loyal to help you. It would behoove Shan-ra to take her wise advice, yes?¡±

    Everyone¡¯s happy, so we meet back up with our friends, who Tulira informs us are at the stocks for some reason. With relief, I see that it¡¯s because they¡¯re turning in criminals, rather than being arrested.

    ¡°The innkeeper sent us to rescue his daughter, who he told us had been kidnapped by bandits,¡± Eran says. ¡°We figured that would be a good thing to do while you two were playing with fire like lunatics.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d that go?¡± I ask, looking at the three prisoners who are being locked in a large cage.

    ¡°We were ambushed by bandits,¡± Merry grumbles. ¡°Dumb bandits. There were only two of them and they insisted on attacking us anyway even though they could plainly see they were outnumbered.¡±

    One of the dumb bandits in question has the good grace to look sheepish at that.

    ¡°We captured them and turned them in to the guards,¡± Gelur adds. ¡°Along with the innkeeper, who was in on the racket and had gotten at least two people killed. Bastard.¡±

    ¡°The daughter got away, though,¡± Eran says. ¡°After calling us ¡®bleeding-hearts¡¯ and telling her cohorts here to kill us and take our stuff.¡±

    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Tulira says. ¡°Jode¡¯s Chariot will keep an eye out for her. We¡¯ve just gotten a step up with the help of your friends.¡±

    ¡°They made me do it, I swear!¡± says one of the Bosmer prisoners as he¡¯s shoved into the cage along with the others.

    ¡°This one would have thought better of you, Nellor,¡± Tulira says. ¡°You¡¯ll get a fair investigation, but this does not sound good for you or your daughter. You always had the reputation of a fine, upstanding citizen. To think you abused everyone¡¯s trust like that!¡±

 Chapter 60: In Which I Uphold the Arbitrary Laws of Nature

    ¡°So you shortened my three-syllable name to two syllables,¡± Merry says. ¡°But you lengthened her three-syllable name to five syllables?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± I say. ¡°¡®Daro¡¯ is an honorific. Kind of like a title.¡±

    ¡°Could I be Merormo-daro, then, too?¡± Merry asks with a smirk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s the female version of the clever, sleek, definitely not a thief Khajiit sort. The one for a male wizard would be¡­ ¡®jo¡¯, I think?¡±

    Ilara nods. ¡°You could be Merry-jo!¡±

    Merry puts his face in his palm and sighs.

    We take the crate of kwama back to the Treeshade Exports guy (says the name on the box), who is alarmed and sends us to deliver it directly to the client who is located near Goldfolly. Did he really not know what he was importing? (He thought he was importing ¡®kwama jelly¡¯, but that would have been scrib jelly, technically speaking. Perhaps he missed a comma in there. A kwama comma.)

    Anyway, we pop back over there via wayshrine and locate the woman¡¯s hut. It¡¯s a rugged leather tent like many in Valenwood, although unlike the Bosmer¡¯s tents, her crude bed is made of wood. A wooden post hung with several skulls sits out front, along with a large cooking pot. While I find the smell delicious, Merry turns up his nose and makes a ¡®ew¡¯ sound as he pauses several feet back.

    The client in question is a withered old woman who doesn¡¯t quite look human. A hag, Gelur calls her, and from Gelur I assume that it¡¯s a technical term and not just an insult. The hag (Alyxe) is grateful for the delivery and offers us some of her delicious stew, but Gelur and I are the only ones who partake. She even tips me a book on history/mythology (hard to tell which) when she realizes I¡¯m interested in weird books. (I¡¯ve started reading them while high. They¡¯re much better that way.)

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re good kids,¡± Alyxe says. ¡°Nobody¡¯s stayed to chat and have dinner with old Granny Alyxe in a long time!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to be sure to visit now and then!¡± I say.

    Merry groans, and politely doesn¡¯t say aloud the obvious retort that he¡¯d prefer to stay upwind of her stew.

    When we get back to the wayshrine, Eran says, ¡°We really ought to go deal with that amulet, but it would probably be best to find the enchanter in question before digging it up and hauling it around. We could probably just convince them to come back there rather than carrying it.¡±

    ¡°Or ¡®convince¡¯ with threats if necessary,¡± Gelur adds.

    ¡°You are definitely not the sweet, innocent healer,¡± I say with a smirk. ¡°Alright, that sounds like a good idea, actually. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    I use the wayshrine to teleport us to the temple north of Elden Root. We pray at the nearby Brackenleaf shrine and head north along the road Gelur says leads to Cormount. It¡¯ll be a bit of a trip, but Eran also reminds me that one of the things the Queen wanted is not too far away from Cormount. I¡¯m glad someone is keeping track of that. It¡¯s probably somewhere in my journal.

    Along the way, my mood brightens when I spot the blue shaft of a Skyshard beside a bridge, and I jump off to go absorb it.

    ¡°There he goes again,¡± Eran comments.

    Gelur leans over the side of the bridge. ¡°Is there something down there we need to see?¡±

    ¡°Just a Skyshard!¡± I yell up. ¡°I¡¯ll be back up in a minute.¡±

    Upon finding a way to climb out of the ravine, I spot a ladder leading up to a treehouse, and head up to check it out. There¡¯s an excellent view of Vastarie¡¯s tower in the distance from here, still visible between the large trees. Two humans seem to be living up here. The Nord is asleep, and the Redguard greets me.

    ¡°Sorry, am I intruding?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± the Redguard (who introduces himself as Afwa) says. ¡°Good to have company for a moment.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a fine view of Vastarie¡¯s tower, at any rate,¡± I say.

    ¡°What do you know of Vastarie?¡± Afwa asks. ¡°We were her apprentices once. But then the disaster came, and Daedra killed everyone but me and Tholor here.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯ll be thrilled to hear you¡¯re still alive! But it was almost a hundred years ago. I didn¡¯t think humans lived that long.¡±

    ¡°We had a bit of magic to help with that,¡± Afwa says. ¡°Have you met Vastarie? Is she alright?¡±

    I nod. ¡°My friends and I dealt with the Daedra and freed her not too long ago. You should go down and say hi! She¡¯s gotten embroiled in a scheme to stick it to the Prince of Schemes.¡±

    Afwa goes over and shakes the Nord awake. ¡°Tholor! Tholor, wake up. Our new friend here says he freed Vastarie and stopped the Daedra.¡±

    The two of them quickly start packing their belongings (Tholor slightly more groggily) and climb down the ladder. A squirrel (named Rinses) rides on Tholor¡¯s shoulder. I briefly get distracted by a dropped book titled Reality and Other Falsehoods that sounds like an excellent thing to read while high, which they let me take. We meet back up with my friends and give a round of introductions before we part ways and the two of them head off in the direction of Vastarie¡¯s tower.

    Before we can circle back around to the main road, a wood elf woman runs up to us, yelling to us to wait. ¡°Thank Y¡¯ffre! Maybe you can help. I was afraid I might have to run all the way to Cormount before I saw anyone.¡±

    ¡°Helping people is what we do,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±

    She explains how she¡¯s from the village of Karthdar, located a good ways up the side road from here, and that spriggans suddenly attacked the village. Everyone went to hole up in a nearby cave while she went out to find help.

    Gelur frowns deeply. ¡°Did someone violate the Green Pact?¡±

    ¡°The treethane said as much,¡± the Bosmer woman (whose name I failed to catch) says. ¡°He said some terrible crime has been committed. Can you go speak with him? Maybe you can find some way to appease the forest.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯ll run on ahead and let Treethane Rolon know help is on the way.¡± She turns and runs back up the road.

    ¡°This definitely sounds urgent,¡± Eran says. ¡°Don¡¯t you sometimes find it weird how you just keep stumbling upon things like this, though?¡±

    ¡°Maybe the forest is guiding us,¡± I say with a wild grin.

    ¡°Could be,¡± Gelur says, grinning back.

    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t you encourage him,¡± Merry grumbles.

    ¡°How do we know it¡¯s not true?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Because this sort of thing happened on Auridon, too,¡± Eran says. ¡°So unless it¡¯s the Divines or Nirn or something guiding him to places to fix shit¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just coincidence,¡± Merry insists. ¡°It means nothing.¡±

    When we reach Karthdar, we quickly discover that the angry spriggans are not particularly discriminate about attacking only the party they believe responsible for whatever great crime was committed here. We wind up having to hit a few of them before discovering a way to get around the bulk of them and to the cave, which is fortunately not too hard to find since it had a stone bridge leading to it and it¡¯s surrounded by decorations of bone and leather.

    Inside the ritual cave, a number of Bosmer are holed up, and a Khajiit sits tied up on a platform in the middle of the room. We locate the treethane in question to find out what¡¯s going on.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°You¡¯ve come at a grave time, travelers,¡± Treethane Rolon says. ¡°I hope you can help.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars,¡± Gelur tells him. ¡°One of your scouts found us out on the road to Cormount.¡±

    ¡°Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars?¡± Rolon looks over us. ¡°Altmer and Khajiit are joining the Briars now? Perhaps it¡¯s a sign.¡±

    ¡°Can you explain the situation here?¡± I ask.

    Rolon tells us about how a sacred blossom was found cut and the forest rose up to attack them in retaliation. They narrowed down the suspects to a Khajiit merchant (Aranak), an alchemist (Spinner Eranas), and the alchemist¡¯s wife (Gathiel). I diligently find a blank sheet of journal paper to start writing down the names of everyone in the village and all relevant information.

    ¡°Hold on a moment,¡± I say. ¡°Khajiit. Aranak, your name is? Did you ever swear to the Green Pact?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Aranak says. ¡°I am a Khajiit, not a wood elf. The Green Pact is for wood elves.¡±

    I look to Rolon. ¡°Technically speaking, even if this Khajiit had gone tearing up every flower in sight with his bare claws, it would not have been a violation of the Green Pact because he never swore to the Green Pact. Was tying him up really necessary?¡±

    ¡°Well, we wanted to make sure he didn¡¯t get away¡­¡± Rolon says. ¡°But I see your point.¡± He goes over to untie the Khajiit. ¡°I¡¯ll request that you remain for your testimony, if you would please.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Aranak says, stretching his now-free arms. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    I speak to the people in the cave first, hearing their opinions on the matter, but it¡¯s all hearsay. Some are undecided, while others firmly believe one of the three is guilty, and one person thinks it¡¯s all a conspiracy. I feel like something else is going on here. Interesting note: Gathiel was very ill and suddenly recovered.

    Once we¡¯ve gathered everyone¡¯s testimonies, we head into town to gather evidence. While I¡¯d like to split up to cover more ground, there¡¯s too many dangerous plant things. Best stick together to deal with them as we go from building to building.

    ¡°I hate to see this place like this,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I just have to imagine, what if this had been Brackenleaf? Would something like this happen if we offended the tree in some way?¡±

    After thoroughly investigating a brewery that contains no useful information, we head into the Spinner¡¯s house to look around. Cuttings from a plant lay on an alchemy table, and Gathiel, like many other idiots I¡¯ve run across in my travels, left an incriminating diary just laying around.

    ¡°Seems pretty clear to me,¡± Gelur says, looking up from the diary. ¡°Gathiel had someone cut the sacred blossom to cure her illness.¡±

    ¡°Is it that simple, though?¡± I muse, shoving the diary in my pack.

    We investigate the Khajiit merchant¡¯s tent and find among his paperwork an invoice for the flower in question.

    ¡°So it was him that cut it,¡± Ilara says. ¡°He might not follow the Green Pact but he should know well enough that it might offend the forest anyway.¡±

    ¡°Tell you a secret, Ilara,¡± Gelur says with a smirk. ¡°We Bosmer often do hire Khajiit to cut plants for us. The forest would likely not have done anything had this not been a specifically sacred flower. Aranak has probably done similar plenty of times before without consequence, so it¡¯s no wonder he¡¯s shocked that this time was different.¡±

    ¡°This should be more than enough evidence for a conviction, shouldn¡¯t it?¡± Eran asks.

    Gelur shakes her head. ¡°We still need a mystical sign of some sort. Like how lightning struck that rock near the merchant tent, or the Spinner¡¯s sign got blown down in a storm.¡± She indicates the objects in question. ¡°Neither of those would point to Gathiel, though. Let¡¯s check the rest of the buildings.¡±

    In the treethane¡¯s house, we find an astrology chart that Gelur insists is a mystical sign implicating Gathiel somehow. Because Gathiel¡¯s sign is the Lady, which is a sign of good health or something, and it has been ¡®ascendant¡¯ lately? What does that even mean? You¡¯d think when the stars rise and set is a pretty fixed and predictable thing. The Dwemer tracked the movements of the Serpent constellation as it wandered across the sky and could tell you centuries in advance when an eclipse of the moons and sun was going to happen, provided nothing weird happened in the intervening time. (Weird things tend to happen pretty regularly, though. The Dwemer preferred a world that was neat and orderly, but the world¡­ isn¡¯t so much. Maybe that¡¯s where they really went. To another world where shit makes some damned sense.)

    ¡°Mystical signs,¡± Merry mumbles. ¡°If the forest is trying to say who it¡¯s annoyed at rather than who actually did anything, it¡¯s clearly annoyed at everyone. I¡¯m sure if we looked hard enough, we could find ¡®evidence¡¯ against the brewer and the butcher, too, but we know what happened here.¡±

    ¡°The only question is, who should bear the guilt for it?¡± Gelur asks.

    ¡°What will happen to whoever is found guilty?¡± I ask.

    ¡°They¡¯ll probably be killed,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Gathiel must have realized there was the risk of that, but I don¡¯t think she realized the forest would attack the entire village.¡±

    ¡°It seems a bit extreme,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Something still seems not right here,¡± I say. ¡°Firstly, how did Gathiel wind up becoming ill with such a deadly disease in the first place? It doesn¡¯t seem natural. And there was a book that conveniently mentioned that this particular sacred flower could cure it, just left lying around? I think there¡¯s more going on here than the obvious answer.¡±

    ¡°So, do you want to keep digging, then?¡± Merry taps the astrology chart. ¡°I don¡¯t trust this sort of ¡®mystical evidence¡¯ one bit. How do we know the treethane himself didn¡¯t write this up to make her sound guilty because he knew he¡¯d be asking for mystical evidence later? The stars were shining brightly, pfah!¡±

    ¡°You think the treethane was responsible for this somehow?¡± Gelur asks.

    ¡°Ilara-daro stole a diary from one of the others, one Neronnir,¡± Ilara says with a sly grin, pulling out a book. ¡°It says the treethane was replaced by a doppelganger.¡±

    ¡°Was that the guy who believed this all to be a conspiracy?¡± I ask, taking the book and opening it. ¡°Because it¡¯s looking a bit like a conspiracy to me.¡±

    The journal details suspicions about how Treethane Rolon went away to meditate for a few days and an imposter returned in his place. If he were secretly a cultist of some sort, he could have certainly cast a spell to bring an unnatural disease down upon the poor woman and then left the information about the restorative properties of the flower somewhere that the alchemist would have found it. He could also certainly have cast a damned lightning spell on the rock in front of the Khajiit¡¯s tent and blown down the Spinner¡¯s sign for good measure. There¡¯s even a book on destruction magic in his house.

    ¡°One woman having a flower, no matter how sacred, cut to save her life is less likely to have brought down the wrath of the forest on the entire village than its own treethane conspiring against its people,¡± Gelur says. ¡°But do we have anymore evidence than Neronnir¡¯s rantings?¡±

    ¡°Merry, can you analyze that lightning-charred stone?¡± I ask. ¡°Can you detect whether magic was used or if it was natural?¡±

    Merry goes and takes a close look at the stone in question. ¡°It¡¯s definitely not normal for lightning to ignore all the trees and buildings and hit a rock on the ground. Not natural at all.¡±

    Having found all we could in the village itself, we decide to search the surrounding area. Down by the river a short ways, past an Ayleid well, we come upon a Skyshard on a cliff beside a waterfall. When I go up to absorb it, the skies grow dark in the distance directly ahead as a Dark Anchor drops.

    ¡°Is this a mystical sign from the heavens?¡± I ask.

    ¡°This is absolutely a mystical sign from the heavens, and one the treethane could not have possibly interfered with,¡± Gelur says.

    When we return to the cave, everyone has gathered in a back chamber, and Treethane Rolon stands behind a table. Before bringing out the evidence, I stop to ask a few questions around the room first. Like asking the alchemist where he got the book on rare plants that suggested someone turn the sacred flower into a potion in the first place. (He doesn¡¯t remember.)

    I go up to the table in the middle of the room. ¡°I hereby accuse¡­ Treethane Rolon.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Rolon says, taken aback. ¡°That¡¯s preposterous.¡±

    ¡°Stand down, Rolon,¡± says one of the others. ¡°If the Pact Advocate has found evidence, I want to hear this.¡± She looks to me. ¡°And I hope you¡¯ve brought evidence for such an accusation.¡±

    We bring out all the evidence ¡ª the destruction magic book, the manipulation of the three suspects, the easily-falsified signs pointing everywhere but at him, the omen of the Skyshard overlooking the dolmen, and we call Nerunnor to testify against him. Neronnir. His name was Neronnir. That was definitely what I wrote down.

    ¡°You would seriously believe the word of this madmen over me?¡± Rolon says incredulously.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not mad,¡± Neronnir says. ¡°That¡¯s just what I wanted you to believe. You thought I wasn¡¯t paying attention and that nobody would notice you were acting differently.¡±

    ¡°The Dark Anchors are the doing of the Worm Cult, a group of foul necromancers in the employ of Molag Bal,¡± I say. ¡°They could certainly have been the source of a rare, unnatural wasting disease.¡±

    ¡°To what purpose?¡± Rolon demands.

    ¡°Chaos,¡± I say. ¡°I saw it across Auridon, when canonreeves set their own towns on fire. Accomplishing nothing but death and destruction. And what do we have here? Nothing but pointless chaos.¡±

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± Rolon sputters. ¡°It¡¯s obvious who is really at fault here, based on the evidence you¡¯ve uncovered.¡±

    ¡°You had to arrange things to point at all of them because you couldn¡¯t be sure who would take the bait to go after the flower,¡± I say. ¡°You even had the Khajiit tied up before we even got here, on nothing but blind suspicion and possibly racism.¡± I look about the room. ¡°Is there a tree somewhere I can have a chat with about this?¡±

    I don¡¯t get a chance to try to talk to a tree first, as the minute my back is turned, Treethane Rolon tries to make a break for it. He doesn¡¯t get very far before Merry freezes him in place. Rolon breaks the paralysis spell in seconds, but it¡¯s enough time for quick Ilara-daro to catch up to him and trip him up.

    ¡°You¡¯re not taking me down there!¡± Rolon cries, and casts a spell that fills the room with choking smoke as he scrambles to his feet again.

    The battle is vicious but brief, especially when the guards join in on restraining him. (One of them knew a spell that causes claws of stone to rise up out of the ground to grab someone. That¡¯s impressive, and he had a hard time breaking free of that.) Would the three suspects have quietly accepted their fate if I¡¯d accused them?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, but the real treethane didn¡¯t know magic,¡± one of them says.

    ¡°I am your treethane!¡± Rolon insists. ¡°Release me at once!¡±

    We wind up having to drag him, still struggling, into the lower chamber for judgment. There¡¯s a face on a tree trunk down there, and a strangler vine sitting in front of it. Rolon is reduced to begging at this point, but the vine lashes out and drains him of his blood. ¡°Blood for blood,¡± says the tree. ¡°It is done.¡±

    ¡°Sorry about the mess,¡± I say.

    ¡°You were not the one that started this chain of events,¡± the tree says. ¡°You merely finished it.¡±

 Chapter 61: In Which I Distribute Cursed Jewelry

    The people of Karthdar are understandably shaken by their treethane¡¯s betrayal, and we¡¯re still not sure whether he was actually replaced or Rolon himself decided to join up with practitioners of dark magic. The town is safe now, though, and the forest is tranquil once again. Gelur takes a moment to examine Gathiel to make sure there were no lingering effects of the disease.

    ¡°You seem alright to me,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know whether it¡¯s the flower having done it or simply that a spell that caused it was canceled. If you run into further problems, contact Brackenleaf.¡±

    ¡°Would they be able to help?¡± Gathiel asks.

    ¡°Not really, no,¡± Gelur says with a chuckle. ¡°But they¡¯d be able to pass along word to us, and we¡¯ve got a method to travel long distances and can procure ingredients from Summerset easily.¡±

    Morning sees us on the road to Cormount again. Naturally this is a journey of about five minutes, not five days.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine just outside of town, and I light it on the way by. There¡¯s some tents erected near the wayshrine, some of them Bosmer and some Altmer, and judging by the yellow eagle banners, I presume they¡¯re Dominion military. And one of them has a book laying by their cot titled The House of Troubles. Curious reading material for a soldier.

    As we¡¯re crossing the bridge into town, I run smack into a Bosmer appearing right in front of me. This guy introduces himself as a Vinedusk Ranger named Forinir, working for the King. And they¡¯ve been watching us and have need of our talents! (I¡¯m going to take that as a compliment, even though his tone was anything but complimentary. Grumpy mer.) He talks about how something called the Blacksap Rebellion is causing trouble here and wants to take us through a portal to his base of operations.

    ¡°Now hold on one moment here,¡± I say. ¡°Not that I¡¯ll complain about helping you with whatever, but we¡¯re already on a quest here. We¡¯re looking for a jeweler who can destroy a piece of murderous jewelry!¡±

    ¡°There is indeed a jeweler in town, although I believe he is retired,¡± Foronir says. ¡°But we need assistance from someone who isn¡¯t known in town.¡±

    ¡°The cursed item can wait, Neri,¡± Eran says. ¡°It¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°I certainly hope not,¡± I say. ¡°Alright, I guess we¡¯ll deal with that later, but if the situation here were really urgent and you¡¯ve been watching us, why wouldn¡¯t you have contacted us sooner? Your portals could have saved us a bit of a hike.¡±

    ¡°I am an expert in portal magic, although it has been behaving strangely lately,¡± Forinor says. (However you spell that name.) ¡°Possibly due to interference from the Planemeld, but no matter. I have been quite busy. Now, are you coming or not?¡±

    ¡°Fine, let¡¯s go, I suppose,¡± I say.

    Fironir¡¯s portal takes us to an Ayleid ruin somewhere (could be anywhere, I suppose). From the looks of things, they¡¯ve set up shop in an underground chamber that whose only corridor leading out has been completely blocked by collapsed rubble. Hopefully they¡¯re also using magic to keep the air from going stale, although I guess the Ayleids probably already did that too. Probably not the same methods the Dwemer used. Most likely something to do with crystals.

    My thoughts are jarred back to the present as it seems I missed an unnecessary history lesson about the Blacksap Rebellion. The pertinent information here is that they want us to capture the sons of a Bosmer named Gelthior, who is the King¡¯s cousin and had been doing the rebelling the rebellion was based on. Gelthior is over on the other side of the room being held here as his inescapable prison. (Well, nowhere, not even Coldharbour, is inescapable, but this one would seem to be highly inconvenient to jailbreak without the use of both a skilled portal mage and someone who could find the place to begin with. For all I know, we¡¯re somewhere in northern Cyrodiil right now.)

    I have a little chat with Gelthior to find out information I can use to capture his sons. He seems to want me to capture them, because he knows the rebellion is over and he wants them to live. And as for the cause of his rebellion? I¡¯m not sure whether he seems more annoyed about there being high elves in Valenwood or that the Vinedusk Rangers aren¡¯t the staunchest defenders of the Green Pact.

    ¡°Could Valenwood have held out against the Pact and Covenant on its own?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°They¡¯d have had no reason to come here had we not joined the Dominion,¡± Gelthior says.

    I shake my head. ¡°Oh, they would have come. They¡¯d have come for your resources, to cut your trees for lumber to build ships to invade the Summerset Isles. Valenwood being neutral would not have kept them out. And I know the Bosmer would have fought fiercely, but on your own? There would have been great losses. Valenwood would have burned.¡±

    Gelthior stares at me for a long moment, as if gauging my words. ¡°You may be right. It¡¯s a moot point now, regardless. I just hope this alliance with the Altmer and Khajiit doesn¡¯t lead us to ruin anyway.¡±

    We take Foranir¡¯s portal back to Cormount. (I¡¯m still getting his name wrong, aren¡¯t I? Dammit, this is why I keep writing them down and I was too busy grousing to ask him to spell it.) Anyway, Cormount is situated in a big tree, like Elden Root, although it¡¯s not as big of a big tree and there¡¯s a few smaller trees linked in too with bridges and ramps. Also there¡¯s a book about Vaermina, Daedric Prince of Nightmares, sitting around in the inn, leading me to start wondering what is with this town and its choice in literature?

    By the word of the Vinedusk Rangers, we head up to speak with the local treethane, a Bosmer woman with an eyepatch by the name of Iirdel. That¡¯s right, with two I¡¯s, unlike her face. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d find that funny, and fortunately I manage to avoid grinning like an idiot when I think of it.

    She gives us a list of rebel sympathizers along with code phrases, and I shit you not that they seriously use things like ¡®the Falinesti peeper swims at night¡¯. This is some bad spy novel shit here. I¡¯m going to need my lying face just to keep a straight face here.

    As it turns out, my lying face wouldn¡¯t have helped, since I can¡¯t figure out where the shrine with the fire is that¡¯s mentioned in the book of code phrases in order to give the final one. So people keep summoning assassins at me until I guess right. I¡¯m being the worst spy ever today. (I¡¯m probably pretty obvious looking up and reading lines out of a book, too.) When I eventually do manage to arrange a meeting with Lorchan (not Lorkhan), probably sounding suspicious as fuck, it¡¯s probably with as much intention of trying to capture me as anything else. That¡¯s alright. My friends will be watching out for me, and if I fuck up things too badly, there¡¯s a wayshrine right there.

    ¡°What do you mean, you couldn¡¯t find the colored brazier?¡± Gelur hisses to me as we¡¯re about to leave town. ¡°It was right there by the inn!¡±

    ¡°Never mind that,¡± I say, feeling rather silly. ¡°I¡¯m just going to go walk into a trap now.¡±

    Eran sighs and puts his face in his palm. ¡°Alright then, we¡¯re right behind you.¡±

    ¡°Far enough behind you to be able to pull your arse out of the fire once you walk into it,¡± Merry adds.

    It should probably go without saying that the rebels attempt to kill me. It should probably also go without saying that they fail. When we come to their leader, Lorchan, he decides to talk to us instead like a sensible, non-suicidal person, and once he learns that his father is alive, he immediately surrenders. (You¡¯d think being surrounded and his rebels laying dead would have been enough for a surrender, unless he¡¯s got bullshit magic or can turn into a giant monster or something.) Oh, and tells us that his brother, Gorinir, is planning something potentially bloody and we ought to stop him. I hand Lorchan one of the rings the Rangers gave me, and a portal opens and drags him inside.

    ¡°Well, that went well,¡± I say.

    ¡°We just practically killed half the rebellion here ourselves,¡± Eran says. ¡°Was that what we were trying to do?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Let¡¯s go find the other brother. This will probably lead to killing the other half of the rebellion.¡±

    Lorchan¡¯s directions lead us to a cave a short ways east of town, and if we thought we¡¯d actually killed half the rebellion here, we¡¯d sorely underestimated their numbers. Quite a lot more rebels stand in our way here. Inside the cave, the rebels are¡­ doing something with some sort of creatures that look kind of like golems made of burnt wood with weird green light on the inside. The plant things are immobile at the moment, but I¡¯d venture to guess that the rebels are aiming to change that.

    Once we reach the back of the cave, Gorinir (Should I be calling him Gory? Seems needlessly cruel even for me.) calls off his guards on the logic that they¡¯re obviously no match for us. So good of him to notice.Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Camoran Gorinir, I take it?¡± I ask, absolutely certain that I¡¯ve gotten all the vowels in the right place.

    ¡°That¡¯s me. Adventurers? You¡¯re no Dominion military. Are you Fighters Guild? Thalmor Justiciars? Vinedusk Rangers, if they¡¯ve decided to start taking cats and high elves?¡±

    ¡°Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars,¡± Gelur replies.

    ¡°The Briars?¡± Gorinir repeats in puzzlement. ¡°Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars have always been true to the Green Pact. You don¡¯t mean to tell me you¡¯ve accepted Altmer and Khajiit into your ranks now, too?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°The high elves are invaders!¡± Gorinir protests. ¡°They butchered my people and put my sodding cousin on the throne!¡±

    ¡°Believe it or not, Gorinir, not every outsider comes here to destroy us or impose their ways on us,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Some of them come to become a part of us.¡±

    Gorinir frowns deeply at that. ¡°Well, these might not be the ones who murdered my father, but it doesn¡¯t change the fact that my father is dead.¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°About that? Your father¡¯s alive. I just spoke to him before we came here.¡±

    ¡°Alive?¡± Gorinir says. ¡°But we searched everywhere! How can that be? Where is he?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say.

    ¡°But you just said you spoke with him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and I have no idea where we were,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re keeping him in a deep chamber in some ruin. Everything leading there is collapsed and the only way in or out is by portal. Your people would have had a hard time finding him. That ruin could be anywhere on Tamriel for all I know.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, no wonder!¡± Gorinir groans. ¡°Clever bastards. I need to speak to my father, if what you say is true, and it seems I don¡¯t have much choice. It¡¯s too late to stop the forest from rising up against the Dominion military camp, though. My constructs are about to start attacking as we speak.¡±

    I hand him the ring, and he gets taken through a portal as well. That¡¯s got to be convenient. (It seems like the minute someone learns a neat bit of magic, they immediately start using it for absolutely everything. I know I certainly did.)

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s hurry back and chops some stupid wood golems into kindling before they overrun the military camps,¡± I say, heading for the cave entrance. ¡°Although if the Dominion military are really so inept that they can¡¯t beat off some wood on their own¡­¡±

    Back at the camps near the wayshrine, Dominion soldiers are holding their own against walking wood things. They might have had a tougher time of it had the golems stuck together and formed a sweeping wave of wood, but instead, they¡¯ve split up and each of them is trying to tackle a cluster of tents on its own. I suppose complex tactics can¡¯t be expected of bundles of sticks.

    Once we¡¯ve dealt with the situation, the portal mage whose name starts with F contacts us again and takes us back to the ruin in wherever. (For all I joke that it might be in Cyrodiil, it¡¯s honestly probably right under our feet. Tons of Ayleid ruins in Valenwood, not a lot of Ayleids.)

    Gelthior and his sons are absolutely thrilled to see one another and proclaim such in a very loud, bickery sort of manner. From what the Vinedusk Rangers tell me, they want to hold these Camoran cousins here until their rebellion dies down and gets forgotten about.

    ¡°In my experience, people¡¯s leaders disappearing often does very little to discourage them,¡± I say. ¡°Why not do a public trial and be done with it rather than dragging this out? I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve committed plenty of crimes aside from disagreeing as to who should be on the throne. Like, just today, they tried to kill me and animated some wood golems to attack the Dominion camp. Surely that¡¯s got to be illegal somehow.¡±

    ¡°Hah! You¡¯ve got yourself a point there, friend. It¡¯ll be up to the King to decide what he wants done with them, now that they¡¯re in custody, but I can advise him to give them a trial.¡±

    I go over to speak with Gelthior briefly before we leave. He seems utterly convinced that a trial will lead to him being on the throne.

    ¡°Oftentimes, the true battle you need to win is fought with words and not weapons,¡± I say.

    Gelthior grunts. ¡°Maybe things would have been different if you¡¯d been the one in charge of the Altmer forces and not General Endare. She¡¯s nothing but a butcher. She certainly wasn¡¯t interested in talking with anyone.¡±

    ¡°General Endare,¡± I repeat. ¡°You know, I keep hearing this name often enough to actually remember it, and never in a good context. She coincidentally pulled her troops out of Haven immediately before it was attacked by pirates, for starters.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Gelthior says. ¡°I won¡¯t shed any tears if the Jade Butcher turns out to be a traitor and you have to bring her to justice.¡±

    The portal mage returns us to the surface. Now that the situation in Cormount has been taken care of, I can finally get around to finding that jeweler. The one we¡¯d gotten directions to is an old Bosmer by the name of Rondrin. He informs us that he¡¯s retired and no longer does custom jewelry, but I cut to the chase by describing the amulet we found and its apparent effects.

    ¡°Ah! That one! My masterpiece!¡± Rondrin says. ¡°Did it work? You found it on the Argonian¡¯s body? I spent all my resources to create it and track him down, but it¡¯s been a long time so I was starting to wonder if it would even work.¡±

    I frown. ¡°If this whole chain started with an Argonian, it didn¡¯t end with one. You mean to tell me that you put a cursed item into the world and then didn¡¯t keep track of it to make sure it didn¡¯t hurt anyone else?¡±

    Rondrin pales. ¡°Are you serious? You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    I open my pack to try to find the journal of the Breton I¡¯d found the amulet on (I have a lot of junk in here and really need to put some of this away or sell it), and pass it over to him. ¡°Here, take a look at this. That amulet killed a high elf and this Breton, and that¡¯s just the ones I know about.¡±

    Rondrin takes the book with a shaking hand and look at it. ¡°Oh no¡­ I never meant for this to happen. I didn¡¯t mean for anyone else to get hurt. Where is the amulet now? Do you have it with you?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°We buried it and put a ward over it until we could find a way to destroy it because I have enough mental issues without cursed jewelry messing with my head further. It¡¯s a ways from here, but fortunately there¡¯s a portal mage who owes me a favor.¡±

    Rondrin nods slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll need to bring it back here to my workbench, but yes, I should be the one to carry it. It shouldn¡¯t affect me.¡±

    The portal mage whose name I have given up on remembering is waiting outside with my friends. He doesn¡¯t know the location where we buried the amulet, of course, but he does know where the Elden Root temple is. From there, Gelur leads us toward the spot.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why this is necessary,¡± says the portal mage from behind us. ¡°I could just open a portal to drop it into a volcano.¡±

    ¡°I would be a poor jewelry crafter if my creations could be destroyed by throwing them into a volcano,¡± Rondrin says. ¡°No, if we want to be sure of this, I need to destroy it properly.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, it should be around here somewhere,¡± I say, peering about at every tree that looks pretty much like every other tree.

    ¡°Here!¡± Gelur exclaims, pointing.

    I¡¯d been a little afraid that even with Vastarie¡¯s wards, someone might have taken the amulet by now, but the wards are intact and let us pass, and the cairn is undisturbed. We uncover the amulet and let Rondrin pick it up. Another portal sees us back in Cormount outside Rondrin¡¯s tree pod. We part ways with the mage, and Rondrin and I go inside.

    ¡°I never meant to hurt anyone,¡± Rondrin is mumbling. ¡°I should be destroyed by this amulet.¡±

    ¡°Put it down,¡± I firmly. ¡°It¡¯s affecting you anyway. And unless I missed something, it doesn¡¯t actually hurt anyone itself, just makes them want to hurt themselves. So it¡¯s succeeding.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I¡¯m such a fool.¡± Rondrin puts the amulet onto his work bench. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of this right away.¡±

    I don¡¯t know precisely what goes into destroying a piece of magical jewelry that resisted destructive spells from experienced mages and would apparently survive molten lava. Rondrin fiddles with it for several minutes before sparks fly away from the amulet with an audible pop like a fizzled spell.

    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± Rondrin says. ¡°No one will suffer for my folly again. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and helping me fix this.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for actually taking care of it,¡± I say, looking at the glittering shards on the work bench. ¡°This was your masterwork, you say? This was the greatest thing you ever made?¡±

    ¡°Yes, alas,¡± Rondrin says. ¡°To think I wasted my skills on petty vengeance. My lost son deserves better.¡±

    ¡°You say you¡¯re done making custom jewelry,¡± I say. ¡°But what if you were to make something else, to redeem your skills and be remembered for something other than death?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a fine point,¡± Rondrin says. ¡°But I¡¯m getting up in years and my hands shake too much for delicate jewelry work anymore. That¡¯s why I had to retire.¡±

    ¡°There might be a potion that could help with that,¡± I muse.

    Rondrin¡¯s eyes widen with tentative hope. ¡°If I had such a thing, I¡¯d be able to start working again.¡±

    I pull out my alchemy notebook (rewritten to combine all the various stolen notes and my own experiments) and sift through it thoughtfully. One of them (the one from Phaer I think) had an idea that might work.

    ¡°I¡¯ve an idea of what to look for,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to go check the shops in Elden Root first to see if they carry anything, though, before I try making anything myself. I¡¯m not a particularly great alchemist myself and all my knowledge of it was either stolen from people who were using their skills to hurt people or through throwing a bunch of flowers into a cauldron to see what happens and then drinking my own questionable concoctions.¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t need to go to this much trouble for me,¡± Rondrin says.

    ¡°Not for you,¡± I say. ¡°You used your skills to hurt people, but that doesn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t recognize your skills. I want you to craft something for me.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Rondrin says. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll make you whatever you like if you can get me a potion that would let me actually make it.¡±

    I return my group via wayshrine to Elden Root and promise not to try to cause any incidents if we split up. Eran looks dubious at me but agrees reluctantly.

    I start off by taking a look in the stalls on the ground floor but don¡¯t see what I¡¯m looking for, so I head up the tree to the Mages Guild. I find an Dunmer alchemist by the name of Edrisi. She¡¯s hesitant at first, but quickly turns eager once she realizes I¡¯m offering to show her all my stolen notes and my own experiments. Surprisingly, this is a rare opportunity for an alchemist, who tend to carefully guard their secrets.

    Edrisi¡¯s lips quirk when she runs across one bit in my notes. ¡°You must have had a very uncomfortable night after drinking this one.¡± She points to the page where I discovered the laxative properties of Namira¡¯s Rot. ¡°I¡¯ve sampled almost everything on Nirn that can be made into a potion, and a few things not from Nirn for good measure. You seem to have been pretty bold about experimentation, too. I¡¯m surprised you let me read this.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t make a living by alchemy and I don¡¯t have any secrets worth guarding,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s just a hobby for me in between doing battle with monsters. Do you think you can do something with this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to test a few things, but there¡¯s definitely a promising start here,¡± Edrisi says. ¡°If you¡¯d be willing to leave your notes with me for a bit, I¡¯ll copy things out and get them back to you.¡±

    ¡°Feel free,¡± I say.

    ¡°Who is this for, anyway?¡± Edrisi asks. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to have a problem with the shakes yourself.¡±

    ¡°A jeweler up in Cormount,¡± I explain. ¡°If you can get something working, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be thrilled at having a steady supply available so he can do his profession.¡±

    ¡°A worthy goal,¡± Edrisi says. ¡°I can have your notes back by tomorrow if you¡¯ll still be in town. As for the potion, well, go off and battle some more monsters and check in later to see if I¡¯ve got something.¡±

 Chapter 62: In Which I Steal a Guys Heart

    After returning by wayshrine to Cormount and updating the jeweler about his potion, my friends and I head to the Ayleid ruin pretentiously called the Reliquary of Stars. We¡¯re supposed to obtain something I¡¯ve completely forgotten about. Something Ayleid, presumably. Eran reminds me that we are, indeed, after something Ayleid and that the person who sent us wasn¡¯t sure what we¡¯d be looking for, either. It¡¯s good to know that we¡¯re all clueless.

    A group of researchers from the Mages Guild had been researching the ruins, and of course they ran into problems. They¡¯ve got a small camp set up at the edge of the ruins. One eager high elf at the camp by the name of Nondor speaks of how the place seems to have recently ¡®woken up¡¯ somehow. He hasn¡¯t heard from his associates inside the ruin in a while, but he¡¯s clearly too busy writing reports to go check in on them. He sends us in to speak with a researcher by the name of Lara and a few more syllables I know I¡¯d forget if I tried. Nondor thinks his guildmates back in Elden Root are ¡®chomping at the bit¡¯ for his reports. I politely don¡¯t point out that the phrase is ¡®champing¡¯ (he probably hasn¡¯t spent a lot of time around any animal with a bit in its mouth).

    More tents have been set up inside the huge gallery at the bottom of the stairs, and dark objects flutter through the air that I take to be bats for a moment until I realize they¡¯re moving all wrong.

    ¡°Flying books,¡± I mutter. ¡°Yep, something weird¡¯s going on here.¡±

    Eran smacks a book with his shield when it tries to fly into his face. ¡°And annoying.¡±

    I spot a woman in the camp who might be Lara, and I approach her saying, ¡°Are you Lara? I brought a butterfly net. Do we need to recapture these books?¡±

    She snorts in amusement. ¡°I¡¯m Laranalda, yes. And they¡¯re getting obnoxious, to be sure, but they¡¯re not the most pressing concern at the moment.¡± She tells us about how her assistants are missing in the ruins and protocol said she should stay put until aid arrived. Yep, that¡¯s totally us.

    We head in to look for the assistants in question, and quickly discover that the Ayleid ruin is full of dead Ayleids. The slightly transparent, angry, purple sort. We wind up having to convince a number of them to get back to resting in peace on the way through. We also run across some notes from some ancient lovers that my friends are wondering why I¡¯m bothering to stop and read.

    The first of Lara¡¯s assistants, a wood elf named Belehir or something, is standing screaming in the midst of some glowing things and bound by purple chains. Because of course he stumbled right into some sort of trap. He sends us off to go kill something that sounds like a Watcher by his be-tentacled description, in order to get an eyeball to wave at the glowing things in hopes of it freeing him. Okay then.

    After finding and killing a Watcher, I also locate a chest with a lock of hair that leads me to a ghost who doesn¡¯t attack us and is very confused that we¡¯re not her long-dead lover. I can only suggest that she search for him in Aetherius or wherever he would have wound up after he died, and she fades away. From what it sounded like, she was going to kill them both so they could be together in eternity, which sounds all well and romantic until you¡¯re stuck alone as a ghost in a ruin for thousands of years. Hopefully they at least wound up in the same afterlife. (By the way, Ayleids were even more racist than Altmer, apparently. Maybe there¡¯s a good reason why there¡¯s not a lot of Ayleids around these days. The Altmer might take note.)

    With the squishy Daedric eye in hand (Merry¡¯s hand, technically), we return to the room where the assistant was stuck in the trap. Fortunately for the Bosmer, his dubious idea involving the Watcher eye works, and he¡¯s freed from the trap.

    ¡°Are you feeling okay?¡± I ask. ¡°You¡¯re still glowing purple-black.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± he mumbles, looking down at himself. ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s only cosmetic and will wear off, or I¡¯ll need to get my guildmates to look at it. In any case, I¡¯m getting back to the camp now. I¡¯ve had quite enough excitement for one day.¡±

    We then head off toward the gardens in the center of the complex to see if we can find the other assistant, whose name I already forgot. (¡°Tedryni,¡± Eran reminds me helpfully.) This broad area is open to the sky, although shrouded in purple haze, lending a vaguely pinkish cast to the sky and distant trees. When we climb down the stairs into the garden, we come face to face with a number of statues in improbable positions, frozen in gestures of worship surrounding what appears to be a Daedric spirit of some sort. She calls me a ¡®fine specimen¡¯ and doesn¡¯t think she has one of my kind in her garden.

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you would,¡± I say dryly. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you mostly have Ayleids and one¡­ Dunmer was it?¡±

    ¡°Tedryni did sound like a Dunmer name,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Oh, yes, I just finished with one such specimen,¡± the spirit says. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve had fresh materials to work with.¡±

    She calls herself the caretaker and introduces herself by a mess of a name that sounds like a hacking cough, like many Dremora. I won¡¯t bother trying to repeat it. From what I gather, the Ayleids summoned her in order to preserve their libraries, but she apparently decided that their orders were vague enough to imply that she ought to ¡®preserve¡¯ the Ayleids as well. By turning them all to stone. Well, that would explain why there¡¯s no more Ayleids in this particular part of Valenwood.

    The Dremora spirit proceeds to send us on a game around the garden to try to find where she stashed Tedryni¡¯s soul while the undead try to kill us. So, typical really.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Merry says to me quietly, ¡°I could restore him from stone to flesh, but without his soul it would do no good.¡±

    I¡¯d say we find Tedryni¡¯s soul in the last place we look but that¡¯s silly since we wouldn¡¯t keep looking once we found it. For his part, Tedryni winds up being extremely grateful that he¡¯s only been in here for days at most rather than centuries. I feel that, brother. I feel that.

    Back at the base camp, we settle in to rest and eat. Come morning (at least I think it¡¯s morning, given that we¡¯re underground), Lara takes me aside to speak in private. Something about the heart of someone named Annie or something. Some dead Ayleid, I don¡¯t know. At least I hope it¡¯s a dead Ayleid and not a dead god. Dead Ayleids are considerably less volatile, even when they¡¯re trying to kill you. Also, she¡¯s not happy to hear that there¡¯s a Dremora with a difficult to pronounce name in there. (I couldn¡¯t remember it, but could give a ¡®probably¡¯ when she asks if it¡¯s a specific name. I don¡¯t ask her to spell it.)

    ¡°I was afraid of that,¡± Lara says softly. ¡°I read a mention of her by name in one of these books. She can apparently control people¡¯s minds and even the Ayleids were wary of her. I don¡¯t like the idea of my assistants or any of your party being mind controlled, but Tedryni has been uncharacteristically quiet since his return. He¡¯s normally so enthusiastic, but now he¡¯s withdrawn and it¡¯s depressing to see him like that.¡±

    ¡°He had his soul ripped out and was turned into a statue,¡± I remind her. ¡°Most people would be a bit shaken by that. I¡¯d be concerned about him if he wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true,¡± Lara says. ¡°But Behelir is still energetic and eager to get back to researching.¡±

    ¡°Okay, he¡¯s probably the one being mind controlled,¡± I say. ¡°He was stuck in a weird Ayleid light trap for half a day and soundly declared that he¡¯d had quite enough excitement for a while.¡±

    ¡°I want to run some tests for Daedric influence on Tedryni,¡± Lara says. ¡°While I¡¯m doing that, could take Behelir with you and search the Hall of Might for the Heart of Anumaril?¡±

    I stare at her and sigh. ¡°Well. If you want us to keep an eye on him and make sure that there¡¯s five people around to keep him from causing trouble, I suppose that would do. Or would you prefer I leave someone behind to guard the camp, too?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be fine, but if you can spare someone, an extra guard would be appreciated,¡± Lara says.

    Eran isn¡¯t too unhappy about being assigned to guard duty. Under the circumstances, the necessity is understandable. ¡°Be careful down there and don¡¯t do anything too stupid.¡±

    I grin at him. ¡°Would I?¡±

    I¡¯m not quite sure where this ¡®Hall of Might¡¯ is, but Bellihar knows the way. To say that the library contains a lot of books is a bit of an understatement. We could be scouring the place for the next century trying to index every scrap of knowledge here, but we¡¯re actually looking for something specific even if we have not the faintest clue what that specific thing is.

    ¡°Ilara-daro feels a draft from this corner of the room.¡± She shuffles in front of one large bookcase. ¡°Here, she thinks.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s three books missing,¡± Merry observes.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably the ones scattered around the room and not on other bookcases,¡± I muse. ¡°Although if this is a secret door and I were trying to lock it, I¡¯d put the missing keys somewhere a little less obvious.¡±

    ¡°Complain about it being obvious once it turns out that it¡¯s obvious,¡± Merry says, putting the books back into the bookcase in chronological order. It clicks and opens. ¡°It turns out it was obvious.¡±

    The Bosmer rushes in ahead of us. He even rushes, completely undeterred, across a room full of active spike traps. Something red and ominous-looking is glowing on a pedestal in the center of the room. He reaches out for it, cackling in a voice that isn¡¯t his own, only to find that Merry has frozen him in place.

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say, casually approaching the edge of the traps. ¡°Called it.¡±

    ¡°You could be a little less smug about being proven right and a little more concerned about a powerful Daedra getting her hands on a dangerous artifact,¡± Merry says. ¡°That spell won¡¯t hold him for long. Or her. Whichever.¡±

    ¡°Long enough,¡± I say, dancing around the spikes. I casually toss the mysterious artifact into my pack without taking a second glance at it.

    ¡°Noooo!¡± the Bosmer yells with the voice of the Dremora woman, eyes glowing red. ¡°I will be free! I must restore my body!¡±

    ¡°How about we just send you back to Oblivion?¡± I ask.

    She¡¯s quiet for a moment. ¡°I was bound deep into the foundations of this library. They made sure I would be trapped here long after the place crumbled into ruins. Then they separated my spirit from my body since I was causing too much trouble for them. Ugh! If I¡¯m to be trapped here forever, I¡¯d rather it be in my own body.¡±

    ¡°Merry, do you know of any way to locate the exact stones this Daedra was bound to?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It might be doable,¡± Merry says thoughtfully. ¡°And with the use of the Heart of Anumaril, it might even be possible to destroy them so that she can be banished back to Oblivion.¡±

    Once I¡¯ve convinced the Daedra to leave the Bosmer alone, on the promise of severing her bindings and sending her back to Oblivion, we head out of the ruins. She might still be watching through his eyes or something, but it hardly matters at this point. He¡¯s dazed and unsettled but otherwise unharmed. She was very good at puppeting him across those spike traps. We drop him off at the tents and go to find Lara.

    Ilara leans close and says to me quietly, ¡°She¡¯s done bad things. Shouldn¡¯t she be punished for them?¡±

    ¡°Daedra are immortal,¡± I say. ¡°They can only be banished or imprisoned, never truly destroyed. If they¡¯re killed, they¡¯ll simply reform from the waters of Oblivion. The Ayleids binding her here was already punishment, but she¡¯s too much trouble to leave on Nirn. Best to just get rid of her.¡±

    Ilara frowns, then nods. ¡°How do you ever deal with Daedra, never mind a Prince?¡±

    ¡°Usually, the Dremora at least respect strength, if nothing else,¡± I say. ¡°Or courage, wit, or sheer brass balls. They¡¯re more complicated than, say, an atronach, but manageable once you understand what motivates them.¡±

    ¡°This one thinks you might find anything manageable if you understand what motivates them,¡± Ilara suggests slyly.

    ¡°True,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°How about I now go convince some mages to free a Dremora because it would be an offense to their professional pride otherwise? They won¡¯t stand for a mere dabbler like myself challenging their arcane skill.¡±

    ¡°Just tell me you¡¯re not letting Ealcil near the Heart of Anumaril,¡± Merry says. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about Khenarthi¡¯s Roost.¡±

    I make a face. ¡°Yeah, definitely not. Ah, there¡¯s Lara now. Just who we were looking for.¡±

    We fill Lara in on what happened and what will be necessary to get rid of the dangerous, powerful Daedra trapped in the ruin so that they¡¯d be able to study the place properly. The Dremora in question had only agreed to leave them be so long as we were actually trying to break her bonds, after all. I turn over the creepy red glowing rock to her, as well. I don¡¯t want that thing in my pack. I¡¯d really rather not be messing with it at all, but best not leave it laying around until the Daedra situation has been dealt with.

 Chapter 63: In Which the Worm King Talks to Himself

    After spending a night in my own house back in Brackenleaf Village, a banekin wakes me up much too early and I¡¯m reaching for Dumzy to bisect it, wondering how it got this far into the village, when it babbles out in terror that his master Abnur Tharn sent him with a message.

    ¡°Then I believe I¡¯ll make a note in my journal to get Abnur Tharn a clock,¡± I say dryly in between yawns. ¡°Assuming I can find one. It¡¯s got to be past midnight but it¡¯s definitely not dawn yet. Is this urgent, or does he just have poor timing?¡±

    The banekin is insistent that I must be quick and meet Abnur at the Elden Root Mages Guildhall, so I make sure my friends are awake (they already were, with the amount of noise the banekin was making) and get dressed and ready to go. I hadn¡¯t expected to find him there in unassuming Mages Guild robes, but I suppose he can¡¯t swan about Valenwood dressed as an Imperial nobleman.

    Abnur explains how there¡¯s a place where Manny keeps some information about stuff, so we should go to Wormroot Depths and root around deep to find out if he¡¯s got anything about Sai Sahan. As it turns out, this is more of grasping at potential leads and less of an immediate Daedric incursion.

    ¡°Did that banekin really make it sound like there was an attack in progress?¡± Abnur says. ¡°They¡¯re such children, always inclined to interpret any instructions you give them in their own way.¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re awake now, so we might as well go check out this cave,¡± I say. ¡°Where is it?¡±

    ¡°To the northwest, near the settlement called Redfur Trading Post,¡± Abnur replies.

    ¡°Redfur? Hmm. I think I ran across an advertisement looking for mercenaries to help in excavating a ruin. Could be the same place?¡±

    ¡°Very likely,¡± Abnur says. ¡°The place is Ayleid in construction, although its original name has been lost.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll get some breakfast and meet you there, then,¡± I say.

    While I¡¯m there, I retrieve my alchemy journal from¡­ Edrasi? The Mages Guild alchemist in Elden Root. I¡¯d already forgotten the name of the one I¡¯d lent it to. Fortunately, she wrote her name (It¡¯s actually Edrisi. I was close.) in the journal as well as a few helpful tips in the margins as thanks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get in touch with your jeweler in Cormount so I can test my concoctions with him,¡± Edrisi says. ¡°Fortunately, I am not a Bosmer, and am free to make potions out of anything I wish. I¡¯ve found it¡¯s best to simply not tell my wood elven customers what goes into my potions and they don¡¯t ask. Makes it easier for everyone that way.¡±

    We head over to Redfur via wayshrine and take the road leading west out of town. Some ways out of town, we spot a small camp by the side of the road, but there¡¯s no sign of whoever might have stopped here. A rough path leads down to a small river, its banks lined by stranglers and hoarvor, with a couple of nereids dancing under a waterfall. Very picturesque surroundings full of things that might try to kill us if we get too close. I love Valenwood.

    The first sign that there might be trouble unrelated to the local highly aggressive flora and fauna is the skull totems at the mouth of a large cave on the far side of the stream. Of course we go inside, what do you take me for, a sensible person? That¡¯s where we find the bodies, or the skeletons of them at least, which still might not mean they¡¯ve been in here for a particularly long time.

    ¡°Probably weren¡¯t killed by a predator,¡± Gelur says quietly. ¡°The bones weren¡¯t cracked and gnawed on. Place smells weird as fuck, too. Whatever¡¯s back here prolly ain¡¯t natural.¡±

    At the back of the cave, the sight of a large flesh atronach explains what might have happened here, and an ominous brazier marked with Molag Bal¡¯s symbol indicates who the necromancer responsible for this probably worshipped. This clearly wasn¡¯t what Abnur wanted us to come out here for, but it¡¯s still a problem connected to the God of Schemes, so we ought to take care of it while we¡¯re here.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go tear this thing apart before anyone else stumbles upon the place,¡± I say.

    Flesh atronachs might be big and tough, but they have one glaring weakness in that they¡¯re stitched together from whatever flesh is available. Those stitches make for easy targets to aim for to make them just fall apart, and they can¡¯t just easily pull themselves back together when you do that like skeletons do. We take him down in swift order and move on after making sure there¡¯s nothing else in here.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Finally, we run across a small camp where an aging human is sitting across the road from a ruin, who introduces himself as Bert. (Longer name not necessary. Bert is fine.)

    ¡°A party of adventurers might be just what I need,¡± he says, then explains about how he wants to catch light in a crystal. (There¡¯s a bit more arcane jargon than that, but I don¡¯t care.)

    ¡°Okay, so wave this magic rock over the Ayleid well inside the ruins?¡± I ask.

    Bert chuckles. ¡°You could look at it that way, I suppose. Be careful in there. When I tried to get in there when I first got here, I spotted what I took to be cultists, and they were summoning Daedra. I didn¡¯t want any part in that and didn¡¯t want to take my chances just walking up to them and politely asking if I could explore the ruins. I¡¯m just an old scholar. But you five look like you can handle yourself. There¡¯s pay in it for you if you want to take the chance.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re heading in there anyway on a separate mission,¡± I say. ¡°So we can just stop at the Ayleid well while we¡¯re there.¡±

    We cross the road and climb the hill, and find Abnur Tharn waiting just inside the ruins, no longer wearing humble guild robes. Getting changed into something more dignified to do battle in was clearly the most important part of his preparations. (Hopefully it was because they¡¯re enchanted or something.)

    ¡°About time you lot got here,¡± Abnur says. ¡°I took a portal straight here to avoid being seen in town in these clothes. Although given how unspecific I was about when we should meet up here, perhaps I should be glad that you even showed up here today.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, we got delayed taking apart a flesh atronach one of Molag Bal¡¯s worshippers left down by the river,¡± I explain, blithely omitting the part where I just wandered into the cave because it was there.

    Abnur grunts. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a better excuse than I was expecting. Are you ready to head in yet, ¡®The Black Wolf¡¯, with your ¡®wolf pack¡¯ here?¡±

    I snort softly. ¡°You use a stupid alias one time¡­ I mean, technically, the wolf is our totem, but I wasn¡¯t even slightly thinking of that when I came up with that name. I mean, I¡¯d never even heard of Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars at the time.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it was meant to be,¡± Gelur says with a grin.

    ¡°Anyway, hopefully the information we¡¯re looking for is actually in here,¡± I say.

    Whatever cultists were in these ruins must have cleared out before we got here, leaving only Daedra of various types guarding the place. We scour the austere stone halls under blue crystal lighting searching for various magical recordings, and I also stop to an absorb a Skyshard sitting in a corner underneath a crack in the ceiling.

    Ilara¡¯s starting to get good about dodging clannfear jumps, which is more than the Altmer in our party can say. Eran¡¯s reaction times are still too slow in heavy armor and Merry always winds up stumbling gracelessly.

    These recordings we¡¯re looking for display illusions of Manny speaking and I just have to wonder why he bothered with using so much magic on something that could be more easily accomplished by simply writing it down. Does he enjoy listening to himself talk that much? Who does he even think is listening to this shit?

    One of the recordings talks about the Amulet of Kings. I don¡¯t know what precisely Manny plans to do with the thing, or how he intends to try to make himself a god with it, and I don¡¯t want to find out. We need to make sure that thing stays somewhere he will never be able to get his hands on it. The last of the recordings indicates that Sai Sahan was moved to the Halls of Torment for further torment. Poor fetcher.

    ¡°This is what we¡¯ve been looking for,¡± Abnur says. ¡°We must inform Varen and begin our search.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think it would be easier to get into someplace with a name like ¡®Halls of Torment¡¯ than get out again, no?¡± Ilara says with a chuckle. ¡°But then we do have people who can make portals.¡±

    ¡°Your Khajiit is correct,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Finding the Halls of Torment and locating Sai Sahan within them is likely to prove more difficult than getting inside. I have confidence that your party is capable of administering sufficient violence to combat anything that might be standing between you and him, but there is likely to also be traps and tricks in place as well.¡±

    Abnur, having decided that we¡¯re done here, opens up a swirling red portal for himself to leave. We don¡¯t take it, since we¡¯re not done here yet, and it closes behind him in moments.

    ¡°Mite rude of him,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Stuffy-pants Imperial¡¯s got places to be. He could have at least asked.¡±

    Bert¡¯s idea with the light works, too, by the way. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s planning on doing with it, but he seems like an alright sort and I hope he¡¯s not a powerful necromancer in disguise attempting to use a glowing rock to attain godhood. (A powerful necromancer could have probably just walked in and gotten his own light.)

    When we return to Redfur Trading Post, I overhear someone talking about how some Dominion soldiers had run into trouble with frost trolls.

    ¡°Something got your attention?¡± Eran asks when he sees me perk up.

    ¡°I hear the call to adventure!¡± I say, and go over to the random people I¡¯d overheard to shake them down for details.

    ¡°Been a while since I hunted a troll,¡± Gelur says.

    The Bosmer who¡¯d been spreading the rumor helpfully informs me that they¡¯re at the Falinesti Winter Site, whatever that is, and that he¡¯d also appreciate us making sure his sister is alright, if we¡¯re heading that way.

    ¡°I know where that is,¡± Gelur says. ¡°It¡¯s to the south.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ actually where we were supposed to be going anyway,¡± Eran adds. ¡°Eventually.¡±

    ¡°Of course they ran into trouble,¡± Merry mutters. ¡°This whole country is trouble.¡± He pauses. ¡°No, no, that¡¯s not fair to Valenwood, considering how much trouble we ran into on Auridon, too. All of Tamriel is trouble these days. But frost trolls? Really?¡±

 Chapter 64: In Which I Realize the Word Orc Is Supposed to Be Capitalized

    Despite Gelur¡¯s helpful directions and the knowledge that adventure awaits at the Falinesti Winter Site, I never quite stick to the road. I¡¯d miss out on so many fascinating things lurking in the foliage nearby. Locked chests half sunk into much, random books laying around (Before the Ages of Man: Merethic Era. Tossed in my pack to read later.), trolls rummaging through merchant carts, a Skyshard perched over an old mine entrance (with more trolls)¡­ It probably isn¡¯t necessary to go into the mine and kill all the trolls, but we do it anyway.

    ¡°Does this count as being racist against trolls?¡± Eran wonders lightly.

    ¡°Eh,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°They didn¡¯t feel like talking and it looks like the they¡¯ve killed mer here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re paying for repairs to my clothes, though,¡± Merry grumbles at his torn sleeve. ¡°Gelur healed the scratch quickly enough but the tear is beyond the help of our spells.¡±

    Laying on a nearby path and half-covered in dirt, a note from some bandits conveys instructions for assaulting someplace called Barkbite Stronghold. There¡¯s even helpfully a partially-legible map indicating where it is (at least good enough that Gelur can point us in the right direction).

    ¡°Wood Orcs?¡± I ask when we come into sight of the walls built from timber.

    ¡°Definitely,¡± Gelur agrees.

    ¡°Now let¡¯s just not get mistaken for bandits,¡± Merry says. ¡°I don¡¯t fancy picking Orc arrows out of my ribs today.¡±

    Fortunately, the Orcs guarding the gates take our lack of immediately attacking them or being sneaky as us being not-bandits. They inform us that they¡¯ve been having trouble with some sort of curse or disease or something (they¡¯re not quite sure what) and so are left with only defending and being unable to retaliate against the bandits.

    ¡°Sounds very convenient,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll bet it¡¯s the bandits themselves or someone in league with them who is trying to weaken your clan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a healer,¡± Gelur says. ¡°And Merry is a mage. One of us may be able to help with your curse.¡±

    ¡°And the rest of us may be able to help with hitting bandits,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°Any help you can offer is welcome,¡± the guard says. ¡°Speak with the shaman. You can find him in the big building up the hill.¡± He gestures into the stronghold.

    We head inside and locate the man in question. Shaman Bogham is an Orc wearing a tattered robe that¡¯s really more of a skirt with some adornments of animal bits on the top. It¡¯s no wonder how few Orcs were guarding the gates given how many of them are inside this house (is it a longhouse?) laying around groaning miserably. The shaman insists that it¡¯s no curse, and their warriors are just superstitious. He¡¯s convinced that it¡¯s poison, and sends us to take some samples to see exactly where it came from. My party goes and splits up to gather the requested samples from around the vicinity. Food, water, clothes.

    After Bogham runs a few tests, he determines that it¡¯s the well that has been poisoned. What¡¯s more, he figures that it¡¯s giant spider venom and now needs someone to collect venom sacs from spiders deep within their mine.

    ¡°Oh, spiders,¡± Merry mumbles as we¡¯re heading out of the longhouse.

    ¡°They¡¯re just vermin,¡± I say.

    No one is in the mine at the moment and it¡¯s choked with spiderwebs. This is either quite the serious infestation they¡¯ve got here or just a few overly enthusiastic spiders taking advantage of the Orcs¡¯ momentary infirmity. The ones near the entrance aren¡¯t particularly large, by giant spider standards, only standing knee-high at most, but the broodmother in the deepest part of the mine is another story.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I muse. ¡°That might be the third or fourth biggest non-Daedric spider I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re keeping a ranked list in your mind of spider size?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°And meanwhile forgetting half the people we ever encounter and get distracted from what you¡¯re doing constantly?¡±

    ¡°One has to have mental priorities,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get these venom sacs back to Buggum.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing this on purpose, aren¡¯t you,¡± Eran says with a smirk.

    As we¡¯re leaving the mine, an Orc runs in to tell us that bandits rushed the gate and they need help defending the stronghold. He¡¯s clutching a broken arm, and Gelur goes up and grabs it quickly, holding it in place for only a moment before pushing restoration magic into it.

    ¡°Combat healing,¡± Gelur explains. ¡°It¡¯ll need to be re-broken and set properly later, but for the moment, it¡¯ll get you back into the fight.¡±

    The Orc thanks her, and we head back out into the stronghold. He grabs a weapon along the way, and we locate the incursion. The brigands are a mixed lot. Some of them are Orcs and Bosmer, but there¡¯s also the distinct golden complexion of Altmer and the grayish-blue of Dunmer represented. Funny, what if it had been the bandits who had approached us and convinced us that they were trying to clear out the evil Orcs or something?

    Once the bandits have stopped coming for the moment, I leave my friends on guard duty and take the venom sac back to the shaman. (The Orcs are so badly understaffed that we really don¡¯t need to all be running around the stronghold, and I can always come and get them if we need to kill anymore overly large arachnoids.) He starts work on an antidote immediately and sends me to speak with one of the chief¡¯s wives.

    The woman, whose name starts with M and I immediately forget, is the chief¡¯s hearth-wife, whatever that is. I clearly wasn¡¯t paying attention when I skimmed that book on Wood Orcs. She informs me that the bandits couldn¡¯t have snuck anyone in to poison the well and that no one who was in the stronghold before the attack is missing, and believes it to be likely that whoever was responsible is among the unafflicted because the symptoms are unpleasant.

    ¡°Somebody smart and determined would have poisoned themselves to deflect suspicion,¡± I say. ¡°That would entirely depend on how smart and determined our poisoner is, though. The ones who are still healthy is probably a good enough place to start. It¡¯s not like the sick are going anywhere just yet.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°If they were smart and determined, they could have found a better way to go about whatever it is they¡¯re trying to do here,¡± the hearth-wife points out.

    I go and put on my best ¡®serious investigation¡¯ face and question the people in the stronghold if they¡¯ve been anything suspicious, and so forth. I¡¯m not used to dealing with Orcs, so I behave toward them how I would Ashlanders, which seems to work well enough. They¡¯re not nearly as easily offended over stupid things as Altmer, but if they do wind up being offended over something, they¡¯d probably react more violently than Altmer, too. Although perhaps I¡¯m misjudging them. It¡¯s not like entirely too many Altmer didn¡¯t yell ¡°For the Heritance! For the Veiled Queen!¡± at me while hurling themselves at my axe. Somehow I feel like Orcs cannot possibly be less sensible than that.

    After a decent questioning, I learn that most of those who haven¡¯t become sick were people who had regularly tangled with spiders and had built up an immunity to their venom. The only one that doesn¡¯t have any good excuses is a young woman who works as the smith¡¯s apprentice or something, who according to the hearth-wife, was once very friendly with the chief¡¯s brother who challenged him for leadership and failed. Right, that definitely looks like a good excuse to make the clan and the chief look weak so that the brother can take over, doesn¡¯t it?

    Of course, I¡¯m not going to confront her about her lies and failed alibis without making sure she¡¯s not going anywhere. Fortunately, I have a mage who is good at making people not run away. A good thing, too, as Rakhaz definitely tries to run away once she realizes we¡¯re onto her.

    ¡°Fine, yes, I poisoned the well,¡± Rakhaz confesses. ¡°I was careful to make sure not to hurt anyone, though.¡±

    ¡°And the bandits?¡± I ask.

    ¡°They haven¡¯t killed anyone, either,¡± Rakhaz says. ¡°Gargak would have made sure they didn¡¯t. He takes the Code of Mauloch seriously and would never spill the blood of kinsmen.¡±

    ¡°Gargak must be an absolutely amazing leader if he was able to convince a bunch of miscellaneous bandits to hurl themselves at the blades of Orcs while making sure they didn¡¯t hurt anyone,¡± I say. ¡°That would take either an absurd level of fanatical devotion or an extreme lack of both competence and common sense.¡±

    ¡°He would have been a better leader than his brother,¡± Rakhaz insists. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for his wives, Dushkul would be nothing.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to need to have a talk with Gargak myself,¡± I say. ¡°Why don¡¯t you show us where he is? Take us to his camp so we can have a little chat.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re using me as a hostage?¡± Rakhaz says with a grunt.

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to hurt you,¡± I say. ¡°Not unless you do something stupid like turn into a werewolf and attack us or summon several dremora to attack us or just plain grab an axe and attack us if you¡¯re not feeling especially fanciful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a werewolf and I don¡¯t know any magic,¡± Rakhaz says.

    ¡°We¡¯ve run into several people who weren¡¯t supposed to know any magic who did,¡± Eran comments.

    ¡°It is difficult to tell who is a spellcaster unless they are actively casting a spell,¡± Merry says.

    Rakhaz sighs. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯ll show you the way, although it¡¯s not hard to find. He¡¯s based out of the old Imperial fort to the north. The one overlooking the road to Marbruk.¡±

    I gesture to Merry, who eases up on the confinement spell to allow Rakhaz to move again. She leads us out of the stronghold, and we exit through the break in the walls.

    The bandit camp is located around the base of a half-ruined tower, amid some other ruined stone buildings that provide a bit of cover but not enough to be really much of a fort any longer. When the bandits see Rakhaz and recognize her, they hold off and let us pass. Rakhaz is quick to try to get behind probably-Gargak once we reach the tower, but Merry doesn¡¯t let her move that fast.

    ¡°Gargak?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m interested in talking and also not interested in seeing how many more of your fighters I can kill today.¡±

    Gargak is surprised that we even came to talk, and tells us a little story about how he fought his brother for leadership with a faulty sword that had poison on its hilt and broke when he tried to use it.

    ¡°I take it women are not allowed to be chiefs?¡± I ask. ¡°If they could, they wouldn¡¯t have found this whole runaround necessary.¡±

    ¡°Not generally, no,¡± Gargak says. ¡°It¡¯s usually one of the sons or brothers of the last chief.¡±

    ¡°And no one thought this was suspicious?¡± I ask. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°No, they thought it was the will of Mauloch,¡± Gargak says.

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°Okay. Well. That explains your frustration, but not the rest of your scheme. Was there some purpose to convincing people who are either suicidal or incompetent to hurl themselves at the stronghold? Couldn¡¯t you have just started your own clan for all that trouble?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I could,¡± Gargak says. ¡°But Barkbite¡¯s wealth and strength comes of their tin mine. Without a good mine, we¡¯d be nothing.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ there¡¯s one right over there,¡± I point.

    ¡°What, that old Imperial mine?¡± Gargak asks. ¡°My scouts told me it was infested with trolls. That would take some doing to clear out.¡±

    ¡°Surely that still would have been more productive than flinging them at the stronghold¡¯s walls,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re just trolls. They¡¯re tough but predictable. And in any case, that¡¯s a moot point seeing as we cleared it out this morning on the way by.¡±

    Gargak stares at me, and glances to my companions. ¡°You did?¡±

    ¡°And here I thought clearing out that mine was a pointless diversion,¡± Merry mutters, tugging at a sleeve. ¡°And I need to fix my robes now.¡±

    ¡°Release Rakhaz and I¡¯ll tell my warriors to stand down,¡± Gargak says. ¡°I want an ore sample from that mine. And to make sure the trolls are really gone.¡±

    I nod to Merry, and he dispels his magic, although I stay alert in case I need to deal out some bloodshed if these people decide to be stupid. There seems to be no hard feelings, though, but Gargak insists on us going first into the old mine. I don¡¯t really blame him on that, either. The dead trolls are still exactly where we left them, though, aside from some scavengers having cautiously moved in, attracted by the smell of fresh blood and burnt flesh.

    ¡°You were certainly¡­ thorough,¡± Gargak comments, his eyes scanning out handiwork.

    Rakhaz gets an ore sample and determines that they¡¯re going to have the best weapons in Grahtwood. Of course, they need to build a forge first and acquire some competent people to handle it. These people would probably be better at stacking stones than holding blades.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my people claim this mine and we can get started on setting things up immediately,¡± Gargak says. ¡°We¡¯re in a good position here, with better access to Marbruk and Redfur than from the old stronghold. Once we get things rolling, we¡¯ll be able to open up trade with them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to turn these bandits into miners and merchants?¡± I ask.

    Gargak shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be glad for the change.¡±

    ¡°And you want to make them into a clan?¡± I go on. ¡°I saw a lot of them are Orcs, but there were humans and other mer in there too.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t hold it against them,¡± Gargak says with a grin.

    ¡°I¡¯d congratulate you on being less racist than your kin if you hadn¡¯t been primarily throwing the humans and mer at your kin to be slaughtered,¡± I say.

    Gargak doesn¡¯t know what to say to that.

    ¡°So,¡± I continue. ¡°I¡¯ll just wish you luck and drop by in the future to see how you¡¯re doing. It would be unfortunate if you immediately returned to banditry over this lovely open stretch of road.¡±

    Gargak looks at a troll I¡¯d left in five pieces and says, ¡°Noted.¡±

    Now that everyone is good friends, I go back and take a look around the ruins to see if there¡¯s anything interesting. The (hopefully former) bandits are nervous of me and stay out of my way, and make no comments on me taking a book they had laying around titled A Werewolf¡¯s Confession. Sounds lurid.

    I climb to the top (or as far as I can, anyway) of the ruined tower just to see if there¡¯s a Skyshard up there. There isn¡¯t. I then hop down to a broken wall and from there to the ground, startling a few bandits and making Eran sigh and put his face in his palm.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Eran says. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to Barkbite Stronghold and let them know they¡¯re hopefully not going to have anymore problems with these people. You kind of didn¡¯t even bother telling the hearth-wife about your suspicions about Rakhaz before we ran off, although I¡¯m sure everyone saw us interrogate her and take her hostage.¡±

    ¡°Right, let¡¯s do that,¡± I say.

 Chapter 65: In Which I Ice a Jade Butcher

    From what Gelur tells us, the Falinesti Winter Site is where a giant walking tree named Falinesti used to hang out in the winter, except Falinesti seems to have walked off to who-knows-where and hasn¡¯t been seen in some time. I¡¯m surprised nobody has asked me to go find the missing walking giant tree yet. They seem to be wanting me to do absolutely everything else.

    Such as, for instance, a Bosmer woman outside of a kwama den that has been overrun by thunder bugs. Naturally, we (I) volunteer to go inside and find her notes from the back of the infested caves. We head down and shortly find her notes at the bottom of the mine next to a larger-than-usual thunder bug (killed) and a Skyshard (absorbed).

    ¡°You actually found them!¡± she exclaims when we return them to her. ¡°Twenty years worth of research and I was afraid I¡¯d have to start over!¡±

    ¡°Might I recommend making copies and putting them in a secure place?¡± I suggest. ¡°There¡¯s a bank in Elden Root that claims to have trolls guarding their vaults.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to be moving on from this location, anyway,¡± the kwama researcher says. ¡°Too many kwama dead and the survivors have gone berserk with the loss of their queen. Thanks so much for your help, regardless.¡±

    Further down the road (not that we¡¯re exactly following a road here), we come upon an Altmer scholar in an Ayleid ruin who is having no problems and would prefer to be left alone to translate Ayleid inscriptions. And while she¡¯s dubious about my ¡°maybe¡± response at whether or not I could even read the language (or decipher the myriad dialects of the entire mer diaspora. I mean, look, I know the word ¡®diaspora¡¯, I¡¯m already doing pretty good, aren¡¯t I?), she¡¯s more interested in us going adventuring to bring more fragments of the inscription. Although she can¡¯t give us a more specific location than the coast south of Gil-Var-Delle, and you know, I think the gratuitous hyphens might make it easier to remember that name.

    When we finally get close to the Falinesti Winter Site, someone runs up to us calling for help.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask, pulling out my axe and looking around. ¡°Trolls? Hoarvor? Racist bandits?¡±

    She stops in her tracks. ¡°Well, there were trolls, but¡ªit¡¯s alright, nothing¡¯s immediately attacking me! I guess I was a little overenthusiastic about yelling for help there.¡±

    She (I fail to get her name) tells us about how some Dominion soldiers led by one General Endare (she spits the name like a curse), the so-called ¡®Jade Butcher¡¯, have effectively turned a pilgrimage site into a slave camp and are forcing them to work to try to find some artifact.

    ¡°General Endare again,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m getting a little tired of hearing that name. And if she¡¯s deciding to force Bosmer to do menial labor for her, then I¡¯m going to cheerfully classify her as a racist bandit and probably smack her when I see her.¡±

    ¡°If you think you can help, talk to Brelor,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m going to run on ahead to Elden Root to warn the Mages Guild.¡± With that, we part ways.

    There¡¯s a lovely view of Elden Root from the top of a waterfall, and I absorb a Skyshard nestled in another bit of ubiquitous ruins. All of Grahtwood that I¡¯ve seen so far seems to have this feel over it that the ancient elves built shit everywhere and then trees grew over everything. The ruins near the base of Elden Root are just slowly and inexorably being torn apart by roots larger than hallways.

    After asking around the camp, we finally find Brelor, a wood elf wearing odd-looking robes that I think must be Bosmer leather Mages Guild robes or something. Upon realizing that we¡¯re here to help and that we don¡¯t work for General Endare, he attempts to explain the situation but I immediately get distracted and forget what he was talking about. My mind is pretty scattered today, like it¡¯s working in every direction except at the problem at hand. It takes a supreme amount of focus and nudges from my friends to keep me from wandering off too frequently to fight Hircine-worshipping Orcs with giant bears and poke at mysterious old graveyards.

    I find a book titled Monomyth: Lorkhan and Satakal laying about the camp, discussing parallels between the Aldmeri and Yokudan pantheons. I¡¯ll toss it in my pack to read later. These mythic tomes are always a trip. (I didn¡¯t just steal it. Really. A nearby mer told me that it belonged to someone who¡¯d been killed when the frost trolls came out and I was welcome to it if I was planning on avenging them.)

    A wayshrine sits at the far edge of the camp, which I light. The camps around the site are so extensive that if Falinesti were still walking around in the general vicinity, it would have trouble finding a spot to park. Would it politely ask the Altmer to pack up and move, or just root itself down right on top of their tents?

    ¡°Don¡¯t let it eat me!¡± yells Brelor suddenly, cowering in terror.

    I look up thinking he must have spotted a troll, but no, it¡¯s just a skeever. ¡°Brelor,¡± I say, trying hard to keep the amusement out of my voice. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s a skeever.¡±

    Merry knocks the large rodent away from Brelor with his staff when it tries to bite him.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Brelor says. ¡°I heard something move and I thought¡­ well, never mind.¡±

    ¡°Let us go find those Welkynd stones already,¡± Merry says. ¡°I feel like we¡¯ve been lumbering through muck for days here already and it¡¯s raining again.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have spells for that?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Well, yes, but I need to reserve my magicka for the trolls,¡± Merry points out. ¡°They have a bad habit of healing themselves if I do not char their wounds after they have been cut up.¡±

    The camps have been set up around a large depression dotted with strange icy caves, with wooden ramps and scaffolding framing the edges. (Probably put up by the Altmer soldiers, as if General Endare were intent upon offending the Bosmer in addition to enslaving them And there¡¯s trolls and skeevers everywhere.

    We escort Brelor around the edge of the big hole so that he can do some sort of magic over the glowing blue rocks, which reveals snatches of memories involving a creepy Khajiit trying to woo a mer woman who keeps telling him to piss off. Rajhin, dude, no means no. Rather than pissing off, he eventually gets pissed off and does something weird with ice because of her ¡®frozen heart¡¯ and I don¡¯t really follow what¡¯s going on here aside from that it still sounds creepy.

    Ilara makes a face. ¡°This one does not think this is how lovers should be won¡­¡±

    After speaking with the Falinesti Faithful (the Bosmer who were sitting around thinking happy thoughts about their giant walking tree showing up again until the Jade Bitch told them to dig) we head down to the dig site to see if we can find what they were digging for before the Jade Bitch does. While killing pretty much every troll in the area in the process. A number of people thank us for saving them from the trolls, some of whom I hadn¡¯t even noticed before attacking said trolls, being so fixated on dealing with the problem in front of me.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Mud turns to slush around the frigid cave entrances, and Merry complains that it has stopped raining just in time for us to be going inside.

    ¡°Oy, mage!¡± Gelur says, bopping him lightly on the head with her staff. ¡°Quit your whining already.¡±

    Merry mumbles a half-hearted apology as we head inside.

    Down in the back of the ice cave is a figure who reminds me a little of a nereid, being blue and gratuitously floating two feet above the ground, but she¡¯s made of ice. Her voice sounds like the Altmer from the creepy Khajiit images whose name I immediately forgot. Fortunately Eran was paying attention and gives her name as ¡®Nairume¡¯. Through some magic I don¡¯t care to think too hard about, her real body is trapped somewhere nearby but she can do weird ice shit from a distance. Okay then.

    Nairume tells us she¡¯ll help us retrieve Rajhin¡¯s Mantle if we promise to free her. Apparently the creepy Khajiit made it so she¡¯d be forced to love him if she touched the cloak so she can¡¯t do it herself.

    ¡°Would that affect anyone else that touch it?¡± I wonder. ¡°Would I suddenly find myself head over heels for a creepy thief god? Would the Queen, who wants to use it for some sort of ceremony?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s doubtful,¡± Nairume says. ¡°He meant it to ensnare me. But I understand your caution. Artifacts of this nature are powerful and dangerous, and might try to twist your mind, no matter who you are.¡±

    Nairume¡¯s ice-thing sends us over to another cave that she opens the passage into. This one leads down into what looks like an Ayleid or Aldmer complex, full of lovely high elf-style furniture and snow. It¡¯s snowing indoors. Stupid magic. Stupid creepy thief gods. Nairume is here too, somehow not frozen to death or starved from being trapped in here¡ªprobably more stupid magic.

    People are capable of bending the forces of reality to their whim. Why do they use it on such bleeding stupid things?

    I digress. I¡¯m going to start ranting again if I¡¯m not careful. Ugh. I need some moon sugar.

    The inner vaults are full of skeletons and gargoyles, because of course they are. At least breaking things gives me something to do. When we finally do find someone else who looks alive, it¡¯s an Altmer woman in a Dominion uniform surrounded by a weird blue-black aura yelling, ¡°You¡¯ll never take it from me!¡±

    ¡°General Endare!¡± I snap, putting on my best Hortator voice and drawing myself up to look official. ¡°Snap out of it! That artifact is trying to bend your mind to its own ends. You¡¯re an Altmer! You¡¯re better than that! No cat trinket can force you to do its bidding!¡±

    ¡°Nnngh¡­¡± With great force of will, General Endare becomes momentarily more lucid. ¡°It already forced me to kill my own soldiers. It animated my own shadow into a force of death¡­¡±

    The moment doesn¡¯t last long. The mind-affecting powers of the mantle soon overwhelm her again and she attacks us. And then her shadow splits, and splits again, and before we know it, we¡¯re being attacked by an entire squadron of Endares. Shadows can be surprisingly solid, apparently. I suppose there wouldn¡¯t be much point in animating someone¡¯s shadow if all you could do was make it produce rude gestures against the wall.

    General Endare might have been a terrible and mighty general, but she¡¯s alone here aside from her own shadows, without her army. Unfortunately for her, I¡¯m not really in the mood for mercy at the moment, and she¡¯s been causing problems for me since before I even arrived in Grahtwood. She goes down in due order, leaving the five of us staring at the ground, at her bodies (all but one of which disappear before our eyes), and at the creepy Khajiit artifact that seems to do mind control weirdness over people who touch it. Nobody¡¯s in any great hurry to grab that thing.

    ¡°Neri,¡± Merry says. ¡°If any of us are likely to be unaffected, it would be you.¡±

    ¡°Right, you¡¯ve got the whole soulless thing going on,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°True,¡± I say. ¡°Okay. Just be ready to do something if I start acting weird. I mean, weirder than usual.¡±

    Hesitantly, I go and pick up the cloak, but it does indeed seem to have no immediate effect upon me. Not caring to see if there¡¯s a time limit on that, I hurriedly shove it into my pack. Along with the pieces of Endare¡¯s body, much to the disgust of my companions. They don¡¯t even ask what I plan to do with it.

    We go back upstairs to find Nairume. The temperature has risen and the snow is already melting rapidly. Which means this lovely once-frostbitten room is now ankle-deep with tepid water, which has not particularly made it more pleasant. Nairume directs me to stick the cloak in a brazier to burn away the curses on it and assures me that it won¡¯t be hurt. Whatever you say, lady.

    When I put the cloak into the brazier, an image of a Khajiit man appears briefly, taunting her about how he¡¯d stolen her precious walking city while she wasn¡¯t looking. Rude.

    ¡°Is it true?¡± Nairume asks. ¡°Is Falinesti truly missing?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true, so far as I know,¡± I say. ¡°Although whether he had anything to do with it or not is an open question.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trapped for so long, I don¡¯t know anything about what the world is like these days,¡± Nairume says. ¡°They mentioned an Aldmeri Dominion, and that it¡¯s now the Second Era.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I say. ¡°Yeah, I was kind of in the same situation myself. I was stuck in Coldharbour for thousands of years. It has been¡­ taking some adjustment.¡±

    Her eyes widen. ¡°Coldharbour? By the stars! I suppose I should not complain of my own frozen isolation, then. At least I wasn¡¯t trapped in Oblivion on top of that.¡±

    ¡°Complain all you like,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ve every right to be pissed off at some stupid Khajiit god who couldn¡¯t take no for an answer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to figure out what to do from here, especially if my home is gone, but that¡¯s a discussion that can be had under the open sky.¡±

    We head up top, and Nairume¡¯s gazing at the open sky almost immediately gets interrupted with my friends and I having to fight off more frost trolls. She¡¯d found them terrifying enough when she was just scrying the area with magic, but seeing them up close and personal sends her shrieking behind us for cover.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± I cry out as we take care of the immediate problem. ¡°We should have come out first and checked.¡±

    ¡°No, no, I should have remembered they¡¯d be here,¡± Nairume says. ¡°I got so eager to see the sun again that I got ahead of myself and forgot about the trolls.¡± She looks down uneasily at a dead troll, wrinkling her face. ¡°I should remember that I¡¯m not helpless anymore, either. I wasn¡¯t a mage before becoming trapped in there, but being alone for centuries at least left me with nothing better to do. I thought if I learned enough I might be able to eventually find a way to free myself, which might have worked better had I been trapped inside with any books on magic for translocation or breaking wards rather than ones on elemental magic.¡±

    Merry winces. ¡°I feel that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never used magic in actual combat before, though,¡± Nairume goes on. ¡°I won¡¯t be afraid. I¡¯ll try not to be afraid. I¡¯ll try to stay back in the back and see what I can do, if you can stay between me and the trolls?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s our job,¡± Eran says with a grin.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s beautiful out here,¡± Nairume says. ¡°Not quite like I remember but I¡¯m sure a lot of things have changed and it¡¯s going to take me a while to catch up on things.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t had anyone to talk to for a while,¡± Ilara says, whiskers twitching in amusement at the torrent of words.

    Nairume shakes her head. ¡°When that General Endare came and started talking to me, I was ecstatic. I thought for sure this would be a chance to be free, but once she¡¯d gotten the information she wanted out of me, she didn¡¯t care about anything else and wouldn¡¯t speak another word to me. I hope you won¡¯t be in trouble with your superiors for killing her, even if she left you little choice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Neri, how* were* we going to explain that?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°Or you, at least, though we¡¯ll certainly back you up if our word would matter.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Queen Ayrenn will understand,¡± I say.

    ¡°Is that her name?¡± Nairume asks. ¡°General Endare mentioned a Queen but didn¡¯t even say her name, as if I was supposed to know somehow!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a summary when we get back to camp,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe me repeating it will help me keep things sorted out, too. I have my memory problems sometimes and my mind is a little scattered still, though some days are better than others. First, though, I¡¯d very much like to see Brelor again and get this creepy guy¡¯s cloak out of my hands before it makes me murder my friends and mate with dead frost trolls or something.¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± Eran says, then decides to pretend I didn¡¯t say that.

    Once away from the trolls and out of the hole, we find Brelor back at the camp and make some introductions.

    ¡°Brelor, I¡¯ve got the creepy Khajiit¡¯s coat in my pack,¡± I say. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be able to handle it? It hasn¡¯t been able to affect me, especially not from there, but it drove General Endare mad, which is why she¡¯s laying dead in the bottom of the vault and not out here with us. Although given what I¡¯ve heard of her prior actions, I think she was already a little bit mad to begin with and the cloak just inspired her to take her madness to new stupid levels.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± Brelor says, looking over the cloak when I hand it to him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ll just be delivering it straight to the Mages Guild in Elden Root where it can be contained and studied, and be ready for the Queen.¡±

 Chapter 66: In Which I Talk to Bones

    We return to Elden Root for some errands briefly. Repairing our equipment, selling all the junk we¡¯ve collected and don¡¯t want to keep, checking in at the Mages Guild for updates on various projects (resulting in politely being told to go away, they¡¯re busy), a quick stop at the outlaws refuge for important supplies, that sort of thing. I also file an official report about the fate of General Endare so I don¡¯t get blamed for it.

    I make a quick stop at Cormount as well. I find the portal mage in the treethane¡¯s place and politely request to speak with their ¡®guests¡¯ about something important that has come up. He¡¯s a bit skeptical, but does take me to the chamber in the ruins they¡¯re using as a prison.

    I approach the Camoran cousins and pull General Endare¡¯s severed head out of my pack, and toss it on the ground at their feet with a splut. ¡°I brought you something.¡±

    ¡°Is that¡­¡± says the father, wide-eyed.

    The Vinedusk Rangers all look over to me in alarm as I pull out the rest of her body and dump it on the floor too.

    ¡°This is, indeed, General Endare,¡± I say flatly. ¡°Or was, at least. She enslaved the Falinesti Faithful to force them to dig up a divine artifact for her, claimed it for herself, and murdered her own soldiers. And then she tried to kill me with it. It was a cloak that lets you be in more than one place at once. I had to kill several of her. I don¡¯t know what sort of trouble she might have caused had she been able to get out of there with that thing.¡±

    ¡°By the Green,¡± whispers one of the sons.

    ¡°Anyway, thought you might like to know the Jade Bitch is dead,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Tata.¡±

    With two of the three things needed to operate the Orrery in hand (or at least the Mages Guild¡¯s hands, where I don¡¯t have to carry them around), we decide to head south to Southpoint, which is a point on the south coast of Grahtwood, where the person who was supposed to be able to operate the Ayleid machinery was supposed to be.

    That is to say, we decide to head toward Southpoint after a quick detour to kill some Orc in a mine because I found a wanted poster on a dead mercenary inside the mine because of course I had to poke my head into the mine. I feel like I haven¡¯t run across a single mine lately that was actually still being a mine when I got there and not a den of monsters or bandits. This one actually is being used as a mine in addition to a bandit den.

    Bandits: killed. Enslaved miners: freed. Skyshard: absorbed. (I feel like I¡¯m getting better at finding these, like I can almost sense them nearby or something.)

    On the way there, we encounter a rather chatty skull who introduces himself as Dringoth. From what he says, there¡¯s some Worm Cultists in this area (called the Bone Orchard, of all the cheery names), digging up the bones that make up the orchard and creating skeletons. Or assembling skeletons, seeing as the skeletons had already created themselves long before they died. Living bodies are very good at becoming bones, after all. In any case, this is a good enough reason to go in and hit some necromancers before they can do whatever it is they¡¯re here scheming to do, because you just know they have to be scheming about something and not just animating some undead since you can find remains anywhere.

    ¡°Volunteers to carry around the chatty skull?¡± I ask.

    My friends exchange looks. No one raises a hand (or paw).

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll just tie him to my belt then, I suppose,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°At least until I can find him some new legs. Or new old legs.¡±

    ¡°Why, exactly, are we reassembling the skeleton again?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Because he asked nicely,¡± I say.

    With the skeleton reassembled, Dringoth leads us off toward a dig site to question a skull that¡¯s longer than a fully grown Altmer even with the end of it missing. It looks¡­ rather like a dragon, really.

    There¡¯s a tree in the center of the Bone Orchard called the Barrowbough that was apparently grown to keep some very large bones asleep, and the Worm Cultists of course want to kill the tree and dig them up so that they can have super-sized slaves.Stolen story; please report.

    After conferring with the possibly-dragon skull about some stuff I don¡¯t quite catch, Dringoth directs us toward a nearby cave where there¡¯s a Spinner who I¡¯m calling Ammy. She¡¯s not a fighter and certainly wasn¡¯t up to taking on a bunch of Worm Cultists by herself, so she¡¯d decided to stay in the cave and figured a patrol from Elden Root would be by soon enough to clear out the cultists. This, of course, assumed that the Worm Cultists weren¡¯t going to dig up anything more dangerous than a handful of ordinary mer skeletons in the meantime, since the magic tree over the place protects the big old bones from necromancy. Which requires the tree to stay alive and intact.

    Ammy gives me a horn to blow so we can get inside and¡­ do something that will involve beating up more necromancers.

    ¡°Neri, are you feeling alright?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Sure, why?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that you¡¯re kind of fumbling around blindly hitting anything that moves if it¡¯s made of bones or wearing a black robe. Usually you¡¯re a little more lucid. And talkative.¡±

    ¡°What are we doing again?¡± I ask.

    Ilara sniffs lightly at me. ¡°Ilara-daro thinks she smells moon sugar on your breath.¡± Her whiskers twitch and she grins in amusement. ¡°Where did you find it?¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°Ah¡­ the Elden Root outlaws refuge.¡±

    Eran sighs and points toward the hill. ¡°We¡¯re going in there to stop the Worm Cult from reanimating some very old bones. But if you need a cup of kaveh first to get your brain working again, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve disrupted their operations enough for the moment that they¡¯re not going to get anywhere in the next few minutes.¡±

    ¡°Kaveh sounds excellent right now,¡± I say. ¡°Do we have any?¡±

    Gelur produces some from her own magic bag. ¡°Drink up!¡± she says. ¡°We need you in top shape in case you need to talk to something and not just hit something.¡±

    ¡°I am impressed that you are still capable of fighting if you ate enough moon sugar to be walking around half-asleep,¡± Merry says.

    One magically warmed cup of kaveh later and we¡¯re inside the ¡®hill¡¯ that is actually a really big skull with dirt covering it. Dringoth¡¯s actual skull, as it turns out. This one would be considerably harder to carry around on a belt unless I were as tall as the Elden Tree.

    The hill/skull/cave is full of very talkative bones, all very accusatory toward Dringoth and very unhappy about the current state of affairs. We go inside and talk to one of them by the name of Olphras I think it was, whose voice sounds surprisingly feminine. I guess there¡¯s no reason why Olphras can¡¯t be a female name for whatever race she was when she was alive. She tells me a lengthy story about how awful it was that Dringoth liked to wander around and accidentally stepped on things.

    ¡°I¡¯ve probably stepped on a lot of anthills,¡± I say. ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like he was destroying anything deliberately. I¡¯ve killed quite a lot of people deliberately. Hopefully most of them were bad people, but quite a lot of them were simply people who were in my way. Honestly, I can get behind someone who destroys things accidentally. That still makes him a better person than me.¡±

    I probably should have put on my Hortator voice and gave her a convincing argument, and it might just be the moon sugar but I don¡¯t even give a fuck to bother right now. I¡¯m very relaxed and feel like I don¡¯t have to play the Hortator.

    I don¡¯t know how convincing I really was, but she does concede that it wasn¡¯t Dringoth¡¯s fault that they were imprisoned and that the Worm Cultists really do need to be stomped on. Although none of us are currently controlling bodies that can do so literally, we certainly do make sure they¡¯re all about to become bones themselves.

    Dringoth wants to see the world. While puppeting the bones of some dead wood elf so that he doesn¡¯t accidentally step on anyone. I wish him luck and suggest that he stop by Vastarie¡¯s tower sometime and say hi. (And let him know that it shouldn¡¯t be that hard to find because there aren¡¯t very many tall high elf-style towers in the middle of the Grahtwood. It¡¯s almost as hard to miss as the Elden Tree, and I don¡¯t say that lightly because I have a bad habit of missing really obvious things sometimes.)

    We make one more thorough sweep of the area to make sure all the Worm Cultists are dead and nothing is moving that isn¡¯t supposed to be moving, before moving on.

    Then I remember the Ayleid fragments that one researcher wanted, so we locate the ruins she¡¯d pointed us toward. I collect the fragments, absorb another Skyshard, and find a book titled Monomyth: ¡°Shezarr¡¯s Song¡± for good measure. (And it¡¯s a good thing my pack is waterproof. Even if that¡¯s just because the items in my pack aren¡¯t really in my pack.)

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Merry grumbles, trying to dry off his robes with a warmth spell. ¡°Eminaire just said the fragments were on the coast. She didn¡¯t say the ruins were partially submerged.¡±

    ¡°I hope those were what she wanted,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I did grab as many things as I could that she might be interested in,¡± I say. ¡°Although now, is there some way back up that cliff to get to the wayshrine, Gelur?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We¡¯ll probably just need to go down to Southpoint or up near Gil-Var-Delle to climb back up again.¡±

    ¡°We might as well just head for Southpoint then, since that was where we were going anyway,¡± I say. ¡°Although now my pack is full of Ayleid bits. What if I need to put something else in there?¡±

    ¡°Like another dismembered corpse?¡± Eran says dryly. ¡°Neri, if you feel the need to rob Southpoint or carry around dead bodies, you can always just put something down. Or have Gelur carry the runestone fragments.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± I say. ¡°Okay! To Southpoint!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not refuting the bit about stealing,¡± Merry murmurs.

    ¡°Eh, who cares?¡± Ilara says with a shrug. ¡°He could probably talk himself out of jail time if he somehow got caught.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I¡ª oh, never mind.¡±

 Chapter 67: In Which Were All Mad Here

    Down along the beach north of Southpoint, we run across a pair of very large senche-cats overlooking another patch of ubiquitous ruins who take issue to us coming close and prove to be a great fight. Gelur refers to them as Nindaeril the Monsoon and Bavur the Blizzard, and that they¡¯ve been the bane of travelers in this part of Grahtwood for some time.

    ¡°Ah, I love Valenwood,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s so many dangerous things around.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Merry observes.

    On the shore by the ruins, I find another book on religion next to a small boat and a broken crate. I hope someone wasn¡¯t expecting a book delivery by sea here. Mine now. We¡¯ve been fighting a few crocodiles along the way, too, and stopping to let Gelur skin them and shove their hides into her bag. And their meat. And their bones for good measure.

    ¡°Why not just shove the whole thing in there if you¡¯re just going to take it all?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Good point!¡± Gelur says, inspecting the second one to eyeball a measurement. ¡°I think they¡¯ll fit.¡±

    She stretches the bag open as wide as it will go while Eran and I help heft the entire crocodile inside.

    Gelur closes the bag with a grin. ¡°I should have gotten myself one of these sooner.¡±

    While strolling down the beach (which quickly turned soggy when it started raining) my first impression of Southpoint is that people are squatting in another ruin. Did all the masons in Valenwood seriously get murdered or something? Anyway, I suppose someone must have been watching the beach and runs up when they spot us approaching the place, telling us to halt because there¡¯s great danger. I¡¯m pretty sure she had to have seen us casually hunting crocodiles and by ¡®hunting¡¯ I mean dancing in front of and hopping over while my friends kill them and remind me how far away the last wayshrine is if they bite me too hard.

    ¡°Ah, excellent!¡± I exclaim. ¡°And here I was afraid this was going to be a boring trip.¡±

    The Bosmer woman gives me an odd look and curtly informs me that Southpoint is off-limits anyway.

    I clear my throat. ¡°Ah, I suppose word didn¡¯t get ahead that we were coming. We are inspectors working for Queen Ayrenn, and we were sent to investigate the situation here.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± she says. ¡°Well, in that case, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. And that Dominion ¡®inspectors¡¯ frequently go heavily armed. We could definitely use the help. There¡¯s chaos in the streets and citizens have turned on one another. We¡¯ve been trying to evacuate survivors, at least the ones that aren¡¯t attacking anyone on sight. You¡¯ll want to speak with Captain Elonthor down near the gates, not far from the wayshrine.¡±

    ¡°Will do,¡± I say.

    Once out of earshot of the scout whose name I didn¡¯t catch, Eran says quietly, ¡°We¡¯re pulling the ¡®inspectors¡¯ thing again?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s technically true, and technically true is the best kind of true,¡± I retort. ¡°We were sent in this general direction, just for a¡­ completely unrelated reason that probably isn¡¯t actually that unrelated, seeing as if they were trying to find why what¡¯s-their-name hadn¡¯t come back, uh¡­ let¡¯s hope that what¡¯s-their-name is okay and hasn¡¯t been murdered randomly in the streets by lunatics because I don¡¯t know where they¡¯re going to find another Ayleid expert on short notice.¡±

    There¡¯s a small camp set up within sight of the walls. I stop to light the wayshrine before speaking to anyone. And then grab a book on Khajiit religion when I think no one is looking. And then I get the sense of there being a Skyshard nearby that I can¡¯t really explain. I never used to get this sensation, or maybe I did and it wasn¡¯t strong enough and I didn¡¯t recognize what it meant. In any case, my friends don¡¯t do more than look out for wildlife when I determinedly lead us off the path and into a cluster of large rocks to find something hidden behind foliage.

    ¡°You knew that was there?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Seems so,¡± I say.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Merry adds. ¡°Perhaps it is a sign that your Aedric powers are strengthening.¡±

    A man leaning up against a large tree near the refugee camp is complaining about carnivals. Apparently he had a job lifting stuff or something there and he got annoyed about something and left. I¡¯m not very clear on that.

    ¡°A carnival sounds like fun!¡± I say. ¡°We should check it out after we¡¯re doing fixing whatever the fuck¡¯s going on in Southpoint.¡±

    ¡°Finally, a sensible order of priorities,¡± Eran comments.

    ¡°Well, if you do decide to check it out, you may be disappointed,¡± the hauler says. ¡°I wish you luck in getting the performers to actually put on their acts.¡±

    We locate the captain near the gates, a Bosmer with long hair slicked down to his neck with rain. Very helpfully, he has no idea what¡¯s going on in the city, and the scouts he sent in haven¡¯t returned. I know where this is going. Also, even more helpfully, they¡¯re spread thin because General Endare pulled many of their troops away and the only other forces who could have helped have been busy worrying about some refugees from Black Marsh.

    ¡°General Endare again?¡± I grumble. ¡°You should know that the woman went mad, stole an artifact meant for the Queen, and murdered her own troops. My condolences if you knew any of the fallen. I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t gotten word back yet from the winter site.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± the captain says. ¡°Oh, Y¡¯ffre, that¡¯s just what we need. Where is she now?¡±

    ¡°Aetherius, possibly,¡± I say. ¡°She tried to kill us, too. I¡¯ll let you figure out who won by which of us is standing here now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether that¡¯s really a relief or not,¡± he says. ¡°But if you were capable of taking down someone of General Endare¡¯s caliber, maybe you can help here, too. There was someone else who wanted to go in and look for my scouts. A mage named Daraneth.¡±

    ¡°Daraneth, hmm¡­¡± I open up my journal. ¡°Conservator Daraneth, from Elden Root?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± the captain says. ¡°Thinks she¡¯s pretty important, but what do I know?¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to meet up with her here,¡± I say. ¡°Of course, the meetup wasn¡¯t supposed to be quite this interesting, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m capable of having a boring life.¡±

    An Altmer woman, having heard her name and having clearly been eavesdropping, swoops in with theories on how this was obviously the work of Sheogorath, because obviously Sheogorath is the sole possible cause of anyone becoming murderously insane.

    ¡°This again,¡± sighs Captain Wet-Hair.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve seen a lot of people lately being murderously insane,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m assuming that nobody heard them yelling ¡®For the Heritance!¡¯ or declaring that the world would burn in the name of the God of Schemes or the Prince of Destruction or whoever, or you would have mentioned it, yes?¡±

    ¡°Not that I¡¯ve heard of, at least,¡± the captain agrees. ¡°But I can¡¯t rightly say what¡¯s going on as it is.¡±

    The Altmer woman tuts something about how she¡¯s been getting her way since before I was born. That would make her pretty damned old, if she had any idea.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°In any case, we were going in there anyway. Merry, the townspeople are probably being mind controlled, possessed, or riled up by some weird Daedric or Ayleid or whatever artifact. Could you just turn them to stone while we sort things out?¡±

    ¡°It is more difficult to do with people who are actively attacking us,¡± Merry points out. ¡°But if you can keep their attention on you and away from me, it¡¯s doable.¡±

    I turn to Conservator Fussypants. ¡°You are welcome to come along if you like.¡±

    ¡°Just try to stay behind me and Neri,¡± Eran suggests.

    We slip into the city through a break in the ruined walls that gapes wider than the boarded-up gate. I¡¯m not sure what anyone thought that was going to accomplish seeing as this hole is about twenty feet from the gate and quite obvious.

    Merry petrifies anyone silly enough to attack us, and we investigate each of the buildings and chat with some people who are still pretty delusional but in a non-violent sort of way. They mention something about a (clearly mad) mayor who has declared the city independent of the Dominion, forbade anyone to leave, and sent ¡®cleaning brigades¡¯ out killing people. An innkeeper is preparing his beds for the arrival of the Eight Divines, so he says. I collect every bit of potentially incriminating correspondence that I spot along the way.

    ¡°Is that really necessary?¡± complains the conservator.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say firmly, tossing a note from someone calling themself ¡®Sorion the Talented¡¯ into my pack. Sounds like someone else who might be Sorry. ¡°You want to find out what¡¯s going on. Every bit could be a clue.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± she says.

    In one of the buildings, we find someone (I think) dressed as a Dominion scout, possibly. More telling is that he¡¯s tied up and protesting that I can¡¯t eat him until dinnertime.

    ¡°Is this because I¡¯m wearing Bosmer armor, or is it a height joke?¡± I ask. ¡°I know I¡¯m shorter than most Altmer men, but come on, I¡¯m not that short.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Eran clears his throat. ¡°Are you with the Dominion? Captain Elonthor sent us to look for you.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± the lieutenant says, letting us know that he¡¯s a lieutenant and look, I can spell lieutenant properly. (Silly Breton words, anyway.) Right, I can spell lieutenant but I already forgot his name, oh well. He tells us that the mayor turned his fellow scouts into bears for some reason.

    ¡°Bears?¡± I wonder. ¡°Really? Why wouldn¡¯t he turn them into something that isn¡¯t the size of a hut and capable of mauling people? Bunnies seems more usual. Although I once turned people into cheese. Cheese never killed anyone. I mean, unless someone ate it and it had gone bad.¡±

    ¡°Neri, you¡¯re babbling,¡± Merry says. ¡°And are you high again?¡±

    ¡°¡­ maybe a little.¡± I untie the lieutenant. ¡°You¡¯d best report back to the captain. We¡¯re going looking for your missing bears, provided nobody has eaten them. Bear is tastier than mer, after all. Fortunately, we have a transfiguration expert here. Oh, and don¡¯t mind the statues on the way out. They¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± the lieutenant says dubiously, and takes the opportunity to flee while he can.

    Two bears turned back into mer later, and the conservator wants us to get into her laboratory to retrieve a scroll that will break the magical ward protecting the mayor inside the cathedral, because we really need to give the mayor a talking to about all this. And directly over the laboratory is a strangely localized lightning storm primarily located inside the building somehow.

    ¡°Did you leave behind an experiment that went wrong while you were away or something?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°No,¡± the conservator says. ¡°Someone has to be conjuring this, and they¡¯re probably doing it from the highest point in¡ª wait!¡± she explains, noticing me heading for the door into the building. ¡°Stay out of there! The lightning will destroy you!¡±

    ¡°Is it in the basement? Because the hatch is right there.¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, but you¡¯ll never survive it!¡± she insists.

    ¡°Gelur, can you hit me with one of those ¡®healing over time¡¯ spells?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You got it,¡± Gelur says, sending a stream of magicka over me, along with a shield for good measure.

    ¡°Be right back!¡± I yell as I cheerfully skip inside, dodging at least some of the lightning. There¡¯s only one thing in here that looks like a magic scroll, so I quickly grab it and rush outside again before Gelur¡¯s spell wears off.

    ¡°You are insane,¡± Merry comments. ¡°Just so you know.¡±

    ¡°No arguments here!¡± I hand the scroll to the conservator. ¡°Is this what you were looking for?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the one,¡± she says. ¡°You can certainly move!¡± She chuckles. ¡°There¡¯s still someone standing on the tower shooting lightning at everything in sight, though.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you don¡¯t think you¡¯re as much up to dodging as me?¡± I ask. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll go up and have a chat with him. You can just stay here out of sight.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s quite alright. We can probably make it past.¡±

    Undaunted (but not those Undaunted) we carefully or not-so-carefully make our way through the town and get to the cathedral. The magic scroll gets the door open, and we head inside. The mayor¡¯s name is Aulus, and the conservator goes up to him and starts berating him for being a pathetic mortal, and then the Altmer body goes flying back onto the floor and the Madgod pops out in full purple-and-gold regalia.

    ¡°Sheogorath!¡± Merry hisses.

    ¡°Hi, Uncle Sheo!¡± I exclaim, waving.

    As it turns out, Aulus made some sort of deal with Sheogorath in hopes of gaining the respect of the people, because the Madgod is precisely the person you want to make a deal with when you want respect. I guess he thought anyone that respected him would have to be insane. Sheogorath is unimpressed with what he¡¯s done with his gift of a tongue that drives people mad, and suggests ripping it out and giving it to his favorite mortal, me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit late for that, Lord Sheogorath,¡± Merry says. ¡°He already has a tongue that drives people mad.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a point!¡± Sheogorath says.

    While I¡¯m flattered that I¡¯m his current favorite mortal, that only lasts for about five seconds until Aulus begs pathetically and Sheogorath waves some purple glowy stuff at us and everything goes black.

    ¡­

    I wake in a cell, along with my friends and the conservator. (Why are there cells under a cathedral that look more like something you¡¯d keep prisoners in rather than monks?)

    ¡°Conservator Daraneth, are you alright?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Not going to ask me if I¡¯m alright?¡± I ask cheekily.

    ¡°No,¡± Eran says with a smirk. ¡°Everyone else but you. If you weren¡¯t alright, you¡¯d be launching a naked rescue of us from the wayshrine outside of town.¡±

    ¡°I am alright,¡± the conservator (right, her name was Daraneth) Darry says. ¡°And myself again. I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t think I was acting strangely, but then I suppose you did not know me while I was not being possessed by the Madgod to have a framework for what was normal for me.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, any weirdness you may have displayed got a bit overshadowed by the lunatic with the battle axe,¡± Eran says.

    After a quick rundown between one another to make sure that everyone is alright and probably not being possessed, mind controlled, or anything, Sheogorath poofs in front of the door in a sparkly purple poof.

    ¡°So, Neri, you up for another round of fun?¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°Because you¡¯re going to have another round of fun! But no cheese this time, not yet anyway. You¡¯ve got to earn your cheese.¡±

    ¡°You either want me to hit Aulus repeatedly or give him a pep talk to make him properly mad,¡± I say.

    ¡°Either of those will do!¡± Sheogorath exclaims. ¡°The way he squandered my gift and made such a mess of things¡­ I¡¯m disappointed in him! No cheese for him yet either! I even brought him a hero to destroy!

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask. ¡°If you brought me, I¡¯d more think it was because you wanted him hit repeatedly, not the other way around.¡±

    ¡°Eh, true,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°You¡¯re uncommonly resilient for a mortal. Or something passing for a mortal. Anyway, yes, go upstairs and turn his brains to paste one way or another. Oh, and your friends have to stay here till you¡¯re done. Purely out of concern for their safety, I assure you! After all, I¡¯ll dearly love to watch him kill you and then have you come back naked to try to beat his face in with your bare hands.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing,¡± I say.

    ¡°As for you,¡± Sheogorath turns to my friends and waves a hand. A table appears, and a purple-and-gold tablecloth unrolls to reveal a small banquet, heavy on the cheese. ¡°Mustn¡¯t be a poor host! Here, eat and watch what Neri¡¯s getting up to.¡± A mirror pops into existence, showing my current location. I wave at it. ¡°Tata!¡± Sheogorath waves and disappears.

    ¡°Um,¡± Eran says. ¡°Right then. We¡¯ll just sit right here, then. I¡¯d tell you to be careful, Neri, but, you know. Have fun and try not to lose your axe in deep water again.¡±

    ¡°Will do!¡± I say. ¡°Wait. Will¡­ try not to do? Agh, you know what I mean. Right, you guys stay safe. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    I head out to try to find my way out of the catacombs and up into the cathedral. It doesn¡¯t take long for Sheogorath to get bored and summon some Daedra in my path to make things a little more interesting.

    ¡°Aw, Golden Saints? For me?¡± I say. ¡°Thanks, Uncle Sheo! You shouldn¡¯t have!¡±

    I fight my way past the Daedra, pull a lever to raise a bridge because it was too easy, and then fight a Daedroth apparently named Free Will. Cute. Because he gave me the choice between pulling a lever and fighting something. Of course I was going to fight something. Much more fun than levers. Unless the levers are to lava, and I haven¡¯t seen any lava around here, although if I think about it hard enough Sheogorath might decide to remedy that.

    Mayor Aulus is up on the ground floor of the cathedral, wibbling at Sheogorath again until the Madgod finally encourages him to kill me and disappears.

    I sigh. ¡°Is this all you are? A sniveling, whining skeever who had the privilege to be blessed by a god, but doesn¡¯t appreciate that gift for what it is?¡±

    ¡°I never wanted this!¡± Aulus snivels and whines. ¡°He made me do it! All I wanted was to be respected! Please, I don¡¯t want to die. Surely we can work something out?¡±

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°I¡¯m not really in the habit of murdering people who aren¡¯t fighting back. It¡¯s not sporting. This is why I¡¯m very good at pissing people off so that they¡¯ll attack me. Anyway, look. I don¡¯t know that Sheogorath would have been my first choice in patron deity in the hopes of gaining respect and obedience, but it is what it is.¡±

    So, he starts in on some sob story about how his family (he¡¯s an Imperial) used to rule over Southpoint (because of course they did) and now they don¡¯t and nobody will bow to him anymore.

    ¡°And that¡¯s why you requested Daedric help to regain rulership of your ancestral city?¡± I ask. ¡°And this was the best you could do with it?¡±

    ¡°Sheogorath cursed my tongue and then let me make a mess out of everything!¡± Aulus wibbles.

    Quite frankly, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s any serious threat to me even if he weren¡¯t too busy feeling sorry for himself, but it wouldn¡¯t do to let my guard down. There¡¯s no telling if Sheogorath gave him any nifty powers that weren¡¯t just making people crazy by talking to them. (And anyway, it probably wouldn¡¯t affect me since I¡¯m already mad. Could I be madder? Probably? It¡¯s a good thing Merry isn¡¯t here to question that.)

    ¡°I could give you some advice, you know,¡± I say. ¡°I could tell you how to be a proper ruler and gain the respect of your people.¡±

    Aulus stops wibbling long enough to look at me warily. ¡°You could?¡±

    ¡°I could,¡± I say. ¡°However, you haven¡¯t exactly given me much confidence that you¡¯d fare better with my gift than Sheogorath¡¯s.¡±

    Aulus looks at me indignantly. ¡°I would be a great leader!¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, you¡¯ve done a smashing job of that so far,¡± I say. ¡°Especially with the smashing. What were you even telling people to do? Just ¡®respect my authority¡¯? What does authority even matter but for what you do with it?¡±

    ¡°What would you do with it?¡± Aulus asks.

    ¡°Me?¡± I chuckle. ¡°Well, let¡¯s see. First, the need to establish supply lines. You told everyone they couldn¡¯t leave, sure, but people¡¯s supplies would run out eventually and they¡¯d starve to death. Having a portal mage at your employ would be fantastic for that, if you could convince one to do something so mundane. You¡¯d think people would study magic more to solve logistical problems than to make a mess of the vicinity through ill-conceived experiments.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that,¡± Aulus admits sheepishly.

    ¡°Then I¡¯d see about shoring up the town¡¯s defenses,¡± I say. ¡°You have maybe two-thirds of a town wall here and gaps in it as wide as that space between your common sense and a metaphor that pranced away from me like a deer made of cheese.¡±

    Aulus stares at me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± I say. ¡°You have people in your town thinking the Eight Divines are about to come by for tea.¡± I shake my head. ¡°Anyway. You also should support the Aldmeri Dominion, because Queen Ayrenn is awesome and will be totally awesomer as Empress Ayrenn. And if you¡¯re saying you¡¯re an enemy of the Aldmeri Dominion, I might just have to turn your brains to paste because I support the Aldmeri Dominion. Or Ayrenn, at least.¡±

    Aulus probably has something else to say about this but I¡¯m kind of past the point to care about anything he¡¯s wibbling about. This is entirely a waste of time and I don¡¯t know how I let the Madgod talk me into this or why Sheogorath likes this fool anyway. I guess because he is a fool, of the hilariously incompetent sort.

    Oh, right, he¡¯s saying something about how he¡¯s not going to bow to some high elf what did he just call her? Oh he did not say that.

    ¡°Aulus,¡± I say tightly. ¡°You¡¯re going to the Shivering Isles now. Last chance to put in any requests about how painful your trip is. Which is to say, if you convince Sheogorath to take you now, I¡¯m not going to hit you repeatedly for insulting a woman I like. You should talk fast before this very generous offer runs out of time.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t take Aulus much more wibbling to decide that he¡¯s likely to enjoy begging Sheogorath to take me away from this dangerous lunatic and get a closer view of other dangerous lunatics.

    ¡°Sheogorath,¡± I say once Aulus is gone and I¡¯m no longer seeing red. (Mostly just purple and gold by this point.) ¡°May I speak frankly with you for a moment?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Sheogorath asks. ¡°Being polite and asking permission rather than simply babbling? Now there¡¯s a shock! Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°What did you see in that guy?¡± I ask. ¡°Was he just funny because he¡¯s so incompetent?¡±

    ¡°Eh, a bit of that,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°Those Imperials are especially funny when they¡¯re incompetent, and they get so uptight about it, too. An incompetent Nord will just yell louder and hit things less accurately but is otherwise indistinguishable from a competent Nord.¡±

    ¡°Were you just messing with him when you said he was your favorite mortal?¡± I ask with a smirk.

    ¡°Everyone I talk to is my favorite mortal of that moment. Unless they¡¯re not. Now, favorite mortal, I¡¯m going to show my second favorite mortal around the Isles. I¡¯ll let you get back to your friends. Ta!¡±

    Sheogorath disappears, and my friends appear before me. Eranamo is brandishing two forks, momentarily frozen in surprise at his sudden translocation. Ilara¡¯s arms are full of cheese, and Gelur and Merry also have a few pieces. I ask no questions.

    ¡°I never want to see cheese again,¡± the conservator grumbles, turning on her heel and making for the door as everyone starts shoving cheese in Gelur¡¯s pack.

 Chapter 68: In Which I Sell Mud to Argonians

    I¡¯m strangely exhausted when we leave Southpoint. We return to Brackenleaf Village and I wind up sleeping for two solid days.

    ¡°You alright there, Neri?¡± Gelur asks as she offers me quite a lot of meat for breakfast. ¡°We were starting to think you weren¡¯t going to wake up.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply reflexively, not really feeling it. ¡°I¡¯m not sure why I was so tired. What even happened?¡±

    ¡°Something something Madgod cheese, whatever, it¡¯s not important,¡± Merry puts in, eating a piece of cheese. ¡°This is all your fault somehow.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll not dispute that. What happened with the people that were petrified?¡±

    ¡°I left them in the tender care of the Mages Guild,¡± Merry said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if they can do anything for them, but they¡¯ve a better chance of figuring it out than me, at least.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve eaten and restocked our supplies, we head out for the wayshrine again.

    Our first stop is to deliver the pile of runestone fragments in my pack to whatever the name of the Ayleid scholar was who wanted them. I don¡¯t even remember where she was, but fortunately Gelur is on the ball there and directs us straight back to her. She¡¯s very excited to receive them and wants to get started on translating them immediately, after throwing a generous payment at us first.

    Next, a stop back at Elden Root to visit the Mages Guild. They¡¯re not ready for the Orrery ceremony thing that was going on yet, but the alchemist does have good news regarding the potions for the jeweler in Cormount.

    ¡°The wormwood and luminous russula were a good start, but the key turned out to be columbine,¡± the Dunmer alchemist says. ¡°It might just look like a simple flower, but it¡¯s an expensive, valuable ingredient used in many healing potions and it transformed a slowing poison into a restorative that turns that slowing effect into steadying the nerves.¡±

    I may have eaten or ruined a lot of that expensive, valuable ingredient. ¡°Should you be telling me that?¡±

    She chuckles. ¡°It was your notes that pointed me in the right direction. That aside, no offense, but I don¡¯t think you have the skill to make it not be a poison.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± I say. ¡°How about I repay you by getting you some fresh ingredients? I can teleport over to Summerset and not annoy anyone by picking flowers in Valenwood.¡±

    ¡°That would be splendid. Tch, here I am surrounded by mages, and none of them capable of teleporting wants to use it for anything so mundane.¡±

    The next stop is Cormount to visit the jeweler in question.

    ¡°The potions are doing the trick,¡± Rondrin says, holding up a hand almost steadily. ¡°Improvement with every dose. I am eternally grateful. I understand you have a custom piece you wanted done? I believe I can get started on that now. Do you have details, specifications?¡±

    ¡°A ring,¡± I say. ¡°Here, I¡¯ve done up a sketch and written up the sort of effects I want.¡± I pass him a piece of paper.

    He reads over it, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Your drawing skill is atrocious. You may as well have just given a written description. Is that supposed to be a sun? A symbol of Magnus, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± I say. ¡°Can you do it?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Rondrin says. ¡°These are powerful illusion and warding effects that you want, if you seek to conceal yourself even from the gods. I can get started on drawing up the arithmantic specifications right away. A challenge, certainly, but I will make this my greatest masterwork yet. If my name is to be remembered for something, let it be remembered for crafting a mighty artifact to protect people rather than one that hurts people.¡±

    ¡°Are there any particular materials you might need?¡± I ask. ¡°Because if you need something impossible, let me know and I¡¯ll make that possible.¡±

    Rondrin chuckles. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know once I¡¯ve made the necessary calculations, but I shall keep that in mind.¡±

    Since the Mages Guild is still busy cleaning up the mess in Southpoint, has made good progress toward banishing the Daedra from the Reliquary of Stars, and the conservator needs to finish making some preparations, that leaves us with some time to kill. Merry and I take a jaunt over to Summerset to repay my promise to the alchemist and pick some flowers. He¡¯s happy to assist with something safe and has some pointers on how to not mangle the ingredients I pick.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were an herbalist,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Merry says. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I haven¡¯t picked columbine to fund my research before. And in the interest of it not winding up covered in blood, let¡¯s put it in my bag. Have you cleaned out your pack lately?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not actually sure how. I might have to ask one of those pack mages about it.¡±

    Once the reagents are delivered, my next stop is to the Vulkhel Guard mages guild. Sahira-daro isn¡¯t present, and I¡¯m told that she has purchased a house in Marbruk to turn into a library. I¡¯ll have to head there once I¡¯m done with matters in Grahtwood.

    I gather my party again and take us to the Southpoint wayshrine, from which we head east. There¡¯s a carnival I¡¯d like to check out, and I¡¯ve heard rumor of some problems with Argonian refugees.

    The walk is pleasant and full of monkeys, and after a few minutes or days or who cares, we come upon a Dominion camp. A wayshrine is conveniently located on the hill on the other side of the road, so I go over and light that first before approaching the soldiers to see if there¡¯s anything I can hit or anyone I can convince Queen Ayrenn is awesome or whatever.

    The one in charge here is a Bosmer woman by the name of Parwinel. I diligently write that down and resolve to call her Parry. After I convince her that we¡¯re totally something official (which she doesn¡¯t even slightly believe and also doesn¡¯t care), she explains the situation. An Argonian tribe that had been enslaved by the Dunmer had come here as refugees and the Thalmor have decided that they must be spies for the Ebonheart Pact and put up barricades. And now the Argonians are distrustful because the Thalmor decided to plant some soldiers and barricades around their refugee camp.

    ¡°Ah, classic Altmer racism,¡± I say.

    Parry sighs. ¡°I would, of course, never openly accuse my superiors of being racist.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ no, seriously, up until recently, many of the Thalmor were being trained by some members of a racist terrorist group called the Veiled Heritance. I don¡¯t know how much you heard, but some towns were burned, a lot of people were killed, oh and High Kinlady Estre opened a bunch of Oblivion gates into Firsthold. We had to kick a lot of asses.¡±

    ¡°You were there?¡± Parry says. ¡°I heard something about that. What a mess! I hope you can do something here, too, but this isn¡¯t the sort of problem that can be solved by hitting Daedra.¡±

    I crack my knuckles. ¡°Not to worry. I feel like I could sell sand to a Khajiit today. Although selling mud to an Argonian might be a more accurate metaphor today.¡±

    My friends have expressed concern over my mood swings. Pfah on that, I say. Parry wants us to go speak to the Argonian leaders, gives me some names that I diligently ask how to spell, and doesn¡¯t know how to spell them herself. Fine, I make my best guess. My notes are in Dwemeris, and it¡¯s not like Dwemeris is always the most sensible alphabet to spell things in anyway.

    The tribe¡¯s¡­ shaman or something I guess? Is an Argonian woman named Uta-Jei. Ahem. Uha-Tei. She tells us about how her tribe got thrown out of Black Marsh because they refused to fight for the dark elves. Can¡¯t really bring myself to blame them for that. She wants to become a spinner (the wood elf storyteller/priest/sort of folks) and lead her people to worship of the wood elf god whose name starts with a Y and I won¡¯t even try to spell. Something about how new Argonians can only be born with the help of the Hist (those weird sentient tree things). New Argonians raised with a new culture and proud members of the Dominion.

    The Thalmor are fucking idiots sometimes. They¡¯d sooner shoot themselves in the foot with their own bow than give one inch to anyone with a tail.

    ¡°How will your people take that?¡± I wonder. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t some consider that heresy?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Uta-Lei says. ¡°But there is no Hist here to speak otherwise. I will bring them around.¡±

    On the way to find the next person, I spot a book titled War Customs of Tribal Bosmer laying around and slip it into my pack when nobody¡¯s looking.

    Eran just sighs. ¡°This is like, the third-weirdest crime spree I¡¯ve ever heard of.¡±

    ¡°I am uncertain that I wish to hear about the first and second weirdest,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I do!¡± Gelur puts in with a grin.

    ¡°Well, this one time when I was¡­ about as tall as you,¡± Eran says with a cheeky grin, ¡°someone in Silsailen stole all the spoons. Night after night, someone else found all their spoons missing, sometimes more than one in a night. They finally found him in the cellar trying to build a shrine out of them.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The Argonian named No-Fingers (the only one of them whose name I could write, who does not live up to his name particularly well) is asleep and refuses to wake from a gentle nudge. I decide that it would be rude to wake him rudely, and find someone frying fish and buy one from her.

    No-Fingers quickly wakes at the delicious-smelling bribe. ¡°Well! You certainly know how to wake an Argonian up!¡± He cheerfully takes the food and starts eating. ¡°So, what do you need?¡± he says between bites.

    No-Fingers is the one who raises the animals here, and is calm and friendly and willing to tell us all about how he has never lost a finger and doesn¡¯t want to call himself Lost-No-Fingers and tempt fate. I¡¯m not sure what sort of position he holds in the tribe, but whatever problems they might be having at the moment aren¡¯t from him.

    Aaaaand then we meet Slim-Jaw or whatever her name is. She hates us intensely, a deep hatred of everyone with pointy ears and a determination that her people won¡¯t become slaves again just because the elves here are a different color.

    ¡°I can respect that,¡± I say. ¡°So, were you planning on trying your luck in High Rock? Or perhaps the Reach? I hear they¡¯re independent.¡±

    ¡°Bretons are just another kind of elf that would enslave us just as surely,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°Ah,¡± I say. ¡°Well, it seems you have a bit of a conundrum, then. You don¡¯t want to be anywhere because the world is covered by people without scales and everyone hates everyone else.¡±

    I could make assurances that Queen Ayrenn is totally awesome and not at all like a Dres slavemaster, but this Argonian hunter has no reason to believe me word over any random Altmer. And unless I miss my measure of her, she also seems to be completely insane and would prefer her tribe to all die than to say a single polite word toward an elf. As we¡¯re walking away out of earshot, I tell my friends to keep an eye on her because I fear she might do something rash.

    The three leaders come together in the middle of the town for their meeting. Discussing the barricades, as if there was actually anything to discuss here. Like monkeys arguing about their cage. No-Fingers is the sensible one here, realizing their options are few. Uka-Tei is idealistic, overeager, zealous about her new god and Slim-Jah is not the slightest bit impressed by it. She is, in fact, so unimpressed that she sanctions Uka-Jei for her heresy and lets off some sort of stun effect that stuns me and leaves me seeing spots.

    Slim-Jah pulls out a dagger and yells, ¡°Hail Sithis!¡± She lunges at Uja-Tei.

    An arrow pierces Slim-Jah¡¯s arm, staggering her. A spell paralyzes her. And then Eran knocks her down with his shield as he recovers from the stun.

    ¡°Damn, guys,¡± I say, impressed. ¡°Good reflexes. At this rate, I won¡¯t even have to do anything!¡±

    ¡°Aside from talk to people, you mean,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m quite interested in seeing how you can manage to talk this situation out.¡±

    After making sure that Slim-Jah can talk but not stab anyone, I say, ¡°Alright, lady, you¡¯re not going to be Hail-Sithising anyone else today. Do you really want your tribe to die that badly?¡±

    Uka-Hei is sitting down, stunned but entirely not from Slim-Jah¡¯s spell any longer. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you would turn against me like this, Slim-Jah! Sure, we had our disagreements, but this?¡±

    ¡°Without the forbearance of the Dominion, you would all be dead,¡± I say. ¡°Your tribe might be fierce warriors and hunters, but if they actually wanted to wipe you out, they could. Anyway, honestly? These stupid walls here? I¡¯ll bet you a stack of columbine that someone connected to the Veiled Heritance pulled some strings to make that happen. Probably General Endare. Anyway, she¡¯s dead, I killed her myself, just like I¡¯m going to kill any other damned racist Altmer who thinks it¡¯s a splendid idea to hurt people for being short or having tails.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been killing Altmer?¡± Slim-Jah asks with a touch of surprise.

    ¡°Who are the Veiled Heritance?¡± No-Fingers asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you some great story about how some crazy bitch left half of Auridon on fire in the name of racism but actually in the name of Mehrunes Dagon,¡± I say. ¡°But right now I need to be sure your people aren¡¯t about to do anything rash. Slim-Jah?¡±

    ¡°We were going to attack the Thalmor,¡± she says quietly. ¡°They might not move without my signal but if they see me like this¡­¡±

    ¡°If one Argonian hurts an Altmer today, our whole tribe will suffer for it!¡± No-Fingers says.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I say. ¡°If anyone needs to die today, I ought to be the one to do it. I can get away with it.¡± I smirk. ¡°And in any case, these Thalmor didn¡¯t seem that bad. They¡¯ve just been following bad orders. But if I find out anyone here is connected to the Veiled Heritance, I¡¯ll violently make them reconsider their life choices.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all well and good, but Uta-Tei is still a heretic,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    I sigh and roll my eyes. ¡°What does it even matter? There¡¯s Argonians all over Tamriel and I somehow doubt all of them revere the Hist.¡±

    ¡°Are we just ignoring the whole ¡®Hail Sithis¡¯ thing now?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say.

    ¡°Okay, just making sure.¡±

    ¡°Slim-Jah, call off your people,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have to kill any Argonians today.¡±

    ¡°What, you¡¯d rather kill Altmer?¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°The Altmer are assholes. I like Argonians. If you have any grievances against any specific members of the Thalmor, tell me. Have any of them actually hurt you?¡±

    ¡°Not physically, no,¡± Slim-Jah says. ¡°Their words cut deep, though.¡± She sighs. ¡°Release me. I will tell my people to stand down.¡±

    I nod to Merry, who cancels the paralysis spell, although remains alert in case she tries to ¡®Hail Sithis!¡¯ anyone again. Slim-Jah just stands and hurries off, though.

    ¡°You saved my life, travelers,¡± Uta-Hei says. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to repay you.¡±

    ¡°I hope Slim-Jah¡¯s true to her word,¡± No-Fingers says. ¡°The last thing we need is a Shadowscale deciding everyone needs to die.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what a Shadowscale is,¡± I say. ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a nice cultural exchange once I have a nice chat with the Thalmor and make sure nobody¡¯s getting stabbed?¡±

    ¡°That¡­ sounds good to me,¡± No-Fingers says.

    I look to my friends. ¡°You guys stay here for the moment and make sure nothing happens to these two, please.¡±

    They nod to me, and I go back outside of the barricades to speak with the Dominion people. My goal is not to make them love Argonians. That¡¯s not going to happen just yet. My objective is to make them doubt the validity of their orders. And given all the questionable things going on amongst the Thalmor and certain elements in the Dominion in general, all I need to do is plant a few seeds and they begin to see themselves having been manipulated like pawns by a dark conspiracy. Soldiers will generally follow orders, even ones they don¡¯t like, but when you start casting doubt on the chain of command, then they might stop for a moment and think about what they¡¯re doing and why. Especially when I start talking about how I spoke with the Argonians and they¡¯re enthusiastic about joining the Dominion. I return to where I left my friends inside town.

    Slim-Jah has returned by now, and someone (probably Gelur) healed her arm. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± Slim-Jah tells me. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken with my hunters and we will restrain ourselves. For now. I¡¯m giving you a chance, and you¡¯d better hope to Sithis that your Dominion friends behave.¡±

    Once tensions wind down and it seems no stabbing is going to happen just at the moment, my friends and I settle in for dinner with the Argonians. First Gelur and their cook are exchanging recipe ideas, and then we start asking questions about their culture and find out that the Shadowscales are respected assassins that hold some sort of position in the Black Marsh as judges or something. We share some stories about our travels, and I tell tales of Eran¡¯s courage, Merry¡¯s wit, Gelur¡¯s loyalty, and Ilara-daro¡¯s cunning. They¡¯re quick to add how awesome I was being.

    At some point, the Thalmor doubting their orders standing outside the gates realize they¡¯re missing a party and someone decides to invite them inside for an impromptu cultural exchange festival. I even pull out a few bottles of alcoholic beverages I¡¯d totally not stolen from anywhere.

    Slim-Jah looks dubiously at the bottle I offered her. ¡°This bottle is sticky. Blood?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, that one must have been next to where I kept General Endare¡¯s severed head,¡± I say.

    Slim-Jah stares at me for a moment, then at the bottle, then says, ¡°Split it with you.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    We sit near the beach, facing the ocean, passing the bloody bottle of questionable booze back and forth.

    ¡°You are a strange one, traveler,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen a lot of death, but you wanted my hunters to hold back.¡±

    ¡°Really, if anyone needs to die, I¡¯d recommend doing it a little more discreetly,¡± I say. ¡°You can murder people without bringing the wrath of the alliance down upon your tribe.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that you¡¯re still encouraging me to kill elves.¡±

    I bark a short laugh. ¡°I have killed so many elves and I try to be a hypocrite as little as necessary. Some of them had it coming. Most were just standing between me and what I needed to do.¡±

    ¡°You stopped me from censuring Uta-Tei, and yet you let me live,¡± Slim-Jah wonders. ¡°Why? You know what I am. I half expected this bottle to contain poison, but Argonians are more resistant to poisons than mer.¡±

    ¡°I kill so many people that it¡¯s sometimes nice to not kill someone,¡± I say. ¡°I work for the Queen and she never questions when I say I had to kill someone because they were a cultist, or a traitor, or a thief, or a lunatic, or just plain in the way. I could have killed every Thalmor in this camp and I¡¯d just be like ¡®welp, turns out they were Veiled Heritance, too bad, so sad.¡¯ And I might have had to remove witnesses if you and your hunters had taken action. It would have been messy, and if anyone was able to point a finger at you guys, I¡¯d have had to claim it was in self-defense and the Thalmor had been trying to kill you. So thanks, you made my job a bit easier.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ would have backed us up?¡± Slim-Jah asks in surprise. ¡°Are you with the Dark Brotherhood or something?¡±

    ¡°I have great respect for them but no, I have not had the opportunity.¡± I fish around in my pack. ¡°Oh, hey, I found some poison!¡± I pause. ¡°Yes, of course I carry around poison in case I need to poison someone. Although if I was trying to poison someone, I wouldn¡¯t rely on this one.¡±

    ¡°Is that a hand-written label?¡± Slim-Jah asks.

    ¡°Yep. Brewed this batch myself. I am not a great alchemist, but I¡¯m getting better. So far I haven¡¯t managed to brew a poison that actually kills me when I drink it, rather than just putting me to sleep or giving me the runs. Want to make a bet? I¡¯ll bet you a stack of nightshade that this doesn¡¯t kill me when I drink it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re drunk, Neri,¡± Slim-Jah says flatly. ¡°And possibly insane.¡±

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m definitely insane.¡± I pop open the bottle. ¡°Bottoms up!¡± I cheerfully down the poison. It is disgusting and burns going down, then burns even more once it¡¯s down.

    ¡­

    I find myself naked next to the wayshrine. The downside of respawning? The new body Aetherius and/or Oblivion made for me is no longer drunk. What a pity. I¡¯ll just need to remedy that again right away. I grab another bottle of alcohol from the tents and go prancing naked back through town to where I¡¯d left my stuff next to a rather stunned Slim-Jah.

    ¡°By Sithis, what was that?¡± Slim-Jah wonders.

    ¡°Testicles,¡± I say. ¡°Mer keep ours on the outside. Pretty unwise decision if you ask me. We¡¯re pretty squishy.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean the¡­¡± She waves a hand. ¡°You drank poison and then disappeared.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, that. Hold my beer. I need to put my pants back on.¡±

    Slim-Jah obliges, still rather stunned.

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t die like normal people,¡± I say. ¡°Long story and most of it¡¯s dumb. It makes me a little reckless sometimes but I try not to endanger my friends, who are a bit less willing to die than me.¡± I take my beer back. ¡°Something to keep in mind. What you think is a good idea to spend your life on, and what the consequences might be for your friends who don¡¯t really want to die just yet.¡±

    ¡°It would have been easier than watching Uta-Tei drag our tribe to worshipping a wood elf god,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I say. ¡°But that¡¯s their choice.¡±

    ¡°I might wind up leaving the tribe anyway,¡± Slim-Jah says. ¡°Will I be attacked simply for walking in Dominion lands?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°And if anyone questions it, just say you¡¯re with the Fighters Guild. And if the Fighters Guild questions it, just say you joined a different branch and obviously the paperwork got lost. Honestly, just join the Fighters Guild. Their leader¡¯s an Argonian too. They¡¯ll take anyone and don¡¯t do background checks. Even goblins. They also don¡¯t really give a fuck if you actually do any jobs for them, either.¡±

    ¡°Might be a good cover, then. Maybe I¡¯ll make contact with the Dark Brotherhood. Maybe I¡¯ll even see you there.¡±

    ¡°You never know,¡± I say.

 Chapter 69: In Which a Monkey Has More Fun With Traps Than Me

    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure how you got the mer-hating Argonian to like you,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I just forced her to see a person rather than a mer,¡± I say.

    ¡°You mean a lunatic,¡± Merry says. ¡°You made her see a lunatic.¡±

    ¡°My sheer force of lunacy short-circuited her mer-hate into confusion,¡± I say. ¡°And then we shared booze smeared with the blood of our common enemies.¡±

    ¡°Short-circuited?¡± Gelur asks, puzzled.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a Dwemer thing,¡± I say. ¡°Never mind. Anyway, the key to personality is to be interesting enough that people see you as an individual rather than a member of a group.¡± I glance over at the Khajiit I notice writing. ¡°Are you taking notes, Ilara-daro?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, of course,¡± Ilara says with a grin.

    ¡°By ¡®personality¡¯ he means ¡®being weird¡¯,¡± Merry says. ¡°You are not nearly as weird, but I am certain that should you wish to be, you can probably cultivate some oddity.¡±

    Ilara scribbles a few more words, mumbling, ¡°Cultivate¡­ oddity¡­¡±

    A runner arrives at the Thalmor camp outside of the Gray Mire requesting assistance at an Ayleid ruin to the north. I agree to take my group to check things out, since we can move faster through the wilderness than soldiers. And we can probably take care of the matter ourselves.

    Daggerfall Covenant troops have been amassing in the ruin, and the scout thought that they must have a portal that they¡¯ve been using to send people in. What this really means is that there will be plenty of humans and possibly Orcs to hit. The Dominion scouts at the entrance to the ruin warn us not to try to kill everyone inside and just shut down the portal to prevent them from gaining reinforcements, but fuck that.

    Ilara is having none of it, though. ¡°If we charge in making noise and violence, they might send more people through the portal in response.¡±

    ¡°Let them come,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s fewer Covenant troops the Dominion has to deal with.¡±

    Ilara gives me an unamused look. ¡°Let Ilara-daro sneak in and close the portal first. Then we can kill everyone.¡±

    ¡°If you think you can make it¡­ alright, but be careful. If you¡¯re not back out in an hour, we¡¯re coming in looking for you.¡±

    Ilara nods, and heads in. It¡¯s a tense hour of waiting, particularly since I don¡¯t have a clock and I was never good at telling time without one. Sadly there¡¯s no more Dwemer around to make me one. Dwemer clocks are awesome. Maybe I can find one left in a ruin somewhere. They won¡¯t mind if I swipe it. Probably not a lot of Dwemer ruins in Valenwood, though. I¡¯m still musing about the Dwemer when a Khajiit nose emerges from the Ayleid ruin.

    ¡°Ilara-daro was successful. The portal is closed.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± I say. ¡°Well done. Time to kill everyone!¡±

    We go inside and make absolutely certain that there¡¯s no more Covenant soldiers in this particular part of Valenwood. Also there¡¯s a Skyshard behind a statue for some reason, which I absorb. The Redguard lieutenant fights fiercely upon realizing she¡¯s cut off, but she¡¯s no real match for us.

    Leaving the Dominion to clean up the mess and kill or capture anyone that was hiding really, really well, we leave behind the Ayleid ruin and make our way back to the main road.

    Some ways further down the road, we run across a mer sitting next to a campfire and either incredibly drunk, suffering from a concussion, or both. For a moment, he thinks we¡¯re his captain and crew. He mumbles something about pirates and a mutiny, which is our signal to go find out what¡¯s going on and who needs to be stabbed and where the treasure is.

    The place is called the Cave of Broken Skulls (or something like that), and the Altmer captain (Linwen) is just up the hill. She¡¯s gripping a wounded arm, and there are a handful of other injured sailors sitting nearby. Gelur goes up and starts healing people.

    ¡°Are you with the Dominion?¡± Linwen asks.

    ¡°That depends,¡± I say. ¡°We either work for the Dominion and we¡¯re here to save everything, or we¡¯re totally just independent adventurers who are looking for something to stab and/or steal. Or both.¡±

    Linwen looks at me dubiously, then explains that her crew is independent but wanted to swipe some old Imperial treasure to give the Thalmor so they can be privateers. And then pirates showed up, kidnapped her wife, and generally made a mess of things.

    ¡°Be careful,¡± Linwen says. ¡°The Imperial vaults are full of undead and traps.¡±

    ¡°Did you say traps?¡± I perk up.

    Merry groans. ¡°Can I just deal with the undead and pirates while this lunatic plays with traps?¡±

    We head into the cave to look for survivors, but the only one we find is a Khajiit with a pet monkey. Also quite a lot of giant bats, but I don¡¯t think those were part of the crew, unlike the monkey. The monkey is apparently quite smart (probably more so than a lot of Altmer I¡¯ve met) and is capable of disarming traps without setting them off. I feel that that¡¯s not very sporting, but it turns out that the Imperials weren¡¯t fucking around with their traps. Rather than spikes popping up and down at precise intervals, arranged in a convenient staggered or checkerboard pattern, these spikes just cover the entire floor.

    ¡°Ilara-daro thinks she cannot jump that far.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s let the monkey do this,¡± Eran agrees.

    Reluctantly, I agree to stand back and let the animal disarm the traps rather than start hopping and dodging, although my friends can tell I¡¯m a tad put out by it. After a few corridors, we run across the ghost of a human who introduces himself as Decius, who I assume must be a dead Imperial since their names often end in ¡®-us¡¯. He talks about how the Imperials had planned to create a bunch of undead to guard their secret cache, which seemed like a great idea up until his fellow mages betrayed him and screwed everything up.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Undead make for terrible guards,¡± I comment. ¡°Then again, living people often make for terrible guards, too.¡±

    ¡°Most people aren¡¯t insane enough to prance into the middle of a bunch of undead giggling in glee at the sound of breaking bones,¡± Eran points out. ¡°While yelling ¡®Yay, skeletons!¡¯¡±

    ¡°What can I say?¡± I raise my hands. ¡°I love my work, and I had to get some amusement after the monkey stole my joy at the traps.¡±

    The dead Imperial looks at me like I¡¯m completely insane, and clears his throat. ¡°If you can bring me the skulls of the other three mages, I can reverse the ritual and let us all pass on to Aetherius.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°Do you have some way of identifying which skulls you want, or shall I just grab all of them?¡±

    Decius does not have an answer, so I just start tossing skulls into my bag. Some of them are bound to be the ones he wants and it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t have plenty of room after clearing out some junk in Elden Root.

    Fortunately, the monkey didn¡¯t disarm all the traps. There¡¯s still some lovely fire traps to time jumps over with people to beat up on the other side, along with some fascinating Imperial correspondence that I immediately pocket after skimming it.

    We meet up with the nice-pirates again, who want us to go beat up the bad pirates and the mutineers, because if they¡¯re seen the bad pirate will kill the captain¡¯s wife. Fair enough; they¡¯d have just gotten in the way anyway. Except they don¡¯t want us to actually just go in and slaughter everyone, because some of the mutineers were coerced into working with the bad pirates, so instead they want us to grab some kindlepitch and fire salts to cause a distraction.

    ¡°Kindlepitch and fire salts!¡± I exclaim. ¡°My favorite cocktail! I love that sort of distraction.¡±

    ¡°I really hope you¡¯re not planning on actually drinking them,¡± the captain says dryly.

    ¡°Come to think that would be pretty distracting¡­¡± I muse.

    ¡°No, Neri,¡± Eran says firmly.

    ¡°Ilara-daro would suggest she sneak in and make a big fiery distraction, but she¡¯s afraid you have not been able to cause enough mayhem yourself today.¡±

    I laugh aloud at that. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about that, my protege. I enjoy seeing mayhem caused almost as much as causing it myself. And if it¡¯s caused because I had someone else do it, it¡¯s still me causing it indirectly.¡±

    ¡°But then wouldn¡¯t Captain Linwen be the one causing mayhem here?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°We have a veritable chain of mayhem here!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Merry, can you deal with the mutineers so we can sort out who needs to actually die later?¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Merry says. ¡°Dealing with them non-lethally would take longer than doing it lethally. Do we have that sort of time?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps Ilara-daro could slip in and rescue Captain Linwen¡¯s wife while you are causing distractions instead?¡±

    ¡°Now that sounds like a splendid idea,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s do that one.¡±

    So, we head in and start making a big distraction for Ilara, and keeping people off of Merry so he can turn them to stone. At some point the mutineers realize they¡¯re charging toward explosions next to a wizard who keeps turning them into statues. They are not insane or stupid, and at that point just decide to surrender or run away. Although unfortunately for them, there¡¯s not much more space in this cave to run away to, nor a lot of places to hide.

    Once the crew has been dealt with, Linwen¡¯s wife comes up to us and makes sure we know she¡¯s Linwen¡¯s wife so that we don¡¯t turn her to stone too. Linwen and the handful of loyal crew members with her come out and reunite with her.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Ilara-daro?¡± I ask worriedly.

    ¡°She¡¯s in the captain¡¯s cabin,¡± Linwen¡¯s wife says. ¡°After she killed him, I think she wanted to pick his pockets or loot the place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d protest that that¡¯s our loot but if she killed him I¡¯d say she deserves a reward anyway,¡± Linwen says. ¡°The Dominion will want the Imperial war supplies here more. That should be enough to buy us a pardon and letter of marque.¡± She looks around at the statues and cowering mutineers, then to Merry. ¡°You can turn them back, wizard?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says. ¡°We can sort through them one by one.¡±

    As they go off and deal with that and I leave my friends to secure the area and tend to anyone that¡¯s still wounded, I go up to the ship to look for my protege. Prot¨¦g¨¦? Stupid Breton words. Who invented diacritic marks, anyway?

    Ilara is not looting the captain. When I open the door and poke my head in, she¡¯s just crouching on the ground looking at the corpse of a Nord man.

    ¡°Ilara-daro?¡± I ask. ¡°Are you okay? You¡¯re not wounded or anything?¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°Ilara-daro killed him,¡± she says quietly. ¡°He didn¡¯t hear this one coming. The door was open, so¡­ Ilara-daro put a knife in his back.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± I say. ¡°Wait, did you never¡­ kill someone up close and personal like this before?¡±

    Another shake of the head. ¡°It¡¯s different from shooting them with a bow when they¡¯re charging at us to fight us. This Nord never knew Khajiit was here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re getting very good at being stealthy,¡± I say.

    She¡¯s quiet for a long moment. ¡°Would you judge this one if she said she enjoyed that?¡±

    I grin. ¡°Not at all. It¡¯s such sweet victory to achieve something flawlessly.¡±

    ¡°Perfectly,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Elegantly. Ilara-daro did not come up here intending to kill him but she saw an opportunity to good not to take.¡±

    ¡°He probably had it coming,¡± I say.

    Ilara smirks. ¡°Probably. Maybe. You do not always deeply investigate every problem you agree to solve.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°Whoever asks for my help first and sounds more convincing.¡±

    Ilara chuckles. ¡°It hardly seems important most of the time, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bunch of skulls to get back to a ghost who probably isn¡¯t going to do anything sinister with them and I did not deeply investigate. Unless you want to stay here and loot the corpse and everything in the immediate vicinity.¡±

    She giggles softly, and goes over to check the pirate captain¡¯s pockets. ¡°Let¡¯s loot quickly and go do that, then.¡±

    We go back to the ghost with my pack full of entirely more skulls than necessary. He stops me from pulling them out after realizing he can¡¯t hold them and just indicates that we ought to do that in the ritual chamber, which is somewhere nearby except he¡¯s forgotten how to get in aside from walking through walls and I¡¯m too solid of a dead person to walk through walls.

    A nearby lever gets us inside. The three mages have their ghosts stuck in the middle of casting the ritual they fucked up. Forever. Damn, that must be an annoying punishment for fucking up, if they¡¯re even aware of anything. (I check. They¡¯re not. Or at least if they are, they¡¯re incapable of responding in any way.) Unfortunately, we¡¯re going to need to match up which skull goes to which ghost. I dump all the skulls out onto the floor.

    ¡°I wish these fetchers had carved their names into their foreheads or something,¡± I say, picking up a skull to test it on the first ghost. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got any better ideas, grab a skull and let¡¯s start checking.¡±

    ¡°Alas, this one does not,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Perhaps we should have brought Merry.¡±

    ¡°Ah, he¡¯s busy, and it¡¯s not like there¡¯s that many skulls,¡± I say. ¡°These ghosts have been trapped here for years. They can wait a few more minutes.¡±

    After some trial and error, we go through our pile of skulls and match them all up correctly, at which point they vanish and the chatty ghost comes in and thanks us for freeing him. Rather than moving on to Aetherius, he seems to want to go get a job with the Mages Guild or something. I wish him luck, and we head back to the ship cave.

    ¡°He¡¯s probably not going to take over the world,¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°Might be hard without being able to touch anything,¡± Ilara agrees. ¡°Why are some ghosts more solid than others?¡±

    ¡°No idea!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Say, I wonder if any of these pirates or not-pirates have any moon sugar¡­¡±

    ¡°Shall we go find out?¡±

 Chapter 70: In Which We Bring Back the Fun

    We¡¯re on the road again, and at some point between the Gray Mire and Haven, we run across a small camp with a mer who introduces herself as Enda. She asks for help in locating her missing husband.

    ¡°Ah, yes! Of course!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Has he been kidnapped by cultists? Held hostage by pirates? Eaten by over-enthusiastic Green Pact Bosmer?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ really hope not but now I¡¯m even more worried than I was before, so thank you,¡± Enda says. ¡°He¡¯s a traveling minstrel and the last town on his itinerary was Southpoint.¡±

    ¡°Southpoint?¡± I repeat, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Okay, in that case, he might have been murdered or driven insane.¡±

    ¡°What happened in Southpoint?¡± Enda asks in alarm.

    ¡°They had a small problem in which some guy made a deal with the Madgod and declared himself mayor,¡± I say. ¡°It has been taken care of, but some of the people there may still be affected. What was his name? Maybe I ran across him and can give you more specific news.¡±

    ¡°His name is Sorion,¡± Enda says.

    ¡°Sorion, Sorion¡­¡± I muse, opening my pack. ¡°Yes, I ran across a note and remember thinking he might be Sorry.¡± I sift through my notes and find the one in question. ¡°Aha! Here it is.¡±

    ¡°Let me see that,¡± Enda says, taking it and reading it over. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s his handwriting. He says he¡¯s staying at Sweetbreeze Cottage with a girl he met?¡± She sighs. ¡°Oh, that fool. The only one he really loves is himself. Well, perhaps I can hire you instead to deliver him a message that says ¡®I love you but I¡¯m very annoyed at you.¡¯ I¡¯m booking the first ship back to Auridon. I¡¯ve had enough of this place.¡±

    ¡°I do believe that can be done,¡± I say with a smirk.

    She pays in advance and starts packing immediately.

    ¡°We probably don¡¯t all need to go,¡± Eran says. ¡°Shall I deliver the message?¡±

    ¡°Alright, but take someone with you in case there¡¯s trouble,¡± I say. ¡°Who else isn¡¯t overly enthusiastic about visiting a carnival?¡±

    ¡°You know, delivering messages to unfaithful husbands sounds like a delightful use of my time,¡± Merry says.

    We settle on Eran and Merry heading out on this very important errand while Ilara, Gelur, and I investigate the carnival. As we¡¯re preparing to leave, I spot a book titled Common Arms of Valenwood resting by the tent, and I snag it when Enda isn¡¯t looking. Actually, no, she is looking directly at me, and apparently doesn¡¯t give enough of a fuck to say anything.

    We part ways, agreeing to meet back up at Elden Root, and head through Haven and up toward the carnival (after stopping to ask for directions at Haven, which seems to be doing much better now that it¡¯s not full of pirates.)

    The entrance of the carnival is marked by a wooden archway with a cheerful awning, but we wind up wandering down into the middle of the place after getting lost in the hills and finding one of those weird obelisks with a constellation on it (I think this one was the Tower?) and also grabbing another misplaced book with some strange misconceptions about Gil-Var-Delle. Yes, yes, Molag Bal is totally just a superstition, and you know what? If he says he smashed the place, I¡¯ll take his word on it.

    There are tents, awnings, vendor stalls offering concessions and souvenirs, and not an awful lot of merriment going on at the moment. After buying Ilara and me a couple of cinnamon gorapples (Gelur passes), we head over to talk to an Altmer named Sarandel, who seems to be in charge here. Upon being pressed, she complains to us about the various problems the carnival has been having with its attractions. We decide to split up and see if we can do something to help each of the three performers.

    The bug handler is having trouble with his trained shalks and wants to feed them mashed mudcrab eyes. Excellent! This is so much more entertaining than just watching trained bugs. I get to kill mudcrabs and feed their eyes to the shalks, too!

    ¡°You should have a stall where you sell little bags of mudcrab eyes for people to feed them,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯ll be a hit with the kids.¡±

    The bug handler looks at me dubiously. ¡°Do you really think so? Nobody even sells mudcrab eyes.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to remember, these are Bosmer,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re more squeamish about plants than meat. Leave the mudcrab wrangling to me.¡±

    Gelur has gone to help the storyteller figure out what sort of stories to tell, and Ilara is trying to figure out how to let Vindare the Magnificent be more magnificent. Vindare¡¯s supplies are probably on the dock at Haven waiting to be picked up and has been having trouble getting them shipped here.

    ¡°No problem,¡± I say. ¡°We can go pick those up.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t ask you to bring that big, heavy trunk up here,¡± Vindare says.

    ¡°I have a magic bag,¡± I say. ¡°And I just got the space expanded last time I was in Elden Root, so it should fit, no problem.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Oh!¡± Vindare says. ¡°Well, in that case, I would be most grateful.¡±

    I let Gelur know where we¡¯re going to hunt some mudcrabs, and head off for the nearest body of water, a small pond near the carnival. There are no mudcrabs there, but there is a Skyshard next to a rather pissy strangler vine, so it was still worth it. There will probably be some near the docks at Haven and we¡¯re going there anyway.

    We head down to the docks and locate the chest in question, getting pointed in the right direction by requesting a pickup for Vindare the Magnificent from some guy standing around nearby who seems to know what¡¯s going on. That is, it¡¯s the most excessively fancy chest on the dock and he¡¯s quite glad for it to no longer be cluttering up the place. Ilara and I wrangle the heavy chest into my pack, where it proceeds to be less heavy, or at least just the same amount of heavy but its heaviness no longer matters.

    After killing a number of mudcrabs down on the beach, we return to the carnival to find Gelur still talking to the storyteller.

    ¡°I told him it ain¡¯t what he¡¯s telling but how he¡¯s telling it,¡± Gelur says. ¡°It would be an embarrassment for him to badly tell Bosmer stories. It¡¯s not that we don¡¯t want to hear stories about the Summerset Isles, just that he didn¡¯t tell them like a spinner would. And I suggested broadening his subject matter from ¡®how awesome Altmer totally are¡¯.¡± She snickers.

    With the mudcrab bits and heavy trunk delivered, now we can settle in and have the afterthought of the entertainment. Also we get paid too so that¡¯s great. If I¡¯m going to keep spending money on dumb things, I might as well be paid for it too. (And let¡¯s not discuss the thievery competitions Ilara and I have when we¡¯re in town. Oops, I said I wasn¡¯t going to discuss those.)

    Anyway! We meet up with Eran and Merry again at Elden Root.

    ¡°How¡¯d your delivery go?¡± I ask.

    Merry makes a face. ¡°Unexpectedly eventful.¡±

    ¡°Sorion¡¯s latest true love turned out to be a murdering lunatic who had a bunch of skeletons in her basement,¡± Eran says. ¡°Including our wayward minstrel.¡±

    ¡°Damn, you think we should send word back to Auridon about it?¡± I ask, then pause. ¡°What was her name again?¡±

    Eran hands me a book titled The Book of the Great Tree. ¡°I found this in her creepy basement. It looked weird so I thought you might like it and she didn¡¯t need it anymore.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you guys are always thinking of me!¡± I say, delighted as I take it and skim it.

    I check in to see if they¡¯re ready to get the Orrery going yet, and get told to come back in a few days. Great, more time to kill. Among other things to kill. I check in at Vastarie¡¯s place to say hi and see if they have anything to do, but the Prophet is still meditating or whatever. The place has been greatly cleaned up in the interim and there¡¯s more people here, including Vastarie¡¯s apprentices having returned from sitting in a tree for a hundred years. (I¡¯ll give these n¡¯wahs points for dedication at least.) I brief everyone on what¡¯s been happening in the meantime.

    I decide to take the opportunity to go poking around the ubiquitous ruins near Elden Root that don¡¯t contain weird planetary things. Not far from the big tree, we run across several Altmer-style tents camped out around the entrance to another ruin, but only one mer is in sight when we approach, who immediately asks for help.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±

    The Altmer woman (Tandare) explains how her expedition got eaten by wild animals. ¡°I don¡¯t know how the Bosmer survive out here! Valenwood is insanely dangerous. We might have been safer on an expedition to Cyrodiil instead!¡±

    My party is chuckling at that. Eran says, ¡°The place definitely keeps you on your toes.¡±

    ¡°Combat training is definitely recommended,¡± Merry says. ¡°Or at the very least, hiring competent mercenaries as bodyguards.¡±

    ¡°I wish we had!¡± Tanny says. ¡°We¡¯d considered the Fighters Guild¡¯s rates to be overpriced with them saying so many of them are busy fighting Daedra. Now we¡¯re definitely regretting pinching coppers on security.¡±

    ¡°Do you think any of them might still be alive and trapped in there?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Unlikely,¡± Tanny says. ¡°But if you can find their journals, this won¡¯t have been a total loss, at least.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what we can do.¡±

    We head inside ¡®possibly Root Sunder¡¯ which is definitely a ruin full of sundering roots, if nothing else. The place is overrun with the local flora and fauna, leaving only partial walls in places to indicate that someone might have once lived here long ago. Given how enthusiastic Valenwood is about shoving the local flora and fauna into everything, it might not have even been all that long ago.

    Not far inside, a projection of a mage asks us for help, saying that he¡¯s trapped in a lower chamber. Naturally I agree seeing as we¡¯re going down there anyway.

    Amid stranglers, spriggans, and crocodiles, we find the mangled bodies of dead mer and collect their journals. There¡¯s even a Skyshard in one of the chambers. There are definitely enough tough enemies to fight to satisfy me. Including a bone colossus! No idea what that was doing here.

    Oh, and to no one¡¯s great surprise, the guy wanting to be rescued turns out to be a trap. When we get to the room he¡¯s supposed to be in, we find only his corpse and a magic rock, and we¡¯re attacked by a giant angry plant thing. Which wouldn¡¯t be so bad if it shut up even after we killed it. There¡¯s a female voice echoing through the overgrown corridors taunting us and talking about wanting to eat our flesh.

    ¡°Someone sure is grumpy,¡± I observe.

    ¡°We should free them,¡± Gelur says. ¡°They¡¯re probably only ¡¯cause they were bound here.¡±

    ¡°We can probably use that attunement crystal to release them,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Okay then,¡± I say. ¡°Where do I put the magic rock?¡±

    ¡°The Welkynd stones up the stairs should do the trick,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°The what now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The Welkynd stones,¡± Merry repeats, then says with a sigh, ¡°Wave the small magic rock at the blue glowing magic rocks.¡±

    ¡°Ah, okay, why didn¡¯t you say so?¡±

    Merry puts his face in his palm. ¡°I swear, Neri, I¡¯m never sure whether you¡¯re an idiot or a genius.¡±

    ¡°It can be both,¡± Eran says.

    There¡¯s a bit of a light show when I wave the small magic rock at the blue glowing magic rocks, and a green glowing ball of light appears in the air in the middle of the room. They¡¯re very thankful at being freed and want to return to the green and atone for all the mer they¡¯ve eaten. The various spriggans and stranglers that we hadn¡¯t already killed proceed to become passive, no longer being inclined to attack us, however I would assume that anything capable of rational thinking should be disinclined to attack us.

    ¡°Too bad we were too late to save the researchers,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Judging by the journals, it sounds like they went mad before they died,¡± Merry says. ¡°Let¡¯s get them back to Tandare, at least.¡±

    Upon skimming over the journals herself, Tandare is not at all deterred by the fact that they¡¯re mostly mad ramblings. In fact, she¡¯s thrilled that the pseudo-intellectuals at the Mages Guild will have something to debate. Mages are weird.

 Chapter 71: In Which the Prince Gains Weight

    The Orrery is ready by the time we get back to Elden Root. (I probably wouldn¡¯t be able to find my way to the particular door that leads to it if Mel, the wood elf in charge of getting this all set up, didn¡¯t lead us there.) The conservator has been preparing Queen Ayrenn for the ritual and everything is in place. I¡¯m excited and I feel like everything is going to go horribly wrong and I just hope it doesn¡¯t go horribly wrong in a way that Queen Ayrenn winds up dead.

    These things always go horribly wrong. I¡¯m not a pessimist. I¡¯ve just seen enough of weird magic to be able to predict what weird magic is likely to do. Usually something bad. Even Mel thinks it might explode. He uses this as an argument for convincing Vicereeve Pelidil to stay out of the chamber while they¡¯re performing the ceremony. I¡¯m so glad that he came up with an excuse for that more convincing than ¡®because you¡¯re a jackass¡¯. (My party, of course, is allowed inside as being ¡®support staff¡¯, to Pelidil¡¯s incredulous expression.)

    Queen Ayrenn and Prince Naemon are arguing as we approach. It¡¯s dangerous and Naemon shouldn¡¯t be here, Ayrenn insists. Naemon, on the other hand, insists right back that his place is always in her shadow. I sigh and resist the urge to smack him. What is it about high elves and their tendency to whinge about the circumstances life gives to them?

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± I put in. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. You¡¯re the designated survivor here. If this thing blows up and kills everyone in the room, your sister wants to make sure someone survives who can still rule.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how this Ayleid contraption will prove anything, anyway,¡± Naemon says. ¡°This won¡¯t convince the people of Tamriel that you have the right to rule.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite true,¡± I say. ¡°I honestly doubt anyone outside of the Dominion is going to care about whatever this thing does. It¡¯s no substitute for military might, ruthless determination, negotiations over well-placed treaties, and pure charisma.¡±

    ¡°Neri,¡± Ayrenn says with a small smile. ¡°I understand we have you to thank for getting the pieces in place to make the Orrery functional again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, I guess I did do that, didn¡¯t I?¡± I say. ¡°I was a little distracted with solving a number of problems involving Daedra and murdering a traitorous general.¡±

    ¡°You were a little distracted solving every problem in Grahtwood, you mean,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I heard about what happened with General Endare,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°She always seemed a little extreme and ruthless, but I never expected her to go quite that far.¡±

    ¡°Part of it was corruption from that artifact, I think,¡± I say. ¡°Though I¡¯d take a guess that it took her worst qualities and amplified them. I really hope we know what we¡¯re doing with that thing.¡±

    ¡°Conservator Daraneth assures me that we should be able to handle it safely for a limited period of time,¡± Ayrenn says.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s something, at least,¡± I say.

    We head in, and I go up to speak with the conservator. Prince Naemon still insists on coming in anyway. King Aeradan is present also, against the concerns of his Vinedusk Rangers, who also seem to be afraid that the ancient contraption will explode. It seems like Queen Ayrenn and the conservator are the only ones reasonably certain that the thing won¡¯t explode.

    ¡°Do we really need to use the Khajiit thief god¡¯s cloak for this?¡± I ask the conservator.

    ¡°It¡¯s said that the controls must be moved by a god¡¯s hands,¡± Conservator Darry says. ¡°That¡¯s nonsense, though. You simply need to be in three places at once.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ why could you not simply have three people do it, then?¡± I ask.

    Conservator Darry does not have a good answer for that and remains convinced that the extremely dangerous god cloak is needed to operate the extremely dangerous Ayleid contraption. I take back everything positive I ever said about high elves. They¡¯re completely insane. And coming from me, that¡¯s saying something.

    Oh, and I¡¯m supposed to be the one to use it. Because of course I am.

    ¡°Before we get started, I would like it to be known that I think this is a terrible idea,¡± I say.

    ¡°At least someone here has some sense,¡± Naemon mutters.

    ¡°Your objection has been noted,¡± Ayrenn says with a faint grin.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Alright, what do you need me to do?¡±

    Darry instructs me to wear the ¡®probably perfectly safe¡¯ mantle and use it to make copies of myself to poke the two pedestals on the other side of the room, and then put the heart of that dead Ayleid guy in the slot in the front. Reluctantly, I follow the instructions given, activating the Ayleid contraption into a very pretty light show and I really, really hope that there¡¯s nothing more than a very pretty light show going on here.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Alas, I hate being proven right sometimes. Prince Naemon steps out, stuns everyone with some sort of dark spell, and makes a little speech about how he¡¯s the only one qualified to rule Tamriel, and steps up into the extremely dangerous Ayleid contraption. I struggle against the spell for a moment, but the power of the mantle lets me break free in time to see the second-biggest ogrim I have ever seen emerge from the Orrery.

    ¡°Well fuck,¡± I say. I pull off the mantle and run over to where Merry is stunned, and toss it around his shoulders. ¡°Break out of the spell! I¡¯ll keep his attention off of you.¡±

    I hop over the railing to make sure the ogrim is focused on anything but hurting the other people in the room. Merry breaks out of the dark spell and starts casting. I really hope he can reverse this effect like he did with the Sorry bastard in the Rilis castle.

    ¡°Hold him!¡± Merry exclaims. ¡°I can do this!¡±

    I weave and dodge away from the ogrim¡¯s clumsy attacks, giving him a few taunts that I¡¯m not sure he¡¯s even capable of understanding in that form. He seems like he was angry enough at the world in general without my help.

    ¡°Nngh!¡± Merry nnghs. ¡°It¡¯s too much! The Daedra is too strong for me to transform by myself!¡±

    ¡°Use the mantle!¡± I call back. ¡°Make copies of yourself and have them all work together to do it!¡±

    Another Merry appears, and another. The three of them combine their efforts and envelope the ogrim in multiple rays of magic. Two more join in before any results show. When the fifth Merry starts casting as well, finally the ogrim¡¯s form warps and shifts, and Prince Naemon is once again standing before us. He gasps, looks down at his hands, and his knees give out from under him.

    The extra Merries wisp out of existence and he tears the mantle from his shoulders and tosses it to the floor as if it¡¯s going to strangle him. Naemon¡¯s spell has dissipated by this point, and Ayrenn runs down the stairs up toward him.

    ¡°Naemon!¡± Ayrenn cries. ¡°Little brother, are you alright?¡±

    Prince Naemon has finally lost his cool, and is huddled up in a fetal position openly crying. ¡°You¡­ I just tried to usurp your throne, and the first thing you ask is if I¡¯m alright?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°You¡¯re still my brother, and I¡¯ll always love you, no matter what happens.¡±

    Merry is leaning heavily against a wall, looking like he just expended five times more magicka than he actually has.

    ¡°Merry, are you alright?¡± I ask, pulling a few shitty homemade magicka potions of my pack and handing them to him.

    Merry nods weakly as he starts downing them. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if I would be able to pull that off¡­¡± he lowers his voice, ¡°or whether he deserved the efforts.¡±

    I give a soft snort and say quietly, ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s kind of a fetcher, but the Queen would be despondent if we had to kill her brother in front of her.¡±

    ¡°The Orrery is supposed to show who you are inside,¡± Naemon says. ¡°Is that¡­ is that all I really am? A monster?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be a monster,¡± Ayrenn says, then straightens and looks over toward Merry and me. ¡°You have my eternal gratitude for being able to save my brother, mage. What is your name?¡±

    ¡°Merormo, Your Majesty,¡± Merry says.

    Not to be dissuaded by what happened to her brother, Ayrenn remains convinced that she must go into the Orrery herself and refuses to back down regardless of anyone¡¯s warnings. What¡¯s even the point of a device that turns people into monsters?

    Merry sighs and grabs the mantle, and puts it back on reluctantly. ¡°Very well, Your Majesty. Should anything happen to you, I will attempt to restore you, as well.¡± Even with the assistance of all the magicka potions I had in my pack, he still looks exhausted. I¡¯m not sure if he can manage that again anytime soon.

    ¡°Hopefully that won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Ayrenn says.

    With a look of determination in her eyes, Queen Ayrenn turns toward the Orrery, which is fortunately still active because it would be annoying to have to power it up again. I wish it had done nothing but make pretty lights. (But maybe now Naemon will finally stop whinging. One can only hope for miracles sometimes.)

    ¡°Ayrenn,¡± I say quietly before she steps inside. ¡°Please don¡¯t die. I will never forgive myself if I let you go through with this and¡­¡± I look over my shoulder at Naemon, still curled up on the floor and gently rocking himself.

    Ayrenn sighs. ¡°If I turn into a monster as well, if it shows me that is what I truly am inside, I am not fit to be Empress either.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know if the thing is even working properly,¡± I say. ¡°It might have been corrupted by the cloak, or the heart, or anything.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she says. ¡°But I have to take the risk.¡±

    Without another word, Ayrenn takes a deep breath and steps into the ancient Ayleid death trap. It begins its light show again, gleaming bright pillars erupting in the air and radiant circles appearing on the floor. When Ayrenn reappears, she¡¯s still herself, albeit more glowy. (I really hope that¡¯s a temporary cosmetic effect.)

    ¡°I¡¯m still myself?¡± Ayrenn says, looking down at her swirly hands.

    ¡°More or less?¡± I say. ¡°Still lucid enough to ask that, at any rate.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t stop glowing by tomorrow, Your Majesty, please come to me and I will attempt to reverse it,¡± Merry says wearily, hurling the cloak as far away from him as he can throw (which isn¡¯t very far).

    Vicereeve Pelidil chooses that moment to come in, followed by the Vinedusk Ranger he had been arguing with on the way. ¡°Is everything alright in here? I heard strange noises.¡±

    ¡°Everything¡¯s fine,¡± Queen Ayrenn assures him. ¡°You probably just heard the Orrery starting up. The old machinery let out some worrisome creaks and groans for a moment there but it seems to work properly.¡±

    ¡°It was amazing to see,¡± King Aeradan says, looking toward the Orrery. ¡°When I was young, I used to sneak down here to play. A good thing we never managed to accidentally make anything explode!¡±

    Pelidil goes over to where Prince Naemon is sitting, now leaning up against a wall but still disinclined to try to stand up or move anywhere just yet. ¡°Are you alright, Your Highness?¡±

    Naemon makes a grimace that he quickly suppresses. ¡°Yes, I am well.¡±

    ¡°You seem surprisingly despondent,¡± Pelidil says.

    Naemon looks away, toward the Orrery, and makes an excuse. ¡°I just wish Estre could have seen this.¡±

    ¡°You miss your wife,¡± Pelidil says softly.

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Naemon says, unsteadily rising to his feet but doing his best to pretend he¡¯s fine and everything is normal. I¡¯ll give him points for the effort. This is the closest I¡¯ve ever seen to humility from him. He¡¯s got to realize that he could have been executed for this, and instead we¡¯re all pretending it didn¡¯t happen.

 Chapter 72: In Which a Shifty Guy Swipes a Stick

    We¡¯re on the road to Marbruk after a short break back at Brackenleaf Village, because the Queen told us to go to Marbruk for some reason that I¡¯m not entirely clear on. I may or may not have been too busy eavesdropping on her brother to be paying attention to what she was saying. Anyway, I¡¯d wanted to head that way anyway since I think we¡¯ve solved every problem in Grahtwood that can be solved by hitting the right things or talking at the right people until they capitulate, and I hear my old friend Sahira-daro has opened a library there.

    On the way by, we check in at the not-just-Orcs clan of ex-bandits to make sure they¡¯re not being bandits anymore. Of course, many of the ex-bandits don¡¯t seem overly keen on suddenly becoming miners. Fortunately, they haven¡¯t been eaten by vampires in the meantime.

    ¡°Why do you have to say things like that?¡± groans one bedraggled Dunmer ex-bandit when I express that sentiment. ¡°I heard about Goldfolly! Chief wouldn¡¯t stop ranting about it for days.¡±

    That¡¯s a distinct Morrowind accent I hear from him, not like some of the foreign-born Dunmer I¡¯ve encountered in the Guilds. ¡°I didn¡¯t think many from Morrowind would want to join an Orc clan.¡±

    He sighs and rolls his eyes. ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m former House Dres, and no, I don¡¯t think anyone with a tail should be put in chains. Khajiit would gut me if I suggested they should be mining while I sit around sipping flin. And my wife Assuri over there is an Ashlander who decided to learn to read and move somewhere that¡¯s less on fire.¡±

    ¡°Valenwood¡¯s rather nice, I¡¯ve found,¡± I say.

    ¡°If by ¡®rather nice¡¯ you mean ¡®just as likely to try to kill you as Morrowind¡¯, then yes.¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± I agree. ¡°All sorts of things to fight without even needing to go fight a pointless fight with the next clan over.¡±

    He groans. ¡°Yes, about that. See, our glorious chief didn¡¯t really brief us on the intricacies of Orc politics ahead of time. Some of us were furious when we figured it out, but Assuri just laughed it off. Said Ashkhans did this sort of shit all the time.¡±

    ¡°How are you guys getting on now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The mine¡¯s operational again and fortunately, those of us who were too dumb and bloodthirsty to settle down and stop being idiots have already left or gotten themselves killed or arrested. Redfur Trading Post has upped their security, too, and one idiot was stupid enough to try to mess with Jode¡¯s Chariot.¡± He snorts softly. ¡°Came crawling back with his tail between his legs after a week in the stocks and has been on his best behavior ever since.¡±

    I bid them farewell, promising to stop by the guy¡¯s yurt sometime once he and his wife get one set up, and I¡¯m halfway to Marbruk before I realize I forgot to ask the guy¡¯s name.

    It¡¯s not too far from the ruin camp to Marbruk, but my friends have to complain about me jumping off the bluff and it isn¡¯t even that far of a drop, either. Come on, pointlessly jumping off of things is one of the small joys in life.

    It¡¯s funny seeing an Altmer-style city after having spent so much time around Bosmer buildings, and in the middle of Valenwood too! How? Why? Prissy high elves not wanting to sleep on furs? Once we reach town, my friends and I split up to go do our own thing for a bit, although they make me promise not to deliberately cause anything weird without telling them first. Of course I won¡¯t. Most of the weirdness I cause is totally accidental. They¡¯re not very reassured by that promise, and Ilara-daro sticks with me. (They drew straws to see which of them would get the job of minding me when they thought I wasn¡¯t looking.)

    I¡¯ve no sooner arrived in town before being ambushed by some captain who says he was expecting me and that the Queen has ordered me to retrieve the Staff of Magnus. She may or may not have done that, I really don¡¯t recall, but apparently the staff in question is already secure in their vault so I¡¯m not sure what exactly they want me to do with it. She did not, however, sign me up to listening to this captain spewing forth denigrating comments about how barbaric, backwater, and savage this land is.

    ¡°Captain,¡± I interrupt. ¡°I am entirely too sober to deal with casual racism right now, so if we could move right along to what we¡¯re supposed to be doing without badmouthing this beautiful land, let¡¯s please do that.¡±

    With a touch of embarrassment, he clears his throat. ¡°Right, yes, of course. I¡¯d hate to speak ill of the land of whichever of your parents or grandparents was a wood elf.¡±

    I pause and look at him incredulously. ¡°Oh, come on, I¡¯m not that short. Not that there¡¯d be anything wrong with having Bosmer heritage.¡± Admittedly, wearing Bosmer-style leather armor probably makes me look more like a tall half-breed than a weird Altmer.

    Before following him into the vault, I casually pick up a book titled Monomyth: The Heart of the World and start reading it to make him wait. It¡¯s got a bit of Altmer propaganda in it, too, and I close it and absently toss it in my pack in annoyance once it starts going on about how corrupted the Chimer were.

    ¡°There you are,¡± the captain says when Ilara and I finally head into the vault. ¡°I was wondering if you¡¯d gotten lost.¡±

    ¡°A reasonable concern, knowing me,¡± I say, glancing about the room. ¡°Why, exactly, do you have a bunch of potted plants underground?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Ah, these specimens are bound for the royal gardens,¡± the captain says. ¡°They are very rare and we¡¯re hoping to cultivate them. Would you like to hear a bit about each one?¡±

    ¡°Are they useful in alchemy?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Oh, yes, some of these plants are prized by alchemists. I couldn¡¯t tell you offhand what their particular properties are, though. I am no alchemist or botanist, I¡¯m afraid. And no, you may not take samples,¡± he adds quickly as he sees me reaching for one. ¡°If you are an alchemist yourself, you may be given an opportunity to experiment with them once we¡¯ve gotten them growing.¡±

    ¡°Right, let¡¯s move on, then,¡± I say. ¡°We were here for a magic stick?¡±

    ¡°The Staff of Magnus, yes. No mere magic stick.¡±

    The next room in the vault is cast in blue light from a number of Ayleid relics. The captain for some reason thinks I¡¯d be interested in hearing the history of each one of these trinkets.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care, captain,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with so I can go get high with my Khajiit friends.¡±

    The captain sighs judgmentally at me. ¡°You say things like that so openly? Fine. It¡¯s right in here.¡± He ushers me in through the next door. ¡°Behold, the Staff of Magnus.¡±

    On a shelf at the far end of the room lays a staff, glowing purple, but something about it doesn¡¯t seem quite right. I go over to pick it up, but my hand passes through the air and the image vanishes like the illusion it is. The captain is shocked that a powerful artifact vanished beneath their very noses and the only other person to have been down here, aside from the guards, was Vicereeve Pelidil.

    ¡°Vicereeve Pelidil, huh?¡± I say. ¡°I smell a skeever. And I mean that figuratively, of course. I have not smelled any literal skeevers in your pristine Guildhall here.¡±

    We leave the vault, and the captain goes to question the guards, who confirm that no one else has entered the vault and that Vicereeve Pelidil mentioned something about preparing a gift for Prince Naemon.

    ¡°A gift?¡± I wonder. ¡°Was he planning on presenting the staff to the prince or something? Why?¡±

    The captain doesn¡¯t have any further answers, and his visible stress level goes through the roof when the Queen herself shows up (no longer glowing) wondering where the Staff of Magnus is. And Razum-dar is at her side.

    ¡°Ilara?¡± Raz says, raising an eyebrow when he spots her. ¡°What are you doing here? Raz thought you were still at school.¡±

    ¡°You know each other?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Of course Raz knows his ja¡¯Khajiit sister,¡± Raz says. ¡°She did not mention her most handsome brother?¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro is your sister?¡± I say, and look between them at the same tan fur and red hair-ridge. ¡°Oh¡­¡±

    Raz looks back to her. ¡°You have been calling yourself ¡®daro¡¯ already?¡±

    ¡°This one did not call herself that first,¡± Ilara retorts. ¡°But her friends believe she has earned it. And so did Shan-ra when this one retrieved the Jode¡¯s Tear from behind the puzzles and traps of the ruins at Redfur Trading Post.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that was you?¡± Raz says.

    ¡°And this one destroyed a Covenant portal in the Ayleid ruin Ne Salas and prevented an invasion in the middle of Grahtwood!¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°She has proven a most capable apprentice,¡± I say.

    ¡°You have been taking Raz¡¯s little sister into some incredibly dangerous situations,¡± Raz says disapprovingly.

    ¡°We made her well aware that our line of work is dangerous,¡± I say. ¡°And she volunteered for those things. She¡¯s been very eager to prove herself.¡±

    Raz opens his mouth again, but the Queen interrupts our side conversation after having conferred with the captain on the status of the vault.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to find out what Vicereeve Pelidil intends and where he¡¯s taken the Staff of Magnus, if it was indeed him who took it,¡± Queen Ayrenn says. ¡°In the meantime, perhaps Neri and your sister would be willing to go to Bramblebreach and negotiate with the local Bosmer?¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± I say. ¡°You need some people talked at until they give up because they want me to shut up?¡±

    ¡°I have heard some tales of you doing the impossible along those lines,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°The Bosmer clans in this part of Valenwood have been being somewhat more reticent than the ones around Elden Root.¡±

    ¡°If by ¡®reticent¡¯ you mean that they¡¯ve declared you an enemy and proclaimed allegiance to a ¡®Wilderking¡¯ who may or may not exist,¡± Raz says to her. ¡°This one agrees. Neri would be perfect for this job. And Raz am certain that Neri will allow no harm to come to Raz¡¯s little sister.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll head out first thing in the morning,¡± I say.

