Asylum 2: Rescue

by Evil Is Relative

When he became Sheogorath after the Oblivion Crisis, Rommy assumed his family was dead. Now, thirty years after the Great War and with the Dragonborn, Telki, by his side, he finally has a chance to find the last of his descendants-and the lost Septim Heir. The only problem is infiltrating the Thalmor to get to him, and protecting Telki from the madness he can never quite contain.

2. Chapter 2

"What is he doing here?" Ulfric's hard gaze had settled on Rommy, and it was not a happy one. Still standing in the door to the war room, Rommy looked none too happy himself, matching the Nord glare for glare.

"Oh boy," Telki talked fast. "He's looking for information on Tyr. He's the other reason I'm here." Ulfric was closing in on Rommy, and she was pretty sure it wasn't for a hug. Rommy being Rommy, he wasn't backing away, either.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's half the reason Tyr isn't here!" Ulfric swung; Rommy leaned back just enough that it didn't connect. It didn't faze Ulfric, who just adjusted his attack. He quickly jabbed a leg behind Rommy's to overbalance him and attempted to catch him across his windpipe with his return swing. The Imperial grabbed his arm instead, using the larger man's own momentum to bring them both crashing to the floor. Ulfric's weight sent him tumbling far enough away to allow Rommy to roll back to his feet. Ulfric was already standing, waiting for him. "Tyrlief would be alive, if you had just joined us as we asked, as he'd asked."

Startlement crossed Rommy's face. "Is that what you think?" he blurted, staring. "You're even more stupid than I thought the first time."

"Rommy! Not how you talk to someone you need a favor from!" Telki reminded him.

Ulfric's laugh made Telki shiver: The bitterness in it was enough to turn her hair. "And why, why would I help a man unwilling to help his own cousin?" Those frigid eyes burned into Rommy. "You have skill, is it the will you lack?"

Rolling his eyes at the man, Rommy replied, "I refused to join the Legion, it's not like I left him dangling off a cliff. I do have other things to attend to, and you all were just in training." Considering the Nord, he added, "Of course, I wasn't counting on some glory-hungry moron running himself-and his company-right into a Thalmor trap. Must be how the Imperials caught you the second time. Never do learn, do you?"

Ulfric became still as stone, considering Rommy where he stood.

"FUS...RO DAH!" The shout rolled heavy and strong across the room, rattling Telki and knocking Mercutio and Erandur to the ground, sending Gideon to his knees, and cracking the stone of the wall. "I learned that."

Rommy slid back a few paces across the stone floor, a ward flicking momentarily before shattering. Lowering arms he'd thrown across his face, his amber eyes glared at Ulfric, who shook off his surprise. Up to now, the only people he'd seen withstand the thu'um were his teachers, Tyr, and Telki. However, it did make Rommy stumble, and that's all the opening he needed. He laid into Rommy with his strongest right hook.

The Daedra slapped his hand against Ulfric's forearm, changing the trajectory of the blow to miss his face, his other hand coming under Ulfric's arm to deliver a quick jab to his solar plexus, right below the sternum. The blow winded Ulfric, but between years of conditioning and his thick armor, it wasn't incapacitating. He was fairly miffed he hadn't landed a blow yet. Ulfric changed his grip, shifted his center, and threw his opponent, putting his height and weight to good use.

Walls were, as a rule, not soft. Rommy was sharply reminded of that when Ulfric threw him into one. Sliding down a bit to make it look as if the blow had winded him more than it had-and if he were still human, he'd be in deep trouble-Rommy gasped, pulling in the air the impact had forced out of him. "Nords," he spat, literally, "Always bludgeoning their way through things without stopping to think."

"For a man without the will to join the Legion, you fight like a daedra." Ulfric sank down the opposite wall. Apparently that jab, or jab plus hefting a man nearly his own weight, was more than the abused rib could take.

"I used to fight for a living, moron, to put food on the table. Someone at least had to give over the idea of glory," Rommy snapped.

"I'm not….I don't...it was never about glory." Ulfric hissed through gritted teeth. His rib was on fire. He'd probably have to have it healed. And really? The man made his living fighting, but couldn't fight to save his country? Ulfric couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"Now if you two are done?" Telki was tapping her foot again. She was also digging out one of her potions. If she didn't make Ulfric chug it, the idiot would probably wait to have it seen only after it punctured a lung.

"I wouldn't mind hitting him a bit more," the Imperial confessed, crouching against the wall and watching Ulfric warily.

"What was it you said about Nords just now?" Telki asked, "I think it applies to you, too. Pot, meet kettle!" Ulfric's look of surprise as he got his first taste of Sober Mead was all Telki could have hoped. Maybe he'd keep quiet long enough now to get some sense in him.

