"That could have gone better" said Pythian.

"Ya don't say?" said Aeoden.

"You had to try the spell tome, didn't you?"

"It did get two thirds of them."

Pythian made a look disapproval.

"Alright, half of them."

"There were eight."

"Still…" the Mer said defensively.

"Eight. There were EIGHT. It was the simplest job we ever had. 'Clear the skeevers from the tower' he said, ' and I'll give you 50 septims a piece,' he said..."

"There aren't anymore skeevers in the tower…" Aeoden jutted in.

"Yes, well now there isn't a tower, and the skeevers are in the town. Not to mention our current predicament…" Pythian rattled his chains "Courtesy of none other than the greatest mage in all of Tamriel."

"Well, if it weren't for the fastest warrior in all of Nirn with his silent Ebony Mail," Aeoden joshed "... we could have been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

"Alright. Enough bickering. Any ideas?"

Pythian looked up to see that Aeoden was half done welding his shackles off. "What were you saying?" he said with a smirk.

Pythian looked around. They were in Hjaalmarch, not three leagues from the Labyrinthian. The cogs in his head turned, and then, he got an idea.

"Aeoden."

"No. Whatever it is, no."

"I…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, you filthy mutt" said Aeoden with a horrified look on his face.

"...have a plan."

"Here we go again," the mer sighed. "You know, the last time you had a plan, we ended up in that skooma den run by vampires over in Riften."

"On the count of three, paralyze the driver."

"You're not serious, are you?"

"One…"

"Do we really have to do this?"

"Two…"

"This better work," he said, reluctantly consenting.

"Three."

Aeoden shot the spell at the driver, knocking him paralyzed onto the road. The guards in the carriage behind leaped rushed forward towards the now pilotless carriage. Pythian leaped into the seat, grabbing the reins and, with perhaps a bit too much gusto, yelled "Hyeah!" whipping the reins. The wagon shot off like a skeever chased by a frostbite spider, or, in other words, all over the place and a bit too fast. Aeoden lurched back at the acceleration, barely catching himself. He decided to breath a sigh of relief. This hair-brained scheme might not kill us. Yet.

That moment of tranquility was shattered by the Imperial riders darting towards them. Thinking fast, he reached into his pocket and pulled out…a Charus egg. "Wrong pocket." he mumbled. Quickly replacing the egg, he threw a small vial of invisibility potion at the horses. It hit a log, shattering. Now, horses, unintroduced to invisibility, didn't know that invisible things tended to ripple slightly. So, none of them noticed it. Logically, one of the horses proceeded to trip over the log, and the other, unsure if anymore mysterious disappearing logs were ahead, stopped so quickly that it managed to throw its rider of his saddle, into a puddle of muck.

"I don't think we'll have a problem with pursuers from this point," said Aeoden, quite proud of his handiwork. "What?" said Pythian. "Did I miss something?" "No. Nevermind, it's not important." said Aeoden glumly. "Alright then. Forward unto the Labyrinthian!" shouted Pythian, apparently in his daze about being the High King. Or maybe it was the Emperor this time. Aeoden couldn't decide.

Suddenly, the name of the location sunk into Aeoden. "Wait, what? Where do you say we were going?" "Why, the Labyrinthian, of course." Pythian said, obviously very confident in his decision. "Why, there it is right now." He said, pointing up the hill. "Do you have any conceivable notion of what horrors lie within that cursed place?!"yelled Aeoden. "Frost trolls," said Pythian in a tone of blissful ignorance. "Why?"

"Nords," mumbled Aeoden with special contempt.