Chapter 6

A Game of Wolf and Sheep

Gray light colored the inn's windows as the sky brightened with the first rays of dawn. It found two figures in one of the rooms already up and running through a series of stretches. Neither Nova nor Aveth had need to speak as they shifted at almost the exact same moment. After a time, they moved on to exercises, their room just large enough to comfortably accommodate the process.

"I'd wager he's at his manor," Aveth huffed out, in the midst of a trial where he was almost laying flat on the ground, face down, and pushing himself up with just his arms as he kept his body rigid, only his toes helping to support his weight.

Nova grunted beside him, working through the same movements, but seeming to do two for every one of his. He tried not to feel outdone. After all, her body did not build muscle as quickly as his, leaving her to always insist she had to work twice as hard as he did.

"I mean, why stay in a fort when you have a blasted manor?" he continued.

"He did insist we show up at the door," Nova managed with a wicked smirk. "But why does he even have a fort?" Seriously, who claimed a fort?

"He probably doesn't have enough space to keep his merchandise." The word oozed with disdain.

"But moving them there would draw attention, surely!" she protested, sweat beading on her brow as she worked.

"He has the guards on his payroll," Aveth reminded.

"And we don't know which ones they are," she grimaced.

"So even if we take them the ledger..."

"It won't do any good," Nova finished with a huff. "So we're on our own?"

"We've been in tougher spots before," he tried to offer.

"Name three."

"Does you nearly dying when I turned you count?"

Nova grimaced.

"Alright, two more," she quipped through thin lips.

"Anyway," Aveth said, drawing their focus back as he finally finished his set. "The question left is how do we want to do this?"

"It comes down to how many do we kill," Nova stated pragmatically, finishing her set and working to keep her breathing even as she stood and paced.

"Yes," Aveth nodded, ambling aimlessly toward the window.

"Trying to clear the entire house would be difficult," Nova mused.

"Difficult, yes. But it can be done," Aveth replied in a strangely knowing tone.

Nova turned to him with a look that vacillated between a smirk and worry.

"This is either going to be devious, or terrifying," she stated, face settling on a wicked smile.

He offered her a hapless shrug and the barest of smirks. For a time, he stood silently, brow furrowed deep in thought. Nova stopped her pacing and stared at him, the thin set of her lips the only indication of her impatience. At last, Aveth spoke.

"We don't want to simply kill Quintillius. That won't be enough. It would only pave the way for another to take his place and then we'd be right back where we started. Besides, there's a chance whoever it was would hunt us again."

Nova folded her arms and nodded, surmising as much herself. She offered no words as Aveth's voice dropped low. A dark fire smoldered in his eyes the likes of which she'd never seen.

"We need to deal a blow so crippling, they won't be able to stand back up." His eyes turned to her with a cold logic. "We'll need to visit the apothecary."

"Why?" Nova asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because one of us is going to find a way into his manor's kitchens and poison them all."

Silence.

Nova's eyes scrunched in thought as she nodded, more to herself than in agreement.

"It would be effective," she conceded. "But wouldn't the servants be at risk too?"

"Yes," Aveth admitted, lowering his eyes. "I'm afraid that any way we do this will have unjust casualties."

"True," Nova agreed. "But you said 'one of us'. Where will the other be?"

"The other will make their way to Quintillius and kill him. We need to be certain."

"And afterward?"

"We rendezvous, and set the whole blasted place on fire."

"On fire?" she balked, eyes widening.

"On fire," he confirmed. "Then, we keep ourselves cloaked in your invisibility for as long as we can, and retreat to the high wall that surrounds the compound. It only has one exit out the front side. We settle in there and kill anyone who tries to escape. It'll force them into a sort of choke point. The two of us will be able to hold there for a time, provided invisibility doesn't wear out and they don't start shooting arrows from the upper windows. Not that they'd stay too long in a burning house..."

Nova blinked, and blinked again, lips parted silently.

"Aveth?"

"Hm?"

"Remind me to never, ever piss you off," she said. "Also, sometimes, you scare me."

