(AN: Wow, that last chapter was remarkably shorter than usual. Don't worry, we'll be back up to 8000 in no time! Also, since it has probably been years since you last heard of them, i will go into detail about who the Placators are: they feature significantly into this story.)

(Please, review! Tell me that Kvatch is boring and plodding and nothing is happening. I need the critiques as well as the nice reviews, they keep me honest.)

Attack on the Inn

Crixus left the Arena, taking his two companions with him, and went back to the Hero's Welcome, where they ate a heart meal and enjoyed good wine. Ever and anon, however, Crixus noticed that Flavia would come to their table to ask them if they had everything they needed: each time she spoke to Crixus, also, she would bend over, allowing her low-cut dress to give Crixus a peak at her ample bosom. For the first and second time, they made nothing of it and continued their talk about what Crixus and Zeno Platorius had talked about in the Arena.

"Some kind of far-fetched scheme to get the city opened," Crixus stated. "Something about me betting on fights in the arena."

"Well?" Petruvius asked. "Are you going to?"

"I still would like to speak to the head of the Fighters Guild," Crixus replied. "While we're here, there should be a way of getting an introductory letter written from the head of the Kvatch chapter. Still, if this Drogon is as good as Platorius said he was, maybe there could be some easy money made here. Might even be able to get an audience with the Count."

"But what about our...other aims?" Petruvius whispered. "You know..."

"I'll ask the proprietress when she comes back," Crixus stated. "See if our letters have come through."

"So which one should we focus on primarily?" Petruvius asked.

"Well, what do you all think?" Crixus asked. "You too, Lethia, you've been rather quiet through all of this."

"Hmm?" she returned. "Oh, I was busy thinking. But what are you asking?"

"Should we focus our efforts and attention," Crixus repeated. "On this business with the Arena, making connections for our Mages Guild or joining the Fighters Guild?"

"I say we make more connections for your new Mages Guild," she replied. "But first, let us find another place to stay."

"Why?" Crixus snickered. "You don't like it here?" She shook her head and Crixus chuckled. "What's wrong with this place? Good food, good beer, the music is good!" A few local patrons in one corner were sloshing through The First Song of the Hero, which Crixus appreciated slightly.

"You wouldn't understand," she retorted. "You're just like the others in the caves: mating, feeding and killing are the only things they know and enjoy."

Crixus chuckled. "What's wrong with enjoying the local cuisine?"

"It's more than the food you want to enjoy," Lethia groaned. "Especially considering how the innkeeper kept flirting with you."

"Give me a break," Crixus shook his head.

"I might not be knowledgeable about how you slaves procreate," Lethia stated. "But I am a woman, and I know that a woman doesn't display herself in such a manner unless she's flirting."

"Does that bother you?" Crixus asked.

"Suppose that it does?" she returned.

"Wait," Crixus chuckled. "Did you actually think that you and me were going to fuck?" He shook his head, laughing. "You can't be that naive, not with all your talk of slaves and such."

"Don't flatter yourself," she dismissed.

"No, it's alright," Crixus grinned. "I've had women throwing themselves at me since I was in the Legion. It's no secret, I am..." He threw up his hands, a self-confident smile on his face. "...a fuck to die for. But you, Lethia, I always knew that it wouldn't be me fucking you."

"And why not," she returned. "Since you seem to have such a high opinion of yourself?"

"Because if anyone's gonna be fucking you," Crixus replied. "It'll be a mer. I'm not a Nord, I have no intention of wiping out the Snow Elf race by fucking the last one myself. It should be an elf, someone with whom you might have a proper chance of repopulating your species."

"And what say in this matter do I have?" Lethia retorted.

"You of all people should want to have more of your own kind back in existence, right?" Crixus asked.

At that moment, Flavia appeared again at their table-side.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked.

"One thing," Crixus said, raising his hand. At this, she turned around and, placing her hands upon the table, leaned over, displaying her assets once again before his eyes alone. Biting his lower lip to keep from laughing, he said: "Two things, actually." Lethia shook her head, Petruvius buried his face in his hand and Flavia grinned.

"Have you received any messenger ravens?" Crixus asked.

"Not yet," she replied. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually," Crixus nodded. "You mentioned the table with Attrebus Mede's initials on it. Could I have the pleasure of seeing it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Flavia, pursing her lips. "But that table is in my house, on the other side of the inn."

"Would there be any way of seeing it?" Crixus asked.

"Maybe," she replied, smiling. Her eyes shifted to her right. "For now, I have an inn to run. Just give my door a knock this evening, let's say...ten?"