    The Queen heads off to do her bit. Raz wants to catch up with Ilara, but she makes the excuse that someone needs to keep an eye on me.

    ¡°If you want to chat with your brother, I might not be visiting the Shivering Isles today,¡± I say.

    Valaste is in the Mages Guild, cross-referencing arcane tomes, apparently having more difficulty in translating this book than the previous one. Something about a higher than usual ratio of nonsense to not-nonsense.

    ¡°This one has her own duties, dutiful brother,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Her current duties are to keep Neri out of trouble in town.¡±

    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s see if we can find the local outlaws refuge!¡± I say.

    ¡°Raz sees your point. He must begin his investigation, regardless. Be careful, sis.¡±

    Further exploration of the Guildhall reveals a Skyshard on one of the upper balconies. Someone in the Mages Guild recognizes Sahira-daro¡¯s name when I ask about her, and gives me directions to the Cliffshade Library a short ways outside the main gates. I¡¯ve got a bunch of books that are burning a hole in my pack, in a completely figurative manner because if they were literally burning a hole in my pack I would be disposing of them in a manner that does not involve giving them to a worshipper of Hermaeus Mora, God of Forbidden Knowledge.

    After a stop at the outlaw¡¯s refuge (you¡¯d think the authorities would notice the pointy white symbol they paint on things) to procure some ¡®technically not illegal¡¯ goods, we head for the library.

    The place doesn¡¯t look like a Daedric shrine. It¡¯s just another Altmer-style building like the rest of the town, built from pristine stone and cheery wood. But I know she¡¯s got to have hidden a shrine in here somewhere. The place is full of books, arranged in rows on shelves, stacked up in piles on stools, and sitting in packing crates in the middle of the floor.

    ¡°Come on in!¡± Sahira-daro¡¯s voice comes from the upper floor. ¡°Sorry this one has not had a chance to organize everything yet, but there is probably something that will interest you!¡± She emerges from the stairs. ¡°Oh! It¡¯s you, Neri. How do you like my new place?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s great,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯ve brought you more books!¡±

    Sahira giggles. ¡°Thank you! Just put them¡­ anywhere, really. Oh, Sahira-daro really needs to sort everything out, but she had some difficulties in deciding whether to arrange books by subject matter or to alphabetize them by author or title, and too many of them are anonymous or of dubious authorship to do by author, this one thinks.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the conundrum,¡± I say, starting to pull out books from my pack. ¡°Have you met Ilara-daro? She¡¯s my apprentice because I¡¯m not sure how to spell protege.¡±

    ¡°Bright Moons guide your steps,¡± Ilara says politely to her.

    ¡°Likewise,¡± Sahira-daro says, and adds in amusement, ¡°There is probably a dictionary around here somewhere, too.¡±

 Chapter 73: In Which I Meet a Floaty Leaf Man

    I wind up falling asleep in the library, and my friends later join me there. I guess I did make it pretty obvious where I went.

    Eran has a new set of armor on, and strikes a heroic pose to show it off. ¡°I found this at a good price in town and figured it was time to get an upgrade while valiantly ignoring the fact that most of our money came from rewards for killing things and fencing stolen goods, some of which was taken from things we¡¯d just gotten paid to kill.¡±

    ¡°I helped catch a thief,¡± Gelur says brightly. ¡°That is, one who isn¡¯t us, at least. An undercover watchman realized I work with a guy who works for the Queen, and had me investigate since the people didn¡¯t want to talk to an Altmer terribly much.¡±

    ¡°And I assisted some mages with an experiment,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Is that what you were doing collecting dead rats?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°I thought you were planning on making a stew.¡±

    Merry grimaces. ¡°No. And I would have preferred fresh rats if I were to do that. I don¡¯t know why Marbruk had so many dead rats in it.¡±

    Bramblebreach is a typical Bosmer village, with tree pod dwellings and living branches woven into lattice work. Our contact is a frustrated Khajiit by the name of Hazazi. He¡¯s quite unhappy with his assignment and does not hesitate to complain at us about it, especially once he finds out the Queen sent us to help.

    ¡°Hazazi hopes you have better luck than he did. Maybe you can even figure out who in Oblivion this Wilderking is. Hopefully not actually from Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°Some Daedra are worse than others,¡± I say. ¡°Gelur, you¡¯re with me. We¡¯re going to speak with their treethane. The rest of you, take a look around town and talk to people and get a feel for the place.¡±

    ¡°You got it,¡± Gelur says.

    I expect the treethane¡¯s place to be at the highest point in town, and climb to the top of one of the tree-ramps to one of the pods. My guess turns out to be correct. A bard softly plays music on a lute, and an old Bosmer woman sits on a chair of flowering lattice.

    ¡°Greetings, treethane,¡± I say, giving a polite bow. ¡°We are Neri and Gelur, of Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars. We¡¯ve been traveling the Valenwood solving problems. Frequently by hitting things. The world is a dangerous place these days, what with cultists, Daedra, undead, racist bandits¡­¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about Wood Orcs?¡± asks the treethane, whose name I forgot to get.

    ¡°They¡¯re people,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°Sometimes stupid, annoying, violent people. We had to deal with a group of them east of Marbruk who were doing something so stupid I cannot begin to describe it in a way that makes sense.¡±

    The treethane gives an amused ¡®heh¡¯ sound. ¡°I can believe that. There¡¯s another group of them near here who has been causing problems for us for a long time. There¡¯s a reward in it for you if you can drive them off.¡±

    ¡°We can do it,¡± I say.

    The treethane gives us some seeds to plant inside the Orcs¡¯ camp with the explanation that they¡¯ll grow into those big plant things and smash anything nearby and greatly discourage anyone hostile to the village to loiter in the area. The chief will need to be killed because he¡¯s a stubborn jerk.

    Back outside, Gelur says to me quietly with a touch of amusement, ¡°You didn¡¯t even mention the Dominion.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Those Dominion idiots sounded like they¡¯ve been stomping around going ¡®Bow to us, high elves are awesome¡¯ and not impressing anyone.¡±

    Eran approaches us with a serious look in his eyes, or so I imagine because I can barely see his face. ¡°I spotted Aranias. Apparently she did make it to Greenshade after all.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That Veiled Heritance officer who left Auridon before we could get to her,¡± Eran reminds me helpfully. ¡°She probably didn¡¯t recognize me with my new helmet on.¡±

    ¡°Oh right, her!¡± I say. ¡°What was she doing here?¡±

    Eran shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but she was complaining loudly about the treethane having been rude to her. I have a hunch that it was more of the other way around. I didn¡¯t talk to her since she might have recognized my voice, so I sent Merry to do it instead. And Ilara to keep an eye on them discreetly.¡±

    ¡°Good work,¡± I say. ¡°The treethane gave us a job to drive off some Wood Orcs.¡± I pause thoughtfully, having been audibly attempting to capitalize that. ¡°Why do we capitalize ¡®Orc¡¯ but not ¡®elf¡¯ or ¡®mer¡¯? Should I be capitalizing ¡®Wood Elves¡¯ and ¡®High Elves¡¯ too?¡±

    Eran blithely ignores my orthographical rambling. ¡°Great, where are these unruly miscreants, and should they be glad that the Bosmer asked you for help first instead of them?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I wasn¡¯t paying attention.¡±

    ¡°She said they were on the other side of a tunnel at the edge of the village,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go collect Merry and Ilara and see you can spot it.¡±

    We find Merry on the edge of the village speaking with an Altmer man and woman, presumably one of them being the racist bandit Eran mentioned.

    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Merry says. ¡°How did your meeting with the treethane go?¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± I say. ¡°We got work. Who¡¯re our new friends?¡±

    ¡°Their names are Andur and Aranias,¡± Merry says, impressing me that a high elf might give a child a name with two syllables before figuring that it¡¯s probably short for Anduralion or something like that.

    ¡°She completely brushed us off,¡± secret racist bandit says. ¡°How was she so much more receptive to you? All I asked was to see the Wilderking.¡±

    ¡°Probably because I didn¡¯t go in there acting like a finely-bred Altmer,¡± I say. ¡°Dressed like this, people have mistaken me for being a tall half-breed. I¡¯m reasonably certain that none of my ancestors were Bosmer.¡± Admittedly, none of my ancestors were Altmer, either. Aldmer, technically. ¡°I also didn¡¯t say anything about the Wilderking, the Dominion, or how superior high elves are.¡±

    Secret racist bandit doesn¡¯t even seem to realize I¡¯m making fun of her.

    ¡°What sort of work did she give us?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°She sent us to deal with some Wood Orcs,¡± I say.

    ¡°Really?¡± secret racist bandit says. ¡°We offered to wipe them out too but she still refused.¡±

    ¡°Most likely whatever you did just rubbed her the wrong way,¡± I say. ¡°Even if it was just your posture or the way you speak. Anyway, what are you doing out here? What do you want to see the Wilderking for?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a purely scholarly interest!¡± secret racist bandit lies in a blatantly lying tone of voice. ¡°I¡¯m doing research into nature magic, you see. And Andur here is my bodyguard, because Valenwood is dangerous.¡±

    You know, if I could remember any Veiled Heritance code phrases (or even knew any in the first place, for that matter) I might say one here just to fuck with her. Actually, I¡¯m more than a little tempted to make something up. Still, I decide to keep quiet and not tip my hand that I know what she is. (Even if I don¡¯t particularly remember who she is.)

    Ilara comes up to us once we¡¯re out of immediate line of sight of the two probably-racist-bandits.

    ¡°Gelur, can you tail the racist bandits and keep an eye on what they¡¯re up to?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I know the forest,¡± Gelur says. ¡°They¡¯ll never see me.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro, can you sneak into the Wood Orc camp and plant these seeds?¡± I ask, handing them to her. ¡°And stand back when you do because I¡¯m told they¡¯ll quickly grow into those big plant creatures.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Ilara gives a terse nod. ¡°This one will be sleek as the wind and silent as a shadow.¡±

    ¡°Eran and Merry, you¡¯re with me,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll be dealing with the chief.¡±

    We head off to do our separate tasks.

    The Orc chief is in a cave in the cliffs at the edge of the camp. He relishes a fight, so we cheerfully give him one. Or at least, I¡¯m cheerful about it. Eran is determined and Merry is just resigned.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to discuss the merits of joining the Aldmeri Dominion!¡± I cry with a wild grin, brandishing my axe.

    ¡°With a battle axe?¡± the chief replies. ¡°Now that¡¯s my sort of discussion! Fight me!¡±

    ¡°Queen Ayrenn is totally awesome!¡± I declare, dancing out of the way of an attack.

    ¡°Orcs don¡¯t bow to pretty elves with crowns!¡± the chief retorts, taking another swing.

    ¡°She¡¯s not just a pretty face!¡± I leap over his axe and do an amazing twist in mid-air, which would be even more amazing if I¡¯d actually hit anything. ¡°She treats everyone equally! She even admitted goblins into the Dominion!¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± the chief exclaims, avoiding an attack. ¡°Goblins? And they didn¡¯t ask us?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t even ask you to join?¡± I ask, nimbly tumbling out of the way of a swipe.

    ¡°We¡¯d have told them no anyway!¡±

    He takes a swing at me, but overreaches and almost gets his weapon stuck in the floor. I take advantage of the opening to knock him aside with my axe. Grievously wounded, he starts laughing.

    ¡°Have I established the merits of my argument?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re alright, for an elf,¡± the chief says, apparently not remembering Orcs are also technically elves. ¡°Maybe your Queen will go far. But I¡¯d rather see the Ashpit than a Tamriel ruled peacefully and benevolently by high elves. So go ahead and just kill me already.¡± He grabs another weapon and comes at me again, determined to die fighting.

    ¡°As you wish,¡± I say. ¡°I aim to please.¡± I sidestep his attack and finish him off. Only then do I notice that my friends, having finished making sure nobody else was attacking us, are just sitting there watching. And eating cheese. ¡°What are you guys doing?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we didn¡¯t want to interrupt your riveting discussion,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°You made several excellent points,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Pity about the irreconcilable political views, though,¡± Eran says lightly.

    ¡°I mean, you guys are eating cheese without me?¡± I grab a slice, and check around the cave for anything interesting. ¡°I take it you were successful in your mission to plant plants, Ilara-daro?¡±

    ¡°They were highly impressive plants, yes,¡± Ilara replies.

    I run across a note in the cave ordering all Orcs to stay away from a nearby mine that¡¯s full of undead. That sounds like a splendid thing to look into on the way back to town. And by ¡®look into¡¯ I mean ¡®smash in the face¡¯.

    The surviving Orcs have decided that standing within arm¡¯s reach of the big plant creatures is a bad idea and have vacated the area. Since the plant things don¡¯t seem to consider my party to be enemies, I decide to poke around in the tents to see if there¡¯s anything worth swiping that they left behind in a hurry. Inside one of the Orc tents, I find another piece of Marobar Sul¡¯s dubious Dwemer fanfiction. I grab it. They¡¯re always good for a laugh. Strange reading material for Orcs, though. Maybe I¡¯m just stereotyping.

    We head for the mine, of which there was helpfully a map of the immediate area. One of those Orcs was a surprisingly good cartographer.

    ¡°Do I need to even ask why we¡¯re voluntarily going into a mine full of undead?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Eran says. ¡°Although knowing Neri, he¡¯s less likely to voluntarily go into a mine that¡¯s operating normally.¡±

    ¡°This close to Bramblebreach, the undead could become a threat to the village,¡± I say. ¡°This is what I¡¯m going to tell people, and not that I really just wanted to hit something nobody minds if I hit.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re not fooling us,¡± Merry says with a smirk.

    The mine is full of corpses that I expect to rise up as undead and attack us. I didn¡¯t expect their skeletons, and only their skeletons, to bloodily burst out of the corpses and attack us. This seems like an inefficient form of necromancy.

    There¡¯s a Skyshard inside of a crate. That certainly didn¡¯t fall there. By all the gods, how many Skyshards have I missed just because I wasn¡¯t looking inside of every crate and barrel?

    While scouring the place for every bit of loot worth the space in our packs, I run across a pack containing a glowing axe marked as belonging to someone in the Mages Guild. I¡¯ll need to remember to return it when we get back to Marbruk. (By which I mean, I write it down.) People are always eager to follow me into hell because I performed trivial errands for them. (Trivial for me, at least, I suppose. Most people probably wouldn¡¯t have been up to killing the slightly-tougher-than-usual pissy ghost who was hovering near the pack.)

    By the time we head back to Bramblebreach, a few Bosmer have shown up claiming to be the Bramblebreach militia here to secure the area. Either the treethane had supreme confidence in our competence or she just had some people watch from a safe distance to see if we got ourselves horribly killed or not.

    When we reach the other side of the short tunnel, Gelur is there waiting for us. ¡°I lost them. Sorry. I think it was less me than that something didn¡¯t want me following them. Valenwood can be odd like that sometimes.¡±

    ¡°No worries,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the treethane and tell her we convinced some Orcs to see our point of view.¡±

    The treethane is thrilled when we arrive back in town, having already received word back from her scouts on our success. She hands me a generous reward, and for all their shying away from harming plants directly whenever possible, they aren¡¯t shy about using the same coins as everyone else.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°One more thing before we go. I wish to confer with the Wilderking on activity from Molag Bal and the Worm Cult. How may I go about getting an audience?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve rid us of those Orcs who kept chopping down our trees. You¡¯ve certainly earned the right to petition for an audience and your cause seems a worthy one. Just touch the Petitioning Stone. If he wants to, he¡¯ll answer, but I can make no guarantees about whether or not he will answer. I wish you luck.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the Petitioning Stone?¡± I wonder, then glance aside at Gelur, who is smirking broadly. ¡°¡­ yeah, just give the directions to Gelur. I get lost in small caves.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t say ¡®south of the village, you can¡¯t miss it¡¯, then,¡± the treethane replies, equally amused.

    The Petitioning Stone turns out to be a boulder that would otherwise be unremarkable aside from the fact that it¡¯s got stairs leading up to it and it¡¯s surrounded by living vine railings. I probably would have still missed it.

    I go up and touch it. In a whoosh of green light, a figure appears before me. A mer made of bark and leaves, floating two feet above the ground.

    ¡°Ah¡­ hello,¡± I say. ¡°The Wilderking, I presume?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I have been watching you since you arrived in this part of the forest. You have helped my people, and so I have appeared to you, but I sense that there is something you did not tell them. Are you with this¡­ Aldmeri Dominion I have heard of?¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± I say. ¡°I told them nothing that was untrue. I¡¯ve generally found it better to help people than to make demands and empty promises.¡±

    ¡°A wise approach,¡± floaty leaf man says. ¡°But it is not enough to convince me that joining your Dominion would be beneficial to my people. It would only make enemies of your own enemies.¡±

    ¡°The Dominion¡¯s enemies aren¡¯t going to care whether or not one group of Bosmer joined them or not,¡± I point out. ¡°All they see is trees and mer, not politics. And the Worm Cult doesn¡¯t care what faction you belong to. The Dark Anchors have been falling all across Tamriel. Have you seen them here?¡±

    He sighs. ¡°Yes, these cultists have managed to build one of their foul devices deep within my domain. They are being held off, but the matter is concerning. A Daedric Prince is a dark enemy, and yet this is not the only enemy you face.¡±

    ¡°Not even slightly, yes,¡± I say. ¡°The Veiled Heritance is also a problem that keeps cropping up despite the death of their Veiled Queen, and at least one of their operatives has been seen in the area.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have heard this name, and I have seen the one of which you speak,¡± floaty leaf man says. ¡°But I would hesitate to call her an enemy.¡±

    ¡°The Veiled Heritance murdered a lot of people, left several towns on fire, and opened Oblivion gates to invade a city with Daedra. Whatever their intentions here can¡¯t be anything good.¡±

    Then he shows me a vision of racist bandits including Wannabe Queen, giving orders to the woman in question who Eran keeps trying to remind me is named Aranias. Maybe if he says it enough times I will remember. Maybe I¡¯ll even feel polite enough not to keep calling her ¡®secret racist bandit¡¯. In any case, Andur, Estre, and some other guy are telling her to go to Valenwood and kill the Wilderking.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to call her your enemy when she¡¯s coming to try to kill you?¡± I wonder, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Man, you sound like me.¡±

    ¡°She may play a different role in this story than you realize,¡± the Wilderking says. ¡°And so may you.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Maybe so, but it¡¯s not very reassuring. Gelur couldn¡¯t even keep their trail to find out where they were going.¡±

    ¡°Do not concern yourself with that,¡± floaty leaf man says. ¡°They are strangers to the Valenwood, and they may wander its paths for many, many days before they find what they seek.¡±

    I could swear his wooden face looks a bit smug as he says it. I get the impression that they¡¯re not going to find him until he¡¯s good and ready for them. And then he tells me that I need to go speak with a spinner at some cottage somewhere to find out where I fit in the story or something that doesn¡¯t quite make sense. In any case, he¡¯s assuring me that I have all the time in the world.

    Since we have all the time in the world, I decide to head back to Marbruk to perform a few errands and return this axe. We run across Hazazi on the way back who I have to greatly assure that the situation is under control (more or less) and he doesn¡¯t need to freak out about dancing elves or talking plants.

    The mage who enchanted the axe turns out to be a Bosmer man, who is quite alarmed that we brought the thing into the Guildhall. Apparently he¡¯d cursed the axe to draw spirits and undead and gave it to the Orcs in hopes of it killing them and making them go away.

    ¡°How could you be sure that the axe would only hurt the Orcs?¡± I ask. ¡°Although I suppose it would be racist to make it only work when close to an Orc. Which would make it¡­ axe of racism.¡±

    Eran groans and puts palm against his helmet.

    ¡°Anyway, what is it with people being irresponsible with cursed items?¡± I ask with a sigh. ¡°Will simply breaking this thing suffice or do I need to find a volcano to throw it into?¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary!¡± he says cheerfully, unfazed by my criticism. ¡°I¡¯ll just remove the curse right now, since it¡¯s already done its job. And then you can keep it as a souvenir!¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s a bit smaller than I usually use, but it never hurts to have a spare axe. Or at least, it never hurts me. It usually greatly hurts whoever I¡¯m trying to hurt.¡±

    The Bosmer performs a bit of magic over the newly-dubbed Souvenir, and gives it to me to toss in my pack.

    ¡°If I write a pamphlet on responsible use of cursed items, will the Mages Guild distribute it for me?¡± I ask.

 Chapter 74: In Which Everyone Needs a Therapist

    While I¡¯m back at the Mages Guildhall in Marbruk, I take the opportunity to check in with Valaste. She looks like she¡¯s been depriving herself of sleep again and her fancy Altmer-blonde hair is almost slightly less than perfect.

    ¡°Translating not going well?¡± I ask.

    Valaste sighs. ¡°No, no. I already translated it. I just haven¡¯t been able to piece together any clues that would lead us to the next piece of the puzzle.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you just need a madman to look at it,¡± I offer with a mad grin.

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± she says, gesturing broadly.

    I go over to read the book. It is primarily comprised of the words ¡®happiness is loneliness¡¯ with odd spacing. This could be quite the puzzle to puzzle out if it didn¡¯t immediately pull me through to somewhere else that I¡¯m guessing is the Shivering Isles given that Sheogorath, his chamberlain, and some guy I don¡¯t recognize are standing there.

    ¡°Welcome back, Nerevar!¡± Sheogorath exclaims. ¡°That was fine work you did at Southpoint. Mayor Aulus is settling in nicely. He even already found a town to take over. Which he immediately failed at and wound up in a hut in the wilderness trying to tell the local wildlife to respect his authority. Ah, I had high hopes for that one. Well, now he¡¯s the Mayor of Squirreltown.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad he found his niche somewhere far, far away where he can¡¯t annoy me anymore,¡± I say.

    Sheogorath cheerfully explains what he wants me to do, in between laughing about it. He wants me to perform a play to entertain him. Violently. He even has a script for me. Sounds like fun. I even have an audience of dead lunatics. (Some of the other ¡®actors¡¯ are probably dead lunatics, too. That, or Daedra. Or just outright hallucinations. It¡¯s hard to tell in here and doesn¡¯t really matter anyway.)

    The ¡®play¡¯, such as it is, involves each act involving one of the three alliances. First, we have the Ebonheart Pact, and the fake, ruined city is filled with Dunmer, Argonians, and Nords all peacefully living and working together in harmony. Then Sheogorath comes in and reminds that they¡¯re supposed to hate one another, and they begin fighting. My part here is to kill everyone, because of course it is.

    As I¡¯m making my way through the ¡®set¡¯, I come across odd ghostly scenes playing out that appear to be Valaste¡¯s memories. A lonely girl who liked to read growing up to become a brilliant member of the Mages Guild.

    ¡°Time for an intermission!¡± Sheogorath declares as I¡¯m leaving that area. ¡°Cheese for everyone!¡±

    ¡°Huzzah for cheese!¡± I say, and grab a piece to munch on.

    ¡°At least you¡¯re not one of those boring sorts who refuse to eat cheese with me!¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°So, what do you think of my little play so far?¡±

    ¡°Mm, very bloody,¡± I say. ¡°Oh, doesn¡¯t there need to be intermission music or something?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right!¡± Sheogorath exclaims.

    With a wave of his hand, three scamps playing a piano appear. They¡¯re terrible at it.

    ¡°Ah, man, if I were a mage, I¡¯d want a ¡®Summon Scamps Playing a Piano¡¯ spell,¡± I say. ¡°It would be the perfect thing to set the mood. Although it might need some violins, too. Can never have too much violence.¡±

    ¡°Of course! I invented music, after all. Tell you what. You don¡¯t actually care about these books anyhow, right? How about instead of the book, I give you the power to make music in thin air whenever you want?¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Alas, I¡¯ll have to decline. As fun as that might be.¡±

    ¡°Oh, very well,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°On with the show! I think you¡¯ll be familiar with this next batch: The Aldmeri Dominion!¡±

    This time, the actors include facsimiles of Razum-dar, Queen Ayrenn, and some Bosmer I don¡¯t recognize. No idea what he¡¯s doing here instead of the King from the big tree. Not that it particularly matters since he doesn¡¯t exactly have much to say anyway.

    The faux Queen Ayrenn sends some mages (including me) to ¡®exile¡¯ via electrocution. Tickles a bit. (I should be more disturbed about having to bloodily chop up images of people I like, shouldn¡¯t I? Oh well, huzzah for mental problems.)

    Once the entire Aldmeri Dominion is dead (or at least the handful of fake ones in this ¡®set¡¯) I take a look around at the ruined buildings. Now I¡¯m seeing memories involving Shalidor. I wonder if this is supposed to be part of the ¡®play¡¯ or if there¡¯s something weird going on here. What am I saying? This is the Shivering Isles. It¡¯s both.

    Judging by these images, Shalidor lost his secret island to Sheogorath somehow, and then his wife left him. After talking to him while he was working and not even trying to get his attention first, and then claiming that he loves his work more than he loves her. Wow, that¡¯s rude. If he¡¯s anything like Seht, and I¡¯ve seen that expression on Seht many times, he might lose himself in his work or reading to the point where the rest of the world might as well not be there. Not because he deliberately doesn¡¯t care about anything else, but because that¡¯s the way his mind works. I know I can get that way when I¡¯m fighting, too.

    (Did Ayem ever think I loved fighting more than I loved her? Somehow I don¡¯t think even that would excuse avoiding talking things out like rational adults and skipping straight to the ritual murder.)

    Shalidor is despondent in the next memory. ¡°I would have given up the island for her¡­¡±

    It¡¯s probably far, far too late to give relationship advice to a dead archmage. It probably wouldn¡¯t help to tell him that someone who truly loved him would respect something that was obviously important to him. But what do I know of true love, anyway? I tried to be a good friend, a good husband, a good Hortator, even if it was hard to be all of them at the same time. And yet¡­ No, I¡¯m not going to dwell on this. Not now, not here. If I¡¯m going to dwell on how much of that all was my fault, if any of it was, it¡¯s not going to be in the Shivering Isles. This place has a way of twisting your mind on the best of days, as much as I try to laugh it off. Focus.

    The next part is, of course, the Daggerfall Covenant. I don¡¯t know any of these people and don¡¯t particularly care as I kick their asses. Pieces of fake Bretons, Redguards, and Orcs go everywhere and quickly vanish into the mists of Oblivion.

    I¡¯m apparently supposed to be rescuing my acquaintances from the Mages Guild, but it¡¯s not exactly them them. I don¡¯t think, anyway. I mean, it¡¯s not like Sheogorath can¡¯t yank Shalidor around all he wants and has before, but Shalidor is already dead. Just a very solid sort of dead. Kind of like me. (I wonder if Skyshards can be shoved into him, too?)

    After concluding the climactic final battle and going through a brief denouement, Sheogorath asks for my opinions and critique even though he¡¯s really not asking for critique but praise, so I give him praise.

    ¡°The sideshows showcasing mental illness were a nice touch,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t speak for the characterization of the other two alliances as I¡¯m not familiar with them, but the likenesses to Queen Ayrenn and Razum-dar weren¡¯t bad. Oh, and there was plenty of action. Tension! Conflict! Every good story needs plenty of conflict, after all. In fact, it being pretty much nonstop conflict, that must make it an excellent story.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Glad you liked it!¡± Sheogorath says, and gestures toward another book fluttering in the air. ¡°As promised, here¡¯s your book. Unless you¡¯ve changed your mind on wanting that music spell..¡±

    ¡°No thanks,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll just pay someone to follow me around with a lute, I guess.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Can I still get it if I get some royal person to do a spit-take?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I like the way you think!¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°Deal! This better be good.¡±

    I pull out my butterfly net and catch the glowing purple book. As I do, the world shifts and I find myself back in the Marbruk Mages Guildhall.

    When I see Valaste, I remember the images I saw of a young woman who was mocked for liking to read too much, then being afraid that her books had betrayed her when she couldn¡¯t make sense of these pieces of insane literature. Who, at the end there, sounded like she was starting to crack.

    ¡°Valaste,¡± I say. ¡°Where do you see yourself going when you die?¡±

    ¡°Aetherius, I assume,¡± Valaste says. ¡°Although I should hope not for a long time yet! Why do you ask? Is this about something you saw in the Madgod¡¯s trial?¡±

    ¡°I saw you there, or a vision of you at any rate,¡± I say. ¡°Shalidor, too. Listen, I know this project is important to you, but you ought to take a step back and take a break. Spend some time talking to Shalidor. I think you¡¯ve got more in common than you may realize.¡±

    ¡°But I want to get started on translating the next book right away,¡± Valaste protests.

    I smirk widely and toss the book in my pack. ¡°Nope. Mandatory break. For your own mental health. You¡¯re going to lose it if you stare at the Madgod¡¯s words for too long. I know I¡¯m not the best one to talk about mental health¡ªI know I¡¯m nuts¡ªbut I¡¯m also the only person you¡¯ve got willing to play the Madgod¡¯s games and I¡¯m going to be busy for a while. I¡¯ve got to deal with some racist bandits who want to kill a plant man, and then catch a shifty guy who stole a magic stick from this Guildhall and probably hit him repeatedly and take the stick back from his corpse.¡±

    ¡°Wait, something was stolen from this Guildhall?¡± Valaste asks.

    I give her a look. ¡°Vicereeve Pelidil is the prime suspect in the theft of the Staff of Magnus. You didn¡¯t hear about it?¡±

    ¡°Right under my nose!?¡± Valaste says. ¡°I was so busy working on trying to puzzle out that book¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not your fault,¡± I say. ¡°The people who were supposed to be guarding it dropped the ball and weren¡¯t suspicious of a guy they had no reason to be suspicious of. Me, I¡¯m suspicious of anyone that acts suspiciously, and that guy has been suspicious every time I encountered him.¡±

    ¡°Still¡­¡± Valaste sighs. ¡°Are you sure you won¡¯t let me read the book?¡±

    ¡°Only if you can tell me that you intend to consign your soul to the Shivering Isles,¡± I say.

    ¡°Was it that bad?¡±

    ¡°Is that a no?¡± I ask.

    Valaste stares at me for a moment, then glances around the room. ¡°Well, Sheogorath is brilliant and I wouldn¡¯t mind a visit as I¡¯m sure it¡¯s lovely there, but I hadn¡¯t really intended on spending eternity there. Very well. I suppose I will have to take a break, then, if you insist. I suppose I have been overdoing it a bit.¡±

    I head out of the Mages Guild to locate Queen Ayrenn and let her know what¡¯s going on with Bramblebreach. I probably should have done this before taking a jaunt to the Shivering Isles but I completely forgot that there¡¯s actually someone in town who might care about what I¡¯ve been doing in a sense other than exchanging stories for the sake of bragging rights at Brackenleaf. (Bragging rights are a valid currency good for a mug of rotmeth at many Bosmer establishments. If you tell a good story about a tough fight you had once, someone will probably give you a drink.)

    Ayrenn has taken up residence at a house in town. Naemon assured her that he had given no orders to Pelidil to do anything like this, and she believes him. I¡¯ll take her word that she trusts her brother still and go upstairs to question him myself.

    Naemon is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes barely leaving the floor to glance up at me for a moment when I come in. ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°Nice to see you again, too,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll forgive that you¡¯re not the person I would most choose to spend time with,¡± Naemon says.

    ¡°Who would be?¡± I ask. ¡°Vicereeve Pelidil?¡±

    Naemon sighs. ¡°I explained to my sister, and the guard, and several very annoyed mages, I did not order him to take the Staff of Magnus nor did I say anything that might imply that I would like it done. This was as much of a shock to me as anyone else.¡±

    I watch him, gauging his tone and body movements. He¡¯s tired and frustrated, that much is clear, but guilty? I don¡¯t see it.

    ¡°Naemon,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t like you. I meant every single one of those taunts I made in your general direction when you were turned ugly to keep you away from the mage who was making you pretty again. Come on. Let¡¯s go get a drink.¡±

    His indignant look gets replaced by one of pure puzzlement at that last. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Do you not drink? I have moon sugar, too. And Hist sap, if you¡¯re feeling especially daring.¡±

    ¡°How did you¡­ never mind,¡± Naemon says. ¡°Why do you want to go drinking with me?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re sitting up here holed up in the attic of your sister¡¯s summer home, you¡¯re questioning your life choices, the only man you really seemed to trust betrayed everyone, and you can¡¯t even tell me who your best friend is that you want to go drinking with.¡±

    ¡°Royalty can¡¯t afford to have ¡®best friends¡¯,¡± Naemon grumbles.

    ¡°No?¡± I say. ¡°Dunno what you¡¯d call Ayrenn and Raz, then.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± Naemon says. ¡°He¡¯s her spymaster. And they adventured together, out when she was gallivanting about having adventures when I was memorizing the court rituals she couldn¡¯t be bothered with¡­ ah, I say too much.¡±

    ¡°Normally people don¡¯t grumble quite that far until they¡¯ve had at least one drink, but it¡¯s good to get it started,¡± I say.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what she sees in you, either,¡± Naemon says. ¡°You¡¯re a nobody, a commoner, and probably not even a full-blooded Altmer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not an Altmer,¡± I say. ¡°Ayrenn didn¡¯t tell you anything?¡± I chuckle. ¡°Just as well. You might have slipped something to Pelidil, who has definitely proven his trustworthiness at this point.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to tell?¡± Naemon wonders.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything if you have a drink with me,¡± I say, winking, a bottle of wine appearing from my bag. ¡°This stuff looked pretty fancy! Russafeld, wonder where that is?¡±

    ¡°Summerset,¡± Naemon says, picking it up to look at it. ¡°Did you just pick that up because it looked fancy?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even remember where I got half the things in this pack, honestly,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve been doing mental health checks today after taking a jaunt to the Shivering Isles to pretend to kill everyone, and I think you need one. Oh! Yeah, I think that¡¯s where I got that. It was from the Aldmeri Dominion section where Ayrenn tried to electrocute me. I grabbed everything that looked interesting while I was there.¡±

    Naemon quickly puts down the bottle of questionable origins.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± I say. ¡°One drink, and I¡¯ll tell you how to be a king, have a bunch of friends, and then get murdered by them. Maybe you can manage to avoid that last, but I don¡¯t regret having friends for even a moment.¡±

    ¡°Why would you come here looking after my mental health?¡± Naemon asks.

    ¡°Because apparently I¡¯m the only therapist in Marbruk and I¡¯m not a therapist,¡± I say. ¡°What do you want to hear? That I¡¯m just trying to get you drunk so you¡¯d spill anything you know about Pelidil? That I pity you and your lack of friends? That I like your sister and think she¡¯d be happier if you weren¡¯t moping in her attic?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t really think you have a chance with her, do you?¡± Naemon asks.

    ¡°Does it matter? I¡¯m already dead. Albeit a very lively sort of dead.¡±

    Naemon blinks. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    I gesture toward the wine bottle.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have a drink of something you didn¡¯t acquire in the Shivering Isles,¡± Naemon says, standing up to go find his (or his sister¡¯s) own stash instead. A much safer option.

    Downstairs, Ayrenn has found some ubiquitous paperwork to work on. I take a swig from the bottle as I follow him downstairs. It doesn¡¯t taste like anything out of the ordinary, so for all I know Sheogorath just swiped some wine from Russafeld at some point. I haven¡¯t started hallucinating yet, either.

    ¡°Dear sister, your pet lunatic is drinking alcoholic beverages acquired in Oblivion and wishes me to partake in some sort of primitive drinking ritual before he will share with me the secrets of how to win friends and influence people.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need at least two drinks for that one,¡± I say.

    Ayrenn looks to be struggling to avoid laughing.

    ¡°I just offered to tell you my name,¡± I say. ¡°Take a drink of something, anything, and I will tell you my name. I don¡¯t even care if it¡¯s milk, if you¡¯re a milk-drinker.¡±

    ¡°I believe there are some bottles in the kitchen,¡± Ayrenn says.

    ¡°Is this worth it?¡± Naemon asks her.

    ¡°Oh, absolutely,¡± Ayrenn assures him. ¡°I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s willing to tell you at all.¡± She disappears into the next room.

    ¡°I have faith that you can become a better person,¡± I say. ¡°The future isn¡¯t set in stone, no matter what Prophets and Daedra might try to tell you, and whatever some dead Ayleids think your inner self was, no one is as simple as simply being a monster.¡±

    Ayrenn returns to offer a glass of red wine to her brother.

    ¡°He¡¯s not just a lunatic, is he,¡± Naemon says with a frown, taking the wine and taking a sip.

    ¡°My name is Indoril Nerevar Mora.¡±

    Naemon violently spews red wine out of his mouth, coughs and sputters, and finally manages, ¡°You couldn¡¯t have waited until I¡¯d swallowed to say that!?¡±

    The audible sound of bells from nowhere is accompanied by a madman¡¯s (or Madgod¡¯s) laughter in my head and a congratulation. And Naemon should just be glad I didn¡¯t say ¡°I¡¯m fucking your sister.¡±

 Chapter 75: In Which We Make a Shiny Thing Shinier

    ¡°Comrade! There¡¯s a message for you!¡±

    I don¡¯t know who this Dunmer is, but she¡¯s calling me ¡®comrade¡¯ so she must be from the Fighters Guild that I totally joined and didn¡¯t forget about.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Guildmaster Sees-All-Colors wants to see you,¡± the Dunmer woman says. ¡°She¡¯s in the Fighters Guildhall in Marbruk. And she said that she¡¯d heard you arrived in town but you didn¡¯t stop by so she sent me to annoy you until you came to see her.¡± She pauses. ¡°I wasn¡¯t supposed to say that last part.¡±

    I chuckle in amusement, and go locate the Fighters Guildhall (she¡¯s eager to tell me where it is, too, not that it isn¡¯t obvious with the red sword flags outside). Sees-All-Colors tells me about how Merric wants to reforge the shiny thing at a special forge somewhere, and that we¡¯re going to an Ayleid ruin whose name has at least four syllables and starts with an A. I have no idea where it actually is, but with her portal, I only need to worry about it if she dies and I have to leave myself, which is still probably not a problem.

    This Ayleid ruin looks much like the others I¡¯ve been in, but the addition of red banners with Molag Bal¡¯s symbol gives a more sinister air to the place. I¡¯m too busy musing about Ayleid Daedric worship to pay attention to Colors¡¯ briefing.

    ¡°Comrade? Did you hear me?¡±

    I blink at her. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±

    Colors sighs. ¡°You are easily distracted. I¡¯m going to cast a spell on you to give you visions of the past so we can see what happened here.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Uh. What are we trying to find out again? Wait!¡±

    She¡¯s already casting her spell. The world turns sepia-toned and a few Ayleids are talking to me. Fortunately, I can understand what they¡¯re saying. This would be a highly unproductive trip down memory lane if I couldn¡¯t. Sees-All-Colors follows me as a phantom glowing image. Although I¡¯m seeing visions of the past, the angry skeletons are clearly here in the present. All around me, the sound of eerie, dramatic music plays.

    ¡°Where¡¯s that music coming from?¡± Colors wonders.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, trying to will the music to be something different, and receiving even louder, more dramatic music as my reward. ¡°Right, that. That¡¯s me. Sorry, I can¡¯t quite control it yet.¡±

    ¡°You have¡­ music magic?¡± Colors wonders.

    ¡°Sheogorath gave me the gift of music for making Prince Naemon do a spit-take,¡± I explain.

    Colors blinks. ¡°You¡¯re a worshipper of Sheogorath?¡±

    ¡°No, not really,¡± I say. ¡°I have great respect for him and prefer to be entertaining rather than boring, however. That¡¯s the best that can be done when the Madgod knows your name and has decided you¡¯re his favorite mortal of the moment.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough, I suppose,¡± Colors allows begrudgingly. ¡°Still, you probably don¡¯t want to mention that in front of Merric. He¡¯s staunchly loyal to Stendarr and not the sort who will tolerate dealing with Daedra, even when they¡¯re not trying to destroy the world.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± I say. ¡°Does that include any Daedra? Does he realize he¡¯s working on a glowy thing associated with Meridia?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe he considers it a holy relic.¡± Colors looks up at nothing, where a chorus of phantom horns have joined in with the violins and piano. ¡°That music might make stealth difficult and you¡¯ve probably just invited the Madgod to make strange sounds around you at inconvenient times.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± I admit. ¡°It seemed like a good idea at the time.¡±

    ¡°Things often do,¡± Colors says. ¡°You might want to associate with better gods.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve rarely had much choice,¡± I say.

    I run across a book titled Exigesis of Merid-Nunda, next to a skeleton and a journal belonging to a hapless explorer named Bernamot the Great. The book is considerably more interesting than the journal of someone who apparently died on their first expedition not a long ways inside of an Ayleid ruin.

    ¡°If you had a choice, which of the gods would you prefer?¡± Colors asks.

    I glance up out of my reading. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to read this one while high. It¡¯s the only way to make sense of this sort of writing.¡± I hold aloft the book. ¡°Do you suppose Meridia disapproves of reading bizarre literature about her while high?¡±

    Colors looks like she¡¯s struggling to avoid laughing. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, at least. So, does that mean you¡¯re more inclined toward Sanguine?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± I say. ¡°I mean, I¡¯d probably fuck him if I met him, but who wouldn¡¯t? Aside from Merric, at least. Although I suspect Merric might and then pray for forgiveness afterward. Anyway, nah nah, Sanguine¡¯s all about pleasure and fun and all that, and while those aren¡¯t inherently bad things, I¡¯m not reading dense mythology books while high for simple fun.¡±

    ¡°Hermaeus Mora, then?¡± Colors guesses.

    ¡°Nahhhh,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing but respect for him, too, sure, but it¡¯s not me. Oh look, more skeletons. Ah, I love fighting undead. They¡¯re too dumb to run away and everyone likes it if you do it. Hey, this is a perfect chance to try out this new technique I¡¯ve been working on. Watch this!¡±

    I conjure Blinky, but instead of forming it into a piercing javelin or rapidly striking jab, I release it as a powerful sweep like a scythe to strike all of the skeletons around me. The radiant light continues to pulse, shredding every skeleton in range. A heroic fanfare of trumpets accompanies my attack.

    ¡°Fantastic!¡± I exclaim once the last one has been reduced to a pile of broken bones. ¡°Did you see that? Did you see that?¡± I giggle like a kid at New Life Festival.

    ¡°Impressive,¡± Colors says. ¡°You favor Meridia, then?¡±

    ¡°Die in blazing light, dead things!¡± I yell, charging through another group of skeletons while cackling madly, and tearing them apart as well.

    ¡°That sounds like a ¡®yes¡¯.¡± Colors observes.

    We finally reach the room containing the thing we¡¯re looking for. It looks like a giant, pulsating evil ball made of black wind. According to the memories of dead Ayleids, this is where some Ayleid kicked the ass of someone trying to defend the evil ball, and Molag Bal took his ball and went home rather than let the Ayleid play with it.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°This is bad news, comrade,¡± Colors says. ¡°This means the Mortuum Vivicus wasn¡¯t actually destroyed!¡±

    I give her a puzzled look. ¡°You thought it was destroyed? Considering the way everyone¡¯s been talking about it, I¡¯d imagined that it was something that would become a problem in the immediate future. I don¡¯t imagine that Dremora woman would have been yelling about ¡®Rawr, I will tear out this Redguard¡¯s soul to fuel my evil god¡¯s evil ball!¡¯ if there weren¡¯t an evil ball to kick.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe those were likely to be her exact words,¡± Colors says. ¡°But you make a good point.¡±

    Colors needs to do some other things somewhere else, so she opens a portal to the Earth Forge where I meet up with Merric and Aelif. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s planning on doing now, but she¡¯s quite alarmed over the existence of Molag Bal¡¯s evil ball, like he¡¯s only got one of them or something.

    I step out of the portal under the open sky again. A number of Fighters Guild members I don¡¯t recognize and a few that I do have secured the area. I don¡¯t know where this is, either, but the construction of the nearby ruin looks Dwemer while the landscape outside looks temperate. Too cold for Hammerfell, too warm for Skyrim, too lush for Morrowind. I haven¡¯t seen any sign of the Dwemer winding up in Valenwood or Summerset. It occurs to me that I could just ask, and Merric informs me that we¡¯re near Bangkorai.

    I follow Merric inside, and as we walk, the ruins echo with low, ominous music that I don¡¯t bother trying to change since it seems suitably atmospheric.

    ¡°Do you hear that music?¡± Merric whispers. ¡°Dwemer devices are certainly strange.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, totally,¡± I agree, absently starting to hum along with it. ¡°Did you know there are Dwemer music boxes that can drive someone mad to hear them?¡±

    Merric tenses up, looking around in alarm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this isn¡¯t one of those,¡± I assure him with a cheeky grin. ¡°Probably.¡±

    ¡°When I found this place before, no music could be heard here,¡± Merric says. ¡°Something might have been activated. Be on alert.¡±

    Down at the bottom of the curving hallway, we come to the actual forge part of the Earth Forge. A massive Dwemer construction surrounded by lava gives me flashbacks toward Red Mountain. Kagrenac had facilities a little like this, too.

    ¡°Are you alright, comrade?¡± Merric asks. ¡°Is it the music?¡±

    I blink at him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You stopped walking and started swaying,¡± Merric says.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I just¡­ I lost a friend in a place like this, a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°Ah. You have my condolences, comrade. It is never an easy thing to bear being one who lived where others died.¡±

    We continue on, and reach the massive forge. Merric brings out the glowy thing and places it on the anvil. I don¡¯t know that crystals are supposed to be forged in lava with a hammer, but what do I know? I¡¯m not the legendary smith here. I assume this is actually going to do something to improve it and not simply shatter it into tiny pieces.

    Merric has me operate the forge while he works at the anvil, after making sure that I¡¯m not going to just zone out again. Fortunately, it doesn¡¯t seem to be too difficult, although I can¡¯t imagine I was the best choice for this role. Still, it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t know how to operate basic Dwemer machinery.

    The first stage of forging the crystal is barely done when undead appear from nowhere and begin to overrun the Earth Forge, accompanied by Molag Bal¡¯s tiresome voice.

    ¡°I knew something was wrong here!¡± Merric exclaims as we start destroying the creatures.

    Once we¡¯ve defeated the first few waves of undead, Molag Bal caps off his assault with throwing at us the lady the Ayleids fought back in the ruin I¡¯d just visited with Colors. (I can tell it¡¯s her, despite the fact that she now has a skull-face with glowing blue eyes, because Molag Bal helpfully introduces her.)

    ¡°Queen Palolel will destroy you!¡± Molag Bal¡¯s voice announces.

    ¡°Who?¡± I ask, deflecting the lich¡¯s attack.

    ¡°Queen Palolel!¡± the lich insists. ¡°I was the Queen of Abagarlas!¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°The Ayleid ruin you just visited?¡± Merric reminds me.

    ¡°Oh, right, her!¡± I say. ¡°Okay, now that I know whose ass I¡¯m kicking, I¡¯ll kick your ass, then.¡±

    Not sure why he bothered to bring out her specifically. I guess she has a more precise reason to be annoyed at the Shiny Thing of Meridia (it might be worth capitals once the legendary smith here hits it a few more times, I dunno.) In any case, she doesn¡¯t last long.

    At that point, she starts screaming as it looks like something is eating her soul or something. ¡°But I always served you loyally!¡± she protests as she vanishes.

    ¡°Hey, Molag Bal!¡± I yell at the air. ¡°Be nice to your servants or I¡¯ll punch you in the face! She didn¡¯t do anything wrong except be less awesome than us.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Merric asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m criticizing the God of Schemes on his employee relations,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s probably not actually listening.¡±

    ¡°Fool!¡± the echoing voice declares.

    ¡°Oh, I guess he is,¡± I say. ¡°Hey, Bal, could you yell at me anytime or was there something special about this spot?¡±

    He¡¯s got my soul. He probably could if he wanted to. I hope that bit of magic jewelry I¡¯m having made will actually help. Ask for the impossible and see if it can be done. And if a mortal can¡¯t do it¡­ I¡¯m going to have to ask for help from a god I don¡¯t hate.

    ¡°Your interference will not stop my plans,¡± Molag Bal interrupts my thoughts. ¡°And that blasphemous trinket will not save you.¡±

    Hearing his voice saying things like that suddenly gives me a flash of a reminder to Coldharbour. It finally got to the point that I did not seek salvation, as there was none to be found. (Merric is trying to get my attention.) I sought only a good fight. Getting into good fights was the only thing that kept me sane-ish, and I was fortunate in that way that the Daedra found me more entertaining to fight than to chain up and torture. (Merric grabs my hand and starts heading out of the ruin.) It gave me a measure of freedom, in a larger cage at least, and kept my skills sharp. Admittedly, I died a lot, but who even cares at that point? I was always immediately drawn back, so it¡¯s not like it even did anything. Except pain, at least, but again, who even cares? Who even cares how many times it was, again and again and again?

    Sunlight touches my eyes, and I blink to realize that I¡¯m now standing outside with Merric and Aelif.

    ¡°Comrade, are you alright?¡± Merric asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°Good, you¡¯ve come to your senses again,¡± Merric says. ¡°I thought that damned Daedra had done something to you and had to get you out of there.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°Sunlight helps.¡±

    ¡°Are you scared of the God of Schemes, Neri?¡± Aelif asks.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like he can torture my soul for eternity or anything, is it?¡±

    A spirit appears behind Aelif, and Merric points in alarm. It¡¯s the ghost of the old dead Nord Guildmaster again. He barely has time to say that he was murdered before he vanishes again.

    ¡°Murder, oh, of course he was,¡± I mutter. ¡°This is Nirn. Who the fuck dies peacefully in their sleep around here?¡±

    Merric clears his throat. ¡°Most people who do not live lives as violent as ours, but I admit that I always expected Jofnir Iceblade to die in battle.¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s less than helpful to say you were murdered and not who murdered you,¡± I say. ¡°Merric, do me a favor and if you¡¯re ever horribly murdered and your ghost comes back so briefly as to be only able to say three words, try to make those words ¡®Name murdered me!¡¯ It will greatly help any potential investigations.¡±

    ¡°Aelif has some suspicions,¡± the Khajiit says.

    ¡°Splendid,¡± I say. ¡°Would Aelif like to share them, too?¡±

    Aelif quirks her lips. ¡°Not yet. This one must notify the guild. Then there will be an investigation. We shall find out the truth.¡±

    ¡°Great, well, I¡¯m eager to get home, let¡¯s go,¡± I say.

    One portal later sees me back at Marbruk. It¡¯s kind of funny how the Fighers Guild makes more practical use of magic than the Mages Guild does. And just being back in Valenwood, it feels like some tension is leaving me. I go and find my friends in town near the wayshrine.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been helping a mer near Bramblebreach make plant guardians with special powers,¡± Eran says. ¡°And doing battle with the local wildlife to obtain materials was vastly preferable to taking a trip to the Shivering Isles.¡±

    ¡°Every time I got stung by one of those wasps, I thought about how glad I was not to be in Oblivion,¡± Merry adds dryly.

    ¡°Found a book for you, too,¡± Gelur says, tossing me one titled Dwarven Automatons. ¡°Thought you might like to see what this Nord was wrong about.¡± She grins.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± I say, taking it. ¡°Sounds like fun!¡±

    ¡°How did your trip go?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go home,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you all about the two trips I made today. Or maybe not and I¡¯ll just sleep. One of those.¡±

    I teleport us back to Brackenleaf. Sleep will make everything better. I never have nightmares in Valenwood.

 Chapter 76: In Which We Jailbreak a Swordsman

    I get rudely woken from my sleep in the middle of the night by the familiar voice of a guy who pointlessly tried to hide his name. It sounds like he¡¯s done meditating and wants me to go save someone somewhere. I really would have preferred to get more sleep. A soft lullaby was still trying to lull me back to sleep. (I think my friends assumed I bought or stole a music box or something.) By the time I rouse myself to consciousness, the projection is gone.

    ¡°Did anyone catch that message?¡± I ask, but only Merry is present in Snugpod at the moment and sunlight filters in through the windows.

    ¡°The former human warlord turned would-be Prophet wants you to meet him in Vastarie¡¯s tower,¡± Merry helpfully looks up from his reading long enough to explain. ¡°He says he¡¯s located the Redguard swordsman and wants you to go to Coldharbour to rescue him.¡±

    My blood runs cold and I look at the floor and take a deep breath. ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°Off in town,¡± Merry says with a wave of a hand. ¡°Probably extolling our exploits to the rest of the Briars. We have had some hunts that these Bosmer find very impressive.¡± He pauses. ¡°That Altmer would also find impressive while pretending to be impassive and aloof.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll let them know where I¡¯m going.¡±

    Merry puts a bookmark in his book, sets it aside and stands up. ¡°I will go.¡±

    ¡°To Coldharbour?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It is a terrifying prospect, but it is not right that you should have to face it yourself,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Abnur and Lyris are eager to go,¡± I say.

    ¡°Still,¡± Merry says. ¡°We were discussing it while you slept.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say quietly. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡±

    My companions aren¡¯t hard to locate in the small village, now that I¡¯m used to said small village and less likely to completely miss things like I did when I first got here. That they all agree to go with me to Coldharbour warms my heart and soothes my soul.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to Coldharbour now?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Okay then! I wasn¡¯t expecting it to be so soon but you know what? Fine, not backing out now.¡±

    ¡°There is music playing still,¡± Merry mumbles. ¡°Neri, why is there still music playing? Did you hide a music box in your trousers?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you on the way,¡± I say brightly.

    We head for the nearby wayshrine and explain what happened. Although they¡¯re not the biggest fans of Sheogorath (he probably has a giant Dwemer set somewhere just for pun) they are incredibly not surprised at it and Ilara can¡¯t stop giggling about it even if Merry is groaning in exasperation. Once we reach the wayshrine, I teleport us to the one near Vastarie¡¯s tower and head inside, although I can hear Abnur and Lyris¡¯ bickering from the front door.

    We debrief inside and the mages explain what they¡¯ve learned. The location of the Halls of Torment where he¡¯s being held has been pinpointed and they want to send me there. I still haven¡¯t entirely gotten over being hesitant about going back into Coldharbour, but if I can save one more soul, it¡¯s still worth it. At least I don¡¯t have to go there alone.

    ¡°Both of you, stop behaving like children,¡± Vastarie scolds Lyris and Abnur, who are still bickering and look about ready to devolve into fisticuffs again. ¡°If you cannot approach this like adults in order to save your companion, then we will go without you.¡±

    I rub my forehead. ¡°Okay, logically, Sai may not trust us if there¡¯s no one there he recognizes. However, he may think it¡¯s a hallucination if it¡¯s someone he likes. Abnur?¡±

    ¡°Your logic is impeccable, Nerevar,¡± Abnur says.

    Lyris grunts, then says, ¡°Where is that music coming from?¡±

    ¡°What music?¡± I say innocently.

    Poor Lyris. I just can¡¯t help but mess with people sometimes. I dismiss the idea that any random impulses are due to Sheogorath¡¯s influence. I was already mad before I encountered him.

    Varen opens a portal and I enter, followed by Vastarie, Abnur, and my own companions. Stepping through the portal to Coldharbour is like leaping naked into ice water. (Don¡¯t ask me about the dumb things I got up to when fighting the Nords.) If I¡¯m not careful, just being here will drain me of every shred of hope and leaving me with nothing but bloodlust and inappropriate humor.

    A voice repeatedly echoes through the halls demanding to know the location of the Amulet of Kings. Was it really necessary for the voice to be so loud throughout the entire hall? Manny sure loves the sound of his own voice. Fortunately, ominous music drowns it out a little bit with deep, thrumming bass and a haunting melody.

    ¡°I did not realize Mannimarco was interested in chamber music,¡± Abnur says, looking at me.

    ¡°Why are you looking at me?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Because if something weird is going on, you either know or you caused it,¡± Merry points out.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Okay, yeah, true,¡± I say. ¡°But if I keep telling people, they¡¯ll think I¡¯m a worshipper of Sheogorath.¡±

    ¡°You mean you¡¯re not?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°You do keep going to the Shivering Isles for fun,¡± Eran reminds me.

    ¡°I¡¯m helping out the Mages Guild,¡± I say. ¡°Also for fun.¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°Fortunately, stealth was not a primary consideration for this mission.¡±

    ¡°Was that sarcasm?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I would not be an effective politician if I were incapable of making cutting jabs veiled in insincere compliments and assurances. Nerevar, are you able to make this music cease for the interim?¡±

    I try to will the music to be quiet. It only shifts its tone to cheerful and bouncy.

    ¡°That was not an improvement,¡± Abnur says.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying, I¡¯m trying. I haven¡¯t had much chance to experiment with it since I got it.¡±

    After a few minutes of trying, while we¡¯re walking and occasionally killing Daedra, I finally manage to turn it off. Why did I ask for this, anyway? I mean, I¡¯m sure it will be completely awesome once I¡¯m used to it and can fully control it, but what possessed me to even think this was a good idea?

    We come upon a larger room and we think we¡¯ve found Sai. Another Abnur Tharn, or at least a Daedra there imitating him, is in the room taunting him about how easy it is to use a sword. Good, something to hit that might actually put up a fight. My friends handle the extras while I go straight to engage ¡®Abnur¡¯. It¡¯s disappointing, though. For all that the Daedra proclaims to be a superior swordsman to Sai, he¡¯s not a superior fighter to the crazy Chimer who wants nothing more than to hit things right now.

    ¡°Give me a better fight than that!¡± I yell at the air.

    ¡°Neri, you¡¯re bleeding,¡± Merry points out helpfully.

    I was paying too much attention to hitting to remember to dodge, apparently. Gelur hits me with some healing magic. I realize my friends are here, and relax a little, and thank them. Everything is okay if my friends are here.

    ¡°You alright, Neri?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°Best I can do is patch up your flesh and blood. Can¡¯t patch up what¡¯s inside your head.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, taking a deep breath and looking around the room. Several bookcases stand around the room, and I go over to the closest one to skim the titles.

    ¡°Are you seriously stopping to read books here?¡± Abnur asks.

    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. ¡°I have enough room in my pack for all of them.¡± I shove all the books off the shelf into my pack. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    In the next area, there¡¯s another Daedra imitating Lyris trying to seduce Sai. What¡¯s worse, she¡¯s protected by some sort of shield and we have to go hit some other stuff before we can hit her.

    ¡°Should we just let him kill everything and just keep him healed and be moral support?¡± Eran asks quietly.

    ¡°He does seem to be in a bit of a state,¡± Merry replies.

    ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯ll say one thing, he¡¯s been good practice. I¡¯d thought I was good at restoration magic before I had to constantly heal a guy with no sense of self-preservation.¡±

    Battle passes in a blur of pain and blood and dying Daedra. Or really, temporarily inconveniencing Daedra since they¡¯re immortal. Molag Bal could have easily made these attempts at rescuing people impossible. I know why he doesn¡¯t. He¡¯s just testing us. Or testing me. He doesn¡¯t give two fucks about Mannimarco¡¯s schemes. The weight of Coldharbour sits heavily on my shoulders and I can¡¯t wait to be out of here, before¡­

    Ilara is playing a lute. I hadn¡¯t noticed the music had come back, but it immediately shifts to accompany her tune perfectly. An uplifting song that causes the dark thoughts plaguing my mind and soul to shatter and fall away.

    ¡°Are we quite done here, or do we require lyrics for this?¡± Abnur comments dryly. ¡°Divines help me if you fools turn this excursion into a musical.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± I say. ¡°Molag Bal will give up Sai once he thinks we¡¯ve earned it.¡±

    ¡°That is not a reassuring observation,¡± Abnur says. ¡°But you may be right.¡±

    Finally, we come upon where Sai is actually being held and defeat a Daedra who calls herself the Duchess of Agony or the Lady of Torment or something ridiculous like that because everything in Coldharbour has to have ridiculous names like that.

    ¡°Are you real?¡± Sai asks once he¡¯s been untied. ¡°Who are you people? I only recognize Tharn. Is this another vision sent to torment me?¡±

    ¡°I am not being overly impolite toward you,¡± Abnur says flatly. ¡°Either I am real, or they are desperate for a new angle.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve brought these strangers to free me?¡± Sai asks. ¡°I feared to think that honor was a relic of the past.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m a relic of the past,¡± I say. ¡°The name¡¯s Nerevar. I was trapped in Coldharbour for a few thousand years, up until your friends got me out. Nice to meet you.¡±

    Of everything I know about this man, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s the sort that I can¡¯t trust with my name. I mean, fuck, I did just tell Prince Naemon and he jumped into a bizarre Ayleid contraption and rapidly gained a lot of weight.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to introduce us all and get you up to speed, but can we get out of here first?¡± Eran asks. ¡°This place gives me the creeps.¡±

    ¡°Agreed!¡± Sai agrees agreeably.

    Vastarie (who has been fairly quiet, or at least I had been too preoccupied with Daedra slaughter and mental crisis) opens a portal back to her tower, and we quickly file out before anything else annoying can show up.

    Gelur makes sure everyone is healed up, especially the Redguard we¡¯d gone to hell to rescue. Lyris is ecstatic to see him, if still a little miffed that she wasn¡¯t allowed to go along if she couldn¡¯t hold her temper long enough to complete a mission without decking Abnur again. How did this group ever function as an adventuring party, anyway? Aside from Manny¡¯s sudden but inevitable betrayal, it seems like nobody could get along with Abnur aside from Varen. I don¡¯t know Sai well enough to judge, but from what I¡¯ve seen of Lyris, she¡¯s¡­ young and Nordy, which turns out to be a problem with setting aside her own feelings for the sake of a mission. She¡¯ll be a fine warrior someday, but with the brief lifespans of humans, her body might start failing her from age before she gets the emotional maturity.

    I¡¯m a fine one to speak of emotional maturity. I¡¯m plenty mature, just not especially¡­ stable these days. And I don¡¯t know what to do about it.

    ¡°Thank you, all of you,¡± Sai says. ¡°I am well, healer, at least in body. Just tired, and your spells won¡¯t fix that. No need to waste any further magicka on me.¡± He then begins to tell us where he hid the Amulet of Kings, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

    ¡°No. Not yet. Don¡¯t tell us where the Amulet of Kings is. Not until you can be absolutely certain that we¡¯re not just another of Molag Bal¡¯s tricks.¡±

    ¡°I am quite certain that such a trick would not say not to tell you where it is,¡± Sai says. ¡°Nor would the God of Brutality have devised an illusion of such an unusual band to rescue me. But I will take your advice and rest, then.¡±

    ¡°How about lunch?¡± I say.

    ¡°It¡¯s prolly closer to dinner,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°I could do with a solid meal,¡± Sai says.

    We make our introductions around food and unwind. Coldharbour always needs a good bit of unwinding from. Sai is eager to hear of our exploits, so we spend the remainder of the evening telling him everything, or at least everything that can be summarized in an evening. At this point, I¡¯m honestly looking forward to poking around Greenshade and dealing with racist bandits again. At least racist bandits stay dead when you kill them. I¡¯d hate to have to kill Estre over and over like I would with Daedra. Once was enough for her.

 Chapter 77: In Which Its a Long Story

    Come morning, I teleport my party back to Marbruk. We¡¯ve had enough diversions and I hope the Wilderking was accurate in saying that we had as much time as we wanted because we still need to go see that spinner he told us to go see for¡­ some reason. I don¡¯t remember and it¡¯s probably not important and the spinner in question will already know more than I do anyway. At least the music stopped.

    We travel past Bramblebreach and come upon another wayshrine which I light on the way. While looking around to find one cottage in the middle of the forest, we run across another Ayleid ruin and I take a peek inside to see if there¡¯s anything interesting. Aside from a couple of pissy tigers whose den I disturb, though, there¡¯s nothing in here but a bunch of workbenches. Merry thinks there¡¯s some sort of lingering energy in the place that would make things crafted here special, which I¡¯m sure we¡¯d find a lot more thrilling if any of us were crafters.

    After wandering further through the forest, we come upon a half-ruined Altmer-style building overlooking what looks like a walled garden of some sort, with walls covered in vines and ringing the area in rings. Maybe less of a garden and more of a shitty maze.

    Inside the building, we find a Bosmer sitting on the floor who seems to have been expecting us, but I can¡¯t resist the urge to take a closer look around the building before spending too much time talking to him. It¡¯s a ruined building, there has to be something interesting here. Upstairs, I find a book titled Visions of the Green Pact Bosmer. The spinner patiently waits sitting on the floor while I explore the building, somewhat amused at my antics.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Eran says. ¡°Are you the spinner the Wilderking sent us to find?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I am Spinner Maruin. I have been waiting for a while now.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, there were a few errands that needed to be done first,¡± Eran says. ¡°We had to rescue someone from Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Spinner Maruin graciously says. ¡°Not your fault! It¡¯s quite alright. I have already begun the story and Aranias is inside.¡±

    ¡°That makes as much sense as anything,¡± I say, tossing the book in my pack after skimming it a little.

    ¡°Were you all looking to join her in there?¡± the spinner says. ¡°Andur wanted to go in as well, but he did not ask politely.¡±

    ¡°Would it be helpful if we were to do so?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Perhaps!¡± the spinner says. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to say what may come of it before the story has been told. More characters can support the narrative, or they can clutter it up.¡±

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll go check out that maze garden we saw while you¡¯re doing that, then,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Is that the Labyrinth?¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to see it!¡±

    ¡°You do that,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Alright, Spinner, what do I need to do?¡±

    As my friends file out of the building and head toward the maze garden, the spinner explains about how Aranias¡ªfuck it, I¡¯m just calling her Ari¡ªis inside a story reliving her own past but thinks she¡¯s living it for the first time. And I¡¯m supposed to go in and trick her into thinking I¡¯m an old friend she trusts in order to alter her memories.

    ¡°It sounds sinister when you word it like that,¡± the spinner says, although he seems more amused than insulted.

    ¡°Well, considering the alternative is violence, I¡¯ll not complain,¡± I say. ¡°No one but her will remember me, though?¡±

    ¡°What is the past but a collection of stories?¡± the spinner asks. ¡°Once it has passed by, only people¡¯s memories and the marks it has made on the world are left behind. You cannot change the marks on the world from this. If you were to attempt to go on a killing spree, for instance, it would not cause those people to die in the present.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± I say. ¡°Alright, can we do this, then? Will you send me in, please?¡±

    ¡°Of course, since you asked nicely,¡± the spinner says.

    He bids me to sit next to the fire and begins to tell a story, setting a scene so vivid I can see it forming around me. A small, pristine island near Summerset, called Silatar. Like Auridon, it seems safe and peaceful, and I can see why the spinner chose this building to tell his story from, as it resembles another building on Silatar that is not ruined, at least at this point in the past. I don¡¯t know what might have happened to Silatar in the present.

    Silatar has a lovely, soothing soundtrack that nobody but me seems to notice. I wonder what the spinner thinks of that, and this is sort of all in our heads, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m sure it makes sense to a spinner. (It¡¯s more pleasant than a trip through Varen¡¯s head, at least.) Before going to speak with Ari, I spend a little time poking around and come across a recipe for mint chai. That sounds nice, but I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t be able to keep any physical objects with me once I exit the story, so I just memorize it. It¡¯s not complicated and sounds delicious. Even if it doesn¡¯t include any insect excretions.

    I find Ari smiling and looking far less ¡®racist bandit¡¯. ¡°Hey, Ari, my old friend!¡± I exclaim. ¡°It¡¯s me, Neri! I¡¯m here! Did you miss me?¡±

    She greets me as a friend and thinks we grew up together, and that I¡¯m the only one she can trust. It seems the spinner has already been making some adjustments before I got here. And from what she says, she has some incredible earth magic that lets her raise rocks out of the ocean and grow plants (which I quickly discover when she challenges me to a race, and cheats.) A talented mage, destined to become a weapon to do battle with the forest itself. Well, fuck destiny.

    She also seems to be able to sense things happening on Silatar. Her voice raises in alarm when she senses the farm on fire and invaders stomping around with boots. Vineyards and haystacks are on fire and I charge in to do battle with these bandits.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one I¡¯d rather have at my side in a fight than you, Neri,¡± Ari says as we cut them down.

    Once the farm is quiet again, Ari starts ranting. She¡¯s upset, understandably so. She thinks everyone just wants to either hurt her or use her, and doesn¡¯t care to deeply investigate where these bandits came from or how they got to this obscure little island.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t be here for you,¡± I say. ¡°I was imprisoned and only recently got free again. I wish I¡¯d been able to come sooner.¡±

    Ari sighs. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize. I¡¯m sorry, too. I know you would have been there if you could. My parents are afraid of me. I can¡¯t believe my own parents are afraid of me. But not you.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    I kick a corpse. ¡°At least I got here in time for a fight, though I wasn¡¯t really expecting one here of all places. Something about that seems awfully suspicious. Do you see any ships nearby? We need to make sure there aren¡¯t anymore where those came from.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Ari says. ¡°That¡¯s what I always liked about you. You cut straight to the heart of the matter to get things done.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve made sure nothing is going to immediately burn down if we turn our backs to it, we search the shores for signs of a vessel, but it looks like whoever brought these bandits here already scarpered. Ari runs off to start cleaning things up.

    An image of the spinner appears before me and tells me that I¡¯m going to see another scene from Ari¡¯s past. The scene in question involves her trying to show off her magic to her parents, proud of what she could accomplish and hoping to win their pride in turn, but in response she only receives scorn and fear.

    And then the next scene he sends me into? Her parents brought in the Veiled Heritance. Because of course they fucking did.

    ¡°Can I smack her parents for this?¡± I ask the spinner. ¡°This is about the closest I¡¯m going to get to going back in time and smacking them for what they did. Although if they¡¯re still alive it would be nice to go smack them in the present too.¡±

    The spinner chuckles. ¡°Do you think it would help? In any case, she should not have to face this alone, as she did when she lived through these events the first time.¡±

    ¡°Without any close friends, and family who only feared her and wanted to use her,¡± I say with a sigh.

    He shows me another scene, where she accidentally caused a shipwreck with her earth magic and her parents only sought to punish her for it. I¡¯m going to be perfectly honest here that I like this sort of magic more than most magic I¡¯ve been exposed to over the millennia. It¡¯s not summoning Daedra or binding souls. It¡¯s just moving plants and rocks. Certainly it could be destructive, as seen with that ship over there, but so can a battle axe. And I¡¯ve probably killed far more beings with a battle axe than Ari ever did with plants and rocks.

    And in another scene, I see her parents leave her behind while she cries and begs, saying they would return with people who could give her training and help her control her temper. That doesn¡¯t sound so terrible on the face of things, but I get a sinking feeling about this and I don¡¯t mean that in the sense of the island sinking although that seems to be a distinct possibility here, too.

    I meet up with her again, and it seems that her parents did indeed return and they¡¯re having what sounds like a party of some sort?

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here, Ari?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ari says. ¡°I thought they¡¯d bring a teacher, but maybe they just want me to show off my powers? Look, even High Kinlady Estre is here! Why is she here?¡±

    I make a forced grin and would really like to smack the Veiled Bitch again.

    ¡°I know that look, Neri,¡± Ari says. ¡°Try to avoid hitting anyone, please? Unless they really deserve it.¡±

    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t hit anyone unless they deserve it,¡± I say sincerely.

    ¡°Can you find out what¡¯s really going on here?¡± Ari asks. ¡°Mingle a bit? Eavesdrop? You¡¯ve always been better at sneaking and persuasion than I am.¡±

    ¡°Will do,¡± I say.

    I explore the manor grounds and proceed to listen in on the conversations of people I would dearly like to smack but am holding off on for the sake of gathering information. Estre, in the midst of degrading this beautiful island as being a midden heap, tells a group of racist bandits that Ari will be undergoing a test of character today, probably to make sure she¡¯s sufficiently racist.

    Estre notices me and turns up her nose. ¡°How did you get an invitation to this event? Are you even a full-blooded Altmer?¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ve got a Bosmer grandfather,¡± I lie. ¡°Does it matter? I¡¯m Ari¡¯s best friend.¡±

    ¡°Well of course it matters!¡± Estre says. ¡°The Bosmer are lesser creatures, although at least they¡¯re not humans. I can¡¯t imagine all the wood elf nonsense you¡¯ve been filling the girl¡¯s head with. It¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re here to fix that.¡±

    ¡°One day, Kinlady, you are going to overstep your bounds and I will see you in hell,¡± I say evenly.

    ¡°Why, I never!¡± Estre exclaims as I walk away.

    Vicereeve Pelidil, another of my favorite people, is also at the party. From what he¡¯s saying, it sounds like the racist bandits have captured something or someone more likely to make Ari demonstrate her powers against. Or her racism, more likely. Why did nobody notice this guy was pond scum sooner? He doesn¡¯t want to talk to me.

    ¡°Quite alright,¡± I say blithely. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk to you either, but here we are.¡±

    Being rude to self-important people is a reasonable alternative if smacking them is not an option. I decide to go investigate and see just what they¡¯ve captured. Outside of the manor gardens, I spot that fellow who was with her at Bramblebreach. I think Andy was his name? Something like that.

    Andy has captured a Bosmer couple and the husband is near death while the wife is going to be the ¡®demonstration¡¯. I¡¯ve had just about enough of these fetchers and there are no witnesses nearby, so I smack him. Hard. With an axe. Seven times.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t help you,¡± I say to the Bosmer man as he expires.

    The image of the spinner appears again, amused at this turn of events. ¡°Well, that obviously didn¡¯t happen that way.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I say. ¡°Felt good though. I¡¯m going to have to do that again later anyway. Hope I didn¡¯t disrupt your story too badly.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine,¡± the spinner says. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t have much affect on what¡¯s to come. They wouldn¡¯t discover the body for a while yet, with all of them in the manor garden.¡±

    Back in the manor garden, the racist bandits have the Bosmer woman tied up and are encouraging Ari to kill her. They¡¯re trying to convince her that she¡¯s an animal, and just like the ones who attacked her farm.

    ¡°This is what I have to do to prove myself,¡± Ari says unsteadily. ¡°To show that sacrifices are sometimes necessary.¡±

    Becoming an officer of the Veiled Heritance requires killing someone, as I¡¯ve never forgotten. And this was that point for Ari, was it? Through pressure, coercion, and lies from everyone around her? And not a single voice to speak up for her.

    ¡°Ari, you don¡¯t have to do this,¡± I say. ¡°This is just racism¡­ they want you to see races, and not people. Regardless of who their ancestors were, people make their own choices, for good or for ill. These people, the Veiled Heritance, High Kinlady Estre, they¡¯ve made their choices, and they¡¯ve chosen hatred and death. Your choices, however, are still yours to make, and you do not need to follow that path if you do not wish to. You can be so much more than this.¡±

    I almost have to wonder if the bandit attack wasn¡¯t staged by the Veiled Heritance too just to try to make her hate Bosmer. Where these fetchers are concerned, I¡¯m not going to dismiss any possible conspiracy theories.

    Ari looks back toward the terrified Bosmer woman on the ground and says, ¡°You¡¯re right. This isn¡¯t me. And I don¡¯t want to be a murderer.¡±

    ¡°You always wanted your parents to be proud of you,¡± I say quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t know if your parents truly have your best interests at heart, but I¡¯m proud of you, Ari. And not for what you can do, but for your heart.¡±

    High Kinlady Estre and the racist bandits aren¡¯t going to take her rejection quietly, but they don¡¯t have a chance to do much about it. Vines burst out of the ground to entangle all of them. I take the opportunity to dislocate Estre¡¯s jaw before the scene ends.

    In a rush of white, I find myself back in the ruined house on the hill with the spinner again.

    ¡°Is the story over?¡± I ask. ¡°Where¡¯s Ari?¡±

    ¡°Not over, but another chapter is unfolding as we speak,¡± the spinner replies. ¡°She¡¯s making her way to the Wilderking¡¯s throne, along with Andur. Thanks to our bit of mischief, I think she might just betray her masters.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll remember that version of events instead of what really happened?¡± I ask. ¡°There¡¯s a bit of a logical inconsistency that if she attacked High Kinlady Estre at the party, there would have been consequences. Either in the form of being arrested or killed, or a lot of racist bandit muckety-mucks being dead.¡±

    ¡°Never mind the plot holes,¡± the spinner assures me. ¡°No one remembers everything perfectly and people have a tendency to fill in the blanks themselves.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word on that, spinner,¡± I say, and sigh. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure if it¡¯s right to mess with someone¡¯s backstory like that, but it definitely wasn¡¯t right how she was treated, either.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t normally like changing a story so much, either,¡± the spinner says. ¡°It¡¯s usually best to let things play out and see where things go on their own.¡± He looks off toward the Labyrinth. ¡°You¡¯d best go meet up with your friends and follow the trail of destruction left by Andur and Aranias to Greenheart. You may yet be able to change where this story is going.¡±

    ¡°I was going to ask for a map, but¡­¡±

 Chapter 78: In Which I Hug a Tree

    I leave the spinner¡¯s cottage and keep an eye open for signs of my friends. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s a worrisome sign or not that they hadn¡¯t returned to be waiting for me when I got done with the spinner¡¯s story. Honestly, I have no idea how long I was even in there. I can see what Floaty Leaf Man meant by time being a funny thing sometimes.

    Before heading down to the Labyrinth, I spot a Skyshard on top of a nearby ridge. Once I¡¯ve absorbed that, I also spot my friends, and go to meet up with them for debriefing/storytime.

    ¡°A talking statue asked if we could read,¡± Eran says. ¡°And for some reason, reading this book required going through the maze. So we¡¯ve spent most of the time you were in there following floating letters around.¡±

    ¡°And since we are not idiots, we wrote the book down into a more convenient reading method,¡± Merry says, passing me a notebook. ¡°Though unfortunately, this copy does not have the effect that allows traversing the Labyrinth.¡±

    ¡°We checked afterward and discovered we couldn¡¯t even get into the middle rings,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Except for climbing,¡± Ilara adds. ¡°And the walls have lots of vines.¡±

    ¡°Technically cheating, I¡¯m sure, but who cares?¡± Eran says with a snicker. ¡°It¡¯s quite scenic and all, but the only thing in there is a gazebo.¡±

    ¡°Cheating would have been if there were invisible walls on top, no?¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°And who would bother expending the magicka for that just to protect a gazebo?¡± Merry adds.

    ¡°Did you have to fight anything?¡± I ask.

    They shake their heads. Gelur says, ¡°It was surprisingly peaceful but very enlightening.¡±

    I read the book they compiled. It tells the story of a boy named Ostion, who had the same sort of earth magic Ari has and wound up becoming the Wilderking.

    Some way from the Labyrinth, near a stone bridge, we run across two old Bosmer men, one of which is laying upon a bedroll on the ground. He doesn¡¯t look too well. I give him some Restoring Light, and Gelur casts her healing spells. The old Bosmer doesn¡¯t really look any better than he did when we started, and Gelur shakes her head.

    ¡°It¡¯s just old age, not injury or sickness,¡± Gelur says. ¡°There¡¯s very little we can do.¡±

    I know the Telvanni wizards have spells that can extend their lifespan, but that¡¯s not normal restoration magic. Rumor had it that it involves necromancy. Either way, that¡¯s not useful since all I know is that it¡¯s possible, not actually how to do it. It has been a long time since I¡¯ve had to care about that sort of thing.

    ¡°Thank you for your kindness, though, travelers,¡± the old Bosmer says. ¡°It has at least eased some old aches and pains.¡±

    The other man explains that they¡¯d come here to see some flowers before they died, but there¡¯s no flowers here now and they ask us to go find some seeds. I readily agree to keep an eye out.

    Across the bridge is another wayshrine, which I light. The road up from there, though¡­ fire. I can see what the spinner meant by a trail of destruction. Fires are burning along the road and it¡¯s not hard to tell which way an earth mage and a fire mage went.

    Floaty Leaf Man appears near the wayshrine to speak with us. He tells us he¡¯s dying and that he wants Ari to succeed him and we¡¯re going to need to kick the ass of the fire mage racist bandit she¡¯s with. That we can absolutely do.

    The path is littered with imps and living statues. (¡°The Hollow¡± Merry calls them, which is kind of a silly name unless they¡¯re not solid.) Within the ruins, we even run across some lovely blue flowers, but we don¡¯t really have time to collect seeds and just make a note of where they are so we can stop by on the way back.

    The trail winds up and up, and we cross the river again over a bridge between a pair of waterfalls. The ruins up here may have well been part of a high elven town at some point, but is now being reclaimed by the forest.

    The Wilderking appears again inside the ruin of the largest building, where a hole in the ground leads into a tunnel. As he speaks about Ari, I remember the look of defiance on her face when I persuaded her to turn her back on the Veiled Heritance, even if that didn¡¯t actually happen.

    The tunnels are full of spriggans and imps attacking anything in sight. We emerge from it on the hill above the ruins, the ground scorched with powerful fire magic leaving behind charred bushes and dead grass.

    Up the path, Ari stands before another tunnel entrance, exhausted and having paused to catch her breath. When she sees us approach, recognition dawns in her eyes.

    ¡°Neri!¡± she exclaims. ¡°And you brought new friends? I am so glad to see you, my old friend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you too, Ari,¡± I say. ¡°What happened here?¡±

    ¡°It was Andur,¡± Ari says. ¡°You were right about the Veiled Heritance. They¡¯re nothing but racist thugs who seek to destroy anything that¡¯s different from them. Andur came here with fire in his fists and hatred in his heart.¡± She frowns. ¡°What happened that day? I could swear that I refused to join and attacked High Kinlady Estre, but it¡¯s all a blur and I remember joining up with them instead.¡±

    ¡°When you wouldn¡¯t do what they wanted, they brainwashed you,¡± I say, the excuse I¡¯d come up with on the way here in case she noticed the plot holes. ¡°They used magic to erase your memories. Anything to make you into a good little slave.¡±

    Ari scowls. ¡°They did what? How dare they!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you remember me again, though,¡± I add. ¡°We¡¯ll take the fight to Andy. He won¡¯t get away with this.¡±

    Ari nods. ¡°I could feel the land¡¯s pain when he burned the forest. Like I¡¯m connected to this place.¡±

    ¡°Like on Silatar, when you could feel the vineyards burning and the boots of bandits?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes! Exactly that.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Oh, I found out the Veiled Heritance staged that attack, too,¡± I add another lie, or at least speculation I¡¯m pretending is certainty. ¡°They hoped nobody would think too hard on why a bunch of bandits would bother to go that far out of their way to attack your little island.¡±

    No more time to waste on spinning my own story about what ¡®really¡¯ happened.

    And this is the point where I¡¯m going to pretend that I was completely awesome here and accomplished this task without dying. Oh, who am I fooling. I don¡¯t think much of Andur¡¯s fires and the fact that the tunnel is wall-to-wall flames gives me no pause, so I charge right in. As it turns out, Andur is a much better fire mage than I had given him credit for. Also, burning to death sucks.

    After running back up from the wayshrine, I find my friends have managed to put out the fire (mostly Merry with an ice staff, not his strongest element but sufficient).

    ¡°Neri, do we really need to tell you not to stand in the fire?¡± Merry asks in exasperation as I collect my gear.

    My weapon is undamaged, my pack singed but intact, and my clothes are hopeless.

    ¡°Damn, I¡¯m going to need to get new clothes,¡± I say, looking in my pack. ¡°Oh, wait, no, there¡¯s still four more sets of laundry I stole from bandits in here. Never mind.¡± I put on another set from my pack quickly and we continue on.

    The next tunnel comes out at a dizzying height above the top of the falls and there¡¯s an incredible view of Greenshade from up here. And that¡¯s where I meet my second stupid death of this venture in falling off a cliff. I¡¯m glad Ari had gone up ahead and isn¡¯t watching this. She¡¯d probably be freaking out at this point. Instead of freaking out that everyone is waiting to attack Andy.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Neri, don¡¯t fall off cliffs,¡± Eran says when I catch back up to them.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°There was a nice view and I¡¯m easily distracted.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully we¡¯re not too late,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We¡¯ve cleared out the imps, Hollow, and spriggans, at least, but Andur¡¯s still ahead.¡±

    Andur is trying to burn down a magical shield protecting the Wilderking, which still appears to be holding, if barely. I charge in with Dumzy in hand. Andy¡¯s one hell of a fire mage, but Gelur¡¯s on top of her game and stands to keeping us healed and Merry focuses on defensive spells to keep those flames off of us. After a gruesome battle, we emerge victorious.

    The Wilderking is weak, and Aranias hurriedly gets him to the tower where his throne sits. I don¡¯t know what good that will do, but we follow. Maybe it¡¯s got something that can recharge him. My friends decide to wait outside, and Merry jokingly says he¡¯ll set up spells to catch me in case I manage to fall off the tower. Of course he¡¯s joking, because Merry always jokes about everything.

    When I get inside, the Wilderking is sitting on a throne. It¡¯s hard to tell underneath the bark skin, but I get the impression that he¡¯s very tired from just his posture. He tells me about how he¡¯s ready to pass on the mantle of Wilderking to a new young earth mage.

    ¡°So Ari will become the Wilderking now?¡± I ask. ¡°Or queen, I guess.¡±

    ¡°She has to accept it willingly before she can become the Wilderqueen,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ll need to help her through the process. You can find her up the tower.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so go upstairs¡ªer, up-ladder¡ªand throw words of encouragement at her,¡± I say. ¡°That I can do.¡±

    I give a short bow to the Wilderking before climbing up the ladder to find Ari. She stands on a balcony with a really great view of Greenshade. Down on the ground, Merry looks up at me with a meaningful scowl.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to jump off, guys,¡± I say. ¡°Relax.¡±

    Merry does not relax. Fine.

    ¡°Are you doing alright, Ari?¡± I ask. ¡°This is the sort of thing that no one can ever truly be prepared for.¡±

    Ari nods distantly. ¡°I know what I¡¯m meant to do. I¡¯m scared¡ªterrified, really. I¡¯m afraid of losing myself. Will I even know who I am anymore?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Ari, the only time you ever lost yourself was when racist bandits forced you to be one of them. When they made you a killer and tried to fill you up with nothing but hate and rage. That wasn¡¯t you. This is you. This is you, and you stand like a little scrib about to mature into a glorious and beautiful kwama queen.¡±

    Ari can¡¯t help but grin at that. ¡°You know, most people would have made that metaphor about caterpillars and butterflies.¡±

    I grin back at her. ¡°Would you rather be something delicate, light, and pretty, or a something powerful and mighty that shapes the earth around her?¡±

    ¡°When you put it like that¡­¡± Ari says. ¡°What about my memories, though? It might not have been much of a life, but it was mine. And I don¡¯t want to forget you. You were my closest friend, but even that feels more like a dream now than anything else.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t forget me,¡± I assure her. ¡°I¡¯m pretty unforgettable. But if you do, I will remind you. I¡¯m not planning on going anywhere. I mean, I probably am going places, but I¡¯m also planning on coming back, too. We might have been born elsewhere, but Valenwood¡¯s my home now too and I won¡¯t abandon it.¡±

    Ari tells me that she¡¯s ready, and we complete the ritual, although there isn¡¯t much left to do. She has me place a wooden crown adorned with leaves in a garden high up in the tower which is a very odd place to put a garden but whatever. Once that is done, I meet up with her again, but I hardly recognize her now.

    Aranias has changed. Like the Wilderking, who was once a mortal mage like her, her body has transformed into bark clad in sparkly leaves. And she¡¯s still somehow beautiful.

    ¡°There are many problems in the forest,¡± Ari says. ¡°More than just the handful of Orcs that were cutting down trees near Bramblebreach.¡±

    I¡¯m sure my eyes figuratively light up at that. ¡°Oooh, things to do? I can help! What needs to be hit where?¡±

    A grin spreads across the bark face. ¡°I had a feeling you might say that.¡± She lifts her hands, and leaves come together forming a sort of green paper. Lines spread across it like veins and symbols dot it, many of them black with a few of them white. ¡°Here. Take this. It is a map of Greenshade, marked with locations that might be of interest to you. They are marked in black if I¡¯ve detected trouble there, and will turn white once that trouble has been taken care of.¡±

    I take it and look over it. There¡¯s an awful lot of trouble in Greenshade. I spontaneously hug her tightly. (Yep, I¡¯ve become a tree hugger.) ¡°Thank you so much. This is awesome! I¡¯m going to go solve every single problem in Greenshade.¡±

    Ari laughs at that but doesn¡¯t push me away. ¡°I should be the one thanking you. All these things are like itches and aches, but it may be a while before I am strong enough to repel them on my own, and dealing with them will help me gain strength.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t remember me as your old friend, you can at least remember me as the guy who solves all your problems for you,¡± I say.

    I feel like this whole exercise was as much for me as it was for her. The Wilderking couldn¡¯t have known that I apparently have a weakness for powerful golden ladies whose names start with A. But I want to smack him anyway for making me fall for her and then taking her away. Maybe it¡¯s just as well. At least now we can build¡ªor grow¡ªsomething that isn¡¯t based on a lie. This isn¡¯t really farewell but I bid her a ¡°see you around¡±.

    ¡°I¡¯m jumping off the tower now,¡± I call down.

    ¡°Go right ahead,¡± Merry yells back dryly.

    Jumping off of things when someone is there to catch you with magic isn¡¯t quite as fun as breaking your bones and having to heal yourself. Wait, no, I got those backwards, didn¡¯t I.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, then pause to take one look back up at the tower before we go.

    The Wilderqueen smiles down at me one last time before fading into fluttering leaves, and then she¡¯s gone.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I say quietly.

    We make our way slowly back through the ruins. Merry brings out his ice staff again and makes sure to put out anything that¡¯s still burning along the way. The ice will melt quickly, and new growth will follow in the wake of the flames. All Andy really accomplished in the end was ensuring the rebirth of the forest.

    A book titled *The Wilderking Legend *lays on the floor in one of the ruined buildings. I pick it up, though I don¡¯t feel like reading it just now. I very, very carefully do not fall off the cliff again.

    On the way down, we collect some seeds from the flowers the Bosmer men by the bridge mentioned, careful to avoid damaging the plants in the process. When we finally make our way back there, though, the one who had been laying down has expired.

    ¡°We found those seeds you wanted,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry we took so long. The time of the Wilderking has also come to an end, and a new Wilderqueen has risen in his place. I¡¯m sure both she and your husband will appreciate us planting them.¡±

 Chapter 79: In Which I Evict Unruly Tenants

    ¡°What do I tell people?¡± I ask. ¡°How do I explain what happened here?¡±

    We¡¯d encountered the spinner again outside of Greenheart. (No, I don¡¯t remember his name, and I always feel silly asking people ¡°What was your name again?¡±) And he¡¯s spectacularly unhelpful with suggestions beyond insisting that only the story that¡¯s told is the real one.

    The spinner at Brackenleaf Village always intently listens to our exploits. He probably turns them into better stories than the ones I tell. Probably doesn¡¯t have to exaggerate too much, either. The business with the Orrery was a tale told with some careful omissions, though¡ªthat story is too sticky, and while I trust these people, that secret is not mine to share. And we¡¯re pretending that that didn¡¯t happen while we¡¯re pretending that I was the childhood friend of the mer who became the Wilderqueen. I¡¯ve gotten a strange perspective on stories lately. A very Bosmer perspective. They¡¯d understand.

    The map of Greenshade has many locations to investigate. Ruins and caves and towns and dolmens. I decide to start off at the Ayleid ruins near Greenheart. At Pelda Tarn, a storm atronach is hanging around where storm atronachs really shouldn¡¯t be hanging around. The robed corpses in a ring around the summoning location might give a hint as to what happened here, as might a small campsite nearby with a book titled The Doors to Oblivion. Upon sending the atronach back to oblivion by hitting it repeatedly, the map marker turns white.

    ¡°This thing is awesome,¡± I say. ¡°I wish I had one of these for every region.¡±

    ¡°She gave you a list of problems to solve and you¡¯re thrilled about it,¡± Eran comments. ¡°It¡¯s like she knows you or something.¡±

    ¡°I do love problems like that atronach,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re simple and don¡¯t involve politics. Just hitting.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you good at politics?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Sure, but that doesn¡¯t mean I like it,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s head into Carac Dena next. The entrance might be¡­ over there somewhere.¡±

    The entrance is down near the beach, and leads into a complex lit by those blue glowing crystals the Ayleids loved so much. Ogres are squatting in this ruins.

    ¡°Hey, ogres!¡± I yell down at the ogres. ¡°Your landlady says you¡¯re way behind on your rent!¡±

    The ogres respond by growling at me and attacking. If their vocalizations are any form of language, it¡¯s not one that I know, but attacking me is a pretty clear message.

    The ruins are also full of bookcases, and I don¡¯t get the impression that these ogres are big readers. Most of them are eating, and there¡¯s quite a lot of dead animals in here. I swipe a number of the books, although I doubt they¡¯ll impress Sahira-daro as much as the ones I stole from Coldharbour did. (¡°You did what?¡± is a common reaction to things I do.) I also find a Skyshard tucked away in a corner deep in the ruin. Once we¡¯ve cleared out the ogres, including one who might be their leader but it¡¯s hard to tell, the map marker turns white.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what these ogres did to offend the Wilderqueen, but they¡¯re not a problem anymore,¡± I say.

    ¡°Might¡¯ve been the animals,¡± Gelur says. ¡°They were prolly overhunting.¡±

    After heading out from there, it looks like the next thing on the list is some more Orcs who have been clearcutting. At least they¡¯re more likely to speak a language I know, although whether or not they¡¯d listen to reason is a whole other question entirely. I might not normally be so concerned about this, but they¡¯re hurting my friend.

    I climb up on top of a pile of logs and wave to get their attention. Several Orcs look over to me in puzzlement, reaching for weapons but not attacking yet.

    ¡°Pardon me, neighbors!¡± I call out. ¡°I come with a request from the Wilderqueen to cease logging operations in Greenshade.¡±

    ¡°Request denied,¡± spits one of the Orcs. ¡°Leave.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my mistake,¡± I say. ¡°My mistake being the word ¡®request¡¯.¡±

    The Orcs aren¡¯t feeling especially cooperative, so we beat the shit out of them. Their chief objects to us beating the shit out of his clanmates, so we beat the shit out of him, too. Once we¡¯ve thoroughly made sure that this particular clan of Wood Orcs isn¡¯t going to be causing any further problems, we look around the area to make sure we haven¡¯t missed anything.

    Near the Wood Orc camp, we run across a terrified Bosmer man hiding behind a rock. He speaks of a village inside a cave that just spontaneously appeared even though it had been empty a week ago. Sounds like something to check out.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Not far inside the cave is an old camp with a journal that speaks of a village that spontaneously disappeared, full of wood elves who asked what year it was. The author in question said that they¡¯d decided to stay in the cave until the village returned. There¡¯s no remains laying around, so maybe they didn¡¯t die here waiting, although that might not mean much.

    The cave is nothing natural. Stairs have been carved into a long tunnel, which is lit by those ubiquitous flaming braziers (the ones held up by three huge tusks) at regular intervals. A lot of mammoths have died to light Valenwood¡¯s tunnels and pathways.

    There is indeed a village down in this cave, full of Bosmer and their usual tree-pod houses. We stop and talk to a few people along the way and learn that the village comes back to this place every hundred years and goes¡­ someplace else.

    ¡°Wait,¡± I say. ¡°Are we in any danger of accidentally going ¡®someplace else¡¯ if we stay here for too long?¡±

    One of them chuckles. ¡°Not to worry. We¡¯re not going anywhere just yet. And you don¡¯t have to come along if you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    The Bosmer in the village marvel at seeing strangers, but they¡¯re welcoming rather than xenophobic even if their lifestyle would seem to make them isolationist.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Wood Orcs, so you¡¯re welcome here,¡± says another.

    Okay, so maybe they¡¯re still a bit racist, but to be fair, the Wood Orcs haven¡¯t exactly been being the best of neighbors and I¡¯m sure they would have caused problems if we hadn¡¯t gone and violently convinced them to behave. She¡¯s quite reassured when I let her know that we already took care of the ones outside. The woman explains to me a bit about the village and how some pact with the Wilderking lets them travel to that unspecified someplace else and back regularly.

    ¡°Ah,¡± I say. ¡°Well, the new Wilderqueen sent us here to investigate that something might be wrong here. She probably meant the Wood Orcs. They didn¡¯t respond politely when went and told them to behave, so we went and kicked their asses. They shouldn¡¯t cause anymore problems. Are things alright here aside from them?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a new Wilderqueen?¡± she says in delight. ¡°And you¡¯re her emissaries? You¡¯re doubly welcome, then!¡±

    Word spreads rapidly and soon everyone in the village wants to hear our stories of what¡¯s been going on in the world outside and I tell them the official story about the rise of the Wilderqueen. They have no reason to think there might have been any shenanigans afoot there. And still¡­ the Bosmer perspective. They might have a different sort of life, but they¡¯re still Bosmer.

    They¡¯re having a ceremony to choose a new caretaker to stay behind and care for some sort of magic tree. The husband of one of the people we¡¯d spoken to is chosen. Once she finds out, woman is alarmed that her husband was chosen as the new caretaker and doesn¡¯t know that she¡¯s pregnant yet. She wants me to convince him to abandon his duty and stay.

    I sigh, and say softly, for no one¡¯s ears but her own, ¡°Let me tell you something. I was¡­ in love with the woman who became the new Wilderqueen. I had to let her go, too. No one else could do that duty. I never even told her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispers. ¡°I must sound awfully selfish to you.¡±

    I shrug slightly. ¡°Duty is easier to bear when you accept it and don¡¯t argue with what must be done. I¡¯m sure your magic tree must have chosen him for a reason, and it¡¯s very likely that it thinks he¡¯ll be best at it and has already reproduced.¡±

    ¡°I guess there¡¯s a point in that,¡± she says. ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of children, and if women who could still bear children were chosen to care for the Fading Tree, we might have even less.¡±

    ¡°You should see him before you leave,¡± I say. ¡°You may not get another chance.¡±

    She nods. ¡°I¡¯ll do that. I won¡¯t ask him to stay behind, but would you come with me? I know he has an important duty to fulfill, but I¡¯m afraid if I tell him he¡¯s to be a father, he still might choose family over duty.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say.

    We head back up to the magic tree, where the man is making preparations to send the village to the other place as soon as possible. According to him, there¡¯s something wrong with the magic tree and he¡¯ll need to dedicate a lot of time to making sure it¡¯s healthy again. After a heartfelt goodbye that I politely give them space for, the woman approaches me again before returning to the village.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about your lady,¡± she says. ¡°If she¡¯s the Wilderqueen now¡­ I think she must know how you feel.¡±

    We part ways, and I gather my party and head out of the cave, the people and houses all vanishing behind us to wherever it is they really go. We exit by the north end of the cave this time rather than the south we¡¯d come in by.

    As we¡¯re emerging, an otherworldly roar splits the air as another Dark Anchor drops off to our right. I bare my teeth in a bloodthirsty grin and draw Dumzy, wishing I had some way to actually destroy the dolmens and not just smack the Anchors whenever they drop near wherever I happen to be at the time. We rush over to join a handful of people who are already fighting by the time we get over there.

    Once the Anchor has been destroyed, I take a look at the defenders. They¡¯re all Orcs.

    ¡°We¡¯re not doing logging,¡± one of them says. ¡°If you still want to fight anyway, you get less people to defend the Wilderqueen¡¯s forest from Daedra.¡±

    ¡°I only wanted to stop the logging,¡± I say. ¡°The Wilderqueen actually feels that as pain. And no, she¡¯s not a myth. She¡¯s a powerful earth mage who bonded with the land.¡±

    ¡°That makes so much more sense than anything the wood elves ever bothered to rant at us,¡± another Orc says with a chuckle.

    ¡°I feel like so many problems can be solved by people explaining their grievances with one another like civilized beings,¡± I say. ¡°And then if they still have to fight it out, knowing what they¡¯re fighting for.¡±

    ¡°Like our dumbass cousins valuing their logging rights more than their lives,¡± an Orc grumbles.

    ¡°Would you be interested in joining the Aldmeri Dominion?¡± I ask with a grin.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking us?¡± an Orc says. ¡°You¡¯d have thought the elves wouldn¡¯t stoop to coming out here and talking to us Orcs.¡±

    I start launching my sales pitch, but one of the Orcs holds up a hand to stop me.

    ¡°We can¡¯t agree to anything until we¡¯ve decided who our next chief is going to be. You killed most of the main candidates.¡±

    ¡°Well, make it a contest of who can kill the most Daedra,¡± I suggest.

    The Orc laughs. ¡°Not the worst idea.¡±

 Chapter 80: In Which We Deal With Statues

    We head west across lower Greenshade, and another map marker leads us to a large ruin. It looks to be of Imperial design, I think. Definitely not any sort of elven. Outside of it, we spot a traveling merchant passing by, the sort of traveling merchant that strolls along without guards or obviously carrying anything either, but she¡¯s mostly scribbling at a clipboard and ignoring her surroundings. I still might have assumed this was a surveyor or something if she didn¡¯t try to sell us something from her magic bag when we get within earshot. Her goods are unremarkable and overpriced compared to those in the city, but then, most people don¡¯t have the luxury of being able to teleport to any major city from the closest wayshrine. I¡¯m more impressed that she doesn¡¯t seem even slightly concerned about the wildlife or any potential bandits.

    ¡°Might want to keep clear of that ruin, travelers,¡± the Bosmer merchant says. ¡°They say shadows crawl beyond those walls. Or at least that¡¯s what it says on my map. Maybe that¡¯s just the name of the place? Funny name if that.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going into that ruin, aren¡¯t we,¡± Merry says flatly.

    I stare off toward the huge, broken walls and say, ¡°Yup, definitely a Skyshard in there.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d still want to go in and check it out even if there weren¡¯t,¡± Eran says.

    Just past the walls, we come across an injured Bosmer man who introduces himself as Anglorn when Gelur goes up to heal him. He tells us about how his clan tried to settle here because it was abandoned and unfriendly statues attacked them.

    ¡°Sounds like it was abandoned for a reason,¡± I observe, heading inside.

    An entire Bosmer city lies within these crumbling stone walls, more than just a scattering of tree-pods. The Skyshard is tucked away behind some rocks next to one of those big tree-houses, the ones that are an entire trunk and not just a pod. I absorb it, and go to find the person Anglorn mentioned.

    Anglorn has sent me to speak with a Bosmer woman whom I am calling Indy. She¡¯s an angry little mer, ready to fight for this spot they¡¯re squatting in, and quite eager to tell me how they have nowhere to go and this spot is theirs now.

    ¡°You had nowhere else to go?¡± I ask. ¡°Or you just didn¡¯t feel like growing new houses? Because there¡¯s a lot of space in Greenshade. Notably, there¡¯s a lot of space now around where we beat up a bunch of Wood Orcs to get them to knock it off with the logging. They don¡¯t need it anymore.¡±

    She¡¯s not listening, because of course she¡¯s not. Indy wants to ward off the stone men by collapsing holes in the ground. Somehow I don¡¯t think this is going to be quite as effective as she hopes, but we do it anyway.

    And then, inside a nearby cave, one of the statues stops to talk to us. As it turns out, the walking statues are here to defend this area and prevent anyone from settling here, which would explain why they attacked the Bosmer clan when they wouldn¡¯t go away.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know why you were given this directive?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Not specifically,¡± he says. ¡°Just that it would harm the Valenwood were anyone to settle here.¡±

    The hot-headed Bosmer woman keeps insisting on how she wants to fight for her new home. This is getting tiresome.

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°He just said it would harm the Valenwood if you stayed here. Why don¡¯t you take him at his word? You don¡¯t actually want to harm the Valenwood, do you?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine the Wilderking would have made these monsters just to kill innocent Bosmer!¡± Indy growls.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I mutter. ¡°For all you know, there¡¯s a terrible curse here, or a plague that would be unleashed, or a sacred object that might disrupt the forest, or any number of other things. Why are you so attached to this place? And if you¡¯re so eager to fight over it, how do you know that there isn¡¯t some ancient Daedric or Ayleid artifact here messing with your minds that¡¯s why these guardians were set here? You might be becoming mind-slaves day by day.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re definitely the angriest Bosmer I¡¯ve encountered yet,¡± Eran says. ¡°And that¡¯s including ones who were trying to kill us.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re siding with these monsters,¡± Indy says. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll have a vote to see whether we¡¯ll leave.¡± The woman runs off, and by the time we catch up with her, we¡¯re faced with inexplicably overly aggressive Bosmer who definitely didn¡¯t spend the last five minutes voting.

    I sigh. ¡°Merry? Could we add some more statues to this place, please?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says, beginning to transform the ones attacking me.

    Normally, when sane people notice that we¡¯re turning their buddies to stone, people stop attacking us. That would be sane people. I¡¯m becoming more and more convinced that there¡¯s something very wrong with these people the more of them blindly attack us even seeing how we disabled their clanmates.

    Once the fighting is over, the talking statue comes up to us again. ¡°I regret that our directives led to further loss of life.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not dead,¡± Merry says. ¡°I can turn them back, but we¡¯d need to make sure that they didn¡¯t just start attacking us again.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Getting them away from this location is most important,¡± I say. ¡°But we¡¯ll need to move them and it might be hard to shove this many statues into our packs. Hey, stone guy? Would your fellow stone people be willing to move these frozen intruders to the edge of your protected area? That would satisfy your need to keep people out of the area, right?¡±

    ¡°That is definitely an amicable interpretation of our directive,¡± he agrees. ¡°Let me show you where the boundary is. I would suggest you wait outside that area until we have completed this task.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say, following him. ¡°We¡¯ll make camp somewhere that we¡¯re allowed to make camp. Might I recommend adding a ¡®no camping¡¯ sign? People would still do it anyway but you¡¯d be able to tell them they¡¯re extra stupid for ignoring the sign, too.¡±

    ¡°You may put a sign outside the boundary if you believe it will help in some way,¡± he says. ¡°Here is the boundary. Be certain that you are outside of it by nightfall. I do not wish to have to die against you. While I have no fear of destruction, such would leave this location vulnerable.¡±

    We set up camp a safe distance away and I pull out a book to read while we wait. They¡¯re lifting and moving entire statues, but they¡¯re statues themselves and show no signs of tiredness or boredom at the tedious task.

    Merry returns one of them to flesh. ¡°Are you going to attack me again, or do we need to tie you up or turn you to stone again?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªwhat?¡± the Bosmer man stammers. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°You were attacking us in a blind rage,¡± Eran says. ¡°So we froze you so we didn¡¯t have to kill you.¡±

    The Bosmer looks at the other statues in alarm. ¡°You! You are trying to take us away from our new home! How dare you?¡±

    Merry sighs and turns him to stone again. ¡°They are still being foolish,¡± he calls over to me.

    It would probably be entirely too mean to give them signs warning people to keep away. I don¡¯t do that, of course. I¡¯m not feeling quite that annoyed at them at the moment.

    ¡°Would they be alright if we took some of them inside a pack?¡± Ilara wonders. ¡°This one has not tried carrying living things in hers.¡±

    ¡°When did you get one?¡± Eran asks. ¡°No, wait, don¡¯t answer that. I¡¯d say that you¡¯d probably have an easy time stealing things with one of those but Neri¡¯s always getting on people for being racist and I don¡¯t want to stereotype Khajiit.¡±

    Ilara grins. ¡°It does make it easier to steal things, though.¡±

    Gelur pulls out a jar from her pack, with small holes in the top and full of squirming bugs. ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping snacks in here. They still seem fresh.¡± She opens the jar and snags one and pops it in her mouth as the two Altmer look away with a grimace.

    ¡°I should get my own pack at this rate,¡± Eran says. ¡°Let¡¯s decide whether to shove one of these into the pack full of bloody trophies and books, the pack full of animal corpses and ¡®snacks¡¯, or the pack full of ¡®definitely not stolen¡¯ goods.¡±

    They finally opt to manhandle one of them into Gelur¡¯s pack. We don¡¯t really have room to carry all of them at once, but we can at least find someone willing and able to deal with them, or at least just willing. Otherwise they¡¯re just going to wind up standing out here as a warning not to fuck around in these ruins.

    We head back to Bramblebreach, as it is the closest settlement, and explain the situation to the treethane there, then pull out and de-stone the angry Bosmer we¡¯d ¡®detained¡¯. A different one than the first that we¡¯d frozen, and fortunately not Angry Indy.

    ¡°Foolish,¡± the treethane says, shaking her head at the statue. ¡°To think they would react so violently to being told they were in a forbidden place. Return this one to flesh, but be prepared to restrain him if his mind is still clouded.¡±

    Merry casts his spell, and our ¡®captive¡¯ is no longer stone. ¡°How are you feeling, Anglorn?¡± Merry asks.

    This was the first mer we¡¯d spoken to in the ruins and I¡¯m impressed that Merry could remember his name. ¡°I¡­ where am I?¡± Anglorn says in puzzlement.

    ¡°You are in Bramblebreach,¡± the treethane says. ¡°I am Treethane Niriel. The Wilderqueen¡¯s envoys tell me that your clan attempted to settle on forbidden ground, and that they were merciful enough to spare your lives. Consider yourself fortunate. The forest does not often show such mercy.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Anglorn says. ¡°But we had nowhere else to go! That was our new home!¡±

    The treethane sighs and puts her face in her palm. ¡°The whole of the Valenwood before you and yet you were drawn to Shadows Crawl? Why do you think it¡¯s forbidden? That place is like a pitcher plant and you have no idea what might happen if you remained there.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ where else can we go?¡± Anglorn wonders.

    ¡°As it just so happens, we¡¯ve recently reclaimed some lands from the Wood Orcs,¡± the treethane says. ¡°We do not have the numbers to hold the land or regrow what they destroyed. If your clan is willing to do so, then you may settle in those lands and begin healing them as penance for your foolishness.¡±

    Anglorn¡¯s shoulders slump, looking lost and dazed. ¡°I¡¯m no one important, treethane. But they killed our treethane and I¡¯m the one who¡¯s here, I suppose. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d be able to get Indanas to see reason, though.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll pack up your entire clan and haul them into the middle of the Orcs¡¯ former logging ground if it would help,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯d be easier if they¡¯d walk there of their own accord and not as luggage, though.¡±

    We head back to the edge of the ruin, along with Anglorn (calmer now) and a couple of Bramblebreach¡¯s militia.

    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to have Merry un-stone Angry Indy last just to make sure her more reasonable cousins can convince her not to do anything stupid.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ probably a good idea, knowing her,¡± Anglorn says. ¡°I¡¯ll point out which ones might be more reasonable to get first.¡± He pauses and takes a breath. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m really sorry for all that. I don¡¯t know what came over us. Now that I¡¯ve been away from it for a bit, I¡¯m starting to think your theory of something messing with our heads might be right.¡±

    ¡°I wish I could say that it was the first time I¡¯ve had to turn an entire village to stone for its own good,¡± Merry says dryly. ¡°This is actually the third¡­¡±

    On the way there, I tell the three Bosmer about Southpoint. And lighthearted music starts playing while I¡¯m telling and I decide to gloss over part of the bit with Sheogorath. I manage to get control of the music again once we reach Shadows Crawl. The statue men (the walking ones) have gotten all or most of the villagers out by now and honestly if any random travelers on the road thought it was a good idea to go into a ruin with a bunch of angry statues at the entrance, that¡¯s kind of on them. (I mean, I totally would but I totally take responsibility for my own dumb actions.)

    One by one we de-stone everyone and convince them not to keep trying to attack us like idiots. It takes considerably longer than simply killing everyone, but at least this way we don¡¯t have to kill everyone. Once it¡¯s done, the militia members lead the others back toward Bramblebreach and we part ways without Angry Indy uttering a word of apology. Whatever. Maybe she¡¯ll calm down once they get settled in to their new new home. Good enough that she¡¯s not attacking anyone.

    The map marker turned white at some point, so the problem has clearly been dealt with to the Wilderqueen¡¯s satisfaction one way or another.

    Eran notices me looking at the map and asks, ¡°Where to next?¡±

    I point vaguely down the road. ¡°We keep going west.¡±

 Chapter 81: In Which I Speak Out Against Discrimination Toward the Undead

    We come upon a Bosmer woman hiding behind a large rotten tree stump, complaining about wasps. She explains that she¡¯s an initiate to some hunter group and supposed to kill a wasp as her initiation, but she lost track of the wasp and now she wants us to do it for her.

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be much of an initiation, would it?¡± Gelur says with a crooked grin.

    ¡°There are quite a lot of wasps around here,¡± Merry says. ¡°Why would you need a specific one? Was it an unusual color? Would anyone even notice the difference?¡±

    ¡°It was big and yellow!¡± the would-be hunter says.

    Gelur chuckles, and stops to give her a few pointers. ¡°I¡¯ll help you figure out how to do this, but it would be pointless if we were to do your trial for you.¡±

    As I¡¯m wandering through the area letting them do that, I find a book by a pond, titled The Ooze: A Fable, only slightly chewed on by one ornery tiger that had added it to its nest. Peaceful woodland music kicks up into energetic battle music whenever anything looks at me funny, and I¡¯m not quite sure at any given point whether the music is in my head or not. (I ask my friends a few times while we¡¯re traveling and it¡¯s not very consistent. So now not only do I need to pay attention to whether there¡¯s music playing, I need to figure out whether it¡¯s in my head or not. Madgod problems.)

    The next person we run across asking for help is a Bosmer man near a bridge. I hold up a finger and run past him, ignoring him for a moment as I go to absorb a Skyshard I¡¯ve spotted under the bridge and thereby alarming another bystander by casually jumping off a bridge.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± Gelur is saying as I come back dripping. ¡°He does this all the time.¡±

    The Bosmer complains about how in the nearby town of Longhaven, some people have been disappearing into the mist and being torn up.

    ¡°Okay, sounds like a job for us,¡± I say before even letting him finish. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    I trot across the bridge as the man mutters about how reckless I am, with my friends trailing behind me assuring him that yes, I probably know what I¡¯m doing and I do this sort of thing all the time too, which completely fails to reassure anyone.

    A handful of Khajiit tents have been arrayed alongside the road offerings wares to travelers coming through, but most of the village is made up of Bosmer tree-pods. Near a brewer with a huge cauldron, I find a copy of Darkest Darkness next to a guy who is so drunk that he cheerfully trades it for another drink. He probably would not have even noticed it if I¡¯d just grabbed it like I usually do but I¡¯m feeling polite.

    We mingle in the town and talk to people to figure out what¡¯s going on here, and hear stories of the mists becoming weird. Notably, they mention something about a crazy Dunmer who wanted to investigate. Damn, if I don¡¯t hurry and catch up to him, I might lose my secret title of craziest fetcher from that particular corner of Tamriel. (But I¡¯m not really from Morrowind, I¡¯m from Silatar¡­ wait, those weren¡¯t real memories, or were they? For fuck¡¯s sake, spinners messing with the heads of people who are already insane. Get a hold of yourself, Nerevar.)

    I don¡¯t know about the supposedly killer mists, but we¡¯re hardly in the swamp for two minutes before I¡¯m covered in mud and completely lost. The place is full of hoarvors and werebats, and while I hardly mind the fighting, it takes my companions poking me to get me back on track.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you know where we¡¯re going, either,¡± I grouse.

    ¡°There¡¯s a light up ahead,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Campfire, I think.¡±

    We find the Dunmer praying at a small camp, and he introduces himself as Mel Adrys. While he¡¯d rather be left alone to pray, he¡¯s willing to pause long enough to tell us about the vampire he¡¯s come to kill. I¡¯m not sure if Ayem is eager to help some mer on the other side of Tamriel kill one vampire, but what do I know? I have no idea why she does anything anymore. In any case, he¡¯s not especially impressed at us and doubts our ability to avoid becoming enthralled by vampires. I¡¯m too amused to even be insulted here. He insists we go clear out a nearby cave first, and I¡¯m not about to complain since it¡¯s something to hit anyway. On the other hand, there¡¯s the small matter of finding the place¡­

    We eventually find it, after having killed probably half the werebats in the swamp. A corpse lies outside of the cave, a member of the Mages Guild judging by his clothes. A note lays next to the body, soaked in blood and mud and rain, the only legible bits being something about a skull. Dunno what¡¯s up with that, but that probably sounds like something we don¡¯t want evil vampires playing around with.

    Mel is standing in the cave ahead of us, waiting. ¡°About time you got here. I was starting to think you¡¯d gotten lost in the mists.¡±

    ¡°We were just being extra thorough to clear out the werebat infestation,¡± I lie.

    A vampire sits on his knees in front of Mel, apparently having been begging for his life. Mel seems liable to simply kill him outright just for being a vampire. It¡¯s probably just as well that we showed up when we did and that Mel didn¡¯t get impatient waiting for us.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say. ¡°Becoming afflicted with a curse or disease is not a crime. The crime is what they do after they¡¯ve been turned. And this one has surrendered. If he has done anything wrong, that¡¯s still a matter to be dealt with by the local authorities, not foreign vigilantes.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    (I¡¯m not totally being a hypocrite about that. I am, after all, an Eye of the Queen, so I¡¯m an official vigilante and can do whatever I want until Queen Ayrenn finally gets annoyed at the dumb things I do.)

    Mel is spectacularly unimpressed with my words. Honestly, he¡¯s the one who¡¯s creeping me out more here, with all his talk of prey and purification. It¡¯s a little tiresome. I get it, I mean, I get a little bloodthirsty myself, but I¡¯m not generally one for executing people who have surrendered unnecessarily. Is racism against the undead still considered racism? Lifeism, maybe? I dunno.

    The vampire here says that these other vampires are bad and are planning to do some bad things with some evil skulls or something, and that the vampires who thought the bad vampires were bad had already run off. I thank him and send him off before the vigilante tries to decapitate him anyway.

    Still, I diligently try to talk to the other vampires to get their side of the story, and they¡¯re uninterested in talking to me rather than yelling ¡°BLEH!¡± and attacking us. Well, if that¡¯s all they have to say for themselves, I¡¯ll let Dumzy and Blinky do the talking here.

    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± I yell at the vigilante. ¡°Watch this!¡±

    I prance through the cavern taunting and pissing off several vampires and cast my spinny light spell to shred them to pieces. Mel still isn¡¯t impressed, the fetcher.

    ¡°Very shiny,¡± Ilara says appreciatively, because at least one person here has to appreciate it.

    We kill everything in the cave and head back outside into the swamps, ignoring how grateful the jerk of a vampire hunter is. At least he can acknowledge that we¡¯ve proven ourselves capable of engaging in bloody slaughter when the situation calls for it, if nothing else. And it¡¯s one of those times that I wind up being very focused on the bloody slaughter and am glad my companions were paying attention to what we were actually trying to do here aside from kill everything.

    On the way back, I decide to investigate an Ayleid ruin we run across while trying to find out way back to town through the muddy mud of muddiness. Guess what I find inside? An enclave of racist bandits! And some of them are hovering in the air while waving at glowy red skulls. Now, I¡¯m hardly one to be too judgmental about one¡¯s hobbies, but these guys couldn¡¯t look more sinister if they tried. In any case, they attack us on sight while yelling ¡°For the Heritance!¡± so I¡¯m not going to feel bad about slaughtering them all.

    I find a Skyshard tucked away in a sconce in one corner, and further on, a journal by someone who had experimented with death magic of some sort which, of course, the racist bandits got their hands on and are now experimenting on the experiments. That would explain the glowing red skulls. It mentions that the man planned to move to Woodhearth to settle down or something, and apparently lost his journal in the swamp or something along the way, I¡¯m guessing. I grab it to see if I can find the owner and see whether they need to be beaten up too.

    We leave the ruin and climb up out of the muddy gully and find our way back to Longhaven to let people know that the vampires are probably not going to cause any further problems. At least the ones we killed won¡¯t, unless they can re-member themselves after we dis-membered them.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be certain to slaughter any vampires we run across!¡± one Bosmer man promises.

    ¡°If they¡¯re causing trouble, yes,¡± I say. ¡°But the vampires who disagreed with the things¡­ what was his name again? The bad vampire, whatever. The ones who disagreed have already buggered off. You don¡¯t need to go hunting down people who aren¡¯t doing anything wrong just because they got a disease.¡±

    I don¡¯t bother waiting for someone to start an argument about it. There¡¯s a member of the Mages Guild in town, so I inform her that her (our, technically?) guildmates got involved with something stupid and got killed for it.

    A Bosmer man approaches us in town to tell us that he¡¯s worried about his wife Elly who hasn¡¯t come back to town. Naturally I immediately agree to go look for her.

    ¡°Splendid,¡± Merry says dryly, ceasing his efforts to make his robes more dry. ¡°Back into the swamp with us, thankfully not having actually gotten cleaned off first.¡±

    The werebat population of the Shademist Moors is greatly suffering from our getting lost, but at least the mist no longer looks like it¡¯s about to eat people. When we do stumble across Elly (completely by chance), it becomes blatantly obvious by her pallor and red eyes that she¡¯s been infected. She tells us that she¡¯s been hiding from her husband and wants us to kill her before she fully turns.

    ¡°Neri, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re actually going to change anyone¡¯s minds about vampirism anytime soon,¡± Merry points out quietly.

    ¡°Probably not,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Why is it that people are so intent upon judging people for what they are or what was done to them rather than how they act and what they do?¡±

    ¡°She hasn¡¯t turned yet,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We might still be able to cure her.¡± She opens her pack and rummages around in it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re carrying around a cure for vampirism?¡± Elly says.

    Gelur pulls out potions one by one, muttering to herself, ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see¡­ rockjoint, ataxia¡­ do you know if you were infected with porphyric hemophilia or noxiphilic sanguivoria?¡± At Elly¡¯s blank look, she continues, ¡°Never mind. Here, drink this,¡± and hands her a potion.

    Elly takes the potion and drinks it down. ¡°You just happened to be carrying around all those potions?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be an awfully poor healer if I had this magic bag and didn¡¯t stock up on potions to cure common ailments. And uncommon ailments. And honestly, literally every ailment that could be cured with a potion I could obtain. You feeling any better?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± Elly says. ¡°I¡¯m not feeling anything making my head fuzzy anymore and I¡¯m not so cold. But what if they come for me again?¡±

    ¡°We killed the head bad vampire,¡± I say. ¡°So at least that one and his lackeys probably won¡¯t be causing any further problems.¡±

    ¡°They wanted to make me like them,¡± Elly says. ¡°I¡¯m glad someone took care of that, then. Thank you, travelers. You¡¯ve given me my life back.¡±

    I lean over to whisper to Gelur, ¡°Her eyes are still red. Is that normal?¡±

    ¡°I dunno,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll probably change back eventually. Unless they were red to begin with.¡±

    ¡°You know I can hear you over there,¡± Elly says.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Gelur assures her. ¡°You¡¯re fine. It¡¯s not a problem at all.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡± Elly says dubiously. ¡°Well, at least I feel better even if there¡¯s still some lingering cosmetic effects, but I¡¯d rather not have anyone know I was even infected to begin with. Especially my husband. I don¡¯t know which would be worse. Fear, disgust, or pity.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll put out a series of pamphlets educating people on the truth about vampirism to go along with the ones on responsible handling of cursed items,¡± I say. ¡°If publishers will print Marobar Sul¡¯s nonsense about the Dwemer, they¡¯ll print anything.¡±

    ¡°Marobar Sul must have really annoyed you if you remember his name,¡± Merry says.

 Chapter 82: In Which Sexual Harassment Isnt Okay Even If Its a Woman Doing It

    We¡¯re heading west out of Longhaven in the general direction of Woodhearth, although we don¡¯t stick to the road for long. Beside the water lies a copy of The Firmament at a small camp overrun by hoarvor, which I claim as its previous owner is now a corpse, probably related to the fact that the camp was overrun by hoarvor. (I have to double-check with Gelur on how to spell ¡®hoarvor¡¯.)

    While there¡¯s a marker in my map denoting some sort of problem in a grove to the north, there¡¯s no way to get there short of jumping down a cliff and my friends point out that we might as well visit Woodhearth first and then when we¡¯re done with whatever we need to do there, we can circle around to find a better way down that doesn¡¯t involve us breaking our legs and having to use up all Gelur¡¯s magicka to heal us. This is why I have more sensible people than me with me.

    On the way to town, we run across an Altmer failing to light a campfire with magic and his Orc girlfriend poking at how bad he is at magic. Fortunately, I¡¯m an expert in mediocre fire spells and set the kindling on fire, and give him some pointers which Merry shortly butts in with telling me how bad I am at magic and showing us both some better pointers.

    Unlike Marbruk, the town of Woodhearth is of mixed construction, with Altmer and Bosmer buildings side by side, a few Khajiit ones, and a few ruined Imperial towers for good measure. We¡¯re greeted on the way in by an Altmer in armor (I assume an Altmer. Can¡¯t see anything under the armor, but he¡¯s too tall to be a Bosmer and he lacks a tail. He might just be a Nord with a Summerset accent, though, for all I know.)

    This s¡¯wit also bet against me and my party returning from the Wilderking¡¯s forest while Razum-dar put money on us arriving in Woodhearth soon. At this point, one might probably be able to guess how many problems I might run into between one point and another and how long it might take me to solve them. At any rate, Vicereeve Pelidil has been seen come through here and Raz wants to talk to me of course. And there¡¯s more disturbing news, too.

    ¡°We¡¯ve had some disturbing news out from Skywatch,¡± the armored Altmer says. ¡°It would appear that Estre¡¯s body has gone missing from the preparation chambers. It takes a long time to prepare a Kinlady for burial, even a treasonous one.¡±

    ¡°What.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Altmer agrees with my assessment. ¡°There are several potential implications of this, and none of them are good. Needless to say, we¡¯re keeping this a bit under wraps at the moment.¡±

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°I really hope that this just means Vicereeve Pelidil is into necrophilia and not that I¡¯m going to need to repeatedly hit Estre again.¡±

    I split with my friends and we go off to explore town, with Ilara taking the job of minding me and making sure I don¡¯t jump off too many cliffs again. (They¡¯ve been drawing straws again. I wonder if Ilara cheats in order to get the short straw each time.) I run across a Skyshard behind a bit of broken Imperial masonry.

    ¡°Five Claws Inn?¡± Ilara says, examining a sign outside a Khajiit-style building. ¡°This one wonders if they have moon sugar.¡±

    We stop in for a meal of curry fish and rice, a recipe from Senchal I¡¯m told, while totally not buying any illicit substances. Once we¡¯ve eaten, I head out to the balcony to jump off and almost trip over a Khajiit flipping a coin, who flips his coin all the way into the bushes at the collision.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± I say, jumping off the balcony.

    Ilara gives a sympathetic look to the Khajiit and hops over the railing after me. The Khajiit mutters some profanity in Ta¡¯agra that I¡¯m sure to make note of while jumping off to find his coin.

    ¡°Causing trouble in the tavern if you need to leave so quickly?¡± the Khajiit says.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just quicker and I¡¯m too lazy to use the stairs when there¡¯s a perfectly good balcony right there,¡± I say.

    ¡°Maybe you could help this one recover some more money, then,¡± the Khajiit says, and starts to describe a debt that he¡¯s owed.

    ¡°And you think two random people who just jumped off a balcony are the best ones to collect debts for you?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°No, but it is so difficult to find good help these days, yes?¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Or even adequate help, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Well, I think we can manage adequate,¡± I say. ¡°Give us the details.¡±

    He gives us directions to one of the Bosmer tree pods, and a name (Manthir), and sends us off. I¡¯m halfway to the tree in question before I remember that I forgot to ask in whose name this debt was. Oh well, I suppose the Bosmer probably remembers who he owes money to. And that both of them will have great faith in us actually delivering the money rather than simply pocketing it.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Are you Ma¡ªwhat name did that Khajiit give us again?¡± I ask, turning to Ilara mid-sentence.

    ¡°Manthir,¡± Ilara says helpfully, whiskers twitching in amusement.

    ¡°Right, that,¡± I say.

    Manthir groans. ¡°Are you debt collectors? Look, tell those cats that I¡¯ll have their coin as soon as I can. And if you want it any sooner than that, you¡¯ll need to take it up with Farwen, who stole my money right from under my nose.¡±

    He starts to explain some bits about Bosmer culture, the Right of Theft, and all that, and I politely listen even though I¡¯ve heard plenty about that already. Steal something and make a demand to get it back rather than get arrested. I kind of wish it were so easy sometimes but there¡¯s apparently rules involved that I don¡¯t quite understand yet even with all the dumb stories I¡¯ve exchanged with Bosmer.

    ¡°Right, well, can you tell us where she lives, at least?¡± I ask. ¡°We can at least poke her into telling you what she wants for it so we can get this over with.¡±

    ¡°She lives just up the tree, first door on the right,¡± Manthir says. ¡°Not sure I¡¯m looking forward to this, but what can I do?¡±

    Once outside, I say softly to Ilara, ¡°Can you steal it while I distract her?¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro is on it,¡± she says with a broad grin.

    We head up the tree and locate a Bosmer women, and then diligently confirm that she¡¯s the right one before robbing her blind. While speaking with her, I learn that she had the daring plan to steal from him in order to coerce him into marrying her. I get her to go into a tangent on exactly why she wants to marry him in between telling her that he¡¯s probably going to wind up with his kneecaps broken if he doesn¡¯t pay the Khajiit.

    ¡°You know,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t think anything good would come of a marriage where someone had to be robbed and coerced into it. I can¡¯t speak for much of what would lead to a good marriage, seeing as mine ended disastrously, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, come now,¡± Farwen says. ¡°He just hasn¡¯t realized how much he loves me yet. Now, I¡¯d best go speak with him, since he didn¡¯t have the guts to come and ask me what I wanted for the money back himself.¡± She moseys on out the door.

    Manthir is waiting for us on the walkway, looking rather miserable, and even more so when Farwen tells him what she wants. Before he can open his mouth to concede, I hold up a hand and interrupt him.

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± I say, looking aside to Ilara as she slinks up to my side.

    ¡°It is not a problem,¡± Ilara says. ¡°We already have the money we needed. And¡­¡± She pulls a portrait out of her pack and waves it in view of the two Bosmer. ¡°Right of Theft, you say? Ilara-daro requests that you stop sexually harassing people and she will return your belongings.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ Khajiit? How did you get into my house?¡± Farwen sputters. ¡°And you¡¯re not even a Bosmer!¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro is a member of Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars. That makes her a Bosmer by adoption, yes? And does it matter? This one has your belongings. Do you want them back or not?¡±

    Farwen is struggling with fury, but Manthir thinks the entire situation is hilarious, which isn¡¯t really helping her be less furious. ¡°Fine. Fine!¡± Farwen says. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined everything, but fine! I didn¡¯t even see you go into my house behind my back. Damned sneaky, clever cats. Manthir, you know where to find me if you change your mind.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not marrying you, Farwen,¡± Manthir says.

    ¡°No means no, Farwen,¡± Ilara says, tossing the picture back to her. Then pulls out a hand axe and drops it on the ground. Then a potted plant and gently sets that on the ground.

    Farwen gathers them up sourly and stalks off without another word.

    ¡°Thank you, travelers,¡± Manthir says. ¡°You¡¯ve both saved me from having my legs broken and being saddled with a lifetime of suffering. I hope any extra gold you stole from her is sufficient repayment, but if you ever need a favor, just let me know. Although kindly convey to your employers that I won¡¯t be needing their services any longer.¡±

    ¡°No worries,¡± I say. ¡°We won¡¯t be working for them any longer, either, once we¡¯ve delivered this. Got too many other problems to solve. Wood Orcs, Daedra, undead, ornery walking statues, racist bandits¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, we should probably get back to the racist bandits,¡± Ilara says.

    We bid Manthir good day and I diligently write down his name and location in my journal as owing us a favor, just in case that¡¯s ever necessary. I mean, it¡¯s not like I wouldn¡¯t have helped him anyway, given the circumstances, but in my line of work you never know when you¡¯re going to need a favor. We return to the Five Claws Tavern.

    ¡°How much was the debt for?¡± Ilara asks the Khajiit who has returned to the balcony, while sifting through her pack. ¡°This one may have stolen more than necessary.¡±

    The Khajiit laughs, and gives an amount, which she hands over. ¡°Well done, and do feel free to keep anything else you might have somehow acquired. Also, a bonus.¡± He passes some of the coins back.

    We head out to explore the rest of town and run across a large building that, judging by the banners, houses both the Mages and Fighters Guilds. We head into the Mages Guild side, and I look up in my journal whether or not I need to speak with anyone in this particular building. There¡¯s a mention of something about a journal belonging to someone named Mercano, and I ask around for him and return it to him. He¡¯s quite unhappy about it winding up in the hands of racist bandits and immediately burns it. I guess he didn¡¯t want it back that badly after all.

    I thoroughly look around this section of the building, and swipe a book titled Sithis from the upstairs. Excellent! More confusing mythology. It being the Mages Guild and me being a ¡®mage¡¯, no one actually comments on me picking it up and reading it. It¡¯s not like I had anything more important to do.

    My reading is interrupted by Valaste, who walks up in front of me and clears her throat until I notice she¡¯s standing there.

    ¡°Valaste!¡± I say. ¡°Fancy seeing you here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, I heard you were here and decided to remind you that you still haven¡¯t given me that book and I had the mandatory break you insisted upon and you probably just forgot about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, yeah, I totally did,¡± I say, pulling it out of my pack. ¡°Fine, here you go, just be careful, will you? Don¡¯t forget to take breaks. And eat and sleep. And shag Shalidor.¡±

    For some reason, Valaste doesn¡¯t want to talk to me after that. She must be really eager to get started on the translation.

 Chapter 83: In Which Everyone Looks Like Everyone Else

    In the middle of the big building, a mage is admonishing one particularly handsome (or so he claims) Khajiit to keep his tail still long enough to cast an illusion on him. This building actually seems to be the home of the Fighters and Mages Guilds, the Thalmor, and whatever is leading the town itself? I think that woman over there is the treethane. I¡¯m not sure¡ªmost places would have put those in different buildings.

    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Raz says. ¡°Raz is glad to see his little sister well. This one trusts you ran into plenty of trouble on the way here?¡± I know Khajiit expressions well enough by this point to recognize when one of them is smirking.

    ¡°Yes, we probably solved every problem between here and Marbruk,¡± I say. ¡°Are you getting a magical makeover to make you look less handsome?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Raz says, tail twitching again, eliciting another grunt of annoyance from the mage, and tells us about their brilliant plan. The brilliant plan here is to use an illusion to make Raz look like Queen Ayrenn in order to draw out someone who might try to assassinate him. Her. Whatever.

    ¡°Your magic earring won¡¯t do the job here?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Sadly not,¡± Raz says. ¡°It is currently in the hands of another Eye who is probably using it for something equally important.¡±

    Also attending this meeting, such as it is, are the town¡¯s treethane and some guy who I¡¯m guessing is a high-ranking member of the Thalmor, but I¡¯m just going to think of him as the Thalmor guy because I don¡¯t actually care who he is and he rubs me the wrong way from the start. The treethane thinks there¡¯s a spy in the Thalmor. The Thalmor guy thinks that¡¯s preposterous and insulting but seems to be going along with this all just to prove the Thalmor are awesome and infallible.

    ¡°You did hear about the incident at the College of Aldmeri Posterior, didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Propriety,¡± the Thalmor guy retorts. ¡°And yes, I heard. How could I not have? That was the actions of a small number of infiltrators and no true Thalmor, however.¡±

    Ilara hisses. ¡°No true Thalmor, he says. Ilara-daro is more of a true Thalmor than them, and Ilara-daro is no Thalmor. She quit, after they hurt her and beat her and mocked her for having a tail and when it turned out those weren¡¯t even ones supposed to be teaching us¡­ what difference did it make? This one decided she would rather trust the ones who actually helped her rather than anyone who called themselves Thalmor and thinks the whole thing is suspect.¡±

    The Thalmor guy continues to look offended over Ilara¡¯s outburst, but doesn¡¯t say anything about it.

    ¡°You should stay behind where it¡¯s safe, Ilara,¡± Raz says, expression darkening at her pronouncement at what she experienced at the college. ¡°This will be a dangerous mission.¡±

    She sniffs and her tail twitches in annoyance. ¡°Ilara-daro will accompany you. Magic her to look like her annoying brother if you must.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s as stubborn as you, that¡¯s for sure,¡± says the Altmer mage. ¡°At least turning a cat into another cat would be easier than turning a cat into a Queen. She already almost looks like you.¡±

    ¡°Pfah!¡± Raz says. ¡°Fine. Raz supposes it would be more believable if Raz were also accompanying the Queen, but let it be known he does not like this.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro is an adult, Raz,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Do you want to hear about how she snuck into a Wood Orc camp and planted lurcher seeds to drive them off?¡±

    Raz makes an interesting face somewhere between impressed and terrified.

    ¡°You could make me look like the Queen,¡± I suggest. ¡°Then Raz can look like me and Ilara-daro can look like Raz.¡±

    ¡°How would that be an improvement?¡± the mage says incredulously. ¡°Aside from the fact that you don¡¯t have a tail to hide.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more durable than Raz and I don¡¯t stay dead when I die,¡± I say. ¡°If someone actually succeeded in assassinating me, it would mainly be an inconvenience and the Khajiit siblings could kick their ass.¡±

    I spend the next several minutes uncomfortably being marveled over for accidentally becoming immortal, before getting on with it already. They opt to keep this simple and disguise only me and not the Khajiit.

    A few spells later and I¡¯m looking very pretty, that¡¯s not going to be confusing or anything, and the three of us head out to the old Imperial underground that for some reason they¡¯d leaked that Ayrenn was going to personally inspect. I have no idea which is sillier, that they decided it was sensible for Ayrenn to want to inspect a sewer or that they¡¯d think the racist bandits would fall for it.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    We¡¯re supposed to be meeting a Thalmor officer there by the name of Asteril whose loyalty is under suspicion (by the treethane, at least, not the Thalmor guy), under the assumption that she won¡¯t be able to resist the opportunity to assassinate the Queen.

    Everything looks fine at first. We stroll into the sewers underneath one of the ruined Imperial towers, and I, Queen Ayrenn, strolls up to speak with Asteril. And then she blows me up. An explosion knocks me off my feet and leaves me stunned and badly burned.

    ¡°You will die, and the true Queen of Alinor will rise again!¡± the racist bandit yells, and then disappears in a puff of smoke. Dammit, why do people keep doing that?

    I groan softly and cast a Restoring Light on myself. My illusion clearly wasn¡¯t designed to deal with significant damage, and in the wake of the racist bandit¡¯s disappearance, I¡¯ve reverted to being a slightly singed ex-King rather than an inexplicably undamaged Queen.

    Raz doesn¡¯t even waste time asking if I¡¯m alright. ¡°She can¡¯t have gone far. We must catch her!¡±

    The underground (not really a sewer but more of a fort, actually) is swarming with racist bandits. We kill them all and retrieve some incriminating correspondence, but Asteril herself has gotten away.

    ¡°Raz heard from some of his contacts that they were not putting all their hopes on the Veiled Queen and Prince Naemon,¡± Raz says, looking over the papers we¡¯d retrieved. ¡°Prince Naemon is not playing along with them any longer and High Kinlady Estre is dead. They had a backup plan¡­ and now Estre¡¯s body is missing, and Pelidil has the staff.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°I¡¯d complain about people not staying dead but I haven¡¯t stayed dead so I¡¯d have to include myself in that. You know, here I was on Tamriel just starting to get used to the idea that I¡¯d only have to kill most people once and then not have to deal with them anymore, but as it turns out, dying in Tamriel is just as much of a Dwemer revolving door as dying in Oblivion, apparently.¡±

    We hurry back to the big building and report to the treethane and the mage what happened and what we found. The Thalmor guy is still insulted by the idea that Asteril is a traitor, despite the fact that the three of us quite clearly saw someone who looked like Asteril try to blow up someone who looked like Queen Ayrenn. I acknowledge that this may not mean terribly much. We wind up going to the Thalmor barracks to try to question her, although why she¡¯d be there I have no idea. Likely we might find clues rather than the traitor herself, or an Asteril who is bound and gagged and has no idea that someone is posing as her, one of those.

    A cat is sitting outside the Thalmor residence, watching the door intently. I lean down and ask, ¡°Hey there. Did you see anything? I bet you must have seen everything.¡±

    Ilara clears her throat next to me. ¡°Neri, that¡¯s just a cat, not an Alfiq Khajiit.¡±

    ¡°It was worth a shot,¡± I say, straightening with a shrug.

    Inside the building, the corpse of an Altmer who looks very much like the one that just attacked us is laying on the floor, stone cold and having been dead for long enough that I have to wonder why none of the Thalmor in town have gone in here and noticed it by now. The mage is more concerned about the integrity of the Thalmor than her death, and I restrain the urge to smack him.

    ¡°You know, it¡¯s too bad no one ever imagined that illusion magic was a thing and had a way to detect it,¡± I say.

    The Thalmor guy (Raz calls him Oromin¡ªI never bothered asking for his name) huffs indignantly.

    Behind a bookcase, Raz finds a secret room with a trapdoor leading down to somewhere, so we head down and find a cramped cellar with a rough passageway leading into caves. A note from Pelidil has conveniently been left on a table, addressing, apparently, Asteril¡¯s twin sister, whose name is Laryaril. I can understand being jealous of having an easier-to-pronounce name.

    The cave opens up into a skeever-infested sewer and more of the Imperial underground, also full of highly-killable racist bandits.

    We fight our way through the corridors into a prison, and find Larry already wounded and dying, because Pelidil is such an incompetent villain that he decides to have his own minions killed for no good reason. And for some reason, she still believes in the Veiled Heritance and what they¡¯re doing.

    And if the racist bandits weren¡¯t bad enough, Pelidil is working with the Maormer and plans to give them Valenwood in exchange for helping topple the Dominion. (Does he even realize that they¡¯d never even be able to control more than the beach?) Racist bandits and sea elves are definitely becoming my favorite things to hit around here, by which I mean I¡¯m really tired of hitting them and would like to have different problems for a change so I¡¯m quite happy to keep hitting them until they stop being problems. At least I get to take breaks to hit other things from time to time.

    According to Larry, the Maormer are going to attack a town to the north called Seaside Sanctuary, which already doomed itself by putting the word ¡®Sanctuary¡¯ in its name. After receiving urgent instructions from Raz and the treethane to hurry to Seaside Sanctuary which is totally what I¡¯m going to do in the midst of getting distracted by every problem along the way, I meet up with my friends again. I bring them up to speed on what¡¯s going on.

    ¡°You just had to mention an undead Estre,¡± Eran groans at Merry. ¡°You just had to.¡±

    ¡°I did not believe they were mad enough to actually do it,¡± Merry protests. ¡°Admittedly, I did not believe they were mad enough to open Oblivion gates in the middle of a major city, either.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re leaving town now, we ran into someone who wants a wispmother killed,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Out to the north. Wasn¡¯t terribly specific on the exact location, but the statues of his companions ought to be a clue.¡±

    ¡°All you had to say was something dangerous to hit,¡± I say with a grin.

 Chapter 84: In Which People Go Crazy for Books

    We head out from Woodhearth by the north road. A book titled Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls lays next to a broken cart just outside of town. Are people really still failing at book delivery, or is this the sort of thing people read while carting across Tamriel? That might explain why the carts keep winding up wrecked.

    On the road north of Woodhearth, we come upon a statue of a guy with a deer head standing next to a weird green-glowing pool. When I go to approach, Eran sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°We can mess with the creepy Hircine statue later,¡± Eran says. ¡°Or not at all. Not at all would be better.¡±

    ¡°Ah, fine,¡± I reluctantly acquiesce. ¡°There does seem to be something about it that itches my senses as being more dangerous than usual.¡±

    ¡°In any case, I believe we can access that grove on your map from here,¡± Merry says, pointing toward a beaten path leading down into a small valley. ¡°We indeed do not need to jump off a cliff to get down there.¡±

    ¡°Ah, great,¡± I say, heading that way. ¡°Let¡¯s see what sort of problems are here, then.¡±

    As we¡¯re approaching, we run across a terrified Bosmer babbling something about how the grove is wrong and unfamiliar and there¡¯s spriggans and lurchers attacking people. He¡¯s quite reassured when we tell him the Wilderqueen sent us to investigate, and directs us toward a priest before running off hurriedly toward the main road like a sensible person.

    Before going to look for this priest like an unsensible person, I can feel a Skyshard nearby and spot the blue shaft of light atop a nearby rock outcropping, and no pissy plant things are going to keep me from absorbing that sweet, sweet light juice. I¡¯ve developed another new technique from the Skyshards, taking into account Merry¡¯s magical advice. He dubs it ¡®Reflective Light¡¯ but it¡¯s really just throwing Blinky at stuff in a way that sets it on fire. The angry plant things are considerably more flammable than the annoying imps, which I only realize Blinky-fire isn¡¯t really hurting them after failing to set them on fire a few times. I guess it still behaves more like normal fire even if it¡¯s made of light.

    The priest the fleeing mer mentioned isn¡¯t hard to find, standing at a stone basin at the edge of one of those temples with entwined tree limbs. He admonishes us not to interrupt him as he¡¯s trying to set up wards to prevent a Daedric invasion. He also mentions a couple of intruders who looked like Altmer, and I hate to think that every time Altmer are mentioned as messing around with something they shouldn¡¯t be, I can only think of racist bandits. It would terribly not surprise me to learn that the Veiled Heritance were messing around here too somehow.

    ¡°We can help,¡± I say. ¡°Just point us at what to hit or power up.¡±

    He asks us to go power up some wardstones around the valley. While I¡¯m afraid they might be hard to find, that fear turns out to be a bit unfounded as the things are huge and covered in symbols painted in red. Once again, I did not ask any probing questions about what we¡¯re doing or why.

    Daedra start attacking before we¡¯re even done dumping magicka into the big rocks, culminating in a Watcher appearing in the middle of the temple. Loud, dramatic music resounds from thin air as I charge up to send it back to Oblivion.

    With the immediate situation resolved, then it¡¯s time for asking some more questions. The priest introduces himself as Orthenir, a member of the Wooded Eye, who are worshippers of Herma-Mora and caretakers of a library called Ilmyris. He¡¯s quick to assure us that the Daedra bound here are normally harmless and we shouldn¡¯t be alarmed that he worships a Daedric Prince.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s no problem,¡± I say. ¡°One of my best friends is a worshipper of Hermaeus Mora. Although I¡¯m sure she hasn¡¯t let any Daedra loose on Tamriel recently. Mostly she just sorts through all the books I steal. I mean, acquire.¡±

    Orth is amused at that. ¡°Well, maybe you understand after all, then.¡± He directs us toward an Ayleid ruin whose entrance is hidden beneath a big tree.

    As we descend into the ruins, a voice from nowhere bids us to approach. It doesn¡¯t sound like Molag Bal¡¯s bluster, and his presence here is unlikely, so I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s Hermaeus Mora. This ruin is in even worse shape than many of the ones I¡¯ve visited, thanks to the massive roots from the tree above. Much of it is covered in ivy and underground ferns, dotted with the blue glowing crystals the Ayleids loved so much. And shafts of light pouring in through holes in the ceiling.

    I frown thoughtfully, looking up at them. ¡°You know, I could swear I¡¯m not constantly falling through holes into Ayleid ruins whenever I walk across Valenwood.¡±

    ¡°Miraculous that is,¡± Gelur says with a crooked grin.

    Unsurprisingly for a library devoted to Hermaeus Mora, the place is full of floating books and more tentacled Watchers. (And this is possibly the one library in Tamriel and beyond that I won¡¯t swipe books from without permission.) In the big room at the bottom, we come upon a survivor (pretty incoherent) surrounded by purple transparent figures standing on soul gem sconces. He bids us to go to the shrine pool and contact Hermaeus Mora, at least I think that¡¯s what he¡¯s trying to say, and honestly at this point I think I¡¯d get more straight answers out of the God of Eyeballs.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Okay then.¡± I turn to my friends. ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to Hermaeus Mora. You might want to stand a ways away and not look too closely so you don¡¯t go mad or anything. If I fall to the floor gibbering, please kill me.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t knocking you out be sufficient?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Killing me would put me back at the nearest wayshrine and probably far enough away from the shrine to not mess with me any further.¡±

    ¡°Or it might draw your soul to Apocrypha?¡± Merry says.

    I shrug. ¡°Eh. There¡¯s worse places to be trapped than the Land of Books and Tentacles.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Merry concedes reluctantly.

    They put in some distance and look away, and I go up to the pool. Above it appears a shadowy form full of tentacles and eyeballs popping in and out of existence, a few of them turning to look directly at me. I¡¯d probably find that creepier if I had less Daedric experience, but I never found this particular Prince to be all that intimidating. Honestly, I can kind of respect not being arsed to look like a mer.

    He¡¯s talking to me and I missed the first bit of what he¡¯s saying, but that¡¯s quite alright since he¡¯s speaking very, very slowly and just giving himself a pretentious introduction as if someone couldn¡¯t tell who he was to begin with.

    I hold up a hand. ¡°I apologize for the interruption, Lord Mora, but I¡¯m aware of who you are. Hard to mistake you for anyone else, really. And I know you¡¯re slowing things down for dumb mortals who can¡¯t keep up with your infinite thought, but I¡¯m capable of handling a slightly faster pace.¡±

    He seems more amused than offended, fortunately. ¡°Ah, yes. You. You who helped in building me a fine new shrine. I¡¯ve been expecting you, Nerevar.¡± He starts going on about threads of fate or something and I just let him talk. He¡¯s got more place to talk about that sort of shit than an upstart human warlord.

    Hermaeus Mora wants me to bring him some souls that had escaped so that the Daedra may be bound here. This involves going to hit things and is readily done. For the final binding, he asks for the soul of the still-gibbering Bosmer whose mind had been shattered by memory crystals. Although he¡¯s barely coherent still, it¡¯s not particularly difficult to persuade him to kill himself in the name of his Prince. He¡¯s probably better off in Apocrypha, honestly. At least he might get his sense of self back.

    As a reward, Hermaeus Mora gives me knowledge, and shows me a vision of the intruders who came here and what they did. And unsurprisingly, it¡¯s Vicereeve Pelidil, and with him is the twin we encountered in Woodhearth. (Did he kill her because she knew too much? No, he¡¯d have done it when she was here if he were going to do that.) They forced the priests to absorb memory after memory, searching for something they say Estre will need. The last one, the survivor, eventually came upon what they were looking for, and Pelidil takes the knowledge from the crystal too, presumably thinking only one would be okay. He mentions something about Hectahame, before the vision ends.

    ¡°Thank you for the knowledge, Lord Mora,¡± I say politely, bowing toward the shadowy tentacled eyeballs.

    I would be thanking him even if he¡¯d just given me a recipe for Balmora cabbage biscuits. I know he¡¯s probably just hoping I¡¯ll hunt down and violently punish the ones who made a mess of his library.

    We head back out of the ruins and let Orth know the situation has been resolved for the moment, aside from everyone but him being dead or mad. He¡¯s not thrilled at the thought of taking care of this place all by himself as the only person left with their mind intact.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let Sahira-daro know you¡¯re here,¡± I say. ¡°She might be able to visit or send you support. I¡¯m not sure how much of a cult she¡¯s got going. I just travel and collect books.¡±

    While the matter with Pelidil and the racist bandits is rather pressing, I can get back to her in five minutes at the next wayshrine. I need to drop off some books anyway.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Orth says. ¡°Sahira-daro. I will be certain to have the wards let her in, although she should be able to find the place if you tell her where to look. Or if our warding scheme still isn¡¯t fully repaired.¡±

    ¡°I spoke with Hermaeus Mora,¡± I say. ¡°He told me where to find the ones who did this. You can be assured your fellow priests will be avenged. Along with everyone else the racist bandits have fucked over.¡±

    At the edge of the grove, we run across an injured Bosmer, who upon being healed thanks us but assures us not to worry about her and asks for help for her companions. Her group was attacked by Argonians and taken captive.

    Along the way, we come upon an Ebonheart Pact reconnaissance camp comprised of two particularly tough Argonians and a Dunmer. We¡¯re able to kill them, but it takes a concerted effort and a lot of healing. (Part of this may have been due to some unnecessary cliff-jumping.)

    We find and rescue the captives, one of them promising to roast the next Argonians he sees over a spit, which is such a Bosmer thing to say.

    ¡°Can you find your way back to civilization from here?¡± I ask. ¡°We¡¯ve dealt with everything that might be a problem between here and Woodhearth, and we need to get to Seaside Sanctuary to head off a Maormer invasion.¡±

    ¡°That sounds rather more pressing than escorting us. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Continuing on and definitely not lost or anything, I spot a book titled The Eldest: A Pilgrim¡¯s Tale, left under a tent by a small fire pit full of ashes.

    Up on the hill overlooking Rootwater Grove is a larger-than-usual tree thing. (Lurchers, I guess they¡¯re called. Makes as much sense as calling a giant bug a ¡®silt strider¡¯, I suppose.) It¡¯s quite tough, but also fortunately quite flammable. I am enjoying my newfound ability to set things on fire in a way that isn¡¯t Tamriel¡¯s shittiest flame sputter primarily suitable for lighting campfires and wayshrines.

    Another half-ruined Imperial tower juts out of the swampy ground, full of another set of magical crafting tables. Merry starts to explain something about people taking advantage of certain kinds of magic being stronger in certain places but I¡¯m ignoring him and exploring the tower instead. Way up at the top of the ruined staircase, a book titled Woodhearth: A Pocket Guide.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m always wondering why you keep climbing up ruins like this,¡± Eran says. ¡°And now I¡¯m wondering even more why you keep finding things in these places.¡±

    Not far from the tower, we run across a bitch of a wispmother who might be the one the fellow in Woodhearth mentioned, so we kill her and all the annoying wisps floating around.

    It must be the right one, as we find the guy in question nearby who recognizes my companions and claims he¡¯d come back to help avenge his companions, which mostly involves standing on a nearby hill and watching without actually helping.

 Chapter 85: In Which Sea Elves Love Snakes Way Too Much

    We might have almost found where Serpent¡¯s Grotto is supposed to be when we run across a Bosmer who has been hunting a troll. He tells us about how it¡¯s been terrorizing the hunters in this part of Valenwood and wants us to track it and kill it. What is it about the Bosmer in Greenshade that think we want to track things for them?

    ¡°Oh, for love of Xarxes,¡± Merry mutters. ¡°Gelur, can you track this thing?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Wanna bag us a troll?¡±

    ¡°Neri, no need to go off chasing trolls,¡± Merry says. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of this and meet up with you at Seaside Sanctuary, or whatever spot between here and there you¡¯ll probably still be killing things at by the time we get there.¡±

    I admire my friends¡¯ dedication to keep me from getting too badly distracted when there¡¯s an actually urgent problem that needs to be solved. And I¡¯m fairly certain that if I weren¡¯t here, Merry would have been the first to say ¡°go kill your own damned troll.¡±

    There¡¯s a wayshrine standing outside of the grotto, which I stop and light. I take a moment to pop over to Marbruk real quick to drop off some books with Sahira-daro and let her know about Rootwater Grove, before heading into the grotto.

    And of course there¡¯s trouble in Serpent¡¯s Grotto. A wood elf inside tells me the sea elves are here because of course they are. And the name of the place wasn¡¯t just a metaphor. This cave was named after some sort of legendary giant snake that was bound here with blood magic for a few centuries. The Maormer were probably like ¡°Cool, a big snake!¡± when they heard of it. The Bosmer woman here thinks they must have some great plan to control the thing, but no, I just think they¡¯re snake fans and nothing else.

    So naturally, our job here is to slaughter some pesky Maormer and re-bind the giant snake, because it¡¯s one of those things that¡¯s supposedly impossible to kill. Presumably not in the manner that Daedra are impossible to kill, which is because they¡¯re quite killable and just come back.

    We head through the grotto, kill a lot of sea elves and wave a blood-infused glowy thing over some magic pools, then meet up with the Bosmer priestess at the end of the cave.

    The lead dumb sea elf is on a cliff outside the grotto, doing some magic in front of another magic pool. The translucent image of a giant red snake wavers in the water below, tall enough for the head to be above the cliff.

    ¡°He¡¯s about to unleash the serpent!¡± the Bosmer cries. ¡°We have to stop him!¡±

    ¡°Why did we do all that in the cave if he can still release it?¡± I wonder, running toward the Maormer mage. ¡°Never mind, whatever it is should be solvable with hitting him repeatedly.¡±

    We proceed to pound the sea elf into paste, in time to stop whatever it was he was trying to do. I¡¯m almost disappointed I didn¡¯t get to fight the giant snake, though.

    Merry and Gelur catch up to us at that point.

    ¡°Well, you certainly made your path easy to follow,¡± Gelur observes. ¡°A line of dead sea elves and their snake pets pointing right to this spot.¡± She makes sure I¡¯m not injured, but my Restoring Light has already done the job.

    ¡°We return with news: Trolls are still flammable,¡± Merry informs me. ¡°And that particular one will not be bothering anyone else.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d things go here?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°Aside from the obvious.¡±

    ¡°Giant snakes summoned today: Zero,¡± I say. ¡°On to the sanctuary?¡±

    I have to wonder what things must be like in Pyandorea for so many Maormer to constantly harass the shores of Tamriel. Is it rocky and barren, wracked by constant storms? If so, they seem insufficiently Chimer-like to choose to live somewhere that challenges you. Although in either case, it would be a great way to discourage anyone from bothering to try invading your land, much like how people rarely invade the Ashlands, and never with the intention of actually living there.

    Another tunnel through an Ayleid ruin so boring that it¡¯s not even worth mentioning anything but the doorways, and we¡¯re on the next shore overlooking Seaside Sanctuary (I assume).

    The bridge is a long way around the bay, but the docks are right there, so I decide we ought to take a shortcut with a short swim. The docks are swarming with sea elves and racist bandits, and the sea elves have hung their stupid snake banners from every bar that you hang banners on. I make a point to set every one of them on fire as we hurry by.

    As it turns out, Raz is waiting for us on the other side of the bridge I didn¡¯t feel like going over and crossing, outside of an exit from Serpent¡¯s Grotto that wasn¡¯t the one we came out from. With him are some Dominion soldiers, Eyes of the Queen, and the crew of the Prowler who are complaining about their ship being seized by sea elves and feeling much better about their chances of getting it back when they see me there.

    ¡°Ah, you are finally here,¡± Raz says. ¡°Did you take the long way around?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, had to deal with some sea elves trying to summon a giant snake on the way here,¡± I explain, not mentioning the other detour we made to visit a Daedric library.

    ¡°Oh, good,¡± Raz says. ¡°Giant snakes are Raz¡¯s least favorite part of dealing with Maormer.¡±

    A wayshrine stands just outside of the town not far the bridge, and near it I find a book titled The Green Pact and the Dominion next to a skeleton hiding in the crook of a large tree. Everyone is mildly annoyed at me for delaying assaulting the town but I insist that it¡¯s very important that I go over and light the wayshrine.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how that helped anything, but if you say so¡­¡± says the Dominion major, an Altmer woman named Cilenwe. Cirelwe. Cenirwe?

    ¡°Cirenwe,¡± Merry hisses.

    ¡°I have the utmost confidence in your ability to do battle with sea elves,¡± the major says. ¡°But as Razum-dar informs me that you are bad at names, I will not be offended at you immediately getting it wrong moments after you were told it. You can simply call me ¡®major¡¯ if it would help.¡±

    ¡°Appreciated,¡± I say.

    The major tells me about the sea elves having taken some hostages and goes into detail on exactly who these hostages are and why they¡¯re important and I¡¯m not terribly paying attention because I don¡¯t really care who they are and I¡¯m not the one who¡¯s going to be sneaking in and freeing them from the sea elves anyway.

    Is ¡®sea elf¡¯ supposed to be capitalized, too? Bother. Maybe I should just start capitalizing all race names if I can¡¯t keep track of which are supposed to be capitalized and which aren¡¯t. So stupid. The alphabet used by the Chimer only sometimes made the first letter bigger but made it bigger (sometimes huge and a different color) just depending on how important the word was. Or whatever the person writing it felt like. For instance¡ª

    ¡°Neri?¡± Eran nudges me. ¡°Razum-dar and Ilara-daro are going to rescue the hostages. We¡¯re going to take out the Maormer commanders once the hostages are safe.¡±

    ¡°You told me there¡¯d be a hostage exchange!¡± protests the Maormer prisoner.

    ¡°Oh. Right,¡± I say, then look to the major. ¡°Did you promise a hostage exchange?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if the hostages are even still alive as it is,¡± the major admits. ¡°And I doubt they¡¯d consider this bastard as important as the people they captured anyway.¡±

    ¡°Why did they even take hostages?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Probably to discourage us from charging in,¡± Eran says. ¡°I doubt they¡¯d let them go.¡±

    We head in and hunt down the commanders, killing every sea e¡ªSea Elf that crosses our path. (They¡¯re dead; they probably don¡¯t care what I call them anymore. Probably didn¡¯t care in the first place, actually.)

    At the bottom of the lighthouse, amid several bodies sits an Altmer man with a bandage over his face, groaning in pain. Gelur rushes forward to start healing him, pulling off the bandage to be able to heal what¡¯s underneath.

    ¡°Restoration magic¡­ help has arrived?¡± the Altmer says. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can heal gouged out eyeballs, can you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Gelur says upon seeing what¡¯s under the bandage. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Then just let me die.¡± He starts ranting about Pelidil and Asteril¡¯s sister whose name he can¡¯t remember either tortured him and the others here and were doing some sort of evil ritual to bring High Kinlady Estre back to life and give her dark powers except she was being even bitchier than usual after they brought her back to life.

    I consider trying something, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯d appreciate any eyes Sheogorath or Hermaeus Mora would give him. I¡¯m quite sure that they would ¡®help¡¯ here if I asked and that this poor fetcher would very much not be happy about it because they¡¯d probably make him see things that would instantly drive him mad.

    ¡°Where¡¯s that music coming from?¡± he mutters.

    And if any Dwemer were around, they could have implanted mechanical replacements. I¡¯d seen it plenty of times, with people who had lost limbs or were paralyzed. I¡¯d imagine most Altmer would object to being part machine. This one seems just as offended over the thought that he¡¯s ugly and scarred as that his eyes are gone. Fucking Altmer. Most races bear scars as a badge of pride for surviving. Not the prissy High Elves. Fine, if living ugly is too hard, then be pretty in Aetherius. I don¡¯t have time for this.

    We climb the lighthouse and light the beacon to signal the Dominion troops after moving the mirrors to the other side where they¡¯ll send the light toward the troops outside of town and not out to sea, as signaling the Maormer wouldn¡¯t exactly help.

    When we head down from the lighthouse and back out into town, the Dominion strike force is busily striking. I¡¯m sure they appreciate that we went straight to our targets and left them plenty of Sea Elves and Racist Bandits to kill. We report back to the major and meet up with Raz and Ilara again.

    According to reports, Pelidil has gotten on a ship and headed out to sea. The Prowler has been retaken and ready to give pursuit, however. We¡¯re not letting him get away this time. I prefer being able to stroll across Tamriel at a leisurely pace and solve whatever problems I run across on my own time rather than rushing ahead to deal with some fetcher who has made me have to prioritize them. I have an odd tendency to arrive in places just when I¡¯m needed and not a moment too late, after all. I have a Dragon God¡¯s sense of timing, I think.

    Jimila and her crew are fine seafarers if they can beat Sea Elves at their own game. Which is a good time to take a nap up until they¡¯ve found him. It¡¯s been a long day or week or¡­ I¡¯m not even sure how long it has been since I got back to Tamriel.

    Ilara wakes me up when we¡¯ve engaged the enemy and we head up top to see Sea Elf mages hurling balls of fire at the deck, which I assume has at least some protection against being set on fire with magic because it¡¯s not burning nearly as much as I would have expected it to. Dumzy in hand, I charge in to repel boarders. One of the people on deck yells in alarm that the Maormer have a sea serpent.

    ¡°Yes!¡± I exclaim, then look out at the huge snake in the water. ¡°Wait¡­ I don¡¯t think I can swim well enough to hack that apart.¡±

    ¡°Use the ballistae!¡± shouts someone. ¡°Brace yourself! It¡¯s trying to ram the¡ª¡±

    The giant serpent slams its head into the side of the ship. I stumble and nearly fall overboard, steading myself against a railing. My battle axe isn¡¯t so lucky. My palms slick from seawater, it slips out of my grip and plummets into the sea.

    ¡°Noooo!¡± I cry. ¡°Not Dumzy!¡±

    I leave my friends to deal with the boarders and mer the ballistae instead. After several good shots (and a few not-so-good shots), the serpent is either dying or has decided ¡°fuck this, I don¡¯t like Sea Elves enough to die for them¡±. Which one it is isn¡¯t terrible important, just that it¡¯s stopped attacking us.

    I pull out my hand axe, Souvenir, from my pack and rejoin the battle on deck. The Maormer mages have opened portals to board the ship, which seemed very clever until we use their portals to board their ship.

    Pelidil is on board, backed into a corner (or the middle of the ocean, whatever) with nowhere to run (unless he can get one of those mages to open a portal back to shore, which he¡¯s not doing, especially since we just killed them all). He spends the entire fight taunting me and blustering and¡ªyou know, it doesn¡¯t even matter, we kick his ass. Honestly, it¡¯s no wonder the Maormer decided to work with him. He¡¯s just as much a snake as the scaly kind.

    ¡°Let me take a moment to give a few words for the fallen,¡± I say when we¡¯re back aboard the Prowler. ¡°To Dumzy, sadly lost in battle. A fine companion and stalwart comrade.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re giving a eulogy for your axe,¡± Eran says flatly.

    ¡°Dumzy¡¯s the best axe I had this month!¡± I protest. ¡°Anyway, once we get back to town, I ought to buy a couple of them if this is going to keep happening.¡±

    By the time we return to port, the Dominion has secured Seaside Sanctuary. Congratulations are to be had all around, although there¡¯s one tiny problem I have to inform Raz and the major of.

    ¡°Pelidil already raised Estre as a lich,¡± I say. ¡°And she wasn¡¯t here, either, nor was the magic stick he stole. I have it on good authority from a source you don¡¯t want to know that she¡¯ll be heading for a place called¡­ um, shit, I wrote it down, give me a moment.¡± I pull out my journal and flip to the correct page. ¡°Hectahame. That was the name. I¡¯m not sure what she¡¯s looking for there, but it was something about the heart of Valenwood, so that doesn¡¯t really sound good.¡±

    ¡°Dark Moons,¡± Raz breathes. ¡°No, it most certainly does not.¡±

 Chapter 86: In Which I Poke at Shadows

    I¡¯d like to go through Greenshade and clear up all the marked locations on the Wilderqueen¡¯s map, but alas, priorities. Ari would be disappointed if I didn¡¯t first deal with the immediate threat. We return to Marbruk via wayshrine to make a report to Queen Ayrenn and deliver a message the major sent along with us. (Without any portal mages under her command at the moment, I had the quickest way back.)

    Prince Naemon is absolutely furious when he hears about what happened with his late wife. ¡°He did WHAT?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead now,¡± I tell him. ¡°I killed him.¡±

    Naemon lets out a ragged breath and covers his face with his hands. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d be glad to hear someone say that. This is atrocious. What of¡­ what of the abomination that he created with my wife¡¯s body?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s another matter that will need to be dealt with,¡± I say sourly.

    ¡°See to it that it is,¡± Naemon says. ¡°If I¡¯d known what sort of madness the people around me were capable of¡­¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± I say sympathetically. ¡°Seriously I do. My wife and closest friends murdered me, after all. At least you survived.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you do at that,¡± Naemon says. ¡°How do you even move on after such a thing? Even if you weren¡¯t busily being dead at the time.¡±

    ¡°Nothing to be done but to make better friends,¡± I say. ¡°Betrayal is sometimes the price of trust, but I won¡¯t let it stop me from trusting people.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯d realized you were the long-dead ghost of a king, even the king of such a blasphemous people as the Chimer, that would have been different than my sister greatly trusting some random Altmer she¡¯d just met.¡±

    ¡°Would that really have made me more trustworthy, or just less offensive to trust?¡±

    Naemon sighs. ¡°And I hate to have to ask you to do this, but¡­ you need to kill my wife again. I don¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t even want to see this thing that Pelidil has created.¡±

    I nod. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    We¡¯re not in for a break here. Reports from the city guards indicate that the undead are already at the city gates. They sure as fuck moved fast. Estre must have used teleportation magic to cross half of Valenwood too. And to think, all becoming a lich did was change the first sound in her description.

    My group heads out of the northern gates to Marbruk and we speak to the people in charge of the defense. A beautiful combination of racist bandits and undead are out there, waiting for me to put an axe through their heads, which quickly reminds me that I haven¡¯t gotten a new axe yet. In my haste to speak with the Queen and Prince and get out here to see what¡¯s going on, I¡¯d entirely forgotten.

    ¡°Just a moment,¡± I tell the Vinedusk Ranger who had just finished telling me how shitty it is out here. ¡°I need to go shopping real quick. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°My friends can stay here to help hold the line,¡± I say, and run off back through the gates.

    The merchants in town, of course, can tell quite easily that I¡¯m in a hurry and overcharge me at least three times what the weapons are actually worth but I don¡¯t care. I buy two of them just to make sure I have a backup, a shiny Altmer-style one and an imported one in House Redoran style being sold by a Dunmer merchant. Someone with more poetic aspirations might have named then Dawn and Dusk or something like that. I, however, name them Wibbly and Wobbly because I¡¯m in a rush and not feeling very poetic.

    I return momentarily to the front lines and rejoin my friends and very concerned Rangers. My friends have taken the initiative to push forward a bit in the meantime, but there are still plenty of racist bandits and skeletons to hit. We fight our way to what Gelur calls the old merchant tunnels, where the Mane (what the Khajiit call their king) has taken refuge.

    ¡°This one is going to meet the Mane,¡± Ilara says giddily.

    The Mane is named Akkhuz-ri, and I am making note of that now in case I need to call him something other than ¡®the Mane¡¯ and won¡¯t be able to remember how many K¡¯s are in it. He¡¯s a white-furred Khajiit with a mane of golden hair on his head, and grateful to see reinforcements.

    ¡°Akkhuz-ri saw her with his own eyes,¡± the Mane says. ¡°The Lich Queen, veiled in darkness. She came here leading an army of undead, but then she vanished and this one does not know where she went.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad she didn¡¯t push through and start opening Oblivion gates in Marbruk or something,¡± I say.

    The Mane introduces us to a Bosmer man by the name of Indaenir, a considerably less angry Indy than the last Indy I encountered. While the Mane heads off with some bodyguards toward Marbruk, Calm Indy tells us about how he wants to interrogate some dead souls who were bound to their remains for violating the Green Pact.

    ¡°She wants something in Hectahame,¡± Eran says. ¡°Before you need to look up the name again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not good news, but I believe there is more going on than that,¡± Calm Indy says. ¡°Let us gather what information we can.¡±

    Outside the tunnel on the other end, there¡¯s a book titled Vivec and Mephala laying on the ground. I pick it up and glance at the first couple pages then toss it into my pack in disgust.

    ¡°Of course Vivec would never have conspired to murder Lord Nerevar, but it happened so long ago¡­ who can know the truth?¡± quoth the book. Fuck you, Vehk, just fuck you.

    ¡°Are you alright¡­ Neri, was it?¡± Calm Indy asks.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Just peachy,¡± I answer. ¡°Hopefully there¡¯s more undead to hit.¡±

    Calm Indy talks to a torchbug to convince it to lead me off to find some skulls to interrogate. I¡¯m not really in the mood for this shit, but Ilara quickly picks up on my mood and slips me something sweet. Fortunately, there¡¯s plenty more racist bandits and undead to hit among the burned and abandoned tree-pod buildings up across the bridge.

    While I¡¯m focusing on hitting everything, Ilara gathers up the skulls in question, and we bring them over to Calm Indy next to a stone table with a scenic view of a waterfall.

    According to the skulls that Calm Indy makes talk, Estre is planning on veiling the Valenwood in shadows. I have no idea how or what this might do but it sounds like she probably ought to be hit repeatedly and made stop, but then I was planning on doing that anyway. I bid Calm Indy to release the two dead Bosmer who were helpful. The third one, being an asshole and blustering about how the shadow will remake Valenwood into some dark doomy dead place, I pick up his skull and hurl it into the waterfall. I miss, startle a vulture, and go pick it up again and make sure it actually clears the cliff this time.

    ¡°You know, it¡¯s a good thing that your line of work does not depend on hitting things with thrown objects,¡± Eran comments.

    We¡¯re heading down that way anyway to protect Calm Indy while he closes some shadow rifts, but it¡¯s the principle of it. I don¡¯t know what he means by ¡®shadow rifts¡¯, but once we find one down in the gullies, it turns out to be some sort of floaty glob of black and blue in the air, with a group of skeletal mages waving their skeletal fingers at it making more shadowy stuff.

    This sort of shit is why I don¡¯t like this sort of magic. Magic that sets things on fire or heals people? Fine. Those are concrete and useful effects. Magic that fucks with reality like this? Why can¡¯t people just leave this shit alone? Once we¡¯ve destroyed the skeletons and closed the rift, a voice echoes from nowhere and warns us to leave the rifts alone. As if. And once we¡¯ve gotten them all closed, she one-ups her bluster by sending us right into the ¡®Shadow Wood¡¯, which mostly looks like Valenwood normally does except it¡¯s tinted dark blue. The music turns ominous.

    ¡°Estre was a worshipper of Mehrunes Dagon who was going to betray him to worship Molag Bal instead,¡± I muse aloud. ¡°Did she wind up taking a left turn at Nocturnal afterward? This doesn¡¯t make much sense to me so I¡¯m hoping someone has a solution.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can make the music a little less ominous?¡± Merry asks dryly. ¡°It¡¯s making this more unnerving than necessary.¡±

    I focus for a few moments and manage to switch it to upbeat, heroic, ¡®we¡¯re going to kick your ass¡¯ music. ¡°Better?¡±

    ¡°Much.¡±

    Calm Indy leads us back to the stone table where we¡¯d interrogated the skulls, because something about a gateway between life and death and whatever. A transparent red guy is waiting for us there, who blusters at us and threatens us but is ultimately quite hittable for being see-through. Once he falls, a rush of whiteness sweeps over us and brings back the sun, and the lighting in the forest returns to normal.

    ¡°Great, that¡¯s taken care of,¡± I say, then look aside to Calm Indy. ¡°Is it?¡±

    ¡°I can sense disturbances throughout the forest,¡± Calm Indy says. ¡°More will need to be done yet. I must investigate. I will meet up with you later.¡±

    ¡°Give us a yell when you find something else that needs to be hit,¡± I say. ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Calm Indy disappears into the forest, and the rest of us head back. Fortunately, we can reach the gates of Marbruk from here via rope bridge rather than going back through the tunnels, and I totally don¡¯t wind up back at the entrance to the tunnels before someone points this out to me. I never claimed my exploration of Tamriel was particularly efficient.

    We meet up with the Vinedusk Rangers and happily see that there¡¯s no longer an army of undead at the gates of the city, to which I¡¯m sure everyone is relieved. Or at least everyone who has a heartbeat. And isn¡¯t a racist lunatic. I report back what we encountered, which is definitely not a relief, but at least no longer an immediate problem. The Ranger fellow tells me that Calm Indy will probably wind up at one of a couple places whose names contain a V that I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll stumble upon shortly.

    We run across an Altmer with a couple of Orc bodyguards at a small camp, but I spot the blue shaft of a Skyshard down at the bottom of the cliff and jump off before going to speak with them.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran yells, then sighs. ¡°There he goes again.¡±

    I have to circle around a bit to get back up, and run across a wayshrine along the way, which I light before noticing my friends are already there to meet me.

    ¡°The Altmer fellow says his betrothed has been kidnapped,¡± Gelur says. ¡°He gave us a magic flute to find her.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. ¡°That¡­ makes sense, I guess?¡±

    When we find the missing Bosmer woman, we discover that she was kidnapped by the Falinesti Faithful to replace a lost tribeswoman, which greatly clarifies why she¡¯s tied up as a ¡®test¡¯. Sometimes Bosmer customs are more comprehensible than others.

    ¡°Okay, so, I take it you¡¯re not happy living in an Altmer-style city like Marbruk,¡± I say. ¡°And he probably wouldn¡¯t be happy living in a tent? Couldn¡¯t you just live in one of those tree-pod towns instead?¡±

    ¡°But I have a new life and new duties now,¡± she says. ¡°I mean, that sounds like a dream and I do love him but¡­¡±

    ¡°While I can understand duties and all that, I¡¯m not a big fan of kidnapping people and tying them up for it,¡± I say. ¡°Why can¡¯t they just make you eat a frog and talk to a tree like normal people?¡±

    ¡°I could escape from these flimsy ropes anytime I want,¡± she says. ¡°This is all a test to see if I can endure pain and hardship.¡±

    ¡°Gelur, answer me something here, would you?¡± I say. ¡°Is kidnapping and hurting people up a typical way Bosmer expand their tribes? I can¡¯t imagine Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars would do something like this.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the way we do things, no,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of tribes that do it, though. Seems ass-backwards to me, though. Someone ought to want to join your tribe.¡±

    ¡°What would happen if we were to re-kidnap her?¡± I ask with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d consider that fair, right?¡±

    Gelur chuckles. ¡°They sure ought to.¡±

    Where they were keeping her tied up, I leave a note for the tribe for when they come back to look for her letting them know their captive has been re-kidnapped and suggest they try recruiting by distributing pamphlets instead. She¡¯s very confused as we lead her back to where we left her lover, and they head off saying they¡¯ll try Woodhearth.

    We run into another Bosmer woman who wants us to track a mammoth because of course she does. Merry, behind me, just gives a heavy sigh.

    ¡°We¡¯re kind of busy on some pressing things involving Daedra and undead, and my friends will probably put their hands on their faces if I run off after a mammoth,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯ll bring you the tusk if we run across one.¡±

    She¡¯s not impressed by our lack of dedication to the hunt but understands we¡¯re after bigger prey that¡¯s usually smaller unless the Daedra summon a particularly large ogrim. And then a Dark Anchor drops nearby so we run off to deal with that and drag her along with us to do something more useful than crouching in the forest trying to goad passing travelers into hunting mammoths for her.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not the sort of prey I was expecting to hunt today,¡± the hunter says once the Dark Anchor has been destroyed. ¡°But it¡¯s just as well I came over here. I¡¯m spotting signs of a mammoth having come through this way.¡±

    There¡¯s a marker on my map for a cave near Driladan Pass, so we head over to check it out. Turns out the mammoth the hunter was looking for is just outside, so we kill that and she extols our amazing luck rather than our amazing tracking skills. (But come on, seriously lady, is it really that hard to track a mammoth?)

    There¡¯s a bunch of big cats inside, and some strange rambling notes inside a tent that someone set up inside the cave for some reason. It sounds like someone tried to get themself a pack of tigers (is ¡®pack¡¯ even the right word?) which worked until they ran out of meat. Whatever problem was here appears to have taken care of itself, but there¡¯s a Skyshard in here, so thanks, Ari!

 Chapter 87: In Which I Do Some Pruning

    If I¡¯m going to have to fight a lich, I think I¡¯d best get some expert advice on the matter. I want to be sure Estre stays dead this time around. So, to that end, I take a wayshrine to Vastarie¡¯s Tower in Grahtwood. It seems like the people who hang out there never go anywhere or do anything when I¡¯m not looking, but I¡¯m sure they do, although I have no idea what. I will generously assume that people do things when I¡¯m not looking at them.

    The Redguard swordsman is feeling much better and eager to spill the beans on where he left that damned amulet. I have to tell them that they¡¯ll have to wait on that for a little bit, though, since I¡¯m dealing with problems of a very pressing nature in Greenshade. I do love having legitimate excuses sometimes, if nothing else. At least he¡¯s unlikely to have hidden it in Coldharbour, so there¡¯s the bonus of not having to go back there for something this time.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back once the situation in Greenshade has stabilized,¡± I say. ¡°Get your strength back up.¡±

    ¡°An army of the dead,¡± Sai says. ¡°I wish I could join you. I am eager to put my blade to use against something other than practice dummies.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, this city Nerevar mentioned, Marbruk, is so new I have never been there to be able to open a portal there,¡± Vastarie says.

    The most annoying thing about magic is that it can do whatever you want, except when it can¡¯t. Ridiculous. Portals and teleportation are one of the sorts of magic I¡¯m okay with. And not just because they¡¯re bloody convenient, which they are.

    ¡°Any enlightenment on how to defeat a lich, at least?¡± I ask.

    ¡°If she had been dead for a while then raised later, then she is not the same manner of being that I am,¡± Vastarie said.

    I nod thoughtfully. ¡°Yes, that had seemed odd to me. But then, when Vicereeve Pelidil kept ranting about how he¡¯d raised his precious Veiled Queen as a lich, I got the feeling he might not have been all there, mentally speaking, and coming from me, that¡¯s probably saying something.¡±

    ¡°You visit the Shivering Isles for fun,¡± Merry points out.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°And I don¡¯t steal magic sticks to resurrect my supposed friend¡¯s dead wife to do¡­ whatever it is she¡¯s planning on doing that¡¯s probably nothing good. I know I¡¯m completely insane, and I mostly just hit bad people until they stop being bad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate that there is conflicting terminology when dealing with necromancy,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°A lack of education on the matter, too often suppressed, as if that actually stops anyone.¡±

    ¡°Would simply hitting her repeatedly be sufficient?¡± I ask. ¡°Would I need to destroy the Staff of Magnus? If that¡¯s even possible? I really hope not. People seemed to think that magic stick was important or something.¡±

    Most of the people in the room look aghast at the thought of destroying the magic stick.

    ¡°I would recommend hitting her repeatedly and attempting to retrieve¡ªnot destroy¡ªthe ¡®magic stick¡¯,¡± Vastarie says patiently. ¡°If this does not solve the immediate problem, come to me and I¡¯ll see what else may be done.¡±

    I thank her for her advice, even if it was just to tell me to do what I was planning on doing anyway, and teleport my group back to Greenshade. We¡¯ve got work to do, and most of it is probably going to involve hitting things.

    There are two places in Greenshade named Verrant Morass and Dread Vullain and I am constantly mixing them up for some reason. (I¡¯m still bad with names. Will wonders never cease?) We wind up at one or another of them and it probably doesn¡¯t matter which one since we were going to go to both of them at some point anyway.

    A Bosmer sitting by a campfire recognizes us as we approach and says Calm Indy told him about us. The unspecified forest further down the path is blighted and Calm Indy has told him to warn people away, but we¡¯re obviously an exception to that, so we thank him and head on in.

    Calm Indy meets us on the road, glad to see us since we¡¯re obviously here to fix everything like usual, and tells us about the situation. The Veiled Bitch-Turned-Lich has been through here and done something to the forest causing the Bosmer in the area to become afflicted with a blight that has driven them mad. Now, see? This. This is the sort of magic I hate. She couldn¡¯t just come in and kill people and turn them into undead, oh no, that¡¯s not evil enough. She¡¯s got to turn everything weird and shadowy and I can¡¯t begin to fathom how or why.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it can¡¯t affect me, but what about my friends?¡± I ask. ¡°And you?¡±

    ¡°I believe it¡¯s our connection to the Green that lets Bosmer be affected,¡± Calm Indy says. ¡°The Altmer and Khajiit should be unaffected. I don¡¯t know about Gelur, though. Some Bosmer, like me, appear to be able to resist it. We should be cautious, and if you start to feel strange, say something and we¡¯ll get you to safety.¡±

    Gelur nods. ¡°I¡¯ll stay alert.¡±

    I look down at the path to see Bosmer snarling like animals ready to attack us if we get near. ¡°Merry, can you get that spell of yours going?¡±

    ¡°Turning an entire village to stone for their own good,¡± Merry says. ¡°Again. This is number four¡­ I never imagined I would wind up using this spell quite this much. I am ready. Let us get started.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    We head through the village, freezing the feral Bosmer in place and giving Calm Indy a chance to activate some standing stones to do something or other. I grab a few interesting books along the way that no one is in a state of mind to complain about me grabbing.