"I've got quite a few frightening things tucked away in here," he smiled, taping his head. "What I lack is any sort of inclination to use them."

Nova made several mental notes, circled them, and lit a beacon next to them for good measure. That was moving a little higher on her list of "things to remember".

"Then… I suppose we have an apothecary to see," she managed.

"Indeed," Aveth agreed.

Reina took a moment to stretch, loosing a yawn as she did. Rolling her shoulders, she dipped her rag into a bucket of steaming water and returned to scrubbing one of the last tables before picking up the already cleaned chairs, turning them upside down, and settling them atop the table. Footsteps above caught her interest just long enough for her to pause.

Reina glanced up to see Aveth and Nova stride down the stairs and make for the front door. There was a darkness that roiled from them, nearly palpable across her skin. She met Nova's eyes worriedly, brows furrowing. The warrior smiled reassuringly and reached out a hand, squeezing her shoulder gently. Reina grabbed her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. Nova stopped in her tracks, meeting her eyes with a calm confidence.

"It's alright," Nova assured, voice barely above a whisper as she moved her hand up to the woman's cheek.

"Be safe?" Reina pleaded, leaning into the touch. Gods the words sounded foolish. But she had to say them.

Nova's eyes softened with a gentle smile as she gave a single nod like a solemn oath. The warrior turned for the door, trailing after her companion. Dawn's light streamed into the room for a moment, then was cut off as the door shut behind them.

"Reina?" George called from the kitchen.

"Coming," she replied, staring at the door a moment longer before picking up her bucket and walking back into the warm kitchen.

George passed her a small wooden box, tied shut with a worn square of cloth. Reina set down her burden on the table and took the offering, settling the image of the retreating warrior into the back of her mind.

"I made you lunch," George smiled.

Reina eyed him dubiously, lips puckered. She untied the cloth and lifted the lid before closing it quickly.

"My favorite," she said through tight lips. Suspicion shifted to feigned hurt as she assumed a dramatic tone. "You only make it for me to take with when you want something."

"Have I told you you're my favorite daughter?" George grinned unashamedly.

"I'm your only daughter," she countered. "So it could be argued that I'm also your least favorite daughter."

"Only once in a while," George countered with a smirk, pulling her into a one armed hug and placing a kiss on her head.

"What do you need, Dad?" Reina asked, all trace of false hurt and teasing gone from her tone.

"Luke needs the day to look after his dad. Man got himself bit by a slaughterfish down by the river and now he's got a case of Greenspore," George sighed, wincing in sympathy. "Can you run right home after lessons today? I know it's a pain, and I made you miss class yesterday, but..."

Disappointment washed through Reina like an icy rain. She liked to stay and discuss things with Healer Lee. Moreover, it was her day to help clean up after lessons. Reina sighed. Maybe she could go in early tomorrow and do it then.

"I'll figure it out," she nodded.

George beamed.

"Thanks, my sweet girl," he said, placing another kiss on her head.

Reina nodded and couldn't help but smile as she clutched the box to her chest.

"Sure. And thank you for lunch!"

She hurried for the door but stopped short and whirled on her heel before dashing upstairs.

"Huh. Didn't even have to remind her that time," George remarked to himself as she came back downstairs dressed in russet robes and distinctively present boots on her feet. The lunchbox was neatly tucked in the crook of her arm as she bounded again for the door.

"Try not to eat it all before you get there," he called, arms folded leisurely.

She looked back over her shoulder, one hand on the knob.

"I will make no such promises."

The earthy scent of dried herbs lingered in Nova's nose as they left the apothecary. She glanced to Aveth, who took the time to carefully sequester a trio of magicka potions into a pouch on his belt. She'd made it specially for him, with padded compartments for each vial that prevented them from clinking together incessantly and driving her mad on long roads. But, really, it had been out of the goodness of her heart. Just for him. Honest.

He moved to the second pouch and tucked away another trio of potions, these a pale, unassuming gray. One was for their purpose; the second was in case of fumbling fingers; and the third, as Aveth assured her, was to placate the Ancestors that he wasn't being overly confident. Nova pretended the words made sense and nodded, silently reminding herself they were his ancestors and didn't have to make sense to her standards.