"Whatever you say," Crixus returned, returning her smile with a slight grin. Flavia rose up and went off in the direction she had looked. When she was gone, Crixus turned to Lethia, who shook her head angrily.

"If you cannot see that," she replied. "You're blinder than my people, slave."

"Hmm," Crixus grimaced. "Nevertheless, it would be worth seeing, if only for the history."

"History is not what you're after, slave," Lethia stated disapprovingly.

"Jealous, are you?" Crixus chuckled.

"Of that tramp?" she queried. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Petruvius, what do you think?" Crixus asked, turning to his squire. "You've been rather silent through all of this."

"Hmm?" he replied. "Oh, well, you told me not to object, so I won't object. Who you sleep with is your affair."

"No, I meant of her," Crixus added with a smirk. "What do you, you know, think of her?"

"I think she's a little old, don't you think, sir?" Petruvius commented.

"Can't be older than forty," Crixus stated. "And, regardless of what my faces says, I'm not exactly young myself, you know." He looked in the direction Flavia went. "She'll be...experienced in all the right ways. Like a fine wine, aged to perfection."

"If you say so, sir," Petruvius said before taking a sip of wine from his cup.

Later that evening, as the hour of ten was approaching, Lethia and Petruvius had already ascended the stairs to their bedrooms. Crixus, meanwhile, was making his way over to the house in the "crook of the L" of the Hero's Welcome. On his way there, he saw that the windows of the inn were all barred on the outside. In the distance, a barking dog set Crixus' nerves on end. Even Riften had not seemed as ominous and potentially threatening as Kvatch did now. Crixus jogged the last few steps to the door and knocked upon it three times. After a minute of silence, a window at eye's level opened up. Upon seeing Crixus, the window closed and the sound of dead-bolts being unlocked was heard: moments later the door was opened and Flavia was standing there.

"I'm glad to see you decided to come," she greeted with a smile. "Please, come inside, quickly. It's not safe to be in the streets at night."

"Is that so?" Crixus asked, stepping into her small house.

"Just between us," Flavia stated as she locked every bolt behind him once he was inside. "The Count is not a very good administrator."

"Indeed?" Crixus asked again.

"I've had a few wealthy patrons come in here," she continued. "Who have let slip that he leaves the dealings of the court to his friend Publius Varro. Of course, you can't tell anyone I said this, or let this on to anyone either. Varro has eyes and ears all over the city."

"One man can't be that powerful," Crixus dismissed.

"Think again, friend," Flavia sighed. "All of his rivals have ended up dead or quit the county. Besides, there ain't too many people here in town like me. Most people go along just to get along, and the general sentiment in the counties is that, no matter how bad the count is, because of his position, we're obliged to respect him, if not love him."

"A noble sentiment," Crixus stated. "The Count is an honorable position, not like the violent, law-breaking, drunken, illiterate earls of Skyrim. The Counts deserve respect, not like the earls."

"I feel the Count should behave honorably in order to be worthy of honor," Flavia stated.

"And you?" Crixus asked.

"What about me?" she returned, grinning slyly.

"Some would say that you were not conducting yourself honorably earlier this evening in the cantina," Crixus stated. "Are you worthy of honor?"

"Few people see the role of innkeeper as a position worthy of honor," Flavia stated. "Especially for a woman to hold. It's even worse when you worship Dibella, like I do. So I've just decided that, if I'm going to be called a slut, I might as well enjoy myself thereby." She sighed. "But enough about me. Do you still want to see the Attrebus Mede table?"

"That's why I'm here," Crixus replied.

"That's only why you're here?" she asked.

Crixus shrugged. "There may have been...other things."

With a grin, Flavia led Crixus into a small dining room reserved for private guests at her house. In the center of the room was a very old table, whose top had been so worn that it was as smooth as marble. After directing Crixus to look along the table's edge, Flavia went into the pantry to seek out a bottle of wine. With a little searching on his part, Crixus saw the initials AM carved into the side of the table, followed by the date: 4E 37.

"A fine piece," Crixus stated.

"It was carved there by Attrebus Mede," Flavia said as she walked out of the pantry, a bottle of 180 Surilie Bros. wine in her hand. "When he was the Crown Prince, touring the counties. A bold one was Prince Attrebus, like his father at his age, before he became Emperor."

"Wait, his father was Emperor?" Crixus asked. "I thought Attrebus was the first Medan Emperor."

Flavia chuckled. "Where have you been living, friend, that you don't know your own history, Morrowind? Attrebus was the second Medan Emperor, the first one was his father, Titus I. Although..." She placed the bottle on the table and went to a cupboard, where she pulled out a white linen table-cloth and placed it upon the table, talking while she did. "...perhaps I shouldn't be too hard on you. I mean, after all, that's ancient history. And maybe they teach different things at the universities in the Capital and Bruma." She then gave a slight chuckle as she brought two wooden cups from the pantry.