    Calm Indy and Gelur are alright for the moment, noting that they can feel something scrabbling over them trying to get its claws into them. They¡¯re so far still holding it off, but best not waste time loitering about doing things like grabbing every interesting book I spot, because I¡¯m apparently a kleptomaniac book thief.

    Once the standing stones are active, Calm Indy realizes that something called the Eldest is corrupted and this is a really bad thing for the area. The Eldest is apparently a strangler vine, and a surprisingly small one at that. I¡¯d generally expect really old things¡ªwell, non-people things¡ªto be really big. Calm Indy says that normally, killing a plant would be considered a violation of the Green Pact, but he explains that there¡¯s an exception for diseased plants to keep the blight from spreading.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard anyone complain about me hitting plants that were trying to kill me,¡± I comment.

    ¡°This is Valenwood,¡± Eran says. ¡°Half the plants here try to kill us whenever we get close to them.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s true,¡± I say.

    ¡°The continued well-being of the Valenwood is what¡¯s important,¡± Calm Indy says.

    ¡°Any in any case, you¡¯re not the one that¡¯s going to be killing a plant,¡± I say. ¡°I am.¡±

    Calm Indy says that he¡¯ll be able to plant a new strangler vine to take the place of the Eldest. Obviously, this thing wouldn¡¯t be oldest of anything anymore. It would, in fact, be Youngest for a while and then Second Youngest and eventually once every other strangler vine around has been killed trying to strangle some passing traveler, it will once again be the Eldest. I feel like the title was already a bit of a stretch to begin with. Stretchy like a strangler vine. Anyway, I plant an axe in the plant and retrieve its squishy heart, and no sooner do I have it in hand than a voice echoes through the cave to taunt us. The lights go out as we find ourselves back in the Shadow Wood.

    ¡°Why does this keep happening?¡± I mutter. ¡°Are you alright, Gelur?¡±

    Gelur nods, rubbing her head. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just a bit of a headache. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m about to go nuts and attack anyone, but if I do, Merry can just turn me to stone, too.¡±

    ¡°Well, so long as we¡¯re here, let¡¯s go hit some things,¡± I say. ¡°It will probably help somehow.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we may be able to stem the blight from this side,¡± Calm Indy says calmly, although his face is transparent. I guess he didn¡¯t get pushed in as well?

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask him. ¡°Are you here with us?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Calm Indy says. ¡°I¡¯m still alright, but I¡¯m using magic to conceal myself and keep the blight at bay. If you can destroy the corrupted tree spirits, I may be able to purge this section of the forest.¡±

    ¡°I do not even see the point of turning the forest into this Shadow Wood,¡± Merry comments. ¡°It is not like the creatures here are any more aggressive than the creatures in Valenwood normally are, either.¡±

    ¡°Nor any more dangerous, for that matter,¡± I add. ¡°Even the ones that think they are. Like this guy.¡±

    We¡¯re attacked by a shadowy figure that might be the one we fought before, except he¡¯s shadowier now and not red. (Maybe it¡¯s a different guy but it hardly matters, he¡¯s just as annoying and not any stronger.)

    We kick his ass and move on. That doesn¡¯t even kill him either, as he keeps taunting us as we¡¯re killing the crazed spriggans. The worst of it is that I can¡¯t think up many good taunts to fire back at him because I don¡¯t know anything about him.

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± I retort. ¡°Well you¡¯re transparent!¡±

    ¡°What will it take to get that bastard to shut up?¡± Merry grumbles.

    Having someone offer me a merciful death is just hilarious now. Once the tree spirits have been killed, we circle back around to find Calm Indy again and have to kill the shadowy fetcher a third time.

    We speak with Calm Indy and get the strangler heart back to him, and emerge from the Shadow Wood back into normal sunlight. No idea how but I really don¡¯t feel like questioning how this stupid magic works. And then the stupid shadowy asshole reappears and we have to kill him for a fourth time.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, stay dead.¡±

    ¡°I really hope Estre proves easier to keep down,¡± Merry says with a sigh.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get moving before he respawns,¡± Eran says with an even heavier sigh.

    We go through and start returning the Bosmer we¡¯d turned to stone back into Bosmer again. They¡¯re considerably less ragey now, but they¡¯re still pretty dazed after their experience. Calm Indy thinks it will take them some time to recover, and fears that they might never be themselves again. I¡­ don¡¯t like to think about that sort of thing so I quickly breeze past to where we¡¯re going next, which is west of here to the other location in northern Greenshade whose name contains a V in order to further stem the advances of the shadowy bullshit. I¡¯m all for there being less bullshit in Tamriel that didn¡¯t come out of livestock. The livestock kind is more useful.

    I¡¯m more inclined to go cut the head off the snake and head straight for Heck. Surely the shadowy bullshit will stop being bullshit when she dies, right? My theory on weird magic stopping when the right person is killed has proven right many, many times.

    As we¡¯re traveling through the valleys of northern Greenshade, we come upon a traveling Khajiit merchant being waylaid by bandits and skeevers, so we lend a hand as we¡¯re passing by. His black horse dances in terror around the large rodents. It¡¯s not carrying a saddle or pack, so I assume that it¡¯s a pet and the merchant is just carrying a magic bag.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine between Verrant Morass and Dread Vullain, and while I¡¯m still not sure which of them is which, I go up and light it. The area is swarming with Vinedusk Rangers.

    The gates of Hectahame lie just to the north, shimmering with green magic, and one of the Rangers helpfully tells me that they can¡¯t get in because the door is warded. I raise an eyebrow and look at the huge doors, set into a wall that¡¯s barely bigger than the doors themselves. Around it, a white stone bridge crosses a gorge full of what appear from a distance to be racist bandit necromancers. Then again, I¡¯d be surprised if anything other than racist bandit necromancers were in this particular situation. It would be highly confusing were the gates of an Ayleid ruin guarded by Orcs in jester outfits juggling pygmy mudcrabs.

    ¡°Neri, you¡¯re high and rambling nonsense again,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to jump over to that bridge and see if I can get in the doors.¡±

    ¡°That door is also warded,¡± Merry says with a sigh.

    ¡°We ought to go meet up with Indaenir in Dread Vullain,¡± Gelur says. ¡°He¡¯ll know what to do.¡±

    ¡°I suppose he¡¯d better know the sequence we need to do things in,¡± I say. ¡°I still think I can break in there, though.¡±

    ¡°It would probably take longer than dealing with whatever¡¯s in Dread Vullain anyway,¡± Eran says. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be hitting Estre soon enough.¡±

 Chapter 88: In Which I Die Stupidly and Get Lost

    I¡¯m itching to kill some more racist bandits and re-kill some more undead, and fortunately this sort of itching is not due to getting fleas from sleeping with Khajiit or something.

    I go up to a Bosmer woman near the wayshrine and ask her, ¡°Have you seen Calm Indy around here?¡±

    ¡°Indaenir,¡± Eran puts in helpfully.

    ¡°Ah! You¡¯re the group he mentioned. He said that you¡¯d be pretty obvious when you showed up. We¡¯ve been having some problems with undead here and we¡¯ve got our hands full. It¡¯ll be good to have ten more hands to fight back with.¡±

    Calm Indy, as if hearing he¡¯s being talked about, appears from nowhere. He tells us a little about the undead here, and that they¡¯re specifically Bosmer who belonged to some tribe called Blackroot. I¡¯m not sure why it matters since we¡¯re going to smack them back into the ground anyway, but he seems to care about it at least, so I humor him. He wants us to go through and watch some scenes from the past, which more like means I¡¯m going to go hit some undead while Calm Indy and my friends watch some scenes from the past.

    In between killing groups of undead, while they¡¯re watching these memories, I of course poke my nose into every abandoned tree-pod house in the village. They¡¯re mostly trashed and overgrown (though how something that was grown in the first place could be overgrown is amusing to me), but I find some interesting books along the way. Khajiit mythology; I¡¯m sure Sahira-daro will either like this or be offended about it. (More likely she already knows it anyway.)

    According to the scenes from the past that my friends fill me in on while I¡¯m not paying attention, the people who lived in this village before the Blackroots came poisoned themselves so that the Blackroots would die when they ate their corpses. (Because cannibalism is thing Bosmer do sometimes.) They kind of sound like sore losers to me.

    More recently, someone stole the Blackroot general¡¯s bow and commanded him to fight the Dominion by the Right of Theft. Calm Indy sends us to a nereid cave for some reason while he splits off from us to go do something else.

    From what my friends and Calm Indy were able to piece together while I was hitting undead and trying to find things to loot, the water bitches very likely manipulated both the villagers and the Blackroots for their own amusement.

    We haven¡¯t even made it halfway through the cave before I start really hating the sound of nereids. When you injure them, they tend to make this grating high-pitched warbling sound. And of course they¡¯re not feeling like chatting, so we just kill them all.

    The remains of the Blackwood general lie deep within the cave. Or high up in it, considering the cave goes up to the top of a waterfall. When we approach it, the air darkens and the annoying taunting voice of Estre¡¯s shadowy toady taunts us annoyingly again.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I mutter. ¡°How does he keep doing this?¡±

    I walk up toward the top of the waterfall. A lovely view of the night sky stretches out before us, although I¡¯m fairly certain that it wasn¡¯t night when we came in here. It¡¯s quite a long way down, too.

    ¡°Neri, please don¡¯t jump off the waterfall,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    ¡°No?¡± I say. ¡°How about I¡ª¡±

    I fall off the waterfall. Rather than gracefully diving into the pool at the bottom of the falls, I tumble and crack my head open on the rocks and die instantly.

    I reappear naked at the wayshrine. Actually, looking around and noticing that the wayshrine is Altmer-style rather than Bosmer-style, I think it¡¯s the wayshrine for Seaside Sanctuary, not the one at the V town. Between the two V towns. And I¡¯m still in the misty dark wood. I start trying to find my way back up the cliffs and waterfalls before remembering that I can just use the wayshrine to teleport me back up where I was.

    There isn¡¯t anyone else around, none of the Vinedusk Rangers that were here before, in the non-shadowy wood. This is both a good thing that they can¡¯t see I have no clothes on, and a bad thing that they can¡¯t point me back to where I¡¯m supposed to be.

    I wonder what my friends are going to tell Calm Indy when they come out of the cave without me. ¡°Oh, he died falling off a cliff,¡± I imagine Eran saying. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯ll be fine.¡± I¡¯m sure Calm Indy will understand.

    As I fumble my way through the dark mists of the Shadow Wood, I realize I actually have a real problem this time. I¡¯m alone, naked, don¡¯t know which direction to go, am surrounded by overly aggressive plant-things, and can¡¯t see more than ten feet in front of me. At least I still have Blinky with me, since my Aedric Spear is in my ¡­ soul? No, my soul¡¯s in Coldharbour. My essence? I don¡¯t even know what that means. Whatever, in any case, all I¡¯ve got is some light to try to light up the shadows with.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I stop to calm myself, not that I was freaking out or anything. It¡¯s not like the Shadow Wood was particularly scary until I was alone in it. The loud, ominous music definitely isn¡¯t helping to settle my nerves, either. The sensible thing to do would be to return to the wayshrine and wait for my friends to find me. They, at least, probably know where they are. I retrace my steps as best as I can, but now I¡¯m thoroughly lost again and not sure which way to go.

    I stop walking. This is getting me nowhere aside from potentially even more lost. I¡¯m totally and completely calm here. Calm as Indy. Not having any flashbacks to Coldharbour at all.

    It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s all fine. I can light my way through this. If I make enough noise and flashy light, my friends are sure to find me in the darkness. Admittedly, a lot of pissy things are likely to find me too, but that¡¯s okay. I can stab them with light, too.

    I take a deep breath. ¡°Meridia, light my way through the darkness and let me strike down the ones responsible for this corruption.¡±

    I let all the light powers I know flow through me into a beacon. A column of light and song extends into the air, piercing right through the eerie darkness and unnatural silence. I keep it up for several seconds before letting it go and killing everything that it pissed off. I repeat this several more times, and am starting to wonder if my friends can even see it at all when I hear voices calling out to me.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran calls. ¡°You can stop that now. It¡¯s alright. We¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°We brought your pack and Ilara-daro bravely fished your axe out of the water,¡± Merry says. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    Ilara comes up and passes them to me, along with some sopping wet clothes. I bring out a dry change of clothes from my pack and put them on, and haphazardly wrap up the wet clothes but reconsider shoving them in my pack and getting my books soaked, although somehow they¡¯re fine and don¡¯t wind up covered in blood no matter how many severed heads I shove in there. Eh, it¡¯ll be fine and I don¡¯t care right now.

    ¡°Neri, you really are an idiot sometimes,¡± Eran says, smirking. ¡°Okay, new rule. Instead of ¡®don¡¯t jump off cliffs¡¯, I¡¯m going to have to make this ¡®don¡¯t stand anywhere near cliffs¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I run a hand across the fuzz that¡¯s accumulating on the top of my head again like some sort of red mold.

    ¡°We closed several shadow rifts on the way through the village,¡± Merry says. ¡°We have not yet located or attempted to kill the servant of Estre who has the bow. We wished to wait until we had reunited with you in order to attempt it.¡±

    ¡°I assume you at least know the general direction he might be in?¡±

    ¡°Back this way,¡± Eran says.

    I follow along quietly as Eran leads us back toward V-town. (I can¡¯t even remember the name of the place, how am I to expect to be able to find my way back there?) Ilara wordlessly presses a moon sugar candy into my hand and I eat it, letting the sweetness soothe my nerves.

    By the time we get back to town and find the shadowy fetcher, I¡¯m definitely in the mood to hit something, but then, if I weren¡¯t in the mood to hit something, you might need to check if something¡¯s wrong with me. Even moon sugar doesn¡¯t quell my bloodlust. And I¡¯m definitely feeling like making this son of a guar shut up already.

    Once the shadow guy is down and not immediately reappearing, I grab the bow. Upon touching it, the world whooshes around us and deposits us back in sunlight again. I breathe out an audible sigh of relief.

    I turn around to find Calm Indy had appeared, along with a ghost who isn¡¯t attacking us. The dead Bosmer whose bow I just picked up, I¡¯m informed. General Malgoth, the most generic possible Bosmer name that I¡¯ve heard. It¡¯s not really a wonder I always forget names when all the ones within a race basically sound the same.

    ¡°Would someone kindly summarize what I missed?¡± I ask, glancing between my friends, Calm Indy, and the ghost.

    ¡°The racist bandits took his bow and told him to have his people attack us,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°And this is his bow?¡± I say, holding aloft the weapon I¡¯d taken from the shadow. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll mind the chance to get back at these fetchers that have been fucking around. I put on my best Hortator voice. ¡°Blackthorn tribe!¡±

    ¡°Blackroot,¡± Eran interrupts quietly.

    ¡°Blackroot tribe!¡± I pretend that was what I just said.

    ¡°It might be ¡®clan¡¯,¡± Merry says.

    I clear my throat. ¡°I have your bow, General! By the Right of Theft, I command you to rise up to defend the Green against these interlopers that would threaten Valenwood!¡±

    The dead general grins widely. ¡°My army will follow me from the Ooze and strike down your enemies.¡±

    I turn back to my friends. ¡°Is there time for dinner and a nap before we march on Heck to do glorious battle with the Bitch Queen? Maybe a cup of tea with moon sugar in it? Because I could definitely do with some tea with moon sugar in it about now.¡±

    ¡°I believe that might be arranged,¡± Merry says.

    We make our way down to the camp that has been set up around the gates of Heck. Everyone¡¯s preparing for a major offensive, and the barrier has been wobbling with our bumping around in the dark place hitting stuff or mostly just getting lost in the dark. I eat food that barely registers in my mind and lay down to sleep, feeling like I could sleep for a week.

    Previously, anytime I slept in Valenwood, I felt comforted and didn¡¯t have any nightmares of Coldharbour. Now? Something is very wrong and when my eyes close, all I see is the Shadow Wood encroaching upon my dreams. I¡¯m tired enough that my body needs the rest, but there¡¯s no escape from the darkness in my mind. When I do manage to slip away to dream of something else, it¡¯s Coldharbour. Somehow, there¡¯s even a familiar comfort in that.

    It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m fine. I totally wanted to be dreaming of Coldharbour again. Yep yep. And my favorite thing ever is for the God of Schemes to tell me that I¡¯m already his unwitting champion.

    I am so sick of gods.

 Chapter 89: In Which I Go to Heck

    A small crowd of very important people has gathered near the gates of Heck. Queen Ayrenn, the Mane and his Speaker, the Battlereeve, the treethane of Woodhearth, some Eyes of the Queen including Razum-dar, and quite a lot of assorted Vinedusk Rangers and Dominion soldiers. And Prince Naemon, reluctantly, sourly, with the same sort of sour expression I used to see on him back in Auridon, but this time I know he¡¯s got a much better reason to look sour.

    They¡¯d all seen fit to show up while I was napping and continued to let me nap even when they¡¯re obviously champing at the bit to get going. After those dark dreams, I almost wish that they¡¯d woken me up. My mind is weary but my body is ready to fight, and destroy this bitch who wants to ruin my Valenwood.

    The Veiled Lich, by all reports, is inside Heck and has been using the stolen magic stick to corrupt the place, fuck with the wards, and raise an army of undead. Needless to say, none of that is good news.

    The problem, and the reason why they¡¯re all just standing around out here, is that anyone who tries to get close has their mind corrupted and goes feral, even the non-Bosmer. Calm Indy thinks I have the best chance of anyone here to resist it, but even my own friends are going to have to stay behind on this one. Raz isn¡¯t letting even himself near this place, never mind his little sister.

    ¡°Are you sure I¡¯m not going to go insane in there too?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°You¡¯re already insane,¡± Merry says.

    I smirk. ¡°You think my current insanity will protect me from any new insanity?¡±

    ¡°I believe that if anyone has a chance to remain productively insane, it is you,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Well, thank you for your vote of confidence,¡± I say. ¡°I promise I will make every attempt to kick the ass of the one responsible for this shit before I lose whatever is left of my mind.¡±

    Calm Indy¡¯s big plan is to send the two of us into the Shadow Wood and slip by that way. I¡¯m less than thrilled about that plan, but if that¡¯s what¡¯s necessary, then so be it. We¡¯ve already wasted enough time here. He does¡­ something, and the light shifts, pushing us back into the darkness.

    Everyone is visible from here only as glowing figures, as if they were spirits. I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t see any of them like this the last time I was in here. Maybe it¡¯s because Calm Indy brought us here deliberately this time? I¡¯m not going to question it terribly much. I just want to get this over with.

    I didn¡¯t want to be back in this place, or¡­ is it really a place if it¡¯s an overlay on a place? I¡¯d rather not think too hard on it. I¡¯d rather not be here, in this sideways, backwards place, and hopefully this will be the last time. Hopefully once we¡¯re done here, this will no longer be a place or thing.

    Inside the gates, we pass by the glowing figures of racist bandits and undead. Calm Indy doesn¡¯t think I¡¯d be capable of slaughtering them in the real world, physical world, whatever, and I have to admit that even I would have trouble with so many of them by myself. I could probably do it, though, if not by violence but by stealth or trickery. This is working, though, and they don¡¯t see us at all. I¡¯ll not lament the missed opportunity too badly. Most likely they¡¯re all going to wind up dead one way or another shortly anyway.

    We make it to the inner set of doors and slip inside. Somehow nobody notices the doors opening, either, but maybe only the doors on this side are opening? Whatever, it hardly matters. The important part is that we¡¯re inside now. We head into Heck, and it hardly seems like we¡¯re inside at all. Half the ceiling is hidden by shifting dark fog, concealing the stone beyond, and like most of the Ayleid ruins in Valenwood, the forest has been steadily reclaiming the land and consuming the old, broken white stone.

    Calm Indy says we need to activate some ancient Ayleid pedestals to get past a barrier Estre has put up over the door leading deeper into the ruins, which requires getting some magic rocks scattered about the ruins, because of course it does. Why does it always come down to collecting stupid Ayleid magic rocks, anyway?

    I go into an arboretum full of pissy spriggans, hack my way through them and pick up the magic rock, shadowier than Ayleid magic rocks usually are. Usually they¡¯re all glowing blue, but this one is black as the Void and surrounded by wispy shadows. Touching it brings me back to the real world and Estre¡¯s voice echoes from nowhere, taunting me about how awesome she is now that she¡¯s dead. Funny, first she kept trying to send us in but now that we¡¯re here and she doesn¡¯t want us to be, she¡¯s sending us back out. I take that as a victory in and of itself.

    Heck is not much less creepy in the real world than in the shadow world, even if it¡¯s slightly greener. This might be a testament to how messed up it already is. The sickening feeling in the air around me hasn¡¯t changed.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Once the crystal is in its pedestal, Calm Indy does something to make it glow blue again. We¡¯d all be completely lost if it weren¡¯t for this mer. Salvation isn¡¯t something my axes can bring. Only destruction of the corrupt. Maybe that¡¯s enough to start. It¡¯s all I can do to keep focused on what I¡¯m doing as Calm Indy sends me back into the shadow realm.

    After I retrieve the crystal from the armory, I get thrown back into the real world again, and Estre taunts me about the Heart already being corrupted and that there¡¯s nothing I can do now. Fuck that. I bring this one back to Calm Indy as well, and he sends me back into the shadow world one more time.

    One last crystal retrieved from the library and the barrier is down. I grip my axe in hand and push forward.

    Estre looks nothing like she did in life. Vastarie basically just looked like a normal mer with uncommonly pale skin and glowing blue eyes. This creature that Estre¡¯s corpse became barely even looks like a mer anymore. She floats two feet above the ground and a tattered robe with chains covers her dessicated body. Glowing blue eyes pin me in their gaze beneath a crown because of course she has to have a crown. She¡¯s wielding the magic stick that¡¯s supposed to be able to suppress magic, but lucky for me, I don¡¯t rely on magic.

    ¡°The false Queen¡¯s pawn, come to die,¡± the Veiled Lich says. ¡°Your cause is doomed. You stand before the true Queen of Alinor. Kneel before me and I will make your death swift!¡±

    ¡°Does that line seriously ever work on anyone?¡± I retort. ¡°You can torture me if you like but I will never submit. Meet Wibbly!¡± I hold aloft my axe.

    ¡°You named a fine piece of Altmer craftsmanship Wibbly?¡± She sidesteps as I lunge at her. ¡°Truly your depravity knows no bounds.¡±

    ¡°As much as I enjoy trading banter while trying to kill someone, I¡¯m going to have to stop you. Valenwood is my home and I will not let you bring it to harm.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for you and your precious forest. Look behind me! The Heart of Valenwood is already corrupted. Your forest will perish, and shadows will consume all that you love!¡±

    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t get you,¡± I say. ¡°First you worshipped Mehrunes Dagon. Then you were going to switch to Molag Bal because you wanted to get into Manny¡¯s robes or something. And now, what, Nocturnal? Is all this shadowy shit Nocturnal¡¯s doing? Or what? I don¡¯t understand! Why did you do this?¡±

    She gives me no explanation and keeps summoning more undead, so I charge up Blinky into Empowering Sweeps and blast them with circles of light as soon as they try to stand up. The light has seen me safely through this far and right now I¡¯d like nothing better than to shine a light in the eye of this shadowy bitch.

    She goes down eventually, and I grab the Staff of Magnus and shove it into my pack where it¡¯s safe, just to make sure she¡¯s not going to get up again and go ¡®Hah! Fooled you!¡¯

    Calm Indy looks toward the trees at the far end of the large room. ¡°We¡¯re too late. The corruption has already spread deep into the Heart of Valenwood. There has to be something I can do. I¡¯m going to try drawing the darkness out into myself.¡±

    ¡°Should I be concerned about you turning into a monster, too?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think so, anyway,¡± Calm Indy says calmly. ¡°But if that should happen, you need to be prepared to strike me down. Most likely, though, I¡¯ll simply die. I have to try, though.¡±

    The entwined trees are blackened and sickly-looking. Calm Indy lifts a hand toward them and green magic swirls around them. The heavy darkness in the air begins to lighten slowly before lifting entirely. The trees start glowing blue and bursting with sudden flowers and leaves, and Calm Indy collapses.

    The Mane and the Bosmer Eye of the Queen, Cariel, come in, with my friends close on their heels. They pause in their tracks when they see Calm Indy¡¯s body.

    ¡°The wards all came down and the darkness parted,¡± Eran says. ¡°What happened here?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Indaenir,¡± Cariel says, looking down at his body. ¡°This isn¡¯t right. He can¡¯t¡ªhe can¡¯t simply die like this.¡±

    I try to explain what happened but I don¡¯t really understand it myself, and settle for, ¡°He sacrificed himself to get that shadow shit out of the trees.¡±

    Glowing green leaves suddenly start swirling around the body. Everyone steps away in surprise as Calm Indy takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and stands up again. Cariel exclaims that Calm Indy has been chosen as the next Silvenar. I don¡¯t know how she figures that, but I guess most people don¡¯t spontaneously start glowing green and come back to life.

    ¡°Silvenar?¡± I repeat.

    ¡°Y¡¯ffre has chosen him!¡± Cariel says. ¡°It has to be so! I have to tell Raz.¡± She runs off, and the Mane also runs off to inform the Queen, leaving me alone with my friends and Calm Indy.

    ¡°Silvenar or otherwise, are you alright?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I think so,¡± Calm Indy says. ¡°I feel incredible. I felt like I was falling, but the Green picked me up again¡­¡±

    ¡°You really are the new Silvenar,¡± Gelur breathes, bowing toward him. ¡°I am honored to have witnessed this.¡±

    ¡°And how about you, Neri?¡± Eran asks. ¡°You¡¯ve been more than a little frayed lately.¡±

    ¡°Better,¡± I say. ¡°I think I¡¯ll prefer to keep things a little lighter from here on out if at all possible. Maybe go do something simple like find some Orcs who need to be hit until they behave.¡±

    We head back outside and meet up with all the very important people who very importantly didn¡¯t really do terribly much. I have no idea why they all felt it necessary to be here. Queen Ayrenn takes the opportunity to be the first to bow to the new Silvenar, and everyone else follows suit, some more awkwardly than others. Even Prince Naemon, hesitantly, reluctantly.

    With the situation resolved, I return the Staff of Magnus to Queen Ayrenn, and tell her ¡°don¡¯t fucking lose it this time¡± except more politely than that.

    Later, back at camp, Naemon approaches me and asks, ¡°Did she say anything?¡±

    ¡°She said quite a lot of things, most of them not particularly elucidating,¡± I say. ¡°Mostly just ranting about how it was hopeless, we¡¯d already lost, et cetera.¡±

    ¡°Did she say anything about me?¡± Naemon asks quietly.

    I frown faintly, then shake my head. ¡°Not a word. She didn¡¯t mention you at all.¡±

    Naemon sighs heavily and looks down. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was expecting, or hoping for. She¡¯s gone, and if there was anything left of her in that thing, it wasn¡¯t a part of her that cared about me or anyone else.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say.

 Chapter 90: In Which Falinesti Isnt Here Either

    I take a well-deserved break. It¡¯s back to Brackenleaf Village for a few days to rest and recuperate, and let everyone know what has gone down since we last visited. Everyone¡¯s excited about the prospect of a new Silvenar and some of them express interest in traveling to see the wedding.

    What wedding, you might ask? I forgot about that bit how the Silvenar is always married to the Green Lady. (Or Green Lord, I assume, if it¡¯s a man.) I don¡¯t know what Calm Indy thinks of that all, but we¡¯ll eventually want to be going to Malabal Tor for that. That¡¯s the northwestern part of Valenwood where I assume quite a lot more problems are going to be happening, since every patch of Tamriel I¡¯ve visited thus far has been full of problems and I doubt that particular part is going to be any different.

    In any case, I still have the Wilderqueen¡¯s map to clear out. Sai Sahan can wait a bit longer. I need some simple problems to solve right now. Which is why my spirits lift when we approach the Falinesti Spring Site and spot Orc architecture, much to the confusion of a Bosmer man who is hiding nearby.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t think you¡¯d be so cheerful at the sight of unruly Wood Orcs,¡± the Bosmer says.

    ¡°I just spent several days fighting undead, trying to save feral Bosmer, and hacking apart corrupted plants and shadow shit,¡± I say. ¡°I welcome a problem that¡¯s simple and doesn¡¯t make my skin crawl with weird magic.¡±

    ¡°They kidnapped my friends and I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do. You can help, right? I¡¯m not much of a warrior.¡±

    ¡°Not to worry,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll convince them to stop being unruly, either with my tongue or my axe.¡±

    We head into the settlement that the Orcs weren¡¯t supposed to have set up. They¡¯re less than interested in reasonable diplomacy, so I let Wobbly do the talking instead.

    One of the captured Bosmer isn¡¯t about to let bygones be bygones and wants to make the Orcs pay with blood.

    ¡°You¡¯d best grab a weapon and hurry, then,¡± I say. ¡°Otherwise you won¡¯t get a chance because I¡¯m going through repeatedly hitting anyone stupid enough to attack me.¡±

    We run into one Bosmer man bemoaning about how his beloved is missing after she¡¯d killed a bunch of Orcs and saved him, by making a pact with Hircine and turning into a terrible beast.

    Gelur says, ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Can you track her down and find her?¡± the man says plaintively. ¡°I hate the thought of having to kill my own wife¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll find her,¡± I say.

    We head down into the nearby cave and follow a trail left by muddy paw prints and dead Orcs, and grab a book titled Gifts of the Nereids along the way down.

    ¡°I think she might have tumbled off this cliff,¡± I say, going nowhere near the cliff.

    ¡°We can probably climb down these vines if we¡¯re careful,¡± Eran says. ¡°No need to go jumping.¡±

    We climb down the vines and look around the lower caves, and come upon a not-particularly-large bear asleep in a nook.

    ¡°Is that her?¡± I wonder.

    Merry shrugs. ¡°I cannot tell whether this is a shapeshifted mer or merely a bear.¡±

    ¡°Neri, don¡¯t go petting the bear to see if it¡¯s friendly,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± I protest.

    The bear wakes up at our not-particularly-quiet talking and attacks us. After a couple of strikes, she flees up another tunnel, and we give chase. The Bosmer man yells at us not to hurt her and runs in out of nowhere. I don¡¯t remember noticing him following us down the vines so maybe he came in another way that didn¡¯t involve climbing down vines.

    Not content with following the Green Pact that forbids Bosmer from changing their shape, the man wants to make a pact with Hircine himself so that he might hunt with his wife for the rest of their days.

    I sigh. ¡°Well, that is your choice, but you know those days are going to be very, very short, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°It will be worth it all to remain at my wife¡¯s side!¡± he says.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°You mean for the next five minutes before I have to kill you both so that you don¡¯t hunt any other intelligent beings?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll go deep into the forest and avoid other people,¡± he assures me not-particularly-reassuringly.

    ¡°Thonoras, do you really want to do this?¡± Gelur says, having actually paid attention when the guy introduced himself. ¡°Your wife sacrificed herself so that you can live.¡±

    He looks between Gelur and me, or my axe in particular, and decides not to turn himself into a bear. We all make bad decisions in the heat of the moment when colored by emotions, after all. Turning into a bear is rarely the best answer, though. I mean, really, it would be quite difficult to wield an axe with paws. And fit through doorways, and get invited to town gatherings.

    We meet up with the angry Bosmer woman, Fanrel, up on a hill near the Wood Orc settlement that¡¯s home to a much fewer number of Wood Orcs than previously. She wants to get revenge on the chief by killing his entire family and then killing him, including his torturer, his son, and his two wives. I¡¯m not sure how someone¡¯s torturer is a family member, but whatever.

    ¡°How old is the son?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Old enough to try to kill you, too, and not young enough to kidnap and let someone try to raise him to not be an asshole,¡± Fanrel says. ¡°I want to send an unambiguous message here.¡±

    ¡°A message, huh?¡± I say. ¡°Like, the severed heads of everyone the chief cares about on pikes along with a sign that says ¡®TORTURE BAD¡¯ and ¡®FUCK YOU¡¯? Hopefully he can read but I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll get the point. Right before he also dies.¡±

    I find a Skyshard at the top of the lookout tower where the son is located, looking out over the dolmen. I can¡¯t help but wonder if the Wood Orcs hadn¡¯t been doing a better job than the Wood Elves keeping the Dark Anchors destroyed. That¡¯s not much of an excuse for capturing and torturing people, though, regardless of what the Bosmer probably hadn¡¯t done to them.

    While I¡¯m not really one for specifically killing someone¡¯s family to piss them off, I¡¯m also not really one for specifically sparing their family for no real reason when I¡¯m already slaughtering everyone else. It¡¯s not like these people weren¡¯t going to die today anyway, given the state I found the captives in.

    ¡°Aaaaand he¡¯s filling his pack up with severed heads again,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    ¡°You can¡¯t complain,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ve got your own now. No need to worry about my bloody books.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Herma-Mora probably doesn¡¯t care about a little blood on the covers, and we all know that¡¯s where those books are going anyway,¡± Gelur says.

    Once we¡¯ve collected the heads, we meet up again with Fanrel at a ritual stone where she says Bosmer who have violated the Green Pact are confined to the Ooze to think about their sins for eternity.

    ¡°Sounds pleasant,¡± I say, and get odd looks from Fanrel and Gelur. ¡°What? I¡¯ve been to Coldharbour. At least this doesn¡¯t involve being tortured by Daedra. Which makes it still more merciful than what these Orcs did to the Bosmer here.¡±

    ¡°Point,¡± Gelur says.

    Once he notices the severed heads we¡¯ve shoved onto pikes near the ritual table, the Orc chieftain charges at us with a battle axe, yelling in grief at horrible things we¡¯ve done to his family.

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I say dryly, meeting his axe with my axe. ¡°Maybe you should have thought about that before you murdered and tortured people? Or did you have some terribly good reason for that, or why your people refused to speak with us when we approached and simply attacked us? Because, let me tell you, I have news for you. Normal towns don¡¯t attack people just for walking nearby trying to talk to them. Even your sweet, innocent hearth-wife tried to stab me! Your clan is¡ªwas¡ªnothing more than bandits!¡±

    ¡°Neri, you¡¯re speaking to a corpse,¡± Merry points out.

    ¡°Damn, I accidentally killed him halfway through my monologue,¡± I say. ¡°Oh well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he got the picture,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Fanrel, I have to ask you and your own tribe to do something,¡± I say. ¡°You can call it in exchange for our help here, but it¡¯s kind of important and something you¡¯d need to be doing anyway.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Fanrel asks.

    ¡°There¡¯s a dolmen situated not far from the Orcs¡¯ eastern watchtower,¡± I explain. ¡°You need to make sure the Dark Anchors get destroyed whenever they drop now that the Orcs aren¡¯t keeping an eye on it anymore because they¡¯re all dead.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fanrel says. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best to keep Valenwood safe, whether it¡¯s from Orcs or Daedra. We¡¯ll need to get reinforcements, but I won¡¯t have it be said the Orcs did a better job of defending Valenwood than us.¡±

    We return to the road and continue on. The problems in this particular location have been solved, but there are still more things to be done in Greenshade that Ari will be happy if we took care of.

    Along the road, we run across two mer in Dominion armor, who inform us that some Ebonheart Pact spies have been sighted in the area along with a traitor from their own ranks. They offer a reward if we find them first, so we go searching for them.

    Hidden in the rocks not far from the road, we find the Altmer traitor along with an Argonian and a Nord woman wearing one of those ridiculous horned helmets. They attack us on sight, saving us the trouble of figuring out whether they¡¯re the spies we¡¯re looking for or just a very lost, heavily armed, and impoverished merchant caravan.

    ¡°Sorderion didn¡¯t ask for their severed heads¡­¡± Eran mumbles, and sighs. ¡°At least you¡¯re not likely to hand them to him inside a pristine Altmer building and drip blood everywhere. If I hadn¡¯t already known you before we came to Valenwood, I¡¯d think you¡¯ve been dealing with Bosmer for too long.¡±

    ¡°Who wants to carry the Argonian?¡± I say, tossing the reptilian head in the air. Ilara catches it, blinking into the dead eyes of the spy.

    We return to the Dominion patrol and I hold aloft the head of the Altmer spy toward the soldier who is probably not as Sorry as others with similar names I¡¯ve met. His face pales upon recognition and I hope this wasn¡¯t his former lover or something, but, well, it¡¯s adequate proof that we got the right targets at least. He pays us and hurries on, leaving the heads.

    ¡°Let us swiftly dispose of these before Gelur gets the idea to make Argonian brain stew or something,¡± Merry says, calling fire to his hands.

    ¡°Hmmmmm,¡± Gelur says, grinning at him.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re just messing with him,¡± I say with a laugh.

    ¡°Am I?¡± Gelur says innocently.

 Chapter 91: In Which I Exorcise a Museum

    We¡¯re standing outside another overgrown Ayleid ruin that is for some reason called Rulanyil¡¯s Fall. Whoever that is much have slipped and fallen into a hole in the ground into an Ayleid ruin or something.

    In any case, up until recently, the place has been being used as a museum for some reason (I guess they were short on space that didn¡¯t involve walking through a dangerous forest for days), up until some Worm Cultists showed up and made a mess of everything. You have no idea how thrilled I am to be fighting Worm Cultists again for a change. Yes, this also involves fighting undead, but they¡¯re not undead raised by racist bandits and the Worm Cult¡¯s goals make more sense.

    I feel like the Veiled Heritance did not think through their hairbrained schemes too much, whereas the Worm Cult serves the God of Schemes who just wants to take over Tamriel. Or Mannimarco, who just wants to become a god. Perfectly reasonable goals. I still have to kick their asses for it, but at least their goals make sense. Plus, this is a perfectly good excuse to put off dealing with that stupid amulet of doom.

    The ¡®museum¡¯ is run by a self-important High Elf by the name of Enarwe. No, Endarwe. And definitely not Endare. And despite his name ending in ¡®we¡¯, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s male since he has a beard. From what I can tell, although they don¡¯t tell me this in as many words, this ¡®Merethic Society¡¯ is less of an officially accepted guild and more of a group of adventurers who needed a place to shove the historical garbage they kept winding up with. And since there¡¯s High Elves involved, this has to sound important and fancy.

    The main gist of the situation here is that the necromancers came in and killed a bunch of the society¡¯s employees and raised them as undead. Endy is worried that they might raise the Ayleid warlord in his collection, which would probably be bad.

    We head into the ruin, killing cultists and undead as we go. The place is packed with the dead and dead-lovers, leading to us having to bring out our area attack spells. Shortly, we run across a Skyshard next to a pillar leaning over against rock in a large room with a hole in the ceiling big enough for a whole platoon to fall in. Once that¡¯s absorbed, we run across a wounded robed Khajiit in the next tunnel.

    ¡°Pah! You cultists are ruining everything,¡± he grumbles as he sees us approach. ¡°Please stop. You gain nothing from destroying our collection.¡±

    I look down at myself and aside at my friends as Gelur goes over to start healing him. ¡°Do we really look like cultists?¡±

    ¡°I suppose not,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°You are here to help? Thank you, strangers. You must find the artifacts we¡¯ve hidden and bring them safely out of the ruin!¡±

    I blink. ¡°You¡¯re more concerned about the artifacts than yourself? Were there any other survivors?¡±

    ¡°I am not certain, but it is unlikely. We hid several valuable artifacts to keep them safe, even at the cost of our own lives.¡±

    ¡°You really should have just fled,¡± I say, not especially feeling like humoring him at the moment. ¡°Some of you might have survived. It¡¯s just stuff. What¡¯s the big deal?¡±

    ¡°This is our life¡¯s work!¡± the Khajiit protests weakly. ¡°It must be preserved!¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± I say. ¡°Do you at least remember where you put them? Otherwise this is going to be a considerably more annoying trip.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Here¡¯s a map. I marked down the locations. Please hurry, before they burn down the temple around us.¡±

    I look at the stone walls and ceiling. ¡°I think you might have hit your head, too. There¡¯s nothing flammable here but the plants. In any case, sure, we¡¯ll find them, but it¡¯s not like we won¡¯t be killing everything in here anyway. The way back to the entrance from here should be clear.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t seem inclined to want to move just yet, so we leave him and continue on.

    We get down to the big room at the bottom of the ruin, where one of those Ayleid ceiling lights has been set up as a spotlight over a platform holding some dead mer¡¯s remains. There¡¯s a human cultist chanting over him frustratedly as he refuses to stand up. We go over and interrupt the necromancer and cut her down before she can do anything else annoying.

    From the corpse on the table emerges a very confused ghost who says his name is Nanwen and he¡¯s definitely not an Ayleid warlord. He¡¯s a digger that was killed in a cave-in that Endy dressed up as his prized centerpiece because apparently they couldn¡¯t find an actual dead Ayleid around somewhere. You¡¯d think that wouldn¡¯t be so hard. I mean, if not an actual warlord, at least a warlord¡¯s third cousin twice removed. I suppose most people can¡¯t exactly tell the difference between an Ayleid¡¯s bones and an Altmer¡¯s (I couldn¡¯t), or between bones that have been dead for a few years or thousands of years (I certainly could).Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°So the necromancer did succeed in calling you back?¡± Eran asks.

    Nanwen nods. ¡°I don¡¯t have any memory of anything that happened since the cave-in, until suddenly this Imperial woman was chanting over me. I didn¡¯t much feel like getting up so I just laid there hoping she would go away.¡±

    ¡°Playing dead,¡± Ilara giggles.

    There¡¯s a sword laying next to the body, which I grab and toss in my pack absently. Nanwen follows along with us as we proceed through the ruin.

    For a ruin packed to the brim with undead and cultists, and the occasional Daedra, the place is surprisingly relaxing. There¡¯s even several tough fights that really make me focus. Ilara picks up the hidden artifacts as we go and hopefully won¡¯t get them mixed up in her bag of stolen goods.

    Once we get back to the entrance of the ruin, we find the Khajiit has managed to make it back, and turn over the artifacts. It¡¯s all well and good to get your trinkets back, but you can get your trinkets back and still be breathing too.

    In the meantime, Endy has disguised himself as a cultist, as if that would actually fool anyone, not that he¡¯s bothered to leave the sanctity of the rooms near the entrance to the ruins that the cultists hadn¡¯t bothered securing for some reason. Not that I¡¯m about to give cultists tactical advice or anything. Even if I hadn¡¯t just killed all of them that we could find. I¡¯m not exactly the sort of person to sneak in, retrieve some artifacts, and check an ¡®Ayleid warlord¡¯ when I could just kill them all and be done with it.

    Endy is not thrilled to see Nanwen at all, and I¡¯m sure the feeling is mutual. He tries to bribe us to keep his fraud quiet (instead of simply paying us for clearing the ruin) and orders Nanwen back to his corpse.

    ¡°This is worse than Oblivion,¡± Nanwen mutters dejectedly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll find someone to exorcise you,¡± I say, and at Endy¡¯s glare, continue, ¡°You already have his bones. You hardly need his ghost too. Or do you want the next necromancer to come along to get a surprise confused Altmer?¡±

    Exorcism will need to wait a bit as my best prospects are at Vastarie¡¯s Tower and I¡¯m not going back there until I¡¯m ready to save the world, or at least, go pick up a piece of a dead god¡¯s heart that will probably doom us all, which is, of course, completely the opposite of saving the world. Varen and his friends are all insane.

    Endy grumbles. ¡°I¡¯ll need to hire some guards after we¡¯ve assessed the situation, cleared out any remaining cultists, and determine what might still be intact.¡±

    ¡°You do that,¡± I say. ¡°And maybe I should start my own museum, too. I¡¯ll bet I can get better shit.¡±

    ¡°You are hardly seeing us at our best¡­ pfah!¡±

    ¡°Although I like the Dwemer more than the Ayleids,¡± I go on. ¡°The Ayleids were kind of dicks.¡±

    We head out of the ruin and back toward the main road, absently tossing around the idea in my head although I doubt I¡¯d actually bother. I mean, I¡¯d love to set up a gadget workshop for myself if I had more than a Dwemer child¡¯s understanding of their machinery. (Which is, admittedly, still probably more than most people.)

    At some point when going through the junk in my pack, I pull out the sword I¡¯d forgotten I¡¯d picked up from inside the ruins. It would be otherwise unremarkable aside from the fact that Nanwen appears after I handle it.

    ¡°What?¡± Nanwen says. ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m bound to the sword and not my body? Well, that¡¯s a relief. I suppose that necromancer¡¯s bumbling was good for something, at least. At least now I don¡¯t have to deal with Endarwe on top of being dead.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯ll simplify getting you exorcised if you want,¡± I say. ¡°Although that¡¯ll have to wait a bit, if you don¡¯t mind. The people most likely to be able to do so are likely not going to be happy if I keep procrastinating the dumb thing they want me to do.¡±

    ¡°You might want to let them know the situation with the Veiled Lich Queen has been taken care of,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I only have a tiny bit more of Greenshade on the map to take care of,¡± I say. ¡°I did promise I¡¯d do it once I¡¯d taken care of Greenshade, didn¡¯t I? I¡¯m sure I said something of that nature.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind hanging around for a bit, you¡¯ll get a front row seat to the biggest event of the era,¡± Gelur says cheerfully. ¡°We call it ¡®Neri Travels Tamriel and Hits Everything¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking ¡®I Changed My Name to Avoid My Ex and Accidentally Saved the World¡¯, but that works too,¡± I say.

    ¡°You might want to hold off on that title until you¡¯ve actually saved the world, accidentally or otherwise,¡± Eran says. ¡°And you might also want to remember to omit the parts you¡¯re not supposed to tell everyone.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve already saved it a few dozen times, given the potential scale of some of the dumb shit we¡¯ve had to put a stop to.¡±

    ¡°This sounds rather entertaining,¡± Nanwen says. ¡°Given that I¡¯m already dead, I suppose there¡¯s no risk to me from all the risky things it sounds like you do. I mean, the worst that could happen is that you all get killed horribly and the sword I¡¯m bound to gets left in the bottom of a dangerous, inaccessible ruin for a few millennia.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ sounds pretty horrible, actually,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to do that,¡± I say.

    ¡°Are you going to tell people Endarwe is a fraud?¡± Nanwen wonders.

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m hardly going to make any great effort to keep it a secret. I know much saucier secrets and I¡¯m bad at keeping those too. I don¡¯t see much need to print up and distribute newsletters about it, though.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Do people even bother to print news around here? Everything always seems to travel at the speed of rumor and turns into stories by the time the spinners get their hands on it. I haven¡¯t even seen anyone yelling news in the middle of towns, never mind newspapers.¡±

    Merry sighs. ¡°Do you intend to start a newspaper now, in addition to distributing pamphlets to the Mages Guild?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably too much effort, but I¡¯ll give Sahira-daro the idea,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s nothing like secrets that everyone knows.¡± I pause and look to Nanwen. ¡°By the way, one of my good friends is a worshipper of Hermaeus Mora. Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°So long as my soul does not wind up in Oblivion, I do not care,¡± Nanwen says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to leave you behind on our next excursion, then.¡±

    Nanwen looks aside to Merry. ¡°He¡¯s insane, isn¡¯t he? I¡¯ve been around him for five minutes and I already know he¡¯s insane.¡±

 Chapter 92: In Which Im a Heroic Idiot

    Along the road west of the wayshrine near Heck, we run across a dejected Bosmer slumped at a rough campsite. He, like every other Bosmer we¡¯ve run across in the wilderness, is bad at hunting and wants us to kill some big, mean cat for him. Fine, it¡¯s not like we had anything better to do than track animals halfway across Valenwood.

    We track down the big white lion and kill it. When we do, a transparent blue stag (an aspect of Hircine, I think) appears and tells us how impressive it was that we killed the cat, and that we should tell Haras he can rest now. (I guess that was the name of the guy. I didn¡¯t ask.)

    We retrace our steps (more or less) and find Haras again, who reveals that he¡¯d once made a deal with Hircine to hunt his finest beast (and if that was Hircine¡¯s finest beast, I¡¯ll eat my boots). Hircine gave him some sort of ¡®blessing¡¯ that ensured that he couldn¡¯t die until it was dead, or even sleep. He hasn¡¯t even been able to close his eyes in quite some time. Damn. Kids, don¡¯t make deals with Daedra.

    I spot a Skyshard at the base of a cliff behind some tents of unfamiliar design, this time fortunately already at the bottom of the cliff rather than the top. Eran¡¯s rule of ¡°don¡¯t stand anywhere near cliffs¡± does not apply when at the bottom of them.

    A bit further along the cliff is a cave entrance. Not far inside lies a note next to a dead body. This hapless adventurer had apparently taken a contract to collect mushrooms from this cave, and had failed at it pretty badly. We head in and kill some bandits, collect the required ingredients, and absorb a Skyshard in a minecart. Simple enough. In and out. I even find a copy of Antedecents of Dwemer Law by one of the tents nearby.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine nearby, which I light and take the opportunity to make a quick hop over to Woodhearth to deliver some fresh mushrooms to a Dunmer who believes he ought to have been born a Khajiit. The potion does not turn him into a Khajiit, but an Argonian. Close, but so very far away. I sell him some extra ingredients I¡¯d picked up in case he wants to try tweaking the formula, and wish him good luck.

    Back up north, we come upon a hastily erected wall of timbers with wooden spikes sticking out of the ground near them to form the sort of blockade that would only keep out zombies or particularly stupid Daedra. Obviously, this was not the work of Bosmer, and the sight of High Elf tents inside lends proof to that.

    A wounded Altmer (that Gelur quickly starts healing) shows surprise that we made it past the undead.

    ¡°That problem has been taken care of,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the situation here?¡±

    The High Elf scout rambles something that I only bother to catch the words ¡°Daedra¡± and ¡°Ayleid ruin¡± and something about a ritual that needs to be stopped. (The place is called Moonhenge, but that¡¯s obviously not the original Ayleid name.)

    ¡°Right, say no more,¡± I say as I pull out Wobbly. ¡°Let¡¯s go hit some Daedra, my friends!¡±

    Not pausing to waste any more time, we cut a path through the Daedra as we make our way into the ruins. The ritual sites are pretty obvious, being glowing circles around skulls attached to poles with screaming people bound to them.

    A hiding sergeant tells us hurriedly about how a captain and some other troops are trapped on the other side of a portal. A sinking feeling comes upon me as I look upon the wide, flat part of the ruins that appears to have acquired some Coldharbour-like decorations and stone protrusions that definitely do not belong on Nirn. There¡¯s a portal here, and we¡¯re going to need to close it from the other side, the sergeant tells us.

    ¡°Well, fuck,¡± I say.

    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± the sergeant says.

    ¡°Could you hold onto this, then?¡± I say, handing Nanwen¡¯s sword to him. ¡°There¡¯s a ghost bound to it we haven¡¯t been able to free yet and I promised him not to get his soul trapped in Oblivion.¡±

    The sergeant nods matter-of-factly, as if this is hardly the weirdest thing he¡¯s dealt with today, and takes the sword for safekeeping.

    We have to break some crystals and kill some Daedra to unseal the portal and I¡¯m trying very hard not to think too hard about what we¡¯re going to need to do here. I step through the portal before I can give myself any more anxiety about it.

    Although the area on the other side of the portal resembles Coldharbour, I don¡¯t think this is an area directly connected to Coldharbour proper. There are plenty of disconnected islands floating in Oblivion, and this one is as much ¡®Ayleid ruin¡¯ as ¡®Daedric shithole¡¯.

    Not far from the portal, we encounter an Altmer mage who recognizes me from Firsthold, along with a badly wounded soldier on the ground that Gelur quickly goes over to try to save. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m considerably more memorable than most of the people I¡¯ve met, and the mage isn¡¯t terribly offended that I have to ask her to remind me what her name is (Sinien).This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°On the bright side,¡± I say, more to reassure myself than anything else, ¡°at least we¡¯re not in a prison in Coldharbour. So far as patches of Oblivion go, this isn¡¯t too awful. I¡¯d still prefer the Shivering Isles as a vacation spot, though. Much more scenic.¡±

    ¡°Neri-do, would you give advice on fighting Daedra?¡± Ilara asks, very obviously distracting me from my own emotional problems.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Most things aren¡¯t too smart. Dremora you have to treat like extra-proud Orcs who know they¡¯ll respawn if they die. Clannfears, though, you¡¯ve just got to watch their movements. See when they¡¯re going to pounce, when they¡¯re going to swing their tail. Imagine a circle of red over the area their attack will fall into, and don¡¯t be in the red circle when it lands.¡±

    We make our way through the Daedric Ayleid ruins and find the people who were lost here, who all recognize us considerably more than I recognize them. I vaguely recall the Khajiit as the one we met at Marbruk who was complaining about the stubborn Bosmer in Bramblebreach, and fortunately him speaking in the third person lets me recall that his name is Hazazi and I can pretend I didn¡¯t forget it.

    We also need to kill some overseers to collect some keys to activate some pillars, you know, the usual sort of nonsense. That part¡¯s not especially interesting. If I were to describe every battle I have in detail, it would take me until the next era to get it all out and you¡¯ll have died of either boredom or old age by that point.

    The pillars open a portal to a mirror of the Ayleid ruin, where the sigil stone is located, which I grab after beating up one of those big snake Daedra.

    That¡¯s the point when the mage informs me that someone will need to destroy the ruin on this side so that the Daedra don¡¯t just use it to open another portal. Which can¡¯t be done with the ruin on the Tamriel side because she¡¯s afraid her exploding-things scroll might blow up half of Valenwood and isn¡¯t that concerned about blowing up half of Coldharbour by accident. She wants me to choose someone to stay behind and sacrifice themselves for it.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I mutter. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. I¡¯m not going to point at someone I like and tell them they have to die needlessly.¡±

    ¡°Your help is needed in Tamriel far more than any of ours,¡± the mage argues, as if that¡¯s much of an argument.

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving anyone in this place,¡± I say firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll use the scroll. If I don¡¯t find my way out soon, my friends can contact someone to extract me. We¡¯ve got an acquaintance who can open portals to Coldharbour who should be able to find me, and had better if he wants me to do his next stupid quest.¡±

    Why do I always find myself doing something heroic like this?

    The mage tells me that a rift might form that I can escape through, but I¡¯m not banking on it. The others make for the portal, Ilara pausing to give a concerned look back toward me before Eran takes her arm and hurriedly drags her through.

    I¡¯m less confident on this than I made myself sound for the sake of getting everyone out of here safely, but I wasn¡¯t about to ask anyone else to sacrifice themselves for this. The worst that happens to me is that I get stuck in Coldharbour again for a while. Not a big deal. Not a big deal at all.

    I shove Wobbly into my pack and use the scroll, and it vanishes in a burst of magicka. Everything starts shaking. Rocks begin falling as the ruin starts to break itself apart.

    I look around for one of these rifts to see if by chance I can still get out of here. Completely calmly.

    I lose my footing. I slip, tumbling off the island straight down into the waters of Oblivion.

    When I say ¡®the waters of Oblivion¡¯, I don¡¯t mean it¡¯s literally water. It¡¯s technically azure plasm. The stuff that makes up the body of a Daedra or Vestige, and it¡¯s dense enough not to sink into. Floating in it is mildly more pleasant than being blown up, and I¡¯m still not sure what will happen to me if I die in Oblivion, whether my body will be reborn in light at an Aedric wayshrine or reform out of azure plasm.

    Praying can¡¯t help me here but I pray anyway. Meridia? Hermaeus Mora? Sheogorath!?

    ¡°I see you, Nerevar,¡± echoes Molag Bal¡¯s voice from nowhere.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really hiding,¡± I say.

    ¡°You thought you could escape me.¡±

    ¡°Not really, no,¡± I say. ¡°I just thought it would be fun to go hit stuff. It gets tiresome having nothing to hit but Daedra and Soul-Shriven.¡±

    A deep, rumbling chuckle sends shivers through my soul.

    ¡°Did you now.¡±

    ¡°Look, while I always love the witty banter and everything, can I just take a plasm nap? It¡¯s been a very long time-period and I¡¯m exhausted.¡±

    None of that happened. The nightmare flashed before my eyes in an instant.

    ¡°How many have you killed in my name?¡±

    That definitely didn¡¯t happen and I am not Molag Bal¡¯s champion. He definitely didn¡¯t release me just because he knew I would go and cause no end of havoc in the world whether I intended to or not.

    He fucks with everyone¡¯s heads. And I should have realized coming here without Varen distracting him was a poor idea.

    Music jolts me back to reality. I¡¯m still on the platform being pelted with stones, and I¡¯d frozen in place for a moment.

    ¡°Well, if you stop distracting me, I¡¯ll go and kill plenty more.¡±

    I didn¡¯t say that. I could hardly even open my mouth.

    I spot a rift ahead of me and force my body to move, leaping toward it.

    The ground cracks and tilts, and I¡¯m falling. My feet can¡¯t get purchase against the moving ground.

    Something nudges me.

    I tumble straight into the rift, and in a blinding, shuddering flash, Coldharbour has been replaced with Valenwood again. I land hard on the ground, tumbling into the grass and curl up into a fetal position.

    Someone calls my name, and I feel the tingling of Restoration magic against my skin, but it¡¯s not an injury in my skin and there¡¯s nothing Gelur¡¯s magic can do to help. There¡¯s nothing anyone can do to help.

    I find myself sitting in front of a campfire with a cup of cooling mint tea with moon sugar in it in my hands before I really realize I¡¯m back on Nirn and just remembering what warmth is again.

    ¡°Ilara-daro told you we should not have left him,¡± a voice hisses sharply off to the side.

    Full of moon sugar and exhausted, I lay down to sleep. I dream in warm green rather than cold blue. I dream of a childhood on an island of flowers and sunshine, and wish it had been real and not just a dream.

    ¡°You helped me,¡± speaks a voice in my dreams.

    I recognize the voice. Ari. The Wilderqueen. But there¡¯s nothing but a rustling of leaves cradling me in comfort.

    ¡°You are safe. You¡¯ve helped me solidify my strength and brought peace to Greenshade. Let me help you too.¡±

    No nightmares come tonight.

 Chapter 93: In Which Sai Chooses Hiding Spots Poorly

    ¡°Neri, how are you feeling?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Absolutely splendid let¡¯s go,¡± I say quickly, barely putting any space between the words.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Eran presses. ¡°You seemed rather¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t want to talk about it right now,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t want to think about it, either.¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± Eran says.

    I retrieve Nanwen¡¯s sword from the sergeant and make for the wayshrine straight away. I¡¯m not ready to tell any spinners about my latest adventure and I have a few errands to run to distract me. I drop off Eran, Merry, and Gelur at Elden Root, and they send Ilara along as usual to keep an eye on me and make sure that I actually am okay. And to that, I don¡¯t know, and I¡¯m not going to analyze it too hard right now.

    Our first stop is Cormount, to check in with the jeweler and hoping that he¡¯s either done with my artifact or he has a request for an exotic material that will require going somewhere and beating up some ridiculous monster or another. Keep moving and don¡¯t think too much about things.

    ¡°Ah, Neri!¡± the jeweler says when the two of us enter his tree-pod workshop/dwelling. ¡°Good, you¡¯re here!¡±

    ¡°You have good news?¡± I ask.

    The jeweler gestures me inside and goes over to his workbench, and brings a gold ring out of a small box to show me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve infused the ring with the finest enchantments,¡± the jeweler says. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t think I have the sheer power to ward off a god, so I went with a chameleon effect as the first layer of defense. Like a senche hiding in tall grass, no one should be able to find you unless they know where to look if they don¡¯t have some sort of connection to you. If you want a more powerful effect than that, you will need help from a more powerful individual than I for it. If you want to ward off a god, you may need the blessing of another god.¡±

    ¡°Would I be able to travel to Oblivion without alerting the Daedra?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really recommend it, but if that¡¯s what you need to do in order to stop the Dark Anchors, it¡¯ll at least give you a better chance to slip in unnoticed and get out again with your mind and soul intact.¡±

    I vainly wish I¡¯d come back here a week ago, if the ring had even been ready by that point. Unfortunately, you can¡¯t really predict an emergency. It¡¯s not like I knew ahead of time this particular Ayleid ruin was going to be¡­ more problematic than Ayleid ruins usually are. And not the bit about abuse of slaves. At this point I¡¯d welcome an Ayleid ruin full of asshole Ayleids abusing their slaves, suspended in time or whatever. They¡¯d at least be fun to hit. Instead I have to deal with fucking Daedra. I¡¯m still going to blame the Ayleids. At least the Ayleids who worshipped the Bad Daedra. The Meridia worshippers seemed okay.

    I slip the ring on my finger. A tingly, warm feeling runs down my skin, like a fine silken shroud. I just hope I can get it to stay with me when I die. It would be annoying (more than just annoying) to be even more vulnerable than usual after respawning.

    I stop in at the Cliffshade Library to drop off some books. Sahira-daro isn¡¯t in at the moment so I had them off to her assistant, a Bosmer who seems to be one of their recruits for rebuilding the Wooded Eye. I also take the opportunity to stock up on important supplies, like moon sugar, fire salts, kindlepitch (you never know when you might need to blow something up), and brew up a few potions (and poisons).

    I gather up my friends again and we head for Vastarie¡¯s Tower. No sense in putting this off any longer. This is the most defense I¡¯m going to get at the moment, I think.

    Sai Sahan is feeling a lot better now and is pretty sure that we¡¯re not another elaborate hallucination. He¡¯s been champing at the bit ready to go for longer than I¡¯ve wanted to deal with this. We need to accompany him to someplace called the Valley of Blades, which sounds like a fun place to visit. Varen calls it a ¡®trading hub¡¯ in Hammerfell, but really now, it¡¯s called the Valley of Blades, not the Valley of Coins.

    Varen opens a portal for the nine of us to head through. We¡¯re no sooner on the other side than the three of the Five Minus One Companions start bickering amongst themselves. Vastarie just quietly tuts something about children. I have no idea how this dysfunctional group ever got anything done. Even my own old group got along most of the time, up until the point where they betrayed and murdered me.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    My own musings are interrupted by the smell of smoke and the sight of the aftermath of an attack. Someone attacked the Abbey of Blades while I was busily procrastinating. Fortunately, they didn¡¯t run out of enemies before we got there. Cultists, Daedra, including a huge Daedric Titan which dies just as I¡¯m getting a good rhythm going.

    Sai¡¯s friend, Kasura, shows us to a hidden entrance to the crypt where a ring I¡¯m not sure why we need has been hidden. I¡¯m on edge the entire way through the crypt, not because we¡¯re being attacked by undead, but because we¡¯re not being attacked by undead. There¡¯s no way that this trip is going to not end in undead.

    The ring in question is quite well hidden, sitting in a chest in a prominent location at the end of the crypt, on a dais at the top of a set of stairs. The Redguards could really use some lessons in hiding things.

    A projection of Manny appears in the middle of the tomb to taunt us. Blah blah blah, defy me, blah blah blah, take it from your corpses. The usual sort of blather. I just have my axe ready for when he stops talking, and my friends follow my lead. When he starts raising Sai Sahan¡¯s honored ancestors as undead minions, the only ones here who seem to be shocked are Sai and Lyris.

    I¡¯m very glad that we decided to bring nine people here, because as it turns out, undead legendary swordsmen are still legendary swordsmen. It¡¯s a damned good fight and I very nearly die several times.

    ¡°I am impressed that he can raise them remotely like this,¡± Merry comments in between Sai cursing Manny for defiling his honored ancestors.

    ¡°He was already powerful when I knew him and he has only grown in strength since then,¡± Vastarie says with a frown.

    ¡°Perhaps next time you seek to hide something from a necromancer, you should reconsider putting it in a tomb,¡± Abnur says acidly.

    It takes some doing, but we return Sai¡¯s ancestors to their honored rest again, their bones slightly more beaten up than they had been before.

    ¡°Return to Varen and give him the ring,¡± Sai says. ¡°I will remain with Kasura for the moment. I must assist in cleaning up and rebuilding, and re-inter my ancestors properly again.¡±

    I look around the tomb at the mixed up bones scattered all over the floor. It¡¯s going to take some doing to sort those out again. Chimer bone pits were so much easier to deal with. Just dump the bones and ashes of all your ancestors into one big hole in the middle of the shrine and be done with it. And remember to visit them occasionally or they¡¯ll get pissy and start attacking visitors on their own.

    I wish him luck with that, and Vastarie opens a portal for us to return to her tower. It seems we¡¯re not going to get the amulet of doom today after all. I¡¯m not going to complain. If Sai wants to procrastinate by trying to find his great-great-great-grandfather¡¯s knuckle bones that got knocked behind a statue, that¡¯s just excellent so far as I¡¯m concerned.

    Once back in the tower, I remember to show Nanwen¡¯s sword to Vastarie and explain what happened with him. As a very incorporeal sort of ghost, there wasn¡¯t exactly much danger of Manny doing anything with him, anyway. What would be the point of controlling the ghost of a digger who can¡¯t even touch anything when there¡¯s perfectly good, intact skeletons of legendary swordsmen right there? Cutting us with some sharp remarks?

    ¡°Incompetent cultist got me stuck to this sword,¡± Nanwen says. ¡°I mean, it could be worse. Watching Neri hit things is pretty entertaining.¡±

    ¡°I am certain that I could sever your binding to the blade and allow you to return to Aetherius if you wish,¡± Vastarie says.

    ¡°Maybe later,¡± Nanwen says. ¡°It¡¯s terrible seeing only part of a story! I got dragged into the middle of this all and now I¡¯m aware again and things are happening around me. I¡¯ve got to see what happens with the Worm Cult first.¡±

    Vastarie chuckles. ¡°That¡¯s one way of looking at it. The offer is open whenever you wish to go. Otherwise, we will certainly be dealing with Mannimarco and his followers in due order.¡±

    ¡°Great. It¡¯s a pity I¡¯m no help in a fight, though, especially against necromancers.¡±

    ¡°You could distract people,¡± I suggest. ¡°Pop up behind them and say ¡®Boo!¡¯ See if they look.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, maybe,¡± Nanwen muses.

    ¡°So what¡¯s next on the agenda?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Now that we¡¯re not having to deal with one crisis after another, although at the rate we¡¯re going, I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be too long until the next crisis comes up. Are we continuing along the route we were traveling on north into Malabal Tor, now that we¡¯ve run out of Greenshade?¡±

    I say, ¡°We might as well. Valenwood is nice but I want to see more of it and not just sit in Elden Root getting drunk and/or high until someone asks us to do something. I¡¯m sure we can find another crisis or three to keep us occupied until Calm Indy gets married to a lady he probably hasn¡¯t even met yet. I hope she¡¯s as badass as the last one.¡±

    ¡°Arranging marriages when you don¡¯t even know who it is that¡¯s going to be getting married must be tough,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Y¡¯ffre will sort it out,¡± Gelur says brightly. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t tap a Silvenar and Green Lady he thought would hate one another.¡±

    ¡°Do you think he goes to Mara for advice on that?¡± Ilara asks innocently.

    I turn back to Vastarie, as Varen had done little more than listen to our report and take the ring before going back to meditating or whatever it is he does while staring off into space quietly.

    ¡°Let me know whenever Sai gets done reassembling his ancestors and putting them back in their boxes,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m quite eager to locate this amulet of doom and hope he hid it in another tomb that will lead to Manny reanimating more of Tamriel¡¯s greatest heroes to attempt to kill us.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean ¡®hope he didn¡¯t¡¯?¡± Nanwen says, his transparent blue face looking toward my friends for confirmation, but they¡¯re just smirking. ¡°Right, you¡¯re insane. Silly me, it must have momentarily slipped my mind.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯ll be good to have someone around who isn¡¯t so used to my shit that he¡¯s not shocked when I say or do something ridiculous. Sometimes it¡¯s hard to keep things in perspective.¡±

    ¡°Happy to¡­ help?¡±

 Chapter 94: In Which Its Not Sea Elves This Time

    I teleport my party via wayshrine to the one by the Ayleid ruin that shall not be named, the one closest to the border to Malabal Tor, and¡­ quickly realize that I apparently wanted to avoid the place so badly that I took us to Redfur Trading Post instead. Blinking for a moment, I put my hand back on the wayshrine and get us over to the correct one. Fortunately, the wayshrine is way up at the top of the cliff and Eran is quite firm in me not going near cliffs anymore. I¡¯m glad someone¡¯s always looking out for me.

    A Khajiit merchant is near the wayshrine, mildly surprised at our sudden appearance but quickly recovering at the prospect of customers who, if they¡¯re capable of teleporting around, might have money. She looks less than amused when she asks if we need anything and I tell her ¡°moon sugar¡± until she realizes I¡¯m being serious and not just making a racist joke. And directs us back to Redfur Trading Post. Why didn¡¯t I think of that before teleporting over here? (Honestly, though, it¡¯s not like there¡¯s not plenty of places I can get it.)

    Anyway, we make a quick jaunt back and forth again, and set forth across scenic bridges spanning picturesque waterfalls next to gorgeous giant wasps and quite a lot of monkeys. So many monkeys. Why doesn¡¯t that carnival we visited that one time have monkeys? They¡¯d be a huge hit if they could teach them to juggle or something. They¡¯ve got to be at least as smart as Nords.

    We pass some terrified refugees as we near the border and find out what¡¯s going on. Velyn Harbor is under attack, because of course it is. Fortunately, it¡¯s not Sea Elves this time, but Redguards! Or Ra Gada, as the locals call them. That¡¯s a nice switch! It¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t just finish beating up the finest legendary swordsmen the Redguards had earlier this week or anything!

    ¡°Yes!¡± I say, undeterred. ¡°Something different to fight!¡±

    The refugees are confused by my sudden good cheer as I hurry past to see if anyone¡¯s in charge of defending the town. Along the way, Gelur tosses some quick healing spells to the ones who look worse off and does what she can without having to pause.

    We run into a lieutenant who thinks we¡¯re going the wrong way only for a brief moment before realizing I¡¯m holding a battle axe and looking gleeful.

    ¡°You got here awfully quick if you¡¯re reinforcements,¡± the lieutenant says. ¡°Did one of the mages get word out, or did you just happen to be coming this way?¡±

    ¡°The latter,¡± I say. ¡°Call me Neralion. We work for Queen Ayrenn. What¡¯s the situation here?¡±

    ¡°Eyes of the Queen?¡± the lieutenant (Ehran) says. ¡°You¡¯ve got that mismatched and ragged look about you. No offense, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here and we could use your talents.¡±

    He explains about how the Redguards attacked at the same time as some Orcs, which makes it likely the two are in collusion for whatever reason. The Thalmor were here on orders from Queen Ayrenn to escort the Green Lady to the Silvenar, in a city named Silvenar. It¡¯s probably less confusing than it sounds. The captain is missing and some townspeople are still trapped in buildings, so he asks if we can locate her and rescue people.

    ¡°Consider it done!¡± I say.

    ¡°Why are you so cheerful about this?¡± the lieutenant wonders.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m fighting something that isn¡¯t Daedra, undead, corrupted plant things, insane cultists, or Sea Elves with giant fucking snakes!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that sentiment, at least¡­¡±

    We start cutting a path through town, stopping briefly to light a wayshrine down by the water. We locate several civilians and instruct them to get to safety by following the path of dismembered Orcs. The lieutenant wants to put together a militia, and at least some of the civilians are wanting to fight for their home.

    I step out onto the balcony at the Mages Guild (not wasting time looking for rare books or anything) and look over the dead bodies and the Thalmor and militia securing the town. ¡°Wow, they work fast.¡±

    ¡°Neri, you killed most of them,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°We,¡± Merry says. ¡°The burned ones were me and the ones full of arrows were Ilara-daro. But if we were keeping count, the lunatic with the battle axe charging into the middle of things would likely win, yes.¡±

    ¡°He makes a good distraction,¡± Ilara adds with an amused twitch of her whiskers.

    I hop off the balcony down to the square below. Unlike cliffs, Eran hasn¡¯t complained too much about my balcony-jumping habit, presumably because jumping off a second-floor balcony is a lot less likely to kill you than falling off a cliff and I have to get my joy somewhere.

    In front of the Fighters Guild, a sergeant is starting to try to train some of the civilians who want to fight but¡­ I¡¯d be generous here, but so far as I can tell, young Altmer aren¡¯t even taught the first thing about being in a fight, and many of the Khajiit and Bosmer aren¡¯t much more skilled even if they¡¯re quicker on their feet about it. Does the Dominion really expect to conquer Tamriel with nothing more than Ayrenn¡¯s smile? I¡¯ve really been neglecting giving them tactical advice and I could have been helping them much more as a general rather than as an adventurer.

    Except an adventurer is needed right now, not a general, even if I wanted to, which I don¡¯t. While this is the sort of situation soldiers or a militia would be needed for, a lot of the bullshit going around is something only a small group of highly trained individuals could manage. It wasn¡¯t an army that brought down Estre (twice), or any of the other dumb things I¡¯ve had to fix lately. It was a team that can move fast and hard and can get to the bottom of weird magic and fight ridiculous monsters.

    The sergeant informs me that the lieutenant took some hot-headed civilians across the bridge looking for the captain, who she informs me is an incompetent bitch who pulled strings to get this assignment for the prestige, and she would prefer that the lieutenant survive because he¡¯s competent and not an asshole. She does not use those particular words to inform me of this but that¡¯s the gist of it.

    I have to question that competence by the time we find him. While he and a number of civilians and Thalmor are still alive, they¡¯re in a tenuous position and have left themselves wide open for attack on all sides with no cover at all. They are all going to get themselves killed. I take a deep breath. They need a general today, not an adventurer. I put on my best Hortator posture and approach him purposefully.

    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± I say. ¡°I see you have taken the liberty of securing the bridge. Status report.¡±

    He tells me about how eager he is to rescue the captain and he wants to send a runner up the road to warn the next town in case they fail. I don¡¯t bother telling him that if we fuck up here and I die repeatedly, I¡¯ll just go get an army myself, because it would just lead to too many awkward questions I don¡¯t have time for. And I don¡¯t have enough confidence in this lieutenant to be able to pull this off with the forces he has. I think I¡¯d best cut off any serieses of terrible plans before they begin.

    ¡°I will clear the gate to allow the runner to escape,¡± I say. ¡°You remain here and hold the bridge.¡±

    ¡°But, the captain¡ª¡±

    I step close to him and lower my voice. ¡°You are to prioritize the survival of the civilians. Keep the invaders off this bridge and take no unnecessary risks.¡±

    The lieutenant stares at me for a moment as if trying to figure out if I actually outrank him or otherwise have the authority to order him around. ¡°The captain is still the one in charge here.¡±

    ¡°Given that the captain is missing or incapacitated and you are more intent upon rescuing her than doing your duty, I¡¯m taking command here,¡± I say firmly. ¡°If you don¡¯t like it, take it up with Queen Ayrenn, but I can guarantee you that she¡¯ll be more happy with ¡®doing what Neralion says¡¯ than ¡®refusing to do what Neralion says and getting everyone killed¡¯. Hold this bridge, lieutenant. Those are your orders.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    He finally buckles. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He relays the new orders to his unit, and they reposition themselves.

    Before I go, I give a few pointers on archer placement, and then head off to clear the gate. I don¡¯t mention that I suspect the captain of being a racist bandit instead of just being incompetent. I¡¯ve been dealing with the Veiled Heritance so much that I¡¯m seeing them everywhere even with Estre double-dead (they might not have gotten the memo or just have wanted revenge, after all). Towns failing at defenses that they had just beefed up? Ships landing with no warning? Something doesn¡¯t smell right here. Even an incompetent captain couldn¡¯t have done so badly unless they were deliberately sabotaging the defenses.

    Hiding behind a rock near the road, we find an Altmer complaining loudly enough that I have to wonder why some Orc hasn¡¯t gutted him by now. He¡¯s wounded, and Gelur spares him enough healing to make sure it won¡¯t be too serious while conserving her magicka. Upon being pressed, he asks if we can find his lost tools and doesn¡¯t want to tell us even what we¡¯re looking for.

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°Okay, I really don¡¯t care if you¡¯re brewing skooma or whatever, but if we don¡¯t know what you want, you¡¯re just going to have to search the town once we slaughter everyone.¡±

    At that, he reluctantly describes what junk he¡¯s looking for, but I determine not to waste too much time on this shit. It would be more sensible to do after the battle, and let it not be said that I never do sensible things.

    My party makes our way through the rugged terrain off the road toward the gate, not wanting to draw the entire invading army down on top of us but also because there¡¯s Orcs hiding in the bushes that are paying much more attention to the road than even some not-especially-stealthy adventurers. By the time I get a good look at the gate, I have to wonder why a runner hadn¡¯t been able to get out yet. The wall doesn¡¯t even cover the entire way out of town. I can easily just walk around it. Who designed this thing?

    After seeing off the runner, we return toward the bridge. From the highest vantage point I can find without becoming a pincushion and having to run through town naked, I get a good view of the tactical situation in town. Not the greatest organization I¡¯ve ever seen. This should be doable if no one does anything stupidly heroic. Except possibly me, but I¡¯m smart enough not to perform heroic sacrifices unless they actually help the situation. (Accidents don¡¯t count as heroic unless they happen in the process of doing something bards would sing about and they¡¯d gloss over how you tripped and your axe accidentally decapitated the enemy captain when you dropped it. Not that that¡¯s ever happened to me before.)

    I return to find the bridge still being held, although the lieutenant is looking pretty antsy. In the meantime, the sergeant has arrived with reinforcements. When I approach, I hear them quietly discussing what sort of authority I actually have, up until they notice me walking up. I decide to steamroll them with decisive authority before they even bother to open their mouths to question it.

    ¡°Good news, troops. I¡¯ve surveyed the enemy movements and determined that we should be able to do this with the forces we have. And really, they¡¯re Wood Orcs. They¡¯re not an army. They¡¯ve been fighting every day since they were old enough to hold a weapon, but they don¡¯t act like one cohesive unit. They¡¯re scattered about the town in small groups and many of them aren¡¯t even paying much attention.¡±

    Without pausing for breath long enough for anyone else to get a word in edgewise, I start handing out orders. Much as I¡¯m pretty sure I could just wipe out the Redguards and Orcs by myself, it would take too long if I were being careful enough not to get overwhelmed and possibly having to respawn and walk back from the wayshrine repeatedly. They¡¯d eventually figure it out.

    I have the lieutenant hold the bridge along with a couple steady Thalmor and a handful of civilians who want to participate but I don¡¯t trust not to get themselves hurt, and impress upon them how very important this is. The sergeant is level-headed and sensible, so I have her unit cover my flank as we press into the town.

    There¡¯s a Skyshard at the top of the cliff. I can sense it and it itches at my senses that I can¡¯t go up and get it right now. It¡¯ll still be there later, I tell myself. I¡¯m being the Hortator right now, and the Hortator doesn¡¯t get distracted by trivial things in the middle of a battle.

    Anyway, long story short, we¡¯re completely awesome and the Orcs don¡¯t stand a chance. We make it to the docks and send orders back to the lieutenant to secure the town behind us and root out anyone that might have been hiding and make sure no one is sneaking up behind us or playing dead (although the way I kill things, it¡¯s very difficult to ¡®play¡¯ dead).

    The Ra Gada captain is holed up in the lighthouse, so I go in and take care of him myself. The remaining Ra Gada have retreated to their ships, but haven¡¯t tried to leave yet.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to strip naked and run screaming into their hold carrying kindlepitch and fire salts. I recommend standing back.¡±

    The sergeant stares at me wordlessly, failing to comprehend that I¡¯m serious. Eran and Merry just sigh in unison.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Eran says, catching my pack as I toss it to him. ¡°He does this sort of thing all the time.¡±

    The sergeant does not look particularly reassured, but goes along with it as my friends usher everyone off the docks.

    The thing about ships? Most of them have a lot of flammable bits. And did you know that kindlepitch and fire salts are things you can just buy? Of course I stocked up. And I really want to blow something up.

    If the sergeant was confused at my antics, the Ra Gada have no idea what hit them. I giggle madly as I dance past their attacks, and some of them dive into the water once they realize what I¡¯m holding. I charge down the stairs into the hold and bring my hands together, and the world explodes in heat and light.

    I reappear at the wayshrine, naked and still giggling as Ilara passes me my stuff.

    ¡°You got here fast,¡± I say as I pull on my pants.

    ¡°Ilara-daro has swift paws and does not wish you to go quite so quickly from ¡®competent leader¡¯ to ¡®complete lunatic running naked through town¡¯ even if you took a left turn through ¡®fiery explosions¡¯.¡±

    The lieutenant and most of the troops didn¡¯t see exactly how I destroyed the beautifully burning ship in the harbor and so salute me respectfully as I go by and give me reports on how the town is under control now. The sergeant, on the other hand, is giving me a wide-eyed look and has clearly changed her mental evaluation of me from ¡®competent leader¡¯ to ¡®terrifying motherfucker¡¯.

    Merry clears his throat as we approach. ¡°I might have suggested a means of destroying the Ra Gada vessels that did not involve nudity and self-immolation, but I did not wish to intrude upon your entertainment.¡±

    ¡°Neralion, sir,¡± the sergeant says, saluting me and remaining steadfastly professional with some effort. ¡°We found Captain Cularalda after you, ah, blew up half the docks.¡±

    You see why I didn¡¯t bother mentioning her name. I¡¯ll need to remember the sergeant¡¯s, though. I like her. I also completely missed her name.

    ¡°Where is she, sergeant?¡± I say. ¡°I wish to question her myself.¡±

    ¡°She was hiding under the docks, but the explosion sent her scrambling into the lighthouse,¡± the sergeant says. ¡°I put guards on the door to make sure she didn¡¯t go anywhere before you got here. Didn¡¯t even have a scratch on her.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sergeant,¡± I say. ¡°Good work, everyone. Time to get some answers.¡± I gesture to Ilara to follow and head inside.

    ¡°I will have Sergeant Linaarie court-martialed!¡± the captain is blustering. ¡°She has no authority to detain me!¡±

    Was that her name? Alas, no one is perfect. I mentally dub the competent sergeant ¡®Linny¡¯.

    ¡°The good sergeant was acting on my authority, captain,¡± I say. ¡°Neralion. Eye of the Queen. And I have questions for you.¡±

    ¡°Eye of the Queen?¡± the captain scoffs. ¡°You overstep your authority. The Eyes of the Queen are nothing more than Ayrenn¡¯s filthy, sketchy pets.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you quite understand your position here, captain,¡± I snarl, leaning close. ¡°I¡¯m the¡­ left foot of Queen Ayrenn, about to stomp on your face if you give me reason to, and you haven¡¯t done anything to give me reason not to. If I gut you right now and tell them you were a traitor, no one will question it, because from where I stand, you certainly look like it.¡±

    ¡°A traitor?¡± the captain says, shocked. ¡°Me? This is preposterous!¡±

    I give her an even look. ¡°Tell me exactly what happened here, captain. Talk quickly. Your life depends on it.¡±

    The captain starts talking, still tossing out insults to everyone and everything in the process. What comes out is possibly something worse than being a racist bandit traitor, but someone so criminally incompetent that I can¡¯t believe she ever got this position in the first place, or for that matter, was allowed out of a nursery.

    ¡°One moment,¡± I say. ¡°Do keep talking but I doubt anything you say will help at this point.¡± I sift through my bag and locate some moon sugar candy, and pop a piece into my mouth.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ eating candy?¡± the captain says in puzzlement.

    ¡°Moon sugar,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m afraid what you¡¯ve just said has made me even angrier than if you¡¯d simply been a traitor and if I don¡¯t calm down I will probably do something unpleasant to you. You are an embarrassment to the Dominion and you should be ashamed to call yourself a High Elf. If I hadn¡¯t come along when I did and taken charge of the situation, it¡¯s likely that everyone here would have died. As it is, enough lives were lost here and their blood is on your hands. Bah. I¡¯ll leave you in the sergeant¡¯s capable hands. I¡¯m going to go become a higher elf than you¡¯ll ever be.¡±

    I step back outside in disgust.

    ¡°What did she have to say for herself, sir?¡± Sergeant Linny asks. ¡°Was she a traitor?¡±

    I sigh. ¡°I wish she were. I¡¯d rather deal with competent traitors I can sort of respect than incompetent fools with just enough authority to be dangerous to their own side. Deal with her as you see fit.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get lunch and take a nap,¡± I say. ¡°Wake me when the Green Lady shows up or if the town is on fire again. I trust you can tell the difference between a Dominion ship and a Covenant one, unlike the captain in there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the sergeant says with sour smirk. ¡°Thank you, sir. We would have lost a lot more people if you hadn¡¯t shown up.¡±

    I¡¯m glad that¡¯s done with, and I¡¯m ready to sleep for a day and a half, not just a power nap. Being the Hortator is exhausting.

 Chapter 95: In Which I Save a Bearded Lady

    ¡°It was very exciting watching the battle, once I calmed down and realized none of them could see me or touch me,¡± Nanwen says. ¡°I never saw a real battle like that before. I¡¯m kind of glad that I didn¡¯t, before I died. I would have been as terrified as some of those poor civilians¡­¡±

    The Green Lady showed up while I was asleep and for some reason everyone decided it was best if they let me sleep a little while longer. Gelur has gone around town making sure to patch up everyone that could still be patched up, and fortunately the majority of those that were still alive when we got here are still alive now. You¡¯d think more people would take up restoration magic, considering how vital it is (pun intended or otherwise). I mean, I can heal, too, and I did it completely by accident! It¡¯s not like you even need to be particularly religious or anything to do it.

    Eran and Merry had taken it upon themselves to guard the docks and briefed the Green Lady on the situation. The sergeant doesn¡¯t seem to have told the lieutenant what she saw me do (you know, one of those things nobody is going to believe you) but she must have told him something as he¡¯s giving me puzzled looks.

    ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t hang back for my sake,¡± I tell the Green Lady when I finally get a chance to speak with her.

    The Green Lady chuckles. ¡°No, there were some things I needed to take care of in Velyn Harbor as it was. I¡¯ll be heading out to Dra¡¯bul soon to meet with the Wood Orcs and find out why they acted against us, but I will undoubtedly still beat you there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure there will be problems that require hitting in between here and there,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they get hit.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how a new Green Lady is chosen, whether it¡¯s quite as mystical as with the Silvenar or not, but this one is apparently the niece of the last one. She even tells me her real name and the name of her aunt, which I immediately forget on both accounts and am glad they go by a handy title.

    ¡°My condolences for your aunt,¡± I say. ¡°She was a fine woman.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I hope I can live up to her.¡±

    With my party gathered, our first destination out of Velyn Harbor is to find that Skyshard up atop the cliff. Eran looks like he wants to tie a rope around my waist when I have to get close to the edge just to absorb it. We¡¯re making an exception to the cliff policy out of necessity to acquire shiny rocks. Anyway, it¡¯s not like this is a particularly high cliff.

    A little ways past the Skyshard is another one of those star sign monoliths, this one for the Warrior. When I get close enough to touch it, I notice another Skyshard tickling at my senses somewhere up ahead, inside a docks area.

    ¡°There¡¯s another Skyshard ahead,¡± I say. ¡°May I jump off this cliff?¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°Why would we want to jump off this cliff when we can just walk around to the beach through Velyn Harbor?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s faster?¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like this is an especially high cliff. We can jump over to that roof easily enough.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s a nest of tigers halfway down the cliff, although I¡¯m sure that¡¯s not much of a deterrant,¡± Eran says.

    Anyway, I smoothly convince Eran of my sane and reasonable plan, and totally don¡¯t slide down into the middle of a pack of tigers for no good reason.

    Once we get down to the docks, which are not too far from the docks we¡¯d just fought a bunch of Redguards on and half blew up, we meet a mer who introduces herself as Elly and informs us that there are more Redguards at this particular set of docks as well. They¡¯re being miscreants here also and she needs help finding her performers, because this is another carnival or something. They call themselves the Dancing Scrib.

    Our task is simple: head into the shanty town east of the Velyn Harbor docks and rescue a few performers and a trained monkey, all while violently convincing Redguards to go be antisocial somewhere else. Somehow this leads to burning down half the shanty town. You know how it goes.

    The bearded lady is a Nord by the name of Snaehild, and let me tell you, Nords have much more interesting names than most mer. Not that I¡¯m still going to remember this one, most likely. She has a magnificent beard that only a Nord or a Dwemer could manage, and there¡¯s no Dwemer around to compete against. Her green dress is a bit torn up and filthy after all the excitement, and my shitty cleaning spells don¡¯t do much to help.

    ¡°Thank you for the effort, hero,¡± Snaehild says. ¡°But I think there¡¯s no hope for this dress. I¡¯ll have to see if the Redguards have anything good.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully something that will fit you,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine most Redguard women are quite as tall as you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, true, probably not,¡± Snaehild says. ¡°I¡¯ll have to check anyway, though. Maybe some modifications can be made if I find something good.¡±

    The performing troupe isn¡¯t going to be sailing off on their own ship again anytime soon, as the vessel is sitting off the docks listing heavily and half submerged into the water, much to their dismay.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Various race-specific exclamations of dismay!¡± they variously say. ¡°Let¡¯s just take their ship instead!¡±

    We rescue a Bosmer performer by the name of Sal (his name is a little longer than that but everyone calls him Sal most of the time, which is nice for me because even though it¡¯s only two syllables long, I can¡¯t remember now what the second syllable was), who had been tied up on a rock outcropping by the water. He¡¯s supposedly an escape artist, and is less than amused at the fact that he couldn¡¯t escape from those ropes. If you can only get yourself out of ropes that have been tied poorly for the sake of doing a show, can you really call yourself an escape artist?

    Or is this something like a ¡®magician¡¯ who does ¡®magic¡¯ by sleight of hand and not actual magic¡­ even though sleight of hand is harder than magic? Performing by trying to show off skills that you don¡¯t actually have doesn¡¯t make terribly much sense, but what do I know? Maybe I should take up juggling knives in my copious spare time. It sounds relaxing.

    On the beach, the Steel Shrikes (as these Redguard pirates call themselves, although weren¡¯t the Redguards who attacked Velyn Harbor which is right over there a part of the Covenant navy? I am so confused¡­ where was I?) ¡­have a senche tied up under ropes, so we go rescue the cat too. He has a Khajiit name and seems to be either the Khajiit woman¡¯s beloved pet or boyfriend, I¡¯m not sure which. It doesn¡¯t help that the word ¡®senche¡¯ refers to both a type of Khajiit and is a general name for a large feline. Either way, this particular large feline is either unable or unwilling to speak and clarify the matter.

    We ¡®sneak¡¯ into the captain¡¯s tent (by means of killing every pirate between here and there), which is big enough to hold an entire circus under it, and retrieve the key to the pirates¡¯ hold. With that in hand, the performers head for the ship.

    And then, with the help of the monkey (who has the very dignified name of Cumberland), we retrieve the performers¡¯ props from the warehouse by the docks. These props, of course, include a bag labeled ¡®senche snacks¡¯ that¡¯s actually full of salted eyeballs. That¡¯s one spoiled senche. Although I can understand how the monkey finds the eyeballs, it (he? I think it¡¯s a boy monkey) has no trouble picking out the other items from the massive piles of junk in the warehouse. Seriously? That¡¯s not just intelligence, that¡¯s clairvoyance! It¡¯s a good thing these little guys can¡¯t talk. They could take over Tamriel otherwise.

    ¡°Sure, why not,¡± Gelur says. ¡°It¡¯s not like mer have moved beyond shit-flinging yet either. I mean, I doubt the humans, Khajiit, and Argonians have, either, but I don¡¯t feel like flinging shit at them today for shit we¡¯re just as guilty of.¡±

    ¡°Can we please stop talking about feces?¡± Merry says in a pained voice.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go finish off the pirates and not blow up this ship,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯m out of kindlepitch and fire salts, anyway,¡± I say, heading out of the warehouse. ¡°Remind me to restock once we get back to a town that has not been invaded recently.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m kind of scared to¡­¡± Eran admits. ¡°You didn¡¯t even bother to cast Bound Pants last time before bounding off.¡±

    ¡°You can use wayshrines,¡± Ilara suggests with a grin. ¡°Go shopping whenever you want.¡±

    ¡°Did you really have to remind him of that?¡±

    We board the ship, where the performers have gotten inside and are waiting for us, presumably figuring their chances against the pirates are considerably better with us than without us. They¡¯re a performing troupe, after all, not a band of heavily armed warriors. The bearded lady doesn¡¯t even have a battle axe.

    We kill the captain of the Steel Shrikes and let the troupe claim the ship. All in a day¡¯s work.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be heading on with the tide,¡± says Elly. ¡°With everyone back together and our props in hand, our career has been saved! You guys will definitely get free admission if we run into one another again.¡±

    ¡°Where are you heading?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Definitely not to the north, that¡¯s for sure,¡± Elly says. ¡°I¡¯m crossing Hammerfell off of our itinerary for the time being. Nah, I think we¡¯ll head south and get out of these waters. Maybe visit Southpoint.¡±

    ¡°Redguards to the north, Sea Elves to the south,¡± I say. ¡°Good luck on avoiding trouble with either of them. Southpoint was okay when we were there last. Relatively speaking.¡±

    ¡°By ¡®relatively¡¯ you mean that people weren¡¯t still trying to kill one another,¡± Merry says. ¡°I did not make continuous checkups on their mental stability afterward.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine,¡± I say.

    We part ways with the performers and go to scour the camp to kill any remaining pirates that were too dumb to run away or hide when they realized people were killing them and setting things on fire, as well as sort through anything worth looting that wasn¡¯t set on fire. I keep my eyes out for any interesting-looking books, because it¡¯s not like Hermaeus Mora gave me a blessing to make books he wanted glow purple to my eyes or something like that.

    Oh, and that Skyshard I sensed that led me into this place? After thoroughly looking around and finding no sign of it, I finally think to look up. Turns out it looks like it¡¯s up at the top of the cliff and not down here on the beach. We¡¯ll be heading up there next, once I can figure out how to actually get up there. We¡¯ll probably need to go the long way around back through Velyn Harbor.

    Before heading up and around back through Velyn Harbor, we poke into an old mine I spot the entrance of down by the shore, just in case there¡¯s more Sea Elves¡ªI mean, Redguards¡ªhiding inside.

    Yeah, there¡¯s more Redguards hiding inside. Why wouldn¡¯t there be? And they¡¯ve got large snakes as pets, too! Were there supposed to be Sea Elves here and they just got lost, or do Redguards also have a thing for oversized serpents?

    Oddly, there¡¯s a Nord-style shield in here with the name of a town on it. I shove it in my pack and make a note to see if someone there wants it once I make it over there, because it¡¯s on the other side of Malabal Tor and there¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to still remember by that point.

    There¡¯s a Skyshard inside the mine, perched precariously on a ledge, which I carefully absorb while enduring intense stares from Eran.

    According to a journal we run across inside, the Redguard pirates told the Redguard military that this mine was full of riches. Busily trying to find the hidden treasure of Velyn Harbor, the Covenant assault force divided its strength and the group in here doesn¡¯t seem to have even gotten the memo yet that their comrades are dead and their ship in small charred pieces at the bottom of the harbor.

    ¡°I believe I may have lost my patience for investigating every hole in the ground by now if we did not keep finding reasons to go inside,¡± Merry comments wearily. ¡°Are we out of Redguards for the moment?¡±

    ¡°Seems so,¡± I say. ¡°Unless there¡¯s survivors who decided to try swimming back to Hammerfell when they heard us coming.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s let Velyn Harbor know they were here at least so they can secure the place,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 96: In Which I Recharge a Weather Ball

    There¡¯s an Ayleid ruin up at the top of the cliff, because of course there is. You can¡¯t take a stroll in Valenwood¡­ this part of Tamriel? Half of Tamriel? ¡­without tripping over something the Ayleids shat out.

    A wayshrine stands by the rough road, and after I light it, a Bosmer woman approaches us. She introduces herself as Mariel the Ironhand (a considerably more badass and memorable name than most mer) and mentions something about Sea Elves and some weird magic weather control ball, because that¡¯s exactly the sort of nonsense I was expecting when I walked up to a random Ayleid ruin. And here I¡¯d been hoping to get away from Sea Elves for a bit, but as it turns out, if you¡¯re near water anywhere in southern Tamriel, you run the risk of it raining Maormer on you.

    Anyway, Ironhand here wants us to go up into the ruins (Ilayas, she informs us they¡¯re called) and find some sort of key to the sky. I wasn¡¯t really paying attention, to be perfectly honest. I have faith in my companions to remember what we were doing and which way to go. I just have to imagine an arrow pointing at my target and follow it, and hit everything that attacks me in between here and there.

    We search the camp once all the Maormer in the immediate vicinity are dead, and Eran finds the ¡°Sky-Key¡± in a chest, which is actually a blue crystal because Ayleids.

    The Ironhand is hiding behind some big roots next to the entrance to the underground, having taken an arrow in the gut from a Sea Elf archer. Gelur quickly gets to work on dealing with that. Ironhand tells us about how there¡¯s a constellation puzzle to get further into the ruins because Ayleids.

    Not far inside the ruins, we find the journal of someone named Firras, who the Ironhand had mentioned as having been a former stormwarden who stormed off in a huff about a week ago and apparently was able to quite quickly find some Sea Elves which tells me I¡¯m going to need to scour Malabal Tor¡¯s beaches. Firras¡¯ journal makes excuses about why he betrayed the Dominion, which primarily involve him not trusting the Dominion to have their best interests at heart (understandable) and being racist (less understandable).

    Cutting a path through the Sea Elves, we come to a library full of bodies with small clouds flickering above them. Great, this can¡¯t just be ordinary weather control magic, it has to be weird weather control magic, too.

    The ¡°constellation puzzle¡± is on a pillar in the middle of the room. The Ironhand had told us the solution, but that doesn¡¯t matter, since the solution is on the freaking wall. How is this even a puzzle!?

    The stormwardens are on the other side of the door, who lower their weapons when they see it¡¯s not Sea Elves coming through the door. In the middle of the room, a glowing blue light ball hovers in the air above some more Ayleid crystals. Gelur takes a moment to ensure they¡¯re all in good health. They¡¯re not doing too badly under the circumstances, but some of them are more beaten up than others.

    The stormwardens want to recharge their magic ball with some storm atronach cores. I cheerfully agree to go hit some atronachs, and we head downstairs.

    The first thing we encounter in the undercroft is not a sparkly atronach, but an Ayleid ghost! How wonderful! And she¡¯s a complete bitch. She doesn¡¯t attack us, but every sentence out of her mouth contains at least three insults in our general direction, casting aspirations upon our ancestry, choice of vocation, and overall competence. I feel like the only reason she learned modern Tamrielic was to be able to insult people and there¡¯s only so much entertainment to be had in insulting people who don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying.

    ¡°Right, sure, whatever,¡± I say. ¡°I have a few questions for you, though.¡±

    ¡°Such impertinence,¡± the bitchy Ayleid says. ¡°Fine, ask your questions, slave.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up with all the blue crystals Ayleids seem to like so much?¡± I ask, jumping straight to the important details. ¡°Why are the constellations for that so-called puzzle right on the wall next to it?¡± Eran elbows me and the Ayleid looks at me impatiently. ¡°Okay, that probably wasn¡¯t actually important.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± the Ayleid says, putting transparent hand to transparent face. ¡°These cretins disturbed this place badly enough to wake me up, and the insolent dog who might be able to fix this can only think to ask stupid questions.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d ask you why anyone would want to work with the Sea Elves, but you probably don¡¯t know the answer to that any more than I do,¡± I say.

    Eran clears his throat and addresses the ghost. ¡°Master Stormwarden Faranwe, we¡¯re heading in to collect cores from the storm atronachs below in order to recharge the Sphere of Storms. Is there advice or assistance that you could render us?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Well, at least one of you is polite,¡± the Ayleid ghost says.

    She¡¯s a ghost of the incorporeal type and can¡¯t actually stab the Sea Elves no matter how much she wants to, but she can make the other ghosts not harass us, which is at least an improvement because they¡¯re the ¡®just corporeal enough to be annoying¡¯ type and I wasn¡¯t planning on hitting Ayleid ghosts today no matter how satisfying it might be. Damn, when I put it that way, I almost regret the ¡®assistance¡¯.

    Nanwen appears from the sword next to her. ¡°Does it ever get less annoying to be able to watch events but not do anything about them?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± the Ayleid says. ¡°I¡¯d dearly love to be able to stick a sword through these watery wastrels. These¡ªare you taking notes!?¡±

    I look up from my writing. ¡°What? These are great ideas for things to say to the next Sea Elf I run into.¡±

    The Ayleid sighs and puts her face in her palm. ¡°If you go and clear them out, I would be happy to expand your vocabulary, you barely-literate slave.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get right on that.¡±

    We head downstairs and kill some atronachs, and shove the sparkly cores we get from them into receptacles to power up the magic ball. I¡¯d grabbed a few extras because we wound up needing to kill way more atronachs than strictly necessary for the task. I absently toss a couple of them into the air and catch them awkwardly as we¡¯re walking.

    ¡°Neri, I appreciate your attempt at finding a new hobby,¡± Merry says slowly, warily watching my act as he puts up shielding spells. ¡°But perhaps if you intend to start juggling, you could choose a beginner subject other than storm atronach cores.¡±

    ¡°Tingly,¡± I say, then toss them into my pack. ¡°You probably have a point, though.¡±

    The Ayleid ghost appears in front of us, taking full advantage of her incorporealness to pass us. She wants us to kill the idiot who betrayed the stormwardens and the Dominion to the Sea Elves. It¡¯s not like we weren¡¯t going to do that anyway, though, especially considering he¡¯s in the very next room.

    ¡°I take orders from the Sea Vipers now!¡± exclaims the traitor.

    I just laugh uncontrollably, almost forgetting to dodge. ¡°That is the absolute most pathetic thing I have heard this past¡­ I don¡¯t even know. Why would you even brag about that!?¡±

    The Ayleid ghost lady, suitably impressed by us failing to die to the atronachs, Sea Elves, or traitor, is leaning against a wall sounding slightly less annoyed than she was before. I mean, she¡¯s still being condescending and all, but her estimation of us seems to have risen from ¡®useless slaves¡¯ to ¡®useful slaves¡¯. She informs us of a hidden passage leading out of the ruins, while insulting me further and thereby expanding my vocabulary, and I¡¯m cheerfully going to assume she¡¯s just being nice and not that she just wants us to leave. Yep yep. I cheerfully shoot back a few insults in (rather rusty) Ayleidoon on the way out, and the look on her transparent face is priceless.

    We escape from the ruins before they¡¯re sealed through the secret passage and meet up with the Ironhand and a few Thalmor who have shown up in the meantime near the wayshrine. (It¡¯s not like we¡¯re far from Velyn Harbor, I suppose, and there were plenty of Thalmor there who no longer have Orcs and Redguards attacking them. They might even get a chance to hit a few Sea Elves. If there¡¯s any left.)

    All that done and I still haven¡¯t stumbled upon that Skyshard that led me up here in the first place. I head back over the exterior area of Ilayas to look for it, hoping that it didn¡¯t just get sealed inside while I¡¯d forgotten about it. This results in us cutting right through the large group of Maormer the ghost thought we might not want to all fight at once. When they see what we¡¯re doing, the Thalmor follow to back us up and help clear out the ruins, apparently thinking that was my intent rather than just trying to find a shiny rock on a cliff that only happened to be behind several squads of Sea Elves.

    Once the remaining aquatic miscreants have been removed from the ruins, I take a look around to find anything interesting. A book titled Valenwood: A Study sits on a barrel by a desk. Summary: Altmer is trying not to be too racist but really doesn¡¯t get Bosmer. And there, perched precariously on an altar way up at the edge of an overhanging cliff, a Skyshard shines blue against the misty sea.

    ¡°Right, a rope isn¡¯t going to help with that drop,¡± Eran says. ¡°But we¡¯ve already killed everything dangerous at the bottom and between here and the wayshrine, so it should be fine even if you do fall and get yourself killed somehow.¡± He pauses. ¡°Not that I¡¯m encouraging you to jump off this cliff or anything here. It would still be annoying to walk all the way around again.¡±

    ¡°I can see all the way to Anvil from here,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Least, I think that¡¯s Anvil. There¡¯s the lighthouse and the keep.¡±

    ¡°Have you been to Anvil, Gelur?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Nah,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I hear the place is a real shithole these days, full of thieves and pirates and murderers. Though it¡¯d be nice if the Sea Elves would attack that side of the bay for a change.¡±

    I approach and absorb the Skyshard without falling off the cliff, avoiding looking at the ocean far below. I don¡¯t have a problem with heights when I can see what¡¯s below me, and I can see the beach where we¡¯d just rescued the bearded lady, super-intelligent monkey and the other performers quite clearly. The ocean, however, is¡­ fine, just fine, no problems whatsoever. It¡¯s not like I thought for a moment that Anvil was surrounded by a pool of azure plasm or anything.

    We head back toward the wayshrine and one of the Thalmor salutes me, calls me ¡°sir¡±, and reports that the area has been secured and no signs of further Sea Elves remain.

    ¡°Good work, all,¡± I say, remembering for one moment to at least pretend that I¡¯m not a deranged lunatic.

    A Khajiit approaches me. ¡°Neralion, sir. Our runner returned from Deepwoods with news of possible trouble there, although they were light on the details.¡±

    ¡°My party is heading that way once we¡¯re done here,¡± I say, trying not to sound too cheerful about the prospect. ¡°We¡¯ll look into it.¡±

 Chapter 97: In Which I Rescue the Green Ladys Sister

    We head back to the main road with the intent on heading toward the next town, Deepwoods, possibly whilst making a thorough inspection of anything interesting along the way.

    A book titled An Accounting of the Elder Scrolls sits in a rickety shack abandoned a little ways from the road. Summary: The Elder Scrolls are weird.

    Outside of town, a Bosmer man with black eyes and a weird earring greets us and wonders what brings us here.

    ¡°Exploring and looking for interesting things and stuff to hit,¡± I say. ¡°I heard there might be some sort of trouble here?¡±

    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s hunting and battle you¡¯re looking for, we have some problems with werewolves lately. We¡¯re not strong enough to deal with a whole pack of werewolves ourselves, but you look like competent adventurers. Maybe you¡¯d have better luck.¡±

    ¡°Werewolves?¡± I say with a gleeful grin. ¡°That sounds fantastic! Uh, I mean, sorry for any trouble they¡¯ve been causing.¡±

    The Bosmer chuckles. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for a challenge, you might get one. Go speak with our treethane for details. I think I saw her praying at the shrine in the middle of town. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be glad to see you.¡±

    We pass under the woven tree branch archway into the tree-pod town. The shrine in question is a tree shaped like a woman; I guess it¡¯s supposed to represent the Green Lady.

    Treethane Nilara (I could have sworn this is the third treethane I¡¯ve met named something like Nilara) tells us about how the Green Lady¡¯s sister is missing and was probably kidnapped by werewolves or Houndsmen (crazy Hircine worshippers, I think). I¡¯m sure either of them would be fine to hit, and the Green Lady would be sad if something happened to her sister.

    We agree to go hunt for some other hunters who were hunting for the sister (Lanwaen). Because apparently everyone is missing now. Maybe everyone splitting up when there were werewolves and Daedra worshippers around was a bad idea?

    We search for signs of them, killing several werewolves who attack us on sight along the way, and come upon a muddy camp. There¡¯s a book titled The Cleansing of the Fane laying on the ground. Summary: ¡­ honestly I haven¡¯t figured it out yet by the time someone nudges me to quit reading while we¡¯re in the middle of a rescue and surrounded by werewolves, but it wasn¡¯t making terribly much sense to begin with.

    ¡°I found a trail,¡± Gelur says. ¡°This way!¡±

    Up the hill, we come upon the body of a Bosmer who looks like he was pounced upon by a werewolf from behind.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t running away,¡± Gelur says, examining the ground nearby. ¡°He never even turned to look at what got him.¡±

    ¡°Stealth werewolves, great,¡± Merry says, scanning the foliage around us.

    He turns in time to see another werewolf pounces toward him, and rolls out of the way into the mud. Not that the werewolf survives terribly long after that. Tip for fighting things that can heal quickly: Most stuff is vulnerable to being beheaded. This is why I use battle axes. With healing magic, even a nasty gut wound is often only an inconvenience, but cutting off the head works on most things that have heads.

    Further on, we come upon some werewolves who are already dead and weren¡¯t killed by us. Much too clean, dotted with arrows. I make sure they¡¯re not playing dead.

    ¡°While I am reasonably certain they were already dead, I will not argue at the precaution,¡± Merry says.

    The one probably responsible for the corpses isn¡¯t far away, a Bosmer woman who introduces herself as Oraneth. Gelur goes to check on her health; she certainly gets more chances to heal people while following me around than hanging out back at Brackenleaf Village. Oraneth (look, I can get people¡¯s damned names right, honestly!) tells us about how her group was attacked by werewolves and they didn¡¯t find the Green Lady¡¯s sister (whose name was¡­ dammit.) She tells us Haron, whoever that was, went off in another direction and bids us good luck (or rather, wishes the Wood Elf god whose name starts with a Y guides us, but ¡®good luck¡¯ is easier to spell.)

    Yfri. Yffer. Yiffy. No, no, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s any of those. Did it have an apostrophe? I think there was an apostrophe in there somewhere.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°I should skin some of these werewolves and bring their pelts back,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ kind of creepy, Gelur,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°What?¡± she says innocently. ¡°It¡¯s a waste of perfectly good fur to just leave it there to rot, innit?¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°Well, if you really want, we can come back through here once we¡¯ve found the Green Lady¡¯s sister.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Gelur says with a twinkle in her eye. ¡°Who would get distracted by things like that in the middle of an important mission?¡±

    ¡°I can hear you, you know,¡± I say with a chuckle.

    We run into Haron, who talks about the werewolf ambush and immediately wants us to split up to look for clues. We point out that he¡¯s not going to exactly be better off going off by himself. (Oh, and apparently he¡¯s the Green Lady¡¯s sister¡¯s husband.) We convince him to stick together for safety¡¯s sake. I¡¯m considerably more likely to survive being ambushed than this guy.

    We go search for clues at the camp of the crazy Hircine worshippers, by which I mean, my friends search for clues, I just kill all the crazy Hircine worshippers. They¡¯ve even got a big statue and red banners with Hircine¡¯s symbol on them. It¡¯s very polite of them to declare which Prince they serve so openly, and I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be thrilled at the chance to fight a force of nature like me. By ¡®fight¡¯ I mean get killed by. I mean, some might exaggerate my prowess at times, but these fetchers couldn¡¯t kill an arthritic bantam guar.

    ¡°No, Neri, you are just that terrifying,¡± Merry points out.

    It¡¯s not that my friends have developed telepathic powers or anything. I just don¡¯t always realize when I¡¯m thinking or playing music aloud. (And I¡¯ve taken to just telling people ¡°What music?¡± when they ask about the music. I¡¯m sure Uncle Sheo will appreciate fucking with people like that and my friends politely don¡¯t give it away.)

    Anyway, it sounds like some guy kidnapped the Green Lady¡¯s sister/Haron¡¯s wife/Lanwaen in order to be Hircine¡¯s bride or something? That¡¯s probably not it and I¡¯m a little unclear on what they¡¯re trying to do but obviously they need to be stopped. I¡¯m not exactly a fan of kidnapping people and forcing people into marriage.

    (I really did love her once¡­)

    I ruthlessly squash the thought. There are werewolves to kill.

    We find Lanwaen in a nearby cave, along with some more of the crazy Hircine worshippers, who don¡¯t survive terribly long. Haron unties her and Gelur heals her up. The cave is incredibly confusing and I get thoroughly lost inside.

    ¡°This way, Neri,¡± Gelur says, tugging at me after I¡¯ve circled the same pile of werewolf corpses again. ¡°Everything¡¯s dead already.¡±

    We get back to Deepwoods, none the worse for wear primarily thanks to Gelur diligently healing everyone we found that was still breathing.

    Oraneth wants to give us a tour and tell us about the Green Lady. I think she¡¯s training to be the next spinner and wants to practice on us or something. Well¡­ why not? I guess we can take a moment to do this, if I¡¯ve got time to waste reading weird books. Gelur wants to go skin those werewolves anyway. And if we¡¯re getting a history lesson, I decide to take notes. There might be a test later.

    Admittedly, I have to get Oraneth to spell the names she mentions for me, but she¡¯s patient.

    We travel around the area, making sure there¡¯s no more werewolves lurking about or if there are, they¡¯re ones that are not dumb enough to attack the group that just slaughtered quite a lot of them. Gelur takes the opportunity to fill up her pack with pelts that I have no idea what she¡¯s planning to do with. Maybe rugs? Bosmer use leather in quite a lot of things that most races would just use wood for, though, so for all I know, this is going to wind up being a guard rail for a walkway. Their methods of preserving leather so that they don¡¯t have to replace the guard rails regularly from being out in the weather are also impressive.

    Once we get to the waterfall where we¡¯d found the camp before, Oraneth does a prayer to show us an illusion of a memory. Gwaering, the current Green Lady, had a childhood friend named Ulthorn, and they had some adventures around this waterfall.

    We then head over to the archery range, where Oraneth prays and brings up transparent blue memory images again. She tells us about how Gwaering is completely awesome at archery and enjoys splitting arrows with her improbable aiming skills. Unfortunately, Ulthorn had been betrothed to Gwaering, and when she was chosen as the next Green Lady, he was forced to let her go. Poor fetcher.

    We return to Deepwoods, back to the woman-shaped tree with its carved stone shrine.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it amazing how we can travel to different places but we so often wind up back where we started?¡± Oraneth says, standing before it with a serene smile that¡¯s probably supposed to be wise or reassuring.

    I certainly hope not. I think I might have started as a slave to the Ayleids or something and that would lead to me winding up back in what¡¯s now Cyrodiil or Morrowind. And I¡¯m not going to Morrowind if I can help it unless I have a way to stick it to my ¡®old friends¡¯ without getting re-murdered.

    Oraneth tells us (and shows us, with illusions) about how Gwaering was chosen as the Green Lady, which involved touching a shrine and glowing green while hovering surrounded by fluttering leaves. Because this could not have possibly been faked just like this illusion she¡¯s showing me now. Eh, I¡¯m sure Yif¡¯fer wouldn¡¯t let anyone impersonate a Green Lady.

    I should probably just get Oraneth to spell that name for me too.

    Y¡¯ffre. It¡¯s spelled fucking Y¡¯ffre. Why the fuck is it spelled Y¡¯ffre? It¡¯s like they deliberately chose the most atrocious mangling of the name to spell it as unintuitively as possible while still more or less sounding like ¡®Ifri¡¯ or ¡®Ifra¡¯ (and everyone pronounces that final ¡®e¡¯ slightly differently too, which isn¡¯t helping matters any). I¡¯ll spare Oraneth the rant. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s her fault. Still, I wonder if I can petition the Silvenar and Green Lady to enact a spelling reform of their god¡¯s name? They owe me a favor or two, right? I¡¯m sure the god in question won¡¯t mind.

 Chapter 98: In Which I Say Yes to Drugs and No to Daedra

    Just outside of Deepwoods, we run across a human woman on the road looking for her Khajiit husband. She introduces herself as Liane. Breton? Imperial? Too short to be a Nord and doesn¡¯t have the accent; she¡¯s even shorter than me, so probably Breton. Her husband, Feluz, ate too many moon sugar candies and is now missing.

    ¡°I should have listened to my father,¡± Liane grumbles to herself. ¡°I just wanted to see the world. I can¡¯t believe I married a sugartooth.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what the problem is,¡± I say, tossing a piece of moon sugar candy into my mouth. ¡°But we¡¯ll make sure he¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what¡¯s that you¡¯re eating?¡± Liane says, looking at my sweets suspiciously. ¡°You mean to tell me High Elves eat those too?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m definitely a high elf, but most High Elves are a little prudish,¡± I say in the understatement of the era.

    Liane is still muttering unhappily to herself when we part ways. She could probably use some moon sugar candy herself.

    Some ways down the road, I get distracted by the blue shaft of a Skyshard poking out from between some large roots. My friends don¡¯t even bat an eye at this¡ªit¡¯s not like this one is off a cliff or in the middle of a pack of animals or anything actually dangerous. A wayshrine isn¡¯t far away, so I go and light that as well.

    In some weird way I feel like I¡¯m accomplishing something just by absorbing Skyshards and lighting wayshrines in addition to solving the problems of literally everyone we run across. Okay, maybe not that sketchy fellow in Velyn Harbor who wanted us to find his unspecified goods in the middle of an invasion. I let him get his own damned unspecified goods. But dealing with the invasion was still helping him indirectly, so I guess it still counts.

    I almost miss spotting a Khajiit perched on top of a large tree stump. It¡¯s Feluz, the one Liane sent us after, and he¡¯s quite distraught. Although relieved that Liane is alright, he lost their goods and they won¡¯t be able to set up shop without them. And worse, he lost his pouch of moon sugar candy, although he insists that he¡¯s learned his lesson and will never touch the stuff again.

    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± I say. ¡°I try to keep a good supply of moon sugar around. Surprised? Yes, it keeps me sane and keeps the rages down. I¡¯d probably have murdered a lot more people otherwise.¡±

    Feluz is not exceptionally reassured. ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s fine if used in moderation¡­¡±

    ¡°I am continually amazed at how much he manages to accomplish while high,¡± Merry says with a sigh. ¡°¡®Sane¡¯ is a rather relative term.¡±

    With the help of Feluz¡¯s unhelpful directions, we locate his moon sugar stash that he dropped in a pigpen that is for some reason in the middle of the forest and for some reason the pigs have not touched. There¡¯s a small hut nearby that might belong to whoever owns the pigs, but there¡¯s no sign of an owner nearby at the moment. The goods are down in a ravine past several pissy strangler vines that are too dumb to realize some meat carries axes.

    Outside a cave, I spot a scroll labeled Ancient Scrolls of the Dwemer I-B, The Ransom of Zarek, Part 2. Summary: Marobar Sul¡¯s work is still bullshit and even the publisher didn¡¯t want to deal with it and had to be bribed into it. And he probably didn¡¯t actually exist. I can blame the University of Gwylim Press for publishing this nonsense, so I make note of that to see if I need any of my own nonsense published. Where even is that, anyway?

    I decide to poke inside the cave and immediately spot a ghost running by. Doing the sensible thing, I follow her, and she leads me to a painted vase by a skeleton with an inscription that it had been given as a gift to a woman leaving Vulkwasten and that it was a precious heirloom to keep with her and look upon it when feeling lost and alone. Really? It¡¯s a fucking vase. The name on the vase indicates that it was given by someone named Ganwen, so I shove it in my pack and make a note to give it back and let them know their loved one died lost and alone in a cave and that their vase didn¡¯t help. I probably won¡¯t use those exact words.

    The cave is also full of pumpkins, and a book talking about how some Bosmer ¡®Apostates¡¯ decided to hide in here and farm and didn¡¯t want to be cannibals and they were upset that their ancestors agreed to the Green Pact but they hadn¡¯t and were cursed for it. And so now this cave is full of undead pumpkin eaters. I swear, sometimes I just can¡¯t make this shit up. There¡¯s a Skyshard in the back of the cave next to a small waterfall trickling in from outside.

    When we get back to where we¡¯d found Feluz, Liane has also arrived and is berating him. We return the goods and the candy, which Liane is particularly unhappy about.

    ¡°Maybe you should be more supportive than judgmental,¡± Eran says. ¡°Moon sugar is an important part of Khajiit culture and shaming him for it isn¡¯t likely to help. Just make sure that he stays productive and nudge him if he gets distracted, like I have to do with this guy constantly.¡±

    ¡°We live in a stressful time,¡± Gelur adds. ¡°Can¡¯t really blame a guy too much for needing an outlet.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Liane begrudgingly thanks us for the help and heads off.

    I spot a camp off the other side of the road, and approach. There¡¯s several Bosmer there, some of them in poor shape, which Gelur goes to heal. A woman introduces herself as Tharuin the Melancholy, of all the cheerful names, who informs us that Falinesti isn¡¯t here either and something weird is going on in the valley. She doesn¡¯t know what, but mentions lightning, mysterious standing stones, and weird feelings of unease. Naturally, I agree to investigate.

    The valley is full of Daedra. I really fucking hope this isn¡¯t going to involve another trip into Oblivion. I even go so far as to ask some of the Dremora which realm they¡¯re from and which Prince they work for, but they¡¯re not feeling particularly talkative whilst trying to cut us apart.

    As we¡¯re traveling through the valley killing Dremora and Ogrims along the way, a projection of a bald Altmer woman contacts us and directs us to meet her in a cave across a small bridge.

    Once we rendezvous with her in person, she introduces herself as Farandare and I hope she doesn¡¯t mind being called Farry because I¡¯m damned well calling her Farry. She believes that the walking tree city of Falinesti was drawn into Oblivion and wants to open a portal to rescue it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve located Falinesti?¡± I ask. ¡°You know exactly where it is? Which realm? Which region? Is it in Coldharbour? The Deadlands? The Shivering Isles? Is it in the fucking Myriad Realms of Revelry having an endless party with Sanguine?¡±

    Farry looks increasingly uncertain with every word I say. ¡°I know the city must be in Oblivion! I can feel it!¡±

    ¡°Look, saying something is in Oblivion is like saying something is on Nirn. You can¡¯t just open a portal to Nirn in general and assume it¡¯s going to point to the right spot. You might be aiming for Skyrim and wind up in Akavir for all you know. You know where I wound up last time I took a portal to ¡®anywhere on Nirn¡¯? Khenarthi¡¯s Roost! Which was an absolutely pleasant place if it weren¡¯t for the Sea Elves, but never mind that.¡±

    ¡°The veil between worlds is thin here and I could feel Oblivion on the other side,¡± Farry says.

    ¡°You should really just listen to him when he starts ranting about how much Oblivion sucks and you don¡¯t want to mess with it unless you¡¯re absolutely certain you know what you¡¯re doing,¡± Eran puts in. ¡°And possibly not even then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll rant at you a bit more once we deal with the immediate issue,¡± I say. ¡°How do we get rid of the Daedra? Is there still an open rift somewhere?¡±

    ¡°Several,¡± Farry says. ¡°My previous experiments left small holes between worlds. I¡¯ll need help sealing them. But they¡¯re small tears and they should close at a mortal¡¯s touch.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, then turn to my friends. ¡°You guys close the rifts. I¡¯ll get the Daedra¡¯s attention long enough for you to do so.¡±

    It¡¯s a good thing she¡¯s not telling me to do that myself, since I¡¯m not a mortal exactly and that probably wouldn¡¯t work. Stupid weird magic, anyway. Why is it always Oblivion? What is it about Oblivion that mages find so damned fascinating that they do stupid things with it?

    Once that¡¯s done, we return to find her in a different cave, still under the delusion that we¡¯re actually going to help her open a huge gate to Oblivion here and still trying to perform her ritual. Around me, without even any input from me, my friends move to secure the room and make sure to block anything she might use to attempt to do so.

    ¡°No! You must help me!¡± Farry insists. ¡°My husband was lost in the city and I have to find him! This will surely work this time!¡±

    ¡°Exactly which part of ¡®fuck no¡¯ did you not understand?¡± I say, putting my face in my palm. ¡°Look. I believe you when you say that you believe that the walking city is in Oblivion.¡±

    Beside me, Ilara snickers at the way I phrased that.

    ¡°However, I do not believe that you know what you¡¯re doing here. In fact, the way you¡¯re so adamant about it, about opening a portal to some unspecified location in Oblivion right here and right now, is suspicious in and of itself. You¡¯re not trying to aim a portal at the walking tree to get it back. You¡¯re being coerced into letting a powerful Daedra through, and it needs a bigger doorway than those rifts to manifest.¡±

    Farry stares at me like she¡¯d never thought of that. ¡°But I could swear I heard my husband¡¯s voice calling out to me for help¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Exactly. That¡¯s exactly the sort of shit they do.¡±

    Farry sways on her feet, reaches out a hand to steady herself before sitting down entirely. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t believe this.¡±

    ¡°Stop this,¡± I say. ¡°I can put you in touch with some ¡®finding shit in Oblivion¡¯ experts, who might actually be able to pinpoint Falinesti and your husband rather than groping around blindly, although they¡¯re a bit busy with the whole ¡®saving the world from certain doom¡¯ thing. They can probably spare a moment to take a look and offer advice.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ that would actually help, thank you,¡± Farry says.

    ¡°If nothing else, they can make sure you don¡¯t make a mess of things next time you decide to open a gate to Oblivion,¡± I say. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t try to open an Oblivion gate unsupervised again. Or ever, really. It¡¯s generally a good idea to have someone on hand who can tell you that the insanely dangerous thing you¡¯re trying to do is insanely dangerous. Let¡¯s finish cleaning up here and I¡¯ll give you directions to Vastarie¡¯s tower.¡±

    ¡°You know Vastarie!?¡± Farry says. ¡°She¡¯s a legend!¡±

    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s pretty cool. I¡¯d teleport you there myself but my teleportation ability only works on me and my friends. Tell them Neri sent you and explain what happened here. They¡¯ll understand. Just don¡¯t get too caught up in the idea that Falinesti is actually in Oblivion. It might be, sure, but it might not. How much of your certainty was because of Daedric influence? For all I know, that Khajiit thief god, Rajhin, stole it and hid it on one of the moons or something.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve made sure there are no further Daedra or holes in reality at the Falinesti Summer Site, my party parts ways with Farry, who is heading west toward Velyn Harbor while we¡¯re continuing east.

    ¡°I hope they don¡¯t get annoyed at you for inflicting that fool on them,¡± Merry comments dryly.

    I shrug. ¡°They can find something useful to put her to and keep her out of trouble if nothing else. Falinesti¡¯s been missing for a while but Dark Anchors are dropping now and they don¡¯t appear to be connected. Maybe they just packed up to wait until Tamriel got sane again, though I doubt they¡¯d have voluntarily left without telling anyone. Either way, best put her somewhere that she can help instead of making a mess because I damned well don¡¯t trust her not to try opening another Oblivion gate the minute we walk away and I don¡¯t want to have to behead her to get her to knock it off.¡±

    Eran grimaces. ¡°Yes, best try to avoid unnecessary decapitation.¡±

 Chapter 99: In Which I Accidentally Marry an Orc

    The Green Lady is waiting for us at the entrance to the Orc village of Dra¡¯bul. Maybe not waiting for us specifically, but whatever she came here for hasn¡¯t been accomplished yet and we¡¯ll doubtless be able to help in some way. I¡¯m not sure whether this particular mission is likely to wind up becoming ¡®talk at them until they capitulate¡¯ or ¡®kill them all¡¯ but it¡¯s probably going to require knocking together a few hard Orc skulls either way.

    She¡¯s already heard about us rescuing her sister and is thankful for it. Somebody must have run up the road to tell her about it in the time we were busy killing Daedra and dealing drugs, because it¡¯s not like we ever sleep or anything, and definitely didn¡¯t have any moon sugar naps with Khajiit by the wayshrine leading the Dunmer guild trader there to get annoyed at us.

    So. Right. Yeah. The Green Lady wants to talk to the chief (or chieftain? What¡¯s the difference?) and has some plan involving disguising us as Orcs, which she can do with a lock of hair, which makes me wonder if that guy who disguised me as Queen Ayrenn that one time had been given some of her hair in order to do it.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always wondered what I¡¯d look like with green skin and tusks,¡± I say. ¡°Ilara-daro, would you be so kind as to sneak in and do the snip-snip?¡±

    Ilara¡¯s whiskers twitch as she grins. ¡°It would be this one¡¯s pleasure.¡±

    Since it would probably be too conspicuous if too many of us were to suddenly turn into strangely-behaving clan members, we decide to only disguise me and Eran. Gelur and Ilara are sneaky enough and Merry takes up a position in a high location where he can get a good view of most of the village without being noticed. People always forget to look up. (Including me sometimes.)

    Once the glamor has been cast, Ilara lets me borrow a (rather fancy and definitely stolen) mirror to get a good look at myself. It would be so convenient if I could do this more often. If I ever have to travel outside of Dominion territory (like that¡¯s really an ¡®if¡¯) I¡¯ll need to consider doing it under a disguise that makes me look like an Orc or Dunmer. (Not that I¡¯m hugely eager to actually go into Morrowind, but if I need to travel to Black Marsh or Skyrim for some reason, it would still probably be better to blend in a little more and I have no hope of pretending to be an Argonian or a Nord.)

    A careful investigation of the village reveals that their food and drink is delicious and more importantly, that they¡¯re getting orders from some wolf-thing they¡¯re contacting with glowing red candles on top of skulls. I¡¯m going to assume this thing is evil because, well, glowing red and skulls. The wolf-thing (probably connected to the werewolves and Hircine worshippers, I¡¯m betting) gave them Velyn Harbor as a ¡®gift¡¯ because gifts totally involve you going in and taking it for yourself, and wants them to detain the Green Lady while he does something in Silvenar. The place, not Calm Indy.

    While I¡¯m having a chat with the wolf-thing who I¡¯ve convinced I¡¯m just a particularly dim-witted Orc that needs everything explained to him, the shaman¡¯s lovely daughter, Roku, has come up behind me.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not one of our clan,¡± Roku says. ¡°That¡¯s just a disguise, even if it was enough to fool the Hound. You¡¯re a friend of the Green Lady, like me. We¡¯ve got to help her, before it¡¯s too late.¡± She explains briefly a bit about what¡¯s going on here and pleads with me to plead with her father to stop helping the chieftain.

    The shaman¡¯s hut has a copy of The Cantatas of Vivec on his desk, of all things. Very¡­ strange reading material for a Wood Orc in Malabal Tor, but who am I to judge? Maybe his reading tastes are as eclectic as mine. He also has a very impressive mask of black and red face paint. He¡¯s not willing to act directly against the chieftain, but he still wants to help in some circumspect manner.

    We get to the arena where the trap for the Green Lady was supposed to have been sprung, only to find mostly just a bunch of Orc statues and my companions looking smug.

    ¡°Their whole trap thing was a lot less subtle than they thought it was,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°What happened here?¡± Roku says, running up and gaping at the statues. ¡°What did you do to them?¡±

    ¡°Do not fret,¡± Merry says. ¡°They¡¯re fine. I will revert them to flesh once again when they can be convinced that going against us is a foolhardy affair.¡±

    ¡°I applaud your quick thinking,¡± the Green Lady says. ¡°Neralion, did you find out anything?¡±

    ¡°Well, someone called the Hound wanted to capture you, but I think you already figured that part out,¡± I say. ¡°I think that was the same guy who wanted to capture your sister, too.¡±

    As if on cue, a translucent image of the large wolf-thing in question appears and snarls something about Silvenar or the Silvenar and commands the chieftain to kill us before disappearing again. The chieftain launches himself at Roku. I push her aside and step into his path and take a knife to the gut for my trouble. The Green Lady¡¯s glamor isn¡¯t strong enough to hold up to stabbings, and I¡¯m abruptly no longer green.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± I demand, headbutting him and shoving him away as Gelur starts healing me.

    ¡°She chose to go against her people!¡± the chieftain blusters.

    ¡°Go against them?¡± I say. ¡°The way I¡¯m seeing it here, what you¡¯re doing is getting a lot of your people killed! And do you seriously think you¡¯re going to kill us all by yourself? You wouldn¡¯t even be able to kill me by yourself even without my friends.¡±

    ¡°Are you challenging me to a duel?¡± the chieftain growls.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°You know what? Fine. I, Neri, hereby challenge you, chieftain whatever, to a duel to the fucking death for command of your tribe. Because I¡¯m really tired of you and you tried to stab an unarmed girl like a coward. I¡¯ll even have Merry de-stone your clanmates so they can watch me wipe the floor with your sorry ass.¡±

    ¡°I accept!¡± the soon-to-be ex-chieftain snarls, unable to say anything without a bluster, growl, or snarl.

    While we¡¯re preparing for the duel (such as it is, neither of us is really in much need of ¡®preparation¡¯) Merry goes through and restores all the stoned Orcs and my friends inform them of what¡¯s going on. Approaching them like I would Ashlanders has been working well enough so far. With respect, directness, and occasional face-smashing as necessary.

    Normally, I go in for killing things in the most expedient way possible even if it¡¯s not the most ¡®honorable¡¯ or pleasant to watch. Even Ilara no longer even bats an eye at severed limbs and heads flying about. I debate between giving the Orcs a show and going all out. Ultimately, I decide on the latter, but with no fancy light powers. Just me, an axe, and an Orc. I can¡¯t help but grin madly at the prospect as I grip Wobbly. I¡¯m pretty sure I overhear whispered speculation that I must be part Orc because obviously no pure-blooded Altmer would look quite so eager to hit something with a battle axe.

    Several Orcs start making inaccurate reassessments about Altmer upon seeing the way I move. It¡¯s an epic fight and everyone watching is highly impressed.

    Once the asshole Orc is dead, the shaman doesn¡¯t hesitate to declare me the new chieftain and what have I just gotten myself into here? I swear, if these people start calling me ¡®Elf-Orc¡¯, Dumac is never going to let me live it down if I ever wind up wherever he wound up. Especially considering Orcs are mer. Anyway, they do figure out pretty quickly that we¡¯re the ones who killed their wayward cousins who attacked Velyn Harbor, but being Orcs, they don¡¯t hold it against us too much.

    Fortunately, Orc society seems to function by the sacred principle of ¡®Asskicking Equals Authority¡¯ and are happy to give me authority following my asskicking. I¡¯m sure it didn¡¯t escape them that we absolutely could have just killed them all and been done with it.

    The shaman tells me that the former chieftain ordered some warriors to go to someplace named Jathsogur, which upon looking at a map I discover is way at the far side of Malabal Tor near the border to Grahtwood. The Green Lady¡¯s afraid that the Hound (she seems to know exactly who this guy is) has done something with her Silvenar and needs to go kick some ass herself.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± I say, looking to the gathered Orcs. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to defuse the shit your former chieftain made a mess of. Roku¡¯s in charge while I¡¯m gone.¡±

    ¡°You want me to be your hearth-wife?¡± Roku asks, eyes widening.

    I blink in surprise. ¡°Would you want to be? I¡¯m not really a fan of forcing people to get married against their will.¡±

    ¡°You saved my life, and fought my uncle to protect me,¡± Roku says. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I want to marry you? I would be honored to be your hearth-wife and bear you many children.¡±

    ¡°Iiiii think we¡¯re getting ahead of ourselves here,¡± I say quickly and look to my friends for help.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me,¡± Eran says. ¡°You walked into this one yourself.¡±

    ¡°But I understand if you don¡¯t want to marry an Orc,¡± Roku says. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine most Altmer would find me attractive.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Roku, no. Don¡¯t get me wrong. You¡¯re the most beautiful Orc I¡¯ve ever met. And I mean that. But there¡¯s some things you need to know.¡±

    Roku beams at the compliment, and asks, ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°First off,¡± I say, pointing toward the shaman. ¡°Let me ask you a question. Why were you reading The Cantatas of Vivec?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s important to learn about other cultures and to understand different points of view,¡± the shaman replies, and I almost regret forgetting to learn his name.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t¡­ of course you wouldn¡¯t,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was afraid of. Let¡¯s go inside and take a seat and get something to drink. This is going to be a long story.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to tell these Orcs everything?¡± Merry whispers to me as we¡¯re relocating.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to tell my Orcs everything,¡± I say quietly.

    ¡°You know they were just trying to kill us a moment ago,¡± Merry points out.

    ¡°So?¡± I say. ¡°D¡¯you know exactly how I became Great Ashkhan of the clans of the Ashlands?¡±

    Merry sighs. ¡°I am imagining that it involved violence.¡±

    One might say that I¡¯m being too trusting, but there¡¯s no way in fuck that I¡¯m not going to tell someone who apparently wants to be my wife about the ex who murdered me and might just do terrible things to her as well as me if she finds out about this. We wind up back in the longhouse with my friends, Roku, and the shaman. The Green Lady has run ahead again leaving us behind for the moment but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll catch up soon enough. It¡¯ll be fine. Calm Indy¡¯s a tough fetcher and he¡¯s not going to die just because I stopped to have a drink and tell my life story to an Orc I just met. Probably.

    So I tell them everything. Well, not everything everything. We¡¯d be here the rest of the month. But I give a detailed summary of the key points.

    Once I¡¯m done, Roku hugs me. I look at her in surprise.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been through a lot of shit,¡± Roku says. ¡°You definitely need a hearth-wife.¡±

    ¡°You know all that and you still want to marry me?¡± I ask incredulously.

    ¡°Yes. I won¡¯t claim to understand half of what you¡¯ve seen and done,¡± Roku goes on. ¡°All the gods and weird magic is beyond me, but war and battle? That I understand, and you¡¯re hurting deeper than you can heal with potions and spells. Let me help.¡±

    I don¡¯t deserve this girl. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and decide not to argue about it any further. ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡­

    I sleep. I dream. I dream of the Shivering Isles, but that realm is often as much a dreamscape of a warped mind as anything else.

    ¡°Forget Shalidor,¡± I find myself saying. ¡°He can get his own damned books. I wish to make my own request.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh, feeling cheeky today, are you?¡± Sheogorath says.

    ¡°I wish for you to bless my ring to hide me from the other gods.¡±

    Sheogorath grins widely, more widely than a human face should be capable of. ¡°Now that¡¯s a very interesting request. Oh, and such delicious paranoia, too!¡± He leans close and rasps, ¡°You¡¯re terrified of him. Much more than you ever would be of me.¡±

    I just give a short nod.

    ¡°What would you do for it?¡± Sheogorath whispers.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do anything.¡±

    Most of the people who make deals with Daedra don¡¯t really know what they¡¯re getting into. I do. I, painfully, achingly, madly, desperately¡­ do. And the Madgod seems to find that all the more delightful.

    ¡°An-y-thiiing?¡± Sheogorath drawls, extending each syllables. ¡°Really? Would you even kill your pretty Queen if I demanded that of you?¡±

    I close my eyes and sigh. ¡°If what I fear were to come to pass, she would not be safe from me regardless.¡±

    He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper, ¡°What about Roku?¡±

    Only then does my sleepy, sluggish mind even remember her, and I feel ashamed for it.

    I snap open my eyes again and stare at him. ¡°No. Not her. I will not hurt Roku, not even for you, not even for this.¡±

    Amid the Madgod¡¯s laughter, I jolt awake.

    Tense, my heart racing, but I don¡¯t move. I feel arms around me and I sense no danger, so I close my eyes again and let myself fall into deep sleep.

 Chapter 100: In Which Daedric Rituals Are Highly Inconvenient

    I wake up with a headache in bed next to an Orc woman. I close my eyes again and very calmly recount the previous day and what led to this point.

    Turns out I was more or less sober when I agreed to marry an Orc. And I regret nothing.

    Roku wakes, afraid that I¡¯d change my mind in the morning light, and I have to assure her otherwise. I hadn¡¯t exactly planned on any of this when I came to Dra¡¯bul, but sometimes you¡¯ve got to run with things. I don¡¯t know anything about running an Orc clan, and all I¡¯ve done is read some books and beaten the shit out of a lot of misbehaving Orcs. (They¡¯re hardly going to hold that against me¡ªI¡¯ve beaten the shit out of a lot of misbehaving Altmer, Bosmer, Maormer, Khajiit, and Redguards as well. I don¡¯t care what you look like, just don¡¯t be an asshole.)

    ¡°Roku,¡± I whisper, holding her close.

    There hasn¡¯t been any big ceremony, not yet at least, since there¡¯s some rather urgent situations that need to be taken care of first. Orcs aren¡¯t much for beating around the bush and wasting time, though. My pending hearth-wife is quite understanding on the matter, especially considering a lot of those urgent situations are directly the fault of her uncle, the former chieftain.

    ¡°So you¡¯re the shaman¡¯s daughter,¡± I say. ¡°I thought only chiefs were supposed to father children.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Roku says. ¡°Why do you think he was quick to try to stab me first rather than anyone else who might have betrayed him? I was a constant embarrassment to him, my existence only barely tolerated. My best hope had been to become hearth-wife to another chief before that tolerance ran out, or to run away to the city and be cut off from my clan forever.¡±

    ¡°This is a much better solution,¡± I say.

    Roku laughs softly at my understatement. ¡°You have no idea. This will solidify both of our positions, and we can help each other.¡±

    There¡¯s still so many questions that might be asked. Whether or not I¡¯m even capable of having children. Where my soul might wind up going when I die for good and how far away that might be. None of them seem terribly important right now.

    ¡°You¡¯d best get moving if you want to save the Silvenar,¡± Roku says. ¡°You¡¯ve got a long way to go.¡±

    I pull out my map of Valenwood and spread it out on the table, and peer over it thoughtfully. The locations of all the wayshrines I¡¯ve lit have been marked on it.

    ¡°I might have a shortcut,¡± I say. ¡°Instead of hiking all the way across Malabar Tor, I could just teleport to the Cormount wayshrine and cut north from there.¡±

    Roku leans over to look at my map and points out, ¡°Cormount is next to the border to Elsweyr. You¡¯ll want the Redfur Trading Post.¡±

    I stare at the map for a long moment. ¡°Right. It¡¯s a good thing I married someone who can read a map and not get lost¡­¡±

    I meet up with my friends in the main hall of the longhouse, who are eating breakfast and taking absolutely every dumb thing I do in stride. To be fair, this isn¡¯t even close to the weirdest thing I¡¯ve done lately. Compared to collecting mad books with butterfly nets and stripping naked and blowing up a Covenant warship, accidentally marrying an Orc is positively normal. That¡¯s something that could happen to anyone.

    I don¡¯t want to leave the stronghold right after assuming leadership, but I don¡¯t have much choice and I have faith in Roku and her father being able to keep some semblance of order here without the interference of the lead dead asshole. And to be fair, simply killing the lead dead asshole and declaring myself in charge now would likely have gone over more poorly if I hadn¡¯t gone and decided to marry the shaman¡¯s daughter along with it. And I think I needed her more than I realized. I¡¯m definitely going to need to come back here whenever I get to a wayshrine and have a moment to rest.

    I let my friends know the plan over breakfast, and we head out to the wayshrine.

    Gelur makes a comment I don¡¯t quite hear.

    ¡°Gelur, show some dignity,¡± Merry says, aghast.

    I¡¯m going to pretend that I didn¡¯t hear what I didn¡¯t hear.

    ¡°Well, I, for one, am glad you¡¯ve found someone who makes you happy,¡± Eran says. ¡°You seem to be a lot less tense today.¡± He pauses. ¡°You are happy about this, right? You seem happy, and not in a ¡®just killed some ridiculous monster¡¯ or ¡®just ate an awful lot of moon sugar¡¯ sort of way.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ think so?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I don¡¯t really have much of a frame of reference.¡±

    My friends are quiet for a long moment before Ilara comments, ¡°This one thinks you really needed hugs.¡±

    Once we reach the wayshrine, I teleport us over to Redfur Trading Post and we head up the road past the Ayleid ruin where we killed a bunch of Daedra that one time. That other time. No, the *other *other time. That Ayleid ruin where we listened to Manny talk to himself and scooped up some magic light for a human who is no longer sitting at his camp because people don¡¯t just sit around in one place forever.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    We cross into Malabal Tor, and pass by one of those constellation obelisks that may or may not have anything to do with the Ayleids, but this one has a book beside it titled The Last King of the Ayleids. (This could be anything from a dry historical thesis to lurid Ayleid porn.) I¡¯ll read it later. My friends get annoyed when I try to read and walk at the same time and I¡¯ve got a Silvenar to save and I might actually be able to save this one because it will be incredibly irritating if two Silvenars go and die on my watch.

    I light a wayshrine next to a wooden bridge, then go up toward the Orc stronghold of Jathsomething. Outside the huge wooden gates, a purple projection of Calm Indy¡ªthe Silvenar, that is¡ªappears before us trying to get our attention.

    ¡°It¡¯s you!¡± the Silvenar says. ¡°Neri, am I glad to see you. If anyone can help me here, you can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for,¡± I say. ¡°Where are you being held?¡±

    The Silvenar bids me to find his advisors, who are trusted confidantes that I can only assume that he met after that business in Heck and I¡¯m not quite clear on the timing here. These advisors may be able to tell us how to free him.

    ¡°How should we do this?¡± Merry asks. ¡°Fire or stone?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± the Silvenar asks.

    ¡°Did these Orcs do anything truly atrocious aside from capture you, or should we try to talk to them?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I would hate to speak a death sentence for anyone, even when they¡¯ve wronged me,¡± the Silvenar says. ¡°Most of them were just likely to be following what their chief said. But if it¡¯s necessary for you to fight your way through them, I understand.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in on what happened in Dra¡¯bul later,¡± I say. ¡°Sparing the common clan members and beating the shit out of whoever thought this was a great idea would be preferable.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Merry said. ¡°Many Orc statues coming right up.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro could sneak in and try to find them,¡± Ilara suggests.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to sneak them out, but you can at least find where we should be going rather than simply scouring the entire village,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re probably going to attract quite a bit of attention once we start stoning people.¡±

    Ilara slips away, and we start making our way through the stronghold. Merry has gotten quite good with this spell, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯s tougher to cast than he makes it look.

    Ilara has located the advisors and directs us to one of the large buildings. The Orcs, upon seeing what we¡¯re doing, have had to make the choice between the dumb and smart thing, and more than a few of them still think they¡¯re going to be the ones to defeat us despite all evidence that they¡¯d have no better luck than everyone else that tried. Some decide to just go inside and pretend they didn¡¯t see us, since we¡¯re not rummaging through every building.

    ¡°I hope the Green Lady is alright,¡± says the male advisor as Gelur heals his injuries.

    ¡°She was fine last I saw her,¡± I say. ¡°Some of the Orcs had a plan to capture her but we kind of fucked it up.¡±

    ¡°The word is ¡®foiled¡¯, Neri,¡± Merry says. ¡°Your vulgarity aside, you make it sound like we made a mess of things ourselves rather than solving the mess.¡±

    ¡°I have a very bad feeling about this,¡± says the female advisor.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say. ¡°I do this sort of thing all the time.¡±

    They describe some creature that the clan shaman summoned, which might be an Ogrim as described by a couple of people who have never seen an Ogrim before.

    We find the ritual site on the far side of the big forge. Yep, it¡¯s an Ogrim. We kill that, and grab the ritual book from the pedestal. And now the female advisor (look, Neri, their names are Raen and Sariel, so far as names go, these are not difficult) ahem, Sariel mentions that the shaman also used a runestone to drain the Silvenar¡¯s energy. Which means we¡¯re going to the other side of the village to collect that as well.

    What greets us as we head up the hill isn¡¯t more Drublog Orcs, but those creepy Hircine-worshipping Bosmer, the Houndsmen. Those, we just kill.

    ¡°I¡¯m reconsidering whether we should have bothered sparing the Orcs if this is the sort of company they keep,¡± Merry comments.

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine the shaman put it to a vote before he decided to start summoning Daedra,¡± I say. ¡°We can always kill them later if they still turn out to be assholes.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right,¡± Sariel says. ¡°I think they were manipulated into this.¡±

    After cutting our way through quite a lot of misbehaving Bosmer, we find the runestone Sariel mentioned, behind guarded by an Ogrim named Neechar. I can tell this because he yells ¡°Neechar smash!¡± before trying to smash me. He does not succeed in doing so.

    ¡°According to this book, we must sacrifice a life in order to reverse the spell and restore the Silvenar,¡± Sariel says.

    Both of them eagerly leap at the idea of sacrificing themselves in a Daedric ritual.

    I put my face in my palm. ¡°No. None of us is getting sacrificed to any damned Daedra today.¡±

    ¡°But we must!¡± Sariel says. ¡°Daedric rituals often come with a price and it¡¯s a small price to save the Silvenar!¡±

    ¡°Look, I was once sacrificed in a Daedric ritual and I¡¯m damned well not going to do it on anyone I like,¡± I say. ¡°Why can¡¯t we just sacrifice one of the Houndsmen if we absolutely have to sacrifice someone? There¡¯s plenty of them and no one will miss them.¡±

    ¡°The ritual requires a willing victim or the Silvenar will die,¡± Sariel says.

    ¡°Fine, then I¡¯ll do it,¡± I say.

    The two of them start protesting about how awesome I am and how I¡¯m definitely needed here and they won¡¯t let me do that.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°Come on, give me some credit, will you? I don¡¯t know if it will even work considering my soul isn¡¯t here. I¡¯m basically immortal, and I¡¯ll probably just wake up at the wayshrine.¡±

    ¡°And if you don¡¯t?¡± Eran asks. ¡°You¡¯ll be trapped in Oblivion again.¡±

    ¡°This is a runestone of Malacath,¡± I say. ¡°In that event, I¡¯d wind up in the Ashpit. That sounds considerably nicer than Coldharbour.¡±

    Another round of protests.

    ¡°What about Roku?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°She¡¯ll understand,¡± I say.

    ¡°You are entirely too cheerful about the prospect of a trip to the Ashpit,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°How are we supposed to finish this without you if it takes you too long to get out again?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°I have confidence in you guys to beat up a few more assholes,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s see if this works.¡±

    One might call that ¡®famous last words¡¯, but whatever. I hold aloft the runestone and perform the creepy Daedric ritual on myself before anyone can talk me out of it. And while talking of Roku might do it, it¡¯s not enough to convince me to sacrifice anyone else in my place.

    I¡¯ll spare you the agonizing details on the agony.

 Chapter 101: In Which I Rise from the Ashes

    I really didn¡¯t need to re-experience the experience of being sacrificed to a Daedric Prince, never mind having deliberately done it to myself this time. My friends are right. I am absolutely insane.

    I find myself engulfed in a land of ash with a sky of smoke. A figure appears before me, like an Orc with horns wearing nothing but a loincloth and I¡¯m not going to think about Malacath¡¯s loincloth now. Oh, and that ring that was supposed to hide me? It did not come with me, nor did anything else. The Ashpit saw fit to give me my own loincloth though, so props to Malacath for the dignity.

    ¡°What is this?¡± he says, looking down to examine me intently. ¡°Nerevar? What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Ah, hello,¡± I say. ¡°Malacath, I presume? You noticed my arrival awfully quickly.¡±

    ¡°I had my eye on the situation in Jathsogur,¡± Malacath replies. ¡°Your involvement was¡­ unexpected.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Ruling king of ¡®unexpected¡¯ since the First Era.¡±

    ¡°You had some means of concealing yourself from my sight,¡± Malacath says. ¡°I had very nearly pierced it when you appeared here.¡±

    ¡°The ring was working? Oh, good. No, I wasn¡¯t trying to hide from your sight specifically. I was trying to avoid the attention of my former friends. You know, the ones who betrayed and murdered me and sacrificed me to Molag Bal and made themselves into false gods. I don¡¯t want them to realize I¡¯ve escaped until I¡¯ve found a way to reclaim my soul and strip their godhood from them and destroy them and tear down everything they¡¯ve built.¡±

    I may have reformed in a body without any calming substances in it and in the presence of a vengeful god. The madness in my mind might find Sheogorath alluring, but there¡¯s something that appeals to me about the Defender of the Betrayed. It feels so very right.

    ¡°Ah!¡± Malacath exclaims, grinning widely. ¡°Your heart burns with rage and desire for revenge! Those three betrayed you just as those they claim as their ¡®Anticipations¡¯ betrayed me¡­¡±

    I give a ragged sigh. ¡°Yes. That they did. Fetchers, the lot of them.¡±

    ¡°Why did you sacrifice yourself to me?¡± Malacath wonders.

    ¡°The book said the Silvenar would die if it wasn¡¯t a willing sacrifice,¡± I say. ¡°And I wanted to save him because I like him but like fuck am I sacrificing anyone else in a Daedric ritual.¡±

    ¡°So you sacrificed yourself instead, knowing that you have a tether binding you to Nirn and preventing you from being trapped in Oblivion,¡± Malacath says as he starts laughing. ¡°Or were you not so confident you¡¯d be able to return? Did you simply fearlessly hurl yourself into the Ashpit without knowing you¡¯d be able to return?¡±

    ¡°Wait, I can return anytime?¡± I wonder in genuine surprise. ¡°Damn. All I did was get wayshrine-to-wayshrine teleportation working. I didn¡¯t exactly feel like experimenting with it further and I¡¯ve been kept awfully busy hitting things.¡±

    Malacath laughs heartily, then says, ¡°You really didn¡¯t know. Ah, I won¡¯t mock you for it. You¡¯ve got balls, I¡¯ll give you that. You¡¯re more reckless than I¡¯d have expected.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, being betrayed by everyone he cared about and then spending a few thousand years in Oblivion turned the calm, charismatic Hortator into a bloodthirsty lunatic bent on revenge. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±

    Malacath rumbles in furious agreement.

    Why couldn¡¯t I have realized that when I thought I¡¯d be trapped in Coldharbour again? Maybe I¡¯d have eventually tried but I was far too ready to accept my return to the prison and that voice, that voice. That voice that would declare me champion of the God of Schemes and demand that I scour Nirn in his name. That constant fear that I would be forced to turn on everyone I care about and burn down everything I helped to build.

    That thought that filled me with such terror only brings me rage, here and now. There¡¯s no room for paranoia in Malacath¡¯s domain. I might even feel safe here¡­ and it reminds me of the Ashlands in a way that hurts with nostalgia more than I¡¯d ever imagined.

    ¡°You left your friends to fight without you,¡± Malacath comments.

    ¡°I have faith in them to be able to kill a few more assholes,¡± I say. ¡°A good leader trusts their followers and can¡¯t fight every battle personally.¡±

    Malacath grins. ¡°And what are your plans for these Orcs? You¡­ turned them to stone? Why?¡±

    ¡°So I didn¡¯t have to kill them,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯d been deceived by those Hircine-worshippers and it seems like every chief in Malabal Tor has simultaneously lost their minds. I intended to restore them to flesh once their chief and shaman were dead and convince them that I¡¯m in charge now like I did at Dra¡¯bul.¡±

    ¡°Dra¡¯bul accepted a non-Orsimer as their chief?¡± Malacath wonders.

    ¡°I was very persuasive,¡± I say. ¡°I challenged their chief to a duel to the death and then made his niece my hearth-wife.¡±

    ¡°You married an Orc?¡± Malacath asks. ¡°Just to solidify your leadership?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all,¡± I say. ¡°Roku is amazing and I¡­ I love her dearly.¡± I pause. ¡°Damn. I should probably tell her that, not you.¡± I laugh softly at myself.

    ¡°Yes, you should!¡±

    ¡°Malacath¡­¡± I say, then pause. ¡°Would you rather be called Lord Malacath? Or Mauloch? Or whatever?¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Malacath says with a shrug. ¡°I lost my name, so it¡¯s not like it matters at this point. Mortals bend the knee too easily. You¡¯re not groveling at me, though. Stand tall! Bow to no one, not even me.¡±

    ¡°Still, I¡¯d rather you have my soul than him,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯d rather return here than Coldharbour, whenever I¡¯m done hitting things on Nirn.¡±

    Malacath nods. ¡°And you will need to wrest your soul from Molag Bal¡¯s grasp for that.¡±

    ¡°That ring I had,¡± I say. ¡°I had it made to try to protect me from those who betrayed me, who would use their stolen power to destroy me if they discovered me before I¡¯m able to take my revenge. And from Molag Bal, to keep his eye off me on my next sortie into Coldharbour because I am not fucking done with him yet but I am not yet prepared to battle a Daedric Prince. I was told that I¡¯d need the blessing of a god for that. Will you give me yours?¡±

    Malacath is quiet for a moment, then says, ¡°Not far from Jathsogur lies the ruins of an Ayleid city that was built upon the bones of my people. Now, Worm Cultists swarm the ruins, seeking to summon an avatar of Mauloch to wreak havoc upon Valenwood.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you Mauloch?¡± I ask.

    Malacath shrugs broadly. ¡°People call me all sorts of things. Some are more polite than others. In any case, it¡¯s not like the destruction of Valenwood is in my best interests, and they think they¡¯ll have me do their bidding, the troll-brained corpse fuckers. Go there and prove your strength against them and I will name you my champion! Bring your ring to the shrine there and I will bless it for you.¡±

    ¡°Consider it done,¡± I say, grinning wildly.

    ¡°Go now,¡± Malacath says. ¡°Take your link to the wayshrines and reach out to the stars to cross realms. No one may hold you prisoner!¡±

    I start the same procedure that I¡¯ve done a million times to hop from wayshrine to wayshrine, but this time without having an actual wayshrine in front of me. My mind opens to the stars, albeit much more slowly than I would have done from a wayshrine, and I can feel the locations of all the wayshrines I¡¯ve lit. I link up with the one outside of the stronghold I was just in, the most recent one I¡¯ve found.

    Smoke consumes my vision, and I find myself standing before a wayshrine near a wooden bridge. I cough involuntarily as my vision clears. My friends are standing nearby, as well as the Silvenar and his advisors, looking rather shaken but none the worse for wear.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Gelur exclaims, coming up to see if I need healing. ¡°You¡¯re alright. Guess we should know better than to doubt you at this point. Where¡¯d you get the loincloth?¡±

    ¡°Ashpit,¡± I say. ¡°I met Malacath. I think he liked me. What about you guys? Are you alright? Did you have any trouble with the remaining Orcs?¡±

    ¡°Nothing Gelur couldn¡¯t heal,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Still a bit weak, but I¡¯ll be fine, thanks to you and your friends,¡± the Silvenar replies. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you well from your sudden trip to the Ashpit. Were people so distraught when I died as my advisors were when I saw them?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, although they didn¡¯t really have much of a chance to work themselves up into a full breakdown before you resurrected,¡± I say.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t believe how calm your friends were about it,¡± Sariel says, her voice shaking. ¡°You went down screaming but they just acted like you do this every day!¡±

    I exchange a look with my friends, who are unable to keep a straight face at that.

    ¡°This one is not sure which is worse,¡± Ilara says, ears flicking. ¡°That you keep sacrificing yourself, that we keep letting you, or that you keep coming back anyway.¡±

    ¡°You have my gratitude, once again,¡± the Silvenar says. ¡°I ought to be getting to Silvenar. There are still many preparations to be made. You¡¯re invited to my wedding, of course. You¡¯re all invited.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re invited to mine!¡± I reply. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to overshadow the Silvenar marrying the Green Lady, though.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t miss it,¡± the Silvenar says sincerely.

    We part ways with the Silvenar and go back through Jathsogur. Merry restores the Orcs to flesh and I convince them to stop being idiots. They¡¯re quick enough to acknowledge me being in charge now after what we¡¯ve done here. For some reason the Orcs of Jathsogur find an ash-covered guy wearing a loincloth very convincing. Also there¡¯s an Orc (Mog) who spent the entire fight fishing and thought their chief¡¯s plans with the Houndsmen were stupid and he knew it would end poorly.

    ¡°He wanted to rule all the Wood Orcs of Malabal Tor,¡± Mog says. ¡°Seems you¡¯ve got a better chance of succeeding at that. Kind of funny.¡±

    ¡°You think anyone¡¯s going to be terribly upset about being beaten up, turned to stone, and then berated to get in line?¡± I wonder.

    Mog laughs aloud. ¡°They¡¯re probably going to be ashamed of themselves, to be sure. If they were stupid enough to challenge you, you¡¯ve got every right to respond however you wish. You¡¯ve proven your strength here.¡±

    ¡°Well, if it makes any difference, Malacath said he¡¯d declare me his champion if I stopped the Worm Cult from defiling his shrine in the Ayleid ruins near here. Could I get directions to them? I¡¯m very good at hitting things and very bad at reading maps.¡±

    Mog makes a soft choking sound at that, and recovers after a moment. ¡°Head back down to the main road and cross the wooden bridge by the wayshrine.¡±

    I gather my party and head out to follow his directions, although it turns out to be easier than anticipated as along the way, we encounter a Bosmer asking for help. He wants us to rescue a woman named Arithiel, who of course turns out to be in a cage on the opposite side of the ruins and by the time we find her, we¡¯ve already killed most of the cultists in the ruins exterior.

    Arithiel tells us about what the cultists are planning here (which Malacath already told me) while Gelur heals her up. She seems quite concerned over the prospect of Mauloch stomping all over Tamriel.

    ¡°Yes, well, Mauloch himself told me to come here and kick their asses,¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Arithiel says. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have taken you for¡ªuh¡­¡±

    ¡°A Daedra worshipper?¡± I finish with a chuckle. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get inside the ruins.¡±

    Arithiel is a little dubious about my proclamation but upon seeing all the dead cultists, explains how we¡¯ll need those stupid blue magic rocks the Ayleids loved so much. We look for them while making sure there¡¯s absolutely nothing left moving on the surface here aside from us, alive or undead. With those in hand, we take them to the entrance to the underground and set two of them in sconces to open the doors.

    The interior is, of course, filled with more cultists and undead. Also a Khajiit spirit trapped in a room with a constellation puzzle, because an Ayleid ruin isn¡¯t complete without a gratuitous constellation puzzle. We free her quickly and move on.

    We place the last two blue crystals into their sconces to unseal the door leading further inside, but it still refuses to open. Another stone sitting in a sconce in front of it is swirling black ominously and I go over to take a closer look at it.

    A voice echoes in my head and never have I been so thankful that a Daedric Prince didn¡¯t immediately know who I am because it¡¯s fucking Boethiah. I quickly break off my contact without bothering to ask any further questions just as Boethiah is telling me about how Arithiel isn¡¯t trustworthy and should be sacrificed.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± I groan. ¡°Boethiah. Here. For some reason. Just what I needed today.¡±

    While the Chimer had considered Boethiah to be one of the ¡®Good Daedra¡¯, Azura had been my patron and I hadn¡¯t been particularly devout toward the other two. Although the Chimer considering Boethiah, Mephala, and Azura to be ¡®Good Daedra¡¯ might say more about the Chimer than anything else.

    ¡°Alright, Arithiel,¡± I say, not wanting to shorten her name to ¡®Ari¡¯ because that¡¯s someone else. ¡°What¡¯s your deal? I told you mine.¡±

    ¡°My deal?¡± Arithiel asks.

    ¡°Boethiah thinks I can¡¯t trust you and I can¡¯t trust Boethiah so I¡¯m just asking you,¡± I say.

    Arithiel reluctantly tells me about how she used to be a Worm Cultist and a worshipper of Molag Bal but had a change of heart after they destroyed everything she cared about and tried to force her to murder her kin. She does this with entirely too many pauses and diversions and thinks it¡¯s horrible and we should sacrifice her so that she can atone for her crimes.

    ¡°We will not be sacrificing you to Boethiah,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s just go grab one of the damned cultists. I think there¡¯s still some crawling around here. Getting sent to Boethiah instead of Molag Bal will just annoy them and most of them are feeling stupid rather than repentant.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re showing me mercy?¡± Arithiel asks.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill anyone I liked, I don¡¯t think at least, and I¡¯m a firm believer in second chances. But make no mistake that you¡¯re working for me now.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Arithiel says. ¡°Thank you. I won¡¯t disappoint you.¡±

    I might have been willing to sacrifice myself to Malacath, but like fuck am I putting myself in Boethiah¡¯s hands if there¡¯s any alternative even if I can probably get out again. Fortunately, there¡¯s still some cultists we missed hiding in a corner, who work perfectly well for getting the stupid door open. I swear, what I really need is a siege mage who can tear down walls. (Preferably without collapsing the entire ruin on top of us.) Magically sealed doors are annoying enough when they don¡¯t require blood sacrifices.

    We get into the inner sanctum and kill some more cultists and the Daedra they summon, including a medium-sized Ogrim. This one human woman seems to be in charge here but her shit-talking gets cut short quickly enough.

    A round stone table with a large brazier behind it is flanked by two red banners bearing Malacath¡¯s axe sigil, and the arrogant human cultist¡¯s dead body lays in a bloody mess on the altar.

    ¡°It¡¯s done, Malacath,¡± I say, going up to shove the body off the altar and causing even more of a bloody mess. Okay, I¡¯m pretty sure Malacath won¡¯t mind me getting blood everywhere in his shrine.

    A much more welcome voice echoes through the cave. ¡°Your actions have pleased me, Nerevar. My shrine has been cleansed with the spilled blood of these defiling worms! Place your ring upon my altar.¡±

    I pull the ring off my finger and place it on top of the bloody altar. Smoke curls around it, and in a twist of blackness, the emblem on it changes from a sun to a battle axe icon with a bronze handle and a green orichalcum axe head.

    ¡°Take your ring, and my blessing,¡± Malacath says. ¡°An artifact needs a suitable name. Call it¡­ One-Clan-Over-Ash-and-Fire.¡± He rumbles a laugh at that. ¡°Otherwise you might name it something ridiculous like I have heard you typically name your weapons.¡±

    ¡°I do love the irony, though,¡± I say, picking up the ring and slipping it on a finger.

    ¡°Azura had her chance, but you are my champion now,¡± Malacath says. ¡°The others will not find you. Not the Eight or the Sixteen or the Three Betrayers. They will not see Nerevar the Betrayed. They will see only Neri gro-Drublog.¡±

 Chapter 102: In Which I Might as Well Have Been an Orc

    ¡°Congratulations on becoming champion of a god of vengeance,¡± says a voice from somewhere.

    I glance about, wondering if someone snuck up on us or if I¡¯m hearing the voices of Daedra in my head again. No, not my head, and doesn¡¯t sound like Daedra, either.

    ¡°It¡¯s just Nanwen,¡± Ilara whispers to me, patting the sword at her belt.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to startle you!¡± the sword says, and the ghost of an Altmer man manifests. ¡°I¡¯ve just been quiet. I didn¡¯t want to distract you as you¡­ apparently unite all the Wood Orcs accidentally, and talking is more effort than not-talking. Don¡¯t get me wrong. It was gratifying watching the Worm Cult get stomped, though I fear I¡¯ve seen more blood in the past few days than I saw in my entire lifetime.¡±

    ¡°I would imagine,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry, I kind of forgot about you.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes you forget you have music playing around you, too,¡± Nanwen says, smirking. ¡°And don¡¯t give me ¡®what music?¡¯ You should probably tell your wife where the music came from. Congratulations on that also, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I kind of forgot about the music, too,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot on my mind lately, okay?¡±

    Nanwen chuckles. ¡°At least you haven¡¯t been bored?¡±

    ¡°Auri-El help us should Neri ever get bored,¡± Eran says. ¡°He¡¯ll probably set himself on fire and jump off a cliff into the mouth of a dragon or something.¡±

    ¡°He would need to find a dragon for that,¡± Merry says. ¡°But I have little doubt he would be able to should he wish to do battle with one or talk one into submission.¡±

    ¡°What have I gotten myself into¡­¡± Arithiel murmurs from the back of the group.

    ¡°If you are fortunate, he will have you doing magical support for a stronghold,¡± Merry says. ¡°And not walking all over Tamriel solving every problem he stumbles across. You are not the only one who was in danger of execution and he decided not to waste your talents.¡±

    ¡°Is that the reason you guys follow him around?¡± Arithiel asks.

    ¡°I follow him around because, despite everything, I like him,¡± Eran says. ¡°He does good things and helps a lot of people. And he¡¯d be completely lost without us, and not just because he has trouble reading maps sometimes.¡±

    Gelur puts in, ¡°I just joined up because they needed a better healer than Neri himself, and despite being able to heal, he forgets to do it sometimes. But by Y¡¯ffre, it¡¯s been an adventure! I¡¯ve been able to save a lot of lives, though.¡±

    We come up on the wayshrine outside of Jathsogur again. ¡°Arithiel, what sort of magic can you do? I don¡¯t suppose you know portal magic?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± Arithiel says. ¡°I know some restoration magic, but I¡¯m not really much of a mage.¡±

    ¡°Pity,¡± I say. ¡°Alright. I generally use wayshrines to travel but I probably won¡¯t be able to take you with me. It took a lot of practice to get my friends to go with me, too. I mean, we can try, but you¡¯ll probably need to travel yourself.¡±

    ¡°I want to meet up with my companions and let them know the truth about my past,¡± Arithiel says. ¡°They¡¯re right over there.¡±

    I nod. ¡°Of course. And then I need you to head north toward Silvenar. The wedding between the Silvenar and the Green Lady is coming up and it¡¯s been full of complications so far. There may be trouble there as well. Hircine worshippers, and we haven¡¯t seen the end of them. We still haven¡¯t killed the guy in charge of them yet.¡±

    We go over and meet up with Arithiel¡¯s friends. After making sure that no one is going to be killing each other and that they understand the situation, I teleport my group back to Dra¡¯bul. I¡¯m exhausted and it¡¯s been a bit of a long day. The Orcs guarding the gates nod to us as we come through, and I spot a younger Orc run off toward the longhouse, hopefully to tell Roku I¡¯m home.

    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re back,¡± Shaman Grazulg¡ªno, it was a near-palindrome. Glazulg? Glazulg. Shaman Glazulg meets us near the gates. ¡°Another situation arose after you left.¡±

    ¡°Is this urgent on the level of needing to be taken care of ¡®immediately¡¯ ¡®after dinner¡¯ or ¡®in the morning¡¯?¡± I ask.

    ¡°In the morning,¡± Glazulg says. ¡°A group came back reporting that they¡¯d encountered werewolves, and they¡¯d been out since before your assumed leadership of the stronghold.¡±

    ¡°Where are they?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯d like to speak with them.¡±

    ¡°I can have them sent to the longhouse,¡± Glazulg says.

    I shake my head. ¡°No, I¡¯ll go to them myself. My friends can go on ahead to the longhouse. I won¡¯t have anyone¡¯s first impression of me to be lounging about in a chair belching over a haunch of meat.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Glazulg says. ¡°They¡¯re down by the beach.¡±

    I bring Gelur along in case her healing will be needed, and follow Glazulg through the stronghold. As we reach the shore, it turns out their first impression of me will be fighting Daedra as the Dark Anchor outside the stronghold is dropping again. I am so glad that it¡¯s just far enough away from my longhouse that I can¡¯t hear it falling all damned night.

    I bring Wobbly to hand and tell Glazulg, ¡°Send them to the dolmen. I¡¯m going to fight.¡±

    The raiding party shows up right as Molag Bal starts sending in the heavies. If I could meet every new Orc by bisecting an Ogrim in front of them, I¡¯d have a lot easier time convincing them to do anything. Once the Anchor has been destroyed, I head over to them as Gelur makes sure everyone is healed up.

    ¡°Mauloch¡¯s balls,¡± utters one of them. ¡°When they told me a High Elf had killed Chieftain Agrakh in a duel and declared himself chieftain, I thought they were shitting me. Or that you wouldn¡¯t come back and just wanted to push us around.¡±

    I snort softly. ¡°I¡¯m better at being an Orc than an Altmer, honestly. I am Neri, champion of Malacath¡ª¡± I hold up my hand to show them my ring. ¡°¡ªand I didn¡¯t get a look at his balls because he was wearing a loincloth.¡±

    Everyone is some degree of stunned, impressed, or just plain speechless at that.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Shaman Glazulg tells me that you were out of the stronghold when I first came here,¡± I say. ¡°What did you find?¡±

    ¡°Chieftain Agrakh had sent us to raid the Bosmer village of Tanglehaven,¡± says one of them, who introduces himself by the elegantly monosyllabic name of Lub. ¡°We encountered werewolves. Some of us were killed, and we were cut off from some of us who might still be stranded out there, if they¡¯re still alive.¡±

    ¡°Was anyone infected?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Nobody that survived,¡± Lub says.

    ¡°Did Agrakh know there were werewolves there?¡±

    Lub shakes his head. ¡°If he did, he didn¡¯t share that with us. We¡¯d have been better prepared. They didn¡¯t start turning until after we¡¯d attacked.¡±

    I frown, then sigh. ¡°Did you know that Agrakh was working with worshippers of Hircine?¡±

    ¡°He what?¡± some of the Orcs make various exclamations along those lines.

    ¡°I just got back from Jathsogur and they weren¡¯t even being subtle about it there. The stronghold was crawling with those Houndsmen, they call themselves. I don¡¯t know what in the fuck Agrakh was playing at here, but I don¡¯t think it was coincidence you ran into werewolves.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like any of the things that could imply,¡± Lub says.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I say. ¡°Meet me at the gates in the morning. We¡¯ll go find the others and make sure there¡¯s no more Hircine bullshit going around.¡±

    They agree, and I head back to the longhouse to eat, rest, and make preparations. My friends have already settled in, and Roku hugs me when I come in. With her and Glazulg present and dinner ready, I take the opportunity to explain what happened at Jathsogur and Abamath, whilst being quite proud of myself for managing to remember both of those names and not mumbling anything about ¡°the Ayleid ruin of Abracadabra or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Champion of Malacath!¡± Roku exclaims, admiring my ring. ¡°Can¡¯t say I expected that. What was the Ashpit like?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really see much of it,¡± I say, but I describe what I can. And remember to tell her some things I may have neglected to. As for anything else we might be doing together in that longhouse, no, I¡¯m not going into detail! This isn¡¯t that kind of story!

    I need to be better prepared to meet with other Orcs. I might not have tusks, but some gently used Orcish leather armor makes a decent substitute. My Bosmer leather armor was nice, but there¡¯s only so much you can repair something without it being more useful to simply replace it. We manage to find a set that will fit me without being entirely too broad. And I¡¯m not going to be embarrassed about it having belonged to a young man who had outgrown it when he developed actual muscles. Slap on a little face paint to complete the image, but even beyond that are the little things like posture, body language, and tone of voice.

    I get on way better with these Orcs than I do with Altmer. It makes sense, though. The Chimer were nothing like the Altmer, and I¡¯m a weirdo even for a Chimer. These Orcs, though? These Orcs get me. When pretending to be an Altmer, I need to stand up straight and act at least a little bit reserved. With Orcs, I don¡¯t even need to pretend. Totally different social expectations.

    Lub¡¯s party is out waiting for us at the gates come morning. They¡¯re still uncertain about working with non-Orcs, which I imagine isn¡¯t going to be a quick feeling to go away. They¡¯ll get used to it. I¡¯m not going anywhere. I mean, I¡¯m going plenty of wheres, but I¡¯m not abandoning my Orcs.

    Unfortunately, there¡¯s a cliff between me and Tanglehaven and a Skyshard at the bottom of the cliff, and my Orcs start to realize I¡¯m even odder than an Elf dressing up as an Orc. They have nooooo idea.

    ¡°No, Neri,¡± Eran says patiently. ¡°We¡¯re going to find a safe way down the cliff.¡±

    There¡¯s a road winding downhill not far from a wayshrine (now lit), so we head down and around. It¡¯s admittedly a much longer way, but also one less likely to require major healing or resurrection. Once I¡¯ve absorbed the Skyshard, we cross a bridge and get a look at Tanglehaven. From the looks of it, my Orcs had set it on fire before being driven off by werewolves. Several tree-pod houses have been reduced to smoldering skeletons of wood.

    I turn to my friends. ¡°Head down into the village to investigate. Kill any werewolves or Houndsmen you find. I need to go find the Orcs.¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± Eran says, then adds to Lub, ¡°It falls to you now to prevent him from falling off any cliffs. Good luck!¡±

    The Orcs with me give him dubious looks as we part ways. We make our way around the village and locate the missing squad of Orcs in due order. There¡¯s another round of explaining that I¡¯m the new chieftain and that the old guy was up to some shady shit.

    ¡°Are we really letting this High Elf take over the clan?¡± asks one of them when he thinks I¡¯m not listening. (Or doesn¡¯t care.)

    ¡°Do you want to challenge him?¡± Lub says. ¡°I watched him kill an Ogrim single-handedly!¡±

    ¡°Pfah. So he can fight. Doesn¡¯t mean he can lead Orcs. Doesn¡¯t mean he knows anything about us.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s champion of Mauloch and he married Roku,¡± Lub says. ¡°If nothing else, I want to see where this is going. He certainly can¡¯t do a worse job of it than the troll-licker who sold us out to werewolves!¡±

    The other Orc grunts and doesn¡¯t protest further.

    I wonder if I can bring these Orcs through a wayshrine. Would I consider them to be ¡®part of me¡¯ since I¡¯ve declared myself their chieftain? Then again, I could also just have someone learn portal magic, which would be considerably more convenient. It¡¯s not like teleportation is unique. I have money (not all of which was obtained from fencing stolen goods or brewing technically-not-illegal concoctions); I could just hire a magic instructor if the Dominion doesn¡¯t feel like providing one in the name of solidarity when I convince the Wood Orcs to go fight the Ebonheart Pact instead of the Wood Elves.

    As I¡¯m leading the Orcs back out away from Tanglehaven, we run across a weirdly glowing spring emerging from rocks. When I approach to take a closer look, Hircine¡¯s voice echoes in my mind (at least I assume it¡¯s Hircine, as I¡¯m not sure who else it would be). He¡¯s offering the power to turn into a beast to anyone who wanders by.

    ¡°Sorry, Hircine,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to decline.¡±

    ¡°I could make a strong Orc like you even stronger!¡± Hircine says. Nice, he really does see me as an Orc. Thanks, Malacath! It makes sense, though. A blank spot would be more suspicious, and what else would he make me look like?

    I consider what to do with this spring. While I dislike having a site sacred to Hircine so close to my stronghold offering lycanthropy to anyone who wanders in, destroying the sacred places of gods tends to annoy them even more than simply refusing them. I don¡¯t really have anything specifically against Hircine anymore than any other Prince that has challenged me. It¡¯s not like he¡¯s Azura or Molag Bal. Some of his followers have been doing bad things, sure, but some of Malacath¡¯s followers have, too. I reluctantly decide that leaving it be is less likely to provoke reprisal.

    Fortunately (by some definition of fortunateness) we do not make it back to Dra¡¯bul before being attacked by anything. A larger-than-usual werewolf springs out of nowhere and I¡¯m moving before my Orcs can even react.

    ¡°I got this one,¡± I yell toward them. ¡°Eyes out! There might be more!¡±

    Sure enough, the werewolf wasn¡¯t hunting alone, and it¡¯s only my quick warning that gets their eyes off of being impressed by my impressiveness and to the foliage before others jump out at us. A few well-placed arrows from Ilara and Gelur herald the arrival of my friends.

    ¡°They¡¯re with me,¡± I assure the Orcs. ¡°Focus on the werewolves!¡±

    The toughest part about fighting werewolves isn¡¯t just killing them but in making sure my people aren¡¯t injured in the process. While I¡¯m sure there¡¯s got to be a way to cure lycanthropy, it¡¯s not something that¡¯s immediately available to me right now and it would be very inconvenient. Once the werewolves are down, I make sure they stay down by decapitating all the bodies while Gelur looks over my Orcs for injuries.

    ¡°Not seeing any signs of infection,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re all clear.¡±

    ¡°What did you learn in the village?¡± I ask.

    ¡°At least one of them prayed to Hircine for his ¡®blessing¡¯ to fight the Orcs,¡± Eran says. ¡°And they infected several others. Some went to try to find the Orc camp to get revenge for their fallen comrades. That clearly didn¡¯t work out very well for them.¡±

    ¡°I informed them of your theory that Hircine arranged for manipulating the Orcs to attack in order to provoke them into turning to him,¡± Merry says. ¡°Hopefully the remainder of them will stay put and rebuild rather than turn themselves into beasts and fling themselves at the nearest stronghold. That would also likely go poorly for them.¡±

    ¡°What a mess,¡± I mutter. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to Dra¡¯bul.¡±

    My Orcs might still be very confused at the situation, but at least they¡¯re not muttering about me not knowing what I¡¯m doing anymore. While I can sympathize with the Bosmer in this case, at least the ones who didn¡¯t deliberately screw themselves and their families over, removing the Orcs from the immediate area is likely to be the best thing that can be done for the moment.

 Chapter 103: In Which I Retrieve Stolen Booze

    With the Orcs back at Dra¡¯bul and the stronghold warned to be on alert for possible werewolves, which they were already being on alert for in the first place, my friends and I make for Silvenar (the place) by the most direct route. Which still involves almost getting lost because nothing in Valenwood is a direct route to anywhere. At least Gelur knows where we¡¯re going.

    We reach the a wayshrine outside of a town, and I light it. It¡¯s getting late, so I plan on hopping back to Dra¡¯bul for the night and continuing from this wayshrine in the morning, but I take a moment to explore the town first.

    The name of this town is Vulkwasten. Didn¡¯t I have a delivery or something for there? I look it up and ask around for someone named Ganwen, and find her in an inn named the Tall Trunk Tavern. I return her vase, and she¡¯s quite distract over losing her daughter, and even more distraught when I mention the undead pumpkin eaters. I maybe didn¡¯t need to mention that part.

    There¡¯s a shifty Khajiit in town who either does or doesn¡¯t want us to visit the Ayleid ruin of Belarata and ask for a tour from someone named Jurak-dar. I have no idea if this is supposed to be a code phrase or what. She tells me that he sells artifacts from secret places. You know, I¡¯m not really keen on visiting another Ayleid ruin for no good reason, except I know I¡¯m going to visit it anyway and it¡¯s likely this Jurak-dar needs his tail pulled out of the fire before he touches something he shouldn¡¯t. I make a note to stop by before leaving Malabal Tor.

    The local Fighters Guild branch mentions that there¡¯s some sort of meeting scheduled for after the Silvenar¡¯s wedding because there was no way half of them were going to make a meeting that coincides with it. I certainly would have skipped it. Just send me a memo about what I need to hit where, for fuck¡¯s sake.

    Just as I¡¯m about to head out to the wayshrine, someone is yelling something about mammoths and a brewery. Eran is looking at me as if it¡¯s somehow my fault that someone is now asking us to douse drunken mammoths with cold water for some reason.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how I could have anything to do with this,¡± I say, unable to hold back laughter.

    ¡°Now I¡¯m theorizing that you¡¯re surrounded by a chaos aura that causes weird shit to happen when you get within a mile or so, just in time to come to a head as you arrive.¡±

    ¡°Technically, he is blessed by Sheogorath,¡± Merry points out. ¡°But I doubt even the Madgod could have been behind everything.¡±

    As we¡¯re convincing the drunken mammoths to return to their pen, I spot a Skyshard on a cliff overlooking the misty water far below. I can practically feel Eran¡¯s nervousness as he makes a sharp intake of breath at the prospect of having to walk all the way around annoyingly, but I absorb it without incident.

    When we get all the mammoths back, we learn that someone had broken into the brewery, possibly releasing the mammoths as a distraction. The brewery is upstairs (up tree-ramp) at the Tall Trunk Tavern, and we rush over to stop the booze thief.

    Although the guy who came running to tell us about the break-in claimed that obviously the thief was a big male Orc despite not having seen anything, it turns out that it¡¯s a young Bosmer woman and a couple of summoned scamps. According to a note she¡¯d conveniently left nearby, her name was Firuin and she was very annoyed at her amazing talents being wasted on making booze, and she¡¯d found someone who would truly appreciate her. I¡¯ll go out on a limb and suggest that this mysterious appreciator is probably involved with something bad.

