After their hearty breakfast (bread, mutton, and water), the trio took to the streets and headed for the Blue Palace. As they passed by the Bard's College, the Twins paused. After a moment's concentration, they could just hear the sounds of blaring instruments from inside the building, causing them to chuckle.

"Reminds me of when I first started learning," Mikael said in fond remembrance.

"When was that, my Thane?" Lydia asked curiously.

"When I was around 12 or so…" the taller Breton began. "Our homeland had very advanced educational systems - depending on who you talked to - but we were in schooling since we were but 6 years old. Some started lessons then, but I was not pushed into such teachings. When we were in middle school - the second of three primary schoolings for children - I picked up learning an instrument called the saxophone. Having a bit of trouble finding a key piece to make that here. Anyways, I loved music so much I pursued it the rest of my life until around when we came here. Had to pick up a bow and arrow instead of a bow and violin." He laughed at his own lame joke, Aramen threw a pebble at his head, but picked up where he left off.

"The music on our- er, in our homeland is very different than from here, partly because there's so many instruments. Plenty of folk songs and such, but…" Aramen trailed off as he thought about what he was saying.

How do you explain color to the blind, sound to the deaf? You can explain the science of it; light refracting off matter and waves vibrating at specific frequencies, but for all the explanation the person still won't really get it. It was the same thing here. How can you explain to a pre-industrial society that until just yesterday only had three instruments to utilize for their musical creativity the feel of Jazz? Hip-hop? Rock and roll? Metal? Ska? Polka?

You can't. You just have to let it speak for itself.

"...Let's just say that there's a lot of different music for every taste and leave it at that."

"Then this fucker here managed to pick up instruments a thousand times more quickly than me for some reason and make me feel like I wasted a lot of time," Mikael groused, shooting a knowing look at his brother, who shrugged with a smirk.

"Hindsight is 20/20."

"Twenty twenty?" Lydia questioned again, confused.

The Bretons groaned. "Nevermind. It would take forever to explain," Aramen replied. "Besides, we're here."

And indeed they were there, standing at the front door of the Blue Palace. Mikael stepped forward and opened it, then gave an exaggerated bow and held it for them. Aramen chuckled and gave a mock bow in return, then stepped inside, followed by an amused Lydia.

Sunlight streamed in from the windows of the entry room, gleaming slightly off the brassy-looking chandelier and illumination the classy interior. Ivy of some kind hung from many of the walls, and plants were plentiful in pots positioned all about. The air smelled of green and candle smoke. Honestly; for a palace, it was fairly modest. Not all that big, nor was it covered wall-to-wall in flags or great paintings. It was more of a manor home than palace, and not exactly defensible. Though that was what Castle Dour was for.

Unbidden, both twins' eyes swept over to the door that led to the Pelagius Wing. They shuddered. What lay behind that door was something that they readily embraced many games over, but to see it in person and know the weight of what was there… and how would he react to their whole unusual being? They were anomalies. They shouldn't be here. Granted, that sort of thing was right down that man's alley, but that was the thing; they had no idea what to expect. It was laughable to think a being that powerful wouldn't notice something off about them and act on it. Though they would have certainly liked to meet him, and ask many questions, it was far too dangerous. With that shared thought in mind, the Twins moved on.

They walked up the stairs to see the court convening. A man in plain clothes stepped forward.

"I swear to you, unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights! We need someone to investigate!" Varnius Junius looked a bit shaken, likely from both the cave he referred to and that he was directly speaking with what was essentially royalty.

Jarl Elisif the Fair sat in her chair differently than every other Jarl; that is to say, she sat up straight rather than slouched with her head in one hand, giving her full attention to the man before her. She nodded concisely. "Then we will immediately send out a legion to scout the cave and secure the town. Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule."

"Your eminence," Sybille Stentor, the court mage, cut in somewhat rudely, "my scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is under imperial control. This is likely superstitious nonsense."

The Twins held in a snort. Your scrying must not be very good to miss something as big as this.

Actually, this line of dialogue always struck the Twins as odd since there was no mention of any kind of divination style magic in the game aside from the Psijic Order, the Augur of Dunlain, Elder Scrolls themselves, and the aforementioned missing Clairvoyance spell, all of which were anomalies and story points rather than a tangible facet of the established magic system in the game. The College didn't touch on the subject at all, though they had never really asked, either. Perhaps there was more to this scrying business than seemed? Something to bring up when they return to Winterhold, anyways.

Falk Firebeard cleared his throat. "Perhaps a more… tempered reaction… might be called for?"

Jarl Elisif blinked. "Oh. Yes, of course you are right." She seemed to collect herself. "Falk, tell Captain Aldis to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge."