"Whatever gave the old Count of Bruma the idea to build a university there of all places is beyond me."

"I hear that," Crixus grinned. "Most Nords wouldn't know how to pronounce university, much less know what it's for."

Flavia poured wine into the cups, then handed one to Crixus. "But enough about politics, for now. So tell me, Morrowind, how is it over there?"

"Are you going to fuck me or talk me to sleep?" Crixus jibed as he sipped from the cup.

"Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Flavia chuckled. "Besides, I'm an innkeeper by reputation, but also by trade. It's my job and hobby to hear the news from the counties and provinces which, thanks to the lock-down, has become rather rare of late. So please, tell me about Morrowind. How is it like?"

"I was only at Mournhold," Crixus stated.

"I see you got out before the dark elves rebelled, thank the Eight," she replied. "But what about the women?"

"What about them?" Crixus returned.

"Tell me about them," said Flavia. "Are they really as the rumors say they are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Flavia continued. "It's said that they never bathe, that some have completely shaven heads but shave no other part of their bodies. Is this so?"

Crixus nodded. "It is so."

"And are they as...virile as they say?"

"Some certainly had the ability to be," Crixus stated. "I had the unique privilege of learning quite a bit about their fucking rituals."

"Maybe you could show me?" Flavia asked, taking her first sip and lifting her eyebrows in an inviting gesture.

It had only been three days since he last slept with someone, but, having indulged himself throughout his adulthood, the urge was stronger and more all-consuming with each year. He threw himself onto Flavia, who, with equal desires in mind, threw her arms around Crixus' neck as they began kissing each other vigorously. As his hands started moving down to her skirt, she told him to take her upstairs to her bed. He carried her up the stairs, held as she was with her arms around his neck. Once at the top stair, she directed him to a room with an open door. Inside, he threw her down onto the bed and they indulged themselves until nigh on to midnight. At last, with only twenty minutes left until the clock at the Chapel of Akatosh struck twelve, Flavia collapsed onto her bed, thoroughly exhausted from the vigorous love-making and Crixus lay on top of her, with his face resting in her glistening bosom.

When he awoke, he found himself lying face up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Turning to his left, he saw that Flavia was not in the bed with him. His first inclination was that she had risen early and gone to the inn to attend to her duties. But as he looked to the right, he saw her standing, fully dressed on the other side of the room, with her back to the door as if she was ready to make a last stand in her own room.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"What, not even a kiss good morning?" Crixus jibed.

"This is no time for games," Flavia returned. "Who are you?"

"Just a traveler who needed a lay, that's all," Crixus replied.

"That's not good enough," she stated, shaking her head. "I want a name, and who you belong to."

"Is this an interrogation?" Crixus asked. "What have I done?"

Flavia scoffed. "Like you don't know!"

"What?" Crixus returned. "I...the last thing I remember was..." He was about to say '...falling asleep in your tits after a long, hard night of fucking', but then something else came to his mind. He could see shapes of men in blue robes standing over him, empty hands raised as though they would cast a spell. But the images were vague, hazy, as if seen through a fog.

"What happened?" Crixus asked, his voice slow and wary.

"I'm the one asking the questions here," Flavia returned. "Now tell me who you are!"

Crixus sighed. "I'm in the Imperial Legion, or was. I'm returning to the Capital after defeating the barbarians in the North."

"Were you part of the Battle-Mage companies, by any chance?" she asked.

"What? No!" Crixus retorted. "I was a legate. I led troops wherever I was commanded. Look, is this going anywhere? I've never been exactly comfortable sharing my secrets with complete strangers."

"You put your pretty cock inside me," Flavia stated. "I think that makes us more than strangers."

"Even though you don't even know my name?" Crixus asked.

"Well?"

"Decimus Crixus," he lied. It was his custom to give a false given name as his own. "But unless you and I are married or related by blood, you can call me Crixus."

"Very well, Crixus," Flavia replied. "What reason would the Synod have to come after you?"

Crixus' heart stopped at the mention of the Synod. Exactly what they did was still a mystery to him, but he feared that, somehow, they had discovered that he was trying to supplant them with his new Mages Guild.

"I don't know," Crixus answered: the truth of his statement was vague. "I've never had dealings with them."

"Are you part of the College of Whispers?" Flavia asked.

"No," Crixus shook his head.

"Then why did the Synod break into my house last night?" she demanded.

