Disclaimer: I do not own Morrowind or any of the Bethesda products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

If anyone has any questions on the story please feel free to ask.

A-A-A

It was early morning when Dorvame Heran shook him awake. Athlar stood up, wincing as pain shot through his back. Luckily Dorvame caught him before he could fall, concern etched on her features, "are you okay?"

"Fine, must have been the way I slept," he straightened up slowly, easing the ache out of his muscles, "think you could help me out?"

With some difficulty he climbed onto the raised stone ramp that served the silt strider and looked at the city before him, trying to remember what Nuccius had said.

Balmora-the City of Stone to use its full name-was the second largest settlement in Vvardenfell. It was a major trading site that served as the base for the Great House Hlaalu, one of the ancient ruling families of Morrowind and the local 'bigwigs' of this region. The design of the houses was unfamiliar to him, rectangular two-story buildings carved from stone. The roofs were flat, the walls punctured with windows of dark green glass. Cobbled stones, rough-cut slabs and grass-covered earth lined the routes between the buildings. To his right the river Odai flowed through the town, hemmed in by a stone canal crossed by a pair of bridges. It was an impressive site.

Nuccius had said the city was divided into three sections. The Commercial District was to the left of where he stood and was occupied by the city merchants. Directly behind this was the High Town which housed the noble families, town administrators and the temple. Finally there was Labour Town where the commoners lived and which should be to the right of where he stood. It was to the latter that he needed to go.

"One last thing, can you direct me to the South Wall Corner Club?"

Dorvame gestured to her right, "cross the closest bridge, go under the first archway and the club is on your right. Be careful though, that area attracts all sorts of riff-raff, if you get my meaning."

Athlar nodded and descended the steps.

A-A-A

The South Wall Corner Club was in the most south-eastern corner of the city. The building had a run-down look about it. Its few windows were smeared with thick dust, the lower walls caked in green moss and the sign hanging by the entrance looked in need of repair.

Not exactly where I'd expect to find an imperial official, that's for sure. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The interior was darker than it had looked from the outside, the feeble light from a few torches doing little to illuminate the place. Two figures in the far corner looked up at his approach. One of them, a woman dressed in a robe of brown wool, moved towards him.

"Good day traveller, can we help you?"

She's oddly inquisitive. Usually the clientele of these places didn't bother with each other's business. Then he noticed that the second person, a ginger coloured Khajit in chitin armour, was watching him closely. He remembered Dorvame's warning and his hand drifted to the pommel of his sword.

"I'm looking for a man named Caius Cosades."

The woman's suspicious expression was replaced by one of surprise, "Cosades! What could you want with him?"

Athlar shrugged, "personal business. Do you know where he is?"

"Can't help you, but speak to Bacola Closcius. I'm sure he'll know where to find the old grouch."

"Bacola Closcius?"

"The patron of this bar, you'll find him upstairs in his room."

"Thank you."

He mounted the stairs at a light jog and knocked on the first door he came to. After a moment it was opened by a broad shouldered Imperial with balding red hair.

"Are you Bacola Closcius?"

The man studied him warily, "that I am. What do you want with me? Have you come to sample some of our fine wares? We've had a new cask of flin in this morning."

"Another time perhaps, I'm looking for a man called Caius Cosades and I'm told you know where to find him."

"What, the old sugar-tooth?"

Athlar rolled his eyes. A bloody skooma addict-that's all I need!

"Apparently yes, look all I know is I've been told to look for him and that I'm to ask here."

"Told to look for him?" Closcius frowned, "mind if I ask why you need to see him?"

"Private business, that's all I can say. Can you tell me where to find him?"

After a moment's hesitation Closcius nodded, "I suppose so. Leave here by the door-that's the ground floor door, not the one at the top of this stairway-turn right and go up the stairway. Then turn left and go to the houses at the end of the path. It's the one on the right."

"Thanks."

A-A-A

Athlar rapped impatiently on the heavy door. He waited for several minutes before knocking with more force whilst shouting "open up, I have a delivery for you!"

A minute later there came the sound of bolts being drawn back and a key being turned. The door opened and an old man looked out, glanced round nervously and smiled. "Delivery for me, are you sure? I'm just an old sugar tooth, nobody loves me." A look of misery came over his face and his eyes began to tear up.

Oh gods! "Look are you Caius Cosades, I've got a package for you!" he began fumbling around in his bag.

"Oh goody, please come in," he gestured and Athlar followed him inside.

The room was well lit and spartanly furnished. A table was set against the far wall with a wicker chair drawn up against it. To the left of this stood a small bedside table, a single bed, a large wooden chest underneath a wall-mounted shelf and a bench to the left of the door. A potted plant on the table provided the only splash of colour. Underneath the bed lay the unmistakable shape of a skooma pipe. Hmm…maybe with a bit of luck I can manipulate this idiot into getting me released. Worth a shot. He turned to face his host.

The man was an Imperial, probably in his fifties; about five foot ten in height with a finely chiselled face and rapidly receding white wore simple black trousers and leather shoes but was otherwise naked. He seemed to be in good shape for a skooma addict, but the idiotic grin and the haunted look in his eyes were unmistakable.

"So whassa package matey? More of the stuff hey?" his expression became hopeful, "whossit from?"

"Search me, someone named Glabrio Bellienus. I just want outta here, so take the damn package and I'll be on my way."

At the mention of that name the old man's expression changed. Snatching the package he placed it on the table and sliced it open with a knife. Tipping out the contents, a large stash of moon sugar, he pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read.