"Thank you Jarl Elisif," Varnius said gratefully, but still not encouraged. "But about the cave…"

"I will have someone take care of the cave as well Varnius, you can rest easy. You're dismissed," Falk states with authority.

Varnius nodded and turned around, a slight frown on his features. The rest of the court went back to what they were doing.

Elisif the Fair. Widow to the late High King, she was the obvious choice for the next Jarl of Solitude, as well as the next choice for High Queen. However, as they knew from playing the game and reading the wiki, Elisif was not exactly leadership material. She was kind and had a good heart, but she had next to no experience as a leader and thus relied heavily on the Empire. Were she to become Queen, she would be little but a puppet for the Empire. While the Twins personally didn't have a problem with the Empire, only the Thalmor, that still makes her a poor ruler. Ulfric was right in that regard; The High King must be a true warrior and leader. They must command respect. Elisif… can't. She sends most her problems to her steward, relies on the advice of the court rather than making her own decisions, and was essentially a placeholder. She needed to either be whipped into shape or step aside for someone more capable.

The Twins motioned for Lydia to stay back while they approached Falk Firebeard, who took in the appearance of the two mismatched Bretons with a discerning eye. "Do you have business with the court?"

"Yes, we do." Mikael gave his trademark slight bow, with Aramen inclining his head. "I am Mikael Viator, and this is my twin Aramen Viator. We would like to offer our assistance regarding Wolfskull Cave."

"You mean the Dragon Bridge issue?" he said with some surprise. "I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go. Varnius is a bit jumpy at the best of times. There have been reports of weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave. Travellers disappearing, odd lights. I suspect wild animals or perhaps bandits." Falk shook his head. "I don't think it's worth our time with the war going on, but if you want to clear out the cave, I'll make sure you're repaid for your work."

"Certainly, we'd…" Mikael trailed off as he noticed a courier come up the stairs. It was noteworthy because he wore a shirt with the symbol of Winterhold on it, and he carried a crate on his back. He noticed the Twins. "Ah! Hello, Thanes."

"Hello there," Aramen replied with a frown. "Didn't know we had couriers hired yet. Package for us?"

"No, Thanes, this is from Jarl Kraldar to Jarl Elisif."

The Twins considered it for a moment and came to the conclusion that Kraldar was likely sending out gifts as a sort of peace offering. A smart move.

"Well," the steward interrupted, "best get on with the delivery, eh?" Falk turned to Elisif. "My lady, you have someone here to see you."

"A courier? Come forward," she stated.

The man scuttled forward. "Uh, greetings, Jarl Elisif. I come directly from Jarl Kraldar of Winterhold, who was recently appointed. He sends a greeting and well wishes to you, as well as these gifts," he pulled the crate off his back and opened it. "He sends five pounds of salt and six potions of Cure Disease. Jarl Kraldar wishes your reign be like the gifts he sends; kept well and healthy for a long time."

Kraldar didn't seem like the poetic sort, so they figured that little bit of speech was likely Thonjolf's doing. Still, it was effort and care and it meant something that a supposedly struggling town could muster supplies like this to send as a welcome basket, and the court knew it. Whispers broke out among them gathered people.

"Oh! Well, thank you," Elisif was taken quite off guard. Nonetheless, she gestured and Falk came to take the box from the courier. "Please send Jarl Kraldar my thanks, and that I send my sincerest hope that Winterhold thrives under his care."

As she spoke, Sybille came over to Falk and spoke quietly. "I'll have to test these potions. Make certain they're not poison."

Firebeard nodded. "Do so."

"Falk," Jarl Elisif called. "Please send a returning gift, some fresh fruit and vegetables."

"Yes, Jarl," he replied immediately. The courier nodded nervously in response, recognizing his dismissal to wait. Falk turned and raised an eyebrow at the Twins. "Heard something about Winterhold changing a lot recently. Thanes, hm?"

"We can't take all the credit," Mikael said with a smile. "The townsfolk were just looking for the right people to give them a hand. Things will continue to get better so long as they work for it now that Korir's gone."

"Never really liked him," Falk commented. He gave a moment's thought. "You two are alright in my book. Good hunting in Dragon's Bridge."

They nodded and turned around, walking up to the courier.

"Hey, can you take a message back to Birna?" Aramen asked.

"Of course," he said promptly.

"Tell her…"

Travelling back toward Wolfskull Cave was fairly easy, since Meridia's Temple was right about 100 yards away. Aramen in particular was excited about this quest, since it would give him ample opportunity to test out Dawnbreaker. The grin never left his face and by the time the party reached the cave entrance, he sprinted forward to meet the skeletons guarding it head-on.