She passed him three, very small, white bottles.

"Invisibility?" he wondered aloud, taking the offered items and tucking them into the third and last pouch with his thanks.

"For when we separate," she said. "Although we're going to have to raid a bandit fort soon," she joked. "I'm so poor now that moths fly out of my coinpurse when I open it."

Aveth's deep chuckle drifted between them. As they walked, he removed the pouch of magicka potions from his belt, checked the fastenings, and passed it to Nova.

"You'll need these," he said gently.

She nodded, resigning herself to what she was sure would be another day of feeling like she'd been hit with a warhammer. The sickness was fine, but Ancestors, that gnawing emptiness… She took a deep breath and set the thought aside. It would be easy enough to remedy come nightfall. No use in worrying now. Her mind rather unhelpfully lifted a hand and told her she should have fed from Reina. It would have been a lovely excuse to set both hands against her freckled cheeks, or even better yet, she could simply lean in and-. Nova leapt on that thought and stomped it down with her boots until it was crushed into a crater, then dropped a rock atop it for good measure. There were few things that a good craterizing couldn't solve. She smirked to herself, ignoring her own scarlet cheeks and the fact that craterizing probably wasn't a word.

Aveth turned to her, the grim severity in his ruby eyes bringing her back to focus at once.

"Once we begin, there is no turning back," he said softly.

Nova offered him a simple, soft smile.

"I've got your back."

The rooftop across from Quintillius's manor was cast in shadow, affording the two warriors a somewhat sequestered vantage point. Nova stared with a frown. Manor was the proper term. It stood at the edge of the expanded section of city, sequestered on a small rise with other, similarly fine estates grouped nearby. The house itself boasted two stories and took up three times the space that most of the wealthy homes she'd seen in her time. A large, neatly trimmed lawn of seemingly wild grass and a garden surrounded it on all sides, ringed by a thick wall twice her height. The gray bulwark boasted only one entry point, surely meant to aid the defenders were they attacked from the outside. It was almost a shame that the threat would come from within this day, and their defense would prove their demise. She almost pitied them. But Aveth had shown her the ledger. Nearly a hundred names. Nearly a hundred people torn from their families. Spirits, there could have been families trapped in there. All for the sake of "good business". Quintillius and his people within were monsters. It was a discredit to their victims to afford them pity.

"We walk the kitchens together. Then… I need you to return to the cells and free the prisoners. There was a key to the cells by the lower doorway."

Nova opened her mouth, hesitated, and shut it again. She hadn't noticed that. Still, she took the amendment to the plan in stride.

"There's no guarantee whoever's in there isn't some scoundrel who crossed him," Nova cautioned. "But I understand."

"Thank you," Aveth replied solemnly, clasping her shoulder briefly.

"While you're down there, I'll set the eastern wall of the house alight. It's on the opposite end of the house, so you should be safe. Once you get out, you do the same wherever you are," he directed.

She nodded, but did not bother to hide her grimace. "See, here's my question," Nova protested. "How in the Ancestors' names am I supposed to set a house on fire? Seriously. You know outside of illusion magic, I can barely light a candle."

Aveth's smile widened. "And that's all you're going to need." When she eyed him skeptically, he produced a small brown bottle from who-knew-where. "Whatever you do, do not let this touch your skin."

Nova paled, but nodded, accepting the bottle and doing her best to tie it to her belt securely.

"And you?"

He pulled another bottle from the same ethereal place and tucked it away again.

"But if all else fails, Quintillius was quite a fan of wine. He even kept a supply of it in his kitchen for his little lackeys." Aveth smirked. He paused expectantly, clearly waiting for something.

Nova simply blinked. Did he? Was he? She'd been too busy being revolted by the man to notice. Vile, slimy, sleazy, skeever-for-a-mother, pile of filth. Wait a moment. Nova's mind backpedaled in its tracks. Wine? Lots of wine? Oh. Oh, this was going to be epic. So there was a use for the vile-tasting stuff after all.

"I get it!" she triumphed.