"I don't bludgeon, thank you very much. Usually, I don't even need to hit, I just enjoy it." That he had just proved her point crossed his mind, but he shrugged it off. At least when he hit there was generally thought behind it.

"Tell that to his rib," she replied tartly.

Ulfric was already breathing easier, examining Rommy anew. "Explain to me why you could risk your life daily to make ends meet, but couldn't risk it to fight the Thalmor. I do not understand." So much for the mead keeping him quiet.

"I can't just go haring off for long stretches of time; I have things that need attending," Romulus muttered sullenly, looking away. Saints and Seducers, he had no idea what state the Isles would be in if he even left for a full month.

"He can't leave his lands unattended. There's no one else to leave them with if something happened to him," Telki added helpfully.

"You were granted lands from your fighting? You were that good? Damned impressive." Ulfric hitched up against the wall. "Now I don't feel so bad about you putting me on my ass."

"Any time," Rommy offered with complete sincerity, causing Ulfric to outright laugh. The Mad God lifted an eyebrow.

"By the Nine, now there's two of you? I may never find my dignity again." Ulfric hefted the mead bottle again. It was good stuff.

"Isn't that the Sober Mead Sam hates so much?" Rommy asked, wondering what the man was on about, since he apparently wasn't getting drunk. He hadn't hit his head at some point, had he?

"Yes," Telki looked between the two.

"It's delicious, I was thirsty, and I've never felt better." He hadn't, in fact, felt this well since before the Thalmor caught him.

"Oh, good. Maybe you'll answer some questions with your brain instead of your fist or your army for a bit," he muttered. "What in Oblivion did you mean, that Tyr might be alive if I had gone with you?"

Ulfric closed his eyes in remembered pain, and laid his head back against the wall. "Because it was easier to bear than thinking he'd still be alive if I had let him follow you instead."

Completely floored, Rommy could only stare at him for a long moment. "Well, this was obviously a waste of time," he finally managed, rising to his feet and dusting his hands off on his trousers. "You don't know a thing."

Telki looked between them. Obviously, both men were missing the point. "Rommy did a kin spell. Tyr's alive, but he can't pinpoint where. We can get him back, but we need to know where he is."

Ulfric was on his feet in a trice. "He's alive? You're sure of it?"

"There is a distinct reason I don't look any older than the last time you saw me, and that's mostly because I'm damned good at what I do," Rommy reminded him. "I'll prove it if you like."

"Down boy. If you were all that and a wheel of cheese, we wouldn't be here asking for his resources. Diplomacy, learn it." Telki swatted his shoulder.

"If the Thalmor weren't also damned good at magic, and mucking about with forces they really, really shouldn't be touching, I'd know to an elle where he is," Rommy grumbled. "Whatever they do to their prisoners, it warps their soul ties to Aetherius and the life energies. Probably because those same energies are being siphoned off for something."

Ulfric felt cold. "Did they do this warping to me? Could you tell if they did?" Rommy and Telki exchanged a look, and he added, "If comparing me to my cousin Yrsarald will allow you to account for it, I'll allow you to study us. If not…" Ulfric allowed a vicious grin to spread across his face. "There are ways around their magic, and I have them."

"Oh?" Rommy asked, interest caught. He'd save telling him about the effects later. Or perhaps he'd tell Telki. She was probably able to sense it on some level anyway, if she had True Sight clear enough to see spell weavings.

The jarl chuckled. "When one becomes too reliant on magic for everything, they tend to overlook the simple, ordinary things." His eyes narrowed. "And everyone always overlooks the low peoples: servants, carters,…slaves."

"What was it you were saying about pots and kettles, Love?" Rommy asked. "Didn't this man ignore an entire subset of his population for three decades?"

"Another one, Telki?" Ulfric chuckled.

"You know me, can't resist a smart aleck to save my soul." Telki shoved Rommy, "And yes, you two are more alike than you're comfortable admitting, so shush."

"You mean he's secretly dashing and insane?" Rommy enquired.

"Dang, that's two more," Telki snickered.

"As to studying you…" Looking the jarl over carefully, Rommy tilted his head. "It might actually help. You'll need to bleed though," he added, with just a hint of relish.

Ulfric chuckled again. "I expected no less." He side eyed Romulus. "Though I think you mistook me. I know the name and tale of every soul in my castle. I do not think even Balgruuf can claim the same, and he is the closest the Imperials could ever claim to a Nord. I spoke as one who had been under the Thalmor thumb." Shadowed memories crossed Ulfric's face, but he did not elaborate. Instead, he pulled out his knife. "Can you do this here, or will you need equipment?"