The first skeleton barely had time to turn around before Dawnbreaker thundered into it, smashing it apart and causing the remains to burst into flames. Mikael cast a Turn Undead at the remaining skeleton and caused it to flee, where Lydia picked it off with an accurate arrow shot.

"I'm liking this already." Aramen turned towards the cave mouth. "Let's get rolling."

The inside of the cave was fairly well lit, for all the spooky skeletal remains cast around. They considered the ledge to their right. The door lead to the tower across from the ritual tower. They knew they could easily climb up there and save themselves the trouble of having to work their way through the entire dungeon, but opted not to. Now was a perfect opportunity to put their skills to the test against some serious opponents and hone their skills. The mini-dungeons and caves they'd hit during their time in Winterhold had only served to maintain their skill level, not increase it. Better to do it properly… this time.

Down to the left they headed, Aramen easily decapitating the weak Draugr that charged them. Beyond that hall led to a more open space, where two female Necromancers sat in front of a fire, their backs to the trio.

Mikael gave them a signal to wait while he snuck up on them.

"...another one if we're lucky," one was saying.

"Need fresher corpses, that's for sure. Solitude won't do nothin' long as we don't get greedy."

"They won't know what's c- hey, hold it there!"

Mikael hadn't made it halfway to them before he was heard, and the two immediately leapt to their feet. Aramen's crossbow bolt struck one dead in the chest before she could raise a ward, but the other managed before Mikael could zap her. The remaining Necromancer flung an ice chunk at him, which he dodged and pulled his magic together for something new they'd been working on.

Stone shape was a fairly simple spell in the D&D universe, and Avatar displayed an amazing level of rock control from Earthbending. Mikael and Aramen had been working on magic similar to these, something that would let them conjure, control, and shape any rocky material. That in mind, he focused for a moment and ripped about eight pounds of rock from the floor under him and shaped it into a vaguely thin spear-like shape, hucking it at the woman.

The Necromancer was utterly surprised at what seemed like someone ripped stone out of the earth with their bare hands, and so did not have time to strengthen her ward before the javelin slammed through it and into her throat. She gurgled wetly with blood, then fell.

"First test, pretty well done if I do say so myself," Mikael commented as he looted her corpse, finding only some gold and her dagger worth taking.

"Lot easier than straight-up creating it, that's for sure." Aramen demonstrated by concentrating for a few moments before a fist sized stone appeared in his hand, which he tossed at his brother.

"I've never seen magic like that before," Lydia said with some wonder.

"It was surprising to us that no one had," Mikael told her. "A country full of mountains and cliffs and mines and whatnot and nobody thought about the benefits of rock-focused magic?" He sighed. "Such a missed opportunity. Well, we're here now, so we'll fix it."

Lydia was about to reply when she heard a noise coming from beyond the door to their right and dropped into a crouch, followed by the Twins. They opened it and proceeded slowly with Aramen taking the lead. Mikael charged up a lightning bolt in his hand, while Lydia gripped her sword tightly. In front of them was a large open room with light streaming down from above, illuminating clearly a large pit. They heard the sound of quick movement, a sure sign they were noticed. Before they could run in, they saw the form of a Frost Atronach pop up to the right, while a Draugr Scourge stepped into the doorway, frost coiling around its' fist and gripping a one-handed sword in the other. A Necromancer behind it erected a ward.

Without hesitation, Aramen flying tackled the Scourge into the pit behind it, throwing them both down. Mikael launched his lightning at the skeleton across the pit and killed it instantly, and Lydia moved to engage the Necromancer, as she was closer than the Atronach.

Mikael threw a fireball at the cold creature, grabbing its' attention. It trundled towards him and he kept on pouring flames with he right hand while his left conjured a ward. The frosty summon swung sluggishly at him while he dodged until one blow smacked straight into his ward and staggered him. The Atronach followed up with a punch to the gut, knocking Mikael back off his feet.

Lydia swiftly charged in on the Necromancer, quickly getting inside her guard and bashing her in the face with her shield. The conjurer yelped in pain and shot sparks at Lydia, who took them with grim endurance, her shield acting as a conductor. When the spell stopped, she swung her sword in a wide arc and clipped the mage in her side, blood streaming down her robes. She scowled at Lydia, who gave a taunting smirk and pushed forward with her shield again.

It wasn't hard to make sure the Scourge landed on bottom, but Aramen still felt the impact drive air from his lungs for a moment. The undead had no lungs, and as such recovered instantly. It bashed him in the face with the hilt of its' sword and clambered to its' feet. Aramen rolled backwards and held Dawnbreaker in a diagonal form with the blade facing down to his right. He deflected the ice shot from the scourge easily and covered the ground between them in a second, stabbing right into the gut of the creature, who then burst into flames. The Draugr hissed something and tried to stab Aramen through the heart, but he jumped back, twisting slightly as he pulled out the daedric gift, leaving a gash in the monster.