Aveth's smile faltered. "It's funny because wine doesn't really burn like people say…. And it's more assumed of… other alcohols…"

Nova's mouth puckered. Um, sure. She'd reached that conclusion… No one had to know otherwise. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

"So you're going after Quintillius?" It wasn't necessary, but she had to ask.

"Yes." The low promise growled from his throat with dire portent.

Nova did not acknowledge, a burning unease in her stomach. There were no more words to say, nothing more to plan, thus the two simply sat silently for a moment. Nova grimaced and bit her lip as she took a deep breath. This task was… daunting, her mind admitted. She took another breath, and forced herself to remember the sound of rain on the sea. She let it fill her, gaining in strength before she brought to memory the scent of the shore and sound of gentle waves as she stood back in her homeland. Nova took in another breath and let it flow from her in a slow exhale. She could do this.

Aveth set his hand on Nova's shoulder and they began.

Nova's magic cloaked them as they moved through the kitchens, careful to avoid the milling staff. Once more grateful that being under the same invisibility spell let them see one another, Nova fell back as Aveth signaled her, taking the lead himself instead.

Aveth hardly dared to breathe as he crept through the kitchen. It had narrow counters that ran down both of its long walls and a central table between them that was cluttered with an array of chopped vegetables and kneaded dough. At the far end was a massive hearth, over which an equally large cauldron bubbled. Aveth pursed his lips. Today's breakfast: a light and warm soup about to be seasoned with "unpleasant". The dunmer fought the urge to roll his eyes. Alright, his recent mental commentary was getting out of hand. He crept around a worker as she whisked a tray of rolls away, steering his path toward the unoccupied cauldron. The creamy, light orange liquid bubbled merrily, giving off a subtle, yet luscious aroma.

It was almost a shame to ruin it.

But Aveth pulled the bottle from his side none the less and dumped the contents in, then did the same with a second bottle. He was silently relieved that heat would have no effect on the poison, and equally grateful that he'd bought three of the things for good measure. Though from his understanding of the dosage needed, even with the massive amount of soup, this was-if one could pardon the pun-overkill.

Aveth slipped back toward Nova, who was returning the stopper to her own bottle of poison, though he couldn't see her target for a large bag of potatoes. She nodded to him once, then they retreated into a pantry. Nova pulled a magicka potion from her pouch and drained the contents in one gulp, then recast the invisibility spell. Already a hollow ache gnawed at her from within as the drain of keeping both their steps muffled, and their forms veiled thus far took its toll.

Aveth caught her arm briefly, concern in his eyes. She offered a weary smile and patted his hand. He pursed his lips, but had to cast aside his worry, pointedly reminding himself that time was now of the essence.

Nova turned and lead them back through the kitchens, leaving him no choice but to follow. Her mind briefly noted a room opposite the hearth that held rows of shoddy tables and chairs, as well as a trickle of equally shoddily-clad warriors wandering in from an unseen door. A servant was carrying an impressive stack of bowls between them. She had no more time to stare as she pushed through the kitchen into what she assumed was Quintillius's dining room.

A long table dominated the room, polished so highly, they could see the reflections of the servants as they set out a neat arrangement of dishes. They pushed past it and out into the hall. Aveth reached up and clasped her shoulder. She returned the gesture as they parted ways.

Nova whirled around a corner into a room and pressed herself flat against the wall just between two ornate shelves displaying polished silver plates. She didn't need to catch a glimpse of her very visible eyes in her reflection to know they were red. Her fingers fumbled for her pouch and pulled out her second potion. It only mostly tasted like old.

Her head throbbed and left her feeling like the room was spinning. It abated just enough for a thought to amble past her. She should probably have bought some invisibility potions for herself. That would have been great. Poverty inducing, but great. She waved goodbye as the thought wandered away. It was replaced by her efforts to keep from vomiting. Stupid Aveth sending her on a stupid stealth mission. She'd rather just smash everything until she got what she wanted. In fact, it was a miracle she hadn't been discovered yet. Because really, all she wanted to do was curl up with a lovely cup of tea. Preferably right next to Reina. In fact, forget the tea. Maybe Reina'd just let her curl up and lay her aching head on her lap.