"I need a small, clean cup for your blood, preferably silver or glass, and I need you to sit first," Rommy answered. Glancing at Telki, he added, "You too."

Telki raised an eyebrow. "Okay?" She fumbled in her bag. "I think...no, not that, maybe this? Will this do?" She pulled out a small silver dagger and matching cup. "Some stuff I have to collect is...persnickety."

"This is your influence, isn't it?" he asked Mercutio, pointing to the pieces of silver.

"No, actually, Wuunferth gave that to her, after clearing his name." Mercutio grinned. "I thought his face would crack when he smiled at her."

Snickering, he pulled out a chair and ironically gestured for Ulfric to sit before pulling a second out for Telki, this time handing her into it like a proper lady. "Ulfric, I need you to do something you probably haven't bothered to do since puberty: I need you to do that thing the Greybeards showed you. The one with all the breathing. Please do not Shout again if you can help it."

"Meditate?" Ulfric nodded. "As you will."

Romulus watched him critically for a moment, biting back a retort when the man was actually able to slip back into that restful state with relative ease. Now was not the time to goad him. Unfortunately. "Telki, I need you to relax. Breathe deep and concentrate on that. You're not quite going to meditate, but I need you not far off. Close your eyes, and focus like you're about to work out a difficult spell."

"Mmmkay," Telki folded herself comfortably in the chair, her feet tucked in their usual manner, and quietly asked. "What do you want me to use as a focus?"

He thought a moment. What would this look like to someone that had never seen the world differently? "The auras you normally see around people? I'm going to need you to examine Ulfric's. I need to you look for anything out of the ordinary, anything that doesn't fit with him as you know him. This is something that was put on him from outside himself, against his will. It won't 'feel' like him." Glancing at the other men, he added, "I'm going to want anything you three sense, as well."

Telki slowly opened her eyes, and looked at Ulfric, trying to make sense of his aura. The magic around him slowly resolved itself into magical flows, but trying to follow the threads quickly lost her. No, not threads, music. She allowed her vision to adjust again, and saw the melodies, harmonies, and countermelodies wrapped around Ulfric. There was a definite dischord, and she meant to track it down. Where was the sour note hiding?

Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, Rommy leaned down, "borrowing" her senses. "Surprised this isn't all marching tunes, honestly," he murmured in her ear.

"I told you he was a complex man. Did you know he studied with the Bards for a bit? He thought I didn't know." she whispered back.

"There!" he caught a hint of dissonance. "That tritone…" he hummed the three notes for her.

She shivered. If pure evil had a form in music, that would be it. "Ugh, how can the Thalmor stand themselves?"

"One man's noise…" he started, then instinctively "switched" her senses back to Sight; Seeing, as well as Hearing, the various parts. Finding the part she focused on, he reached out and put a mental tag on it. "Alright, Ulfie, you can open your eyes now." Rising, he regarded the peanut gallery. "What were you three able to get out of that?"

"Something nasty is attached to him, like a leech, only it's feeding back to something else. It's not Daedric, but it's definitely an affront to the Aedra," offered Erandur. He shuddered, not wanting to think what had to be done to put it there.

Telki's brow furrowed; she followed a trail, a forgotten counterpoint that trailed off into the aether...and got smacked back. She flinched in her chair. "There's more. Ulfric, it's still viable. If the Thalmor got their hands on you, hell, if an operative got close enough. Ulf, I think they could, I think, um…"

"They could play you like she does her lute," Rommy interjected bluntly.

Ulfric sat there. He had to, he remembered well enough what he'd done when she first showed him that dossier, and he did not want a repeat. Strangely enough, the meditation gave him the calm to think it through, and bleed the roiling anger away before he did something he regretted. He cleared the last of the fog with a deep breath before speaking. "Can it be removed?"

"Well, since Telki just accidentally alerted whoever the other end is attached to, it's probably best that it is," Romulus replied, leaning against the table. "I can take it off, but can you put up with it for a few more minutes? And let us use one of your maps?"

"If it brings Tyrlief home, of course." Ulfric closed his eyes, guilt gnawing at him.

"Tyrlief, his name is actually Tyrlief?" Gideon's eyebrows drew up.

"Don't look at me, I had nothing to do with naming him," Rommy assured him quickly.

"That's especial why?" Telki wanted to know. She was already gathering counters for the map spread on the war table. Rubbery knees would just have to manage it. All the men seem preoccupied with talking instead of doing.

"It translates to Divine Successor," Gideon said, and Erandur nodded sharply.

