AscendedHumanity: True to his name, Icewind is destined to be one of those elements that keep blowing up one's backside at inopportune moments.

Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs, etc. Stories may not be in chronological order.


ORDINATION

Alfarinn's carriage made it past the ruins of Valtheim Towers without incident despite the fact the towers were still shrouded in smoke from fires and there were fresh bodies about. Someone had finally rid the place of bandits again, he commented to his passengers. This trip he carried a Dunmer woman and her two children, a Dunmer merchant, and three Nord farmers. The Dunmer were headed for Whiterun, brother and sister teens to a farm outside Whiterun, and the man would walk the rest of the way to Riverwood.

Whiterun finally came into view, Dragonsreach rising high. "Dragon bait," muttered Revyn. Adassa Velot, seated to his right, glanced at him with an amused smile.

"One would think so seeing's how dragons like high places, but they avoid the place," said Alfarinn. "Guess they remember what it was built for."

"Catching dragons!" shouted Merlyn, Adassa's son. "Dragons, dragons," chanted Asha, her daughter. Asha waved her carved, red painted dragon toy in the direction of Whiterun's most prominent feature. She made swooping motions and growling and whooshing sounds. Opposite her, Riverwood bound Ralof rolled his eyes.

"Try not to burn down our new home before we've even moved in," murmured Adassa, catching her daughter up and tickling her. Merlyn plopped on the bench beside his mother and leaned into her to ask again if he'd really have his own room.

"Heard dragons attacked Whiterun," said Devon. "Is that true?" he demanded of Alfarinn.

"Heard same," the carriage driver answered laconically. "We get to Whiterun and if Bjorlam's still there — he's a driver based in Whiterun — you can ask him for the details. He watched the dragon attack one of the city's watchtowers and heard the Dragonborn's first shout. And then we all heard the Graybeards shouting back."

"I was out it the forest cutting wood and missed the dragons that attacked Windhelm a month ago," Devon said sadly.

"Well, if you had done the cutting the day before like you were suppose to you wouldn't have," his sister sniped. "Two dragons!" she proudly told the rest of them. "And the Jarl and the Dragonborn shouted both of them down. The Dragonborn and her friends took the one on the outside and our Jarl got the one inside the city all by himself."

At this Revyn's eyes rolled. "Let's hope no other dragons attack Whiterun," he remarked. "Your aunt and uncle's farm would give you no place to run from a hungry dragon." The two teens shrugged. "They've got cows," said Mina. "If I were a dragon I'd go for big, juicy cows rather than some scrawny humans."

There was a Dunmer wearing typical hunter's hide armor waiting by the road. He stood next to a horse laden with four large bags. When the carriage drew near enough to make out his features Adassa's children began yelling, "Grandfather! Grandfather!"

Revyn looked. "Grandfather" looked young enough to be Adassa's brother. Like Adassa's dramatic white lock of hair on her left temple, he had the white lock left of center on his forehead. As the carriage drew abreast he moved to stand in the way to make Alfarinn stop. Adassa jumped down and rushed over to hug her father. Revyn and Ralof restrained the children from recklessly leaping off after their mother.

"Sit," the mer said sternly to his grandchildren and they settled, their expressions undimmed and expectant. He didn't disappoint and handed two wrapped sticky treats to his daughter to distribute. He then looked to Alfarinn. "Wait here," he ordered. "I took care of the tower lot. There's another group ahead. Relax for a while. You'll be at Whiterun before the end of the day." He brought his horse around to the back and tossed its load onto the carriage floor before remounting it.

"Need help?" asked Ralof, hoisting his wood axe. The mer glanced at him.

"I don't need it, but I'm the last to deny a Nord the taste of battle. Come if you like," the mer said with a daedra's grin. "They're based in a cliff cave overlooking the road. I can take out the lower sentries and the ones near the entrance with my bow while you may the fun of climbing up the hillside through the brush."

"That I can do, friend."

"Then get on." As soon as Ralof was on the horse they took off.

