Alright, I had got this idea a rather long time ago but I never acted on it because I had been writing other things as well. But oh well—here it is. Hope you like the thought. Please review, I'd like to know what you think.

-+-

Summitmist Manor.

It had lived up to its expectations as far as I could tell. I stood upon the street parallel to it and with ample eyes I gazed upon the magnificence which pierced the sky and ascended to the heavens of the Nine. My body was tilting backwards just to get a good eye of the place. Elegant and gargantuan were the windows that peered down at me with a twinkle in their pane. The limestone packed together with such precision I hadn't thought anyone could have done a better job. Not ever the Emperor himself! As I strode up to the doors I held within my hands two items. One was a pack of the necessities that would be needed for this contest and the other was the letter granting me to take the place of my sister, Dovesi Dran, who had inconveniently fallen ill. I am her sister, Valora Dran; practically her twin. When I had arrived at her home to care for her, she had given me a key to a manor named 'Summitmist' she had told me that she had been randomly selected for a contest whose prize were riches untold.

Perhaps it was a sisterly link; nevertheless, I had promised I would take her place within the manor and if I were to find the treasure I would split it equally with her. I had truly hoped that I might indeed win to afford the expensive ointments and potions that would heal my sister. It was not the time of year that one had wanted to contract a disease of any sort. I had digressed and moved to the doorstep. I presented myself to the Nordic doorman and I had give to him the note from my dear kinfolk. Just as I had rehearsed, I flew through my speech. I told him precisely who I was, where I had come from, and under what conditions I had received this letter. I was fluent; however, by the look of it the attention-span of the elder Nord was a short one. He had taken one glance at the letter and then hoisted open the door for me. "... Well then, milady, I hope you enjoy your stay. After entering you will be unable to leave the manor until the contest is well over with. I do hope you have packed all that you need. It seems you're the fourth guest to arrive. I'll just let you in now; best of luck to you!"

I had humbly curtseyed before him and then entered through the manor doors escaping the draft of the afternoon streets. Just as soon as I had entered, the door had shut and locked behind me. It was an unnerving gesture, but I was certain it was just a precaution. My eyes turned upwards and I found myself with a loss of breath. The manor was just as exquisite within as it was without. I was overcome by the warmth of a fireplace and the smell of cinnamon as well as the aroma of freshly baked Sweetrolls. As I inhaled deeply the angelic scent I could practically see it waltzing through the thickened atmosphere. It pranced up the stairs which were placed just against the wall coming up in the shape of a dark 'V' hidden behind a wall of granite and banisters. With my bags gripped tightly within my hands I had glided up the stairs and rounded them to see a rather large second floor. Within the middle was a table and sure enough, there upon the surface was a plate of Sweetrolls. My stomach had been tempted and let off a yearning growl; however, I had ignored it. Hunched over the table was a heft looking Nord. Within his grasp was the handle of a tankard which I had assumed carried his alcohol for the morning. Beside him sat a weary and stern looking Redguard whose face wasn't the least bit moved by the Nords crude jokes or vulgar language. His fingertips tapped across the tankard he had which held water or possibly a soothing wine. Besides him sat a rather old woman. Her face wrinkled from the passing years and her grey eyes seemed almost frozen as she turned her eyes towards me.

She sneered.

Perhaps her eyesight was not very well and she wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes to just get a good look at the Dunmer who stood many feet away—no, I don't think that was the case. Those condemnatory eyes rolled away from me and I attempted to ignore such a rude gesture. I stepped forward and the second guest to notice me was the Nord. He seemed to turn white upon seeing me as if I had reminded him of something from his drunken past. He placed down that tankard and shifted his eyes to me. "Well look 'ere! The fourth guest! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," after this his speech began to slur like a ship rocking in the ocean. His hand had wrapped once again around the metal handle of his drink and he hoisted it to me as if proposing a toast in my name. "The name's Nels the Naughty."

My brow perched, "... Nels the Naughty?"

He chuckled and lowered his head. The shine from his cheeks gave off the sense that he was almost proud of that name. He tossed his eyes back up to me and cleared his throat before speaking, "Its 'long story. I'll explain it to ye later if I have the time." The Nord turned his eyes to a side and motioned to the Redguard, "This is Neville, he's a retired guard."

"I'm a retired soldier," corrected the Redguard who tossed his shady impatient eyes to the drunken Nord, "how 'bout you get your facts straight before you begin preaching them?"