"They did?" Crixus asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, Crixus," Flavia retorted.

"I'm not!" Crixus stated. "I...don't...I have no memory of anything..." He could hear words being spoken, but they were vague and distorted and he understood nothing of what was said. "Since you seem to know all about what happened, why don't you tell me?"

"I rolled out of bed and crawled underneath," she replied, hanging her head in shame. "I had no choice. They had the door and we're not allowed to have weapons."

"And where were the city guards during all of this?" Crixus asked.

Flavia scoffed grimly. "They wouldn't lift a finger to stop the Synod. That's how it works in the city: the Count gives them permission to set up their office and they 'bring magic' to our city by operating with the blessings of the Count and the Grand Council."

"The Elder Council, you mean?" Crixus corrected.

"No, the Grand Council," she repeated. "As in the Grand Council of the Synod. Sweet Dibella, was there no Synod in Mournhold?"

"Not that I remember," Crixus stated. "Then again, nobody in Mournhold held to any Imperial customs or laws. House Hlaalu did, but they were always in the minority."

"Well," Flavia replied. "Things are different here in civilized Cyrodiil. The Synod operates freely wherever they believe someone might be abusing their laws and restrictions against magical users. The Count never lifts a finger to stop them and the Elder Council certainly won't."

"I don't believe you," Crixus shook his head. "I can't believe that Imperial counts would be so callous as to ignore the plight of their own people."

"Open your eyes!" Flavia retorted. "These are not the days of Uriel Septim. Not every count is as good as they claim to be."

"Then what was all that talk about loving them no matter if they are corrupt?" Crixus retorted.

"I...don't mistake me," Flavia sighed. "I'm not a rebel, I just hear things and have an opinion of my own. It will be a sorry day for all of us indeed when opinions are punishable by death."

"Why?" Crixus asked. "Certain opinions should not be tolerated, like the backwards notion of independence the barbarians of Skyrim practiced. Or those opinions that threaten the common good of the Empire, those should not be tolerated."

"Look, I'm not here for a debate," Flavia retorted. "All I wanted were some answers about last night."

"Yeah? Well, I don't have any," Crixus returned. "Besides, how did you know it was the Synod at all? Weren't you under the bed when this happened?"

"I heard one of them mention the Synod," Flavia replied. "And I saw the hems of their robes: Synod mages wear blue robes with golden hems. These were they."

"Right," Crixus nodded. "So, then, is this little interrogation over with?"

"It's not an interrogation," Flavia stated. "I'm perfectly entitled to know why the Synod broke into my house and attacked my guest!"

"Your bawd, you mean," Crixus clarified as he looked down at himself: his clothes were still lying on the floor, where he had left them the night before.

Flavia cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't call you that. Nor would I say that I didn't enjoy myself with you. Perhaps you would visit me more often...so long as you leave your Synod friends at home?"

"I have no home," Crixus replied: it was a rare moment of honesty. "But I will get to the bottom of this. Next time, I promise you, there will be no Synod to disturb us. Can I go now?"

"I've only one last question for you," Flavia noted.

"And that is?"

"Who is Miraak?"

Crixus' blood froze at the mention of that name. Into his mind were conjured images of the dark, twisted eldritch realm of Apocrypha and its arrogant Atmoran usurper. His power was such that he could kill and dominate dragons and so great that, even as a mere shadow, an image projected by his power from this plane of Oblivion, he could steal the soul of a dragon from both himself and Eirik. His servants, misguided Dunmer cultists from the isle of Solstheim, had dogged his every step, driving him to face him though he would rather not have anything to do with him. In the end, Eirik's brute strength proved useful in defeating Miraak and the daedric prince Hermaeus Mora slew him. How Miraak had managed to evade his eyes for an eternity seemed strange to Crixus, but not having Miraak's cultists attack him at inconvenient times and places in the dead of the night or being affronted after killing a dragon were definite good things.

"What did you say?" he gasped.

"I heard you calling out that name," Flavia replied. "I thought at first it was your name, but then you gave me your own name, and I wonder..."

Crixus shook his head and said nothing else as he rose up and put on his clothes. Once his trousers were back on, he turned to Flavia and spoke.

"I want you," he said slowly and emphatically. "To forget what happened. As far as you know, I had a bad dream and was calling out random names in my sleep."

"But I was attacked!" she retorted. "How can you ask me to..."

"I don't have all the answers," Crixus returned. "But I'm going to find them soon."