"Oh cool: Bring on the Ebonheart Revival." Telki was weighing down the corners of the maps. So far she had a dagger at one corner, a cup at another, and someone's wristguards holding down the last two.

"What?" Ulfric turned to her, eyebrows high and eyes wide. She remembered seeing that face once before, when Galmar got him in the back of the head with a blunt practice blade.

"Ummmm." Telki grinned sheepishly at him. "Surprise?"

Groaning, Rommy hid his face in his hands. "Sweetheart, if you could not air the family laundry in front of everyone, that would be lovely."

"Pfft, everyone being Ulfric? Now who's giving him a big head?"

"Nords are born with big heads. Murril uses their helmets for flowerpots," he said, quickly developing a headache. Giving Ulfric a measuring look that should, really, make the man nervous, he added, "Well, you were wondering where the true leaders of your Empire were."

Ulfric shook his head. "Obviously not leading. Why was he, no, I know why he was hidden. The damned jackals would have tried to kill him. Would he take the throne?"

"What does it matter? I thought you wanted out of the Empire?" he jeered, leaning over the map and shaking his head. "We need a bigger one. Not just Skyrim, all of Tamriel. Kind of like the thought processes that should be happening."

Telki reached under the table, and pulled out one labeled "Tamriel" and boinked Rommy's head with it. "Tone down the snark. He's honestly trying to help."

Laying the map on the table, he weighed down the corners, then glanced up at Ulfric. "I need your blood for this part."

"You have it." Ulfric held out his arm, unflinching.

Meeting the challenge in the man's gaze, Rommy flicked his own to Telki. "May I have that silver set, please?"

"Rommy, you know I'll be very disappointed if he's permanently damaged, right?" She handed the set over. "Behave yourself, at least mostly. Please."

"Mostly it is," he replied with a smirk, guiding Ulfric's arm down so that his hand balanced on the edge of the cup. "Open your fist please, I don't need to slice your arm up. That really might kill you." Ulfric's fist opened, presenting his palm, which the mage wasted no time drawing a shallow cut across, tipping the small knife to ooze blood out a moment. "Do you want a scar or should I heal that for you?" he asked the Nord absently, he attention already elsewhere.

"Either is fine. If I have not proven my mettle by now, it cannot be done."

"I could transmute you into pewter, if you want," Rommy offered, but only healed the man's palm, lifting the silver cup and swirling the contents as if he were examining a wine he wasn't sure had gone rancid or not.

Ulfric only answered with a chuckle. "You are truly a match for Telki, puns and all."

"Merc, I heard you like lightning; come over here," Rommy called, still in that absent-minded state as he examined the blood.

"What am I lighting up?" Mercutio asked. He'd been enjoying the floor show, and worried that now he'd been called into things, further entertainment might be over. Erandur and he had been placing bets between them, mostly for bragging rights.

"Hold this, and send some weak sparks through it. Do not, whatever you do, let up. If I take too long and you start to run out of magicka, call Erandur over, but it must be constantly charged," he stressed. "Can you do that?"

"Have magicka potions, can charge it." Mercutio held up the emergency magicka rations Telki insisted he keep on hand and took the cup of blood with the other. "But yes, I'll call Erandur for backup if necessary. Uh, where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to focus on something else and it's far easier to do that and not regulate electric current," Romulus replied, sounding just a bit testy. "If that line goes where I think it might, I don't want to draw more attention than we already have."

"Gotcha" Mercutio nodded. "Just tell me when to start."

"What can I do to help?" Gideon was certainly starting to feel out of place.

Momentarily distracted, Rommy glanced up. "Hmm? Oh. Well, if anything eldritch and skeletal pops into the room, do kill it please. That would be very helpful."

A wide grin of pure delight spread across Gideon's face. "My absolute pleasure." He whirled his hammer and reholstered it.

"Romulus," Ulfric called softly. "Good luck."

"If I relied on luck I'd be dead, Jarl," Rommy said grimly, lifting his hands and making a small series of gestures over the cup. He closed his eyes to hide their glowing. He was pulling entirely on his Daedric side for this-no mortal, even an accomplished flesh mage or necromancer, could do what he was about to do. Oh, they could find their kin, or kin of whoever's blood they had used, but an entire, unrelated garrison? That was a bit more complex, and took more power.

Telki chewed a claw, watching his hair go white while casting. She hadn't a hope in Oblivion of Ulfric not noticing, so she would have to find a way to not-lie out of it. Vaguely mention mages often change their apparent age on a whim?