A coy smirk drifted across Nova's worn face. At precisely that moment, a burly man with greasy hair and a brigand's armor strode into the room and stopped short as he caught sight of her.

Well. Ancestors throw her from the boat and paddle back to run her over with it.

"Hello," she smiled, waving sheepishly.

His mouth was forming a tirade of swears as she surged forward, hand cloaked in green magic, and grabbed his throat. With a strangled sound, his eyes rolled back slightly before he crumpled to the ground. Nova did not break contact, despite the fact that he looked as if he hadn't heard of the concept of bathing and his rancid stench battered against her. It didn't matter. The gnawing void within her was far more pressing, and his magic would quell it deliciously. Nova smiled and stood, leaving his sleeping form where it was as she cast her spell again, vanishing as if she'd never been.

Aveth trailed behind a servant, walking in time with her footsteps to hide the sound of his own. In the back of his mind was a steady count that told him his potion was due to wear off far sooner than he'd like. He glanced down to the subtle shimmer on his skin that let him know the effects were still active. Much like Nova's spell, when the shimmer was gone, it meant he would be visible again.

He looked back to the servant, or rather, her back. She turned a corner and he caught a glimpse of the decanter of wine she carried on a silver tray. A smirk crossed the dunmer's lips. When in doubt, follow the wine. Not that he didn't know the way, but she was his unknowing distraction. Aveth couldn't hide his grin. Why, no good sir with the lack of teeth and obnoxiously large battle ax, you didn't hear anything strange. It was just the lovely lady here. Yes, stare at her backside and don't notice the shimmer just passing you. Good boy. Keep the door held open as you stare. Good. Now go down to the kitchen and get a cookie. Better yet, some soup. He defiantly resisted the urge to insist it was to die for, then thought it anyway.

The woman carrying the tray paused as they passed an open doorway and a voice called out to her. They spoke about pointless things as Aveth stepped to the side of the hall near a pedestal holding the stone carving of a bear. He watched the shimmer begin to fade from his skin and grimaced before downing the next alabaster vial. Maybe he should learn spells like Nova. Ancestor's knew they came in handy. But…

Almost unbidden came the memory of heavy shackles that weighed down his every movement until all he could do was lay helpless on a cold, stone floor. Then came the horrid, gnawing, aching emptiness that devoured him from within and held him captive with greater entirety than his cell ever could. It had been a choice thrust upon him, the pain a constant reminder of all he had endured, all that had been inflicted. He had never let himself become that drained again. Not once since being freed. Using magic would surely force him to feel that once more. No. Nova could stand it because Nova was Nova. He, on the other hand, had purged every thought of magic from his mind, down to the basest of healing.

The servant continued on down the hall and he shook away the cloying tide of memory and thought, letting himself slip back into the task at hand. He followed with all the substance of her shadow.

She made her way to a familiar door and knocked, entering after a moment. Aveth waited silently as a subtle series of shouts sounded from downstairs, right in line with his mental counting. So, breakfast was going well. The servant reappeared and shut the door behind her in the empty hall. There were no guards in the passage, but Aveth surmised that it simply meant there were going to be far too many in the room beyond. He steeled himself and approached the door, turning the knob with painstaking care as he pushed it open slowly. He would have preferred to leave it open, letting those inside think it simply hadn't latched properly, but heavy footsteps in the hall behind him pushed him into the room and he shut the door behind lest someone catch sight of what he was about to do.

Aveth stopped in his tracks, unseen mouth parted. Whatever he had expected, it was not the lone man standing with his back to the door.

"Ah, excellent!" he preened in his elegant, fur trimmed, blue garb. His blond hair caught the sunlight as he turned around, a crystalline goblet of wine in his hand. "And here I was afraid I'd run out of wine before finding you."

Aveth's blood ran cold. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It was not the fact that this was not the man he'd expected, nor that this man seemed to know he was there despite being invisible. No. It was the golden eyes within the pale features.

The eyes weren't right. And Aveth, more than most, paid attention to people's eyes.

