Chapter Seven: And Now We All Happen to Be in Peril

Everything seemed to fall into a strange sense of normality after the extravagant event that was the Harvest Festival. As Carlota requested, Faeorn kept himself from speaking even another word to her. Though he could discern little from an occasional glance she threw his way, a strange sadness was all too evident in her dark, nut-brown eyes.

As for Borin, he started auxiliary training the next day, leaving Faeorn to his own solitary thoughts. The city quickly became more lonesome and tiring, pushing Faeorn's mind further and further away from its decaying old walls. After some deliberation, the Imperial made up his mind to look for jobs that would take him traveling. All he now wanted was to get out of this city, if only for a time

Lo and behold, he was soon approached by a lean, towering Redguard with an almost caramel pigment in his skin. Their meeting lasted a good two minutes before the man asked him to make a delivery to Falkreath, which in itself was a smaller city to the south. The pay was good, and Faeorn had traveled the route a few times since his arrival. However, there was one interesting, though rather odd stipulation that the towering Redguard firmly insisted on. Faeorn was required to wear a special set of steel boots with thin, almost wire laces. It was part of the "package," or so the Redguard told him.

Having a need for money however, Faeorn dumped caution for the jingle of gold coins. And so he left the city on the hill, the cold air of The North blowing through his thin, light clothing. Meanwhile, the boiling sun baked him from above, striking a deep contrast to the wind and air. Hiking down a wooded road that was flanked by a fast-flowing river on its right, Faeorn made good time. He briskly made it out of treeless plains and into the deliciously cool forests of Falkreath Hold, making quick time as he skipped down the path.

A large and square container was fastened solidly to his back, stuffed from wall to wall with blankets and other soft material that cushioned whatever was stuffed in the center. The wire-laced boots were heavy, but Faeorn managed well enough. As he went along, a slim, bald bloke leapt from seemingly nowhere to the center of the road

"Whoa!" Faeorn barked, jumping back just a step, "What in the frig" He wasn't used to be so casually surprised. The man didn't seem to fazed by his reaction, "I'm sorry ser…so very sorry. I am but a humble soul, but if you'd be so kind, I'm in dire need of some help." The man put on a big, toothy grin, pointing off the road to some location beyond the trees, "My cart steered off the road good ser. I would greatly appreciate assistance."

Faeorn blinked, feeling recovered from the startle, "I don't know how you managed to lose your cart, chum… This road is perfect in almost every way."

"Twas quite strange actually, but these things do happen ser."

Faeorn rubbed his brow to avoid the incoming headache this man was inflicting. "Oh... alright then, let's go." He said, placing his hands on his hips.

The man nodded and smiled, leading him back through the trees a good ways. It was at least a minute of silence before they broke cover into an empty meadow. The man stopped and turned around, cold sweat spewing from his brow.

"Crapola…" Faeorn thought, placing his hand on his mace. Something was wrong, "Where's the cart?"

"Well I—" the man stopped and scratched his head, obviously stalling. "It was right here… honest!" Faeorn drew his mace at once, knowing he'd been duped. Most anyone would have turned in fled, but not Faeorn, "I think I'll head back to the road if there's no cart to move."

The man swallowed, avoiding eye contact. He just stood there, rubbing his thin, bean-like fingers together. Now, Faeorn would have beaten the ridiculous man right then and there, but for a flash of pain that exploded in the back of his head. Barely feeling the object that impacted his skull, he didn't even realize what happened before he had fallen over, his giant pack pushing him into the ground.

For the last week, the chapel of Dibella had been sealed off from the rest of the world. A double guard had been posted and even the priests were kept on the outside. As Giinthil tended her normal rounds, she couldn't help but think again and again about that terrible night. Oddly enough and despite the memory's intensity, she didn't remember much beside the foul smell of blood and magic, which somehow stayed fresh in her mind. It terrified her.

Captain Fabian only came to see her once. Despite her relative lack of knowledge, he ordered her to remain completely silent about what she'd seen, and threatened to strip her of her rank if she crossed him. Whatever happened in that chapel, he wanted to keep it nice and quiet and gone. Corvus seemed even more unnerved than she was. One night, Captain Fabian called him to his office, keeping him there for over an hour before they parted. For the nights since, her friend was strangely quiet, especially when they went on patrol or made their rounds. He seemed more distant and reserved.