Thinking through all the various little parts of what he was doing, some part in the back of his mind relaxed. This was what he loved to do, really. This kind of spell-weaving, piecing bits and pieces together to create something new...of course, most couldn't add life elements to it, and most didn't have to work around some other Power noticing their meddling, and there were a lot of elements in this...how many men had Ulfric had under him anyway? Each one was a variable, a piece of the spell. Focusing on the "feel" of the marker in Ulfric's aura, he made that the finishing piece, the one that tied it all together, and released the spell.

Opening his eyes, he placed a hand over Merc's, shutting off the shock spell. Ulfric's blood rose out of the glass, a floating ball of crimson with an oil-like sheen hovering in the air like a soap bubble. Guiding it with a hand, he ushered it over to the map, where it fell and puddled on the small marker of Windhelm.

"Unbelievable." Erandur sounded awed. Gideon's face had a look of unease, as if he wasn't sure what to think, and Mercutio looked like he'd just found the master of his dreams. Rommy was probably in for a lot of pestering. Ulfric...Ulfric was watching the map, waiting to see what his blood would reveal about Tyrlief's fate. Telki hoped for his sake it would be good news.

The puddle shivered when Rommy nudged it. It peaked upward, then formed into a tiny, perfect golem. The miniature man walked out of the remains of the puddle, which formed a small, coin-sized relief of a face. Ulfric's face. Before their eyes, it shifted to another's, then another's. "Some of your original garrison join the Stormcloaks?" Rommy asked, glancing up at him through the white strands of his hair.

"Of course," Ulfric answered. "You think I would have started any of this, if my own men wouldn't follow me?"

Raising an eyebrow, Rommy simply said, "You really don't want me to answer that."

"Then you really do not understand me or my motives. Just as I clearly do not understand yours, yet." Ulfric nodded to the map. "But I hope to learn."

The tiny, man-shaped bit of blood wandered the map, crossing Skyrim to place a bit of himself here, a bit there, each time growing smaller and leaving a changeling face behind. When it got to the northern coast, it paused, then walked South and West, into High Rock, leaving a few more markers, and a single drop in Hammerfell. Two more were left in Cyrodiil, a larger one in the Imperial City. Half the size it had been when it started, it crossed to the Summerset Isles, where it fell, the rest of it puddling into a circle the size of Telki's palm over the southern part of the main island and several smaller landmasses off the coast.

"No. Gods no." Not even Rommy could mistake the naked pain in Ulfric's voice.

The bit of blood began to change into face after face, every one of them open in a silent scream.

"I'll call Odahviing, and Parthurnaax can probably get me in touch with a couple others…" Telki was already making a plan. No way in Aetherius would she leave them there a moment longer.

Rommy was examining all the faces, "Tyr must be in the Isles," he said flatly. "I don't recognize him from any of the others." His glowing eyes regarded the still-changing bit of blood. "Good gods, how many people have they done this to?"

"It looks like every prisoner they could get their hands on."

"That is still a large area to search." Gideon gauging distance by the map legend. "We need a more precise way to find them."

Rommy tapped the map where the multitude of screaming faces lay. The paper shivered, and he frowned. "Do you have some candles you wouldn't mind sacrificing?"

"Help yourself." Ulfric was still not recovered. So many faces he recognized. So many of them he'd been led to believe were dead. Damned Thalmor.

Four fat tallow candles soon became a topographical map of the Summerset Isles, the faces speared through by a tower surrounded by what looked to be overgrown orchards, just off the Southern coast. "Telki?"

"Hmm?" Telki turned to Rommy and the odd look on his face.

"Remember when you asked me about Elswyre?"

"The moonsugared pirate bakery raids?"

"Yeah, those. We have one way in. Honestly, though…" he waved his hand at the map, bringing a series of nearly blinding colored lights in some places. "Damned, but those elves can shield. Oh, hey. I found the Psijics. Whoops."

"Ooh, I want to leave a thank-you basket with them. One was very helpful with the Ancano problem."

"Let me find a way to...uh...knock first. Those shields would incinerate you," he grimaced at the thought. Glancing down at the faces he flinched, hand reaching out like a viper to tap the image, freezing it on one particular face, frowning slightly.

"Rommy, what is it?"

"Tyrlief! He lives!" There was Ulfric. "I know that expression well. It was the face he made before we charged enemy lines."

"As long as he doesn't charge before we get there...crap. We need to know more," Rommy complained, running his hand through his hair. It was slowly turning brown again.

"Seriously, Rommy. I know a guy. Lemme knock on the Psijics and we'll get information. Maybe not much else, but that's what the dragons are for. Please?" Telki felt like she had most of the big pieces in place already. She'd let the guys fine tune the rest. After a moment's more of study, she queried, "Rommy, are those the actual shields, I mean, how they're actually constructed?"