    The brewery here makes rotmeth¡ªyou know, that Bosmer booze made of meat and bug bits¡ªand it¡¯s traditionally served at weddings. Including the upcoming one between the Silvenar and the Green Lady. And now their wedding booze has been stolen. This is a very important mission! We must save the wedding booze!

    Firuin¡¯s note mentioned someplace called Balding Hill, where the stolen booze may or may not have been taken. The brewer (Galithar) asks us to go and see if it¡¯s there. The other Bosmer fellow (Aphrost¡­ Alphost¡­ Alphrost? Whatever.), the one who had been in the brewery when it was invaded, also asks us to collect some seasonings needed to finish another batch of rotmeth. Seeing as we¡¯ll probably have to kill every thunder bug between us and Balding Hill, that shouldn¡¯t be a problem. Gelur just shoves the corpses into her pack whole to save time.

    As we get close to the location Galithor marked on my map, we start running across loose Scamps and even an Ogrim. (Wait, do I need to capitalize those? They¡¯re more or less intelligent beings capable of speaking, aren¡¯t they? For that matter, am I supposed to capitalize ¡®human¡¯? I am so confused.)The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The hill in question is glowing green and probably shouldn¡¯t be glowing green, and there¡¯s a small camp with two leather huts and some sort of brewing equipment with a blazing fire under it heating the contents to a boil. I have no idea whether this is bad for rotmeth or not, but I¡¯m going to assume so given how much people have been talking about keeping it chilled and her angry note mentioned making it too hot. I quickly go over to put out the fire, fail at it, and have Merry just do it with ice magic instead.

    In one of the tents sits a note addressed to Firuin from one Cassia Vero who implies something about the Worm Cult and asks her to join them in the Ayleid ruin of Abamath. Was that the name of the human woman who was trying to summon an avatar of Mauloch? She didn¡¯t exactly bother to introduce herself first.

    Eran groans as he looks over the note. ¡°Good thing we already killed them. Although I think this a new low for the Worm Cult.¡±

    ¡°Stealing rotmeth, no less!¡± Gelur says. ¡°For shame!¡±

    ¡°Truly, their depravity knows no bounds,¡± Merry says dryly.

    ¡°How are we going to get this back?¡± Ilara wonders, staring at the huge vat. ¡°This one thinks it will not fit in our packs.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll just have to tell Galathir about it,¡± I say.

    ¡°Galithor,¡± Eran says. ¡°His name is Galithor.¡±

    ¡°Gally,¡± I say.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just go meet Alphrast at the Cold Cave he mentioned,¡± Eran says. ¡°Judging from Firuin¡¯s first note, Galithor was probably using a frost atronach to chill the drinks.¡±

    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s make sure the town¡¯s ice box doesn¡¯t come stomping down their homes,¡± I say.

    Alphrast, outside the cave in question, confirms that there¡¯s a frost atronach in there and it¡¯s waking up and nobody knows how to rebind it, so we go in and send it back to Oblivion by repeated application of violence. While he¡¯s disappointed at the loss of a good source of cold air, he¡¯s relieved at not having an angry ice colossus smashing his face in.

    ¡°Might I recommend using frost runes instead?¡± Merry suggests. ¡°It¡¯s considerably safer. That¡¯s what Altmer usually do.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Alphrast says. ¡°That sounds like a much better idea. I should have known the Altmer would have had a good way to do this. We just¡­ had a summoner and not an enchanter, but we¡¯ll be sure to get in contact with one now.¡±

    We return to the Tall Trunk Tavern and inform Galithor that we found his booze and stopped it from going up in flames. He¡¯ll have some workers go retrieve it and offers us a round of free drinks, but considering what the drinks he¡¯s offering are made of, Gelur and I are the only ones who accept his beverages. Eran, Merry, and Ilara stick to food.

    There¡¯s an Orc sitting at one of the tables, so I go over and join him.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Molg,¡± he introduces himself. ¡°From Jathsogur, but I don¡¯t like the shit Chief Nagoth¡¯s been getting the clan into lately.¡±

    ¡°Was that his name?¡± I ask. ¡°He¡¯s dead now. We killed him.¡±

    ¡°We killed him,¡± Eran puts in. ¡°You were too busy meeting Malacath.¡±

    Molg blinks, and notices my ring on the hand that¡¯s holding a mug of jagga. (No idea what it¡¯s made from but it¡¯s alcoholic!) ¡°Damn, so Malacath¡¯s got a new champion and you¡¯re already shaking things up,¡± Molg says. ¡°Though I have to ask. What happened to your tusks?¡±

    ¡°Funny, no one¡¯s ever asked me that before,¡± I say truthfully.

    Molg coughs. ¡°Sorry, what, were you adopted or something? Or did someone marry a High Elf? I didn¡¯t even notice until you sat down next to me that you don¡¯t have tusks and your skin isn¡¯t green.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll just tell anyone else who asks that I was adopted,¡± I say. ¡°It makes more sense.¡± I just keep chuckling and spare him the puzzlement by getting him up to speed on the current state of Orc politics in Malabal Tor.

    ¡°Well, damn,¡± Molg says. ¡°Can¡¯t say I expected the Drublog to accept a High Elf or half-blood or whatever you are as chieftain, even a champion of Malacath. You must have really impressed them. Or just killed enough of the other potential candidates¡­¡±

    ¡°I was on my way back to Dra¡¯bul when I heard about some booze being stolen and naturally had to intervene.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Molg says with a grin. ¡°Maybe I should head back to Jathsogur now. Should be interesting times ahead.¡±

    I take another gulp of my jagga and turn to Gelur. ¡°What¡¯s this stuff made of, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Fermented pig¡¯s milk and honey,¡± Gelur says helpfully.

    ¡°Jathsogur¡¯s going to need a new chief,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like I can run every stronghold personally. For that matter, someone ought to go squat on Abamath and keep anymore cultists from getting stupid ideas. Maybe tear down the Ayleid shit while they¡¯re at it and build something useful out of it, like a giant awesome forge or something, I don¡¯t know. If my travels through Valenwood have taught me anything, it¡¯s that unattended Ayleid ruins lead to necromancers or Daedra, and that one was built on top of an Orc stronghold with a shrine to Mauloch in it, so fuck the Ayleids. I¡¯ve only met one dead Ayleid who talked back to me and she was a bitch.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you take it over yourself?¡± Molg asks.

    ¡°Well, I mean, I kind of already did, if you count going in there and killing a lot of cultists to be taking over. But I admittedly tend to go a lot of places and just leave behind nothing but bodies. And sometimes not even that, if they were something worth skinning or eating. Which doesn¡¯t include cultists because we are not following the Meat Mandate.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s please not discuss the Meat Mandate over dinner,¡± Eran says.

    We finish our food and drinks, and head back out toward the wayshrine. There¡¯s things that need to be hit still, but there¡¯s only so far that we can walk in a day and I like to be around Dra¡¯bul as much as possible right now to get my Orcs used to me.

    Meanwhile, in Dra¡¯bul, I seem to have inadvertently inspired a ¡®moon sugar challenge¡¯. Which amounts to going, ¡°I could beat you in a fight after eating this much moon sugar!¡± I might be a bad influence. I have no idea where they even got the moon sugar.

 Chapter 104: In Which a Wedding Gets Rushed

    You¡¯d think that the city of Silvenar would be easier to get to, being a city and everything and a rather important one, but the roads in Valenwood are not always paved or clearly marked. Only the occasional stretch of stone wall and light post lets us know we¡¯re going the right way. I just let Gelur lead the way and keep an eye out for werewolves, although most of what we encounter along the way is pissy tigers and spriggans. I suppose that¡¯s one way to deter an invasion, though.

    And then at one point, Gelur decides to take a ¡°shortcut¡± that leads us through quite a lot of angry wildlife, and I also spot a book titled Tamrielic Artifacts, Part Two just sitting on a rock. I¡¯ve given up on figuring out why people just leave books lying everywhere.

    We encounter Arithiel¡¯s party near Silvenar, helping some people who had fled the city, because there¡¯s werewolves here. Because of course there¡¯s werewolves here, why in Oblivion would there not be werewolves here? I really hope the head werewolf is here so that I can make him the head dead werewolf. The Hound, of all the silly appellations, and I called myself the Black Wolf once (because I was in a hurry and couldn¡¯t think of anything better, admittedly).

    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re here!¡± Arithiel says. ¡°You were definitely right about there being trouble.¡±

    ¡°I had to deal with some different werewolves first,¡± I say. ¡°Have you seen the Silvenar and the Green Lady?¡±

    Arithiel shakes her head. ¡°They must be further on, or they haven¡¯t shown up yet. I hope that they simply haven¡¯t shown up yet and not that they¡¯re trapped somewhere.¡±

    We locate the Silvenar at a campfire at the edge of town along with some guards. He tells me about how the city has been sealed against him and the wards twisted to nefarious purpose, and something about physical manifestations of stories that I don¡¯t even slightly understand apart from that he wants us to go beat up some werewolves and grab some silver shards from them. The Green Lady herself is probably inside the city, hidden behind those wards and possibly trapped herself.

    A scout nearby mentions how some musicians were trapped in the ravine on the way to the celebration, so we agree to look for them while we¡¯re killing werewolves. Or rather, I ask Arithiel¡¯s party to come in behind us to help out after we¡¯ve cleared the path. They rescue the musicians and locate their instruments in the Houndsmen¡¯s camp while we sweep through killing everything stupid enough to attack us.

    The musicians tell me about a big, angry, music-hating werewolf who calls himself Grimclaw, and considering they know his name, he was probably running around yelling things like ¡°Grimclaw hate music!¡± The musicians attract him by playing, and I really wish it were always so easy to find something fun to fight. Once I¡¯ve killed him, we take the weird story shards back to the Silvenar, who wants us to kill something called the Guardian of Silvenar.

    The Guardian of Silvenar is¡­ incredibly flammable. It¡¯s one of those big plant guardian things, and would probably be considerably more impressive to, you know, normal people. The sort of people who don¡¯t go around killing trolls and Ogrims for fun. The Silvenar assures us that it¡¯ll respawn later but it needs to be destroyed now, so we make short work of the thing.

    The Silvenar then sends us in to rescue the three spinners. We need to interrogate some of the Houndsmen¡¯s witches to find out how to free them. The witches in question are terrorizing cowering Bosmer who run off when we distract their terrorizers. The witches beg for mercy when we attack them and offer information.

    ¡°You can¡¯t kill me!¡± one of them protests. ¡°Don¡¯t you know who I am?¡±

    ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± I say. ¡°Do I look like I care who you are? I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re the Emperor of Cyrodiil. You¡¯re being a dick!¡±

    They insist that they were coerced or deceived by the Hound and beg to be let go. I¡¯m not exactly in any mood for mercy at the moment, but against my better judgment, I let them go anyway. I don¡¯t want to think about how many other Bosmer that I¡¯ve killed might have simply been coerced or deceived, even though I spared most of the Orcs. (To be fair, quite a lot of the Houndsmen are werewolves and it¡¯s too dangerous to leave those alive.) Let¡¯s face it, though¡ªI sympathized more with the Orcs than the Bosmer in the first place.

    And let¡¯s face it also that I enjoy fighting. Unless I have some pressing reason to show someone mercy and a tactical situation that won¡¯t make sparing them disastrous, I won¡¯t hesitate to kill someone. I probably shouldn¡¯t have spared these witches. Too many things that could still go wrong here. But too late to reconsider. They¡¯ve already disappeared into the trees.

    The spinners are being held in their own homes by fucking Ayleid constellation puzzles. Seriously!? I make my friends solve them and just keep killing werewolves. I would dearly like to know whose stupid idea that was so I could separate their head from their body. Probably the Hound. And that¡¯s probably not too far off.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    With the spinners freed, the wards are down and we break into the audience chamber at the top of the great tree. The Hound is there, and the Green Lady, and that fetcher has her under his control somehow. My first thought is that I don¡¯t want to hurt her, but my second is that damn she¡¯s strong and it wouldn¡¯t be easy to do so even if I wanted to. I need to break his hold on her and get at him instead but although I can see him, my axe passes through him as if he¡¯s not even there. (At least I assume that¡¯s the Hound, since he¡¯s babbling about how they¡¯re meant to be together and some other nonsense I¡¯m not really listening to.)

    Killing is almost too easy, really. Any idiot can kill. Something I need to explain to my Orcs sometime is that it¡¯s much, much more difficult to fight without hurting your opponent. And I don¡¯t want to hurt the Green Lady, and she¡¯s resisting all of Merry¡¯s spells. Dammit. A battle axe is not a good weapon for fights where you¡¯re not intending on killing or maiming your opponent, but at least my friends have less lethal options and I¡¯m good at dodging. By this point we¡¯re well acquainted with what sorts of injuries are easy for Gelur to heal.

    Fortunately, the Silvenar just needed us to stall for long enough to do his thing. With a burst of green magic, the Green Lady stops attacking us and goes over toward him, and the Hound starts yelling some more nonsense about how she belongs with him or whatever. That doesn¡¯t last long because he¡¯s hittable now, so I don¡¯t waste any time in starting to hit him.

    Someone who was capable of overpowering the Green Lady is no slouch of an opponent. I wonder how much of his strength he had before and how much was given to him by Hircine¡ªand what he had to pay for it. Daedric Princes have been known to give people artifacts and declare champions for completing the most trivial of tasks, but many times those Daedra ask terrible things of people and their gifts may come with a price that wasn¡¯t immediately apparent.

    I¡¯m under no illusions that Malacath is any exception to that, but I know full well what he expects of me. He¡¯s in a bit of an odd position himself, being a former Aedra whose nature was changed under unusual circumstances and a publicly acceptable patron for Orcs. Also, I¡¯m apparently the sort of person who has casual philosophical internal monologues while in a life-and-death struggle with a guy who has been causing problems for me and my friends since I arrived in Malabal Tor. It¡¯s meditative rather than distracting, in a way, like there¡¯s two threads of thought going on in my head and the fighting-me isn¡¯t really the thinking-me. Ah, maybe I just lost my mind at some point. I¡¯m not very concerned.

    The Hound goes down as fighting-me finally gets in a killing blow. The Silvenar and Green Lady are in a rush to complete their wedding ceremony that¡¯s more than just a wedding. Under more normal circumstances, this would probably have had a lot more ceremony leading up to the ritual magic that binds them together and does something with the Bosmer I really don¡¯t understand. Something more than just symbolic.

    As it is, once people start coming in following the epic battle, they have one of the scouts bring in what looks like some sort of wooden icon with a red cloth draped over it, which they call the ¡°handfast¡±, whatever that means. I refrain from making any inappropriate puns as we stand back to watch. The Silvenar and Green Lady start hovering in the air and glowing green. And they just keep at it, waving their arms in the air. After several minutes of this, I have to wonder how long this ceremony is supposed to take and whether I¡¯m expected to just stand here watching the whole time. A glance to the side indicates that people have started getting food and drink and milling about, so apparently this is going to take a while.

    According to some of the Bosmer who presumably know what they¡¯re talking about, the celebrations here will last several days. They¡¯ve gone surprisingly quickly from the town being under occupation by hostile forces to celebrating. By the time we head down the ladder to the ground floor, there¡¯s no sign of bodies and people are starting to eat food which is hopefully not made from the bodies. The musicians we rescued have set up on a stage nearby and are warming up.

    ¡°Did I lose track of time while high or something?¡± I whisper to my friends. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I was that high.¡±

    ¡°You were probably staring at them for hours,¡± Eran murmurs back. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to say anything. It wasn¡¯t exactly an important situation to un-distract you from.¡±

    ¡°Do I lose time like that often?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Constantly,¡± Merry says with a sigh.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Eran says. ¡°I know your mind¡­ ah¡­ well, how do I put this politely? Your mind is still pretty damaged, and no amount of healing magic can help with it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been doing better lately,¡± Merry says. ¡°Roku is good for you and your Orcs give you something to focus on. There have been times when it seemed like you were simply stumbling along hitting anything that was stupid enough to attack us with little regard to where we were or what we were doing.¡±

    We stay for a bit to enjoy the celebration, but I want to be out of here in the morning. There¡¯s still things to be done and I don¡¯t feel like I can afford to relax for too long when there still might be werewolves and non-werewolf Bosmer around who haven¡¯t gotten the memo that the Hound is dead. And I want to visit all the Orc strongholds to get their support in joining the Dominion. Though I have confidence in the surviving ones in Grahtwood and Greenshade listening to me. I¡¯d also love a chance to wander and explore a bit now that there isn¡¯t anything immediately pressing going on.

    For the moment, though, I suppose there isn¡¯t much reason to leave before morning. I get something to eat and drink and settle in to listen to some music before dozing off.

    I don¡¯t dream of Oblivion tonight.

 Chapter 105: In Which the Real Treasure is Dead Sea Elves

    There are fucking Sea Elves on the coast near Silvenar. Because of course there are.

    A sailor comes into Silvenar looking for help, and of course I immediately volunteer. No sense in spoiling anyone else¡¯s celebration when it¡¯s something I can handle myself, after all. And by ¡®myself¡¯ I mean ¡®with my friends¡¯, since they immediately volunteer to go along as well.

    ¡°We can hardly stay and celebrate while you¡¯re out fighting Sea Elves, you know,¡± Eran points out.

    Seaman Henaril tells us about how the Maormer had lured his ship through a fog and captured and killed much of his crewmates. He¡¯d escaped by jumping overboard and swimming to shore, and came up through the forest to look for help, then got chased by a werewolf halfway to Silvenar and eventually ran across some guards who killed it.

    ¡°You are one lucky mer,¡± I comment. ¡°Alright, folks. Let¡¯s move out. There¡¯s Maormer skulls to crack.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Merry says. ¡°You usually behead them, not crack their skulls.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just an expression!¡± I say. ¡°I thought it sounded Orcier.¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t need to try to sound ¡®Orcy¡¯,¡± Eran points out.

    ¡°Point,¡± I admit.

    We head for the beach without further delay. Sure enough, the shore is littered with Sea Elves, blue tents, and snake banners. At least I don¡¯t spot any of their snake totems, which probably means they¡¯re not doing any weird storm magic here, just killing and kidnapping people. That¡¯s some consolation. I really didn¡¯t need to deal with weird storm magic today.

    The captive sailors are tied up all across the beach in front of different clusters of tents. The Sea Elves separated them, which just means we need to go around and kill more Sea Elves in order to get at them. Also giant snakes, because of course the Sea Elves brought giant snakes with them, or just immediately befriended whatever giant snakes might have already been here. (I run across a book somewhere that suggests they have snake-control magic.)

    The first mate is locked up in a cage, and suspicious when he sees us. ¡°Is this another Maormer trick to break me? No, I don¡¯t think even they could come up with an illusion of a half-breed dressed like an Orc, never mind the rest of you. Well, I certainly won¡¯t criticize your ancestry or fashion choices if you¡¯re here to rescue me. Apologies if I caused offense.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± I say, chuckling as I open the cage. ¡°Although I can¡¯t say that I¡¯ve seen a High Elf apologize for causing offense before.¡±

    ¡°It is a very foolish High Elf who insults their rescue party,¡± the first mate says.

    ¡°We¡¯ve encountered some very foolish High Elves,¡± Gelur comments as she checks him over for injuries. ¡°You¡¯re good to go.¡±

    The first mate informs us that the captain is being interrogated by the Maormer Arch-Wizard, and asks us to destroy a fleet manifest that details the Thalmor¡¯s movements and would be very bad for pirates to have.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be best if I just take it instead of burn it?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s not like retrieving it would be any more difficult than destroying it. And more likely to not leave behind half-burned pages that could still be deciphered with them knowing it¡¯s important¡­¡±

    ¡°Do as you see fit so long as it doesn¡¯t fall into enemy hands.¡±

    We cut our way over to one of the ships that had run across, the one that¡¯s still upright and not on its side in the water and cracked down the middle. This one¡¯s more likely to be capable of sailing again, maybe if some mages got together and pushed it off the beach at least. Provided that slamming into dry land didn¡¯t result in any large holes in the bottom of it.

    It takes more time than strictly necessary to locate the manifest, since it was disguised as an ordinary book and the Thalmor ship has entire bookcases on board. At least with five of us looking, we find it soon enough. Admittedly, that¡¯s no thanks to me being distracted by staring at the buildings on the other side of the bay. I don¡¯t know why I find the view so captivating.

    While we were searching for that, the first mate has captured and is interrogating one of the Maormer that we hadn¡¯t killed. (As opposed to necromantically interrogating one that we had killed.) He has learned that the Sea Elves have taken the captain into a nearby cave with the pleasant-sounding name of Ogrim¡¯s Yawn.

    Outside the cave, I find a copy of a book titled Guylaine¡¯s Dwemer Architecture sitting on a crate. That¡¯s bound to be entertaining. Entertainingly wrong or nonsensical, but entertaining. I toss it into my pack to read later.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    The Sea Elves are doing some weird magic on the captain to try to drain memories into a magic rock or something. It seems like an inefficient way to interrogate someone. I don¡¯t care too much about the details beyond knowing what I need to hit. In this case, the Sea Elves and their evil magic rock. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m about to give them advice on more effective interrogation techniques.

    The wizard has been tormenting the captain with terrible images of dismay and failure. It takes her a bit to fully come back to reality once I¡¯ve smashed the magic rock holding her in place, and a bit more to explain to her that some of her crew survived and that she didn¡¯t betray the Dominion and let Sea Elves conquer Valenwood and Summerset. (I can¡¯t imagine that trying to invade the interior of Valenwood would go well for them, in any case. They¡¯d probably get eaten by the first strangler vine they stumbled across.)

    ¡°You should be able to get to Silvenar safely from here, if there aren¡¯t anymore werewolves roaming around,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re going to head back down to the beach and clear out the rest of the Sea Elves.¡±

    ¡°Werewolves!?¡± the captain exclaims. ¡°It never rains but pours, it seems. We¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Eran says.

    We part ways with the sailors and get to work on removing the Maormer infestation. I¡¯m happy to kill every damned Sea Elf I see. If they ever started acting like civilized people and not just pirates and raiders, I might reconsider, but as it is, the only Sea Elves I¡¯ve thus far encountered who weren¡¯t immediately hostile didn¡¯t take very long before becoming hostile.

    ¡°So, I have an idea for how to deal with the Maormer,¡± I say.

    ¡°Kill them all?¡± Eran offers.

    ¡°They just keep coming,¡± I say. ¡°We need them to stop coming.¡±

    ¡°I must hear this brilliant idea,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°We get a portal mage to send a logging crew to Pyandonea,¡± I say.

    ¡°There has to be some reason why people rarely use long-range portals¡­¡± Eran says. ¡°I just have no idea what it is.¡±

    ¡°Precise targeting,¡± Merry says. ¡°And magicka requirements. Most mages can¡¯t sustain a portal long enough to march an entire army through to the other side of Tamriel, as convenient as that might make warfare.¡±

    ¡°We do have a surplus of magic Ayleid rocks, though,¡± I say. ¡°Would that help?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ might,¡± Merry says. ¡°If we knew where exactly Pyandonea is. It is not my field of expertise, though. We might speak with Vastarie, Varen, and Abnur Tharn about it, though. They might have some insight.¡±

    I groan. ¡°Yeah, they might, and they¡¯re probably going to make me go get their stupid amulet of doom for them first, too.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t put off saving the world forever,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll check in with them once we¡¯re done with Malabal Tor,¡± I promise.

    ¡°Alternatively, the Mages Guild may be able to help,¡± Merry says. ¡°This is no more impractical than any of the other pointless things they do with magic.¡±

    I always love how my friends humor my insane, impractical ideas.

    Ahead, we come upon an island crawling with Maormer pirates and Bosmer pirates, located across a stretch of water just shallow enough to get our feet wet. A blind Redguard sea captain by the name of Khammo talks about how the non-Sea Elf pirates want his buried treasure and he¡¯s trying to get passage to Anvil. Anvil isn¡¯t very far from here, but a bit much to swim.

    I go over and intimidate the leader of the pirates. The big difference between the Maormer and Bosmer pirates is that the Bosmer ones are actually willing to talk to me. And considerably more easily intimidated. If the Maormer had the good sense to be intimidated by me, there¡¯d be a lot fewer dead ones.

    We go and fight our way past the Sea Elves and dig up the Redguard captain¡¯s treasure from the caves he¡¯d hidden in it. The blind captain¡¯s treasure turns out to be some assorted flagons, old bones, and rotting meat. I can¡¯t imagine the pirates would have been quite so eager for it if they¡¯d known exactly what this treasure was, neither group of pirates, for that matter. We return to the captain with them to confirm.

    ¡°Alright, captain,¡± I say. ¡°We found flagons, bones, and meat. Was this what you were looking for?¡±

    ¡°Ah, my treasures!¡± Captain Khammo exclaims. ¡°Excellent!¡±

    I make no comment on how much he treasures this stuff. After all, I know Cadwell. I go over to tell the pirate captain exactly what this treasure he was looking so hard for is comprised of.

    ¡°You mean to tell me we were digging for junk?¡± the Bosmer pirate says. ¡°Not gold, jewels, or priceless relics? Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not ferrying him to Anvil for free, and I don¡¯t want his garbage,¡± the Bosmer says.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I say lightly. ¡°I¡¯ve already killed all the Sea Elves on this island. I guess I¡¯ll just have to finish clearing the pirates out.¡± I give him a pointful look and slowly lift Wibbly.

    ¡°You¡ªyou guys killed them all?¡± the Bosmer says, holding up his hands in alarm. ¡°Wait a minute! There¡¯s no need to do anything hasty. I think dealing with those Maormer is sufficient payment for the trip. That¡¯ll make sailing around here a lot safer.¡±

    I grin, relaxing my stance. ¡°I¡¯m glad you could be reasonable. I¡¯ve had to kill entirely too many Bosmer lately because they thought working for Hircine and turning into werewolves was a great idea. Which was incredibly frustrating, you understand. This one asshole thought he was going to force the Green Lady to marry him instead of the Silvenar. Can you believe the nerve?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± the Bosmer agrees nervously, clearly deciding that he doesn¡¯t want to mess with me. Considerably more sensible than those Maormer.

    I return to Captain Khammo and inform him that the Bosmer pirates have agreed to take him to Anvil gratis, out of the goodness of their hearts. He looks at me dubiously, or at least stares blindly in my general direction in a dubious manner. Sighted people do not have a monopoly on dubious expressions, after all.

    ¡°Dare I ask what you offered them or threatened them with?¡± Khammo wonders.

    ¡°Let me paint a picture for you,¡± I say. ¡°I am wearing Orcish leather armor, wielding a bloody battle axe, and standing on a mountain of Sea Elf corpses.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I don¡¯t think you meant that last one literally,¡± Khammo says. ¡°Your voice would be higher up and it doesn¡¯t stink nearly enough, and you know how many bodies it would take to make up an entire mountain?¡±

    ¡°Eh, probably more than there were Sea Elves on this island, true,¡± I say.

 Chpater 106: In Which I Try to Make Sense of Religion

    We make it back to Dra¡¯bul via the coast side, passing (and destroying) the Dark Anchor on the way in. I get Roku and her father up to speed on what happened since I last saw them and that the most immediately pressing current issue has been taken care of.

    ¡°Shaman Glazulg, are there other Orc strongholds in Malabal Tor that I ought to visit and make sure they¡¯re not working with the Hircine worshippers whose leader I¡¯ve already killed? And by ¡®tell¡¯ I mean ¡®punch them in the face until they listen to me¡¯, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Glazulg says with a grin. ¡°There¡¯s another stronghold in Bloodtoil Valley you could check out. I haven¡¯t heard much from them in a while and I don¡¯t think they were involved with that business with the Hound. I¡¯ll mark it on your map.¡±

    Our journey to Bloodtoil Valley is interrupted by me diving off a bridge for a Skyshard, killing a bunch of hoarvor at the bottom, having to figure out how to get up the cliff again, and enduring Eran¡¯s face-palms.

    ¡°Fortunately, I have a rope¡­¡± Eran says with a sigh, helping me up to the top again.

    We come upon a wayshrine and light it on the way. The roads in this part of Valenwood are¡­ not actually more confusing than the roads anywhere else in Valenwood, actually, but Gelur assures me we¡¯re going in the right direction, so that¡¯s good enough for me. Which makes me feel even sillier when I realize I can see Orc-style walls from the wayshrine.

    I spot a book titled The Red Paint behind a couple of stranglers. Summary: Orcs kill each other for stupid reasons.

    Now, look, I¡¯m hardly one to dismiss traditions just because they¡¯re traditional, but you¡¯ve also got to keep in mind that just because something is old doesn¡¯t mean that it¡¯s good. There are plenty of old things that are very, very bad.

    Anyway, the worst of it is that I can¡¯t even find a way inside from this side. Why would they put the gates on the wrong side from the wayshrine? I have to remind myself most people don¡¯t use these things to travel fast.

    ¡°We should probably not just use the rope to climb over,¡± I say. ¡°They might get the wrong idea from that. Let¡¯s see if we can find the door.¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± Eran agrees wryly.

    The Orc stronghold in Bloodtoil Valley is situated atop a cliff, allowing limited approach. Smart, but inconvenient in this case, especially considering there¡¯s a Bosmer village situated right outside. Considering how far we have to go around, we might as well have just approached from the Vulkwasten wayshrine instead. I head up to the stronghold by myself, send Eran, Gelur, and Merry into the Bosmer village to ask questions about the area and current events, and have Ilara hide in the trees and watch my back.

    I go up to the first Orc who looks at me funny and say, ¡°I am Neri gro-Drublog. I bring news from Dra¡¯bul and I must speak with your shaman and your chief immediately.¡±

    ¡°Shaman¡¯s in the shrine,¡± says the Orc, pointing to a door. ¡°If you want to talk to the chief, she¡¯s in the longhouse at the top of the hill.¡±

    Their chief is a woman? Huh. Maybe those books I read and the impromptu Orc culture lessons from Roku didn¡¯t cover everything. I head for the shrine first.

    The Bloodtoil shaman is in the middle of torturing a young adult Orc and performing some sort of blood ritual with him. This very much looks like one of the dumb reasons Orcs kill one another that I was just reading about, so I cast a Restoring Light on the boy and shove the shaman to interrupt his casting.

    ¡°What are you doing!?¡± the shaman demands.

    ¡°Terribly sorry, I¡¯m allergic to torturing children,¡± I reply. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡±

    I check on the young man. Still in terrible shape although possibly no longer immediately life threatening. I¡¯ll need to get Gelur to take a look at him once I¡¯ve defused the immediate situation, but until then, I dump all my mana into healing him as much as I can with just Blinky.

    ¡°He¡¯s trying to use a blood ritual to mind control my mother, the clan chief,¡± the young Orc replies in between spitting out blood.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re too late to stop it!¡± the shaman retorts. ¡°Even as we speak, she¡¯ll be declaring war on the Bosmer!¡±

    ¡°Then I won¡¯t waste time talking to you¡ª¡± I decapitate him with Wibbly before he can react. ¡°¡ªbefore killing you.¡± I turn to the boy. ¡°Sometimes killing them stops their weird magic, but if it didn¡¯t, you¡¯ll need to angrily challenge your mother for control of the clan before anyone does anything stupid.¡±

    The boy mumbles some profanity beneath his breath as he follows me out of the shrine and up the hill. I¡¯m terribly glad that I came here first. My friends are probably over in the Bosmer village still trying to ask Bosmer how to spell Orc names.

    We reach the front of the longhouse as an Orc woman is yelling orders to a group of warriors, trying to work them into a good rage. The kid cuts in and yells, ¡°Mother, stop this!¡±

    ¡°Ulagash!¡± the chief snarls. ¡°That Wood Elf girl has poisoned your mind! The Code of Mauloch strictly prohibits mixing races!¡±

    ¡°Uh, no it doesn¡¯t,¡± I put in. ¡°At least not the version of it I read.¡±

    Admittedly, I read that version on a stolen paperweight, but it seemed simple enough. No stealing, no killing kin, no attacking without cause, or you pay the blood price. Nothing about racism in there.

    ¡°Mother¡ªChief Ulukhaz!¡± Ulagash yells. ¡°I hereby challenge you to a duel for chiefhood!¡±

    ¡°About time you put your balls to use on something other than trying to make half-breeds,¡± the chief says, grabbing a battle axe. ¡°Fine. If you want to make yourself a martyr in the name of harmony with the other races, then so be it.¡±

    Ulagash whispers to me, ¡°I don¡¯t even have a weapon.¡±

    I toss him Wibbly. ¡°Good luck! I believe in you!¡±

    To be fair, my belief in him is completely unfounded and I just met him five minutes ago, at which point he had been near death and has not yet been fully healed nor given a chance to rest. Maybe I should have just challenged her myself. Well, if nothing else, at least the Orcs are now egging on the mother-and-son duel happening before then rather than attacking their Wood Elf neighbors, which will give Ilara a chance to warn the others. And they¡¯ve been too busy to even notice I¡¯m not an Orc.

    Which¡­ hopefully she has overheard enough and gone to warn the others? Dammit, I really need to teach them a system of hand signals or something.

    I also may have overestimated the kid¡¯s capabilities. Ulagash has spirit, but the only thing keeping him in the game is his rage rising every time his mother insults his girlfriend. He keeps trying to tell her she¡¯s being mind controlled but she¡¯s too deep into rage and racism to listen. I¡¯m pretty sure the rest of the clan has become convinced that the shaman must have done something since she¡¯s usually not quite this ragey and racist.

    ¡°She will never be good enough for you!¡± chief mom says. ¡°You should just marry a few nice Orc women!¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I marry a few nice Orc women and Dalaneth?¡± Ulagash retorts.

    ¡°You can do it, Ulugosh!¡± I yell.

    ¡°My name is Ulagash!¡± he replies.

    I¡¯ll give him credit for being able to dodge his mother¡¯s clumsy, angry blows, at least. Eventually, the young Orc gets the upper hand, and hesitates at killing his mother with a tearful look in his eye.

    ¡°Is there any way to cure her?¡± Ulagash wonders, clearly addressing me but wisely not taking his eyes off of the barely-conscious chief.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m always hesitant to say something¡¯s impossible. You could just tie her up and wait and see if she calms down on her own and get a mage to look at it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± heckles one of the Orcs watching. ¡°Kill her already! I want to see some blood!¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Ulagash retorts. ¡°She¡¯s my mom! If you want blood so badly I¡¯ll show you yours!¡±

    I go over to the unconscious Orc mom and make sure her injuries aren¡¯t immediately life-threatening before helping tie her up and move her into the longhouse. Ulagash did technically win the fight, as nobody said it had to be to the death, but I¡¯m pretty sure she only passed out because of whatever caused her to fly into a rage.

    ¡°So, who are you, anyway?¡± Ulagash finally asks once the situation is under control.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Neri,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m the new chieftain at Dra¡¯bul and I wanted to meet the chief and shaman here to make sure they weren¡¯t doing anything fucking stupid like every other damned Orc in Valenwood seems to be doing lately.¡±

    ¡°You came by yourself?¡± Ulagash asks in surprise.

    ¡°Nah, but my friends are over talking to the Wood Elves across the stream,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d best go let them know what¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡°I owe you my life,¡± Ulagash says. ¡°I am in your debt.¡±

    ¡°Support my bid for joining the Dominion and taking the fight to the Ebonheart Pact instead of our neighbors. I¡¯ll be back shortly.¡±

    Ulagash looks at me speechlessly for a moment before laughing. ¡°Absolutely! How are you going to get close to the Bosmer village without anyone getting suspicious of you?¡±

    ¡°Tell you a secret,¡± I say, grinning and showing my lack of tusks, pointing at my face with the hand wearing my ring. ¡°I¡¯m really, really bad at pretending to be an Altmer.¡±

    ¡°Why do you bother?¡± Ulagash asks. ¡°You seem to make a perfectly good Orc to me, whatever your birth defects.¡±

    ¡°Long story,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°Tell you later, maybe.¡±

    I find Gelur sitting on a big rock in the middle of the stream with a Malacath altar sitting on top of it, and I approach.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the others?¡±

    ¡°Back in the trees,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to spook the Orcs with a bunch of people standing on their borders in plain sight.¡±

    ¡°Should be okay now,¡± I say. ¡°There was a situation. I unsituated it, but there¡¯s a couple people who still need healing and someone who needs to be checked over for magical compulsions.¡±

    The Orcs here do have Restoration mages on hand, but I bring Gelur in along with Merry to check anyway. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust them to be able to heal. It¡¯s that I trust Gelur to be able to heal any ridiculous thing I put in front of her. There¡¯s nothing like the experience of being able to repeatedly heal a guy who keeps doing insanely reckless things. Fortunately, things are calming down and nobody takes too much offense to their non-Orc visitors, especially once I tell them why they¡¯re here.

    Merry takes a look at Ulagash¡¯s unconscious mom and runs some arcane analyses that I don¡¯t follow. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m detecting remnants of a blood ritual here. It should wear off soon, though, and it¡¯s already fading. Luckily there wasn¡¯t a life sacrifice behind it or it might have been more permanent.¡±

    It¡¯s time to go over and talk to the Bosmer myself, after getting filled in from my friends, though it¡¯s already pretty clear what happened from this side given the protests against the Ulagash dating an Elf girl. The young Orc in question has, upon Gelur made sure he was fully healed, gotten into some fistfights to establish dominance, but it doesn¡¯t look particularly serious. Just Orcs being Orcs.

    Along the way, some books have mysteriously found their way into my pack talking about the local religions. The Orcs worship Mauloch, obviously, which is generally considered just another name for Malacath considering it was definitely a Malacath axe banner inside that shrine. The Bosmer here are apparently worshippers of a god named Z¡¯en, complete with the unnecessary apostrophe the Bosmer seem to love putting into the names of their gods.

    According to the various Bosmer and Orc journals I find scattered about, both say they felt the presence of their god in the area and wanted to build a shrine here, leading me to wonder if they both happened to wind up worshipping the same god of vengeance and toil under different names, or perhaps merely different aspects. Religion is confusing.

    So when Gelur, Merry and I get to the Bosmer village and meet up with Eran, we wind up walking into the middle of an argument between father and daughter over the daughter dating an Orc.

    ¡°Everything alright here?¡± I ask, looking between them.

    ¡°Were you in the Orc village?¡± the daughter asks. ¡°Is Ulagash alright? Shaman Yarnag attacked me, but Ulagash got in the way and told me to run.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°I killed the shaman, so he won¡¯t be causing anymore problems.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± the father says. ¡°I told her it would be trouble. I, of course, forbade her to see him and told her that no relationship between them would last.¡±

    ¡°I married an Orc and joined their clan,¡± I say mildly.

    The man is taken aback, giving me a closer look. ¡°I mean¡ªum¡ªI¡¯m sure it works for some people, but I knew the Drublog would take it poorly.¡±

    ¡°I feel like my life¡¯s mission here is to travel Tamriel and punch people in the face while telling them to stop being racist,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, there doesn¡¯t seem to be any problem aside from the shaman¡ªyou said his name was Yarnag?¡ªhe was trying to use Ulagash as a blood sacrifice to warp his mother into mindless fury. That situation has been deal with. Primary with battle axes, but dealt with.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible!¡± the daughter says. ¡°I can¡¯t believe Shaman Yarnag would do something like that!¡±

    I forestall another argument by turning to the father and asking, ¡°Is there a shrine to Z¡¯en around here?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the father says. ¡°It¡¯s right in here.¡± He gestures toward a cave covered with a ¡®door¡¯ of vines and roots.

    I head inside, with the three of them trailing in behind me. A book is laying by the altar, titled The Book of Dawn and Dusk. Summary: My asshole former friends plagiarized pithy sayings. I¡¯ll admit I hate seeing shit about the Tribunal on the other side of Tamriel and it¡¯s honestly starting to creep me out.

    I look up at the red banner with a battle axe symbol. ¡°Was this a shrine to Mauloch?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. This is a shrine to Z¡¯en.¡±

    I turn to him and hold up my hand to show him my ring. ¡°Tell me, which god am I champion of?¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± he exclaims, examining it. ¡°You¡¯re a champion of Z¡¯en! What good fortune you came along!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a champion of Malacath. That¡¯s Malacath¡¯s symbol. There¡¯s an identical banner in the shrine of Mauloch across the water. If they¡¯re not the same god, then they¡¯ve got to be twin brothers, or mirror reflections, or something. Either way, they¡¯re a lot more alike than they are different. Ugh. I¡¯m not nearly high enough to make sense of mythology today.¡± I take a seat and start pulling some substances out of my pack. ¡°Do you mind if I take a moment to, ah, commune with Z¡¯en here?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Is that moon sugar? And¡­ Hist sap? Really? Dare I wonder what those combine to do?¡±

    ¡°They let me make sense of religion, mythology, and philosophy. And possibly offend both Khajiiti and Argonian cultures simultaneously. Could I get some privacy for a moment, please?¡±

    The two Bosmer look torn between protesting, being offended, and just backing away from the drug-addict lunatic. Eran, on the other hand, looks like he¡¯s trying very hard to stifle laughter, and leaves, followed by the Bosmer.

    ¡°Are these Bosmer just worshipping you by another name?¡± I wonder aloud.

    The impression of a presence is heavy in the air. ¡°Huh. Looks like it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, looks like it?¡± I say. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you tell?¡±

    ¡°People call me all sorts of different things,¡± Malacath replies with a shrug. ¡°Goblins even like to paint my idols blue. No idea why.¡±

    ¡°So what in Oblivion am I going to tell them to convince them to set aside their differences and live in harmony with their neighbors so I can get them all to go invade my enemies instead?¡±

    Malacath laughs. ¡°Tell them whatever you want, and punch them in the face if they don¡¯t listen. Religion doesn¡¯t make much sense to me either. Most of it¡¯s just shit someone made up at some point. Or they were on drugs.¡± He pauses. ¡°You¡¯re on drugs, aren¡¯t you.¡±

    ¡°I am on so many drugs.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in a perfect state to make up something good, I hope,¡± Malacath replies. ¡°Good luck!¡± His presence vanishes.

    It had never really sunk in before just how few fucks the gods really give about what mortals do. Which, to be honest, is probably just as well. I hate to think what sort of mess they¡¯d cause if any of them seriously cared. Oh, maybe that¡¯s why my backstabbing friends made such a mess of things and managed to convince anyone they¡¯re totally gods. Even the miracles that could be accomplished with fake divinity are still beyond what most mortals see from real divinity.

    It¡¯s strange, the way gods can go by different names to different people, but Malacath would hardly be the only one of those. With Y¡¯ffre/Jephre, Auriel/Auri-El/Akatosh, Xarxes/Hermaeus Mora (at least I think they are, but I¡¯ll admit I¡¯m not terribly familiar with Xarxes.), oh, and never mind my former friends claiming that Boethiah, Mephala, and Azura were their ¡®Anticipations¡¯. I really love/hate reading shit about their religion.

    She cut off my feet! What the fuck!? Something pierces my chest. A spear. I can¡¯t breathe. Cold. Cold. Cold. So cold. A horned face. Malicious laughter, that voice, that voice¡­

    My perspective shifts and wheels.

    *What did they do to me? I¡¯ll never be beautiful again! How dare they!? I will have my revenge! Ashes¡­ Maybe I can work with this. The Aldmer are weak. I will teach my followers to take up arms from birth that they might never be weak. They will need strength if they are to survive in a world arrayed against them. Let them grow strong, and one day we will have our revenge!

    A man with four faces, each bearing a different expression. A crystal with many facets, each of them bearing a different face. Each of them reflects the face of the observer.*

    ¡°Fuck, I need to write this down.¡±

    *It¡¯s more than just revenge. Judgment needs balance. Justice needs fairness. The Blood Price must not be too low or too high.

    Skies above mushrooms. Nine ziggurats afloat. But the city is not yet real. A pomegranate hurled from a wedding. A stone, suspended in the air above the city that will be. Why not destroy it? Why leave this here and let there be a city here? To force them to love their god, of course. But you were not a god. This isn¡¯t what happened. Which Nerevar died at your hand, the one where you were born a god or the one where you were not? Or did you murder us both just to be sure?*

    ¡­

    I wake up to find myself passed out on the floor of a temple cave with a pounding headache and a splitting headache simultaneously. I look around and see the trappings of a shrine to Malacath. Weird. I would have expected Sanguine, with how I feel about now.

    I feel about for my journal and open it up. The gist of a conversation with Malacath, that I vaguely remember. And then some lovely metaphor involving a crystal that I¡¯m totally using, before devolving into incoherent babbling. Well, at least I got something useful out of that.

    And I apparently have divine permission to just make shit up.

 Chapter 107: In Which I Teach How to Win Friends and Influence People

    ¡°I have no idea how you do these things,¡± Eran finally admits.

    ¡°Which specifically?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Mostly how you keep somehow managing to convince bitter rivals to work together,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Oh, are you looking to train speechcraft?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It was an academic question,¡± Eran says. ¡°Also mostly a rhetorical one. Although I am honestly wondering. But at this point I¡¯m honestly surprised the situation in Bloodtoil Valley didn¡¯t turn into a bloodbath, never mind leaving it as a party. And nothing you said made sense.¡±

    ¡°It made sense to them,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s the important part.¡±

    ¡°I swear these things wouldn¡¯t happen to anyone else,¡± Eran says. ¡°You just have a storm of weirdness surrounding you that follows you around and makes everything around you¡­ well, weird.¡±

    ¡°I can hardly be held accountable for the current state of affairs in the entirety of Nirn,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°Like the undead pumpkin eaters. That was totally not my fault! That was a pre-existing bit of weirdness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d never have even gone into that cave if you hadn¡¯t decided to, though. So it would have been a bit of weirdness that I never would have known about.¡±

    ¡°And technically speaking, I did have divine permission to say all that shit,¡± I say. ¡°Well, not specifically that shit, but he didn¡¯t seem very concerned with the specifics. I think he thought it was funny or something.¡±

    ¡°Did¡­ did you somehow manage to get Malacath high by proxy or something?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°You are no longer allowed to bring hallucinogens to religious events.¡± He glances sidelong toward Ilara. ¡°Except Khajiiti religious events.¡±

    ¡°Damn, Eran,¡± I say. ¡°Next thing I know, you¡¯re going to say you want to be my ¡®Stop-Doing-Stupid-Shit Platonic-Husband¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I am curious,¡± Merry puts in. ¡°Did anything quite like the situations we have been encountering happen¡­ before?¡±

    I frown faintly. ¡°I don¡¯t really like to think too much about the specifics of ¡®before¡¯. It gives me a headache and it¡¯s not very¡­ clear. I don¡¯t just mean that I¡¯ve forgotten things because I definitely have, but some of the things I definitely do remember, it¡¯s like I remember two or more different versions of it. Like I know this could have only gone one way, so why do I remember multiple outcomes? And why do I remember things I know didn¡¯t happen? Ugh. I¡¯m blaming my ex-friends for this. I don¡¯t know what exactly they did, but I was in the middle of it and it messed with my memories badly.¡±

    ¡°A Dragon Break?¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I just know that I tried to think of an example of a story of one of the funny situations I ran into and my memory is messed up. Fucking weird magic.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Eran says. ¡°I know your mind was messed up but I didn¡¯t realize it was that bad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad when I¡¯m not trying to focus on anything specific,¡± I say. ¡°Like. Imagine if you¡¯ve watched a play in your youth. Then you go and watch it again later and it seems like someone rewrote it when you weren¡¯t looking, leaving you to wonder if they changed it or if it was your memory that was faulty.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t ask, then,¡± Eran says.

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve got lots of great new memories, at least. Great new friends. Also moon sugar. Lots of moon sugar.¡±

    ¡°Is excessive consumption of mind-altering substances really the solution to having had your mind altered?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say. ¡°Actually, the moon sugar was probably the only reason I realized something was wrong in the first place.¡±

    Now that the immediate situation has been settled, I take the opportunity to visit each group of Orcs that I¡¯ve dealt with in Valenwood and left anyone alive at. (Some of the ones at that one Falinesti site might have survived if they¡¯d done the sensible thing and not flung themselves at me. In fact, they probably ought to have done the sensible thing and protested or left when they started torturing civilians in public. I mean, come on, torture is pointless even when they¡¯re not civilians.)

    The ¡®Orc diplomacy¡¯ trip goes well and requires a few rousing speeches and a minimum of face punching, and I return to Malabal Tor to continue exploring. I suppose it helps that I already pretty much won them over by solving all their problems or hitting them to get them to stop being problems. Orcs are a practical sort of people.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope there¡¯s plenty of undead or Daedra or whatever to hit at Belarata.¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t we hoping the sketchy Khajiit hadn¡¯t unleashed some sort of curse or something?¡± Eran asks, then sighs. ¡°No, of course weren¡¯t.¡±

    Belarata is a lot closer to the Bloodtoil Valley wayshrine than Bloodtoil Valley even is. I requested that they put in a gate on the side of the wall facing the wayshrine strictly for my own convenience but I don¡¯t know if anyone¡¯s actually going to do it. A narrow dirt path winds down into the ruin, precluding the need for jumping off any cliffs.

    As we approach, I overhear arguments between some very unhappy customers. From the sounds of things, Jurak-dar has been selling people things that did not live up to their expectations.

    ¡°Pfah,¡± Ilara mutters as she hears them. ¡°Grifters give Khajiit a bad name.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agree. ¡°It¡¯s so much harder to grift people when they¡¯re expecting it just because you¡¯re a Khajiit.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! He could at least be less obvious about it, no?¡±

    One of the High Elves present is complaining about wishing there were justiciars here to deal with this like there are in Summerset. I¡¯m sure everyone in Summerset is perfectly well-behaved and would never dream of stepping one toe out of line or leaving one lock of hair uncombed.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not justiciars, but we are heavily armed individuals with a penchant for traveling and solving problems,¡± I say. ¡°What seems to be the problem?¡±

    According to the angry customers, Jurak-dar has been selling faulty merchandise. Gelur starts healing a Bosmer who was injured by an electric shock from one of the relics. Another customer complains about being sold a magic rock that melted in the rain. You know, I can understand selling cursed artifacts to be a pure mistake, but I can¡¯t imagine how someone could accidentally sell a melting Ayleid rock.

    After some questioning, which mostly involved Eran asking questions (I¡¯ve started training him in speechcraft) and me standing there with my arms across my chest looking intimidating (and speechcraft is always more useful when you have a battle axe to back it up) until Jurak-dar feels considerably more helpful, we learn that the Khajiit found a sword with a poem on it that gave him access to the ruin because a ghost thinks he¡¯s her lover because she has his sword.

    Jurak-dar¡¯s brilliant plan is to leave the sword with us while he goes in to talk to the ghost lady for some reason. It¡¯s rather sketchy and also rather stupid because without the sword, now she¡¯s noticed he¡¯s just a sneaky Khajiit and not an Ayleid, and surrounds him in a crushing forcefield.

    The situation is readily resolved by returning the sword to her actual dead lover, who has been trapped here for some time outside the barrier she¡¯d put up because she was an idiot who forgot anything but the sword. He¡¯s also an idiot, because he insists on rambling on at length as to how great and wealthy he was and how many slaves he had and then how those slaves killed them, all the while Jurak-dar is suffocating under the ghost lady¡¯s barriers.

    So now that I¡¯ve increased my count of Ayleids met to three, I determine that I still have yet to encounter any positive representatives of their race. Wait, did I meet an Ayleid ghost in one other ruin who was in love with a slave and then they died tragically? I don¡¯t remember. That still wasn¡¯t very good representation, though. Maybe I¡¯m being overly critical and I just don¡¯t like Ayleids terribly much. While I do try to tell people to be less racist, it¡¯s hard to feel much sympathy for a race that drove themselves to extinction by being assholes to vast numbers of slaves.

    Once the barrier is down, we head inside and start looking around for anything portable and valuable. There¡¯s a book inside titled The Battle of Glenumbra Moors. It must have been here for quite some time. Jurak-dar is quite grateful that we helped open up the ruins to let him properly loot the place.

    ¡°Just be sure not to piss off too many customers,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s bad for business.¡±

    ¡°Yes, so Jurak-dar has noticed,¡± the Khajiit agrees ruefully. ¡°Perhaps it is time for a change of venue, yes? Perhaps this one will take his relics and go to Skyrim.¡±

    We part ways with the Khajiit and leave the ruin, and head back to the main road.

    ¡°You did well back there,¡± I tell Eran.

    ¡°I hardly did anything,¡± Eran says. ¡°You did all the talking without even talking.¡±

    ¡°That saying about actions speaking louder than words isn¡¯t actually true,¡± I say. ¡°Without the words, people don¡¯t know what the actions mean, and then they¡¯re forgotten. People are more inclined to believe words even if they contradict what they¡¯re seeing right in front of them.¡±

    ¡°I just intimidated one Khajiit,¡± Eran says. ¡°You convinced a bunch of Orcs that it would be awesome if they went and attacked the Dark Elves.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have worked if I¡¯d just gone in and killed the Orcs,¡± I say. ¡°I always check if people are willing to talk before attacking. I always announce my intentions, so they didn¡¯t just see violence and assume it was out of hate. It¡¯s easy to assume hate when you see violence. Your tongue is a mightier weapon than your sword.¡±

    Eran is quiet for a long moment. ¡°The way you act sometimes, it¡¯s easy to forget you were a king. And now you¡¯re going to wind up being King of the Wood Orcs by doing exactly the same thing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not planning on declaring myself king.¡±

    ¡°You just went around to every Orc stronghold in Valenwood and convinced them to support your bid to join the Dominion,¡± Eran points out. ¡°If that wasn¡¯t your intention, what were you trying to do?¡±

    I pause, frowning. ¡°Shit. They¡¯re going to make me their king, aren¡¯t they.¡±

    Eran puts his face in his palm. ¡°How do you do this accidentally?¡±

    ¡°I might have to go incognito as a High Elf in the future¡­¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°At least it¡¯s easy to change hats.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like you know all these things about how to influence people and then wonder why people try to put you in charge of things,¡± Eran says. ¡°Most people don¡¯t try to influence anyone, or if they do, they¡¯re so terrible at it that people just think they¡¯re an idiot. You know, if you don¡¯t want to be in charge of something, you could just say no?¡±

    ¡°I only want the power to stop people from doing stupid, annoying things,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s hardly my fault if people decide to put titles on it.¡±

    Eran just starts laughing uncontrollably.

    ¡°Look, you have to understand that I¡¯m basically just a violent, drug-addled, smooth-talking con artist.¡±

    ¡°Suddenly history makes so much more sense,¡± Merry mumbles.

 Chapter 108: In Which the Story is Out of Order

    We head over to road up on the east side of the river and destroy a Dark Anchor along the way. A quick stop at Jathsogur to check in on things reveals the new chief is Mog, the Orc who spent the whole fight fishing, on account of his great wisdom in not attacking me and my friends.

    We take the road north and shortly run across a twitching Argonian enveloped by lightning.

    ¡°Okay, you know what?¡± Eran says, looking down at the hapless Argonian. ¡°I think I was wrong. You don¡¯t cause weirdness. Tamriel is just weirder than I ever imagined and I simply hadn¡¯t left home and poked my nose into everything to find out about it.¡±

    ¡°This one thinks that is accurate,¡± Ilara says. ¡°What happened to the poor Argonian?¡±

    There¡¯s a journal laying nearby, and I¡¯m the only one feeling brave enough to touch it right now. I suppose in any group, people quickly pick out which of them is the bravest, and the others stand back and wait for that person to do the stupid thing that needs to be done. The problem in a group of strangers is that nobody¡¯s sure who is the bravest. It¡¯s especially funny when Nords do it. They all try not to be the brave one while pretending that they could have been brave.

    Hmm. My memories of Nords and Dwemer are less messed up than the ones of Chimer, for the most part. Not that I¡¯m exactly about to spend a lot of time in my head quantifying them.

    ¡°Neri, what¡¯s the book say?¡± Eran asks, jarring me from my train of thought. ¡°We should probably either help or kill this Argonian. Preferably from a safe distance.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s instructions to go to an alchemy table just up the river. And time is of the essence and who knows how long he¡¯s been here already.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s time-is-of-the-essence our way up the river, then,¡± Eran says.

    We locate the Argonian¡¯s camp, where another book gives instructions to use a potion to control a thunder bug. Since I¡¯m still the brave one here (and also the one most likely to be able to recover from the effects of dubious potions), I do the honors. I drink the potion, get a thunder bug to follow us, and lead it back to the Argonian. And then promptly confuse the thunder bug by jumping off the not-very-tall cliff near the Argonian.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think thunder bugs like cliffs,¡± Eran says.

    The thunder bug decides that it has had enough of following me around and wanders off, forcing me to go find another thunder bug and this time carefully leading it along the bank and not up and over the rocks. When it gets close to the twitching Argonian, it draws off the excess electricity and leaves him miraculously none the worse for wear.

    ¡°How did that not hurt you more than it did?¡± Gelur wonders as she makes sure he¡¯s in good health. ¡°You really ought to be dead.¡±

    The Argonian goes on about risks and rewards and plans to off to immediately go try again because he just knows that this time, it will work.

    ¡°Well, while I¡¯m hardly one to speak of experimenting on drinking your own experimental potions, it might be best not to do it unsupervised?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m admittedly more durable than most.¡±

    He tells us about how he came here with some others but they didn¡¯t appreciate his genius or something, and goes off to continue his unwise experiments. I make a note to check the river later to see if there¡¯s a dead Argonian laying around.

    We return to the main road and continue on. Further on, we come upon a wayshrine, which I light. There¡¯s an Orc with a cart here claiming to be selling items for a guild named ¡°The Skooma Emporium¡±. I stare at him incredulously for a long moment at just how audacious that is, and also wonder if that¡¯s where Dra¡¯bul has been getting their moon sugar. I suppose I don¡¯t have much cause to speak of being audacious, but seriously, what next? People walking up to random passersby asking if they want to join the Thieves Guild?

    Across the road from the wayshrine is a town called Valeguard, and I head in to explore and see if anyone wants me to solve their problems for them and whether there¡¯s some sort of (possibly werewolf related) disaster going on. I also sense a Skyshard nearby, so I search every nook to find it and absorb it.

    A Khajiit bard (named Shandi) is trying to write down stories from the spinners but something is wrong. The spinners have been telling a different story than the ones Shandi had written down.

    (I still sometimes think I¡¯m from Silatar. I love/hate it even though I know it¡¯s wrong and even though they¡¯re more pleasant than my actual memories, but the worst of it is that it feels more real than my actual memories because my actual memories aren¡¯t sure what was actual.)

    (There¡¯s an actual word in Chimeris that best translates as ¡°love/hate¡±. The Dunmer have probably forgotten what it originally meant. Loss of nuance of connotations is worse than any mere change in coloration or religion.)The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    So, if it¡¯s some indication something is wrong, the people in Valeguard don¡¯t seem to realize that the Silvenar and Green Lady have already been married and there¡¯s a celebration ongoing right down the road. Even weirder, that wood figurine thing with the red ribbon that they called the ¡°handfast¡± is here instead of in Silvenar.

    One of the spinners, by the name of Indraseth (who I am promptly calling Crazy Indy) wants to change the story so that the Silvenar and the Green Lady aren¡¯t together and have never been together. After that thing that happened with Ari back in Greenshade, I¡¯m wary about how much this can affect and what the implications of it would be.

    ¡°The Hound calls the Green Lady¡­¡± Crazy Indy is saying.

    ¡°The Hound is dead,¡± I say. ¡°I killed him myself.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Crazy Indy says. ¡°The story will be changed. The Hound will marry the Green Lady and the Silvenar will be no more. We will return to our true nature, as one with the beasts!¡±

    I sigh. It seems even killing him won¡¯t stop his nonsense. Either he¡¯s being obnoxious from beyond the grave, or he¡¯d already set things up here as a contingency plan in case some hero showed up and kicked his ass.

    We head into the nearby cave where the spinners¡¯ weird story magic is taking place, and meet an obnoxious apparition of the Hound.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead,¡± I tell him. ¡°Do I need to kill you again? Did Hircine send your Vestige back somehow to continue being annoying?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t even seem to realize that I killed him. He taunts us for a bit and then vanishes.

    The next apparition we encounter looks like Calm Indy but he¡¯s really a representation of every incarnation of the Silvenar, from what he says. The story is trying to erase him from history. We stopped the Hound at Silvenar but if they can change the past, well, I¡¯m quite sure that it¡¯s going to be a huge mess. I still don¡¯t know if anything that happened in my memories of Silatar was real.

    A Bosmer deeper in the cave is muttering over a book, very confused that the book isn¡¯t listening to him. From the sounds of it, he bought it from Jurak-dar over in Belarata, who had made some dubious claims about it being able to magically write down his stories. Except it¡¯s just a book, and works the way a book normally does. So instead, he wants us to collect some hoarvor blood and a chunk of old mammoth meat in order to use that to somehow write a story.

    ¡°You know, we¡¯re kind of busy attempting to save the history of the Bosmer here¡­¡± Eran hedges.

    ¡°More confidence,¡± I say. ¡°Hedging is good for understatement but people need to know where the line between ¡®no¡¯ and ¡®maybe¡¯ is.¡±

    Eran clears his throat. ¡°We are here to save the Silvenar and set right the story of the Bosmer. If you want this done, why don¡¯t you follow after us and collect the blood from the hoarvor we¡¯ll inevitably wind up killing?¡±

    The Bosmer grumbles and reluctantly agrees to follow at a safe distance rather than make us collect bug blood for him. I swear, I don¡¯t mind helping people with things. I do it all the time, after all. But it seems like some people completely fail to grasp the urgency of the situation they¡¯re in, or even that they¡¯re in a situation at all.

    In the next cave, we encounter a big plant thing, except this one is purple and transparent. Once we destroy it, Crazy Indy is less crazy for a moment and babbles something about how the Hound is in the story trying to control her.

    ¡°The Hound is dead,¡± I repeat, as if repeating it often enough will make it stick in this story.

    Further on, we find a spectral version of the Green Lady who is very confused as well. She thinks the Hound is her consort and doesn¡¯t even recognize the name Silvenar. Nor his actual name, either, or at least the actual name of the current one. I think this Green Lady must be somehow conceptually every Green Lady too or something. I¡¯m not sure, this is getting pretty weird.

    There¡¯s a strangler vine who speaks with a beautiful woman¡¯s voice and it¡¯s really creepy. She wants us to feed her thunder bug entrails. Right, the less said about this, the better. Moving swiftly on now.

    Past the vines, we find a ghostly version of the Hound in a circle of stones who attacks us along with a pack of ghostly feral Bosmer.

    ¡°You know, the thing I¡¯ve come to appreciate about Nirn is that the things you kill tend to stay dead and not show up again later causing more problems. Kindly stay the fuck dead this time.¡±

    We kill him again.

    ¡°You killed him!¡± the transparent Green Lady says. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was possible.¡±

    ¡°Twice!¡± I exclaim. ¡°I¡¯ve killed him twice now! This better not become three or I¡¯m going to be annoyed.¡±

    We exit the story cave and return to town, and go over to the handfast to dump a couple of glowy light balls into it. I have no idea what this does or what¡¯s going on and I don¡¯t care anymore.

    ¡°This is supposed to be in Silvenar,¡± I say, looking at the green-glowing handfast.

    ¡°Yes, we will get it there as soon as possible,¡± the spinner says. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to miss the wedding.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it was in Silvenar when we left there, days ago,¡± I say. ¡°We were just there. This thing was there.¡± I throw up my hands with an exasperated sigh and turn to my friends. ¡°We¡¯re leaving now. And then heading back to Silvenar to make sure nothing is fucked up there.¡±

    Fucking. Bosmer. Story magic. I hate weird magic and this is weirder shit than usual.

    The Khajiit bard is baffled that the Bosmer who wanted us to collect blood wound up imbuing his story onto a block of meat, and decides to try turning it into an actual book rather than well-aged lunch.

    ¡°I suggest heading out of town now, too,¡± I advise her. ¡°Something weird is going on here and I hope whatever it was we did fixed it because I don¡¯t want to deal with this shit anymore. Actually, hey, let¡¯s go find the skooma Orc. I¡¯ll bet he¡¯s got moon sugar for sale and my stash is getting low.¡±

    ¡°¡­ skooma Orc?¡± asks Shandi incredulously.

    The Khajiit follows after us in puzzlement with her weird story meat. She doesn¡¯t know how bad things were.

    Once we¡¯ve used the wayshrine to return to Dra¡¯bul, I say aside to Gelur, ¡°No offense, but this Bosmer story magic shit creeps me the fuck out.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± she says, looking pretty ragged and deflated herself. ¡°This was pretty fucking bad.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what they did, isn¡¯t it,¡± I muse, looking off into the trees. ¡°They rewrote the story to make themselves gods. But I still remember the version where they weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not good,¡± Gelur says softly.

    ¡°And I fear that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to have to do, if I want to truly make them gone for good. I wouldn¡¯t even know where to begin. Or what consequences there might be. I¡­¡±

    I manage to get back into my longhouse before having a complete breakdown.

 Chapter 109: In Which Talking Ghost Bugs Arent Even Weird Anymore

    I didn¡¯t intend to marry a therapist, but at least by morning, I¡¯m freaking out a little less.

    I really need to get back to Silvenar. I need to talk to the Silvenar about this. And I hope everything is okay there, even if he doesn¡¯t have the answers I seek so desperately. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t manage to get to a wayshrine near there, so we¡¯re left to continuing up the main road, which means teleporting back to the wayshrine we just left.

    ¡°Are you alright, Neri?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I reply lightly. ¡°But I¡¯ll manage. Let¡¯s find me something to hit.¡±

    Near the wayshrine, we run into a Bosmer man asking for help. Something about the Worm Cult. Huzzah! Something to hit that I don¡¯t need to worry about the political implications thereof! Some things I can just kill without anyone potentially missing them! From what the man says, the cultists have captured a spinner named Indinael, and I¡¯m starting to run out of good adjectives to describe all the Indies in Valenwood. Let¡¯s call this one Unlucky Indy.

    I kill one cultist waving a stream of blue light at a ghost bug, and a woman¡¯s voice thanks me as the bug disappears.

    ¡°Okay, that was odd,¡± I say. ¡°Not, like, what in the Void, Aetherius, and Oblivion is wrong with the whole fucking world weird, but just kind of odd.¡±

    ¡°This one thinks our markers for levels of ¡®weird¡¯ keep shifting,¡± Ilara comments.

    ¡°Talking ghost bugs barely even register as being strange anymore,¡± Eran admits.

    Having decided that I can handle talking ghost bugs, we move in and start cutting a path through the necromancers and the undead they¡¯ve animated. The name of this place is Ouze, where some Bosmer who rejected the Green Pact have been buried. And like any burial site, this attracted necromancers. It kind of makes me wonder why anyone leaves remains in a state that¡¯s useful to necromancers, given how prevalent they are. To be fair, though, it¡¯s possible that necromancy was not nearly as common at that point.

    Unlucky Indy is laying on a stone table in the middle of the site. She¡¯s in bad shape, and Gelur and I hurriedly start healing her, pulling her back from the brink of death. She rambles something about dead spriggans and heartwood and I¡¯ll admit I¡¯m not really paying attention, just going back to killing necromancers once we¡¯ve stabilized her.

    A talking gem thing in one of the tents tells us some of this stuff and how we ought to go cleanse some altars to make sure the Oathbreakers here can happily keep sleeping in the mud and not become undead slaves dancing at the Worm Cult¡¯s whims. ¡°Cleansing¡± them involves killing cultists, of course. Readily done. These so-called Oathbreakers are shape-shifting Bosmer and those ghost bugs we¡¯ve run across are actually ones who had taken on the form of beasts.

    The thing that kind of bothers me about the concept of these ¡°Oathbreakers¡± is that it¡¯s my understanding that they didn¡¯t swear an oath to begin with, they just said ¡°piss off¡± to Y¡¯ffre. It doesn¡¯t really strike me as entirely fair, but since when has Nirn been fair?

    Once we¡¯ve cleared out the necromancers and cleansed the area, we return to the central altar. I find Unlucky Indy just sitting there, looking a little stunned, as if she can hardly believe what she has just witnessed.

    ¡°I thought for certain that my death would be the next part of the story,¡± Unlucky Indy says, staring at the ground. ¡°Threads pull in every direction, but I did not see a path where I lived that some great evil did not befall. But you¡¯ve changed the outcome in a way I did not foresee.¡±

    ¡°The future isn¡¯t set in stone,¡± I say.

    ¡°No, it is not,¡± Unlucky Indy says, raising her eyes to look at me. ¡°But you¡­ strange. This is not your story. There was supposed to be a Dark Elf¡­ a woman¡­¡±

    I frown. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°Never mind. It was just a thread I saw, a possibility that could have been. I cannot say the consequences of you being here instead of her. You have already changed much of the story. People lived who might have died. Even my own survival will cause a million things to happen differently.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°No offense to you specifically, but I¡¯m really tired of stories and prophecies. I am tired of others telling me who I should be and what I should do.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the spinner says. ¡°It is not for me to decide how your story should go.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re heading to Silvenar,¡± I say. ¡°We need to make sure that the fucked up story magic going on in Valeguard didn¡¯t fuck things up. And if I have to kill the Hound a hundred more times to get him to quit creepily trying to get the Green Lady to marry him and going so far as to try to change reality even after I killed him¡­ ugh.¡±

    I close my eyes, sway on my feet, and pop a bit of candy in my mouth.

    ¡°So, hey!¡± I yell with forced cheer. ¡°Here¡¯s to making your own destiny! Bye!¡±

    I hurry back to the road, smacking a few more skeletons that hadn¡¯t figured out to stop walking around along the way, my friends trailing behind me.

    We take the road west to Silvenar, crossing the river at a small bridge next to a camp with some Houndsmen who haven¡¯t gotten the fucking memo, who we kill on the way by. At the top of the ramp, the Guardian of Silvenar looks at us with what passes for its face and says, ¡°Pass, friends.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Silvenar is exactly as we¡¯d left it, the wedding celebrations still ongoing. I¡¯m not sure whether to be thankful or still weirded out.

    Looking down from the top of the cliff, I spot something odd below. There¡¯s a boat on the river, and if I¡¯m not mistaken, the style is Dunmer.

    I poke around the boat and swipe a book titled The Voice of the People (Summary: Calm Indy became the Silvenar) and their secret recipe for garlic mashed potatoes. It would probably taste different with potatoes than ash yams. I miss ash yams.

    The cave directly underneath Silvenar is full of Nords and Dunmer. This is worrisome. What in Oblivion are they doing down here? A note inside mentions something about taking samples from the deep roots. There¡¯s also a copy of Tamrielic Artifacts, Part Three. (Summary: There¡¯s a lot of fancy trinkets in Tamriel.) Needless to say, whatever they¡¯re doing here, they need to not be doing it here, so I convince them to knock it off. They¡¯re not feeling cooperative or talkative, though, so we just kill them all.

    I spot a Skyshard in the back of the cave and absorb it in between making sure there is no longer an Ebonheart Pact presence in this particular part of Valenwood.

    ¡°Still don¡¯t know what these fetchers were doing here,¡± I grumble as we head back outside.

    ¡°Prolly something bad,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Good thing you spotted that boat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go set it on fire,¡± I say.

    ¡°Is this necessary?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°This is Neri we¡¯re talking about,¡± Merry points out.

    I sprinkle the boat with fire salts and toss a bit of my own fire onto it, causing it to merrily burst into flames. (Or Nerily, perhaps.) I stand by for several minutes to watch it sink into the river, taking its Dunmer-style furniture with it.

    ¡°This one wonders how many things like this are happening without us knowing about it,¡± Ilara muses.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t much we can do about the shit we don¡¯t find out about,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We¡¯re already poking our noses into every cave and ruin along the way.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro found a note in the necromancers¡¯ camp in Ouze that mentions a village in Shadowfen they considered a great find. This one hopes someone else is there to stop them since she does not think us likely to get to that part of the world anytime soon.¡±

    I wince. ¡°Yeah¡­ realistically, I know I can¡¯t solve every problem in Tamriel personally. Maybe we can at least pass along a tip so that some agents in the area can look into it.¡±

    I find a wayshrine north of Silvenar and light it, as well as absorb a Skyshard (annoying a few leopards) and smack down a Dark Anchor that drops nearby. The Fighters Guild folks there remind me about the important meeting in Vulkwasten that they¡¯re trying very hard to stay away from. This place is much closer to the party they can take shifts attending. Yes, very important meeting, oh look, an Ayleid ruin!

    This particular ruin is full of bandits. There¡¯s a Breton (Daine) inside sitting against a wall and looking none too good, and our healing magic doesn¡¯t do much to help. He tells us about how his brother had gone into the ruin looking for some plant that can cure a congenital malady, although I¡¯m pretty sure he doesn¡¯t know the word ¡°congenital¡±. His brother (Dariel) had apparently made a deal with the bandits for passage and now he hasn¡¯t come back.

    ¡°Dunno if this plant will help, but we¡¯ll see about getting it and/or your brother,¡± I assure him. ¡°Hopefully both!¡±

    We head down the corridor and I call out to get the attention of the bandits and assess the mood of the place. Like complete idiots, they decide they¡¯d rather attack us on sight than talk. I¡¯m about to start killing them, but then notice they¡¯re mainly Orcs and Bosmer working together and think I might be able to do something with this. There¡¯s even some Khajiit. Maybe I should try doing more recruiting among the outlaws. They generally seem to be considerably less racist.

    ¡°My name is Neri gro-Drublog,¡± I tell them calmly. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I kill trolls for fun just because they happen to be there.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± one of the Orcs says, pausing. ¡°Are you the one who helped out at Reman¡¯s Bluff?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say, not quite remembering which place was Reman¡¯s Bluff off the top of my head but it seems vaguely familiar.

    The bandits aren¡¯t quite sure about me still, but have decided that not looking antagonizing might be better for their continued health, especially since I haven¡¯t attacked them yet.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± the Orc asks.

    ¡°Recruiting,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Also looking for a missing Breton, but most importantly, recruiting.¡±

    ¡°Hah! Yeah, he¡¯s here, if he didn¡¯t get mangled by stranglers,¡± the Orc says.

    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± a Khajiit asks.

    ¡°Well, my current grudges are against the Ebonheart Pact, the Sea Elves, and the Worm Cult. They¡¯ve all been causing problems in this immediate area. Although if there¡¯s any racist bandits still kicking around those would be fantastic to shank. By which I mean the Veiled Heritance. Fuck those assholes.¡±

    ¡°Hmrrr, cultists sound dangerous,¡± the Khajiit says.

    ¡°Eh, they¡¯re not nearly as threatening as you¡¯d think,¡± I say. ¡°Their shitty skeletons are way easier to kill than strangler vines.¡±

    ¡°Good point. What¡¯s the pay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure your bounties are cleared,¡± I say. ¡°And see about arranging payment from the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°Are you suggesting we be¡­ land privateers?¡± the Orc says, laughing heartily.

    ¡°The best thing about murder and looting is that it¡¯s great to be paid and praised for doing it on the people nobody wants around.¡±

    So yeah, that¡¯s how I walked into a random ruin and unexpectedly wound up with a bandit gang somehow. It would be incredibly annoying for trouble to immediately move back into an area the minute I turn my back. It¡¯s like someone needs to patrol every shore regularly just to make sure the beaches haven¡¯t sprouted Sea Elves.

    We head through the ruin and do them a favor by clearing out the strangler vines along the way. A sort of signing bonus.

    A copy of a book titled The Adabal-a lays on a stone table. (Summary: Alessia had a bunch of names.) Also this seems really poorly translated. I would imagine that the original did not have quite such awkward phrasing in it. There¡¯s a Skyshard sitting in a bowl on a table off in a side room, which alone makes this ruin worth coming into.

    We find Dariel wounded from tangling with stranglers, and quickly start to heal him up. He¡¯s relieved to hear that his brother is still alright, and that we¡¯re here to help. The plant they¡¯re looking for is next to the Ayleid well, which is also next to a very large strangler vine.

    ¡°You looked entirely too cheerful charging at that giant strangler,¡± Dariel comments once it¡¯s down and he¡¯s collecting the sap he wanted. ¡°Do you just find things to fight for fun or something?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Eran comments as I¡¯m too busy charging off to another vine in the corner to answer.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m fortunate that someone who just came in here to fight things came along, then,¡± Dariel says. ¡°And that they were able to heal my injuries, too. Once the way is clear, I¡¯ll need to get my brother and this sap to an alchemist. Hopefully this will help him. Did you kill all the bandits on the way in?¡±

    ¡°We apparently recruited them,¡± Merry says dryly. ¡°I have no idea how he managed to convince them to fight cultists instead of waylay travelers. They were surprisingly sensible, though. I didn¡¯t even need to turn half of them to stone first.¡±

 Chapter 110: In Which Im Merciful to Mercenaries

    ¡°We¡¯re heading to Baandari Trading Post yet?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°My daughter, Athemel, works as a cook at the inn there.¡±

    ¡°How do you spell that?¡± I ask as I diligently go to write it down, and Gelur chuckles as she spells it for me.

    We head into the Khajiit trading post. Unlike Redfur, Baandari Trading Post sports actual walls and isn¡¯t just some tents and stalls set up around some ruins.

    A Nord on the street is grumbling about a missing shield. I seem to recall running across one at some point, but that was a while ago. Surely he should have noticed it missing by now. Unless he¡¯s been spending more time drinking lately than fighting. Eh, not my business.

    When I go to return his shield, he mistakes me for being with the Ra Gada at first. I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯m dressed like an Orc and the Drublog were working with the invading force at the time, as silly as that was.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I assure him. ¡°I killed that bastard chieftain who thought allying with the Ra Gada was a great idea.¡±

    He¡¯s still grumbling a bit and might not be terribly convinced, but he¡¯s grateful to have his shield back.

    After being introduced to Gelur¡¯s daughter, we split up and explore town, browsing the shops and listening to the latest gossip. At some point, they¡¯re going to regret having Ilara mind me in town, because she never stops me from doing anything fun.

    A sign mentions that there¡¯s an Imperial-style house for sale in town for a surprisingly reasonable price. After bag upgrades, I feel like my view of money has been skewed a bit. It feels so cheap that I impulse-buy it and then as I¡¯m walking off with the deed, wonder why I just did that.

    There¡¯s a vendor there selling trained pet monkeys, and I absolutely must have one. There¡¯s one wearing a purple vest named Jingles (the monkey, not the vest). I purchase him and proclaim him to be King of the Monkeys. Half of my friends are thrilled at seeing him, and the other half are are less than thrilled.

    ¡°Oh, isn¡¯t he the cutest little darling!¡± Gelur says while Merry just sighs.

    ¡°Is this¡­ part of how to win friends and influence people?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Yep!¡± I reply cheerfully. ¡°Cute animals are an incredible disarming tactic. Sadly, no one around here reacts the same way to guars and they seem to prefer furry animals. Plus, he¡¯s at least as smart as a Nord and he¡¯s already trained in pickpocketing.¡±

    Jingles squeaks in protest.

    ¡°Fine, you¡¯re as smart as a Goblin,¡± I say.

    That seems to satisfy him.

    Eran clears his throat. ¡°Well, at least naming a monkey ¡®Jingles¡¯ beats calling an axe that¡­¡±

    ¡°He came pre-named,¡± I say. ¡°It would have been rude to rename him.¡±

    It¡¯s probably just as well the Jingles cannot speak, or he would be repeating his trainer¡¯s favorite jokes as well, which include such classics as, ¡°If a Bosmer goes in the forest, what does he wipe his butt with?¡±

    ¡°Greetings, Jingles-ri,¡± Ilara says, making a polite gesture. ¡°This one is Ilara-daro. May you walk on warm sands.¡±

    According to Gelur¡¯s daughter, there have been some problems with some hired mercenaries lately. (Gelur¡¯s daughter is named Athemel, as I remind myself. It would seem rude to keep simply referring to her as ¡°Gelur¡¯s daughter.¡±)

    The situation is that, with the problems from the Houndsmen recently, the trading post (or whoever is in charge of it) thought it a good idea to hire some mercenaries for security. The hired mercenaries are Colovians, and I can¡¯t say I¡¯m terribly familiar with that particular breed of human.

    The Khajiit named Eraral-dro (which I am never going to try to say aloud) might be the person in charge here? He has a job for me to help, because I clearly look so trustworthy and not just because Gelur¡¯s daughter vouched for us. I need to intercept a courier coming from the north. I wasn¡¯t planning on killing the messenger, but he insists on attacking me like an idiot. He clearly thinks himself a mighty mage just because he can cast an ice barrier, but not only am I wielding a fucking battle axe, it¡¯s not much help when it only covers your front and barely any of that. Unfortunately, I want to question him, so I can¡¯t just dismember him and be done with it.

    Anyway, with the courier captured and his letter delivered to Errararal-dro, the Khajiit wants me to put on the uniform and deliver a fake letter with new orders to send the mercenaries up against werewolves instead. I didn¡¯t even ask the bandits I recruited to go fight werewolves, sending them instead against soft targets that aren¡¯t especially scary on their own. (I mean, my view of potential risk might be a bit skewed, but I¡¯d still think the average person would just find a weird-colored Elf to be not much more threatening than usual.)

    ¡°I¡¯ll have the courier questioned to find out who their new employer is,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Provided he even knows, but he¡¯ll at least know who gave him the message.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I don¡¯t look like much of an Imperial,¡± I muse.

    ¡°You don¡¯t look like much of an Orc, either, and you¡¯ve still fooled actual Orcs who weren¡¯t looking too closely,¡± Eran points out.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Just get some swagger going!¡± Gelur suggests. ¡°Imperials always swagger like they own the continent.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°This is a silly idea.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a better plan?¡± asks the Khajiit, and I always love when people ask me that because I always do.

    Admittedly, sometimes my better plans involve impromptu decapitation, but that¡¯s still a valid backup plan.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just go as an Orc and wave gold at them. They won¡¯t care that I¡¯m not their usual courier.¡±

    ¡°Do you have more of a plan than that?¡± the Khajiit asks. ¡°We were thinking of assassinating their commanders and using werewolf paws to make it look like they¡¯d been killed by werewolves.¡±

    I stare at him. ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s a waste of perfectly good unscrupulous mercenaries. And they won¡¯t fall for it.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? They seemed not particularly bright.¡±

    ¡°Not being capable of poetry analysis doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re not competent with combat,¡± I say. ¡°If someone¡¯s thinking about fighting all the time and about being sneaky, of course they¡¯re going to be thinking people will be trying to be sneaky and wondering how they can fight it.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°I don¡¯t care how you do it, so long as we do not wind up being slaughtered by them.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°That would be a waste of a perfectly good Khajiit trading post. I¡¯ll take my payment in moon sugar.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Deal.¡±

    Although I have to wonder if these mercenaries realize there¡¯s a guildhall for the Fighters and Mages Guilds here. Neither of them seem willing to go out and kill werewolves or whatever, but I¡¯m quite sure that they¡¯d be capable of killing a few upstart mercenaries if their guildhall or favorite inn were under attack.

    ¡°The real question here is, who stands to benefit from the trading post being destroyed?¡± I ask the leading question, looking around the room.

    ¡°The Daggerfall Covenant or the Ebonheart Pact,¡± Eran suggests.

    ¡°The Worm Cult,¡± Merry adds. ¡°Although in their case, ¡®benefit¡¯ implies that they just want all of us to die.¡±

    ¡°Redfur Trading Post,¡± Ilara puts in lightly. ¡°Not that they would. Probably.¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± the Khajiit asks.

    ¡°It matters in how badly I need to murder their would-be employer to actually solve this problem,¡± I say.

    ¡°Their employer isn¡¯t even in Malabal Tor.¡±

    ¡°True, it would be a bit out of the way,¡± I say. ¡°But it¡¯s not like I was busy doing anything else.¡±

    ¡°Stopping the Worm Cult?¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Saving the world?¡± Gelur suggest.

    ¡°Conquering Tamriel in the name of the Aldmeri Dominion?¡± Eran puts in.

    ¡°Accidentally building an empire based on moon sugar?¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°Yeah, those things too,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, first off, I¡¯ll go talk to them. Ilara-daro, you¡¯re with me. Eran, guard the prisoner. Gelur and Merry, stand nearby and be ready in case negotiations go badly. Jingles, stay with Eran.¡± I point.

    Eran looks less than thrilled at the thought of suddenly being assigned to ¡®monkey-sitter¡¯ in addition to hostage guard, but makes no complaint.

    I haven¡¯t really dealt much with Colovians. Not living ones, at any rate, and the ones that wind up in Coldharbour tend not to exhibit much in the way of arrogance or interest in the politics of Nirn. Coldharbour changes everyone. Mostly for the worse.

    The captain of the Gold Coast Mercenaries is a woman named Aurelia Blasio. She seems surprised to see us.

    ¡°What is this?¡± the captain says. ¡°I was expecting a courier. You¡¯re not my men. Did the Baandari send you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, about that courier,¡± I say, folding my arms across my chest. ¡°He attacked us on sight. Wasn¡¯t a great life choice on his part. Who even does that? Do I look like someone that¡¯s a good idea to attack for no reason?¡±

    The captain clears her throat. ¡°I see. So are you here looking for retribution for being attacked?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I can be reasonable,¡± I say, my body posture anything but reasonable. ¡°It¡¯s not like I have an army of Orcs in my bag, after all.¡±

    ¡°What do you want, then?¡± the captain asks. ¡°Spit it out. I have things to do.¡±

    ¡°I have gold, drugs, property, and favors,¡± I say. ¡°Any offer anyone else makes you, I will match it, with a bonus.¡±

    ¡°Reasonable,¡± the captain says. ¡°I take it you killed my courier?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sure you understand, I must know who your would-be employer was. I have to know who my enemies are, after all, and I will be tracking down and murdering whoever sent him.¡±

    The captain makes a face. ¡°You looking for a name in exchange for his release?¡±

    ¡°Are you offering?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You¡¯re holding my man hostage for the name of someone threatening your allies,¡± the captain says. ¡°And you¡¯re probably going to torture him for the information if I don¡¯t give it to you.¡±

    I look at her silently, seeing no need to say anything here.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± the captain says. ¡°I¡¯d like to, but I don¡¯t have that information. You¡¯d need to talk to my boss, who hands our contracts.¡±

    ¡°Then send a message to your boss and tell him that someone has made you an offer you can¡¯t refuse,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll beat any offer anyone else makes. I¡¯d imagine the cats are underpaying you considering you¡¯re having to defend the place from Daedra, werewolves, and cultists. Otherwise, I¡¯ll get another band of mercenaries or just bring in my Orcs, and you can go peacefully while you have the chance.¡±

    The captain grumbles a bit. ¡°I am going to actually want more money if you want us fighting Daedra, werewolves, and cultists.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro wonders if you are worth it,¡± Ilara puts in sourly. ¡°This one has heard your men are not always the best guests. She has seen more respect and politeness out of Orcs.¡±

    The captain looks at her sourly, possibly mistaking her for one of the Khajiit with the trading post. ¡°We are absolutely worth it. The Gold Coast Mercenaries are the best this side of Tamriel.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what,¡± I say. ¡°You make sure your men are on their best behavior. I can get you a bonus incentive. How about that nice Imperial-style house in town? It would be much more comfortable than this camp, I¡¯d imagine.¡±

    ¡°You think the cats would actually let us move in there for a bribe?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I own it so I can do what I want with it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good offer,¡± the captain admits, her defensive posture softening. ¡°You can get money and drugs anywhere, but property is another matter. Usually the best you can hope for in my line of work is a drafty ruin. Fine. Release my courier and I¡¯ll send a reply to my boss with your offer.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget the name I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Right. Of course.¡±

    We head out of the tent, I give Ilara the signal we¡¯d arranged for ¡®hide and eavesdrop¡¯, and she disappears. Possibly literally. I meet up with Gelur and Merry and return to the building where I¡¯d left Eran.

    ¡°Good news!¡± I tell the captive courier cheerfully. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a hostage exchange instead of a torture session.¡±

    ¡°We were going to have a torture session?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°No, but the captain made some assumptions,¡± I say, going over to the courier. ¡°I¡¯m not a big fan of pointlessly inflicting pain.¡± I poke the courier in the forehead annoyingly. ¡°And you. How¡¯s about you try talking first instead of attacking on sight? Especially if it¡¯s five people including two mages and a guy with a battle axe.¡±

    ¡°Point taken,¡± the courier grumbles.

    ¡°You¡¯re very fortunate that you caught me in a good mood or there¡¯d have been a lot of bloodshed today,¡± I say, untying him. ¡°It¡¯s never too late to take charge of your own destiny.¡±

 Chapter 111: In Which I Have a Colorful Problem

    ¡°Did you buy that house just to bribe them with it?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°But it was a good deal!¡±

    ¡°Why did you give it to the mercenaries, then?¡±

    ¡°People tend to be more invested in protecting a place and its wellbeing when they have some stake in it,¡± I say.

    Eran blinks. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that.¡±

    ¡°If she does a good job, I might find some bullshit title to throw at her, too,¡± I say. ¡°People love bullshit titles.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t titles usually mean something?¡±

    ¡°Eh, lots of titles basically just mean ¡®favored suck-up¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°Thane, gulakhan, that sort of thing. Keep that in mind whenever you encounter a person who has a title that they didn¡¯t get through heredity, election, or advancement in a guild or military. They either sucked up for it or declared it upon themselves.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ have to remember that, I guess.¡±

    The Redguard swordsman, Merric, who does not have a glorious beard like Sai Sahan, has called a meeting of some important people in the Fighters Guild, and for some reason this meeting is being held in Vulkwasten of all places. Sees-All-Colors isn¡¯t present, which is unfortunate because she¡¯s the one I really wanted to talk to here. Eran and I come by wayshrine, leaving the others to relax and catch up with Gelur¡¯s daughter back at Baandari Trading Post and keep an eye on the mercenaries in case they change their minds about being reasonable.

    The Fighters Guildhall is full of some people I don¡¯t recognize who are apparently the ¡°province generals¡± of the Fighters Guild. And some of them look like they just, reluctantly, got dragged away from the party in Silvenar to be here and aren¡¯t particularly happy about it. I¡¯m sure contacting them and getting them to come here was the real reason why progress here has taken so long, because surely it couldn¡¯t have been so complicated to tell me to investigate the old guildmaster¡¯s death further.

    Aelif tells me how Jofnir (that was his name) had quarters nearby in Vulkwasten and that I should go in and look around while she keeps watch. This sounds more like she wants to rob the place than investigate the place, but whatever. This is hardly going to be very secret with a Khajiit doing pushups right outside the door, anyway.

    Dwemer bits are scattered about Jofnir¡¯s quarters, and I grab a journal from his hammock for whatever good it will do. A quick skim through it indicates that he had been hanging around a ruin called Ragnthar, and had stopped at Baandari Trading Post. I let Aelif know what I found, and pop over to the trading post via wayshrine to talk to the Fighters there.

    According to a woman in the guildhall, Ragnthar is weirder than your usual Dwemer ruin. Something about having entrances all over Tamriel but nobody knows where it actually is, and there¡¯s time and/or space weirdness going on with it.

    I¡¯ll be honest here. I haven¡¯t missed Dwemer weirdness. Their machines are neat, their technology is pretty amazing, even their focus on the tonal stuff wasn¡¯t so much weirder than your normal magic. But at the far edges of their studies, at the point where whatever it was that Kagrenac did made them all disappear? Honestly, I¡¯m quite sure that your average Dwemer would have been happy just tinkering with their metal spiders and perfecting the art of passive aggression and sarcasm, and not disillusioning the enatinomorph or whatever the fuck it was.

    Aelif meets up with me and Eran outside the trading post, having clearly teleported over here and also quite clearly teleported outside the trading post for some reason. She leads us to a nearby cave full of Dwemer gears, the back of which contains a glowy purple door. By which I mean the door is covered in purple glowiness, not that it¡¯s purple and glowing.

    From what she says, Aelif dislikes the idea of opposing a Daedric prince and would rather be fighting Goblins and bandits.

    ¡°Goblins and bandits are just hiring opportunities,¡± I say. ¡°But hey, if Nirn were a part of Coldharbour, they¡¯d be the least of our concerns.¡±

    Aelif makes a soft ¡°mrrrh¡± sound that doesn¡¯t sound like she especially agrees, and does something to make the weird purple glow go away so we can go inside.

    For a place supposedly outside of time or space or whatever it is, it looks pretty much like a normal Dwemer complex at first glance. I walk slowly, staring at my surroundings. It¡¯s easy to get accustomed to seeing Altmer and Bosmer and Orsimer architecture the likes of which I never saw in my past life, but I feel that I will never get used to seeing the homes of the Dwemer in ruins like this. Darkness, rust, crumbling masonry, and the distant clank of machines still trying to obey their last orders.

    Something odd is in the middle of a large room. A light barrier protecting a corpse, requiring me to fiddle with the machinery to deactivate it. The corpse is very likely that of Jofnir Iceblade, given the guild insignia I find on it. No fair! I never got a guild insignia! Admittedly, I only claim to be with the Fighters Guild when I interact with them and otherwise ignore them. I¡¯m already wearing enough hats. I should stop protesting, since we¡¯re being attacked.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    After smashing the Dwemer machines that attacked us, a Daedra appears and attacks us. An Auroran, one of Meridia¡¯s most likely. What in Oblivion would Meridia¡¯s involvement here be? Did whatever Jofnir¡¯s investigations were here involve the shiny thing?

    With the shield down, Aelif thinks she can summon Jofnir¡¯s spirit to question him about his murder. Eran looks distinctly uncomfortable about this all but says nothing as Aelif conjures up the ghost.

    I wish I could have her (or a necromancer I like better) summon up a Dwemer to have a chat with them. You can¡¯t summon Dwemer ghosts. (So I¡¯ve heard, not having exactly tried it myself.) At least, aside from the ones who died before the incident that made them all disappear. Chimer and such you can summon them and talk to them if you need some information or just want to say hello to your ancestors, but raising Dwemer has no effect due to the fuckery they did to themselves.

    Jofnir is greatly unhappy about being yanked back to Nirn by Aelif. She prods him and questions him while he strains against his bonds until he eventually says Sees-All-Colors murdered him. Aelif makes the image vanish at that point, spitting on the thought of him wanting to go to Sovngarde. Quite rude.

    ¡°There you have it,¡± Aelif says. ¡°Colors is guilty! Aelif knew it!¡±

    ¡°Was it really necessary to do that to poor dead Jofnir?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°We needed the information, yes?¡± Aelif says. ¡°It was necessary.¡± She waves a paw. ¡°Go, hurry on back to Vulkwasten and let the council know. Aelif wants to look around a bit more first.¡±

    I head for the door with Eran in tow, and wait until we¡¯re back in Malabal Tor and not wherever the fuck that weird ruin actually is before speaking.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust this at all,¡± I say. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°That cat is hiding something,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°There¡¯s definitely something fishy going on here,¡± I mumble. ¡°And I don¡¯t think it was whatever Aelif had for lunch. She would have them stop trying to fight the Dark Anchors. And that would be disastrous, since the Fighters Guild is the only thing holding the line in a lot of places.¡±

    ¡°What if Colors did murder the former guildmaster?¡±

    ¡°Colors was the one who arranged the Dark Anchor contract,¡± I say. ¡°If her position is called into question, they might just follow Aelif¡¯s advice and retract their aid.¡±

    ¡°Which would be disastrous,¡± Eran says. ¡°So what do we do?¡±

    ¡°We cover up a murder,¡± I say. ¡°How good are you at blatant lies?¡±

    Eran makes a face. ¡°Is this part of speechcraft training?¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°You should always be certain to get a reputation of being honest and dependable, so that when you do need to blatantly lie about something, people will believe you.¡±

    ¡°Lying for the sake of the greater good,¡± Eran sighs.

    ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t really like the phrase ¡®greater good¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°I mean, it implies that there¡¯s some objective ideal of ¡®goodness¡¯ rather than good for you and yours.¡±

    ¡°It implies that most people on Nirn whose opinions I might potentially care about would be better off if the God of Brutality weren¡¯t trying to turn their homes into a hell realm.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± I say.

    ¡°In any case, I¡¯ll follow your lead.¡±

    I return to Vulkwasten to inform Merric and the council of a slightly edited version of what we found.

    ¡°So, guys, did you know Aelif¡¯s a necromancer?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Distasteful magic,¡± Merric says with a grimace. ¡°I suspected she knew some magic, but necromancy? What did she do?¡±

    ¡°And am I mistaken in my impression that Iceblade died peacefully in his sleep at home and his body should have been on the way to Skyrim for burial by now?¡± I ask. ¡°And not that it was dragged to a weird Dwemer ruin Aelif just so happened to have a way to access?¡± I pull out the guild insignia I¡¯d found and show it to them.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t personally seen his body, but that¡¯s what we were told,¡± says one of the important people, frowning at it. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Aelif tried to frame Sees-All-Colors for the last guildmaster¡¯s murder,¡± I say. ¡°She dragged forth Jofnir¡¯s ghost and puppeted it like a puppet, forcing pained words out of him.¡±

    ¡°It was terrible, hearing him scream like that,¡± Eran says. ¡°Begging to be released so that he may be allowed to pass on to Sovngarde. I¡¯ve seen cultists do some awful things, but to see someone who was supposed to be a comrade? Sickening.¡±

    ¡°Where is Aelif now?¡± Merric says, his voice half a growl.

    I shake my head. ¡°She disappeared before we could confront her. I¡¯d bet she¡¯ll play innocent and try to point to her ¡®evidence¡¯ gained by necromantic torture.¡±

    ¡°How could Aelif benefit from Jofnir Iceblade¡¯s death?¡± asks another of the important people.

    ¡°Well¡­ she¡¯s a necromancer,¡± I say. ¡°And she was very vehement against us fighting Molag Bal.¡±

    Merric frowns. ¡°I have heard her speak such words. Full of complaints, she has been. I never imagined she might betray us, though. I had thought better of her.¡±

    I could almost believe the lie myself. It¡¯s too easy to frame a necromancer just by pointing out statements that happen to be true and exaggerating. I¡¯ll apologize to her preemptively should it turn out she¡¯s just a grouchy necromancer who is too lazy to want to fight Daedra. Colors, I hope you appreciate this.

    ¡°I¡¯ll put out a warrant for Aelif¡¯s arrest,¡± says someone presumably important enough to do that.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t seen any sign of Colors, either,¡± Merric says. ¡°She must have realized Aelif had betrayed her. Betrayed us. I had thought better of her¡­ Could she have been behind my capture by that Dremora, Doshia? A spy, that singled me out and led them to me, and handed me right off into their arms while innocently turning her back?¡±

    I¡¯m impressed. One spark to start questioning it and they¡¯re already finding more damning questions about Aelif¡¯s involvement to the point where I have to start to wonder whether it¡¯s true.

    I bid them farewell as we head back to the wayshrine to return to Baandari Trading Post.

    ¡°Do you think Aelif did something untoward?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Beyond the necromantic torture that we saw in front of us. Which, whatever else Aelif has done, probably was not entirely necessary.¡±

    ¡°I think there¡¯s more going on here than we realize,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Come on. I want to find something simple to do, like make a trip to the Shivering Isles or something. I think I spotted Valaste while we were investigating and she was trying to get my attention but I was busy.¡±

    ¡°Right, the Shivering Isles¡­¡± Eran says. ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me if I sit that one out.¡±

    I chuckle as we part ways, with Eran heading toward the inn and me off toward the guildhall.

 Chapter 112: In Which I Engage in Monkey Business

    The Fighters Guild and Mages Guild in Baandari Trading Post are located in the same large building, and Valaste is sitting on some fluffy Khajiit pillows when I arrive, reading something that does not look Madgod-related. I¡¯m amazed that she took a moment to take a break and do some light reading. Even if the light reading is Folly in Fixation.

    ¡°How do you always know where I¡¯m going, anyway?¡± I wonder.

    Valaste gives me a look. ¡°You are many things, but keeping a low profile isn¡¯t one of your strengths. I finished deciphering the book some time ago. I heard you were solving a crisis involving werewolves. That seemed important, so I decided to sit here and wait until you were done and catch up on my reading of non-mad books.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you taking a moment to relax,¡± I say. ¡°Even if it was just from enforced downtime. The crazy Hircine worshippers hopefully won¡¯t be a problem anymore, at least.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized how much it might help to approach something with a clear mind after taking a break,¡± Valaste says. ¡°It didn¡¯t take as long to finish deciphering this book.¡±

    Valaste explains to me about how she¡¯d located the last book for Shalidor in a place called the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent, located deep within Dementia, a dark and ominous region in the Shivering Isles. She still seems a bit tired despite her break, but is able to open a portal for me.

    ¡°Alright!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Jingles, you¡¯re with me. To the Shivering Isles, my faithful monkey!¡±

    I arrive in a place of twisted trees and heavy purple fog, glad that even though Dementia is dark and ominous, it¡¯s dark and ominous in a very different manner than Coldharbour. Archmage (or Arch-Mage? Why does that need to be hyphenated? Eh, whatever.) Shally greets me when I arrive, fervently ignoring the monkey, although he doesn¡¯t have much worthwhile to say before Sheogorath shows up and banishes him.

    Sheogorath stares at me for a long moment, making some very interesting expressions as he does so.

    ¡°Look at that, look at that,¡± Sheogorath drawls, looking at that. ¡°I always thought you¡¯d have made a good Orc, considering you got betrayed so much before that you might as well have tried to mantle Malacath. I might not have even recognized you if you didn¡¯t still have my melodically musical mark on you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not mad that I picked him over you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯m definitely mad, but angry? No,¡± Sheogorath says.

    ¡°Wait, do I really look like an Orc to you?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°You don¡¯t really think you¡¯re still a Chimer, do you? Oh, some of you might still be a bit confused, but the important pieces are all Orc.¡±

    I have no idea how much of that¡¯s accurate or how much Malacath just made it look like that. Possibly both? Did he just paint my insides green or something? I¡¯ll not question it too much, honestly. It¡¯s fine either way.

    ¡°At least you didn¡¯t pick someone boring like Meridia,¡± Sheogorath goes on. ¡°You were really sounding like you wanted to suck up to the light bitch for a little bit there, and let me tell you a little secret. She¡¯s got plans, even though she doesn¡¯t know you are you. Lady of Too Much Light, planning in the dark, hah!¡±

    ¡°Can you give me a hint?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry about that right now,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°She still thinks her chosen hero is a Dark Elf woman, currently off saving Skyrim or trashing Skyrim or something.¡±

    ¡°Who is that Dark Elf woman, anyway?¡± I wonder.

    Sheogorath grins toothily at me. ¡°How about I throw in the name as a bonus if you do well here? I know you don¡¯t care about Shally¡¯s silly books.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Now, are you going to introduce me to the fancy monkey or not?¡± Sheogorath wonders.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯ve been remiss in the introductions,¡± I say. ¡°I got distracted. Allow me to present His Majesty, Jingles, King of the Monkeys. Jingles, Sheogorath, Prince of Madness and Stuff of That Nature.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I am in the presence of royalty, I see!¡± Sheogorath gives a shallow bow to the monkey, who bows back.

    ¡°Did I actually talk to you in a dream, or am I just going mad?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°A dream?¡± Sheogorath says, peering at me intently. ¡°Oh, I daresay you¡¯re already mad, and I say that with a dare, too. If you¡¯ve been dreaming of your ol¡¯ Uncle Sheo, I¡¯ll be flattered! Was it a good dream? A fun dream? A raaaunchy dream? Or a bloodthirsty sort of dream?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember at all,¡± I lie, not wanting to get into that even slightly.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Oh, very well.¡± The Madgod gestures off toward a building in the distance. ¡°Without further ado, then, welcome to the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent!¡±

    He goes into a long-winded description of the place that I don¡¯t pay terribly much attention to. I¡¯m busy admiring the auroras streaking the sky above giant mushrooms. If I didn¡¯t know this were Oblivion, I might have thought it were night somewhere in northern Vvardenfell. Perhaps Sheogorad, fittingly enough. The architecture of the building itself also looks like something my ancestors or their descendants might have constructed.

    According to Sheogorath, there are three guests in the chateau and one of them is ¡°not fitting in¡±, while the other two are apparently insane cannibals. Because I¡¯m sure sane cannibals would have fallen under Namira¡¯s jurisdiction instead.

    I head inside the building and help myself to a pie and a couple of pieces of cheese laying on the table in the middle of the room, and toss them into my pack for later. I¡¯m sure Sheogorath won¡¯t mind, or he wouldn¡¯t have left them there. The firepit is full of corpses, and the room is furnished with a guillotine, a stockade, a bunch of cages, and a forge. Given the rest of the decor, I¡¯m not sure that I want to consider too hard what the forge might be used for, and yet wind up considering it anyway.

    I speak to the guests through doors barred on this side. One threatens to wear my face as a mask, one rambles something about the poetry of her soul, and one threatens to sue me. Right, sue me. I open the door and shoo him off as he spews threats of lawsuits all the way. It would be hilarious being sued just to see if any lawyer in Summerset would actually take his case. Sheogorath opens a portal, and Lawsuit Guy refuses to take it, rushing for the front door instead. I¡¯m not sure how he thinks he¡¯s going to get out of the Shivering Isles that way, unless Valaste still has the portal open.

    Next, Sheogorath sends me to navigate a shadowy maze full of transparent animals and to light braziers along the way. Fortunately, Jingles is smart enough to evade anything that tries to bother him. And Shalidor won¡¯t stop trying to do commentary and give ¡°advice¡±, annoying me almost as much as he¡¯s annoying Sheogorath.

    ¡°Please shut up, Shalidor,¡± I sigh, rolling my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m here for the game, not the prize.¡±

    I light all the braziers. I also set fire to all the Dunmer furniture I run across along the way, at least the bits that are flammable. That part probably wasn¡¯t necessary but I do it anyway. I successfully navigate the maze, with or without Shalidor trying to ¡°help¡±, and emerge on the other side.

    ¡°Well, I only meant for you to light the braziers and not the chairs and sofas too, but what¡¯s a little pyromania between friends?¡± Sheogorath says.

    Sheogorath sends me into another building to ¡°meet the family¡±. This mostly involves killing madmen who attack me. It¡¯s quite nice and relaxing. I¡¯ve been doing entirely too much not-killing lately. I¡¯m still half-cursing myself for taking the practical approach with bandits and mercenaries. There are times I wish I could just think like an adventurer and ignore the larger ramifications of my actions.

    I make my way through the large building, and come upon a sealed door. Purple beams waver out from crystals toward it, sealing it closed. Oh look, it¡¯s a stupid light puzzle. I always love stupid puzzles. This one looks so stupid that there¡¯s only four light crystals, unless Sheogorath is fucking with my head by hiding a fifth light somewhere, and I really wish more of these puzzles would employ that sort of trickery. As it is, this one is so simple I¡¯m sure even a monkey could solve it.

    ¡°Jingles!¡± I say. ¡°Let me show you how to do light puzzles!¡±

    I hope no one is in any particular hurry about this, because I am totally teaching this monkey how to solve stupid light puzzles. Sheogorath, at least, seems to find it hilarious. When the monkey finally gets the solution, it¡¯s probably completely by accident.

    Sheogorath tells a long-winded story about someone called Uncle Leo. This Leo apparently made a deal with Sheogorath, something about having a lot of sex so long as he didn¡¯t have sex with the same person twice. He then tried to cheat his way out of it by not-cheating, and Sheogorath claimed him for it. Naturally, now I have to go beat him up.

    Uncle Leo is now a flesh atronach with a brazier and mace for hands, which is really not going to be getting him much sex unless the people he¡¯s trying to have sex with are incredibly kinky. (And probably Daedra.) I kill him. He¡¯ll probably be back. That¡¯s kind of one of the other things I love/hate about killing things in Oblivion. They come back, sooner or later, so you don¡¯t need to worry terribly much about holding back or feeling bad about it.

    (I¡¯ve heard some dumb rumors by ignorant people that if you kill Daedra in Oblivion, they die permanently and never come back. This is blatantly not true and I don¡¯t know where this rumor started. Perhaps from idiots, perhaps from the Daedra themselves spreading misinformation. Daedra are immortal, meaning they cannot die, ever, just be temporarily inconvenienced.)

    Back at the top of the stairs, Sheogorath is standing next to a book that¡¯s glowing purple and floating like a butterfly as the other ones had, having appeared there while my back was turned. He starts applauding.

    ¡°Good show, good show!¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°I particularly liked the part with the monkey. Have you trained him to juggle yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, but that¡¯s a splendid idea,¡± I say.

    ¡°Now, I believe I promised you a name,¡± Sheogorath says, grinning. ¡°Not that a name by itself will do you much good, but you asked, and I shall oblige. The name is¡­ Theryn Teldras.¡± He chuckles at my expression. ¡°Yes, it doesn¡¯t mean anything to you, yet. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll probably loathe her. She¡¯s terribly boring.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, here¡¯s your prize,¡± Sheogorath says, gesturing to the book. ¡°Or Shally¡¯s prize. Or Valaste¡¯s prize, really. Give her my regards, would you? She¡¯s been a dear. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be seeing you again before too long.¡±

    I retrieve the last floating book with my butterfly net, and Sheogorath sends me back to the guildhall in Baandari Trading Post.

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Valaste says, eying the book. ¡°I take it your trip was successful? I hope he didn¡¯t ask you to do anything too distressing.¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± I say, hanging the book over to her. ¡°It was practically a vacation. Arson, murder, and stargazing.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡­ good? I think?¡± Valaste chuckles, taking a look at the book. ¡°A Gift of Sanctuary, hmm? That sounds considerably more pleasant than it probably is. I¡¯ll get started on it, and then show up later at whichever guildhall you are going to visit next.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± I say.

    I head back to meet up with my friends again to assure them that I am still alive and no more mad than I already was to begin with. Probably.

    ¡°Hey, guys,¡± I say, pulling out the pie from my pack. ¡°Who wants pie?¡±

 Chapter 113: In Which I Almost Pity a Dog

    My friends make me spend some time with Roku before we continue exploring Valenwood, possibly to make sure that I haven¡¯t completely lost my mind after visiting the Shivering Isles, or whatever would pass for me losing my mind. (I mean, sure, sometimes I feel like I¡¯m losing my mind, but I don¡¯t think the Shivering Isles is going to be what does it. Even the bad parts of it are like the nice parts of Vvardenfell. Although maybe that says more about Vvardenfell than anything else¡­)

    I check back in at Silvenar to make sure everything still hasn¡¯t turned weird. The party is still ongoing. How the fuck long is this party going to last? At least I get a chance to speak with the Silvenar and Green Lady this time, who assure me that whatever it was that I did at Valeguard actually fixed something.

    I meet up with that former Worm Cultist that was feeling guilty about it and turned on them back at that other Ayleid ruin. What was her name again? Not-Ari.

    ¡°Thanks for letting me enjoy the party for a little bit,¡± she says, as if I hadn¡¯t just forgotten about her. ¡°Where do you want me?¡±

    I consider for a moment. ¡°Is your party staying with you?¡±

    Not-Ari nods. ¡°We¡¯re sticking together. We¡¯ve already been through a lot together.¡±

    They¡¯re not nearly as skilled or experienced as a party like mine, or they wouldn¡¯t have run into as much trouble as they did with the Worm Cult. Admittedly, they were taken by surprise, but still. I don¡¯t know them well enough to gauge what their actual capabilities are.

    ¡°Head for Dra¡¯bul and report to my wife,¡± I say. ¡°Tell her Neri sent you. She¡¯ll know where to put you and get you more training if need be.¡±

    Someone at the party mentions a village called Wilding Run not far from there. They were expecting a relative who would have been there to come to the party, but there has been no sign of them. I decide to go check it out and probably bring back some bad news, given the way things have been going in Tamriel. It¡¯s too bad the Silvenar didn¡¯t give me a map of problems to solve in Valenwood like the Wilderqueen did.

    Not far from the wayshrine, we run across a Bosmer who says something about undead and how he was expecting the Fists of Thalmor to show up and take care of it, and then gets confused about the huge grin on my face as I pull out my axe.

    ¡°Fuck yes!¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go hit some undead!¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re not with the Thalmor, then I¡¯m grateful for the battle-lust of Orcs, I suppose,¡± the Bosmer says.

    We charge in and start killing zombies. As we¡¯re doing that, a Bosmer woman (a corporal, as she shortly introduces herself) runs up to us wondering at our sanity and urging us to leave.

    ¡°We¡¯re trying to find some missing soldiers,¡± Eran says. ¡°Also, I¡¯d like to see you try to discourage this guy from killing undead.¡±

    I let out a joyful whoop as I decapitate two zombies in one strike.

    ¡°Good point,¡± the corporal says. ¡°I¡¯ve found some corpses, but I haven¡¯t found the captain or the lieutenant. Normally I¡¯d be concerned about these undead getting up and attacking us later but the way you¡¯re dismembering them and setting them on fire will probably keep them down for long enough to search the camps and the ruins.¡±

    ¡°If anything gets up to be annoying again after that, I¡¯m sure Neri will just hit them again and explode them for good measure,¡± Eran says.

    The corporal decides she¡¯d be better off following along with us as we make our way through the infested area. The unfortunate part about all this is that we¡¯re within hearing distance of the Dark Anchor still and I keep twitching and wanting to run over and hit Daedra. That thing is entirely too close to absolutely everything over there, though, and between the Fighters Guild and the mercenaries I prodded into making themselves useful instead of annoying, they¡¯ve got the thing covered.

    As we move further on, the zombies are joined by angry ghosts who threaten us, but they¡¯re fortunately the hittable sort of ghost that dissipate when I smack them hard enough. We also find fragments of a journal by someone named Ralion. Ralion, like an idiot, dismisses things as mere ¡°nursery rhymes¡± and ¡°doesn¡¯t believe in ghosts¡±. Seriously? I can¡¯t imagine that anyone on the face of Nirn could possibly not realize that souls are a real thing and there are a million kinds of undead in varying degrees of corporealness and angriness. Even though I¡¯m admittedly more well-traveled than most, it seems as foolish as denying the existence of, say, Daedra, or Nords.

    When we reach the central ruins, we¡¯re attacked by a Khajiit named Marafi who might be alive but is definitely crazy. Something about how someone ¡°will never be yours and belongs to Marafi¡±.

    At the far edge of the village, on a cliff overlooking the water with an excellent view of the Gold Coast within spitting distance from here, I find a Skyshard and a book titled The Totems of Hircine. (Summary: Some people think lycanthropy is awesome.)

    ¡°Could I swim to the Gold Coast from here?¡± I wonder aloud.

    ¡°There¡¯s probably slaughterfish down there,¡± Eran says reasonably. ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t try, considering there¡¯s perfectly good boats.¡± Then he notices my expression and sighs. ¡°Or at least do it naked. You¡¯re totally going to go swimming in slaughterfish-infested waters naked sometime but you can do that later. We¡¯re busy killing undead, remember?¡±

    ¡°Right, yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Back to the undead!¡±

    We come upon a man the corporal recognizes as the captain, and also a transparent blue hound that looks distressingly familiar and raises my hackles. I grip my axe tightly and wonder if this apparition is solid enough to give a good solid smack. The captain doesn¡¯t acknowledge our presesnce, merely continues gazing at the blue canine.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The dog speaks in a voice I¡¯ve come to be highly annoyed of, and introduces itself as a shadow of Ulthorn, also known as the Hound, and seeks to make amends.

    ¡°You damned well better be seeking to make amends,¡± I say. ¡°Do you have any idea how fucking annoying you have been? I had to do timey-wimey story bullshit! And you were sexually harassing the Green Lady! I killed you! Twice!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am¡­ sorry about all that,¡± the Hound says, and I¡¯m not good enough at reading canine expressions to tell whether he¡¯s being properly contrite. ¡°I am but a piece of him, and not the piece that did all that. I can help you save the captain, if you let me. It will not be easy.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I say.

    ¡°You think we can trust him?¡± Eran wonders quietly.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°But seeing as killing him hasn¡¯t stuck, we might as well give it a shot.¡±

    That¡¯s when the Hound explains what happened with him, terribly, horrifyingly. Hircine took him in, and hollowed him out, and broke off any parts of him that were good, calm, or peaceful. He forged Ulthorn into the Hound, a weapon to hunt down the Green Lady in his name. I almost drop my axe when I hear the way he describes it.

    ¡°By Malacath, that¡¯s awful,¡± I say, holding fast to Malacath¡¯s name to not think about how Molag Bal could have done that to me if I¡¯d faltered for even a moment. A mer with my face, destroying everything I ever cared about. I eat a piece of moon sugar candy and take some deep breaths.

    (I shouldn¡¯t eat too much of this stuff or I might see butterflies, but seeing butterflies is much preferable to thinking about the God of Fuck-You.)

    The Hound takes us into a prison pocket of Oblivion where we need to solve some puzzles to release the captain. I let Ilara do it this time rather than the monkey while I busily hit anything that¡¯s being aggressive. There¡¯s a bunch of huntsmen in here, though there won¡¯t be for long, unless they¡¯re actually Daedra or just Vestiges that already belong to Hircine and are here because I killed them back on Nirn already. Doesn¡¯t matter terribly much, I suppose.

    With the puzzles solved, the way is open to let us enter a creepy cave. A big snake Daedra that the Hound calls Ozzai is inside, tormenting the captain, so we charge in and kill it. Him. Her? What the fuck ever, it¡¯s a snake Daedra, who even cares? If Daedra don¡¯t want to be called ¡°it¡±, then they shouldn¡¯t act like monsters.

    Once the harvester has been temporarily inconvenienced by means of a battle axe (and some spells and arrows), the captain is freed and the Hound sends us back to where we started.

    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s awful,¡± Gelur says. ¡°He brought it on himself, when he went to Hircine in the first place, but who can blame him for being distressed¡­¡± She shakes her head. ¡°He went nuts, and the Prince of the Hunt was ready to take every advantage of it.¡±

    I really hate to think what might have happened had I been unwilling to let Ari become the Wilderqueen and been desperate enough to see a Daedric Prince about it. And what might have happened if I had my heart set on marrying Ayrenn but that wasn¡¯t possible for whatever reason? And I¡¯m not even going to bother to think about Ayem because I probably would have been better off without her.

    But now I have Roku, an unexpected wonder but one that goes to show that if you cling too hard to wishes and expectations, you can miss out on opportunities. We reach the wayshrine and I teleport us back to Dra¡¯bul, looking forward to spending the evening with her. I encounter her not far inside the gate, with an Orc woman I don¡¯t recognize behind her.

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Roku says. ¡°There¡¯s an Orc here looking to marry you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Grishka gra-Gushnukbur,¡± the Orc woman says, introducing herself with a full name that I am never, ever going to attempt to use in casual conversation. ¡°You killed my father. He was an ass and had it coming when he decided to challenge Bramblebreach. I, like any sensible Orc, decided to run away when the entire forest decided to attack us. Only a fool battles a natural disaster.¡±

    ¡°I might classify myself as a natural disaster sometimes¡­¡±

    I may have slightly forgotten the part about Orc chieftains tending to have multiple wives. Or at least, my mind has been busy focusing on stopping one crisis after another. I swear I did not intend to start an Orc harem. I¡¯ve barely even had a chance to get used to being married to Roku.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I feel about marrying the daughters of people I killed,¡± I say.

    ¡°You killed my uncle,¡± Roku reminds me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit inevitable, isn¡¯t it? A lot of the clan woman you¡¯ll find are daughters of chiefs, and from what I¡¯ve heard, you killed a lot of chiefs.¡± Grishka chuckles. ¡°Not that only chiefs marrying means only chiefs have sex, of course.¡±

    ¡°How did you even get here so fast?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I, like any sensible Orc, used the resources available to me,¡± Grishka replies. ¡°I asked someone at the Mages Guild in Marbruk to teleport me here.¡±

    I blink. ¡°¡­ I think I like you already.¡±

    Grishka laughs heartily. ¡°It seems like useful magic. I wonder how hard it would be to learn? I know a little magic, but it¡¯s mostly for patching up idiots.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to the Altmer,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯ll claim it will take you a hundred years, just because it takes them a hundred years to learn to pull on pants. That¡¯s why so many of them wear dresses.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called a robe, Neri,¡± Merry says blandly. ¡°And yes, alas, we slow-learning Altmer must make the terrible choice between mastering the weaving of magicka and mastering the wearing of garments.¡±

    ¡°I see you¡¯ve found time to master the art of sarcasm in there, too,¡± I say. ¡°Roku, what do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think she would make a good addition to the family,¡± Roku says with a grin.

    I rub my face and say to Grishka, ¡°I think you do need to know what you¡¯re getting into here.¡±

    ¡°I already know that you¡¯re a High Elf,¡± Grishka says.

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot more to it than that and I¡¯m not¡­ let¡¯s just reconvene at my longhouse and sit down and I¡¯ll explain. I¡¯ve got the mother of all ¡®it¡¯s complicated¡¯ going on here and I just had to dealt with some idiot who thought it was a great idea to cry to Hircine when he couldn¡¯t get the girl he wanted and he¡¯s been causing problems for literally everyone in Malabal Tor and I¡¯ve killed him twice and now I just had to deal with some more weirdness involving him being split, hollowed out, with part of him being turned into a weapon and part of him into a prison, and it was weird and stupid and I need a drink.¡±

    Grishka stares at me with an expression becoming increasingly incredulous and sympathetic as I rant on. ¡°Damn, that sounds crazy.¡±

    We head over to my longhouse. I¡¯m kind of surprised at myself here. I¡¯d expected that I would be freaking out more over Orc women coming out of the woodwork wanting to marry me, but after all the shit that¡¯s been happening around me lately, I think I¡¯ve completely worn out my ability to freak out at something that¡¯s¡­ actually completely normal? It¡¯s so amazingly, refreshingly normal.

    Look, I¡¯m hardly so egotistical or vain to think everyone should be falling all over themselves wanting to sleep with me. But I acknowledge that apparently the things I do regularly are things that Orc women find attractive.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m going to take a bath before eating,¡± Eran says, nudging my friends in a very obvious bid to get me alone with the Orc women. ¡°We still smell like zombies and it¡¯s made me lose my appetite.¡±

    And that Orc women apparently consider showing up smelling of battle to be as good as Telvanni bug musk.

 Chapter 114: In Which All the Dead Ladies are Green

    ¡°Grishka sure is something,¡± Eran comments as we¡¯re heading back to the wayshrine in the morning.

    ¡°You jealous, Eran?¡± Gelur teases lightly.

    ¡°I have no particular desire to have Orcs throw themselves at me,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what Orcs find attractive. Should I wind up in a position where I find Orcs desiring a relationship with me, I may need to reconsider my life choices, or they¡¯re just strange Orcs.¡±

    ¡°Grishka¡¯s a bit of a strange Orc,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°In a good way, mind you.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll fit in well, then,¡± Gelur says. ¡°How¡¯d she take the¡­ you know? Did you tell her?¡±

    ¡°Of course I told her. It apparently makes so much more sense than me just being a really strange Altmer.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but the last scion of a dead race is such a romantic tale!¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°At least you¡¯re not an Ayleid,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°If I were an Ayleid, I would likely be struggling with the constant urge to punch myself in the face.¡±

    We teleport back to Baandari Trading Post and head north, in the general vicinity of that weird Dwemer ruin Aelif took me and Eran to. I keep an eye out, but see no sign of her, and the place is sealed up tight again. I¡¯m sure everything will work out alright.

    As we¡¯re traveling, we run across the ghost of a Bosmer woman standing on a bridge. She recognizes me, and after a reminder, I realize that she¡¯s the old Green Lady, Finoriell. She tells me about how when she died in Pyandonea, she was drawn back to rest in the sacred grove of Treehenge, but there¡¯s something wrong here that¡¯s keeping her from getting in and actually doing that resting thing.

    ¡°Back up a moment here,¡± I say. ¡°You actually went to Pyandonea?¡±

    ¡°I swam there, with the fury of the Green behind me!¡± the former Green Lady says, launching into a lovely tale of slaughtering Sea Elves.

    ¡°Clearly, even slaughterfish won¡¯t get in the way of a Green Lady bent on vengeance,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been beating them off from the shores of Valenwood ourselves,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯ve been a right nuisance. Can you tell me exactly where Pyandonea is?¡±

    ¡°You want to launch an invasion yourself?¡± the old Green Lady asks.

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I say. ¡°I want to deforest it by opening portals for logging. It would mean the Wood Orcs would need to cut down fewer trees in Valenwood, and the Maormer would have fewer resources to build ships to harass Tamriel with.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is actually pretty brilliant,¡± she says with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything I know once the situation here has been resolved.¡±

    We head into the root-covered tunnel. We find the hengekeeper (who I assume keeps the henge, although I¡¯m not quite clear on what a ¡°henge¡± actually is) not far inside, talking about how the spriggans are mysteriously angry and attacking anyone that comes close when they¡¯re normally docile.

    ¡°Alright, now taking bets,¡± I say. ¡°Five gold on it being somehow the Hound¡¯s fault.¡±

    ¡°I say Worm Cult,¡± Merry says, and Eran agrees.

    ¡°It was the Worm Cult,¡± the hengekeeper says.

    ¡°Oh, thank Malacath,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve had quite enough of dealing with Hircine¡¯s shit for now. Let¡¯s go beat the shit out of some cultists and fix whatever¡¯s wrong here.¡±

    We head through the tunnel, smacking spriggans as we go and poking green-glowing roots to wake up some more ghosts which will help somehow? I wasn¡¯t really listening to much after ¡°Worm Cult¡±.

    The tunnel opens to the top of a hill, with a woman-shaped tree in the middle of a ring of stones and flowers. More woman trees grow nearby, and the ghosts we¡¯d awoken are standing beneath them. (Is ¡®grow¡¯ really the right word? If they grew much more, they wouldn¡¯t be coincidentally shaped like women for much longer. Or does ¡®growing¡¯ also include the coincidental leaves covering their wooden tits?)

    The other ghost Green Ladies speak of how the cultists are poisoning the grove, and this is obviously bad. As we¡¯re speaking with them, the¡­ I can¡¯t just say Green Lady here, they¡¯re all Green Ladies. Finar¡­ Finol¡­ oh hell with it. Finny. Finny screams as purple chains appear around her and she vanishes. The hengekeeper thinks she was vulnerable since she wasn¡¯t properly rooted and the cultists want to corrupt her because they want to corrupt everything.

    ¡°There¡¯s an altar near here,¡± the hengekeeper says. ¡°You must cleanse it with the moon and stars!¡±

    I make a soft choking sound. ¡°What?¡±

    She clarifies herself as meaning moonlight on water and ¡°stars¡± as torchbugs.

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± I sigh. ¡°Yeah, fine, we¡¯ll get right on it.¡±

    I¡¯m trying very hard not to roll my eyes at poetic nonsense or wonder why exactly this is necessary and what it has to do with fixing things here.

    ¡°¡­ in fact, my friends here will get right on it,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll go clear out the cultists. It will be much easier to do that with fewer necromancers being assholes.¡±

    ¡°Good plan,¡± Gelur says generously.

    The ¡°moon-kissed water¡± is actually covered in vertical blue shafts that definitely don¡¯t go anywhere near the moons and neither Masser nor Secunda is actually blue. It¡¯s Azura that¡¯s blue, and I have no idea why these Green-loving Bosmer would worship Azura. It¡¯s surrounded by hoarvor, which I¡¯m happy to clear out and while Gelur collects weird blue-glowing water and Ilara catches ordinary-looking torchbugs and I want absolutely nothing to do with something called ¡°moon and stars¡± right now. Call me paranoid, but sometimes I¡¯m paranoid.

    They use those on the altar in question, and a green wisp appears above it speaking in Finny¡¯s voice. She speaks of how the cultists want to corrupt her and turn her into an abomination and she needs to take root and then she flutters off to ¡°take root¡± inside the hengekeeper which just sounds a little creepy to me, but yeah let¡¯s get back to hitting cultists.

    I run across an Altmer woman dressed in Mages Guild garb babbling something not especially coherent about the cultists ruining her research, something about retrieving notes and carved ivory or something and taking it back to the Mages Guild and oh by the way she¡¯s dying of poison.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°You might have led with that,¡± I say as I shove Restoring Light into her, but Gelur is already healing her.

    ¡°My time has come!¡± the Altmer says dramatically, looking like she¡¯s about to throw herself back onto the ground and perish on the spot and seems rather confused when there¡¯s no perishing happening. ¡°Huh?¡±

    Gelur practically force-feeds her a potion bottle she¡¯d grabbed out of her bag. ¡°Antidote. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°How did you know what sort of poison to cure?¡±

    ¡°Magic,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯d hardly be a very good healer if I didn¡¯t have diagnostic spells. Now get yourself to safety. If we don¡¯t find whatever it is you wanted us to look for, you can look for it yourself once we¡¯ve killed all the cultists.¡±

    When we get back to the hengekeeper, we find her glowing green with Finny¡¯s¡­ spirit? Or something? I guess? Whatever it is, the hengekeeper sends us out to stop the Worm Cultists from torturing spriggans next. This doesn¡¯t really need to be complicated. Step 1: Enter grove. Step 2: Kill all cultists. Step 3: Anything that needs to be done will be a lot easier to do once all the cultists are dead.

    The cultists who are tormenting the spriggans are making themselves extra obvious with columns of red light surrounded by black swirly badness. It¡¯s so nice of them to advertise their presence so I know where to put my axe.

    Once we¡¯ve killed those, a voice from nowhere tells us how our efforts are wasted and to follow the light to the waterfall and the slowest ass torchbug letting off white light slowly, slowly moves in the general direction of the waterfall. I hope she didn¡¯t mean that literally because I¡¯m not waiting around for that.

    At the waterfall, a spriggan talks to us and tells us to go get some seed from a cave to use it to heal Finny. And for all people keep talking about how things are so urgent and we need to be quick, they really insist on talking about the history of absolutely everything. Look, plant lady, I don¡¯t need to know about how this weird magic seed existed before the Green Pact and whatever else.

    And maybe the spriggan could have avoided the whole ¡®slowest torchbug ever¡¯ and ¡®most pointless history lesson ever¡¯ in favor of actually making the haste that she insisted we needed to make, since while it was busy yanking us around with that, Finny¡¯s been captured again. I¡¯m not the one who has trouble prioritizing things here to need to be kept on track, for fuck¡¯s sake.

    We come up to the end of the path to find a cultist hovering in the air while waving their hands around ominously, surrounded by pillars of red light, with Finny¡¯s green glowing orb of soul/spirit/self/whatever floating over a basin. I plant an axe in the cultist while Gelur plants the soul in a plant.

    I jump off a small cliff to get back to the hengekeeper and for once my friends don¡¯t complain about it. (It¡¯s not like it¡¯s a tall enough cliff to actually hurt us anyway.) The hengekeeper decides that since Finny is so weak, she¡¯ll need to give her all her life force so that she¡¯ll root properly.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t part of the life force of multiple people work better?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡± Gelur volunteers.

    I¡¯m not even entirely sure what ¡®life force¡¯ entails. Magicka? Stamina? Health? Any of those should be simple enough to restore without significant long-term harm. I mean, provided you have miraculous restoration magic skills. Look, I barely understand what magicka is. I trust Gelur knows what she¡¯s doing more than an over-dramatic hengekeeper, though. (Really, why do so many people feel the need to be so dramatic about everything?)

    Finny roots, whatever that means, and I can¡¯t help but keep thinking it sounds vaguely dirty (heh), anyway she¡¯s fine, everyone¡¯s fine, except the cultists who have all taken a swift trip to their asshole god courtesy of a battle axe so they¡¯re fine too.

    ¡°This is incredible,¡± Finny says, appearing before us as a mer-shaped ghost rather than a glowy green wisp again. ¡°The roots, the thoughts and memories of the other incarnations of the Green Lady¡­ ah, but I believe I owe you some information.¡±

    ¡°Information?¡± the hengekeeper says, then looks at me. ¡°You didn¡¯t withhold your aid for the sake of a reward, did you?¡±

    ¡°They did nothing of the sort,¡± Finny says. ¡°Neri is an old friend who helped me avenge my Silvenar when he was murdered by the Sea Elves. I swam to Pyandonea and killed as many as I could, but perhaps what I saw will accomplish more than I did in stopping those accursed Maormer.¡±

    ¡°Are we actually doing this?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Which of you will be casting the portal?¡± Finny asks.

    ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t think any of us can actually do that,¡± I say. ¡°My method of transportation requires sites I¡¯ve attuned myself with. Are you sure you can handle this? You still seem kind of weak.¡±

    Finny chuckles. ¡°I am still weak, but I grow stronger by the minute. This is nothing. Bring me your portal mage and I will help.¡±

    ¡°You intend to strike back at the Sea Elves with a long-range portal?¡± the hengekeeper says. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ bold.¡±

    This is the point where I pretend that I actually had a plan and not just an insane idea I had while high.

    ¡°I¡¯ll find one,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll need to set up some logistics. I know someone who might be willing to help, though.¡±

    ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not thinking of Ealcil,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. ¡°That guy in Cormount. Whatever his name was.¡±

    ¡°For once, I also don¡¯t remember his name,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯m not especially confident in you convincing someone whose name you don¡¯t even remember,¡± Merry says. ¡°But then, you can sell sand to Khajiit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s either that or go help the Prophet and hire him on in exchange for helping with his bullshit,¡± I say.

    Next stop, Cormount, and since we¡¯re quite a ways from the nearest wayshrine, I decide to be lazy and teleport us directly to the Cormount wayshrine. I am so glad that I realized (that is, Malacath told me) that I could do that. It feels like such a cheat I almost expect to have to pay for it or something, although that would be silly. In my albeit limited experience, gold is not a common component in magic.

    I speak with the treethane, who does helpfully point me to the portal mage. I make a bit of small talk, asking how things have been going with the stuff we probably shouldn¡¯t talk about in public, and he makes vague positive noises to indicate that they are probably happening in a direction he¡¯s happy with.

    ¡°Things have been slow going, unfortunately,¡± the portal mage says. ¡°Proper, legal justice apparently takes more time to arrange than summary executions. I¡¯m getting tired of waiting. Still, things have been quiet here, so I shouldn¡¯t complain.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about Sea Elves?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s a leading question if I ever heard one,¡± the portal mage says. ¡°We don¡¯t get a lot of trouble with them in Cormount, obviously, but I haven¡¯t exactly heard anything good about them. They¡¯re a constant scourge on the coastline.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve spent as much time fighting Sea Elves as anything else,¡± I say. ¡°Do you think your portals could reach Pyandonea?¡±

    The portal mage frowns thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯d have to know exactly where it is and be able to visualize it. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯d be able to sustain an inter-continental portal, even so.¡±

    ¡°The last Green Lady says she swam there to avenge her Silvenar, who was murdered by Sea Elves,¡± I say. ¡°She said she¡¯d help target it.¡±

    ¡°She swam there?¡± the portal mage says. ¡°By Y¡¯ffre. You¡¯ve contacted her spirit?¡±

    ¡°I just had to deal with quite a lot of bullshit up at Treehenge, yes. The Worm Cult has been being irritating again. And yet I¡¯ve still fought the Sea Elves more often than them, which is just fucking ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°So you want to invade Pyandonea?¡± the portal mage asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I want to deforest Pyandonea.¡±

    He coughs in surprise. ¡°What? That¡¯s¡­ Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Fewer ships for Sea Elves to harass our shores with,¡± I say. ¡°Fewer trees in Valenwood that the Wood Orcs will need to cut down.¡±

    The portal mage just starts laughing. ¡°Oh, Y¡¯ffre, that¡¯s¡­¡± He starts laughing again. ¡°Where did you even come up with this idea?¡±

    ¡°Moon sugar and a lot of focused irritation at having to constantly deal with Sea Elves,¡± I say. ¡°How impractical is this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, it¡¯s going to take a lot of magicka and resources, and I assume you¡¯re good on the Orc lumberjacks, who I also expect would be able to defend themselves from any Sea Elves that find out and take offense. Maintaining a portal large enough to haul goods through might be difficult.¡±

    ¡°What if they used magic bags?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Exactly how much money are you planning to put into this project if you¡¯re looking to equip Orc lumberjacks with magic bags to carry logs back in their pockets?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really, really annoyed at Sea Elves and I have Orcs who are going to need wood. Would magic rocks help? I took over quite a lot of Ayleid ruins. Some of which had fucking Sea Elves in them.¡±

    ¡°Before you sink too much into it, I¡¯ll get to Treehenge and see if I can get a portal to reach that far at all,¡± the portal mage says.

    ¡°So you¡¯ll help?¡±

    ¡°With the rebellion taken care of, I don¡¯t have much to do here right now and it sounds like protecting the Green in an incredibly circuitous manner would be fun. What else did I spend so much time perfecting the art of portal magic for?¡±

 Chapter 115: In Which the Worm King Never Shuts Up

    I¡¯m not looking forward to this, but I suppose I can put it off no longer. Prophet Varen Too-long-lastname has been poking at me during quiet moments to come help get the damned amulet of doom because we really do need to keep it out of Mannimarco¡¯s hands. So, I let my wives know what¡¯s going on in case something stupid happens, and teleport over to Vastarie¡¯s tower.

    The place has been spruced up quite a bit since how it was when I last visited. No signs of Daedric mess, no broken furniture, there¡¯s even been some new plants planted.

    Lyris shares my concerns about dealing with the amulet of doom. If it weren¡¯t associated with multiple gods, I¡¯d suggest simply destroying the thing and being done with it. I¡¯d rather not provoke Akatosh, though. At least we could stuff it in a spatial pocket for the next five eras.

    Abnur, on the other hand, is mostly concerned about the region we¡¯re visiting: Colovia. He has low opinions of Colovians and isn¡¯t shy about sharing them.

    ¡°Oh, Colovians,¡± I say. ¡°I just got back from dealing with a Colovian mercenary company that was being silly.¡±

    ¡°With violence, I presume?¡±

    ¡°Mostly blatant threats and bribery,¡± I say. ¡°Though there was a dash of violence in there, too. Fortunately, mercenaries are usually loyal to coin if nothing else. I felt they needed a bonus considering I was sending them up against Daedra and Worm Cultists, though.¡±

    ¡°At least that¡¯s a good use for them,¡± Abnur says.

    Sai is telling us about the place we¡¯re going, Sancre Tor. Something about how it was inspired by the Ayleids¡¯ assholery, at least that¡¯s what I take away from it.

    The way I understand it, the story goes something like this: The Ayleids are being assholes. Alessia says, ¡°I¡¯m tired of the Ayleids being assholes. Let¡¯s go kick their asses. Oh, and the gods they worship are also assholes. Let¡¯s worship some gods who aren¡¯t assholes instead.¡±

    I might be simplifying things a bit.

    Anyway, Sai warns us to avoid a part of the ruin called the Crypt of Heroes, because it¡¯s far too dangerous, which makes me perk right up.

    ¡°Did you have to mention that?¡± Eran says. ¡°If you actually wanted him to avoid it, you shouldn¡¯t have mentioned it at all. Now we¡¯re going to have to clear the place out, too.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± I say. ¡°The undead are one of my favorite things to hit. And the few of them that can talk are usually deserving of being hit, too.¡±

    Varen opens a portal to Alessia¡¯s holy ruins, and we all file through. And by all I mean those of us who are interested in fighting, not counting Varen or Vastarie¡¯s geriatric apprentices or that woman who was looking for the lost walking tree city. Jingles gets left behind as well.

    I hardly get a chance to start admiring the moist, verdant ruins before Lyris, Abnur, and Sai start trying to needle one another again. This time, Vastarie just shoots them a look and they quiet down immediately, with mumbled apologies from Lyris and Sai. Vastarie does an excellent ¡®disappointed teacher¡¯ expression.

    ¡°So,¡± Abnur says, steadfastly ignoring Lyris and Sai, ¡°Nerevar. What have you been doing since your last visit?¡±

    ¡°Daedric bullshit, mostly,¡± I say. ¡°Also I got married. Uh, twice.¡± At the puzzled looks of my slightly-more-distant friends, I hurriedly explain, ¡°I mean, at the same time. Nobody died. Well, I mean, a lot of people died, but nobody anyone cares about.¡±

    ¡°Neri, how high are you today?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°We¡¯re dealing with Daedric bullshit, an amulet of doom, and the biggest necromantic asshole Tamriel has ever seen,¡± I say. ¡°I am one pinch shy of seeing butterflies.¡±

    ¡°Stendarr preserve us,¡± Sai mutters.

    You know what the best part of moon sugar is? It makes me no longer give a flying fuck about speechcraft. About carefully crafting every word to build maximum impact, like measuring the pull of every muscle.

    Before I can go into detail on my recent activities, a giant projection of Manny appears in the room in front of us. It comes coupled with giant ranting, saying something like, ¡°I will be a god, muhahaha!¡± It¡¯s pretty tiresome. And I¡¯d honestly pity him if he weren¡¯t such a giant skeever. He¡¯s going to be tortured for a long, long time for attempting to betray Molag Bal like this.

    It¡¯s probably just a well that I procrastinated coming here, since Manny had put a tracking spell on Sai and didn¡¯t actually know where the amulet of doom had been hidden until we got here. While Sai was just chilling at Vastarie¡¯s tower, that didn¡¯t tell Manny anything particularly interesting. At least everyone has had a chance to recuperate a bit.

    ¡°You know, I could just talk over him,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like he has anything especially worthwhile to say.¡±

    ¡°You were saying about your marriages?¡± Vastarie asks.

    ¡°Right, that,¡± I say. ¡°I took over an Orc clan and married two Orc women.¡±

    Some of them congratulate me. Abnur offers condolences.

    ¡°Do let me know if the offspring of an Orc and a Chimer still come out looking like Orcs,¡± Abnur comments.

    ¡°Oh, right, I was meaning to ask you guys about that, since you¡¯d know better than, well, the Orcs I¡¯ve been hanging out with,¡± I say. ¡°With all my biological and theological weirdness, would I even be capable of reproduction?¡±

    ¡°Are you paying attention to me?¡± shrieks the ignored Worm King.

    ¡°This is what you wanted to ask about?¡± Abnur says, giving me an odd look. ¡°I am certain that you could figure it out yourself in due order.¡±

    Manny finishes his rant and cuts off his projection. Our awkward discussion is interrupted by being attacked by undead, which we dispatch in short order.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    We enter the Crypt of Heroes, where Manny does his echoing voice taunt thing again (minus the giant projection) and raises some undead. They¡¯re easily cleared out, though.

    ¡°I¡¯m disappointed,¡± I say. ¡°You promised me a good fight. I¡¯m bored!¡±

    He obligingly summons something a bit stronger that at least doesn¡¯t go down in one hit.

    ¡°A bit better, but still not good enough,¡± I say.

    ¡°Ah, clich¨¦ taunts,¡± Abnur says, carefully enunciating the stupid Breton diacritic mark.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a taunt,¡± I say. ¡°I actually was hoping for a good fight here.¡±

    ¡°Hold onto that thought,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°We are likely to get one before this is over.¡±

    And then, and then we have to listen to Manny¡¯s rants some more. Because he absolutely has to describe in great detail how he plans to trap Molag Bal¡¯s essence in the amulet of doom or something like that. It doesn¡¯t make terribly much sense to me but I assume he knows what he¡¯s talking about or he wouldn¡¯t be so confident and Abnur and Varen wouldn¡¯t be so concerned about the possibility of whatever scheme he¡¯s got going on actually working. And I know that the amulet of doom is connected to the Heart of Lorkhan, which is just bad news all around. Every single problem in my existence seems to tie back to the Heart somehow. There¡¯s a reason we call him the Doom Drum.

    (A musical theme stirs in the back of my mind with the backbeat of a low drum going thump-thump, thump-thump. I shove it forcefully out of my head.)

    ¡°Manny, kindly shut up and let me hit you already,¡± I say, and Manny starts summoning more undead.

    ¡°Sai, why exactly did you have to keep hiding things in tombs?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°It seemed like a good idea at the time,¡± Sai says.

    The collective facepalm from literally everyone sets off a shockwave that instantly obliterates all the undead before us. (Or my light sweep did that. One of those.)

    Sai didn¡¯t just hide things from a necromancer in tombs. He also set up a divine barrier, which might have been a better idea if it hadn¡¯t wound up working against us. And Manny thinks it will prevent Molag Bal from seeing what he¡¯s doing for long enough to sneak up behind him with the amulet and sucker punch him with a soul trap.

    We have to consecrate two shrines to pass through the divine barrier. And one of them is behind a puzzle that he forgot the solution to.

    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°Ilara-daro, you¡¯re in charge of the stupid puzzle. I¡¯m going over here to re-inter some honored dead by means of a battle axe.¡±

    I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m going to keep training Jingles in solving puzzles. My friends would probably kill me if I had a monkey fiddle with puzzles in a situation that was actually pressing. Maybe for tricks during off hours, like my juggling. I can almost juggle three atronach cores without severely injuring myself.

    Hitting undead is fun, though. I wonder if I could invest in training skeletons for my Orcs. They¡¯d get back up and put themselves back together. They¡¯d make perfect practice dummies. I¡¯m sure I can find a necromancer that¡¯s willing to do something useful instead of make a mess of Tamriel. That doesn¡¯t include present company. Vastarie refrains from comment at my query, but Abnur isn¡¯t so polite.

    ¡°Are you seriously asking me to create self-regenerating skeletons for your Orcs to practice on?¡± Abnur asks.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Seriously asking is what people do when they are looking to have something done. Or was that a no? It¡¯s fine if you¡¯re too busy. I can always just capture the next idiot necromancer I find in the field and keep them in a cage and tell them if they cooperate they can keep their own bodyparts. Manny inspired quite a lot of idiots.¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°That surely would not be necessary. Ask Telacar. He does owe you a favor.¡±

    We get into the next room and encounter the same thing. Giant projection. Again. ¡°Bow before me, blah blah blah.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s even more long-winded than I remember him,¡± Vastarie comments.

    For all that Manny¡¯s monologues grate on me, this is actually a serious situation. Things will be really, really bad if Manny manages to do anything even close to what he thinks he¡¯s about to do. And, like everything else, I cope with inappropriate humor and supreme self-confidence. Of everyone here, Ilara is the least tense. It¡¯s like she hasn¡¯t even seriously considered that we could fail. Or maybe she¡¯s also just had some moon sugar.

    We press on down past blooms of algae and mushrooms, the corridors dotted with statues dismembered by time or vandalism. Down at the bottom of the stairs, we come upon a huge door with a huge golden barrier in front of it. That ring we picked up from the other tomb opens it.

    Since he was planning on getting and using the amulet of doom himself, Manny is actually here in person for once. Which means he¡¯s beautifully, gloriously hittable. At least when he¡¯s not turning invisible and teleporting around the battlefield.

    It¡¯s all my friends can do to keep down the vast numbers of undead that he calls up from somewhere. An entire city¡¯s worth of skeletons, maybe. None of them are especially difficult, individually, but there¡¯s just so many of them that we¡¯re practically drowning in bones. Light and fire wash over the undead, and Ilara has taken up a position on top of some rubble to try to keep a clear shot at Manny with her bow. Still, the battle is not too hectic for Manny and Vastarie to make some cutting jabs of the verbal variety at one another as well.

    I know Manny¡¯s down when all his skeletons crumble. I immediately decapitate the arrow-riddled corpse, toss the head into my bag, and start to dismember it for good measure, but Manny¡¯s ghost is already stepping out of it, unhittably smug.

    ¡°Did you really believe death could stop a necromancer?¡± Manny gloats.

    His subsequent rambling about how he will become more powerful than we could possibly imagine is interrupted by a freaking gate to Coldharbour opening above our heads. I leap back and almost fall onto my butt in surprise. He can do that!?

    A voice echoes out from the portal. Molag Bal goes into great detail about how fucked Manny exactly is before sucking his ghost into Coldharbour. I have never in my existence been so glad that that voice is directed at someone other than me.

    ¡°Welp,¡± I say, staring up into the still-swirling portal. ¡°Sucks to be him.¡±

    ¡°Praise Azura, I never thought I¡¯d see the end of him,¡± Vastarie says.

    The amulet of doom is at hand, and people are looking at me as if expecting me to pick it up.

    ¡°Fuck no, I¡¯m not touching that thing,¡± I say. ¡°You do it.¡±

    Sai sighs and retrieves the amulet. ¡°Let us return to Varen and leave this place.¡±

    No one is going to argue with that. We return to Valenwood by portal in triumph and relief. I don¡¯t know if I trust the amulet of doom in Varen¡¯s hands, either, but I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s not stupid enough to do the same thing twice. He might just fuck things up in a different way. It¡¯s not like I know anything better myself, though.

    I pull out Manny¡¯s severed head, an arrow still in the eye. ¡°Does anyone mind if I stick this on a pike somewhere?¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°While I can appreciate the sentiment, go do that at your Orc stronghold.¡±

    Vastarie chuckles softly. ¡°I concur. Still, I believe I prefer him this way.¡±

    ¡°He finally shut up,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°No, but I believe his vocalizations will be reduced to incoherent screams for the indefinite future,¡± Merry adds.

    I toss the head back into my bag. ¡°He¡¯ll make a fine piece of decor at the gates of Dra¡¯bul.¡±

    Nanwen¡¯s ghost manifests from the sword on Ilara¡¯s belt.

    ¡°Watching the downfall of the Worm Cult has been satisfying, but could you leave my sword with Vastarie?¡± Nanwen says. ¡°I¡¯ll prefer a more sedate afterlife, or if I cannot be sent on to Aetherius, at least being somewhere a little more quiet. I¡¯ve had enough of second-hand adventure for the time being.¡±

    With the end of Manny and the retrieval of the amulet of doom, the team of people who know shit about weird magic need to make some preparations that I don¡¯t want anything to do with, which means I¡¯m going to find something else to do in the meantime. I¡¯m not really short on things to do. Tamriel is big and full of new things to hit.

    ¡°I will contact you when we are ready,¡± Varen says.

    ¡°Contact me when you¡¯re ready and I don¡¯t look like I¡¯m in the middle of fixing some crisis,¡± I say.

    ¡°You believe you will encounter more crises?¡±

    ¡°Of course I will encounter more crises,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s just the way things go. I¡¯m at the point where I could take bets on what exactly the next crisis will entail. At least the chance of the next crisis involving the Worm Cult has decreased slightly.¡±

    ¡°I would not count on that,¡± Abnur says.

 Chapter 116: In Which I Accidentally Become a King

    The Wood Orc clans of Valenwood have sent representatives to Dra¡¯bul, and I¡¯m not even getting out of being declared a king, whether or not I had a severed head with a sign reading ¡®Manny the Worm¡¯ outside my gates. How do these things even happen? My obvious reluctance at the appellation does not discourage them even in the slightest.

    ¡°We¡¯ll fight for the Dominion, but we¡¯re not going to let High Elves walk all over us,¡± says one of them. ¡°We will be treated with respect, as equals, and I don¡¯t think anyone else is capable of convincing them of that.¡±

    They¡­ kind of have a point.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not even an Orc, don¡¯t you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Pfah, don¡¯t be ridiculous. Of course you¡¯re an Orc. You wear that armor and that ring better than a lot of people who were born with tusks.¡±

    I¡¯m not even slightly getting out of this.

    ¡°You¡¯re not stomping around declaring yourself a king without the support of the clans, which already puts you a step above that Breton boot-licker up in Wrothgar, Kurog,¡± says a different Orc, spitting the name.

    ¡°I heard he even banned the worship of Malacath because it offended the Bretons,¡± says another Orc.

    ¡°I heard he learned to dance for fancy balls, drinks fine wines, and farts rose petals,¡± says another.

    I¡¯m not quite sure how accurate these rumors are.

    ¡°Look, seriously though, if you just want to quietly rebuild the Drublog with your wives, just tell us to piss off and drop the whole Dominion thing. You got a grudge against the Dark Elves a mile wide. I can get behind that, and I won¡¯t ask what brought it on, but it¡¯s obvious. I¡¯m not sending my brothers and sisters to fight without someone who can speak up on our behalf, though.¡±

    I let out a sigh. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Looks like it¡¯s inspiring speech time. You know inspiring speeches? I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard a few. They¡¯re mostly bullshit. You talk loudly and rile up the emotions of a group of people, and once you¡¯ve got a hold of their emotions, you can pretty much convince them of any stupid thing because they stop thinking about things logically. The key point is to know your audience and understand their motivations.

    I¡¯ll spare you transcribing this one. Take my word for it that it¡¯s very inspiring. To Orcs, at least.

    Also we have lots of food. While I was busy messing with weird magic, hitting necromancers, and arranging insane plans, my new hunt-wife apparently led an effort along with Not-Ari¡¯s team to clear some pirates out of a nearby cave and confiscate all their ill-gotten goods. And, for some reason, the pirates (actually secretly Imperial military working with the Worm Cult, the fetchers) had a ton of fancy paintings and curtains. Orcs are more than happy to hang fancy paintings and curtains in their homes when they¡¯re splattered with blood and taken as war trophies. There¡¯s also a Skyshard, which they brought back just because it¡¯s shiny and probably looks valuable.

    This is a bit of a generous interpretation of the word ¡°hunt¡± but I suppose it still counts, and at least we¡¯re not eating werewolves. Every house has fine new fur rugs, though.

    I¡¯m told an Orc chieftain¡¯s second wife is typically the forge-wife, but Grishka has absolutely no talent at the forge and is trained to hunt and fight instead. Roku insists that I am going to need a good forge-wife at some point in the near future and that if one doesn¡¯t randomly fall in my lap, I¡¯m going to need to go out and find one myself. I have no idea how I¡¯m going to do that. The situation with the Orc clans in Valenwood is a little odd right now. We¡¯ll see. I still have a lot of things on my plate.

    Like diplomacy. Queen Ayrenn comes to Dra¡¯bul to negotiate with the King of the Wood Orcs, but I think someone failed to tell her who exactly that was.

    ¡°Ah, hello, Neri,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°I¡¯m here to speak with the King of the Wood Orcs. Do you know where he is?¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°Hi. Yeah. That¡¯s me.¡±

    Ayrenn raises an eyebrow, and realizes that I¡¯m serious. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± is all she can say.

    I chuckle. ¡°Yes. And the Wood Orcs would like to join the Aldmeri Dominion. And if anyone disagrees, I will punch them in the face again.¡±

    ¡°You punched Orcs until they agreed to follow you?¡±

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s how Orcs do things,¡± I say. ¡°The only reason they hadn¡¯t already signed on with the Dominion is that apparently High Elves didn¡¯t bother to ask nor realize how Orc diplomacy works.¡±

    Ayrenn is struggling with how dignified she can look while stifling laughter.

    ¡°There are representatives of the other clans here,¡± I say. ¡°I suggest that if you want to win some respect, do some sparring. Show them that you can fight and that you¡¯re not afraid of dirt.¡±

    ¡°An apt suggestion,¡± Ayrenn says with her plotting grin. ¡°I might do that. My brother will be mortified.¡±

    The Queen, of course, brought some of her inner circle with her. Prince Naemon, Razum-dar, some other various important people whose names I¡¯ve forgotten. Raz is taking the opportunity to catch up with his sister, and most of the Altmer have their ¡®diplomacy with savages¡¯ expressions on. The potential military support Orcs might bring to bear is forestalling a lot of rude comments they might otherwise be making.

    ¡°You killed the King of Worms!¡± Raz says, as if finally realizing his little sister is actually quite competent. ¡°How is Raz going to ever top that?¡±

    The Bosmer king didn¡¯t come himself, but sent a representative. I¡¯m sure he was just very busy, and anyway, the Silvenar and Green Lady showed up fresh from their wedding. The Mane was apparently supposed to be coming as well, but he¡¯s late and there hasn¡¯t been any word from him yet.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Neri,¡± Naemon says gingerly, as if the nickname offends him. ¡°Dare I ask why you are dressed like an Orc?¡±

    ¡°They do make good equipment,¡± I say. ¡°I was wearing a custom set of Bosmer-style leathers before that had to be sized for me. Anyway, it¡¯s comfortable and well-made, and I feel like I should look Orcy when I¡¯m doing diplomacy in the name of Orcs.¡±

    ¡°Why are you speaking for the Orcs?¡± Naemon asks.

    ¡°They asked me to,¡± I say.

    ¡°What about their new king?¡± Naemon asks, apparently not having overheard my previous conversation with his sister.

    I smirk. ¡°Yes, hello.¡±

    ¡°How did you become¡­ King of the Wood Orcs?¡± Naemon wonders. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°I may have accidentally united the Wood Orc clans,¡± I say.

    ¡°How do you accidentally do that?¡±

    ¡°All I really did was travel all over Valenwood and beat up or help each and every clan one by one, mostly while yelling at people to stop doing stupid shit. And then married the daughters of half the clans.¡±

    Naemon just stares at me speechless for several minutes. Quietly, he turns on his heel and walks up to an Orc serving drinks for the diplomatic envoys.

    ¡°Pour me some more of that Orc swill, would you?¡± Naemon asks.

    ¡°You like it?¡± says the Orc woman.

    ¡°It¡¯s vile,¡± Naemon says. ¡°More, please.¡±

    Sometimes I feel like Naemon just likes to complain. Especially considering he already drank an entire mug of this vile Orc swill.

    ¡°I am completely baffled that we set you loose on Valenwood and you wound up a king,¡± Naemon says. ¡°And no amount of alcohol will help.¡±

    ¡°Hey, you could go to Summerset and become King of the Goblins,¡± I say.

    ¡°No.¡±

    I snicker. ¡°If you really want to know how, I¡¯ve started giving one of my friends lessons in speechcraft.¡±

    ¡°I spent years learning the intricacies of the courts of Summerset,¡± Naemon complains. ¡°All the ceremonies and rituals and protocol. And none of it is useful. Not one single whit of it. A useless waste of time that my sister didn¡¯t have time for and apparently doesn¡¯t need. She¡¯s over there covered in mud and her new subjects love her for it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she hasn¡¯t made herself a favorite in Summerset due to her willingness to embrace allies who are different from High Elves,¡± I say. ¡°You have an opportunity, as the ¡®respectable¡¯ one, to ensure that the more conservative elements of Alinor society will support the Aldmeri Dominion rather than cause problems.¡±

    ¡°Support my sister from her shadow, as always,¡± Naemon says.

    ¡°I feel that Ayrenn doesn¡¯t really cast one,¡± I say. ¡°She sheds light on everyone and wants very hard for everyone to be equals. That includes you, Naemon.¡±

    Naemon grunts.

    ¡°She¡¯s in a dangerous position and she doesn¡¯t have any heirs of her own,¡± I go on. ¡°If she dies, it will fall to you to carry on the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°If she dies, it will most likely fall to you to carry on the Dominion,¡± Naemon retorts.

    I stare at him for a long moment and mutter, ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°You really didn¡¯t intend this outcome.¡±

    ¡°I really didn¡¯t,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°I just can¡¯t leave well enough alone and be a mercenary, uncaring about anything on around me beyond what I¡¯m getting paid for.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t unite the Wood Orc clans just because you like them,¡± Naemon says. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have needed to convince them to join the Aldmeri Dominion and commit military support if all you wanted was Orcish wives. I will make no comment on your taste since you are at least not pursuing my sister and I will have words to say if you hoped for my sister to be one of your wives.¡±

    I clear my throat. ¡°I would not presume.¡±

    ¡°You intend to go after the Ebonheart Pact,¡± Naemon says. ¡°You are seeking revenge. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve failed to notice that you¡¯re wearing the emblem of the God of Vengeance. It¡¯s not just because the Orcs revere him.¡±

    ¡°Do you blame me?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No,¡± Naemon says. ¡°But I fear what might happen should you attempt to drag half of Tamriel into a bloody grudge against false gods.¡±

    I nod. ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡±

    ¡°Why are you so calm about that?¡± Naemon asks.

    ¡°Because alternate perspectives are valuable,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s why I keep around a small entourage of people who aren¡¯t afraid to tell me when I¡¯m doing something stupid while still going along with the stupid thing if I insist. Those sorts of people are more precious than moon sugar.¡±

    And I do not constantly remind him of how I had to kill his wife, twice, because she was trying to trash half of Tamriel, and he does not remind me. Neither do I remind him about how he leaped into that weird Ayleid contraption in hopes that it would somehow declare him emperor. Having done stupid things in the past does not mean you can¡¯t tell other people when they are potentially doing something stupid.

    The actual negotiations are pretty boring and I¡¯ll spare you the details. Numbers and agreements abound. I swear that half the reason the Orcs tapped me for this was so that they didn¡¯t have to do this.

    With still no sign of the Mane, people are starting to wonder what delayed him and I consider sending out a search party when some Khajiit including Lord Gharesh-ri show up, looking a bit haggard. As anyone decent with restoration magic goes to check on them, I question Gharesh-ri on what happened.

    According to Gharesh-ri, while they were escorting the Mane to this conference, he went mad and attacked them with claws and dark magic.

    ¡°Well, shit,¡± I say.

    I manage to refrain from saying aloud that no one has won their bets on this round of ¡®guess the next crisis we have to deal with¡¯ until we figure out whether this counts as ¡®betrayal by someone trusted¡¯ (my guess) or ¡®mind-control of someone important¡¯ (Merry¡¯s guess). Fortunately, this probably isn¡¯t a case of ¡®someone we already killed coming back to life¡¯ (Eran¡¯s guess). Unfortunately, it¡¯s probably not a case of ¡®someone unleashes something big and fun to fight¡¯ (Gelur¡¯s guess). And I¡¯m holding out hope that it doesn¡¯t turn out to be ¡®something so unspeakably weird that it causes Neri to implode¡¯ (Ilara¡¯s guess).

    Gharesh-ri uses magic to locate a ring the Mane is carrying, which points him to a fort in Reaper¡¯s March, the region to the east of Malabal Tor which lies on the border between Valenwood and Elsweyr. It has a rather pleasant name that must connote vast tracts of moon sugar plantations. Those are reaped, right?

    I find my wives and Ayrenn talking with one another, and go up to explain the situation.

    ¡°Something weird happened with the Mane,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to go hit things until they become no longer weird.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t much of an explanation,¡± Ayrenn points out.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to ask Lord Gharesh-ri for details, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I say. ¡°Not that he seems to know much more.¡±

    No one suggests that just because some people insisted on shoving a title at me, that I¡¯m suddenly not the one here that¡¯s best at hitting weird things until they stop being weird. What would be the point of getting a position for being good at something and then not being able to do that thing? I¡¯m ruling king of violently solving problems.

    I leave it to Roku to know best what the Orcs need and can offer and actually do math. The negotiations are already done anyway aside from the most nitty-gritty of details. I¡¯d probably be a lot more concerned about making sure this is all done myself if I didn¡¯t have Roku and complete faith in Ayrenn to have everyone¡¯s best interests at heart. Then again, if I didn¡¯t trust Ayrenn to have everyone¡¯s best interests at heart, I wouldn¡¯t have tried to convince anyone to join the Aldmeri Dominion, either. Not sure what I would have been doing, but it probably still would have led to uniting the Wood Orcs anyway. And I can¡¯t imagine a world in which I would have simply stood by and let Roku get murdered right in front of me. What kind of an asshole would do that?

    My team doesn¡¯t need much in the way of preparations, since we barely settled in in the first place and we¡¯re always ready to go. I would have been restless to be on the road again soon enough even if a random crisis hadn¡¯t popped up.

 Chapter 117: In Which I Burn Down a Village

    We¡¯re starting our journey into Reaper¡¯s March by teleporting to the wayshrine at Baandari Trading Post, the closest one I have to the fort Lord Ghareshi-ri pointed me to. Before I leave, though, someone has a message for me.

    ¡°I have that name for you,¡± says the captain of the Gold Coast Mercenaries whose name I forgot.

    ¡°Okay, great,¡± I say, pulling out my list of names.

    ¡°Faltonia Lerus, in Anvil,¡± she says.

    I write it down, and have her spell it out for me. ¡°Alright, thank you. I¡¯ll get to that once I¡¯ve sorted out a crisis in Reaper¡¯s March.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not just going to hire someone to assassinate her?¡±

    ¡°The way I see it, why hire an assassin when you can murder someone yourself?¡± I say. ¡°Besides. I want her to know exactly how annoyed I am at her for potentially disrupting my Orcs¡¯ moon sugar supply lines.¡±

    Although come to think, assassins would be quite useful for those situations where I¡¯m trying to kill one person and not everyone in their general vicinity. Something to think about.

    The east gate leading out from Baandari Trading Post opens into the region of Valenwood known as Reaper¡¯s March. Just on the other side, I spot a cart with a book laying on it. Ancient Scrolls of the Dwemer IV, another questionable offering from Marobar Sul. (Summary: It¡¯s really just a bad joke.) This is an auspicious start.

    We travel down the path, and after some time, come upon a wayshrine, which I light. A Dunmer man with a merchant cart full of huge blue crystals sits next to it. He is not selling the blue crystals. He also doesn¡¯t seem particularly concerned that the town he¡¯s next to, Vinedusk Village, has been under attack.

    ¡°Alright, Jingles, into the bag,¡± I say. ¡°War is no place for a monkey.¡±

    Jingles hops in and vanishes. He doesn¡¯t really seem to mind riding in the bag when things get too dangerous. He probably thinks it¡¯s a neat trick to hide in there.

    A Bosmer scout by the name of Mengaer welcomes us and tells us about how they¡¯ve been attacked by Colovians, and she¡¯s about as cheerful about that as I would be. They¡¯re Vinedusk Rangers, relishing a fight, and the scout sends us to speak with a captain up the big tree if we want to lend a hand. I¡¯m sure whatever is happening with the Mane isn¡¯t so urgent that we should walk right past an invasion without pausing to smack a few Colovians.

    Captain Odreth tells us about some plan for a counterattack which involves alchemical fire and violence. They don¡¯t seem overly concerned about the Green Pact, either.

    ¡°Ooooh, alchemical fire!¡± I exclaim. ¡°My favorite!¡±

    ¡°I was going to warn you that Gloo is odd, but it seems you¡¯ll be in good company,¡± the captain says with a touch of amusement.

    ¡°Your alchemical specialist is named Gloo?¡±

    ¡°Glooredel, yes,¡± the captain says.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go meet Gloo!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°That¡¯s the best way to get out of a sticky situation!¡±

    The captain looks aside to my friends. ¡°Is he quite alright?¡±

    ¡°He might be high again,¡± Eran says with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s fine. At any rate, we just killed an asshole necromancer and we¡¯re on our way to investigate some other shit, but he¡¯s hardly going to resist a detour that involves hitting things and setting things on fire.¡±

    ¡°I am, in fact, not high, just excited!¡± I reply.

    Gloo¡¯s lab is up at the top of a tree-pod ¡®apartment¡¯ complex, and I find her guts-deep in a fire shalk when I step inside. She would probably not offer her shalk-gut-covered hand to shake with a king, but nobody ever asks kings to do anything fun.

    ¡°How well do the shalk guts work?¡± I ask. ¡°I usually use kindlepitch and fire salts.¡±

    ¡°Quite well!¡± Gloo says. ¡°Although they¡¯re rather more difficult to store. My mixture uses shalk guts and fire salts. You get to do the exciting part!¡±

    ¡°Fuck yes, I love you guys,¡± I say.

    I hand my pack to Eran first because it¡¯s difficult to retrieve things from burning buildings. Figuring out how to keep that with me when I die stupidly has not been a very high priority. I go through and put the mixture into urns linked into the root system from each tree-pod house while my friends follow along wiping out invaders and helping the villagers. The sap burns beautifully and I find myself giggling at the sight of it.

    (I wonder what it would be like to have my soul back. How much of¡­ how I am¡­ is because of spending an era and a half in Coldharbour, and how much of it is just because of being separated from my soul for so long? People like Vastarie who know about such things tell me that souls are important. I guess if our ridiculous venture works, I¡¯ll find out.)

    I meet up with Gloo again to set the final ignition, and she¡¯s more than happy to let me do the dangerous part while standing well out of the way of the resulting blast. Fire erupts out of the urn and heat engulfs me, I grin madly and don¡¯t even bother to try to stand back or get out of the way.Stolen story; please report.

    I find myself at the wayshrine, and¡­ I¡¯m not naked. Armor? Intact. Ring? Still on. Wobbly? Still in my hand. What changed? Was it just getting the ring, or whatever Malacath did? Whatever it was, it¡¯s absolutely fantastic and I¡¯m even more gleeful as I practically skip back into the village.

    The flames are beautiful. Devastation and corpses surround me. I feel alive, like I could watch the entire world burn and only cackle in glee, a force of destruction sweeping across the land leaving only ashes in my wake.

    I shake myself out of those thoughts. Not a good line of thinking. I go to meet up with the captain and retrieve my belongings from Eran.

    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure how burning down the village helped with anything,¡± Eran says. ¡°But we sure did burn that village down good.¡±

    ¡°Eran!¡± I exclaim, taking my bag back. ¡°I¡¯m not naked!¡±

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Eran says flatly. ¡°I really hope this doesn¡¯t encourage you to do more reckless shit but I just know that it will.¡±

    The captain has a plan for a counterattack using the tunnels in the Ayleid ruins beneath the village, because they deliberately built their village on top of an Ayleid ruin for that.

    The sergeant gives a quick inspiring speech to the rangers in the tunnel. I grab more of the burny stuff on the way by. They tell me we¡¯re going to be burning more stuff, and it¡¯s presumably going to be the Colovians¡¯ camp this time.

    Dear fucking gods, the Colovians are storing kindlepitch in this tunnel. WHY are the Colovians storing kindlepitch in this tunnel? I can¡¯t stop laughing when the sergeant mentions it. They¡¯re trying to get a captured soldier to tell them where the enemy commander is and suggest I set the kindlepitch on fire to convince her. Even my friends are looking a little nervous about this.

    Have I mentioned yet that I love the Vinedusk Rangers? These n¡¯wahs are crazy like me. Once they have the information on the enemy commander (Festius), they send me up top to cause chaos in the Colovian camp and set everything on fire.

    For some reason, the Colovians have a book titled The Homilies of the Blessed Almalexia. Normally, I would be grabbing an interesting-looking book to take back to Sahira-daro¡¯s library, but you know what? Fuck this. Some books do not deserve to be preserved. I slather Ayem¡¯s stupid book in alchemical admixture and blow it up too along with the tents it¡¯s in front of.

    Around me, my friends are mostly sticking to fighting the Colovian soldiers and healing the Vinedusk Rangers. It¡¯s so nice of them to let me do the fun part. Most of them haven¡¯t really gotten firmly into feeling the beauty of fire. My favorite thing about fire is that it¡¯s hot in the very way Coldharbour is not. They¡¯ll never understand how good it is to be able to feel heat.

    The guy in charge of the Colovian force is hiding inside another section of the Ayleid ruin, so we go in and kill him and put an end to this particular incursion. It¡¯s nice to not have to bother asking if they¡¯re sure they want to mess with me since they attacked the Bosmer village first.

    In the room beyond the one the enemy commander was in, the Rangers have been keeping the bones of their ancestor. From what I can tell, they move him around every time they burn down their own village and relocate. Some of the Rangers come in and speak with the ghost that appears but I can¡¯t help but frown at it.

    ¡°Take care with that,¡± I say. ¡°My friends and I killed the leader of the Worm Cult, but I doubt all of the idiots he inspired will have gotten the memo about it. You probably don¡¯t want to have to fight your reanimated ancestors.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s a good thing you were ambushed by Colovians and not necromancers,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°It¡¯s embarrassing enough that Colovians were able to take us by surprise.¡±

    ¡°Alright, is that it for the invaders?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯d love to stay for the barbecue, but there¡¯s something weird that needs to be solved somewhere over that-a-way.¡±

    The Vinedusk Rangers express gratitude and see us on our way away from their smoldering village.

    ¡°I appreciate the amount of focus on actually urgent things you have been managing,¡± Eran says. ¡°Well done.¡±

    ¡°Is this more urgent than negotiating on behalf of the Orcs who trusted me to negotiate for them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they can handle the rest themselves,¡± Eran says. ¡°The biggest hurdle was in convincing them to trust Queen Ayrenn if not the rest of the Altmer.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ strange,¡± I say. ¡°In a way, I¡¯m just glad to be back out in the field. I might be good at that sort of thing, but I¡¯d rather be tackling problems head-on. I just realize that I can¡¯t exactly win a war by myself unless they obligingly come at me two at a time through a doorway.¡±

    ¡°Have you thought about how you might handle¡­ you know?¡± Eran asks gently.

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I say. ¡°I been delving nose-deep into mythology in hopes of finding some ideas. And I have ideas. They¡¯re mostly just grasping at straws, though. I need to do more research and I don¡¯t even know what the fuck exactly they did to themselves. Stupid weird magic.¡±

    ¡°Still, I think the addition of the Wood Orcs could make a significant difference up until the point when it¡¯s necessary to deal with them,¡± Eran says. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much they might intervene in an invasion of Morrowind itself. I¡¯ve heard rumor that they repelled the Akaviri invasion personally when it went too far.¡±

    I sigh and nod. ¡°It¡¯s a long-term problem, to be sure. I¡¯m laying groundwork but it¡¯s all going to topple if they¡¯re willing and able to kick it over. At least I can focus on the immediate crises. There¡¯s enough problems going on that every idiot I smack still helps in some way, even indirectly.¡±

    ¡°Killing¡­ ahem, ¡®Manny the Worm¡¯, was definitely something that needed doing regardless of how the war might go,¡± Eran says. ¡°As is stopping the Dark Anchors.¡±

    ¡°Burning down Coldharbour in searing hot flames would be glorious if possible,¡± I say. ¡°It was too much to hope for Manny¡¯s death to have stopped the Planemeld. Fucking Dark Anchors are still dropping.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the others will figure out something and point you toward something that can be solved by hitting it repeatedly,¡± Eran says with forced confidence.

    I chuckle. ¡°You don¡¯t have enough faith in them not to hedge your assurances, either.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I have no idea how they managed to accomplish anything,¡± Eran says. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine our group working together nearly so badly. I mean, for one thing, any of us would have noticed Mannimarco was evil. And Lyris and Sai can¡¯t stop bickering with Abnur even when he has a point. And seriously, hiding things from a necromancer in tombs, what the fuck was that? Their hearts are in the right place but their decision-making skills leave something to question.¡±

    ¡°Yeeeeah, I really hope Vastarie can be the voice of reason with them dealing with the amulet of doom.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to bring up the amulet of doom again,¡± Eran says.

    I shake my head. ¡°Shit¡¯s not gonna go away just because I¡¯d rather not have to deal with it, sadly.¡±

    ¡°You seem to have been doing better lately,¡± Eran says. ¡°Self-immolation aside.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t say that if you knew what had been going on in my head.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you could even figure out how to turn that light power of yours into a shield so you can set things on fire without killing yourself?¡± Eran suggests. ¡°Crazy thought and all, I know.¡±

    As it turns out, deciding to follow a god of vengeance has done nothing to quell my bloodlust. Maybe if I¡¯d decided to worship one of the Aedra instead. Like Mara. Somehow, I can¡¯t picture myself as a priest of Mara.

 Chapter 118: In Which I Decry Excessive Name Punctuation

    Fort Grimwatch is more of an ex-fort. The ancient Imperial masonry is crumbling, and its gates hang ajar at a such an angle that they¡¯re not going to be stopping anything that wants to go inside and risk structural collapse even if enough of the walls remained intact that people couldn¡¯t just walk around it anyway. We¡¯re met at the gates by a Bosmer by the name of Englor.

    ¡°Reinforcements?¡± Englor says. ¡°I hope you¡¯re just the forward scouts, but we¡¯re desperate here and I¡¯m sure the five of you can make a difference.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Eran murmurs.

    ¡°Lord Gharesh-ri sent us,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡±

    The fort (such as it is) has been attacked by some sort of dark spirits called ¡°Dro Mathra¡± or something.

    ¡°Wait, how do you spell that?¡± I ask.

    Englor carefully spells ¡°Dro-m¡¯Athra¡± for me.

    ¡°What the fuck is up with that word?¡± I mutter. ¡°Is a gratuitous hyphen and apostrophe really necessary?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me,¡± Englor says. ¡°I hope you can help, though. We were already having enough trouble with the Colovian invaders before the Mane showed up and did something that unleashed dark spirits upon us.¡±

    We head inside. This is more like a war camp squatting amid the ruins, taking whatever tactical advantage it can from any stones that are still stacked on top of one another. Some Bosmer tree-buildings have been grown within the walls, and Englor leads us up to one of them. Gelur tosses quick healing spells at wounded Dominion soldiers we pass along the way.

    At the top of the tree, we meet Shazah. Englor describes her as one of the ¡°Lunar Champions¡±, whatever that means. Shazah describes what happened here, with the mane getting dark and weird and talking in an echoey voice or something, and he split the ground, bringing forth dark spirits that she describes as the children of ¡°Lorkhaj¡±.

    ¡°Lorkhaj?¡± I repeat. ¡°That¡¯s what the Khajiit call Lorkhan, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Shazah says. ¡°Though we can go into detail on the spiritual aspects once the immediate situation is resolved. Now that you¡¯re here, Shazah believes we can push forward. We need to seal the wells of corruption that have sprung up and find my sister.¡±

    We head back down and with Shazah in tow, approach the part of the fort occupied by the dark spirits. They resemble Khajiit, but they¡¯re covered in glowing blue patterns and surrounded by a dark aura. They snarl at us in a language I don¡¯t understand.

    ¡°What are they saying?¡± I ask. ¡°Is that Ta¡¯agra?¡±

    ¡°If it is, it¡¯s some ancient dialect Ilara-daro does not speak,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Hey, if you things can talk, maybe you can knock this shit off?¡± I say, and then repeat equivalents of ¡°knock this shit off¡± in every language I speak.

    ¡°How many languages do you know?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°That depends on your definition of ¡®know¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°I can curse fluently at any ancient Nords we run across but I wouldn¡¯t be having discussions on metaphysics even if they were so inclined. I might curse fluently at Shalidor if he tries to draw me into a discussion on metaphysics.¡±

    The corruption wells are columns of shadows and blue swirls, and Shazah does her thing to seal them while we protect her from the spirits. When we reach the central tree with cat statues inside of it, I realize that it looks like this is a Bosmer village built on an Imperial fort that was itself built on an ancient Khajiit temple. Once Shazah seals the well inside of it, a Khajiit ghost appears. The normal sort of ghost that¡¯s transparent blue and hovers a foot above the ground because standing on the ground is for losers.

    ¡°The First Mane!¡± Shazah exclaims, and then patiently spells the name at my prompting as ¡°Rid-Thar-ri¡¯Datta¡±.

    ¡°You needed two hyphens and an apostrophe?¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°Neri, show some respect!¡± Shazah admonishes me. ¡°This is the First Mane!¡±

    ¡°Alright, then I¡¯m calling him the First Mane from now on and not trying to spell that,¡± I say. ¡°Because otherwise I¡¯d start saying ¡®Riddy¡¯ which would be even more disrespectful except well in keeping with how I¡¯ve referred to other important figures.¡±

    The First Mane gives a soft chuckle. ¡°This one does not blame an Orc for finding Khajiit names difficult, particularly not when you have come to help.¡±

    ¡°And Elf names,¡± I add. ¡°And Orc names. And let¡¯s not even talk about Dwemer names¡­¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The First Mane tells us some stuff about going into a temple, passing through some flames, and destroying the source of the corruption, which I¡¯m going to assume will require hitting quite a lot more of these dark spirits along the way. Shazah remains behind to help the soldiers who are suddenly no longer having to fight dark spirits since I killed quite a lot of them, and they probably need healing. She sends us to meet up with her sister who had been cut off when a barrier of dark fire went up. I don¡¯t imagine most people are quite as eager to poke weird fire barriers as I am, and it¡¯s just as well we¡¯ve got a blessing that will presumably let us pass through it.

    We head down into a crack in the ground leading into what was once the cellar of the Imperial fort, where the Imperials had laid their foundations above the temple. They laid their walls directly on top of the original Khajiit walls. I wonder how many Imperials that once occupied this fort back in the days of Reman or Alessia or whenever the hell this place was built realized they were walking over¡­ this. I wonder how many of them would have decided they¡¯d rather not be here if they¡¯d known they were sleeping on top of dead Khajiit.

    A barrier of blue-black flames blocks the door, but fizzles out when I touch it, allowing me and my friends to pass through. Inside, dead dark spirits strew the floor amid tired and injured Dominion soldiers. Shazah¡¯s sister Khali is standing in front of another flame-blocked door. While Shazah seemed gentle and contemplative, Khali is direct and eager.

    After breaking through the next barrier, we head inside into a large room where some pieces of architecture have decided that gravity is merely a suggestion. I hate it when that happens. There¡¯s another barrier here, this one stronger than the others. We need to get around through a side passage to disable it. That¡¯s fine. I just take a relaxing jaunt through wiping out any dark spirits in our path and let Khali and my friends worry about the parts that involve poking statues and getting doors open.

    Here I am, just going through hitting things and leaving it to the others to disable crystals and things, and once all that is done, the Khajiit sisters (Lunar Champions, I suppose) tell me that they think I¡¯m ¡°Moon Hallowed¡± or whatever. Blessed by the ancient Manes to guide them in dark times or something. Great, whatever. If this is some sort of prophecy, at least it doesn¡¯t seem to be about anyone specific. I just happened to be the one who came along. That¡¯s what I¡¯m hoping, anyway. Fuck prophecies.

    ¡°Head to the Moonlit Clearing north of the Ayleid ruin of Senalana and the priests there will be able to tell you if you¡¯re the Moon Hallowed!¡± Shazah says.

    ¡°Right¡­¡± I say, trying my best not to sound dubious about the whole prospect. ¡°Is that in the direction the Mane took from here?¡±

    ¡°This one believes he went in that general direction, yes,¡± Khali says.

    ¡°Dark Moons, Shazah does not like to think of what other chaos might arise.¡±

    ¡°Do I have to be this ¡®Moon Hallowed¡¯?¡± I ask. ¡°Can someone else not be the chosen one for a change? Ilara-daro, do you wanna be the Moon Hallowed?¡±

    Ilara chuckles softly and her whiskers twitch in amusement. ¡°While this one would be honored, she does not believe it is your choice.¡±

    I groan. ¡°There¡¯s always choices. Bad ones, mostly, but there¡¯s nothing that would stop me from just walking away if I don¡¯t like how something is going if I¡¯m willing to accept the consequences of doing so. And I¡¯m a huge fan of turning around the inevitable.¡±

    ¡°It is likely that one of you is the Moon Hallowed,¡± Shazah allows. ¡°Rid-Thar did appear and give his blessing. Even if you immediately complained about how much punctuation was in his name.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m just whinging. I haven¡¯t even gotten used to the last title someone insisted I should have.¡±

    ¡°Which was that?¡± Shazah wonders.

    ¡°King of the Wood Orcs,¡± I say.

    ¡°Khali did not realize the Wood Orcs had a king,¡± Khali says.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°The chiefs insisted. And the Wood Orcs are joining the Dominion now. The Mane was supposed to be there for the diplomatic thing. I came out here to investigate what was going on with the Mane, and probably hit things repeatedly. No one is going to be surprised by me hitting things, least of all me. And I¡¯ll hit whatever I need to in order to fix the latest crisis.¡±

    ¡°Shazah is glad to have someone to assist who is as skilled at hitting things as an Orc King,¡± Shazah says generously.