As for the rest of the city, they rallied against what they perceived as an unjust lockdown on the church. During the day they'd gather in large crowds, protesting and demanding entrance. "Surely" Giinthil thought, "They won't keep it closed for much longer. The nobles won't allow it"

It was a cold morning as she neared the chapel a week to the day of that terrible night. Having just started her rounds, she stopped when she heard a rush of feet behind her. Whirling around to face a possible attacker, she found herself not looking at some peasant or thug, but Corvus.

"Hey Giin." he said, a thoughtful but nervous expression on his face. He chuckled softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Despite the chuckle, he sounded unusually somber and serious.

"Oh it's fine." she reassured, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile without her truly knowing it, "What brings you out here?" She couldn't help but be glad to see him. She needed some friendly company after the last few days. Corvus straightened up, his hair looking a bit ruffled and messed up. He folded his hands behind his back, exhaling slowly

"Are you thinking about last week?"

"I am… well I was." Giinthil muttered in a bit of an undertone, "All I remember is that smell… that terrible smell, and blood everywhere. I find it hard think about anything else."

"I've felt it too." Corvus noted, falling in beside her as they continued the round, "The scent is almost compelled. I think it must have been magical." Despite an obvious attempt to look steady, Giinthil detected a faint shudder escape his lips. It comforted her to know that she wasn't alone in feeling terrified.

"Well... it was really kind of you to check up on me." She spoke in almost a babble, a small, delicate, but sweet twinkle in her eyes, "I've missed having someone to really talk with. Captain Fabian has been his usual forthcoming self."

"About him…" Corvus said, seeming to brush over the tenderness of her words almost intentionally, "I would like to speak with you Giin." She felt her heart begin to sink at his words. Apparently he only wanted her advice on something.

"Well I… sure." She said, her vexation more obvious than she wished. It blew over Corvus however, who merely nodded his head while gesturing off to his right with an almost forced smile. She moved closer to him, walking briskly in the freezing air. As they entered a smaller alley, she was forced to walk even closer, almost close enough to feel the warmth of his face radiating against her own. He must have just come outside, for he was beaming with warmth like a fresh log in the fire.

"So I do have a question." Corvus started, ignoring all of this. He stared thoughtfully into space, continuing down a seemingly pointless conversation, "How long does your kind live?"

"Bosmer? About as long as humans, for we don't have the blessings the Altmer or Dunmer possess. Our lives are considerably shorter."

"Well, tell me Giin." Corvus stopped, swinging around and standing in front of her, He gently grabbed her hands, speaking with his eyes closed and his head slightly bowed. She couldn't understand why he seemed so warm to her. Was she herself cold? At that moment, she could still feel his breath on her cheeks and eyebrows. It was the only feeling that managed to rival the bloody odor of the last week. In that way, it was unique.

"You and I both hate this life." Corvus continued, "And I know you want to live decently, respectably. What if I told you, we could both have a chance for that? We could both have a new life."

"Corvus…" Giinthil said, more out of thoughtfulness than as a reaction to his statement, "What's happened?"

"It is Captain Fabius. In his newfound desire to get rid of us, he's offered us both a reassignment… one that would put as much distance between us and the Chapel as possible."

"Well I'm sure he wants to get rid of us." Giinthil said, taking a step closer to her friend. His face was like a beacon, warming her with its unusually high supply of heat. She shivered a bit, her eyes falling to their unintentionally connected hands. Summer was definitely moving on, making way for the cold autumn she so despised. Corvus didn't seem to notice how close they were standing. His mind seemed distant, preoccupied.

"I'd certainly agree with you." he answered, "Nevertheless, in attempting to get rid of us because of what we saw at the chapel, he's giving us a chance at a new life. He's obtained for us both a transfer to a new Knight of the Imperial Dragon, to be finalized if we accept. His name is Captain Marcus Tyer, a decorated hero from Morrowind."

"But we would have to leave the Imperial City, and the giant mystery that is now the Chapel of Dibella."

Corvus slowly let go of her hands, nodding his head lightly. He took a step back, "Not necessarily. Should either of us accept, we'll have a least a few weeks without any duties before transfer… long enough to investigate—."

"Investigate? I didn't think you were considering—"

"Well of course I was!" Corvus chuckled, igniting a smile that complemented his face perfectly, "I'm not just going to forget what I saw, nor forsake the justice those murders must face. For some reason, Captain Fabian is stalling on this, and it's our duty to set it right. We could work on it together, find out what the Captain seems so reluctant to investigate."

"Well I… I think would like that." Giinthil affirmed. For the last few days she'd wanted to snoop around, "When would you like to start?