"Yes, why...oh. Oh!" Whirling her around, he kissed her soundly, then grinned down into her face, "You brilliant woman! Please, go ahead. I can shield you from right here if they take it amiss."

Ulfric's eyebrows rose: That far along already ? He wondered precisely how he would manage to have that 'talk' with Rommy. He wasn't used to having to intimidate someone that could knock him on his butt. At least Gideon pretended for tradition's sake. Telki said there may have also been a touch of hero worship on the younger man's part.

Telki let herself fall into that place that turned the flows of magic into music. She allowed herself to be awed by the complex harmonies, melodies, and countermelodies apparent in the Psijics shield. Finally, she found an appropriate string. It was ridiculously close to begin with, a touch here, and tweak there, and her favorite knock was now part of the shield, playing in tune with the rest. She gave it five minutes before they got a visitor.

"All done. Shave and a haircut, two bits!" She sank down into the convenient chair. She was tired. Apparently, getting into and out of those shields took more energy than she thought. Ulfric silently passed her the mead. She took a swig.

Feeling as if he were about to burst from conflicting emotions, Rommy shared a look with Telki's other Boys, wondering if they knew the significance of what she had just managed. Mercutio snickered. Erandur gave him a supportive smile, and Gideon reminded him. "I told you, we've rather gotten used to the impossible on a fairly daily basis. Welcome to the club."

"As if I wasn't crazy before," Rommy muttered, sinking down to wait next to Telki. There were too many thoughts going through his head. He wasn't sure he could deal with them all here. Reaching up silently, he grasped Telki's hand, the roots of his hair showing white again.

Following her hand, she leaned into his comfortable shoulder. "I love you, you know." There he went smelling all sconey again.

"Telki, is there some news you need to share?" Ulfric harrumphed at her.

"Oh um, yes? There's some 'I'm adding Rommy to my husbands' sort of news?" Telki looked up at him sheepishly.

"And you were going to tell me when?" Ulfric kept his poker face, but just barely. It wasn't often he could make the Dragonborn fidget. He tamped down harder, but he could still feel the corner of his mouth lift slightly.

"Am I getting a rebel father-figure-in-law or something, because no one told me that," Rommy glanced from one to the other suspiciously.

"Kinda? Should I mention the bugbearish uncle?"

After a very long pause, Rommy shrugged. "I'm bunking him with the Duke."

Telki turned to stare at Rommy. "Something tells me I'm glad I didn't quite catch that." The questioning looks on the others clearly indicated they missed a step, too. Ulfric was raising a brow at him.

Giving the jarl an ironic look, the Daedra changed the subject entirely. "Well, Pa, want me to get that tag off you?"

"I would be in your debt."

"For future reference, that is terrible phrasing," Rommy cautioned, hopping up and circling Ulfric, not quite like a shark but not like one of his butterflies either. Examining the link minutely, he reached out with his magic and pinched it, like a stint, then with a quick, precise jab of magic, severed it, watching the long end snap back into the ether, while the part still attached to Ulfric seemed to grope for its missing piece a moment, then withered as he watched, the dead pieces falling into the rest of the man's aura. He wrinkled his nose a bit, disgusted.

Ulfric slumped in his chair, limbs loose and his face a decidedly greenish hue. He recovered himself somewhat, and sat up as if with a revelation. "That hurt, but no….it is as if a constant pressure behind my eyes is gone. I thank you, Romulus."

Startled, Rommy flushed a moment, eyes wide, before glancing around bashfully, "Oh, look, an illusion of a pinched faced Psijic." The face hovered briefly over the map, turning this way and that until its eyes fell on Telki. There was a slight motion, as if the Altmer had sighed, and the illusion vanished.

Money silently changed hands between Mercutio and Erandur, the latter grinning while the former sighed. The breath had barely left his mouth when the room seemed to spin and stretch, the lighting changing to a strange, eerie tone. A mote of light split to become several that coalesced into a wary, hawk-faced Altmer with flat yellow eyes and heavily embroidered robes. "What can I do for you, Arch-Mage?" he asked, then looked up and jumped when he saw Rommy. "What are-uh…" At the man's lifted eyebrow, the Altmer swallowed, "How can we help you, Champion?"

"Quaranir! How are you, shug?" The Psijic's face turned a very bright shade of orange as Telki enveloped him in a bearhug. "It's good to see you, think you could help us again?"

"This is not the College, Arch-Mage," Quaranir said, glancing around. "I can't imagine what assistance I could ren-" he paused, eyes falling on the map.