"Well if you'll excuse me there is somewhere else I'd like to be," Athlar moved to the door, namely get off this damned rock. Never mind what the Templar had said, if he could get passage on a ship by tomorrow morning he might just stand a chance of slipping the net. Vvardenfell might be small but Tamriel was another matter.

"Just a moment." The Imperial's demeanour had changed completely. He now looked alert and thoughtful. For a second Athlar considered leaving anyway but decided to wait. What's another minute?

"Well now, this is interesting. So you're Athlar Corraithe?"

"Yes."

"I see-well I won't detain you. Do you have any gold?"

"Just thirty septims," now Athlar was getting irritated, what business was it of his?

"Good, that'll do fine. I want you to rent a room in one of the inns round here. It's up to you which one but personally I'd recommend the Eight Plates, pretty nice place. Don't go to the Council Club, they don't like outlander's there and I doubt your charm would go down well. Get something to eat; Divines know you look like you need it. Come back first thing tomorrow morning and we'll discuss you're situation further. Understood?"

"Perfectly, I'll see you tomorrow." On a cold day in hell!

He opened the door, only to be called back again.

"One more thing, I hope that you are not entertaining any notions of running off?"

"The thought never crossed my mind."

The man studied him for a second, "that's good because if you leave unannounced I will know and the local authorities will be informed. I can assure you that you will not get very far. Now have a good night."

Athlar gave him a glare that would have curdled milk but the old man had already turned his back.

A-A-A

Athlar didn't have much of a plan, right now the best he could figure was to get back to Seyda Neen and get the information he needed as quickly as possible. Seyda Neen could not be the only port on Vvardenfell and even if the alarm were sounded it would take time for word of his disappearance to spread. If he could get a ship to the mainland by tomorrow he would have a good head start and once ashore he'd just have to take his chances. But better that than be forced to play manservant to an addict. He'd eluded the authorities many times before, he would do so again.

He mounted the steps to the silt strider.

A-A-A

Several hours later Athlar left Arille's Trade House with a smug smile. This was going to be easier than he thought.

The main port on this island-Ebonheart-was only a few hours travel from here and, according to Arrille, a ship was leaving for the mainland in the morning. If he moved quickly he should be able to catch it. Nineteen gold septims would be just enough for a one-way passage and if it wasn't then he'd just have to think of something else. One way or the other I'm getting off this damned island.

He'd just crossed the bridge and moved past the last cottage when something struck him across the back of the head. The ground rushed to meet him and the world faded away.

A-A-A

Pain, that's what he could feel-a dull throbbing in what after a certain amount of thought he remembered as being his head. Divines above what the hell was I drinking last night? Groggily he reached up to feel the back of his head, wincing when his fingers brushed over a lump.

"I see you're awake, jolly good. Sorry about the lump but I did warn you."

"What…one of those damned guards again was it Jiub." The number of times he'd been tempted to throttle the fetchers with his chains!

But when he opened his eyes he saw that he was not chained up in the hold of a ship, but lying on a bed in a torch-lit room. His cloak, bag and weapons were missing but he still wore his armour. Groggily he forced himself into a sitting position.

Caius Cosades sat facing him in the wicker chair, wearing an expression that hung somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "I told you I would know if you tried to run off Mr Corraithe. Still you didn't strike me as the type to take orders."

"It's been said I have a problem with authority." Athlar tried to inject some acid into his tone but his headache made it difficult.

Caius nodded, "You will have to do something about that, I will brook no insubordination or sloppiness from those who work for me. I do feel some sympathy for your situation but do not imagine that I will allow it to cloud my judgement."

"I never thought you…" then the words hit him. "What do you mean work for you? I don't work for you!"

"Then you have not been well informed. What were you told about the delivery?"

Athlar related all that Gravius had told him and what his letter had contained.

"So you were aware then that you would be required to serve me in some capacity."

"So what if I was, I have no desire to serve the Empire, it never did anything for me save take away twenty years of my life," and more besides.

"You're desires are irrelevant to me Mr Corraithe, only the facts matter here and they are as follows. You are, or were, a prisoner condemned for crimes that warranted the death penalty and yet you were spared this fate. After a stay in prison you have been granted a reprieve, and a generous one at that. Service to the Empire seems a small to pray considering your alternatives."

Athlar gave a derisive snort, "it was Imperial justice that put me in that hellhole in the first place so that hardly counts! I'll not serve you or any other damned imperial dog!"

Now Caius narrowed his eyes and his expression became stern, "then you will be returned to that hellhole of which you fondly speak. There is no way out of this for you."

"I see, well in that case…" and without warning Athlar swung for the old man.

Caius tilted his head to the side, the punch whistling past his ear. An uppercut caught Athlar in the jaw and knocked him onto the bed. With a snarl Athlar sprang to his feet. Caius caught the next punch, twisted sideways and tipped him forwards. Propelled by both his lunge and the other's throw Athlar want face-first into the wall. He hit the floor next, blood filling his mouth.

Caius stood over him, hands on hips, "have you finished?"

Now Athlar was really angry. Jumping back to his feet he lunged again, wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and they crashed against the table.

"Why you!" Caius slammed an elbow into his assailant's head, followed by a fist to the side of the throat below the jawline. Half stunned by the blow Athlar staggered backwards and Caius swept his right foot upwards in a roundhouse kick the head. For the second time that day Athlar blacked out.

TBC.

OOC: Finally up and running, apologies for the delay. Please read and review.