Corvus grasped her hand again, his thumb pressing against her palm, "We can begin right now."

Faeorn awoke with a throbbing pain that rocked his head like a sinking boat. Most of his senses were dulled and slowed. He moved his teeth a bit, feeling a shocking pain as they withdrew from what must have been his limp tongue. He shifted to his left with a groan, feeling distinct pain in his feet and hands. His drowsiness prevented him from opening his eyes; but he began to deduce bonds around him in several places.

"Hey… you awake? Don't pull at the bonds. They'll just get tighter on my end." He heard a man's voice coming from directly behind him. There was a slight impact as the backside of one head tapped against the back of his, triggering a small explosion of pain.

"Errrrg!" Faeorn groaned, his blue eyes snapping open as a spell of dizziness overtook him for a moment. He groaned pathetically and closed his eyes again.

"No, you really need to stay awake!" The voice insisted. Faeorn felt a small tug on his bonds, bringing him back for a moment. His teeth hurt, and his mouth was full of a stale taste that didn't normally associate with sleep.

"Stay awake." the voice ordered, giving Faeorn another pull at his bonds. It all sounded tired and desperate, not to mention strained and cranky.

"Uggh.. Ger-rahguah." Faeorn blabbered. He was having serious trouble thinking. His whole head ached like an overripe watermelon. The voice was no help, no help at all. Faeorn heard it ooze through his near unconsciousness, manifesting itself barely. "Oh, damn it all… Just, listen to me, you corpse of a man. Those ruffians are going to kill us as soon as they finish cracking open that chest you brought. Do you hear me?! They. Will. Kill. Us. Does that even make any sense to you, or did they destroy what little brains you had?"

There was a long sigh, followed by a muttering of curse words. Faeorn finally began to seriously wake up. He managed to open his eyes again, again feeling a spell of dizziness sweep him. His tongue was sore and swollen, but he finally managed to get a word out of his throat

"I uh… I'm uh uhwake…" It was fading now. The pain in the back of his head wasn't so strong. His location, through increased sight, smell, and touch, soon manifested itself, and was revealed to be a rather cold cave with a touch of pale light coming from somewhere.

"Good Gods yes!" The man's voice caused a boom of ringing in his ear. Faeorn turned his head to the left in shock, feeling the bones of his stiff neck pop from the sudden usage. He realized that the man was bound to him, and they were back to back with a small pillar between them.

"Ugh… where are we?" Faeorn asked, his ears still ringing.

"We're in a cave a good distance into the forest. Apparently, these men have been waylaying couriers and travelers for months. And they said these roads were some of the safest. What a load of horse crap."

"Horse crap indeed…crapola even." Faeorn repeated, still feeling a bit dazed, "I assume you have some kind of plan for getting us out of here?"

"I do indeed, now that you've seen fit to join me."

"Well I hope you're plan's as good as your wit." Faeorn noted.

"Lay off the salt, Mr. Clever. We still have a prison to escape from."

"Mr. Clever eh… yes ser then!'" Faeorn sassed, "What's the first step in our epic escape?"

"We work as a team, with me as the obvious leader." the voice chided, "You'll have to trust me of course, but I've written enough about this sort of stuff to know what to do."

"Well what should we do then?"

"Well Mr. Clever… we start by examining our situation." Faeorn heard the rustling of movement, as his fellow captor seemed to test the bonds, "Well." He said, "We appear to be bound together, in case that wasn't immediately apparent, attached to a giant stake firmly pounded into the ground Now… based on my examinations. We should… we should…"

"You have no idea what we should do." Faeorn concluded, letting his own head fall. This was a stinking situation.

"Yes…" The voice admitted, "I have absolutely no idea what to do… and now you can toss a snide comment, Mr. Clever. It'll be of great comfort when those bandits slit our throats."

"They're not going to slit our throats." Faeorn comforted.

"And why not?"

"Because they save their axes for game. They would stove our heads in with butts of their axes."

"Well that's very comforting…"

"I wasn't the one who boasted of some grand escape plan."

"Well that one's on me…" the voice admitted, "But at least I'm trying to find a way out of this."

"I'm also trying!" Faeorn insisted.

"Pfft… then what do we do?"

"We try to escape, of course!"

"But how?!" The voice stormed, sounding more desperate than ever. Faeorn wanted to slap his own head. He needed to think.