    ¡°Should I say something inspiring here?¡± I ask. ¡°I don¡¯t really feel up to another inspiring speech right now. I just want to go hit more of those mathra things. They¡¯re fun to hit.¡±

    ¡°You can skip the inspiring speech. Khali thinks we are already quite inspired.¡±

    I suppose I can be ¡°Moon Hallowed¡± if I really have to be, but if someone tries to make me ¡°Star Hallowed¡± afterward, I¡¯m going to get a fake tail and start speaking in the third person. Actually, come to think, I make a note in my journal to look into enchanted prosthetics when I¡¯m not in the middle of trying to solve a crisis. That¡¯s got to happen eventually. I mean, it¡¯s not like Lord Gharesh-ri showed up yelling about the Mane going grim-dark immediately after the Silvenar and Green Lady touched the handfast. That would have been amazingly inconvenient and I wouldn¡¯t have had a chance to fix some of the things that really did need fixing.

    We head out from Fort Grimwatch by the north doors, which are actually intact and potentially capable of keeping out anything that didn¡¯t feel like walking around. The Mane didn¡¯t really do the structural integrity of this place any favors, but not all of the damage done to it was recent.

    ¡°Hey, Ilara-daro,¡± I say. ¡°Can you teach me to speak like a Khajiit?¡±

    ¡°Is this¡­ your latest brilliant plan?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°You can never have too many disguises,¡± I say.

    ¡°Dare I ask what you intend to do with a Khajiit disguise?¡± Eran asks.

    I shrug. ¡°Probably murder.¡±

    ¡°I feel that if you want to go murdering, you might also look into how to kill just one person and not literally everyone that happens to be nearby,¡± Eran points out. ¡°While burning down their village and laughing gleefully.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t always do that,¡± I protest weakly.

    ¡°Ilara-daro will teach you to talk like a Khajiit,¡± Ilara says. ¡°It¡¯s all in the throat, yes? Rrrrrrrrr.¡±

    ¡°Oh, this is going to be fun,¡± I say.

    ¡°Ilara-daro can also tell you how not to draw attention to yourself,¡± Ilara goes on. ¡°You are very good at drawing attention to yourself. Very¡­ very good at drawing attention to yourself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether that¡¯s a compliment or not,¡± I say.

    ¡°It is what it is,¡± Ilara says, whiskers twitching. ¡°Var var var.¡±

 Chapter 119: In Which Its Ruins All the Way Down

    There¡¯s quite a lot of Imperial ruins in this part of Valenwood, much more than just Fort Grimwatch. A section of wall here, a curve of part of a tower there. The wayshrine I come upon and light, however, is of the type typically seen in Valenwood, with the worn stacked stones with swirly green lines on them.

    A burned village, and one that came pre-burned and not one that I was responsible for. I spot a Skyshard up in one of the scorched husks of tree-pods. Was this perhaps the last Vinedusk Village? They did seem pretty eager to burn down their own homes for some reason.

    An old Imperial mansion (at least I think it¡¯s old but it¡¯s not in ruins so it might be relatively new) at the top of a hill overlooks the countryside, and I climb up to get a good look at the surrounding countryside and not just because I wondered who lives there and whether it¡¯s full of things that need hitting.

    ¡°So,¡± Eran says. ¡°We¡¯re going to investigate the mansion?¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say. ¡°There might be¡­ cultists inside, or weird shadow things.¡±

    ¡°Or it might just be an inn,¡± Merry says tiredly. ¡°If it is, let¡¯s get inside and get lunch because it¡¯s starting to rain.¡±

    We go inside. It is not an inn. Or at least, not the sort of inn that anyone wants to stay at, but the sort of inn that¡¯s the setting of various murder and horror stories. There¡¯s the copious amounts of candles, obviously enchanted to remain at exactly the same illumination that¡¯s just enough to keep you from stubbing your toe but dark enough to look ominous. And then there¡¯s the pile of books with red glowing Daedric O¡¯s on the cover. Those are interesting too.

    ¡°So¡­¡± Eran eyes the books. ¡°Cultists?¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro found a letter,¡± Ilara says, holding it aloft. ¡°It is from one Javad Tharn, perhaps a relative of Abnur, berating someone named Graccus for not destabilizing the Dominion properly.¡±

    ¡°Alright, so there¡¯s probably someone here named Graccus, who is probably a cultist and doing something bad,¡± I say.

    ¡°Huzzah for poking our heads into absolutely every cave, ruin, and vaguely interesting-looking building that we run across¡­¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯d complain about time lost on searching for the Mane and doing whatever we were supposed to do with the ¡®Moon Hallowed¡¯ thing, but it looks like this is probably something that needs doing anyway.¡±

    A search of the mansion reveals that Graccus¡¯ particular brand of insanity is Hermaeus Mora, and we find a key to the cellar and hints that there¡¯s probably something needing to be hit down there.

    The cellar begins normally enough, with barrels and sacks full of foodstuffs. A less focused adventurer would be shoving them into their magic bag, but not me. I would never stop to toss a bag of flour that costs a couple of coins into my bag and fill it up with garbage.

    Further down the stairs, a Bosmer woman has been chained to a post. She introduces herself as Mel, a spinner formerly of the village that Graccus burned down to have a mansion built on the spot. She wants us to find some personal items belonging to the late villagers while we¡¯re exploring the tunnels.

    Now, breaking into a Colovian lord¡¯s manor and slaughtering his servants while they¡¯re minding their own business would be very rude, so it gives me great pleasure that there are no innocent servants here, just cultists, assassins, and lunatics who all attack us on sight. Or enemy soldiers who are probably also cultists. I don¡¯t stop to get everyone¡¯s opinion on Daedra or the Dominion.

    After slaughtering a knot of assholes, I accidentally touch a book that summons a tentacled specter of Hermaeus Mora. I freeze, but he doesn¡¯t seem to recognize me.

    ¡°Ah, an Orc,¡± the tentacled eyeball blob says. Very. Very. Slowly. ¡°Perhaps a more well-read one than many of your kind.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, wrong book,¡± I say. ¡°Excuse me, Lord Mora, but I need to kill these guys who are casting ice spells at me.¡±

    Hermaeus Mora, undeterred, continues talking very slowly while I do that. I catch the names ¡°Graccus¡± and ¡°Oghma Whateverum¡±. Mora¡¯s supposedly amazing book with the secrets of the universe or something in it. Apparently he thinks the random Orc who just bumped a book would be a better recipient of it than the Colovian fuckup who has his sights on it right now. But really, he¡¯s a Daedra. They¡¯re not ones who go ¡°eh, books aren¡¯t for stinky Orcs¡±.

    The sprawling, crumbling tunnels seem unlikely to have been a recent construction, so perhaps the Bosmer built their village on Imperial ruins in the first place. Seems likely, given how many ruins we¡¯ve already run across in the area. I wonder if there¡¯s any Khajiit ruins underneath this one?

    And then we come to the drop. It¡¯s impossible to see how far down it goes.

    ¡°I wonder what¡¯s down there¡­¡± I muse aloud.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Eran sighs. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not jumping down there. You are welcome to do so if you want and we¡¯ll meet you back at the wayshrine. You¡¯re the only one of us who can survive if it¡¯s too far a drop.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to jump down deliberately rather than slip and fall and land on my head or something,¡± I say. ¡°See you soon.¡±

    I hop into the hole and fall. And fall. And keep falling. Floor after floor of what might have once been mines or catacombs or tunnels fly past me. Finally, after what feels like several minutes airborne, I splash down into deep water. (It¡¯s a good thing that the water on Nirn is so soft.)

    A massive natural cavern surrounds me, although the presence of an Ayleid-style sconce with a blue glowing rock indicates that those assholes probably once had their fingers in the vicinity. Probably Hermaeus Mora worshipping Ayleids. I find a Skyshard behind a moderately large Daedroth after sending it back to Oblivion.

    While the humans in the upper levels could plausibly be Imperial soldiers, the ones down in these tunnels are quite obviously cultists with undead minions. I fight my way past them, and past a frozen tunnel full of frost atronachs.

    The tunnels open up to a broad cavern with a man floating in a column of sinister red light waving his hands about in the manner of ¡°I¡¯m an evil cultist and am in the middle of doing something evil, please hit me!¡± He¡¯s either Graccus or he¡¯s some other asshole who needs to be hit repeatedly, so I charge up and attack.

    I¡¯m¡­ glad, very glad, so very glad that I didn¡¯t bring the others here. Hermaeus Mora is watching the entire fight, just hovering there staring at us with too many eyes. Shadowy tentacles grope at the air around us, writhing and and intangible to the body but the touch of each one is quite tangible to the mind. Waves of pain and disorientation pulse through me, but Graccus isn¡¯t spared the treatment either. Both I and my opponent are frequently left clutching our heads in pain, unable to fight for several long seconds. Despite Mora making the fight more ¡°interesting¡± with the distractions, I eventually prevail.

    Hermaeus Mora is talking again, but I¡¯m not really paying attention. He¡¯s hard to listen to, and in any case, I¡¯m busy exhaustedly healing myself. Sadly, Restoring Light doesn¡¯t do anything about mental damage or I¡¯d have been a lot saner by now. I have a headache like I¡¯d just gone on a drinking binge with Sanguine from one end of Tamriel to the other, and my healing magic is doing nothing about it. Ugh, I¡¯ll need to see if Gelur can do anything, or I¡¯ll just try ¡°treating¡± it with moon sugar.

    I take a closer look around at my surroundings while I rest for a few. Ayleid ruins fill this cavern, but they look like someone dropped a puzzle box down a hole and shattered it to pieces. Mora is saying something about ¡°a city twice-forgotten¡±. So, this is a Colovian mansion on top of a ruined Bosmer village on top of an Imperial ruin on top of an Ayleid ruin. Tamriel is just ruins all the way down.

    Oh, and Mora doesn¡¯t give me the Oghma. I didn¡¯t want it anyway. He leaves behind a different book on the altar, which I shove into my pack and pointedly don¡¯t look at. I¡¯ll give it to Sahira-daro later. (I¡¯d pointedly not touch it with my bare hands, but I¡¯m already wearing leather gloves anyway. I mean, it¡¯s no wonder people keep mistaking me for an Orc when they can¡¯t even see that my skin is bronze and I don¡¯t have tusks.)

    I look for a way out of here, wondering if I¡¯m just going to have to teleport back to the wayshrine, but I assume that Graccus had some way in and out of the ruins. Unless he just used levitation spells. He was levitating there, even if it was just the usual pointless two feet off the ground sort of levitation. Well, doesn¡¯t hurt to look, anyway, because otherwise this is going to be a long climb. Another side tunnel leads up to a door, which I head out through.

    I emerge, eventually, at an exit on a cliff high above the mansion, across the river. It¡¯s quite a nice view but I have no idea how I wound up so high after falling so far. Maybe my mind is just still blurry from being tentacle mindfucked. I jump off into the river below and swim awkwardly across to the dock.

    Spinner Mel is on the dock, and helps me out of the water where I dry off with a few quick fire spells that do not set me on fire. I sit down to rest for a bit and rub my head. The spinner doesn¡¯t have any magic that helps.

    My friends emerge from the mansion shortly afterward, with the personal articles the spinner had requested, which they turn over to her. By that point, my head is starting to clear, but it¡¯s still irritating how he could do that to me like that. I¡¯m so not touching that book he left me without Sahira-daro present. I do value whatever is left of my mind.

    ¡°How did it go?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Took out the trash, mostly,¡± Eran says. ¡°Or at least buried it. You?¡±

    ¡°Killed a bad guy, got mindfucked by a tentacle god, took a swim,¡± I say.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Gelur asks, hitting me with some healing magic.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, popping some moon sugar candy in my mouth. ¡°Oh! And I got a book I don¡¯t want to touch!¡±

    ¡°So, pretty normal,¡± Eran says. ¡°Shall we continue? I don¡¯t think this would be much of an inn to stay at for the night. Little bit creepy for that. We still have some time to make more progress before dark.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get to the wayshrine,¡± I say. ¡°I want to get over to Marbruk and see if Sahira-daro is in.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go see your book-wife,¡± Ilara teases lightly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give her any ideas,¡± I say with a chuckle.

    Fortunately, Sahira-daro is currently at Cliffshade Library and is happy to see us. Or at least to see me and Ilara, since the others decided to wander off rather than go hang out with the tentacle worshipper. She briefly goes over what she¡¯s been doing with helping out with that ruin full of floaty books and crazy people over near Woodhearth, and I fill her in on what I ran into in that weird mansion in Reaper¡¯s March.

    ¡°When we met on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost, this one did not anticipate all the manner of things you might encounter,¡± Sahira says. ¡°And to have spoken with the God of Forbidden Knowledge more than once without deliberately seeking him out is¡­ amusing, to say the least. May I see the book?¡±

    ¡°You may keep the book, too,¡± I say, gingerly pulling it out of my bag and quickly dropping it on the table.

    ¡°Discourse Amaranthine,¡± Sahira-daro says, reading the cover.

    ¡°At least this one probably won¡¯t eat you?¡± I say. ¡°Hopefully. Make of it what you will.¡±

    ¡°This one will bear that in mind.¡±

    ¡°Have fun with that,¡± I say. ¡°Now I have to go stop the corrupted Mane from overrunning Reaper¡¯s March with droma-thra or whatever they were.¡±

    ¡°¡­ that seems important, yes,¡± Sahira says, blinking. ¡°This one believes she is glad to be here and not there.¡±

 Chapter 120: In Which Its a Trap

    We teleport back to the last wayshrine in the morning and move on. There¡¯s a Skyshard in a nook by some rocks near the wayshrine that I hadn¡¯t noticed before.

    Along the way to the Moonlight Clearing or wherever it was we were supposed to be going, we come across a number of Khajiit-style tents standing outside of an Ayleid ruin. Dominion soldiers, judging by the uniforms, and judging by the injured we heal on the way by, they¡¯ve encountered trouble. Because Ayleid ruins are always trouble.

    ¡°Ah, you must be Neri,¡± says a Khajiit woman who introduces herself as Centurion Burry. No, Burri. ¡°Razum-dar described your group and said you might be coming this way.¡±

    ¡°Is he here?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°He must have teleported here ahead of us after we left him at Dra¡¯bul,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, you make quite the group,¡± Burri says. ¡°An Orc, two Altmer, a Bosmer, and a Khajiit, and dressed in adventurers¡¯ motley rather than proper uniforms. I¡¯m almost surprised you don¡¯t have a Goblin with you.¡±

    ¡°I will be quite miffed if I am replaced by a Goblin,¡± Merry comments.

    ¡°Ah, so you do enjoy adventuring with me,¡± I say with a grin.

    According to Centurion Burry, the Colovians are here and her troops are dying to hold a ruin with no significance or strategic value. She doesn¡¯t sound terribly happy about that.

    ¡°It¡¯s an Ayleid ruin,¡± I say. ¡°Most likely, knowing the Ayleids, there¡¯s something dangerous down there. Your troops aren¡¯t dying for rubble.¡±

    ¡°You have a good point,¡± Burri admits. ¡°Raz would not have come here for no reason. Keep an eye out for him. He will probably have information.¡±

    She also asks us to find her missing scouts, although what she should really be asking is if we¡¯ll leave any of the Colovians to kill or if we¡¯re just going to wipe them all out singlehandedly again. I mean, I¡¯d cheerfully take over all of Tamriel if everyone just came at me two or three at a time. Just line up, all contenders.

    ¡­ I really shouldn¡¯t have been surprised anyone wanted me to be King of the Wood Orcs.

    We find the first of the missing scouts, heal him up, and receive his report about how the Colovians are here looking for some dangerous Ayleid relic.

    ¡°Called it,¡± I say.

    The next scout tells us about how an Ayleid ward came up after the Colovians stole a few magic rocks, and they collapsed the other entrance. She says that we¡¯d need to find the stolen rocks if we wanted to get inside.

    ¡°Would any of those magic blue rocks work?¡± I ask. ¡°I have like a dozen of the things in my bag.¡±

    ¡°Why are you carrying around that many welkynd stones?¡± the Khajiit scout asks.

    ¡°In case I need to power any random Ayleid shit in order to stop people from fucking with dangerous Ayleid relics. Also potentially to open a portal to Pyandonea to deforest it, but that¡¯s less relevant right now.¡±

    ¡°¡­Right,¡± the Khajiit scout says dubiously. ¡°They might, yes.¡±

    ¡°Although why would the ward turn on rather than off if the magic rocks were removed?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°A safeguard against theft?¡± Merry suggests. ¡°They¡¯d have to be being powered by something else inside, but if the ward were to come up from welkynd stones on the outside being removed, that would allow anyone leaving the ruin to be able to seal it up behind them.¡±

    The third scout tells us where the Colovians are keeping their magic rocks. We probably don¡¯t need them but we might as well grab them anyway, because you can never have too many magic rocks.

    With that taken care of, we get inside the ruins and head down. I stop to stare hypnotically down a corridor with more fire traps than I have ever seen crammed into such a short stretch of hallway. The Ayleids were serious about setting intruders on fire here.

    I¡¯m so busy staring at the traps that I almost don¡¯t notice the wounded Colovian soldier leaning against one wall.

    Too weak to stand, she just mocks us about how we¡¯re obviously going to die to the traps and never get to the ¡°circlet¡±. ¡°The Grand Circlet of Elven Authority,¡± she explains, gloating. ¡°Every descendant of the Aldmer must bend the knee to the wearer of the circlet!¡± Also according to her gloating, Raz is here, trapped. Ilara bristles at the soldier¡¯s talk about ¡°lopping off the Queen¡¯s paw¡±.

    ¡°Good to know,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see about these traps.¡±

    My friends all take two steps back simultaneously.

    ¡°There¡¯s probably a switch to turn them off at the end of the corridor,¡± I say. ¡°I think I can see it from here, actually. Unless that¡¯s a door opener. Whatever, I¡¯m just gonna cross over there and push it.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t doubt your ability to cross quite a lot of fire traps, but how?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been working on something at your suggestion that I¡¯m dying to try out in practice,¡± I say. ¡°Possibly literally, but that¡¯s okay! Here, watch this!¡±

    I call upon my light powers, focusing my Aedric light into a shield around me rather than a spear or a cluster of javelins, and go to test it against the edge of the fire. It holds, for long enough that I could just keep casting it at least.

    ¡°Sun Shield,¡± Merry decides to call it.

    ¡°Oh come on, I was gonna call it ¡®Blinky Barrier¡¯,¡± I say.

    Merry sighs. ¡°As you say. I believe I would prefer a sort of barrier that does not blink, but you may do as you wish.¡±

    ¡°In case it¡¯s not enough, can I get a healing-over-time spell, Gelur?¡±

    ¡°Right-o!¡± Gelur says, casting.

    I recast my Blinky Barrier and charge through the traps, and emerge on the other side unscathed. I hit the button. The traps continue to whoosh.

    ¡°Well¡­ crap,¡± I say.

    ¡°What else is ahead?¡± Eran calls across.

    I take a peek into the next hallway. ¡°Lots more traps!¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ we¡¯ll leave that to you!¡± Eran replies. ¡°We¡¯ll go back outside and kill some more Colovians.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing!¡±

    ¡°Save Raz!¡± Ilara calls. ¡°Promise this one!¡±

    ¡°I promise!¡± I tell her.

    I cross the next room full of traps, and honestly, Blinky Barrier almost feels like cheating. The spikes make me stumble but don¡¯t penetrate. It¡¯s not terribly fun, and definitely not as fun as self-immolation, but I suppose sometimes actually getting done what needs to be done trumps having fun doing stupid things.

    At the end, I find Raz, but there¡¯s a fancy metal grate between us. He starts babbling about how I can get the circlet and destroy it, but doing so will for some reason make the complex collapse on top of him. Which also seems like an incredibly stupid design decision on the part of the Ayleids if that¡¯s even true. And I can poke a constellation next to the door to open it and free him and his compatriots, but it would power down the furnace for some reason and that would prevent the circlet from being destroyed here.

    I sigh and give the Khajiit a long look. ¡°Raz, you¡¯ve asked me to do some pretty stupid things, but this is by far the stupidest.¡±

    ¡°The circlet is dangerous and must be destroyed!¡± Raz insists. ¡°Its existence is an abomination!¡±

    ¡°Raz, I highly doubt that this trinket does what the Colovians told us it does,¡± I say. ¡°Any ordinary crown, scepter, or throne could be said to confer dominion over people, but it¡¯s generally strictly symbolic. If the Ayleids were somehow capable of making such a thing, why did they not use it? Why did the Tribunal not use it? Or the Daedric Princes? Why have none of the books I¡¯ve read on Ayleids and artifacts ever even mentioned it?¡±

    ¡°Raz does not know, but it is not worth the risk.¡±

    ¡°In any case, even if it doesn¡¯t magically turn every Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Orc, Khajiit, Breton, and Chimer alive into a slave hive mind, it very possibly does have some sort of enchantment for suggestion or speechcraft or the like. And once again, I highly doubt that it can only be destroyed here. If I were to strap to my body every object I¡¯ve run across that was supposedly indestructible barring specific means, I¡¯d be invulnerable. And also incapable of moving.¡±

    ¡°Raz does not know of any other means to do so, but he admits he is not a mage.¡±

    ¡°And,¡± I go on. ¡°And! Considering the Colovian I spoke to seemed more interested in making sure you died than in making sure they got their hands on it, I feel like this was a deliberate trap for you.¡±

    Raz is quiet at this.

    ¡°I assume there¡¯s some reason you didn¡¯t simply portal out of there?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Interference from the ruins,¡± Raz says, shaking his head.

    ¡°Sorry, Raz,¡± I say. ¡°I promised your sister I would save you. And this whole situation is unspeakably stupid.¡±

    The grand circlet of overblown doominess gets shoved into my pack, and I poke the star symbol to release Raz and company. He¡¯s still upset about this all, but doesn¡¯t hesitate to take the opportunity to escape while he can.

    I head out the way I came in. Whatever I just pushed must have been the ¡°off¡± button to the entire facility, since all the traps are off now. I meet up with Raz and my friends outside of the ruins, and they¡¯ve managed to get the Colovians on the run in the meantime.

    ¡°You should have destroyed it!¡± Raz berates me.

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake, we went over this,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Not only do I think this was a trap, but I doubt the Ayleids would have used the word ¡®elven¡¯, either.¡±

    ¡°Give it to Raz and he will have to find a way to destroy it himself,¡± Raz says sourly.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have someone I trust identify it and see what can be done with it,¡± I say. ¡°Even if it is some artifact of doom, it¡¯s safer at the bottom of my pack than anywhere else.¡±

    Raz continues to grumble.

    ¡°You are welcome to come with me if you want,¡± I say.

    ¡°You can do that now?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain at this point that I¡¯ve figured out the trick to it,¡± I say. ¡°But Raz implied that they do have a portal mage on hand, considering he got here ahead of us and they couldn¡¯t portal out of the ruins.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Raz says. ¡°Fine. Let us go see your friend.¡±

    Raz¡¯s portal mage hasn¡¯t been to Vastarie¡¯s tower or the Ayleid ruin near it, unsurprisingly, but is able to get us to the Elden Root temple nearby. We¡¯re able to get to the tower from there expediently enough.

    Introductions and debriefing take much longer than Vastarie¡¯s examination of the object, but fortunately I¡¯m able to pass it off to her first before the Five Minus One Companions can start any stupid arguments about absolutely anything.

    ¡°This circlet has nothing more than a light enchantment on it,¡± Vastarie declares.

    ¡°But what of the incantations to unlock its powers Raz saw mention of in the ruins?¡± Raz wonders, working up his muzzle into a puzzled expression.

    ¡°I do hope you didn¡¯t risk anything too important to retrieve this trinket,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Because its only power is to make a rather impressive spotlight or halo. It might make a lovely harmless addition to a museum.¡±

    Raz glances aside at me as if silently asking how reliable this is, then sighs. ¡°Raz was so sure¡­ Dark Moons, those wily Colovians. How could they have set up something like this?¡±

    ¡°What did they do?¡± Abnur asks.

    ¡°Abnur, are you terribly attached to your nephew, Javad?¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°Have you killed him? I always thought that idiot would come to a bloody end.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I say. ¡°But seeing as he has decided to challenge the Aldmeri Dominion, I don¡¯t give him a good life expectancy.¡±

    We briefly outline the situation at Senalana and what the Colovians claimed the circlet could do.

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°Not even the gods could do something like that.¡±

    Abnur muses, ¡°Still, setting up a trap like that would have required someone with more competence and knowledge of Ayleid magic than your average Colovian soldier. With Neri¡¯s question, I suspect that my wayward nephew had his hand in it. He is petty and cruel, and it would not surprise me to hear that he set up such a thing and sacrificed many of his troops just to take revenge upon one single enemy.¡±

    Raz wasn¡¯t happy about me refusing to sacrifice him over something so stupid, and now he¡¯s on the verge of snarling in anger something about ¡°that dull-clawed shaveskin¡± something or other.

 Chapter 121: In Which I Tail the Mane

    Moonlit Clearing is north of the Ayleid ruin of Senalana, near the river. A pair of cat statues flank an altar where a spotted Khajiit woman is praying, and an image of the two moons hovers in the air above the flat stone. Cute.

    The Khajiit priest introduces herself by a long name starting with a K that I¡¯m not even going to try to repeat, never mind spell, so I¡¯m just going to call her the priest. She is doubtful about my claim that someone sent me here suggesting that I might be ¡°Moon Hallowed¡± but suggests I pray at the altar to be sure.

    When I do so, an image of the First Mane, Rid-Thar (I am trying to be respectful and not referring to him as ¡°Riddy¡± but it¡¯s hard), appears and speaks of how the Mane has been corrupted by evil and one of the Lunar Champions must become the new Mane, and I¡¯m to help them on their path. And should we fail, the Khajiit will fall, and with them, the Dominion will fall.

    The priest is quite impressed, and tells us we should go to Arenthia. For some reason, the Mane is in league with the Colovian invaders and there¡¯s no end of trouble. Am I to blame Javad Tharn for the corruption of the Mane, too? I think for Reaper¡¯s March I¡¯m just going to assume Javad Tharn is behind everything somehow unless proven otherwise. The Khajiit priest directs us to speak with Cariel, one of the Eyes of the Queen that I can¡¯t remember if I¡¯ve met before.

    A book titled The Moon Cats and Their Dance lays on a rock in front of the altar. (Summary: Khajiit dance with their tails and the moons are weird.) I actually ask if I can borrow the book first, too! The priest was right there and it would be rude. The moons are considered to be the body of Lorkhaj (that is, Lorkhan, obviously) which leaves me a little leery of this whole ¡°Moon Hallowed¡± thing, but not much I can do about it I suppose.

    We follow the river to Arenthia, a city comprised of a mixture of Khajiit and Imperial style buildings behind stone walls. These walls are considerably more intact than most of the Imperial ruins I¡¯ve run across, although the bridge across the river is half fallen. I¡¯m not sure how long this city has been considered on this side of the border, but I¡¯m guessing the Colovians are here to take back what they perceive as ¡°theirs¡±.

    A Bosmer woman in leather armor is crouching behind a tree on this side of the bridge, and recognizes us when we walk up. ¡°You five make for a distinctive sight wherever you go. What brings you here? Did Raz send you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°A priestess did. The Mane has been corrupted somehow and is in league with the Colovians for some reason. We¡¯re hoping that it¡¯s mind control.¡±

    ¡°I knew you supported my hypothesis,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°It seems pretty implausible that the Mane has suddenly had a change of heart about whether or not it¡¯s a great idea to break things and summon dark spirits,¡± I say. ¡°But who knows? I¡¯ve seen less plausible betrayals. I just don¡¯t actually want it to be true. High Kinlady Estre and Vicereeve Pelidil were fetchers to begin with, but I liked the Mane.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a dire addition to the mess here regardless of what actually happened,¡± Cariel says. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re here to help.¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say. ¡°Although we¡¯d help regardless even if we¡¯d just stopped in to try to buy moon sugar.¡±

    ¡°The Colovians would probably outlaw it,¡± Ilara says. ¡°A good reason to stop them, yes?¡±

    Cariel asks us to try to help the resistance, and gives us a contact to meet with and a safehouse location. ¡°Unfortunately, I only have one uniform.¡± She gestures to the corpse on the ground near her, and I am apparently so completely used to random corpses laying around that I didn¡¯t even notice it.

    ¡°I¡¯m probably the closest in size to an Imperial,¡± I say. ¡°Gelur and Ilara-daro can sneak in by normal sneakiness. There¡¯s a wayshrine just across the bridge. Eran, Merry, secure the wayshrine and wait on my signal.¡±

    They nod, and I get changed. I¡¯ll admit that my ¡°Orc King¡± attire would probably attract attention when attempting a stealth mission. We split up and make our own ways into the city. I put on my best Colovian impersonation after observing the way they move and their posture.

    I don¡¯t head straight for the safehouse, but explore town thoroughly and speak to some of the locals. Nobody seems happy here. Cariel mentioned propaganda illusions, but did not describe how prevalent and annoying they were. They urge the locals not to fear and that they will be treated fairly if they obey. The level of bullshit raises my hackles.

    The Fighters and Mages Guilds are still trying to do business as usual, staying firmly neutral in the conflict, but they¡¯re on edge to no end. Upon seeing that, I go and tap Eran and Merry to put on guild tabards and hang out at the guildhalls until we inevitably discover that this isn¡¯t just an ordinary war and involves something the guilds would object to. I don¡¯t want to jeopardize the guilds¡¯ neutrality, but I know there is more going on here and it¡¯s likely nobody will notice a couple extras (or survive noticing).

    In front of the safehouse, a small cat keeps watch, doing a very good job of pretending to be an ordinary housecat but I suspect is secretly an Alfiq Khajiit. (I¡¯ve found that assuming any cat could be an Alfiq is preferable to the alternative of ignoring them as parts of the landscape that could not possibly be watching and listening to me.)

    By the time I get there, Cariel, Ilara, and Gelur are already inside. The leader (I think) of the Arenthia resistance is a Khajiit woman by the name of Kazirra, who has some very interesting news for me. The invasion of Reaper¡¯s March was, indeed, perpetuated by the Worm Cult, or the Stonefire Cult actually, doesn¡¯t make much difference as they¡¯re all fetchers who worship Molag Bal. Manny the Worm¡¯s horrible death won¡¯t stop people from being Daedra worshippers. The Colovians themselves have no idea who is really pulling the strings, though, and she believes they would revolt against their orders if they were to learn the truth.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Kazirra¡¯s plan is to capture General Lavinia¡¯s second in command, Gavo, and persuade him to confess. To that end, she sends us into the Tower District to search for incriminating correspondence, one of my favorite pastimes. We split up again to explore the area, and along the way I pass along word to Eran and Merry what¡¯s really going on here. Needless to say, the guilds are not thrilled at the prospect, but the Fighters Guild says that they still won¡¯t get involved unless a Dark Anchor literally drops in the middle of town. Fair enough.

    Along with some various interesting notes, I run across a book titled The Warrior¡¯s Charge. (Summary: Looks like poetry about constellations.) As for the rest? Well, it never ceases to amaze me how many people write down all the questionable things they get up to. We also find the imprinting crystal for the propaganda projections. That could be fun. Once we¡¯re done with this, I¡¯m going to put something more entertaining on them.

    We meet up with Cariel behind the tower that the Tower District is named after, and share information. Gavo is coming to this tower to meet someone he hasn¡¯t met before, which presents a perfect opportunity.

    ¡°What happened to Javad Tharn¡¯s actual envoy?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°He had a bit of an accident,¡± Cariel says.

    We capture Gavo without incident, as he clearly would have believed absolutely anyone standing up on this tower waiting for him must have been sent by Javad Tharn. Cariel has Raz¡¯s illusion earring, and has this brilliant plan to make me look like Gavo and dress up Gavo himself as a prisoner.

    I bring Gavo back to Kazirra, playing up trying to swagger like a Colovian and pretending to be Gavo the whole way. I think I¡¯ve got their accent down, but no sense in pushing it too far when there¡¯s work to do. Once back in the safehouse, I use the imprinting crystal to record Gavo¡¯s confession. He¡¯s so terrified at this point that he just cooperates in saying the most damning things possible about his compatriots.

    I then use the crystal to update the projections. It¡¯s hilarious to see people¡¯s reactions to the news. The Colovians are shocked¨Cshocked, I tell you¨Cto find out that their superiors are working with evil Daedra worshippers. (I wonder how they¡¯d react if Gavo had been instead confessing to belonging to a Sanguine cult that holds secret orgies in the temple cellar.)

    I stop by the Fighters Guild. ¡°Hey, guys? Turns out these Stonefire Cult fetchers are planning on dropping a Dark Anchor into the middle of town. They¡¯re holed up in the Temple District.¡±

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± groan the Fighters. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll be ready.¡±

    The Colovian general has taken up residence in the Residential District¡¯s inn. Before I get into any actual combat, I hide behind the building and put my own armor on. Enough of this sneaking around with disguises. It¡¯s time to be the King of the Wood Orcs and Hero of the Dominion again. (This is somewhat less exhausting than being the Hortator if only because House Indoril is more tight-arsed than Orcs.) When I step inside, I catch a glimpse of the Colovian general speaking with the Mane for a moment. I recognize his voice, but his body is shadows rather than fur. He vanishes before I can react.

    General Lavinia might be a general and all, but she¡¯s not even a terribly skilled fighter. She tries, but falls quickly enough. By the time she¡¯s dead and I return outside, the fighting has begun in earnest. Many of the Colovians have fled, and the Resistance has struck. I wind up having to make sure that anyone who surrenders is treated fairly, because I am not a complete asshole and see no need to slaughter people who aren¡¯t fighting back unless there¡¯s some good reason to do so.

    Back in the town center, I meet up with Cariel, Kazirra, and an Orc from the Fighters Guild, who salutes me when I approach. Above the walls surrounding the Temple District, the skies grow stormy and echo with unnatural thunder.

    ¡°Ah, here it comes,¡± says the Orc, drawing two axes. ¡°Best hurry it up if you want to kill any cultists!¡± He charges toward the gate.

    Cariel stops me from rushing off to tell me something that she insists is more important than the Dark Anchor dropping right over there. She wants to make sure the local devout Khajiit don¡¯t see what the Mane has turned into. She¡¯s worried about what they might do if they think the Mane has defected.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I say, raising Wobbly. ¡°I¡¯ll see it taken care of one way or another.¡±

    ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t need to tell you that, considering the way you took care of Estre and Pelidil,¡± Cariel says.

    We don¡¯t waste anymore time before charging through the gates to the Temple District where the fighting has already begun. Alongside the Fighters Guild and Arenthia¡¯s defenders, we kill the cultists and destroy the Dark Anchor and make our way into the temple.

    The Temple of the Divines has red banners with Molag Bal¡¯s symbol hanging in front of fancy stained glass windows depicting the Aedra. Javad Tharn (at least I assume it¡¯s him) sends taunting projections but he¡¯s not terribly good at taunting so I¡¯m not sure why he bothers making the effort. I set all the banners on fire out of spite. My friends decline to argue the sentiment or complain of the waste of time.

    Along with several mathra, the shadow-engulfed Mane awaits us in the undercroft. Upon being defeated, the Mane leans over and vomits out a dark form from his back, then looks normal again. Huzzah! Trying to hit things to make them less weird actually worked! The dark thing looks at me, and for a moment, I hear a drumbeat like a heart pound in my head a few times before it disappears with a promise that we¡¯ll meet again.

    The Mane thanks us for freeing him, and upon confirmation that he was being mind controlled or something similar enough, I quietly declare Merry the winner of this contest of ¡®guess the crisis¡¯. (I feel like exposure to me is driving my friends just as mad as me. They¡¯ve seen some shit by this point.)

    By the time we emerge from the temple with the Mane in tow, the fighting has died down, with most of the Colovians fled, dead, or surrendered. The Mane is ashamed of what his body did while he was being controlled by the dark thing and declares himself incapable of performing as Mane any longer. Which means I¡¯m still going to have to get one of the Lunar Champions to become the next Mane.

    I leave Arenthia with a gift on the illusion projectors around town, depicting me poorly juggling atronach cores while dressed in tights and a hat with dangly bells on it. They deserve a laugh after all this shit. (Look, just don¡¯t ask where I pick up some of these things. I have disguises for days.)

 Chapter 122: In Which I Stop Evil Jewel Smugglers

    ¡°Do you suppose you can carry a mount in a magic bag?¡± I wonder as I pull Jingles out of my bag to ride on my shoulder while we travel.

    We¡¯re leaving Arenthia and heading for the half-crumbled bridge over the river that everyone seems to be absolutely confident in not crumbling further when they try to cross it. I¡¯d hope someone will eventually get out here and actually fix it.

    ¡°I think that might be a bit much,¡± Eran says. ¡°A little monkey is one thing but I don¡¯t think I really want to be pulling a horse out of my ass.¡±

    ¡°What if it¡¯s like a Dwemer spider or something?¡± I ask.

    ¡°A living mount would probably be smart enough not to go running off a cliff at full speed,¡± Eran puts in. ¡°A mechanical one¡­ might not.¡±

    ¡°It would be quite the inconspicuous sight, five people dressed like adventurers riding Dwemer contraptions,¡± Merry adds. ¡°Pardon me. Five people and a monkey.¡±

    ¡°Monkeys are people too,¡± I say. ¡°The monkey can get a sidecar.¡±

    Partway across the bridge, we come upon a black-furred Khajiit woman who introduces herself (or speaks in the third person as) Zadala. She¡¯s one of the Eyes of the Queen and is late for a meeting with Cariel but lost some important medicinal herbs and intelligence documents in the river.

    ¡°Those seem like things that should not be dropped in rivers, no?¡± Ilara comments.

    ¡°They were in sealed containers,¡± Zadala says. ¡°Hopefully they¡¯re still intact.¡±

    Naturally, we agree to go mucking around in the muck while Zadala gets to her important meeting about whatever. We split up and search the river banks (and kill trolls because there are trolls here).

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Eran mumbles. ¡°We¡¯re doing a task that requires nothing more than eyes and hands, and the monkey is winning.¡±

    Jingles ooks and proudly holds aloft another bundle of medicinal herbs. Then tears it open and starts chewing on them.

    ¡°No, Jingles!¡± I say. ¡°These are medicinal herbs. They¡¯re needed by people for medicinal purposes.¡± I pause. ¡°Who did she say needed them again?¡±

    ¡°The Arenthian resistance,¡± Eran reminds me. ¡°Although since they¡¯re not really needing to resist anything anymore, they¡¯re probably just the Arenthian people again now.¡±

    We find no sign of a scroll case, but a helpful fisher woman informs us that her brother found it and since it looked valuable, he went to fence it down at the Thizzrini Arena.

    ¡°Ooooh, there¡¯s an arena?¡± I say.

    We swing back to Arenthia to drop off the herbs and head south along the main road.

    A book titled Song of the Askelde Men (Summary: Nord poetry) is laying on the ground underneath a skeleton hung from a tree by the ankles, next to a small pile of pumpkins.

    Eran beholds the scene and comments, ¡°There¡¯s a story here. Not a story I want to know, but a story nonetheless.¡±

    The road brings us to another set of Imperial walls. A town named Greenhill, according to a helpful sign. Funny, though, the place isn¡¯t built on top of a hill and neither is it especially greener than the surrounding countryside.

    A Bosmer man is calling for help, right next to an armored Khajiit guard who is steadfastly ignoring him and keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon the road. Upon questioning the Bosmer, I quickly realize why he¡¯s being ignored. The Bosmer is drunk and barely coherent, and babbles something about people who might be evil, carrying things around.

    ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, my good mer. We¡¯ll look into it and make sure there¡¯s nothing evil going on around here. Now why don¡¯t you go sleep that off before you fall over.¡±

    We head into town. The buildings are mostly Imperial-style, with some Khajiit merchant tents set up off to one side, but the Bosmer have made the buildings their own with hanging hides and bones. The big building that was once a temple of the Divines now has a large tree growing inside of it and some of the stained class windows are broken. There¡¯s a Skyshard behind it, which I absorb.

    The drunk mer had directed us (more or less) toward one specific house that might or might not be involved in evil things somehow. Outside, we run into a nervous Khajiit (Ezreba, as she says her name in the third person) who was totally just leaving after doing nothing of importance.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Inside and up the stairs, I¡¯m quick to determine that there is, indeed, something evil going on here upon seeing a glowing red crystal with a shadowy mathra hovering over it and a tormented Bosmer begging us to destroy the crystal. I go up and smash it, and the mathra disappears along with the red glow.

    The drunk man is outside, and quite surprised to find out that the ¡°evil¡± going on here was cultists and mind control crystals, because he apparently thought they were jewel smugglers. Which, admittedly, the guards also should have been looking into, but I feel like the main purpose of guards is to violently persecute sweetroll thieves. Not that I would know. I¡¯ve never been caught stealing sweetrolls.

    We make our way through town, going from house to house and smashing crystals. The drunk¡¯s wife is missing, the suspicious Khajiit is being suspicious, and hopefully this is a problem that can be solved simply through breaking things and killing some cultists. No need to make things overly complicated.

    The drunk¡¯s kidnapped wife turns out to be the town¡¯s treethane, not that he was coherent enough to mention that part. She points us to the temple catacombs, where I quickly head off looking for cultists and mathra to hit. I¡¯m not disappointed.

    As it turns out, the suspicious Khajiit¡¯s mate was kidnapped and the Stonefire Cult used him as a hostage to coerce her into betraying the town. And then killed him anyway. The cultists haphazardly threw a pile of Khajiit corpses into a room in the back of the catacombs and left them there to rot. Malacath¡¯s balls, at least the Worm Cult did something with the corpses they made. These Stonefire guys just seem like they want to make a mess instead. And if what I¡¯ve seen so far is any indication, they¡¯re probably making a mess all over Reaper¡¯s March.

    We emerge from the catacombs to find the treethane in the middle of town along with her drunk husband, who is drinking from a mug in his hand that he had acquired in the meantime. Everyone is being no longer possessed or mind controlled or whatever, but now there¡¯s the small problem of what to do about Ezreba.

    And they¡¯re asking me what to do with her, whether to exile her or forgive her or whatever, and I have no idea why. The treethane wants me to talk to everyone in town and get their opinions first, but I don¡¯t. I¡¯ve found that when you ask someone for their opinion and then go against it, they tend to be more upset about it than had their input not been asked for in the first place. And in any case, justice isn¡¯t a democracy.

    I sympathize with the poor Khajiit woman who just lost her husband. I¡¯m not sure what I would do if someone tried to use Roku and Grishka as hostages against me, but I can only imagine that it would end in quite a lot of blood and fire. Not everyone is capable of such concentrated violence as me, but I can¡¯t imagine that it would take a genius to realize the cultists couldn¡¯t be trusted. She was afraid and made a very poor call, and now is not the time to lecture anyone on how if cultists are holding anyone hostage, it¡¯s probably best to consider them dead already and apply violence to the situation. I mean, they¡¯re cultists. Rescue if possible, revenge if not, and at no point do you deliberately get your neighbors possessed by evil spirits.

    ¡°She can¡¯t stay,¡± I say. ¡°No one here is ever going to be able to fully trust her again. But don¡¯t just cut her loose. Send her to the temple in Rawl¡¯kha for penance. I¡¯ll even offer to escort her so that she doesn¡¯t get lost along the way.¡±

    Unspoken is the thought that simply cutting her loose and pushing her out of society is liable to push her right back into the hands of one cult or another. She¡¯s demonstrated weakness once, and now she has nothing left to lose. I¡¯d rather not have to behead her later when she starts summoning Daedra and sacrificing her former neighbors. (Why is the word ¡°be-head¡± and not ¡°de-head¡±, anyway?)

    Ezreba goes to pack, and my friends and I rest and explore town a bit in the meantime now that people aren¡¯t looking at us with creepy glowy eyes and being angry about having customers.

    I decide to take a moment to poke into random buildings while I¡¯m at it. Possibly to find things to steal or whatever. People don¡¯t generally get annoyed about you walking into unlocked buildings, after all. One house by the farm contains the odd sight of a Bosmer tent inside of a Khajiit-style house. A book titled Dwemer Inquiries Volume 1 lays on a cushion and there¡¯s no one here to tell me I can¡¯t borrow it indefinitely. Eran and Merry exchange ¡°eh he¡¯s just stealing books again, whatever¡± looks with a shrug and a sigh.

    Come morning, Ezreba meets us at the east gate. ¡°This one is ready to go. Thank you for¡­ not executing her.¡±

    I might have discussed beheading more loudly than I thought I had.

    ¡°Do you have everything?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Clothes, a few mementos,¡± Ezreba says with a sigh. ¡°Dark Moons¡­ It is just sinking in now that he is really gone. A night alone in our home and it was no longer a home without him even if I would still be welcome there.¡±

    ¡°Cultists always ruin everything,¡± I say. ¡°Stay alert. The roads aren¡¯t safe. Keep behind me and stay near Merry or Gelur.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way we¡¯re getting to Rawl¡¯kha without doing glorious battle with every skeever between here and there,¡± Merry says dryly.

    We¡¯ve no sooner returned to the road that an unearthly wail splits the air and dark chains rattle to the ground ahead of us.

    ¡°And¡­ these,¡± I say, hefting an axe. ¡°These fetchers are still at it even though we already killed their leader. Let¡¯s go inconvenience some Daedra, my friends.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve returned the Daedra and their Anchor back to Oblivion, Ezreba crawls out from where she spent the battle hiding behind a large rock.

    ¡°Ezreba¡­ did not realize things were so bad out here,¡± she says meekly. ¡°She is glad she did not have to go off by herself.¡±

    Lately, I¡¯ve started to get the feeling that Manny actually had little to nothing to do with the Dark Anchors in the first place, despite it being Worm Cultists doing the rituals. What would this have anything to do with his actual plan of using the amulet of doom to betray Molag Bal and make himself a god somehow? No, I think stopping the Dark Anchors is going to require stopping them from the source. And I¡¯m¡­ apprehensive. Just apprehensive of making an excursion into Coldharbour to find the right thing to smash to stop this shit.

 Chapter 123: In Which I Troll the Arena

    After watching us deal with the Dark Anchor, Ezreba has kept pretty quiet, hanging back next to Gelur and Merry mostly looking terrified. Cultists have been doing a good job of wrecking things for people who were just living peaceful lives.

    ¡°Is this the road to Rawl¡¯kha?¡± Ezreba asks.

    ¡°It¡¯s the road to Thizzrini Arena,¡± I say. ¡°I have an important errand I need to do there on the way. Also probably become arena champion so long as I¡¯m there just because I can. Hopefully the road actually eventually gets to Rawl¡¯kha because maps are hard and nobody puts up road signs.¡±

    A book titled Dwemer Inquiries Volume II lays on the ground at a small camp in the crook of a big tree. No sign of its owner, living or dead, so I swipe it. (Summary: People don¡¯t understand the Dwemer.)

    A despondent Orc stands outside a mine entrance, bemoaning his poor babies. That is, his trained trolls who he was taking to fight in Thizzrini Arena, who went mad with bloodlust and charged into the mine and started killing miners. And after all that, he¡¯s just hoping his trolls are alright. He never had these sorts of problems with wolves or any of the other beasts he has raised.

    ¡°So, what I¡¯m taking away from this is that trolls are dumber than wolves?¡± I say.

    ¡°They don¡¯t need to be smart if they¡¯re bigger and tougher than most things they¡¯d run into,¡± Eran points out. ¡°Most normal animals aren¡¯t going to mess with a troll.¡±

    ¡°In any case, it seems like your training methods need work,¡± I say. ¡°And probably the ability to beat the shit out of a group of trolls if they cause problems.¡±

    I¡¯m surprised this Orc still has all his fingers, if this is the sort of thing he does for a living. Maybe he just spends most of his earnings on healing potions.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t have any trouble with some trolls,¡± the Orc says. ¡°But I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be able to wrangle them without killing them all?¡±

    ¡°You were going to take them to fight in the arena and likely be killed anyway, weren¡¯t you?¡± I ask. ¡°Although it would be a shame to go in and kill all your trolls and not have an audience for it beyond the people who travel with me and are no longer impressed by my ability to kill trolls.¡±

    ¡°If you can get them out alive, I¡¯ll give you the payment the arena promised me for the delivery of the trolls,¡± the Orc offers.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do. Ezreba, stay out here where it¡¯s safer and if you see trolls burst out of the mine, feel free to run away.¡±

    ¡°Ezreba is starting to wonder if traveling with you is actually safer¡­¡± Ezreba says, then nods. ¡°She will hide and wait for you to return victorious.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t know me very well and doesn¡¯t for a moment doubt my ability to wrangle trolls. I¡¯m touched by her confidence. We head into the mine.

    ¡°Merry, do you think you can petrify trolls?¡± I ask as I swat away a flock of small giant bats.

    ¡°Their innate regeneration might make it difficult,¡± Merry muses. ¡°I could probably manage it, though.¡±

    A note just inside the door speaks of reduced break time, signed Kuna.

    ¡°Ilara-daro, Gelur, see if you can slip through while we have the trolls occupied and rescue and heal any survivors you can find. Eran, keep these goddamned bats off of me.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Eran says.

    Turning the trolls to stone turns out to be easier than expected. Merry has some theories that I don¡¯t pay attention to.

    A broken barrel containing a Skyshard sits tucked away behind some tents in one chamber. Also there¡¯s a dissected corpse laying neatly on a table, and trolls definitely didn¡¯t do that. My friends and I exchange a look and decide to ignore the¡­ Bosmer dinner¡­ and move swiftly on.

    We manage to rescue a few surviving miners, and escort them to the entrance to the mine. A Bosmer miner says she¡¯s heading home to Silvenar where it¡¯s nice and safe.

    ¡°Yeah, it should be safe there now,¡± I say. ¡°We killed most of the werewolves around there.¡±

    ¡°Werewolves?¡± the Bosmer says. ¡°What has been going on in Valenwood lately?¡±

    ¡°Mostly a lot of stupid shit,¡± I say. ¡°Werewolves, cultists, Daedra, undead, racist bandits, fucking Sea Elves¡­ Well, at least I¡¯ve never been short on things to hit.¡±

    The Bosmer asks us to let her boss in Rawl¡¯kha know that she quit, if we¡¯re ever in town, and heads off in the direction of Greenhill. I turn to the Orc.

    ¡°We turned all the trolls to stone,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ll need to haul them to the arena in carts or something and have someone cancel the spell once they¡¯re in the arena.¡±

    ¡°Well, they should be safe to transport that way, that¡¯s for sure!¡± the Orc says. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I ever think of that?¡±

    ¡°You probably did not have a mage who was capable of turning trolls into stone,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°That¡¯s true! Are you for hire?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I am busy saving the world at the moment,¡± Merry says. ¡°However, I will let you know if in the future I am interested in a job doing something less likely to get me mauled repeatedly.¡±

    There¡¯s brigands on the road to Thizzrini Arena, or at least I think it¡¯s the road. I spend entirely too much time trying to figure out how to get up the cliff until Ezreba, hanging far behind me when I¡¯m wildly swinging around a battle axe at bandits, points out a road I completely hadn¡¯t noticed winding up through some rocks.

    ¡°They really need to mark these roads better,¡± I say. ¡°Would it kill people to put up some signs? Guys, remind me when I get back to Dra¡¯bul to tell my Orcs to put up roadsigns in our territory.¡±

    Past some giant wasps, we finally come upon the arena. I ask my friends to try to find the guy whose name I¡¯ve forgotten who had the thing for the Dominion that we were supposed to get from here. Ezreba probably thinks I¡¯m just being vague to avoid giving away classified military information and not just because I forgot. (I mean, there¡¯s a point to being unable to give up any state secrets that I don¡¯t remember, right?)

    A Khajiit near the gates speaks in third person by the name of Balag, who seems to be running short on combatants willing to engage in duels to the death.

    ¡°I would imagine so,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°Well, I¡¯d rather not kill people in the arena. Wouldn¡¯t be fair when nobody can kill me either.¡±

    ¡°So confident are you?¡± Balag says.

    ¡°Also, that shipment of trolls you were expecting has been delayed,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ll need to send a cart up to Kuna¡¯s Delve to collect them. They¡¯re safe to handle now, just heavy. Also you¡¯ll need a mage who can cancel a petrification spell when you get them in position.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Balag stares at me as if trying to parse what I¡¯m telling him. ¡°The trolls have been turned to stone?¡±

    ¡°They might be pretty angry when they¡¯re de-stoned, too,¡± I say. ¡°I had to wrestle them bare-handed while my mage friend petrified them because we didn¡¯t want them to come out missing limbs in the arena. That would have been a shame.¡±

    ¡°¡­ what did you say your name was again?¡±

    ¡°Neri gro-Drublog,¡± I say. ¡°King of the Wood Orcs, where do I sign up for the arena? I want to put the fear of Mauloch into these whelps.¡±

    ¡°As you say, Your Majesty,¡± Balag says, glancing at my battle axe and clearly finding it not worth his pelt to question that. ¡°You¡¯ll need to speak with a division head to get a place in the arena, but I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t have any trouble meeting the credentials.¡± He gives me directions.

    I head off into the arena area. (I can¡¯t really say I¡¯m going into the arena arena but is this entire area called Thizzrini Arena or is that just the arena itself? Whatever, you know what I mean.) There¡¯s a Skyshard on the cliff behind the arena, which I absorb.

    The head of the Swordmaster Division is a Khajiit named Zara. (Because there isn¡¯t an Axemaster Division and I¡¯m sure they¡¯re not too picky or I¡¯ll just have to use a sword. I mean, it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t know how to use one if need be, and I suppose using a weapon I¡¯m not a master at would be one way to level the playing field.) In between shamelessly trying to flirt with me, she informs me that the one in charge of the arena set limits to how many contestants could come from each division and they¡¯re full up so I¡¯ll need to beat up one of the contestants to get their slot.

    Their contestants are all Bosmer women. Not the Orc or the Nord man, not the Ashlander woman either. I challenge one of them to an unarmed spar, not exceptionally wanting to dismember them even if I could hit them with a battle axe. She¡¯s crazy quick and it turns out arm-wrestling a troll was easier. By the end of the fight, (which I do eventually win), I¡¯m laughing aloud.

    ¡°Well done,¡± I say. ¡°Here I thought I wasn¡¯t gonna find a challenge here at all. If you¡¯re any indication, this might actually be fun. Good luck!¡±

    After some more spars, I meet up with the person who runs the arena. She¡¯s a Khajiit woman by the name of Faruni (or was it Feluni? whatever) who talks in the same smarmy sort of way Aelif does. And then she has the gall to try to pin me with the ridiculous stage name of ¡°The Mysterious Stranger¡±.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I growl. ¡°I told you my name! Neri gro-Drublog, King of the Wood Orcs! I¡¯m being myself, not a mysterious stranger!¡±

    ¡°The Wood Orcs do not have a king,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°But tch, fine. If you wish to call yourself that, far be it from this one to protest. This one has heard worse stage names, she supposes, and if any Wood Orcs seek to protest, they can challenge you themselves.¡±

    I get into actual duels from there and not just sparring, and proceed to beat up quite a lot of people. The champions cheat and the main arena is full of traps. Fantastic!

    ¡°There you are, Neri,¡± Eran says, finding me after a match. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been having fun.¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± I reply. ¡°How¡¯s your thing been going?¡±

    ¡°Egolor was murdered,¡± Eran says. ¡°We¡¯ve been running all over the area trying to find that scroll case. It¡¯s not here, but we¡¯ve got a lead on where it went. Did you become Grand Champion yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I say. ¡°Almost! You haven¡¯t missed the big match.¡±

    ¡°Oh, goody,¡± Merry drawls. ¡°This is a splendid followup to literally arm-wrestling trolls.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll lead the cheers,¡± Ilara says, whiskers twitching in a grin.

    ¡°I just need to personally challenge the champion here, Ish¡­ Isharga? Whatever her name was. That Khajiit woman in armor over there. I¡¯m told she can set the terms of the challenge to whatever she wants and change them whenever so I¡¯m gonna go see what she wants.¡±

    Ishalga is unimpressed by me getting her name wrong even before I challenge her. And then she asks me for a gift of skooma.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, and pull a vial out of my bag.

    ¡°You¡­ are just carrying illegal substances around?¡± Ishalga blinks as she takes the proffered skooma.

    ¡°I¡¯m a king, so I say it¡¯s legal,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t usually go in for skooma since I¡¯m usually trying to calm myself down instead of wind myself up, but I¡¯m sure to keep some on hand just in case. Is there anything else you want? I have quite a lot of drugs.¡±

    ¡°Just in case, he says,¡± Ishalga drawls, pocketing the skooma. ¡°Alright then! The next thing Ishalga wants is a copy of Moon Worship among the Cat-Men. She believes Feluni¨C¡±

    I reach into my bag and pull out a book. ¡°You mean this one?¡±

    Ishalga blinks. ¡°Okay, Ishalga can believe you were carrying around skooma, but how did you just happen to have the book I asked for?¡±

    ¡°I have about three dozen books in here,¡± I say.

    Ishalga sighs and tosses the book onto a table. ¡°Fine, then there¡¯s no way you have these. Ishalga wants a lute, an hourglass, and a quill pen. Feluni probably¨C wait, you have those, too?¡±

    As I start pulling things out of my bag, Ishalga throws her paws in the air.

    ¡°Never mind!¡± Ishalga says. ¡°Keep your junk. Ishalga wants you to sneak into Feluni¡¯s office and bring me the arena records.¡±

    ¡°If you wanted me to sneak into Feluni¡¯s office in the first place, why didn¡¯t you just say so instead of asking for junk?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Never mind the junk!¡±

    ¡°You just wanted me to demonstrate my cunning and bring back something to prove I was successful,¡± I say. ¡°You didn¡¯t actually want any of this. Well. Aside from maybe the skooma.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly it!¡± Ishalga says. ¡°So far you¡¯ve only proven that you have an expensive magic bag and that you are Tamriel¡¯s biggest pack rat.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll be back in a moment, then.¡±

    Fortunately, the office is unlocked, or maybe that¡¯s unfortunate since now I don¡¯t have to demonstrate any ability to pick locks or pickpocket keys or whatever. Nobody even seems to care much that I¡¯m approaching it, so I just go inside. I hear voices from around the corner ahead.

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s actually coming?¡± says one voice.

    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t show up by the time this hourglass runs down, let¡¯s just take the skooma and leave,¡± says a second voice. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be caught here.¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡± says a third voice. ¡°I think I heard the door open.¡±

    I come around the corner to see three people badly trying to conceal themselves in curtains and side rooms. ¡°Hello? Were you looking for me?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s him! Get him!¡± They jump out and attack me.

    I roll my eyes as I dodge the poor ambush. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this?¡±

    ¡°Ishalga promised us the skooma if we kill you!¡±

    ¡°¡­ did she also mention that I defeated everyone else in the arena?¡± I ask, hurling one of them against a wall. ¡°Even when they were blatantly cheating?¡±

    ¡°Okay, maybe this was a bad idea,¡± says one, backing up nervously.

    ¡°But the skooma!¡± says the other one (that¡¯s still upright, the third one is rubbing his head sitting against a wall).

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly going to stop you from taking it,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s all yours. Run along now before I bother to bring out an axe and start cutting off pieces.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of here,¡± says the one I¡¯d thrown into a wall. ¡°This was a stupid idea in the first place. We can grab that skooma and skip town before Ishalga even notices.¡±

    One of them grabs the bottle of skooma from the office, and the three of them scarper. I may have overdone it on the intimidation, but it¡¯s not like these whelps were any real threat to me even if they hadn¡¯t completely flubbed their dumb ambush. I don¡¯t really get much thrill out of swatting skeevers. I locate the arena records to prove my cunning and head back out.

    ¡°Here you go,¡± I say, handing her my prize.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back!¡± Ishalga says. ¡°This one hopes it was not too much trouble.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d recommend that anyone trying to get me killed ought to bribe a higher caliber of lowlife,¡± I say. ¡°Not that anyone would want to do such a thing. Are we square?¡±

    ¡°¡­ square?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s, ah, a Dwemer expression,¡± I say quickly. ¡°In between killing people, I¡¯m a Dwemer scholar. It means for something to be even on all sides.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a clever one,¡± Ishalga says. ¡°This one will have to remember that. After she has broken you in the arena. Ishalga accepts your challenge.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t take long to arrange the final match. You¡¯d think people would send out advertisements to other settlements and let people portal in to see their favorite fights, but for the most part, the only ones who get to actually see anything are the people who spend all their time hanging around the arena. It¡¯s a pity. Maybe I can take over the arena and make some suggestions for improvements.

    For the moment, though, I need to focus on this fight for once. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s tougher than Manny the Worm, but I¡¯m fighting her alone and not actually trying very hard to kill her. I¡¯ve left most of the other competitors alive when I could, especially when they didn¡¯t put up much of a fight and it would just be pathetic. Ishalga, though? Ishalga is serious and intent to bring me down by any means necessary. Did I really annoy her that much?

    It¡¯s still not enough for her to win, but I do wind up having to get serious myself. She notices the shift in my stance immediately, eyes widening briefly before a toothy grin spreads across her face.

    ¡°Yes, fight!¡± Ishalga says. ¡°Don¡¯t insult Ishalga by just playing with her!¡±

    ¡°As you wish,¡± I say lightly. ¡°Enjoy your trip to wherever it is Khajiit go when they die.¡±

    After another few minutes of fighting, Ishalga finally misses a dodge and falls to the ground, missing half a leg and quickly losing consciousness from blood loss from her various injuries.

    ¡°Ishalga is down! Thizzrini Arena has a new champion!¡± announces the announcer. ¡°Neri gro-Drublog stands triumphant!¡±

    I send a quick pulse of Restoring Light at her to make sure she doesn¡¯t bleed out because apparently I¡¯m feeling extra soft today.

    Ishalga is not terribly happy about it when I see her later. ¡°You! Why did you show this one mercy?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Because I could.¡±

    ¡°Pfah,¡± Ishalga mutters. ¡°This one can afford a prosthetic with all her arena winnings but it won¡¯t be the same. At least she won¡¯t need to defend her title anymore. Perhaps it was a good time to retire anyway. This one is not getting any younger. But she¡¯s still annoyed at you.¡±

 Chapter 124: In Which I Get High for Religious Purposes

    There¡¯s more bandits on the way to Rawl¡¯kha. At this rate, it¡¯s easier to figure out which way to go just by following the line of bandit camps.

    Finally, we arrive. Rawl¡¯kha. A magnificent little town I could see myself spending a lot of time and coin in. It even has a wayshrine right next to the bank and market district.

    There¡¯s a Khajiit priestess who wants help with some bandits who stole some artifacts or something. I agree before even getting much in the way of details, and get some locations noted on my map.

    The bard in the inn is singing that damned ¡°Red Diamond¡± song and I wind up accidentally disrupting his tune with my own ambiance. Unfortunately, the tune that comes up in my head is the theme that plays whenever I think about the Heart of Lorkhan. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The bard is looking very confused, glancing about to try to see who the other bard in the room is and where the drums came from, while all the Khajiit in the room instantly have their tails in a twist.

    Oblivious to the musical mishaps, a mer tries to rope me into some sort of card game, but I decline and turn to leave the inn as I make a concerted effort to cease my maddening concert, but then pause and decide to just use my words instead of freaking out over a stupid song.

    ¡°¡¯Scuse me,¡± I say to the Dunmer bard. ¡°Could you please play anything but that damned song? I¡¯ll pay. I will, in fact, pay you to never play that damned song again. Unless someone else specifically pays you to, I guess. Hmm. Actually. Do you write songs?¡±

    ¡°I could slap something together, I suppose,¡± he says. ¡°What subject did you have in mind, muthsera?¡±

    ¡°The glorious defeat of Manny the Worm,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the details if you can do it.¡±

    ¡°I could put it to the tune of an old Nord drinking song,¡± the Dunmer bard suggests. ¡°The locals won¡¯t know the difference. And I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be happy to drink to that.¡±

    I find Kuna¡¯s office and let her know what happened in her delve. The only thing she¡¯s happy about is that the trolls have already been taken care of, saving her the trouble of hiring sellswords to clear the mine. There¡¯s a copy of The Red Book of Riddles in her office, which I make disappear when she¡¯s not looking. (Though once I read it, I¡¯m not sure why I bothered. It¡¯s baffling. And terrible.)

    Outside the temple, a Bosmer by the name of Rollin is lamenting some relics that Telenger was letting him study that have gone missing. Merry stiffens at the mention of Telenger¡¯s name.

    ¡°Neri,¡± Eran says. ¡°We can help out this guy while you continue on to the temple.¡±

    ¡°Right, yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Hopefully people haven¡¯t been waiting for me long.¡±

    It seems half the party that was at Dra¡¯bul portalled to Rawl¡¯kha in the meantime, plus the ex-Mane who is here now. Queen Ayrenn, the Silvenar, and the Green Lady are here, along with their entourages. Razum-dar and Cariel have also made it here ahead of me. It¡¯s not like I took that many detours. They¡¯re clearly just taking full advantage of having a portal mage on hand. I give them a brief update on what happened in Greenhill, and entirely skip over the fact that I took the time out to become Grand Champion of the Thizzrini Arena just because it was on the way. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll hear about it soon enough.

    The problem with Khali and Shazah is that the Mane is born during an eclipse, and this time, twins were born. Only one of them can become the Mane, and it will be up to me to decide which one. I wonder aloud what happens to kittens born during an eclipse who don¡¯t wind up becoming the Mane and am treated to the start of a history lesson about the Forgotten Manes before somebody politely puts in a reminder that we¡¯re trying to get a ritual done here.

    A priestess tells me that I need to guide them on a trial path, and we all need to drink a cup of moon sugar elixir, which is probably even more potent than normal moon sugar. (I¡¯d ask for their recipe but they¡¯d probably be offended about their sacred whatever. I have nothing but respect for a culture that offers moon sugar.)

    The moon sugar elixir is actually quite delicious and tingles on the way down even as it clouds my vision with purple fog and stars. It¡¯s fizzy, like a Dwemer fizzy drink. The one they put bubbles in but it was actually bitter as fuck, this stuff is like that except mixed with a mana potion and moon sugar syrup so potent I¡¯m already in space.

    I head off into Shazah¡¯s vision quest first. By which I mean we go through a door into another part of the temple where we can hallucinate vividly without it disturbing the very important people in the next room, who are now standing around watching nothing while waiting for us to get back. I saw those Dominion marines standing at attention and wonder how long they were standing at attention while I was fucking around town. (I¡¯m kind of hoping that they just had someone waiting for me to show up and portaled in when I was spotted near town. The Queen, Silvenar, and Green Lady have got to have better things to do than stand around waiting while I meander slowly across Valenwood.)

    ¡°This one hates to admit it, but that elixir was actually rather tasty,¡± Shazah says with a quirk of her lip.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°I wonder if I could make something that tastes similar to that but doesn¡¯t send you to the moons.¡±

    ¡°You could sell it.¡±

    Shazah¡¯s visions that plague her are visions of the plague that killed her father. I have to wonder how much my presence here is affecting the visions, seeing as I wind up having to fight almost everything that her hallucinations dream up. (Except her dad. He just does the hovering transparent ghost thing, gives words of wisdom, and disappears. Thanks, ghost dad!)The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I¡¯m not sure if Shazah was supposed to be learning a lesson from all this, perhaps a lesson in ¡°if you need something horribly killed, call in Neri¡± if nothing else. I¡¯m not even terribly sure what¡¯s happening beyond fighting zombies. (The Knahaten flu does not actually create zombies. It probably would have been easier to stop if it could be battled in battle.)

    We complete Shazah¡¯s vision quest successfully(?) and return to the main room of the temple. I make the mistake of glancing over to the congregation of important people while still on the vision elixir. Everyone is simultaneously there and somewhere else, and surrounded by auras of color. Khali touches my arm and directs me into another room for her quest.

    ¡°Hah! It might be nice to stare at all the pretty colors until the sugar wears off but we have a ritual to do!¡± Khali says. ¡°Also Khali was totally staring at the pretty colors while you and Shazah were in her ritual.¡±

    I could easily hear either Khali or Shazah speaking that sentence. I look at Khali, and see for a moment two vague Khajiit shapes standing behind her, one dark and one light.

    Looking at the dark shape, a beat began to thump in my head. The heartbeat of the Doom Drum.

    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± Khali asks, ears shooting up in alarm.

    ¡°The heartbeat?¡± I say quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve got to make it stop.¡±

    I forcefully stop the drumbeat and blast out something heroic to drown it out.

    ¡°Hearing the heartbeat of Lorkhaj is not a good sign,¡± Khali says, scowling.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ hearing it for a while,¡± I say. ¡°I have a gift that lets me cause music to play in the air around me. Lately, it has been¡­ getting harder to control. The Doom Drum keeps slipping out. It¡¯s¡­ disconcerting.¡±

    ¡°You should speak with a priestess about it,¡± Khali says seriously. ¡°Shazah would know. She spent more time than Khali studying that sort of thing. Come. Let us do Khali¡¯s trial.¡±

    Khali¡¯s visions are of the Colovians that killed her mother. Once again, this mostly entails me slaughtering a bunch of hallucinatory Colovians because apparently anything I¡¯m ever involved with ends in violence. Again, I¡¯m not terribly sure what Khali might be learning from this all, but whatever. The ritual is complete, and we head back outside and for fuck¡¯s sake is everyone still standing there? Just waiting for us? Couldn¡¯t they sit down or something? Some of the Khajiit are more sensibly kneeling on pillows but every Altmer in the room is still standing up.

    Once the ritual is complete, I raise a hand to interrupt the priestess. ¡°Priestess, we need to speak in private. Just you and me and the two candidates. Please.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Hallowed,¡± the priestess says, since every Khajiit in Reaper¡¯s March suddenly forgot my name and refuses to call me anything other than the Moon Hallowed. (Except Ilara and Raz, of course, who continue to call me ¡°the bloodthirsty lunatic with the battle axe¡±, which is extra funny since I¡¯m pretty sure that still amounts to the same thing. Masser and Secunda are lunar axes of steel and blood, after all.)

    I find myself in another room, blinking. ¡°Uh¡­ sorry, I¡¯m still quite high.¡±

    ¡°Quite alright,¡± the priestess says with a faint smirk. ¡°The effects of the elixir should be wearing off shortly. What did you wish to speak about? Did something come up during the ritual?¡±

    ¡°Sort of,¡± I say. ¡°This is going to take some explaining a bit of background.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the priestess says. ¡°Take your time.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so, a while back, during a job I was doing for the Mages Guild that required visiting the Shivering Isles because I was the only one they could find that was crazy enough to take the job, I wound up with a gift that makes music play. Like, a metaphysical sort of gift. Usually it just plays just in my own head, because if people wind up mad from spending too much time in the Shivering Isles, at least hearing music in my head is a usually benign sort of madness, but I can make it play audibly to those around me if I want to.¡±

    ¡°Mm, yes, Oblivion rarely leaves one untouched,¡± the priestess says patiently. ¡°How does this relate to the trials?¡±

    I take a deep breath. ¡°When I looked at Khali, I saw two Khajiit standing behind her, one made of light and one made of swirling shadows like the one I saw come out of the old Mane. I only saw them for a moment, but when I looked at the dark one, I heard the heartbeat of the Doom Drum and not just in my head. I stopped it as soon as I could but Khali was alarmed and told me to talk to you. I am spending half my attention consciously suppressing it just to be able to have this conversation.¡±

    The priestess frowns deeply. ¡°Khali was right to be alarmed. It is said that the dro-m¡¯Athra are created when a Khajiit loses themselves to the heartbeat of Lorkhaj so that they no longer hear their own, and dance only to the drums of darkness. Bent Cats, we call them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s so much easier of a name to say than¡­ anyway,¡± I say. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve heard it, but I¡¯ve been hearing it more and more lately. Does that mean I could become a ¡­ Bent Mer?¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°Only Khajiit can become dro-m¡¯Athra, but there may be danger to any Khajiit around you if you fail to suppress your gift. A gift that becomes a curse when twisted to darkness. A sad thing. Perhaps one that could be turned to a better purpose, no? This one can teach you a song that you may be able to play that might protect Khajiit from being twisted into dro-m¡¯Athra.¡±

    ¡°That could be useful,¡± I say, perking up.

    ¡°It is dangerous to play, but under the circumstances you may consider it to be worth the risk,¡± the priestess says. ¡°The dro-m¡¯Athra will try to kill you for it.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re already trying to kill me, so that doesn¡¯t make much difference,¡± I say. ¡°Please teach me.¡±

    The priestess teaches me the ¡°Chase Away¡± song, and then tells me that the moons told her I should go to Moonmont next, because the Dark Mane is there and I need to hit him until he stops being a problem. Okay, she doesn¡¯t put it quite like that, but that¡¯s my takeaway from this. She also mentions some sort of golden claw that I might find in a monastery named Do¡¯Krin which might help in some way if I retrieve it.

    I¡¯m betting both Moonmont and this monastery are full of mathra, because that¡¯s just the way these things go. Still, I already feel a little better just for knowing that song. Lorkha(n/j)¡¯s heartbeat might not affect me in the same way as it does the Khajiit, but it¡¯s still disturbing to hear.

    It¡¯s pouring outside by the time I leave the temple and look around for my friends. (The priestess does make me and the candidates wait until we are no longer high as fuck before letting us leave the temple.) I hope my friends haven¡¯t run into too much trouble.

    While I¡¯d been busy having vision quests, they were delivering meat pies and catching wisps. They didn¡¯t wind up having to kill anything, so I¡¯m not too disappointed for having missed it. I thank them for running off and doing the compulsive errand I would have been doing and leaving every important person in the Dominion waiting. (Look, I didn¡¯t know they were all there! Why were they all there?)

    ¡°There was also a claw necklace had been sold to a merchant named Atrius,¡± Eran says, politely ignoring my rambling. ¡°He¡¯s already left town, heading south.¡±

    ¡°We can keep an eye out for him when we leave town,¡± I say. ¡°Or his remains, if the item was cursed or just bad luck or something.¡±

    ¡°Where are we heading now?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°The priestess wants me to go to someplace called Moonmont, which is south of here, and I don¡¯t terribly want to do it so I¡¯m just going to procrastinate by solving every problem between here and there. Most of which are going to turn out to be important to solve anyway.¡±

    ¡°So, same as usual, then,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°At least the dro-m¡¯Athra are flammable,¡± Merry says. ¡°And likely everywhere.¡±

 Chapter 125: In Which I Throw a Shiny Thing Into a Shadowy Thing

    ¡°By the way, Sees-All-Colors is here and wants to see us,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Valaste is also here,¡± Merry says. ¡°However, I would imagine that whatever the Fighters Guild is doing is probably more pressing than whatever mad nonsense the Mages Guild will want you to do today.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°Fighters Guild first, then. Let¡¯s see, which building is it¡­¡±

    Eran points. ¡°The one over there that¡¯s got a tavern under it.¡±

    ¡°The Fighters Guild has their own tavern here?¡± I say. ¡°Nice.¡±

    The guildhall itself is up the stairs, with the tavern area underneath. Eran and I head in, and find Sees-All-Colors inside, looking weary.

    ¡°Thank you for clearing my name and exposing that necromancer,¡± Colors says, giving me an expression that I have not consumed enough Hist sap to parse.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°I would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.¡±

    ¡°Also, Aelif tortured a ghost,¡± Eran adds. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to support that sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°Aelif never returned to the guild after you parted ways with her in Ragnthar,¡± Colors says. ¡°The council has ordered her death. I fear what she might be doing in the meantime. I know where to find the Mortuum Vivicus. First, though, we¡¯ll need to visit the Earth Forge and meet with Merric. He¡¯s almost done with work on the Prismatic Weapon.¡±

    Colors opens a portal back to the Dwemer ruin Merric was working in, but before we head inside, she holds up a hand.

    ¡°We must take a moment to speak in private,¡± Colors says. ¡°There is something I must confess to you.¡±

    ¡°That you murdered Jofnir Iceblade?¡± I say. ¡°Yeah, we know.¡±

    Colors blinks. ¡°You do not seem particularly alarmed about that, comrade.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m sure you had a good reason for it.¡±

    ¡°Also, did we mention the necromantic torture bit?¡± Eran puts in. ¡°Aelif did a very good job of looking obviously evil.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Colors says. ¡°I¡¯ve discovered that she¡¯s a follower of the God of Schemes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, good,¡± I say.

    ¡°Good?¡± Colors blinks in confusion again.

    ¡°I mean, now I don¡¯t need to feel bad about betraying her to cover up your murderousness,¡± I say. ¡°Not that she was doing a terribly good job of being sympathetic, but it¡¯s good to know that she¡¯s actually bad and not that she was just a grumpy, short-tempered necromancer who was having a bad day.¡±

    ¡°Why would you betray her to cover up murder?¡± Colors wonders.

    ¡°Because I was afraid if Aelif got her way, people would stop fighting the Dark Anchors,¡± I say.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I killed him, actually,¡± Colors says. ¡°Not that you¡¯re even demanding answers about that. Jofnir Iceblade refused to listen to me about the threat posed by the Planemeld. I had to act, or the world was doomed.¡±

    ¡°So you took an Orc promotion,¡± I say.

    Colors chuckles. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s one way of looking at it.¡±

    ¡°Where is the gold for that coming from, anyway?¡± I ask. ¡°Who¡¯s contract is it?¡±

    ¡°Meridia,¡± Colors explains. ¡°I¡¯m actually a follower of Meridia, and the contract is hers. I fear some of them, like Merric, are devout Aedra worshippers and might be offended if they knew the truth.¡±

    ¡°Well, my patron is Malacath, and I don¡¯t especially care where the gold is coming from, although I¡¯m guessing the Colored Rooms has a lot of gold? I mean, I guess gold is technically a color.¡±

    Eran chuckles. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s one way to take care of something, if you have enough gold. Also, I don¡¯t care one way or another about Meridia. I¡¯ve had more brushes with Daedra than I¡¯d ever imagined I would in the past few months. This certainly beats that time Neri had to tell me not to look directly at Hermaeus Mora for too long.¡±

    We head down into the ruin. The Redguard is busily at work in the forge, and apparently is the sort of person who sings when he works. Loudly. His voice echoes through the halls to the point where my own music rises up to accompany his song. He beams at us when we approach and stops singing, the music dying down.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Merric says. ¡°I believe the Dwemer music devices must have caught on to my song.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Colors says, giving me a sidelong look and knowing where the music actually came from, but doesn¡¯t mention it. ¡°The Dwarves were certainly an ingenious people.¡±

    If I can cover up her murdering, she can cover up my Daedra trafficking. Heh.

    The Prismatic Weapon is nearly ready, by which Merric means that he¡¯s about to actually forge it into something and wants to know what sort of weapon I want. ¡°A sword? A staff? A bow?¡±

    ¡°I was unaware that bows are typically forged, but then I was also unaware that crystals are typically forged,¡± I comment. ¡°In any case, can you do a battle axe? That¡¯s just a curved sword attached to a staff, right?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°A battle axe!¡± Merric exclaims. ¡°Of course. I should have noticed what I always see you wielding. This will be just a moment.¡±

    For all that it has taken¡­ what, weeks? to get to this part of the crafting, the final stage takes almost no time at all. Far be it from me to tell a master weird-magic-crystal-smith how to do his thing.

    I take the finished axe and hold it aloft. ¡°I hereby dub this weapon, Shiny!¡±

    ¡°An excellent name,¡± Eran says flatly into the speechless silence Merric and Colors are giving.

    ¡°That will give us the edge we need in this fight,¡± Colors says. ¡°I¡¯ve located the Mortuum Vivicus in the Halls of Submission. And I have a feeling we might well find Aelif there. I¡¯ll open a portal.¡±

    Colors is a surprisingly good portal mage for being a fighter. I wonder how far off I am from actually being able to do that. Wayshrines seem to be everywhere as it is, but if I could get to places I haven¡¯t been before, it would be even more convenient. Admittedly, this would probably require scrying magic of some sort and I don¡¯t know the first thing about that. Eh, wayshrine teleportation is honestly more than I¡¯d ever hoped for anyway.

    I¡¯m very much not looking forward to an inevitable return to Coldharbour, but at least I¡¯m feeling better about my prospects with Malacath¡¯s blessing upon me. I suppose this will be a good test of whether Molag Bal will notice me or not.

    The four of us step through Colors¡¯ portal and into the Halls of Submission. We come out not far from the shadowy swirling sphere that must be the¡­ M.V. that we need to destroy. And Aelif is here.

    ¡°So, you found Aelif out,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°No matter. You will all die here. You may have exposed this one to the Fighters Guild and prevented her from putting an end to the destruction of the Master¡¯s Anchors, but you will not stop the Mortuum Vivicus!¡±

    Molag Bal¡¯s voice rings out through the Halls of Submission, and Aelif¡¯s body warps and grows. Where a Khajiit had stood before, a massive Daedric Titan now stands. I liked to call them ¡°fool¡¯s drakes¡± (because they¡¯re imitation dragons) but nobody but me ever thought it was funny. One of these days, I kind of hope to find an actual dragon to see how fun fighting them is comparatively. In any case, fighting someone I know personally is another matter. Usually, stuff doesn¡¯t piss me off before I fight it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t actually know you were a cultist,¡± I say, dodging a swipe and bringing Shiny to bear. ¡°But thanks so much for confirming it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve found it a good rule of thumb that people who do bad things for no good reason are typically bad,¡± Eran says calmly as he blocks an attack with his shield. ¡°And there¡¯s rarely much excuse for torture.¡±

    Between the four of us, we eventually shut down the things that made her stronger and defeat Aelif. The titan falls, and Molag Bal expresses his disappointment. I restrain the urge to yell at him not to be an asshole to his followers. Aelif did bad things, yes, but she was loyal to him.

    But, the Orc King wouldn¡¯t say that. He would know it was Nerevar¡¯s taunting because that¡¯s the same shit I always taunted him with. So I keep quiet, and just make a mental note that if I ever somehow wind up becoming a god, not to be an asshole to my followers. It seems terribly unlikely, but if Manny thought he had a chance, who¡¯s to say? At the very least, I can make sure not to be an asshole as a king, either.

    (I am so fucking glad that my wives aren¡¯t complete raging bitches. I have hazy memories of having to stand by while Ayem was a raging bitch and just letting her do it. She was so self-absorbed that I bet the whole godhood schtick was her idea. Seht was probably the one to figure out how to do it, but he wouldn¡¯t have demanded to be venerated for it. He¡¯d just have used it to become extremely powerful and then go off somewhere people wouldn¡¯t bother him in order to experiment with it.)

    ¡°Neri? Neri, are you listening?¡±

    ¡°Apparently not,¡± I say, glancing about to see everyone trying to get my attention. ¡°How do we destroy this thing?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was trying to tell you,¡± Colors says. ¡°You¡¯ll need to use the Prismatic Weapon on it!¡±

    ¡°Right!¡±

    I swing Shiny through the swirling shadowy globe. It falters but doesn¡¯t fade.

    ¡°Throw it in!¡± the ghost of Jofnir Iceblade yells. (No idea what he¡¯s doing here but I guess he wanted to see this thing through before moving on to Sovngarde finally?)

    ¡°But I just got this weapon!¡± I grouse briefly before chucking the brilliant weapon into the evil orb, which finally dissipates. ¡°Alas, poor Shiny, its life was brief and heroic. You shall not be forgotten, noble axe.¡±

    The ghost groans. ¡°I can pull it back out for you. It¡¯s done its job and it would be a shame to leave it here.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I brighten.

    ¡°Was throwing it in really necessary?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Maybe not, but it did get it done quickly,¡± Colors says.

    The ghost fishes out the shiny thing, no longer shaped like an axe. ¡°I assume you want it axe shaped again?¡±

    ¡°Shiny!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Yes!¡±

    Apparently forging a weapon doesn¡¯t require a lot of time or even a forge, as the ghost bends light and color into a a blade again and returns it to me. ¡°Here you go. May it slay many more foul beings that would threaten innocents.¡±

    ¡°Jofnir Iceblade, it is good to see you free of that necromancer¡¯s chains,¡± Eran says, looking between the ghost and Colors in silent question.

    ¡°Yes. I am glad you did not fall for her trickery,¡± Jofnir says. ¡°And¡­ Colors. Before I seek out my ancestors in Sovngarde, I must speak with you in private.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Colors says. ¡°Let us return to Nirn first. This place dries my scales.¡±

    A portal is opened, and we waste no time in getting the hell out of hell. I¡¯m not feeling too down about that visit, though. The God of Brutality did not recognize me. He didn¡¯t get into my head. And we won. Also I got to fight a cool monster. Aelif might have been a scheming fetcher, but at least she gave me a good fight.

    ¡°How are you doing?¡± Eran asks me quietly.

    ¡°Good,¡± I say, grinning. ¡°I think we might actually be able to do this.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m totally looking forward to my next trip to Coldharbour.¡± He almost even manages to say it convincingly.

    I snicker softly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m looking forward to Coldharbour but I¡¯m definitely looking forward to hitting shit and making an asshole god quit throwing fishhooks into my backyard. I¡¯d like my hypothetical children to be able to play on the beach without having gates to hell open overhead. And I¡¯ll have them fight Scamps before Ogrims.¡±

    ¡°Have you already named your hypothetical children?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°A mer can dream, right?¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°I never¡­ had children, before. Which might be sadly ironic given how my ex projects herself in a ¡®motherly¡¯ sort of way. By Malacath¡¯s sweaty loincloth, I really don¡¯t want to have to deal with her again. It seems like Molag Bal is a much easier individual to deal with than my ex-wife.¡±

    ¡°Could you please not make me imagine Malacath¡¯s sweaty loincloth?¡± Eran says.

    Colors approaches me and Eran. Merric has already gone on to report to the Fighters Guild council what happened. The ghost of Jofnir Iceblade (okay, you know what, Nords just have cool names) is nowhere in sight.

    ¡°You look pensive,¡± I say. ¡°So, who apologized to who there?¡±

    Colors gives a soft snort that might be half-amused. ¡°Both of us, really. I¡¯m glad we had a chance to talk it out, after all was said in done.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to remain Guildmaster?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Colors says. ¡°We¡¯ve won one battle, but the war is still on. I considered confessing, before, but it¡¯s likely to do more harm than good at this point. Jofnir agreed that we might as well just let Aelif take the blame for everything. He was considerably more upset at her for binding and torturing him than him being killed in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Understandably,¡± I say.

 Chapter 126: In Which Shalidor Isnt Completely Useless

    ¡°Manny the Worm, Manny the Worm

    wanted to watch the world burn.

    He rose up, and he fell down

    when Neri the Orc King came around!

    Mannimarco was an upstart clod

    who thought that he could become a god.

    Then the Orc King came with an axe and a yell

    and sent that fetcher straight to hell!¡±

    I think it came out rather well. I¡¯ll not criticize the bard I hired if it¡¯s not Altmer-perfect. Although the handful of Altmer in the establishment are too dignified to get into it, I catch one of them tapping a foot to it.

    Now, though, I need to head to the Mages Guild and speak with Valaste, and I kind of wish that I had some more of that moon sugar elixir for this but maybe it¡¯s just as well.

    Valaste is again doing some light reading waiting for me. ¡°Ah, there you are. I heard about what was going on here. You do seem to have a habit of getting into the middle of absolutely everything, don¡¯t you.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯m glad you actually went and talked to people to find out what¡¯s going on outside your books.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Valaste says. ¡°I even made a friend! I met this Khajiit who introduced me to moon sugar and sells it at reasonable prices. Have you tried it? It¡¯s so relaxing. And it has actually made the translation easier.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s good for that,¡± I say. ¡°How¡¯s that been going?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m done with the translation, actually,¡± Valaste says. ¡°It¡¯s probably just as well that you were¡­ solving literally every problem in Valenwood, from the way I hear it. Too much of the Madgod¡¯s madness at once would probably have been bad and I¡¯d have thrown myself headlong into it if it weren¡¯t for your enforced breaks. For an Altmer, I should really have learned to be more patient by now.¡±

    She has me take the books to flutter like glowing purple butterflies in pillars of light around the room. Shalidor¡¯s glowing purple ghost shows up and declares that he will use the power of the books to bring his island back to Nirn. Seems weird, but I don¡¯t tell Arch-Mages how to Arch-Mage.

    He¡¯s a bit busy gloating about how he ¡°won¡± over Sheogorath, which makes me a bit leery, especially considering that I was the one doing all the work/play. I won¡¯t put it past a Daedric Prince to find a way to punish a boastful Nord, and considering it¡¯s Sheogorath, it might be a particularly creative way. Still, it was very polite of them to wait for me to show up so I can solve whatever problem inevitably arises.

    The inevitable problem is that the island is full of Daedra. It seems its previous residents didn¡¯t bother moving out before Shalidor rearranged the geography of the Mundus. On the upside, since we aren¡¯t actually going to the Shivering Isles this time, my friends opt to come along for support.

    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°Killing Daedra with friends is always more fun.¡±

    The island looks like it could have been anywhere in the Summerset Isles, aside from the Daedra at least. It will probably be considerably more boring once the Daedra are removed, alas. But hey, if the mages really want a place that¡¯s pretty, soft, and pink, they can have it.

    Sheogorath is standing in front of the main hall when we get there. Shalidor, like an idiot, blusters and attacks him, and gets comically stunned by butterflies.

    ¡°Dead Nords, can¡¯t take them anywhere,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Hey, Uncle Sheo! Thanks for the parting gift. It was very thoughtful of you. These Daedra are going to be so much fun to kill!¡±

    (I wonder if Sheogorath uses custom spells that summon butterflies with magic powers, or if they¡¯re just a cosmetic effect he added to normal spells for extra flair. Or if he¡¯s not using spells at all and is just using Daedric Prince cheating.)

    We run around the island, collecting crystals, closing portals, and killing quite a lot of Daedra. Shiny is not my most subtle of weapons, but it¡¯s quite good at killing Daedra, at least. I probably won¡¯t use it if I¡¯m just fighting bandits or something. (Unless I somehow manage to lose both Wibbly and Wobbly. Which I wouldn¡¯t put past me.) My friends fight Daedra like they¡¯ve been doing it all their lives. It¡¯s nice to kill things myself, but it¡¯s also nice to see people I¡¯ve trained and fought with being competent enough that I don¡¯t have to do everything myself. Now if only I had an army of them. (I don¡¯t think the world could handle an army of mes. One of me is quite enough.)

    ¡°It¡¯s strange,¡± Merry muses aloud. ¡°I was expecting something a bit more¡­ strange¡­ out of the Madgod. Daedra-spewing portals is practically mundane.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly fine with this level of strangeness,¡± Eran says. ¡°They don¡¯t need to be giant flaming chickens or whatever.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give him any ideas,¡± Merry groans.

    We get all the portals closed, and Ilara collects all the crystals that we were supposed to collect for some reason. (I might not have been paying much attention to the details beyond ¡°go kill all the Daedra on the island¡±. And this is why I brought my friends.)This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    That opens the way into the big building in the middle of the island, and we head inside. Sheogorath and his chamberlain, Haskill, are waiting for us there.

    ¡°You certainly did a bang-up job on those portals,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°Although it involved more chopping than banging. Plus a bit of zorching and twanging from your backup band.¡±

    Ilara gives a bow. By which I mean she bends her body like an actor after a fine performance, and not that she hands over her ranged weapon.

    ¡°But, they¡¯re going to have to stand aside for this one,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t have your heart set on a final battle with the boss, but I don¡¯t much feel like battling. So you can battle Haskill instead! It¡¯ll be glorious!¡±

    ¡°Let us wait until the audience has finished betting,¡± Haskill says. ¡°It would only be polite.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m certainly not betting against him,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯m betting he¡¯ll forget I¡¯m not healing him,¡± Gelur adds brightly.

    ¡°He did manage to become champion of Thizzrini Arena,¡± Ilara points out.

    ¡°I doubt anyone there was a significant challenge, comparatively,¡± Merry says. ¡°It is not like they were Daedric Princes or their chamberlains.¡±

    I have a nice duel with Haskill. I win, of course. But fighting the Madgod¡¯s chamberlain is a delicious sort of fun. Even if Shalidor¡¯s gloating over it more. Whatever.

    ¡°Alright, Shally, you got your boring old island back,¡± I say, or maybe Sheogorath says.

    ¡°Woohoo, we did it!¡± Shalidor says. Well, not those exact words. He might not be ¡®ridiculously dignified¡¯ Altmer, but he¡¯s the most eloquent Nord I¡¯ve ever met. Like many Nords, he also swears by Shor entirely too much, as if Lorkhan had anything to do with this specific event beyond orchestrating the creation of the Mundus.

    (Lorkhan¡¯s heartbeat still pulses through everything we do. Sometimes I could swear that I actually saw his face, but perhaps that was in a different reality. Nope, not letting this drum start up again. I wish I could just ask Shalidor to stop mentioning Shor in a way that would be concise and make sense but I¡¯m hoping not to interact with Shalidor after this anyway.)

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you one more little present,¡± Sheogorath says, coming up to me. ¡°The name of another boring person you¡¯re going to hate. Tom Gautier. Hero of the Covenant, they call him. What rot. Tommy boy¡¯s just a fancy Breton too big for his britches. Figuratively, that is, he¡¯s actually pretty scrawny. Tch, tch, tch, too good to play with ol¡¯ Uncle Sheo, he was. And they call him a hero! But is he a capitalized Hero or just a common lowercase hero?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep an eye out for him,¡± I say.

    ¡°I was going to offer to let Valaste visit the Shivering Isles,¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°She¡¯s only a little mad! Well, half-mad is better than all sane. I¡¯d offer you a book, too, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯re not particularly interested in the book anyway. It¡¯s not like you have any use for the collected knowledge of madmen who might have had insights about the world.¡±

    My eyebrow twitches. ¡°I think I will prefer to remain only half-mad myself.¡±

    ¡°It might be nice to see but I wouldn¡¯t want to stay there,¡± Valaste says. ¡°I already hadn¡¯t appreciated Nirn enough.¡±

    ¡°Would you look at that, Neri?¡± Sheogorath says. ¡°Other people have agency and their fate doesn¡¯t fall solely upon your own decisions! What free will! And not even the sort you have to fight this time in order to bypass a stupid puzzle or something. Wasn¡¯t that something? We¡¯ve had some good times. Drop in at one of my shrines anytime if you ever want to play another game. Toodles!¡±

    Sheogorath and Haskill vanish in a cloud of butterflies.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been a lot of help, even if you only seemed to be in it for the game,¡± Shalidor says. ¡°I¡¯ve been saving a spell just for you. For something I¡¯ve noticed you had some problems with. Fortunately, you don¡¯t need to be as great a mage as I in order to use it. I already did the necessary work in developing it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re quite a great mage,¡± I say flatly. ¡°Just reconsider getting involved with Daedra in the future. Though you¡¯re probably going back to Aetherius soon unless you want to continue hanging around here glowing purple and I can¡¯t imagine there¡¯s many Daedra out that way. What¡¯s the spell?¡±

    ¡°I call it¡­ Shalidor¡¯s Library of the Mind,¡± Shalidor says dramatically.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want anyone to get confused about whose library it is,¡± I say. ¡°This is a spell?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a mnemonic matrix, a complex piece of arcane craftsmanship,¡± Shalidor says. ¡°I could explain how it works, if you have a few decades to get down the grounding principles. In short, it¡¯s a memory enhancement. Eidetic memory.¡±

    ¡°You mean I¡¯ll finally be able to remember people¡¯s names?¡± I ask.

    Shalidor laughs. ¡°That and so much more! It allows you to remember every book, every scrap of paper you¡¯ve ever read.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take back every annoying thing I¡¯ve said about you.¡±

    Shalidor works his magic and prepares the spell, and sets up the memory enhancement for me. It¡­ feels weird. Incredibly weird. I feel about in my mind, trying to figure out how it works, but it turns out to be surprisingly easy to use.

    ¡­ every grievance, no longer how long it takes to exact it. They think that, now that we¡¯re enthusiastic members of their precious Covenant, we¡¯ll forget the razing of Orsinium and let bygones be bygones.

    Words pop into my mind as I bring up text with a thought.

    ¡­ come to Baan Dar¡¯s Boast! Returning to the ruins at Thormar for the twenty-fifth consecutive year!

    I¡¯ve read a lot of books since I returned to Tamriel, and a lot of random letters and notes as well, and it shows me all of them in lists I can sort by topic.

    ¡­ the transpontine circumpenetration of the limen¡­

    Okay, no amount of memory magic is going to make that make sense, but at least I can remember the exact text even if I¡¯m not sure what all those words mean precisely. I try to bring up memories of anything before going to Coldharbour and wind up with a splitting headache. Not trying that again.

    ¡°Is something wrong with the spell?¡± Shalidor asks, noticing my distress.

    ¡°I was hoping that it might be able to sort out my memories that got messed up by an event I suspect was a Dragon Break,¡± I say. ¡°All this resulted in was remembering garbled multiple versions of books with a lot of blank pages. Kudos to your spell for trying, though.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Shalidor says. ¡°Yes, that could be a problem. Messy things, Dragon Breaks. I once wrote a book of insights on the nature of dragons, but now can only remember it as blurry, mostly unintelligible text. It¡¯s working properly otherwise, though?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you. This is amazing. Let me tell you, this is the sort of shit people should be using magic for. I mean, aside from, you know, healing, portals¡­ you know what I mean. Every time I turn around, it seems like someone is doing something obnoxious with magic and just fucking everything up and I have to go hit them repeatedly and stop it.¡±

    Shalidor chuckles. ¡°I understand. People have turned the gift of magicka to foul ends at times.¡±

 Chapter 127: In Which Falinesti Still Isnt Here

    ¡°The moon priests said they¡¯d take care of Ezreba,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Assuming you haven¡¯t already forgotten about her.¡±

    ¡°I remember!¡± I insist, and quote, ¡°Anchorite Gaius, our spies determined that a couple of Khajiit named Ezreba and Hizurrdo are the closest bonded pair in Greenhill¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, your new blessing,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Does it require you to write things down first before you will remember them?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± I say, thoughtful as I head for the wayshrine. ¡°Huh. His name was Hizurrdo. Poor fetcher.¡±

    I plan to spend the night back at Dra¡¯bul, with time enough to rest after dealing with everything. The wayshrine in the middle of Rawl¡¯kha gives no excuse for not visiting. First, though, I teleport to Marbruk and visit Sahira-daro. I need to drop off some books and I¡¯m quite sure she¡¯ll be thrilled to hear about the blessing Shalidor gave me.

    ¡°Fascinating!¡± Sahira-daro says. ¡°That would be quite the useful thing to have. And Shalidor himself gave it to you and only you personally?¡±

    ¡°I have to wonder how much of it was thanks for getting his stupid island back, and how much was getting frustrated about me constantly forgetting things. Probably equal parts both.¡± I frown faintly. ¡°The results from trying to remember anything before I went to Coldharbour, however, were muddled. I didn¡¯t do much reading in Coldharbour but what scraps I could remember from there were fine.¡±

    Sahira-daro nods. ¡°That may not be the only problem you have. Or we have.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°We can never get enough problems, I suppose. Did you learn something in your studies?¡±

    ¡°When Sahira-daro read the book you brought back from Reaper¡¯s March, the Discourse Amaranthine, she received knowledge from it. The research she has been doing and consultations with experts around Tamriel would support it as well. Sahira-daro believes we may still be in a Dragon Break.¡±

    ¡°How do you think?¡± I ask.

    ¡°There is something wrong with Time,¡± Sahira-daro goes on. ¡°Books appear that have yet to be written. Events as you see them playing out may not be quite what they will be once the Dragon Break is resolved.¡±

    I pause, frowning, and think back through all the books I¡¯ve read with Shalidor¡¯s memory spell. Even the ones where I was high off my arse when I read them.

    ¡­ been there a long time, yet the printer¡¯s sigil notes its publication date as ¡°4E 195.¡± This is obviously a transcription error. I think.

    ¡°Does that mean everything I¡¯m doing is for nothing?¡± I wonder.

    Sahira-daro shakes her head. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± Her whiskers droop. ¡°Sahira-daro wishes to contact the Psijic Order regarding the matter, but expects no success. They are¡­ reclusive, but they are the only ones who may be experts in this field, if anyone is. Neri, should you run across them in your travels¡­¡±

    I nod. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye open, although if they¡¯re that reclusive, I have a feeling that it would more be a matter of them contacting us than the other way around. Probably if they need me to kill or find something for them.¡±

    ¡°Sahira-daro believes we are still in the Red Moment,¡± she says softly. ¡°You are still at Red Mountain.¡±

    My blood goes cold and I hear the backbeat of the Doom Drum in my mind along with a familiar song. I squelch it as well as I can with the tune the Rawl¡¯kha priest taught me. The last thing I need is Sahira-daro turning mathra on me.

    ¡°How do I ensure that this version of reality is the one that prevails?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Do you wish to do so?¡± Sahira asks. ¡°In this version of reality, you were trapped in Coldharbour for thousands of years.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I was, and I do. Yes, it was bad, but I emerged from it stronger, and I¡¯m happy now. I¡¯d like to keep being myself.¡±

    ¡°All yourselves are yourself, of course,¡± she says with a chuckle. ¡°But this one understands. She does not relish the thought of the other possibility, the one in which the Vestige gave her the books on Khenarthi¡¯s Roost and they consumed her. But one thing is clear from what she has learned: You might not have been meant to be the Vestige who escaped from Coldharbour.¡±

    I frown deeply. ¡°Then who was? Theryn Teldras? Tom Gautier? Someone else entirely?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. A wound in Time called for a Hero to fill a hole,¡± Sahira-daro explains. ¡°A blank, letting light through from beyond, faceless and nameless. It could have been anyone of any race, any gender, any skillset.¡±

    ¡°So it still could have been me?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she purrs. ¡°This one saw only the light-filled gap. She will do more research. If she can learn how to ensure that we remain us before she goes mad from the revelations or causes herself to cease to exist, she will let you know.¡±

    ¡°Good luck,¡± I say with a sigh, wondering if I ought to have accepted the mad book Sheogorath offered me or whether it would have helped anything at all.

    If we are still in the Red Moment, then not only am I in danger should my ex-friends discover that I have escaped from Coldharbour, but they might still be able to do something to ensure this entire timeline doesn¡¯t happen. And I hate them so fucking much for forcing me to think about timey-wimey bullshit.

    ¡­

    ¡°Are you leaving the town by the west bridge intentionally?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say cheerfully, quite well-rested from my break in Dra¡¯bul and very firmly not thinking about time shit. ¡°I even have a good excuse! Someone at the Mages Guild mentioned that an expedition led by Telenger had run into problems with cultists at the Falinesti Autumn Site. I love/hate cultists!¡±

    ¡°By which you mean you enjoy hitting them,¡± Eran says. ¡°Sounds very important. Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    Merry sighs. ¡°Hopefully we won¡¯t have to deal with Telenger personally.¡±

    Heading due west from Rawl¡¯kha, we come to a basin that¡¯s decidedly lacking a giant walking tree city. I can sense a Skyshard at the bottom of the cliff and go straight to it, ignoring a Bosmer man sitting on the ledge yelling to me ¡°Look out!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he does this all the time,¡± Eran says, laughing softly.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± I yell up, healing myself and going to absorb the Skyshard.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go around,¡± Eran says.

    We meet up at the camp, although it¡¯s more like there are two camps set up next to one another. On the near side of the road, leather tents house the Falinesti Faithful, who are mostly Bosmer. (And one Nord, who, when he notices me looking at him, asks if I¡¯ve never seen a Nord waiting around for a magic tree to show up.) One of the tents has a book titled The Legendary Scourge. (Summary: It¡¯s a mace.)

    On the far side of the road, a cluster of fancy Altmer-style tents comprises the Mages Guild expedition. I recognize Andewen, at least, from the expeditions in Auridon and Grahtwood, and she¡¯s quite glad to see me even if it takes her a moment to realize it¡¯s me under the Orc armor after I take off my helmet.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see a team of competent people,¡± Andewen says.

    ¡°Someone in Rawl¡¯kha mentioned you were having cultist problems?¡± I say.

    She explains about how the Falinesti Faithful have vomited out a splinter group of lunatics who want to conduct some sort of unpleasant ritual or something to try to forcefully bring the tree city back to Nirn. Whatever it is they¡¯re trying to do, they¡¯ve made some magic rocks that are corrupting shit and keeping people out of the tunnels. Hopefully the situation here will be as easy to solve as breaking some evil rocks and smacking anyone that tries to stop me from doing so.

    ¡°Do you think these cultists know what they¡¯re doing?¡± I wonder. ¡°Could they be being mind-controlled, possessed, coerced, or stuff of that nature?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say,¡± Andewen says. ¡°Usually the Falinesti Faithful been so reasonable, if a bit¡­ spiritual. The sudden change in behavior of some of them is worrisome, though.¡±

    ¡°Merry can turn them to stone so they don¡¯t hurt themselves,¡± I say. ¡°We can figure out what to do with them after we get to the bottom of what¡¯s going on here.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it beats stoning trolls for arena transport,¡± Merry drawls.

    We bid Andewen farewell and head for the basin. A Bosmer hiding behind a rock wants samples from the caves below. Easy enough to do as we¡¯re heading in there anyway. I delegate the task to Gelur and Ilara.

    The corruption stones we¡¯re looking for are located in small caves around the basin, and not the big caves that they¡¯re blocking off the entrance to. These particular evil rocks are the size of my forearm, swirling with purple-black energy, and sitting atop tripods with cultists praying over them. They smash easily, and fortunately don¡¯t keep swirling once they¡¯re in tiny shards.

    Once the corruption stones are destroyed and any cultists who might have bothered us have become rocky in a different manner, we¡¯re able to gain access to the Halls of Ichor, which is a beautiful name for sap-filled tunnels Falinesti would take root in if it were here.

    A note from Telenger indicates that he apparently turned many of the cultists into bantam guar.

    ¡°Guar,¡± Merry says with a shake of his head. ¡°I could have done that, too. Fools are easier to deal with when they¡¯re immobile, however.¡±

    I cock my head at one of the small lizards. ¡°They¡¯re much cuter this way, though.¡±

    When we meet up with Telenger himself, it appears that he¡¯d also turned the leader of the Arbordawn cult into a guar. He doesn¡¯t seem the least bit concerned about them. I don¡¯t terribly blame him on that, though. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re a great threat to us either, aside from whatever trouble they¡¯re causing with evil magic rocks.

    ¡°Merormo,¡± Telenger says flatly upon recognizing my companion.

    ¡°Telenger,¡± Merry replies.

    ¡°I take it you have been avoiding ill-advised experiments of late?¡± Telenger says.

    ¡°I have been quite busy providing magical assistance to these fine, upstanding adventurers,¡± Merry says. ¡°I have, admittedly, been attacked by Daedra far more frequently than I ever was when conducting ill-advised experiments.¡±

    I wave a hand. ¡°Merry has saved quite a lot of lives.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Merry?¡± Telenger repeats.

    Merry groans and sighs. ¡°It is just as well that I have gotten used to that silly nickname by now. Yes, Neri has difficulties with pronouncing names sometimes.¡±

    Telenger explains how they¡¯d discovered some Daedric ruins. And by ¡°discovered¡± I mean that Telenger accidentally uncovered them with earth-moving spells when trying to excavate these tunnels. (No idea what they wanted in the tunnels in the first place.)

    ¡°Telenger, if I¡¯ve learned anything in my travels, it¡¯s that if you dig in any random location on the entire surface of Tamriel, you¡¯re likely to hit ruins of something. Ayleid, Daedric, Dwemer, Khajiit, whatever.¡±

    ¡°Quite often true, yes,¡± Telenger says.

    ¡°What were you even hoping to find down here?¡± Eran wonders.

    Telenger shows us where he¡¯d found the ruins, past some large vines and down a tunnel. Across a ditch stands the entrance to a building with very familiar architecture.

    ¡°Yep, definitely Daedric,¡± I say. ¡°Ooh, is that one of those hanging lamps in the archway there? I love those things! Let me see if I can get it down.¡±

    Telenger rolls his eyes. ¡°Here.¡± With a twitch of a finger, the chain snaps and the lamp falls to the ground. ¡°Let us waste no more time. I will dispel this ward and we can go inside and investigate.¡±

    When Telenger starts trying to break the ward, Daedra appear and attack us. It was completely expected, though, so I can¡¯t exactly say it was an ambush or even slightly a surprise. We fight off the Daedra while Telenger breaks the ward. I scoop up the lamp and toss it into my pack once we¡¯re not being attacked.

    ¡°Those were Spider Daedra,¡± I muse aloud as we head inside. ¡°Is this a temple of Mephala?¡±

    ¡°Welcome to my web, little mortals,¡± says a feminine voice echoing through the halls.

    ¡°Ah, yep,¡± I say. ¡°Hi, Mephala!¡±

    The echoing voice bids me to come and speak with her. She appears in a room a bit further in, in the form of a transparent purple Spider Daedra. Everything she says is cryptic and useless, although it¡¯s clear that she¡¯s been manipulating these cultists who don¡¯t actually seem to realize they¡¯re working for a Daedric Prince and not just being overenthusiastic about getting their walking tree back.

    (Although for all I know, Falinesti is in the Webspinner herself¡¯s realm of Oblivion, the Spiral Skein. I don¡¯t expect a straight answer out of her, so I don¡¯t bother asking.)

    Telenger is neither impressed nor even slightly respectful toward the Daedric Prince of Murder. I usually prefer not to be outright rude to Daedric Princes no matter how annoying they¡¯re being. It doesn¡¯t pay to antagonize them, even if they¡¯re doing something bad. Usually, they¡¯re not even terribly upset when you upset their schemes and some of them even respect when you slaughter their followers. Telenger seals up the temple again.

    ¡°Sorry about this rude Altmer, Mephala!¡± I yell right before we¡¯re teleported back to camp.

    I probably shouldn¡¯t worry too much about pissing off another Daedric Prince. It¡¯s not like she even knows who I am. Still. At least without her influence, the cultists may or may not come to their senses, once they¡¯re de-stoned.

    ¡°You transformed the cultists into statuary, ¡®Merry¡¯?¡± Telenger says, looking down into the basin.

    Merry winces at the nickname and clears his throat. ¡°At Neri¡¯s request, yes.¡±

    ¡°Hmph,¡± Telenger says. ¡°Uncreative, but effective.¡±

    ¡°Yes, the bantam guar were quite creative,¡± Merry allows generously.

    Telenger waves a hand and all the cultists revert to flesh. ¡°I will need to leave some students behind to observe how they react now that they are free of Daedric influence.¡±

    The cultists look quite puzzled over what just happened, although I don¡¯t know how much of that is time suddenly passing and no longer fighting some adventurers and how much is the lack of Mephala¡¯s webs over their minds.

    Telenger is rambling something about planning for his next expedition and wanting to visit the planes of Oblivion again.

    ¡°Some friends of mine are planning an excursion to Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°While I don¡¯t really recommend the place as a vacation spot, I¡¯m certain that they would appreciate having the great Artificer himself along.¡±

    Telenger grunts. ¡°I may consider it. Who are these friends of yours?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s Vastarie and her apprentices, of course. Telacar¡¯s around sometimes but he usually keeps to himself, since their relationship is still a little rocky.¡±

    ¡°You are friends with Vastarie?¡± Telenger says.

    ¡°We did free her from the Ayleid ruin where she¡¯d been trapped for a century,¡± I say.

    ¡°I heard that Telacar had donated some minor trinkets to the Guild and Andewen said you were involved the matter,¡± Telenger says.

    ¡°There¡¯s also Abnur Tharn, who is less of a dick than many of his relatives, Varen A¡­¡± I think back to the ¡®chronicles¡¯ they¡¯ve been writing out. ¡°Varen Aquilarios, who became a Moth Priest after Manny betrayed him and screwed over the world, some human warriors you probably haven¡¯t heard of¡­¡±

    Telenger ignores most of my rambling. He probably hasn¡¯t heard of or doesn¡¯t care about most of those anyway.

    ¡°I am intrigued,¡± Telenger says, perhaps just to shut me up. ¡°Very well. I believe I shall take up your suggestion and contact Vastarie.¡±

    We bring the dirt and water samples we¡¯d collected to the man at the Falinesti Faithful camp who had requested them. I had expected that he might perform some tests or experiments on them, as he would if he were with the Mages Guild most likely, but instead he sets up a ritual of some sort that summons a transparent blue tree spirit. Well, Bosmer gotta Bosmer, I guess.

 Chapter 128: In Which I Get High for Religious Purposes

    Not far from the Falinesti Autumn Site is a graveyard we have absolutely no good reason to visit. Since the place is full of undead, though, it¡¯s a good excuse to go in and hit some stuff. Can¡¯t leave a graveyard full of undead un-hit after all.

    As we head inside, a ghost waves at us as if to get our attention and runs off down a corridor. Ah, so this is going to be one of those mysterious silent ghosts trying to communicate by pointing again. It would really suck to be a ghost that couldn¡¯t talk.

    I find a Skyshard in a side tunnel I almost miss and might not have bothered to look down if I didn¡¯t sense a Skyshard nearby. Just as well, though! There were more undead that way, too.

    We find the ghost again, standing and pointing at a dusty old flute laying on the ground. I pick it up and examine an inscription denoting it as having once belonged to someone named Valencia Nasica from Dune.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to see if she has any relatives in Dune when we get there,¡± I say, shoving it in my bag.

    I wonder if Shalidor¡¯s Eidetic Memory includes inscriptions, and try to think back, but this one apparently wasn¡¯t included for whatever reason. Does it just count paper or vellum? I¡¯ll just have to test it out myself, seeing as I really don¡¯t care to go back to that pretty little island and hang out with antisocial mages on the off-chance Shally¡¯s ghost is still around to ask.

    We get back to Rawl¡¯kha in due order. By which I mean I teleport us directly to the wayshrine in Rawl¡¯kha once we can¡¯t find anymore undead to hit. (I totally forgot I could do that, but Ilara reminded me since she¡¯s smarter than me.)

    ¡°I came upon a note advertising a reward for senche fangs,¡± Eran says. ¡°I grabbed it since I figured we would wind up killing a number of them anyway. And then shoving their entire bodies into Gelur¡¯s pack to be turned into food and raw materials.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure we can spare a few teeth.¡±

    We head south toward the location marked as Thormar on my map, where a note had mentioned some sort of event was taking place. It sounded like fun, and it¡¯s in the general direction of where we were supposed to be going.

    Along the way, we run across Atrius the Merchant sitting at the side of the road looking rather scuffed. In between Gelur healing him, he tells us about how that claw necklace was actually sacred to Hircine or something and some werewolves robbed him and he only survived by playing dead.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they could have smelled that you were still alive,¡± I say. ¡°They probably just didn¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°True, they got what they wanted,¡± Atrius grunts. ¡°They said they were heading to a cave east of Willowgrove. Weeping Wind Cave. If you¡¯re feeling heroic, you ought to go stab them, set them on fire, shoot them, and dismember them.¡± His eyes pause on each of our weapons as he speaks. ¡°I¡¯m going to retire from this traveling merchant business and go buy a nice, safe inn somewhere. I¡¯ll give you a discount.¡±

    ¡°Willowgrove, huh?¡± I say. ¡°We were heading that way anyway. Werewolves are always fun to fight.¡±

    ¡°We totally weren¡¯t,¡± Eran says. ¡°But we totally can.¡±

    Atrius stands and brushes himself up. ¡°Thank you for the healing. I think I can make it back to Rawl¡¯kha alright.¡±

    We continue on down the road to Thormar. I sense a Skyshard at the top of a cliff and can even see its blue light shaft from here, but there doesn¡¯t appear to be any way up the cliff from this side. Rather than immediately take up rock climbing, my friends convince me that I can just see if there¡¯s another way up first.

    Thormar is an Ayleid ruin perched atop a hill, up approximately forty steps of stairs. There¡¯s a Bosmer woman sweeping the steps for some reason, who introduces herself as Aniel and tells us more details about Baan Dar¡¯s Boast that the note I¡¯d come across somewhere mostly already covered too. Drinks and tricks. Drunken pranks sounds like a delicious opportunity for fun.

    Apparently, the winners get to have a party in something called the Five Finger Dance (or was it Five Fingers Dance?), which from the way she describes it sounds like Baan Dar¡¯s pocket realm of Oblivion. I wonder if Malacath¡¯s blessing covers minor gods like Baan Dar and Rajhin who aren¡¯t one of the Eight Divines or the Sixteen Daedric Princes or the Three Betrayers. Although I don¡¯t see why it couldn¡¯t and he just didn¡¯t see a need to mention it. Then again, I don¡¯t know why Baan Dar would care who I am one way or another. Alternatively, he might be a version of Sanguine, but the Khajiit already have their own version of Sanguine, Sangiin.

    My friends and I decide to split up and enjoy the event unless something ridiculous happens like being attacked by Daedra, undead, cultists, or everyone here turning into mathra, or the entire party being trapped in Oblivion, or¡­

    ¡°We get the idea,¡± Eran says, chuckling. ¡°I¡¯m going to go get a drink. Have fun.¡±

    A Khajiit woman by the name of Daifa wants help in setting up a prank for someone named Aldeth. And she mainly needs help with it because it will require canis root, which can be found nearby but is surrounded by stranglers and giant snakes. This is probably why she thought a passing Orc could help her with something sneaky. (Joke¡¯s on her, I¡¯m plenty sneaky when I want to be. Really.)This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Canis root, huh?¡± I say, sifting through my bag. ¡°Hmm. I¡¯m amazed. You managed to pick something I don¡¯t have on me. Admittedly, I cleared out a lot of stuff the last time I went home, but still. Oh, hey, Jingles.¡± I pull out the monkey and set him on the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll let you out. Have fun at the party!¡±

    Thormar turns out to be stunningly easy to get lost in. It takes me far too long to figure out how to actually get over to the cliff that Skyshard was sitting on, across a bridge near the Bosmer camp. (There¡¯s mostly Bosmer on one side of the ruins and mostly Khajiit on the other side. Apparently they¡¯re divided into teams. I think I¡¯ll just have to be my own team.)

    I spot a book in the Bosmer camp, swipe it when no one is looking, and replace it with a copy of The Red Book of Riddles in the laziest ¡°prank¡± ever. It¡¯s titled Crow and Raven: Three Short Fables. (Summary: Talking Crows are stupid. It might just be Talking Raven propaganda, though.)

    If I want to do some sort of prank, I can definitely do better than that, and consider some options as I go collect some canis roots and kill some snakes and stranglers. Aniel had some suggestions, but I didn¡¯t like them and I¡¯m a little tired of people talking me into their ¡°brilliant¡± plans.

    While scrounging about for ingredients, I come upon a book titled Myths of Sheogorath, Volume 2 near a large broken arch. (Summary: Sheogorath invented music from a corpse and drove a fool mad by doing nothing.) I also stumble upon one of those sites I was supposed to be retrieving relics from and retrieve them uneventfully. I was expecting a little more excitement here.

    Unfortunately, there isn¡¯t a wayshrine reasonably close, so I¡¯m limited in what sort of nonsense I can come up with unless I want to be taking a hike back and I¡¯d rather not miss more of the party than absolutely necessary. Not that it seems like the sort of party that¡¯s only going on for a very short time. It¡¯s not like they just started when we arrived.

    Fortunately, it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t have plenty of stuff on me still even if I did stash some of it, along with plenty of mundane ingredients available around the ruins that I can help myself to when no one is looking. I hate to use some of my moon sugar stash on a prank but sometimes sacrifices must be made. And Jingles makes the perfect partner-in-crime for this.

    ¡­

    ¡°Neri, you brought hallucinogens to a religious event again,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°But it is a Khajiiti religious event!¡± I protest.

    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s the only reason why I¡¯m not more annoyed about it,¡± Eran says, chuckling. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure we all wound up in Oblivion.¡±

    The realm resembles Reaper¡¯s March, aside from the sky. The horizon is misty lavender and the sky is a shade of deep blue that the skies of Nirn only ever get just after sunset, but the color is oversaturated and vivid. And I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s not just because my¡­ experimental alchemy is making me see pretty colors.

    ¡°¡­ how did we get here again?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°It is entirely your fault, I assure you,¡± Merry drawls casually. For some reason, he¡¯s clad only in shorts. ¡°Do you even remember what you put into that alchemical mixture?¡±

    ¡°¡­ no. Do you? It would be nice to repeat or refine it.¡± I check my journal¨Cno, my memory of my journal, I don¡¯t even need to get it out of my bag¨Cto see if I wrote it down, but no such luck.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± Merry says. ¡°Most likely, you combined all of the drugs in your bag with all of the drugs both the Bosmer and Khajiit brought to the party.¡±

    ¡°I hope I didn¡¯t use all my drugs,¡± I say, and actually have to look in my pack for this. ¡°Aww¡­ I used all my drugs.¡±

    ¡°Can we talk about where exactly we are?¡± Eran asks.

    A feminine giggle approaches us, attached to the mer I¡¯d encountered sweeping the stone steps on the way in to Thormar. ¡°You¡¯re in the Five Fingers Dance. And that was hilarious. I haven¡¯t had that much fun in years.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°Who you were again?¡± I clear my throat. ¡°Who were you again¡­ Is this Oblivion?¡±

    ¡°My name is Aniel,¡± she says. ¡°And this is indeed Baan Dar¡¯s own pocket realm.¡±

    ¡°Did everyone at the party get trapped in Oblivion?¡± Eran asks with a touch of alarm in his voice.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Aniel says. ¡°There¡¯s a portal in the inn over there. I¡¯ll leave the way open for people to come and go as they please. This is a party, not a prison.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Eran says. ¡°Well, that¡¯s alright, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Do we actually get to meet Baan Dar?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s here, if you can find him,¡± Aniel says with a grin. ¡°He¡¯s a god of trickery, after all. You wouldn¡¯t expect him to be too obvious.¡±

    I look out at the gathered revelers. ¡°He could be hiding in plain sight as any one of them, couldn¡¯t he.¡±

    ¡°That he could.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps he could tell me where I left my robes,¡± Merry mutters. ¡°And my staff.¡±

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a nap.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find your staff soon enough,¡± Aniel says. ¡°But for the moment, how about this?¡± She holds up a wand with a playful grin. ¡°It cooks chickens perfectly every time. Are you feeling up to getting us some lunch?¡±

    ¡°Now why don¡¯t more mages make things like that?¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh, very well,¡± Merry says, taking it. ¡°It¡¯s not like I have anything better to do at the moment anyway.¡±

    There are quite a lot of chickens in the Five Fingers Dance, scratching and pecking at the sand. Baan Dar must really like chicken. Merry points the wand at one of them. A zorch of lightning and a burst of feathers, and there¡¯s a perfect chicken dinner laying in the sand. Probably would be more perfect if it weren¡¯t laying in sand.

    I find Gelur cheerfully tending bar for some reason. ¡°How are you doing?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Great!¡± Gelur replies. ¡°Just wish my husband were here, but he¡¯d probably not be up for the dancing.¡±

    ¡°I could probably go get him,¡± I say. ¡°How much longer is the party supposed to last?¡±

    ¡°No idea! I don¡¯t think he¡¯d enjoy climbing up all the steps, either. But don¡¯t tell him I said so.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Aniel would be willing to open a portal?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°There¡¯s an idea!¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯ll ask.¡±

    ¡°What about this one¡¯s beer?¡± a Khajiit complains.

    ¡°Oy, here!¡± Gelur practically throws a mug at him.

    ¡°How did you wind up tending bar, anyway?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Nobody else was doing it and I wanted a drink,¡± Gelur says with a shrug. ¡°And then people thought I was the bartender. I do hope Baan Dar isn¡¯t charging for food and drink.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he can figure it out himself if he¡¯s so inclined,¡± I say.

    Jingles shows up and ooks at Gelur. She tosses him a banana.

 Chapter 129: In Which I Retrieve a Glowing Claw

    We¡¯re back to marching through Reaper¡¯s March on the way to a place called Do¡¯Krin Monastery where we were supposed to be securing some important sacred relic of some sort.

    A Skyshard rests under a bridge, next to a copy of The Lusty Argonian Maid, Vol. 1. (Summary: Oh my.) As I¡¯m skimming through the book of thinly veiled innuendo, the sky rumbles and a Dark Anchor drops nearby. Once that¡¯s destroyed, we move on and come upon a ruin.

    ¡°Is this the monastery?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I think the monastery would have intact walls,¡± Gelur muses.

    ¡°And not be full of bandits,¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°Alright, slight detour to get some bandits out of a ruin, and then we¡¯ll try to find the monastery,¡± I say with a chuckle.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says. ¡°We would never come upon a ruin full of bandits and not clear them out before moving on.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a public service,¡± Eran adds lightly.

    ¡°Also there might be a Skyshard inside,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Ilara says. ¡°We must collect all of those. Very important.¡±

    ¡°Are you guys having fun?¡± I say with a chuckle.

    It would be rude to just barge in and start killing everyone, of course, so I cheerfully greet them and introduce myself first. They predictably attack us on sight, thus immediately proving that they¡¯re too dumb to live. (And what kind of sentries attack heavily armed adventurers that approach rather than go and warn someone? I suppose one can¡¯t expect much discipline with bandits.)

    Underneath a skeleton that still has a sword in its ribs, there¡¯s a hatch leading down into an underground section of the ruins. It would have to be underground if there was more of it intact since the surface barely has a few crumbling walls.

    The underground is full of lions and bandits. (Well, the lions might also be bandits, I suppose. They might, after all, be naked Senche Khajiit, but it doesn¡¯t terribly matter very much since they¡¯re attacking us on sight and not feeling like talking even if they can.)

    There is, indeed, a Skyshard tucked away in the ruins. I¡¯m always happy to find those. Maybe there¡¯s some other neat abilities I might be able to turn that Aedric light into. I feel like they¡¯ve all been making me stronger in some way, though. It¡¯s hard to compare to how I felt when I first arrived back on Nirn, but I¡¯ve been feeling a lot more stable and grounded over time. I don¡¯t know how much of that might be because I¡¯m getting more used to being here or that I¡¯m becoming more attuned to it.

    According to a record book I find inside, these particular bandits were planting tainted skooma in Malabal Tor that¡¯s poisoned to cause horrible deaths, and trying to forcefully take over their competitors. I¡¯ll need to tip off my contacts there to double-check any skooma they ¡°find¡± just laying around.

    ¡°Those fetchers,¡± I comment. ¡°How dare they brew tainted skooma.¡±

    Their leader is a Khajiit by the alias of Fishbreath, sitting on a throne next to a large white lion who might be his boyfriend? Look, I¡¯m not going to judge, Khajiit are confusing. The lion¡¯s name is apparently Lord Tawnlii-do, so maybe he¡¯s actually the one in charge here? I don¡¯t even know and it doesn¡¯t matter because they¡¯re dead in short order anyway.

    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± I call to the surviving bandits, some of which just decided to hide or play dead. ¡°Your leader is dead. Anyone stupid enough to attack us again? No? Any of you rather work for me instead?¡±

    Once they realize what I¡¯m actually asking, I do get a few takers. Most of the surviving bandits decide that discretion is the better part of being a criminal and valor doesn¡¯t tend to be a useful part of the profession.

    ¡°I really should be saying something disapproving here,¡± Eran says as we head back to the road. ¡°But I suppose if people are going to be taking skooma anyway, they shouldn¡¯t need to die a horrible death from poison too.¡±

    ¡°They only think they can get away with it because you can¡¯t report tainted skooma to the authorities, yes?¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°They probably thought we were sent by their competitors when we didn¡¯t just kill them all¡­¡± Merry mumbles.

    Further south from that ruin, we come upon a Khajiiti temple that is considerably more intact. A camp full of despondent-looking Khajiit has been set up by the road. A quick chat with them reveals that Stonefire Cultists have taken over the monastery, because of course they have.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    A moon priestess named Azahrr begs us to recover the Golden Claw before the cultists get their hands on it, but to do that, we need the blessing of the high priests. I¡¯m not quite sure why, but feel that it¡¯s quick enough to just go along with it than try brute force like the cultists. It¡¯s not like I wasn¡¯t going to rescue the high priests.

    Not far inside the ruins, I come upon the body of a Khajiit woman and find a note on it. A ghost appears when I get close, who asks if we can visit the shrines for her to wish her brother safety in the war in Cyrodiil. Seems simple enough. This pilgrimage was probably considerably safer before cultists showed up. Cultists always ruin everything.

    We find a priestess tied up in one of the monastery outbuildings and go to untie her and make sure she¡¯s alright.

    ¡°How did you know to find this one here?¡± she wonders. ¡°Did Jone lead you here?¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Perhaps, but we¡¯re simply going through the ruins and killing every hostile we can find, really. Oh, and the priestess at the camp outside suggested something about needing a blessing to save the claw or something but we¡¯re still going to kill all the damned cultists here.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re here to help, you are welcome to it.¡±

    In addition to the cultists, there¡¯s more mathra around the temple, ones that look like shadowy senche panthers. I guess all the breeds of Khajiit are capable of becoming Bent Cats.

    The other high priest is tied up at the top of a tower. I get him untied and receive the blessing of Jode. Or Jone. Or whichever the one I needed was. (Malacath help me if I should ever need to remember whether Jode or Jone refers to Masser or Secunda. Someone has to have written this down in a book I¡¯ve read, right? I¡¯ll check later.)

    With the two blessings, we head inside. The ghost of Rid-thar greets us once we get through the door. He explains that the cultists have vandalized some moon shrines inside the temple which we need to touch and re-consecrate in order to get into the place where the claw is being kept. Before the cultists literally bring the entire structure down trying to get at it.

    ¡°What in Oblivion do they even want the thing so badly for?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Javad Tharn wants it,¡± Rid-thar says. ¡°This one does not know what foul purpose he intends to turn it to, but it is a powerful relic and Rid-thar fears what he might do with it.¡±

    We make our way through the temple, restoring the altars and killing every cultist and shadowy cat that we can find. The blessing of the two moons, spoken without much fanfare by a couple of high priests, is sufficient to cause rubble and broken stone to become an intact monolith with Rid-thar¡¯s help. It seems ghosts frequently become more powerful than you could possibly imagine, and while this one didn¡¯t haul an entire island around the Mundus, spontaneous architecture is still pretty impressive.

    A human man is trying to get into the inner sanctum with magic light beams. He¡¯s not having terribly much success yet, but best to make him stop before he does.

    ¡°Hello!¡± I say to him cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯m Neri gro-Drublog, and I¡¯m afraid I have to ask you to knock it off. With a battle axe. What¡¯s your name, so I can tell your relatives you were an idiot?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Martialis Tharn, and I will kill you!¡±

    ¡°Good luck with that!¡± I charge in to interrupt his spells.

    I¡¯m starting to think that there are entirely too many Tharns and most of them probably need to be smacked. We kill him.

    ¡°Dammit,¡± I say, looking at his corpse. ¡°I forgot to ask what in Oblivion he even wanted the thing for.¡±

    ¡°We probably would not have gotten a coherent answer anyway,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Sometimes they gloat! Sometimes. Sometimes they even gloat more coherently than ¡®with this trinket I shall rule the world somehow!¡¯¡±

    ¡°It was nice of Manny to explain how exactly he intended to try to attain godhood,¡± Eran says. ¡°But didn¡¯t wind up mattering terribly much since it¡¯s not like we weren¡¯t going to kill him anyway.¡±

    The Golden Claw glows brightly where it sits in the inner sanctum, so brightly that I can¡¯t even tell that it¡¯s a claw at first. I snatch it up and we head back outside after doing another sweep of the area to make sure we didn¡¯t miss any cultists.

    I pass off the claw back to the moon priests at the camp and brush off their praise with a more pertinent question.

    ¡°Is this going to be safe with you?¡± I ask. ¡°I mean, if the Stonefire Cult could get into a well-defended temple, your camp probably isn¡¯t terribly secure either. Should we take it somewhere else that has walls?¡±

    ¡°We will keep it safe,¡± the priestess says.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± I say, dubious about that but whatever. Not my problem. ¡°We killed all the cultists we could find, but there¡¯s probably more hiding somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Behind every rock, most likely,¡± Eran adds.

    Now that we¡¯re done with the interior of the temple, I go and visit the three shrines for the dead Khajiit woman. (Also taking the opportunity to sweep the perimeter for cultists.)

    Images of memories appear at each one, culminating in her brother appearing as a¡­ dream self? He¡¯s transparent purple like projections usually are and she¡¯s transparent blue like most ghosts are. They talk, thank me profusely, and disappear. I feel like I was almost an intruder on that conversation but I just can¡¯t help but think of my wives, at some point in the future, waiting for me in the Ashpit.

    It doesn¡¯t really bear thinking about right now. I don¡¯t even know if getting my soul back would give me a normal Chimer¡¯s lifespan, which is still hundreds of years, or an Orc¡¯s, or if I¡¯ll still be basically immortal because I¡¯m still basically a Daedra/Aedra sort of mush? I don¡¯t even know what the fuck I am anymore. A Chimer/Orc Aedra/Daedra? I suppose, like Malacath, I¡¯m technically both and neither.

    ¡°Ilara-daro,¡± I ask as we¡¯re heading away from the monastery. ¡°Why do Khajiiti temples always show the two moons in the same phase? Don¡¯t Khajiit have forms for every combination of moon phase?¡±

    ¡°This one¡­ does not know,¡± Ilara says with a shrug. ¡°Perhaps they did not have room for them all.¡±

    ¡°I, for one, am glad we only needed to fix four altars and not sixteen or seventeen depending on whether you count the eclipse or not,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 130: In Which I Cross Paths with a Black Cat

    We arrive at Moonmont, and I light the wayshrine just north of it on the way in. This would be a splendid opportunity to go rest somewhere, as we¡¯ve been traveling all day, but first I¡¯d best make sure there¡¯s no crises immediately unfolding that need to be stopped.

    Shazah and Khali are standing next to a small pile of dead mathra. Naturally, the place is full of dark spirits that have probably killed most of the priests, and the Dark Mane is inside.

    ¡°Nice to see you guys,¡± I say. ¡°I hope I haven¡¯t arrived so much in the nick of time that I can¡¯t take a nap first. And by a nap I mean I need to go buy more moon sugar because I accidentally used it all at Thormar because we may have stopped to get high at a great party we mostly don¡¯t remember on the way here.¡±

    Khali snickers softly. ¡°Khali hardly blames you. Maybe Baan Dar¡¯s blessing is just what we need here.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t actually find him but I¡¯ll bet he was just taking a nap on a rock the whole time.¡±

    ¡°Let us rest,¡± Shazah says. ¡°You have had a¡­ hard journey.¡±

    ¡°We killed a large number of cultists too,¡± Eran says, feeling the need to slightly defensively add that we didn¡¯t spend the entire time partying.

    ¡°It might be best not to go in there at night regardless, yes?¡± Shazah says.

    I look to the sky. It was difficult enough to keep track of day cycles when I first arrived here, and it hasn¡¯t stopped being disorienting, with how my eyes had become used to Oblivion. It doesn¡¯t help with how bright the moons usually are. Only when they¡¯re dark does it ever truly get dark. I look up at the moons, hanging in the sky next to one another, both crescents.

    Sometimes I wonder if I even actually need sleep. I get tired, sure, but it¡¯s probably more mental fatigue than anything else. The Daedra don¡¯t sleep, normally. Dealing with one annoying thing after another is exhausting, which is why I make sure to take breaks. I still feel like I¡¯ve hardly had a real break since I escaped from Coldharbour, though. One crisis after another keeps cropping up. At least I haven¡¯t been bored.

    I take a bit to restock on moon sugar (I feel like I¡¯m going to need it for dealing with Khajiit weirdness) and check back in at Dra¡¯bul to make sure no crises have erupted there in the meantime (and that nobody else has shown up wanting to be my wife).

    I return to Moonmont well-rested, with no additional family members, and hopefully having consumed enough moon sugar to deal with Khajiit bullshit.

    A set of beacons around the temple have been corrupted and used to power a dark ward, as usual. We go purify them one by one in order to get inside. The beacons are only surrounded in dark swirly bits, at least, and aren¡¯t glowing dark purple. Glowing dark purple would be even more worrisome, because things aren¡¯t supposed to glow dark and it just looks wrong.

    Once we¡¯ve made the black swirlies go away by praying at the moons, we meet up at the temple entrance. Shazah breaks the ward and we head inside.

    Just like the outside, the inside is full of mathra. If the twins hadn¡¯t told me that the place had recently been occupied, I¡¯d have thought it was another ruin. The first cavernous room is dim and vines hang from the broken masonry. There¡¯s scaffolding along some of the walls, so maybe they were doing restoration work?

    The next room is a little more intact. Three altars with images of the two moons lay in the center of the room, and moon phase decor lines the walls. Although now that I¡¯ve noticed it, it¡¯s bothering me.

    ¡°Shazah, maybe you know,¡± I say. ¡°Why do depictions of the moons always show them in the same phase?¡±

    ¡°This hardly seems important right now,¡± Khali scoffs.

    I don¡¯t receive an answer. Rid¡¯thar¡¯s ghost appears again in front of the door that¡¯s blocked by a glowing dark purple ward. He informs us that we must do a stupid moon puzzle in order to break through the ward, so I get Ilara to do the stupid moon puzzle while I bring out more moon sugar.

    Once the moon puzzle is done, Shazah glows brightly in front of the door, and the ward dissolves into a cloud of azure motes that fade and vanish.

    The next room is empty. Khali and Shazah look very confused, until they scream and are trapped in rings of blue flames. I react quickly, and set my music to start playing the Chase Away song. I will not let these two become corrupted on my watch. The rings of flames disperse, freeing the Lunar Champions from their grasp.

    The Dark Mane appears, screaming in rage directed straight at me.

    I grin widely at him and increase the volume and tempo. ¡°You feel like stopping being a dick?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    A large number of shadowy panthers emerge from the shadows and converge upon us. The Dark Mane lunges at us like a blight-inflicted alit, eyes blazing with unnatural dark purple flames. We beat them all up. The Dark Mane makes more threats, and intends to go back to Tharn (presumably Javad, although it probably barely matters which one aside from Abnur). Rid-thar appears and chains him in purple light.

    Rid-thar explains how one of the Lunar Champions will become the next Mane, and the other must sacrifice herself to seal the Dark Mane away in the darkness alone forever. Did I say sacrifice? That implies dying, which would be considerably kinder than locking up a girl in a dungeon to be tortured forever and have her own mind twisted against her. I¡¯m starting to really dislike this obnoxious dead cat.

    ¡°Okay, having someone contain a dark thing in their own body sounds like a terrible idea,¡± I say.

    ¡°There is no other choice,¡± Rid-thar insists. ¡°A being of this nature cannot truly be destroyed.¡±

    ¡°For one thing, what¡¯s to stop Javad Tharn from freeing whoever has the Dark Mane in her and controlling her like he did Akkhuz-ri?¡±

    They both want to take on the burden of containing the dark spirit. Shazah thinks the Khajiit will need Khali¡¯s strength. Khali thinks that the Khajiit will need Shazah¡¯s wisdom.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°There has to be a better way. I refuse to sacrifice a girl to trap this spirit in her body.¡±

    ¡°You must choose!¡± Rid-thar insists. ¡°He¡¯s struggling against his bonds and there¡¯s only so long that this one can contain him!¡±

    I hesitate.

    The Dark Mane screams incoherently, and shatters his bonds. He turns into a stream of shadow and vanishes into the ceiling like he did before, all the while calling us fools.

    ¡°You fool!¡± Rid-thar agrees with him. ¡°He¡¯s gotten away! Now he will continue to cause trouble across the countryside!¡±

    ¡°That would have happened regardless,¡± I say. ¡°While I appreciate their talents, I do not believe either of these girls would have been capable of fully containing something Akkhuz-ri could not. I don¡¯t think I would be strong enough to contain such a thing.¡±

    Rid-thar isn¡¯t listening to me. ¡°Your hesitation will be your doom. You cannot always find a perfect solution.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes sacrifices must be made,¡± Rid-thar continues.

    ¡°Do they?¡±

    ¡°Your idealism is touching, but you shall see how many more will perish because of it,¡± Rid-thar says, and vanishes.

    ¡°Ugh, I hate when people do that,¡± I mutter.

    Khali and Shazah look confused and despondent. They¡¯d been set on this path, each of them insisting that the other would have been the best choice for Mane, and now they¡¯re looking at me accusingly.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have worried about us,¡± Khali says. ¡°We could have handled it!¡±

    ¡°Could we?¡± Shazah says. ¡°This one thinks Neri has a point. But what do we do now? The Dark Mane has left, and who knows where he might have gone?¡±

    ¡°Pfah!¡± Khali exclaims. ¡°Then we hunt him down again and destroy him properly this time!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d need to find a way to destroy or banish him to do that,¡± Shazah says. ¡°And which of us is to be Mane after all this?¡±

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s pointless to get into another argument about that, too,¡± Khali says. ¡°Neri? It¡¯s still your decision. Even if you didn¡¯t want us to throw ourselves at containing that creature, one of us still must become Mane.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°Khali, you¡¯ll be Mane. Shazah, you¡¯ll need to support her as best as you can. Because the Khajiit still need both of you.¡±

    They both seem happy enough with that decision. Unlike Prince Naemon, neither of them is greatly offended by the thought of being overshadowed by her sister. And my reasoning is simple. I need Khali¡¯s decisiveness with a blade. I need a warrior. Shazah¡¯s gentle wisdom might have served the Khajiit well in peacetime, but there is nothing but hardship ahead and I need the Khajiit to be hard enough to face it.

    ¡°Khali will make a fine Mane,¡± says Shazah.

    ¡°Well, she¡¯ll be a fine Mane if she has Shazah around to make sense of the weird magic,¡± Khali says with a faint grin. ¡°Otherwise she¡¯ll be a very lost and confused Mane trying to solve weird magic with a sword.¡±

    Also, Khali reminds me of me. If I can¡¯t have an army of mes, I won¡¯t mind having a few more who are a little like me on my side.

    Our next destination is the city of Dune for the next bit of all the rituals and ceremonies that go into the ascension of a new Mane. Something about the moons again, I don¡¯t know. Hopefully that dark spirit will quickly make his way to Javad Tharn¡¯s side so that I can find them and kick both of their asses.

    Even if it¡¯s immortal like a Daedra, there are still ways to deal with Daedra. You bind them or banish them. You don¡¯t stick them in the bodies of girls and think anything good is going to come of it. If he weren¡¯t a ghost, I¡¯d smack Rid-thar for even suggesting it.

    ¡°Are you angry at Rid-thar?¡± Ilara asks as we¡¯re heading for the wayshrine.

    ¡°Was it that obvious?¡± I ask.

    Eran nods. ¡°You¡¯re practically seething, and considering I saw how much moon sugar you ate, that¡¯s not a good sign.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll spare you a continued rant. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already heard enough.¡±

    We get back to the wayshrine. It¡¯s still early and there¡¯s plenty of time to get some miles under our feet, but I think I¡¯d best take a moment to check in on some of the various projects I have going.

    Like the Pyandonea portal project. The portal mage successfully opened a portal to Pyandonea and went through enough to get a more solid target destination visualization. There had been a concern about whether they could get a portal open due to the reputation of Pyandonea being hard to find and ¡°shrouded in mist¡±, but that hadn¡¯t stopped the Green Lady from simply swimming there and definitely didn¡¯t stop a long-distance portal from being opened. It¡¯s probably just their weather magic that they use to misdirect ships. Or rumors by High Elves who never leave their pretty Summerset shores.

    I have Grishka arrange for a survey team, but initial reports indicate that Pyandonea is heavily forested. Which shouldn¡¯t be any great surprise given how many ships they keep hurling in the general direction of Tamriel to harass anyone within sight of the ocean. Significantly impacting their supply of wood would take a serious effort, but in the meantime, just having a steady supply of wood for construction and weapons will be invaluable.

    As insane as the idea of bringing wood from another continent sounds, it still feels like a problem more reasonable to tackle than immortal dark spirits or time bullshit.

 Chapter 131: In Which I Cancel Dinner

    We¡¯re on the road toward Willowgrove, because it¡¯s on the way to Dune and there was something I vaguely remember that we were supposed to be doing here. Having perfect memory of every book and note I¡¯ve read isn¡¯t terribly helpful when I forget to write stuff down.

    ¡°The werewolves who stole the claw talisman,¡± Eran reminds me.

    ¡°How do you even remember that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We were the ones who were looking for the lost artifacts while you were meeting with the important people and getting high.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I say.

    Along the road, we run across a terrified Bosmer who we were also supposed to be helping, preferably before bandits attacked his camp, which they did. Oops. Well, I can¡¯t be everywhere and save everyone. He tells me that the relics are in a chest in the middle of a bandit camp, which strikes me as a great opportunity to kill some bandits.

    (I, of course, politely introduce myself first and ask them what they¡¯re up to. They, of course, immediately attack me on sight because they¡¯re fucking idiots. This goes about as well for them as you¡¯d expect.)

    With the relics in my pack (along with all the other junk), we move on, intending on stopping in Willowgrove for the night and see if there¡¯s a wayshrine nearby and if anyone needs us to hit anything for pay. I hear Willowgrove is known for its production of mead and I¡¯d like to sample some while we¡¯re here.

    My attempts at getting a mug of mead are stymied by a problem with mead production. I visit the treethane to get the details, and learn that they¡¯d hired a mage to clear out some trees to make room for more beehives (since the Green Pact says they can¡¯t hurt the plants themselves but it¡¯s totally okay to get a non-Bosmer to do it for them for pay). They made a contract with the mage and he¡¯s running out of time, and if he fails to perform the job, he has to eat his wife Alanya.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Eran says, glancing aside to the hostage Altmer woman who seems completely unconcerned. ¡°Did I hear that right?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the treethane says. ¡°We¡¯ll be forced to serve her up for dinner. She seems rather nice and I¡¯d rather not have to, so I hope he can complete the contract on time.¡±

    ¡°And the contract makes it legal to kill someone?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Of course,¡± the treethane says. ¡°The Aldmeri Dominion respects our customs.¡±

    Eran goes over to the mage¡¯s wife. ¡°Are you aware that they¡¯re going to eat you if your husband fucks this up?¡±

    I fear I have been a poor influence upon Eran¡¯s vocabulary.

    ¡°Oh, that?¡± Alanya says. ¡°My husband tells me that it¡¯s just a formality and there¡¯s nothing to worry about. It¡¯s all just ceremonial and symbolic. Nobody¡¯s actually going to get hurt.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t dealt with Bosmer much before, have you,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Alanya says. ¡°This is my first trip to this part of Tamriel. It¡¯s so different from Summerset, but it¡¯s rather pleasant here. And the mead is delightful.¡±

    ¡°Shall we go and see what the delay is about?¡± I say.

    ¡°You can check my husband¡¯s tent,¡± Alanya suggests. ¡°If he¡¯s not there, you may be able to find out something. He¡¯s always forgetting things, silly Pircalmo.¡±

    I will try very hard not to nickname this mage ¡°Perky¡±.

    Oh, who am I fooling. I¡¯ve already nicknamed him that in my head.

    Perky¡¯s workshop tent is pretty obvious, seeing as this is a village comprised of Bosmer tree-pod houses and there¡¯s a single large Altmer-style tent set up to one edge of the village. There¡¯s no sign of anyone nearby, so we rummage through it for clues. Messages from Telenger, notes about types of ink (apparently Alanya is a scribe or something)¡­ as we¡¯re searching, an Altmer in mage robes comes up to demand who we are and what we¡¯re doing in his tent. A fair question.

    ¡°Your wife sent us to find out why you haven¡¯t finished your job yet,¡± I say.

    ¡°And she doesn¡¯t even seem to realize they¡¯re actually going to kill her,¡± Eran adds. ¡°Also I think she was drunk, which might have had something to do with it.¡±

    Perky groans and admits that he¡¯s been having some suspiciously unspecific problems, and sends us to go collect some ritual components before running off back up the hill.

    ¡°So, bets on what went wrong here?¡± I ask.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t really seem like he knew what he was doing,¡± Eran says. ¡°I say he¡¯s just incompetent.¡±

    ¡°My bet is that he accidentally summoned Daedra,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Oy, it doesn¡¯t count if you can sense them nearby,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Judging by the smoke, it looks like half the forest is on fire up there. Whatever it is, it seems he lost control of it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just go collect those things,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Ilara-daro will catch the torchbugs.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve gathered the components, we head up the hill to find Perky. Sure enough, there¡¯s Atronachs everywhere and half the forest is on fire. The main reason that it¡¯s not the entire forest is that there¡¯s also the icy ones and not just fiery ones. (And definitely not the ones that are on fire but the fire is cold. Stupid Coldharbour.) And there¡¯s the windy ones here too, which probably aren¡¯t helping either.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Perky has a small lab set up on a rough table inside a magical bubble that doesn¡¯t stop us from passing through but presumably can keep out the Atronachs. We pass over the components, and he tries to cast the ritual. It¡¯s not working, though, and while straining to hold the spell together, he asks for Atronach cores.

    ¡°Sure, I got some,¡± I say, pulling them out of my pack.

    ¡°You¡¯re just carrying those around?¡± Perky says.

    ¡°I use them to practice juggling,¡± I say. ¡°Fortunately, I have spares, since sometimes I lose them or they explode in my face or something.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, this still isn¡¯t working!¡± Perky exclaims, deciding not to comment on my strange hobbies. ¡°Something is twisting and corrupting my spell!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s probably some annoying Ayleid or Daedric shit buried nearby that reacted to your spell,¡± I say. ¡°Up at Falinesti Autumn Site, Telenger accidentally uncovered a shrine of Mephala that turned a bunch of the Falinesti Faithful into bloodthirsty cultists.¡±

    ¡°Well, if even the great Telenger can mess up like this, I feel a little better about it, but it¡¯s still messed up!¡± Perky says. ¡°We¡¯ll have to find the source of the corruption.¡±

    A thorough search of the area reveals a cave full of statues of a guy with a dog, holding aloft a mask, along with several red banners depicting the symbol of Clavicus Vile.

    Also a live, furry dog that greets us with a friendly ¡°Hey there, mortals!¡±

    ¡°Hello,¡± I say. ¡°Barbas, I presume?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me!¡± the dog replies, wagging his tail.

    ¡°You¡¯d be cuter as a guar,¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh come on! I¡¯m fluffy and adorable!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s not antagonize the Daedric dog,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Ilara-daro thinks he¡¯s cute,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Do you want to talk to dogs all day, or fix this?¡± Barbas says. ¡°They¡¯re stringing that High Elf woman up to the dinner table as we speak.¡±

    ¡°Right, what do we need to do?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Just smash this altar right here,¡± Barbas says. ¡°That¡¯ll release the bindings on all the Daedra in the area. Including me. I¡¯d like to get out of this cave now.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t Vile be annoyed if we break his altar?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Nah, he¡¯s probably forgotten all about this old place,¡± Barbas says. ¡°Besides, if he complains at you about it, just say that Barbas told you to do it, so he¡¯ll be annoyed at me instead. He¡¯s always annoyed at me, so it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a terribly healthy relationship, but alright.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated, let me just put it that way,¡± Barbas says.

    We smash the altar to pieces and head back outside. We¡¯d already destroyed any Atronachs between us and the cave, but any further ones will need to be banished violently or magically once we make sure nobody¡¯s getting eaten.

    Perky¡¯s hillside lab is deserted, so we return to town. Not far from Perky¡¯s tent, a number of the local Bosmer have gathered. Barbas¡¯ assessment was correct, and Alanya¡¯s tied up and struggling on a stone table.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I exclaim as I approach hurriedly. ¡°Perky didn¡¯t cause this deliberately.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Perky?¡± Alanya repeats.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t he?¡± the treethane says. ¡°The hills were swarming with Atronachs! How does that happen accidentally?¡±

    ¡°Quite regularly, actually,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°There was a shrine to Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of Wishes, hidden in a cave in the hills,¡± I say. ¡°The magic seems to have woken it up as Perky unknowingly wished that his spell would work, and it started pouring out Daedra. Like Daedric shrines usually do. We destroyed the shrine, so it shouldn¡¯t cause any further problems. We¡¯ll go up and make sure there¡¯s no more Atronachs lingering before we leave town.¡±

    The treethane releases Alanya, sounding rather embarrassed about the entire matter. ¡°A Daedric shrine, here of all places?¡± She shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m glad you took care of it. Who knows what other sort of trouble it could have caused? Why was there even one here?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Those things are everywhere. This isn¡¯t even the first ¡®accidentally unearthed something bad¡¯ we¡¯ve dealt with in Reaper¡¯s March alone. Seems like throughout history, many people have decided it was a good idea to worship beings that are just as likely to fuck them over as help them.¡±

    Barbas is lounging around town, lapping at a bowl of mead. The local Bosmer don¡¯t seem especially alarmed over the presence of a talking, booze-drinking dog. Although there aren¡¯t really many dogs in this part of the world. Maybe they think that¡¯s just something dogs can normally do.

    With the situation here resolved, the treethane is happy to give us directions to Weeping Wind Cave, where the werewolves were supposed to have gone and whose name Eran diligently remembered. I need to remember to write these things down. Especially now that I can remember anything I¡¯ve written down, although it¡¯s not like that¡¯s a huge step above having journals with the necessary information in them. Aside from the fact that it looks less rude to be thinking than rummaging through journals.

    I can tell we¡¯re in the right place when we find a cave full of skull totems. Either that or it¡¯s cultists, witches, Goblins¡­ actually there¡¯s quite a lot of groups who think they need to put skull totems everywhere to advertise their presence and warn people that they¡¯re assholes.

    But no, they¡¯re definitely bandits. I can tell they¡¯re bandits by the fact that someone left a note not far from the cave entrance very excited about being a fearsome bandit. It never ceases to amaze me how many people cheerfully write down all their criminal activities. (I say this as someone who cheerfully writes down many of his criminal activities, but to be fair, if anyone can actually translate my journals and make sense of my nonsense, they deserve to know what stupid shit I¡¯ve been up to.)

    A thorough search of the cave uncovers the lost necklace in the pack of a particularly vicious werewolf who started off as a vicious female Bosmer. Fortunately, no one felt like chatting, so we just slaughtered them all. (Although we weren¡¯t being very strict about making sure no one ran away, so some might have slipped out when they saw us slaughtering everyone. I give people credit for having a modicum of self-preservation, at least.)

    With the last artifact in hand, we teleport back to the Rawl¡¯kha wayshrine. I remember to hand those senche fangs to whoever it was at the Fighters Guild who wanted them. (By which I mean, someone reminds me because I completely forgot about it and Gelur was carrying them anyway.) We go to find the hapless apprentice. He¡¯s hiding behind the temple, occasionally snatching nervous glances toward the Mages Guildhall.

    ¡°Oh, there you are!¡± the Bosmer apprentice (Rollin) says when we find him. ¡°Did you find the necklace? I was wondering if you were ever coming back.¡±

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been that long¡­¡± I say, pulling it out of my pack.

    ¡°Meldil¡¯s been here loitering about the Mages Guild, wanting to get those relics back,¡± Rollin says. ¡°I had to write another ten pages of text to excuse the delays.¡±

    ¡°Why not just tell him what happened?¡± I ask.

    ¡°About me drinking and gambling them away in a stupid bet?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°You can omit that part. You already have the first two relics, right? The third one would have been here by now if it hadn¡¯t been stolen by werewolves. Which was totally not your fault and you had to hire someone to retrieve it.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Rollin says. ¡°That¡¯s actually not a terrible excuse! Well, I¡¯ll just have to pay you for a job well done, then!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll happily vouch for having to beat up all the werewolves,¡± I say. ¡°Remember: Never admit fault. Unless you think you can drum up sympathy with it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, words of wisdom!¡± Rollin says.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that was the lesson we were supposed to be teaching here but whatever,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 132: In Which I Get My Cut

    We¡¯re on the road again, heading north in the generation direction of Dune while still stopping at absolutely every possible bit of procrastination along the way. I know I should probably take the threat of the Dark Mane more seriously, but I really don¡¯t want to deal with this shit.

    Off the road, I spot an ogre eating the remains of some hapless traveler. I might have left it to him if it weren¡¯t something to fight and I hadn¡¯t spotted a book among the corpse¡¯s scattered belongings. 16 Accords of Madness, Vol. VI. (Summary: Sheogorath once made a really annoying bird.)

    Our arrival at Hadran¡¯s caravan (which I¡¯m totally not just visiting for the games) is heralded by a Khajiit (Sind) begging us to help find his husband (Tand). Tand came here hoping to wind a bunch of gold gambling so that they could open a tavern somewhere. And now he¡¯s missing and Sind is afraid something bad might happen because Hadran deals in skooma and slaves.

    ¡°Right, well, I don¡¯t actually give a fuck about the skooma so long as he¡¯s not peddling the tainted shit that makes people die horribly,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯ll object to slavery on principle. It never turns out well. How long has your husband been missing? Hopefully he¡¯s not halfway to Morrowind by now.¡±

    Hadran¡¯s caravan (or should that be capitalized? eh, who cares, if this goes poorly for him it¡¯s not going to be named after him any longer anyway)¡­ Hadran¡¯s caravan is primarily comprised of Khajiit-style tents and wooden scaffolding presumably for the games, and I catch a glimpse of what looks like an arena over to one side.

    Sind gives a description of the missing man, and suggests that I speak with a Khajiit woman named Azum, who we spot standing in front of some barrels of beverages. She¡¯d refused to talk to Sind or give him any useful information, so I think I¡¯ll try a different approach than ¡°concerned family member¡±. And if this one doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll have one of my friends try a different one until Azum starts wondering why everyone is suddenly so interested in Tand. In any case, we split up to explore the caravan and try not to look like we all came into town together.

    ¡°Welcome to Hadran¡¯s caravan, walker,¡± Azum says when I walk up to her, and she starts going into a spiel about the games and food and stuff.

    ¡°Sounds great,¡± I say. ¡°I got some other shit to deal with though. You seen a young Khajiit by the name of Tand around here?¡± I hold out a hand. ¡°Yea high, kind of a moron?¡±

    Azum replies cagily, ¡°We don¡¯t normally disclose the comings and goings of our patrons here. They tend to value their privacy, yes?¡±

    I snort. ¡°That dull-clawed furball owes me money. Hired me on as a bodyguard and skipped out on paying up. I¡¯d really like to have a pleasant chat with him about it.¡±

    ¡°Mm, that does sound like a problem,¡± Azum says noncommittally. ¡°Perhaps if you ask the gamekeepers and spend some money, they might remember having seen him.¡±

    My group and I play a few games, and talk to a few people. After comparing notes, it seems they have the sensible policy of ¡°let the angry Orc win but overcharge him for the drinks and drugs¡±. Spikeball would have been more fun if people hadn¡¯t been too terrified to spike their balls at me. Or maybe they did and I just didn¡¯t feel it. Perhaps I should try this without my armor on but I don¡¯t feel like being an Altmer right now. Maybe later.

    Dammit, if I want to come out and enjoy this den of blatant cheating and mind-altering substances later, I¡¯ll need to make sure not to burn it to the ground and kill everyone today. Life¡¯s tough sometimes and you¡¯ve got to make difficult choices.

    Actually, couldn¡¯t I just set up my own den? Perhaps with an alter ego. You just can¡¯t run a skooma den as a king. Look, part of the thrill of it is because it¡¯s illicit. Moon sugar being legal to obtain is sweet and all but things that are illegal are spicy. Even if they¡¯re also sweet. Would it cause a scandal if people found out all the shit I got up to? I mean, more than simply being an ¡°Orc¡±? Guess I¡¯ll just need to be someone else. Obviously, Neri the Orc King just came here to investigate allegations of slave trading.

    Azum shows up while I¡¯m at the arena. Sadly, it doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯re going to let me arm wrestle trolls in their arena. Their loss.

    ¡°You¡¯ve certainly been loudly looking into everything,¡± Azum says.

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Noisy and nosy. You did suggest I ask around about my hapless client.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Azum says. ¡°I suppose it was too much to ask for you to get bored and leave.¡±

    I laugh. ¡°Oh no, not even the slightest chance of that. This place is fun. So, you got anything to add to what I¡¯ve already found out?¡±

    From Azum, I learn that Tand has already been taken by Hadran and is ¡°working off a debt¡± by which I mean he¡¯s about to be sold. It¡¯s probably pointless to suspect any of the handful of Dunmer hanging around here to be secret slave traders. That would be too obvious.

    ¡°So, let me get this straight,¡± I say. ¡°Your boss is gonna sell my client into slavery, and I¡¯m not getting a cut? Because let me tell you, he owes me a lot of money. You know how many senche and bandits I had to kill to keep that idiot safe? I don¡¯t help people out of the goodness of my heart. I want coin.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps some appropriate compensation may be made so that Tand can repay your debt as well,¡± Azum says. ¡°But you will need to speak with Hadran himself to arrange that sort of thing. This one can take you to him.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Hadran is a Bosmer man in a house on a hill overlooking the sketchy carnival. He makes no secret about selling debtors into slavery and practically boasts about it to my face. To be fair, I am pretending to be an unscrupulous mercenary, but still. At least they¡¯ve stopped being so cagey about it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do with the cat, but I will get my cut, one way or another,¡± I growl.

    Hadran grows more and more nervous as I pretend to become angrier. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can work something out.¡± He keeps glancing at my axe. ¡°Follow me. I¡¯ll take you to him.¡±

    We head outside to an ¡°employees only¡± section of the caravan area, by which I mean it¡¯s the place where they keep slaves. He also now no longer has his back up against a wall, which might have made for a better opportunity had the window behind him not been closed.

    Hadran¡¯s body suddenly jerks. Ilara is behind him with a knife in his back.

    ¡°Khajiit thinks selling slaves is bad for one¡¯s health, yes?¡± Ilara snarls. ¡°Mistreat Khajiit, Khajiit might rip your throat out with their claws.¡±

    Ilara rips his throat out with her claws. Although it was probably unnecessary at that point.

    ¡°I did say I¡¯d get my cut, one way or another,¡± I tell Hadran¡¯s corpse, and turn to Azum. ¡°So, it seems this is now Azum¡¯s caravan.¡±

    Azum eyes me, and the bloody Khajiit beside me, and very quickly considers her options. ¡°Ah, yes, so it would appear. Were you only interested in Tand, or was there anything else you need?¡±

    ¡°Yes, there was,¡± I say. ¡°Perhaps I didn¡¯t introduce myself. My name is Neri gro-Drublog, King of the Wood Orcs, and I came here investigating a slavery ring and to secure supplies of moon sugar.¡±

    ¡°You lied,¡± Azum says, twitching her whiskers. ¡°Do kings normally investigate things like this personally?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Well, this king does. Orcs aren¡¯t ones for being afraid to get dirty.¡±

    ¡°I see. Was there ever really a debt?¡±

    ¡°Never seen that Khajiit before in my life,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re a reasonable woman. Let¡¯s make a deal.¡±

    ¡°A deal,¡± Azum repeats, still nervous. ¡°Deals are good. What do you propose?¡±

    ¡°Shut down the slave trade here,¡± I say. ¡°And give me any information you have on who has been buying Hadran¡¯s slaves. The operation here is yours. It¡¯s fun and I¡¯d rather not have to shut it down.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Azum says. ¡°And¡­ you said something about moon sugar?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I say. ¡°Make sure to have that on hand, too. I can make it profitable for you.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a good deal. I will go get that information for you.¡± Her eyes fall to the corpse again. ¡°Do what you wish with the trash.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right,¡± I say. ¡°I forgot that was here.¡± I take my axe and cut off his head, causing Azum to jump a little. ¡°Do you want the trophy outside the caravan as a message, or shall I take it home?¡±

    Azum gapes at me. ¡°¡­ Take it away, please.¡± She scurries off back into Hadran¡¯s former office.

    ¡°Can Ilara-daro stop looking intimidating now and try to clean off the blood?¡± Ilara asks me quietly once Azum is out of earshot.

    ¡°Ah, yeah,¡± I say, reaching into my pack. ¡°Although standing there casually dripping the blood of her former employer was probably pretty intimidating for her.¡± I pull out a wooden spear and spear it through Hadran¡¯s head. (Because I absolutely carry around spears just for this purpose.)

    ¡°This one never literally ripped out anyone¡¯s throat with her claws before,¡± Ilara says, trying to wipe off her paws. ¡°It is surprisingly messy.¡±

    ¡°Did you ever get the hang of cleaning spells?¡± I ask. ¡°They¡¯re quite good for that.¡±

    I absently glance at the building Azum went into, although I¡¯m not terribly worried about her fleeing (it would be pretty sensible under the circumstances) and I¡¯m not especially fussed over whether I get the names of any slavers.

    While Ilara is repeatedly casting a cleaning spell over and over, I spot a book nearby that turns out to be Azum¡¯s journal. I flip through it just to test how much I really need to read something for it to show up in my mind library. Conclusion: That was enough. I ¡°read¡± through the journal in my mind as we proceed through the camp. Azum had apparently found Hadran¡¯s slave peddling distasteful, and the carnival was meant to be a front for it that wound up being more profitable than expected, she was hoping to get some dupe to stick a knife in him so she could take over, and also she calls Queen Ayrenn a cow. I¡¯ll need to have a little chat with her about that.

    I go to free all the captives. Hadran¡¯s thugs are all over the area, or his former thugs, really. They take a good look at the dead face of their former boss and most of them decide not to mess with us. There¡¯s still a few idiots who need to be smacked, though. There¡¯s always got to be the idiots.

    The captives are terrified of me, but grateful to be rescued. I wasn¡¯t really intending on inspiring terror in them, but I suppose it can¡¯t be helped when you¡¯re carrying around a severed head on a stick.

    Leaving Tand and Sind to a heartfelt reunion, I return to the office Azum had gone into. She¡¯s at the desk, shuffling around with some papers, writing things down, and very likely selecting some scapegoats to sell out to save her own pelt.

    ¡°I have the information you requested,¡± Azum says when I come in. ¡°Names, descriptions, where you can find them¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, by the way,¡± I say, gently placing the journal onto the desk. ¡°You misplaced this.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ thank you, can¡¯t imagine how that might have gotten lost¡­¡±

    Khajiit ears and tails are very expressive, and Azum has been going through a lot of expressions today. I¡¯ve spent enough time around Khajiit that I feel like I¡¯m getting a pretty good grasp of reading their moods.

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure you are under no illusions about who rules here any longer,¡± I say pointedly.

    ¡°¡­ you do,¡± Azum says.

    I chuckle. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve gutted people for saying lighter things about Queen Ayrenn than comparing her to livestock, but you didn¡¯t say it. I have a journal too, and it¡¯s got worse things than that in it.¡±

    Azum makes a forced laugh. ¡°Really.¡±

    ¡°But if I ever hear you say anything bad about Queen Ayrenn in public, I will skin you alive and turn you into a rug. Am I clear?¡±

    Azum nods hurriedly. ¡°Of course. Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m glad we understand each other.¡±

    ¡°I understand that if I cross you, I may never see the retribution coming,¡± Azum says. ¡°Hadran was so focused on the Orc in front of him that he did not notice the Khajiit behind him.¡±

    ¡°I make a very good distraction,¡± I say lightly, flipping through the pages Azum handed me to make sure they¡¯re slaver information and not cookie recipes (although I¡¯d honestly be happy with cookie recipes too). I shove them into my bag. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you. How many of these are actual slave traders and how many are fetchers you just want to make disappear?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Azum had been starting to relax but immediately tenses up again at that.

    I chuckle and wave a hand. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that. I¡¯m always killing people on the most tenuous reasons. Hmm, maybe I shouldn¡¯t admit to that aloud. Eh, what¡¯s a bit of murder between friends.¡±

    Azum laughs nervously. ¡°Heh. Yes. Friends.¡±

    I head out and meet up with my friends again out by the main road, and share what happened.

    ¡°We are, of course, going to check that the names she gave you belong to actual slave traders, right?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°When do I ever kill people without looking deeply into what I¡¯m doing?¡±

    ¡°Less frequently lately,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 133: In Which I Confiscate Drugs

    The next town on the road to Dune is the excessively punctuated village of S¡¯ren-ja. On the way in, there¡¯s a Khajiit woman by the name of Tazia working on repairing a bridge, who commiserates about all the problems the town has in hopes that we might be able to lend a hand.

    ¡°Of course!¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°It¡¯s not like we had anything better to do than solve every problem in every village along the way!¡±

    Eran clears his throat and adds, ¡°And besides, we were probably going to stay the night anyway.¡±

    The town is comprised of a loose cluster of Khajiit-style buildings, spread out among farms with crops and livestock. Per Tazia¡¯s suggestion, we decide to stop in at the biggest building first to talk to the clan mother about the local problems.

    ¡°It is always nice to travel all day and then take a break by finding someone to help,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°It is kind of nice, really,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Sometimes Ilara-daro feels like people have forgotten how to help others,¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°Not only that,¡± Merry says. ¡°There are many things that those such as we would find trivial that are beyond the ability of ones such as these common Khajiit farmers. There is much that can be done with a simple spell or a well-placed blow. Think of that next time you see an Altmer standing around overseeing ¡®lesser¡¯ races hauling something that they could have easily moved with a telekinesis spell.¡±

    ¡°You are really not fond of Telenger,¡± Ilara says with a grin.

    There is a line of bickering Khajiit in front of the clan mother¡¯s desk, each claiming the other was here first. When I approach, the clan mother asks me to get in line.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to help,¡± I say. ¡°Do you need something hit, set on fire, stabbed, magically lifted into the air, shot, or located?¡±

    ¡°You five would help solve our little problems?¡± the clan mother says. ¡°Hmh. I suppose I should not complain of having a party of bored adventurers show up on my doorstep.¡±

    The clan mother describes some of the various problems that have been brought to her lately. Milk Eyes is having problems with rats in his well. I decide to take that one. Ezzag believes bandits are stealing his crops. Eran and Ilara take that one. Kalari¡¯s house is haunted. Merry and Gelur go for that one.

    Next to a bed, (and conveniently out of sight of anyone, because I¡¯m sure nobody saw me stroll by this way), I find a book titled Cohort Briefing: Arenthia. (A brief Imperial briefing about Arenthia. Exactly what it says on the cover.)

    We split up to solve the town¡¯s various minor problems.

    Turns out Milk Eyes¡¯ well has a huge cave with an entire skooma production factory in it. No wonder he thought the water tasted funny. Tazia, the Khajiit I spoke briefly with on the way into town, accidentally fell into the well somehow. (Considering the size of the hole in the cover, I doubt it was any ¡°accident¡±, but I don¡¯t call her out on it.) As she¡¯s no fighter, I let her stay hidden while I go and kill everyone in here.

    ¡°Tazia saw you take those alembics,¡± she says when I return to her.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Good alchemy equipment is expensive. My homemade cleaning formula will get any skooma residue off.¡±

    I¡¯ll be honest here. I wasn¡¯t actually trying to design a cleaning solution when I discovered that. I was trying to make a poison. Sadly, it¡¯s not poisonous to people. It does, however, do a better job of cleansing surfaces than my cleaning spells do. I can make myself not dripping in blood, but alchemy demands more precise standards than simply not smelling bad or looking scarier than intended in public.

    ¡°Tazia also saw you gather up all the skooma.¡±

    ¡°You were just going to leave it here for the next smugglers to pick up?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°No!¡± Tazia says. ¡°She was going to destroy it and burn down this lab!¡±

    ¡°This is Milk Eyes¡¯ well, if you¡¯ve forgotten,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. I love a good explosion, but that sounds incredibly unhealthy for the water supply. Not to mention completely unnecessary. Also, they have unrefined moon sugar here too that hasn¡¯t been made into skooma yet, and it was probably stolen from someone who would like to have it back. Like possibly the guy who said bandits were stealing his crops?¡±

    ¡°¡­ Good point,¡± Tazia says. ¡°Fine. Let us go outside and destroy the skooma and return Ezzag¡¯s moon sugar.¡±

    Tazia didn¡¯t count how much skooma I¡¯d taken, so we go out and destroy about quarter of it. Seems like a waste, but whatever. Goodwill and avoiding suspicion are more important than coin sometimes. (Why does anyone even care so much about skooma, anyway? If people want to make poor life choices, that¡¯s on them, but nobody gets on people for doing things that are equally self-destructive. Like High Elven poetry deconstruction.)

    Once that¡¯s taken care of, I meet up with my friends outside the big house.

    Eran and Ilara have dealt with the moon sugar thieves. (Why would the clan mother think children playing pranks had harvested half the field and hidden it?) And by ¡°dealt with¡± I mean apparently Ilara hired their leader, who was the only one who survived and surrendered rather than flee.

    ¡°Ilara-daro told her, she was too obvious, yes? She took too much at once, sloppy sloppy, dropped bits along the way all over the ground in a trail leading right up to her little cave. This one gave her important advice, an old Khajiit saying, ¡®Don¡¯t shit where you sleep.¡¯¡±

    ¡°What do you plan to do with your shiny new bandit?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°This one does not know yet,¡± Ilara says. ¡°She will have to think of something.¡±

    ¡°May I suggest not having her to do further banditry?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Surely not!¡± Ilara says. ¡°She¡¯s far too bad at it.¡±Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°I feel that Neri is a poor influence,¡± Eran comments.

    ¡°I need to figure out what to do with the skooma I confiscated, too,¡± I say.

    Eran sighs. ¡°Case in point.¡±

    Merry and Gelur approach us, looking none the worse for wear. They weren¡¯t the ones diving into wells for ¡°rats¡±, although I don¡¯t envy them having to deal with ghosts instead.

    ¡°How¡¯d the haunted house go?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t actually haunted,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°It seems the local Khajiit family is poor at communication with one another,¡± Merry explains. ¡°The father never admitted to his daughter that he was running skooma, so she had no idea that he¡¯d been murdered because of it. And because of the family¡¯s debts, the uncle decided to make her think the house was haunted with illusions so that the upstart crime lord wouldn¡¯t kill her.¡±

    ¡°We found her uncle in one of the houses near death because he fucked up his spell real bad,¡± Gelur says. ¡°We got the spell down and I brought him back from the brink of death and then forced him to go talk to his niece.¡±

    ¡°The spell would have fallen soon enough when it finished consuming his life energy, making his efforts doubly pointless,¡± Merry says, shaking his head.

    We compare notes, and my friends hand me all the pieces of illicit correspondence they¡¯d collected in their own investigations. It seems that a Khajiit named Rakhad was behind all the town¡¯s ills. After reporting this to the clan mother and showing her some of the notes as proof, she seems quite shocked that the situation in town is a bit more complicated than a series of minor problems.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I say. ¡°We just need to find this Rakhad and beat the shit out of him. Problem solved.¡±

    The clan mother points us toward a cave Rakhad used for unspecified projects that almost certainly had something to do with skooma. She thinks we might be able to get information on his current location there, but as it turns out, the place is full of bandits and he¡¯s there himself.

    We kill him as well as any of his lackeys who are too dumb to surrender or flee. Which is entirely more of them than is sensible. Do bandits really hate Nirn so much that they feel the need to hurl themselves at our blades?

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t the guards really have been taking care of this sort of thing?¡± Eran wonders as we head back to the big house. ¡°I understand that they don¡¯t want to rove into the wilderness to clear out bandits, but this was all right here. What are the guards even for?¡±

    ¡°Sweetroll thieves,¡± I say sagely.

    ¡°I would assume that they prevent wild animals from attacking the village, at the very least,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°And not trolls,¡± Ilara adds.

    ¡°Are there any trolls nearby?¡± I wonder, glancing about as if I¡¯m going to see one lurking behind the posts holding up the houses.

    Ilara grins. ¡°We spotted one while looking for terrible thieves. A real big one, down near an old dock.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh!¡± I say. ¡°And I assume you were going to mention that after we dealt with all the village¡¯s problems?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Eran leads the way past the fine crops of moon sugar. Past the south end of the village stands a dock that has seen better days, jutting out over water that is now too shallow to boat down, as evidenced by a boat stuck in the mud tilted at an awkward angle. Not far upstream from the dock, near what looks like it was once a waterfall, stands a large figure that most definitely is not a troll.

    ¡°That¡¯s a Daedroth,¡± I state the obvious. ¡°Trolls are furrier.¡±

    Ilara shrugs. ¡°It looked like a troll from a distance and this one did not have time to take a closer look. She figured you¡¯d probably want to fight it either way.¡±

    ¡°True!¡± I say cheerfully, pulling out Shiny from my bag. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±

    The Daedroth is big and tough, but nothing special so far as Daedra are concerned. Once it¡¯s down, I search the area and find a journal discarded in the mud that once belonged to someone named Lauron, who apparently thought summoning this thing to cause trouble was a great idea. He probably got eaten.

    ¡°At least this didn¡¯t have anything to do with Rakhad,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Probably,¡± I say. ¡°Probably didn¡¯t have anything to do with Rakhad. For all we know, this Lauron might have been working for him but just didn¡¯t mention it in his journal. Probably not very likely, though.¡±

    ¡°I feel that there are entirely too many people in the world who perform ill-advised experiments with Daedra,¡± Merry observes.

    ¡°This one was making crocodiles eat people,¡± Gelur points out.

    ¡°He should have stuck to crocodiles,¡± Ilara says, shaking her head. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the village. This one overheard someone deciding to make a huge batch of moon sugar biscuits to celebrate everything being fixed.¡±

    ¡°Say no more,¡± I say. ¡°The moon sugar fields will make me forgive S¡¯ren-ja for needing both an apostrophe and a hyphen.¡±

    Before we actually settle in for the night at S¡¯ren-ja, I discover that there¡¯s a wayshrine just north of town that can prevent me having to stay the night here and continuing to try to remember where the punctuation in the name goes.

    Azum didn¡¯t want a severed head decorating the path up to her caravan, so it may as well decorate my stronghold instead. I put up the Bosmer head outside the gates with a sign that says ¡°Hadran - Slaver¡±.

    ¡°It¡¯s a very Orcy decoration,¡± Eran comments.

    ¡°I should collect more of these,¡± I say. ¡°I kill a lot of people but most of them don¡¯t seem worth extolling. Like, who the fuck cares about Abnur Tharn¡¯s thirteenth cousin, anyway?¡±

    ¡°This fetcher was running a slaving ring while operating a popular establishment, so his death is worth celebrating?¡± Eran says.

    Grishka comes out the gate to greet me. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re back! And with a new trophy!¡±

    ¡°Grishka,¡± I say with a smile. ¡°Nice to see you back, too. How¡¯d the scouting go?¡±

    ¡°Fantastic!¡± Grishka says. ¡°No Dark Anchors spotted nearby, and the Sea Elves mostly seem to live on the coast. It might take them quite a while to notice us. The wilderness is dense and hunting is plentiful. I saw birds and animals I¡¯ve never seen before and I can¡¯t wait to see what they taste like.¡±

    ¡°Can we get an outpost set up using local materials?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Grishka says. ¡°We can go with nothing but metal weapons and equipment, since we don¡¯t have a mine locally available there. Forinor gave me a communication orb that will let me contact him at a large distance, so we won¡¯t need to keep the portal open at all times.¡±

    ¡°Are you planning on going there yourself?¡±

    Grishka gives a short laugh. ¡°Of course! The opportunity to see a new land and hunt on grounds no other Orc has done before? I can¡¯t pass that up! And who else is going to run the outpost? I suppose if it wound up growing large enough, it would need its own chief, but right now, this is a perfect job for a hunt-wife.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose he has more of those magic orbs?¡± I ask. ¡°I completely forgot those exist, and I had to retrieve one once, even. A lot has happened, okay?¡±

    Grishka¡¯s laugh isn¡¯t short this time. ¡°I¡¯d have thought you already have one! Roku¡¯s right, you are scatterbrained sometimes.¡±

    ¡°At least I have people to remember things for me,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°Now that I can remember things if I remember to write them down, I¡¯m going to need to remember to write things down more. Are there more of those orbs on hand now or should I write down a note to myself that I should acquire one?¡±

    ¡°As it turns out, you can just buy things like that,¡± Grishka says. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the Wood Orc tribes are so scattered and disjointed. Anyway, yes, and I already ordered ones for every stronghold. Also as it turns out, the High Elves are a lot happier about our alliance when we¡¯re giving them gold.¡±

    ¡°Do I want to ask what that cost?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Surprisingly cheaper than you¡¯d think,¡± Grishka says. ¡°But nah, don¡¯t worry about it. We got more gold coming in than going out.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, speaking of which, I have a large quantity of skooma that I need fenced,¡± I say. ¡°And if I show up at one single outlaw refuge with it, someone¡¯s going to think I busted a large skooma factory and might be annoyed at their supply chain being disrupted and I prefer good fences to stay friendly to me. So I¡¯m going to need to go visit every one of them I know about that I have a wayshrine near.¡±

    Grishka is staring at me like I¡¯d just started speaking Dwemeris. ¡°You¡­ I¡­¡± She recovers as her mind finishes processing that. ¡°You¡¯ll have to have Roku make a note in the budget. Half of our income is sale of confiscated goods from bandits you slaughtered.¡±

    ¡°He does a lot of that, yeah,¡± Eran says. ¡°The worst part of adventuring with him isn¡¯t the massive amounts of battle, but watching him shove every single thing he could potentially use or sell into his bag. We wound up having to get our own bags and join in just to make it go faster.¡±

 Chapter 134: In Which I Give Paalat a Glowing Review

    The road to Dune is littered with giant scorpions. I get the brilliant idea to try to harvest their poison by wrestling them bare-handed, which just results in searing pain and a quick trip back to the wayshrine.

    ¡°Can we just kill the things normally?¡± Eran says with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ll swipe that portable communication orb of yours and tell your wives you¡¯re being an idiot again.¡±

    ¡°Fiiiiiiine.¡±

    A nest of tigers I had no good reason to kill holds a copy of Master Zoaraym¡¯s Tale, Part 1. (Summary: A Dunmer cleaning servant enters an arena competition, and apparently I have to find the next part of the book to find out what happens. I hate cliffhangers.)

    There¡¯s another ruined Khajiit temple off the side of the road.

    ¡°So, who wants to make bets on whether it contains bandits, undead, or cultists?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It might just contain moon priests and common worshippers,¡± Gelur says with a grin.

    Ilara points at a number of skulls attached to sticks. ¡°Look at the totems. This one says there are Goblins here.¡±

    There¡¯s a note in the first room from a pilgrim who I¡¯m guessing underestimated the ruin¡¯s danger as well as overestimated the binding on his journal that would keep random pages from fluttering out all over the place. Thunder bugs and giant bats are the first denizens to the ruins that we run across, though, as well as a Skyshard on top of an altar in one of the large rooms.

    Another journal page indicates that the Khajiit pilgrim who came here believed a mathra was here. That¡¯s confirmed once we reach the middle chamber, where a Khajiit attacks us, apologizes, turns into a mathra, continues attacking us, then dies.

    ¡°Right, object lesson here, people trying to contain mathra in their bodies doesn¡¯t work terribly well,¡± I say, looking down at the dead Khajiit with an exasperated sigh. ¡°Why do people keep thinking it¡¯s a great idea?¡±

    Ilara hands me a journal the monk had been carrying (and losing pages from). ¡°We should let his sister know next time we¡¯re in S¡¯ren-ja.¡±

    The other half of the ruin does indeed contain Goblins. They get very confused when I try talking to them and extolling the virtues of the Aldmeri Dominion. I¡¯d give them pamphlets but I doubt they can read (also I don¡¯t have pamplets). I don¡¯t think I manage to get the point across, but since they¡¯re not bothering anyone in here, I decide to just leave them alone.

