Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I'm not gonna lie guys, I was thrilled by the response to my pervious story, I, Companion. This is a direct sequel to that work and I encourage any new reader to have a look at it to get a better idea of what will be going on in the next few chapters. As always, I welcome constructive criticism good or bad and will likely incorporate your feedback into the narrative to make the story better. So without further delay here is our hero-being an asshole to a stranger.

Lydia and I arrived in Solitude just in time for the beginning the Burning of King Olaf. It was Solitude's answer to Imperial City's Carnival and the two share several elements: First, the both last for three days. Second, they consist primarily of drinking and partying. Third, they have strong political undertones. The difference being that at Carnival, the Emperor's authority is reinforced; and the Burning is a warning against false kings. Last, they both begin with a beheading. From the talk in the gathered crowd, I learned that that the dead man was the one to allow Ulfric Stormcloak to begin his insurgency. I met with Delphine outside the Bard's College, the focal point of the weekend's festivities.

"You're going to a party," she told me

"Well no shit," I replied. A beer was already in my hand.

"No icebrain. A formal party. The Thalmor are hosting a reception at their embassy and you have an invitation. Get yourself to Radiant Raiment and have some formal clothes cut for yourself. Your housecarl will have to stay behind. No bodyguards or weapons are permitted at the embassy. You're there to search for what they know of the dragons, not pick a fight.

"Uhh, the Thalmor still want me dead."

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at me, "Who's going to recognize you? How many people survived Helgen? Tullius, Ulfric, you, a few soldiers thanking any gods they can think of that they're still alive?"

She had me there, "I'm going to need more than ugly clothes if I'm going to be knocking over an embassy."

"I've already seen to that. Talk to a Bosmer named Malborn at the Winking Skeever. He's an old friend of mine. Give him anything you can't live without and he'll make sure it gets into the embassy."

"Can this Malborn be trusted?"

"He hates the Thalmor even more than I do. His family was killed in one of the 'cleansings' in Valenwood that nobody hears about."

I shuddered. The Thalmor's behavior in Cyrodiil and Skyrim was bad enough. The Knights of the Nine had heard about such Thalmor atrocities in Valenwood and elsewhere. The Thalmor and been serious about cracking down on dissenters right from the beginning and weren't picky about how much damage they did behind their borders.

"I'll talk to him in a few hours then. How much scrutiny will my invitation hold up to?"

"It's a genuine invitation. This party is a gathering of the most important people in Skyrim. It's not uncommon for a wealthy person new to the province to attend and make some desirable acquaintances."

"Do I have a back story they know about?"

"You're on your own there. Whatever you do don't make it too complicated. Look, time's wasting. Meet me at the stables outside of town when you're ready."

I walked away and into the Radiant Raiment: the finest clothier in all of Skyrim. Just ask the two Altmer sisters who owned the place. To be fair, the snobbish and offensive sisters gave me a great deal. Like their slaughterfish cousins they smelled blood in the water when I let it be known what party I was going to. Soon I was dressed for free in the highest Altmer taste: What I thought was an ugly green tunic and breeches combination with gold trimming and still more gold hanging from my neck and fingers. A fox fur was draped over my shoulder and fastened at the neck. To this cart wreck of an outfit I added an amulet of Akatosh, the god who was the patron of my order and universally acceptable. In payment, I was to be sure that anyone at the party I caught admiring my clothing was to be pointed to Radiant Raiment.

For myself I bought an actual toga, not the bed sheet I wore to avoid answering my door naked back at Breezehome. The first layer was a green linen tunic that cut off just above my knees and had long, wide sleeves. Wrapped around this and over my torso and left shoulder was almost ten feet of fine dark blue wool with a yellow hem. All this was held together by a burgundy woven belt. Even the sisters admitted that I looked far more dashing in this simple outfit.

But fashion is fashion and in the Radiant Raiment's most expensive offerings, I met Delphine at the Solitude Stables.

"Well you clean up nice," she said. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded, "Malborn has everything I need. Lydia has everything I don't."