"Nope, this is where we needed to be to track some people down. We need information about this area." Telki gestured at the place with the grove and tower.

"That's…" he hesitated, glancing at Rommy again. "A very old Altmer family resides there. It is said their matron helped defend Tamriel from Daedric invasion, long ago. Their current occupations are not so virtuous."

"No kiddin', if they're doing blood magic. What can you tell us to help us get in there and kick their Thalmor loving butt?" Telki raised hopeful eyes. "In fact, we'd love to get the Thalmor off your doorstep. That'd be a good thing, right?"

Quaranir sighed, scratching his cheek nervously. "That is not my decision to make, Arch-Mage, but if you plan to attack this place…" he turned to her, his gaze sober. "I beg of you, do not."

"Do not? Do not what? They're doing blood magic, hurting people, and the Thalmor want to return us all to primordial goo. Why 'do not'? Explain it to me, please." Telki's agitation was growing. She liked Quaranir, but having to pull information out of him always felt so bloody arduous. Why the people with information were always so reluctant to share, she'd never understand.

"Lord Faloniril is...the family has always produced capable mages, but he has found ways to extend his own magic far beyond what it should be."

"Oh my god, the blood magic. He's augmenting his magic from the prisoners. Hey, he thumped me!" Telki's mind was whirling.

"There-there're worse rumors," Quaranir admitted with a sigh.

"Tell me, please." Telki braced herself.

"There are a group of Thalmor that...play around with bloodlines. They kidnap Altmer children born outside the Isles and turn them into spies, even...even arrange pairings between…" the poor man looked like he was going to faint, going pale yellow before blushing orange again.

"Quaranir, perhaps I'm missing something, but everything you've told me is more reason to stop these bastards, rather than let them keep doing what they're doing. Either give me enough information to make a plan with a chance in Oblivion of working, or tell me what they've got that can stop a flight of dragons and a very determined Dragonborn and present company."

The elf's shoulders slumped. "They have a very particular kind of army, Arch-Mage, and though I think yours would decimate them, I do not think you are the kind of person who would slaughter her way through a guard of brain-washed children."

"Then tell me how to get passed the brainwashed children: schematics, sewer tunnels, passwords, something. Or tell me the name of a person that can tell me."

"If I knew them I would assuredly tell you," he said, sounding and looking quite distressed. "These are only rumors, of course. Nothing that could smear the good Lord Faloniril's name. The only thing I can tell you for certain is that he has one of the best Weapons Masters in Alinor, a man named Talon who coordinates his defences, and who you should most definitely avoid at all costs."

"Quaranir, I'm sitting with two Nords and two Imps with chips on their shoulders the size of Tiber Septim's Empire. You may have just signed that poor Mer's death warrant." Telki was rubbing her forehead. "You've actually given us a bit to think about, and I think I have enough circumstantial evidence to confirm the blood magic, the augmented magic, and…" Telki's eyes got wide. "Charge into battle, oh Mother of mercy." Telki turned to Rommy. "What would make a man determined to walk through fire backwards no matter the cost?" she asked urgently.

"Depends on the man. For Tyr, I'd said someone he cared about," he narrowed his eyes, wondering what feather of thought she was chasing.

"And we know there's a rumor they...plan pairs for the sole sake of making the perfect spy." Telki gulped, "How do you feel about an Altmer in the family, Dearling?"

"Selective breeding is no strange occurrence for the Altmer," Quaranir confirmed, nodding and looking curiously from her to Rommy before belatedly recalling who the latter was.

For his part, Rommy was staring at Telki like his world had just dropped open again. "He...he'd never be part of that. Not willingly. Not unless they tricked him," he glanced at Ulfric for confirmation.

"Tricks are their forte. They made me believe half my unit was dead because of me, that I was why the Tower fell. With this much time, they could have convinced him Daedra were Aedra and the sky was green." Ulfric's hands were tightly fisted on the table in front of him, his eyes never leaving the screaming visages of the men he unwittingly left behind. He would get them out. He had to get them out.

"Ulfric, were there women locked in with you? Were there convincing ways to move people in and out of the cells often enough that they could mix in the spies without suspicion?" Romulus asked numbly.

"The prisoners were all mixed together, and we were moved fairly often, never told why. Sometimes it was to clean the cells, sometimes for experiments, trials, the list is endless. Eventually, one quit asking why and just moved as you were told. Even with trying to stay together, some of us were separated." His voice was the flat monotone of one stuck in a time past that had taught him that even his strength wasn't enough.