Nels the Naughty swatted away the correction with a deep chuckle soon offering his hand to the old woman. "This old wench is Matilde. That's about the extent that I know."

The old woman puffed up with pursed lips. She grumbled below her breath and for a moment I had expected her rage to explode from her lips and a fight to begin. She seemed like a cynical old Breton and that was when I had begun threading my thoughts together as to who would be most likely to find the prize hidden within these manor walls. The Nord would be easiest to persuade—for I knew he'd be drunk half the time. The Redguard... Neville was it? He, too, would be of good use. I sheltered a compassionate smile as I had bowed my head humbly and presented them with my name, "... I'm Valora Dran from Vvardenfell; it's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Vvardenfell?" Neville had questioned with a lowered brow, "... you came a long way to partake in this contest. They must have sent you the letter a month or two before we received ours."

"Actually, it was my sister who had gotten the letter." My lips involuntarily fell as I had told my fellow guests, "She had recently fallen ill, so here I am to take her place." The Nord and Redguard both held sorrowful scowls upon their faces as they looked at me. Perhaps, pity was the way to their hearts. I held a hopeful smile as I had continued, "but don't let that discourage you. I'm sure we had all come for personal reasons."

I gave a short glance to the Breton to see her; unmoved. She was taking petite bites from one of the freshly baked sweetrolls upon the tableside. I might as well have said I was the incarnate of Mehrunes Dagon. Her façade would not have changed a bit. My lips turned downwards and that was when I had felt a hand pat my shoulder. My eyes broke from the Breton and from my skin I had nearly leapt. I whipped my head about to see the gargantuan form of Nels the Naughty hovering over me. He had a rather affable grin creasing his paled lips as he had told me in his guttural voice, "Come, I'll show you about this place. I've already had my share of exploring it."

Skeptic, but polite; I had agreed to his offer and away he had whisked me. Just as I had turned my back I felt those judgmental grey eyes for the hair upon the back of my neck stood upon end. I ignored it and carried on. Past the rough exterior and the rather repelling name—the Nord wasn't all that bad. He showed me about the place; open-minded and rather respectfully. From the looks of it I was the youngest guest and he had treated me as if I might have been his own daughter. His jokes were innocent around me; he watched his language as well. As he led me down a corridor in the basement I began to realize that my first impression of him began to dwindle into nothing before the kindliness and comforting atmosphere he had presented around me. He stopped in a subdivision of the basement and he had curled his hands into fists and placed them against his hips. I stopped a short ways behind him and looked about this rather small area. The walls bore nothing and it had seemed if there might have been something important about this area, but the owner of the manor had taken it out before allowing us, guests, to enter. I turned my eyes to Nels and saw the frown he brandished. I questioned what was the matter and he turned to me and openly showed me his frown, "... when I first came down here I had thought this might have been where the treasure would be. It seems fitting. But there's nothing here. This place... this entire room just seems so..."

"... so unnerving?" I had easily added after I could tell his mind was not producing the word that he wanted to use.

He repeated me and nodded. With a shrug of his shoulders he turned and led me out of the room. I lingered a moment after him, giving the granite walls a good glance. It was rather chilled down here and as my new Nordic friend had departed, it had appeared that my security had left with him. This certain room had sent unnerving chills across my spine. I turned hastily knowing I could no longer be burdened with this sense of trepidation and I had followed Nels out of the basement.

After a moment or so, he had led me up two stories to the bedchambers. He opened a door and showed me the chamber that he would be sharing with Neville. As he had drawn open the door and given me a sort of grin I had felt curious as to why he'd be showing me the place where he'd be sleeping. I giggled delicately to myself and then watched as Nels had turned and closed the door and then opened the one adjacent to it. The room was darker and quite smaller then the other and that was when he had told me what I had feared; "This will be the room you'll have... sharing it with that prude old wench."

I laughed at it and quickly quieted myself. Nels had chuckled as well smiling sweetly at me. I sighed heavily and walked into the room soon placing my bag beside the wall. Only at nightfall would I recognize which bed would be mine. For Matilde would more or likely push it into the corner of the room to make certain we would not be associated at all. Yet again had I pushed her from my mind as I had mumbled, "... I'm looking forward to sharing a room with that racist hag—" I tossed my eyes to Nels with a frown, "... excuse my insults."

He laughed at shook his head, "I don't mind it. Hey, if she don't like me then I don't like 'er. I think she'll just make this contest rather unbearable, that's my opinion."

