Chapter Four: The Warrens (Sundas, 24th of Last Seed)

Eltrys was already waiting at the shrine when Glenys arrived at midnight. He paced nervously at the foot of the stone statue and seemed relieved when he saw her.

"Margret was from Cyrodiil," Glenys explained, getting right to business. "I found her journal in her room at the inn, and it appears she was some sort of agent for the Empire. She was here by order of General Tullius to investigate the Silver-Bloods and Markarth Treasury House in order to procure Cidhna Mine for the Imperials in whatever way necessary."

"What on Nirn could that have to do with the Forsworn?" Eltrys wondered aloud.

Glenys shrugged.

"Thonar Silver-Blood has his hands in everything else in the city. Perhaps he has something to do with this as well," Eltrys commented. "Anything else? Do you know how Weylin is involved? Do you think the two things are even connected?" the man pressed.

"No idea," she answered. "I haven't looked into him yet. I started with Margret since I am staying at the inn as well, and I didn't want to ask too many questions in one day. Everyone in this city is already suspicious toward me."

Eltrys nodded. "The people of Markarth are not generally fond of outsiders."

Glenys let out a small grunt of agreement. "I've noticed," she muttered.


The next morning as Glenys left the Silver-Blood Inn, she was approached by a rather unfriendly looking guard.

"I've heard you've been snooping around into matters that are none of your concern," he stated. "We don't take kindly to outsiders putting their noses into our business, and if it continues, we will have a problem. Understood?"

She simply nodded and watched as the guard walked away. If she knew what was good for her, Glenys would pack up and leave Markarth. She was garnering negative attention. That was never good, and it definitely went against the family's plan. They were supposed to blend in, avoid unecessary attention, and hopefully avoid being detected by the Thalmor.

But, much like her siblings, Glenys didn't always act as was best for her. Stubborness was a family trait, and she was too far into this now. She needed to see it through. The citizens of Markarth were the way they were because they didn't trust anyone, and how could they ever trust anyone if the people in charge were putting them in danger just to increase their own wealth? From what she had discovered so far, it looked like something like that was exactly what was going on in the city. She still had no idea what the Forsworn had to do with the Silver-Blood family. In actuality, Weylin could've just been making a random killing for the Forsworn to send a message, and it was just a coincidence that the victim ended up being an Imperial agent investigating the Silver-Bloods. But Glenys' instincts told her otherwise, and threats from the guards or not, she wasn't giving up. She . . . Eltrys . . . all of Markarth needed answers, and she wasn't giving up until she got them.

The entrance to Cidhna Mine was located inside the city with a smelter set up outside. Glenys found it fairly easily and stood watching the workers for a few moments. They looked exhausted, too thin, and extremely dirty. Several stopped their work to cough every few moments, and Glenys frowned as she saw another vomit behind a rock. These people were overworked, underfed, and just in all around poor condition. It was a horrible thing to see, and Glenys wanted to help them.

"You're not one of my workers," a deep, stern voice commented, interrupting her thoughts. "What are you doing here?" A huge orc stood glaring at her, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"I'm just looking around," Glenys replied, slightly intimidated by the large man.

"Looking around?" he replied angrily. "I oversee this smelter, and we're already behind on our silver quota. You're causing a distraction, so I suggest you look around somewhere else."

"You own this smelter?" Glenys asked.

"Are you hard of hearing? I said I oversee this smelter," he replied. "Thonar Silver-Blood owns it, just like everything else in Markarth. I just keep the workers in line."

"Did you know Weylin?" she asked.

"Sure did," he answered. "He was a hard worker. Bastard could have at least waited to go crazy until after we met our quota."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I don't make a habit of getting to know the workers. We all just mind our own business and do our work. All I know is he lived in the Warrens, just like most of the riff-raff around here."

"Did you notice anything unusual about him before the attack?" Glenys asked.

The orc sighed. "If I answer your questions, will you go away?"

She nodded.

"Alright. Look, I did notice the last time I handed out pay that there was an extra slip of paper with Weylin's. A note or something. He didn't read it in front of me, so I couldn't tell you what was in it, and it wasn't any of my business to go digging around. But I noticed because they don't usually pass out anything with the wages. It had to have come from someone higher up."

"Who pays the workers?" Glenys asked.

"Well, like I said, Thonar Silver-Blood owns the mine, so it comes from him," he answered, "but Nepos the Nose handles most of the dealings with the workers, so the wages are handed out by him."

"Do you know if there is a way I could get into Weylin's room and have a look around?"

"I don't know why you'd want to," the orc answered, "but you'd have to talk to Garvey. He hands out the keys to the rooms in the Warrens."

Glenys thanked him for the information and made her way across the stone bridge to the entrance of the Warrens.