    Back on the road again, I come upon the odd sight of a bottle carefully balanced on top of a dagger stuck into a tree. There¡¯s a note inside with a thinly veiled ¡°riddle¡± regarding the Eyes of the Queen and a pass phrase to presumably give a contact in the town of Pa¡¯alat. I pass the note around for my friends to read.

    Ilara crinkles her muzzle. ¡°This¡­ does not seem like the most efficient means of passing secret messages.¡±

    Pa¡¯alat is another Khajiit-style town, and as we¡¯re walking up the road toward it, I spot a Bosmer woman crouching behind a rock. I recognize her as being one of the Eyes of the Queen, Cariel.

    From what Cariel tells us, a former Eye of the Queen named Krin Ren-dro lives here, and may have gone rogue in a different sense than just being stealthy. He¡¯s selling Dominion secrets to the Pact and Covenant, but she has no proof, and so she has apparently been sitting around behind this rock waiting for someone to come along who might be able to help her find proof.

    ¡°You heard we were coming this way, yes?¡± Ilara says with a chuckle.

    ¡°You guys are pretty much the opposite of stealthy,¡± Cariel says. ¡°Congratulations on becoming Grand Champion of Thizzrini Arena, by the way, Neri.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.

    ¡°And dealing with the cultists at the Falinesti Autumn Site,¡± Cariel adds. ¡°And retrieving the Golden Claw from Do¡¯Krin Monastery. And dealing with the Daedra at Willowgrove. And shutting down the slavery ring at Hadran¡¯s Caravan. And stopping the skooma smugglers at S¡¯ren-ja.¡±

    ¡°I see the Eyes of the Queen are on the ball too,¡± I say. ¡°No mention of Moonmont?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether you congratulate you on that or not,¡± Cariel says. ¡°I heard what the Khajiit ghost wanted you to do, and it¡¯s not a decision I would have been able to make, that¡¯s for sure. Ah, before we head into town, I should change into something a little less conspicuous.¡±

    Cariel uses a spell of some sort to instantly change her clothes from leather armor to casual townsperson garb.

    ¡°Holy fuck,¡± I say. ¡°I have got to learn that spell.¡±

    Did she have me slowly strip to get into that Imperial uniform over in Arenthia just to watch me strip?

    ¡°Is the armor that conspicuous?¡± Ilara wonders. ¡°Is that not defeating the point? Ilara-daro always thought her own armor was not especially conspicuous. We are not the only people who fight regularly.¡±

    ¡°Ren-dro knows my face and is expecting me, though,¡± Cariel says. ¡°Though to be fair, he almost certainly knows about you, too.¡±

    ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the plan,¡± I say. ¡°Ilara-daro does the sneaky bit. We¡¯re going to be the distraction.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Ah, I love distraction duty,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Sneaking only gets you so far,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Having their eyes on something else makes things so much easier.¡±

    ¡°You probably don¡¯t need to actually climb through the windows,¡± Cariel says. ¡°From what I¡¯ve observed, their guards are not very good at their jobs.¡±

    She goes on about the vices of the guards, their greed and lust and gluttony and such. For all that she¡¯s been paying so much attention to learn these things, I have to wonder why she hasn¡¯t done this herself by now. We¡¯ve* got* to have been more conspicuous than her.

    We head into town, not especially trying to be inconspicuous. If someone were paying much attention to us, they¡¯d know to be worried if they saw four of us but didn¡¯t see a Khajiit with us. And people recognize us when we walk by. People praise us or curse us for things we¡¯ve done across Valenwood, some of which I didn¡¯t even remember offhand that we¡¯d done. There have been a lot of events in a fairly short period of time and I haven¡¯t always been paying close attention to the details of whatever bandits or cultists or whatever we¡¯re killing at any particular time.

    The Ebonheart Pact and Daggerfall Covenant are not even being subtle in this town. They¡¯re openly flying banners and wearing uniforms. ¡°Diplomatic envoys¡± visiting a den of gambling and prostitution, and nobody¡¯s even surprised by it.

    The dancing half-naked Nord and Bosmer men in front of Captain Balrook¡¯s office let me know quite succinctly which way his tastes fall. I don¡¯t especially care to strip down and show my butt to him to nix out the information I need.

    I stroll boldly up to Captain Balrook¡¯s guard as if I have a legitimate purpose to be here. ¡°I am here to see Captain Balrook.¡±

    ¡°Is this for business or pleasure?¡± asks the guard. ¡°Because he¡¯s only letting people in for ¡®pleasure¡¯ right now. If you have business, come back tomorrow.¡±

    I growl. ¡°Stand aside, whelp. I have an urgent message and you¡¯re wasting my time.¡±

    The guard reconsiders how brave he is feeling when faced with one angry Orc and potentially two, and stands aside. ¡°Right, well, I can¡¯t stop you. If he gets annoyed, that¡¯s on you.¡±

    The Orc captain definitely looks annoyed, but it¡¯s mostly that Orcs often have a face fixed in an expression non-Orcs look like when they¡¯re angry.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Captain Balrook demands. ¡°This had better be either important or that you¡¯re my entertainment for tonight.¡±

    ¡°Why, Balrook, if you wanted to marry me, we should include my hearth-wife and hunt-wife in the discussion,¡± I drawl casually.

    Captain Balrook¡¯s already annoyed-looking face contorts even further into rage. ¡°You think you¡¯re important because you¡¯re chief of some petty stronghold somewhere? Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Neri gro-Drublog, King of the Wood Orcs,¡± I reply.

    Balrook barks a short laugh. ¡°What¡¯s a ¡®king¡¯ doing in this scum pit?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°It was on the way. What¡¯s a ¡®diplomatic envoy¡¯ doing in this scum pit?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m here?¡± Balrook retorts. ¡°Booze and butts. What do you want, ¡®Your Majesty¡¯? You got a problem with that?¡±

    ¡°No, not really,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about people working against the Dominion. I hear I might have to kick a cat in the tail today.¡±

    ¡°Why do the Wood Orcs want to submit to the rule of High Elves?¡± Balrook spits. ¡°Your pretty Queen Ayrenn has probably never been in a fight in her life.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve seen her fight. I¡¯ve seen her hold her ground against the undead and not falter. Why do you want to submit to the rule of Bretons? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re any better.¡±

    ¡°Did you just come in here to fight?¡± Balrook says. ¡°Because I¡¯ll give you a fight if you¡¯re looking for a fight, Wood Orc.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, mostly I came in here to look through your office for incriminating notes, but I¡¯ll cheerfully kill you if you insist.¡±

    He insists, growling and charging at me. I try to avoid damaging the office too much or splattering blood and gibs on everything. Reading notes under bloodstains can be tough. Fortunately, I don¡¯t make enough of a mess in killing this Orc that I can¡¯t get the information I need. I gleefully skim every scrap of paper in the office, committing them to memory before chucking them in my bag as evidence.

    In the end, we get far more information than we were actually looking for, and it should not have been this easy to acquire. These people are terrible at their jobs, Cariel was right about that.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Cariel says. ¡°I¡¯m tired of sneaking around. Not that that was especially sneaky. Now we just need to get into Ren-dro¡¯s manor. For that, we¡¯ll need a distraction. How do you feel about setting the Pact and Covenant camps on fire?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it wouldn¡¯t cause a diplomatic incident should the providers of their vices be a bit careless about open flame.¡±

    I¡¯ll be honest, here. There¡¯s no good reason to be causing as much havoc as I am currently causing. I think she¡¯s just been wanting to do this ever since she got here and felt the best way to accomplish that was to ask me to do it. I¡¯m okay with that.

    In the wake of the flaming camps, we slip inside the manor grounds and look around. We split up to search the interior and the yard, and I proceed to skim over any paper that can be found in here too. Once done with that, we meet up again outside and Cariel leads us around the back to something she¡¯d found.

    Cariel gestures to a hatch in the corner behind the house. ¡°Guess what¡¯s down there?¡±

    ¡°Bandits?¡± I say.

    ¡°Cultists?¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°A skooma factory?¡± Merry puts in.

    ¡°Skooma storage?¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Regular, boring storage?¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t literally mean to guess what¡¯s down there, but okay,¡± Cariel says. ¡°Let¡¯s find out what¡¯s in Ren-dro¡¯s secret lair.¡±

    As it turns out, Ren-dro¡¯s basement is a sprawling cavern, and full of what I can only assume is Ren-dro¡¯s own personal army of bandits. And a skooma lab. And quite a lot of storage. We don¡¯t stop and check what¡¯s being stored yet. That can wait until we¡¯ve killed everything in here.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see any obvious cultists but I¡¯m not ruling it out yet,¡± I say.

    We kill Ren-dro and any of his lackeys too stupid to hide or flee when we show up and start killing people. Cariel calls it a job well done and prepares to head out.

    ¡°Do you need any of the stuff down here as evidence or claims to the loot?¡± I ask. ¡°Also, do you want his head, or can I take it?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve got everything,¡± Cariel says. ¡°Wait. Any of the stuff? What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m about to start ¡®confiscating¡¯ everything here that could be used, sold, or fenced,¡± I say. ¡°For the good of the Dominion.¡±

    Cariel stares at me incredulously. ¡°You guys are insane.¡±

    ¡°What, you¡¯d just leave this all here?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯d send someone else to do it,¡± Cariel says. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of stuff here and I¡¯ve got things that need to be done.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯d rather do it myself,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a good way to relax after a battle, and I can make sure nothing goes missing. Not that that was a tough battle, mind you.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Cariel says with a shrug, and leaves.

    ¡°She could have stayed to help,¡± Eran grumbles, looking at all the boxes of stuff filling the cavern. ¡°Why do bandits always have so much stuff, anyway?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good year for banditry, apparently,¡± Gelur says.

    There¡¯s a camp of Stonefire Cultists not far from Pa¡¯alat. We kill them all and retrieve a scroll case that I seem to recall we were supposed to find¡­ some time ago. I hope it wasn¡¯t anything time-sensitive.

    ¡°There we go,¡± I say. ¡°Got our cultist quota in for the week.¡±

    ¡°We do not have a cultist quota,¡± Eran says. ¡°Should we? They¡¯re all over the place, but it¡¯s kind of hit or miss on whether we find any on a specific day.¡±

 Chapter 135: In Which I Sweep Up Dune

    For a city named Dune, I would have expected there to be some actual dunes near it. It¡¯s mostly rocks. And dirt, plenty of dirt too, and not exceptionally sandy dirt at that. Maybe there used to be more dunes here? Did Reaper¡¯s March de-desertify?

    On the way in, I spot a human woman playing a flute. Right, wasn¡¯t there an instrument I found in a crypt somewhere that mentioned Dune on the inscription? I pull it out of my bag. I ask if she knows of a Valencia Nasica, who turns out to be her great-grandmother, so I give her the flute and get paid for it probably more than it was worth. Ah, you can¡¯t put a price in gold on sentimental value, I suppose.

    In the stable next to her, I¡¯m surprised to find Queen Ayrenn, Prince Naemon, the Silvenar, the Green Lady, and Lord Gharesh-ri. That¡¯s quite a lot of important people for one lightly-defended stable, even if I do spot Eyes of the Queen loitering in the upper windows. If I were someone who shouldn¡¯t be here, I¡¯m sure I would have become a pincushion by now.

    ¡°Is something wrong, or did you just decide to have a meeting someplace nobody would ever guess?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Dune is under attack, and I¡¯m glad to see you here,¡± Ayrenn says. ¡°If there¡¯s anyone I trust to clear a city of Daedra, it¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± I say. ¡°I was worried this visit was going to be boring. Not that Khajiiti events are ever really boring, what with them usually involving moon sugar.¡±

    I don¡¯t feel the need to comment on how much time I just spent hauling every box of illicit goods from that basement in Pa¡¯alat into my bag. How was I to know someone would open portals to Oblivion to summon Daedra? Maybe I should get someone else to clean up bandit lairs when I¡¯m done with them. I could just portal in a few trusted Orcs, right? Kings are supposed to delegate that sort of thing.

    Ayrenn wants us to clear the city and find whoever opened the portals. And hopefully I¡¯ll get the chance to beat up Javad Tharn and deal with the Dark Mane and wrap up the clusterfuck that has been Reaper¡¯s March with a ribbon and bow.

    ¡°Consider it done,¡± I say.

    We find the Khajiit twins at the edge of town. They ramble something about how a guy they saved from the Mages Guild and a plan to recharge some sort of magic fang thing to seal the portals. I¡¯ll take this to mean that I should go hit some stuff while having Merry hold the magic fang thing.

    To charge the thing, I charge my way through various atronachs (I¡¯m still not sure whether that¡¯s supposed to be capitalized) and just like that, the portal is closed and this part of Dune is back to normal. The merchants barely wait for the last Daedra to be gone before rushing back to their stalls. It¡¯s like they¡¯re surrounded by Khajiit and want to keep an eye on their goods or something.

    Khali asks me to go to the Mages Guildhall to meet up with the guy whose name I didn¡¯t catch, while she and her sister have to attend a boring meeting. I assume the important people hiding out in the stables think there¡¯s enough time for boring meetings because I¡¯m on the job of kicking Daedra ass. They¡¯re not wrong, but I feel that they¡¯d get a lot less ridicule from warrior-type peoples like the Orcs if they were also fighting Daedra and not just talking. Ayrenn is good at delegating, though. But then, if I¡¯d gotten here before her, I¡¯d have cleared things out before she ever arrived.

    There¡¯s another portal in the district where the Mages Guildhall is, and clannfears swarm the area. While I¡¯m cutting a path through them, Gelur rushes forth to heal a wounded Khajiit laying on the steps of the guildhall.

    There¡¯s a Skyshard perched atop a large boulder next to the Mages Guildhall. I have the restraint to wait until nothing is trying to kill me before climbing up there and absorbing it. And if Gelur needed my help with the healing, she¡¯d say something.

    ¡°It was a close one, but Esan¡¯s going to be alright,¡± Gelur says, putting emphasis on the name as a helpful reminder to me.

    Esan mumbles something about a traitor and a totem, and points us toward the inn. We leave him there and head inside. A copy of a book titled A Looter¡¯s Paradise lays on an end table. (Summary: Banditry goes in cycles and the Vinedusk have always been kind of crazy.) The traitor in question is a Khajiit woman by the name of Bayya, which Esan insists does indeed have two Y¡¯s in her name for some reason. Hardly matters since she¡¯s about to die anyway, I suppose. We kill her, smash the glowing totem, and get this portal closed as well.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    We head back over to the Mages Guild. The now-free mages suggest we go check on the temple district and make sure there¡¯s no trouble going on there because there is almost certainly trouble going on there, so we head out to find it.

    I take a wrong turn and wind up at a wayshrine instead. Maybe that wasn¡¯t such a bad wrong turn. I light it, and spot an interesting book titled Elven Eyes, Elven Spies laying on a nearby table. (Summary: Paranoia about the Eyes of the Queen. Probably paranoia, at least. I¡¯ll admit that I have no fucking idea what the Eyes of the Queen do most of the time, and I am/was technically a member.)

    ¡°You¡¯re just skimming books and reading them in your head while you kill things, aren¡¯t you,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say with an innocent shrug.

    ¡°Honestly, I never would have taken you for a bookworm,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I had a few thousand years of history and geography to catch up on, and still only feel like I have an idea of what a small percentage of Tamriel is doing.¡±

    ¡°Have you accepted the inevitability of you trying to take over Tamriel yet?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Nope!¡± I say brightly. ¡°Hitting things is so much more fun than being an Emperor.¡±

    ¡°You just need to delegate more.¡±

    ¡°Right!¡± I agree. ¡°I just need to delegate the position of Emperor. Or Empress, as the case may be.¡±

    A vaguely familiar black-furred Khajiit woman comes up to us. ¡°It¡¯s you! Zadala was wondering if you would ever make it here. Did you find the thing?¡±

    ¡°The thing?¡± I repeat.

    ¡°The thing, with the stuff?¡± Zadala presses.

    Eran elbows me. ¡°Remember the thing we just took from those cultists over at that camp near Pa¡¯alat?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, that thing!¡± I pull out the scroll case and toss it over. ¡°Here you go! Okay, back to killing Daedra.¡±

    Without waiting for a reward (Ilara stops to collect it for me), I stroll off back into town. We make it to the temple district and meet up with Khali and Shazah. There¡¯s no immediately visible portal here, but now we¡¯re back to shrine cleansing, because the shrines here have become corrupted like the ones in the other places and there¡¯s no moon priests around with sacred soap and water to do it for us.

    As we clear out the evil red-black swirls from the Khajiit altars, the voices of the Dark Mane and Javad Tharn emerge from the air to taunt us.

    ¡°Oh, good,¡± I say with a toothy grin. ¡°I am so glad you two are here. I am going to kick your asses so hard.¡±

    They don¡¯t respond. Probably they didn¡¯t bother leaving a spell open for anyone to reply. Eh, I don¡¯t know anything about talking-from-thin-air magic. I¡¯ve only barely gotten acquainted with talking-from-magic-orbs magic.

    With the shrines cleansed, we head back down to the middle area in front of the main temple. The sky grows dark and crackles with thunder, and an unearthly wail echoes across Dune as a Dark Anchor drops directly into the temple, crashing straight through the roof with a resounding crunch.

    ¡°Ah, shit,¡± Eran utters as he looks up at it.

    ¡°Here we go!¡± I say gleefully, hefting Shiny and charging toward the doors.

    The Anchor¡¯s chains have pierced through the temple roof in neat holes, and a projection of Javad Tharn appears in front of them to taunt us boringly. That¡¯s going to be hard to repair, but it¡¯s still just a Dark Anchor, and still shatters once we¡¯ve violently eliminated the Daedra near it and poked a pinion.

    ¡°Most people would have at least paused to be surprised at the surprise Dark Anchor,¡± Merry observes. ¡°Rather than simply decisively charging in while grinning madly.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we have someone on hand who can decisively charge in without thinking too hard about things,¡± Gelur says brightly.

    In order to become Mane, Khali will need to go to the Temple of the Dance in the middle of Dune and walk the Two Moons Path, which I still have no idea what that means. It¡¯s clear that Javad Tharn and the Dark Mane intend to interfere with the ceremony, so we¡¯ll need to be on high alert.

    A lot of people seem to have made a pilgrimage to Dune in order to attend the ceremonies, and probably weren¡¯t counting on a Daedra attack in the middle of that. I vaguely recognize a lot of faces but can¡¯t quite place most of the names, but all of them remember me. Apparently I¡¯ve made a bit of an impression.

    ¡°So, what is this Two Moons Path all about?¡± I wonder. ¡°What can we expect? Are we going to imbibe powerful hallucinogens and literally battle some inner demons again?¡±

    ¡°Something like that, I think,¡± Khali says. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I was not paying close attention to the fuzzy details of things that did not make much sense. Tales of former Manes who walked the Path and saw strange places, fought battles, even fell in love! But it was all spiritual, hallucinations perhaps, but more than hallucinations. Spiritual stuff.¡±

    ¡°There will be moon sugar involved, right?¡±

    Khali chuckles. ¡°Of course. Khajiit cannot have a ritual without moon sugar. It simply isn¡¯t done.¡±

    Khali and I head into the temple. We come to a room full of huge stone spheres with crystals, and just from the sight of them I can practically feel a stupid light beam puzzle itching at my bones. They look very much like the sorts of things the Dwemer might use for their own stupid light beam puzzles.

    And in front of it all, it¡¯s the smug cat ghost, Rid-thar. He¡¯s still rather annoyed at me, but doesn¡¯t belabor the point too much.

    ¡°The Dark Mane may try to interfere on the path ahead,¡± Rid-thar says. ¡°Hold fast, and breathe deep of the moon sugar vapors.¡± He then tells me to do the stupid light puzzle and disappears.

    ¡°Khali,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re good at stupid light puzzles?¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± Khali replies cheerfully. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look complicated, though.¡±

    We adjust the crystals and see some memory projections that I don¡¯t pay much attention to (and maybe should have). A portal opens and we step through.

 Chapter 136: In Which I Subdue the Heavens With an Axe

    The portal takes us away from Nirn, to a place with a starry green sky and floating rocks. Pieces of Khajiit-style architecture dot the surrounding area, put together in no logical way. Ghostly robed Khajiit line the path, heads bowed to us.

    ¡°What is this place?¡± Khali wonders.

    ¡°Oblivion,¡± I say. ¡°Probably. Where, specifically, I can¡¯t say, although I can readily rule out Coldharbour, the Deadlands, and such.¡±

    ¡°The Plane of Jode, it must be,¡± Khali says. ¡°I never expected it to be like this.¡±

    ¡°Well, fortunately, I don¡¯t recognize the area,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have to fight any craters today.¡±

    ¡°Craters?¡± Khali wonders.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll get a headache trying to pin down the details of something that did/didn¡¯t happen.¡±

    We head up and explore the temple. The layout of the place doesn¡¯t make much sense, and archways lead off into completely different places. It takes a bit to realize that we¡¯ve emerged into what can only be a vision of a bad potential future.

    It¡¯s Dra¡¯bul, and yet it¡¯s not. The gates are closed tight and Orc archers hold the ramparts. Roku and Grishka are there, weapons in hand, steadfast but haggard. And Roku¡¯s belly is huge, like she has either been gorging on moon sugar biscuits or she¡¯s about to give birth at any moment. I freeze involuntarily at the sight of them.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Roku cries out when she sees me, running up to hug me.

    ¡°Mauloch¡¯s balls, you¡¯re a sight for sore eyes,¡± Grishka adds.

    ¡°I told you he would come back,¡± Roku says. ¡°He always comes back, with some crazy story or another.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think a crazy story is gonna save us here,¡± Grishka says. ¡°Who¡¯s the cat?¡±

    ¡°This is Khali,¡± I say, and release Roku with a sigh. ¡°She¡¯s going to be the Mane. What¡¯s the situation?¡± I don¡¯t even know what to say about the obvious fact that, in this vision at least, my hearth-wife is pregnant. None of this is real, and there¡¯s no telling what parts of it could be.

    ¡°That¡¯s good!¡± Grishka says. ¡°Though¡­ a bit late.¡±

    ¡°Everything fell apart,¡± Roku says. ¡°Without a Mane, the Khajiit withdrew from the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°And the Bosmer lost their shit,¡± Grishka says. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with these people that they think it¡¯s a great idea to turn themselves into werewolves at the slightest problem? I told them we¡¯d protect their pretty asses from the other guys, but they turned on us instead. Fetchers.¡±

    ¡°You probably could have convinced them to see reason,¡± Roku says with a sigh. ¡°But you were missing, and they wouldn¡¯t listen to us.¡±

    ¡°What about the Wood Orcs?¡± I ask.

    Grishka shakes her head. ¡°The Wild Hunt destroyed several of our strongholds, and we lost contact with the Pyandonea stronghold. I don¡¯t know if it was lucky or not that I was on this side when the portal mage betrayed us.¡±

    There¡¯s a cry from the gates. The enemy has been sighted closing in.

    ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± Grishka breathes, gripping her bow.

    ¡°Who¡¯s here?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°The Silvenar and the Green Lady,¡± Grishka says. ¡°They¡¯re mad now. Lost. And now they¡¯re at the gates.¡±

    The gates of Dra¡¯bul are made of sturdy wood reinforced with spikes and bands of metal, but it¡¯s not enough. The ferocity of the Green Lady as a werewolf is unmatched, and she practically tears down the gates with her own claws. And on top of that, the Silvenar, also a werewolf, is healing her.

    This is possibly the most annoying fight I¡¯ve had since I arrived in Reaper¡¯s March at least. It might have gone on for hours if not for Khali. She manages to slip behind and kill the Silvenar while the Orcs and I have the other werewolves occupied, and only then do they start really dropping.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we won,¡± Grishka says once the last werewolf has fallen.

    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t have, without Neri and Mane Khali,¡± Roku says, and looks at us. ¡°We need you. We need both of you.¡±

    ¡°I need to go fix this and make sure this doesn¡¯t happen,¡± I say.

    Roku nods, and puts a hand on her belly. ¡°Come back to us. Malacath¡¯s wrath be with you.¡±

    Khali and I step through the gates of Dra¡¯bul, and find ourselves back at the lunar temple we were climbing on Jode¡¯s plane.

    ¡°Your wives are fine Orcs,¡± Khali says. ¡°You are fortunate to have them, I think. And perhaps congratulations are in order?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet,¡± I say, looking about the surreal landscape. ¡°Who knows how much of this might actually happen? What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°We keep going,¡± Khali says. ¡°If this is what happened to the Bosmer and Wood Orcs, what about the Altmer?¡±

    Another doorway takes us to a twisted version of the Summerset Isles, and we press forward to find out what sort of vision awaits us here.

    We run across Razum-dar, gravely wounded, who tells us what¡¯s going on as I try in vain to heal him. In this world, the racist bandits rose up again and rebelled against Queen Ayrenn¡¯s rule.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask. ¡°Did they rally around Prince Naemon?¡±

    ¡°Naemon?¡± Raz repeats. ¡°No, no. Battlereeve Urcelmo betrayed us! You will find Prince Naemon up the path, if he still lives. He swore his life to defending his sister. And Raz¡­ Raz has failed.¡± He goes still.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go find Naemon,¡± Khali urges me away from staring at Raz¡¯s body.

    We fight our way past racist bandits and come upon Naemon holding the line in front of the entrance to an ancient elven ruin. We help him finish off the last of them, but he¡¯s also injured and my healing has no effect.

    ¡°You,¡± Naemon says, coughing up blood. ¡°Where in Oblivion have you been?¡±

    I want to tell him that this isn¡¯t real, that it¡¯s just a vision dreamed up by the ritual, but I pause. Is it really? Time is a strange thing, and it had to have pulled these images from somewhere. I¡¯d rather not think about time bullshit though, so moving swiftly on¡­

    ¡°Stuff happened,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry. We can still fix this. We¡¯ll make sure this doesn¡¯t happen.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d better,¡± Naemon says. (Apparently no one doubts me even for a moment when I casually proclaim I can do the ¡°impossible¡±.) ¡°I¡¯d never imagined how much we might need the Khajiit and the Bosmer and the Orcs and even the Goblins. It was shameful watching Goblins die to protect my sister when our own people turned on us but the Goblins love her. Save her, Neri. Stop this.¡±

    He, too, slumps over and slips rapidly away. I can only be glad that at least these visions did not show me my wives¡¯ deaths.

    We make our way down into the ruin and find Queen Ayrenn locked in deadly combat with the battlereeve. They¡¯ve fought one another to a standstill and seem exhausted, but Ayrenn¡¯s heart doesn¡¯t seem to really be in it any longer, even after Khali and I join the fight. Upon the battlereeve¡¯s defeat, Ayrenn stumbles outside and beckons us to follow to hear her heartbreaking lament about her failed dream.

    ¡°Ayrenn,¡± I say softly. ¡°Your dream hasn¡¯t failed. It doesn¡¯t have to be like this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re my last hope, Neri,¡± Ayrenn says, her voice cracking. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who can pull everything together again.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this by myself,¡± I say. ¡°Look, we have a new Mane.¡± I gesture to Khali. (Wasn¡¯t this ritual supposed to be about her and not me?)

    ¡°A new Mane¡­¡± Ayrenn murmurs. ¡°Ah, if only you had come months ago. The Khajiit, and the Dominion, needed your strength and your wisdom.¡±

    ¡°They will have Khali¡¯s strength and Shazah¡¯s wisdom,¡± Khali says.

    ¡°Good. Maybe there¡¯s still hope,¡± Ayrenn whispers as she, too, slips away.

    Another gateway returns Khali and I to the main path again.

    ¡°If this is what might happen should we fail¡­¡± Khali says.

    ¡°Then we must not fail,¡± I finish.

    ¡°There is one more path we must take,¡± Khali says. ¡°But this one does not know how to find it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep going, then,¡± I say. ¡°If we are meant to find it, then our feet will take us there. Or paws. Whichever.¡±

    Khali chuckles. ¡°You may call a Khajiit¡¯s paws ¡®feet¡¯ or ¡®hands¡¯, you know.¡±

    We continue to wander up the path, moving ever upwards, and come upon another gateway at the top of the hill. This one leads us into what Khali refers to as the Den of Lorkhaj. Considerably darker and less verdant, purple where the last area was green, and distressing in a deep way as I hear a drumbeat start in around me. I call up my own music in counterpoint, but here of all places, I¡¯m not sure how much I can ¡°chase away¡±. I play anyway.

    The Dark Mane is here, his voice echoing in a taunt along with Javad Tharn¡¯s. I don¡¯t see any sign of a Tharn here, but this dark thing that has caused so much trouble across Reaper¡¯s March and forced me to pray in front of dozens of lunar shrines to make them stop being swirly? (Okay, that might be an exaggeration.) I¡¯m more than ready to kick his ass, and here, I might just be able to kick his ass hard enough that I can knock him into the depths of Oblivion where he might not find his way back to Nirn for an era.

    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re here,¡± I say. ¡°Fight me!¡±

    The Dark Mane is much, much stronger than he was when I fought him in Moonmont. There, he was but a shadow (heh) of himself, but here? Here, he¡¯s at full strength, and not being contained or constrained by anything. I don¡¯t have my friends with me here, just Khali, and while that¡¯s appreciated, that also means that we have no healing but my own to rely on. My Blinky Barrier blinks out immediately every time it gets hit with one of the Dark Mane¡¯s shadowy powers.

    ¡°It¡¯s no use!¡± Khali exclaims. ¡°He¡¯s too strong!¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t die!¡± I yell back, increasing the volume and energy of my musical aura.

    I manage to lose both Wibbly and Wobbly flying off of the floating island whenever this shadowy fetcher knocks me around, leaving me with Shiny, but Shiny is enough. I charge forward in blazing light, and a nova falls upon him like a fragment of the sun brought down to the dark moon.

    As the Dark Mane staggers to the ground under my assault, the unamused voice of Javad Tharn emerges from the air again, this time attached to a very solid and hittable person.

    ¡°Bah, I thought my Dark Mane would be the end of you for sure, but it seems this stupid cat is weaker than I¡¯d imagined. I shall just have to do this myself, then.¡±

    ¡°Why the fuck would you think you have a better chance of beating us than this guy did?¡± I ask, turning my attention have toward him, but keeping one eye on the Dark Mane to make sure he doesn¡¯t get up again and attack me from behind.

    Javad Tharn blusters at me. The worst of this all is that he¡¯s not even a particularly interesting villain. Even Manny had coherent (if insane) plans. Javad can¡¯t even manage a good cliche line.

    The Dark Mane, fortunately, does not come back to bite us in the ass while we¡¯re busy kicking the Tharn¡¯s ass. He might be a powerful mage, but he¡¯s just a mage. Human. Mortal. Perfectly killable. So we kill him.

    Rid-thar appears and congratulates us. I don¡¯t even have it in me to be annoyed at the dead cat any longer.

    ¡°Is it done?¡± I ask. ¡°Javad¡¯s certainly dead, but what about the Dark Mane?¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Rid-thar says, gesturing to where I¡¯d left the Dark Mane laying while I dealt with Javad Tharn.

    The core of the Khajiit figure is no longer dark, seeming to have absorbed the Aedric light I¡¯d been bombarding him with. Maybe the Prismatic Weapon I¡¯m wielding helped, too. I don¡¯t know, but with each note of the song I¡¯ve been fervently continuing to play, the darkness recedes a little further.

    ¡°This one¡­ is sorry for the things he did while under the control of the Tharn,¡± the less-dark Mane says. ¡°Thank you. You have saved this one. You have saved the Khajiit.¡± He offers a weak smile to Khali. ¡°You will be a good Mane, young one. This one is sure of it.¡±

    By the time he fades away, only light is left.

    ¡°Thank fuck,¡± I mutter irreverently as I put Shiny away.

    I¡¯m going to need to acquire new backup axes now, because there¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to be able to retrieve Wibbly and Wobbly from here. I suppose the sacrifice of two ¡°moons¡± was appropriate to the ritual, and battling a dark moon with a light ¡°moon¡±.

    Rid-thar opens a portal for us, and we return to Dune. There¡¯s all sorts of pomp and ceremony to be done still, but nothing I need to be directly involved in or sober for. I just have to hope the next asshole I have to deal with is less boring than Javad fucking Tharn. The no-longer-dark Mane was not the one truly responsible for all this.

    The moon priests had been relaying what was happening to the important people standing around, so at least we sort of had an audience. Did they do that last time? I guess it would make sense that people were witnessing something and not just boredly waiting for us to get done with everything. I just wish someone had told me I was putting on a show.

    Shazah hugs Khali. ¡°You¡¯re alright! Shazah was worried, but perhaps she should not have been. You fought bravely and made it through. Shazah is proud of you, sister. This one does not think she could have done it in your place.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I have no doubt you would have found your own way through,¡± Khali assures her. ¡°But do not fear! I still need you, Shazah. I may be the Mane now, but the Mane needs a Speaker, yes?¡±

 Chapter 137: In Which I Retrieve an Old Cup

    Another couple of severed heads have been added to the gates of Dra¡¯bul. A Khajiit head with a sign stating ¡°Krin Ren-dro - Traitor¡±. Cariel didn¡¯t complain about me taking it, after all. Actually, she didn¡¯t stick around terribly long after she saw what I was going to do. The other one is that of a human man with a sign reading, ¡°Javad Tharn¡±. I couldn¡¯t think of a suitable appellation that was more insulting than just his name.

    And¡­ I need to talk to my hearth-wife.

    ¡°You look pensive,¡± Roku says, coming out of the gates to meet me and looking up at the latest decorations. ¡°I hope these come with a story.¡±

    ¡°Probably not as interesting as you might imagine,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°Javad Tharn, for one, did a lot of really annoying shit for someone with as dull of a personality as he had. Still. Let¡¯s head back to the longhouse and I¡¯ll tell you all about it.¡±

    We settle in for dinner and drinks, and talk well into the night about everything I¡¯ve seen and experienced in Reaper¡¯s March. The mathra, the Mane, the cultists, everything.

    ¡°I was pregnant?¡± Roku says as I finally get to the last bit. ¡°I¡­ well, maybe. It¡¯s too early to tell.¡±

    I might be able to fearlessly do battle with Daedra, but no amount of fighting will prepare me for something like this.

    ¡°I¡¯m about to head into Coldharbour to try to stop the Planemeld,¡± I say. ¡°With the situation in Reaper¡¯s March resolved, there¡¯s not much longer I¡¯m going to be able to put this off.¡±

    ¡°You, of all people, do not need to fear Oblivion,¡± Roku says.

    ¡°I still fear Coldharbour,¡± I say quietly. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t haunt my dreams much anymore. I can do this. I have to do this.¡±

    Come morning, there¡¯s messages waiting for me. First is someone thanking me about retrieving some relics and asking me to actually return them to Rawl¡¯kha when it is convenient for me. They mention that there was a third camp near the Falinesti Autumn Site who got back to Rawl¡¯kha without any problems, noting a surprising lack of bandit activity in the area and things being safer than ever.

    There¡¯s also a message from Varen saying that I should drop by Vastarie¡¯s Tower in order to save the world once I¡¯m done with whatever crisis I¡¯m probably dealing with at any given moment.

    In fact, Abnur Tharn is at the gates of Dra¡¯bul personally, looking up at the severed head of his nephew. ¡°I daresay death may have improved his disposition. I hope he did not give you too much trouble.¡±

    ¡°Entirely more than necessary, but we dealt with it,¡± I say. ¡°Welcome to Dra¡¯bul. What brings you here?¡±

    ¡°I did not think you would actually show up at Vastarie¡¯s Tower in a timely manner and wished to speak with you in private first,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Titanborn and Sahan were getting all maudlin and I am certain that you will have the chance to share drinks with them in the near future, before all is said and done.¡±

    ¡°Shall we speak in my longhouse, then?¡±

    Abnur sighs. ¡°Very well. Show me your¡­ home, I suppose.¡±

    He says this with the tone that says he expects a damp cave and will be reluctant to sit on dirty furs. Which is nonsense, of course. Roku knows cleaning spells. Which means he¡¯s positively shocked when he steps inside the longhouse and looks around.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention you had a communication orb,¡± Abnur says.

    ¡°Oh, yeah, that,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s a recent addition. My very sensible hunt-wife got it to keep in touch with Tamriel while she invades Pyandonea.¡±

    ¡°¡­ why are you invading Pyandonea?¡± Abnur wonders.

    ¡°For logging.¡± I pause as Abnur stares at me. ¡°Also do you have any idea how annoying Sea Elves are?¡±

    Abnur sighs and decides not to question it further. ¡°Vanus Galerion of the Mages Guild is working on a plan to invade Coldharbour. You will, of course, need to be involved.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say with absolute confidence that isn¡¯t forced at all. ¡°Why does the Mages Guild need to be involved, though? Isn¡¯t Varen just going to portal my group in so we can take care of it like always?¡±

    ¡°And you intend to scour an entire realm by yourself?¡± Abnur asks. ¡°Varen cannot hold Molag Bal¡¯s attention forever. You would be noticed long before you would be able to find what you need to. And no, Varen has not been able to locate it from this end.¡±

    ¡°I have an artifact that should camouflage me from his eyes, to an extent,¡± I say.

    ¡°And would your friends be similarly protected, or do you intend to spend months exploring every nook and cranny of Coldharbour? As much as I hate to say it, even the most useless of apprentices is still a distraction and another set of eyes.¡±

    The thought of spending an extended period of time in Coldharbour by myself is considerably worse than the thought of having backup and support. ¡°I won¡¯t argue that.¡±

    He then goes into an explanation about his plan to use the amulet of doom to do some sort of ritual that will allow me to hit Molag Bal really hard and make him vomit up my soul. It requires a willing sacrifice and also sounds like an absolutely terrible idea. Lyris, Sai, and Varen have enthusiastically volunteered to die for this.

    ¡°This all just sounds completely unnecessary,¡± I say.

    ¡°Power such as this does not come without a price,¡± Abnur says. ¡°You need not make a decision now. The Planemeld must be stopped before we can act.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope you come up with a better idea by that point,¡± I say. ¡°Because Lyris and Sai are fucking idiots but don¡¯t deserve to die for this. And Varen¡­ is also kind of a moron, for that matter, but still. In any case, why does it have to be one of them?¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m needed to perform the ritual and you¡¯re needed as the target.¡±

    ¡°I mean. There¡¯s an entire continent full of people here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to convince those three of that,¡± Abnur says. ¡°They seem to have their hearts set on nobly dying for the cause of trying to punch a god.¡±

    I pick up another battle axe before leaving Dra¡¯bul. It¡¯s an old and unremarkable weapon whose previous owner had gotten himself mauled by a werewolf a while back and no longer needs it. I promptly dub it Not-Shiny.

    Roku smirks. ¡°You know what we need? A forge-wife.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine that I¡¯ll be meeting a lot of nice Orc women in Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯ll keep an eye out.¡±

    I spend much of the morning hopping around Reaper¡¯s March. Delivering relics to Rawl¡¯kha, a journal to S¡¯ren-ja, and finally we wind up back at Dune on the road heading north toward Fort Sphinxmoth. Why Fort Sphinxmoth? Rumors indicate that some bandits looted relics from a temple in Cyrodiil. Reports are uncertain about who the temple in question was to. Arkay or Stendarr or whoever. Doesn¡¯t matter terribly much, I suppose.

    It doesn¡¯t seem particularly important, but it feels like a good wind-down mission before¡­ before we do that thing I¡¯m not looking forward to at all. And who knows, they might be dangerous and turn people into raving lunatics or summon Daedra or something accidentally, I don¡¯t know. This is just killing time while people other than me make some final preparations for doing something insane.

    We destroy a Dark Anchor on the way north. By a nearby Ayleid ruin, I spot a book titled Litter-Mates of Darkness. (Summary: The best way to banish mathra is with light. I think I already figured that one out.) We head down into the interior of the ruins to see what we might find, since I get the itching feeling that there¡¯s probably a Skyshard down there.

    ¡°So, bets on what¡¯s down here?¡± I ask. ¡°I say thunder bugs and angry plant things.¡±

    ¡°Are we even playing for any stakes?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Moon sugar biscuits,¡± I say.

    ¡°Fine. I say cultists,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Undead,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Bandits,¡± Ilara adds. ¡°The rumors said something about bandits, yes?¡±

    ¡°It might be different bandits, if there¡¯s bandits,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯m going out on a limb here and saying this place has a Mages Guild expedition that found something stupid.¡±

    ¡°Do Mages Guild expeditions ever not find stupid things?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Probably, but we don¡¯t hear about them,¡± Eran says.

    We head down inside and find humans, and a journal that indicates they¡¯re none of the above, but Colovian deserters who wanted to lay low until things calmed down. Since they were stupid enough to attack us on sight instead of trying to talk and explaining that, they died. Also they¡¯re really racist and say some somewhat unkind things about the Khajiit and Bosmer, which doesn¡¯t really win them any points.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I say. ¡°Guess nobody wins this round.¡±

    There is indeed a Skyshard down here, but it¡¯s a bit tricky to get to and requires crossing some scaffolding.

    There¡¯s a wayshrine outside of the fort, this one of Imperial-style construction. I light it and go to talk to someone about the rumors. Fort Sphinxmoth is barely a fort. The crumbling walls stand at angles, the ones that are still mostly standing at least. Another Skyshard sits behind one mostly-collapsed wall.

    A priestess by the name of Marcella informs me that the relics were taken from a temple of Mara, not Arkay or Stendarr, so there¡¯s a very important detail. (At least that means the relics more likely have healing properties.) She mentions a chalice that was reputedly sent by Mara to be used at the wedding of Alessia herself.

    ¡°Wait, who did Alessia marry?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Morihaus, of course,¡± Marcella replies.

    I frown thoughtfully and try to remember. ¡°Wasn¡¯t Morihaus a bull?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Marcella says. ¡°Their son, the minotaur Belharza, was the second ruler of the Alessian Empire.¡±

    ¡°¡­ you know what, just tell me about these bandits.¡±

    ¡°They call themselves the Sphinxmoth Bandits,¡± Marcella says. ¡°Perhaps not the most subtle of names. Some of the temple guards went inside to try to root them out, but they have not returned. I grow concerned for their well-being.¡±

    ¡°Why do bandits put the word ¡®bandit¡¯ in their name?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°Not to mention the name of their headquarters,¡± Eran adds.

    Merry puts in, ¡°More clever bandits might name themselves after some random place that wasn¡¯t their headquarters just to confuse people.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go find this magic human/bull wedding cup,¡± Gelur says. ¡°This I have to see.¡±

    We head inside. If there¡¯s one thing that can be said for the ruins, it¡¯s full of lovely traps. The walls might be falling down and the corridors half-blocked with rubble, but the traps still work perfectly. (The many, many, many bear traps were probably the addition of the Sphinxmoth Bandits, though. Dunno how great of an investment that was on their part.)

    Some of the temple guards are still alive. We rescue them and heal them up as we make our way through the ruins retrieving the artifacts. One of them is chained to a post, more fortunate than most of them, especially the one we stumble upon dead along the way. One got himself trapped in a magic bubble we have to disable by lighting some braziers.

    Another accidentally fell into a part of the ruin known as the Croc Pit. For the obvious reason that it has crocodiles in it. He¡¯s still alive, clinging to a ledge out of the reach of the ravenous reptiles and calling up for help when he realizes we¡¯re up here and not bandits. I, of course, immediately jump down and start killing crocodiles.

    ¡°Are we needed down there, or should we just cheer you on?¡± Eran calls down.

    ¡°Hang tight, I¡¯ve got this,¡± I say.

    The terrified guard (less terrified now that the closest crocodiles are dead) tells me about how there¡¯s a stupid constellation puzzle sealing the door out. Because why wouldn¡¯t there be.

    ¡°Ilara-daro, could you hop down here and solve this stupid constellation puzzle while I kill the rest of the crocodiles, please?¡±

    ¡°You know, you could just do your own puzzles for once,¡± Merry puts in as Ilara jumps in.

    ¡°Yeah, but I hate constellation puzzles,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re annoying and make me want to smack Ayleids but they¡¯re too dead to bother.¡±

    Ilara chuckles. ¡°Not to worry. Ilara-daro is on the task!¡± She pokes three of the star panels, and there¡¯s a click. ¡°Done!¡±

    ¡°Okay, just how did you do that, Ilara-daro?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°There was a book!¡± Ilara replies. ¡°Hmm, Ilara-daro thinks this might have been trickier if this book had not been laying here. She might have been poking combinations for some time.¡±

    We kill the rest of the bandits, retrieve the relics (and the contents of their treasure room), and head back outside.

    ¡°Here¡¯s those missing relics,¡± I say, handing them over. ¡°Really, what kind of a skeever robs a temple of Mara?¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro found some notes that might shed some light on the matter,¡± she says, handing some sheets of paper to me. ¡°The Stonefire Cult apparently wanted the cup. The bandits were sitting on them waiting to sell them but it seems their contact is very, very late. This one wonders what could have possibly happened to him.¡±

    ¡°Being a cultist is a terribly hazardous occupation,¡± I say, and turn to the priestess. ¡°Is there anything else of note they took from your temple? We confiscated quite a lot of probably ill-gotten goods.¡±

    ¡°Nothing of any great importance,¡± the priestess says. ¡°You may keep or sell anything else you found as you wish.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be willing to escort us to Bravil?¡± asks one of the temple guards we¡¯d rescued. ¡°I¡¯d feel much safer.¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll hang around for a bit to make sure there¡¯s no more bandits who weren¡¯t in that ruin, though. There were quite a lot of bandits in tha ruin. I could swear sometimes that there¡¯s more bandits and cultists in Tamriel than there are legitimate, peaceful citizens.¡±

    Bravil is just across the border, and yet it feels so far away that I might never reach it even if I wanted to stick my dick into the mess that is Cyrodiil anytime soon.

 Chapter 138: In Which I Perform Actual Diplomacy

    I receive a call on my portable communication orb. Razum-dar wants to meet me in Skywatch. (And poked my hearth-wife to message me about it.) Something about making me actually do kingly things and while it¡¯s important to deal with bandits, there are other things that really need doing. Dammit. Getting this thing has made it so much harder to procrastinate. Oh well. I suppose I can¡¯t put this off forever.

    I gather my party and teleport us to the wayshrine outside of Skywatch. Raz is waiting for us in the Mages Guildhall in Skywatch to explain what¡¯s going on. Vanus Galerion, the guildmaster, is supposed to be here by now but is running late, so I don¡¯t feel terribly bad that I¡¯m being the late one here.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s my job here?¡± I ask. ¡°Any beasts that need to be bested in battle? Any villains to be vanquished in valorous combat?¡±

    ¡°Raz is certain that will come,¡± he says. ¡°But no. Right now? Your diplomatic skills are needed more.¡±

    ¡°Fine, you did need a king and not a warrior, I suppose,¡± I say. ¡°Who am I winning over with words and wit?¡±

    ¡°Neri, please stop alliterating,¡± Eran mutters.

    ¡°The leaders of the other two alliances,¡± Raz says as an Altmer man enters the guildhall. ¡°Ah, here is the Guildmaster now.¡±

    ¡°King Neri, I presume?¡± the Altmer says. ¡°I am Vanus Galerion, leader of the Mages Guild. I¡¯m told you are a master of diplomacy? I believe someone said you could¨Chow did they put it?¨Csell sand to a Khajiit.¡±

    Vanus explains how they¡¯re working on a plan to get the leaders of the three alliances to meet at some island somewhere called Stirk in order to discuss an invasion of Coldharbour. And somehow, I was the one considered to have the best chance of convincing them. Fine, I guess I can¡¯t argue with that sentiment. And I suppose I can¡¯t pause to take over Tamriel before stopping the Planemeld.

    Oh shit. ¡°Where exactly am I going?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Wayrest, first,¡± Vanus says. ¡°And then Mournhold. I can open portals for you to save on travel time. And as a neutral party, I will do the introductions.¡±

    ¡°I am not going to Mournhold,¡± I say firmly. ¡°Can¡¯t Jorunn meet us somewhere else?¡±

    ¡°I understand that his palace is inaccessible at the moment, although he wouldn¡¯t elaborate on why,¡± Vanus says. ¡°Seemed a bit peculiar, but I didn¡¯t pry. He¡¯s offered to meet us at the guild plaza in Mournhold instead.¡±

    ¡°The guild plaza?¡± I ask. ¡°Seriously? Nobody had a backup house somewhere in Skyrim he could use instead? I¡¯d even settle for a mud hut somewhere in Black Marsh.¡±

    ¡°What do you have against Mournhold?¡± Vanus wonders.

    I lower my voice. ¡°My ex-wife is there.¡±

    ¡°Your ex-wife?¡±

    I give a short nod. ¡°In my foolish youth, I once married a daughter of one of the Great Houses. It¡­ was bad. Long story. Don¡¯t tell anyone. She won¡¯t recognize me dressed like this anyway, most likely. She¡¯d probably try to murder me if she did.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Vanus says. ¡°I¡¯ll not pry about that, either. Still, whoever she was, it seems unlikely that she will be among the Skald-King¡¯s guards.¡±

    ¡°Probably not, no,¡± I say with a sigh.

    I wish I could ask Vanus to conveniently portal me to wayshrines.

    The portal drops us out at a stone castle full of human and Orc guards, with a Breton in a crown standing before a throne. Wayrest Castle is not warded against portal magic. Noted.

    ¡°Esteemed High King Emeric,¡± Vanus says. ¡°I present to you Neri gro-Drublog, King of the Wood Orcs.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re a bold one,¡± Emeric says. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about you. The bards sing of your deeds even in here Wayrest. Have you come to pledge your loyalty to the Daggerfall Covenant along with your fellow Orcs?¡±

    High King Emeric does not understand Orcs. Noted.

    I chuckle. ¡°Afraid not. I¡¯m happy with the Dominion.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you see in Queen Ayrenn,¡± Emeric says. ¡°She¡¯s a naive child who has no idea what she¡¯s doing.¡±

    They¡¯re all children to me.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°But she¡¯s a child with a dream that everyone should be equal, whether they¡¯re Elves or Orcs or Khajiit or Humans or even Goblins. The¡­ sincerity of it hurts sometimes, but it¡¯s a beautiful dream. And she has people like me who know how to conduct battle. Fortunately for both of us, I¡¯m not here to besiege your castle, either.¡±

    Honestly, getting the Covenant under my thumb is going to be much easier than the Ebonheart Pact, if only because I won¡¯t need to worry about interference from the Three Fetchers. By which I mean if I were actually attempting to take over the Covenant¡¯s territories and peoples.

    ¡°Then why have you come?¡± Emeric says.

    I don¡¯t understand Bretons or Redguards terribly well myself, though, which might put a damper on that. Not that I¡¯m trying to take over Tamriel or anything. I see Bretons as another mer offshoot, but I doubt they see it the same way. Not that I terribly hold it against the Nords for being Nordy, either.

    If I still had my old ring, Moon-and-Star, I¡¯d bet that I could convince them all to follow me. Its powers were a bit (intentionally) overblown, but it still boosted ¡®ridiculous¡¯ speechcraft to ¡®downright implausible¡¯. At a certain point, it becomes one step off of mind control. I¡¯d bet that, even without it, I¡¯d have a good chance of success, but not enough that I¡¯d be willing to take the risk without an additional bargaining chip. What¡¯s worse is that I don¡¯t think I¡¯m even quite back up to ¡®ridiculous¡¯. When that Anchor Mooring shat me back out onto Nirn, any social skills I had were pretty atrophied.

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    It begs the question, then, do I want to take over Tamriel? Well, sure. I¡¯d take it over and point at Ayrenn and go, ¡°See that young High Elf there? She¡¯s awesome and friendly and wants everyone to be fucking nice to each other. Unlike me, because I¡¯m a bloodthirsty con artist who will as soon kill you as talk you into doing something. So can I talk you into listening to her or do I have to kill you?¡±

    I do not currently have a bargaining chip that would guarantee they¡¯d listen to me yet. Maybe I can at least talk them into saving themselves, though.

    ¡°I intend to take the fight to Coldharbour and put a stop to the Planemeld,¡± I say instead. ¡°Before more of our world turns into hell.¡±

    ¡°Battling a Daedric Prince?¡± Emeric says. ¡°That¡¯s a tall order. You expect me to commit troops to this endeavor?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Nah. I¡¯m giving you the opportunity to be a part of this endeavor.¡±

    ¡°So confident, are you,¡± Emeric says. ¡°And how exactly do you propose to do such a thing? The forces of Oblivion are numberless.¡±

    ¡°Daedra are immortal,¡± I say. ¡°Nobody expects anything useful to come of punching Molag Bal in the face. We don¡¯t need to actually conquer Coldharbour. We do, however, need to find whatever he¡¯s using to throw Dark Anchors at Nirn and break it. While the Daedra pouring from the sky were fun at first, it¡¯s really getting old.¡±

    ¡°How do I know this isn¡¯t a trick?¡± Emeric asks. ¡°We turn our attention to the Daedra, and it will leave Cyrodiil open for one of the other alliances to take. Even if the Dominion are also assisting, that would leave the Pact to march on the Imperial City.¡±

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake, who cares about the Imperial City?¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to be contacting the Pact as well, but would it make you feel better if I go conquer Cyrodiil first? I¡¯ll be back in time for dinner. I¡¯ve just been taking the fight to Daedra and cultists first because I didn¡¯t think the war was terribly important in the grand scheme of things. Let¡¯s deal with Molag Bal first, and then we can squabble about who gets to rule Tamriel. Only a fool fights in a collapsing cave.¡±

    The king makes some sounds of protest.

    ¡°Have you looked outside your castles lately?¡± I go on. ¡°Daedra are falling from the skies! Not just occasionally, but each dolmen has another anchor drop several times a day! My axe has cut down more of them personally than you would imagine. You¡¯re afraid to be the first one to commit? Then I will commit. I will be leading this push myself, and there¡¯s no one alive that knows more about Coldharbour than me.¡±

    ¡°The bards already sing of your defeat of ¡®Manny the Worm¡¯,¡± Emeric says with a sigh, reluctantly conceding my point. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯d be able to live it down if they were singing that it was the Wood Orcs who saved Tamriel while everyone else stood by squabbling.¡±

    I tell him about the conference to be held on Stirk. I make it sound like the conference was for planning out the expedition, and not that it had been supposed to be for deciding whether to do it at all, because I would absolutely do this by my fucking self if I had to. I refuse to allow Daedra to despoil a world any (hypothetical) child of mine would be a part of.

    Vanus, at least, doesn¡¯t contradict me, and ushers me into another portal once we¡¯re done.

    The next portal drops us at a building with an achingly familiar sort of architecture. It hurts just to be here, and paranoia itches at my mind. The thought of her appearing out of nowhere to murder me again. No. I¡¯m protected. I have a blessed ring that should make me look like an Orc to her senses as well as her eyes, if she even were for whatever reason hanging around¡­ the Fighters Guildhall, judging by the banners.

    And¡­ oh for Malacath¡¯s sake, these helmets! These helmets! I¡¯d forgotten about the helmet of the Ordinator we encountered in Grahtwood or Greenshade or wherever it was. It¡¯s doubly creepy to see several people wearing helmets with bronze molded to look like my face and plumes on top shaped like the magnificent hair ridge I used to wear. Whose idea was this!? Was this meant to honor me, mock me, or to falsely use my name to just further their own image?

    One of them notices me staring at him a bit too long and tells me, ¡°We¡¯re watching you, scum.¡±

    I look away and stride deliberately into the courtyard, where a Nord with a massive red beard is waiting along with a motley group that looks more like an adventuring party than a king¡¯s honor guard. (Not that I can judge, there.)

    High King Jorunn greets me with threats as well. Really, he¡¯s just Nording, and I can¡¯t really be offended at it. I¡¯m more familiar with Nords than Bretons, at least. If Lyris is any indication, they haven¡¯t changed terribly much from what I would have expected. (Aside from possibly being a little less comfortable with magic, but that might just be Abnur Tharn.)

    Which means he¡¯s even easier to string along with the prospect of missed glory and non-Nords having to pull his ass out of the (cold) fire, especially with Emeric already having agreed. I convince him to travel to Stirk without having to start up a rant or a fistfight. It¡¯s almost disappointing.

    ¡°How about a mead and a friendly spar before I go?¡± I ask. ¡°No weapons, magic, or Thu¡¯um.¡±

    ¡°Do we have time for this?¡± Vanus wonders quietly.

    ¡°What? You asked me to do diplomacy. This is Nord diplomacy.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    Jorunn gives me an odd look, but relaxes and chortles at the suggestion. ¡°Why not? I¡¯ve been wondering if you live up to your reputation.¡±

    Jorunn¡¯s guards give us some room, eying me suspiciously for some sort of trick, but they too relax a bit when they see me quaff down a mug without hesitation or bothering to check it first. I¡¯d be more worried about someone poisoning the mead if poison were likely to actually do more than inconvenience me. (In the unlikely event of Jorunn trying to poison me, I¡¯d be able to shame him across all Skyrim.)

    We toss aside our mugs and fight. In a more serious situation, I¡¯d be fighting dirty and pulling out all the stops. There¡¯s the difference between fighting to kill, fighting to win, and fighting to test. I¡¯m testing him here. I want to get my measure of this Nord the same way he wants to get his measure of me.

    I have a slight handicap here in being constantly nervous that Ayem is going to levitate over the guildhall walls and look disapprovingly down upon the courtyard. (Ayem doesn¡¯t like levitation in that she doesn¡¯t like anyone else to be higher than her. Levitation is okay when she¡¯s the one doing it.)

    Jorunn isn¡¯t a novice at fighting and gets a few good hits in that I pretty much just shrug off because my pain tolerance is insane and I can heal it later. By the time we¡¯re done, I¡¯ve broken an arm, Jorunn has broken a leg, and we¡¯re both laughing.

    ¡°Good brawl, Orc King,¡± Jorunn says as our healers are healing us up. ¡°I¡¯ll see you at Stirk. I¡¯ll bring the mead!¡±

    Once I¡¯m back to full health again, Vanus opens another portal and returns us to Auridon.

    I¡¯m kind of glad everyone made these arrangements while I was busy with bandits, and I just had to go and do my part. Still, now there¡¯s going to be some waiting until everyone gets their shit together and gathers on Stirk. I take the opportunity to contact a few more people to assist in the invasion, but as it turns out, most of the people who would have come because I asked them to are already coming because someone already contacted them, so I instead take the opportunity to spend some time with my wives and clan. (And learn that spell that teleports clothes onto and off of your body. Very important. My wives are happy to help me practice.)

 Chapter 139: In Which Important People Meet

    I meet up with Vanus again, who opens a portal to Stirk for me and my friends. Everyone¡¯s ready for the conference, and we¡¯re as ready as we¡¯ll ever be.

    Stirk is covered by old elven ruins and palm trees. Quite a lot of people are already here, so I head in and start greeting people I recognize and meeting ones I don¡¯t while trying very hard not to mistake the two just because I forgot to write down someone¡¯s name.

    Telenger is here, and whatever Merry or I might feel about him, he¡¯s still a powerful mage who will be a valuable ally in the fight to come. Vanus refers to Telenger as ¡°Telly¡±. I¡¯m starting to like this mer. Even I don¡¯t do that.

    Sees-All-Colors is here too, managing the Fighters Guild personnel. She greets me warmly but briefly, and nobody mentions murder or Daedra worship. (Not that I¡¯m terribly sure why worshipping Malacath is okay for Orcs but people seem to have a problem with Meridia. Neither of them are exactly Daedra.)

    There¡¯s a surprising number of Goblins in the guilds. Some of them even recognize me, although I¡¯m not sure how seeing as I wasn¡¯t dressed like an Orc when I was in Auridon. I would imagine that they¡¯ve heard rumors and that they¡¯re more observant than most people give them credit for.

    ¡°I heard Coldharbour is cold,¡± says Togga, the Goblin woman with the Mages Guild. ¡°I will burn it all down!¡±

    ¡°Everything between us and our goal should be sufficient,¡± says one of the other mages.

    Across the way is a snobbish Breton noblewoman turning up her nose at the Goblins. ¡°I simply can¡¯t believe they let those filthy creatures into the guilds. I suppose they¡¯re good at setting things on fire if nothing else.¡±

    The three alliance leaders arrive by portal, and Vanus introduces them. Queen Ayrenn is the only one who sounds reasonable. The two humans? They¡¯re still being posturing fools who think if they invade Coldharbour, one of the other alliances will just take the Imperial City. Contact with one another very nearly undoes the convincing I¡¯d done. They storm off to their camps. For fuck¡¯s sake, am I the only one here capable of diplomacy?

    ¡°They¡¯re so frustrating!¡± Ayrenn laments when I speak with her in the Dominion camp. ¡°How did you ever convince them to come?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t just convince them to come,¡± I say. ¡°I already convinced them to send troops! Jorunn might be actually angry at nothing here, but I¡¯m betting Emeric¡¯s just trying to negotiate himself into a better position. They¡¯d have portalled away if they were completely unwilling to work with us.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if you speak to them again, you can convince them to return to the conference,¡± Ayrenn says.

    ¡°If they don¡¯t, I¡¯m going to go conquer Cyrodiil, kick their asses, and then say ¡®see what you made me waste time on?¡¯¡± I grumble.

    ¡°Perhaps if they are reluctant to commit troops, we can suggest the guilds spearhead the invasion,¡± Vanus puts in.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°We don¡¯t need an army there so much as scouts and a strike team, and I¡¯m bringing the strike team. Coldharbour is a big place and I just need to know where to strike and how to get there.¡±

    I go to speak with each of them to try to reason with them. I¡¯ll probably have a much easier job of this without the other two to start an argument. How did these people become kings? Probably just birthright. Happenstance of birth isn¡¯t always as strong a claim to leadership as some seem to think it is.

    Since I¡¯m pretty sure Emeric is just pretending to be annoyed to make us wait and come to him (as an Altmer or Chimer might do), I decide to go speak with Jorunn first, leaving my friends to protect Ayrenn just in case.

    ¡°Bah,¡± Jorunn is muttering very loudly when I approach, clearly talking to me while not directly talking to me. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I bothered to come. I knew it would be impossible to work with Emeric and that High Elf girl.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you think of them,¡± I say. ¡°This has to be done, regardless of what sort of force may be brought to bear. I¡¯d do this myself, but the guilds have pledged to back me up even if we don¡¯t get further support.¡±

    ¡°What chance do bookworms and sellswords have against the Daedra?¡± Jorunn says.

    ¡°The guilds have been the only ones holding the line against the Daedra while the alliances have been free to bicker amongst themselves. In any case, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m asking for a squad of Tongues.¡±

    Jorunn snorts. ¡°I wish I had a squad of Tongues. Or even one. The Greybeards won¡¯t even come down off their mountain to defend Skyrim.¡±

    The Nords have no Tongues? No wonder they¡¯ve been failing at conquering anything lately.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve mentioned the Thu¡¯um,¡± Jorunn goes on. ¡°How do you even know about the Tongues?¡±

    ¡°I read a lot of books?¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°No, really,¡± Jorunn says with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest.

    ¡°I was trapped in Coldharbour for thousands of years,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve fought Tongues. And won, mind you, but they certainly broke a lot of shit.¡±

    Jorunn¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°You¡¯ve fought them? That would be quite the honor to have seen them in action. I can¡¯t imagine what it must have been like, in Coldharbour. No wonder you¡¯re so confident in this invasion plan if you know what to expect, though. Why didn¡¯t you say so in the first place?¡±

    I¡¯d love to be able to just tell him everything and get him on my side here. I have no doubt that I could. But there are too many people in earshot who might be loyal to my betrayers, to my ex, and I may have already said too much. (Hopefully they still think I¡¯m an Orc. It¡¯s kind of a badly kept secret, though.)

    ¡°Long story. Maybe I¡¯ll even tell you before this is all done with. Can¡¯t say I¡¯m actually looking forward to going back to Coldharbour, but I¡¯m definitely ready to kick some Daedra ass.¡± I pause and look at him thoughtfully. ¡°Skald-King, how do you deal with the Tribunal? Have you ever spoken with one of them?¡±

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    ¡°I have no business with gods,¡± Jorunn replies. ¡°Leave that to the priests.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not gods, though,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re just powerful mages who stole Shor¡¯s power in order to pretend to be gods. And one of them once made a deal with several Daedric Princes, including Molag Bal, to prevent them from invading Tamriel just as he¡¯s doing now. Has Sotha Sil said anything about Molag Bal¡¯s apparent violation of the Coldharbour Compact?¡±

    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t spoken with them,¡± Jorunn says. ¡°What are you getting at?¡±

    ¡°Sotha Sil is either compromised or incapacitated,¡± I say. ¡°Or a full-scale invasion of Tamriel doesn¡¯t count as a violation, in which case what the fuck was the Compact for?¡±

    Jorunn frowns. ¡°What is this¡­ Coldharbour Compact?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent question and one I wish I knew the answer to,¡± I say. ¡°Supposedly, Sotha Sil convinced several of the Daedric Princes to stop messing with Nirn. No idea what he threatened them with or offered them. No idea what the exact terms might have been.¡±

    Whatever gears might be turning in Jorunn¡¯s head, our conversation is interrupted by a silver-haired Dunmer woman striding onto the scene as if she casually walks up to kings for a chat every day. Possibly half-Dunmer if her not-red eyes are any indication.

    ¡°Ah, Theryn,¡± Jorunn says. ¡°Glad you could make it.¡±

    ¡°Am I late?¡± Theryn says.

    ¡°Just on time,¡± Jorunn says.

    ¡°Theryn¡­ Teldras?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Theryn says. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of me?¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Jorunn says. ¡°You¡¯re a hero of the Pact, you know!¡±

    ¡°Theryn, have you ever gotten the feeling that you always arrive at a new village just in time for weird shit to start happening?¡± I wonder. ¡°Do complete strangers ask you for help in recovering lost belongings, loved ones, and pets?¡±

    ¡°While waving their arms and yelling ¡®Traveler, you have to help me!¡¯? Yes, from time to time.¡± Theryn chuckles. ¡°I overheard you mention the Tribunal.¡±

    ¡°Your thoughts on the matter?¡± Jorunn asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never met Sotha Sil,¡± Theryn says. ¡°But Almalexia didn¡¯t say anything about a Coldharbour Compact. Or the Dark Anchors, for that matter. Admittedly, she doesn¡¯t really chat much with mortals. The conversations I had with her mostly involved dealing with an unrelated Daedric threat in Deshaan.¡±

    Great. It at least sounds like she¡¯s not about to go have chit-chat about the weird Orc who remembers fighting Tongues. I just need to not say anything else. I¡¯ve been letting down my guard since being the Orc King comes so naturally to me.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s up to us to take care of this mess,¡± I say. ¡°I suppose I should go talk to Emeric. Or we could just wait until he starts feeling sheepish and comes back on his own so he isn¡¯t left out.¡±

    Jorunn laughs heartily. ¡°That would be fine to see.¡±

    ¡°Could you do me a small favor?¡± I ask. ¡°Just¡­ be nice to Ayrenn? She¡¯s young, yes, but open-minded and trying to do something good.¡±

    ¡°Ah, fine, fine,¡± Jorunn says. ¡°I suppose bullying girls isn¡¯t befitting of a warrior. I still don¡¯t understand why you follow that little waif of an Elf.¡±

    ¡°I believe in her dream,¡± I say.

    I head over to the Daggerfall Covenant camp. High King Emeric is in conversation with a dark-haired Breton man in a blue robe, and referring to him as ¡°Tom¡±. This must be the reputed ¡°Hero of the Covenant¡±.

    When Sheogorath mentioned Tom Gautier to me, I was expecting someone¡­ well, younger. Tom can¡¯t be less than five hundred years old. No, wait, Bretons age more like Orcs than Altmer, I think. Fifty? Sixty? Let¡¯s call it sixty. Also, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s a necromancer. I just get that vibe from him. Maybe it¡¯s the fact that he looks like skin and bones under that robe and seems halfway to being undead himself.

    Tom openly sneers at me and backs away to let me speak with Emeric.

    ¡°So, did you have a rousing talk with the barbarian king?¡± Emeric asks. ¡°I hope you convinced him to work with us and stop blustering.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll work with us,¡± I say. ¡°You can always trust a Nord not to back down from a fight if it would make him look ridiculous to do so.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why any of this is even necessary,¡± Tom grumbles. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first Daedric Prince I¡¯ve dealt with. I can take care of this myself.¡±

    I don¡¯t know enough about Tom Gautier¡¯s capabilities to know whether he¡¯s just being overconfident, but I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s just being overconfident.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you want to be first through the portal?¡± I ask.

    Tom grunts. ¡°Just don¡¯t get in my way. I don¡¯t need to babysit clueless warriors who think they can solve problems just by hitting them repeatedly. This is going to require magical finesse you couldn¡¯t hope to match.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Oh, but there are so many problems that can be solved just by hitting them repeatedly. Sometimes you¡¯ve got to find the right thing to hit, though.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t do this by yourself and you know it, Tom,¡± Emeric says.

    ¡°Whatever other commitments people are willing to make, the guilds will be spearheading the expedition,¡± I say. ¡°As will I.¡±

    With agreement from everyone on hand, Vanus and I head back to the middle of the island to meet up with Sees-All-Colors to make preparations.

    Vanus pauses and frowns. ¡°Does anyone else feel that?¡±

    I nod. ¡°Yep. Feels like a Dark Anchor is about to drop on our heads.¡±

    ¡°Xuth!¡± Colors utters.

    ¡°How are you so calm about that?¡± Vanus asks me.

    I shrug. ¡°Honestly, at this point, I¡¯ve come to expect it.¡±

    An Altmer mage runs up to us yelling frantically and struggling with something within himself. He was being controlled in some way and unwittingly betrayed us.

    An image of Molag Bal appears, and he taunts us predictably. ¡°Blah blah, pathetic, blah blah, crush you like insects, blah blah blah, Nirn will be mine!¡± Something like that.

    Oblivion rifts start opening all over the island, and Daedra pour out to invade Stirk. Trusting my friends to be able to hold the line at the Dominion camp, I run over to start at the Covenant camp.

    A huge Storm Atronach has come out of a rift into the middle of the camp, and Tom is barely holding his own with¡­ a single skeleton. Okay, so he¡¯s a necromancer, and a terrible one at that. What kind of a self-respecting necromancer fights with one skeleton?

    Emeric is covered in blood and his hair is all standing on end. I hit him with a Blinky heal and charge past with Shiny to tackle the Atronach head on. Tom takes the opportunity to cast a spell that gets the downed Covenant defenders back on their feet. I hope he didn¡¯t just turn the High King¡¯s bodyguards into zombies in front of him.

    We kill the Daedra and close the rift before I run on to the next camp. A huge four-armed snake-like Harvester is attacking the Dominion camp.

    ¡°We got this,¡± Ilara says amid shooting at the thing. ¡°Check on the others!¡±

    ¡°On it!¡± I say with a grin. The Covenant and Pact might have their own heroes¡­ but we¡¯ve got five.

    Jorunn and Theryn are facing off against a huge black Daedric Titan. By which I mean Jorunn is facing off against it, and Theryn is trying to stab it from behind while dodging its spiky tail.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Jorunn exclaims upon seeing me and my axe. ¡°Glad you could join us!¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t let you have all the fun!¡±

    We kill all the Daedra and get the rift cleared, and I make another sweep of the island to make sure there¡¯s no more hostiles. Or at least, nothing more hostile than Nords who are not specifically angry at me.

    Once the situation is settled and most of the people capable of healing are busy doing so, I speak with the leaders again. There¡¯s not exactly any doubt as to what needs to be done at this point and nobody important died tragically here.

    Vanus brings the invasion force to the Ayleid well at the center of the island. Since I have the most experience with Coldharbour, I give a briefing on what to expect, most of which is ¡°expect them to fuck with you and trust nothing you see and no one you meet because everything wants either your life or your soul or both.¡± It¡¯s absolutely not just paranoia.

    Once everyone who¡¯s coming is here, Vanus opens a portal to Coldharbour. I¡¯d meant to be the first one through, but despite myself, I still hesitate and people more starry-eyed and foolish than me are the ones to rush in ahead. How many of these idiots are just going to get themselves killed? The Fighters Guild at least know how to fight Daedra, but they¡¯ve been fighting from the relative safety of Nirn. Now, we¡¯ll be on the Daedra¡¯s own turf.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be alone, Neri,¡± Ilara says to me quietly.

    I give a nod and take a deep breath. I should be able to leave anytime I want. There¡¯s nothing to fear anymore. The gates of hell cannot hold me, and I will reclaim my soul and build a safer world for my friends and family. I step into the portal.

 Chapter 140: In Which I Find a City of Light

    I step out of the portal and find myself alone amid a landscape covered in ashen blue trees with islands of twisted black rock floating in hazy, steel-gray skies¡­ No sign of the guilds around, nor my companions. Shit. I find my heart pounding and take a deep breath to steady myself. I¡¯m fine. I can leave anytime. But I have to find my friends. I can¡¯t leave them lost in a place like this. This isn¡¯t helping me calm down.

    And of all the people to greet me, it¡¯s Cadwell with his usual tin pot ¡°helmet¡± on his head. Looking at him, for a moment I panic and think I¡¯m back in prison, trapped and used for entertainment.

    ¡°Well, look here, who could this be?¡± Cadwell says. ¡°It¡¯s a lost Orc! Say, you seem familiar.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Cadwell,¡± I chuckle, pulling off my helmet and winking at him. ¡°Don¡¯t say the name, please. Call me Neri gro-Drublog.¡±

    ¡°Mum¡¯s the word, old friend,¡± Cadwell says. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s quite the dramatic music I¡¯m hearing. Are you hearing that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m hearing that. Let me perk things up a bit.¡± I make a conscious effort to clamp down on the panic and shift the music to something more hopeful and heroic.

    ¡°I say, you¡¯re virtually a walking concert, old friend! That¡¯s a fine trick. Where did you ever learn it?¡±

    ¡°Long story,¡± I say. ¡°By which I mean Sheogorath gave me a neat power after I performed a trivial but hilarious challenge. Have you seen my friends? Ugh, this didn¡¯t happen last time we came in here. Is Varen just better at making portals than Vanus? Maybe they should swap their consonants around.¡±

    ¡°If you mean the motley of miscellaneous mages and mercenaries, they got scattered all over the place,¡± Cadwell says. ¡°Portals get twisted up all the time, especially when Molag Bal¡¯s defenses are up.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I say. ¡°Of course he knew we were coming. And we didn¡¯t have a distraction or anything to keep his eyes off of us, either, not that one would have worked for something like this. Where am I?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve arrived just where you need to be. A part of the realm I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever seen. A bit of an eyesore against the beauty of Coldharbour, and mostly empty right now, but your friends might like it. The Hollow City.¡±

    He points toward a bridge leading across a gap, toward a city with walls of stacked stone blocks, perhaps Imperial-style. This isn¡¯t unusual, as many of the places in Coldharbour look like they were torn from Nirn or just imitating it. I don¡¯t know how long this disguise is going to last, but for the moment, the direct eye of the God of Brutality is not upon me.

    ¡°Thanks, Cadwell,¡± I say. ¡°And it¡¯s good to see you again. I¡¯ll check out the city¡­ and see if I can find my friends. Wherever they are, I hope they¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Good luck with your quest!¡± Cadwell says. ¡°Tally-ho!¡±

    I wish I could have just slipped in with my friends, like we did when rescuing two stubborn warriors and a snarky wizard. The snarky wizard in question had very good arguments for us doing it this way, but I didn¡¯t expect to be separated from the others immediately. That doesn¡¯t mean those arguments are invalid, though, so there¡¯s not much point in cursing the situation or wishing it had gone differently. I just need to find my friends now. Across the entirety of Coldharbour. Where they¡¯d followed me into hell and have complete faith in me.

    I pull out my communication orb to test if it will work from here. ¡°Testing, testing,¡± I say into it. ¡°Are you receiving this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve arrived safely in Coldharbour and found a place of refuge. Was separated from the others on arrival and I will need to find them again.¡±

    ¡°Kick some ass,¡± comes the reply. ¡°I believe in you.¡±

    Malacath, I love that woman.

    It¡¯s good to know my orb still works. No surprise that it does, though, since the cultists in Auridon were using one to communicate with Abnur Tharn in Coldharbour. I just wish I¡¯d thought to splurge on ones for every one of my friends. I didn¡¯t think it would be necessary. I should have been better prepared. I should have foreseen that getting separated from my friends could be a problem.

    Inside the mysterious city of light, there¡¯s thriving green trees, blooming pink flowers, and even an intact temple of the Eight Divines, judging by the massive stained glass windows.

    A robed human woman meets me at the gate, claiming to be a groundskeeper, hands behind her back in a posture befitting a noble rather than a servant. As she explains about the city¡¯s protections, I get the feeling that she¡¯s way more than just a servant. She gives a history lesson and a tour.

    In short, this is Meridia¡¯s city that she pushed into Coldharbour and Molag Bal can¡¯t touch. It¡¯s not a wonder I never heard of the place before. Of course Molag Bal would keep its existence quiet. Soul-Shriven aren¡¯t allowed to keep hope.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Who are you really?¡± I wonder.

    Obviously a devoted follower of Meridia, given the way she talks, but she¡¯s unwilling to answer in more than riddles.

    ¡°What do you see when you look at me?¡± I ask.

    ¡°A mighty Orc warlord who can gather allies and strike back at Molag Bal,¡± she replies.

    I narrow my eyes. Only Daedra see an Orc when they look at me. Mortals can tell quite readily that my skin is bronze rather than green, if they actually get a look beneath my armor. I put my helmet back on.

    The city looks like people had just walked away in the middle of whatever they were doing, and sustained far less damage than one might expect from being hurled across the Aurbis. Most of the walls are intact and the buildings in perfect shape, ready to be repopulated and used as a base of operations. It¡¯s convenient. Too convenient. And I don¡¯t trust it at all.

    She also mentions an Ayleid king with a name that¡¯s entirely too long having been in the city at the time, who was subsequently captured, and that I need to rescue him. Not that I needed much reason to try to rescue someone from Coldharbour but I don¡¯t like the way she talks like this was all a given and of course I¡¯m going to do what she says and she reminds me of fucking Azura.

    I leave her on the steps of the cathedral and go to explore the city on my own. The plants remind me of Summerset with their soft blossoms so out of place in this realm, but the city probably was once in Cyrodiil from the look of it. It¡¯s not completely deserted, but the handful of people here look immensely glad to see a new helmet.

    In one building, a Dremora is selling furniture and magically shrunken rocks and trees for some reason. A book titled I Was Summoned By a Mortal lays on the counter near him. (Summary: Vanus once summoned a Dremora who was rather miffed about it.)

    Near one of the gates leading out of the city stands structure that distinctly reminds me of a wayshrine. It¡¯s bigger than most of the ones I¡¯ve seen, and has a high domed roof. I go up and light the brazier into the usual blue flame, but a warm Aedric flame and not the cold fire of Coldharbour. I touch one of the fancy Imperial columns, and feel that I can reach the other wayshrines back on Nirn from here. There¡¯s a functioning wayshrine in Coldharbour. Why? *How? *I suppose this solves the issue of getting back here if I have to leave, but that doesn¡¯t make me any less confused.

    ¡°Come, do your trading here!¡± says a Redguard woman, waving to me. ¡°I always have affordable items!¡±

    ¡°Do you get much business here?¡± I wonder.

    Ramzasa (as she momentarily introduces herself) deflates. ¡°No. I sold a volume of The Song of Pelinal to a Dremora a while back. You¡¯re the first new customer I¡¯ve seen in who knows how long. Time is weird here. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been here and I don¡¯t want to go outside.¡±

    ¡°Where do you get your merchandise?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Just whatever I can scavenge from the city,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s not many left here and those who are gone don¡¯t need it anymore. It¡¯ll be good to get the chance to get some new merchandise, though.¡±

    I take a peek in one of her crates. ¡°Damn. That¡¯s a lot of copies of The Song of Pelinal.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I can sell you a volume?¡± Ramzasa asks hopefully.

    ¡°Eh, I¡¯ll buy out your entire stock of books,¡± I say, her eyes widening at my words. ¡°I¡¯m a king and I like to promote literacy. And I¡¯m sure my Orcs might love to hear about that time Pelinal Whitestrake killed eight million six hundred and ten Ayleids.¡±

    I pay her and shove the entire box into my bag.

    ¡°You¡¯ll probably be getting a fresh batch of customers soon, too,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s a whole expedition from Nirn lost out there that will either find this place on their own or I¡¯ll need to rescue.¡±

    It¡¯s funny what freedom can mean even in a realm that¡¯s basically one big prison. Even when I was trapped here before, it wasn¡¯t like I was free to go anywhere I wanted. Now? So long as there isn¡¯t an actual obstacle, nothing will stop me. ¡°Obstacle¡±, of course, includes terrain, lack of terrain, magical barriers, locked doors, magically locked doors, angry Daedra, bored Daedra, stupid light puzzles, and mental health issues. At least some of these can be solved with an axe.

    I need to find my friends, but first, I need to test out something very important. I return to the wayshrine and bring up the network of threads again, not that I actually needed to be at a wayshrine for that, but it helps. I¡¯ve become very familiar with the one outside Dra¡¯bul. I¡¯ve got a good grasp on this wayshrine and I¡¯m pretty sure I can get back. If not, I¡¯ll have to go to Vastarie¡¯s tower and ask the Prophet to portal me back and try to find my friends and the way back to the Hollow City from there. I have no doubt that I can manage, now that I¡¯ve been here and know what to look for.

    I grab the thread for the Dra¡¯bul wayshrine. The impossible city of light vanishes to be replaced by the lush forests of Malabal Tor. I remain at the wayshrine and check the threads again. The one to Coldharbour is still present, and although I need to reach further for it, it seems no less strong than the others.

    Before I return to Coldharbour, I head into the stronghold to meet up with Roku.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Roku exclaims, hugging me. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see you back already.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a wayshrine in Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s crazy. There¡¯s this entire city there that¡¯s protected from Molag Bal¡¯s influence. Damn, if we¡¯d known that ahead of time, I might have been able to use the wayshrine there to bring the others in safely. Molag Bal¡¯s got defenses that scatter incoming portals but that wayshrine might not be affected by that¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t blame yourself for it,¡± Roku says.

    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m blaming myself?¡± I say.

    Roku smirks. ¡°Because you always blame yourself. For anything that goes wrong, even if you had no reasonable way of knowing something ahead of time. Spend more time looking for your friends rather than agonizing over having to do so.¡±

    I chuckle despite myself. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re right. It¡¯s Coldharbour, but it¡¯s different when I know I can leave anytime I want.¡± I pull the box of books out of my bag. ¡°I bought some books!¡±

    ¡°You actually bought them and not stole them for once?¡± Roku opens the box and looks inside. ¡°I¡¯ll need to check with your book-wife if she has these already. She¡¯s been sending us extras and we¡¯ve started up a small library here too.¡±

    I groan. ¡°Sahira-daro and I are not married. How did that even get started?¡±

    ¡°Teasing you is funny, though,¡± Roku says with a grin.

 Chapter 141: In Which I Fall for Lies

    The wayshrine in the Hollow City welcomes me back (figuratively speaking) without randomly sending me to the far reaches of Coldharbour. I don¡¯t know why it feels reassuring to be able to go to Coldharbour at will, but there you have it.

    It¡¯s impossible to tell where my friends and allies might be and who might most urgently need rescuing, so I just pick one of the gates leading out of the city near the wayshrine and get going. Not that they¡¯re especially good at being gates, without any actual gates on them. Just empty archways leading out into the fields of scraggly trees and jagged rocks, swarming with Daedra that for the most part avoid the place. I step outside and walk past a stable, fountain, and watchtower that look like they were part of the city as well.

    In an old pavilion, a worried Bosmer man turns from the pit he was gazing over. He introduces himself as Gwilir and says he was with the Fighters Guild contingent, but he¡¯s a scout without great combat prowess. His comrades were captured and taken into the pit before us, and the only way in is by portal or jumping.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°I have a lot of practice with jumping off cliffs. Oh, and killing Daedra.¡±

    ¡°I just wish I were somewhere safe and warm right now,¡± Gwilir laments.

    I point in the general direction I came. ¡°There¡¯s a safe place not too far in that direction. The Hollow City. Long story that I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to. You should be able to warm up and get some food and drink there. It might even be made of meat but I wouldn¡¯t ask where the meat came from.¡±

    I jump off the ledge into the ironically named Tower of Lies. By which I mean I slip off the ledge, but at least there¡¯s plenty of plasm at the bottom to break my fall. I swim to the shore and start exploring.

    A shirtless Orc by the name of Skordo is incredulous at how brave or stupid I must be to jump down into a place like this voluntarily.

    ¡°Hey, jumping off of things is a hobby of mine,¡± I say. ¡°In any case, I have a means of teleporting out and if that doesn¡¯t work, I have a rope. I¡¯m confident that we can get you guys out of here if I find the right Daedra to put an axe into, though.¡±

    He tells me a bit about how the Daedra split them up and are making them work in different places, just uselessly chipping at rocks in between torture sessions.

    ¡°How long have you been down here?¡± I wonder. ¡°I literally just arrived in Coldharbour.¡±

    ¡°Dunno,¡± Skordo says. ¡°Time¡¯s weird around here and the jailers are using some sort of magic to cloud everyone¡¯s minds.¡±

    I nod. Yeah, they¡¯re right about that. I know I must have spent thousands of years in Coldharbour, but it¡¯s all fuzzy and at times it felt like I¡¯d just gotten there and at others it felt like I¡¯d been there forever. I¡¯d just hoped, perhaps foolishly, that the expedition would not have had problems like that. We weren¡¯t supposed to be separated. We weren¡¯t supposed to be captured.

    On one edge of the plasm pool, I find a familiar shaft of blue light, and go over to take a closer look. A Skyshard, here? Weird. I swim over and absorb it and¡­ clarity. Coldharbour has been affecting me too, amplifying any feelings of doubt and guilt I might have, and I have plenty to begin with. I have to focus.

    A Dremora by the name of Lyranth also seems to be a prisoner here, although if she is she doesn¡¯t seem terribly concerned about it. They aren¡¯t forcing her to work, but there¡¯s something she¡¯s not telling me. That¡¯s an easy thing to figure when she¡¯s not telling me much at all, so there¡¯s probably quite a lot of things she¡¯s not telling me.

    I kill some unfriendly ogrims and rescue Skordo¡¯s friends who are chained up in caves along the walls of the ¡°tower¡±. (That might a bit redundant as I haven¡¯t encountered many friendly ogrims, but I won¡¯t rule out the possibility.)

    I meet up with Skordo outside the overseer¡¯s office in order to retrieve a key to the upper level (not the top, but a ledge a bit up the cliff face) where more prisoners are being kept. I am not cringing at every stockade, every hanging cage, I am not at all bothered by any of this. Nope nope nope.

    We kill the overseer and take his key. Skordo bids me to locate Captain Eilram.

    Skordo blames Gwilir for getting them captured by stumbling upon a Dremora patrol and leading them right to the fighters. I find it hard to believe that this many fighters could have been overwhelmed by a few Dremora when they¡¯ve been breaking Dark Anchors multiple times a day for months. There had to be some mind-affecting magic involved to weaken them.

    I fight my way past a tunnel full of ogrims. On the other side, a number of tents have been set up, most likely from the Fighters Guild¡¯s supplies. A number of other prisoners sit or stand or lay around in various states of madness or listlessness. And in one of the tents, I find a familiar face.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Eran?¡± I ask, poking him to try to get his attention. He¡¯s just sitting there. ¡°Eranamo? It¡¯s me. Neri. I had to jump off a cliff to get in here.¡±

    He stares blankly in my general direction. I tug him to his feet and lead him over to the edge of the ledge. He doesn¡¯t resist, still quite confused.

    ¡°Hey, Eran! Let¡¯s jump off this cliff! It will be fun!¡± I make a dramatic show of dancing precariously near the edge.

    ¡°Ahh!¡± Eran exclaims, almost causing me to actually fall off the cliff. He grabs my arm and drags me back. ¡°By the Divines, what¡¯s going on? What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Eran!¡± I hug him. ¡°You¡¯re alright!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he says, not protesting the sudden hug. ¡°I think. I¡¯m¡­ not quite sure where I am or how I got here, though.¡±

    ¡°It might be for the best. They¡¯ve been torturing and mindfucking people here. I¡¯m told this place is called the Tower of Lies, and there¡¯s a number of Fighters Guild members who got captured here. You must have been brought here with them.¡± I pause. ¡°Oh, I forgot to mention, the portal fucked up when we came through and scattered everyone all over Coldharbour. Molag Bal¡¯s defenses. My wayshrine travel seems to still work fine, though. Er, forgot to mention the Hollow City too. There¡¯s a wayshrine there and it¡¯s a safer¨C¡±

    Eran holds up his hands. ¡°Okay, okay, I apparently missed a lot. We should probably be rescuing these people. You can catch me up on the way.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t actually been in Coldharbour for very long,¡± I say, moving on to look for the captain Skordo mentioned. ¡°But the place messes with your perception of time. And there¡¯s plenty of Daedra that can fuck with your mind. Let me know if you start going insane.¡±

    ¡°How would I even know?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I dunno, when you start thinking jumping off cliffs is a good idea?¡±

    I encounter Lyranth again. She seems to be watching me for fun. That happens a lot.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the Dremora?¡± Eran asks me quietly.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem inclined to tell her life story to strangers and I¡¯m too busy saving people to pry.¡±

    ¡°Do you think she might attack us?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± I say. ¡°She would have done so immediately, or helped us so that she could betray us later, if she were planning on doing so.¡±

    ¡°But she¡¯s a Daedra.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Eran, you¡¯ve got to remember, this is Oblivion. There¡¯s just Daedra here. Everywhere, all the time. It¡¯s no weirder than going to Skyrim and seeing Nords everywhere. Some of them are assholes. Some of them would attack us just for being mer. Some just don¡¯t give a fuck.¡±

    ¡°Are you talking about Nords or Dremora?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Both, I guess,¡± I say. ¡°I even ran across a Dremora in the Hollow City who tried to sell me a tree.¡±

    ¡°A¡­ tree?¡±

    I come upon a prisoner¡¯s journal. It seems to have been written by a member of the Fighters Guild, but rambles on as the writer quickly goes mad. How long does it take to go mad here? It¡¯s not like I wasted a lot of time before coming here. They can¡¯t have actually been here for days.

    I find a Redguard on a ledge looking over the pit. He¡¯s Captain Eilram, and he doesn¡¯t seem to be doing too good on the mental health side himself. He¡¯s paranoid and thinks everyone is a spy or assassin.

    ¡°You know, if you¡¯d really rather stay here, we could just leave you here,¡± I say. ¡°But seriously, let¡¯s stop fucking around and get the fuck out of here, alright? I don¡¯t care what you think, but it¡¯s not any other mortal that¡¯s the enemy here. We¡¯re all united against the Daedra.¡±

    I retrieve Eilram¡¯s sword and return it to him. Hopefully now he¡¯ll believe I¡¯m real and here to help.

    And for the next bit of this mess, I also have to retrieve the helmet of Captain Arakh to stop the voices in her head. It is hanging from a hook on a crane over the pit. Eran looks incredibly nervous while I¡¯m retrieving it, and notably does not even slightly volunteer to get it himself. (Not that I blame him. I respawn when I die. I don¡¯t imagine that he¡¯d want to die here and take the chance of his soul not being able to get away.) (Shit, I need to find my other friends.)

    There¡¯s a Dremora by the name of Ifriz who is maintaining a barrier that keeps people from leaving the pit. Lyranth wants him destroyed too so she can also leave. She removes the illusions concealing him and, naturally, stands by to watch me work. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s some reason she doesn¡¯t want to attack the Dremora, she¡¯s lazy and arrogant, or just enjoys watching me fight, and I¡¯m not terribly concerned about which it is.

    Ifriz stands on a roofed platform (one might even call it a gazebo) overlooking the pit, along with a tentacled Watcher. Eran and I kill both of them in short order. However scrambled his mind might have gotten during the short time he was actually here, he falls readily back into fighting and trying to keep me from falling to my death. With the Dremora dead and the barrier broken, Lyranth thanks me offhandedly and leaves.

    The guild finds one of the Lights of Meridia hidden on the other side of where the barrier was. It¡¯s a blue crystal, brighter than any Ayleid rock I¡¯ve seen, a color closer to sky-blue and with a golden aura like the sun. I shove it in my pack. This will probably be useful for¡­ something.

    The portal opens near the stable outside of the Hollow City. The prisoners come through and make their way to relative safety. I escort them the rest of the way just in case.

    I¡¯m just glad the Hollow City isn¡¯t called something including the words Haven or Sanctuary. Those sorts of names seem to invite trouble. Clearly, if that town in Grahtwood had been named differently, pirates might have been more inclined to go, ¡°Hmm, maybe let¡¯s pass on raiding a place named Stranglevine.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this is here,¡± Eran says, looking around at the city. ¡°What was it you were saying about where it came from?¡±

    ¡°This weird lady gave me a whole tour and a history lesson,¡± I say. ¡°And all I took away from it was that it was a city of Meridia worshippers. And something about an Ayleid king although the city wasn¡¯t Ayleid, or at least he wasn¡¯t the king of this city. He¡¯s trapped here too. Also, don¡¯t ask me to repeat his name. I wrote it down but I can¡¯t actually pronounce it.¡±

 Chapter 142: In Which I Avoid Reading

    ¡°Have you seen any of the others?¡± Eran asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°The ¡®Tower¡¯ of Lies was the first place I went after coming here. Well, aside from the Hollow City, of course. They could be anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s not waste any time,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Do you need to rest?¡± I ask. ¡°Being mindfucked by weird spells can be tiresome.¡±

    Eran shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s get going. What¡¯s our next stop?¡±

    I don¡¯t know how fine he might actually be after that, but I don¡¯t care to second-guess him. I¡¯ll just have to keep an eye on him like he¡¯s been keeping an eye on me.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hit up that place over there,¡± I say, pointing to some ruins that look Ayleid. ¡°There¡¯s always something stupid in Ayleid ruins.¡±

    ¡°Why are there Ayleid ruins in Oblivion?¡± Eran wonders.

    I shrug. ¡°Dunno. Same reason there¡¯s Imperial ruins?¡±

    Eran looks off at the horizon. ¡°Yeah¡­ I could swear there¡¯s a tower that looks like the White-Gold Tower over there. I wonder what¡¯s there.¡±

    ¡°It might not even actually be there,¡± I say.

    As we approach the ruins, a purple projection of a Dunmer woman (Kireth Vanos, she reminds me that her name is) that I think I recognize from the assembly on Stirk lets us know that the place is called the Library of Dusk and some of the expedition is trapped here. Because the Mages Guild saw something that looked like an Ayleid ruin in Coldharbour and thought it was a fantastic idea to go inside. What did they think was going to happen?

    ¡°The only ones who remained free are me and this Goblin,¡± Kireth says. ¡°Probably because she can¡¯t read. She¡¯s been helpful in incinerating any Daedra that bother us, though, but we need to get inside to free the others. There are three lenses that you¡¯ll need to destroy to unseal the door.¡±

    As we smash them, Kireth uses the equipment in the room she¡¯s in to try to figure out what¡¯s going on in the rest of the library. Some sort of spell has entrapped many of the mages and is clouding their minds.

    Smash lenses. Easy enough. There¡¯s plenty of Daedra to hit in the way, and I¡¯m definitely not having flashbacks about fighting Daedra in Coldharbour at all. With the lenses in pieces, we¡¯re able to get inside to meet up with Kireth and Togga.

    Some members of the Mages Guild contingent are being held in rooms on the lower level with books, crystals, and Daedric banners. Including Merry. None of them seem aware of their surroundings, completely engrossed in their books.

    ¡°You know, the worst thing about Molag Bal is how he¡¯s never content to be his own thing,¡± I comment, looking down at them through bars. ¡°He¡¯s plagiarized on Sheogorath¡¯s schtick enough and now he¡¯s butting in on Hermaeus Mora¡¯s bailiwick.¡±

    ¡°They call him the God of Schemes, Domination, and Brutality,¡± Eran says. ¡°But a lot of the Princes seem to dominate with brutal schemes, too. And to be fair, if this were Hermaeus Mora¡¯s library, I¡¯d imagine he¡¯d be more interested in people reading the books for the temptation of forbidden knowledge and not just to trap them and mess with them.¡±

    ¡°True!¡± I say, turning to head for the stairs. ¡°That¡¯s why I like Hermaeus Mora more. And also because I have no great desire for forbidden knowledge so it¡¯s not generally much of a temptation.¡±

    ¡°You read constantly,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Mostly I¡¯m reading random non-forbidden books that I happen to find laying around,¡± I say. ¡°The forbidden ones usually get safely disposed of or given to Sahira-daro.¡±

    ¡°You also can pretty much instantly read books now and you¡¯re still not opening up any of these to even glance in them,¡± Eran says. ¡°Which is definitely wiser than I¡¯ve come to expect of you.¡±

    We reach the bottom of the stairs and set about to freeing the mages. I still have the urge to loot the library for whatever it¡¯s worth, and manage to dump a few shelves worth of books into my pack as Eran tries to keep me from becoming distracted like the mages. Fortunately, I¡¯m not quite as affected as the actual scholars here, perhaps because my taste in books is completely indiscriminate? No idea.

    ¡°Merry!¡± I exclaim once we¡¯ve found the right room.

    ¡°I am busy reading,¡± Merry grumbles. ¡°Must you disturb me?¡±

    ¡°You can take it with you and read somewhere safer,¡± I say. ¡°In fact, dump the entire shelf into your pack and let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

    ¡°That is¡­ a good idea, actually,¡± Merry says. ¡°I do not know why I did not think of it before.¡±

    ¡°Mindfucks,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ve rescued most of the others who got stuck in here. Let¡¯s go pull Telly¡¯s shiny gold arse out of the fire next.¡±

    ¡°Why did you need to make me think about Telenger¡¯s buttocks?¡± Merry groans.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to claim that it was to make sure the reading compulsion was broken, and I¡¯m sticking to that.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The next room contains Tom Gautier, who is even ruder than he was on Stirk. He very nearly attacks us and it¡¯s a good thing I don¡¯t mistake him for a Daedra just pretending to be a Breton. (Am I a Daedra just pretending to be a Chimer pretending to be an Orc? Ugh, I can philosophize at home.)

    ¡°Easy there, Tom,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re here to rescue you guys.¡±

    ¡°How do I know this isn¡¯t a trick?¡± Tom demands.

    I shrug. ¡°Does it matter? I¡¯ll happily leave you alone here if you really want, I don¡¯t care, but I do recommend heading out. The stairs are over there. Just follow the corpses.¡±

    Tom frowns deeply, closes the book he was reading, and shoves an entire shelf worth into his bag before making for the stairs. (I¡¯d lose what little respect I had for him if he didn¡¯t at least have a magic bag. How can you do adventuring without one?)

    Telenger is not actually in the room he¡¯d previously been trapped in and has left a note behind that he cast a spell on to make invisible to Daedra. Might be some variation on the protection enchantments on my ring.

    Merry reads part of it aloud. ¡°¡®I hope it is you, Clarisse, or perhaps Thomas, or that promising young Raynor. I¡¯d even settle for Merormo.¡¯ Oh, now he appreciates me, when I could be the one pulling him out of the fire.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any literal fires here yet, aside from the ones Togga conjured,¡± Eran says. ¡°Especially not ones that are actually hot.¡± He pauses thoughtfully. ¡°Neri, I think I¡¯m starting to understand why you like fire so much and I haven¡¯t even been here a day so far as I know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not even a normal sort of cold,¡± Merry says. ¡°A trip to Skyrim would not inflict frostbite upon your very soul.¡± He incinerates the next Daedra that bothers us. ¡°Fortunately, my own fire still works.¡±

    We head down to the lower level and find Telenger locked behind one of those big, fancy Ayleid gates, not reading anything and considerably more attentive than the others. Aside from the fact that he¡¯s mumbling to himself, but that¡¯s something he normally does even when he¡¯s on Nirn safely in his own camp.

    ¡°Merormo,¡± Telenger says when we approach the gate.

    ¡°Telenger,¡± Merry replies. ¡°Do you require assistance?¡±

    Telenger, of course, is loath to admit that he might need help, but does request our assistance. Yep, completely different things, Telly. (Still not calling him that to his face.) Telenger tells us about a source of power he has detected nearby, and he doesn¡¯t trust himself to resist the compulsion much longer and understandably wants to get out of here.

    ¡°A Light of Meridia, perhaps. I found one of them,¡± I say, pulling out the one from my pack to show him. ¡°Did it feel like this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do believe that matches what I have detected,¡± Telenger says.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Merry says. ¡°It reminds me of a welkynd stone, but so much more. We could do much with these. I shall head out with you. I trust Neri and Eranamo are capable of retrieving it without being too badly affected by the mental effects of this place.¡±

    We head through the portal and grab the shiny rock, which joins the other one inside my pack. I have no idea what we might wind up doing with them, but hey, more shiny rocks. (I greatly prefer blue shiny rocks to red shiny rocks, but they¡¯re not really my favorite color either. My favorite color is, of course, green.)

    The portal closed behind us, so we can¡¯t get back down that way. A projection of a mer I don¡¯t recognize suddenly appears and suggests we jump (speaking in rather archaic language), claiming that we will be safe to do so because he will obviously keep us safe with his powers, whoever he is. He doesn¡¯t bother to even introduce himself before he disappears again.

    ¡°This seems like a terrible idea,¡± Eran says. ¡°That could easily be another trick to make us go splat. If Merry were here, he¡¯d say ¡®Best to use another method to descend.¡¯¡±

    I snicker. ¡°Almost. Merry¡¯s voice is a bit higher pitched than that. Fortunately, we have another method. Although a potentially less fun one. If it were just me, I would cheerfully jump off this just to see what happens¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you for not doing that and leaving me stranded and having to see how trustworthy a random projection might be,¡± Eran says with a smirk.

    I reach out to my connection to the wayshrine in the Hollow City. I put a hand on Eran¡¯s arm as I cast just in case. It¡¯s normally not necessary, but under the circumstances, I¡¯m a little bit paranoid.

    It takes longer to get through without the assistance of being next to a wayshrine, but I manage it. Tiny stars and purple haze envelop us. The precarious spire vanishes, to be replaced by the relative safety of the mysterious city. We shortly hook up with the mages who made their own way back.

    ¡°If only we¡¯d known this was here,¡± Merry says, looking around at the peaceful surroundings.

    ¡°I¡¯m blaming Varen for this one,¡± Eran says. ¡°If he was able to find three specific people in Coldharbour, but didn¡¯t notice this.¡±

    I shrug helplessly. ¡°Maybe there was a good reason for that.¡± I fish out some candy to eat. Everything is better with moon sugar.

    ¡°You have a lot more confidence in him than I do,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose I sympathize with him more,¡± I say. ¡°We both survived Coldharbour after being betrayed by someone we trusted. He¡¯s fortunate that only one person he trusted really betrayed him. That¡¯s more than could be said of myself. Lyris and Sai are idiots, but they¡¯re loyal idiots trying to stay true to their beliefs.¡±

    ¡°I cannot comprehend what the desire for godhood makes people do,¡± Merry says. ¡°And what the world would have been like had Mannimarco succeeded.¡±

    ¡°The ¡®Tribunal¡¯ rewrote reality to pen themselves as stars,¡± I say. ¡°Reality is weirdly malleable sometimes. Would we need to be worried about the possibility of a universe existing in which Manny were a god? Was the Three¡¯s ascension inevitable so long as it happened in even one possible universe?¡±

    ¡°Now, I don¡¯t normally suggest this,¡± Merry says. ¡°But could I try one of your candies?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, tossing him a moon sugar candy. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I just got enslaved by a book and now you¡¯re making me think about temporal nonsense and obnoxious people attaining godhood. And I can only think it is merely another Tirdas. It has been rather stressful. Not even just the part about invading Coldharbour and saving the world. That I could accept. That makes sense. And yet we walked across Valenwood and encountered madness at every turn. I have been shot at, stabbed, set on fire, electrocuted, frozen, drowned, bludgeoned, impaled, blinded, infected, and poisoned. I feel that adding ¡®drugged¡¯ to that list can only be an achievement.¡±

    ¡°Understandably,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°We need to find Gelur and Ilara-daro,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°They¡¯re out there, somewhere, probably in situations as bad as the ones you guys were in¡­¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known what would happen,¡± Eran says. ¡°At least, if you did, you never mentioned it as a possibility.¡±

    ¡°I really didn¡¯t consider it,¡± I say, and shake my head. ¡°Our mistake was that we were so concerned about getting it right that we forgot to ask what could go wrong.¡± I pause. ¡°By which I mean, the people I trusted to be confident in this were so concerned.¡±

    ¡°Other people are less inclined to start off with the assumption that something will go wrong,¡± Eran says. ¡°You don¡¯t need to feel guilty about what others should have had covered, though.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°In Oblivion, an important thing to keep in mind is that if you feel bad about anything for any reason, just blame Oblivion for it. It¡¯s what I do. Even if I¡¯m not in Oblivion, because it was obviously the fault of having been in Oblivion. That¡¯s how I maintain my cheerful disposition.¡±

    ¡°This explains so much,¡± Eran says.

 Chapter 143: In Which I Avoid Sex

    A Breton woman by the name of Clarisse Laurent who was with the Mages Guild contingent trapped in the Library of Dusk bids me to search for her manservant, Stibborns. Or Stubbins. Or something. He was taken to a another building by some Daedra, so I agree to look for him, forgetting to ask how to spell the name and write it down.

    ¡°How is a manservant different from just a servant?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I would imagine that it is a Breton thing,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t run into any merservants,¡± I say.

    Approaching the tower, I spot notes scattered loosely about the ground. Stibborns¨Cno, Stibbons--is being held in a tower and he¡¯s writing notes and dropping them out the window in hopes of them blowing somewhere someone who might be able to help him might stumble across them. A bit of a long shot, and makes me think in some amusement that people are likely to be finding Stibbons¡¯ ¡°help, I¡¯ve been kidnapped by an amorous Daedra¡± notes for the next thousand years. And now my Library of the Mind will forever have these notes in it. At least it¡¯s organized into sections¡­

    The tower in question is full of chains and cages, and populated by Winged Twilights and Dark Seducers. They¡¯re probably quite thrilled at the prospect of some variety in their seductive diet. We climb the tower, killing Daedra along the way. At the top, we find Stibbons tied up behind a large Winged Twilight that his notes indicated was named Drasilla.

    ¡°He¡¯s mine. You can¡¯t have him!¡± Drasilla screeches at us.

    ¡°Might I suggest something called ¡®consent¡¯?¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s wild. You should try it sometime.¡±

    Drasilla refuses to let go of her prize and get out of our way, so we kill her. I didn¡¯t really expect her to submit, anyway.

    Merry unties Stibbons, and he bids us meet him at the wayshrine near the village to the east. The Daedra don¡¯t bother him since Drasilla claimed him, but we, of course, have to fight our way out again since we hadn¡¯t bothered being thorough enough in killing everything inside. There¡¯s not much point (aside from fun) in killing Daedra who aren¡¯t specifically in our way since they¡¯ll just respawn eventually. (And trying to kill every Daedra in Coldharbour would not be fun. It sounds good, but it would be like trying to drain the ocean one drop of water at a time only for it to start raining again.)

    Once we leave the tower and look around, I spot the familiar stone gazebo shape outside a ruined village. Sure enough, it¡¯s another Imperial-style wayshrine. Stibbons is waiting for us there, having found his way out of the tower safely.

    ¡°Oh, there you are, good,¡± Stibbons says. ¡°This wayshrine seemed safe enough from what I could see out of the tower but I am uncertain where to go from here. That village looks like it¡¯s populated by Daedra and they don¡¯t look terribly friendly from here.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a safe place nearby that we¡¯re setting up a base of operations in,¡± I say. ¡°Let me check something.¡±

    I climb up the few steps and light the wayshrine. Warm, blue flames flicker into existence, and I reach out through it in my mind to find the other threads. That¡¯ll make this easier. Was Molag Bal really not paying attention to what he swallows, or did he not care too much since it¡¯s not like most people can do anything with them? (Or more like, if they can, they have more efficient means of magical transportation at their disposal anyway.)

    ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can teleport you there,¡± I say.

    I remember way back when I was just starting to learn how to do this, how the explanations from the Mages Guild about ¡°expanding the bounded field¡± just sounded like nonsense to me, and Sees-All-Colors suggested that I conceptually consider my equipment and my adventuring party to be a part of me. A nice way to look at magic, sure. But now, Drublog clan, all the Wood Orcs, all the Aldmeri Dominion, and everyone in this expedition are effectively my people.

    So I grab a hold of all of my people standing near this wayshrine and transfer us to the one inside the Hollow City.

    ¡°Ah, this is so much better,¡± Stibbons says. ¡°To think such a place might exist in a realm like this. By chance, did you see my Lady Laurent? I fear she must be lost without me.¡±

    ¡°She was the one who told us where to look for you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not sure where specifically but she should be somewhere in the city. And not to worry, she¡¯s got Telenger and Tom Gautier with her. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll make sure she doesn¡¯t starve.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that is a relief,¡± Stibbons says flatly. ¡°Tom helped us out on many occasions. None of which were his fault to begin with. And he never made anything worse.¡± He pauses. ¡°I shall go find her, then. Thank you for coming to get me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s even found a place to bathe in actual hot water and not just cold plasm,¡± I add.

    ¡°Fire magic has many uses,¡± Merry puts in.

    I teleport my party and myself back to the Dra¡¯bul wayshrine, and I¡¯m not even slightly feeling bad about deciding to sleep somewhere other than Coldharbour because I can. All the tension of Oblivion melts away with exposure to the safety of Valenwood and home. (I really hope Coldharbour¡¯s defenses don¡¯t disable my anchor points. I should talk to Cadwell about it. He¡¯s the real expert at getting around Coldharbour. I¡¯ve seen him flitting about here and there since we arrived but haven¡¯t really stopped to talk much.)

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    ¡°I¡¯m a little confused about the situation back at the tower,¡± Eran says. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say Daedra are born from plasm? Do they¡­ breed, or was that just for ¡®fun¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Please, Eranamo, I do not wish to think about Daedra breeding,¡± Merry groans. ¡°And definitely not about their idea of ¡®fun¡¯, for that matter.¡±

    While we¡¯re here, I stop and heal a few people who had been injured by some sort of large animal they encountered in Pyandonea. No one was killed, my valiant hunt-wife slew the creature, and the wounded were portalled back here for treatment.

    Roku knows a few useful spells, learned from her shaman father, but isn¡¯t good enough (or inclined to become good enough) to use it in combat. Still, it¡¯s not useless to be able to mend a wound in an hour that would take weeks to heal without magic, or to stabilize someone until a real healer can see them. (Usually just me and Gelur stopping by regularly and taking care of those things while we¡¯re here.) Not to mention the cleansing spells. It¡¯s not heroic to die from something that can be easily avoided just by not being stupid and taking advantage of available resources.

    I do wish Gelur were here and hope she¡¯s alright, wherever she is. My own healing ability is alright, but I don¡¯t have the magicka reserves of a full-fledged mage (and no particular desire to be one).

    I use the wayshrine to take us back to where we were before to continue exploring. The ruined village I¡¯d spotted past the wayshrine is full of Daedra and I don¡¯t see anything useful in there, and it probably isn¡¯t worth the time we spend on poking through it.

    ¡°Why is all this stuff from Nirn here, anyway?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°Is it just imitating Nirn or did Molag Bal literally take it from Nirn?¡± He pauses. ¡°I mean, I never saw those Dark Anchors literally rip things out of the ground.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of shit from Nirn here,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s not exaggerating when he says he wants to consume it. He¡¯s just tired of taking small bites, I guess.¡±

    There¡¯s one of Cadwell¡¯s journals here. One of his hundreds or thousands of journals, this one being labeled ¡°412¡±. This one is complaining about a piece of someplace falling into Coldharbour and the Dremora just coming in and breaking shit for no reason. I toss the book in my bag. I don¡¯t know that he would really want it back but I might as well offer. And if not, I¡¯m sure someone will be interested in the rambling of a madman in Oblivion. Like the Mages Guild.

    That¡¯s about the only thing of value here, although there¡¯s also a chest with some huge pointy shoulder guards. Who the fuck wears this sort of thing, anyway? Assholes. Assholes are the people who wear massive shoulder armor. You can always tell that someone is insecure about their authority by the size of their shoulder guards. (¡°Authority¡± is what we¡¯re calling that part of the body now.)

    ¡°Coldharbour looks like a bunch of ruins because its lord and residents want it to look like a bunch of ruins, really,¡± I say. ¡°Hey, here¡¯s a cheery thought to keep in mind next time you look at a map that might be wrong. It might not have been wrong.¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand how this can happen,¡± Eran says, sighing.

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°Maybe if he pulls hard enough on the chains, he¡¯ll be able to draw all of Nirn into his realm at once. Maybe if they¡¯re all able to stay down at once.¡±

    Another Ayleid ruin stands beyond the trashed village, and we approach the door. Missing expedition members could be trapped anywhere, and my hoping for scouts turned into having to rescue literally everyone from everywhere. It¡¯s annoying as well that I just can¡¯t help but wonder if Molag Bal intended it this way to be an additional challenge to test us. It¡¯s not like he ever needs to make something possible. But they often find it to be far more entertaining to give someone a challenge that¡¯s merely painfully difficult.

    Eran gestures to the door. ¡°Are we playing ¡®guess what¡¯s inside¡¯ again?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s less fun with only three people,¡± I say. ¡°But why not? Let¡¯s guess. I¡¯d guess that it might contain more hapless members of our expedition, but that¡¯s more of a hope than a guess. We¡¯re guessing what might go wrong and not what we hope will go right.¡±

    ¡°I shall guess that it contains Daedra,¡± Merry says flatly.

    ¡°No points for that guess,¡± Eran says. ¡°I suppose we haven¡¯t really been around here long enough to get a feel for what to expect. Aside from, obviously, Daedra. Maybe we could narrow it down to type of Daedra? I¡¯m going with Watchers.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Merry says. ¡°I shall say Dremora.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say clannfears, chewing on everything and making a huge mess,¡± I say. ¡°Winner gets moon sugar candy. Losers get consolation moon sugar candy.¡±

    We head down into the Ayleid ruin to find that it¡¯s full of skeletons, without any Daedra of any type in sight.

    ¡°Why are there skeletons in here?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°I mean, in Coldharbour in general, not just this ruin.¡±

    ¡°I would imagine that Molag Bal likes skeletons,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Living beings still leave skeletons even if Daedra don¡¯t,¡± I say, and hold up a book. ¡°And according to this book I found just laying around here near the entrance, skeletons don¡¯t need be animated with the souls of who they once were. The Worm Cultists use minor Daedric spirits to animate most of their undead.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Merry says in a very non-fascinated tone of voice.

    ¡°Funny you should mention Worm Cultists¡­¡± Eran says, pointing at a hovering figure in the next room. ¡°Because I think I recognize their favorite robes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s so nice of the bad guys to all use the same tailor,¡± I say.

    ¡°Perhaps we should have guessed that Worm Cultists were a possibility here,¡± Merry says, setting the closest one on fire.

    We fight our way past the necromancers and their undead minions. I sense a Skyshard tucked away in a corner. All things considered, this might have been here since before this ruin was pulled into Coldharbour.

    The leader of this cell of Worm Cultists is an Altmer woman we find at an altar probably performing some sort of ritual that I don¡¯t feel like letting her complete. (To be fair, considering how many cultists I interrupt in the middle of performing rituals, it¡¯s likely that cultists spend quite a lot of time performing rituals.)

    ¡°Well, at least the mortals we¡¯re killing here will stay dead,¡± Eran says.

    I chuckle darkly. ¡°They¡¯ve already pledged their souls to Molag Bal. They¡¯re not leaving. Ever. They¡¯ll return as Vestiges, and if they¡¯re fortunate, Molag Bal won¡¯t torture them much for their incompetence.¡±

    ¡°I do not understand why people would pledge their souls to gods that would mistreat their servants in such a way,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably under the mistaken impression that Molag Bal will actually reward them for their devotion,¡± I say.

    ¡°What, like how he ¡®rewarded¡¯ Aelif by making her huge and scaly?¡± Eran says. ¡°Right before we killed her anyway?¡± He pauses. ¡°She¡¯s going to be somewhere in Coldharbour, too, isn¡¯t she.¡±

    ¡°Yep, most likely,¡± I say.

    ¡°And we might have to kill her again?¡± Eran continues.

    ¡°Possible,¡± I say.

    ¡°What about every other worshipper of this realm¡¯s god that we¡¯ve killed?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Could happen.¡±

    ¡°This is not reassuring me,¡± Eran says. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to have to kill High Kinlady Estre for a third time.¡±

 Chapter 144: In Which I Kidnap the Kidnappers

    The mysterious Groundskeeper of the Hollow City inferred that the tower resembling the White-Gold Tower to the west is where Molag Bal has been holding the Ayleid king prisoner. As much of assholes as the Ayleids frequently were, I can¡¯t help but feel empathy toward the former king of a dead race being imprisoned in Coldharbour, regardless of how much I think the Ayleids probably had it coming.

    Along the way, we come upon an abandoned campsite with a few red-striped tents. There¡¯s a journal penned by one of the Fighters Guild captains laying (or is it lying?) by a still-smoldering campfire. It notes that they¡¯d gone off to do something and left a trail to follow. Sees-All-Colors is with them, and she insisted that they needed to get into that tower.

    ¡°This does not seem like the most wise of decisions, but I suppose I cannot talk,¡± Merry says. ¡°I was, after all, unable to convince Telenger that exploring a mysterious Ayleid ruin in Coldharbour without you was not a good idea. Perhaps next time he will be more willing to listen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m touched at your confidence.¡±

    ¡°If we had found something worth fighting, you would have been disappointed to have missed it,¡± Merry adds.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s okay,¡± I say. ¡°There will always be more Daedra. Often the same Daedra, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°The water here looks so weird,¡± Eran says, looking at a shimmering ice-blue pool.

    ¡°That¡¯s not water,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s azure plasm.¡±

    Eran frowns. ¡°It certainly seems to be everywhere. What is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what Daedra respawn from after they die,¡± I say. ¡°And Vestiges. Soul-Shriven. I can¡¯t begin to remember how many times I crawled naked out of these pools.¡±

    Eran edges away from the pool warily. ¡°You mean there could be Daedra reforming down there right now?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Maybe. Doesn¡¯t matter much.¡±

    We head through the forest of scraggly ash-blue trees and glowing round fungi. It all feels achingly familiar in a way I don¡¯t want it to feel familiar. I watch Eran¡¯s and Merry¡¯s expressions. Their wariness, wonderment, and steely determination. The faces of people who haven¡¯t yet seen so much of Oblivion that it becomes familiar. What will that be by the time we¡¯re done here? It¡¯s not so much different from their reactions to Valenwood and everything there trying to kill us. By the time we finished with Reaper¡¯s March, we¡¯d gotten a groove going.

    At the next marker the fighters left, we stumble upon a Bosmer woman in dark leather who is also following their trail. She introduces herself as Faraniel and informs us that her tribe, the Shadow Walkers, have declared us all trespassers and will probably try to kill us.

    ¡°Wait, your tribe?¡± Eran says. ¡°Trespassers? But you¡¯re Bosmer. You live here in Coldharbour?¡±

    ¡°I can give you a history lesson later,¡± Farry says. ¡°First we have to find your friends before they get killed.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d expect to be attacked by Bosmer.¡±

    Farry goes off in a different direction (possibly using actual magic to hide in the shadows) and we continue on. At the next Fighters Guild marker, we¡¯re attacked by a pair of overconfident Bosmer dressed in similar shadowy leather, who think they¡¯re going to inflict some penalty on us for entering the Moonless Walk (which is what I suppose this place is called).

    ¡°Merry, if you would?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Merry says, and turns the two hapless Bosmer to stone. ¡°Hopefully you will not forget where we left them. Or are we taking them with us?¡±

    ¡°How many statues can you fit in your pack?¡± I ask.

    Merry sighs and pulls out his bag. ¡°Possibly the entire tribe, if necessary.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d be very confused if we took them back to Valenwood and unstoned them,¡± Eran says as we collect the two statues.

    ¡°This might count as kidnapping, but considering they¡¯re Daedra worshippers who attacked us¡­¡± Merry says.

    When we meet up with Farry again next to a dead human, she gives us a summary of why her people are here. They¡¯d made an unwise deal wtih Molag Bal long ago to guard this forest in exchange for power and immortality. They had no idea that he had no intention of ever following through and releasing them once they¡¯d served long enough. I feel like I ought to write a book on which Daedric Princes are likely to fuck you over in which ways. It can go along with the ones on appropriate safeguards for cursed items and the truth about vampirism.

    ¡°Why does Molag Bal need this forest guarded by Bosmer?¡± Eran wonders. ¡°Aren¡¯t there enough Daedra around here?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Farry says. ¡°Something about that tower over there. But I¡¯m tired of being trapped here. I want to see Valenwood again.¡±

    ¡°At least you¡¯re not in chains,¡± I say. ¡°I understand. I can help. I can take you back there right now if you want, in fact.¡±

    ¡°My tribe may not be so eager to go along with that,¡± Farry says. ¡°But they need to know that the option exists. And I don¡¯t want anyone else to get hurt. We need to convince them to go along with it, break the agreement, reject Molag Bal¡¯s false promises, and get out of here.¡±

    After tracking through the forest, we locate the surviving fighters (Sees-All-Colors and a Khajiit named Kamu), who are being protected from the over-aggressive Bosmer by some snake-like Lamia. Lamias? I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s supposed to have an S. Whatever, the people here mostly seem to be using the S.

    Sees-All-Colors is badly injured and I start healing before she even says anything. ¡°Comrades. Glad to see familiar faces in this dark place. You are the sun on my scales.¡±

    ¡°Literally,¡± Eran says brightly.

    ¡°I¡¯m out of magicka now, but that should at least get you on your feet again and keep anything from getting worse,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡±

    ¡°Hostile Bosmer ambushed us from the shadows,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°We lost a couple of good fighters before we realized the danger. Kamu and I made it this far, but the way into the tower is sealed. The Lamias tell me that they know a way in.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to side with those monsters!¡± Farry says. ¡°I can help you get inside, too, if you can help convince my tribe to reject Molag Bal and get out of here.¡±

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    I sigh. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be racist. They¡¯re no more monsters than this Argonian here.¡±

    Farry scowls at that. ¡°We¡¯ve been at war with one another for as long as I can remember. My people will never listen to you if you side with them.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only two sides here,¡± I say. ¡°Molag Bal, and everyone else. It¡¯s very likely he manipulated the both of you into this conflict for his own entertainment and to keep you from uniting against him.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I have much hope of convincing your elders of that if I can¡¯t even convince you of it, though, and I don¡¯t currently have time to unravel ages of hatred.¡±

    The Lamias and Bosmer hate one another. Convincing them to work together would be a task worthy of me, I think, but may not be feasible to accomplish in the necessary time frame. Maybe I can get the Bosmer out of here first and then come back to deal with the Lamia once their enemies are out of their hair. Scales. Whatever. I just need to make sure not to completely alienate them.

    Farry tells me that we will need to perform an honor deed to get her tribe to even listen to us instead of shooting us on sight. And she thinks this will require hurting the Lamias. She even suggests destroying their eggs. That sort of thing would likely prevent me from making any sort of deal with them in the future.

    ¡°Do your people have any desires beyond ¡®Molag Bal is awesome¡¯ and ¡®Lamias suck¡¯?¡± I say. ¡°Aren¡¯t there any Daedra they want to see dead?¡±

    ¡°I suppose we haven¡¯t really given much thought to other things,¡± Farry says. ¡°The Daedra don¡¯t tend to bother us too much.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°What would your people do if they simply suddenly found themselves back in Valenwood?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure,¡± Farry says. ¡°They probably would be less happy about it than if they¡¯d willingly broken Molag Bal¡¯s bargain. They might think he had returned them to Valenwood himself.¡±

    ¡°Does your tribe seriously believe that he would let you go?¡± I ask. ¡°If he actually did, it would only be after he¡¯d thoroughly wrecked Valenwood. He has been making a concerted attempt at fucking up Nirn lately, which is why we¡¯re even here.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Farry says with a sigh. ¡°I heard about the Planemeld. But we have to convince them of that, and they won¡¯t even let you get close unless you perform an honor deed and impress them.¡±

    I rub my forehead. ¡°I could readily just go up to them and non-lethally disable anyone that tries to stop me from doing so. And we can take them back to Nirn to show them a fucking Dark Anchor in person if that¡¯s what it would take to convince them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure how well that would go over,¡± Farry says dubiously. ¡°How would you disable them?¡±

    Merry opens his pack and levitates a statue out of it. ¡°Like so. He¡¯s perfectly fine and I can cancel the spell at any time.¡±

    ¡°The alternative was having to kill him because he was stupid enough to attack us,¡± I add.

    ¡°Sometimes I feel that I have incinerated fewer people than I have turned to stone to keep them from getting hurt.¡± He returns the statue to his bag.

    ¡°What are you going to do with him?¡± Farry asks.

    ¡°Restore him once we¡¯re sure your people aren¡¯t going to hurl themselves at us anymore,¡± I say.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose that¡¯s fair,¡± Farry says. ¡°If he attacked you, then I¡¯ve got to thank you for not hurting him. But the council still isn¡¯t going to trust you if you don¡¯t show you support them in some way.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to outright refuse to murder children just because they belong to a race you think are ¡®monsters¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°And if you guys have been killing children, it¡¯s no wonder the Lamias hate you.¡±

    Farry grouses a bit. ¡°I¡­ suppose, if you look at it that way¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go talk to the Lamias for a moment,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t take this as a sign that I¡¯m going to ¡®side with¡¯ them. I just need more information.¡±

    Farry scowls unhappily at that but doesn¡¯t protest further.

    According to the Lamia whose name I have no hope of spelling, the Wood Elves had kidnapped their eggs and are holding them hostage, and they want me to help rescue them. I wish I had Ilara-daro along. While I¡¯m perfectly capable of sneaking when necessary, getting through that without turning most of the Bosmer to stone would be difficult. Mostly because I¡¯m annoyed enough to want to hurt them now.

    ¡°Farry,¡± I say, returning to her. ¡°Look. While I sympathize with your people for being gullible¡­ a bit¡­ I can¡¯t condone kidnapping children.¡±

    Farry sighs. ¡°I know, that doesn¡¯t look good, does it. Please try not to hurt any of my tribesfolk. I know you¡¯re capable of it. I¡¯ll go with you if you do. I¡¯m sneaky and good with a bow. You could use someone like me!¡±

    I nod. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll probably wind up just dumping them somewhere in Valenwood. Preferably within sight of a Dark Anchor.¡±

    ¡°That sounds fair,¡± Farry says. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll realize how futile the pact is once they see for themselves what¡¯s going on.¡±

    I promise the Lamia to get their eggs back, and head into the Wood Elf village. I only bother to be stealthy enough to catch a few of them at a time rather than attract the attention of the entire tribe at once. One by one, statues join the others in Merry¡¯s pack, and then a few more into Eran¡¯s pack once Merry¡¯s can¡¯t hold anymore.

    ¡°You won¡¯t get away with kidnapping our tribesfolk!¡± says one of them.

    ¡°What, like you were kidnapping the Lamias¡¯ eggs?¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t kidnap children. It¡¯s annoying.¡±

    We return the Lamias¡¯ eggs to them and collect a good portion of the tribe as statues. The remainder, after having seen how their comrades were faring, wisely decide to surrender.

    ¡°Your tribemates are fine and will be returned to Valenwood, which is more than Molag Bal ever intended,¡± I say. ¡°He didn¡¯t even intend there to be a Valenwood to return to.¡±

    They¡¯re all alarmed at the prospect of the Dark Anchors destroying Valenwood, and did hope to be able to return there once their oath was fulfilled. As it turns out, the tribal council is pretty easy to convince once we¡¯ve violently proven that we are thoroughly capable of kicking their asses. These people submitted to Molag Bal after watching him smash shit once, so I didn¡¯t expect them to be as stubbornly stalwart as Stendarr worshippers.

    ¡°Stop alliterating, Neri,¡± Eran mumbles next to me.

    There¡¯s another wayshrine nearby as well, which I light with some relief. It was probably brought in along with this tower, I suppose. And the broken bridge that¡¯s mostly floating in the air in pieces. There¡¯s quite a lot of stuff around here that was pulled in from Nirn. Molag Bal has made quite the collection and the only real difference between this and the Planemeld is the sheer scale. Even if the Planemeld is stopped, he¡¯ll still have swiped plenty of bits and pieces before then.

    ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see, a wayshrine close to a dolmen site so we don¡¯t need to walk too far¡­¡± I muse aloud, looking through the network of lights and trying to remember what¡¯s around what place. ¡°Ah, this one will do.¡±

    We wind up having to stone the remainder of them aside from Farry before I can teleport the group to the wayshrine north of Silvenar, within spitting distance of a dolmen. There¡¯s no Dark Anchor down at the moment, but it¡¯s only a matter of time. In the meantime, we start pulling out statues and de-stoning them. (I kept the cooperative ones in my pack to distinguish them from the ones who might still think we¡¯re fighting.)

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± asks one of the mercenaries that are currently holding the line here.

    I vaguely recognize that they¡¯re with the group of mercenaries the nearby Khajiit trading post had hired for guards. And that I still need to assassinate someone who was fucking with the Baandari once I can spare the time to get to Anvil. (Hopefully they¡¯re still in Anvil.) I explain the situation to them while the Shadow Walkers are busy being awed at their sudden and unexpected return to Valenwood.

    ¡°Well, these idiots are gonna get a show here pretty soon,¡± Lariole says.

    About half of the tribe has been restored by the time cultists teleport into the dolmen. The mercenaries immediately charge over and kill them, but the Anchors trigger on any sacrifice, even that of limitless stupid cultists. (I can only assume Molag Bal keeps spitting them out once he takes their souls so they can continue stupidly sacrificing themselves. Maybe turning all the cultists to stone might stop the Planemeld, too? Or at least inconvenience Molag Bal.)

    A wail splits the sky along with the thunder of falling chains. The Shadow Walkers, already surprised at suddenly being back in Valenwood, are utterly shocked at seeing the Dark Anchor.

    Anyway, long story short, we leave the Shadow Walkers there to get re-acquainted with Valenwood. The Green Lady herself even makes an appearance because the Silvenar detected something weird going on nearby and sent her to check it out.

    ¡°What¡¯s this now?¡± the Green Lady asks, looking over the puzzled and distressed tribe that we¡¯re still bringing out and restoring.

    ¡°Some wayward souls who found themselves in a dark place at a dark time and were deceived,¡± I say. ¡°I felt that my point would be made better by showing them for themselves what¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡°So you brought their entire tribe here, as statues in your bags?¡± the Green Lady asks incredulously.

    ¡°Yep. Oh, look, the Anchor¡¯s dropping again.¡±

    Once we¡¯ve restored all the Shadow Walkers and left them in the capable of hands of the Green Lady, I return to Coldharbour with Eran, Merry, and Farry. I just wish I had Ilara with me instead. Farry isn¡¯t nearly as snarky.

 Chapter 145: In Which Two Kings Meet in Hell

    Sees-All-Colors is still not back at 100%, but feeling strong enough after some more Restoring Light and potions to come along with me, Merry, Eran, and Farry for the moment. I don¡¯t protest. There is Meridia shit around here, after all, and I¡¯m still down a person. (I wish she were half as good a healer as Gelur, though.)

    Fortunately, the way inside the Ayleid ruin is right next to the wayshrine by the shattered bridge. The formerly-sealed passage leads into a chamber that¡¯s as much Coldharbour as it is Ayleid. A sluggish waterfall of azure plasm flows in from a crack in the far wall to pool on the floor. Too high up to reach without levitation or serious climbing equipment, or we could have saved ourselves some trouble and just come in that way.

    There¡¯s a moderately large tree holding what looks like a Light of Meridia beneath its roots. At a touch, one of the roots lifts and allows me to take the shiny blue rock.

    A male voice speaks from a projection on a landing looking over the room. It¡¯s the same guy who was telling me to jump off the ledge above the Library of Dusk. The one who was too rude to introduce himself or explain why we should trust him enough to jump off a ledge just because he said so.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for centuries,¡± the mer says, among some other babbling. He speaks passably coherent Tamrielic, archaic but not so archaic that it sounds like he¡¯s spent millennia in solitary confinement while in the outside world, Bretons felt the need to invent the circumflex.

    ¡°If you¡¯re the Ayleid we were told about, it¡¯s more than centuries,¡± I say. ¡°But who knows how long it felt for you. If it only felt like centuries, then count yourself fortunate.¡±

    ¡°Meridia foretold that you would come,¡± he says.

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I say. ¡°More like she hung around and waited for something to eventually happen. It¡¯s not much of a prophecy to assume Molag Bal will eventually do something annoying and that someone might show up to try to make him stop being annoying.¡±

    He finally bothers to introduce himself with the long name that I can¡¯t remember. Upon pressing him, he notes that I can call him simply Dynar, to which I happily oblige.

    The Ayleid king Dynar is alive because Molag Bal wanted to keep him around to torture him because he¡¯s a Meridia worshipper and he¡¯s really got a beef with Meridia for some reason. Dynar is speaking to me through a projection from deeper inside his prison and considers it to be a foregone conclusion that of course we¡¯re here to rescue him. Why else would we have bothered to come to the ass end of Coldharbour where all the captured Meridia worshippers are forgotten?

    ¡°Honestly, it was just kind of here,¡± I say. ¡°The tower looked weird and I thought it likely something interesting was in it.¡±

    Eran clears his throat. ¡°Yes, of course we¡¯re here to rescue you.¡±

    Dynar either ignores me or thinks I¡¯m joking, and explains his situation a bit more. He¡¯s imprisoned in a pillar of darkness and I need to use one or more of Meridia¡¯s super-glowy magic rocks to free him from it. He¡¯s been in confinement ever since the Ayleids went extinct with only Daedra for company. Damn.

    ¡°Sorry, I haven¡¯t spoken Ayleidoon since I insulted that bitch with the weather ball,¡± I say. ¡°Your Tamrielic is definitely going to sound odd to anyone outside. The non-mer might not even catch it at all.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± King Dynar (you don¡¯t stop being a king just because you don¡¯t have any subjects left alive, do you?) says. ¡°It has been quite a long time since I have even heard my native tongue spoken aloud. I shall manage.¡±

    He thinks we¡¯d be incapable of defeating Molag Bal without his help. I¡¯ll reserve judgment. (It¡¯s more that I¡¯m not sure whether we¡¯re capable of defeating Molag Bal with his help and the thought that his help still only improves the odds by a fraction of a percent. Right, not thinking about how this is totally a hopeless endeavor, lalalaaaaaa¡­)

    It¡¯s so dark inside that we need to use a Light of Meridia to find our way. (Rather than trying to make anyone hold the thing and fight, Merry just levitates it around with us. Hopefully he won¡¯t need the minuscule amount of magicka that takes.) Even Farry is uneasy about this much darkness, and she¡¯s a Shadow Walker.

    ¡°After spending my life in the shadows, it¡¯s funny how even that light is comforting,¡± Farry says, looking off at the three doors leading out of the room and one exit that¡¯s sealed. ¡°Which way?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll probably need to go down every route to open the sealed door,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s just the way these things go. So let¡¯s start with¡­ this way.¡±

    I pick the rightmost exit and head into a garden full of wildlife typical of Valenwood, but blue and even more hostile than usual. (If that¡¯s even possible.) We collect a red crystal from the end that Dynar¡¯s voice says we¡¯ll need for something. (I¡¯d imagine if he couldn¡¯t do the echoy voice from thin air thing before he got imprisoned, it was a high priority thing to figure out how to do once he wound up here.)

    Through the next door, we enter an icy cave full of Frost Atronachs. We take a third red crystal there, and taking it causes an immediate change in the cavern, filling it with lava and Flame Atronachs. Stupid weird magic. (¡°Weird magic¡± now refers to any magic that makes no fucking sense.)

    Lastly, we go into a library full of mad, highly aggressive Soul-Shriven. They¡¯re honestly more annoying to fight than Atronachs and plant things due to being more unpredictable, but at least they¡¯re so consumed with fury that they don¡¯t do anything creative.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem inclined to be showing these people mercy,¡± Eran says.

    I shrug. ¡°They¡¯re Soul-Shriven, and they don¡¯t even seem capable of speech as they are. They¡¯ll respawn later, for better or worse.¡±

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    Eran frowns at the group of hostiles we¡¯d just slain. ¡°Now I kind of feel even worse about it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just the Oblivion talking,¡± I say. ¡°Ignore it and move on. Everyone dead here is damned regardless of what you do. Including me. And I¡¯m planning on punching the God of Schemes hard enough to cough up my soul. If I manage to knock loose anyone else¡¯s souls, so much the better.¡±

    We collect another red crystal from the library. The Soul-Shriven are still mad, but become less aggressive when we take it. Weird magic amplifying their hostility? I¡¯m not going to think too hard about this.

    With the three crystals in sconces in the room before the sealed door, we¡¯re able to get into the inner prison. The Lightless Oubliette, as the Ayleid calls it. (Nobody¡¯s going to actually know what an oubliette is. He¡¯s likely to get blank looks from Orcs, to be sure. I hope he doesn¡¯t try to give any speeches until he¡¯s better acquainted with the vernacular.)

    Next up, guess what? It¡¯s time for a stupid Ayleid light puzzle! I completely expected to encounter one of these here. Look at that, I¡¯m as prophetic as Meridia. These particular crystals (and Ayleids did love their crystals) are especially slow to rotate and it¡¯s difficult to tell which way the light is pointing.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this before,¡± Farry says, marveling far too much at the inane crystals while not being nearly as good at helping to solve them as Ilara-daro.

    ¡°We have,¡± Merry says, rotating yet another crystal. ¡°Entirely too many times.¡±

    ¡°And they are never in the correct position to start with,¡± Eran says, poking another one and frowning at it. ¡°Except this one.¡± He slowly rotates it back around the way it had started off at.

    With the stupid light puzzle solved and the shadowy crystal whatevers destroyed, the Ayleid king is freed and by Malacath his armor is incredibly shiny gold. It¡¯s almost disgusting. He has ridiculously huge shoulder guards like wings, and a helmet with two prongs that look a bit like a nix-hound¡¯s mandibles.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking well,¡± I say. ¡°If you need help working out your tight muscles after having spent like three thousand years in one position, I can put you in a touch with a good masseuse.¡±

    ¡°You know a good masseuse?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°But I know people who are capable of recommending a good masseuse if I ask.¡±

    ¡°I do not believe that will be necessary,¡± Dynar says, attempting to stretch in the most dignified manner possible. ¡°I am feeling quite well now, and also quite eager to leave this place. I will open a portal to the Hollow City.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯ll save a little time and effort.¡±

    Dynar opens a portal and we all step through, and head up to find the Groundskeeper waiting for us.

    ¡°So,¡± I say. ¡°I have to ask. You referred to it as the Hollow City. Was it always called that?¡±

    ¡°Its original name has been forgotten,¡± Dynar says.

    I frown. ¡°But you were here when it got thrust into Coldharbour, weren¡¯t you? Surely you know what it was called then.¡±

    The Groundskeeper interjects. ¡°Names have power. The name of the city was sacrificed in order to protect it. It is now hollow and nameless, and Molag Bal cannot touch it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s just weird magic,¡± I say. ¡°Got it.¡±

    The Groundskeeper is a very wise woman as she merely sighs and doesn¡¯t argue about it. ¡°Yes. It is, as you say, ¡®weird magic¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m just happy to know there¡¯s an actual reason for it even if the reason doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s really annoying when there¡¯s so many underlying questions that I just know will never get a satisfactory answer.¡±

    A number of members of the expedition have made their way back to the city in the meantime. The city might be ¡°Hollow¡± but it¡¯s no longer quite as empty. Colors asks around and we¡¯re pointed to a building the Fighters Guild have claimed for a guildhall. When we go in, the various fighters are arguing about what they should do, but stop when they see Sees-All-Colors come in.

    ¡°Colors!¡± exclaims that Breton knight whose name I¡¯ve forgotten. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you survived. Maybe you can get us on track again.¡±

    ¡°It seems against all odds that I am standing here before you,¡± Colors says. ¡°One small twist in the current and I might have been lost to the depths or mired in dark roots.¡±

    A lengthy discussion ensues and we recount everything that happened since we arrived in Coldharbour. Needless to say, there¡¯s quite a bit of surprise that we found an actual, live Ayleid. (As opposed to what you¡¯d normally encounter, which would be dead Ayleids.)

    I do have some advice to give. ¡°Remember, everyone. Take mental health breaks. This is far more important than you realize, here. It¡¯s okay to step back and take a breather so that you can replenish your strength, and your mental strength is no exception. Keep an eye on yourself and your friends, and if you notice anyone starting to act strangely, pull them back and figure out what¡¯s going on. We can¡¯t afford to have someone get mind controlled, possessed, emotionally manipulated, or deceived.¡±

    ¡°It would be nice not to have a repeat of the Tower of Lies,¡± agrees one of them.

    ¡°And no bravado!¡± I emphasize. ¡°I don¡¯t care how awesome you think you are. A real badass can admit that Daedra are dangerous and need to be dealt with cautiously. We don¡¯t need any situations in which someone felt something was wrong but didn¡¯t speak up about it because they weren¡¯t sure about it, didn¡¯t want to bother anyone, or thought they could handle it.¡±

    I do not trust this place. There¡¯s no guarantee that Molag Bal can¡¯t hear us here, and even if he can¡¯t, I won¡¯t be surprised if Meridia is watching too. I won¡¯t feel like I can really speak freely until I am back on Nirn.

    To that end, once the boring meeting is over, I drag the Ayleid king back to the wayshrine and teleport us to Dra¡¯bul. Hopefully some sunlight and booze will make him less uptight.

    ¡°To think you have the freedom to come and go as you please¡­¡± Dynar muses, looking up at the green canopy in such a way that I think his giant hat is about to fall off.

    ¡°I had to set up anchor points in both realms, but yeah, it¡¯s fucking amazing.¡± I gesture to him to follow and head into the stronghold.

    ¡°This is your home?¡± Dynar says politely. ¡°It¡¯s very¡­ rustic.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I like having the open sun overhead and the green all around.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Dynar says.

    ¡°And now that we¡¯re away from the prying eyes and ears of Daedra, I¡¯ve got something I need to tell you.¡± I pull off my helmet.

    ¡°You¡­ are not an Orc,¡± Dynar states the obvious.

    Should I actually tell him? Risk assessment of anyone who shouldn¡¯t know finding out because of him seems pretty low. Also, who the fuck else am I going to commiserate with over being the last of a lost race and having been imprisoned in Coldharbour for thousands of years?

    ¡°Come to my longhouse and sit down with some food and drink,¡± I say. ¡°This is going to take a while and you probably haven¡¯t had a good meal in a while.¡±

    ¡­

    ¡°So you¡¯re Indoril Nerevar¡­¡± Dynar says.

    ¡°I¡¯m Neri gro-Drublog now,¡± I say. ¡°The name was given to me by a god and everything.¡±

    ¡°Strange to see you became a champion of Malacath, King of the Chimer,¡± Dynar says. ¡°Did Azura not guide the one who rescued you?¡±

    He never lost faith in Meridia to get him out of there. In the end, Meridia had very little to do with it. Even if she was able to draw our expedition to the vicinity of the Hollow City, that was still only a small part of everything that led up to that point. I¡¯ve found people often attribute to their god anything good that happens whether their god was involved or not. That¡¯s kind of one reason why I appreciate Malacath.

    ¡°It¡¯s highly unlikely that anyone involved had anything whatsoever to do with Azura or her followers,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°And at this point, I no longer care. She can¡¯t fault me for finding my own destiny in my new life. You, at least, didn¡¯t actually die.¡±

    ¡°Some small thing to be grateful for,¡± Dynar says with a small nod.

 Chapter 146: In Which I Get Mind-Wedgied by an Alien Tree

    When we return to the Hollow City, Colors informs us that she¡¯s heard word of a settlement of Argonians that was pulled into Coldharbour. She wants to go out there and check it out herself, but she¡¯s got to stay and organize the Fighters Guild, so she sends us instead. There¡¯s also a Dunmer woman at the inn who mentions losing a lute in someplace called the Grotto of Depravity, which is near there. She seems pretty well otherwise for having been here from when the city originally fell into Coldharbour.

    I, along with Eran, Merry, and Farry, set out from the Hollow City in search of signs of Argonians, but come upon the cave first and head inside. There are Soul-Shriven here relaxing. Fishing. Dancing. And otherwise not acknowledging our presence in the slightest. The Daedra, on the other hand, don¡¯t take kindly to our crashing the party and attack us on sight.

    Eran waves a hand in front of the face of a dancing Soul-Shriven. ¡°Okay, seeing people like this is beyond creepy. I can¡¯t imagine that they did anything in life to deserve this sort of hell.¡±

    ¡°Even if they were cultists?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just find this lute,¡± Eran says with a sigh. ¡°And attempt to rescue anyone that notices we¡¯re here.¡±

    Unfortunately, no one seems inclined to be rescued, and I don¡¯t spot anyone that still looks un-shriven. Maybe it¡¯s just as well none of the expedition members wound up in here. We do eventually find the lute, and we don¡¯t even need to kill anyone for it. (Although we do anyway.) I shove it in my pack and leave to go find this Argonian settlement.

    We don¡¯t have to search for long. An Argonian in a robe finds us just outside of town and mentions that the place is called Haj Uxith. Spelled with an X that Argonians pronounce as a Z for some reason. They want to help our expedition but we have to pass their trials, et cetera, Body and Spirit, et cetera. Ceremonial shit. As you do. Hopefully it will involve hallucinogens.

    There¡¯s something of a debate in the village about the fate of their Hist tree. They actually have a Hist tree here? There¡¯s something wrong with it, though, which isn¡¯t terribly surprising considering where it is. Everything in this realm is dead or dying, some things just slower to die than others.

    Anyway the Trial of Spirit turns out to be pointless and stupid but I go along with it. Sadly, there are no hallucinogens involved, just answering some really obvious trivia questions.

    From what I¡¯m told, the Argonians got here because they made a dumb deal, like the Shadow Walkers. This deal was to supply the Daedra with Hist sap. And it was the Hist tree who had this dumb idea, too. It¡¯s likely none of the Argonians here today had anything to do with that decision. All that in order to avoid the world changing. I really hate to think of the notion of anyone being born in Coldharbour, and yet they seem intent upon keeping their traditions sacred even here. Was this really an improvement?

    I find a book titled Chaotic Creatia: The Azure Plasm. (Summary: Blue slime turns into Daedra and Vestiges.) This would probably be more interesting to someone who didn¡¯t already intimately know how respawning in Oblivion works, but I¡¯m definitely going to plagiarize this so I don¡¯t have to keep explaining it to people. I still had to get word across to some of the more stupidly-enthusiastic members of the Fighters Guild that no, you can¡¯t simply kill every Daedra in Oblivion. The notion of ¡°it dies for real if you kill it in its home realm¡± is a folk tale that needs to be stamped out.

    Their agreement with Molag Bal prohibits their interference with the Daedra who collect the Hist sap. My friends and I, however, are not bound by that agreement, so we¡¯re free to go in and slaughter them all. The shaman faction had me doing pointless cultural lessons but the warriors want me to go do something useful. Kill the Dremora and wreck their Hist-sap-processing equipment. I¡¯m good at that sort of thing.

    The agreement implied that they would be offering up a ¡°little bit¡± of Hist sap. This is not a little bit. The Dremora have a massive processing facility here. Also, once we start wrecking shit, the place fills up with fumes. Overheated sap tickles my nostrils and stings my eyes.

    ¡°This cannot be the most efficient way to have done this,¡± Merry grouses as he incinerates another Dremora.

    ¡°Nothing like hot flames to make a good cleansing!¡± I exclaim with a laugh.

    ¡°I thought I saw my life pass before my eyes,¡± Eran says. ¡°But I think I¡¯m just hallucinating.¡±

    ¡°Hist sap does that,¡± I say.

    ¡°It is good to know that you are an expert on Tamrielic hallucinogens,¡± Merry comments dryly.

    I also take the opportunity to confiscate any Hist sap they have that¡¯s still usable. With the Dremora temporarily inconvenienced by being violently sent to the depths of Oblivion and their equipment destroyed, we return to the Argonian warrior guy to report on our successfully passing their ¡°Trial of Body¡±.

    And now we¡¯re treated to this great debate. The scholar faction wants to euthanize their Hist tree. The warriors want to keep it alive because life is precious. They can¡¯t ask the Hist itself for its opinion (do sentient trees have genders?) since it has effectively been ¡°unconscious¡± for some time and hasn¡¯t spoken with them recently.

    ¡°Why does it have to be one or the other?¡± I say. ¡°The least you can do is see if it can recover once the source of the infection is gone, like you¡¯d do with another Argonian who had gotten sick.¡±

    ¡°True enough,¡± the Treeminder (I think that¡¯s his position, anyway) says. ¡°I do not know whether the Hist will be able to recover in this poisoned land, or if it will merely continue to live on in suffering.¡±

    ¡°Give it a chance, at least,¡± I say. ¡°And if it can¡¯t recover here, there¡¯s got to be a way to return it to Nirn.¡±

    ¡°We came here to practice our traditions in peace and avoid the changes taking place on Nirn,¡± the scholar complains.

    ¡°And that has worked out so well for you,¡± Eran mutters.

    ¡°The outsiders are right,¡± the fighter says. ¡°If there is a chance to survive rather than wither away, then we must take it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯ve never tried to teleport a tree before,¡± I say. ¡°And I don¡¯t have an anchor point in Black Marsh. But I do have a link to an Argonian community in Valenwood who would be happy to take you in. They might not be ¡®traditional¡¯ enough for you, though.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    This sparks another debate with the two Argonians talking over one another, until I raise a hand to interject.

    ¡°Before I try to do anything, though, I¡¯m going to try to contact your Hist,¡± I say.

    ¡°Have you ever spoken with a Hist before?¡± the Treeminder asks.

    ¡°I have not,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve never even seen one before.¡±

    ¡°Then how did you intend to communicate with it?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Well, I was just going to do what I usually do. Starting with going over to it and then overdosing on Hist sap.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you usually do?¡± the Treeminder wonders incredulously.

    ¡°Moon sugar is frequently involved, too,¡± I say. ¡°I have done a surprising amount of Khajiit vision questing lately.¡±

    The Treeminder sighs and erects the spine of whatever emotion that¡¯s meant to convey. (I haven¡¯t spent nearly as much time around Argonians as I have Khajiit in order to learn their body language, but a trip to Black Marsh might be fun sometime.)

    ¡°If you wish to make the attempt, I cannot stop you,¡± the Treeminder says. ¡°You have passed our trials. You are welcome to try.¡±

    Farry comes up to me and asks quietly, ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be alright? This sounds dangerous.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m never sure about anything,¡± I say with a chuckle. ¡°But I¡¯m already mad and the risk is worth taking.¡±

    The hapless village is full of mutters about the outsiders who drove off the Dremora and the insane Orc who wants to try communing with the Hist. It doesn¡¯t seem right to see an Argonian village underneath Coldharbour¡¯s hard skies. There should be greenery around, but nothing is green here aside from the scales of some of the inhabitants. Moving an entire village is almost certainly beyond me, however. (Aside from, you know, turning them all to stone and putting them in a bag, but I doubt that would work on the Hist tree.)

    With all the pipes sticking out of the trunk of the tree, I have to wonder exactly how much it has produced over the course of its time in Coldharbour, not to mention what in Oblivion the Daedra are using it for. At the base of the tree sits a crystal swirling red-black. The vampiric crystal the Argonians said was keeping the Hist alive. Is it an undead tree, then? I wouldn¡¯t put it past the Dremora. Empty nests are scattered about the roots. How many generations of Argonians have been born into this hell?

    ¡°If my soul explodes or something, give Ilara-daro my stuff,¡± I say sifting through my pack and fishing out bottles.

    ¡°What, not your wives?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°No, no, they¡¯re not as good at fencing things,¡± I say. ¡°And some of that stuff is really illegal.¡±

    ¡°Why do I hang out with you again?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re incredibly fond of me and I have blackmail material on you?¡±

    ¡°Anyway, how is something illegal when you¡¯re the king?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°I made it illegal for unauthorized travelers to transport certain goods,¡± I say. ¡°All the smuggling groups paid me for authorization and ensure that their products matched certain quality standards and weren¡¯t tainted.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Eran says. ¡°You double-tricked the criminals in your own drug empire into thinking tariffs and licenses were a bribe for a protection racket?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the difference, really?¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°Actual guards tend to be less brutal than annoying you personally,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, holding up the bottle I finally find. ¡°Bottoms up.¡±

    I down the liquid, and settle in against the tree. The item finding enchantment on this bag would probably be less confused if I labeled my illegal goods properly. (But they¡¯re labeled in Dwemeris, and it¡¯s traditional for Dwemer to mislabel things in ways that are dangerously wrong if you¡¯re not supposed to be using them. I doubt anyone in this place/time would be able to read Dwemeris well enough to know the difference.)

    (At least, they¡¯re illegal to have in half of Tamriel, technically speaking. You never know when you might need a really exotic poison. There¡¯s only so far you can get away with an excuse like ¡°I¡¯m trying to kill a really big cat monster that seems to be immune to everything but this unholy concoction of skooma and catnip.¡±)

    (We did not fight such a monster. The one we did fight was immune to everything but narrow, intense beams of light. Pinpoint spotlights usually aren¡¯t illegal.)

    I don¡¯t need to wait long for the concoction to take effect¨Cthat¡¯s the Hist sap temporal dissociation. My mind clouds and I feel myself falling. No, not falling. Weightless, but not going down. Time and space no longer have meaning.

    A terrible cacophony surrounds me. Voices¨Cscreaming, screeching, howling. Daedra. It suddenly strikes me that this may have been a bad idea. I almost forgot about the Daedra. And I don¡¯t quite remember what all I put in that mixture. I might have been experimenting with mixing Oblivion foliage with Hist sap or something and that might actually be reaaallly bad¨C

    Something pulls me away and engulfs me, and the voices go quiet.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I think. ¡°I think. I think I think.¡±

    A weak chuckling sound, and a voice whispers inside my mind, ¡°You are like sunlight. The only warmth we have ever felt in this realm.¡±

    ¡°I can give you more of it.¡± I start pouring magicka into Restoring Light.

    ¡°Ahhh¡­ that light. It makes us feel like¡­¡±

    A rush of images and feelings flood my head. The possibility of hope. The notion that change may be less-bad than the current situation. Simple gratitude. Regret. Mourning. Revenge.

    I feel like I made a small mistake in thinking of the Hist as an ¡°it¡±. As it turns out, it¡¯s very much a they. (Although they don¡¯t mind being called ¡°it¡±.) Even with this singular tree. In a flash, I suddenly understand more about the Argonian life cycle than I ever wanted to know.

    The Hist, apologetically trying to focus despite strong emotion over the first successful contact in a long time, believed this was a sacrifice they were making for the sake of their Argonians. The Hist originated from outside of Mundus, and Coldharbour is more similar to Nirn than either is to their home realm. And in a flash, I suddenly understand more about the Hist than I ever wanted to know.

    The over-excited attention-starved extradimensional sentient tree apologizes again for accidentally mindraping me.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ alright,¡± I say. I am probably going to have a splitting headache later and my physical body is probably laying on the ground twitching with a nosebleed because this sort of thing always results in a nosebleed for some reason.

    ¡°We had drifted into deep slumber,¡± the Hist whispers, more coherently now. ¡°It was the only way to endure the pain. The Daedra took more than we agreed on. We were already in their power and could not refuse their increasing demands. We did not imagine their deception. They took as much as they could to keep us weak but not to actually kill us because they needed us alive. That crystal¡­ the final shackle. Destroy it, sun-bearer!¡±

    I imagine that red crystal outside is shattering under my light.

    ¡°We are free¡­¡± the Hist murmurs, voice quickly growing stronger and steadier. ¡°But where do we go? The land that was once ours no longer exists on Nirn.¡±

    ¡°Where do you wish to go?¡± I ask. ¡°If you don¡¯t leave now, the Dremora will just return soon enough, and they¡¯ll be quite miffed.¡±

    ¡°Somewhere warm and sunny. Moist summers and mild winters. Wildlife that can challenge our egg-children.¡±

    ¡°I could offer you a place in Valenwood,¡± I say.

    ¡°Is this land yours to offer?¡± the Hist asks. ¡°Will those who dwell there accept all of us there?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m a king, so yes. There¡¯s lots of talking trees there and the Bosmer are forbidden from harming trees by their own traditions. And the Wood Orcs will do whatever I tell them.¡±

    ¡°You believe you could convince your people to accept ours so easily?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d probably need to give a big speech about it and get them fired up and probably offer free alcohol and get into at least three fistfights, but yeah.¡±

    ¡°We feel the truth in your words,¡± the Hist replies. ¡°Which god do you serve?¡±

    ¡°Malacath.¡±

    ¡°Why? No, do not reply in your words. Let us feel it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s awfully personal,¡± I say. ¡°But alright.¡±

    ¡°You feel¡­¡± The Hist disorients me again as a rush of images flashes through my head. ¡°Ah. Ahh¡­¡±

    I don¡¯t remember much else after that but for some faint words, not spoken to me.

    ¡°You seek revenge for your betrayal?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the Hist replies. ¡°We seek release from this realm. We will take our revenge for ourselves.¡±

 Chapter 147: In Which I Demand a Fair Trial

    I wake up with a headache having no idea where I am. Ugh, must be Turdas. I never got the hang of Turdas. With a view of green and sunlight in my eyes, I assume this is Valenwood and relax. I¡¯m also leaning against a Hist tree, giving me a real crick in my back. I stand up to stretch and take a look around.

    ¡°Neri!¡± Eran exclaims. ¡°You¡¯re finally awake!¡±

    ¡°Guess I am,¡± I say. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯ve been wondering,¡± Eran says. ¡°I hoped you might be able to shed some light on that.¡±

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Valenwood,¡± Merry says, coming up to us. ¡°I recognized it as being near the place where you burned down a village.¡±

    ¡°Which time?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The one where it was deliberate,¡± Merry clarifies.

    ¡°Which time?¡± I press.

    Merry sighs. ¡°When the Vinedusk Rangers were chasing off a group of Colovian invaders and felt that the best way to do this was to ask you to set fire to literally everything.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah! That!¡±

    ¡°The strange part is that the village was not dropped straight on land that was already here,¡± Merry says. ¡°The land itself seems to have expanded to make room for it. No quakes or cracks. The Ayleid ruins near here warped a bit in the process. Very odd.¡±

    ¡°The Argonians here are erecting a shrine to Malacath,¡± Eran says. ¡°And they¡¯ve pledged allegiance to the Aldmeri Dominion. Neri, what did you do?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t really remember,¡± I say. ¡°What did you see?¡±

    ¡°You were glowing,¡± Eran says. ¡°First a little, then a lot. The crystal shattered and the tree started growing green leaves. And then¡­ I think it was Molag Bal and Malacath? They had a shouting match in the sky.¡±

    ¡°It was terrifying!¡± Farry says, having wandered up at some point. ¡°I don¡¯t know how your friends were so calm!¡±

    ¡°Do you want to know how many times echoing voices in the air have shouted in my general direction?¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯ve lost count, actually. This wasn¡¯t even directed at me so I figured the worst thing to worry about was being within blast radius of a god fight.¡±

    ¡°It would be quite a thing to explain to my ancestors how I died,¡± Merry observes. ¡°I mostly expect it to be something ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t yet found a problem that couldn¡¯t be solved by getting high and doing something stupid,¡± I say.

    ¡°This really should not be a method that works,¡± Merry says with a sigh.

    ¡°Was that when the tree wound up in Valenwood?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Not just the tree,¡± Eran says, gesturing, and I finally look up.

    The Argonians call their stepped pyramids ¡°xanmeers¡±. There is now a xanmeer in the middle of Valenwood. Well, more of the northern edge, really.

    These Argonians don¡¯t build mud huts. I¡¯ve apparently just dumped a group of ancient people into the Second Era, long after their civilization has changed. Black Marsh might have other Argonians in it, but they¡¯re ones who followed a different path set by Hist trees who made different choices. These might pass for modern Argonians, but they¡¯re reptilian equivalent of Chimer.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not entirely sure what happened here myself,¡± I admit. ¡°The Hist made a deal with Malacath now?¡±

    ¡°I hope that works out better for them than their last deal,¡± Eran says. ¡°Although considering they¡¯re on Nirn rather than in the Ashpit, that¡¯s probably already an improvement.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but the Ashpit is great!¡± I say, then pause. ¡°Probably not so much for Argonians, though. Hopefully this part of Valenwood is moist enough for them.¡±

    ¡°And so Neri gets high and somehow solves everyone¡¯s problems while unconscious,¡± Merry comments. ¡°Again.¡± His voice is dry enough to make an Argonian itch.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably just as well that I can¡¯t remember much,¡± I say. ¡°Considering what I do remember involved the Hist being awkward and over-enthusiastic about shoving memories and emotions around. I¡¯m glad not to come out of that thinking I¡¯m an egg or something.¡±

    Before heading back to the Hollow City, I let Dra¡¯bul know what¡¯s going on, then stop in at Baandari Trading Post to let them know that they suddenly have some scaly new neighbors and encourage them to be nice. The world has changed and they will need some time to adjust, but at least they have a hope for a future here rather than in Coldharbour. Molag Bal¡¯s gonna be pissed that I keep stealing his playthings.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Having explored much of the area to the west of the Hollow City that isn¡¯t blocked off due to impassible terrain or lack of terrain, we set off to the east this time. We shortly run across a Khajiit couple who aren¡¯t doing so well. The woman is badly wounded and near death when I come up and start trying to heal her. The man tells me about how they sought refuge in a cave and this was a terrible idea and anyone really could have told them that this was a terrible idea. They mention that they surely would have died if it weren¡¯t for a Wood Elf woman helping them. Gelur?

    ¡°This healer, do you know where she is now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°She said she was going to try to help free some mages who had been captured,¡± the Khajiit man says, gesturing off toward¡­ well, another bit of Coldharbour, really. ¡°Thank you for the assistance, walker. Hopefully we will be able to find true shelter soon.¡±

    I nod. ¡°There¡¯s a safe place not too far in the direction we came from. Shouldn¡¯t be anything in the way unless some Daedra have wandered through in the last five minutes.¡±

    We head off in the general direction the Khajiit pointed in, and come upon a very familiar Bosmer woman.

    ¡°Gelur!¡± I say. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Well as can be under the circumstances,¡± Gelur says, her grim look breaking into a grin. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you guys, though I didn¡¯t realize Ilara-daro turned into a Bosmer when I wasn¡¯t looking.¡±

    Farry chuckles. ¡°Sorry, no. I¡¯m Faraniel. Although Neri insists on calling me ¡®Farry¡¯. Which is fine, really. We haven¡¯t found your Khajiit friend yet, although from what the others say, she must be amazing.¡±

    ¡°I hope she¡¯s alright, wherever she wound up, then,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°She¡¯s resourceful,¡± Eran says. ¡°But this place will break you if it gets the chance. I hope she came out somewhere nearby.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s likely all the expedition forces wound up in this area,¡± I say. ¡°After seeing what¡¯s around here, I think this part of Coldharbour is basically a quarantine. Molag Bal seems to have dumped a lot of things he¡¯s taken from Nirn and wants to keep but could potentially cause problems for him out here.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Eran says. ¡°Keep encroachments to the borders, far away from anything important.¡±

    ¡°How are you doing, Gelur?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Under the circumstances, not too shabby,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯d be lying if I said this was the most awesome thing that ever happened to me. I¡¯ve just been trying to help who I can and stay out of trouble. Sadly, I haven¡¯t been able to accomplish as much as I¡¯d hoped, so I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. There¡¯s a lot of people in trouble who need help.¡±

    ¡°In your defense, you¡¯re in unfamiliar terrain,¡± I say. ¡°If these Daedra were in Valenwood, they¡¯d be fucked. Up until they respawn and come back, admittedly.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we are here to make sure there are fewer Daedra in Valenwood,¡± Gelur says with a smirk. ¡°There¡¯s some mages who have been captured who are being held here. The Daedra are putting on some sort of sham trial for some reason. I wasn¡¯t able to free them but I did figure out where the key is and the crystals we¡¯ll need to break to get in.¡±

    Find a key and break some crystals. Typical stuff. We push through, smack a bunch of Daedra, and get inside. It doesn¡¯t take long to locate and free the mages. The Daedra want to execute the prisoners after the trial that we sadly already missed, and put up a shield to prevent us from leaving once we get inside. The mages break through the shield while me and my friends kill anything that tries to stop them from doing so.

    With the Daedra dead for the moment and the shield broken, we get outside, which isn¡¯t really safer but at least no one is immediately trying to execute anyone. One of the rescued mages mentions that he was raised in the Shivering Isles.

    ¡°Damn I wish we were in the Shivering Isles right now and not here,¡± I say. ¡°This place is just depressing. The Shivering Isles is only half depressing. And there are colors other than blue. You guys should get to the Hollow City and regroup with the others.¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± one of them asks.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say with unwavering confidence that I don¡¯t even allow myself to question. Questioning leads to doubt, and doubt leads to fear, and fear leads to ruin. Or something like that.

    One of the mages opens a portal to the Hollow City, which hopefully actually gets them to the Hollow City, otherwise we¡¯re going to have to rescue them again.

    ¡°It¡¯s been touch and go for a bit,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯ve had to avoid or kill a lot of Daedra. But now I¡¯m back with you, so we can¡¯t fail.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep thinking that, yes,¡± I say.

    ¡°Pfft, I¡¯ve never seen you actually fail at anything you try to do,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Sure, there¡¯s setbacks, up to and including you dying horribly over and over, but they¡¯re just setbacks and you always keep at it until you don¡¯t fail. Molag Bal annoyed you. You¡¯re going to wind up hitting him, sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°You could be killed, too. I can¡¯t bring you back. Well, unless you become a lich. Or stick around as a ghost. Or get turned into a vampire. Or I summon you with weird books that make you purple.¡±

    ¡°When you put it like that¡­¡± Eran says.

    ¡°When you put it like that, I would prefer to be with my ancestors than any of those options, thank you,¡± Merry says. ¡°I will threaten to not haunt you if you get me killed with stupidity rather than heroism.¡±

    ¡°Gelur, it¡¯s horrible,¡± Eran says. ¡°Not only are the Daedra immortal, but we might wind up having to re-kill annoying Worm Cultists we already killed once or twice! We killed so many of them and all that did was take them from Nirn and put them here.¡±

    ¡°Truly, if they are unhappy with that circumstance, they perhaps should have done more research on their choice of religion first,¡± Merry drawls.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s hard to find books that say ¡®Molag Bal is bad¡¯,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Nobody ever refers to Molag Bal as the Lord of Happiness.¡±

    ¡°God of Friendship,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°Prince of Biscuits,¡± Merry continues.

    Farry looks at them wide-eyed like they¡¯re insane to mock the lord of this realm so openly. As they shoot more humorous appellations back and forth, I realize I¡¯m doing the same thing. I never really stopped fearing him. And there, watching my friends fearlessly mock a god who could have them tortured for thousands of years for it, I realize that the reason they¡¯re so fearless might be because of their absolute faith in me.

    ¡°Harbinger of Ice Cream,¡± Gelur goes on.

    ¡°Father of Bunnies,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°King of Hugs,¡± Merry says.

    I can¡¯t even muster up some words to them to try to temper their confidence a bit. I don¡¯t want to have to pretend and play up my ability or anything, but I don¡¯t think anything I can say would dissuade them even if I wanted to.

    ¡°Cuddler of Souls,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Juggler of Schemes,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°God of Punctuality,¡± Merry says.

    I can¡¯t help but start laughing softly at this. Their confidence is infectious. Maybe Gelur has a point. I¡¯m not going to give up. I won¡¯t surrender or submit again. I¡¯m free, and strong, and not alone. I can do this.

    ¡°So, did you guys find anything good to eat out here yet?¡± Gelur asks.

    ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t tried to sample anything, no,¡± Eran says. ¡°You haven¡¯t been eating the things out here, have you? I can¡¯t imagine that eating Daedra is healthy.¡±

 Chapter 148: In Which I Pry Apart a Cat and an Elf

    Gelur had managed to get in a surprising amount of scouting before we ran across her. To the south, there¡¯s a vile laboratory (probably actually named the Vile Laboratory, seeing as this is Coldharbour) where a couple of people from the Mages Guild ran into trouble and got stuck together somehow. Having no way of helping them herself, Gelur told them to conserve their strength and promised she¡¯d bring someone (i.e. probably me) to help when she found them.

    ¡°There was also a weird Nord tavern I was leery of drinking at, but this seems more urgent,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°We can stop by there next,¡± I say. ¡°They probably made some dumb deal with Molag Bal for better mead or something, if the places we¡¯ve run into so far are any indication.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to bet that you¡¯re just being stereotypical of Nords and that it was actually a dumb deal for fine wine?¡± Eran says.

    Gelur shows us the way to a small camp that includes a fairly large Khajiit-style tent someone must have brought in their pocket, and we meet up with the hapless mages in question. A Dunmer named Gadris and a Khajiit named Zur have been¡­ ¡°soul melded¡± somehow. This is just weird. They keep switching back and forth between forms, which is even weirder.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to beat the shit out of whoever felt the need to do something so ridiculous,¡± I say, gritting my teeth.

    ¡°I do hope so,¡± Gadris says, as they¡¯re being Gadris at the moment. ¡°Good to see you back, Gelur, and glad you brought help.¡±

    The place in question is a Dwemer ruin, of all things, that had wound up inside Coldharbour. I have to wonder if any Dwemer survived here or were taken as Soul-Shriven, but any Dwemer Soul-Shriven would be at least as old as me and probably wouldn¡¯t have managed to stay themselves after all that time. (I¡¯m not always entirely convinced that I stayed myself, either, for that matter.)

    While still on Nirn, the Dwemer were, of course, experimenting with souls, because that¡¯s just the sort of thing the Dwemer did. Once their laboratory wound up in Coldharbour, the Daedra showed up and continued their experiments using the stolen Dwemer machinery.

    Near the lab, there¡¯s a rather large Dwemer Centurion who makes for a fun warm-up fight to beating up some more Dremora. It has a few cool moves Centurions don¡¯t normally have, but still predictable once I figure out its rotation. (I don¡¯t mean its spinny bits, although those also count. The Dwemer referred to a series of actions taken in a loop as a ¡°rotation¡±. Their combat constructs are very easy to predict once you¡¯ve figured out which couple moves they make.)

    Inside one of the buildings, I come upon a book titled A Life of Strife and Struggle. (Summary: King Dynar had nothing better to do with his time but to write his memoirs. In great detail.) Not sure how that wound up on this side of the Hollow City when he was stuck in that tower over there. According to the dates, we were contemporaries, for a while. I hadn¡¯t heard of him, I don¡¯t think, but my memories of the time are still quite fuzzy and it¡¯s not like I was paying much attention to what was going on in western Tamriel. I had enough on my platter in Resdayn as it was.

    Zur is an alchemist and wants me to help make a potion that will let me shrink down so I can get inside, because they accidentally (?) collapsed the entrance to the ruin when they escaped. He lost his notes and reagents, however, so he sends me to find them.

    I make certain to memorize his alchemy notes (by which I mean that it goes into my Library of the Mind as soon as I glance at the papers). I hope he wasn¡¯t intending on keeping proprietary secrets here, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be more than happy to share his alchemical knowledge with me anyway in exchange for saving his soul.

    We need to get inside the ruin and craft some rods for the machinery that can reverse the soul-meld. At this point, I wish we did have a Dwemer around who could help with this. As I fight past Daedra, I imagine a Dwemer following me around complaining about what a mess the Daedra have made of their shit.

    Zur¡¯s potion temporarily turns me into a monkey and it¡¯s absolutely, insanely fun. So much so that I accidentally spent too much time running around bouncing off pipes and it wears off. I almost get stuck when I return to my normal size while still in a spot a bit too small for my normal size. Oops. Shit. I spend the next several minutes squeezing myself through gaps to get myself the rest of the way through the partially-collapsed tunnel.

    I finally manage to slip inside (mostly slipping) and start looking for the materials and notes that the mages wanted me to find.

    I wonder if it might not have been easier to just send Gelur or Farry in with me in a bag. That¡¯s absolutely ridiculous. And probably would have worked fine. I just hadn¡¯t thought of it at the time. Okay, I¡¯m not actually very keen on being turned to stone even temporarily, although I¡¯m sure it would be fine, so I¡¯d need to carry them in a bag¡­ no wait, Merry would need to de-stone them and he¡¯d not be able to do that if he were stone. I haven¡¯t actually tested full-sized intelligent beings inside the spatial storage yet but Jingles doesn¡¯t seem to mind (hi Jingles). Say, Jingles could have carried us all inside in a bag! That still leaves the issue of getting out of the bag and back in action again, but¨C

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    ¡°Neri?¡± Eran says, emerging from a portal and interrupting my train of thought. ¡°Gadris was able to target a portal at you and get us inside.¡±

    Okay, that works too. Maybe Jingles could have just carried an anchor stone to aim a portal at instead. That would have been simpler. Are portable wayshrines a thing?

    There¡¯s quite a bit of Coldharbour inside this ruin. Jagged blue-black rocks rip through walls here and there, and the Daedra have hung up chains and installed torture equipment because it¡¯s Coldharbour and there has to be torture equipment literally everywhere. You¡¯d think torture would eventually get old.

    We collect the materials needed for the rods we need and craft them. Gadris notes that they don¡¯t have two separate bodies to return to and that undoing the soul-meld will kill one of them rather than both of them.

    ¡°What, exactly, happened to the other body?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°We¡¯re not sure,¡± Gadris admits. ¡°Parts of the entire ordeal are still foggy to both of us.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we just supply another body?¡± I ask. ¡°The way you two keep shifting to one another¡¯s forms, it¡¯s likely the same would happen with a new body, especially if I shove in a dead Daedra¡¯s creatia. That stuff¡¯s malleable. Especially considering that your own body is being incredibly malleable if you keep switching back and forth like you¡¯ve been doing.¡±

    (Sometimes I wonder why I haven¡¯t turned into an Orc yet, but I don¡¯t think it works that way. It¡¯s not like Orcs are the only ones who worship Malacath.)

    ¡°Would that even work?¡± Gadris asks.

    ¡°Alternatively, one of these Dwemer constructs would probably work, too. That may have been what the machinery was intended for in the first place. The Dwemer were more likely sticking souls into constructs rather than living bodies. It would probably have been much less problematic to be merged into a construct.¡±

    ¡°This one does not think he wishes to be a Dwemer Centurion,¡± Zur says, being Zur now. ¡°We do not have time to experiment, though. Likely we will only get one shot at this.¡±

    There¡¯s a Light of Meridia inside the lab. The melded mages think it¡¯s just a power crystal but I recognize it as the same thing as the others I¡¯ve found.

    The overseer in charge of the facility is a Xivilai, and definitely a Xivilai and not a Dremora. I don¡¯t feel the need to point out the mistake to Gadris/Zur at the moment since it¡¯s an easy mistake to make for someone who hasn¡¯t spent a lot of time around either. They can read up on the inhabitants of Oblivion once we know whether either of them will survive this. The Xivilai in question is in lab room we need to get into, and disinclined to let us stroll by and use the equipment.

    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re here,¡± I say, and continue at the look of confusion on his face. ¡°I really need to have a word with you, and by a word I mean an axe. What you did to these two mages was weird and stupid and you need to knock this shit off because it¡¯s annoying.¡±

    ¡°You put a cat in that poor mer¡¯s head,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°And a mer in that poor cat¡¯s head,¡± Eran adds.

    ¡°Surely you could have found less convoluted ways to torture people to death?¡± Gelur says.

    We kill the Xivilai without fanfare. He doesn¡¯t even have much chance to taunt us with stupid cliche lines.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get this body over to the machinery before it starts to dissolve,¡± I say.

    Merry floats it over with a telekinesis spell. ¡°How long does that take?¡±

    ¡°Not generally very long,¡± I say.

    We set up the equipment to try to remove Gadris from the body he and Zur are unwittingly sharing, and put him into the Xivilai¡¯s body. Between us all, we put together our best guesses on the correct configuration and power up the equipment with the Light of Meridia.

    ¡°What would have happened had they tried to merge you with a living Daedra?¡± I wonder. ¡°Or melded two Daedra together? Is this where Xivkyn came from?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not think about this right now,¡± Gadris says, getting into their own position. ¡°Is everything set up? Let¡¯s get this over with. Either I will be in that Daedra¡¯s body or I will be in Aetherius shortly, regardless.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say. ¡°I apologize in advance if something else stupid happens because of this stupid equipment.¡± I put a hand on one of the levers. ¡°Eran, get over at that other lever and pull it on three.¡±

    Eran nods and gets in position. I count down, and we throw the levers simultaneously. The machinery pulses to life and gives a good light show before it¡¯s done.

    ¡°Is everyone alright?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Zur is well,¡± the Khajiit says. ¡°Is Gadris¡­?¡±

    The dead Xivilai¡¯s features have warped into the shape of a Dunmer. He groans softly and straightens. ¡°I¡­ yes. I feel very odd, but I seem to have survived, at least.¡±

    Gelur goes over to run some diagnostic spells over him. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about the soul, but his body seems to be alright. Improving by the minute, even.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not undead, am I?¡± Gadris asks. ¡°No, I seem to have a heartbeat. Do I have a Daedra heart? This is so strange. Where is my notebook? I need to start making notes recording my observations.¡±

    I pass it over to him. ¡°Good luck. You can at least be glad that you¡¯re no longer a were-Khajiit.¡±

    ¡°What should we go with the machinery?¡± Eran wonders, looking around. ¡°If we just leave this here, will the Daedra come back and start doing horrible things again?¡±

    I retrieve the Light of Meridia and shove it into my pack. ¡°They¡¯ll need to find a new power source, if they do.¡±

    ¡°It would be useful to have the equipment intact if we ever need to do something so absurd again,¡± Merry comments. ¡°Normally, I would say that it¡¯s highly unlikely that we should need it, but recent experiences suggest that it is almost guaranteed.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t really secure the facility though, can we?¡± Eran says. ¡°It¡¯s not far from the Hollow City but it wouldn¡¯t make much sense to post guards here, and the equipment is hardly portable.¡±

    I look over the machinery consideringly. ¡°Gadris, any chance you could just shove the whole thing through a portal? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s much bigger than Zur¡¯s tent, unless there¡¯s parts of it hidden in the walls.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no guaranteed that it would still work if it¡¯s moved,¡± Gadris says. ¡°But now that we¡¯re no longer dying from a soul-meld, we can regroup with any surviving mages and see what we can do. More of us did survive, didn¡¯t they? Our group did not fare well, but I don¡¯t know what happened to the others. If Vanus Galerion is around, he could probably do this by himself.¡±

    ¡°Some of them made it, at least,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen any sign of Vanus Galerion, though.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he stopped in to get a drink at that tavern,¡± Eran jokes.

    ¡°Wherever he is, Zur is certain the Daedra will not be happy about it,¡± Zur says.

 Chapter 149: In Which I Avoid Drinking

    On the way to the Nord tavern Gelur spotted before, we run across what appears to be an ancient Nord tomb. When we head inside, we find that it even has Draugr inside! Did some dumb Nords die and have Molag Bal wind up with their souls?

    ¡°Aren¡¯t Draugr already dead?¡± Eran says once we¡¯ve knocked down the first group of undead Nords. ¡°If we kill these Draugr and incinerate their bodies, will they respawn as Draugr?¡±

    ¡°Are their souls even here, or just their bodies?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°If their souls are here, they¡¯re fucked no matter what we do to them,¡± I say.

    There¡¯s a book conveniently located near the entrance titled The Legend of Haman Forgefire. (Summary: Nord blacksmith jealousy.) While I¡¯m busy reading it, the Draugr stand up again and attack me, so Merry incinerates them.

    ¡°I hope you manage to get to Sovngarde or wherever,¡± Gelur says over the ashes. ¡°Assuming you were here in the first place.¡±

    The place turns out to be full of lava, which is really unusual for Coldharbour. There¡¯s a Skyshard next to one of the lava pools, leaving me wondering how long that¡¯s been down here and why none of the Draugr ever absorbed it.

    Skyshards are one of those things I haven¡¯t really taken much time to think or ask questions about. Considering how many of them I¡¯ve absorbed, I really should have. I¡¯ve just been using them to gain powers, in hopes of being strong enough to do what I need to do. Maybe once I have my soul back and this whole Planemeld thing is settled, I should take some time to do some research, or at least get some trustworthy mages to do some research.

    In the last room in which the floor is also lava, we wind up with no option but to carefully jump down in order to reach the nasty-looking Draugr over by the stone platform in the middle of the room with a fancy sarcophagus flanked by statues and braziers. The sort of setup that positively screams ¡°Look at me, I¡¯m important!¡± (I should really get some sort of throne room set up to make impressions on people but my usual first impression on people is my axe in the heads of whatever was bothering them, which probably works better than fancy throne rooms.)

    Once Haman Forgefire has been reduced to ashes, we fortunately find another way out of the room that doesn¡¯t require climbing equipment or teleportation.

    ¡°Why did we come in here?¡± Farry wonders.

    ¡°There might have been expedition members trapped inside?¡± I say. ¡°Knowing what I¡¯ve seen some of them do, I¡¯d imagine they¡¯d think poking their heads into a random Nord ruin that¡¯s in Coldharbour for some reason would be an excellent idea.¡±

    ¡°I wish you were wrong,¡± Merry grouses.

    ¡°Well, we went into it thinking it was a good idea to go in¡­¡± Farry says.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°And I also know that I¡¯m more than capable of handling anything that could have reasonably been in here by myself, never mind with the four of you at my side.¡±

    ¡°I worry that your overconfidence will run your luck out eventually,¡± Farry says.

    I shrug. ¡°Would you prefer to return to the Hollow City? Or Valenwood?¡±

    Farry shakes her head. ¡°No, no. I promised I¡¯d stick with you until the Planemeld has been stopped. But after that? I¡¯m definitely looking forward to walking beneath the graht-oaks and feeling warm sunlight on my skin.¡±

    Not far from the barrow, a hanging lamp and a low wall mark the edge of a cluster of Nord-style buildings making up what might have once been a village, but the place is in ruins and full of hostiles. Scamps and mad Soul-Shriven, for the most part. In the middle of it, a large building stands mostly intact, likely the inn Gelur mentioned. A broad deck surrounds the building covered in broken bottles and overturned furniture. Once, I imagine some inebriated Nords must have enjoyed the view of whatever part of Skyrim they were from.

    On the path leading up to the tavern lies the body of a dead Nord, clutching a letter that quite clearly indicates the Nords here have some enchanted mind-controlling mead. Fantastic.

    ¡°Does it really count as you guessing correctly when this has been nearly everyplace we¡¯ve visited lately?¡± Eran says. ¡°Somebody makes a bad deal, winds up in hell.¡±

    Merry sighs. ¡°Neri, you do not need to steal a Nord tavern from Molag Bal as well.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if anyone we know is trapped inside, first off,¡± I say. ¡°And then we¡¯ll attempt to un-damn these people if we can.¡±

    ¡°Whatever stupid shit they did in life isn¡¯t worth this,¡± Gelur says.