"It shouldn't take long," Adassa said to the rest of them. "My father has fought daedra and ash creatures. A few bandits are nothing to him."

"Ordinator," Revyn said flatly. For the longest time the Ordinators stood for honor, justice, and strength. But during the last decades of the era as the Tribunal was faltering they'd reflected the instability of the Temple; had become intolerant and brutal to maintain control.

"Yes," she confirmed, a touch defiantly, yet her eyes pleaded for understanding. Revyn looked away and instead scanned the surroundings for bandits.

As predicted, the two were soon back and the horse carried two large bags it hadn't before.

"That was fun," Ralof said. He claimed the two bags and stuffed them under his place in the carriage. "My share," he announced. Glancing at Adassa he said, "Your father says he will claim a bounty from Whiterun for those bandits." The mer confirmed this with a disinterested grunt. He had plucked his granddaughter from the carriage and was occupied in showing her a necklace.

"You are coming to Whiterun with us?" Adassa asked her father.

"Yes," he said to his grandchildren's delight. "If you've no objections. I've things to sell and it's a friendlier place than Windhelm. I've been hunting around this place for some weeks. Plenty of honest work to be had. Balgruuf's rule is a hell of a lot easier to stomach than Ulfric's." Adassa's open-mouth expression made clear she hadn't expected any of this. Ralof's expression soured.

Revyn let out a soft sigh and started poking holes in his previously set plans. Adassa he believed was perfect to be the steward of Thane Felix of Whiterun, the Dragonborn, and could be trusted to keep up the pretense that his wife and the Legend were separate people. She had been trained to work in the inner, secretive world of Morrowind high finance where being in a financial red zone meant someone painted your office with your blood.

She had spoken something of her father, Selrun Mor, to him during early interviews, but she had not mentioned he was an Ordinator, merely saying he was a soldier who had returned to the family when his post had eventually fallen and was destroyed. He and other soldiers from his unit had rounded up as many survivors as they could and fought savagely through Argonian ranks to get them to the ships. Once he saw his daughter and her husband settled in Windhelm, he disappeared. And when her husband died, drowned in the Sea of Ghosts when the fishing vessel he worked on sank, her father sent money every month to supplement the meager coins she made pulling cabbages on a farm.

Revyn had met her when she came to sell some of her husband's things and he had recognized the gold seal on an empty ink well.

He wondered if she could keep secrets from her father. They looked to be close, her admiration and love no less than her children's for him. Revyn didn't believe so. The Ordinator would find out soon enough.

Breezehome had been expanded nicely into something more fitting for a Thane of Whiterun. The main level had been expanded for a better dining room/kitchen space and the small room under the stairs likewise expanded to be a business office. The upper level had more bedrooms and an outer deck overlooking the plains district. The cellar was well stocked with miscellaneous house supplies and food.

Revyn waited in one of the partially dug out hidden rooms behind a weapons rack. This hidden area was planned for a room for guests, a bedroom suite for Helsette that would be larger than the official Thane's room on the second floor because here she would store extra armor and weapons, and then there were niches for an enchanter's station and a small alchemy lab. Another office room for books and plans only he, his wife, Lydia, and Adassa would see. Then there would be the entry room for a tunnel that led outside the walls of the city. Not the first such tunnel. The diggers had found the Companions' tunnel that ran from underneath the Skyforge to an exit near the Battle-Born farm.

Lydia and Adassa came in. Her father and her children were exploring the marketplace while she stayed behind to "settle in" things. "I know this was unexpected but my father can be trusted to keep secrets," she assured him. "I haven't told him anything yet, but soon, I hope, with your permission."

"This is difficult for you, I know. But I cannot help but worry. His loyalties, his state of mind... The Tribunal's fall has driven many Ordinators suicidal or unstable. I know of Ordinators in the Gray Quarter and they are among the most bitter and violent there; the ones the Nords seek out and kill because they're too easy to provoke into attack. Not all are insane, but bitter nonetheless; the hopelessness and helplessness eating them alive. When an Ordinator is finally brought to selling what's left of his armor and weapons to me, I see a dead mer walking, and never a redemption."