After agreeing, Nels had led me downstairs just in time for dinner. We were required to fix our own meals from the food that was held down within the basement. I found this to be a problem, for I had never learned to cook from my mother. We had a maid and butler who had fashioned us our meals. I watched as Nels sat down before the fireplace mixing a sort of stew. The aroma overwhelmed me and my stomach snarled. I seized it swiftly as if it might as well leap from my stomach. Nels had smiled and fashioned myself a bowl. He presented it to me and by the fire we sat slurping our stew and conversing. Just as I was to question Nels about the recipe, I heard the jingle of knobs. My head cranked to a side and the door had opened revealing the fifth guest.

From the cold and rain from the outside world came a rather well-dressed Imperial. He stood erect with his arms folded behind him. An Argonian maid had bustled in next to him and placed down his baggage which included only one grand suitcase. It made a loud clamor against the rugs and as I strained my eyes I could hardly make out, etched within the gold of the suitcase, P.A. My brow lowered exceedingly and my first impression of him was one not to boast about. I heard Nels mumble lightly under his breath, "... why would a man like him need to be a part of this contest?"

It was a rhetorical question; and I had agreed. By the looks of his fine attire and the maid and suitcase he had to be a wealthy Imperial man who came from an equally wealthy family. His golden hair glistened in the firelight and his face turned tanned in the dimness. For a moment he had stood there and finally, from the side of his eyes, he had realized that two of his competitors were sitting comfortably by the fire. His face lit up and he made his way over to us introducing himself as Primo Antonius. I had heard the name before when I had stopped during my travels to Skingrad to rest within a tavern. From what I had acknowledged, his family was a large estate owning kinfolk who made their wealth in trade. Nels had introduced himself and then me as if I had no voice at all. I had realized quickly that Nels enjoyed speaking and I allowed him to say what he must about me.

"... this is Valora Dran, very nice young girl. Don't you go trying to charm her now—I've already gotten an alliance with her."

I had been claimed? I laughed at the thought and turned my eyes upward to the wealthy young Primo who stood adjacent to me. The firelight tossed a shadow across his face, but even from the dimness I could see those piercing blue eyes on me. My cheeks faded to a gleaming violet as we continued to hold a gaze; or maybe that heat upon my face was caused by the fire that was just before me—I digress. Primo had given me a nod and whispered lightly as if he hadn't wanted Nels to hear him, "... pleasure."

I gave a nod back. "Pleasure is mine." He hadn't looked that much older then me. Possibly in his early twenties. At this point, I had been certain that he and I would be the youngest of the bunch. But that wasn't always a disadvantage.

Primo had left to meet the other guests as well as to find himself a bed. I turned back to Nels and thanked him once again for the stew he had prepared for me. It wasn't too long from then that the Nord had grown a yearning in his gut for his ale and grog. He had disappeared in a blur up the steps and left me alone by the fireside. I didn't hold a grudge against him for leaving me. I knew his urges for alcohol were serious. Afterall, he was a Nord.

It was stereotypical, but I had never met a Nord who hadn't loved mead and getting tragically drunk. I smiled through the fire and flames of the hearth and deep within the embers I was captivated. I thought of Morrowind and my family there. I thought of how my sister was depending on me to win this contest so I might aid her to her full health. I couldn't imagine returning with at least a few Septims in my pocket. My eyes narrowed exceedingly as I thought of the consequences and disappointment that would follow if I returned to Morrowind with nothing more then what I had left with. Oh, the shame I would feel. My heart cascaded deep within the pit of my chest and I heaved a sigh as I heard Matilde's voice shatter through my concentration;

"The sixth guest has finally arrived! Well, it's about time! Do you know how long we've been waiting? It's seems like an age! Whoever invited us here must at least know us, don't you think? In any event we're all stuck here together, so we might as well get acquainted."

My heart sped beneath my chest as I had heard the old hag speak. My head cranked and blinded from the brightness of the fireplace, I had stared over at the door for more then a minute. Colors finally became tangible and shapes had formed before me. There, standing in front of the door, was indeed the last guest. To my surprise, it had been a man! The clothes of the man had finally formed from the dimness of the room and his attire had been one of higher standards compared to the other guests—besides young Primo, that is. I eyed him easily seeing the rainfall that had covered his being. His hands moved furiously as he had wiped down his drenched tanned flesh that had been exposed to the tears of nature. He hunched for a moment then became aware of that eager old hag who had approached him. His disposition towards her was quite kind compared to my own as I had just recalled myself calling her a hag.