"Telki...what if they knew who he was?" Romulus breathed, horrified. He leaned against the wall, gulping air as he stared at nothing.

"Honey, he's your family. His own stubbornness and ability would have pointed him out as desirable." Telki rubbed his arms, trying to catch his eye, and get him to breath with her. "And we're going to get him out. I promise you. Hook, crook or sideways, we're getting them all out. The Thalmor just signed their own execution papers." Telki turned her own brand of stubborn on the Psijic. "If I have to call in every favor owed me in this life and the next, they're going down. Now, tell me, who do I need to find to get in there sneaky like?"

Yellow eyes darted nervously between her and Rommy. "Well...I can think of two ways…"

"Gimme, please and thank you." Telki made grabby hands again.

"Well...their matron...she's not been seen in public much since before the War. Since around the Oblivion Crisis, or just after, actually. Rumor has it she's finally letting time get to her mind."

"That's, startlingly suspicious. How have they gotten away with it?" Telki slid her eyes to Rommy. "If the latter is true, that might be more help than we thought."

"Ah, yes...I, ah, thought it would be," he said. "The other way…" glancing around at the others, he shrugged, face bright orange once more. "Give them something they'll find interesting enough to bring in." His eyes lit on Gideon, "Or someone. If you can convince the prisoners that help is coming, you'll have an army of your own."

"Quaranir, I swear, you did that on purpose. You know paladins have all the sense of lemmings." Telki huffed. It was no use. The seed had been planted and found fertile soil in Gideon's mind. Hang it all.

"Forgive me, Arch-Mage, but the Aedra-Blessed man is a perfect example of what an Altmer thinks a Nord should be. Physically, anyway. For your sake and his I hope he is not a textbook example of what they think one should be mentally."

"Would I be married to a Khajiit, an Imperial, and a Dunmer if I were?" Gideon smirked at the Altmer. "Would I be able to wield Shor's blessed hammer?"

"Frankly, sir, you wouldn't be able to cobble together a full sentence, so I'd say you're far ahead of the curve," the Psijic said, folding his hands in his sleeves.

Wincing, Rommy reached up and rubbed his head. It ached from strain, and his eyes kept being drawn back to the screaming forms flickering across the golem. There were so many, Tyr hadn't even shown up again yet. Had the man really fallen for a Thalmor spy? What would he do when he discovered what she was? Would that be the thing that broke him after nearly thirty long years in a prison camp? Oh, gods, what if there was a child? As much as Rommy loved children, as much as he wanted to stay grounded to Nirn, he didn't know what he would do if he had new descendants from this. Given the information they had already, the children would probably already be indoctrinated into the Thalmor, perhaps even adults in the Thalmor. He might be forced to kill his own descendants, or risk them killing others.

"Hey, you still with me?" Worried purple eyes were giving him the once over, noticing the furrowed brow and the pinched eyes. "We'll get there, and we'll deal with what we find the best way we can."

He shrugged, his mind obviously only half on what she was saying. "Telki, what if there are children? What if Tyr has children?"

"Then we rescue them, and undo whatever damage those binty crows did to them."

Shaking his head violently, Rommy gave her an anguished look. "How can we expect a bunch of prisoners to fight their way out through their own children? They might all have them by now. Even if they're not spies, they're almost assuredly hostages against their good behavior."

"Hmm, is brainwashing a sort of madness? Or what is it?"

"It's not madness, it's a learned behavior. Some fanatics are mad, but not even they all count."

"Could we find a place to let them heal slowly? Reteach them?" Telki wondered aloud, thinking through the possibilities. "How many do you think there are? I know elves don't procreate as quickly as humans do, but I've no way to guess if we're talking mixed heritage? I mean, I have places like Sky Haven if we need something like a halfway house."

"I think we need a bit more dependable information. Afterall, he gave us two ways in, did he not?" Erandur's eyes were solidly on Rommy, willing him to catch his meaning.

Without a word, Rommy reached over and creaked open a window, vanishing in a swarm of butterflies and out the crack before Ulfric could raise his face from the map.

Ulfric looked up, puzzled. "Where did Romulus go?"

"He needed a bit of fresh air. He'll be back soon," Telki managed. "I hope."

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Hi, people! I love this chapter. Funky magic stuff always makes me happy. As does overt snark, and writing Rommy in general.

So, thank you everyone that read! I hope you're enjoying this!

Wynni: I think I might have a problem putting my characters through angst if this is my therapy verse. ^^;

Icicles: Thank you so much! I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last one!

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Next chapter: Working out how to infiltrate Alinor.

Dragon Kin update: Next chapter should be out before the end of the month. I just need to edit.