"Okay…" he said finally, "I got it… we pull the ropes along the pillar and use the friction to snap 'em"

"Oh of course!" The voice scoffed, "That idea is full of potential, Mr. Clever… but unfortunately, you forgot the fact that ropes are bound around us as well, and will tighten with each pull."

"Well then we… we—Wait a minute!" Faeorn interjected, "I have a much better idea." Pulling his feet in as far as possible, he undid the wire laces on them with the tips of his fingers, trying to pull them behind the rope.

"What are you doing?" the voice asked,

"Being clever…" Faeorn managed to tie the flexible wire together behind the rope. Though he was now extremely uncomfortable, any pain was masked in anticipation as he began moving his feet to and fro, running the wire along part of the rope.

"Oh… oh that's just, that is brilliant!" The voice shouted, "I can't exactly tell what you're doing… but I'm sure it's brilliant. Pungent though. I can smell it all the way over here. But it's excellent work Mr. Clever"

"Just another moment" "There was a loud snap as the wire wore away the last thread in the rope. They were free. Leaping up from his position and spinning around, Faeorn saw his fellow captor's face for the first time. The man had short sable hair and green eyes. He couldn't see him well in the dark light, but he quickly saw that the man was standing there shirtless and shoeless.

"Eh… they really did rob you didn't they…" Faeorn noted, pulling the last of the ropes off of himself. The man shook his head with annoyance. "Your powers of observation amaze me, but if you don't mind, I intend to escape this place before any one of the two dozen bandits in this cave decide to check on us."

"And how are you going to make it past the guards. You won't exactly blend in."

"Well Mr. Clever, I happen to know that there's an underground stream that'll lead us out into the river. At least I hope it will." The man said, rubbing his hands together with a sniff, "Not a perfect idea; but I'd rather take my chances there than with the 20 or so bandits between us and the exit" By now, the man had pulled off the last of his ropes, and Faeorn heard the pitter patter of bare feet as he moved over to the far side of the cavern, motioning for him to follow. As he closed, Faeorn began to hear water rushing like a strong breeze.

"It's deep and fast flowing." The man informed, "Pretty much a one way trip."

"Ouch…" Faeorn felt his heart twinge. This didn't look like fun, but the only alternative was a cavern of armed guards.

"I'll go first." the man decided. He readied himself for a moment, then glanced back at Faeorn, "Give me a few moments to get a ways down the stream, then follow me" he leapt into the water with a slight wail, fluttering about and keeping his head up as long as possible before he was submerged under the cave wall.

"Oh… crapola," Faeorn muttered, inserting his own version of the famous curse. This was always the hardest part, jumping into the unknown with no idea of the consequences. With his fists clenched and eyes closed, he dove into the water with splash that felt like concrete. The air was punched from his lunges as he realized he'd hit the water wrong.

It was deep, deeper than he expected. As his head finally surfaced, a shout that would have softly boomed soft under water became as crisp as the snapping of branches. Another agonizing moment and he was sucked beneath water again, being flushed out of the cave before he could organize any of the input from his senses.

Water rushed past his face as he flew downriver. The air in his lungs quickly stagnated as he suffered prolonged suffocation. For a moment, a single, everlasting moment, he felt a petrifying fear seize him. He was trapped… with no light, no air, and hardly any hope of escape. This river could go on for miles, and he'd be dead long before he reached the end of it. The moment endured, and his heart throbbed with the lack of oxygen. Finally, in a single, glorious happening, he broke surface, and saw the sun with his eyes.

He was still moving downriver, but with light, breath, and a heavenly noise of wildlife that ruptured a feeling of intense gratitude and relief. He had little trouble in maneuvering to shore, feeling more thankful for his own pathetic life than he'd been in a very long time. He crawled out of the water, kissing the pale, cold sand. There was a loud thump as someone flopped down beside him.

"Wow…" It was his fellow captive, who was now shaking his head with an overwhelmingly staggered smile performed by his baked mouth. "Well we did it, Mr. Clever." Faeorn could see him clearly now. He had short sable hair and green eyes. The skin around his nose and eyes was wet and peeling. Still feeling his own amazement at their survival, Faeorn chuckled.

"Wow indeed…" He laughed, "I've not done something like that in years."

"So you've done that before?"

"Not quite that, but something similar. It's all crapola though"

"Do you mean crap?" The green-eyed man asked.

"No." Faeorn responded, "I mean crapola… there's a big difference."

"What kin-?"

Faeorn blew a raspberry, falling flat on his back, "If you have to ask…"

"Well we really should be moving." The man suggested with an interruption. He rubbed his already peeling face, "It would be hardly rewarding if we escaped just to be run through when they catch us again. I suppose we should also tell the Jarl. That would be the responsible thing to do."