The Warrens were dark, dirty, and deplorable. Glenys couldn't imagine anyone making people live there. It was an almost completely ruined Dwemer structure. The floor was littered with rubble, and the air smelled stale and unhealthy.

A man stood against a column near the entrance, filthy and wearing rags. "The Warrens isn't a place for your type," he commented, looking Glenys up and down. "What do you want?"

"Are you Garvey?" she asked.

"I am," he replied, stopping to cough into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you know Weylin?" Glenys asked.

"Sure did," he replied. "I know everyone who sleeps in the Warrens. I'm sort of the one who hands out the keys. I imagine someone else will be looking to move into his room soon."

"What exactly is this place?" Glenys wondered.

"It's where you go when you can't afford a room anywhere else," Garvey replied. "About the time they opened the mine, someone got the idea to throw some beds in here. Now it's the place the destitute of Markarth call home. The poor, the sick, the elderly who never made enough to save up and can't work anymore."

"The city doesn't help their people at all?"

Garvey chuckled dryly. "Welcome to Markarth, stranger. Be glad you're blessed with the luxury of choosing to live somewhere else. The mines pay so little, its workers may as well be unemployed, and we don't have a temple to aid the sick or even a healer. The alchemist shop wants too much coin for remedies and healing potions. A lot of folks come here to die, I'm afraid."

Glenys rummaged through her satchel and pulled out a half dozen or so viles of the healing potion her sister Mari had made before they left Auridon. "Here," she said, handing them to the man. "Use one yourself and hand the rest to whoever needs them most. It's all I have to help."

Garvey looked shocked. "Thank you. I . . . I don't . . . we're not used to seeing such kindness in the city. These will be put to good use, I assure you." He smiled and opened one of the viles to drink himself. "Now, what brought you down here? And why are you asking about Weylin?"

"I'm looking into the market attack the other day," she answered.

"You have a death wish?" he asked with some sarcasm.

"No," she replied, "although I've already been warned off by a rather unfriendly guard. I just . . . I'm new here, and I know it probably isn't any of my business, but I'd like to find out who is behind this. Why someone like Weylin would choose to attack someone in that manner. He had to know he wouldn't leave that market alive."

Garvey nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "This is to Weylin's room. Last one on the right. Be careful, stranger. I'm glad to see someone in the city who is interested in truth and kindness, but you'll find not everyone feels the way I do. Blood and silver run our city, have for years, and anyone who is trying to change that probably won't be looked upon very kindly by those who profit from it."

Glenys thanked him for the warning, and the key, and carefully made her way through the rubble and filth toward Weylin's room.

Like the rest of the Warren's, the dead man's room was full of dirt and collapsed stonework. A pile of hay lay in one corner with a ragged blanket on top of it. A table with a broken leg rested upon one of the large boulders in order to stand upright. A moldy piece of bread and empty bottle of ale sat on top of it. A chest tucked in amongst some of the rubble had a broken lock. Glenys opened it, finding some ragged clothes, a few bottles of ale, and what she assumed was the note the orc had mentioned.

Weylin,

You've been chosen to strike fear into the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do.

- N

So Weylin had been ordered to kill, and judging from the statement about the Nords, it came from someone higher up in rank amongst Forsworn followers. He wasn't acting on his own. But this didn't answer the question as to whether or not Margret was targeted or just a coincidence.

Glenys tucked the note into the pocket of her dress and made her way back outside. She returned the key to Garvey and took a deep breath of fresh air when she stepped into the sunlight again.

She had almost made it back to the inn when a large Breton man blocked her path.

"You've been digging around where you don't belong," he growled, raising his fists. "It's time you were taught a lesson."

Glenys darted out of the way, just barely missing the right hook aimed for her jaw. She was by no means equipped to defend herself in a brawl with a man of this size and had no idea how far he would take it. Did he just want to hurt her to teach her a lesson, or did he aim to kill her and get her out of the way?

She wasn't quick enough to dodge the next punch which landed right in her gut. She bent over, arms around her waist, coughing and attempting to catch her breath as the man had knocked the wind out of her.

"Where I come from, a man doesn't attack an unarmed woman," a deep voice stated.

Glenys heard punches and grunts, and when she finally was able to stand upright again, she saw that someone had come to her aid.

The stranger was an attractive man with long brown hair and rust-colored war paint in intricate swirl patterns on his face. He wore a beautiful set of horned scale armor that Glenys knew Aerenwen would've been impressed with, and he clearly had the upper hand over the thug who had attacked her.

The fight ended when the thug kneeled on the ground, groaning and spitting blood, obviously bested by her savior.

"Why did you attack this woman?" her rescuer asked, still poised to strike if necessary.

"I was hired by someone who doesn't like her asking so many questions," he replied weakly.

"Who?" Glenys asked.

The man laughed but didn't answer.

"You'll answer the lady's question," the other man ordered, kicking the thug in his shoulder and causing him to fall onto his back on the stone ground.