"It seems you've saved me the trouble of searching," he tipped his glass in almost a shrug. The room gleaned a predatory air as the blond man smiled and took a sip of the wine. Aveth crept around to the side, steps muffled in the thick carpet.

"From your scent, I'd wager you're the male," the man remarked, as if commenting on good weather. "Though do feel free to tell me if I'm wrong." He swirled the wine in his glass absently.

Aveth reversed directions and tried approaching from the opposite side.

"You do realize I can hear you, yes?" the man asked, taking another savoring sip. He drummed two fingers on the glass before launching the contents, then himself, at the intruder.

Aveth cast himself aside into a roll before surging up to his feet again. In an instant, the man was upon him, savage claws adorning his hands as he snarled, baring pearlescent fangs.

Aveth was faster.

The blond man made a strangled sound, a gurgling that sputtered in his throat. His eyes blinked in confusion as he scrabbled at his throat. But the silvery dagger, carried by Aveth's momentum as he'd stood, was already embedded up through his lower jaw with a river of blood pulsing from it.

The invisibility spell had shattered, unable to acclimate to such rapid movements as he'd struck. It bled from his skin like it was washed away by the rain. Thus, the golden-eyed man found himself staring into the dunmer's grim gaze before the knife was pulled free and he collapsed to the ground.

Aveth's heart hammered in a thunderous chorus as he glared down at the twitching man while the life faded from his eyes. He moved back across the room, wiping the blood from his arms in a voluminous curtain. Curse it all. He should have kept the man alive! At least long enough to find out where Quintillius's miserable hide was cowering! He took a moment and scoured the desk for any clues. After the count of ten slow breaths, he gave up the fruitless task. With a snarl, he pulled out the last potion and drank it, sweeping from the room on silent steps.

Nova pushed open the library door, one hand on her sword hilt. Not that she expected this pack of humanity's dregs to read. Old habits died hard.

She turned toward the shelf that concealed the passage down to the cells and jumped in surprise. The air shimmered, and seemingly from nothing, the form of the silent butler materialized. The finely dressed man held a finger to his lips and Nova understood she was being urged to silence.

"I don't want to hurt you," Nova insisted in a hushed tone. "I'm only here for Ironheel."

The butler rolled his eyes at her outburst and nodded several times. With a knowing smirk upon his face, he held up a hand and rubbed the tips of his fingers together.

Nova watched the gesture, not grasping the meaning behind it.

The butler tried again, this time fishing a coin from his pocket and holding it up.

Now it was Nova's turn to roll her eyes.

"Of course," she grumbled. "But why exactly should I?"

The only response was a knowing, and disturbingly devious smile.

She toyed with the idea of simply bashing him over the head, but curiosity got the better of her. Still, she had to roll her eyes again as she tossed the man a small pouch of coins that she had absolutely not looted off of a sleeping brigand to replenish her gold. Nooo. But it was alright. She'd acquired three more. Seriously, who just left pouches of gold sitting around?

The silent man caught the small bag happily and strode to the bookshelf, opening the hidden passage to reveal a slumped figure. He squatted beside the shadow and shook it gently.

Nova moved closer, staring harder. As her eyes began to pick apart the gloom, the figure rose with the butler's help and stumbled into the light.

"Ironheel," Nova breathed reflexively. She looked back and forth between the men before her eyes settled on the butler. "But… how-"

The butler only shook his head with that same smile etched on his features. He made a shooing gesture to the both of them.

"I need to see if there's anyone else down there," the warrior insisted.

The man shook his head with a dismissive wave.

"No one..." a voice rasped.

Nova's eyes flicked to Ironheel as she draped his arm around her shoulders.

"No one… but me," he managed through the mat of blood coating the right side of his bruised, blotched face. In fact, the entire half of his face was swollen so dramatically, he appeared to not have an eye. She fervently hoped he still did.

Shouts of hysteria rose in the distance, among them a repeated word: fire.

"You need to get out," Nova offered.

The butler shot her a patronizing look, then shooed her again.