Adassa couldn't stop a tear. "I know, serjo. I've seen my father's comrades suffer such. All the strength and good they've done, represented, gone with the Tribunal's fall. He's bitter too, and angry, and that's why he couldn't stay with us. He knew he couldn't suppress his anger around the Nords.

"At least not then. He's, he's different. I don't know what happened when he was wandering, but he seems more willing to face life again."

Revyn splayed his hands, palms up, on the tabletop. "Tell him what you must, Adassa. Make him understand what your job entails. Let him know I ask nothing more of him than a blind eye and a closed mouth."

He'd originally planned to stay at the Bannered Mare but a drunken Breton there challenged him to a drinking contest that first night. He'd refused. There was magic about the man made him uneasy and he booked the rest of his stay at the Drunken Huntsman.

Other than escorting Adassa and her children to their new home, the rest of his week was for making as many contacts as he could in Whiterun. He was a merchant from Windhelm looking to make investments. He set out looking for one Ysolda his wife had mentioned, an ambitious, young woman looking to becoming a caravan merchant and who had no apparent problems dealing with non-Nords.

Adassa's father intercepted him just outside the Huntsman's doors. "We talk outside." Revyn reluctantly followed him outside the main gates and through the crumbling outer walls. They walked eastward. "What fine Hlaalu treachery are you dragging my daughter into?"

"I need a competent steward for my wife's money, and I need one based in Whiterun because Windhelm is not the trade center that Whiterun is. As simple as that."

"Simple my arse, Hlaalu. This game to keep your wife and the Dragonborn separate. Too many eyes watching for weakness. A Dunmer Dragonborn spits in the face of Nord pride and says Shor and Talos and their own mother, Kynareth, finds them unworthy.

"So in typical Hlaalu fashion," he snarled, "you are building an escape route. When your wife fulfills their prophesy and kills this king of dragons, you and she will pull out of Skyrim with as much of their gold as you can."

"Typical Indoril paranoia. But, not an implausible assumption," Revyn agreed in a calm, soothing tone. "And you're afraid I'll leave Adassa and the children behind to face the wrath of the Nords." The brisk pace they'd maintained had him working up a sweat and lightly panting, and just a well as it masked the chill of his skin and forced him to breathe through the dizziness he felt under the other's narrowed glare. He'd welcome a slaughter of cliffracers right about now.

The Honningbrew Meadery was coming up and Revyn invited the other to join him in sampling drinks. In general the stuff was too sweet for Dunmer tastes but it was good enough to put up a fight against the Black-Briar brand. Revyn seriously considered the business for investment but there was something about the owner he didn't like. Something about the intensity of hate and loathing in the eyes of the servant sweeping the floor.

They headed back towards Whiterun. Revyn told the Ordinator how his father ran caravans into the Ashlands, took a Zainab bride like his father had. How faith in his family went back to original three Princes. It estranged his branch of the family somewhat from the rest, but the profit they made in Ashland trade kept them respectable. Plus, they publicly attended the proper services; faithfully paid the Temple its due.

He showed the Ordinator the necklace he wore under his clothes. Bone charms carved from his mother's family, some as old from the days of Velothi, and glass beads made of the ashes from of his father's ancestral tomb now forever lost under the tons of ash from Red Mountain. The Ordinator, also a skilled destruction mage, detected and acknowledged the latent ancestral power in that priceless treasure and appeared satisfied when Revyn swore by the bones of his ancestors and by the Princes that his fears were groundless; this Hlaalu was here to stay and would not betray allies.

An unmistakable shadow glided over mountains and rivers and they were buffeted in the wake of giant wings. They and anyone else on the road went to cover. The dragon skirted the walls of the city and inspected the farmlands. It snatched an unfortunate cow and carried it eastward.

"Your wife needs to take care of that."

"Well, technically anyone can kill it, but it will just resurrect again. Why don't you try? I'm sure you can keep it dead long enough for her to get back here to eat its soul."