Faeorn closed his eyes, all his muscles now tightening. He had actually survived. The resolution made him feel giddy all over, "I dunno. Wanna go get an ale first? I could really use one."

"What I… really?!" the man blasted in hilariously weak surge of annoyance, "So you go from Mr. Clever to Mr. Casual then. We just escaped certain death and you want to go get an ale?"

"Yes, an ale…"

"What?! Well I think I… I think I'll…" the man looked too exasperated for words. He slapped his forehead and flopped down on the cold sand beside him, now beginning to be warmed by the hot sun, "Well I think I'd like that ale."

"We can get two." Faeorn nodded, "Honeyside is few miles from here. Not sure about the innkeeper though. He doesn't really appreciate my unique set of skills."

"I'm sure he's just ungrateful."

"Yeah, that's what I thought…" Faeorn responded, "Still… he has the ale."

"Of course he does." Brekr said, looking more than a little lightheaded. Well I see what you mean in any case. He's one of those 'make every tomorrow different than today' sort of people."

"Well by definition… tomorrow is rather different from today." It was unbearably stupid; but after escaping certain death, his tongue was just a little bit loose.

Brekr chuckled while rubbing his forehead, "Divines preserve us! I can't believe we're still laying here. We'll be dead if we don't get moving. One thing's for certain though, I'm sure I'd have never made it out without your help."

"Please." Faeorn laughed, extending his hand without actually moving his body, "Faeorn Palidor… your most humble servant."

"Brekr Haith… yours. Now let's get out of here." He grasped the hand offered, shaking it with hardly any energy.

"Goodness." Faeorn groaned, crinkling his nose with disgust, "Your hand is literally like a dead fish…"

"Kayte!" The voice howled through the building with a shrillness that was only matched by its authoritative dominance. Bearing a bucket and mop, Kayte burst from a small doorway to the basement, her blonde hair and light face coated in soot and dirt. Miss Fauntia burst from upstairs, sailing down the staircase with a scowl that would rebuke the unruliest of schoolboys.

"Good gracious!" She shouted, for the fourth time that week surprised by Kayte's appearance, "What on earth happened to you?"

"I was uh… cleaning out the cellar ma'am… as you requested." Kayte was almost fed up with this respectful banter. She wanted to shout again, speak freely and curse up and down the street.

"I mean… you-your face." Fauntia observed, shaking her head with widening eyes, "You're like a raccoon for goodness' sake. Go and clean up immediately. And I better not find soot on the bed again."

"Yes ma'am." Kayte had learned to respond promptly and simply. Over the last week, she'd only been given access to a small portion of the house. Despite this limitation however, she had seen a vault, somehow sensing what she wanted would be within. After all she went through for this, the Thieves Guild wouldn't dream of refusing her. They'd surely welcome her with open arms.

"Open arms" Kayte made her way back to her room on the thought, and from there to the washstand in the adjacent bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she could now see her resemblance to the raccoon. Hilariously, her face was coated in dust and soot, settling mainly beneath her eyes and on her cheeks, thus forming the raccoon-like appearance.

"Gaah…" she groaned, taking some water in her hands and dousing her face. The soot quickly washed off into the basin, leaving her face wet but relatively clean. Pushing hair back with a sniff, Kayte could, for the first time in a long while, view her reflection. She saw only a small, dirty young woman. Though she had beauty in her slight features, hazel eyes, blonde hair and light skin, she looked thin and weak. Truly, the slums hadn't been kind to her. At least here she could get enough food to get by.

"Kayte, would you answer the door for me?" It was Fauntia again. Her voice sounded throughout the house a second time, but at louder volume, "Kayte, would you get the door?!"

"Yes ma'am…" Kayte sighed and groaned, hobbling over to the door with sore feet and aching muscles. She opened it with a huff, feeling a knot in her throat from a swift adrenaline rush. No sound or greeting came from her throat.

There was a hard moment of silence, and the man blinked when Kayte didn't say anything. He had a sharp face with a long scar on the cheek. His voice rang clear and dominant when he spoke.

"Is this the home of Lady Roccina?"

Kayte tried again, emitting a wheezy noise, "Yes Ser…"

The man blinked, not fazed by what must have been a pitiful display, "Then tell Lady Roccina girl, that Commander Tyer is here to speak with her." He stepped into the room without another word, sitting himself down on a chair like he owned the place. Kayte roved towards the staircase, pulling herself up it and towards the master bedroom room.