The grassy yard around the house was filled with smoke as angry orange flames raged across one side of the building. Above, a mat of gray clouds blotted out the sun, adding to the murky haze. Nova struggled to keep Ironheel supported as she looked back. Her fire at the manor's opposite end had yet to gain enough volume to be noticed, though it spewed black, roiling plumes. Aveth materialized from the murk, one hand held to his mouth as he coughed. He didn't say a word, and barely met her eyes as he moved to help support Ironheel as well. Nova stared for a moment longer. Why were there no teams with buckets fighting this monster they had created?

Almost as if in response, a line of figures gained shape in the gloom. She was about to curse herself before a familiar face formed. The silent butler strode to her, a line of servants in his wake, their uniforms grayed with smoke. They looked strangely calm, like the day's events were just another morning, and passed by the warriors with hardly a glance. The butler lingered and withdrew a key from his pocket. He tapped it to his lips, then opened his mouth to reveal his lack of a tongue. A satisfied, vengeful grin oozed across his features as he pressed the key into Aveth's hand and followed the others away from the conflagration. In that moment, Aveth could have sworn he heard a pounding on the front door. He stared for half a breath. The door required a key from within? But Aveth spared no more time to wonder, and shifted Ironheel's weight as he and Nova began to retreat back toward the perimeter wall's only exit.

Shattering glass and hoarse shouts met their ears as they made it halfway across the yard. After a trio of heartbeats, shoddily armored figures emerged from the gloom.

"Go," Aveth said calmly, drawing his sword and dagger as he shifted Ironheel's weight back entirely to Nova and turned.

Nova nodded, and steered the limping man away.

Aveth pulled in a breath and coughed as the smoke stung his throat. They would not get past him. They must not get past him. His grip tightened on the hilts of his weapons. Five men with dirty, scarred faces paused when they saw him, expressions scrunched in a mixture of disdain and confusion. The hesitation cost the closest man his life. Aveth swung his sword, cutting through the man's throat before anyone could react. As the sputtering man crumpled to the ground clutching the wound, the rest of Quintillius's band swarmed into action, drawing a mixture of swords and axes as they charged.

Aveth sidestepped to his left and lashed out with his dagger, cutting a wicked gash across the weapon hand of a greasy, blond-haired man in a horned helmet. The man screamed and dropped his weapon on reflex. Aveth gave him no time to recover as he thrust his dagger up through the man's lower jaw in a disturbingly familiar strike. Blood erupted from the wound as he yanked the weapon free. A silver streak barreled down at him. He spun and lifted his blades on instinct, blocking a two-handed sword's strike with a resounding clang. A second man lunged forward in an instant, stabbing for the dunmer's torso. With no chance to block it, Aveth dashed back and to the side.

Only one of the men followed, the other two waiting warily. Aveth allowed himself a dark smile. It seemed they didn't quite understand the advantage of numbers and how to use it in a fight. Well wasn't he just so terribly sad. Really.

The dunmer's sword was a silver streak in the haze. The advancing man crumpled, blood washing from him in crimson waves. Aveth turned his grim smile to the remaining men. They barely had time to stumble back before they joined the others on the ground.

He spun on his heel instantly, sprinting to catch up to Nova. He found her poised at the gate, her sword drawn at the ready. A dim part of his mind noted Ironheel sequestered against the outside edge of the wall some ways off and nodded. He would be safe enough there.

Simply because none of these monsters were getting past him.

"Aveth?" Nova said, voice tight with unease.

"Hm?" he responded, stepping even with her as he readied himself.

"After this, one of us is taking up archery," she insisted.

A throaty chuckle resonated from him.

"We tried that," he reminded. "Neither of us could hit the broad side of a barn."

"What if I enchanted arrows that exploded?" she countered.

"Then you might as well just fire magic for that amount of effort."

"Not necessarily," she refuted, silently glad to have a point to argue.

Aveth only shot her a wry smile and took a step forward. The simple movement spoke volumes. It was time to focus. Nova took a breath and let it out slowly with a nod, drawing even with him.