His lips coiled upwards into an amiable grin and he had bowed his head towards Matilde as if she had been more significant then him! I watched as her shoulders shrugged in and I could immediately tell that her cheeks were rosy from the flattering gesture. He mumbled something to her and she had given off a hearty laugh that sounded to me like nails across a blackboard. She swiped her hand at him and mumbled something back off at him soon turning and aiming her wrinkled rigid finger up at the floorboards of the second story. Just at that gesture, I heard Nels making his way across the floor. His laughter was strident and I had smiled effortlessly as I heard him and the retired Legion soldier carry off into one of their many disputes. I turned my eyes back to Matilde who had pointed at Primo who had satisfied himself with a book from the shelf and then she turned to me. As her eyes had met mine there was a spark between us—we both sensed it, I knew. She hesitated for a moment before breathing my name—my cursed Dunmer name. Painted upon her visage I saw a plastered smile as her lips had flapped to the letters of my name.

I tore my eyes from Matilde and glanced to the sixth guest. After giving a look around, he had turned his eyes to me. He smiled that harmless and rather compassionate through the dimness of the room and hastily he had turned back to Matilde with eager eyes as she had told him something while patting him upon the shoulder. He had bid that wench goodbye and hastily she shuffled off with her head held high. I rolled my eyes as I knew that gesture he gave her from before had only inflated that ego of hers. I turned back to the fire and hastily I had lifted my spoon and shoveled a bite of the stew into my mouth. I swallowed and sat back giving the fire my whole concentration as I had done before. Alas, I had kept one of my senses tuned to reality as I had heard my Nord friend burst out with a brilliant laugh, "So here we all are!" said he and I turned my eyes from the fire to look up to the floorboards of the second floor. "... it must have been storming rather well just before you came. Come, sit and share a tankard of mead with me!"

"Is that all you ever think about? Perhaps you should start thinking about the chest of gold," I heard a displeased Neville mumble off.

Nels laughed heartily and lightly I had heard the soft patter of mead against the innards of a metal cup. He poured two glasses. "Tonight is a night for introductions! Does the Legion lapdog not know what its like to have some fun? Loosen up!"

"Fun?" Neville had sounded offended, "This entire contest seems queer to me. I'll loosen up when I'm certain of this place."

A third voice had called off and I knew it wasn't that of Primo for he had secluded himself in a corner with a book nestled in his hands. It must have been the sixth guest, I was certain of it.

"Oh, come now," he had said. His voice was that of an angel. It was rich and Colovian accented and possibly the sweetest I had heard. It sent chills down my spine and forced every tensed muscle to relax. "Indeed it might seem queer and rather suspicious all together—but we are all here and there's no way out besides finding that chest. Good luck to you, men. May the best win the grandest of the prizes!"

"Here, Here!" Nels called out.

It was silent for a moment and I had only pondered what this scene might have looked like. A skeptic Neville hunched over a table looking warily at a tankard of mead while the sixth guest and Nels clanked together their drinks heartily with arms embracing each other's necks. I had smiled and then came the voice of the Legion solider, "... yes, I suppose... you're right."

Laughter had ensued and time had slipped from them and even I as I sat separated from the rest. I sat alone. My skirts were heated by the hearth and I had placed down my empty bowl upon the vacant seat neighboring me and with that gesture I had rocked backwards and then propelled myself to my feet. My eyelids felt heavy as if weighed by lead and the weight of the sands of time. I could only imagine what time it might be. Later then what I had usually been allowed to stay up past. I skipped the two or three steps and rounded to the stairs and just before I had turned I had glanced back to Primo. Hardened was his face and his fingers were agile as he had flipped the pages of a book. It had almost appeared as if his own fate was etched into the parchment of the tome. I lifted my head and with it my voice as I called out to him, "... Goodnight, Primo."

His eyes leapt from the words and he had bid the same to me with a faint smile soon returning to his read. Surely, he must think of me just the way he thinks of the rest of the guests. We are but commoners to such a regal person. Nevertheless, he was polite enough to bid me goodnight. If it were the hag—yes, I think that was what I would refer to her as; brilliant thought, Valora—I am certain Primo would have dismissed her with a regal sneer and a wave of his regal hand. I twittered at the thought and leisurely I had climbed the stairs to the second floor. As I glanced round the corner, just before ascending the second flight of stairs to the bedchambers, I had pondered the thought of bidding goodnight. My insecurity had burdened me and I thought of all the men merely looking at me. Would they think me as childish for wishing them a goodnight—surely it would remind them of a little daughter kissing her father goodnight before heading off to bed. Maybe, I would just slip...