"Nepos!" he replied, looking terrified of the man who was towering over him. "The old man hands out the orders and wanted you out of the way. That's all I know, I swear!"

Glenys remembered the smelter overseer mentioning a Nepos the Nose, and with Weylin's note signed 'N', she gathered this Nepos had given the dead man his orders as well. "Who does Nepos work for?"

"The Silver-Bloods," the man replied. "But he's a Forsworn."

"Anything else you need from him?" the man who had saved her asked.

She shook her head.

"Alright, get out of here," he told the thug. "If I ever catch you picking on a defenseless person again, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

The thug nodded and ran away.

"Thank you," Glenys told her savior who she couldn't help but notice had the most beautiful bright blue eyes she had ever seen. "I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't come along."

"Are you alright?" the man asked, placing a comforting hand on her upper arm.

She nodded. "Yeah, a bit sore, but I'll be fine," she answered. "I'm Glenys." She extended her right hand while her left held the sore spot on her stomach.

"Vorstag," the man replied, accepting her handshake. "I've seen you at the inn. New in town and already upsetting the wrong people," he commented with a chuckle.

Glenys smirked. "I seem to be good at that."

"Well, if you ever need some muscle to back up your questions, I'm usually at the inn," Vorstag answered. "Some people call me a mercenary, a sellsword, but I like to think of myself as an adventurer for hire." He grinned, and Glenys found the man extremely attractive.

"Uh, here, let me give you some coin for your help," she offered, reaching for her purse.

He held up his hand. "Not necessary. You needed help, and I was there. No payment necessary for rescuing a damsel in distress."

Glenys laughed.

"Allow me to escort you the rest of the way to the inn."

She nodded, accepting the offer and pleased to have finally found an ally in this unfriendly city.


Although Vorstag wouldn't accept payment for his assistance, Glenys was able to talk him into allowing her to treat him to dinner at the inn that night. She discovered along with being handsome and charming, the Nord warrior had a witty sense of humor and jolly disposition. He told her tales of his adventures.

"I grew up here," he explained, "but my folks were killed by the Forsworn when I was barely old enough to earn a living. I worked in the mines for a few years before I befriended an old skald named Ogmund." He nodded toward the bard playing a flute in the corner across the room. "He took me in and trained me. I traveled Skyrim with him for years, and when he was ready to retire, I kept going. I've only just returned to Markarth a few weeks ago to check in on the old man, but I'm finding work hard to come by. I may need to move on to earn my living."

"I have a job you may be interested in," Glenys offered. "The shopkeeper, Lisbet?"

He nodded to show he knew who she was referring to.

"She recently had a specially-ordered Dibella statue stolen by a group of bandits," she explained. "She told me their camp is at Dragon's Bridge Overlook, or something like that. Offered quite a bit of gold for its return."

He thanked her for the information and told her just may look into that. "What brings you to Markarth?" he asked.

Feeling like she could trust him, and not having anyone else to confide in, she decided she could reveal some of her story. "My family and I are fugitives fleeing the Thalmor," she replied. "My siblings and I fled to Skyrim per my father's orders. He and my mother were set to be executed when we left, but we weren't able to free them, despite our attempt. My father's brother, Borir, was a skald," she stated. "That's the right term, right? Like Ogmund? A mercenary and a bard?"

Vorstag nodded.

"We were separated near the border, and I didn't have any luck in finding them. We were supposed to meet in Helgen," she explained, "but it was destroyed by a dragon."

"A dragon!? You can't be serious."

"Afraid so," she replied. "I didn't see it myself, but it was the talk of Whiterun when I left there. I befriended some Khajiit traders and traveled with their caravan here. I'm a bit of a scholar, I suppose you could say. I've never excelled at fighting or magicka like some of my siblings, but I'm fascinated by history, and the idea of exploring a city built atop Dwemer ruins wasn't an opportunity I could turn down."

Vorstag smiled. "And how did you get involved in this mess with the marketplace murder?"

Glenys shrugged. "A lack of self-preservation, stubborness, and a dangerous amount of curiosity?"

Vorstag laughed, and Glenys giggled.

"Be careful, Glenys," he stated. "I fear you're digging into the business of some dangerous men, but I get the impression I can't talk you out of it."

"Probably not," she replied with a smirk. "What do you know about Nepos the Nose?"

"He works for the Silver-Bloods," he replied. "He's well-liked not only by the Nords but also by the natives of the Reach. He's a relative to the Forsworn, one of the few who chose to stay in the city after Ulfric and his men drove them out. I assumed, like many I'm sure, that he no longer had ties to the Forsworn, but if he was the one that gave Weylin the order to strike, I'm guessing that's not true after all. He's got connections, Glenys," he added. "Like I said, be careful. And if you need some help, or a bodyguard, you know where to find me. I'm happy to help."