    Once inside, a suspicious ¡°thane¡± with an all-concealing helmet and a Daedra-like voice tries to peddle mead at us. These Nords must be really far gone not to have noticed that their ¡°thane¡± is obviously not a Nord. It¡¯s like a perpetual party in here, and many of them don¡¯t even seem to realize where they are.

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    ¡°Of course!¡± I say enthusiastically. ¡°Get us a bottle of your best mead!¡±

    Once I¡¯ve got a bottle, I pretend to open it and pour it into some mugs, and pass out the empty mugs to my friends before tossing the still-full bottle into my bag. The Nords are too far gone to notice we¡¯re walking around with empty mugs putting on a swagger. Aside from one man, who tries to warn me in a low voice not to drink the mead.

    One woman upstairs (Nelhilda) is the betrothed of the guy whose corpse we found outside. Seems for all the parties going on here, they never found time to be sober enough to actually finish tying the knot. They¡¯d been working on a way to break the enchantment, but it would require going outside and collecting some alchemy reagents and they¡¯re afraid to die here because the Daedra have their souls and they¡¯d just be stuck here instead of moving on to Sovngarde.

    ¡°It¡¯s disturbing seeing so many people damned for the actions of others,¡± Eran says as we exit the tavern. ¡°Most of the people we¡¯ve seen here weren¡¯t the ones who made bad deals, just bystanders who got caught up in them.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say.

    ¡°Right, sorry, sometimes I forget.¡±

    The tavern owner admits to having made a deal for better mead, but didn¡¯t even realize what he was dealing with.

    ¡°So you thought you were making a deal with Sanguine and it turns out you were making a deal with Molag Bal instead?¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s an important lesson here.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make deals with Daedra?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°No, I was thinking more along the lines of being sure which Daedra you¡¯re making deals with,¡± I say.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t actually making a deal with Sanguine have just had the same result?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Probably, but I¡¯d imagine the Myriad Realms of Revelry are a more pleasant place to be damned in.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to make a deal with Daedra at all,¡± the innkeeper protests. ¡°I just thought he was a wizard. What does the common Nord know about wizards and Daedra?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll distribute pamphlets,¡± I say, then pause. ¡°Provided they can read. But really, even my Orcs can read, there¡¯s not much excuse.¡±

    The most frustrating thing about dealing with Ashlanders isn¡¯t that they¡¯re not big on writing, but that they seem to have taken illiteracy as a defining trait and actively refuse to learn either the Tamrielic or Daedric alphabets. (I¡¯ll reserve judgment just in case they¡¯ve decided at some point in the last few thousand years that books are awesome, but I¡¯m not likely to find out anytime soon. Spending half an hour in Mournhold to drink a mead with a king was already more than I wanted to do.)

    Following Nelhilda¡¯s directions, we come upon an ancient shrine to Kyne (what the Nords call Kynareth/Khenarthi/etc) that got swept up into Coldharbour along with their village. After inconveniencing a moderately large Spider Daedra with the pretentious title of ¡°The Spinner of Lies¡± (so she announces in the middle of taunting us), we start collecting red flowers called Kyne¡¯s Tears. I make sure to collect plenty of extra to experiment with my own alchemy and try to transplant them, because it¡¯s not like these things ought to be in Coldharbour in the first place. Many of them are growing near the icy plasm pools and would probably be much happier to be in Valenwood instead.

    We return the flowers to Nelhilda, who makes a potion we need to pour into the three casks to break the enchantment on them. I pass out doses to my friends and we slip them inside while pretending to refill our still-empty mugs. We¡¯re not nearly as subtle as we thought we were, though.

    ¡°Are you enjoying the party?¡± the Daedra thane says, standing much too close behind me.

    ¡°Having a blast!¡± I say.

    ¡°So much that your mug is still empty,¡± the Dremora? Xivilai? says.

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± I say. ¡°You know what would make this all better? Skooma.¡± I pull out a vial from my bag with a wild grin. ¡°Who wants some skooma? I¡¯ve got plenty to go around!¡±

    The Nords aren¡¯t terribly interested in consuming skooma, but the magic potion seems to have neutralized the enchantment even if they didn¡¯t specifically drink it. Weird. The enchantment was tied to the kegs, apparently. They¡¯re slowly becoming coherent enough to refuse skooma. The thane throws a bit of a tantrum and storms off in a huff while gloating something about having their souls.

    The innkeeper says something about needing to retrieve some items belonging to some of his friends for some reason, which can be done all the more easily after I¡¯ve taken care of their small soul problem. By which I mean a small problem involving souls, not a problem with small souls, even though that would indeed be a problem. Not having a soul isn¡¯t really a small problem, but since the souls are being kept somewhere nearby in an easily accessible location, it will be one easily rectified with concentrated application of violence.

    I find the ¡°thane¡± in the basement of a nearby house, and beat the shit out of him. The crystal he was keeping everyone¡¯s souls in is on a nearby table. I smash it, and little wisps of light float out and vanish.

    ¡°Are you sure breaking that was the right thing to do?¡± Farry wonders with a frown. ¡°Will they be alright?¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± I say. ¡°Souls aren¡¯t so easily destroyed. Just breaking a magic rock won¡¯t do it. Let¡¯s go back and check on them.¡±

    Back at the Everfull Flagon, the Nords here are starting to return to their senses. Hungover with little to no idea what even happened during the intervening period. However long they¡¯ve been trapped here. (I ask, but nobody can even remember what the date is supposed to be or even who they think the current king of Skyrim is to try to narrow it down. They¡¯ll figure it out soon enough, I suppose.)

    Which leaves confessions. The innkeeper has to tell his daughter that this is all his fault, even though he had no idea what he was getting himself into, never mind anyone else. Nelhilda, understandably, is rather upset about the entire thing and runs off. I head over to give her a pep talk.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Nelhilda says. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m fine, better than ever now that I have my soul back, but I¡¯m so angry. I can¡¯t believe my father would do something like this!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it was ignorance and not malice,¡± I say. ¡°No offense, but you guys were bumpkins who knew nothing about Daedra.¡±

    ¡°I wish we could have continued knowing nothing about Daedra,¡± Nelhilda says, deflating. ¡°I miss my betrothed but my mind is clear for the first time in I don¡¯t know how long. I don¡¯t know if I can even bear to look at my father after this.¡±

    ¡°You should forgive him,¡± I say.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s all I have left and I shouldn¡¯t hold grudges?¡± Nelhilda says.

    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. ¡°Because love and forgiveness really annoys Molag Bal.¡±

 Chapter 150: In Which I Recruit a Failure

    Our continued exploration of the area around the Hollow City leads us to stumbling upon another cave. This one has piles of skulls and skulls on sticks at the entrance, which on Nirn would probably indicate the presence of goblins or bandits or whatever. Here, skulls might as well just be rocks for how interesting their presence is.

    There are so many bones in this cave that they might as well be rocks.

    Not far inside, I spot a the journal of one of the expedition members. Judging by the mentions of Tu¡¯whacca and Rupgta, I assume that the person who wrote it must be a Redguard. Also I really hate the names ¡°Tu¡¯whacca¡± and ¡°Rupgta¡±. I am now at the point where I wish I could continue to complain that I can¡¯t spell a name.

    As we¡¯re fighting our way past Dremora and Banekin, Eran pauses to look at some writing on a wall. ¡°Neri, can you read this?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°The top row says ¡®slavery slave¡¯. The bottom row says ¡®oblivion obli¡¯.¡±

    Eran blinks. ¡°The Daedra just have words like ¡®slavery¡¯ and ¡®Oblivion¡¯ scrawled on everything for decoration?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, pretty much,¡± I say.

    While exploring the cave, I find a pendant with a couple of names on it that I don¡¯t recognize offhand, but Gelur mentions are the names of the two Khajiit she helped near here. I toss it into my bag to return to them once we get back to the Hollow City.

    ¡°How about this one?¡± Eran asks, pointing to the inscription on the bottom of a fancy brazier.

    ¡°Deathweaver,¡± I say.

    ¡°That is an odd inscription for a light¡­¡± Eran says, stepping away from the brazier.

    We come upon a decoration on the floor of Molag Bal¡¯s face with writing in a circle around it.

    ¡°And this?¡± Eran says. ¡°This doesn¡¯t just look like one word repeated over and over.¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s ¡®Molag Bal¡¯ and ¡®Coldharbour¡¯ repeated over and over.¡±

    Eran groans. ¡°I guess that makes sense for a seal but I was hoping it at least had an interesting slogan on it or something.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if I spot anything interesting,¡± I say.

    ¡°Could you just translate any you see?¡± Eran asks. ¡°Even the silly ones are funny. I mean, who the fuck carves ¡®slavery¡¯ into the walls of their home over and over? Something is wrong with these Daedra.¡±

    ¡°You could just learn to read,¡± I retort cheekily.

    Once we¡¯ve explored the cave thoroughly enough to determine that any expedition members who wound up here either escaped or perished, we head outside and continue on.

    At the edge of a cliff stands a Daedric aperture with a shimmering field inside of it. I recognize the shape as a form of short-range portal used in Coldharbour generally to cross gaps between the floating bits of spiky blue-black rocks that make up much of its terrain. I assume that it¡¯s aimed to get people across this particular gap, and stroll through. My friends follow after me shortly, with Farry dubiously trailing after them.

    As I¡¯d expected, the portal takes us to the top of one of the islands floating high above the others. Several people stand at the top, arguing, but one of them is familiar.

    ¡°High Kinlady Estre?¡± Eran groans.

    ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you,¡± High Kinlady Estre says. Her fancy dress appears to have come with her. I suppose spawning naked is something reserved for people Molag Bal really hates. ¡°You¡¯re truly stooped low if you are keeping company with Orcs now.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just Orc armor,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m the one who killed you. Twice.¡±

    ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you,¡± Estre says, her face falling even further. ¡°Haven¡¯t you lot sullied the traditions of the Altmer enough already?¡±

    ¡°I was unaware that there was a deep tradition of Daedra worship among the Altmer,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯m pretty ignorant of a lot of customs at times, though.¡±

    Estre makes a sound of strained fury. A sort of ¡°Nnnghh!¡± sound. Something like that. ¡°You¡¯d have us embrace all manner of mongrels from across Tamriel.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I already violently proved the superiority of my point of view,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°Would you like me to prove it again?¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    In addition to Estre, there¡¯s a couple of sketchy-looking human men and a Dremora. I shortly learn that their names are Thallik the Undying and Angof Wormfather. Or was that the other way around? I think that was the other way around. Whatever. One human necromancer or another, what difference does it make? From their complaining, I take it that they terrorized some part of the Daggerfall Covenant and the Ebonheart Pact and were killed by Tom Gautier and Theryn Teldras, respectively. I¡¯m glad for that, at least. I had my hands full kicking the Worm Cult out of Dominion territory, never mind the entire continent.

    There are also three mages (so I assume because they are wearing Mages Guild robes or trousers and not because they¡¯re casting spells). They¡¯ve been bound in purple chains and are hovering in the air looking rather miserable about their situation. Thankfully, I don¡¯t recognize any of them offhand. This would be a much more emotionally fraught dilemma (or whatever is going on here) if the lives and souls of anyone I liked personally were on the line. Still, I¡¯m not sure whether to be relieved or not that Ilara isn¡¯t here.

    The Dremora calls himself the Observer, both a pretentious and literal title as he just stands here watching people fight for his amusement. Estre and the two humans were followers of Molag Bal who had failed him. Sucks to be them. They¡¯ve been sent here to be given a chance of redemption by taking part in war games, but nobody¡¯s under any illusions that this is any more than a bloody game to amuse Daedra.

    The Observer teleports the mages to the battlefield intending on making them kill one another and implies that we¡¯re only going to be able to rescue one. Annoying.

    This leads to getting dumped into quite a lot of nonsense involving weird seeds and rhyming shadows and it¡¯s really quite silly. What¡¯s even the point of all this shit? We just wind up having to run around healing and giving pep talks to mages who had taken the stupid ¡°fighting each other to the death¡± thing seriously. Our pre-mission briefing was really inadequate.

    By the Observer¡¯s stupid rules, we need to join the game on one of the three existing sides and not just form our own fourth side and slaughter literally everyone. He seems aghast at the idea of anyone breaking his precious rules and acts like they¡¯re sacrosanct laws of nature. I greatly doubt that.

    Uh-huh. Choose between scruffy human necromancer #1, scruffy human necromancer #2, or High Kinlady Estre. I look between each of them considerably, sigh, and approach Estre.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, Estre,¡± I say. ¡°On one condition.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°You will swear fealty to me,¡± I say.

    ¡°What?¡± Estre says. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°Otherwise, I¡¯ll go chat up Thalgof Dyingworm or whatever their names were,¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°You would side with those filthy necromancers over me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not siding with anyone,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m giving you the opportunity to side with me. Do you want to be on the winning side or not?¡±

    ¡°A more generous opportunity than I would have offered,¡± Merry says dryly.

    ¡°And what?¡± Estre says. ¡°Would you ask me to support your pretty little princess, too?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about her,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m here. She¡¯s not. You¡¯re only dealing with me right now. Anything going on in Tamriel is irrelevant here.¡±

    Estre sighs. ¡°I would prefer to be on the winning side. Opposing you has not worked out well for me thus far. Anyone you support is likely to have a massive advantage in this game. This is my best chance to get out of this game. Very well. I accept your condition.¡±

    When push comes to shove, Estre cares less about the supposed ¡°traditions¡± of the Altmer and more about her own neck. I can¡¯t honestly fault her for that. The traditions of the Ashlanders and the Great Houses were no end of frustrating at times. It¡¯s always a tight balancing act having to walk the edge where one tradition bumps up against another. It¡¯s no wonder everything fell apart.

    The pointless war game gets wrapped up by me beating the shit out of the two human necromancers and retrieving the mages, and then beating the shit out of the Observer too. I definitely kill him, but by the time we get up top again, he¡¯s already respawned. Damn that¡¯s faster than usual. Usually it takes at least some time to do it. Fortunately, he still considers me to have won. And he has Estre and the three mages in cages like prizes to be won.

    ¡°Choose your prize!¡± the Observer says. ¡°You may take High Kinlady Estre, or these three mages.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the thing, considering her equal to those mages,¡± I say. ¡°Admittedly, she¡¯s the only one of them whose name I can remember off the top of my head.¡±

    ¡°My name is Juline!¡± calls one of the mages.

    ¡°And what exactly would stop me from going in there again and beating up everyone until I get whatever I want?¡± I say. ¡°The mages are my people. And Estre swore herself to me, so she¡¯s my people now too. I played fair, this time. I won¡¯t play fair again.¡±

    ¡°Ugh!¡± the Observer says. ¡°Fine. Take them. Take them and leave this place and never come back.¡±

    Both the cages open up, and I usher everyone back to the portal. Once outside, I teleport everyone to the wayshrine in the Hollow City. The four mages are suitably impressed that something like this can exist here, but Estre just wants a drink and a warm bath. I empathize with that.

    I take a moment to return some lost things to people in the Hollow City. A pendant to a couple of Khajiit, and a lute that I forgot to return to the minstrel in the inn. Once everyone is settled in, I take Estre aside to have a much-needed chat with her.

    ¡°The accommodations here are adequate,¡± Estre says. ¡°Everything is quite disorganized, though. Who is in charge here?¡±

    ¡°The Mages and Fighters Guild contingents each have their own leaders,¡± I say. ¡°Vanus Galerion is still missing, though. There¡¯s also an Ayleid king who is more intent upon revenge and all that than anything else. And then there¡¯s the Groundskeeper who is weird and mysterious and I don¡¯t honestly trust her at all. Aside from that, me, but I don¡¯t have time to personally organize the tradespeople and merchants. Want the job?¡±

    ¡°The Hollow City needs a Canonreeve,¡± Estre says. ¡°Very well. It might not be what I hoped for in life, but it is a definite improvement over my situation before you arrived at the Cliffs of Failure.¡±

    ¡°And since you¡¯re so good at lying to people, kindly make sure that people think we have the faintest chance of success and that the entire venture isn¡¯t hopeless and we won¡¯t all be tortured for eternity. Thanks.¡±

 Chapter 151: In Which I Find Three Villages

    Theryn Teldras has arrived at the Hollow City speaking of some strange village or trio of villages that were in the middle of being pulled into Oblivion. She mentions that Ilara-daro is there and had remained behind to try to save them or something. I don¡¯t know whether I¡¯m proud of my protege that she¡¯s trying to be a hero or be worried about her, so I settle for rushing out there to find her as quickly as possible.

    Theryn leads us out to a spot some ways east of the Hollow City and across some icy pools of plasm. A fancy archway holds a very strange portal that looks like a tunnel made of swirling clouds into a pinpoint of light.

    ¡°Is¡­ that a portal?¡± Eran asks uneasily.

    Theryn nods. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s perfectly safe but I honestly have no idea how safe it is or not. I just know it didn¡¯t immediately kill me when I went in there and came out again.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s do this, then,¡± I say.

    I step through the portal, followed shortly by my friends and Theryn, and emerge into someplace that definitely is not any typical part of Coldharbour. The sky is all wrong, for one thing. Above the pale haze of the horizon, the sky overhead is vivid purple speckled with bright blue stars. And the waters of Oblivion, the seas of chaotic creatia, don¡¯t look quite like the azure plasm of Coldharbour either.

    ¡°Where in Oblivion are we?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Theryn says.

    According to Theryn, there are three villages here, one of Khajiit, one of Orcs, and one of Dunmer. That doesn¡¯t explain why so many buildings are floating in the air. I think my favorite thing about Nirn is consistent gravity.

    Not far from the portal, I spot a familiar tan Khajiit with a red hair ridge. Ilara is here, and she¡¯s fishing.

    ¡°Catch anything?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No fish, at any rate,¡± Ilara replies, turning around. ¡°Neri! And everyone else! Good to see you all made it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been worried about you,¡± I say.

    ¡°This one has probably missed many adventures,¡± Ilara says. ¡°After scouting Coldharbour a bit, she felt that the sensible thing to do would be to stay put somewhere relatively safe and wait rather than wander off and get captured or something.¡±

    ¡°Sensible,¡± Farry says. ¡°I¡¯m Faraniel, by the way. I¡¯ve been filling in¡­ your position, I think. But your friends are insane and you¡¯re more than welcome to it back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d argue, but¡­¡± Eran says.

    ¡°How have you been doing, Ilara-daro?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well enough,¡± Ilara says. ¡°She came here and rescued a few people but could not truly solve the problems here. This one¡­ realized this was beyond her. Even with Theryn¡¯s help. There are too many enemies and they are too strong, and we are both built for sneakiness and not for a straight-up fight.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no shame in knowing your limits,¡± I say. ¡°Malacath knows I haven¡¯t poked my head into every potentially dangerous place we¡¯ve run across.¡±

    ¡°I hope they didn¡¯t have anymore trouble at the Banished Cells,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re fine,¡± I say, hefting my axe. ¡°Shall we go hit whatever is here?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Ilara says with a toothy grin.

    Also taking advantage of the relatively safe area near the portal, there¡¯s a Khajiit worshipper of Meridia wanting to seal the tears in the veil the villages are being pulled through.

    ¡°Is there any chance we could push them back through somehow?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°This one does not know how.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± I say. ¡°Last time something got yanked back to Nirn in my vicinity, I was unconscious. And also wasted on a questionable Hist sap-based mixture. Although I do know of someone who yanked an island out of the Shivering Isles, but that was a bit of a weird case and he has probably stopped glowing purple and returned to Aetherius by now.¡±

    My seven-person group (my usual five plus Farry and Theryn) fights its way through the so-called ¡°Village of the Lost¡±, which is an excessively pretentious and not to mention inaccurate description of this place, which is closer to ¡°Three Villages We Found¡±.

    A Skyshard was pulled into Oblivion along with one of the villages, leaving me to wonder how many more of these things have gotten swallowed up.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    As the priest closes tears (which are a lot smaller than I¡¯d imagine something sucking entire villages out to be), we discover that each of the villages was betrayed by one of its own in increasingly foolish deals. Why is it always foolish deals? I suppose non-foolish deals don¡¯t wind up in the ass end of Coldharbour.

    The Khajiit priest is disappointed at one of his fellow Khajiit making a stupid deal even more than the stupid Orcs and stupid Dunmer. ¡°Not that this one has anything against Orcs,¡± he says quickly, looking at me. ¡°Just stupid ones.¡±

    With the tears sealed and a bunch of Daedra beaten up, we meet up with the survivors Ilara rescued on top of a cliff. One of them has a brilliant idea to get them back to Nirn.

    ¡°I want you to die,¡± she says. ¡°The cliff behind me should be the most expedient way.¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡± I say brightly.

    Eran groans. ¡°He doesn¡¯t generally need any encouragement to hurl himself off of cliffs.¡±

    ¡°Might I inquire as to why this is necessary?¡± Merry asks. ¡°We are capable of simply teleporting you back to Nirn. Will your sacrifice ritual affect your villages as well?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to feel like grabbing the land is more important to Molag Bal than the souls,¡± Eran says. ¡°Much of the Coldharbour we¡¯ve explored was just stuff that was once on Nirn.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the souls don¡¯t hurt, either,¡± Gelur says. ¡°But you¡¯re right. The Planemeld isn¡¯t about killing people and taking their souls. He¡¯s just ripping land out of Nirn and stealing entire villages.¡±

    While my friends are busy chatting about Molag Bal¡¯s real estate jealousy, I¡¯m already heading for the cliff and taking a nose-dive into the blue lava below. I respawn back at the entrance to the village(s). Convenient. I might have thought of where I was going to respawn before jumping off a cliff, but hey. I guess Oblivion sucked in yet another wayshrine.

    My friends are less than amused that they have to cross the entire half-floating half-sunken mess of terrain themselves but seem to have expected no less of me.

    ¡°That was mildly annoying and completely predictable,¡± Merry says dryly.

    ¡°Did they make it out?¡± I ask.

    Eran points silently toward a projection of a Dunmer woman that has appeared nearby. She profusely thanks me before vanishing.

    ¡°Ah, this is just the sort of madness Ilara-daro has missed,¡± Ilara says, whiskers twitching in amusement.

    ¡°Let¡¯s head back to the mysterious nameless Meridian city that got flung into Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in on the rest of the nonsense we¡¯ve been experiencing in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°This one would wonder how much nonsense you could have possibly gotten into in the short time we have been in Oblivion, but she knows better.¡±

    ¡°Would you believe we ran into Estre again and didn¡¯t kill her this time?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Oh, right, I think I¡¯m going to need to have a chat with Naemon,¡± I say. ¡°Before he finds out about this latest bit of nonsense from someone else. We rushed out here because Theryn mentioned you were here. She made it sound considerably more urgent than you hanging around trying to fish in the seas of Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ sorry,¡± Ilara says with a chuckle. ¡°But Ilara-daro managed to fish up such interesting things! A boot, a skull, an entire crate of skooma¡­¡±

    ¡°Would it be stereotypical if I were to suggest that came from the Khajiit village?¡± Eran says. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m sure there just had to be plenty of Dunmer and Orc skooma addicts as well.¡±

    ¡°True, but honestly? It was probably the Khajiit village,¡± Ilara says.

    I give Ilara-daro the tour of the Hollow City and summarize our adventures in Coldharbour thus far.

    Ilara shakes her head in bafflement. ¡°Why do so many people think it is a good idea to make deals with Molag Bal? If one must make deals with Daedra, there are better ones to choose.¡±

    ¡°There aren¡¯t many worse ones to choose,¡± Eran points out. ¡°Although that might just be because we have more experience with seeing what shit Molag Bal does than any of the others.¡±

    Leaving my friends to unwind, I return to Nirn and attempt to locate Prince Naemon. Being able to casually hop all over the Dominion¡¯s territories is helpful for that. It almost makes me feel sorry for any spies attempting to track my movements in a mundane manner. Today, I have been seen in Skywatch, Vulkhel Guard, Firsthold, Marbruk, Elden Root, Woodhearth, Cormount, Arenthia, and Rawl¡¯kha, before finally locating him tucked away in an inn in Dune.

    I really should have checked there first, honestly, considering that¡¯s where he was when I last saw him. It just has felt longer than it has been. Coldharbour does that to you, when it¡¯s not doing the opposite.

    ¡°Neri,¡± Naemon says blandly when he opens the door to his room and sees me standing there. ¡°How has the Coldharbour campaign been going?¡± he asks, probably out of decorum rather than any specific interest.

    I come inside and take off my helmet. ¡°It¡¯s been an interesting bit of a mess. The expedition was scattered and I¡¯ve needed to go rescue everyone. I might as well have just gone myself. And I¡¯ve encountered quite a lot of people who made dumb deals with Daedra and got stuck in Oblivion.¡±

    Naemon stares at me for a long moment as he digests that. ¡°Did you encounter Estre?¡±

    I give a short nod.

    Naemon sighs and grabs a bottle. ¡°So that is where she wound up. She had dealings with so many Daedra that it was an open question who would wind up with her soul in the end. Normally Altmer would be looking forward to joining their family in Aetherius after they¡¯d passed on. But I am not spending my afterlife in Oblivion just because my wife made poor life choices.¡±

    ¡°Well, now you don¡¯t need to die to see her again,¡± I say. ¡°If you¡¯re so inclined.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill her again?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°I didn¡¯t see the point.¡±

    Naemon does not sip fine wine. Naemon takes an undignified guzzle of some unidentifiable Khajiit moonshine in a poorly-labeled bottle.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Naemon says. ¡°There are so many things I wished to say to her, given the opportunity. But I don¡¯t know where I¡¯d even begin or which of them I¡¯d actually want to say.¡±

    ¡°Think about it,¡± I say. ¡°We found a sort of safe haven, a city Meridia shoved into Coldharbour to use as a staging ground against him because Meridia really hates Molag Bal for some perfectly understandable reason. I made her Canonreeve because the expedition really wasn¡¯t set up for the logistics of running a city.¡±

    I even know what a Canonreeve is now!

    Naemon nods. ¡°A good use of her skills. That should give her enough busywork to keep her out of trouble. And if she decides to worship Meridia after all that, at least that¡¯s a less objectionable Daedric Prince, I suppose. Still not one whose realm I wish to spend eternity in. She cared more about being Queen than she ever cared about me.¡±

 Chapter 152: In Which the Great and Powerful Vanus Galerion Does Not Save the World By Himself

    ¡°I know it¡¯s called Coldharbour and all, but why does azure plasm freeze like this?¡± Eran wonders, looking over a ledge with a nice view of a trickling plasmfall.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say brightly.

    ¡°I¡­ never wondered,¡± Farry admits.

    ¡°I would assume it is because it has a similar freezing point to water,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Sure, take the boring answer,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°At least the Frost Atronachs are easy to sneak around,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Wait, are those ice patches just Frost Atronachs in the process of respawning?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Could be,¡± I say. ¡°Wanna poke them and find out?¡±

    ¡°No, I think I¡¯ll pass,¡± Eran says. ¡°Like you¡¯ve said, there¡¯s not much point in fighting Daedra that aren¡¯t specifically in our way. Let¡¯s keep moving. Vanus Galerion has to be out here somewhere.¡±

    ¡°You think he¡¯s still alive?¡± Farry asks.

    ¡°We might stumble upon his corpse if nothing else,¡± Ilara says. ¡°And there might still be more lost expedition members somewhere.¡±

    In the distance, the distinct shape of a pyramid looks out of place amid this part of Coldharbour, by which I mean it actually looks like it belongs in Coldharbour. It doesn¡¯t look like anything from Nirn, unlike much of the terrain in this region. Beneath it, pools of lava stand out starkly against the blueness around them, giving off waves of visible heat. As we approach, a projection appears before us with a message from ¡°the great and powerful Vanus Galerion¡±.

    Ilara snorts softly. ¡°Guess we found the fetcher.¡±

    ¡°He does seem a bit full of himself,¡± Theryn says. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize Khajiit said ¡®fetcher¡¯ too.¡±

    Ilara probably picked that up from me. Oops. ¡°It¡¯s a fine word,¡± Ilara says.

    I¡¯ve made an effort to talk like an Orc rather than a Chimer, and I seem to have succeeded for the most part since Theryn either hasn¡¯t noticed or hasn¡¯t said anything.

    According to the projection, this place is (rather unimaginatively) called the Black Forge. I suppose forging stuff in cold still doesn¡¯t work as well as heat. There¡¯s also something here (also unimaginatively) called the Great Shackle. Vanus thinks breaking this will be enough to end the Planemeld and that he can do this by himself.

    Ilara snorts. ¡°This one thinks he¡¯s trying to do this by himself because nobody can stand to be around him.¡±

    Last I checked, the Planemeld has not ended, and Vanus has had plenty of time to do this if he could manage it, but since he hasn¡¯t, I¡¯m guessing he probably got himself captured and needs to be rescued like everyone else.

    It takes a bit to find a way inside, and of course it will require crossing the lava. Fortunately, we have shielding and healing spells.

    Vanus has somehow been split into his health, stamina, and magicka, which is so unspeakably stupid that I will not speak of it further.

    When he got captured, the Daedra decided they could use him as a living magicka battery to do the Planemeld faster. Well done, muthsera ¡°great and powerful¡±, for making things worse by trying to do everything by yourself without even contacting anyone else first so they¡¯d know to come and pull your shiny golden ass out of the fire if you didn¡¯t come back in a reasonable time period.

    One of the rooms has glowing blue Daedric writing in diagonals and curves along the walls and ceiling. I helpfully read it aloud for Eran¡¯s sake. ¡°Torture,¡± I point to one row, then the next, ¡°Oblivion.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Eran says. ¡°Just ¡®torture¡¯ and ¡®Oblivion¡¯ over and over?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t even know what I was hoping for,¡± Eran says. ¡°But I feel like this is the opposite of enlightenment. It was kind of cool-looking and mysterious, and now it just seems tacky.¡±

    ¡°Yeeeeep.¡±

    We rescue Vanus from the ridiculous situation he¡¯d found himself in, and even he has to admit that maybe he shouldn¡¯t have tried this on his own. I¡¯ll admit that I probably wouldn¡¯t try half the things I try if I didn¡¯t have backup (and didn¡¯t respawn nigh-instantly if I die, that definitely helps too).

    And his great plan is if they were trying to use him as a magicka battery, this means the Great Shackle must require some form of energy, which means that there¡¯s something that can probably be blown up. Fortunately, between us, we¡¯re probably pretty good at blowing things up.

    We make our way through the facility and beat up quite a lot of Daedra. We recruit a couple of more lucid Soul-Shriven along the way. Nords both of them, by the names of Tirora and Treva.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Sage Tirora! I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you here,¡± Theryn says for the first one, and for the second, ¡°Treva! How did you wind up here? I thought I¡¯d freed your soul to go to Sovngarde!¡±

    It¡¯s the Worm Cult¡¯s fault, of course. I think most of the recent arrivals to Coldharbour have been the Worm Cult¡¯s fault, when they weren¡¯t the fault of people making stupid deals with Daedra.

    Finally, we reach our destination. The Great Shackle just looks like a Dark Anchor of extreme proportions with massive chains. The round gate above is huge, but I still don¡¯t know how it¡¯s supposed to drag in all of Nirn. Probably by tearing it apart and sucking it in piece by piece. I don¡¯t know. What a mess. I prefer Nirn to be in one piece rather than in broken chunks in the skies of Oblivion. Vanus starts working a spell to blow it up and asks us to defend him while he¡¯s doing that, because the Daedra are pissed.

    Vanus Galerion is a powerful mage with an equally powerful ego. Even while doing something important that requires concentration, he still has to remind us how awesome he is every two minutes.

    ¡°For Y¡¯ffre¡¯s sake, Vanus,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Would you shut your trap about how amazing you are and just cast the spell?¡±

    Vanus seems mildly offended but too busy to really retort. He finishes his spell and the Great Shackle shatters into pieces like any other Dark Anchor, just exploding considerably more impressively than usual.

    The Great Shackle has been destroyed and the Black Forge shut down, but we¡¯re not done yet. Cadwell (who showed up at some point) mentions a ¡°planar vortex¡± that he explains like a straw sucking Nirn out into Coldharbour. I groan aloud when he describes it.

    ¡°This is weird and stupid and annoying,¡± I grate out. ¡°Okay, what do we need to break to stop this nonsense?¡±

    Cadwell¡¯s following explanation does little to calm me down. We¡¯re going to need to cross the chasm north of the Hollow City and break into an even more annoying place to get to the portal to the planar vortex. And even when we get there, I have no idea where to even begin to stop this thing. Fortunately, we have the great and powerful Vanus Galerion to figure this out. We decide to wait until we¡¯re back at the Hollow City to discuss it, however, and Vanus opens a portal out before even more pissy Daedra show up.

    We stop first at the Mages Guild in the Hollow City to regroup with the surviving mages who made it back. Now that there is an actual Mages Guild in the Hollow City. They¡¯ve picked out a large building at the southwest side of the city and moved in.

    As we head inside, a High Elf woman refers to Vanus as ¡°Vanny¡±, and he¡¯s not even annoyed about it. (I¡¯d imagine he¡¯d be more annoyed if I were to call him that.) There¡¯s an emotional reunion and I stay back by the door to give them some space. (I mean, I might be a member of the Mages Guild purely on a technicality due to their extremely lax recruitment standards, but nobody¡¯s actually going to expect me to do anything magey.)

    There¡¯s a big meeting in the temple and everyone important (or at least, everyone important who is currently in the Hollow City) is present. The temple has stained glass windows depicting the Eight Divines, but the red banners hanging on the pillars are marked with Meridia¡¯s many-rayed sigil. Sees-All-Colors is organizing the battle push, while the mages are going to be figuring out a way to magic everything right again. And Cadwell is here to help ¡°preserve the natural beauty of Coldharbour¡± which is getting sullied by disgusting bits of Nirn.

    King Dynar keeps trying to give inspiring speeches that probably don¡¯t really go as well as he¡¯d hoped. He¡¯s still a bit out of touch with modern language and society, much like I was to start off with, and¡­ probably isn¡¯t as adaptable as me, but we¡¯ll see. If he survived past the fall of the general Ayleid empire, he¡¯s probably more adaptable than most. At least he isn¡¯t being blatantly racist, so points for that.

    The Groundskeeper keeps being weird and mysterious. Estre has stepped up for logistics and defense of the city. The Daedra haven¡¯t really bothered the Hollow City thus far, but it¡¯s not good to get complacent about that sort of thing and assume the city really is completely untouchable, regardless of what the Groundskeeper insists.

    She¡¯s hiding something. There¡¯s definitely something here she¡¯s not telling us. It itches. But there¡¯s nothing I can do about it right now. We needed this beachhead, and were going to have to make one if one didn¡¯t already exist anyway, and this place is still considerably more pleasant both for myself and the rest of the expedition than some Daedra-infested ruin we took over.

    If nothing else, I can at least trust that Meridia wants to give Molag Bal a black eye as much as anyone else here.

    While people get things set up for the next push, I return to Dra¡¯bul via wayshrine to get some rest and check in on my clan, not that I really need an excuse since I check in on them constantly. And this time¡­

    Roku is pregnant. It¡¯s been confirmed. And I feel¡­ I don¡¯t know what I feel. A joy that hurts. I can stand near my longhouse and watch Dark Anchors fall on the beach. The destruction of the Great Shackle and disrupting the Black Forge hasn¡¯t stopped that. Maybe they won¡¯t be making anymore of these damned things for a while, but they still had a ton stockpiled.

    ¡°Will there ever be an end to these?¡± Roku says wistfully.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make certain of it, one way or another,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll just keep hitting things until the world makes sense again.¡±

    Roku gives a faint grin. ¡°That implies that the world ever made sense to begin with.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be making the final push tomorrow,¡± I say. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know what will happen after that. I trust the great Vanus Galerion will figure something out, because he¡¯s the most great and powerful mer ever or something.¡±

    ¡°Does it ever get tough to say things like that with a straight face?¡± Roku says, stifling a giggle.

    I shrug. ¡°Flattery is easy. At least he seems competent.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll keep holding the fort here,¡± Roku says. ¡°So far, nothing has come down the Dark Anchor that we can¡¯t handle. I just wish we could get rid of that cursed thing. We¡¯ve been getting refugees, you know. From the north. And Orcs hate having to be refugees, so they¡¯ve been looking for work. Fortunately, you¡¯ve given us an eclectic mix of projects to put them to.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Did you go through with the road sign project?¡± I ask. ¡°I thought Orcs might complain about having to do something like that.¡±

    Roku chuckles. ¡°Not everyone is cut out to be a warrior. And some of the people who have come in from the Daggerfall Covenant and Cyrodiil were city Orcs who thought their chances better with us than the High Elves.¡±

    ¡°Fair.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re building the road markers in stone,¡± Roku goes on. ¡°More durable and the Wood Elves will like them too.¡±

    I wonder if I might ever come across road signs pointing to villages that were taken to Coldharbour. Not that there¡¯s a lot of road signs. But with how much stuff Coldharbour has ¡°eaten¡±, you¡¯d expect there to be at least one.

 Chapter 153: In Which Im Not Invited for Tea

    Before I return to Coldharbour, I have a brief meeting with the Argonians of Haj Uxith. A number of their warriors are coming back to Coldharbour, on the promise of revenge. I¡¯m definitely not going to complain about having more warriors on my side, and they at least seem less likely to be in need of rescue than the contingent I went into Coldharbour with originally.

    ¡°Malacath demands that we seek revenge against those who wronged us,¡± says their head warrior, whose name I still can¡¯t spell. ¡°His burden is still lighter than the one Molag Bal placed upon us.¡±

    I nod. ¡°I¡¯ll be glad to have you at my back. How are your people settling in?¡±

    ¡°It is¡­ strange, to feel the sun on our scales, but it is not a bad thing. It gives people hope. Life is precious and must be preserved.¡±

    ¡°Have you had any trouble with your new neighbors?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°None. Your word seems to carry a lot of weight. The Wood Elves, Orcs, and Khajiit have all come to visit and welcome us. They¡¯ve been more than a little confused about how our village appeared here, but mostly they¡¯ve been curious and friendly. It shames me to think that this is why we were in Coldharbour, out of fear of change and those who are different.¡±

    There are more meetings in the Hollow City as well. There are always more meetings. Everyone needs to talk about things before moving. I don¡¯t begrudge them that, but I feel that many words are being spoken and few are being listened to. At least King Dynar doesn¡¯t try to give anymore speeches. One was more than enough. I think the only one who actually found that speech inspiring was Sees-All-Colors, and I doubt she understood all the archaic words.

    At least the people who actually work are actually working. Equipment is sorted out and distributed, troops arranged and support gathered. Allies from Coldharbour and Tamriel make ready to storm Molag Bal¡¯s defenses. The obstacles he put in the way of anyone that might eventually come out of the Hollow City and its vicinity. He¡¯s had thousands of years to prepare. Nobody wants to talk about our chances, aside from Vanus, whose supreme confidence I don¡¯t bother trying to discourage.

    ¡°Yes, Vanus, you¡¯re totally awesome,¡± I say. ¡°Just remember you have an army on your side. You don¡¯t need to go it alone and try to save Nirn by yourself. Besides, I¡¯d be very disappointed if I didn¡¯t get some good fights in.¡±

    With all the meetings and preparations out of the way, it¡¯s time to move on to our next big obstacle in Coldharbour. Which is kind of the opposite of an obstacle, really: The Chasm. With a capital C and everything. If anyone were so inclined, we¡¯d be able to just levitate straight across, if it weren¡¯t for the evil rocks that are maintaining a magic barrier over it.

    According to Cadwell, we will need to break those magic rocks to get through to the gatehouse, where we must beat up Molag Grunda, a Winged Twilight who is referred to as Molag Bal¡¯s daughter. I don¡¯t want to know how that works and neither does anyone else here, not even the flirty Breton knight.

    We step out of the Hollow City and into the dismal blue of Coldharbour once again, the monochrome palette broken only by the red flames of our mages who are probably only using red flames to keep themselves warm and break up the monotony. The Chasm is comprised of more ominous ledges and drops into churning clouds than usual, but it¡¯s not a complete abyss with no way across. Aside from the pipes spanning the span, there¡¯s a winding pathway swarming with Daedra, ready to harry us at every turn.

    I recognize the setup when I see it. This isn¡¯t meant as an impossible task. Molag Bal could easily keep us from doing this at all if he were so inclined. He didn¡¯t have to put a path here. Not everywhere in Coldharbour has a path leading to it. No, this is a challenge. While the scattered detritus of southern Coldharbour was merely a place to toss fools, this is clearly a test. He isn¡¯t going to make this easy on us, but he wants us to try nonetheless.

    I don¡¯t voice aloud my observations to the bulk of the army. Only to my friends and Cadwell. Even these common fighters and mages who are quickly becoming veterans of Coldharbour wouldn¡¯t understand. It might demoralize them. They wouldn¡¯t understand that this means we might actually succeed at this. Nothing happens in this realm without its lord¡¯s permission.

    ¡°Neri, are you feeling alright?¡± Eran asks me quietly.

    ¡°Pretty good, all things considered,¡± I reply. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just worried,¡± Eran says. ¡°You¡¯re always on at us about making sure to do mental health checks in a place like this. I¡¯m doing you a mental health check. You¡¯re babbling about Molag Bal giving us permission to test ourselves against his defenses.¡±

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    I chuckle softly. ¡°Yeah. Thanks. No, really, I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m serious that this is an encouraging prospect. Daedra are immortal and the Princes are gods, especially in their own domain. He knows we¡¯re here, especially after we smashed up his forge and big fuck-off Anchor, but he probably knew we were here from the start. We weren¡¯t especially subtle about it.¡±

    ¡°So why would he just let us thwart his plans?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Why do people put rats in mazes?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how Daedric Princes thinking of us as rats is at all reassuring,¡± Eran says.

    Tom Gautier and Theryn Teldras are right behind my team. While we¡¯re getting ready, Theryn goes over to speak with an Argonian woman, asking something about Stonefalls, and Tom approaches that knight, Darien Gautier. Some cousin or nephew of his, I suppose. They don¡¯t seem terribly fond of one another, but we¡¯ve all got a common goal in mind so Tom is willing to set aside that Darien turned out to be a staunch beacon of light and flirtation and Darien to set aside that Tom is a sketchy necromancer who frequently solves problems in questionable ways. I gather Tom is something of a black guar of the family.

    We head in. I take point, with Eran at my side and my friends and allies trailing behind me. As we head through fighting Daedra, I shout out information about their types and expected abilities. This has the dual effect of educating my allies in how to best kill our enemies, and pissing off our enemies.

    ¡°Ogrim!¡± I yell out. ¡°They like to charge, and will plow you over. Dodge to the side when they crouch. They¡¯re also too dumb not to charge even though I just warned you about it. They¡¯ll be dizzy if they charge and don¡¯t hit anyone, so take that opening to strike!¡±

    People pass along my advice up the line to anyone that¡¯s out of earshot, and we make for quite the effective force. Gelur and I make sure that anyone near us that gets injured stays in the fight and isn¡¯t about to bleed to death on the field. While I¡¯m sure most of them are destined to wind up in Aetherius rather than be trapped here for eternity, that¡¯s by no means a certainty in this place. Most of the people whose souls are in Coldharbour already shouldn¡¯t be here. Like me.

    This is actually a point where having a small army at my back is finally helpful in this place. There are infinite Daedra that can be thrown at us, or the same Daedra over and over if need be, and any of the guild members that survived are perfectly capable of holding off Scamps and Churls on their own. As my party breaks evil rocks and claims portals, the expedition forces move in behind us to secure the area.

    Cadwell actually seems happy to be meeting Molag Grunda again. I don¡¯t imagine that she¡¯s just going to invite us in for tea and moon sugar biscuits, though, but I won¡¯t rule it out. It wouldn¡¯t be the strangest thing I¡¯ve seen this era.

    ¡°Do you frequently have tea with Daedra?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Whenever I get the chance!¡± Cadwell replies. ¡°Sadly, that chance is not very frequent. Knowing Molag Grunda, she won¡¯t be happy to see us at all. Expect biting sarcasm and probably some literal biting.¡±

    ¡°The floor says ¡®Molag Bal rules Coldharbour¡¯, by the way,¡± I tell Eran. ¡°In case you were wondering. Although it looks like it was carved by someone who can¡¯t read since some of the letters are fucked up and backwards or upside down, but at least that¡¯s what it was trying to say.¡±

    Eran groans. ¡°The least they could do is write their tacky slogans correctly.¡±

    ¡°Ilara-daro must learn this alphabet,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Then she can vandalize the tacky slogans properly. Make it say ¡®Molag Bal likes moon sugar¡¯ instead.¡±

    Cadwell¡¯s expertise of Coldharbour comes in handy. He was always one who had more or less free reign over wherever he went, and nothing could really hold him. He appears wherever he wants to, and only didn¡¯t bother to escape because he didn¡¯t want to and actually likes it here. And they called me mad. To open the gatehouse, he tells us, we need to pull a lever or two, spin a flywheel, and so forth. While beating up all the Daedra that attempt to stop us from doing so. Honestly, we could probably have figured that out ourselves. In my experience, every lever should be pulled. That¡¯s what levers are for, after all.

    ¡°Molag Grunda!¡± I call out. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you! Cadwell has been telling us all about your grace and charm!¡±

    Molag Grunda replies with a harpy-like retort dripping with screeching grace and charm.

    ¡°Why, that¡¯s positively rude!¡± Cadwell says.

    Molag Grunda has a pet Flesh Atronach she refers to by the name of ¡°Tiny¡±. The sort with a mace as one hand and a torch as the other. The unlife of a Flesh Atronach is a sad lot, even one that¡¯s so babied and being sent to rip apart uninvited guests. After we rip apart her precious darling instead, she swoops down to attack us herself.

    The enraged Winged Twilight might be slightly larger than usual, but she¡¯s hardly the toughest fight I¡¯ve ever had. And considerably less irritating than fighting the winged menaces of Vvardenfell. Nonetheless, the battle inspires some truly epic theme music.

    One of the mages comments on the music making them feel more inspired. It seems they think making music sound around me isn¡¯t that weird, but is some form of exotic music magic. I guess that makes sense. That¡¯s the sort of thing the Dwemer did, after all, although they were a lot more stolid about it. Let me tell you, the Dwemer might have really been into their tonal architecture or whatever, but there was little that other races would consider aesthetically pleasing about their music. It¡¯s like a schematic versus a painting.

    I had no idea what I was getting when I made a deal with the Madgod on a whim while higher than Masser and Secunda. That could have gone so much worse. It seemed like a hilarious idea at the time, but I¡¯m not sure if I would have done it now.

    I think I¡¯m just stressed. When this is over, I can go back to fun and games and accidentally taking over Nirn. When this is over.

 Chapter 154: In Which a Vampire Branches Out

    ¡°Why did it have to be vampires?¡± complains more than one member of the expedition.

    We¡¯ve emerged from the chasm gatehouse into an orchard full of bloodfiends, because of course we did. At least one strain of vampirism is Molag Bal¡¯s fault, and this is probably their own hell. Poor fetchers.

    Molag Bal is controlling the vampires in the Orchard with something called a Harvest Heart, whatever that means. Conflating bloodsuckers with trees seems like a bit of a stretch even for him, but whatever. Vanus wants to perform some sort of weird blood ritual to disable the vampires. It won¡¯t actually control them, but turn their minds to jelly so they won¡¯t attack anyone.

    Theryn and Tom are here, too, and they have some opinions to interject. Theryn thinks the vampires should simply be destroyed, while Tom wants to try controlling them to fight for us rather than to merely not hinder us. Fortunately, their arguments kind of cancel one another out and I speak with Vanus while they¡¯re yelling at one another.

    ¡°You know vampires are people too, don¡¯t you?¡± I say. ¡°Most people don¡¯t become infected deliberately. It¡¯s always polite to go ask people first before charging in slaughtering them.¡±

    ¡°A strange suggestion from someone with your reputation,¡± Vanus says.

    ¡°My reputation is asking people to submit before hitting them until they submit,¡± I say. ¡°And then stopping hitting them once they do. You might be surprised how many groups suddenly become a lot more reasonable once you kill their leader and everyone who happens to be standing nearby.¡±

    ¡°Orc diplomacy,¡± Vanus says with a smirk. ¡°Vampires are monsters. Perhaps unwitting ones, but monsters nonetheless. My ritual has the best chance of getting us safely through the Orchard.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t count on turning them into mindless, drooling husks improving the chances of that,¡± I say. ¡°You said you haven¡¯t actually tested your ritual yet. I would recommend doing that under controlled conditions and not in a situation where a bunch of vampires turning berserk instead of passing out won¡¯t hurt anything important.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Vanus says. ¡°Fine. Go try some Orc diplomacy, if you must. But if this goes poorly and our world is doomed, I¡¯ll never speak to you again.¡±

    ¡°What, you wouldn¡¯t visit me in the Ashpit?¡± I ask cheekily.

    I gesture to my friends, and we head into the Orchard. I deliberately keep my axe lowered and set myself in an ¡°I want to talk¡± stance rather than an ¡°I want to fight¡± stance. A few bloodfiends rush forward to try to attack us, but they¨Csomewhat embarrassingly on their part¨Cjust kind of bounce off when I put up a Blinky Barrier in lieu of dodging. Honestly, it¡¯s a bit of showing off, but sometimes showing off is the best way to get the point across of ¡°no, you really don¡¯t stand a chance against me.¡±

    I¡¯d have to actually dodge if they keep attacking, though. That shield only lasts for a few seconds and I don¡¯t have a huge pool of magicka available.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°Hey! Any of you folks want to actually talk to me, or do I have to start knocking heads?¡±

    One of them actually shows up to talk to me without attacking me first. A woman who introduces herself as Virgar the Red. A Nord, I think, or maybe she¡¯s old enough to be a Nede. She says that she¡¯s also known as the Crimson Matron and the Concubine of Coldharbour.

    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m Neri, King of the Wood Orcs. How do you feel about Molag Bal?¡±

    ¡°He is the real enemy here!¡± Virgar says. ¡°Not my children. Do not blame them for attacking you. Molag Bal has them under his thrall.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°If I free your children, can you get them to not attack my expedition? I¡¯ll even give you the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be treated like people and not monsters.¡±

    Virgar thinks that sounds absolutely fantastic and starts going on about a ritual she needs to perform to fix them. I hold up a hand to interrupt and call over Vanus and explain the situation to him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about rituals,¡± I say. ¡°Well, I mean, I do but nothing relevant. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s trying to deceive us, but if you notice anything weird about this, please let me know and I will separate her head from her body.¡±

    Vanus isn¡¯t entirely happy about working with the elder vampire, but it seems more that he really wanted to test his spell than anything else. My request mollifies him, though. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m blindly trusting random vampires I met in Coldharbour. Just giving them the chance to talk and see whether they¡¯re assholes or not, like everyone else.

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    We protect Virgar from angry Daedra while she performs her ritual. It needs to be done in several locations around the Orchard, and the Daedra aren¡¯t going to let us just do that without challenge. Molag Bal even forces some of Virgar¡¯s ¡°children¡± to attack us. Merry immobilizes them so that we don¡¯t have to upset Virgar by turning her beloved progeny into blood pudding.

    I disable some evil totems that are swirling blue-black and make them no longer swirl blue-black. A decrease in the amount of menacing swirls in the universe is always a good thing.

    With that done, Virgar and Vanus can do their part. The ritual is completed and the Harvest Heart is destroyed. I was really hoping for a bigger explosion, but I suppose the Great Shackle is going to be hard to top in that matter.

    The vampires are calmer now and Merry releases them. They do not impede our exploration of the area, and it¡¯s damned well time to explore the area. My small army is still distrustful of them, but they¡¯re quickly becoming used to strange allies. That might stop being the case once we¡¯ve succeeded here should our strange new allies decide to try to live among them in peacetime, once we actually manage to get to a peacetime, but that¡¯s a problem I¡¯ll need to consider once we acquire anything resembling peacetime. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a place on Nirn even for them.

    Not far from the Orchard, there¡¯s a larger-than-usual Harvester along with a few (normal-sized) Dremora, who make for a fun fight. The Harvester, mostly. The Dremora just kind of die immediately.

    We come upon what looks like somebody¡¯s tomb that got pulled into Coldharbour. A book titled Protocols of the Court of Contempt lays outside the tomb. (Summary: They don¡¯t even pretend that their court is fair.) I feel like it should eventually get tiresome to be ¡°evil for the sake of evil¡± all the time.

    ¡°What do you think we¡¯ll find inside?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Daedra,¡± Gelur says with a smirk.

    ¡°We can¡¯t just guess ¡®Daedra¡¯ here,¡± Eran says. ¡°I¡¯m going to guess Dremora.¡±

    ¡°Cultists,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Gelur hmms. ¡°It¡¯s a tomb, innit? It¡¯s prolly got undead in it.¡±

    ¡°This one will put her moon sugar candy down for ¡®something weird¡¯,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°You guys are betting over what horrible things might be waiting for you inside?¡± Farry asks incredulously.

    ¡°It¡¯s not really about the stakes,¡± Eran says. ¡°A part of it is considering what sort of enemies we might need to be prepared for.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to guess the trifecta of cultists, undead, and Daedra,¡± I say. ¡°What do you think, Farry?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ have no idea.¡±

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s head inside and find out, then,¡± I say, hefting my axe.

    ¡°Why are we going in here again?¡± Farry asks. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be securing safe passage through the Reaver Citadel to stop the planar vortex from destroying Nirn?¡±

    ¡°Our allies might have gotten trapped in here and/or we might find something or someone that might help us in our current objective,¡± Merry says with a shrug. ¡°I have quickly learned to justify every detour Neri insists on making. To be fair, he never finds boring places. Very often, he stumbles upon important things completely by accident.¡±

    We head in and soon determine that the place is, in fact, full of undead. Sometimes the obvious answer is obvious for a reason, I suppose.

    Further in, we find a more recent corpse, a dead Nord woman with a journal at her side that indicates her name was Nettira and she was a member of the Fighters Guild contingent. According to that, she thought it was a great idea to go inside and explore it but was surprised to find that it was full of skeletons.

    I sigh and put my hand on my helmet. ¡°Was I not clear enough in my briefing that everything will try to kill you here?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, any random tomb on Nirn is also likely to be full of undead,¡± Eran says. ¡°Neri, you can¡¯t be responsible for everyone else¡¯s poor decisions. You gave them the relevant information. That they chose to be stupid with it is their own doing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just frustrating. I want to shake them and tell them stupidity won¡¯t get them into Sovngarde.¡± I pause. ¡°I mean, it might. Nords never struck me as the sort to be picky about that sort of thing and I¡¯m sure whoever¡¯s in charge of their afterlife knows what Nords are like.¡±

    The tomb is full of skeletons of various types, and wraiths. The guy the tomb was built for (at least I think it was a guy) was named Mal Sorra, who is now a slightly tougher than usual wraith. A book elsewhere in the tomb notes that this was actually a female Dunmer, and the way it always lists her name as Mal Sorra would seem to indicate that either her name simply had a space in it or that she was quite insistent about using both names like Sotha Sil.

    According to the book, she was banished to Oblivion by her own mother, who thought she was being too much of a crazy bitch even for her house to tolerate. Which, admittedly, doesn¡¯t explain the tomb or the rest of the undead. I¡¯m quite sure it¡¯s just that Molag Bal really likes tombs.

    The Nord woman¡¯s journal mentioned a cousin named Grundskar. I find him with the expedition near the Orchard, having been healed up and pressing on, and let him know what happened to his cousin, trying very hard not to berate him¨Ceven he thinks going into that tomb would have been a great idea. Treasure hunting. Here, now? Seriously?

    There¡¯s nothing inherently wrong with exploring and going treasure hunting in Oblivion. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s plenty of great stuff to be found somewhere. But nothing is worth the risk when you¡¯re going into a tomb you don¡¯t even consider might be dangerous.

    I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m so frustrated with this. It¡¯s not like people aren¡¯t incredibly silly on Nirn, too. Probably because these are my people and I did my best to try to warn them to avoid this sort of shit, so I feel some amount of responsibility for it. They¡¯re adults, technically speaking, and can make their own stupid decisions, but it doesn¡¯t help that humans (and Orcs¡­) tend to die by the time mer would consider them to really be adults. Children should be taught and protected.

    No sense in dwelling on it, though, especially since her cousin isn¡¯t dwelling on it and she herself is probably having a mead in Sovngarde lamenting about how she almost got rich. There are times I almost wish I could pop in at Sovngarde for a drink. It sounds like a fun place.

 Chapter 155: In Which I Avoid Eating

    ¡°Where are we heading next?¡± Eran asks, distracting me from another pointless train of self-recrimination. ¡°Gathwen says she saw a weird Redguard-ish building and what might have been an entire fleet shipwrecked from the sky.¡±

    ¡°Ah, great!¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s head off in the general direction of something we can hit!¡±

    ¡°D¡¯you wanna take bets on who is being stupid next?¡± Gelur asks. ¡°I bet someone has already been poking their noses into both places.¡±

    ¡°And needs to be rescued,¡± Merry adds.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to bet on that,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s going to be someone.¡±

    ¡°Would you have really preferred to come out here with just us?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Sometimes I wonder, though probably not,¡± I say. ¡°What are those ¡®heroes¡¯ doing, anyway? Theryn wandered off and I haven¡¯t seen Tom in a while.¡±

    ¡°This one spotted them going east and west,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Probably going to investigate those places Gathwen mentioned.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they have the situation well in hand, then,¡± I say. ¡°I have absolute confidence in their ability to handle anything they come across. Which would be why that fellow we rescued from that one tower mentioned Tom always made things worse.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t Stibbons say Tom never made things worse?¡± Eran says with a smirk. ¡°We¡¯d best hurry.¡±

    Not far from what must be the Redguard structure, a Dremora necromancer is trying to put together a bone colossus. When I go up to whack her to make sure my army¡¯s flank doesn¡¯t get surprised by giant undead, turns out she wasn¡¯t so far off from managing it after all and we wind up having to fight both her and the skeleton monster. I very nearly get a painful swift trip back to the nearest wayshrine before we destroy them.

    There¡¯s a book laying on the ground titled Oath of a Dishonored Clan, written by a certain Dremora named Lyranth. The one I ran into in the Tower of Lies where Eran had wound up. According to the book, Lyranth belonged to a Dremora clan named Foolkillers, and they were betrayed by another clan named Deathbringers. Ah, always got to love Dremora clan names. They never have anything to boast of but violence. I mean, I appreciate some good violence, but seriously, there¡¯s more to life than that.

    A small gazebo with a brazier inside stands by the walls of the ruins. I go up and light it. I¡¯m not terribly familiar with Redguard architecture, but I know a wayshrine when I see one, and confirm it as functional before we approach the entrance to the building.

    A woman near the large doors laments how Stibborns (er, Stibbons) is trapped inside and will probably die. Tom Gautier went in after him and hasn¡¯t come out yet either. While I have great confidence in Tom¡¯s abilities (not really), I¡¯d best go make sure neither of them need rescuing at this point.

    We step through the giant doors. It¡¯s¡­ weird inside. Like we¡¯ve just stepped out of Coldharbour to what I assume might be supposed to be Hammerfell. A large manor house stands in the midst of a desert garden. The sky is starry and two full moons hang in the sky, and I know that¡¯s not the phase they¡¯re supposed to be in. The landscape palette includes colors that aren¡¯t blue, but they¡¯re faded and washed out, like a Nord¡¯s shirt that will never be white again.

    ¡°Well, this isn¡¯t ominous at all,¡± Eran drawls. ¡°Pocket realm? Illusion? Hallucination?¡±

    ¡°Illusion, I believe,¡± Merry says. ¡°I can spot some of the tells. And I am too clear-headed for this to be a hallucination.¡±

    ¡°That dancing Argonian who looks like he¡¯s standing over hot coals might be a clue,¡± Gelur says.

    The beautiful (if sepia-toned) desert garden is full of guests of various races, drinking, eating, dancing, playing instruments, and otherwise having fun. Everyone is so painfully cheerful without a care in the world or idea that they¡¯re in one of the worst places in the universe to be, much like the Nords at that tavern. Definitely a good sign of something being horribly wrong.

    ¡°Keep your wits about you,¡± I say. ¡°Smack any of us who start doing something silly. Let¡¯s start looking around and see if we can¡¯t find Stibbons and Tom.¡±

    ¡°This is worse than constantly being attacked¡­¡± Farry says. ¡°It¡¯s so creepy. What is wrong with these people?¡±

    Fancy tents are scattered around the large courtyard, containing cushy furniture and ornate rugs along with tables covered in food and drink. My friends and I are careful not to touch any of it. It reminds me that the Hollow City felt weirdly safe and welcoming, too, but there was something different about it. The colors in the Hollow City are bright and clear, and it was nearly empty, containing only a few forlorn souls who had taken refuge there at some point in ages past.

    It doesn¡¯t take us long to find Tom Gautier, primarily because he¡¯s the only one here who doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s having fun. (Admittedly, I¡¯ve never seen the man happy, but it¡¯s not like I know him particularly well.) He¡¯s pacing a groove in the sand, scowling intently and looking like he¡¯s very hard at work trying to think of something.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°You look busy. Need another brain?¡±

    Tom snorts softly, pausing his pacing to look over at us. ¡°I do hope you¡¯re here to help and not make things worse. Though it¡¯s a good sign that you¡¯re not enthralled with this place already as well.¡±

    ¡°This place is really obviously a pitcher plant,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Have you seen Stibbons?¡± Eran asks.

    Tom sighs loudly. ¡°He¡¯s completely taken with this place. The man has the willpower of a mudcrab. Those women who are probably Daedra have him wrapped around their fingers. I have no idea why they bother, but Lady Laurent will be highly disappointed if he doesn¡¯t come back.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any ideas?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯m no specialist in breaking illusions,¡± Tom says. ¡°My divination spells are giving me highly uncertain answers.¡±

    ¡°I take it turning Stibbons to stone and carrying him off in a bag is not an option?¡± Merry proposes.

    Tom gives Merry the usual ¡°You people are insane¡± look that people often get when they meet us.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a new alchemical mixture I¡¯d like to try out,¡± I say. ¡°It might let me see through the illusion. Or it might just make me high. Or both.¡±

    ¡°What illegal substances are in this one?¡± Eran wonders.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s some of the Hist sap I confiscated from the Dremora at Haj Uxith¡­¡± I say. ¡°And I have permits for that. The rest of it is perfectly legal. Corn flower and torchbug thoraxes. I think.¡±

    ¡°Abdomens,¡± Merry says. ¡°The abdomen is the part that glows. The thorax is the middle part the legs and wings are attached to. Everyone gets that wrong.¡±

    ¡°If everyone is wrong about something, are they still wrong?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Truth is not a democracy,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make a note to put out pamphlets about insect anatomy at the Mages Guild,¡± I say, pulling out a vial of Hist Sap Mixture #37. (Which is mislabeled in Dwemeris as a visibility potion.)

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Eran asks. ¡°You know what happened last time.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no no. That was with a completely different mixture. This one was intended to influence vision.¡±

    ¡°You just happened to have a potion to see through illusions on you?¡± Tom asks.

    ¡°I mean, I hope it lets me see through illusions,¡± I say. ¡°Really, I was just attempting to make a new hallucinogen.¡± I pause, smirking at the incredulous look Tom is giving me. ¡°For religious purposes, obviously.¡±

    ¡°As you say,¡± Tom says with a shrug. ¡°I could really care less whether you choose to consume recreational substances, merely the success of our mission.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t,¡± Merry says. ¡°You couldn¡¯t care less.¡±

    Tom sighs. ¡°I could care less about whether ¡®could¡¯ or ¡®couldn¡¯t¡¯ care less is correct. Can we get on with this?¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°If, after drinking this, I fall into a coma or something, please kill me. That should clear it out of my system.¡±

    I down the liquid before Tom can give me yet another incredulous look. My vision flashes, and suddenly color sweeps through the world, turning everything bright and vivid. And all the manor guests are skeletons.

    ¡°Are you alright, Neri?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Did it work?¡± Merry asks. ¡°Can you penetrate the illusion?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s something awful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Gelur asks.

    ¡°Yeeeeeeep.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic for you,¡± Tom says. ¡°Now I don¡¯t suppose you can tell where Stibbons disappeared to?¡±

    ¡°Afraid not,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s explore the place before this wears off.¡±

    While searching the manor grounds for anything notable, we run across Fatahala, the ¡°Bosmer¡± who greeted us at the gates. She turns out to be a blue-skinned Daedra. A Dark Seducer, claiming to serve Meridia. I don¡¯t trust her, but fortunately, I don¡¯t really have to.

    Stibbons is missing, gone inside the manor house, according to Fatahala. If this is a trap, so be it. We¡¯d need to search the interior anyway. We head in to try to find him before he winds up getting deflowered and his soul sucked out or something. Why does this man keep getting into these situations?

    The skeletons outside the manor house are still passive and continuing their merriment, seemingly completely unaware that they¡¯re dead. The ones inside, however, are hostile and intent upon defending the place.

    We find Stibbons upstairs, locked in a cage and naked as the Aedra made him. He¡¯s a lot more lucid now than he was when Tom first encountered him, at least lucid enough to be freaking out that he¡¯s been locked in a cage naked. He mentions that the key is in the hands of one of the sweet, innocent sisters who he no longer thinks are so sweet and innocent. While I¡¯m sure this cage is breakable with sufficient concentrated violence, it would probably be easier to just go hit the Daedra and get the key.

    Stibbons shifts his hands in embarrassment as Gelur goes to give him a check up. ¡°Ahhh, don¡¯t look at me!¡±

    ¡°Oh, relax,¡± Gelur says. ¡°I¡¯m just checking if you need healing. And I¡¯m married!¡±

    ¡°Oh, alright then,¡± Stibbon says. ¡°But as I¡¯m unlikely to be bleeding out right this moment, I would prefer to be diagnosed outside of this cage.¡±

    We go beat up the Dark Seducer whose name I can¡¯t spell, and retrieve the key. Stibbons is quite happy to be free again, and fortunately for him, his clothes are in a nearby chest.

    Now that he has come to his senses, Stibbons is upset that he has misplaced Lady Laurent¡¯s jewelry. Probably gave it to his beloved Dark Seducers when he thought they were beloved. Fatahala shows up, grateful that he¡¯s alright, and offers to lead him to a secret escape tunnel while me and my friends locate his lady¡¯s jewels.

    ¡°Right¡­¡± I say. ¡°Tom, Eran, Gelur, would you go with them and make sure they get to safety?¡± It doesn¡¯t need to be said that it¡¯s as much that I don¡¯t trust Fatahala as protecting them from skeletons and Daedra.

    ¡°On it,¡± Eran says.

    Tom doesn¡¯t argue about the request, although he does mumble something about escort missions and whether or not they¡¯re preferable to fetch quests.

    I head downstairs with Ilara and Merry to search for these very important items that probably aren¡¯t even magical, but whatever. Most of the furniture in here and many of the rugs are red. Do Redguards just really like the color set, or is this a Daedra thing? I mean, I suppose ¡®red¡¯ is in their name, but I thought it was just a corruption of the term ¡®Ra Gada¡¯.

    Ilara comments absently, ¡°Lady Laurent should be quite glad that we are upright, honorable people who would on no account fence her jewels and claim the Daedra made off with them.¡±

    ¡°Someone might notice if they got dumped off at one spot, of course,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯d have to take them to discrete discreet locations.¡±

    ¡°Fortunate that it¡¯s a hypothetical,¡± Merry says with a chuckle.

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say. ¡°Return people¡¯s valuables to their face and they won¡¯t notice the dozen other times you¡¯ve messed with them behind their backs. Tacky jewelry is cheap goodwill from a noble who will be more likely to support me later.¡±

    When we retrieve them, it turns out that the jewels aren¡¯t jewelry at all, but simply large cut gemstones. The sort that would be so easy to fence that it¡¯s almost painful to return them. Alas, I need the goodwill of a noble more than I need cash right now, so I check my greed and get out of here.

 Chapter 156: In Which I Avoid Getting Paid

    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¨Cassuming we all survive¨Cthat 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¨Cheyyy, 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.

 Chapter 157: In Which I Knock on Hells Door

    We approach the bridge leading to the Reaver Citadel and catch the tail end of an argument between Vanus and the Dremora, Lyranth. Like most sane people, Vanus is not terribly fond of Dremora.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one I met in Shadowfen, aren¡¯t you?¡± Theryn asks when she spots the Dremora.

    ¡°Ah, the mortal remembers me,¡± Lyranth says. ¡°How nice.¡±

    ¡°Shadowfen, huh?¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s the story, there?¡±

    ¡°The Dominion did terrible things in Shadowfen,¡± Theryn tells me accusingly. ¡°I¡¯m working with this group to stop the Planemeld, but I won¡¯t forgive the deaths of innocents your people caused.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know much about what¡¯s been going on outside of Dominion territories,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy dealing with Worm Cultists, Sea Elves, racist bandits, and weird magic.¡±

    ¡°A High Elf alchemist was using weird magic to replace people with copies,¡± Theryn says.

    ¡°I hate weird magic,¡± I say.

    ¡°And he murdered a bunch of Argonian eggs and was trying to attack the Hist,¡± Theryn says.

    I scowl. ¡°I definitely don¡¯t condone killing children, and I have great respect for the Hist. Tell me you killed this fetcher.¡±

    Theryn stares at me intently, then gives a sharp nod.

    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°I would have had to behead him myself and stick his head on a pike otherwise.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t put his head on a pike, though.¡± She looks at me consideringly. ¡°Why are you the only one of the Alliance leaders who came to Coldharbour? Why did you come?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s personal,¡± I say. ¡°I might even eventually tell you the story.¡± (Or at least a highly edited version of it, considering how devout she is toward the ones who murdered me. Unless, of course, she comes to her senses, but I won¡¯t count on it.)

    The citadel we¡¯re about to storm is, unsurprisingly, another city that got pulled from Nirn. It¡¯s a little distressing to think how much of Nirn has been yanked into Oblivion. Okay, not a little, but I have things to do, I can¡¯t stand around being distressed. We need to find a way inside. They want to launch an attack from the guildhalls in the city, which will require subverting the wards.

    Get someone inside, deactivate the wards, and open a portal straight into the guildhall, completely bypassing the defenses on the walls. I should conquer every city this way. If I were so inclined to be conquering cities, that is. I am, after all, a meek and peaceful person with no war-like inclinations whatsoever.

    Up ahead, Lyranth is casually waiting for us, leaning against a half-crumbled bit of masonry. The Orc, Skordo, is watching her, because someone told him to watch her, and he is doing exactly that even if she¡¯s not terribly entertaining to be watching at the moment.

    Lyranth wants to help us, and just as casually tells us about a breach in the walls we can use to slip inside unnoticed. We find it near some of the shipwrecks that fell onto the cliffs rather than into the basin to the east, and might have completely missed it had we not been specifically looking for it. In fact, Lyranth shows up again and mentions she hid the gap with illusions to make sure the other Dremora didn¡¯t notice it.

    ¡°Why are you helping us?¡± Tom asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m betting she wants revenge on the Deathbringer clan and Valkynaz Seris specifically,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯m betting she can¡¯t attack him directly so she¡¯s just putting us on a path that will result in him being in our way.¡±

    ¡°Hmh,¡± Lyranth says. ¡°You are surprisingly well informed, little mortal.¡±

    ¡°You wrote a book and left it laying on the ground,¡± I say. ¡°Or is it lying? Whatever, I can never keep those words straight.¡±

    ¡°Why would she be hoping we¡¯d fight other Dremora?¡± Theryn asks.

    ¡°The Dremora aren¡¯t a cohesive unit,¡± I say. ¡°Like, say, Bosmer clans, or Dunmer houses, they¡¯re as likely to be bitter rivals as allies.¡±

    (At least, I assume Dunmer houses are just as friendly with one another as Chimer houses were. Theryn is nodding, so I guess so.)

    I have a theory that the Dremora weren¡¯t originally Daedra, but were once a mortal race who sold their souls for immortality or something and became Vestiges. There¡¯s no evidence of a Dremora-like race ever having existed on Tamriel, but there are continents on Nirn we still know little about. Not to mention that if certain mythological texts are accurate, Nirn was not the only world of creation. Twelve worlds were created, smashed up, and merged into Nirn. The Hist were from one of those other worlds, weren¡¯t they?

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    What if the Dremora, and perhaps some of the other Daedric races, were inhabitants of those worlds who took refuge in Oblivion to survive? Or even, didn¡¯t survive, and now the ones who worshipped the Daedric Princes are living out their eternities in their realms. I don¡¯t have any way of knowing, really. Unless I can convince a Dremora to talk about where they came from, assuming they even remember.

    Maybe I¡¯ll write my own rambling, speculative mythological tomes. Many of them sound like they were written on drugs anyway. Whether the Dremora originated from Oblivion or not, their time in it has not done them any kindness. If all the Orcs were to die and become Daedra of the Ashpit, would they fare better? The constant influx of new souls ensures that they don¡¯t stagnate, but I could see them slipping were they to have literally nothing to do but fight all the time.

    ¡°Neri?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Just making some notes and considering some plans,¡± I say.

    Eran smirks. ¡°Yep. I¡¯m sure you were. Are you ready to go yet?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Alright, let¡¯s split up,¡± I say. ¡°Merry, Ilara-daro, and Farry, find some elevated positions you can rain arrows and fire down from. Tom and Eran, see if you can secure the Mages Guild. Theryn and Gelur, you¡¯re with me. We¡¯re going to secure the Fighters Guild.¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± Eran says.

    The city might have once been located somewhere in Cyrodiil, but now it¡¯s just as trashed as everyplace else (with one notable exception) that winds up in this hellhole. The buildings are crumbling, and full of things like soul gems and torture equipment.

    I know I saw no end of what the Daedra did to places when I was imprisoned here before. But I¡¯d become somewhat inured to it, and it was only after seeing what things should look like in a living, breathing world that it really hit me how horrible this place is. I want to return this piece to Nirn as well, but I have no idea where I¡¯d even begin to go about actually doing that. Even if it remained a ruin, it still deserves to be a ruin under the sun of Cyrodiil.

    I¡¯m getting sentimental about displaced landscape. I¡¯d best focus. There¡¯s a lot of killing to be done and I¡¯m pissed. Plenty of Daedra between here and where I need to be that need to be discorporated.

    Our approach mostly goes off without a hitch. Farry winds up spraining an ankle trying to jump from roof to roof and hitting a crumbling spot, so we have to get her healed up. Soon enough, though, Vanus and Colors are in charge of their respective guildhalls and our troops are pouring into the city. The disorganized Daedra are hit with a multi-pronged attack from within that they never see coming.

    In one of the more intact buildings (with a sign labeled ¡°Bha¡¯s Bargains¡±), a Xivilai (probably named Bha) wearing Imperial-style armor for some reason has set up a shop and seems disinclined to fight us, so we leave him be.

    ¡°I prefer trading to killing mortals,¡± Bha says. ¡°You should be grateful.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I say. ¡°Because you¡¯re probably the only Daedra in the city that hasn¡¯t been discorporated. I don¡¯t imagine your chances would have been any better than the small army of Dremora we just ousted when we captured the fortress.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll be back,¡± Bha says. ¡°That won¡¯t keep them away forever.¡±

    ¡°Daedra don¡¯t die like mortals, yeah, I know,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I didn¡¯t need them gone forever. I just needed them out of my way.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations on your fleeting victory, then,¡± Bha says. ¡°Now, do you want to make a deal, or not? I have goods for sale. Perhaps some potions to delay the inevitable demise of your fleshy bodies?¡±

    A note I find indicates that this city isn¡¯t just a remnant of some bygone era, but was pulled into Coldharbour recently, by a Dark Anchor. The Fighters Guild was able to evacuate at least some of the city before it was lost. I wish someone had at least mentioned what the name of the town was.

    Beyond the upper city stands a Daedric pyramid, all spiky and black, with spiky chains and spiky crystals. Banners with Molag Bal¡¯s emblem hang outside in the still air. Lyranth and some of my allies are waiting for me outside. (Sometimes, I¡¯m not sure whether people wait for me because they think they¡¯ve a better chance of success with me along, or because they think I might be sad to miss out on a fight. Probably the former. Only my friends are likely to think of the latter.)

    Valkynaz Seris is inside the pyramid with a key to a labyrinth that we need in order to get to the Endless Stair, which Cadwell says will lead us to the planar vortex. (I really hope someone has figured out a way to fix that by now, otherwise I¡¯m going to fight my way there and stand around going ¡°well, now what?¡± until I die. No matter. I¡¯ll focus on doing my part and the magey types can do theirs.)

    Lyranth has to open the way into the pyramid for us, which requires a blood ritual with a willing offering of Dremora blood. I suppose it¡¯s a good thing she was with us, then, or we¡¯d have to get creative. I¡¯m sure it would still have been possible to get in somehow, but it would likely have required considerably more time. I firmly believe that there is nothing in existence with only one way in or out of. Finding them, however, can be tricky.

    I know I can kill Seris. No problem. The challenge? Killing him before he can monologue too much about Lyranth and puny mortals. Lyranth wants me to kill him slowly and painfully, but fuck that.

    We kill Valkynaz Seris. Lyranth is quite happy, and takes over the place to the cheers of Dremora who apparently didn¡¯t like the previous Valkynaz terribly much.

    ¡°The key is yours, as are my thanks,¡± Lyranth says.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure,¡± I say, pocketing it.

    ¡°Should we meet again, I might kill you,¡± Lyranth says casually.

    I grin wildly. ¡°You can try.¡±

    I head back outside to meet up with my allies and debrief on the situation. Success from all corners. We¡¯ve established an outpost on Molag Bal¡¯s doorstep. Gelur and anyone else with knowledge of restoration magic are healing up the injured. Ilara hops down from a rooftop next to me, grinning, and gives me a nod.

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I say. ¡°The citadel is ours.¡±

    ¡°For the moment,¡± Colors says. ¡°We¡¯re sweeping the streets and buildings, and shoring up our defenses, but we won¡¯t be able to hold it against a serious push.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, we probably won¡¯t need to,¡± I say. ¡°We need to keep up our momentum rather than trying to entrench ourselves here too much.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Vanus says. ¡°The Labyrinth is just ahead. Now that you have acquired the key, we can move on once we¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ready if you are,¡± I say, looking at him intently.

    I don¡¯t ask aloud whether or not he has a plan. I don¡¯t force him to tell me that for all his powerful greatness and great powerfulness, he has as little idea on how to fix this as I do. This isn¡¯t saving the world. This is pushing forward, hitting everything in my way, while hoping something happens to accidentally save the world. It has worked for me so far.

 Chapter 158: In Which I Accidentally Save the World

    An eclectic group has gathered at the shimmering ward leading into the Labyrinth. Portals have been opened from the Reaver Citadel, bringing in reinforcements. Fighters and mages of all races, some Wood Orcs who are probably trying to impress me into giving them their own strongholds, vengeful Haj Uxith Argonians, some Bosmer of Brackenleaf¡¯s Briars and Shadow Walkers, vampires, lamia, and Nords who lament this being the day they chose to give up drinking. And Cadwell, who is kind of a category of his own.

    It¡¯s a beautiful sight. Everyone believes in us. Believes in me. Believes that even if we fail here, we¡¯d have gone down fighting. Believes that there is still some chance to avoid disaster. And that if we fall, we¡¯ll have gone to our respective afterlives telling our ancestors how, when the world was ending, we tried instead of cried.

    (Provided everyone¡¯s souls manage to get to their respective afterlives and don¡¯t wind up trapped in Coldharbour for eternity. Some of us are already trapped here and this is our only shot at freedom. But I¡¯m not thinking about that right now. I deal with existential dread by means of self-delusion and substance abuse.)

    It¡¯s very inspiring, looking at everyone here believing that we might not be completely fucked.

    I open the gate, and we go in.

    Canonreeve Estre meets up with me to complain about how dismal this place is. ¡°I can¡¯t wait until this is over and I can return to the Hollow City. I have so much work to do and I still need to find a way to return it to Nirn. Although should we fail here today, people on Nirn might wind up taking refuge in the Hollow City.¡±

    ¡°Estre, you¡¯re here for the assault?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I said I would help,¡± Estre says. ¡°Now, here. I have something for you. I didn¡¯t have a chance to give it to you back at the Cliffs of Failure because you upturned the Observer¡¯s battlefield like an Orc losing at cards.¡±

    ¡°Winning,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°An Orc winning at cards.¡±

    Estre rolls her eyes. ¡°Right.¡± She gives me a creepy lavender mask. ¡°This will summon shadows to aid you in battle.¡±

    ¡°Oh, like that weird Shadow Wood thing you were trying to do in Greenshade? That makes sense. Thanks. That should be useful, even if it was weird.¡± I take it and pass it to Ilara. ¡°You¡¯re on mask duty, Ilara-daro.¡±

    ¡°Why did you give it to her?¡± Estre wonders.

    ¡°She¡¯s in the back and most likely to be able to get a good view of the battlefield and know where it¡¯s needed,¡± I say. ¡°Gelur¡¯s also in the back but she should be focusing on healing.¡±

    Estre gives me a look that says, ¡°You¡¯d trust that sort of power in the hands of a Khajiit?¡± but it would be impolitic for her to say it aloud. It passes quickly¨Cshe mostly seems resigned to the state of the world at this point.

    The army pushes through, fighting Daedra along the way. We close a portal that was bringing in reinforcements and meet up with Vanus, who opens a portal of his own to our location so that the physically unfit mages don¡¯t have to walk all the way up. They accompany us into the Labyrinth.

    A library stretches before me, but it¡¯s sadly a tentacle-free boring Coldharbour library. (Not that I was hoping for tentacles.) Libraries aren¡¯t supposed to have quite this many chains or long drops into infinite chasms. These books aren¡¯t meant to be read, or they wouldn¡¯t be so hard to reach and so easy to drop and lose forever. Which means I absolutely have to read them.

    Our advance comes to a swift halt at stupid puzzle. Because of course there has to be a stupid puzzle. It takes me no time to delegate that and go check out the books tucked away in metal pillars and stacked precariously near the edge.

    Knights of the Gleaming Blade? Oh, hey, it¡¯s about those Ayleids who went after the Mortuum Vivicus. (Shit, that¡¯s how it¡¯s spelled? Thanks, Library of the Mind, I didn¡¯t actually need to know that.)

    ¡°Neri, just bag them like you always do,¡± Eran says with a smirk.

    ¡°Eh, the puzzle-solving people are busy trying to solve the stupid puzzle anyway,¡± I say.

    That guy from the Shivering Isles looks around at the machinery and expresses a belief that only a god could have created something so brilliant. The Dwemer could have made something so brilliant. Would that make the Dwemer a god? (Was that what they were trying to do? The Aedra effectively vanished in order to create the laws of nature. Did they seek to attain godhood as a race in order to change something fundamental about the world? Did it work?)

    While I¡¯m busy contemplating the nature of reality, the Goblin mage, Togga, has figured out the puzzle. The other mages were overthinking it, it turns out. The solution was actually just ¡°throw fire at it¡±, which is how Togga solves every other problem. Admittedly, in this case, the fire is weird and blue, but it still counts.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    This is only the beginning. The next room is really dark and we need to use magical light to cross. Fortunately, that¡¯s one thing I¡¯m good at. I mean, usually I¡¯m using that light to stab things, but it¡¯s light nonetheless.

    Then, a room full of statues.

    ¡°There¡¯s either a creature that turns people into statues, or the statues are going to try to kill us,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s see if they attack.¡±

    ¡°What if it¡¯s a creature that turns people into statues that attack people?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°I have faith in Merry being able to counter it,¡± I say. ¡°Ah, they¡¯re attacking us. Great.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re always happy about being attacked,¡± Eran says wryly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just that,¡± I say. ¡°Look at what we¡¯ve gone through. Puzzles. You don¡¯t put puzzles in front of someone you mean to stop, but someone you mean to test. We can do this!¡±

    We work our way around through the dizzying blue landscape. Then it comes into sight. A massive portal. Just being in view of it chills me. Not just the portal, but the weird, black squirming thing above it.

    A fool¡¯s drake (that is, a Daedric titan) flies through the air and lands in front of the portal, roaring a challenge at us. I laugh madly and roar a challenge back at it, vaulting with my axe toward the fake dragon and bringing it down in a less epic fight than I might have hoped for.

    The Groundskeeper stands before the portal, hands behind her back like a smug bitch and completely at ease. She casually tells us about how we can disrupt the planar vortex from the inside. By releasing the power of a Light of Meridia at the heart of it.

    I should have realized it myself. I should have guessed that Meridia did, indeed, have everything to do with everything here as well. I suspect that this ¡®Groundskeeper¡¯ is not just a servant, but an avatar of Meridia. A small enough sliver to evade the notice of Molag Bal.

    Before I step through the portal, I pull out my portable communication orb and send messages to my wives that I love them. I down a few potions that will enhance my physical strength and speed and probably put me into a coma or kill me after an hour or so. I never tested that far and they¡¯re probably doubly unhealthy to quaff together. By that point, it will no longer matter.

    I don¡¯t have long to speculate on the identity of our mysterious benefactor. We cross through the crackling portal and emerge into the terrible sight of pieces of Nirn swirling about and jamming into one another at oblique angles. Spikes of Coldharbour rip through the dirt, but the grass is still green.

    The Groundskeeper begins to glow yellow and her voice becomes echoey. Yep, Daedra. Anyone surprised by this point was clearly not paying attention. (Some of my allies behind me seem positively shocked at this stunning revelation. Vanus just seems pissed at both Daedric Princes for making a huge mess with their little spat.)

    Before we can blow this thing up with glowiness, we have to destroy some Dark Anchors that are currently linking Nirn to here, otherwise the resulting explosion would translate through the open gates. Even still, she assures us that we will not be harmed. Bullshit, but it¡¯s not like we have any better options.

    (My friends won¡¯t turn back. I might survive this, but they won¡¯t. They don¡¯t even hesitate.)

    We fight our way through the planar vortex, which fortunately isn¡¯t vortexing so badly that we can¡¯t walk on it, although we have to climb through and around many ruined buildings. An entire cathedral lies broken, its once-beautiful windows shattered into shards.

    Meridia follows along with us, still glowing, and she smashes two of the Anchors herself with blasts of light. Molag Bal shows up and starts throwing blue fireballs at us, but Meridia shields us with light. When we move on, he keeps simply throwing them at her shield. I suspect he was just trying to take her out of the equation rather than stop us. He could have easily stopped us if he really wanted to.

    We destroy the remaining Anchor and plant the Light. Daedra show up to challenge us. No, to challenge me. Each of the three Daedra wants to challenge me, specifically, one-on-one.

    Do they know who I am? Have they figured out my true identity? Or are they just after me because I¡¯m the King in charge of this mission? No, if they knew my name, they would have taunted me with it. That¡¯s how these things go. Some small mercy that I¡¯m facing down Molag Bal himself and he doesn¡¯t know my name.

    The three Daedric champions fall one by one. Meridia appears again, having gathered up my misplaced allies. The potions in my system are making me dizzy. Damn, I¡¯d hoped I¡¯d have longer, but it seems it was just long enough.

    ¡°Everyone come close!¡± yells someone, their voice distorted in my blurry mind. ¡°Get within the shield!¡±

    Blinding light heralds unconsciousness.

    ¡­

    I wake with the worst headache I can ever remember having in my entire existence. A stream of restoration magic flows into me when someone sees my distress.

    I¡¯m in a temple, and Meridia is standing before me. My friends are all around me. Safe and sound. Alive and well. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see them.

    ¡°You¡¯re alright,¡± I say weakly.

    ¡°Not everyone made it, but yeah, we¡¯re alright,¡± Eran says. ¡°You gave us quite the scare when you wouldn¡¯t wake up, but I figured it was probably just the potions and we let you sleep it off. I took the liberty of sending word to Dra¡¯bul that we survived.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, and turn my attention to the glowing woman. ¡°I assume you¡¯re responsible for getting us out of there alright?¡±

    Meridia. Her echoey talking is hard to follow with my head still fuzzy. She thinks I¡¯m a valuable asset. She says a lot of things that are a little infuriating, so I tune her out a bit. I just woke up and still feel like I could sleep for a week. I don¡¯t need to hear philosophical discussions about how only finite things have value.

    Nonetheless, I force myself to get up and see to my allies. No more fighting need be done at the moment and I just want to see who made it out. Casualties might not be as high as they could have been, but people deserve to be more than simply numbers.

    ¡°My nephew didn¡¯t make it back,¡± Tom says. ¡°We didn¡¯t even find a body.¡±

    ¡°He might still be out there somewhere,¡± I say.

    ¡°Cadwell is still trying to retrieve those who went missing in the final assault,¡± Tom says. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up on him yet. We didn¡¯t get along terribly well, but he¡¯s still family.¡±

    King Dynar was badly wounded in the battle but brought back from the brink by concerted efforts of healing magic. Also he seems to have gotten close to Sees-All-Colors while I wasn¡¯t paying attention, so good for them, I suppose.

    I decide to head back to Dra¡¯bul for now. I want to sleep in my own bed and not a temple.

 Chapter 159: In Which I Punch a God in the Face

    I wake. Calmer, but there¡¯s still more to be done. I look down toward the beach from my longhouse, toward the dolmen where Dark Anchors have been falling over and over for months? Years? But the skies are blue today and the seas are calm. My Orcs are still keeping an eye on it, but the Anchors have slowed, like they¡¯re just chucking the leftovers at Nirn for whatever they can fish up.

    They probably ought to have thrown them at places less well-defended than just outside the Wood Orc capital, but reports indicate more of them were thrown at Dra¡¯bul even when they trickled to a halt in other places. That is, during the week or so I spend unconscious. I don¡¯t know why someone didn¡¯t just kill me to get the potion overdose out of my system. Apparently someone thought I really needed to sleep that badly.

    The Planemeld has been stopped in its tracks, for now. I won¡¯t put it past Molag Bal to set things up again and try again, but it would take a concerted effort. Enough that we have a tiny bit of breathing room. I hope. In any case, I have done what I can on that account, even if I was high on strength and speed-boosting potions that were technically-not-skooma and had no idea what I was doing.

    There¡¯s just one more thing. One more tiny, small, insignificant thing.

    I¡¯ve been informed that there¡¯s a Dark Anchor trying to suck the Imperial City into Coldharbour. They didn¡¯t have many leftovers so they apparently decided to try for the big prize. This is annoying and now I¡¯m going to have to stick my dick in Cyrodiil. The Planemeld isn¡¯t over until those things are gone for good. I really didn¡¯t want to have to do this, but as the Khajiit say, var var var. (At least, I think that¡¯s what that phrase means.)

    The situation in the Imperial City is positively infuriating. There¡¯s a massive Dark Anchor crackling in the skies above White-Gold Tower, trying to pull the whole city in from the middle, and most of the people from the three alliances in the city are just too busy sabotaging one another¡¯s efforts to stop the fucking Daedra. Is this nothing more than a game to them!?

    I head in alone to check it out, not wanting to drag my friends into this. The alliances have set up bases in the sewers. (Because the Ayleid ruins the city was built on were not originally sewers, but everyone that builds on Ayleid ruins uses them as sewers, basements, or outlaw refuges anyway.) One of the Imperial legions betrayed the empire (or what¡¯s left of it) and Daedra are flooding the city. I meet up with some of them who are trying to hold a building, and attempt to help them hold off the hordes.

    As I¡¯m doing that, I think things are going well, but then a dozen or so members of the Ebonheart Pact (I think) swoop in, completely ignore the Daedra, and kill me. I am¡­ quite glad that I didn¡¯t bring my friends here. Even with their help, I would not have been able to stand against being overwhelmed by both Daedra and insane soldiers and they would have all been killed.

    I¡¯m pretty sure at least some of them are undead (or ¡°differently alive¡± as a Vestige might be). Given the proclivity of Molag Bal¡¯s followers for necromancy, it would not surprise me if they¡¯d quietly reanimated a number of soldiers from each side just to keep them from joining forces against them.

    To test my theory, I start trying to speak with members of the Aldmeri Dominion on-site here and see which ones respond coherently. Some of them seem normal. Some of them either ignore me or just laugh madly when I try to talk to them. Those ones resist any attempt at giving them orders or taking them somewhere else.

    I call in Merry for assistance, and we get one of them back to Vastarie¡¯s Tower to get her to take a look. A male Khajiit, temporarily turned into a statue for transport. Merry restores him to flesh once we have him restrained.

    ¡°Terribly sorry for the rude wakeup,¡± I say. ¡°You were acting strangely and we needed to keep you from hurting anyone. Are you feeling alright?¡±

    The Khajiit stares off blankly and doesn¡¯t respond. I know that look. That dead look Soul-Shriven get when they¡¯ve suffered too much for their minds and souls to bear.

    ¡°Your hypothesis was close,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°He¡¯s not undead, exactly. He¡¯s a Vestige.¡±

    ¡°Molag Bal is hurling mind-controlled Soul-Shriven into the Imperial City as a distraction?¡± I ask incredulously.

    ¡°They might not even be mind-controlled,¡± Vastarie says. ¡°It would be simpler to trick them and amplify certain emotions than to directly control that many alliance soldiers.¡±

    ¡°In either case, this is¡­ a problem,¡± I say. ¡°They still have whatever skills they had in life, and they¡¯re extremely dangerous, perhaps even more so than the Daedra infesting the Imperial City. It wasn¡¯t like fighting common soldiers at all. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m going to be able to get close enough to break the Dark Anchor over the White-Gold Tower without finding a way to deal with them first to get them out of the way.¡±

    Abnur approaches. ¡°Our plan may be able to free their souls as well as your own.¡±

    ¡°The amulet of doom,¡± I say with sinking dread. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d have come up with a better idea by now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. It is a plan fraught with uncertainty, but it is the only plan we have been able to come up with that has the slimmest chance of success. And believe me, some wild plans have been proposed. Anything regarding Sheogorath has been summarily rejected.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he can¡¯t be okay with Molag Bal making the world more boring,¡± I say. ¡°In fact, why haven¡¯t any of the other gods intervened? The only one who seemed to be doing anything about it was Meridia.¡±

    ¡°How do you know they haven¡¯t?¡± Abnur says. ¡°In any case, we will effectively be supplicating for the intervention of Akatosh.¡±

    ¡°That makes me feel a little better about your insane plan,¡± I say. ¡°But not much.¡±

    ¡°You will become a vessel for Akatosh¡¯s power,¡± Abnur says. ¡°With even a drop of divine energy, you may be able to match a Daedric Prince.¡±

    (I can¡¯t help but think of Sotha Sil stealing divine energy from the Doom Drum and doing whatever it was he did to make them agree to the worthless Coldharbour Compact. What value was it if he didn¡¯t intervene? I need to have words with that mer, if I ever get the chance to do so safely.)

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    ¡°Have I mentioned yet that I don¡¯t like this?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Abnur says flatly. ¡°At least a few dozen times.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Let me brew some more potions first.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine that your strength and speed boosting potions will be quite so useful,¡± Merry says. ¡°Or were you planning on getting high and fighting a god?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to brew some potions to help me focus and not freak out about the stupid thing I¡¯m about to do,¡± I say. ¡°You can probably consider that ¡®getting high¡¯ by some definition.¡±

    ¡­

    I don¡¯t bother procrastinating further. I¡¯m not ready and I don¡¯t want to do this, but the passage of time will not improve things and if this is to be done, now is the time to strike. I am incredibly dubious about the stupid plan involving the amulet of doom. Even Abnur admits there are too many unknowns.

    But, this isn¡¯t just for me. This is for everyone whose souls are trapped in Coldharbour undeserved. Most gods have to be happy with the souls of those who worshipped them before they died. Although my memories of Coldharbour are vague now, I once knew many of these people. I made friends and watched them go mad over untold ages of torture, becoming mindless Soul-Shriven that could do nothing but stand with their heads down, unmoving.

    And I can¡¯t be Malacath¡¯s champion if I don¡¯t seek revenge against one who wronged me and so many others.

    I¡¯m not ready. But I¡¯m determined. And so I meet up with the Five Minus One Companions, and return to Coldharbour with them. There¡¯s no point in my friends coming along, but they refuse to stay behind.

    Varen¡¯s portal can¡¯t get us too close, so we wind up having to make our way through some very cheerful rooms. By which I mean only Cadwell would actually find them cheerful.

    I remember this hall. I¡¯ve been here before. I know I have. A sudden flash of memory staggers me, for just a moment, but it slips away again.

    This is the hall where people who receive Molag Bal¡¯s special treatment are held and tortured. The ones who served him faithfully and failed him. It disgusts me. I recognize several of the faces here, of people I¡¯d killed. They deserve to be in Coldharbour, to be sure, and their souls rightly belong to Molag Bal, but no reasonable god would put his faithful followers in this sort of position just because a Hero showed up to hit them in the face.

    Except Mannimarco. Not only was he a dick, but he intended to betray his own god, in which case his god torturing him for eternity is reasonable.

    Aelif and Javad Tharn are here, among others. They¡¯re all begging me to set them free.

    ¡°It¡¯s a little late to rethink your choice in religion,¡± I say. ¡°Nor your choice in attempting to kill me, which tends to go poorly for most people who try it.¡±

    We finally emerge from the building and Abnur decides this is the place to do the ritual. Where he says I need to make a decision. But it¡¯s no real decision. If I wanted to spare all of them, I¡¯d have refused to do this (I still don¡¯t want to do this) or brought in someone I dislike to sacrifice. Sai and Lyris are innocents. Idiots, but innocent. And I might have done that, if we were sacrificing someone to a Daedric Prince. But this is for Akatosh, and the only answer to that is the offering of the one who offended Akatosh.

    And so, we begin, with potions down the hatch and a couple of old men yelling at the sky very impressively and a bunch of glowy stuff. It¡¯s that light, the power that the Skyshards have been trickling into me, amplified by several orders of magnitude. I feel full, so very full, more than any normal mortal should be able to hold. Is this a tiny bit of what the Tribunal felt when they tapped into the power of the Heart of Lorkhan?

    I set aside that line of thought. I can consider it later. The potions have given me a sense of clarity.

    I bring my axe to hand, infusing it with radiant divine power, and sweep my way through Oblivion. Daedra pop like bubbles under my light.

    Molag Bal stands on a ledge above the ruins. (All of Coldharbour is ruins. That¡¯s how you can tell everything¡¯s wrong.)

    I don¡¯t even bother trying to find a way around. I burn a path straight through stone walls. Mere terrain cannot stand against Aedric power.

    A stone bridge has been shattered and floats in the air. Lack of terrain won¡¯t stop me either. I gather the broken pieces and put them back together, and continue across.

    After sweeping away everything in my path, I stand before Molag Bal. Even with all this power within me, he still towers over me. Not that physical size has anything to do with power. (He¡¯s just overcompensating, really.)

    He speaks. It¡¯s bluster, and I don¡¯t listen. I just fight. Probably something about puny mortals and crushing people like insects, whatever. Nothing important. Nothing worth pausing trying to hit him.

    A savage blow from Molag Bal severs my right hand, and along with it, my ring and my axe. I¡¯ve ignored every other bit of damage I¡¯ve taken, but I can¡¯t ignore this.

    Molag Bal looks at my bared soul and says, ¡°Nerevar.¡±

    I stagger. My flesh is already regenerating, but it won¡¯t stop him from seeing what he¡¯s already seen. The physical shock is nothing next to the mental shock.

    ¡°So it is you. You thought you had escaped me. You thought you had evaded my sight.¡±

    His massive hand picks me up and lifts me up to his face. His bright-dark blue-black eyes are infinite mirrors of infinite torment.

    ¡°You know you cannot defy me.¡±

    It¡¯s been a good run, but alas, this has all been merely a dream to fuck with me and give me false hope. A dream of freedom, of having a family, of having a god who gives half a fuck about me, of having friends that would never betray me, of having a kingdom I don¡¯t have to give up. Nothing but a dream. I never left Coldharbour.

    I blink away that train of thought and focus.

    ¡°You torture your own followers,¡± I say. ¡°They were loyal to you and only had the misfortune of crossing paths with me. If it makes no difference whether I serve you or deny you, why should I not at least try?¡±

    A rumbling chuckle like thunder. ¡°Nothing you did was without my blessing. You give rise to more death and domination than anyone else on the face of Nirn. You will always be my champion.¡±

    I look into his eyes, my resolve shuddering under his gaze. Thoughts bubble up into my head unbidden. Images. Memories.

    There is nothing I want more than to dominate the world and destroy all those who would seek to destroy me. The Tribunal did not sacrifice me to Molag Bal. I was a worshipper of him before I died. That¡¯s why I ended up here. And that¡¯s why I remember that hall.

    I shake myself out of that (Dragon-Broken?) chain of thought. That¡¯s impossible. I was a worshipper of Azura. Even she said so, and the smug bitch would not have passed up the opportunity to taunt me about it when we last spoke if I had been a worshipper of Molag Bal. Except, you can be champion of more than one god. I have at least four Daedric Princes who have declared me champion, willingly or not, five if you count Molag Bal.

    ¡°I challenged you, tested you, and set you on the path of domination.¡±

    Why am I even seriously entertaining this possibility? It doesn¡¯t fucking matter even if this weren¡¯t just Molag Bal gaslighting me. (¡°Gaslight¡± was a Dwemer play about¡­ you know what, that¡¯s not important either.)

    ¡°Submit to me, and I shall return you to Nirn. Conquer the world in my name and bring it all into Coldharbour. My other servants are a disappointment, but you have always been my greatest champion.¡±

    ¡°I refuse!¡±

    I swing my regenerated bare hand at Molag Bal¡¯s face. Divine power engulfs him as I strike true, leaving a dent in his face the shape of the ring that teleported itself back onto my finger. Being sucker punched by a ¡®defeated¡¯ enemy was clearly the last thing he expected. Even with the divine power, he never truly considered me a threat.

    I tumble from Molag Bal¡¯s disintegrating hand. Yellow-red flame erupts and falls upon the blue-black landscape. Daedra swarm me from all sides, and the world blurs.

 Chapter 160: In Which I See All the Colors

    I suddenly find myself somewhere strange, rather than crashing into the ashen wastes of Coldharbour or being torn apart by Daedra and respawning who-knows-where. The sky is weird, so it¡¯s probably still Oblivion, but definitely not anywhere in Coldharbour. The stars are clear and very bright, and the sky is streaked with colorful auroras. A coral-lined stone pathway floats upon ripples of light.

    Definitely not a plane I have seen before, but I have a suspicion about where I am.

    I walk along the path of floating rocks, as there is nowhere else to go, and spot a shimmering form of light that seems achingly familiar to me and resonates in a way I¡¯d never expected.

    My soul.

    I pause, and walk slowly toward it. A mer¡¯s face I almost don¡¯t recognize as myself, reaching out toward me. Is this truly who I am? I¡¯ve gotten used to not having it. What difference will it make? What have I been missing?

    I reach out and grasp my own hand. Light pours into me, and warmth floods my body. Like after an era of cold have I finally learned what warmth is again. Like a tooth that has been sore for years finally being removed and regrown. Having a good night¡¯s rest after a long period of sleep deprivation. I feel whole.

    I stop and check to make sure I¡¯m still me and that this isn¡¯t some sort of trick, because I¡¯m still me and still a paranoid fetcher sometimes. I still love Roku and Grishka. I still hate Vehk, Seht, and Ayem. I feel pretty damn good about punching Molag Bal in the face and watching him explode. Yep, still me.

    (I wonder if I¡¯ll respawn on Nirn when I die next, or in the Ashpit? Something to check later.)

    A translucent blue image of Molag Bal appears.

    ¡°Did I kill you?¡± I ask. ¡°Can Daedric Princes even discorporate?¡±

    Molag Bal gives a low chuckle. He does not say, ¡°Damn, son, you got me good,¡± but that¡¯s basically what the flowery rambling he gives me translates to. He¡¯s got a pretentious streak sometimes. And he still thinks I¡¯d have been better off as his servant, because there are vague machinations afoot and he¡¯s totally scheming about shit.

    Why did he even make me that offer? (Because it cost him nothing and it had a non-zero chance of working.)

    ¡°If I were ever actually your worshipper, you probably shouldn¡¯t have made me forget it,¡± I say. ¡°Things would have gone better for you.¡±

    Molag Bal seems quite amused. And less annoyed than I would have expected. It¡¯s like that loud, blustering face he puts on is just an act for the audience, and the Lord of Coldharbour is actually much more chill. He wouldn¡¯t be very good at scheming if he were actually that angry all the time.

    ¡°In any case, thanks for the fight,¡± I say. ¡°It was fun.¡±

    Before we can speak further, the glowing form of Meridia stands before me. By which I mean she hovers two feet above the floating rocks in front of me, and tells Molag Bal to go away.

    ¡°See you later,¡± I tell him cheerfully as he¡¯s vanishing.

    Meridia is just as pretentious and just as vague about what the Daedric Princes are scheming about. She makes it sound serious and something to worry about. Sure, maybe it is, but I can¡¯t help but be excited. I¡¯m alive and whole and there will be so much stuff to hit! The world is awesome.

    (I feel that perhaps reclaiming my soul has short-circuited my emotional processing. I¡¯ll worry about it later if symptoms persist. This is probably normal for me, though.)

    Meridia returns me to Vastarie¡¯s Tower, where everyone is waiting for me. Upon seeing the faces of my faithful friends and trusted associates, a surge of emotion staggers me.

    ¡°Neri, are you alright?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, sitting down in a chair quickly. ¡°I just¡­ I just got my soul back, and it feels weird.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m amazed that you were as stable as you were, being separated from it for so long,¡± Vastarie says.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten some theories about that in light of recent events, but it¡¯s something to think about later,¡± I say. ¡°One of which is that I¡¯m pretty sure I was insane to begin with. Where¡¯s Abnur?¡±

    ¡°He took the Amulet of Kings and ran off back to Cyrodiil,¡± Lyris says.

    ¡°Ah, good,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to the Imperial City and will have to deal with his daughter, Clivia. Having him on hand will be useful when I need to obligatorily apologize to him when I inevitably have to kill her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to run some diagnosis spells on you to make sure you¡¯re alright,¡± Gelur says.

    ¡°Good precaution,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to pay attention but it¡¯s hard for me to tell when I¡¯m acting strangely.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see,¡± Gelur trails off. ¡°A severe case of potion poisoning which is being suppressed for the moment by a lingering trace of divine energy. Once that wears off, you are probably going to spend the rest of the night vomiting.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, potion hangovers are the worst,¡± I gripe. ¡°Had to be done, though. Even with all the preparation we could put into everything, it still feels like we only won by accident.¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­¡± Eran says. ¡°On the one hand, I say you shouldn¡¯t discount all the efforts you made. And on the other¡­ yeah, there was a lot of shit going on there that we could not conceivably have been prepared for. It was a game between gods and we were nothing more than pieces.¡±

    My axe is lost. My latest axe. I have reverse-souvenirs, stories of objects I¡¯ve lost doing ridiculous things. My ring came back to me, though. Either a feature I didn¡¯t realize it had, or another power nudged it in order to return its protection to me at the moment I needed it most. Had it not, my mind might have melted under Molag Bal¡¯s mindfuckery.

    I make some notes on getting a new axe, a backup or two, and looking into the possibility of an enchantment that makes items return to you when dropped into deep waters (of Oblivion or the regular sort), off of cliffs, or into infinite abysses. I don¡¯t even remember what I named the last one.

    There¡¯s so many things I want to say, but I¡¯m still processing everything, and my body has decided that now is the time for the potion sickness to hit. I excuse myself politely and meditate peacefully until that passes. By which I mean completely not that. It¡¯s miserable, sure, but that¡¯s counterpointed by the euphoria of victory and the reclamation of my soul. It¡¯s weird feeling extremely cheerful to be sick as fuck.

    (I don¡¯t know whether to be glad or not to have discovered powerful alchemical concoctions with massive drawbacks that no sane person would find acceptable.)

    Eventually, I¡¯m feeling fine again and I go to spend some time with my wives. And that¡¯s such an incredible thing and that¡¯s private and I¡¯m not telling anything more about it.

    With the insane Vestiges gone from the Imperial City, it¡¯s considerably easier to deal with the Dark Anchor there. We take care of it in an afternoon and call it a day. At some point, it just feels like cleanup. I¡¯m ready for some new, world-threatening threats.

    Then it¡¯s back to the Hollow City to debrief and tie up some more loose ends. And also to tell Estre how I punched Molag Bal in the face and that I¡¯m clearly a better person to get behind than a Daedric Prince. Appealing to her better nature wouldn¡¯t work because she doesn¡¯t have one.

    I pull Colors and Dynar aside for a slightly more private meeting than ¡°literally everyone whose name I can remember in the Hollow City¡± that we¡¯d had before we left. They should know what I saw. (This is really just me describing the Colored Rooms for them and them gushing, honestly.)

    ¡°The Planemeld is over and you¡¯re free,¡± I say. ¡°Where are you two planning on going from here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll stay in the Hollow City, for now,¡± Sees-All-Colors says. ¡°I feel like this is where I belong, and where the river has always been taking me.¡±

    I¡¯ve also just gotten a brilliant idea. In trying to mindfuck me, Molag Bal did technically declare me his champion. I could take over any surviving Molag Bal cults and force them to stop doing things I find annoying.

    ¡­ actually, he probably wouldn¡¯t mind that terribly much. Hm. Also, I probably killed off most of them.

    Okay, new plan. Start a Molag Bal cult under a secret identity, gather in anyone so inclined to be worshipping Molag Bal to begin with, and then make sure they don¡¯t do anything I find annoying. Maybe give them something useful to devote their energy to. This could not conceivably backfire in any way whatsoever.

    (Especially considering someone would probably expect me to summon him at some point. But it¡¯s funny to think about.)

    And so, I rejoin my friends. We¡¯re at Brackenleaf Village at the moment, catching the spinner up on one hell of a story and just taking a well-earned break. I¡¯ve kind of missed the place. There hasn¡¯t been much time to spend back here, especially after I moved into Dra¡¯bul.

    ¡°Let¡¯s play a rousing game of ¡®Which Daedric Prince is going to try fucking with the world next?¡¯¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll open this round with Boethiah.¡±

    ¡°Mehrunes Dagon,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Nocturnal,¡± Ilara says. ¡°She¡¯s so spooky.¡±

    ¡°Sanguine,¡± Gelur says, then grins. ¡°Well, one can hope, right? He¡¯d be more fun than most of the other options, at least.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just hope for none of them?¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Sooner or later, another Daedric Prince will try to fuck with the world,¡± I say. ¡°The question isn¡¯t if, just who and when. That would be true even if it weren¡¯t for the ominous vague warnings people keep giving us.¡±

    Eran grunts. ¡°I suppose. Fine, I¡¯ll bite. Put me down for Clavicus Vile. If there¡¯s going to be a crisis, though, can we at least hope for one that doesn¡¯t involve any Daedra next?¡±

    ¡°As for me, I ought to stay in Brackenleaf Village for now,¡± Gelur says. ¡°It¡¯s been the adventure of a lifetime and I¡¯d like to spend some time with my husband before the next crisis inevitably hits.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ true, I should probably at least check in on my sister and father,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°I can manage to avoid falling off of too many cliffs in the interim.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing a lot better than you were back then,¡± Eran says. ¡°Especially now that you¡¯ve got your soul back. When I met you, you barely seemed there half the time.¡±

    ¡°When you met me, I still wasn¡¯t a hundred percent certain anything was real,¡± I say. ¡°But if this has been a dream, it¡¯s a very persistent one. And the things he tried to trick me with¡­ ah, it doesn¡¯t matter now. It¡¯s over with.¡±

    ¡°What are your next plans?¡± Merry asks. ¡°The world is open to us and it is one as full of chaos as ever.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking I might not be the King of the Wood Orcs for a little bit,¡± I say. ¡°I have a need to establish another identity or I¡¯m not going to be able to see half that world.¡±

    ¡°The group you surround yourself with is also somewhat conspicuous,¡± Merry says. ¡°I do not know what else I might be. I suppose I must assist in the war effort, if nothing else, although there are a few things I wish to research when I get the opportunity.¡±

    ¡°What do you think of turning an entire army to stone then dumping them through a portal into their capital city?¡± I say.

    Merry gives a longsuffering sigh. ¡°Time-consuming, impractical, liable to backfire, and you would probably find it hilarious.¡±

    ¡°Somebody forced me to poke at Cyrodiil recently. I say it¡¯s a good opportunity to let the Orc King be seen quite publicly while I establish another identity with the perfect alibi.¡±

    ¡°Provided that nobody guesses teleportation or disguises,¡± Merry says dryly.

    ¡°People really don¡¯t seem to take them into account even when they should,¡± I say. ¡°The most annoying thing about Cyrodiil, even now that the mad Vestiges aren¡¯t messing around making a mess of things anymore, is that everyone is doing war wrong.¡±

    ¡°By all the gods, Neri,¡± Eran says. ¡°If I were with the Pact or Covenant, I¡¯d be surrendering about now¡­¡±

 Chapter 161: In Which I Begin with a New Tail

    ¡°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.

 Chapter 162: In Which I Accidentally Become an Assassin

    ¡°Are you sure this is the right place?¡± Ilara whispers. ¡°It seems like an awfully¡­ modest house, for someone who had the funds to tell a mercenary company to wipe out a major Baandari trading post.¡±

    ¡°Maybe her vendetta against the Baandari led her to losing money,¡± I murmur. ¡°Or this is just a house in the town and she¡¯s got a manor someplace else. Doesn¡¯t matter. That Imperial woman in the outlaws refuge was happy to find her address for some gambling money.¡±

    There¡¯s a massive window in the back that would be entirely too obvious of an entry point, and won¡¯t budge regardless. One of the side windows, however, is open. Ilara climbs through first, and I follow a little less sleekly. I haven¡¯t had nearly as much practice lately with climbing through windows and I¡¯m still a little sluggish from my shitty potions. I am so not giving myself a permit to distribute these.

    We come out onto a shelf above some empty bunk beds. This room looks more like a barracks than someone¡¯s house, but the only occupant at the moment is an Imperial woman in a pink dress. (At least, I assume she¡¯s Imperial. I still can¡¯t tell the difference between Imperials and Bretons, but I¡¯m sure it would be as obvious as the difference between Altmer and Chimer if I knew what to look for.)

    ¡°What are you doing in here!?¡± demands the woman.

    ¡°Are you Faltonia Lerus?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Who¡¯s asking? Why should I answer the questions of someone who just broke in through the window?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°The window was open. You should really close those if you don¡¯t want unexpected visits.¡±

    While the human is focused on me, Ilara has already slipped behind her and put a knife to her back. ¡°You should really answer our questions.¡±

    ¡°This one is Vara-do, of the Baandari Pedlars,¡± I say. ¡°And his sister here is Kisha. Now, you wouldn¡¯t happen to know why the Baandari might be annoyed at you, would you?¡±

    The woman stiffens at my words. ¡°Is this why the Malabal Tor branch of the Gold Coast Mercenaries keep declining every job offer, claiming to have ¡®prior commitments¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Vara-do does not appreciate people sending orders to ¡®wipe out the cats¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°Now, why don¡¯t you just tell us everything we want to know, or things might get ugly, yes?¡±

    ¡°Are you seriously going to let me go if I tell you what you want?¡± probably-Faltonia asks.

    ¡°We just might,¡± I say. ¡°And if we don¡¯t, you get to live for a few more minutes, yes?¡±

    I¡¯m not really here for information, but I will absolutely take whatever we can get through this semi-polite conversation. Torture is pointless and unnecessary, not to mention distasteful. I take over the interrogation and leave Ilara to watch the building and warn me when it looks like anyone¡¯s about to come in.

    I question Faltonia about assets, contacts, and resources. For the sake of buying herself a few more minutes of breath, I wind up with quite a bit more than I¡¯d come in for. It¡¯s too much for me to handle, to be sure, especially when I¡¯m already busy with other things, but that¡¯s why I have people I can delegate things to.

    Ilara pops back in through the window. ¡°People coming.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to do the honors, dear sister?¡± I ask.

    ¡°What, you¡¯re going to kill me after all?¡± Faltonia says. ¡°Fine. Get it over with, then. I suppose I can be glad you at least didn¡¯t torture me.¡±

    Ilara grins, slips behind the woman, and cuts her throat. Leaving her there, we make a swift escape through the window before company can arrive. A quick cleaning spell ensures that we don¡¯t have any lingering blood stuck to us.

    Not far from Faltonia¡¯s house (or barracks, whatever) is a group of performers who call themselves the Naughty Nereids. A Dunmer juggling flaming torches, a purple-clad dancing woman, and an announcer who is trying to play up their talents. I toss them a generous tip and whisper, ¡°We were here the whole time,¡± and slip into the small audience.

    It doesn¡¯t take long for Faltonia¡¯s body to be discovered, and we spend a while applauding and cheering on the performers while people are searching for the culprit.

    The sensible thing to do would be to skip town before anyone can wonder about the pair of Khajiit that just showed up right before a murder, but we¡¯re hardly the only ones to arrive in town recently. Still, I decide to make for the north gate rather than return to the docks. Further away from the murder scene, and we¡¯ll likely locate another wayshrine out in the countryside. (Hiding somewhere and teleporting directly to a wayshrine is an option, but it seems like a waste.)

    Anvil is a city ripe for the taking and I¡¯m not content to stop with simply one murder. Molag Bal possibly had a point about my deep-seated desire to conquer and dominate. However, considering the state of his blue ruins, I feel that Nirn would be better off under my rule than his. And at some point, I may eventually stumble upon some way of dealing with the Three Betrayers.

    We reach the far end of Anvil, and no one stops us from strolling right out through the gates.

    Out by the stable stands a pair of Dark Elves who I recognize. Kireth and Raynor Vanos. They were by my side when I stormed the Endless Stair and put a stop to the Planemeld. And they won¡¯t recognize me in this disguise, and must not know that Neri the Orc King is in Anvil.

    The Vanos siblings have been stranded here because they accidentally boarded a ship to Anvil instead of Hammerfell, and they don¡¯t have the money to book another ship. And won¡¯t accept ¡°charity¡±. Right, normal people have to deal with money problems. And the Orc King might have been able to plausibly give them jobs, but Vara-do has no such fallback. They¡¯re comrades-in-arms, though, and I still want to help them in some way even if I can¡¯t let them know who I am. Still, they¡¯re desperate enough to ask a pair of random Khajiit they just met for help.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Anvil and Sentinel sound the same?¡± I say. ¡°Totally unlike Nchardumz and Nchuleftingth?¡±

    ¡°Oh, are you a scholar of the Dwemer yourself, perhaps?¡± Raynor asks, although Kireth is cracking up.

    I shrug. ¡°Just well-traveled. Vara-do would be delighted to go dungeon-delving with you sometime. He can handle the inevitable ¡®everything is trying to kill us¡¯ bit that always seems to happen. He thinks most of the ruins around here are probably Ayleid and not Dwemer, though. Vara-do likes Ayleid ruins. The shiny blue crystals are very pretty. Dwemer ruins are so¡­ pokey. And constructs don¡¯t bleed, and bleeding is half the fun of fighting things.¡±

    Kireth aspires to sing at the local tavern. I didn¡¯t realize she had bardic aspirations but I¡¯ll admit that most of our conversation thus far has involved ¡°look out! Daedra!¡± and ¡°are these mages really this stupid?¡± Raynor, meanwhile, can¡¯t seem to decide what he wants to do aside from being more suited for intellectual work than physical labor. Fine, I can work with this.

    My first stop is the local Mages Guild, and I¡¯m immediately struck by the fact that there are more books stacked up on tables and the floor than there are on the actual bookshelves. I don¡¯t even bother to ask anyone if they need help with that.

    The Imperial man in the inn informs me that Kireth has a voice like a dying guar.

    ¡°She¡¯s an experienced adventurer,¡± I say. ¡°The art of the bard is not merely in song, but in storytelling as well.¡± I lower my voice conspiratorily. ¡°This one hears she fought in the Coldharbour campaign at the side of King Neri himself. That would make for quite the story, yes?¡±

    ¡°Oh, now that¡¯s a much better idea,¡± the human says. ¡°That¡¯s a rousing tale people will pay good money to hear. Just don¡¯t let her sing!¡±

    On the way back to the stables to let the Dunmer siblings know I¡¯ve found them jobs, a courier intercepts us informing us that he has a letter for the female Khajiit with the black hat. He also adds that the sender asked her to go to the lighthouse. Her specifically. Not me. I frown behind my cat-mask. That¡¯s odd.

    We put that aside for the moment and return to the stables and let the Dunmer siblings know I¡¯ve found them things to do. ¡°And if Vara-do finds any dungeons worthy of your delving talents, he will let you know, yes?¡±

    I accompany them to the Mages Guild just to see Raynor¡¯s astonishment at the state of the place. He quickly sees what I meant, and I manage to snag him a temporary job as a library assistant even though they weren¡¯t hiring and didn¡¯t think it was a problem. I¡¯m sure they know where everything is.

    We bid him farewell, leave the guildhall, and move out of sight before opening the note Ilara was given. There is nothing on the piece of paper but a rough black handprint. Deliberately rough. Probably human¨Cmer tend to have longer fingers.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°Somebody feeling dramatic,¡± I say. ¡°A symbol, I¡¯d assume, but there¡¯s a lot of things that use a hand as a symbol.¡±

    I don¡¯t trust the situation, but it¡¯s too intriguing to just ignore. So I creep around the back of the lighthouse while Ilara waits out front for me to investigate. I emerge onto a floor with a railing overlooking a room with a warm, crackling fireplace. One chair is occupied by a woman with a knife in her chest. The other by a robed man entirely more casual than most people would be next to a woman with a knife in her chest.

    ¡°You might as well come down,¡± says a smooth male voice. ¡°I heard you come in. You are not as stealthy as you think you are.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°That is good, for this one does not think he is stealthy.¡±

    ¡°Let me look into your eyes. Hmm. Yes. No fear. You are sizing up how you might need to kill me if you have to. How many lives have those eyes seen end?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Dunno. Were you the one who sent a note to this one¡¯s sister? With a mysterious black hand on it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the man says. ¡°Ah, there she is now.¡±

    Ilara has opened the door and come inside, and we exchange a look.

    ¡°Who is this human?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t deigned to introduce himself yet, dear sister,¡± I say. ¡°So Khajiit will extend the courtesy first. This one is Vara-do, and his sister is Kisha.¡±

    ¡°I am Terenus,¡± the human says. ¡°I am a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. I speak with the voice of the Night Mother.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh,¡± Ilara and I say in unison.

    Admittedly, most of what I know of the Dark Brotherhood has been from books, but I have read a lot of books. They either didn¡¯t exist yet in my past life, or the Morag Tong made sure they stayed out of Resdayn.

    ¡°Now it makes sense,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re an assassin! That is why Kisha got a note? Because she was the one who made the kill and your Night Mother noticed?¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Terenus says. ¡°The Dark Brotherhood wishes to extend an invitation to her. However, that is open to you as well if you prefer to work as a team.¡±

    ¡°Kisha is interested,¡± Ilara says.

    I give a nod of agreement. While I did come out here to commit murder and probably a bit of mayhem, I hadn¡¯t intended on officially becoming an assassin. But it seems like a thing for Vara-do to do, yes? And it¡¯s a perfect opportunity to find out more about them. Having an in on a secretive organization of deadly assassins can only be a benefit.

    (Of course, if the wrong ears hear about it and actually believe it, as unlikely as that is, that¡¯ll be considerably worse for me than if anyone finds out I had an enemy murdered. I will, of course, be letting the right ears know that I¡¯m infiltrating criminal organizations. I don¡¯t keep secrets from my wives.)

    Speaker Terenus teaches us a rather odd sort of conjuration spell. It¡¯s extremely quick and easy to cast, and all it does is summon a dagger for one second, like a training spell taught to children in their thirties or forties. Is this just a Bound Dagger spell, or something more? Well, even if it is, it¡¯s still very convenient to silently call up a weapon that exists just long enough to stab someone with it. I¡¯m not experienced enough with the nuances of magic to be able to tell if there¡¯s more to it, so I¡¯m going to get Merry to analyze this spell later.

    Terenus gives us a mission to kill a noble named Quintus Jarol.

    ¡°What did he do?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°That is not a question we ask,¡± Terenus says.

    I snort softly. ¡°Of course he¡¯s going to die regardless. But any information is useful in locating him, doing the deed, and getting out. Vara-do could have just asked ¡®who is this shave-skin and what sorts of activities does he get into that might make someone want him dead?¡¯ So if you would prefer, let us pretend that he said that. Oh, and where he lives, what his favorite pub is, that sort of thing is useful too. We can find out ourselves, but it would be silly not to ask you first.¡±

    I¡¯m probably going to put in as much effort to research him as I do with every other time some random person needs my help to kill something. It always tastes better when they really deserve it and you know it. Fools are huge fans of leaving incriminating correspondence laying around everywhere, and I have a gift that makes it very easy to collect that information without leaving evidence that their shit¡¯s been messed with.

    Terenus obligingly tells us where the noble lives and what inn he¡¯s probably been abusing that has a smuggling tunnel.

    Before we run off to do that, we head home for a rest and make some preparations. By which I mean I¡¯m going to need so many poisons. A battle axe is considerably more purely lethal than a dagger, but it¡¯s easier to use a dagger to put someone to sleep or stop them from doing magic than it is to try to poison someone with a battle axe.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to join too,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Ilara-daro, your brother would murder me if I let you join the Dark Brotherhood alone,¡± I point out.

 Chapter 163: In Which I Pretend to Be a Pirate

    The Jarol Estate is located on the coast northwest of Anvil. Before then, though, is the old inn. A dock juts out into the water with stairs leading up almost to the door of the inn, and smugglers are carrying boxes onto and off of a small boat. (I don¡¯t go up and ask them if they¡¯re smugglers. There¡¯s just something about them that screams ¡°smuggler¡±, and I¡¯ve dealt with a lot of smugglers.)

    Smuggling matter aside, the Withered Rose seems like a nice enough little inn. There don¡¯t appear to be any patrons at the moment. Maybe most people don¡¯t want to hang out in an inn secretly used for smuggling, though you¡¯d think it would still attract a certain crowd. In any case, I distract the innkeeper while Ilara picks the lock on the cellar door.

    A bit of incriminating correspondence in the basement indicates that Quintus Jarol is a smarmy fetcher and attracted to underage girls. In some very pretty words, he¡¯s basically just threatening to force the innkeeper¡¯s daughter into an unwanted relationship.

    ¡°This one will not feel bad about putting a knife in this fetcher,¡± Ilara whispers upon reading the note.

    The cellar leads into smuggling tunnels full of crates, boxes, traps, and smugglers. At the opposite end, a ladder leads up into a courtyard, conveniently out of sight behind a couple of large crates.

    I¡¯m trying very, very carefully to keep my music quiet lest it give away me actually trying to be sneaky for once. We make it across the courtyard and break into the house.

    We search the house without finding Quintus. A note in the bedroom mentions secret chambers beneath the house, past the wine cellar, as well as an important meeting between important people down there. The count of Kvatch (Carolus), the governor of Anvil (Fortunata), and some religious leader. I¡­ have no idea why these people are all meeting in the basement of some sketchy noble.

    Down in the cellar, I find a note mentioning how to access the secret passage, along with an admonition to burn this note and a complaint that fools often post the combinations to their secret vaults inside of pantries. The note being distinctly unburnt, we get inside easily.

    The secret vaults are massive and full of so many riches that I¡¯m going to need help making off with all of them. Speaker Terenus only said to murder the man. He didn¡¯t say not to rob him blind first.

    I step off into a discrete corner and pull out a communication orb. ¡°Hey. Rocky. You awake?¡± I try to will my music into making sure we¡¯re not heard. It¡¯s worth a shot. It would be very useful if I could twist this gift into a muffle spell.

    ¡°I am now,¡± Merry¡¯s voice comes through. ¡°Are you really insisting on using that code name?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say. ¡°Prepare our new looting crew. Have them dress like pirates. Don¡¯t come through until I signal again.¡±

    ¡°Dress like¡­ I¡­ shall see what I can do,¡± Merry replies.

    My daggers are named Nick and Nack, and I¡¯m testing a new poison on everyone in here that seems inclined to try to stop us. Poisons are considerably easier to make than potions that don¡¯t poison you, but there¡¯s only so much testing I can do on myself.

    The acoustics down here are perfect to eavesdrop on everything the secret meeting is about. In summary, Fortunata wants people to bow to her, Carolus thinks she¡¯s a bitch, the Primate couldn¡¯t make it, and Quintus wants everyone get along and worry about the Dark Brotherhood. And Dark Brotherhood members are being murdered by some unknown vigilante.

    Someone has noticed the number of conscious people in this cellar has been dwindling, and warns the important people to escape. Dammit! Well, I¡¯ll just have to beat up people faster, then. No sense in trying to sneak anymore.

    We finally make it to the bottom, an escape route leading out to the ocean, where we find Quintus Jarol standing near the water where there¡¯s a round hatch letting in sunlight.

    ¡°Show yourself, assassin!¡± Quintus exclaims. ¡°Or are you one of those Dark Brotherhood cowards?¡±

    I chuckle darkly and step into the light. ¡°This one is Vara-do! Dastardliest pirate never to sail the¡­ what¡¯s the name of that water out there? Never mind. Khajiit has come to claim your booty! By which I mean your treasure!¡±

    I¡¯m hoping for a good fight here, considering I¡¯ve got a handicap of weapons that are still unfamiliar to me and weak, stiff muscles from potion withdrawal. Alas, Quintus Jarol is merely a noble who fences just because that¡¯s something fancy nobles do, and not because he truly expected to have to defend himself in a fight to the death against a professional killer. I let Ilara take the kill, as the contract is technically hers.

    I spit on his corpse. ¡°For shame. For all that, this one may as well have let his sister sneak up and kill you without anyone ever even knowing we were here.¡±

    The hatch opens out onto a beach near some Ayleid ruins, near a boat Quintus failed to escape with. He won¡¯t be needing that anymore. He really should have saved himself the trouble and hired a portal mage instead.

    I bring out the orb again. ¡°Rocky, bring them through anytime.¡±

    A portal opens a ten feet in front of me, near the hatch. Merry (wearing a striped bandana across his face and a tricorne hat on his head) comes through first, followed by an Orc, two Khajiit, a High Elf, four Wood Elves, and a Goblin, all dressed in a surprisingly authentic array of pirate-themed garb that was apparently within reach on short notice. They¡¯re my new looting crew, that have been being assembled after someone insisted that I learn to delegate my looting rather than try to pick up everything myself. And then I wound up delegating the delegation when I was too busy saving the world to follow up on that.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    This crew was handpicked by Hunt-Queen Grishka. My dear hunt-wife assured me that they were all absolutely loyal and won¡¯t start rumors or try to steal more than their share. It¡¯s more¡­ diverse than I had expected. Although, some of them look a little familiar. These are all people I helped, aren¡¯t they.

    Oh hell. Did my crazy hunt-wife assemble a group of people who owe me their lives into a super-secret spy squad while I wasn¡¯t looking? How did she find the time to do this in between Pyandonea? (She probably delegated the day-to-day handling of Pyandonea and called it ¡°making use of available resources, like any sensible Orc¡±.)

    ¡°Meet your new looting crew,¡± Merry says. ¡°You inevitably need to loot things after repeatedly hitting everyone inside.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I say. ¡°Some of these bodies are still alive. Make sure they¡¯re tied up before the poison wears off. The poison was a homebrew so I have no idea how long that might be so it¡¯ll be fun to see the results.¡±

    I don¡¯t say, ¡°Stay in character, there might be witnesses,¡± but Merry is smart enough to figure that out for himself. To their credit, the loot crew fall into character without question and start tying up the unconscious guards who were probably only after a salary.

    Once everyone has been restrained, we start looting the place in earnest, interjecting piratical talk for the benefit of the guards who are slowly regaining consciousness and groggily being unable or unwilling to do anything about people who obviously want the place¡¯s treasure and don¡¯t specifically want them dead but likely won¡¯t hesitate to kill them if they cause trouble. It¡¯s so good having sensible opponents for once. They¡¯re sellswords, and hence not loyal enough to be stupid about this, and considering protecting the assets of a dead man to be not worth their lives.

    The Goblin is a portal prodigy, I¡¯m told. In that she can reliably cast a spell to open a portal to an anchor stone she has been keyed into across large distances. It¡¯s not a versatile talent, but it doesn¡¯t need to be. It¡¯s even more versatile than mine, since the anchors I use aren¡¯t portable.

    ¡°How did you get so good at portal magic?¡± Ilara asks.

    ¡°Is easy!¡± the Goblin (whose actual name I haven¡¯t asked for yet) says. ¡°Is just like stabbing! You just stab space instead of face. Same thing.¡±

    Either she¡¯s having a blast pretending to be a pirate, or some Goblins really do enjoy stabbing things as much as stereotypes imply. Or both, really.

    ¡°You sure cut up that fancy noble good,¡± asks Arithiel. (I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s Arithiel, but I don¡¯t say her name here.) ¡°Did he piss you off?¡±

    ¡°Pfah, the man was scum,¡± I spit. ¡°Nobles abusing their ¡®lessers¡¯, as if the Divines made them better than everyone else. It¡¯s disgusting. If he weren¡¯t so despicable, this one might have enjoyed simply tying him up and making him watch his fortune walk out the door.¡±

    Once we¡¯re done looting the estate and I¡¯ve given the innkeeper a tip, I step through the Goblin¡¯s portal. It puts us out into the back of a cave that I¡¯m told is near the beach a stroll down the beach from Dra¡¯bul. It had previously been occupied by pirates, hence the ready availability of suitable costumes. And this was how Vara-do became captain of a loyal crew of portal pirates. How in Oblivion do these things even happen to me?

    ¡°Welcome to Crimson Cove,¡± Grishka says, grinning widely.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t feel the need to rename it after ousting those Crimson Raiders from it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s a trophy,¡± Grishka says. ¡°I killed them and took their name. And their stuff. And their cave.¡± She chuckles. ¡°I just got back in from a hunt. How¡¯d your support team work out? And why are they dressed like pirates?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re pretending to be pirates to conceal being assassins,¡± I say. ¡°Also because I didn¡¯t want to have to kill everyone but assassins wouldn¡¯t bring in a crew to loot the place top to bottom.¡±

    Grishka thinks about that for a moment. ¡°Makes sense.¡± She looks at the valuables continuing to pour in. ¡°Damn. Who the fuck did you kill? A king?¡±

    ¡°Nah, some asshole Imperial noble,¡± I say.

    ¡°Daaamn,¡± Grishka says. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see what trophies you bring back when you do kill a king.¡±

    I love that she thinks me killing kings sooner or later is a foregone conclusion.

    Grishka is not concerned about me being an assassin. She doesn¡¯t see much difference in killing Orc chiefs who were doing things I didn¡¯t like and offing some poncy human. Any Orc who looks down on stealth or subterfuge has never tried to hunt, either. Sensible Orcs don¡¯t charge after deer with a battle axe while screaming at the top of their lungs. Grishka has many opinions on what sensible Orcs should be like.

    I would imagine that someone who can open portals like the Goblin (Magarruk, I learn her name is) would be very useful in the merchant business, but Grishka has decided that Mags is trustworthy, can keep her mouth shut, and is willing to turn a blind eye to any stupid thing she sees. This is much more valuable than simply being able to open portals, as useful as that might be.

    ¡°So, will the pirate act be regular, or was this a one-time thing?¡± asks Merry.

    ¡°Hm,¡± I say. ¡°They did a pretty good pirate show on short notice there. I¡¯ll bet they have the talent for more, but a pirate crew seems like it would be a good common guise for looters.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be a support team, not just looters,¡± Grishka says, laughing.

    Once we¡¯ve emptied our pockets, eaten lunch, taken a nap, whatever, Ilara and I teleport to the wayshrine outside of Anvil to report back to Speaker Terenus regarding the death of Quintus Jarol (and some others who happened to be standing nearby).

    ¡°It is said that the Jarol Estate was sacked by pirates,¡± Speaker Terenus says.

    ¡°Yes, that was us,¡± I say. ¡°Were we supposed to be more subtle?¡±

    ¡°He did wind up dead, so the fate of his property and employees is irrelevant,¡± Terenus says. ¡°There are, after all, no wrong targets. All souls belong to Sithis, in the end. A pirate attack may well have been more subtle than a precise assassination, in being a misdirection. They were expecting the Dark Brotherhood, not a heretofore-unknown pirate gang.¡±

    ¡°We pride ourselves on doing the unexpected,¡± I say.

    ¡°There is payment for you in this as well, although I am certain that this is a paltry sum compared to the wealth you gained from looting the manor.¡± Terenus slips a coin purse into Ilara¡¯s paw.

    He tells us the location of the closest Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, hidden in the hills north of Anvil, and a pass phrase to get inside. Fantastic. And all it took was doing something I would have been inclined to do anyway if asked by someone who wasn¡¯t mysterious and wearing ominous black robes. (It¡¯s the whole aesthetic, though. Style is important. This suave Imperial oozes style.)

 Chapter 164: In Which I Draw a Bad Diagram

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really seem to like being conjured when not being used to murder someone,¡± I say, summoning the Blade of Woe one more time. ¡°I¡¯m just kind of¨C¡± The dagger vanishes again a second later. ¡°¨Cconvincing it that I¡¯m trying to kill flies. So, anything?¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Merry says, rubbing his chin.

    ¡°Hmm?¡± I ask. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me this is just a fancy Bound Dagger spell.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Merry says. ¡°It is basically a Bound Dagger spell, but there¡¯s more to it than that. It isn¡¯t summoning a dagger from Oblivion. I can recognize normal conjuration spells. This is not a normal conjuration spell. It¡¯s more like a microscopic Void rift being opened briefly. Again, please.¡±

    I repeat the ability, the black dagger appearing in my hand again before disappearing.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Merry says.

    ¡°Hmmmm?¡± I reply with a smirk.

    ¡°There is also something similar to a Soul Trap effect on it,¡± Merry says. ¡°Although I would need to actually witness you killing something that isn¡¯t a fly with it to be certain, I speculate that it draws the soul of someone killed while it is active into the Void.¡±

    ¡°Hmmmmm¡­¡± I say.

    ¡°I know that look,¡± Merry says. ¡°You have just had an idea that will likely cause someone, somewhere to have a very bad day.¡±

    I chuckle darkly. ¡°You could say that.¡±

    ¡°How serious are you about this whole Dark Brotherhood business?¡± Merry wonders. ¡°Assassination contracts aside, I would not expect someone who is married with a child on the way to be interested in an incarnation of the Void, even casually.¡±

    ¡°You have to understand, it¡¯s not like Sithis is against marriage and childbirth,¡± I say.

    ¡°I would have thought he would not be in favor of adding more lives to the world.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Here, let me show you a diagram.¡± There¡¯s some colored chalk in the cave office, which I make good use of.

    Merry groans. ¡°If you must.¡±

    I draw a green marking on the closest smooth wall. ¡°This is Tamriel.¡±

    ¡°That blob is hardly a good rendition of Tamriel.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m drawing a diagram here, not a map,¡± I say, and encircle the dot with a blue circle. ¡°This is Nirn. There¡¯s also Pyandonea and Akavir and whatever else on Nirn but I don¡¯t feel like drawing them right now. Also I¡¯m not sure what they look like. Never saw a map of them. Anyway.¡±

    I draw a purple circle around Nirn and dot in some red marks, although not taking much care in them, either.

    ¡°This is Oblivion, and the various realms in it,¡± I say.

    ¡°Neri, are you high?¡± Merry wonders.

    ¡°Just a biiiit,¡± I say, drawing a white circle around Oblivion. ¡°This is Aetherius. If there¡¯s stuff in here, I have no idea what it is. Sovngarde, I think? Not important, anyway.¡±

    I draw black around Aetherius.

    ¡°And this is the Void. Alright, I¡¯m about to make this messy.¡±

    I draw a few yellow lines leading in from Aetherius to Tamriel, ending them in little dots.

    ¡°Souls come into the world from Aetherius. I think. Look, that book I read was very confusing and metaphorical, but this should be close enough for my own metaphor. Anyway.¡±

    I draw a pink line from one of the yellow spots toward Aetherius.

    ¡°When souls worshipping the Aedra die, they go back to Aetherius.¡± Another line to Oblivion. ¡°And Daedra worshippers go to their own god¡¯s realm in Oblivion, unless someone fucks around with imprisoning people in places they¡¯re not supposed to be. But Oblivion is still inside the sheath of the Aurbis here, so they haven¡¯t been entirely removed from the cycle. They¡¯re still there, and can still come back like I did. But¡­¡±

    I draw another pink line from another spot out to the Void.

    ¡°Souls that go to Sithis are removed from the Aurbis,¡± I say. ¡°One tiny piece at a time, the essence of reality leaks away. But they need to continue to be born into Nirn to remove them.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ wait.¡± Merry frowns. ¡°If sending souls to Sithis is slowly destroying the Aurbis one tiny piece at a time, why do people do it?¡± He pauses thoughtfully. ¡°I would imagine that what few Dark Brotherhood members realize this are nihilistic death cultists and consider that to be a desirable thing.¡±

    I lean back with a wild grin on my face. ¡°It will admittedly take many kalpas for the slow trickle of souls out of the Aurbis for it to have a serious impact, of course. But do you know what else it means? It means people whose souls are sent to the Void aren¡¯t going to come back and fucking bother me again.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Good point.¡± Merry smirks. ¡°The sorts of people you kill generally do not deserve eternal paradise. They should be grateful to be sent somewhere that they will not experience suffering.¡±

    ¡°As I¡¯m a good indication, just sacrificing someone to a Daedric Prince and leaving them imprisoned in Oblivion is not a guarantee that they won¡¯t bust out and be annoyed at you later.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Merry looks at me in realization. ¡°You mean to take down the Three and send them to the Void.¡±

    I cackle. ¡°This might not be enough to do it by itself. But it¡¯s a weapon that might just work against them, given the right opportunity.¡±

    ¡­

    Ilara and I head out the north gate of Anvil, past the stables where the Dunmer siblings are no longer loitering. While in town, I¡¯d heard a rumor regarding some missing people and suspicions of vampiric activity. Like the pirates and assassins weren¡¯t enough for this town. There¡¯s also a bounty on a wispmother who has claimed a nearby cave and may or may not have anything to do with the vampires.

    ¡°Monster extermination¡± quests are just socially acceptable assassination missions. Especially when the monster in question is an intelligent being like a wispmother. At least in this case, she¡¯s a murderous undead who has been killing people.

    Hrota Cave isn¡¯t far from the Anvil stables and we find it after a bit of searching in the hills. A vaguely familiar Dunmer man is kneeling not far inside. He warns us to leave because it¡¯s dangerous.

    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here,¡± I say. ¡°Khajiit saw bounty for wispmother. We came to kill her and get paid.¡±

    ¡°And pauldrons,¡± Ilara adds. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the pauldrons.¡±

    ¡°And collect some pauldrons for some reason.¡±

    ¡°There is worse in these forsaken caves than a mere wispmother,¡± the Dunmer says. ¡°My name is Mel Adrys.¡±

    Oh, hey, I do know this mer. ¡°The famous vampire hunter?¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re Vara-do and Kisha.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of me?¡± Mel says. ¡°I did not realize I was that famous, though I suppose word of me has gotten around in certain circles. But yes. I have come here stalking a terrible vampire lord named Zalar-do. She kidnapped two innocents from Anvil and I hope they are still alive.¡±

    I sure hope they haven¡¯t been drained to death by vampires while Mel was busy praying.

    ¡°We can help hit her too so long as we¡¯re here,¡± I say. ¡°Really, we were probably just going to clear the cave of anything more dangerous than a skeever while we were here anyway. And probably any skeevers we ran across, for good measure.¡±

    ¡°The vampire can enthrall those with weak minds,¡± Mel says. ¡°Should you fall, I shall be forced to slay you as well.¡±

    I snort softly. ¡°Vara-do has resisted Daedra before. He is not worried. Let us go kill things!¡±

    The misty cave is seemingly empty of anything but wisps at first glance, but as we walk through its tunnels, zombies emerge from the ankle-deep water to spew at us. We kill them quickly, but we still wind up covered in head to toe with foul-smelling fluid.

    ¡°Eugh. This one is glad she learned that cleaning spell,¡± Ilara says, casting it. ¡°This would take forever to get out of fur and smells awful.¡±

    Poison isn¡¯t going to be helpful here, so I just hack them apart with a sword (that I named Butterknife). I haven¡¯t done much swordfighting lately, and it just reminds me of those wedding gifts we got during my unfortunate marriage to a crazy bitch. Trueflame and Hopesfire. Still, I wouldn¡¯t mind having a flaming sword again. It would at least be useful against undead, Frost Atronachs, and Sea Elves.

    The cave is large and confusing, but we make sure to explore the place thoroughly and kill everything inside in due order. And pick up the pauldrons. I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to why we needed the pauldrons, but whatever.

    I¡¯m not used to fighting with a sword, but it¡¯s just as well since my body is still weak from lingering effects of the potions I¡¯d abused during the last few battles in Coldharbour. I don¡¯t feel like deliberately getting killed in order to see if that resets those effects, since I¡¯m not sure where I might respawn and how easy it might be to get back to where I was, so I¡¯ll just suffer with it. Let¡¯s be honest, I could have killed these zombies naked, unarmed, and sedated. The wispmother and vampire Khajiit would have been a lot easier without this handicap, but with it they¡¯re actually fun fights.

    ¡°Did you find the vampire¡¯s victims?¡± Mel asks once the vampire Khajiit is down.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t run across anyone who didn¡¯t yell ¡®BLEH!¡¯ and try to kill us,¡± I say. ¡°But we made sure to cause everything moving to stop moving.¡±

    ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± Mel says. ¡°At least they have been put out of their misery, then.¡±

    ¡°Assuming their souls wound up somewhere that would be an improvement over shambling around yelling ¡®BLEH!¡¯¡± I say. ¡°But that¡¯s probably most places.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ assuming that¡­¡± Mel says.

    There isn¡¯t much point in bringing the looting crew in here. The zombies might stand up again (unless I have Merry cleanse the place in fire) and there isn¡¯t any significant loot.

    ¡°So, Mel,¡± I say. ¡°Surely you must have some interesting stories, yes? Vara-do heard rumor of you when he was traveling in Valenwood. Something about Longhaven?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Yes.¡± Mel steps out into the sunlight, looking grateful to be out under the open sky again and not a moist cave full of rotting stench. ¡°There was a problem with some vampires in the Shademist Moors. I received assistance from a surprisingly competent group of adventurers. Strong-willed, though a bit soft-hearted as well. They insisted on sparing vampires who had surrendered and weren¡¯t attacking us. Fortunately, I have not heard word that the vampires they permitted to escape have been causing trouble, so perhaps their compassion was not unwarranted.¡±

    ¡°Vara-do prefers sparing people when possible as well,¡± I say. ¡°This one uses sleeping poisons whenever he has to get through other sellswords who made poor choices in who to get coin from.¡±

    ¡°Commendable,¡± Mel says. ¡°I do not kill the living, even if there are some who the world would likely be better off without.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re heading back to Anvil to report the death of the wispmother and get our reward,¡± I say. ¡°Vara-do would love to hear more stories if you¡¯re heading that way.¡±

    Mel nods. ¡°Of course. Now that Zalar-do has been taken care of, I will need to ensure that there are no further vampire problems in the Gold Coast, and arrange for transportation to wherever I will be heading next. Vampires are a problem across all of Tamriel, and where there¡¯s one, there¡¯s liable to be others.¡±

    Along the way, he tells us a bit about a few other hunts, including a time he met the Wilderqueen while stalking a different vampire in Greenshade. She even told him to thank me for it, though he doesn¡¯t realize that¡¯s who he¡¯s talking to. I ought to go say hi to Ari sometime.

    We return to Anvil to report the wispmother dead and get our reward. The bounty posting made note to speak with one Cleric Arvina, a priest of Arkay who can be found in the Mages Guild. I find him upstairs, and begin removing pauldrons from my pack once I confirm he¡¯s the right robed guy.

    ¡°You have my gratitude, and the blessing of Arkay upon you,¡± the priest says. ¡°It is good that you were able to succeed where my brethren failed.¡±

    ¡°Vara-do is very good at hitting things, yes?¡± I say as I receive our due payment. ¡°This one is curious. Why are you in the Mages Guildhall instead of the temple, if you are a priest?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well,¡± the priest says, clearing his throat. ¡°The local temple is dedicated to Dibella, you see. While I respect the Lady of Love¡¯s place in the pantheon as much as anyone, the dancers can be a bit¡­ distracting. I can focus better here, without attractive young men and women showing off their assets for all who come by.¡±

    Not far from where we found the priest of Arkay, Raynor is working at sorting through books and greets us. There¡¯s another familiar face here as well. Gabrielle Benele, who was also part of the Coldharbour expedition and was at my side during the final assault. Gabrielle is here to do research in hopes of locating and retrieving Darien Gautier, who still hasn¡¯t reappeared after we destroyed the planar vortex.

    Vara-do doesn¡¯t know anything about any of that, of course, and merely wishes them good luck. They¡¯re going to need it, considering the state of the library here. It might be even more of a mess than Molag Bal¡¯s one was, and that one had infinite pits into nothingness and gratuitous puzzles.

 Chapter 165: In Which I Meet the Family

    ¡°Well, Kisha,¡± I say as we¡¯re leaving Anvil again. ¡°Shall we go pay a visit to our new Brothers and Sisters?¡±

    ¡°It would be rude not to go introduce ourselves, dear brother,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Kisha is looking forward to meeting some like-minded ne¡¯er-do-wells.¡±

    Along the road northeast of Anvil, there¡¯s a wayshrine (which I light, of course) with a merchant cart and a couple of tents set up next to it. Two signs proclaim it to be Wayshriner¡¯s Wares. A shop in the middle of nowhere run by a pair of Orcs named Grazda and Obrash. They seem to get a lot of business from shady characters passing by.

    I don¡¯t ask them, ¡°Hey, is there a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary somewhere around here? The directions Speaker Terenus gave us weren¡¯t that great.¡± But I get my answer anyway.

    Tucked away in a gorge north of the wayshrine stands a creepy black door set into the stone around it. If someone wanted to force their way inside, it would probably be easier just to use earth-moving spells, but it¡¯s unlikely that anyone capable of doing that knows where this is or cares. There will always be people willing to murder for pay.

    ¡°What is the flavor of fear?¡± whispers the creepy door in a creepy voice.

    ¡°Sublime, my brother,¡± I reply, wondering absently if there¡¯s someone behind that door.

    ¡°Welcome home,¡± says the door, swinging open for us and revealing that no, no actual person is watching the entrance, just a talking door.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, stepping inside. ¡°Do you ever get bored? Do you ever ask people coming weird questions just to see what they say?¡±

    The creepy door does not reply.

    The Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary might be a cave, but it¡¯s a very fancy cave. Many candles burn to light the way, probably ones enchanted to never burn out because this would be quite a lot of candles to have to replace regularly. An archway stands off to the left leading into a small library with huge red banners depicting that hand symbol. One wall is plastered with bounty posters, probably as trophies of honor or something, although I¡¯m not sure why they¡¯d honor getting caught. I suppose making the kill is more important than doing it quietly.

    ¡°You must be the new initiates,¡± the Dunmer says. ¡°Elam Drals is the name. The Speaker told me to expect you. Still, you must not be too good. Your names haven¡¯t appeared on one of my contracts.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Vara-do would be surprised if it had, since Vara-do is not his name.¡±

    Between the natural stalactites and mushrooms and the carven pillars and paved floors, a very fancy stained glass window depicting a knife in a heart sits set into a wall that is highly unlikely there¡¯s actual sunlight behind. Maybe there¡¯s a hole in the ceiling behind it somewhere, I don¡¯t know. It would be funny if someone were strolling around the hills of the Gold Coast, slipped and fell straight through the Dark Brotherhood¡¯s fancy window.

    Further on, there¡¯s a large room with lots of fancy pillars, making me wonder if some really bored assassin spent a lot of time carving this or was a mage who knew stone manipulation spells. The Matron of this Sanctuary is an Imperial woman by the name of Astara with a lengthy last name starting with C that I don¡¯t bother to make note of. We make a pleasant greeting, to which she demands to be obeyed without question.

    ¡°Without question?¡± I repeat. ¡°This one does not think he can do that. He always asks questions. Usually for directions and information.¡±

    Astara gives a sigh and does not call me a smartass, instead saying, ¡°I don¡¯t mean that sort of question.¡± She offers us two sets of leather armor. ¡°This is for you. Shrouded armor. The uniform of the Dark Brotherhood.¡±

    I blink as I look down at the armor in my arms. ¡°Vara-do has another question¡­ why does a group of secretive assassins have a uniform? Would that not make it obvious who we are?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s enchanted, obviously,¡± Astara says with a sour look on her face like she thinks we¡¯re going to be a handful. (Or me. That I¡¯m going to be a handful, really. Though if I didn¡¯t say it, Ilara would have. She¡¯s got a snarky streak to her too.)

    Astara bids us to explore the Sanctuary and meet the other assassins who are in at the moment. I don¡¯t trust my clothes-changing spell enough to not show anything I don¡¯t want, so I make sure I¡¯m out of sight of anyone before casting it. It doesn¡¯t cover the face quite as much as I¡¯d prefer, so I stick my cat-mask on over top instead of the hood it came with. It doesn¡¯t need to be quite so obvious that there isn¡¯t a Khajiit under these clothes.

    I run across some books describing how to perform the Black Sacrament and what the Five Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood are. Don¡¯t dishonor the Night Mother, betray the Dark Brotherhood, disobey orders, or steal from or kill a fellow member. Simple enough. And if we break them, we invoke the Wrath of Sithis. (I¡¯m probably going to need to disobey orders at some point, but so be it.)

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    There¡¯s a fully stocked alchemy lab, which is nice. It might even be better than my own setup. More notably, there¡¯s a familiar scaly face tucked away in one corner.

    ¡°Slim-Jah!¡± I exclaim on impulse of seeing her, before remembering that I¡¯m pretending to be a Khajiit and not an Altmer. Dammit, breaking my cover at the first familiar face I run across? I¡¯m usually better about this. Ilara-daro is better than this.

    ¡°Do I know you?¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°It¡¯s Vara-do!¡± I say. ¡°Remember the last time we met? This one got drunk, drank poison, then walked around the Argonian village naked?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that was pretty unforgettable¡­ Vara-do.¡±

    I glance about to make sure no one is in earshot. The Sanctuary is not very echoy, thankfully. I suspect those banners everywhere have muffle enchantments on them or something. Ilara¡¯s light giggles go nowhere. Still, I don¡¯t trust (most of) these assassins enough yet to loudly proclaim my identity.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again,¡± I say. ¡°This one wondered where you went after we last spoke.¡±

    ¡°Vara-do,¡± Slim-Jah says, as if rolling the name around in her mouth to taste it. ¡°You certainly have a lot of false identities. One might wonder who the real you is under all that, and whether you really wanted to be him at all.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°This one does not mind being him, but being him is a dangerous thing to be.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to be surprised or not that you joined the Brotherhood after all,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°It was something of an accident,¡± I say. ¡°Someone needed to be murdered, and I guess the Night Mother noticed. We were happy to take the opportunity, though.¡±

    After bidding farewell for now to Slim-Jah, we continue to explore. We meet a Redguard assassin named Tanek, who doesn¡¯t think much of us and believes we won¡¯t live long. I don¡¯t tell him that I¡¯ve probably killed more people than the entire Dark Brotherhood combined even when I¡¯m not going out of my way to actually kill people.

    In one room, I spot a book simply titled Sithis laying on the table and flip it open to read. It is a very, very strange book, and I¡¯ve definitely read some strange ones. It starts off as a normal creation myth, albeit one from a very different point of view than usual. It talks about Lorkhan, and I try very hard to keep my music from bringing out the Doom Drum again.

    And then at the end it takes a complete left turn. ¡°Go unto the Sharmat Dagoth Ur as a friend. AE HERMA MORA ALTADOON PADHOME LKHAN AE AI.¡±

    ¡°What the shit?¡± I mutter.

    I don¡¯t need to steal this book. I¡¯ve seen it before and probably already have a copy somewhere. But as I recall, I was interrupted and never actually finished reading it, and it was before I got the Library of the Mind blessing. I suppose I didn¡¯t think about it again. I definitely would have remembered had I read that bit before.

    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Ilara asks, looking over my shoulder. ¡°And why is it in capital letters?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Ehlnofex,¡± I say softly. ¡°The language of the Ehlnofey. Ehlnofex is always written in all caps, for some reason. And it¡¯s a very¡­ slippery language.¡± I put the book down. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later. Let¡¯s go meet the others.¡±

    There¡¯s a Nord man named Kor and a werewolf in a cage, whose name is apparently Hildegard. She¡¯s skittish about a new scent, and I stiffen at the sight of a werewolf but force myself to relax. I don¡¯t trust her not to lose control, especially given that I¡¯m first seeing her in werewolf form, but since she¡¯s a Dark Sister, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to be doing anything about it right now. According to Kor, Hildegard is a sweet woman who was forced to drink werewolf blood by her family.

    The next member we meet are Bretons (I think) named Cimbar and Mirabelle, the latter of which immediately flirts gratuitously with both of us. I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s an act or she just isn¡¯t terribly concerned about the race or gender of people she flirts with, or whether it¡¯s in front of Cimbar or not, who I think she¡¯s involved with.

    Finally, there¡¯s another Argonian, who introduces himself as Green-Venom-Tongue. He¡¯s been making notes about us, and has found few details.

    ¡°You will not find much,¡± I say. ¡°This one does not exist.¡±

    ¡°Is that so,¡± Green-Venom-Tongue says. ¡°And yet you stand before me. Even if it is a false identity, you still must be someone who came from somewhere.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Good luck. This one does not suggest wasting your time, however, when you could simply ask.¡±

    ¡°Would you tell me what I wish to know?¡± Green-Venom-Tongue asks.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say with a cheeky grin.

    ¡°I look forward to interviewing you at length later, then.¡±

    Lastly, we return to Elam Drals at the front of the Sanctuary. He has a contract for us (actually Ilara) (actually Kisha, technically) to travel to Kvatch and kill someone there. Having not been to Kvatch yet, we¡¯ll need to make our first trip there by road. Wayshrines make me lazy. Wayshrines also make it easy to be in two places at once. Fortunately, so long as I put in some public appearances and make a few speeches, people are still going to believe I¡¯m in Cyrodiil.

    Cyrodiil. It¡¯s a clusterfuck of capturing strategic points and so forth. The Bretons and Dunmer are supposed to be good with magic, but apparently neither of them thought to ward any of the points they capture against hostile teleportation magic, nor do they anticipate having a small army suddenly appear at any location that gets threatened. They do try a few magical tricks, but it¡¯s¡­ inefficient. Cyrodiil is large, and a lot of space to capture, but the Aldmeri Dominion is steadily gaining ground. I really hope I force them to step up their game. This is going to be a boring war otherwise.

    We¡¯re back at Crimson Cove before Ilara presses me on the book we ran across again. ¡°What do the Ehlnofex words mean?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t normally pry into weird mythology, Ilara-daro,¡± I say.

    ¡°This is different,¡± Ilara says.

    I shrug. ¡°Okay. So, Herma-Mora is obvious, that¡¯s Hermaeus Mora. It might mean him literally, but it also might refer to knowledge in general. The names of gods and their domains are sometimes considered synonymous.¡±

    ¡°What does Hermaeus Mora have to do with Sithis?¡± Ilara wonders.

    ¡°I¡¯ll defer speculation for the moment,¡± I say. ¡°ALTADOON means ¡®weapon¡¯. Could also be a metaphorical sort of weapon. PADHOME is Padomay, of course, and could also refer to Chaos or the Void. The next word LKHAN probably refers to Lorkhan. The other words are particles that I¡¯m not sure on the specific meaning of, mostly because they don¡¯t mean specifically anything. Probably something like ¡®I¡¯ or ¡®is¡¯ or ¡®I am¡¯ or whatever.¡±

    ¡°I am knowledge weapon Void Lorkhan is?¡± Ilara says. ¡°Hm. This one thinks you could put any handful of random words together and sound profound so long as you say it in Ehlnofex.¡±

    ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±

 Chapter 166: In Which Razum-Dar Does Not Murder Me for Corrupting His Sister

    I stop by Anvil to take a look at the bounty board before we make our way to Kvatch, in case there¡¯s anything we can get paid to kill along the way. There¡¯s a bounty posted for the assassination of a troll in a nearby Ayleid ruin by the name of Garlas Agea. The shifty High Elf who hires us also wants some ledgers for shifty reasons that I don¡¯t feel like prying too hard into just yet. I¡¯m sure answers will be forthcoming as soon as I see said ledgers and their owners.

    The Ayleid ruin isn¡¯t too far from the Sanctuary. There¡¯s a minotaur or two outside, and a door leading to the interior that we slip inside.

    Down the stairs at the start of the ruin, a very familiar Khajiit is interrogating a Redguard. Ilara draws in a sharp breath upon seeing the red hair ridge that matches the one she¡¯s currently hiding under her headwear.

    Razum-dar does not recognize us on sight under our disguises, and warns us away, telling us that the ruins are dangerous and he doesn¡¯t want us in his way.

    ¡°Can we step outside for a moment?¡± I ask, quietly making a small gesture the Eyes of the Queen use as an identification signal. (I did technically join, after all, and they did tell me a few things before I wound up accidentally becoming a king.)

    ¡°Very well,¡± Raz says, tail shifting and one ear flicking curiously. ¡°This shave-skin isn¡¯t going anywhere.¡±

    We head out of the ruin interior, and I take a glance around to make sure there¡¯s no one liable to be eavesdropping in the immediate vicinity. Ilara takes off her hat first, grinning.

    ¡°Ilara?¡± Razum-dar says. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°This one is Kisha,¡± Ilara says with a twitch of her whiskers. ¡°Certainly not your dear sister, sleek and skilled Ilara-daro.¡±

    Raz snorts softly. ¡°But if you¡¯re here, then who is this?¡±

    I pull my cat mask off. ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Neri?¡± Raz says. ¡°Raz thought you were leading a war campaign in Cyrodiil.¡±

    I grin wildly and put my cat mask back on before someone sees me. ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± I say, slipping back into my imitation Khajiit accent. ¡°Neri gro-Drublog isn¡¯t here. Just Vara-do, a mighty Khajiit sellsword and sometime pirate.¡±

    Raz gives me a look-over appraisingly. ¡°Your tail needs practice but your disguise is quite clever. You change identities like Canonreeve Estre changes gods. Dare I ask what brings you to the Gold Coast?¡±

    ¡°Stuff,¡± I say with a shrug.

    ¡°We joined the Dark Brotherhood,¡± Ilara says.

    Raz blinks. ¡°Seriously? And you tell me this?¡±

    ¡°This one would not keep secrets from her brother,¡± Ilara says. ¡°At any rate, Kisha joined the Dark Brotherhood. Sweet Ilara-daro is totally innocent.¡±

    ¡°But the Dark Brotherhood¡­¡± Raz sighs and runs a paw across his red hair ridge. ¡°Why?¡±

    Ilara is quiet for a moment. ¡°This is where the path took us. And when we are done here, we will walk on.¡±

    Raz looks at me a touch accusingly. ¡°Did you drag her into this?¡±

    I hold up my hands. ¡°I don¡¯t drag Ilara-daro anywhere. Good luck in getting her to do anything she doesn¡¯t want to do. In any case, they recruited her, not Vara-do.¡±

    ¡°So you joined as well to keep an eye on her and keep her safe?¡± Raz asks.

    ¡°Ilara-daro does not need people to keep her safe, Raz,¡± Ilara says vehemently. ¡°She prefers to work in a team, though. If people are paying attention to someone else, they aren¡¯t paying attention to her. Ilara-daro can take care of herself, but she¡¯s not stupid.¡±

    Raz sighs in resignation. ¡°Be careful, sister. Raz does not want to see you hurt. And not every hurt is one you can see. The work of an assassin is messy business. Killing can take its toll on a person. And should they ever ask you to kill someone you do not wish to¡­¡±

    ¡°Then Kisha will vanish, and Ilara-daro will walk on.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Raz says. ¡°Raz could tell you to be careful until he runs out of breath. What brings you to this ruin specifically? Or is Neri¨Cpardon me, Vara-do--simply poking his nose into every hole in the ground like he usually does?¡±

    ¡°There was a bounty on a large troll that¡¯s supposed to be inside,¡± I say.

    ¡°Of course you¡¯re coming here to fight a troll,¡± Raz says with a feline smirk. ¡°So long as you are here, perhaps you can assist in slaying a war criminal Raz has tracked to this ruin. Her name is Captain Jena Apinia, and she is known as the Butcher of Bravil.¡±

    ¡°I assume she got that title from killing civilians and not from selling meat,¡± I say.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    It¡¯s easy to forget sometimes that in between the cloak-and-dagger, Raz is still an adventurer, albeit one who works for a queen.

    ¡°You would be correct,¡± Raz says. ¡°Raz is also here to retrieve some official trinkets stolen from there. A seal, a signet ring, a tax ledger, that sort of thing. Raz knows it might take a while to search all the crates for Bravil¡¯s missing trinkets,¡± Raz says.

    I hold up a hand to interrupt him. ¡°Raz, there¡¯s some friends you need to meet.¡± I pull out my communication orb. ¡°Rocky, get the loot crew ready to move in once I clear this ruin.¡±

    ¡°Acknowledged,¡± Merry¡¯s voice replies.

    ¡°You have a special looting crew?¡± Raz says, then chuckles and shakes his head. ¡°Of course you do.¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re good folks. Maybe I need a good name for them like the Eyes of the Queen. Maybe the Pockets of the King.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Ilara says with an amused smirk.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hit this ruin,¡± I say. ¡°Or at least the people in it. My support team are not as skilled of warriors as us so I¡¯d rather they not have to deal with anything too dangerous or too many hostiles.¡±

    I drop back into character and we make our way through the ruins. I¡¯ve adjusted my sleep poison and need to test the latest mixture, after all, and fortunately, these mercenaries have decided to volunteer! They perhaps should have reconsidered harboring war criminals. Still doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m just going to slaughter them, though. You never know when you might need perfectly good mercenaries who will take your coin without asking too many prying questions.

    There¡¯s a Skyshard in one of the crates, which I absorb on the way by once everyone in the room is down, but otherwise I ignore the various containers for the moment to focus on hitting things. Not shoving everything into my bag as I go does streamline the ruin-clearing process a bit.

    We locate the troll. The mercenaries are not doing a very good job of keeping it contained, and our distraction isn¡¯t helping matters any. It completely breaks free of its chains when we approach, knocking several mercenaries aside and scattering them across the ground.

    Once we¡¯ve killed the big troll, the surviving mercenaries in the immediate vicinity immediately surrender. Smart of them for not wanting to mess with anyone who could kill that troll. I reward them by healing them and letting them run away.

    Along with the troll, there¡¯s a number of other caged animals. I leave them be for the moment. I¡¯ll let Grishka figure out what to do with them. They¡¯ve even got a guar! Maybe I can finally have a pet guar.

    Some of the poor hirelings here got trapped by traps. While I might consider the swinging blades to be fun, I¡¯m sure most people would find them hair-raising. Or rapidly hair-lowering.

    ¡°Stay put!¡± I call to them. ¡°Khajiit will get you out of there in a moment. First he must murder your boss!¡±

    ¡°Good luck!¡± yells back one of the mercenaries loyally.

    The ¡°Butcher of Bravil¡± is in the final room of the ruin, in which she has set up a sort of bedroom and office. She¡¯s gotten entirely too comfortable in here. Turns out she¡¯s not such hot stuff when pitted against people who aren¡¯t unarmed civilians.

    Once we¡¯ve ensured no one in here is liable to be fighting back, I call in my support team to loot the place and help locate the ledgers and trinkets amid the mess of crates and barrels the Gold Coast Trading Company is storing here for some reason. (I suppose a random ruin that no one else is using is free storage and relatively safe if there aren¡¯t undead, Daedra, or whatever in it.)

    ¡°Be sure to avoid that hallway¨C¡± I point. ¡°¨Cunless you enjoy swinging blade traps. Ayleids sure did like their traps. Vara-do is going to go rescue some fools.¡±

    Raz and Ilara inform them what we¡¯re looking for while I go back over to the trapped hallway. The fools in question have been stuck here for some time and are dehydrated, hungry, and tired. They were about ready to try their luck at timing the swings when they heard fighting in the distance and decided to wait and see what was going on.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I hmm. ¡°Usually there¡¯s a lever or switch that controls the traps. Kisha, do you see anything?¡±

    ¡°Kisha isn¡¯t spotting anything.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s broken or buried,¡± I say.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t see anything like that,¡± says one of the mercenaries. ¡°We were trying to hold the traps back with wooden scaffolding. That¡­ didn¡¯t work out terribly well.¡±

    ¡°Give me a moment,¡± I say, watching the blades swing back and forth for a minute. ¡°Alright. When Vara-do says go, run this way like you¡¯re fleeing from a troll.¡± I pause. ¡°The troll is dead, by the way. But still. Ready?¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± The mercenaries nervously take a position near the traps and wait for my signal.

    Swing-swing. Swing-swing. Swing-swing. ¡°Go!¡±

    The woman makes a break for it and sprints past me. The man is just a tiny bit slower to get moving and stumbles. The closest blade to me is about to come down. I step into its path and put up a Blinky Barrier. The swinging blade slams into the shield of light, staggering me for a moment but leaving me and the hapless mercenary unharmed. He makes it to safety, panting heavily and looking like he was about to have a heart attack there.

    I meant to limit the use of my light powers, but it¡¯s not like healing and barrier spells are rare and it was the only way I could be sure the blade would actually stop.

    ¡°I¡¯m alive?¡± the man says. ¡°Oh, praise the Divines, I¡¯m alive. I thought I was never going to get out of there in one piece.¡±

    ¡°We owe you our lives, Khajiit,¡± the woman says. ¡°And if you were here to kill our boss, then I¡¯m doubly grateful since you didn¡¯t have to stop to help us. Unrelatedly, are you hiring?¡± She looks over at the ¡®pirates¡¯ currently confiscating the Gold Coast Trading Company¡¯s goods.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to talk to my first mate, the Orc lady over there,¡± I say. ¡°She handles the crew. This one just picks targets and hits things.¡±

    Raz gets his trinkets and bids us good day. I get the ledgers, and return to Anvil with Ilara to bring them to the mer who hired us.

    The shifty High Elf gets even shiftier when we return with the ledgers he wanted. After some prodding, he confesses that he¡¯s with a competing company and was tired of the Gold Coast Trading Company buying off his mercenaries.

    ¡°Mm, a good thing for you then that we saw your notice first, yes?¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°And that it was their goods that were being stored in a ruin for some reason that got stolen and not yours,¡± I say. ¡°And simply providence that they were harboring a war criminal who deserved to die as well.¡±

    ¡°A war criminal?¡± the mer says nervously. ¡°Oh dear. That part I didn¡¯t expect.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately for you, many of those mercenaries are now seeking new employment,¡± I say.

    The High Elf is also in the business of monster transport, and is afraid his own measures aren¡¯t secure enough. It¡¯s easy to make something secure enough for a nix-hound. Less so for a giant troll.

    ¡°This one heard that the Thizzrini Arena had trolls transported while turned to stone,¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh, that would be much safer, but sadly mages capable of doing such a thing are not cheap.¡±

    I wonder what I¡¯m paying Merry. I mean, the answer here is probably ¡°anything he wants¡±, but still.

 Chapter 167: In Which I Harass Street Preachers

    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.¡±

 Chapter 168: In Which I Return With a Negative Death Count

    The Dark Brotherhood wants to send Kisha and Vara-do, as well as Tanek and Kor, on missions to Kvatch. Dark Brotherhood business is always a nice break from war. Vara-do¡¯s life is a simple one, comparatively. If Astara thinks four assassins are necessary for this mission, who am I to argue? Still, this contract is Kisha¡¯s, technically, and the rest of us are just there to provide assistance. I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re giving them all to her specifically, but I¡¯m not going to argue it.

    Our target is someone with the ridiculous title of Grand Sermonizer, of the Order of the Hour. Just the name makes me want to stab them in the face.

    I insist on saving time by teleporting us there. We arrive in Kvatch and after a little investigating, we determine that the Grand Sermonizer is at an estate just outside of Kvatch. Blue-and-gold banners marked with hourglass symbols hang outside the manor.

    ¡°The priests around here certainly seem to have a lot of wealth to throw around,¡± Ilara comments. ¡°This one would like to enforce a vow of poverty upon them.¡±

    We emerge out onto a walkway. In the room below, two figures are standing near a table where a man has been pinned with knives. I barely recognize the man as one of the other assassins, Cimbar, underneath the blood and bruises. I throw a Blinky Heal down at him without giving a shit if it gives away our position, and leap over the railing.

    My companions follow my lead, and after a brief fight, our quarry stuns up with bright light and makes a tactical withdrawal further into the manor.

    ¡°Vara-do will take care of Cimbar,¡± I say. ¡°Go!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll meet you back at the wayshrine,¡± Tanek says.

    Once Ilara and Tanek (Kor hasn¡¯t caught up to us yet) have gone after the Grand Sermonizer, I bring out my communication orb and order up a healer.

    A portal opens and a Khajiit woman steps through. One look at Cimbar and she says, ¡°Jone and Jode, this one¡¯s bad.¡±

    ¡°Vara-do did what he could to keep him alive until he could get help but he¡¯s afraid he healed those knives inside of him.¡±

    She shakes her head as she carefully starts to get to work. ¡°Ezreba can re-heal them, though they¡¯ll probably scar badly. You gave him some time at least. They didn¡¯t touch the important bits. They were clearly trying to keep him alive.¡± She sighs. ¡°Ezreba studied with the moon priests to learn Restoration magic, but this is worse than anything she has faced yet.¡±

    ¡°Do your best,¡± I say. ¡°This one can assist with Restoring Light.¡±

    ¡°Is it safe to remain here?¡± Ezreba asks.

    ¡°This one can assist with stabbing anyone that shows up, too,¡± I say.

    Kor shows up not long after. ¡°My job ran long, did I¨Cthat¡¯s Cimbar! They tortured him?¡± He looks to Ezreba. ¡°Who is this? Not another new initiate already?¡±

    Ezreba shakes her head, and doesn¡¯t look up from her work. ¡°Ezreba is a friend. She is no killer, but she can help with healing them. Cimbar will not be going to the Void today.¡±

    I didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d been told that much about what I¡¯m doing. Or that she¡¯s okay with it.

    ¡°Thank Sithis,¡± Kor says. ¡°I¡¯m glad to have you, then. Where are Kisha and Tanek?¡±

    ¡°They went to hunt down the Grand Sermonizer,¡± I say, pointing to the door. ¡°If you hurry, you might still catch them. They probably have this well in hand, though.¡±

    ¡°Ezreba can¡¯t believe a priest would resort to torture,¡± the Khajiit says.

    ¡°I¡¯d best make sure they don¡¯t need any backup, at least,¡± Kor says, and exits through the door..

    ¡°Does the rest of the support team know about the assassin business?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Ezreba says. ¡°We all have faith that wherever you go and whoever you kill, Nirn will be better off for it.¡± She carefully removes another knife from Cimbar¡¯s body, healing the wound as she goes to stop him from bleeding out. ¡°And if you¡¯re going up against so-called priests who do things like this to people, even assassins, Ezreba has no reason to doubt your cause. At least assassins kill cleanly, unlike those foul cultists.¡±

    While I¡¯m not sure about letting so many people know about my secret identity, I trust my hunt-wife¡¯s judgment. She¡¯s not the sort of person who would murder her husband to make herself a god. I mean¡­ I didn¡¯t think my former friends were that sort of people either. But there were signs I should have seen, in perfect hindsight. Still, I¡¯d rather love and trust my wives and risk being fucked over again, than be paranoid and never let anyone get close.

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    Cimbar regains consciousness with only one knife remaining stuck in his body, and lets out a pained groan.

    ¡°Tch, you should have stayed asleep a little longer,¡± Ezreba says. ¡°This one will be done soon.¡±

    ¡°Who¡­¡± Cimbar¡¯s eyes fall upon me. ¡°Vara-do? You came to rescue me?¡±

    ¡°To be honest, we didn¡¯t even know you were here,¡± I say. ¡°We came after the Grand Sermonizer. Once you¡¯re capable of walking, we¡¯ll head back to the Sanctuary.¡±

    We explain again who Ezreba is, and finish healing him as much as we can here. I ask him to step outside first, then call in my looters. There¡¯s probably less wealth here than the Jarol Estate or the Ayleid ruin the Gold Coast had their crap in, but it¡¯s still a perfectly good manor to strip to the floorboards. I meet up with Cimbar outside.

    ¡°You just left her in there?¡± Cimbar asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°This one sent her home.¡± I pause. ¡°And called in his loyal crew of portal pirates to loot the place. It would be criminal to leave behind perfectly good loot.¡±

    Cimbar laughs, then coughs. ¡°Ugh, laughing hurts.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Vara-do is out of magicka,¡± I say. ¡°He still has potions if you need one.¡±

    ¡°You and your friend have done more than enough,¡± Cimbar says. ¡°You put me back together when I would¡¯ve died. I¡¯m eager to get back to the Sanctuary, though. I might need to sit missions out for a while.¡±

    We meet up with the others, and I return us to the wayshrine near the Sanctuary.

    ¡°You look like hell, Cimbar,¡± Tanek says. ¡°But still better than we found you.¡±

    Kor looks to me. ¡°How did you ever find a friendly Khajiit priestess willing to heal assassins?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°She wasn¡¯t always a moon priestess. She once did something incredibly stupid and this one saved her life. She would have been executed otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Kor says. ¡°That explains it!¡±

    Back at the Sanctuary, there¡¯s a loud and messy debriefing.

    ¡°Cimbar!¡± Mirabelle exclaims, running over to him. ¡°Oh, my darling Cimbar, what happened? Come, you should lay down. Let me get you something to drink.¡±

    Cimbar staggers off to be doted over, leaving the rest of us to explain how Astara sent four assassins to Kvatch and we came back with five. (I mean, I assume she sent Cimbar to Kvatch too at an earlier time, but he wasn¡¯t with us.)

    We¡¯re congratulated and paid, and everyone is suitably enraged at Cimbar¡¯s treatment. (Aside from Speaker Terenus and Green-Venom-Tongue, who are probably deeply unhappy about the situation but don¡¯t show visible rage.) These mad priests were trying to torture the location of the Dark Brotherhood¡¯s Sanctuary out of him, and he didn¡¯t break. Kor¡¯s promising to buy him a large quantity of Nord alcoholic beverages for that. Not many here who aren¡¯t Nords truly appreciate that offer.

    Once everything¡¯s settled down for the moment, I absently wander around the Sanctuary, thinking to myself, and run across a Dark Elf woman I haven¡¯t seen before (not that I can see much of her face with the mask she¡¯s wearing) who introduces herself as Nevusa.

    ¡°Hmm, perhaps it is you that the Listener told me to expect?¡± Nevusa muses.

    ¡°Me?¡± I ask. ¡°What does the Listener want with Vara-do?¡±

    ¡°The Listener sent me with a book,¡± Nevusa points to a lectern beneath a creepy statue. ¡°The Litany of Blood. She said it is for the eyes of the one who has tasted death. I assume she means someone who has died and returned to life rather than someone who has merely killed, which would apply to everyone here.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I say.

    ¡°Many of the others here have already looked at it and seen nothing but blank pages,¡± Nevusa says. ¡°If you are the one it is meant for, you may see something more.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth a look, yes?¡± I say, more offhandedly than I¡¯m feeling as I go over to open the book.

    The pages are not blank.

    ¡°From beyond death¡¯s prison, I offer those who meet my unshriven gaze with your blade¡¯s cold caress,¡± I read the book aloud in a soft whisper, my hands starting to shake involuntarily as I skim over what appears to be a list of riddles identifying targets.

    ¡°Unshriven gaze¡±, the book says. Like someone who was Soul-Shriven and is no longer. That¡¯s a very specific requirement. And that the Listener knew to send a book that could only be read by an ¡°Unshriven¡± to this Sanctuary. Or every Sanctuary, just to be sure? It¡¯s still weirdly worrisome. She might not know who I was specifically, but they were clearly expecting me specifically.

    I walk back over to Nevusa and say, ¡°This one can read the book.¡±

    I might be giving something big away here, but whoever the Listener is, there isn¡¯t much point in trying to hide from her. I really, really want to meet her, though. I also want to find out how they managed to create a book that can only be read by a former Soul Shriven because that would be a really useful thing to do with my journals. I describe roughly what the book contains for Nevusa¡¯s benefit, who I assume also can¡¯t read it and wasn¡¯t told exactly what it contains.

    ¡°You may take the book with you to guide you as you seek out the targets,¡± Nevusa says.

    I do so obligatorily, deciding not to mention that I have already memorized it and it¡¯s unnecessary. I think I might need to copy out the riddles and ask Grishka for help in this one. Some of them don¡¯t make terribly much sense to me, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve got someone on hand who is good at riddles. The book also mentions targets all across Tamriel, to many places I have never been and do not yet have easy access to.

    So, what does the Listener know? That there¡¯s a former Soul-Shriven who has escaped their prison running around. Nothing more. There was no reason to think either Vara-do or King Neri was such a person, specifically. She surely doesn¡¯t know that this person is actually Nerevar Mora.

    The Night Mother might know.

    It suddenly occurs to me that Malacath stated that my ring would specifically guard me from the Aedra, Daedra, and Tribunal. The Night Mother is none of those, nor is Sithis. (I¡¯ve run across theories that the Night Mother is actually Mephala, but I don¡¯t believe that. I know what Mephala¡¯s touch looks like, and this isn¡¯t it. If anything, she¡¯d be Nocturnal, and I doubt that also.)

    I think I don¡¯t terribly mind if Sithis, the Night Mother, or even the Listener know who I am on any level. They don¡¯t play politics and would not betray me to the Three. If anything, they would encourage me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s any chance of actually meeting the Listener?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I cannot say,¡± Nevusa says. ¡°But perhaps if you were to complete the Litany of Blood, you might find out.¡±

    I absently wonder if she¡¯s secretly the Listener herself, but I don¡¯t ask. If she is, I¡¯d rather not force her to deflect and there¡¯s nothing to be gained by a confrontation right now. Let¡¯s play this game her way and see where this leads.

 Chapter 169: In Which I Save a Werewolf

    I dream.

    I walk a Dwemer tunnel, my paws cold against the metal. Because boots don¡¯t fit my digitigrade feet, as I am a Suthay-raht Khajiit and even in a dream I know the word ¡®digitigrade¡¯.

    A voice echoes through the ruin. A familiar voice. Come, Nerevar. Come and look upon the Heart.

    A mer, ashen gray, wearing golden mask and loincloth.

    Did you think you could kill a god? the voice mocks. Shame on you, sweet Nerevar.

    A crystal, blood red, pulsing with the beat of the Doom Drum.

    An Argonian playing a guitar with a keyboard on it slides past in the air.

    I¡¯ve lost the knife. Keening, fallen into lava. I always keep losing my damned weapons. But there is one the world can never take from me.

    A weapon, void black, piercing the essence of reality.