"... Valora, don't you tell me you're heading to bed this early!" Nels' thunderous voice carried through the limestone stairwell and nearly had it burst my ears.

Curses, my plan had been foiled. I heaved a sigh and shut my eyes for a second allowing that time to rest before turning about and heading out into the open where all eyes were upon me. It was a rather uncomfortable state to be in. "It's been a long trip and I am sorry to disappoint, my friend, but I must retire to bed."

Matilde, who had been sitting at the same table as the men— far from Nels, mind you — had given me a look of despair. Oh, pity that, hag! Woe is you, for when you retire to bed you shall sleep by my side! The beds had been picked, how unfortunate! I glanced to Nels who had nodded frantically almost to the point where his forehead had slammed against the rim of his tankard. "Indeed, indeed..." his head spun about and he smiled eccentrically at the sixth guest, "... she came from Vvardenfell! All this way for a little contest!"

"Had she now?" the guest glanced towards me and I had immediately established a gaze with him. It had easily rivaled that of Primo and I. "I had come from Morrowind, myself. Indeed, I'm not a true local—but I had moved there some years back for occupational reasons."

My brow perched. "Oh?" My eyes tossed over his face and absorbed every detail. Every curve, every dimple, every feature that one might observe. He appeared as an Imperial, not quite middle-aged yet not as young as dear Primo. He had the loveliest of grey eyes situated just below two straight eyebrows that were lowered to some extent. He had a certain... flair... a flair that would captivate many and leave all a victim. It was in his face mostly, his sharp chiseled face. His chiseled handsome face. My heart childishly fluttered and I had calmed it with a smile.

"Indeed," he nodded while lifting his glass to examine how much was left. Satisfied with the amount, he placed down the drink and crossed his arms upon the table. "Luckily, I had just moved back to Cyrodiil in time for this contest. I had lost most of my riches transporting myself and my goods to my new home—hopefully this contest will pay its rewards generously so I might..." he paused and his coiled lips pursed. His face lit up and I could tell he had been searching for the words, "so I might pay off any unlikely debt I might still hold. You know; as I think of it—I had never introduced myself properly to you, apologies." He had chuckled while lifting a hand to caress back a few raven strands of hair from his face and back into his oiled hair. From his chair he had lifted and turned to me stepping a few feet closer.

With each click of his heels against the floor I had felt that fleeting smile broaden over my lips. He offered his hand and with a pause I had taken it. He shifted my hand within his grasp and lightly he held upon the end of my indigo long fingers. They rested against his coarse palm as he had bowed gracefully and sighed off his name, "Arthur Maupassant...—you must be Valora Dran, then, hmm?"

With a nod, I had given my answer. I curtseyed respectfully and beamed at him, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"No need for the formal designation," he chuckled deeply, "Arthur will do just fine."

Arthur... I had whispered off; Arthur. What a lovely Colovian name for a lovely Colovian man. His etiquette was that of a first class citizen and yet he had addressed us, commoners, and even showed us hospitality and compassion that a simple Brother or Sister of a Chapel might exercise. It was refreshing to meet such a nice crowd of people—excluding Matilde. I bid them goodnight once again and with a last glance to Arthur—who had been watching me—fondly, I do hope!—I had journeyed up the stairs and found my room soon pacing to the bed, undressing, situating the sheets and slipping beneath. I had been skeptic of this place just as Neville was, but after these last few hours I had found myself in good company. These next few days would be a splendid experience, I just knew they would be—and with that final thought I slipped into a slumber; waiting eagerly for the new day!

-+-

Loredas, Day One

I arrived at the manor. Farnir had made certain I had the correct thoughts before entering the manor. We share the same Mother; afterall, it was only wise to bear his words of advice. But there is something amiss, he said; something wrong. One of the guests had exchanged their place with a relative. No matter... the contract would be fulfilled either way. I do believe these next few days would be a... a splendid experience. I say goodnight to you—dear reader—for it is nearly past dawn, and tomorrow we start the hunt for the "treasure", the greedy bastards have no thoughts besides satisfying themselves. What a week this shall be. Watch as I wear a masque of lies, once again, my friends. Watch closely now. Watch closely.

Read and Review! I do hope you liked it...