More shattering glass met their ears along with a strident chorus of voices. Words warbled and warred, the specifics lost in the distance, but the meaning behind them clear. They could not stop the ravenous flames. Indeed, it seemed they'd stopped trying entirely, if they'd ever begun at all. Nova smirked ruefully. Well that hadn't taken long.

Silhouettes sprinted from the haze, gaining form and clarity. Nova glared at the bones fashioned to their armor. These fools weren't even pretending not to be bandits. The lack of effort bothered her more than it should have. She dashed forward, pale sword lancing for the man in the lead. He dodged easily, but he wasn't her target. The woman behind him gaped at the sword that plunged through the skull painted on her black robes, the blade shattering her sternum before piercing through her spine. She crumpled in wide-eyed shock. Nova wrenched her sword free with a measure of pride at the metal which not even severing bone could warp.

A headless body thudded to the ground beside her. From the corner of her eye, Aveth's sword cut a deadly dance between two more opponents. She was… slightly jealous. But then again, what did he have, three, four centuries more practice than her? It was just further incentive to keep training. The errant though vanished from her mind as she rushed her next opponent.

She and Aveth continued in a seemingly endless cycle of maddening waiting and combat. Nova had to wonder where the town guard were, or at least the citizenry. The estate might be isolated, but that hardly meant "hey everyone, ignore the great big fire over there". Then again, maybe that had been why the butler had winked at her and waggled his fingers. Or he was just odd. Probably that one.

The manor was engulfed now, the fire spreading faster than Nova would have ever believed possible. Spirits, she was lucky it hadn't trapped her in there… Vibrant, angry flames poured from the shattered windows and gaping holes where the elegant wooden walls had already been consumed. No more figures emerged from the smoke, nor the raging ruins. Nova wondered, just briefly, if the fact wasn't condemning for the two of them. What a way to die. Those people had been monsters, doubtless, but embracing such a means… Did it not mark them as villains themselves? All at once, Nova was homesick. She yearned for the island, to return to a place where such questions would not plague her. They had an enemy there, to be certain, but dealing with it was as simple as swinging her sword.

Aveth's hand on her armored shoulder broke her reverie. She realized, belatedly, that he was speaking to her.

"What?" she asked, blinking.

"We should go," he repeated simply.

They turned away, making for where Nova had left Ironheel. The man was still sitting against the outside of the massive wall, his head lolled to the side. Aveth knelt beside him and held a hand in front of the man's mouth, just to ensure he was still breathing.

"Ain't dead yet," came the gruff grumble, though the words slurred.

"Good," Nova praised. "I'd hate to have carried your backside out of there for nothing."

Aveth shot her a glare, but a rasping laugh cut him off.

"Me too," Ironheel managed to agree.

"We'll get you to the temple," Aveth promised.

"No!" the man's head snapped up, his only visible eye going wide. "No temples!"

"Don't be such a child," Nova chided, a hand on her hip. "You're going."

"Look lady," he spat back. "Oblivion knows it's a long story, but I can't go back there and I ain't doin' it." He stared her down with all the strength he could muster.

Nova briefly wondered if he'd managed to anger the old healer lady too, the thought bringing a private smile to her lips and a phantom pain to her ear. That was not an enviable fate.

"Alright," Aveth agreed, if only to calm him. "No temples." That begged the question of where exactly they took him from here. The dunmer sighed, supposing that the inn was as good a place as any, and the man would have to manage with whatever healing potions they could scrounge. When he spoke, he addressed Nova. "We'll take him to the inn then."

She offered a simple nod.

Aveth bent and helped Ironheel to his feet, supporting his weight. They took all of three steps before the battered man's body shuddered and refused to hold him up any longer. Aveth stooped without hesitation, hefting the man onto his back and continuing their slow trek down the empty street.

"Huh," Ironheel huffed in almost a laugh.

"What's funny?" Nova asked, resisting the urge to ask if it was him being carried like a sack of potatoes.

"Last time we spoke, I said I never wanted to see your miserable faces again," he coughed in response. "Guessing I owe you an apology."

"A man caged says many things, particularly one who believes he is already dead," Aveth said softly.

Only silence followed the trio as the sun burned brighter, illuminating the smoking ruins in their wake.