As soon as Crixus got dressed, he made his way back to the Hero's Welcome. What he found as soon as he entered was an inn in chaos. From the common room to the halls between the rooms, people were talking in worried tones. Apparently someone had broken into the inn that night and disturbed the peace. Crixus' mind went back to what Flavia told him about the Synod and his concern deepened. Just how safe were the messages he was sending to and from his contacts for the Mages Guild? Were the bird-keepers being paid to share the messages of their ravens to whoever asked? These and more thoughts filled his head as he made his way to the room they had purchased for that night.

His concern changed to worry when he saw that many of the guests were gazing at that room in particular. What had Petruvius and Lethia done to attract attention? Had Lethia revealed herself? Pushing aside those loitering in the hallways, discussing what had happened the night before, Crixus made his way to the room, where his worry immediately turned to fear. The door was open and inside the room were small burn-marks, as if lightning had scorched the timbers and stones of the room: Petruvius and Lethia, however, were nowhere to be found. Immediately he ran inside and searched the room, to see if there was any indication as to who might have taken them. Petruvius, at least, would have left some sign that Crixus could read. Unfortunately, the room was bare of any marking and not a single note of ransom had been placed anywhere.

At once, Crixus left the inn and went for the city guards. He quickly explained his situation to them, that his companions had been kidnapped from the Hero's Welcome. He described Petruvius in great detail but said nothing more about Lethia than that she was a mer who had some disfigurement and refused to show her face.

"I'll do what I can," the guard replied. "But unless you can tell me who kidnapped them, there ain't much I can do to help you. Most of us are posted at the gates and walls to keep out newcomers."

"I don't know who kidnapped them," Crixus stated. As far as he could tell, the attack against him was disconnected from the disappearance of his comrades: or was it? "Unless...it might have been the Synod. They did attack the publican and I last night as well."

"If you have a problem with the Synod," the guard stated. "There's nothing I can do about it. You'll have to take it up with the Chief Attendant at the Synod office in town."

Crixus sighed as he walked away. It seemed as though he had hit a dead end for the time being. Neither the facts "as they were" nor his hunch that the Synod took them would have been of much help in expiditing their liberation. If they came after him, as Flavia had told him, then walking right up to the doors of their office was the last thing he wanted to do. As far as an investigation of his own, he did not know where to begin that would take him someplace other than the Synod Office in Kvatch.

While he was thus distracted, he saw the Breton man Eddard Perrick walking up to him.

"Is everything alright, sir?" he asked.

"You," Crixus stated. "Why are you here? Don't you have people to bring in to the city?"

"Yes and no," Perrick replied. "It's been one day and you haven't done as I instructed."

"My friends are missing," Crixus retorted. "I can't just ignore that, can I?"

"If you know what's best for you, you will," Perrick clarified. "My organization got you into the city, therefore in return, you must get the city opened, which means sponsoring Zeno's games with waging on the Arena fights."

"But I have little money," Crixus stated.

"Don't worry about money," Perrick replied. "We'll make sure that you have enough to spend. For the mean time, you have a job to do."

"But what about..."

"We can have your pass revoked," Perrick noted. "I can have it nullified this very evening, tell the Count it was taken by force and under pain of death. You will be expelled from the city or thrown into the dungeon, whatever Count Romulus fancies at the time, and my organization will go unnoticed."

"Then why do you need me anyway?" Crixus asked. "If your organization is so all-powerful?"

"You are an important piece in our line of work," Perrick replied in a knowing voice that made Crixus shudder: just how much did this red-haired, little Breton know about him and his value? "People like you are hard to come by, but very valuable."

"Are you sure you want to talk to me like that?" Crixus retorted.

"You have no minions to defend you," Perrick stated. "And you are here at our discretion and at our mercy. Do not fool yourself into thinking that merely because Lord Mayor Signius gave you a writ of credit, you are one of us. Until you wear the badge, you are still just an accessory, like everyone else." He then grinned smugly.

"Now go and do as we have ordered you," he concluded. "Wager on the fights in the Arena, make some money and convince the Count to re-open the city. The rest is up to us. As for your minions, I have it on good authority that in three days time, there will be one coming to Kvatch, one with the expertise in dangerous missions of lost or stolen companions. Perhaps he might help you find your lost minions?"

(AN: -sigh- This was going to be a longer chapter, but i'm really hating the pacing of the time in Kvatch. I have an idea for what will happen, but it will take a while.)

(Aside from the usual stuff in this chapter, we did have an interesting encounter with someone who was at first just a fling for Crixus, who then might become a source of information once Kvatch is re-opened. But can Eddard Perrick be trusted, and who are the "powerful friends" he speaks of? Did the Synod really kidnap Petruvius and Lethia? And why was Crixus talking about Miraak? All of these and more will soon be revealed.)