She looked concerned, "Lydia's not going to be following you is she?"

"Not at all, I told her to enjoy the festival."

"You should have a chance too when you get back," Delphine said as I climbed into the back to the carriage to take me to the party.

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the best guy for the job Delphine handed to me. Perhaps it stems from a socially awkward childhood or being raised by a quiet and introverted family, but I find parties of this sort draining at best. More often, I rapidly develop a powerful anxiety. I felt like I wanted to hide when I entered the Thalmor embassy. Instead of following my instinct to tear a hole in the wall and escape I braced myself, remembering that I only needed to keep the act up for a little while. I looked around the warm, well-lit hall. Most of the men wore outfits similar to mine, but mine was clearly of a higher quality.

"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy to Skyrim," an Altmer woman greeted me. "I am Elenwen, Chief of Mission to this...ah, this kingdom."

I bowed to the ambassador, "I am Thane Ieago of Whiterun, madam ambassador. Tell me, what is the Thalmor's role here in Skyrim?" An old standby: get them talking about themselves. It works every time.

"We Thalmor are here in Skyrim to do two things: first to ensure the terms of the White-Gold Concordant are being upheld throughout the Empire. Second, we communicate Alinor's wishes to the Jarls here and 'advise' them on matters of policy. But enough about myself. What brings you here?"

Aela's advice would work well here: tell them nothing they don't need to know. "Well ambassador, I am but recently come to Skyrim. In exchange for a few trifles, I have been made a Thane of Whiterun. One of the leading families there suggested I seek out some desirable acquaintances. So here I am."

Elenwen was about to begin picking apart my cover-she was not a fool-when the bar tender, who I saw was Malborn came to my rescue. "Madam Ambassador?" he said, "We are out of the Tamika Vintage 190. Do I have permission to open the case of Athena Red?"

"I told you not to bother me with such trifles," she snapped at the man. She contorted the evil sneer off her face and looked back to me with an embarrassed smile, "You must excuse me Thane. The duties of a hostess are never done."

Bowing again, I looked around. If I wasn't lying, this would have been the place to make those 'desirable acquaintances.' The guest list was a who's-who of loyalist Skyrim. The wealthiest merchants of the East Empire Company were there. I recognized Jarl Ravencrone and Jarl Elisif beneath their circlets. The youngest of them, Elisif the Fair had her steward attached to her like a shadow. A large Nord in a flashy blue outfit was regaling a group with the politics of the court at Solitude and his low opinion of Jarl Elisif. Periodically he cast his eye over the young Bosmer woman serving drinks as she roamed the crowd.

Talking a snifter of Colovian Brandy, I approached the one other isolated guest, a tall Altmer in dark robes. We exchanged bows and he introduced himself. "You have the honor of addressing Ondolemar, chief of the Justiciary in Skyrim. Bask in it."

"I've never understood the Justiciars' presence here." I said.

"Simply put we enforce the ban on Talos worship, which some the more stubborn Nords refuse to give up. We enforce our enlightenment onto them and destroy those who refuse."

"And the Empire tolerates these extra-judicial arrests?"

"Naturally. The Concordant gives us every power of arrest. We didn't crush you in the Great War for nothing."

I bit back a reply that would have gotten me killed. "Can there ever be a real peace between the Empire and the Dominion?" I asked instead.

"My boy, there is peace now, and that peace will continue only as long as it suits our needs. But make no mistake, this is not a peace forged out of necessity between rival nations of equal strength. It is more like the calm between storms. And the next storm, I think, will be far deadlier than the last."

"Thank you for your insight Justiciar," I said, turning to the buffet line.

"Your Empire is rotting from the inside out. One swift kick will bring it down. No offense," he shot at my back.

While loading my plate I encountered an unexpected face. General Crassus Aslanius Tullius, the Emperor's Imperator in Skyrim. His weather-worn face looked as trapped and frustrated as I felt. "General, it is good to see you in health after the calamity at Helgen." I whispered to him.