    I conjure the Blade of Woe upon the Heart of Lorkhan.

    For a moment, I see a black triangle upon red as the blade penetrates the crystal, like a gate into the Void.

    I abruptly wake up.

    I blink very slowly and deliberately. A dream. Just a dream based on some things that have been on my mind lately. That¡¯s all. Yet it¡¯s a small encouragement.

    I am going to try very, very hard to forget that creepy as fuck dream. This is why literally everyone invented mind-altering substances.

    ¡­

    ¡°Neri, can you teleport this one to Skywatch?¡± Ilara asks. ¡°Kisha has a target there.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll drop you off there. Be sure to research your target in addition to identifying them. Chances are they¡¯ve done something shitty if someone wants them dead, and it always feels tinglier if you know exactly how much of a fetcher they are before sticking a knife into them.¡±

    I¡¯ve skimmed through the pending contracts and, fortunately, did not see the names of anyone I give a shit about. I don¡¯t tell Ilara anything silly like making sure her targets deserve to die. You might wonder why I go to so much effort to spare mercenaries and bystanders when I don¡¯t terribly care about random people dying. And while I might wonder that sometimes too, the people whose lives I spared often wind up working for me directly or indirectly. And no innocent bystander is liable to make someone care enough to get a bunch of bones, a human heart and nightshade, and repeatedly stab it until a creepy guy shows up and takes a lot of gold from you. (Unless they just want to see literally anyone die, of course.)

    I¡¯ve also copied out the Litany of Blood and passed it off to Grishka to pass off to one of her trusted spies. I have to wonder if the Listener knew what sort of resources I have on hand.

    I leave Ilara in Skywatch and return to the Gold Coast to check in on everyone there and see what the next crisis is because of course there¡¯s going to be another crisis.

    Cimbar has been recovering from his torture well enough, but there¡¯s only so much that two novice healers can do and since he¡¯s stable and improving, I didn¡¯t see the need to bring in a master healer like Gelur and have to explain everything all over again. I don¡¯t want too many obvious connections, either.

    Hildegard, the werewolf assassin, is missing. She¡¯d gone on a trip to Anvil¡¯s chapel to pray and hasn¡¯t come back yet. Kor is getting worried about her, and is so highstrung he¡¯s practically sober.

    ¡°How long has she been gone?¡± I ask. ¡°Because for the record, Vara-do might disappear for long periods of time too.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about you though,¡± Kor says. ¡°Hilde has been gone since we came back since Cimbar. If she¡¯s been hurt¨C¡±

    ¡°This one understands,¡± I say, not forcing him to tell me that he thinks Hilde is fragile and unpredictable. ¡°She might be in trouble, but that trouble might also be that she turned into a werewolf, hurt someone, and ran off into the wilderness.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ could also have happened,¡± Kor says. ¡°She finds it hard to control her transformations.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I say. ¡°That could be because she scorned Hircine. Most likely her ¡®gift¡¯ originates from him, ultimately. If she¡¯s been praying to the Divines, chances are she told him to go fuck himself at some point, in perhaps not those exact words.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that,¡± Kor says. ¡°It could be so. She doesn¡¯t remember much of her past. Damned Daedra. Will you help me find her? You can get us to Anvil faster and if she¡¯s hurt, you might be able to heal her.¡±

    People might stereotype Nords as being stupid, but often they¡¯re smart where it matters.

    ¡°This one cannot argue with that reasoning,¡± I say. ¡°To Anvil, then?¡±

    Kor nods, and I take us to Anvil. On the other hand, none of them question my apparent ability to heal and teleport people, but why should they? Not everyone can do those things, but it¡¯s not like they¡¯re rare abilities. Anyone could learn them if they put in the time and effort. That I got them by accident says more about me than anything else.

    Kor thinks we ought to ask around about a Nord woman with a flower in her hair.

    ¡°Is it a fake flower, or does she put fresh flowers in her hair every day?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ no, it¡¯s a real flower but it was magically preserved,¡± Kor says. ¡°She values it greatly and never takes it off.¡±

    I don¡¯t ask if he¡¯s sure about that. I don¡¯t ask if it was the first flower he ever gave her, or it¡¯s a symbol of her humanity that reminds her of the beauty in the world, or any of that. I just nod and drop into the outlaws refuge.

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    ¡°Why are you going in that way?¡± Kor wonders. ¡°Do you have a bounty on your head?¡±

    ¡°This one does not think so,¡± I say. ¡°But he prefers to be cautious, and also his informants are down here.¡±

    ¡°You have informants?¡± Kor asks. ¡°Never mind. Of course you do. Talk with your informants. I¡¯ll check the chapel.¡±

    Down in the outlaws refuge, a few well-placed coins tells me that someone matching Hildegard¡¯s description was seen talking to a creepy priest who was sniffing her weirdly and whispering into her ears, and she ran off crying.

    I go to meet up with Kor, head into the temple of Dibella and by Malacath I¡¯d almost forgotten about the dancers. It¡¯s impressive to be greeted upon entering a temple by a bard and four half-naked dancers of different races and genders. I obligatorily give them an eyefull on the way by because not doing so would be more suspicious. When I tell Kor what I learned, he looks about ready to stick the Blade of Woe into the creepy priest.

    Another round of asking questions around the city results in learning that werewolf hunters are after her (they certainly work fast) and that she left by caravan to Skyrim for some reason.

    ¡°Why would she go to Skyrim?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°It was where the wolf was born,¡± Kor says. ¡°The caravaneer said she¡¯d take us there.¡±

    The caravaneer is parked near the stables on the north side of town, a Redguard woman with an incredibly distracting nose chain. The location she left Hildegard in was the Jerall Mountains, along the southern border of Skyrim.

    ¡°Are you going to take us across Cyrodiil?¡± I wonder. ¡°Is that part of Skyrim Ebonheart Pact territory?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says. ¡°I can get you there safely.¡±

    As with any time I travel to a new area, I keep an eye out for wayshrines, whatever the local wayshrines look like. Every time we get near one, I ask to stop and say a quick prayer to the Divines for safe travel. Vara-do is apparently quite devout. At least I have a communication orb and don¡¯t need to be out of touch during travel to a new area. If there were an emergency, I could be wherever in an instant. Just swooping in like an ancestral ghost summoned by a twenty-year-old child afraid of a skeever.

    (Note to self: Make sure to have descendants learn ancestral ghost spell. Have them summon me from the Ashpit to fight cool things. Win at eternity. ¡­ I need to make a lot of descendants.)

    We arrive at the spot the caravaneer says she left Hildegard. Kor wants to split up to look for her to cover more ground. I don¡¯t call him an idiot and tell him that¡¯s a stupid idea. I do, however, point out that I¡¯m better at navigating social situations than the wilderness. Left to my own devices, I¡¯ll wander in circles for hours until accidentally finding my way back where I started. Fortunately, Kor finds us the trail. Especially considering we¡¯re not the only ones hunting werewolves up here, and the others are even less subtle than us.

    ¡°The Silver¡­ something are here,¡± I say. ¡°What was that you said? Silver Hand? Silver Moon?¡±

    ¡°Silver Dawn,¡± Kor says. ¡°We have to hurry.¡±

    I don¡¯t actually believe these werewolf hunters are in the wrong here, really. I¡¯m not going to go out of my way to kill them, but with an angry Nord and an unpredictable werewolf around, well, they should expect to be potentially mauled by werewolves in their line of work. Most of the time, I¡¯m the one who¡¯s killing werewolves. But most of the time, those werewolves are trying to kill me.

    I find a bit of incriminating correspondence at the Silver Dawn camp from one Chanter Nemus to kill her for coin. Apparently werewolves fall under the ¡°monster extermination¡± socially acceptable assassination contracts even when they¡¯re praying to the Divines and asking for help. Once Kor kills their leader, the remaining Silver Dawn hunters surrender and flee like sensible people.

    We find Hildegard, and Kor talks to her and calms her down.

    Hildegard¡­ may have told the priest a few things she shouldn¡¯t have. She thinks she had to because they ¡°speak for the Divines¡±.

    ¡°Hilde, priests are not chosen directly by their gods,¡± I say in a tense voice. ¡°Usually. It¡¯s usually the other way around. This one has seen some weird things but he does not think this was one of those.¡±

    ¡°I know, it was foolish of me,¡± Hildegard says.

    I sigh and put my hand to my mask. ¡°What they could not get by torture they tried to get by trickery. This priest will need to die. Vara-do will take care of it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d do that for me?¡± Hildegard asks.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Pedophiles always squeal the loudest.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a pedophile?¡± Hildegard wonders.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± I say. ¡°Where can this one find him?¡±

    Hildegard gives me directions to an office in the temple undercroft, and I go to sneak in. By which I mean I dress up as an Altmer dancing girl with a stuffed short shirt, pink silk pants, a face veil, and gloves to cover my ring.

    On the one hand, there¡¯s me making disguises for every conceivable necessity and ¡°infiltrating a temple of Dibella¡± became highly probable once I started doing murder business around a city with a temple of Dibella. On the other hand, sometimes I think I just like playing dress-up. Honestly, I should have gone into theater. It would be less complicated.

    Most people¡¯s idea of stealth is not being seen. My kind of stealth is more the other way around. People will see only what I want them to see. All my life I¡¯ve been a charlatan.

    When I walk into the Chanter¡¯s office, he looks up at me with a leer. ¡°Are you new here?¡± He sizes me up from head to toe. ¡°The dancers¡¯ quarters is the next door down. But feel free to come in and introduce yourself, my dear.¡±

    Alright, you know what? I have always secretly wanted to murder someone while disguised as a dancing girl.

    ¡°My name is Neranwe, sera.¡± I sashay into the room, straight up to the lecher.

    He looks over to the other person in the room. ¡°Why don¡¯t you step out and give us a little room?¡±

    The Redguard maid acquiesces and takes her sweeping elsewhere, leaving me alone with my mark.

    I speak calmly in prayer, ¡°Great Akatosh, Dragon God of Time, I apologize for having to murder your servant.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± roars the Chanter, finally realizing what I¡¯m doing too late. I have him on the floor and tied up with strong pink ribbons in an instant.

    ¡°What did the young Nord woman tell you?¡± I ask. ¡°And did you tell anyone else? Answer me, and I will send you to Aetherius rather than the Void.¡±

    ¡°Akatosh preserve me,¡± Chanter Nemus breathes. ¡°I¡¯ll talk, you foul heretic. Just don¡¯t deny me eternity with Akatosh.¡±

    Once I¡¯ve gotten the information I asked for, I feed him some poison and leave the room. I put on a show of being distraught over the old man having a heart attack in the middle of an amorous diversion, and slip out of the temple in the confusion before anyone can question who I am too closely.

    That was fun. I should do that again sometime. I¡¯m betting by the time anyone figures out what happened, the city will be in my hands anyway. The outlaws refuge conveniently has an entrance in the cemetery behind the chapel, so I hop inside and change from Neranwe into Vara-do again.

    I pick up Ilara and stop by Dra¡¯bul and Crimson Cove before returning to the Sanctuary. Her contracts have been going well and she¡¯s not sad at all about having missed out on the most boring ride I¡¯ve had since I rode an aging silt strider half-circle around Vvardenfell. I caught up on a lot of sleep. I¡¯m going to need to make a big public show in Cyrodiil after this. Make it seem like I spent all this time meticulously planning my next move in this big dumb board game. I¡¯ll capture a fort or something and then go back to this.

    ¡°Rumor has it that Chanter Nemus¡¯ heart stopped while messing around with a Dibellan dancing girl,¡± Kor says. ¡°Funny coincidence?¡±

    ¡°Rumor travels fast when you¡¯re living in a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere.¡± I chuckle. ¡°Want to see a magic trick?¡±

    ¡°What sort of trick?¡± Kor wonders.

    ¡°The funny one.¡±

    I have faith in my ability to swap costumes and the likelihood that these people won¡¯t turn on me. I switch to my dancing girl disguise and strike a pose.

    ¡°Oh, an illusion! That¡¯s fantastic!¡± Hildegard exclaims softly. (I realize this sounds like a contradiction, but everything about Hilde is quiet, even her yelling.)

    I switch back. ¡°Quite a clever disguise, no?¡±

    ¡°You disguised yourself as a dancing girl and murdered the Chanter for me?¡± Hildegard says.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°No one messes with this one¡¯s friends.¡±

 Chapter 170: In Which I Bring Silence to the Coast

    An unusual request has come to the Dark Brotherhood, and it¡¯s an interesting one. And it has fallen squarely in Vara-do¡¯s lap for once.

    The Pirate Queen Fortunata has performed the Black Sacrament and has requested to meet the assassin to be taking on the contract. And Matron Astara has heard about the unusual way Vara-do and Kisha handle our affairs sometimes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re a master of disguise,¡± Astara says. ¡°I don¡¯t want to compromise the identity of our Brothers and Sisters, and you¡¯re the best one to become someone that doesn¡¯t have to keep existing afterward.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, perhaps this one should not be a dancing girl this time,¡± I say. ¡°How about¡­¡± I switch to the all-concealing version of the Dark Brotherhood leathers that I had made up after realizing the hood didn¡¯t cover enough of the face, and put on my best Imperial accent. (Actually an imitation of Speaker Terenus.) ¡°Greetings. I am Silencius, the most generic assassin ever.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Astara says flatly. ¡°There¡¯s no telling who Fortunata might want dead. It could be anything from a minor noble who offended her to a certain upstart pirate assassin. Note, if she asks her to kill yourself, don¡¯t. I still have work for you, and one can¡¯t take out contracts against members of the Dark Brotherhood.¡±

    Astara probably suspects I¡¯m not really a Khajiit by this point, but doesn¡¯t seem to care terribly much.

    I head over to Anvil and get Ilara to watch my back from the shadows. Just in case. It offends my senses to simply walk in the gates of Anvil Castle dressed up like an assassin. There¡¯s no style to it. It would give completely the wrong impression. So instead I dress up like a servant and head in through the kitchen carrying a barrel of poisoned ale. And so long as I¡¯m here, I slip a little something into the other barrels as well. (It¡¯s just sleeping poison. No one will know the difference. Why waste the opportunity?)

    I find a suitable corner to swap clothes in out of sight, and approach the throne where Fortunata is flanked by a half-naked man and a white lion lounging on the floor. She¡¯s got one leg slung over an arm of the throne, and a golden goblet probably full of something expensive in hand. Clearly, she¡¯s enjoying having her own castle.

    She doesn¡¯t know who I am, but she figures it out quickly. The obvious leather armor should be obvious before I even open my mouth.

    ¡°Fortunata ap Dugal,¡± I drawl. ¡°I understand you have need of our¡­ services. You may call me¡­ Silencius.¡±

    She tries not to act intimidated, but a catch in her voice betrays that she finds the over-the-top creepy assassin act to be creepy.

    Fortunata wants me to murder someone named Marcus Scipio in Kvatch, and then tell Count Carolus I killed him. Pretty much the opposite of subtle, really. A power play on her part, that she can make anyone dead for the right price. I have no idea how much she paid for this.

    Castle Kvatch, as we discover when we arrive there, is locked down tight-ish and we¡¯d require an official seal or document to get inside. The front door, at least. According to rumor, however, there¡¯s a side door at the end of the moat. That¡¯s great. That¡¯ll save us having to climb the walls and try to get in through a tower hatch or second floor window.

    When I actually find the door in question, I have to wonder why it even exists. It¡¯s set into a nook that isn¡¯t visible from the other side of the moat, behind a tree and overgrown with ivy, and is only accessible by swimming. You¡¯d think a servant¡¯s entrance would have a way to get carts up to it or something, but this doesn¡¯t even have room to moor a boat.

    ¡°This one thinks this is very strange,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Do you agree, dear brother?¡±

    ¡°Very much agreed,¡± I say.

    The door leads into a tiny room with a hatch leading down into a tunnel with ankle deep water. Past that, at the top of a staircase, is a hole in the wall as if someone very carefully removed stone bricks and put in a secret passage behind a wardrobe.

    ¡°Well,¡± I murmur. ¡°This particular gaping security hole is good to know about. Kisha, scout the area and stay out of sight. Also steal anything that looks valuable and someone might not immediately notice it missing. We probably aren¡¯t going to be taking over this castle today, so we might as well swipe a few valuables while we¡¯re here.¡±

    We split up and search the castle. Along the way, I keep half my focus on my music, still trying to keep it more than quiet. I think of how the Dwemer canceled noise not by actually stopping the noise but by making a sound that perfectly matched it in opposition. I don¡¯t quite know what that means or how to do that, precisely, but it¡¯s worth practicing just to see if I can get anything from it.

    I eventually find the Commander¡¯s office. He¡¯s inside, hunched over a map, not even paying attention to the door behind him. I pause just out of sight, and consider whether I think he¡¯s liable to give me a good fight or not.

    Does it matter, though? I¡¯m not here to give a show, gloat at him, intimidate him, or prove anything. I¡¯m just here to kill him. I¡¯m just offended by it being too easy. That¡¯s the realization that hurts more than anything else. It¡¯s hard to top punching a Daedric Prince. I¡¯m probably going to need to find more ridiculous things to fight just to keep from being bored, but today, that doesn¡¯t matter. At least sneaking around playing assassin has been fun.

    Marcus continues to have a complete lack of situational awareness, until he has a lack of awareness at all. Once he¡¯s dead, I cross paths with Ilara who quietly informs me where I can find the Count¡¯s office. And that she found something weird there but I have to see it for myself. I make my way over there and discover that Count Carolus is performing the Black Sacrament.

    ¡°Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear¡­¡±

    Carolus chants in the middle of a circle of candles, over bones and a heart. He spots me coming in and looks up, and I look like the most generic assassin ever. He, of course, reasonably thinks I¡¯m here because he¡¯s been performing the Black Sacrament every night. And he¡¯s offering not only gold in payment, but information about a threat to the Dark Brotherhood.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    As for who he wants dead, it should probably go without saying that he considers Fortunata to be the greatest threat to the continued wellbeing of himself and his people.

    ¡°Your reasons are your own,¡± I drawl. ¡°It is not for me to say what good or ill may come of it. However¡­ I did not come here to take your contract.¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± Carolus says. ¡°Did she send you to kill me?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°Though if I were, would you have preferred to see me and speak with me first¡­ or to simply be dead and have no idea what happened?¡±

    ¡°I¨C I don¡¯t know,¡± Carolus says. ¡°How can anyone answer a question like that? I mean, I suppose an Orc or a Nord would want a chance to fight back, but¡­ Never mind, why are you here, then?¡±

    ¡°Fortunata contracted me to kill Commander Marcus Scipio, and then inform you of the deed,¡± I say. ¡°And now I have done so. Neither is it for me to comment on the efficacy of such intimidation tactics. Had you not already been doing so, you might have performed the Black Sacrament in response to her escalation.¡±

    I don¡¯t get to use words like ¡®efficacy¡¯ in conversations with Orcs frequently.

    ¡°That could well be,¡± Carolus says with a sigh. ¡°She must think I¡¯d be a waste of gold to have killed. Like I¡¯m already useless, damn her. But I can¡¯t just sit back and let her do whatever she wants.¡± He looks up over toward the far side of the room. ¡°Another one?¡±

    Speaker Terenus has shown up while I¡¯m speaking with the Count, thankfully. As much as I might fake it, I¡¯m not actually him and it¡¯s better to have someone along who has the authority to handle this. And willingness to do paperwork.

    ¡°The contract is yours¡­ Silencius,¡± Terenus says. ¡°You may use whatever methods you choose so long as Fortunata dies.¡± The look he doesn¡¯t give me indicates that definitely includes just sacking the castle. ¡°The quickest way out of this castle is through the secret passage in the dignitary suite.¡±

    ¡°Does everyone know about that?¡± Carolus grumbles.

    On the way out, I glance at the correspondence on his desk. Not long enough to make it look like I¡¯m actually reading it, but just enough to stick it into my Library of the Mind and read it at my leisure.

    I take a moment to consider how I¡¯m going to handle this. Anvil is ripe for conquest and once Fortunata is dead, I¡¯m going to need to work quickly and not waste any time before someone else tries to claim the city. Especially another pirate. But if I waste too little time, it will look suspiciously upon the Aldmeri Dominion, and Count Carolus may either think it¡¯s a mere coincidence and that I didn¡¯t perform the deed at all, or that the Dominion is in league with the Dark Brotherhood somehow. Most likely the former. The latter would be silly.

    Maybe I¡¯m just overthinking this. It¡¯s not too much of a stretch that the Dominion has eyes and ears in the city and would be quick to send word along that the current leadership has toppled and to send in troops to take over. I¡¯ve seen Razum-dar in the area.

    Count Carolus might not have thought far enough ahead to care who controls Anvil once Fortunata is dead. Presumably if it winds up being someone worse, he¡¯ll just call up the Dark Brotherhood again and have them also removed, until he runs out of gold or enemies. He¡¯s done it once. How much would it take for him to do it again?

    Ilara and I return to Anvil Castle and run across Mirabelle, who is posing as a servant. Her disguise is a little less thorough than mine, but no less effective since it¡¯s not like Fortunata knows she¡¯s an assassin anyway.

    ¡°I know that armor, but who are you?¡± Mirabelle whispers, not noticing Ilara-daro. ¡°I hope you have a good reason for approaching me while I¡¯m working.¡±

    ¡°Who I am is unimportant,¡± I drawl. ¡°I am here for Fortunata. The Pirate Queen dies today. Tell me, Mirabelle. Have the guards drunk the poisoned refreshments I left them earlier?¡±

    ¡°Now that you mention it, they have been awfully lethargic today,¡± Mirabelle says.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± I say. ¡°Everything is proceeding exactly as planned.¡±

    This is me, poisoning an entire castle just in case I had to take it over later. If I lay down enough contingencies, people think I actually planned for things.

    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± Mirabelle asks.

    I chuckle darkly. ¡°Witness.¡±

    ¡°I will enjoy watching this,¡± Mirabelle says with a grin. ¡°And even more, I will enjoy not having to play servant for that bitch any longer, too.¡±

    We make our way through the castle. There isn¡¯t much point in robbing the place. It will be mine soon anyway. Mirabelle also helpfully pointed out where its secret passages are. And what Fortunata¡¯s favorite wine is. Also good to know!

    Fortunata is in her bed chamber. (Fully clothed, fortunately. Some assassins might get off on killing people mid-coitus, but I¡¯d rather just let them have one last damned orgasm before they die.) She¡¯s surprised to see me there, but realizes that she probably shouldn¡¯t be.

    ¡°Fortunata ap Dugal,¡± I say slowly, as if tasting the name on my tongue. ¡°The deed is done. Marcus Scipio is no more in this world, and Count Carolus has been informed.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Fortunata says. ¡°And if that¡¯s all, let¡¯s have a toast and we can put this dreadful business behind us. I can¡¯t imagine if I had to perform that ghoulish ritual on top of it.¡±

    She leads me out to the balcony and offers me a drink. I decline. Because it¡¯s poisoned and because I can¡¯t reach my mouth under this mask anyway.

    I chuckle darkly, because Silencius always chuckles darkly. ¡°You seek to play this game, Fortunata ap Dugal. You do not understand the game you are playing. The shadows are not your friend nor your servant.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, I get it, I get it,¡± Fortunata says. ¡°You can stop trying to intimidate me now.¡±

    The balcony is deadly silent. Not even the sound of the wind and seabirds pierces the oppressive silence I¡¯m focusing on creating. (It winds up being more of a constant drone than actual silence, but it¡¯s still enough to drown out the background noise.) And Fortunata is finally realizing that her favorite wine is no longer her favorite.

    ¡°You¨C¡± Fortunata exclaims. ¡°What have you done?¡±

    ¡°Your coin bought you the death of one man,¡± I drawl. ¡°Not our loyalty. Goodbye, Fortunata ap Dugal.¡±

    Fortunata falls off the balcony to her death. I wasn¡¯t sure if the poison alone was going to kill her but standing near a ledge while drinking even sleep-laced wine is not especially healthy. I didn¡¯t even need to push her off.

    ¡°Ah, that felt good,¡± Mirabelle says. ¡°So now that we don¡¯t have an audience any longer, who are you really? Tanek? You don¡¯t sound like Tanek, and Cimbar¡¯s still recovering.¡±

    I shift the cat-mask and tail back onto myself. ¡°Bright moons, Mirabelle.¡±

    ¡°Vara-do?¡± Mirabelle says. ¡°That I wasn¡¯t expecting. You¡¯re using illusion magic to hide your tail and ears? Very clever. No one would ever guess. Alright. I¡¯ll meet you back at the Sanctuary once I clean up evidence of our involvement here.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t bother,¡± I say. ¡°This one has it on good authority that there are Dominion spies in the city and a fleet waiting to capture it. Strangely, it seems many of the pirates are indisposed at the moment. The Dominion will pounce at a moment of weakness like a senche stalking its prey.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Mirabelle says. ¡°Well, they probably can¡¯t do worse here than the Pirate Queen. It¡¯ll still be business as usual for the Dark Brotherhood, though, regardless of who rules the city. We¡¯d best get out of here before they show up.¡±

    On the way out, I send a signal to be passed along to the ships carrying High Elves, Wood Elves and Orcs from Velyn Harbor and Dra¡¯bul. I have faith in them to take the city with a minimum of bloodshed and to avoid damaging infrastructure as much as possible. We¡¯re here to conquer, not destroy. The eagle banner will be flying over Anvil by sundown.

    Mirabelle and I reach the wayshrine just as sails are converging on the city. ¡°By Sithis, they work fast. Wait, you aren¡¯t a Dominion spy, are you? Were you fiddling with a communication orb back there?¡±

    I chuckle lightly. ¡°Vara-do could not possibly comment on that.¡±

 Chapter 171: In Which I Pretend to Murder Someone

    The people of Anvil, for the most part, see the Dominion as liberators rather than invaders. They were definitely not fond of Fortunata and her pirates and considered them to be a hostile occupation force. I wonder how long it would have been before she had a popular uprising on her hands. I make sure they¡¯ve immediately started setting right the wrongs the pirates committed on them. We need their support and goodwill.

    I only regret that I can¡¯t put Fortunata¡¯s head on a pike. (Grishka retrieves the body and does it anyway, apparently not giving a fuck, though she puts it at Dra¡¯bul rather than Anvil where people are more likely to appreciate heads on pikes.)

    I head into the Sanctuary shortly thereafter and walk into the middle of an argument. It¡¯s reassuring that the Dark Brotherhood apparently has no problem with having yelling matches in the middle of the Sanctuary. Mirabelle is upset about being excluded from a mission, because they tortured her lover, and she insists that she needs to be a part of whatever is going on. Astara does an awful lot of demanding obedience and her Dark Siblings do an awful lot of ignoring it.

    Astara is sending me to meet with Count Carolus to get the information he promised the Dark Brotherhood. Fortunately, she doesn¡¯t tell me to do anything that I¡¯m going to immediately disobey. If she has a problem with how I¡¯ve been handling things, she hasn¡¯t said so yet. She¡¯s far too serious. Some of the other Dark Siblings, Slim-Jah in particular, find the way I¡¯ve been solving problems to be positively hilarious.

    Mirabelle is positively sulking. Something about doing all the work and I¡¯m getting all the glory for it.

    ¡°Why does an assassin want glory?¡± Ilara wonders.

    Mirabelle jumps. ¡°Kisha! I didn¡¯t see you there.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Ilara hisses. ¡°Do you know how many people this one has killed and no one has any idea? Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s thrilling?¡±

    Mirabelle sighs and doesn¡¯t argue. She mentions that she¡¯s tracked the Black Dragon, the infamous assassin of assassins, to the Enclave of the Hourglass, which I assume by the name is home to some Akatosh fanatics. (I¡¯ll be honest. I¡¯m not quite sure what¡¯s going on with this Black Dragon business. I guess Ilara and Tanek must have run across something while I was busy saving Cimbar¡¯s life, and people keep assuming I was filled in. I mean, I might have been and I wasn¡¯t paying attention to the briefing.)

    I return to Kvatch and become Silencius the generic Imperial assassin, and head for the secret entrance to the castle. When I get there, I find a Dunmer woman loitering inconspicuously behind a bush next to the hidden door. She¡¯s wearing a mask over her lower face and dressed in form-fitting leather armor that practically screams ¡°assassin¡± just as much as mine.

    ¡°Well, look at this,¡± I drawl. ¡°You are no Dark Sister. And I do not believe you are here to simply rob the place.¡±

    She introduces herself as Naryu Virian. She¡¯s a member of the Morag Tong here to assassinate a member of House Hlaalu. He reportedly stole from his own House and closed an orphanage to open a cornerclub or something. The ¡°stealing from his own House¡± was probably what got the Morag Tong on his ass, but he probably didn¡¯t consider the indoctrination potential of orphanages. House Hlaalu does know how to indoctrinate people and make them think they¡¯re the best thing ever. What, you think they run orphanages for the sake of altruism? A House as obsessed with money and connections as Hlaalu? Hah.

    ¡°He came here thinking he could escape the reach of the Morag Tong,¡± Naryu says. ¡°I don¡¯t want to step on your toes, though. I don¡¯t need any of your Dark Brothers or Sisters coming after me in the night, or the middle of the day for that matter. There have been quite a few mysterious deaths around here.¡±

    She wants to avoid trouble with the Dark Brotherhood by letting me take credit for the kill. Naryu wants me to open the secret passage, which has been locked again since I was last here. She also doesn¡¯t want to have to kill anyone without the proper paperwork. Ah, the Morag Tong. Paperwork is literally the worst thing in existence. I spend enough time keeping my own notes straight, never mind filling out forms in triplicate to appease a mer who probably isn¡¯t actually reading it in detail anyway.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I say smoothly. ¡°And I am certain that you, in turn, would do me the favor of looking the other way should we encounter one another sometime in Morrowind. Not that I would show up there dressed like this. It would be¡­ improper.¡±

    ¡°One might think you¡¯d look forward to such an encounter,¡± Naryu flirts shamelessly.

    I slip into the castle without much trouble, still perfectly remembering my way around from last time and trying to surround myself with silence again. Conveniently, the Hlaalu noble is currently residing in the dignitary suite with the secret passage. He¡¯s sound asleep in the bed, probably not even realizing this is the room with the secret passage in it.

    I open the secret passage behind the wardrobe and make sure the way is unbarred. Muthsera Hlaalu continues snoring away obliviously. Naryu comes in and wakes him up to let him know that he¡¯s about to die and give him a chance to yell for guards before killing him.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°We¡¯d best be moving before the guards show up,¡± Naryu says.

    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°I have a muffle spell up. I apologize if you intended for him to make more noise.¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Naryu says. ¡°That works, too, I suppose.¡±

    I chuckle darkly. ¡°You did not kill him in his sleep. He would have known nothing. Instead he goes to his ancestors full of fear, knowing why he died.¡±

    ¡°You disapprove?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± I say. ¡°But now I have to imagine his ancestors calling him a fool.¡±

    Naryu grins. ¡°Yes, there¡¯s that as well. Alright, I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d go be spotted in the castle so people think you did this when this corpse is eventually discovered?¡±

    ¡°Do you believe the Dark Brotherhood is never subtle?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t mean to imply that your people are sloppy, of course¡­ But if people saw you, they¡¯d think this was a Dark Brotherhood hit and not a Morag Tong hit.¡±

    ¡°Naryu,¡± I say. ¡°It does not matter what the common people see. They will assume it was the Dark Brotherhood unless there¡¯s evidence to the contrary. They have no reason to believe the Morag Tong might come here, assuming they even know you exist. It is the Dark Brotherhood who you would wish to believe was involved, not them. And the Dark Brotherhood will assume I murdered this mer to avoid witnesses on my way by to see Count Carolus and report that I murdered Fortunata like he asked me to.¡±

    This is the quickest way of letting the Ebonheart Pact know that the Aldmeri Dominion isn¡¯t assassinating its political rivals. Not that I honestly think they care. I mean, Morag Tong and everything, but the Morag Tong is about the Great Houses having one another assassinated, and not foreign powers.

    ¡°That¡¯s what happened?¡± Naryu says. ¡°Well. You have a point. In that case, if you would kindly not let your Dark Siblings know that this wasn¡¯t your hit, I will certainly return the favor.¡±

    ¡°You might be more conspicuous than me,¡± I say. ¡°I, after all, do not exist.¡±

    ¡°Well, after you¡¯ve spoken to the Count, why don¡¯t you meet me back at the Eight Blessings inn and we can share a drink?¡±

    ¡°It would be my pleasure,¡± I say.

    After all that, Count Carolus isn¡¯t even in his office. Or his throne room, for that matter, as I did check there quite deliberately in the midst of getting lost. He did, however, leave a scrap of paper in the spot where he¡¯d performed the Black Sacrament marking a ruin to the south of Kvatch. I assume he left that for me to find him there intentionally.

    On the way out of the city, I meet up with Naryu at the Eight Blessings inn for that drink. Of course, when I agreed, I wasn¡¯t thinking about the part where this mask covers most of my face, including my mouth, and does not include a mouth hole. She¡¯s removed her mask.

    I shouldn¡¯t let her know that I¡¯m a Chimer pretending to be an Altmer pretending to be an Orc pretending to be a Khajiit pretending to be an Imperial. There are so many levels of misdirection here that it would probably hurt her brain and make her wonder how I keep it all straight.

    Naryu looks at the drink in my hand, at the face mask with only eyes visible, at the nonplussed expression in those eyes, and starts laughing.

    ¡°Too secretive to let little old me know what your mouth looks like?¡± Naryu teases. ¡°I suppose a kiss is right out, then.¡±

    It¡¯s probably just as well that I¡¯m not drinking something at this moment.

    ¡°It somewhat ruins the mystique,¡± I say. ¡°I would be delighted if you would see my face, but we are not in entirely private surroundings at the moment. In any case, I have a meeting to make still, since it turns out the man I came to meet with relocated to a different location. But by all means, next time we meet, I will buy you a sujamma. Or bring my own sujamma if the place we happen to be does not serve it. Assuming that you would be willing to drink sujamma that the likes of me would be carrying around in their pocket.¡±

    Naryu just laughs. ¡°Go on, then. Don¡¯t keep the man waiting. I¡¯ll be expecting that sujamma.¡±

    ¡­

    I finally locate Count Carolus. As it turns out, he¡¯s the sort of person who stands around in ruins wearing his golden crown of laurels with his fancy warhorse. You¡¯d think he¡¯d at least take it off and try not to look like such an obvious target. Although I suppose all things considered, it¡¯s not like he¡¯s less safe here than in the middle of his fortress. If we wanted him dead, he¡¯d be dead regardless.

    Carolus Aquilarios is Varen¡¯s nephew. If the correspondence I glanced at on his desk is any indication, he was quite fond of his uncle. He kept writing letters to him and not sending them, like some sort of diary. Considering they were strewn across his desk while he was summoning assassins, he didn¡¯t seem terribly concerned about said assassins reading his diary. Not that he knows I was able to read it at a glance, but I had plenty of time to read it when I went to report back to him if I wanted.

    He tells me about how the Order of the Hour is amassing an army. They¡¯re building siege equipment at the Enclave of the Hourglass and heavily recruiting. He¡¯s out in this ruin spying on them himself and is apparently short on people he can trust.

    ¡°At least the Dominion will be better neighbors than the damned pirates, but now that the Pirate Queen has been toppled, the Order of the Hour offered her former crew amnesty if they¡¯d join up,¡± Carolus says.

    ¡°They are preparing to attempt to take Anvil?¡± I ask.

    He doesn¡¯t seem even the slightest bit surprised or suspicious that the Dominion swooped in almost before Fortunata¡¯s body hit the rocks. I suppose it might have been more suspicious had they not. If they didn¡¯t, the Daggerfall Covenant or another pirate might think it a great idea to take over.

    ¡°It seems likely,¡± Carolus says. ¡°I don¡¯t know why they think they stand a chance against the Dominion, even with bolstering their ranks with former pirates. But they might be planning to assault the Dark Brotherhood¡¯s headquarters instead, wherever that is.¡±

    ¡°And they believe siege equipment would help with that?¡± I say with a snort. ¡°If they attack Anvil, it will implicate Kvatch and paint a target on your back for the Dominion. It is to your benefit that I stop them. You offered information, but your information comes with another benefit to you.¡±

    ¡°Will I have no end of favors with you people?¡± Carolus groans.

    I chuckle darkly. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get me wrong. We have a common enemy here. I do not begrudge you giving me information that may also work to your benefit. But if you do not seek trouble from the Dominion¡­ you may wish to pledge yourself to them before it escalates to that point.¡±

    Carolus sighs. ¡°I¡¯m definitely going to need to talk to them. Hopefully no assassins will need to get involved on either side.¡±

    ¡°By the way,¡± I add. ¡°I do hope you weren¡¯t terribly attached to that visiting Hlaalu noble.¡±

    Carolus sighs. ¡°No, not especially. I suppose it should not surprise me that someone wanted him dead. You people work quickly.¡±

 Chapter 172: In Which I Pardon Pirates

    I decide that I¡¯d best investigate this castle full of religious fanatics that are apparently preparing for a war on someone. If they¡¯re building siege equipment, they might be planning on trying to retake Anvil from the Dominion, because I have no idea why you¡¯d need siege equipment if you were intending on assaulting the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary or something.

    I run across Mirabelle outside the Enclave of the Hourglass, hidden on a nearby rocky hill and watching the place. She rudely rebuffs any suggestion of working together and intends to go after the Black Dragon herself. She also doesn¡¯t seem to think we stand any chance. Really, she doesn¡¯t know us very well, although that¡¯s hardly her fault.

    ¡°This one does not begrudge your grudge,¡± I say. ¡°However, so long as we are here, it makes sense to watch one another¡¯s backs, yes? This one will make sure that all eyes are upon Vara-do and not you.¡±

    ¡°You intend to just barge in and fight them all?¡± Mirabelle looks at me incredulously.

    ¡°It will be a good workout,¡± I say. ¡°Really gets the blood pumping. Fights have been too easy lately. Vara-do does not think these priests and pirates will give him a good challenge anyway.¡±

    ¡°By yourself?¡± Mirabelle wonders.

    I shrug, and pull out my communication orb. ¡°Rocky, Vara-do is about to take over another castle. Have the crew ready to loot it when he¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Acknowledged,¡± Merry replies.

    ¡°Who in Oblivion are you?¡± Mirabelle asks, looking at me like I¡¯m insane.

    ¡°Your Dark Brother,¡± I say. ¡°Who happens to be very good at hitting things. Kisha! Take out the siege equipment. Vara-do is going to start putting blades into bodies.¡±

    ¡°Kisha¡¯s here too?¡± Mirabelle says. ¡°Of course she is.¡±

    I head in. For all that they¡¯re in a castle preparing siege equipment, the Order of the Hour is completely unprepared for actually being attacked. The gates are wide open and unguarded. Sure, they might notice a Dominion army heading toward them long before it got here, and no amount of attention paid to the gates would stop determined assassins, but it¡¯s just sloppy.

    A pirate captain and an Imperial soldier (possibly a lieutenant, their positions guessed by how fancy their armor is) are discussing initiating pirates. The pirate woman is concerned about the official pardons coming through, and does not even slightly sound repentant. More than fine with me. I take out the soldier in swift order, but stop to talk with the pirate.

    ¡°Throwing in your lot with priests, captain?¡± I say. ¡°Were you truly that desperate?¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t have much choice,¡± the pirate captain says, relaxing a fraction of a hair upon seeing that she wasn¡¯t my target. She introduces herself as Marie Elena.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s another choice for you,¡± I say. ¡°You can work for Vara-do.¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯ll kill me?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°You don¡¯t need to join him. Just don¡¯t be his enemy. That tends to go poorly for people.¡± I glance aside at the corpse on the floor.

    ¡°You¡¯ve certainly been doing better for yourself,¡± Marie says. ¡°Strange that I¡¯d never even heard of you until you sacked the Jarol Estate.¡±

    ¡°Everyone comes from somewhere, yes?¡± I say.

    I offer her a Dominion pardon edict as if it were currency. (It¡¯s not even counterfeit.)

    Marie looks it over critically. ¡°This is real?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s King Neri¡¯s official seal on it, right there,¡± I say.

    ¡°This is either the most convincing fake I¡¯ve ever seen or you stole a real blank pardon edict,¡± Marie says. ¡°Do you have more of these?¡±

    ¡°Take it to Anvil and show it to the Dominion officials,¡± I say. ¡°Ask them to sign your crew on as privateers and swear loyalty to the Aldmeri Dominion. They are also big on redemption and recruiting their former enemies, and won¡¯t shove religion down your throat in the process.¡±

    ¡°Privateers for the Dominion sounds way better than the damned priests¡¯ offer,¡± Marie says. ¡°Fine. I can see which way the wind is blowing. The eagle banner is on the rise, and only a fool sails into a storm. I still can¡¯t believe they took Anvil right out from under our noses like that, but I suppose you had something to do with that, didn¡¯t you.¡±

    Marie accompanies me through the castle, so that her crewmates can be sure I¡¯m not lying, or at least if I¡¯m lying, I¡¯m doing so in a way that has convinced their captain.

    There¡¯s a group of pirates being initiated in the most temply-looking room we¡¯ve run across. The priest notices me approaching (not a difficult task as i wasn¡¯t hiding) and calls upon the pirates to prove their worth. They just pause and look over to their captain, who is pointedly not attacking me.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a better offer, crew,¡± Marie says. ¡°Kill the priests!¡±

    The pirates don¡¯t need any encouragement or more explanation than that. For all the ways Tamriel has changed during my imprisonment in Coldharbour, the ways it hasn¡¯t changed is greater.

    I press on, fighting my way through and eventually breaking away from the group of pirates. They can handle this themselves. I have complete faith in the pirates I just met to do glorious battle and either emerge victorious, die, or run away, and am not especially concerned which one. I¡¯m here to investigate the Black Dragon, not just slaughter priests. I¡¯ve already initiated enough chaos to thoroughly fuck up their plans. (I¡¯m also kind of pissed that she took a name like the Black Dragon when I was just the Black Wolf. She thinks mighty highly of herself to elevate herself to that level.)

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I come upon a woman, dressed in simple garb like a servant. She holds up her hands to show she¡¯s unarmed, which doesn¡¯t mean much since there¡¯s no way I¡¯d be able to tell if she¡¯s a mage or something. She requests to speak before I murder her. I oblige.

    Her posture is not the slightest bit afraid or intimidated. Her voice does not waver. I do not trust her at all. But I will play this game. Lyra (as she introduces herself) is obviously a spy or a plant, but who she works for (if anyone) is less obvious. I don¡¯t recognize any of the movements she¡¯s making or words she¡¯s saying as signals for any secret organization I know of, though.

    ¡°Vara-do seeks the one they call the Black Dragon,¡± I say.

    ¡°Very brave of you,¡± she says with the tone someone I know might use to someone who claimed they were looking for me.

    ¡°It is difficult for this one to find a challenge,¡± I lament. ¡°Time and time again he is faced with disappointment.¡±

    Lyra tells me about how the Black Dragon is a former assassin who sought redemption, and asks if I have any regrets.

    I snort. ¡°Life is too long to bear regrets. Never focus on what could have been at the expense of what could be.¡±

    ¡°There might be some wisdom in that,¡± Lyra says. ¡°The Primate says regrets are like stars in the sky that shine in the darkness.¡±

    ¡°Very poetic, but the stars do not burn with regret,¡± I say. ¡°They burn with hope. Regret will never guide anyone straight.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s meant to be a metaphor,¡± Lyra says. ¡°But I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t come here to debate philosophy with little old me. I can introduce you to the Black Dragon. You probably don¡¯t want to get caught by any Order members who might show up.¡±

    She seems blissfully unaware that there¡¯s a tiny war going on in this castle.

    ¡°Very well,¡± I say. ¡°Show me.¡±

    Lyra leads me off to a large, fancy chamber with those ridiculously tall bookshelves you need ladders to get up. No one is in the Black Dragon¡¯s chambers at the moment. I bristle, alert for traps. Lyra suggests waiting for the Black Dragon to show up.

    I pace about the room and ¡°casually¡± glance at the clutter on the desk. One item stands out. The Black Dragon¡¯s journal. Which quite plainly states that her name is Lyra. What a coincidence.

    Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Mirabelle being not nearly stealthy enough. I don¡¯t give her away by looking directly at her, but Lyra spots her anyway when she obliviously ¡°whispers¡± at me with all the subtlety of a forty-year-old child sneaking out to practice kissing and drink watered-down shein.

    Red shadows wrap around Lyra with a hail of sparks, covering her or transforming her into some sort of living shadow. Annoying red shadowy shit tangles around me as well. She teleports behind Mirabelle and summons the Blade of Woe before I can move.

    Ilara appears behind the Black Dragon and summons her own Blade of Woe into her back. The force pushes Lyra¡¯s blade away from its intended mark. Mirabelle falls off the ledge onto her face in front of me. I quickly start healing. It was a deep cut and she¡¯s bleeding profusely, but she¡¯s still alive and it didn¡¯t strike anything that would kill her immediately.

    Lyra makes her escape, leaving behind quite a bit of blood herself. Must be nice being able to teleport. I mean, to teleport wherever she wants. Without having to spend a couple minutes staring at the stars in my head to find and connect to the right wayshrine.

    ¡°Dark Moons!¡± Ilara hisses, and jumps off the ledge. ¡°She got away. Mirabelle?¡±

    ¡°Alive,¡± I say, and call up a healer.

    Ezreba appears shortly and gets to work. Recruiting the pirates will complicate this mission for my loot crew. The actual pirates are going to want their share of the treasure, provided they succeed. I doubt the Black Dragon will be back just yet. She¡¯ll need time to recover, and she¡¯s lost the element of surprise.

    I take the journal and shove it into my bag. I could parse through this in my Library of the Mind myself, but I think I¡¯d rather delegate this one. (Unless I get stuck in a really boring meeting. Sometimes I wish I could literally be in two places at once, but that would get entirely too confusing. I need a damned Mouth.)

    I make sure the loot crew is dressed like pirates and tell them if they run into problems with the pirates, just tell them they¡¯re on Vara-do¡¯s crew. (And if they run across Lyra in either guise, tell her they¡¯re not on Vara-do¡¯s crew and are on Marie Elena¡¯s crew instead.) Still, I leave Mirabelle in Ezreba¡¯s hands and head out to make sure the castle is actually getting captured myself. It wouldn¡¯t do to acquire a new pirate fleet and then have them all immediately die fighting priests, militant ones or otherwise.

    Which leads to the question of who gets the loot, so I just tell them they can have whatever they can carry and don¡¯t mention anything about magic bags. They don¡¯t protest my crew taking furniture that they can¡¯t haul out anyway, although they wonder aloud why we want the furniture.

    ¡°Why are you always so intent upon trying to save mercenaries and spare bandits and pirates?¡± Merry wonders. ¡°Not that I object to a bit of mercy, mind you.¡±

    I stare off for a long moment. ¡°A long time ago¡­ I was a mercenary, once. Many of the mer I worked with had been at blade¡¯s ends with one another at different points in our careers. It was something of an unspoken rule when fighting one another to not go out of our way to kill one another. And not to fight to the death unless we sincerely believed in a cause rather than mere coin.¡±

    ¡°That is fair,¡± Merry asks. ¡°What about the bandits and pirates, though?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes all it takes is one bad job or failed payment for a mercenary to become a bandit,¡± I say. ¡°Fortunata¡¯s pirates were backed up against a wall so badly they thought fanatical priests were a reasonable option. I simply gave them a better offer.¡±

    ¡°What if they go back to banditry or piracy?¡± Merry asks.

    ¡°Oh, the Dominion will be happy for them to do piracy,¡± I say. ¡°On the Covenant and Pact¡¯s ships. Plus an additional bounty on any Sea Elf ships sunk.¡±

    ¡°And once the war is over and you¡¯ve accidentally taken over Tamriel, they go back to being pirates,¡± Merry says.

    I shrug. ¡°Then so be it. I can only give options. People have to make their own dumb choices.¡±

    ¡­

    I return to the Sanctuary and explain to Astara what happened.

    ¡°The Order of the Hour has a castle and an army?¡± Astara says. ¡°That¡¯s bad news.¡±

    ¡°They¨C¡± I lick my lips. ¡°¨Chad a castle and an army.¡±

    ¡°You sacked another castle,¡± Astara says flatly.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And the army?¡± Astara asks.

    ¡°Vara-do turned the pirates against the priests,¡± I say. ¡°Turns out Dominion pardon edicts are a more valuable currency to pirates than best wishes for one¡¯s afterlife.¡±

    ¡°Good work,¡± Astara says. ¡°Where is Mirabelle? I need her to look into some things.¡±

    ¡°She is with some of Vara-do¡¯s people,¡± I say. ¡°We encountered the Black Dragon and she was wounded.¡±

    ¡°Khajiit failed,¡± Ilara says, looking down. ¡°She tried to warn Mirabelle not to come out of hiding. And the Black Dragon got away. Kisha almost killed her. She¡¯s got to be wounded at least as badly as Mirabelle now, but she teleported out before Kisha could finish her.¡±

    ¡°What was Mirabelle even doing there?¡± Astara asks, scowling even more than usual.

    ¡°Being sloppy,¡± Ilara says. ¡°So sloppy. She needs to go back to assassin school!¡± She pauses. ¡°Is there an assassin school?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one for Shadowscales in Black Marsh,¡± Astara says offhandedly. ¡°Did you at least find out anything about the Black Dragon?¡±

    I pull out the journal from my bag and hand it to her. ¡°Her life story. I think. Vara-do didn¡¯t read too much of it. Her name is Lyra Viria. This one might not believe she was really one of us once, but he knows the Blade of Woe and that was definitely what she summoned to stab Mirabelle with.¡±

    There¡¯s a good bit of shock about this dire revelation, and Astara passes off the journal to Green-Venom-Tongue to go through. Huzzah for delegation on both of our parts.

    ¡°Vara-do knew she was no simple servant,¡± I say. ¡°She was neither fearful nor deferent. But he did not realize who she was until it was too late. He thought she might be a spy, perhaps from the Pact or Covenant.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll find her,¡± Astara says vehemently. ¡°If the Wrath of Sithis doesn¡¯t find her first.¡±

 Chapter 173: In Which I Avoid Dessert

    While Green-Venom-Tongue works his way through that book to uncover whatever he¡¯s hoping to find there, I take the opportunity to take care of some other stuff. I make sure to let the Anvil Provisional Council (I shouldn¡¯t let Altmer name things) know to expect some pirates and to grant them amnesty because they assisted the Eyes of the Queen in taking out a hostile force preparing to attack Anvil. By which I mean I get someone who isn¡¯t a Khajiit assassin (who is secretly a Dominion spy) to tell them that. Grishka is happy to pass along the message. (And being Hunt-Queen, she outranks them, anyway.)

    And then there¡¯s slumming in Cyrodiil. Sometimes I wonder why anyone bothers with war when there¡¯s just as many caves and ruins full of cultists and undead as anywhere else. Those are always fun to clear out and everyone is happy for me to do so. The towns already like me more than the other alliances just because I solve their problems instead of just crashing around breaking shit and waving flags around.

    I stop by Anvil to see if any new bounties have been posted, and see a note about an urgent and dangerous matter requesting a skilled adventurer to speak with a contact in the inn in Kvatch.

    I teleport over to Kvatch and decide to take the opportunity to see if anyone wants to arrest poor Vara-do, but my Khajiit persona gets no attention from any militant priests. Hopefully they at least had the good grace to be embarrassed about the whole ¡°let¡¯s behead the cat for airing legitimate grievances¡± thing. Lerisa¡¯s sister may not have been the only one to back out after that. Hopefully they didn¡¯t get beheaded.

    The Imperial man who posted the job notice is named Reman, but not that Reman. He tells me about a murderer who leaves messages in sweetrolls telling people they¡¯re going to die. And then they die. By being stabbed in the face. Kind of a shitty prophecy. He offers to provide gold and unspecified services for stopping his associates from being murdered. (He is, of course, a member of the Gold Coast Trading Company. I don¡¯t mention how much of their profits I have already seized lately.)

    Sweetroll notes doesn¡¯t seem like the sort of modus operandi the Dark Brotherhood usually takes. Still, I double-check at the Sanctuary to make sure I¡¯m not stepping on anyone¡¯s toes by taking this job. The response, as expected, is that they don¡¯t have anything to do with this and it¡¯s exactly as silly as it sounds.

    I scour Kvatch looking for the people on the list Reman gave me. According to one Dunmer gardener named Louna, this has been going on for months and it¡¯s strange that Reman has finally taken an interest in it. I find it strange that this has been going on for months amid the Dark Brotherhood and the Order of the Hour having a tiny war on the Gold Coast and everyone just seems to think the constant murder is business as usual. No wonder they¡¯re so happy to welcome in the Aldmeri Dominion.

    One Altmer baker received a message but intends to just keep doing what he¡¯s doing. (Also he¡¯s annoyed that people think he¡¯s the murderer just because he¡¯s a baker.)

    ¡°This one hears the Dominion is planning a feast to celebrate their conquest of Anvil,¡± I say. ¡°Perhaps you could help cater? The killer would surely hesitate to harm you if you¡¯re surrounded by Dominion soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a good idea,¡± the baker says. ¡°And I¡¯m certain they¡¯d pay well, too.¡±

    There¡¯s also a suspicious Wood Elf who claims to be a beggar but is too clean, confident, and well-fed to be a beggar. It looks like she just smeared some dirt on herself and not in anyplace it would normally get just from doing things. I subtly give her a signal for the Eyes of the Queen, but she doesn¡¯t seem to spot it.

    And then she gives me a merry chase through town which ends in meeting Razum-dar in the far corner of the market. Who proceeds to not attack me, much to her confusion. Both Raz and eye have a good face-palm (or mask-paw) about this before relocating to his safehouse. The Wood Elf, Yarmia, is a trainee of the Eyes of the Queen, who is having as much trouble with subtlety as I do.

    ¡°Vara-do is also with the Eyes of the Queen,¡± I say. ¡°Are his signals out of date, or did you just not recognize them?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ I guess I wasn¡¯t paying enough attention,¡± Yarmia says.

    ¡°You again,¡± Raz says with some amusement. ¡°And where is dear Kisha?¡±

    ¡°Here,¡± Ilara says, appearing behind him. I think she actually did learn to turn invisible at some point.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Raz says. ¡°Raz should know, if he ever sees the one, the other will not be far away.¡±

    ¡°Unless we are,¡± Ilara says with a grin. ¡°In which case we confuse anyone that expects to see us together, yes?¡±

    We catch up with Raz on the situation at his safehouse in the upper floor of the enchanter. In addition to innocent-if-greedy members of the Gold Coast Trading Company, the infamous Sweetroll Killer has also slain some of the Queen¡¯s advisers, which makes it Raz¡¯s problem. So, Raz and I come up with a plan. This winds up involving running all over town some more trying to make sense of coded messages.

    Turns out the notes we¡¯re following don¡¯t lead us to the killer in question but to Naryu. Who doesn¡¯t immediately recognize me since I¡¯m being a Khajiit and not an Imperial at the moment.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I say. ¡°Vara-do thinks we have followed Morag Tong intel and not our killer, it seems.¡±

    ¡°How do you¨C who are you?¡± Naryu demands.

    ¡°This one promised you a sujamma last time we met,¡± I say. ¡°And he did say he wouldn¡¯t be dressed like he was at the time. Perhaps he will even show you his face.¡±

    ¡°Silencius?¡± Naryu says. ¡°Or Vara-do? Or whatever your name actually is.¡±

    ¡°This one is being Vara-do at the moment,¡± I say.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you meant when you said Silencius doesn¡¯t exist,¡± Naryu says.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I say. ¡°Vara-do does not exist, either.¡±

    ¡°Were you the one who betrayed me?¡± Naryu asks, with a touch less venom than the accusation should warrant. ¡°No one else knew I was even here.¡±

    ¡°If this one wanted you dead, you would already be dead,¡± I say. ¡°Vara-do would not have politely come in through the front door. Also, he would not have sent messages inside sweetrolls. It¡¯s practically a sin.¡± I pause thoughtfully. ¡°Is there a god of sweetrolls?¡±

    ¡°Probably Sanguine,¡± Ilara adds. From the window, behind Naryu, completely unnoticed.

    Naryu tenses before realizing the latest Khajiit is just casually sitting on the windowsill rather than attacking anyone.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting off track,¡± Raz says, knowing my tendency to go off on tangents sometimes.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Naryu says. ¡°If you¡¯re not trying to kill me, then who is?¡±

    ¡°That is what we were trying to find out,¡± I say. ¡°You are not the first victim. Many of the mysterious deaths in the last few months may be attributed to this killer.¡±

    After some discussion on the victims and the killer¡¯s plans, we relocate to Anvil. I meet up with Raz, Yarmia, and Naryu at their secret, inconspicuous safehouse behind the tailor. Next to the giant mermaid statue, which Raz is admiring for some reason. Ah, young people so enthralled by simple curves of stone. For all I know, this is just a female giant in a skirt that sat down to dip her feet in the water and got turned to stone when she wasn¡¯t paying attention.

    ¡°Strange to think this is Dominion territory now,¡± Naryu muses. ¡°And I¡¯m sure Kvatch won¡¯t be far behind at this rate. Count Carolus won¡¯t have much choice.¡±

    We decide to investigate Reman, which will involve breaking into the Gold Coast Trading Company building and interrogating him. I decide that the best way inside is from the second floor balcony. I don¡¯t wind up having to look any further, as I find Reman out there, dying of poison. Fortunately, I have healing magic and potions, so no dramatic death for him today.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°I¡¯m dying and it¡¯s your fault!¡± Reman moans.

    ¡°You are not going to die,¡± I say. ¡°Here. Drink this.¡±

    Once I¡¯ve made sure he isn¡¯t dying anymore, Reman explains how he met this woman who had visions, and he¡¯d previously worked with her because this is the sensible thing for a merchant to do who just met a woman who has visions. Which didn¡¯t work out terribly well when he decided to send me after her. Reman points me to a farmhouse outside of town.

    I call up my support team to make sure Reman doesn¡¯t die¡­ and to take custody of him. I don¡¯t need anyone trying to kill him again and I don¡¯t need him running off, either. I have more questions for him and I¡¯m not letting him off the hook here.

    Everyone is safe and sound except the Dunmer gardener, who disappeared without a trace. Who is, of course, the real killer.

    Raz, Naryu and I visit the farmhouse. It is, of course, an ambush.

    ¡°Raz will never understand the desire of fools to attack you,¡± Raz comments.

    ¡°Why is he more foolish to attack than us?¡± Naryu wonders, then looks over at me cackling madly and poking holes into people and says flatly, ¡°Oh. He¡¯s insane.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just sleeping poison,¡± I say. ¡°We can kill them later if necessary.¡±

    ¡°Why are you sparing people who are trying to kill you?¡± Naryu asks.

    ¡°Because I can.¡± With all the attackers down and no more coming, I start tying people up. ¡°Vara-do is not in a position where it is necessary to kill for survival because there are no alternatives, and while he enjoys the violence, he would prefer to minimize the deaths.¡±

    ¡°You are a very strange assassin,¡± Naryu says. ¡°That¡¯s more of a Morag Tong philosophy than Dark Brotherhood.¡±

    As soon as Louna sees what we¡¯ve done to her cult or whatever they are, she surrenders. And complains about the appellation she¡¯d been given.

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t like being called the Sweetroll Killer, then why did you not pick a different schtick?¡± I wonder.

    Louna gives a heartfelt speech about how she was killing people in order to prevent disaster, and explains some of the things that her current crop of victims, who we¡¯ve saved, were going to wind up inadvertently causing.

    ¡°Vara-do does not have words to describe how stupid it is to have turned your gift to ends this sloppy,¡± I say. ¡°You knew very specific things that might happen in the future and what led to them, and the best you could do was lead a group of bandits to murder people? Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Even this one could have done better than that,¡± Ilara scoffs.

    I nod in agreement. ¡°You could have easily manipulated events to prevent the thing you thought was ¡®bad¡¯ from happening without anyone having to die for it. And who are you to judge what outcome is good and what is bad? And good for who and bad for who?¡±

    ¡°Assassins, decrying murder?¡± Louna says. ¡°It matters not whether they were good or evil, only the outcome of their actions. Had they been permitted to continue, disaster would have occurred.¡±

    ¡°You were trying to make the world a better place based solely upon preventing what you thought to be ¡®disasters¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°This one can respect that. But you can do better. This one does not believe our views of what a better world would look like are that incompatible. How about working with this one instead?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ have not foreseen that outcome,¡± Louna says. ¡°I only saw that you might kill me or release me. I¡­ did not foresee any of your actions. I can¡¯t see you. Why can¡¯t I see you?¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°I think I know why. And all your prophecies are wrong because of it.¡±

    Louna looks into my eyes, and says matter-of-factly, ¡°If I refuse, you will kill me, won¡¯t you.¡± It¡¯s not a question.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°But sometimes people will cheerfully die rather than submit, no? And sometimes people will only do the minimum to survive and seek to undermine and betray. Regardless, you have to understand that Vara-do is unwilling to allow you to go free, as you have shown an unwillingness to use your power responsibly. This one is not sure if the Aldmeri Dominion has any specific laws against misuse of prophecies, but King Neri has declared it to be illegal to use weird magic to do annoying things without good reason.¡±

    ¡°Raz likes Wood Orc legal terminology,¡± Raz says.

    ¡°Louna.¡± My voice is carefully kept even. ¡°Do you receive prophecies from Azura? Sotha Sil? Or is it your own gift?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my own,¡± Louna says, which I suppose stands to reason. Whatever might be said of them, I doubt either of them would espouse a policy as shoddy as this.

    ¡°You fear these people bringing petty disasters,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me. What sort of disaster will befall the Tribunal?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    I take off my cat-mask and step up toward her. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    Louna¡¯s eyes widen, then she screams and staggers back. ¡°Shadows¡­ Nightmares¡­ Blight¡­ Fire¡­ Ash¡­¡± She looks at me, eyes wide. ¡°Hortator.¡±

    I cock my head.

    ¡°Hortator?¡± Naryu says, then looks at me in puzzlement. ¡°A High Elf? No¡­ wait. I know that face. I¡¯ve seen that face.¡±

    I incline my head toward her. ¡°I may as well actually introduce myself at this point. Hi, I¡¯m Nerevar. Please don¡¯t tell my ex-wife I¡¯m alive.¡±

    Whatever training Naryu received from the Morag Tong did not prepare her for this manner of revelation.

    Raz chuckles. ¡°Raz doubts Almalexia would guess you were in Kvatch pretending to be a Khajiit assassin.¡±

    I remove my glove and show them my ring. ¡°This ring is named One-Clan-Over-Ash-and-Fire. No idea what happened to Moon-and-Star, but I¡¯m not a big fan of Azura these days seeing as she left me to rot.¡±

    ¡°All the masks have fallen away and for one shining moment I have glimpsed your true self,¡± Louna murmurs distantly.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for forcing you to look, Louna,¡± I say. ¡°The possible futures you saw must have been horrible.¡±

    ¡°You had to get the point across,¡± Louna says with a sigh, shaking. ¡°I¡¯ve been focusing on the wrong things. All the economical failures in the world won¡¯t matter¡­ The big things are difficult to pin down. So many variables, so many interconnections.¡±

    ¡°You tried to stop the Planemeld, didn¡¯t you,¡± I say.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Louna says. ¡°I had to. How could I not? It seemed¡­ impossible. Insurmountable. I gave up on trying to affect the big things after that. I thought I could make the world better in small ways. Was all I did simply making more of a mess of things?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°All you saw was a problem but didn¡¯t have enough hands or brains to take care of it.¡± At her hard look, I smirk and say, ¡°Yes, I¡¯m saying what you did was stupid. I do stupid things sometimes, too. But what I mean is, there are people who are good at thinking about things, gathering information and putting it to use.¡± I gesture to the spymaster and assassin behind me. ¡°Raz? Naryu? What could you have gotten done with the sort of information she had?¡±

    ¡°There¡­ could have been a lot less death,¡± Raz says.

    Naryu nods in agreement. ¡°Preparations could have been made. Courses adjusted. Why didn¡¯t you put messages in sweetrolls telling us what to beware of instead?¡±

    Louna looks like that never even occurred to her. Naryu wins the prize for being the most sensible person in the room, and she¡¯s still reeling from the revelation that her ancestral hero is a lunatic.

    ¡°I targeted you because I saw your daughter would do something terrible and the world would burn for it,¡± Louna says.

    ¡°What?¡± Naryu says. ¡°I don¡¯t even have a daughter.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t yet have a daughter,¡± Louna says.

    Naryu puts her face in her hand. ¡°Well, in the unlikely event that I have a daughter, I¡¯ll be sure to tell her not to set the world on fire, thank you.¡±

    ¡°I will work for Indoril Nerevar,¡± Louna says.

    ¡°Okay, so my first order is to never use that name again,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d married into House Indoril, but I don¡¯t want anything to do with them anymore even if they wanted anything to do with me. If I ever went back and had to pick, I might join House Telvanni.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t they mages?¡± Raz asks.

    ¡°Sure, but they also don¡¯t give a fuck. I¡¯ll probably have to violently convince them and House Dres that relying on slavery is fucking stupid at some point, though. Now, if I were going purely for impressions, I might join House Redoran to impress the noble, honorable sorts, or House Hlaalu if being seen as cooperating with outlanders was in style. Telvanni, however, is a good option for still being a Great House but not giving a fuck about how much murder and smuggling I do.¡±

    ¡°You took over most of the skooma production in Valenwood, instituted health and safety regulations and quality testing,¡± Raz says. ¡°You somehow managed to keep skooma smuggling out by taxing and regulating local producers and putting checks and tariffs on imports while still having it illegal.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a fine,¡± I say. ¡°Basically a fee on failing to be subtle. It¡¯s impolite to do drugs in public.¡±

    ¡°You do it all the time,¡± Ilara points out.

    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m on drugs in public quite frequently, but I don¡¯t actually do the drugs in public. And no, you don¡¯t count as the public, so you can¡¯t count how many times I¡¯ve done drugs in front of my friends and immediate victims.¡±

    ¡°Your fake tail twitching is incredibly distracting,¡± Naryu says, trying to rapidly change the topic that¡¯s spiraling out of control. ¡°And for the record, I don¡¯t tend to hold tea parties with Almalexia. Everyone thought you were dead.¡±

    ¡°I was,¡± I say. ¡°They murdered me. They sacrificed me to Molag Bal and I was trapped in Coldharbour up until¡­ Raz, when the hell did I pop out of Coldharbour? Anyway, yeah, Planemeld gave me an opportunity to escape and then I later punched Molag Bal in the face and got him to knock it off.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Naryu says. ¡°You¡¯re King Neri?¡± She sighs. ¡°Of course you are. That¡¯s why Ash-and-Fire has Malacath¡¯s symbol.¡±

    ¡°Every time Raz turns around, he is doing something else ridiculous,¡± Raz says. ¡°It is no wonder that no prophet can figure out what he is doing.¡±

    ¡°Morrowind¡¯s greatest hero is working for the Aldmeri Dominion now?¡± Naryu asks.

    ¡°Morrowind¡¯s greatest hero practically took over the Aldmeri Dominion already,¡± Raz says.

    ¡°That¡­ makes sense,¡± Naryu says. ¡°This really is a dangerous secret.¡± She sighs. ¡°Now that this whole business with someone trying to kill me has been resolved with her hopefully never annoying me again, I need to be getting back to Morrowind. Not that I¡¯m going to be able to stop thinking about this. I believe you still owe me a sujamma, whatever face and name you¡¯re wearing next time we inevitably run across one another.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you promise me a kiss, too?¡± I wink.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you marry an Orc?¡± Naryu asks.

    ¡°I married two Orcs,¡± I say. ¡°And that¡¯ll probably be more. Roku¡¯s been nagging me to find more wives.¡±

    ¡°Make it two sujammas,¡± Naryu says.

    ¡°It¡¯s a date,¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°You know she flirts with literally everyone, yes?¡± Raz puts in.

    Meanwhile, Louna is just kind of staring at us like her entire world got knocked out from under her feet and replaced with madness. Ilara whispers not-especially-quietly to her, ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

 Chapter 174: In Which I Get High to Solve a Mystery

    I¡¯ve left the corrupt merchant Reman and the murderous prophet Louna in the capable hands of my hunt-wife. I don¡¯t know or care whether Reman will be fined, executed, or released on account of none of the murders actually taking place in Dominion territory. I am not smart enough to figure out what to do with Louna¡¯s mess of predictions, and would honestly rather not deal with anything to do with prophecies at all. Louna is too good a resource to throw away, but I don¡¯t know how to use her myself. So! Delegation!

    In between setting up a teleportation network in Cyrodiil, I¡¯ve been delivering mail for random people. Everyone just sees a well-armed Orc and doesn¡¯t recognize a king unless people are stomping about going ¡°That guy¡¯s the King!¡± so I¡¯m obviously the one to ask and I don¡¯t care to turn them down because chances are, I was going there anyway. I would make sure to tell them anyway because I need the name recognition and goodwill, but I think it¡¯s just as well that I don¡¯t tell them they just asked a king to deliver fertilizer.

    I suppose it wouldn¡¯t matter if I were the Emperor or a freaking Daedric Prince, someone is probably going to give me a fetch quest anyway. I can just imagine some peasant in Cyrodiil asking Sheogorath to do some inane task for them and it going horribly hilariously wrong.

    While I¡¯ve been playing warrior-king and part-time courier, Green-Venom-Tongue has hardly taken his pointed snout out of the Black Dragon¡¯s journal since I brought it back. The big problem with this all is that Lyra Viria is supposed to be dead, killed in the purification of his former Sanctuary in Black Marsh.

    ¡°Purification.¡± Such a pretty word to describe simply slaughtering everyone. The Black Hand believed there was a traitor, and had everyone killed. Everyone except Green-Venom-Tongue, who was away at the time and deemed unconnected to whatever was going on.

    Ilara¡¯s off in Greenshade at the moment to stab some fetcher who was disrespecting the Wilderqueen, so I¡¯ll be heading off on a trip to Black Marsh with Green-Venom-Tongue by myself (and anyone I can call up with a short orb-call).

    ¡°This will also be a good opportunity to conduct that private interview you promised,¡± Venom says.

    ¡°This one did not promise, but he will answer whatever questions you have regardless.¡± I grin. ¡°He might even answer truthfully.¡±

    ¡°Slim-Jah spoke highly but vaguely of you,¡± Green-Venom-Tongue says.

    Green-Venom-Tongue says that the location of his former Sanctuary is ¡°not far¡± and is ¡°just across the border to Black Marsh.¡± I¡¯m sure he¡¯s just saying this encouragingly, as if I haven¡¯t looked at a map to know that much of Cyrodiil, Valenwood, and Elsweyr are between the Gold Coast and Black Marsh. I decide to save us some time and teleport us to Dune and hop a caravan from there rather than Anvil.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pity you could not get us closer,¡± Venom says. ¡°Ah¡­ Dune is so dusty. It dries my scales. Literally, I mean. I know my people frequently use that phrase metaphorically.¡±

    I¡¯ve never visited Elsweyr proper before, so my first glimpse of it is¡­ interesting, to say the least. By which I mean there¡¯s plenty of sand. If Green-Venom-Tongue was complaining about dry and dusty scales before we left Dune, he¡¯s quietly unhappy about the trip by the time we reach Riverhold, offset only by looking forward to being somewhere moist in the near future. Everything in this part of Elsweyr looks like it¡¯s been blasted by millennia of sandstorms. I light the wayshrine outside of Riverhold, making a show of praying for a safe journey for the sake of the caravaneer.

    I¡¯m probably not going to be able to pass for a Khajiit as well here among actual Khajiit, so I avoid contact with the locals as much as possible. Easy enough to do when we¡¯re traveling at a not-especially-leisurely pace.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never actually been to Elsweyr before, have you,¡± Venom observes.

    ¡°This one has not,¡± I say, not bothering to deny the obvious. ¡°It has been a busy time and he has not had the opportunity to truly visit. Alas that he still does not have the time now, either.¡±

    Rimmen. Leyawiin. Gideon. The worst of this all, even worse than someone spelling the name of a city ¡®Leyawiin¡¯, is that Green-Venom-Tongue is keeping me focused and won¡¯t let me run off to poke my nose into caves or help random people on the streets with finding lost pets or whatever. Fine, if I must. I suppose this is slightly time-sensitive. (And delicate enough that we can¡¯t just get a mage in need of coin to portal us to Gideon.) I can always come back to Elsweyr and Blackwood and poke into whatever secrets they might hold later.

    Once we reach Gideon, Venom hires on a boat handler to get us through the swamps to the Sanctuary. It¡¯s at this point, while traveling through the sluggish waterways of Black Marsh with only an Argonian fascinated by the Shadowscales to overhear, that Green-Venom-Tongue chooses to start interviewing me.

    ¡°Where are you from?¡± Venom opens with.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say.

    ¡°How do you not know?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± I say. ¡°And a much longer story than this one is willing to tell right now.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Venom says, writing something down. ¡°Why did you decide to become an assassin?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± I say.

    ¡°How do you not know?¡± Venom repeats.

    ¡°It just kind of happened.¡±

    ¡°You just happened to kill someone and got the Night Mother¡¯s attention?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°One of the many, many, many people this one has killed,¡± I say. ¡°But she was more interested in Kisha than Vara-do. So this one does not know.¡±

    ¡°How many people have you killed?¡± Venom wonders.

    I give a snort of laughter. ¡°Dunno.¡±

    ¡°This has not been a productive interview,¡± Venom complains.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s just quite a lot of things this one cannot say and he would prefer not to insult you with a pretty lie.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Venom says.

    The boat handler stops to let us off at an abandoned village half sunk into the swamp. Past the ruined wooden buildings lies a ruin of stone, and Green-Venom-Tongue leads me inside the xanmeer.

    A creepy door is inside the xanmeer¡¯s entry hall, asking, ¡°What is the gift of death?¡±

    Green-Venom-Tongue replies, ¡°Solace, my brother,¡± and the door opens to let us inside.

    Noted. You can never have too many secret bases. I will never be able to find this place again and I didn¡¯t spot a wayshrine nearby. I¡¯ll need to make a call once we¡¯re done here to see if it¡¯s worth setting up an anchor.

    Venom starts talking about ¡°seeing as the Hist sees¡±, through the veil of time and weirdness.

    ¡°This one has probably consumed more Hist sap than many Argonians have,¡± I say.

    ¡°I would have thought moon sugar would be more common amongst Khajiit,¡± Venom says.

    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s been plenty of that, too,¡± I say. ¡°This one even communed with a Hist once.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Venom says. ¡°That¡¯s very interesting. I will need to make note of that.¡± He starts writing in his journal.

    Green-Venom-Tongue brought some sort of Hist resin that can cause visions when burned.

    ¡°Ooh!¡± I say. ¡°That sounds very useful! Where did you get it? Can I just buy it somewhere or do I need to have connections?¡±

    Venom gives me an inscrutable look and I realize I¡¯d just completely dropped my Khajiit speak in excitement about new drugs. Dammit. I don¡¯t correct myself and smoothly act like I meant to do that. He probably figured out a lot more from that alone than the ¡°interview¡± we just had.

    ¡°We can discuss it when we are done here,¡± Venom says. ¡°This is not a place to linger or chat. Do you sense them? We are not alone here.¡±

    ¡°This one hears the dead,¡± I say. ¡°Creaking bones. Wind where there shouldn¡¯t be wind.¡±

    We make our way through the crumbling halls of the abandoned Sanctuary. The bodies had been left where they fell, skeletons by now, and approaching them reveals echoes much like the ones I¡¯ve seen in Ayleid ruins. We see visions of Lyra striking down her fellow assassins, grieving at her orders as she does so.

    The Sanctuary is full of skeletons and ghosts. Perhaps I won¡¯t bother leaving an anchor here. There¡¯s plenty of good places for secret hideouts that aren¡¯t haunted. The Dark Brotherhood Guardian skeletons are particularly tough and are probably the sort that will pull their bones back together again after a while.

    ¡°Why do the skeletal guardians see us as intruders?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°The Black Hand must have commanded them to attack anyone entering the ruin¡­¡± Venom muses, writing something down.

    ¡°Will anyone get annoyed at Vara-do if he just dismembers these skeletons until we¡¯re gone?¡±

    ¡°If they would, they should not have made them attack us.¡±

    The Anvil Sanctuary is practically homey compared to this place, and not just because the guardians attack us. We pass a torture chamber. People were tortured to death here and their bodies left to decay into skeletons on the rack. I shudder involuntarily as we pass by.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like torture,¡± Venom observes.

    ¡°It takes a sick person to like it,¡± I say.

    ¡°It¡¯s a distasteful business,¡± Venom says. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either. Some of my Dark Siblings here enjoyed it a little too much. Perhaps it¡¯s connected to what led to the Sanctuary being purified somehow? I will make a note of it.¡±

    Once the vision of Lyra finishes the purification, she goes to the giant statue of Sithis (though I doubt he actually looks like a six-armed¡­ whatever that¡¯s supposed to be) and prays in anger and anguish. As she¡¯s praying, a High Elf woman¨Ca Speaker I don¡¯t know¨Ccomes up and tells her to go to Kvatch and kill a Primate of Akatosh by the name of Jonas. The one who was primate before Artorius.

    ¡°Now that is interesting,¡± I say.

    There¡¯s nothing here even worth looting. Everything of value that might have been here has already been removed, presumably by the Black Hand.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ve learned that Lyra is indeed Lyra,¡± I say. ¡°Sadly, we have not learned what in Oblivion was going on here that the Black Hand felt this was necessary.¡±

    ¡°We may not find out,¡± Venom says. ¡°The Black Hand does not share everything with us. I abhor a mystery though.¡±

    ¡°This one feels like it is an important piece of the puzzle,¡± I say. ¡°But alas, unless Speaker Terenus deigns to tell us something, Vara-do does not know where to get more information.¡±

    ¡°I want to use the Hist resin at the Kvatch Cathedral,¡± Venom says. ¡°I have a feeling that may provide additional clues.¡±

    We return to Kvatch, teleporting to the wayshrine this time, because fuck the slow boat through the marsh, seriously. Next time I go to Black Marsh, I need to remember to bring a new formula of insect repellent that works properly and doesn¡¯t make me itch while failing to actually repel anything. Alas, I never had a chance to test it against Black Marsh insects, which are considerably more pervasive than the ones in Valenwood. I feel that Molag Bal really missed a trick in how to annoy people to death.

    I still wonder if Vara-do is going to get marked by any priests, but nobody pays close enough attention to me to care who I am regardless. We stroll in through the gates and Venom burns the remaining resin in front of the Cathedral of Akatosh and no one is paying close attention to that, either. The priest I¡¯d berated the other day is no longer standing on the steps handing out pamphlets and excuses, and I just pretend to be praying and praising Akatosh as the last vision comes up.

    Now-Primate Artorius was, in fact, the one who performed the Black Sacrament to have Jonas killed. He claims it was because he wanted to recruit an assassin, maybe even Lyra specifically, though how he would have known in that case is an open question. Lyra is emotionally wrought, and breaks upon the offer of redemption. Did the High Elf Speaker knowingly give her this contract as a test, which she failed?

    We return to the wayshrine before discussing what we saw, in the interests of not talking about murder in the middle of town.

    ¡°I did not believe Primate Artorius had it in him to perform the Black Sacrament,¡± Venom says.

    ¡°Does this make them cultists?¡± I wonder. ¡°Cultists are people who do bad things for religious purposes, right? Does it matter if the religion they¡¯re claiming to espouse is an Aedra rather than a Daedra?¡±

    ¡°Why do you do bad things?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°Vara-do does not do bad things. Everything Vara-do does is right and good, and everything that annoys him is bad.¡±

 Chapter 175: In Which a Dragon Is Silent

    I believe the best way to be a king is to make people like you. People who like you are less likely to prematurely end your kingship and more likely to want to sincerely help you. And the best way to make people like you is to make sure their situations are secure and their needs are taken care of. Crazy, I know. Some people might still be annoyed that you¡¯ve made sure some other group that they believe less worthy is also receiving aid, but that¡¯s what inspiring speeches are for and appealing to their sense of profits, or just confusing their worldview with religious nonsense.

    Pocket siege engines also help. High Elves are *very good *at enchanting things and very bad at figuring out what would be useful to enchant with what. As soon as the Pact and Covenant manage to up their game enough to ward their outposts against teleportation, the Dominion unveils its latest creation. We¡¯ve been steadily gaining ground and fortifying our positions.

    The stupidest thing about Cyrodiil is that somebody stole a bunch of Elder Scrolls, and they¡¯ve been regularly been re-stolen over and over by each alliance. Why? I can¡¯t fathom. It¡¯s not like any of them can even read the silly things without going blind, unless they¡¯ve got a rogue Moth Priest in their pockets or something. (The Dominion doesn¡¯t, so far as I know, but we still re-steal them anyway just in case.)

    Meanwhile, the Pact and Covenant aren¡¯t trying to conquer the Gold Coast. (They¡¯re not having much success in the rest of Cyrodiil either, but to be fair, the Pact are swift and brutal, but they¡¯re heavy on offense and light on defense. They could conquer Cyrodiil five times a day and lose it again another five times.) Anvil is shockingly peaceful these days. There haven¡¯t even been any mysterious murders lately!

    When I stop by the Sanctuary to check in on the whole Black Dragon thing, Astara informs me that Green-Venom-Tongue has tracked Lyra to an old Imperial ruin called Knightsgrave. Astara thinks she¡¯s gone there to meditate or whatever. Venom has been given a contract to kill her, and Astara suggests we go after him to back him up. This is a perfectly sensible request, since missions the two of us are on tend to have fewer assassins die and Lyra is dangerous.

    ¡°It¡¯s obviously a trap,¡± I say dismissively. ¡°Fortunately, Vara-do and Kisha are very good with traps.¡±

    I do wish we¡¯d been able to accompany him the whole way there, but I¡¯m sure nothing terrible will have happened in the meantime and it¡¯s not like I was going to just hang around the Sanctuary to see if something happened. I have things to do, people to kill, towns to conquer, and so forth. We head out to the northwest corner of the Gold Coast where the ruin in question is located. A Skyshard stands on a cliff with a nice view of the ocean just outside a ruined tower with some crafting stations and a very confused woman who thinks I¡¯m the Emperor. She says she¡¯s kept the forges burning and the place is ready to restock troops. Okay then.

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic,¡± I say. ¡°But this one is in disguise at the moment. You cleverly saw through his disguise, but best not tell anyone he was here, yes?¡±

    I make a note to have someone come check the place out later. I don¡¯t know enough about crafting weapons and armor to be able to tell if there¡¯s anything worthwhile about the place, although more resources and facilities are always good.

    Knightsgrave appears to be a grave. Possibly even for knights! Although the temple (crypt? tomb? I¡¯m not sure) is crumbling, there¡¯s an undamaged blue-and-gold hourglass banner hanging outside the door as if the Black Dragon is just advertising her presence.

    ¡°Obvious trap is obvious,¡± Ilara murmurs.

    Inside, down the stairs past some statues, we find Green-Venom-Tongue puzzling over a statue puzzle. It never fails to baffle me how often simple puzzles will stop someone.

    ¡°Did the Matron send you?¡± Venom asks, looking over to us as we approach.

    ¡°Nah, not really,¡± I say. ¡°She told us where you¡¯d gone, but this one is just paranoid and afraid something is going to go horribly wrong and you¡¯re going to get killed like Cimbar and Mirabelle almost did. I¡¯d rather be on hand to heal you than run across your corpse too late to help.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t complain of the company, then,¡± Venom says. ¡°I was afraid she¡¯d sent you to make sure I got the job done. That I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill Lyra even though we were friends once.¡±

    ¡°Kisha, will you get the puzzles?¡±

    It¡¯s not that this pointless puzzle is too hard for me or anything. I¡¯m just lazy and like my apprentice to get practice at this sort of thing whenever the opportunity presents itself. She solves it so quickly that Green-Venom-Tongue erects the spine of sheepishness.

    The Black Dragon taunts us through red-outlined shadows as we progress through the ruin, fighting angry minotaurs as we go. And then there¡¯s a floating red spirit that is definitely not one of Lyra¡¯s shadows.

    A trapped gate forces us to split the party. Green-Venom-Tongue goes off in one direction while Ilara and I have to take another. I send Ilara off to see if she can find another way to slip through.

    The Black Dragon¡¯s projection appears again, ranting about the ¡°lies¡± the Brotherhood told her, about them being ¡°family¡±.

    ¡°Lyra, this one thought the point of joining an assassins¡¯ guild was to be paid to kill people,¡± I say. ¡°Not to find a family and have warm fuzzy feelings. This one has not been lied to. Perhaps it is you who had mistaken expectations.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t seem terribly happy about my retorts, and vanishes again. You know, if I could cast projections like that, I¡¯d think I¡¯d find something better to do with it. Then again, I could just get an enchanted item to do it for me if I really wanted to do that. Then again, I actually already have enchanted items that do that. Those projectors we confiscated from Arenthia have been squirreled away somewhere (look, I didn¡¯t say kwamaed away).

    I hate weird magic, but normal magic is pretty great. Then again, being a mer, perhaps my idea of ¡°normal magic¡± is different from that of a Nord or something. Would most Nords consider simple projection spells to be ¡°weird magic¡±? I¡¯ll have to ask the next dumb Nord I meet. (Not to imply all Nords are dumb, but smart Nords are people like Shalidor, who was clever enough to build a Library of the Mind but dumb enough to attack Sheogorath.)

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    (Tangents are a personality trait unrelated to location of soul. It feels like the only real effect of my soul no longer being in Coldharbour is a lack of persistent soul-crushing despair so pervasive I¡¯d forgotten it was even there.)

    Ilara meets up with me again. ¡°Come quickly. This one found the way through and Venom is wounded. She gave him a potion but it looked pretty bad.¡±

    I hurry after her to find Green-Venom-Tongue laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I start healing the minute I get into line of sight.

    ¡°You are not dying today, Venom,¡± I say, going up to him and continuing to heal him.

    ¡°Brother¡­¡± Venom says, coughing. ¡°She got the drop on me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say.

    ¡°You¡¯ve acquired quite the habit of saving assassins,¡± Venom says, climbing slowly to his feet. ¡°I am most grateful. Don¡¯t push me off onto your healer. I can still finish the mission.¡±

    ¡°This one will keep healing as we go, then.¡± I pull a potion mislabeled in Dwemeris as ¡®vengeance #6¡¯ out of my pack. ¡°This will improve your body performance for about an hour. It¡¯s also poisonous. Contains nightshade. You¡¯re probably resistant. Lucky Argonian.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Venom says, drinking the poison. He¡¯s a grown Argonian. And he deserves his chance at vengeance.

    Also, he just drank a drink from someone who explicitly said it was poisonous, which I find quietly hilarious even if it¡¯s highly unlikely I would have been trying to kill him immediately after healing him.

    ¡°Do you often use potions like this yourself?¡± Venom asks as we make to continue on.

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I say. ¡°Usually not ones quite as poisonous as that one unless doing up against a god or something, but it¡¯s always something. This one is high as fuck right now.¡±

    Green-Venom-Tongue hmms thoughtfully. ¡°I suppose that would make it difficult for most sane people to steal your secret recipes. They would kill themselves trying to duplicate something you¡¯ve built up a tolerance to. I never thought of that. I joke sometimes that my name is because I drank so much poison my tongue turned green, but I never considered deliberately poisoning your own potions.¡±

    I didn¡¯t consider that it might deter thieves. I just take advantage of reagent interactions and consider a heightened mental state to be advantageous. I¡¯m at the point where it would take someone practice and tolerance in order to take advantage of it like I do. I block out distractions and imagine useful things like enemies glowing red or my vision pulsing when I¡¯m hurt because my pain tolerance is so high I don¡¯t always notice and forget to heal myself.

    The three of us press forward. The Black Dragon does not know when to shut up. It gets to the point where she¡¯s popping another shadow directly in front of us to say another stupid taunt and disappear only to reappear in front of us again. How much magicka does she have to burn on that stupid spell!?

    Finally, she bothers to fight back, or at least sends three shadow copies of herself at us to keep us occupied. While still taunting us incessantly.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± I say, fighting one of the shadows. ¡°Vara-do wants her dead just so she will shut the fuck up already.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you send back better quips?¡± Ilara suggests, dodging out of the way of another shadow.

    ¡°Yes, but this one prefers when he is the one giving the quips and other people are stunned speechless by his words.¡±

    ¡°This one will bet you a pound of moon sugar you can¡¯t stun her speechless,¡± Ilara says.

    ¡°Do you two always joke around in these circumstances?¡± Venom wonders, taking this fight far more seriously than us.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ilara and I say in unison.

    ¡°Many of the Brotherhood are better assassins than warriors,¡± Ilara says. ¡°It is to be expected, though. This one and her brother have seen much more action from things that are trying to fight back than most of you. And these two have killed far scarier things than one sad assassin.¡±

    ¡°This one will be happy if she¡¯s half the challenge of a Dremora Lord,¡± I say.

    ¡°These shadow powers are neat, though,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Khajiit has seen something like them before, yes? It is too bad that she had to give back that mask, but perhaps she can learn to do something like this for herself.¡±

    I grin widely. ¡°You can do anything you put your mind to, little sister.¡±

    With the shadows dispatched and dissipated, we press on and finally come to a huge chamber with a massive dragon statue presumably representing Akatosh. The Black Dragon is waiting for us, still taunting.

    I don¡¯t speak a single witty quip in her general direction. Oh, there are plenty of things I could say. I could give her some piercing religious revelation by speaking half-truths about the Aedra and Daedra or something. I might even be able to convince her to simply commit suicide in repentance. But no.

    I release the song powers I¡¯ve been building up into silence so heavy it makes even my ears ring. Lyra staggers and her mouth moves, but no sound reaches me. Ah, good. Now that I have an actual target, I can shut her up.

    An eerily silent battle falls. Eerily silent with a soft background music that starts coming up unbidden. The tones feel right, though, so I don¡¯t fight it.

    Even stunned silent, Lyra puts up a hell of a fight. It¡¯s not like I stopped her shadow magic. But she falls, and Venom gives her a silent apology before stabbing her with the Blade of Woe. Then something weird happens with that spirit we¡¯d spotted before, and Lyra¡¯s ghost silently screams as she¡¯s pulled away.

    I drop the muffle aura. ¡°This one has no idea what just happened here.¡±

    ¡°The Wrath of Sithis took her¡­¡± Venom says quietly. ¡°That¡¯s what it had to be.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, not feeling like arguing.

    ¡°You literally stunned her speechless,¡± Ilara says glumly, pulling a bag out of her pack and passing it over to me. ¡°That¡¯s almost cheating.¡±

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Venom asks. ¡°You didn¡¯t even cast a spell.¡±

    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s less of a spell and more of a gift,¡± I say. ¡°This one was blessed by Sithis with the gift of silence.¡±

    It¡¯s not even entirely false. Sheogorath is called the ¡°Sithis-shaped hole in the world¡±, after all. I have no idea what that means but it does imply some sort of connection.

    ¡°That is quite the gift,¡± Venom says. ¡°It felt like¡­ more than mere silence. There was a heavy pressure to it.¡±

    Hmm, that makes sense. I¡¯m not actually stopping noises, just making more noise so that you don¡¯t hear the other noise. That¡¯s probably not be the ¡°right¡± way to cast a muffle spell for exactly that reason. I may have accidentally created something more interesting than just a mere muffle spell. And let¡¯s never mind the added bonus of being able to shut up monologuing villains if I am so inclined.

    That pressure of a loud sound you can¡¯t actually hear. I wonder how far I can reduce the pitch? I could get that effect without canceling the noise if it were too low for most beings to hear. I never imagined being a tonal architect.

    I step up to the giant Akatosh statue. My feelings about him are¡­ complicated, lately. I might be the only one alive on Nirn who has been a vessel for Akatosh¡¯s power. He¡¯s hands-off (or talons off, whichever), only intervening in the most extreme of circumstances, which I suppose I can appreciate. Nirn is already an arena of violence, but it doesn¡¯t need to be a divine battlefield as well. The Planemeld was already enough of a mess.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you stop the Planemeld, Akatosh?¡± I say aloud. ¡°Was it to punish your priests and prophets for their hubris?¡±

    Daedric Princes will sometimes speak through their statues, but Akatosh is silent and his statue gives me no answer.

    ¡°Alright, well¡­¡± I go on. ¡°This one intends to kill your Primate Artorius. If you do not wish him to be murdered, please give a sign.¡±

    Nothing happens, and the dragon continues to be silent.

    ¡°This one will take your silence as indication that you wish us to slay this fetcher,¡± I say. ¡°Do you want his soul?¡± Silence. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll just have to send it to the Void, then. Thanks for the talk!¡±

    As we¡¯re heading back to the Sanctuary (by which I mean I teleport us to the wayshrine outside of the Sanctuary), Venom asks, ¡°Did Akatosh actually speak to you?¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to take the silence of the Dragon God as his blessing in this.¡±

 Chapter 176: In Which I Weaponize Silence

    While we¡¯re delivering our report on the death of the Black Dragon, Brema (the High Elf mage assassin) returns to the Sanctuary injured and while I¡¯m healing her, she explains what happened.

    ¡°I was in Anvil on a contract,¡± Brema says. ¡°A Pact spy. Right after I finished him off, the Black Dragon got the drop on me. She dragged me off to torture me. Tried to get the location and password of the Sanctuary out of me. I was rescued by Dominion soldiers who¡¯d come to investigate suspicious behavior around the building I was being held in.¡± She snorts softly. ¡°If the pirates were still in charge, she¡¯d probably have gotten away with it, too. To think I¡¯d be thankful to the Dominion for anything.¡±

    Although I¡¯m itching to kill Primate Artorius, Astara urges patience and awaits word from the Black Hand. I¡¯m sure she won¡¯t (can¡¯t) stop me from just going over there and stabbing him, but it¡¯s not like I have nothing else to do in the meantime. I assume the Black Hand has to have several lengthy meetings that probably involve being in a poorly lit room with everyone wearing ominous hoods or masks, talking ominously to one another.

    I imagine Speaker Terenus saying in his ominous drawl, ¡°Primate Artorius must die. His soul must be sent to Sithis, to dwell in the darkness and silence of the Void forevermore.¡±

    ¡°Let us discuss this matter over tea,¡± the Listener probably doesn¡¯t say. ¡°Brothers and Sisters in darkness, we must remove our masks to partake in this dark beverage, sacredly iced and sweetened, as the flavor of fear is sublime.¡±

    That¡¯s probably not what actually happens at Black Hand meetings.

    While the Black Hand are having hypothetical tea parties, I go off and capture another keep. One of the Dominion officers, a young Altmer with more education than common sense, expresses concern over me leading an assault personally.

    ¡°You must be new here,¡± I say. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Neri, King of the Wood Orcs. Let¡¯s kick some ass!¡±

    Anyway, yeah. I think I¡¯ve said enough about this boring war. Cyrodiil is remarkably peaceful outside of a few hotspots and becoming more peaceful by the day as the Dominion cements its hold over it. Also, Fort Aleswell doesn¡¯t have nearly as good of ale as it advertises.

    Imagine my surprise when I get a call from Grishka telling me that Speaker Terenus asked for Vara-do and Kisha.

    ¡°How did he get in touch with you?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°I took Mirabelle to Anvil,¡± Grishka says. ¡°She¡¯s doing much better now, by the way. We ran into him there and I said I¡¯d pass along word.¡± A pause. ¡°And yes, I was being inconspicuous. I know you always worry.¡±

    I collect Ilara and head to the Sanctuary. Speaker Terenus explains the situation. Primate Artorius might have lost the pirates, but he still has an army. Maybe a smaller army than he would have had otherwise, but still an army. The plan is apparently to send everyone from this Sanctuary to pick off his army like fetcherflies ripping apart a nix-hound.

    Hildegard is concerned about it being blasphemy to kill someone who ¡°speaks for Akatosh¡±.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°We have Akatosh¡¯s blessing in this.¡±

    ¡°We do?¡± Hilde asks in confusion.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± I say. ¡°Vara-do asked his statue to give a sign if he objected. Akatosh remained silent. This one will consider the silence of Akatosh to be his blessing in this.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Hildegard says. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s alright, then.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll purify the corruption out of Akatosh¡¯s temple and he¡¯ll wind up with better priests who aren¡¯t fetchers,¡± I say.

    ¡°That would be a good thing,¡± Hildegard agrees. ¡°The priests of Dibella are always so nice.¡±

    ¡°The Altmer blame Lorkhan for making people mortal, but it was Akatosh who made Time a thing to begin with,¡± I say. ¡°Without Akatosh, there would be no death.¡±

    Becoming a concept sounds incredibly weird. No amount of reading mythology books while high can make sense of that sort of thing.

    I meet up with Tanek in Kvatch, who has found a way into the Cathedral from the mausoleum. Seriously though, it¡¯s a cathedral, not a fortress. Still, we¡¯re being assassins here, and breaking down the front doors or smashing stained glass windows probably goes against the whole subtlety thing. (I wonder what would happen if I could just come up here with an arrest warrant for Primate Artorius. Hiring assassins is probably a crime in Kvatch. Are Hist resin visions admissible evidence?)

    We make our way through the tunnel, splitting up and sweeping through. The priests have no idea what¡¯s going on. They don¡¯t know why there¡¯s a werewolf loose in the catacombs, and they don¡¯t even see most of us before they¡¯re struck down. They¡¯d probably eventually find the bodies, but it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s an absolute massacre.

    I¡¯m not even bothering to go out of my way to spare anyone. Not when there¡¯s assassins around who aren¡¯t going to, either. Not when there¡¯s no time to stop to tie people up or deal with the aftermath. And definitely not when dealing with religious fanatics, who you can never trust to do the sensible thing.

    There¡¯s a cool fight with a big wamasu on an electrified metal grate, so there¡¯s that. Fortunately, I¡¯m the only one crazy enough among the Brotherhood to want to actually take that on. (Hilde might but she¡¯s too fuzzy to make reasonable decision calls right now.)

    The catacombs bring us out into the cathedral¡¯s main floor with big stained glass windows casting rainbow light upon the room.

    The Primate was waiting for us here, in front of the fancy window depicting Akatosh, as bearded mer and dragon. He still has an army waiting for us. Yep, this is definitely an ambush. We could have just come in the front door and saved ourselves the trouble crawling around in the sewers.

    I smother the room in heavy silence. Any attempt the Artorius makes to taunt us or preach at us gets swept away into the Void. His attempts at commanding his underlings are met with confusion and disorder. The worst of this is, I will never be able to use the power of silence as Neri, only as Vara-do. Neri is music and light, where Vara-do is silence and darkness. Sound magic is rarer in an era without the Dwemer, though hardly unheard of. Neri, however, has no use for muffle spells, and this is not a standard Mages Guild muffle spell. I¡¯ll call it¡­ Void Muffle. Dark Muffle?

    Primate Artorius, as befitting a priest of the Time Dragon, has annoying time powers. My fellow assassins get frozen several times, but I mostly manage to resist it for some reason.

    The real trouble is when I realize I¡¯m not good enough with the daggers to be able to defeat him with them. I toss them aside and pull an axe out of my bag. My distinctive, unique axe with a name. My indistinctive axe that was pulled off a rack in a Dominion armory halfway across Cyrodiil after I lost two previous ones in Lake Rumare. (I wonder if weapons can be enchanted to return to you?) (In a distant, hypothetical future, I don¡¯t want to lose a certain shiny thing.)

    I break out of Artorius¡¯s time stop again like breaking out of a tangent. Oh, that¡¯s why I can resist it. I¡¯m high as fuck on potions and trying to resist my own tangents, too, because he¡¯s forcing me to actually pay attention to the fight and goddamn it¡¯s a good fight. Maybe it¡¯s just as well no one can hear my mad laughter in the silence.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Primate Artorius doesn¡¯t even get a chance to speak any last words. I mean, I¡¯m sure he must have said something before we came in the room, but still. His lips are moving but I¡¯m not good enough at lipreading to figure out what he¡¯s trying to say and don¡¯t actually care all that much anyway.

    I conjure the Blade of Woe and silently stab him with it.

    With the Primate dead, I release my Super Muffle (yes, that¡¯s a great name for it) and approach the altar.

    ¡°Akatosh,¡± I say. ¡°This one apologizes for having to murder your servants. You will get better ones.¡±

    Akatosh is silent. A number of things could conceivably be happening nearby that someone would be able to interpret as a divine omen or something. But I will continue to take Akatosh remaining silent as acquiescence. Though considering how little the Aedra intervene in the world, I¡¯m sure that he wouldn¡¯t strike me down even if he were annoyed at me.

    Time powers are rare enough that this might be the only time I will experience a battle in slow motion in dead silence but for an eerie tone and a drumbeat. It gave me the chills. And the thrills. The thrilling chills. The chilling thrills.

    I go to collect my discarded daggers, amused that for once I threw away my weapons deliberately. The other assassins look to be getting ready to scatter and sneak out of the city before anyone notices all the bodies. At this point I have to put in the sensible suggestion of just letting me teleport them all back to the Sanctuary, to which they agree.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to make sure nobody sees us leave,¡± Slim-Jah comments.

    ¡°Where in Oblivion did you learn to swing an axe like that?¡± Tanek wonders.

    I shrug. ¡°Oblivion.¡±

    There¡¯s a celebration, at least as much as the Dark Brotherhood celebrates anything, as well as a ceremony. I¡¯m receiving a promotion, although I¡¯m not sure what being promoted in the Dark Brotherhood really means.

    ¡°You are not the first to hold the rank of Silencer, but you are perhaps the most worthy of that title,¡± Terenus says.

    ¡°Or at least the most literal,¡± Ilara says with amusement.

    Speaker Terenus ignores her failure to be completely solemn. According to Terenus, a Silencer is the personal assassin of one of the Speakers of the Black Hand, and not beholden to any one Sanctuary. Unspoken is the fact that he knows perfectly well that nobody can control me or convince me to do anything I don¡¯t want to do, but it¡¯s nice to pretend. Thus far, he hasn¡¯t tried to tell me to do anything I wouldn¡¯t want to do.

    ¡®Thus far¡¯ probably won¡¯t last.

    ¡­

    The next job he offers me names Roku as the target.

    ¡°With all due respect, Speaker,¡± I say with forced calm. ¡°This one will not kill King Neri¡¯s hearth-wife for all the gold in Tamriel. Nor should anyone else.¡±

    ¡°Are you disobeying orders, Silencer?¡± Terenus says.

    I snort softly. ¡°Do you have any idea what King Neri will do if his hearth-wife dies? He kills gods for a living. He will wipe out the Dark Brotherhood. He will leave this Sanctuary a smoking crater. Killing that woman would be as good as murdering my Brothers and Sisters myself.¡±

    ¡°Be that as it may, the Black Sacrament has been performed,¡± Terenus says. ¡°A soul has been promised to Sithis.¡±

    I slowly pull off my cat-mask to allow Terenus to see my true face and drop the accent. ¡°Tell me who wants my wife dead.¡±

    Speaker Terenus stares at me impassively and remains silent.

    I pause dramatically. ¡°I have the gift of song and silence.¡±

    Fueled by silent rage, I call upon my music to bring up a sound, a single tone, so deep that the ears of mortals cannot hear it. I increase the volume slowly, feeling pressure build around me. Terenus, rattled by something he can feel but not hear, reaches up to his face to find blood dripping out of his nose and ears. Then I withdraw the power and heal him. It would be pointless to try to talk to him after intimidating him if his eardrums were still ruined.

    ¡°What¡­ was that?¡± Terenus says, his suave voice sounding shaken for the first time since I met him.

    ¡°You know how very loud noises can cause damage?¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s a kind of sound which the Dwemer refer to by a word that translates roughly as ¡®below sound¡¯. Like how you can¡¯t hear a guar whistle for being too high pitched, it¡¯s sound you can¡¯t hear for being too low pitched. But if it¡¯s ¡®loud¡¯ enough, you can still feel it.¡±

    Terenus wipes off the blood, staring at me incredulously, speechless.

    ¡°I can kill you with silence,¡± I say quietly.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d actually be willing to kill someone this way even if I could push the volume high enough. It¡¯s terrifying even to me, honestly. And would probably kill me as well to use it that way. I could kill him a million other more normal ways. This is purely intimidation. Anyone can threaten death. Plenty of people would have threatened him in his life. No one has threatened him with this, I¡¯m certain.

    ¡°If you kill me, you will invoke the Wrath of Sithis,¡± Terenus says, very uncertainly.

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m willing to risk that to protect my hearth-wife.¡± I fold my arms across my chest. ¡°But, there¡¯s a way out of the situation that would be better for everyone involved. Almost everyone. Tell me who made that contract and I will send their soul to Sithis instead.¡±

    Terenus is quiet for a long moment, and I remain silent and stand there waiting for his answer. ¡°A king joined the Dark Brotherhood,¡± Terenus says slowly. ¡°A king blessed with the gift of murder through silence itself. How did you come upon such a gift?¡±

    ¡°It was given to me by Sheogorath,¡± I say. ¡°The Madgod and the Sithis-shaped hole in the world.¡±

    ¡°Dare I ask what you had to do for it?¡±

    I give a sharp grin. ¡°I made a deal with him, and succeeded. I made a prince choke in shock merely by speaking my true name.¡±

    Terenus pointedly does not ask me what my true name is. (I normally wouldn¡¯t lay on the melodrama quite this thick even for a direct threat to my family, but I think this guy will appreciate my style.)

    ¡°Silencer,¡± Terenus says finally. ¡°I believe we can come to an¡­ arrangement.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± I say.

    ¡°Few know that we do not accept every Sacrament that is made,¡± Terenus says. ¡°I have had to decline ones that I deemed incredibly foolish or impossible even for us. A vampire once performed the Black Sacrament to ask us to kill the sun. I, of course, killed him for being an idiot.¡±

    ¡°Ooh!¡± I say, immediately brightening. ¡°You want to send me into some good fights?¡± I pause. ¡°I mean, not the sun, obviously, but¡­¡±

    ¡°One cannot walk into any tavern without hearing a song about Neri the Orc King doing glorious battle with everything from Sea Elves to ancient necromancers to Daedric Princes. If you have killed half of what the bards claim you have¡­¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t know the half of it,¡± I say.

    ¡°¡­then I believe it would please the Night Mother more to take out some of those impossible contracts,¡± Terenus says. ¡°The Listener gave me some rather unusual instructions, you see. She said that should you refuse the contract, to simply dismiss it.¡±

    ¡°What if I¡¯d killed you?¡±

    ¡°Then I would be meeting our Dark Father sooner rather than later,¡± Terenus says, unconcerned. ¡°You are no mere assassin. You are the hand of chaos. I shall decline any contracts against those close to you. And if someone else wants something ridiculous dead, I will call upon you.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure whether he thinks he¡¯s negotiating or that he knows he just gave me two gifts to save himself. I¡¯m sure he probably figured it out quickly at how I couldn¡¯t resist being cheerful at the prospect of cool stuff to fight.

    ¡°Did you happen to have any Sacraments made for Molag Bal?¡± I wonder. ¡°Or Mannimarco?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Terenus says.

    ¡°Hadran? Krin Ren-dro?¡± I go on, then chuckle at Terenus¡¯ increasingly taut face.

    ¡°I will¡­ need to speak with the Listener,¡± Terenus speaks aloud, but his face says, ¡°Kill me if you want but don¡¯t make me do all that paperwork.¡± His eyes also say, ¡°You forgot to take off the tail again.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± I say, returning pointedly to the point. ¡°The name?¡±

    ¡°A High Elf woman by the name of Varustante,¡± Terenus says. ¡°You may find her in Skywatch. She seemed quite annoyed at the amount of respect a ¡®mere Orc¡¯ has been receiving.¡±

    ¡°Var¡­us¡­ Could you spell that for me? Fucking High Elf names.¡±

    Terenus¡¯ eyebrows go, ¡°Wait, aren¡¯t you a High Elf?¡± but his mouth decides it doesn¡¯t actually want to know what the fuck my deal is and just spells it for me.

    Varustante turns out to be a racist bandit officer who managed to escape my gratuitous massacres. I think I¡¯ve actually met her before, but I was wearing a fake beard at the time, which would be why she didn¡¯t wind up dead. I wish I¡¯d gone back and killed everyone on that island just to be sure. Then there wouldn¡¯t be bitches like her thinking they could fuck with my family and live.

    She definitely doesn¡¯t expect me to simply walk into her room, ¡®Hail Sithis!¡¯ her in the chest, cut off her head and stick it on a pike in front of Dra¡¯bul as a traitor. She really ought to have seen it coming, though.

    When I return to tell Terenus the racist bandit is dead, I take the chance to leave the cat-mask off for a moment. It¡¯s not the most comfortable thing to be wearing constantly even in a place I¡¯m supposed to be safe.

    ¡°I was wondering if you would ever show them your true face,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°You knew?¡± Terenus says.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Slim-Jah says. ¡°I met him even before he became a king. It was not my secret to tell.¡±

    Terenus¡¯ forehead goes, ¡°I wish I¡¯d known that before I asked him to murder his hearth-wife,¡± but his mouth remains silent.

    I think I¡¯ll go actually give Green-Venom-Tongue that interview he wanted.

 Chapter 177: In Which I Claim the Gold

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I say cheekily, looking at Green-Venom-Tongue through the eye-holes in my cat-mask. ¡°Ask this one anything.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll answer truthfully?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. ¡°This one won¡¯t lie, at any rate.¡±

    ¡°What is your name?¡± Venom asks.

    I laugh softly. ¡°Ah, posing the difficult, dangerous questions right off the bat! Oh, let¡¯s do yes or no questions to start off with. It¡¯s more fun that way.¡±

    ¡°Your name is not Vara-do,¡± Venom says. ¡°Are you even a Khajiit?¡±

    ¡°I am not,¡± I say.

    ¡°Are you a¡­ Bosmer?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°Nope!¡±

    ¡°Altmer?¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± I say. ¡°Are you just going to go down a list of every race on Nirn? That¡¯s not much fun.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Venom admits. ¡°Are you a Daedra?¡±

    ¡°Ooh, now that¡¯s a good question,¡± I say. ¡°And I have to say¡­ Dunno!¡±

    ¡°Are you undead?¡± Venom wonders.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so?¡± I say.

    ¡°Have you ever been married?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Now there¡¯s a more interesting question.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any children?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I say.

    ¡°Had you ever been to Black Marsh before we went there?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I say.

    ¡°Did you commune with the Haj Uxith Hist?¡± Venom asks.

    I look at him and throw back my head and cackle. ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°That must have been quite the experience,¡± Venom comments.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Ah, I haven¡¯t had a chance to try to perfect the concoction I was using. It was¡­ well, it worked, barely.¡±

    ¡°Is your alchemical genius primarily based around trying to create new recreational substances?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°¡­ yes,¡± I say. ¡°To be fair, I also consider murder to be recreation.¡±

    ¡°This has been a most entertaining interview, but I¡¯m afraid I only have more questions¡­¡± Venom says.

    I wave my hand. ¡°Alright, alright. It¡¯s been fun, though. Can you guess¡­ what the first letter of my name is?¡±

    ¡°Does your name start with¡­ N?¡±

    I pull off my cat-mask. ¡°Correct! You win!¡±

    ¡°Do I win a prize?¡± Venom asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you my story,¡± I say. ¡°Or at least some of it. I¡¯m old and it¡¯s long and there¡¯s people who need to die.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Venom says with a chuckle.

    It feels kind of freeing to open up and tell this Argonian who owes me his life (part of) my long story. As the Sanctuary doesn¡¯t really believe in doors, it isn¡¯t long before we wind up with an audience. (We were just in the main dining hall anyway.) I mean, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m telling them all my secrets, and no one is even slightly upset that I have secrets. This is the Dark Brotherhood, after all.

    Anyone who has spent much time around me can easily notice something is odd about me. Neri¡¯s song powers are easily demonstrated, and the connection to Vara-do¡¯s silence powers is an obvious one once pointed out. And then there¡¯s the fact that everyone saw me wield a battle axe during the final battle against Artorius and his toadies.

    ¡°Show us that silence power you showed Speaker Terenus,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    It bring up the super low pitch again. It feels strange to use, but thrilling. At first, the Dark Siblings look about in puzzlement, glancing about at one another as nothing apparently happens, until the pressure reaches the point they can¡¯t dismiss it.

    ¡°If I push this any higher, your eardrums will rupture. Then you¡¯ll empty your bowels. And then your heart will stop.¡± I pause. ¡°Probably mine, too.¡±

    I drop the sound. Not-sound. Silent sound. The others talk of headaches and nausea, so I make sure to heal everyone just in case. Honestly, considering some of the weird shit the Dwemer did with sound, I¡¯m not sure how much further I want to mess with this. Done wrong, this can drive people mad, too.

    ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Cimbar says.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Mirabelle says.

    ¡°Did you test that?¡± Venom asks.

    I look around the room at the faces of my Dark Siblings. Without my intervention, many of them would be dead. While they¡¯re all far from innocent, of course, I¡¯ve grown a bit attached to them during this past period of time.

    ¡°Will you be around much, now that the immediate crisis has been taken care of?¡± Green-Venom-Tongue asks. ¡°You are a king, after all. Surely you have other duties.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I do what I want. My wives run my kingdom. I mostly just hit things and convince people that not being hit by me is a good thing. And Speaker Terenus promised me some ¡®impossible¡¯ contracts so I¡¯m really looking forward to that. I love killing things that are ¡®impossible¡¯ to kill.¡±

    Either Speaker Terenus was eavesdropping or he has better timing than a priest of Akatosh, because he comes in at that moment to call me aside to speak with me in private.

    ¡°I have spoken with the Listener,¡± Terenus says. ¡°It seems the Night Mother expected you would not kill Roku.¡± The lines around his eyes tell me, ¡°I wish I¡¯d been informed of this before giving you the contract.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for it,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t have to kill you.¡±

    I¡¯m guessing at their hypothetical tea parties, the Listener probably also told him something along the lines of, ¡°I¡¯ve been chatting with the Night Mother. This guy is a force of nature. Just point him in the general direction of something you want destroyed and don¡¯t get in his way. The power, resources, and prestige that he can bring far outweighs the value in claiming the souls of those he cares about.¡±

    (I admit that being powerful gets me away with a lot. But then, my general response to being weak would be to become powerful. I don¡¯t know if most people are just insufficiently motivated or there¡¯s something weird about my soul that makes it easier to become powerful. Then again, I spent many human lifespans in hell constantly fighting, which probably helped in the worst way possible? Still, my powers of light and song were gifts, but what I did with them was still my own. I¡¯m a little proud of what I¡¯ve accomplished even if some of it terrifies me.)

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid there is no proof that Molag Bal actually died, or indeed that a Daedra can truly die,¡± Terenus says dryly, and his eyes say, ¡°Including you?¡± He continues verbally, ¡°However, payment for Mannimarco was apparently already made and will be passed along to Kisha.¡± At my look, he adds, ¡°The songs credit one Ilara-daro with the killing blow. That is Kisha, is it not?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ilara says from the shadows where even I hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d followed us in. I should know better by now. ¡°This one is Kisha. This one is also Ilara-daro. And this one put an arrow in the skull of Manny the Worm.¡±

    ¡°You guys took payment even though he was killed before we joined?¡± I ask.

    ¡°More than one person wanted him dead badly enough that they were not particularly picky about how or who killed him,¡± Terenus says. ¡°Most paid in advance.¡±

    ¡°His soul is in Coldharbour being tortured for eternity,¡± I say. ¡°I could always go back there and send him to the Void. I mean, it would be kinder, but I don¡¯t think I feel especially kindly toward that fetcher.¡±

    ¡°That will not be necessary,¡± Terenus says smoothly as if I hadn¡¯t just suggested going to hell to make sure the necromancer was extra dead.

    ¡°So, do you have something for me?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I have a list,¡± Terenus says, pulling out a piece of paper.

    ¡°A whole list?¡±

    ¡°First, there¡¯s High Kinlord Rilis XII,¡± Terenus says.

    ¡°Wait, didn¡¯t I already deal with him?¡±

    ¡°Apparently he escaped again.¡±

    ¡°How irritating,¡± I say. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure sending him to the Void would solve that problem. What else?¡±

    Terenus hands me the paper. Names, locations. It seems like he¡¯s been all over the Dominion since I last saw him, collecting ¡°impossible¡± contracts.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize so many people in the Dominion used the Black Sacrament,¡± I say.

    ¡°You might be surprised at what people are willing to do when they need something removed from the world,¡± Terenus says. ¡°A last resort for a problem they have no hope of handling themselves. These are not the sorts of targets we usually go after. We are not an army. Necromancers, vampires, werewolves¡­ a mad Bosmer who can turn into an enormous spider¡­ Many of these are far more dangerous targets than a priest like Primate Artorius. And if it had not been for you bringing out your axe, I am not ashamed to say we would have failed.¡±

    Unlike the Litany of Blood, these aren¡¯t riddles, just extremely dangerous enemies that I, for whatever reason, didn¡¯t kill when I first toured Auridon and Valenwood. (Assuming they hadn¡¯t only started being a problem after I finished my tour.)

    I put the list in my pocket, not that it¡¯s necessary since I¡¯ve already memorized it, and give a mad grin. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    ¡­

    The time has come for King Neri to pay a little visit to Kvatch finally. With the sudden and quite timely death of Primate Artorius, Count Carolus has found himself in a position with greater control over Kvatch but considerably weaker without the Order of the Hour to protect it.

    If I were an Altmer, I would probably politely make an appointment. But I am the King of the Wood Orcs, and Wood Orcs don¡¯t make appointments. (I mean, they do, but you know what I mean.) I just show up in Kvatch wearing my Orc King armor and stroll right up to the castle. The guards at the gate, of course, ask if I have an appointment.

    I consider just saying fuck it and sneaking in the poorly-kept-secret entrance, but would Neri gro-Drublog do that? I mean, aside from the fact that he¡¯s me and I¡¯d do that, but I¡¯d rather not deal with the questions at the moment.

    ¡°I¡¯m King Neri gro-Drublog,¡± I say. ¡°I am here to speak with Count Carolus.¡±

    The guard with a triangle tattoo over one eye snorts. ¡°If you¡¯re a king, where¡¯s your retinue?¡±

    I wave a hand. ¡°It¡¯s just me. What, did you want a High Elf with a scroll coming up to announce my presence? And does it matter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not authorized to let anyone into the castle without the proper paperwork. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I say. ¡°I forgot. You¡¯re Imperials. Imperials love paperwork. Why don¡¯t you send someone to ask if I can come in? I¡¯ll wait. To be honest, I kind of appreciate that you¡¯re not so easily intimidated that you don¡¯t immediately buckle at the thought that you stand absolutely no chance against me should I feel like taking your castle by force.¡±

    The guard stoically looks at my armor, looks at my battle axe, and waves a runner to take a message to the Count. ¡°No, I don¡¯t care if you can kill me as soon as I could blink. I will do my job. There have been too many breaches and irregularities lately.¡±

    While waiting, I browse the nearby market stalls and buy a sweetroll. It does not contain any messages of impending doom. I¡¯m almost disappointed. I meander back to the gate and am still munching on it when the runner returns.

    ¡°The Count says to send him in,¡± the young man says. ¡°He¡¯s been expecting someone from the Dominion to arrive.¡±

    ¡°You may go in,¡± the guard says, waving to me. ¡°Don¡¯t cause trouble.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Hilio Florius,¡± he replies.

    I pop the rest of the pastry into my mouth and head in, brushing the crumbs off my hands absently. The runner escorts me to Count Carolus¡¯ office, which I appreciate since while I have been here before and know where it is, I don¡¯t remember how to get there even if the guards and staff wouldn¡¯t object to me wandering around in their castle by myself looking lost. (I suppose the ¡®looking lost¡¯ bit would avoid them thinking I was a one-mer hostile invasion force.)

    Carolus¡¯ office has been cleaned up and no longer contains any signs that he recently performed the Black Sacrament on the floor over there.

    ¡°Welcome, Your Majesty,¡± Count Carolus says with weary politeness. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised someone from the Dominion showed up, but I didn¡¯t expect it to be you.¡±

    ¡°Would you prefer to deal with a High Elf?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad one of you showed up at my gates alone and not with an army,¡± Carolus says honestly.

    ¡°I like your guard,¡± I say. ¡°Hilio Florius. He didn¡¯t back down in the face of someone who could have easily killed him. You should give him a bonus or promote him or something.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Carolus says. ¡°King Neri. I have heard many rumors about you. And songs. If the songs are to be believed, you¡¯ve single-handedly laid waste to armies of undead and Daedra. I appreciate not laying waste to my castle.¡±

    I take off my helmet and set it on the desk. ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering how a half-High Elf, half-Wood Elf wound up King of the Wood Orcs. It¡¯s a bit of a long story involving killing a lot of their chiefs who were causing problems and then accidentally marrying the niece of a major chieftain.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re doing much the same in the Heartland,¡± Carolus says, not looking especially happy about it. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t intend to cause problems in the Gold Coast. The Dominion has already taken Anvil, after all.¡±

    ¡°It hopefully won¡¯t be necessary,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to ask for your fealty, however, though I¡¯ll happily take it if offered.¡±

    ¡°Why are you here, then?¡± Carolus asks.

    I make a dramatic, carefully measured pause. ¡°I knew your uncle,¡± I say quietly.

    ¡°You¡­ you did?¡± Carolus says. ¡°Wait, knew? He¡¯s definitely¡­ dead, then?¡±

    I give a small nod. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bring sad news, but I thought you should know how Varen Aquilarios died.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Carolus says. ¡°I am grateful. I haven¡¯t heard anything of him since he disappeared over two years ago now.¡±

    ¡°He was imprisoned in Coldharbour,¡± I say. ¡°I helped to rescue him and worked with him on a desperate campaign to stop the Planemeld. In the end, he sacrificed his life and soul to strike a blow against Molag Bal. Your uncle died a hero.¡±

    Carolus sinks back into his seat and lets out a heavy breath, stunned. ¡°I didn¡¯t know. I wish he¡¯d had time to see me before he died. I can¡¯t imagine how horrible it must have been.¡±

    ¡°You can be grateful that it¡¯s likely the Daedric Princes will not have reason to give you their special attention unless you seek them out,¡± I say. ¡°I try to keep cultist activity to a minimum in my territory.¡±

    ¡°Did he say anything?¡± Carolus asks. ¡°About me? About his family? About¡­ general life advice?¡±

    ¡°He spoke in riddles, at times,¡± I say. ¡°There was wisdom in his words, but it took thought to untangle its meaning. I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t remember the precise wording, so I may not do him justice, but¡­ hmm.¡± I paraphrase a few things vaguely similar to things I sort of remember Varen spouting at some point. Mostly I make shit up. It beats saying Varen never even mentioned him and mostly talked to me about stupid prophecies and killing Daedra.

    ¡°Yes, yes!¡± Carolus says excitedly. ¡°I can practically hear your words in his voice.¡±

    Admittedly, I did put on a reasonable approximation of his accent.

    ¡°So you¡¯re really not here to demand my fealty¡­¡± Carolus murmurs.

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I say. ¡°Unless you make the first move, the Dominion has no reason to take your city by force. Although if the Covenant capture the city, we will of course retake it. You might even be fortunate enough to survive, if they don¡¯t execute you to cement their hold over Kvatch. And those walls won¡¯t keep anyone out for a minute if they bring portal mages.¡±

    Carolus stares at me. His mouth says nothing, but his eyes are contemplating how weak his city is right now and how close Hammerfell is.

    ¡°Neither of us wants to see that happen. So¡­¡± I put a round object on the desk. A round object with a base attached so it doesn¡¯t immediately roll off the desk. I¡¯m not entirely sure why they had to make these things balls.

    ¡°What is this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a communication orb,¡± I say. ¡°If the Covenant attack Kvatch, call and the Dominion will defend it.¡±

    ¡°And then they won¡¯t leave afterward,¡± Carolus says flatly.

    ¡°Oh, they will,¡± I say. ¡°I have a regiment of crack defenders who get called in to defend whatever is being attacked. They¡¯ll need to come back to defend the next thing that gets attacked.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Carolus says, letting out a heavy breath. ¡°You¡¯re more interested in making sure the Covenant doesn¡¯t get a foothold here than in how I run my city.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°Of course, if you do decide to join the Dominion, there would be other benefits as well. Military, economical, educational¡­ Some will probably want to come in to revitalize the Akatosh clergy regardless.¡±

    ¡°How did you find out about that?¡± Carolus asks.

    ¡°I passed a guy on the way in who was standing on the cathedral steps reciting a list of the dead,¡± I say.

    Carolus deflates. ¡°Oh. I hoped to keep that a bit quieter.¡±

    ¡°Was there an accident in the temple or something?¡± I ask. ¡°The man didn¡¯t specify.¡±

    ¡°According to one of the survivors, a pack of werewolves tore through the cathedral undercroft,¡± Carolus hedges.

    I don¡¯t call him out on the omission. ¡°Hmm. I usually kill any werewolves I come across, though it can be hard to find them if they¡¯re in human or mer form. I¡¯ll be sure to keep an eye out.¡±

    ¡°Can the Dominion¡­ keep out assassins as well as werewolves?¡± Carolus asks.

    I try not to grin too suspiciously at him. ¡°Yep. We can certainly improve your chances of catching them and preventing them from doing harm.¡±

    ¡°And what are the taxes like?¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°I have no idea. I just hit things and talk to people.¡±

    ¡°As befitting an Orc King, even one without tusks whose skin isn¡¯t green,¡± Carolus says with faint amusement. ¡°I will give it serious consideration, Your Majesty. And then you may send someone who does numbers and paperwork.¡±

    I stop to become champion of the Kvatch Arena on the way out, just because it¡¯s there.

 Chapter 178: In Which I Accidentally Become an Emperor

    Aside from taking it over, I¡¯ve acquired two very important things during my time on the Gold Coast. The Blade of Woe and Louna the Fate-Bearer. I don¡¯t like thinking of people as resources, but seeing as I would have killed her otherwise, so be it. She¡¯s cooperating so we¡¯re treating her well enough. If she can¡¯t use her power responsibly, she can live in a fucking gilded cage.

    Don¡¯t get me wrong here. I hate prophecy. And the fact that she has quite a bit of trouble seeing me and the results of my actions limits her utility here. It¡¯s not just because of my ring and she¡¯s not the first prophet who has had trouble with my existence. Varen called me a ¡°wound in time¡± or something like that. That spinner somewhere in Valenwood thought it would be Theryn Teldras showing up to save her and not me. However, what she can really see here is what would have happened without my interference. Seeing as I¡¯m constantly making waves, that might change minute to minute.

    One of the Bosmer in my support team suggests turning her into a tree and making her put down roots so she can¡¯t run away. Bosmer are weird. In some hypothetical future beyond my immediate caring, people might even traverse a difficult journey to ask her their fortunes. I am not having my pocket prophet turned into a tree.

    And as for the Heartland¡­ It has been a long and harrowing campaign, by which I mean we pretty much swept across the place like a storm. It was almost disappointing. No Nord Tongues took to the field. No great wizards showed up to alter the landscape and defend the Covenant and Pact fortresses. It seems like anyone powerful enough to make a difference had better things to do than play at war over a stretch of land they didn¡¯t actually care about.

    And here I am, taking over Tamriel piece by piece just to make it look like I¡¯m trying to take over Tamriel. And all the while, what I¡¯m really doing is trying to find a way to destroy the Three Betrayers. This, of course, entails poking my nose into every hole in the ground on the face of Nirn. It doesn¡¯t matter if this takes years, decades, centuries, entire freaking eras.

    Now that no one is trying to re-steal them again, I bring back the Elder Scrolls to the Temple of the Ancestor Moth near Bruma where they belong. (Well, I¡¯m not sure that they technically belong here, but it¡¯s certainly a better place for them than constantly changing hands because someone thought they make cute symbols.)

    ¡°You¡¯ve brought back the Scrolls?¡± says a priest. (I think these people are priests.) ¡°You didn¡¯t keep them for your alliance?¡±

    ¡°I have no great need for pieces of paper that will make me blind if I look at them,¡± I say. ¡°And I have no idea why anyone else did.¡±

    I carefully lay them down on a desk, although it¡¯s probably not necessary since I¡¯m pretty sure these things are indestructible. (Not that I intended to try to make armor out of them.) The Moth Priest introduces himself as Crassius Viria in between expressing profuse thanks at me.

    ¡°Crassius Viria?¡± I say. ¡°Any relation to a Lyra Viria?¡±

    ¡°I have a niece named Lyra,¡± Crassius says. ¡°She disappeared years ago, though. Do you have news of her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, then, assuming that this is the same Lyra,¡± I say. ¡°She joined the Dark Brotherhood. She eventually tried to repent in grief and guilt, and they wound up killing her for it.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Crassius says with a sigh. ¡°It is not good news, but it is better than wondering. Her father would have been devastated, Divines rest his soul.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t need to know all the sordid details or what my involvement was. He didn¡¯t even really need to know that much, but I feel that he does deserve to know that his kin is dead and why. I might not have even killed her if she hadn¡¯t threatened my family. At least I doubt a Moth Priest is going to try to hunt down the Dark Brotherhood or anything.

    ¡°Hopefully you won¡¯t have any trouble with anyone trying to steal the Scrolls again, at least,¡± I say. ¡°The Dominion has pushed the Covenant and Pact out of the Heartland and started to rebuild.¡±

    Crassius sighs and nods. ¡°I will ensure that these are returned safely to our vaults. Some peace will be welcome, if it can last.¡±

    While I¡¯m there, I take a look around the temple for interesting books, and run across one titled Where Were You When the Dragon Broke? I skim it, thinking I will very probably need to be quite a bit higher to make sense of this, but then run across a mention of ¡°Mannimarco, God of Worms¡±. Well shit. I suppose in some possible future or alternate timeline, he might actually succeed at attaining apotheosis. That¡¯s a cheery thought.

    There¡¯s still a lot of work to be done, but I have faith in the Dominion to see it through. I¡¯ve noticed a lot of broken wayshrines while traveling around the countryside and I need to get them repaired and¡­ do they need to be re-consecrated? I¡¯m not quite sure how that works. I¡¯ll kick it over to the building crews and have them get a priest on hand just to be sure.

    And that¡¯s when I find out somebody wants to make me Emperor. Several somebodies. Quite a lot of somebodies. Enough somebodies that I¡¯m a bit confused as I hadn¡¯t believed Emperor was a democratically elected position rather than something you inherit or declare yourself as. Abnur Tharn, one of the few people who knows who I actually am, comes to speak with me about it himself.

    ¡°I was trying to claim the Ruby Throne for Queen Ayrenn, not myself,¡± I say.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°That¡¯s commendable, but Queen Ayrenn isn¡¯t here,¡± says Abnur. ¡°The Elder Council, what¡¯s left of it at least, has made its decision. And the Empire wants to follow you, not her.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m working for Queen Ayrenn,¡± I say.

    ¡°And what has she done lately?¡± Abnur says. ¡°Made a few pretty speeches and held some parties?¡±

    ¡°What she did was leave the war to me,¡± I say.

    ¡°No she didn¡¯t. You pushed yourself into this position. She merely did not refuse you because there was no way she could have at the time.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Regardless, I¡¯m not going to call myself Emperor. Not unless I had the entirety of Tamriel under my rule.¡±

    ¡°You may still be Emperor of just Cyrodiil,¡± Abnur says. ¡°And I am quite certain you are not going to stop here. The Dominion was doing quite poorly before you took charge of the war effort. For a while there, it was looking like this would be Pact territory soon and there was little we could do about it.¡±

    ¡°And what about Queen Ayrenn?¡± I say. ¡°Just what am I supposed to tell her? ¡®Sorry, I accidentally became an Emperor.¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Abnur says. ¡°You already accidentally became a king.¡±

    ¡°Calling myself an Emperor would imply that I was putting myself above her,¡± I say. ¡°While the Dominion has more than one king. Cyrodiil is under Dominion rule now and Queen Ayrenn is still the ruler of the Aldmeri Dominion.¡±

    ¡°Whether you heed whatever Queen Ayrenn says or not, I would prefer that she did not administer the province directly. You should be in charge, just as you are over the Wood Orcs. You¡¯re making sure everything is repaired and people are provided for and given work. The only way Queen Ayrenn is going to become Empress of Cyrodiil is if you marry her.¡±

    I choke lightly at that. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any one of your own people who would step forward?¡±

    ¡°Most contenders have been killed. And the remainder owe you for having their towns be theirs again.¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I am once again High Chancellor of the Elder Council,¡± Abnur says. ¡°A position I have been able to reclaim entirely due to your own actions. I have no interest in claiming the throne for myself. And in the absence of a Dragonborn heir, the Elder Council has chosen a new ruler. You.¡±

    I groan. ¡°Really? Is that how this is to be?¡±

    ¡°Neri, if you didn¡¯t want to be Emperor, why did you unite the Wood Orc clans, take over the Dominion war effort, conquer Cyrodiil, win over the Gold Coast, and seize the Imperial City?¡±

    ¡°¡­ habit?¡±

    Abnur gives me a look. ¡°My point exactly. And, knowing who you are, this is among many reasons why I recommended you to the Elder Council.¡±

    ¡°You?¡± I say indignantly. ¡°How could you do this to me?¡±

    ¡°Neri, Cyrodiil needs you,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Tamriel needs you.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Then you can be the one who tells Queen Ayrenn why you don¡¯t want her in charge.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Abnur says. ¡°Should you accept, I will meet with the other Dominion leaders myself.¡±

    ¡°Should I accept? You mean I can refuse?¡±

    Abnur smirks. ¡°Of course you can refuse. You think I or anyone else can force you to do anything you don¡¯t want to do? If you decide to go live in a hole in the ground, I cannot stop you. I do not believe you will, however. As you said, habit.¡±

    ¡°Do I have to do accounting and paperwork?¡±

    Abnur rolls his eyes. ¡°No, you do not. The Elder Council can still handle the day-to-day minutiae. The Emperor is for making high-level decisions and being a figure to rally around. The Elder Council are absolutely useless at making high-level decisions, but they definitely have the minutiae down. You will, of course, have the ultimate veto on anything, but by and large, we will continue to keep Cyrodiil running.¡±

    I rub my face. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I keep getting talked into these things. Fine. Fine. Just talk to Ayrenn before making any announcements, please? In the meantime, I¡¯m going to find a nice hole in the ground to hide in for a little while. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll come back out again.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Abnur says.

    I extricate myself from the conversation and go to my favorite hole in the ground. I take off my cat-mask again once I get to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary¡¯s dining area, and get something to drink.

    ¡°You seem grim today,¡± Slim-Jah says. ¡°What¡¯s eating you?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re making me Emperor,¡± I mumble. ¡°They¡¯re making me fucking Emperor.¡±

    ¡°Normally I would congratulate you, but you don¡¯t seem terribly happy about that,¡± Slim-Jah says.

    ¡°All I did was hit a bunch of people,¡± I say. ¡°Apparently I¡¯m too good at hitting people. Kill one person and you¡¯re an assassin. Kill a lot of people and you¡¯re a conquerer. I¡¯m going to need more fucking disguises.¡±

    Tanek chuckles. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe a king joined the Dark Brotherhood in disguise. And now an Emperor?¡±

    ¡°I just wanted to hit things,¡± I whine and drink my wine.

    The worst of it is, the Three Betrayers might not have paid much attention to a mere Orc King in the ass end of Valenwood, but they will notice a new Emperor and start asking questions about me.

    I¡¯ve had a misinformation campaign making up a backstory for Neri the Orc King, but it¡¯s paper thin. Brackenleaf Village agreed to back me up in claiming I was born to a Bosmer member of their tribe after a tryst with an Altmer up until I signed on with the Dominion military and secretly joined the Eyes of the Queen. (You have to put ¡°secrets¡± into cover stories so people think they¡¯ve found your actual secrets. Nobody¡¯s history is without wrinkles.)

    ¡°Funny day when assassins become emperors,¡± Cimbar says.

    ¡°Eh, you¡¯re missing a few steps in there,¡± I slur. ¡°It¡¯s more like how a hunter becomes a mercenary becomes a soldier becomes a spy becomes a king becomes an assassin becomes an Emperor. Not that that¡¯s actually what happened, but let¡¯s pretend it was. It makes more sense.¡±

    My fake backstory is only marginally more plausible than my actual one.

    ¡°A hunter?¡± Tanek says. ¡°I can¡¯t see you wielding a bow. You always have to be right up in the action.¡±

    ¡°I generally hunted the sorts of things that you need to do glorious battle with before you can bring them to the dinner table.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what I¡¯d do if someone tried to force me to inherit leadership of the Motierre family,¡± Mirabelle says. ¡°Probably strangle somebody.¡±

    I snort in amusement. ¡°I ran into a Lisien Motierre in Chorrol. He was sitting in the middle of a pile of rubble saying that nothing could drive the Motierres from Chorrol.¡±

    Mirabelle giggles. ¡°Now if only my cousin would demonstrate that tenacity to do something more than whine.¡±

    I sigh and put my empty mug on the table. ¡°I suppose I should go talk to my wives.¡±

    I return to Dra¡¯bul, and realize that now I can tell people to put up road signs. Wait, how¡¯s literacy rates? The war can¡¯t have been good for education. I saw the states of those towns, and there were no functioning schools anywhere. Alright, I¡¯ll just need to improve educational standards to ensure people can make maps and road signs to ensure that I never get lost.

    I think I¡¯m getting off track again. I¡¯m not going to worry about any of that just yet. First I need to inform my wives that some fetcher wanted me to be Emperor so badly that he convinced some other fetchers to agree with him. Fortunately, he doesn¡¯t want me to marry one of his daughters first.

 Chapter 179: In Which I Take a Walk in the Snow

    ¡°A messenger arrived for you from one King Kurog up in Orsinium,¡± Roku says.

    I groan. ¡°Let me guess. He wants me to bow down to him or something?¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Roku says, pointing me at an antsy-looking Orc woman.

    ¡°Do you know how long I¡¯ve been looking for you?¡± the messenger says.

    ¡°Waiting in Dra¡¯bul for me to come back was a more sensible choice than trying to figure out where in Cyrodiil I might be at any given time.¡±

    The invitation is light on details. Something about negotiations, and an offer of opening up a Wood Orc embassy. Seems like a good opportunity to check the place out, and I¡¯m sure there will be plenty to do and things to hit.

    ¡°I¡¯ll head for Orsinium,¡± I say. ¡°You guys can start taking bets on how long it will be before I wind up killing him.¡±

    ¡°Come back with a few more wives!¡± Roku says.

    I speak with Louna to give me anything she can see about Orsinium, but my prophet (who is much more attractive than Varen) mostly sees snow and stone. And Dwemer constructs, lots of Dwemer constructs.

    ¡°Do not trust King Kurog,¡± Louna warns.

    ¡°I really wasn¡¯t planning on it,¡± I say.

    ¡°Especially do not trust his mother!¡± Louna continues. ¡°You will save yourself a great deal of trouble if you murder his mother as soon as possible.¡±

    I would probably take this more seriously if murder hasn¡¯t always been her first resort.

    I¡¯ve got some new medium armor for the trip. Well-made but not ostentatious. I don¡¯t really need armor that screams ¡°I¡¯m a king!¡± I need armor that keeps me from losing my arms. No self-respecting Orc needs fancy armor for the sake of having fancy armor.

    I have a retinue along with me this time, or an entourage, or whatever these Orcs feel like calling it because none of them want to call it a ¡®retinue¡¯ or an ¡®entourage¡¯ because they¡¯re stupid fancy Breton words. Some of my Orcs travel with me, along with Ilara as usual, and Merry. Eran is done with his family visit and also accompanies us.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll stay here in Brackenleaf Village for now and spend some time with my husband,¡± Gelur says when I visit to ask her. ¡°Saving the world from Molag Bal was quite the adventure, but also pretty exhausting. This is an Orc thing, and my joints will kill me if I visit somewhere so far north when it¡¯s almost winter.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let you know if we visit Summerset or Elsweyr, then,¡± I say with a grin.

    ¡°Or Black Marsh,¡± Gelur adds. ¡°Or Hammerfell, for that matter. I wonder if we¡¯ll ever be able to visit Hammerfell.¡±

    ¡°Maybe eventually,¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°And if there¡¯s some existential threat, be sure to come get me,¡± Gelur says. ¡°Not that I¡¯m hoping for another cataclysm along the lines of the Planemeld or something, but we live in interesting times.¡±

    We meet up with Captain Jimila at the new Dra¡¯bul docks we built on top of the old dolmen. She¡¯s more than happy that Anvil is now in Dominion hands.

    ¡°You charge less in tariffs and fees than the pirates, and don¡¯t randomly search holds or confiscate cargo,¡± Captain Jimila says. ¡°The paperwork is murder, though. Altmer and Imperials are each bad enough with paperwork, but putting them together¡­ I spent more time on filling out paperwork than I did unloading my cargo. I like the new Dra¡¯bul port. Nobody makes me do paperwork there.¡±

    ¡°How was your family, Eran?¡± Ilara asks once we¡¯re underway.

    Eran chuckles. ¡°My father refused to believe that I¡¯d been to Oblivion and helped stop the Planemeld. At least up until someone from the Fighters Guild showed up with a commendation and more gold than he had ever seen in one place. Which was still, admittedly, less money than I¡¯ve seen Neri spend on a whim on something stupid.¡±

    ¡°My ¡®something stupid¡¯ purchases usually wind up making me more money,¡± I grouse. ¡°Eventually. I¡¯ve made some very sound investments.¡±

    ¡°Still, whatever else might be said about her, Meridia is apparently wealthy and not afraid to throw gold around,¡± Eran says. ¡°My father still wasn¡¯t sure, at least until someone from the Mages Guild and then someone from the Dominion military showed up to commend me too. At that point he was starting to think I¡¯d arranged this all as a prank, if the gold and royal seals hadn¡¯t looked genuine. Whatever you were doing during the interim had to have been more fun than listening to my sister incessantly praise me and watching my father sulk.¡±

    ¡°I accidentally became Emperor of Cyrodiil,¡± I say offhandedly.

    ¡°Of course you did,¡± Eran says flatly. ¡°How was your family, Ilara-daro?¡±

    ¡°Oh, fantastic,¡± Ilara says. ¡°Raz was quite willing to provide an alibi.¡±

    Eran sighs and rolls his eyes. ¡°Of course he was. Merry?¡±

    ¡°I do not have a family,¡± Merry says. ¡°I mostly stayed at Dra¡¯bul.¡±

    ¡°You can share mine,¡± I say.

    ¡°I do not wish to be your mage-husband,¡± Merry says dryly.

    ¡°I missed you guys,¡± Eran says.

    The Prowler puts us down in Evermore, and I make a quick detour to light the wayshrine in the graveyard. The Bretons there can¡¯t even seem to tell a Wood Orc from a non-Wood Orc. (What do you even call them to differentiate them? Frost Orcs? Mountain Orcs? High Orcs?) We make our way across to the Merchant¡¯s Gate, where someone had once felt the need to build a big door in a narrow gap through the mountains. Decorative red banners depicting fists adorn the thick stone wall.

    Not far past the gate, we come upon a caravan that appears to have been attacked. They don¡¯t look like they¡¯re still being attacked, so I immediately rush forward to start healing the survivors.

    A Bosmer woman who introduces herself as Eveli Sharp-Arrow explains what happened. The caravan was carrying supplies to the clans for winter, and some Reachfolk (folk from somewhere called the Reach, I think, and not folk with unusually long arms) attacked it and took the supplies. And some peasants decided to chase after the guys who had just slaughtered some other peasants. A chief named Bazrag showed up to help, too.

    ¡°Those were not sensible Orcs,¡± mumbles Nagra, one of the Orcs who came along with me.

    I wave to my entourage. ¡°You guys stay here and defend the survivors. My friends and I are going after them.¡±

    ¡°They went that-a-way,¡± Eveli says, pointing, and we head off that-a-way.

    ¡°I¡¯m so excited about fighting Reachfolk,¡± I say, excitedly fighting Reachfolk. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought Reachfolk before.¡±

    Eran snorts in amusement. ¡°By the time we¡¯re done here, I¡¯ll probably be as sick of fighting them as I am of fighting Sea Elves.¡±

    ¡°I already hate snow,¡± Merry mutters. ¡°My feet are melting into the snow from my warmth spell.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you use water walking enchantments?¡± Eran says. ¡°I picked up sabatons enchanted with water walking before we came here, since snow is just very cold water.¡±

    ¡°My shoes are already enchanted to expand my magicka pool,¡± Merry says. ¡°And I can just cast water walking. Which I did. Which is why I¡¯m not sinking into the snow before my warmth spell makes it start melting.¡± He incinerates another Reachwoman who was in the midst of swinging an axe at him, melting quite a bit of snow around her.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    We save one group of peasants, then find another group frozen to death quite thoroughly where they¡¯d taken refuge in a nearby cave. Considering the state of them, I expect that trying to thaw and heal them will only result in slightly warmer corpses. Some of them were shattered and broken to pieces, showing they were frozen all the way through.

    ¡°I hate ice magic, too,¡± Merry says, making a face when he sees that.

    ¡°At least it smells better than fire magic,¡± Eran says. ¡°Roast human smells far worse than roast mer.¡±

    ¡°This one is glad Gelur is not here to interject how it smells delicious,¡± Ilara comments.

    Eran groans. ¡°Did you have to mention that?¡±

    We encounter an Orc woman who introduces herself as Ulsha, Chief Bazrag¡¯s shield-wife. She says that a Reachman named Urfon Ice-Heart of the Winterborn clan did this. Urfon already made off with the supplies, and to find out where he took them, I wind up discovering another fun new foe that Wrothgar has to offer me: Harpies!

    ¡°Do you capitalize ¡®harpies¡¯?¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Merry says, incinerating said harpies. ¡°They are attempting to kill us and not even saying anything coherent whilst doing so.¡±

    Amid empty crates and barrels, I come upon an incriminating note written by someone who was working with the Reachfolk clan.

    ¡°Hey, is that a wayshrine down there?¡± I wonder, peering over a nearby ledge.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t jump off this cliff,¡± Eran says. ¡°If we go the long way around, there might be more Reachfolk to kill.¡±

    ¡°Good argument!¡± I say brightly.

    We make our way back down and around the cliff. Wrothgar wayshrines are built of heavy, sturdy stone, with rough steps leading up to an ornate bronze brazier in the middle. I light it, and head for the sturdy stone bridge. It seems like the building philosophy of Wrothgar Orcs is to build everything from sturdy stone and make sure you really need to mean it if you want to knock it down.

    On the other side of the bridge, we run across Ulsha, Eveli, an Altmer mage, the rest of my entourage, and an armored Orc man with a battle axe. They¡¯re mid-conversation as we approach.

    Nagra is saying, ¡°Maybe in another generation or two, we¡¯ll have forgotten why we ever fought with the Wood Elves.¡±

    ¡°How can you forgive a former enemy and let go of a grudge?¡± says the Orc (probably Chief Bazrag). ¡°We certainly haven¡¯t forgiven the Bretons and Redguards for sacking Orsinium.¡±

    ¡°King Neri made sure every debt was satisfied, on both sides,¡± Nagra says. ¡°It¡¯s not like the conflict was one-sided or anything. We gave as good as we got a lot of the time. And some of our former chiefs had done some really stupid things not so very long ago.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it rankle, having a High Elf lead you?¡±

    Nagra shakes his head. ¡°Queen Ayrenn is not at all what you would expect of a High Elf.¡±

    ¡°Not her.¡± He glances aside to me as I walk up. ¡°Him.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Nagra says. ¡°He¡¯s an Orc, just as much as you or me. That the High Elves think he looks like them only helps us, but he¡¯d have been our chieftain either way.¡±

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±

    Nagra snorts. ¡°Spend five minutes around him and you can see for yourself.¡±

    The other Orc turns his attention to me. ¡°I¡¯m Bazrag, chief of Fharun clan. I¡¯m grateful for your help, even if I hate that you¡¯re here. A High Elf who pretends to be an Orc winning over some Wood Orcs who don¡¯t know any better.¡±

    Nagra growls, but I wave him down.

    ¡°Talk is cheap,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll let my actions speak for me. I killed all the Reachfolk I could spot near here, and their harpy pets. Found an interesting note, too.¡± I pass it over to Bazrag.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Bazrag says, reading it over. ¡°We were betrayed? By one of our own? For gold?¡±

    ¡°So it seems,¡± I say. ¡°And they might know where the Reachfolk took the supplies. So I¡¯ll head to Orsinium and ask a few questions. Maybe hit a few people until they feel like answering questions. Can¡¯t imagine there¡¯s all that many Khajiit in Orsinium and I also can¡¯t imagine that they¡¯ll refuse to tell me who they dealt with.¡±

    Bazrag grunts. ¡°Only a fool turns down help when offered freely, but don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to bow down to you just because you killed a few Reachfolk.¡±

    I giggle. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill so many Reachfolk. This is going to be fun. Are there giants here too? I¡¯m looking for some good fights while I¡¯m here, the bigger the better. I mean, it¡¯s going to be hard to top the size of that sea serpent the annoying Sea Elves summoned that one time. Do Reachfolk summon big annoying things too? Oh, I hope so.¡±

    Bazrag blinks. ¡°Is this just a game to you? This is our home, and many of our people have been killed by Reachfolk.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m going to kill them,¡± I say. ¡°I love problems that can be solved by hitting things. And this Urfon Ice-Heart fetcher sounds like he needs his head on a pike.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re trying too hard to sound like an Orc,¡± Bazrag says. ¡°Once you see what Wrothgar is really like, you¡¯ll be running back to Valenwood with your tail between your legs.¡±

    I look behind me to make sure I didn¡¯t accidentally attach my prosthetic tail to my Orc armor.

    ¡°Very funny,¡± Bazrag says.

    ¡°He¡¯s always like this,¡± Eran says with a sigh.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± Bazrag asks. ¡°His shield-wife?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a man,¡± Eran says in a strained voice.

    ¡°Eh, hard to tell with Elves.¡±

    Our trip to Orsinium takes a quick detour when I run across a Redguard (Nammadin) sitting amid scattered books and the remnants of a broken cart. They, too, were attacked by Reachfolk. They were planning on opening up a bookshop in the city, and got separated and lost their merchant¡¯s permit. (Kurog clearly borrowed a love of paperwork from the Bretons.)

    Naturally, I do the sensible thing and don¡¯t ask him to spell everyone¡¯s names (I¡¯ll do it later), leap off the cliff that the Redguard man fears his partners fell off of, leaving my entourage to guard the Redguard. One of them (Travofia) is on the bank of a river near a waterfall, and tells us about how the harpies took the other, lamenting that there¡¯s too many harpies to do anything for her. We head across an incredibly rickety bridge clearly built by someone who really needed to get across this river fast and didn¡¯t care if anyone was going to be able to get across next week.

    Once we get up to the harpy¡¯s nest, we find the other woman (Jaeloreh) near death and bleeding from dozens of talon marks, but I can tell she¡¯s still alive (if barely) because my Restoring Light works. (At least, I¡¯m pretty sure I can¡¯t bring the dead back to life. With this spell at least. Probably. If it were necessary for whatever reason for me to bring the dead to life, there¡¯s plenty of other ways to do so.) Fortunately, while her cuts are numerous, they¡¯re not deep. I look up to see if I need to deal with the harpies, but Ilara and Merry have already shot them out of the air. They smell like roast chicken.

    The Redguard woman regains consciousness and immediately panics for a moment.

    ¡°Shh, it¡¯s alright,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re safe now. Here, drink this.¡±

    I give her a mostly-non-poisonous potion mislabeled in Dwemeris as ¡°cowardice #18¡±. (The calming and numbing effects from the blue entoloma are technically a poison, and really not advisable to drink when intending on fighting immediately after. These potions are for other people, not me, obviously.) Those long, boring rides lately were good for making alchemy notes and experimenting at camp because nobody let me run off to fight anything or poke my head into every ruin I spotted, and nobody could honestly complain of me doing alchemy experiments at some patch of sand or snow in the middle of nowhere.

    The woman drinks the potion, and is now probably feeling quite chill. Both emotionally and psychically, considering what harpy talons did to her clothes. I cast a cleaning spell on her to get off some of the blood and dirt, pull a cloak from my bag and throw it over her shoulders. We lead her back to the main road and meet up with Travofia, Nammadin, and my Wood Orcs.

    ¡°You have saved the light of my heart!¡± Nammadin says. ¡°We are to be married in the spring. We shall name our firstborn after you!¡± Nammadin pauses. ¡°What is your name?¡±

    ¡°Neri,¡± I say.

    ¡°Neri?¡± Travofia says. ¡°King of the Wood Orcs and Emperor of Cyrodiil?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of me out here?¡±

    ¡°Of course we¡¯ve heard of you!¡± Nammadin says. ¡°To think one such as you stopped to help us hapless wayfarers upon the road. Surely you are in a hurry to somewhere important.¡±

    ¡°I was here and able to help,¡± I say. ¡°What kind of a king or emperor or warrior would ignore you and keep walking?¡±

    ¡°High King Emeric,¡± Jael slurs, giggling.

    ¡°Jaeloreh, are you alright?¡± Nammadin says.

    ¡°The potion I gave her has a calming effect,¡± I say. ¡°If you drink too much, it can also make you a little¡­ high. She drank the whole bottle.¡±

    ¡°Never been better,¡± Jael says cheerfully. ¡°You should sell these.¡±

    I don¡¯t tell them that she¡¯s the first person other than me to try that particular batch and the proportions probably still need tweaking. No need for anyone to think this king peddles experimental drugs on the side of the road. No, the funny thing is that Nammadin isn¡¯t even questioning it because I made and sold quite a few of the previous iterations.

    You know, I¡¯ve gotten surprisingly good at alchemy, and the weird side effects are mostly deliberate now since I carefully documented what happened and can do it intentionally. What separates my ¡°work¡± from what a mer with centuries of experience would produce? That I¡¯m completely insane, deliberately put in weird side effects, drink my own potions even though I know they¡¯re poisonous and self-aware enough to calculate how high they¡¯re getting me? Or maybe just that I can afford to be wasteful and reckless in my experimentation?

    The thing is, though, I make shitty potions. Alchemists are supposed to make potions slowly and carefully. They¡¯re afraid of missteps causing explosions or toxic fumes, and I can tell you from experience that not as many missteps cause explosions as you would expect. I make potions quickly. The few times experienced alchemists have glanced at my work area, they¡¯ve been horrified. I don¡¯t have the time or patience to sit around watching a cauldron, so I figured out the best ways to mix things up as fast as possible. It¡¯s often more useful to have ten good enough items than one perfect item.

    The thing is, you get good at what you do. All my careful documentation (assisted by a mental organization scheme that I will forgive Shalidor being annoying for) was about the effects from my shitty method of potion making. So I paradoxically got good at making shitty potions. Which means I¡¯m selling quite a lot of shitty potions with weird side effects through that merchant guild I technically joined back when I first arrived in Vulkhel Guard who still have no idea who I actually am because I only ever show up dressed as a nondescript Altmer peddling technically-not-illegal drugs. You can show someone your face but all they will ever see is your hat.

 Chapter 180: In Which I Interrupt a Bath

    On the road to Orsinium, we run across a Dunmer man who is looking for a foul-smelling cave, where he hopes to find a magic whistle that can tame durzogs. He¡¯d been intending on selling fine wine, but Orcs proved to be disinterested.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I ask. ¡°You¡¯d have had better luck with rotgut sujamma.¡±

    The Dunmer sighs. ¡°Alas, I believe you are correct. Do you think your fellow Orcs would like tame durzogs? They¡¯re dumb, brutish reptiles, and difficult to get to cooperate, so I¡¯m sure I could make a lot of money if I had a good way to tame them.¡±

    ¡°Personally, I think you¡¯d have better luck with guar,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯ll see if I can find this whistle for you and see if it works as well as you hope.¡±

    The cave in question is near the waterfall and underneath the harpy nests, so we head inside. My friends don¡¯t even complain of the stupid diversion. They know me too well. There¡¯s a hole in the ground, and I will poke my head inside.

    There¡¯s a pool inside with a couple of people fishing. They ignore me, so I don¡¯t bother them. If a note I find lying on the ground is any indication, the people here aren¡¯t even really bandits, for all that they¡¯re living in a cave trying to tame angry lizard-hounds.

    While I see no need to kill the people here, there¡¯s spiders. Lots of spiders. And a Skyshard! And some trolls. Not to mention the durzogs themselves, who definitely don¡¯t understand ¡°Down! Heel! Stay!¡±

    I do eventually find the whistle in question, in a pack in the kennel area, along with a book describing how the whistle isn¡¯t magical at all but merely used as a tool by a Nord woman with beast taming abilities. I grab the book and leave the whistle, and exit the cave without further bothering its residents (regardless of leg count). I find the Dunmer again and let him know the ¡°probably just as well¡± news that the whistle is a dead end that would probably end in him dead.

    If I thought what of Wrothgar Orc architecture we¡¯d seen so far was made of sturdy stone, my first glimpse of Orsinium makes me wonder how the Bretons and Redguards ever sacked any version of it. Admittedly, this is the rebuilt version, presumably rebuilt to make the sturdy stone even more sturdy. I¡¯m not quite clear on what exactly they¡¯re doing here.

    Honestly, the ¡°how¡± is probably because the Orcs never thought to set up magical defenses. Bretons are good with magic, and one mage on the caliber of Tom Gautier would match a thousand run-of-the-mill Orcs, if his magic were used intelligently.

    ¡°So this is Orsinium,¡± I say unnecessarily. ¡°Alright everyone, let¡¯s split up. Ilara-daro, you track down those Khajiit traders. Nagra, take your guys and go figure out where they¡¯ve set aside for the Wood Orc embassy.¡±

    Flanked by Eran and Merry, I explore the city, seeing its sights and smelling its smells. Scaffolding clings to buildings where people are desperately trying to finish roofs before it starts snowing in earnest, not that there isn¡¯t enough snow here already. A cat chases a dog. An Argonian begs for money by the side of the road. I¡¯m impressed that the mighty King Kurog has obtained beggars already. Does he know? Does he even care?

    ¡°So cold¡­ so cold¡­¡± says the shivering Argonian as Orcs pass him by. He¡¯ll probably be dead by morning if no one intervenes.

    Merry doesn¡¯t even need me to ask, and casts a warmth spell over the hapless Argonian. I offer a little food from my bag, and learn that his name is Xozuka and that he came here to work but the cold got to him and he was fired for being unable to keep up.

    As I¡¯m chatting with the thawing Argonian, Nagra finds me and lets me know that King Kurog apparently wants to put the Wood Orc embassy outside the walls, in the back out of sight. I¡¯d be insulted if I didn¡¯t find it so funny.

    ¡°Alright, Xozuka, consider yourself hired,¡± I say, gesturing to him to come along as Nagra leads us to the spot.

    ¡°I erect the spine of gratitude,¡± Xozuka says. ¡°What would you have me do?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Help out with the embassy. If the cold is still too much, I can send you to Valenwood if you want, but the embassy will have proper heating in it because, as my hunt-wife put it, sensible Orcs don¡¯t need to prove how badass they are by watching their fingers change from green to blue.¡±

    It turns out that, of course, we¡¯re going to have to build our own embassy. Not that I terribly mind. The way these people are building shit is terribly inefficient. The location is also conveniently right next to one of the entrances into the local outlaws refuge, so it works out well for me.

    I pull out my communication orb. ¡°This is Neri. I¡¯m in Orsinium. I need construction of a small outpost on my location.¡±

    Once the setup gets underway, I leave them to that and slip into the outlaws refuge to take a look around. In the center of it, there¡¯s a gazebo with a statue on top of it. Among other inhabitants is a woman eager to be a real outlaw, a guard in plainclothes failing at convincing anyone he¡¯s not a guard, and an Argonian fence by the name of Juggles-Scorpions. I think she¡¯s my new favorite fence.

    The outlaws refuge opens up next to a house with a secret Malacath shrine. (I¡¯m not just barging into random people¡¯s homes, honest. There¡¯s a red candle outside that totally suggests that it¡¯s a secret meeting place for people who like red candles.) The weird thing about this version of Orsinium is exactly that this Malacath worship is being done in secret. King Kurog is a staunch devotee of Trinimac and is apparently ignorant of that being the same deity as Malacath or performing some historical revisionism.

    In any case, an old Orc woman with a sparkly lightning staff sends me to find some relic called the Vengeful Eye that the Winterborn clan wants. It¡¯s apparently held by Malacath¡¯s champions as a sign of his favor. Naturally, I agree to grab it whenever I¡¯m passing through that part of Wrothgar.

    Upstairs I find the booksellers I¡¯d rescued on the road on the way here. This would be an extremely convenient place for a smuggling front. It seems an odd place for a bookshop. Unless¡­ hmm. Oh! They could sell hollowed out books containing hidden bottles! Or maybe just alchemically laced paper. They greet me warmly and don¡¯t ask why I just came from the secret Malacath shrine in their basement.

    An advertisement on a wall mentions a museum that is being set up called the House of Orsimer Glories. I poke my head in to check it out.

    ¡°A museum!¡± I say. ¡°What a fantastic idea! I should build a museum as well. But then, my museum would be housing legendary relics that I collected myself. King Kurog can have a museum housing legendary relics I collected, too. Of course, anyone who visits ought to know who retrieved each relic.¡±

    I grin widely at the curator. I¡¯m normally not so vain as to insist, but it would rankle me for Kurog to take any credit for shit I did. Also, insisting on referring to Orcs as ¡°Orsimer¡± strikes me as a little pretentious and I¡¯m not quite sure why since it¡¯s rather like referring to a Bosmer as a Wood Elf, isn¡¯t it? So what would be a Wood Orc? Orsibosmer? Bosorsimer? Borsimer? I feel that it would greatly annoy many Wood Elves and Orcs should I use those words.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    When I step out of the museum, Ilara-daro appears beside me. ¡°This one found our mark. An Orc named Gulug. She asked the Khajiit traders but wound up just following her nose. Khajiit thinks someone pulled a prank on him by insisting the scent of rotting horker is romantic or something. He¡¯s in the bathhouse and paid for the full day, and this one thinks it may take all day for him to wash off the stench.¡±

    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I say.

    Ilara shows me to the bathhouse, and I leave my friends outside to make sure no one tries to slip away just in case. In the hot, steamy water downstairs, a male Orc along with a few female Orcs are bathing. Gulug immediately gets defensive of his tonics. Fortunately, he¡¯s easy to intimidate, which probably has more to do with the fact that he¡¯s naked and I¡¯m openly carrying a battle axe than anything else.

    Gulug is loyal to the city and to King Kurog and thinks the clans are stuck in their ways, and is happy to see them starve. The gold he got from the Winterborn for his information went toward producing his questionable tonics that he insists are great but simply take time and multiple doses. Fortunately, he does know where the Reachfolk took the supplies, so this wasn¡¯t a complete waste of time. Someplace called Frostbreak Fortress. I need to look at a map while I¡¯m in town.

    I sigh. ¡°Look. What you did was stupid. I¡¯ll let bygones be bygones, though, but you owe me. And I want to see the recipes for these tonics of yours.¡±

    Gulug grumbles, ¡°But they¡¯re trade secrets!¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I say cheerfully. ¡°And if you don¡¯t, I will cheerfully turn you over to whoever might care about you being a traitor, making deals with the enemy, and peddling shoddy goods.¡±

    ¡°Ugh. Fine,¡± Gulug says. ¡°You can find them in my house. The key¡¯s in my pants over there.¡± He gives me directions. ¡°I¡¯d ask you to be sure to bring it back and not rob me too badly, but there¡¯s not much I can do about it if you do.¡±

    ¡°Not to worry,¡± I say. ¡°I just want to make sure the quality of your goods is up to my standards. I¡¯m something of an alchemist myself. I may be able to suggest some improvements to efficiency and potency.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Gulug says dubiously.

    I fish the key out of his pants and go to locate his house. His recipe book is cleverly hidden under the bed, but I find it quickly enough. Usually, I¡¯m happy to get my hands on the work of alchemists to steal their knowledge, but in this case, there¡¯s nothing here that I don¡¯t already know, and know better than him.

    ¡°Anything good?¡± Ilara asks.

    I sigh. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t work?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll work,¡± I say. ¡°Poorly, but they¡¯ll work. And there¡¯s just a few simple things he could have done better.¡± I pull out a sheet of Gulug¡¯s own paper from his desk and start writing out a few notes on how to improve his recipes.

    ¡°Why are you helping him?¡± Ilara wonders. ¡°Did he not betray the clans?¡±

    I shrug and keep writing. ¡°Sure, it was a dick move, but the situation can still be salvaged. And now he doubly owes me and he¡¯ll be putting more effective remedies into the hands of people who need them.¡±

    I shove my notes into Gulug¡¯s book and return it to its hiding spot, and head back to the bathhouse. Gulug hasn¡¯t moved, although for some reason he seems to be having trouble relaxing.

    ¡°Here you go,¡± I say, tossing the key back onto his pile of clothes. ¡°I left you some notes, too. Your recipes would be much more effective with a few small changes and there are some ingredients that would work a lot better in some cases.¡± I start listing a few.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Gulug grumbles. ¡°Where am I going to find those in Wrothgar?¡±

    ¡°The Wood Orc embassy,¡± I say. ¡°Just outside the north gate and to the right. You can buy them there for reasonable prices.¡±

    ¡°I see how it is,¡± Gulug says. ¡°Fine. So you¡¯re a Wood Orc, then? If this works, I suppose I should be grateful. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Neri gro-Drublog,¡± I say.

    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re the other Orc king?¡± Gulug says. ¡°Why do you care about the Wrothgar clans, then?¡± He frowns. ¡°You¡¯re trying to get them to recognize you as king since they¡¯ve refused to bow to King Kurog, aren¡¯t you.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t know that they refused to recognize Kurog until I got here,¡± I say. ¡°But you know, if I¡¯m helping them and he¡¯s not, I don¡¯t figure his chances of winning them over to be very good. I¡¯m hardly going to demand that they bow down to me, regardless. Orcs shouldn¡¯t bow.¡±

    Leaving behind Gulug¡¯s puzzled face and moist abs, I head back out to find a marketplace where I might be able to buy a freaking map. Or at least look at one and memorize it. A map of the city might be handy, too. Hey, wouldn¡¯t the bookshop be a good place for maps? On my way there, I almost bump into the craggy face of a certain Breton necromancer.

    ¡°Tom Gautier?¡± I say. ¡°Fancy seeing you here!¡±

    ¡°Yes, King Kurog extended an invitation to people who might help rebuild Orsinium,¡± Tom says. ¡°I do believe he called me in for killing monsters and solving problems rather than because he needed a skeletal labor force, however.¡±

    ¡°Does he even know you¡¯re a necromancer?¡±

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Tom says. ¡°I try to keep it to outside towns where people won¡¯t freak out about it and try to get me arrested.¡± He gives me a look. ¡°I hear congratulations are in order.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always something, isn¡¯t it?¡± I say. ¡°No hard feelings about me booting your alliance out of Cyrodiil?¡±

    Tom snorts softly. ¡°I certainly don¡¯t want that hornet¡¯s nest. You can have it for all I care.¡±

    Tom is heading toward the palace to report in with the forge-mother, and I decide to head along with him to get an eye at the woman my pocket prophet was so insistent that I kill. And dear fucking Aedra, Daedra, Sithis and Hist does King Kurog have an overcompensation of a pile of stones. This ¡°palace¡± is possibly larger than every other palace I¡¯ve seen combined. This is utterly ridiculous.

    ¡°Is it bigger than your palace?¡± Tom asks.

    ¡°I live in a longhouse!¡± I say. ¡°With a nice view of the sea. And cozy wood and leather walls, not cold stone.¡±

    An Orc woman meets us on the steps, but it¡¯s not the forge-mother, but Solgra, the High Priestess of Trinimac.

    ¡°The Hero of the Covenant,¡± Solgra says. ¡°And the King of the Wood Orcs. I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d be coming together.¡±

    ¡°We just ran into one another in town,¡± I say. ¡°But we go way back. Fought together in the Coldharbour campaign. We¡¯re about to head out to beat the shit out of some Reachfolk and get back the supplies they stole, but Tom wanted to say hi first.¡±

    ¡°You know where they took the stolen supplies?¡± Solgra says. ¡°Trinimac has surely sent you to us in our time of need!¡±

    I give her a level look, then raise my hand to show her my ring. ¡°Of course he did. Though I don¡¯t know why you people insist on referring to Malacath by that name.¡±

    Tom clears his throat. ¡°I am certain that you will spend plenty of time discussing religious differences.¡±

    Forge-Mother Alga, King Kurog¡¯s mom and apparently a staunch follower of Trinimac in her own right, chooses that moment to walk up and by Malacath¡¯s balls I hate this woman the minute she opens her mouth in a visceral way that makes my skin crawl. I let Tom and my friends do the talking while keeping my eyes fully pinned upon her. I have no reason to hate this Orc I just met, even if Louna did tell me to murder her, so I¡¯m going to assume¡­ that was Malacath there. The feeling has faded now, though I¡¯m still wary.

    We¡¯re back at the Wood Orc embassy before Eran asks, ¡°Are you alright, Neri?¡±

    I take a seat on a bench of Pyandonea timber, a curved palm tree that they sawed down the middle to make two benches. I appreciate the irony of having palm wood benches this far north.

    They¡¯re working quickly to get this all set up, but it shouldn¡¯t take long. They¡¯re Wood Orcs. While their northern cousins might build heavy stone buildings to last, Wood Orcs build tents of wood and leather and can tear down or erect an outpost in a day. Maybe the ¡°overly traditional¡± clans people keep denigrating do that too, but I can¡¯t imagine what a mess it would have made of Dra¡¯bul to try to build it up like this. I like it the way it is.

    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to figure out how I¡¯m going to murder King Kurog¡¯s mother,¡± I say.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to kill her after all?¡± Eran asks. ¡°She seemed kind of nice.¡±

    ¡°I think Malacath warned me something¡¯s wrong here, too,¡± I say. ¡°Trouble is, if I were to simply behead her on the palace steps¡­¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Eran says. ¡°High Priestess Solgra was telling me how she visited Summerset and studied the word of Trinimac with Altmer priests. I don¡¯t know how that amounted to all these other Orcs deciding it was a great idea.¡±

    ¡°We need to investigate and plan,¡± Merry says. ¡°Fortunately, we will likely be doing enough of the former to mitigate our complete lack of managing the latter.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t plan on killing High Priestess Solgra too, do you?¡± Eran asks.

    ¡°No, I certainly hope not,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll probably have to have a lengthy religious debate and maybe get her high so she can see the truth too.¡±

    Eran sighs. ¡°Of course. Well, I suppose you¡¯d know, seeing as you¡¯ve been in the presence of Malacath. I doubt she actually met Trinimac. I suppose you¡¯d know better than most what the truth of the mythos is.¡±

    ¡°Eran, the thing you have to learn about mythos is¡­ it¡¯s all true,¡± I say.

    ¡°There is no way that can be possible,¡± Eran says flatly.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°There was a Dragon Break or three and it made everything a mess.¡±

    ¡°How many drugs does it take to make sense of Dragon Breaks?¡±

    ¡°All of them,¡± I say. ¡°All the drugs.¡±

 Chapter 181: In Which I Take a Fort Before Dinner

    We make our way to Frostbreak Fortress after having found a map and gotten directions, trudging across the ubiquitous rocks and yellow grass, lighting wayshrines across Wrothgar.

    ¡°You remember when times were simpler while were exploring Auridon and putting out fires?¡± I say.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was ever ¡®simple¡¯,¡± Eran says. ¡°And anyway, I expect to be putting out a lot of fires here too, both literal and figurative.¡±

    Along the way, we run across a camp with a journal discussing a theft and some buried treasure, which is definitely more important than conquering a keep or retrieving stolen supplies. The buried ¡°treasure¡± returns out to be an ugly mug along with a note regarding the Thieves Guild and wondering why the hell this mug is so important.

    ¡°And I see it¡¯s business as usual,¡± Eran comments, peering at the mug. ¡°Is this thing secretly made of gold, or enchanted or something?¡±

    ¡°Not so far as I can tell,¡± Merry says. ¡°Sentimental?¡±

    I shrug and toss it into my bag. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out once we¡¯re back in town. Let¡¯s go find that fort.¡±

    We arrive at the fortress (with a convenient wayshrine on the road just outside) to find that it¡¯s a warzone, by which I mean the sort of warzone where an alliance ineffectually tries to siege a castle instead of using any more sensible tactics. Catapults hurl flaming barrels that burst ineffectually against the fort¡¯s stone walls. One Orc practically boasts about how they¡¯re making progress inch by inch, but he sounds overly optimistic to me. I have to resist the urge to start barking orders and take command of this siege. This isn¡¯t (yet) my jurisdiction. Still, it¡¯s a perfect opportunity to show up ¡°the other Orc King¡±.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got that look on your face again,¡± Eran says.

    ¡°What look?¡± I say, touching my helmet. ¡°Can you even tell my expression under this?¡±

    ¡°I can see enough.¡± Eran chuckles. ¡°And I know what you¡¯d be looking like. That ¡®someone is doing something stupid¡¯ look.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I sigh. ¡°It almost makes me want to root for the Winterborn.¡±

    We¡¯re directed to one specific tent where we get our first glimpse at King Kurog, who is currently having a large lunch while berating a couple of clan chiefs.

    King Kurog is fat.

    Now, I won¡¯t criticize obesity. Many people live sedate lives and enjoy the pleasures of food or eat to relieve stress. However, a cook who samples his own stew more than his guests ever get to eat is not a king who is supposedly a great warrior who supposedly got his position in supposedly honorable combat. I probably didn¡¯t need that many ¡®supposedly¡¯s.

    There are two possibilities here. Either Kurog is a legendary warrior who knows he can defeat nearly every other mortal warrior on Nirn in one-on-one combat, like me. Or he¡¯s a fool who lets his desire for pleasure take precedence over his ability to fight. And I¡¯d probably be a lot less overconfident if I were a normal mortal. I mean, I¡¯d still probably use ¡°technically not illegal¡± potions before battle, but that¡¯s because I¡¯ve had a lot of practice fighting under the effects of potions and I know exactly what they do.

    Anyway, yeah. I¡¯m hoping for #1 there, but am afraid I¡¯ll be disappointed and wind up with #2.

    Weirdly, he sounds a bit like Sheogorath. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just coincidence.

    Even an idiot should know you don¡¯t do diplomacy by opening up with telling everyone they¡¯re wrong. Kurog is not just an idiot. Kurog is a fucking idiot. For an Orc, Kurog is really out of touch with what it takes to influence Orcs. I don¡¯t give speeches about grand visions, abandoning traditions, and so forth. Change doesn¡¯t happen just because you yelled it loudly enough. It¡¯s a wonder that he got anyone to support him at all.

    Kurog wants to ¡°see me fight¡± by going into the fort to kill Urfon together. If he really wanted to see me fight, he¡¯d just suggest a spar. No, what he really wants is to show me following him and fighting at his side. Subservient. And he¡¯s more in a hurry to get back to Orsinium for a feast than anything else. He won¡¯t stop talking about food for two minutes. Every bleeding thing to him is food metaphors.

    And then there¡¯s the Trinimac thing. He keeps insisting that Trinimac espouses values like honor, strength, and unity, as if Malacath doesn¡¯t.

    ¡°Have you actually spoken with Trinimac?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you know what he expects of you?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Kurog says. ¡°And I bet you haven¡¯t spoken to Malacath either.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Oh, I have, multiple times. I even visited the Ashpit once.¡±

    Kurog grunts, unimpressed.

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯ve also spoken to several Daedric Princes. And Akatosh I think, sort of? It was weird. You had to be there.¡± I give him a smirk. ¡°But you weren¡¯t. You didn¡¯t walk into Coldharbour to stop a disaster much bigger than this. You didn¡¯t even attend the conference.¡±

    Kurog is, of course, annoyed, but not so annoyed that he stops eating. Even after I don¡¯t speak another word and simply walk out of the tent, my friends turning and following. Good.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    One of the chiefs (Urgdosh) with the catapults thinks the Bretons who originally built this fort must have used Orc crafters who built it to last.

    ¡°Or they warded the thing against fire,¡± I say, suppressing a sigh. ¡°Bretons are good with magic and making sure stuff doesn¡¯t burn down is a common enchantment.¡±

    Chief Urgdosh stares as another exploding barrel splashes harmlessly against the walls. ¡°Maybe,¡± he grunts.

    The sieging force also seems to be light on archers and mages, as they keep losing people to harpies. And then there¡¯s the briarhearts, which are some sort of plant-based undead. They need to destroy the harpy aeries, which for some reason they can¡¯t land a proper strike on before they¡¯re bad at geometry or something.

    ¡°Would you really support Kurog if he was completely failing at this until I showed up?¡± I ask with a chuckle.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you working for him?¡±

    I laugh heartily. ¡°Fuck no. Didn¡¯t I introduce myself? Sorry. I¡¯m Neri gro-Drublog. And I¡¯d sooner go back to Coldharbour than bow to him.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re that Wood Orc ¡®king¡¯?¡± Urgdosh says. ¡°You here to try to get people to support you instead of him?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you not support him, but whether you support me or not is entirely your choice,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not here to make demands. I¡¯m here to kick some ass.¡± I gesture to my friends. ¡°Merry, Ilara-daro, keep those harpies off us. Eran, watch my flank.¡± I heft my axe and grin wildly. ¡°For Malacath!¡±

    A flock of harpies swoops in to try to pick up a squad of Orcs, only to fall to the ground either roasted or peppered with arrows. I have no idea why these Orcs are having so much trouble with them. Then again, so far as winged menaces go, harpies are not nearly as annoying as Valenwood bats, never mind cliff racers.

    We meet up with a squad that had gotten cut off and took shelter in a tower. That Wood Elf we met before, Eveli Sharp-Arrow, is with them, and she¡¯s a tad offended that they don¡¯t appreciate her prowess at shooting things.

    There¡¯s a Breton alchemist (Alinon) that¡¯s working on figuring out how to destroy the briarhearts. We find him hiding behind some rubble. After collecting him and not-listening to his rambling about Reach weirdness, we head into the fort interior.

    ¡°Merry, can you make sure Kurog won¡¯t be following us?¡± I say quietly once the others are ahead out of earshot. ¡°Idiot king must not get any glory today.¡±

    ¡°I think I can use telekinesis to make this portcullis drop,¡± Merry says. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to lift it again. This is probably going to trap us, and our allies, inside here.¡±

    ¡°The alternative is letting him in and murdering him, then claiming that alas, he bravely fell in battle against Urfon Ice-Heart and wants me to see through his dream to unite the Orsimer and lead them to whatever. And unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary, I¡¯d really rather kill him in combat before an audience.¡±

    Merry nods, and trips the portcullis. It falls to the ground with an ear-shattering (not literally) clatter. ¡°If we do not find another way out, we can probably simply teleport. Or I can use telekinesis to move some rubble and we can climb out.¡±

    I pull out my communication orb. ¡°This is King Neri.¡± Always important to note which me I¡¯m being at any given moment. ¡°Prepare a force to secure a keep. Make sure you can deal with hags and undead.¡±

    ¡°Or that,¡± Merry says.

    We head in and catch up to the others. Ugly red shrubs are growing out of corpses that look like they were tortured to death. Alinon thinks the best way to deal with the briarhearts is to burn a bunch of corrupted plant things. I¡¯ll take his word at it because I have no idea what¡¯s going on and really don¡¯t want to know. I leave Eran and Eveli to guard Alinon while he works on an elixir to kill the main tree. A real alchemist can do the real alchemy here. Right now, there¡¯s stuff to be hit.

    ¡°Let me know if you need any particularly exotic reagents,¡± I say. ¡°My bag is stocked with ingredients from Valenwood to Coldharbour.¡±

    While the saplings are growing out of single corpses, the central tree is planted in an entire pile of corpses, with more fused into its trunk and limbs. Fruit the color of rotting blood hangs from its branches. It is considerably less flammable than the suckers around the basement. Alinon¡¯s elixir uses some nasty plant I found in Coldharbour one time, and the resulting potent poison shrivels up the hideous thing into a blackened husk.

    Urfon Ice-Heart is past the courtyard with the now-dead tree, in a chilly cellar where I think he¡¯s keeping the supplies on ice. The room is full of ice statues, which he starts shattering when he spots me come in as if trying to intimidate me. He¡¯s far tougher than I seriously expected, his icy winds slowing even me. Merry manages to partially negate the effects and my healing and shielding abilities keep me alive long enough for the fetcher to go down.

    It is, however, a painful reminder that I¡¯m lacking a dedicated healer. Eran and Ilara come out in the worst shape out of that. Normally, Gelur would be making sure they stayed alive as well as me. I can¡¯t focus on healing my group as well as keeping myself alive and killing my enemy. I have a hard enough time just doing two of those. I¡¯ll need to find someone that¡¯s a good fit. (That is, someone who can put up with my insanity and won¡¯t flee or try to get me arrested or something.)

    Once the most dangerous things have been taken care of here, I bring out my orb again and call in some reinforcements to mop up the survivors and claim the keep. The attack force is primarily made up of Wood Orcs who really want to show up their northern cousins, plus a smattering of High Elves, Wood Elves, Khajiit, and Goblins as support.

    With the fort under our control, we raise new banners to let the force that¡¯s still failing at besieging the place know that it¡¯s under new management. Banners for Drublog clan, Malacath, and the Aldmeri Dominion. They¡¯re probably not going to be happy about that last one, but what do I know? They didn¡¯t seem terribly fond of the Daggerfall Covenant as it is.

    I come out onto the battlements and hold up Urfon Ice-Heart¡¯s head on a pike. King Kurog is so shocked he almost drops his chub loon drumstick.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been sitting out here for weeks and you just swoop in and capture the fort in under an hour!?¡± yells a chief whose name I didn¡¯t get.

    I spread my arms wide and cackle. ¡°This is how you take a fucking keep!¡±

    King Kurog is perplexed, not sure whether he should be happy about this development or not. And I¡¯m sure he realizes outright attacking me would go poorly for him.

    I let my forces know what to do with the supplies we found and put them in charge of distributing them. Because there¡¯s no way I¡¯m trusting Kurog to do this. Plus, goodwill to Wood Orcs beats goodwill to this self-absorbed fetcher.

    One of the items the museum was looking for is called Frostbreak Chalice, so I ask if any of my people have seen a fancy cup around and get it located before somebody fences the thing for gold. The note that museum had given about it tells that whenever an Orc clan moves in, they claim the place is haunted and leave. Superstitious Orcs. If there¡¯s actually ghosts here, I have people who can tell them to go away, but I haven¡¯t seen any sign of them. I¡¯ve dealt with a lot of ghosts.

    ¡°These are the stolen supplies?¡± one of the chiefs I¡¯d spoken to before says. ¡°I¡¯m surprised your Wood Orcs aren¡¯t keeping them for themselves.¡±

    ¡°Why would we?¡± asks one of said Wood Orcs. ¡°We¡¯re rich. We got plenty. If these aren¡¯t enough, we can bring in more. Too bad this fort isn¡¯t in a state for a proper feast. Hunt-Queen Grishka brought down a monster that could feed an army and I can¡¯t wait to see what Hearth-Queen Roku does with it.¡±