"C-twunk." Her hand bounced off the door with a thump. Fauntia opened it immediately, glowering at the girl in front of her.

"Well?!" she barked, "What is it?"

"Commander Tyer to see her ladyship…" Kayte started. There was a quick rustle as Lady Roccina came up and moved between her and Fauntia.

"Send him quickly." She said, a lively agitation of anxiety evident in her frightened eyes. She shook her head while uncharacteristically biting her nail, "Quickly!" she repeated with a hiss, pulling away from the door with a loud and tearful sigh. Fauntia pushed out the door and past Kayte, sailing down the staircase to meet Commander Tyer at its base.

"Commander Tyer." She spoke with a genuine coldness that Kayte instantly recognized, "Or should I say Ser Marcus Tyer… as you have obtained that honor."

"Commander is adequate." The man informed, "It's been a long time, and certainly a long road. I must apologize that I did not come sooner. Situations kept me otherwise… engaged. Please, I would be honored to speak with my old friend."

"I'm not sure her ladyship would agree with your usage of the word. But she is willing to speak with you."

The commander nodded, ascending the staircase with his hand on the railing, "Her ladyship has my thanks." He entered the doorway to Lady Roccina's study, closing it behind him. Fauntia shook her head and sighed, ascending the staircase after the man and leaving Kayte alone. For several minutes, Kayte had to content herself with skulking about the living room, gazing at the tapestries and heraldic paintings. Suddenly, the scarred man came out of the room, descending the stairs with a smile on his face. He turned to Kayte cheerfully as he left, "Good day."

Something about his voice sent a chill down her spine. He let himself out with the same dastardly smile, disappearing behind the door just as Lady Roccina descended the stairs.

"Kayte." She panted, dozens of tears shimmering on her cheeks, "I and Fauntia are leaving immediately. Immediately you hear! I'm sorry to end this so soon. I know I said I would give you a trial, but everything's just changed so much and so quickly. Here, take this as your pay and please accept my apologies" She extended a sizable coin purse in her hand, forcing a hollow smile as she tried to give it. Kayte merely blinked, not knowing what to say. In the space of ten minutes, her dreams of stealing something immensely valuable had been ground into paste. Now she was left with this hollow, empty reminder that she had completely failed. A whole week had amounted to nothing.

"Unless of course, you didn't mind leaving the Imperial City." Fauntia suddenly appeared from the side room, freely placing her hands on Lady Roccina's shoulder. She had a reflectively insightful look on her face. She could sense Kayte's desperation, "I know you came from the Waterfront Kayte, and I know that no one would want to live there. So if her ladyship didn't mind, perhaps you could come with us."

"Well… I—I would, but where would be going? Kayte burst out. She wasn't going to let this deal go, not after she'd put so much into it.

"High Rock." Lady Roccina smiled, looking very much touched by the idea, "If that's that, then let's ready ourselves quickly. We must leave within the hour."

So the three of them made ready to leave, gathering what belongings they could carry with them. Outside eanwhile, distancing himself a good distance from the house, Commander Marcus Tyer mounted his carriage, leaning back and relaxing for a moment-a very short moment. For the carriage door soon opened as a slithery Argonian jumped on, " I have returned Commander!"

"Neeraz." The commander sighed with annoyance. He pulled out a signet ring from a small pouch and stroked it, scowling to himself, "I hate people who don't appreciate the silence of a moment."

"Ugh… my apologies Commander."

Tyer rolled his eyes, "Never mind it. Has anything interesting happened?"

"Well commander, the city wants to compliment us with two of their guards."

"Sincerely?" Tyer asked, closing his eyes for a moment, "The City Guard? Well I suppose that we do seem to live in interesting times."

"A little too interesting." The Argonian added.

"Indeed… well in any event. I suspect Lady Roccina will soon be returning to High Rock."

"Did you threaten her?"

"I didn't need to…" Tyer shook his head, placing the ring back in the pouch "I simply told her the truth. She must have already known…"

"So she must have. In any event I understand. What do we do now ser?"

"We continue as planned." Tyer resolved, "The fate of our Empire lies in the balance. We have to move soon. before our enemies are on the march.

Author's Notes: So yeah… I took a liberty with the Bosmer age. I think I like it better that way, since they're seen as the lowliest and the most unenlightened of the elves. Any thoughts on that are welcome. Again, I can never stress how much I appreciate typo checks.