"Is there a bounty on it?"

"Probably, but even Whiterun doesn't pay out more than the market rate that you'd get on your typical bandit leader. A laughable pittance for all the danger as you know. Your best bet is to find where the dragon lairs. They can shit out quite a bit treasure if you're not squeamish. That one is heading to Shearpoint. My wife killed the previous tenants and this must be the new one."

"Might as well. I'll need something to live on while I'm finding a job around here."

He went off in the direction of Shearpoint and Revyn returned to Breezehome at the same time Adassa and Lydia returned from Dragonsreach after meeting Proventus Avenicci, the steward of Whiterun. They were carrying the books the Jarl's steward had maintained and bags of letters for the Dragonborn sent in care of the palace.

"It went well with Avenicci?" he asked the ladies.

"It did, sir," answered Lydia. "Adassa's knowledge of finance impressed him. The Jarl also graced us with his attention and seemed amused at his thane hiring her own steward."

"He remarked that it was 'about time,'" Adassa added.

"Excellent. Did you get a chance to speak with Irileth?" he asked Lydia.

"Yes. She's interested in the possibility of having an ex-Ordinator —"

Adassa started, looking alarmed.

"— in the Whiterun Guards. With the dragon activity rising and my Thane not being exclusively available to handle all the sightings in the hold, an experienced daedra killer would be a welcome substitute."

"Ah. Good. Now I just need to broach the subject with Selrun. We managed to reach some level of trust this morning and I'd hate to lose it by unintentionally insulting him."

"Serving Whiterun would be an insult?" Lydia challenged with a frown.

"Being reduced to a common guard when you were an Ordinator—"

"A High Ordinator!" Adassa thrust in.

Revyn sat down, feeling faint.

"Sir? What's wrong?" asked Lydia.

"Oh, nothing. Just realizing how close to the edge of a cliff I was running this morning," he replied to her confusion. He glanced at Adassa. "Just as well I didn't know that."

"A High Ordinator..." Lydia began.

"The Ordinators, the Temple warriors, have few equals in Morrowind. The High Ordinators were the best of them as warriors and as battle mages. The only rank above them we call The Hands of Almalexia, the personal guards of the gods," Adassa explained. "I'm sure no insult is intended, Lydia, but understand my father is used to taking orders from living gods, not mortals." She laughed softly and looked at Revyn. "He still has them, his armor and sword," she said.

"Oh. Um, good. I hope he has them somewhere at hand because he's headed off to kill a dragon by himself."

"Oh. Poor dragon then." Seeing Lydia's concerned look, Adassa smiled. "I know, I know, only the Dragonborn can kill a dragon permanently, but father's in no danger of being eaten. And when the Dra-, when our Thane returns she can make the final kill."

Lydia grunted, accepting that. "So then you think he wouldn't be interested in a becoming a Whiterun guard even in the interest of, say, protecting the new home of his daughter and grandchildren."

"I don't know. He did appear resigned to settling hereabouts," said Revyn.

"Then he should be speaking with Irileth. He sounds like he needs to speak warrior to warrior about this, not to a merchant. Especially to a Dunmer warrior who's been with Balgruuf since the Great War.

"No offense, sir," she added.

"You are absolutely right, Lydia. Irileth sounds like the perfect one to close the deal. Can you arrange it?"

"Of course, sir." Revyn smiled, his hands saying, "all yours."

+—+—+—+—+

Alfarinn's carriage slowed to a halt for someone on the road. "A problem?" he asked.

"Just looking for a thieving fetcher."

Revyn's ears perked, recognizing the voice. He looked to see a Whiterun guard. Only by the exposed arms and legs could one tell it was a Dunmer.

Suddenly the man next to him bolted over the side of the carriage and started running. The guard lazily lifted his left arm and shot a bolt of ice that struck the runner on the buttocks, felling him. "Thank you for your cooperation, citizen," Selrun drawled.

"Go about your business," he said to Alfarinn. To Revyn, "But I'm watching you."