"Do I know you?" He asked.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me. I'm that 'renegade' from Cyrodiil you almost executed."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Yes, I remember you, the special arrest the Justiciars were so concerned about. I'm surprised you made it out."

"I was helped by Hadvar. I was hoping you had news of him."

"He rejoined some time ago. I got his report. He speaks highly of you. I wonder how a man of your obvious character came to be wandering the border zone wilderness."

The formidable man saw my tension, "Don't worry. I'm not going to blow your cover. Just keep whatever criminal past you have in the past."

"How does the war go General?"

He paused for a moment. "I should not be saying this to a civilian, but the dice are cast and flying high. Ulfric is not a brilliant general, but he chooses his officers well. I'm fortunate that the people of Skyrim are so divided on the question of succession. If they were to unite behind Ulfric..." He scowled at the crowd in front of us. "And gatherings like these make we want to join him. All of us here to grovel at the feet of the Thalmor." We hid our faces behind our cups and glared out the corners of our eyes at Elenwen as two merchants brown-nosed her.

I swallowed my mouthful of wine. "I would have thought Jarl Elisif would have been heir-apparent in the wake of King Torygg's death," I remarked.

Tullius grumbled under his breath, "Perhaps in the counties back home she would become a countess, but this is a different kingdom with different rules. When the reigning king of Skyrim dies, the Jarls convene a moot and elect a new king or queen from among themselves. Elisif's claim as the widow of Torygg is strong enough to get her elected, especially with the Emperor's support. But if Ulfric has a battalion of soldiers stationed in every city..."

"Then he can intimidate them into voting for him. Making his kingship legitimate and his goal of succession even more so," I finished. Another thought occurred to me, "But if it's a cohort or two in each Stormcloak battalion's place, won't the Jarls and the people of Skyrim see that as intimidation too? The rebellion would continue. With or without Ulfric."

The general nodded, "And there is the Empire's real gamble in Skyrim. No legionary unit bigger than a century is to enter a city without the invitation of the ruling Jarl. We break the military strength of the Stormcloaks and hope the Jarls remember their sense of gratitude."

"Sounds desperate."

"The Emperor is desperate," Tullius almost snapped. "If Skyrim leaves the Empire, the Aldmeri Dominion will have Cyrodiil beneath the yoke for a thousand years."

We stood in grim silence for a minute, staring at our gobbets. "General Tullius!" a sweet voice broke our spell from behind me. I turned and bowed to the diminutive Elisif the Fair. She had slipped her steward's leash for a few minutes. "You're monopolizing the best-dressed man here!"

"The owners of the Radiant Raiment would be glad to have your business, Jarl Elisif," I replied, a smile growing on my face in spite of myself.

Our talk was cautious: Discussing my more public achievements in Whiterun; Tullius' campaign; who to avoid if I should ever visit the Blue Palace. Eventually, the young Jarl drifted away to schmooze with a merchant from the East Empire Company, leaving the General and I alone again.

Tullius pointed with his glass, "See Thane Erikur? That drunk in the blue outfit?" I nodded, "There's going to be a scene when that letch makes a pass on the serving girl and she cuts him off," Tullius told me. "If you need a distraction for something; that will be your best opportunity."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, sir," I said as I turned to grab a pastry. I moved to Malborn's bar to watch Erikur get shot down.

General Tullius was spot on in his forecast. The commotion erupting from the center of the room drew everyone's attention. Even Tullius pretended to take notice. "Now's our chance." I whispered to Malborn.

The two of us made our way back through the kitchens. I was identified as a guest feeling ill to the other staff. Malborn brought us to a pantry where he had stashed my armor, magicka saber, and backpack. He shut and locked the door to the embassy back rooms behind me.

A quick non-sequitur: I dusted off my copy of Oblivion recently to compare/contrast it with Skyrim (it has aged gracefully). But I was struck by how much subtext in that older game foreshadows the events leading up to Skyrim: Hang out long enough and NPCs will have several things to say about social and religious unrest in Alinor.