Mikael had just gotten back on his own feet when his instincts screamed at him to roll, which let him just miss being brained by the cold golem and winding up behind it. He cast a quick heal to soothe the pain in his ribs and gathered the flames in his hand, burning them hotter and hotter until they turned blindingly light, then sent the flaming jet straight at the creature's skull, vaporizing the ice into steam, which swiftly disappeared, along with the Atronach.

Lydia got in close with the Necromancer again. The wizard panicked and threw a blind punch to defend herself, which the Nord capitalized on immediately. She moved on the inside of the punch, grabbing the woman's arm fully, turned so her back was to the conjurer's chest, then bent over and flipped the woman over her to the ground. Stunned, she could do nothing but watch as Lydia cleanly stabbed her through the heart.

Aramen was having fun. Dawnbreaker practically sang in his grasp as he carved up the Scourge, re-igniting the flames every time so much as a cut was made. The Draugr fought back hard, but the cold of the Frost spell did little to deter him and a one-handed sword vs. a broadsword, enchanted no less, was an easy match for the Breton. Sadly, as much fun as it was, he knew there was more to be had elsewhere, and so sent an ice spike to the Draugr's foot, pinning it there. Its' hasty block was overpowered by Aramen's overhead slice, splitting the rotting skull of the creature in twain.

Lydia dutifully looted the corpse of the late witch and followed Mikael, who hit her with a Healing Hands and carefully dropped into the pit. Mikael grinned at his twin. "Nice move with that rugby tackle. Good test run?"

Aramen's grin responded. "Damn skippy. Dawn here really enjoyed it. But let's get moving. Got more up ahead, no doubt." With that said, they proceeded down the tunnel that lead to Wolfskull Ruins.

The Twins were once again reminded of the reality of being in the Skyrim world rather than playing it as they watched the lightshow. Swirling energies flew around the wide cavern, focusing into a ball at the center above one of the towers. At the moment, they couldn't remember the story behind Wolfskull Cave or why there was a fortress down here, they only focused on the feeling of magic building in the air in front of them, acutely aware of its' intended purpose.

A woman's voice broke the hum of magic in the air. "Wolf Queen, hear our call and awaken. We summon Potema!"

"We summon Potema!" Several voices echoed.

"By the gods…" Lydia said softly.

"Whatever this is, it can't be good. We need to stop it now," Mikael affirmed seriously. They hustled down corridor to their left.

"Long have to slept the dreamless sleep of death, Potema. No longer. Hear us Wolf Queen! We summon you!"

"We summon Potema!"

The party didn't pause in their stride as Mikael sent a lightning strike to the base of the skull of the Novice Necromancer in the next room. She was dead before she hit the ground.

At the top of the stairs ahead, Aramen leapt off and swung Dawnbreaker in a merciless arc, cleaving into the chest of the Draugr Wight. It reacted by punching at his face, which Aramen ignored and headbutted the creature with a crackle of lightning coming from his forehead. The Wight fell dead. The Necromancer that accompanied it spun swiftly to watch the spectacle, and was blindsided by Lydia running her sword through his neck.

They beat feet up the stairs and through the ruins, knocking aside the Draugr in front of them, letting it fall to its' death.

"Yes! Yes! Return me to this realm!" A loud, joyous, and commanding voice of a different woman shouted to the air. The Twins recognized it as Potema, and picked up the pace through the stone and rock halls of the ruins.

"As our voices summon you the blood of the innocent binds you Wolf Queen!" The Ritual Master continued her chanting.

"Summoned with words. Bound by blood," the others chanted.

"What! What are you doing?! You fools! You cannot bind me to your wills!" Potema yelled in anger.

"Summoned with words. Bound by Blood," they repeated.

"You ants don't have the power to bind me!"

Mikael dragged his left hand along the wall as they ran, slowly building up rock mass until they came to a Restless Draugr and an Adept Necromancer. Mikael gathered the eight pounds of earth into a spike and hurled it at the skull of the unsuspecting Draugr, cleaving its' head off, allowing Aramen and Lydia to quickly double-team and overpower the Necromancer as he tried to throw out ice shards.

"Something is wrong, there is an intruder," the Ritual Master said suddenly.

The other two weak Draugr came around the corner at them, but the Twins threw a Push their way and blew them over the ledge.

Sweating and panting, they ran up the final flight of stairs, where the five gathered Necromancer stood, hands aglow with wards and cold. Luckily, they had planned for just such an event and settled for the same tactic they used not moments before.

"FUS!" they shouted in unison, blasting the necromancers back off the ledge, just like the undead before them. For all their magical skill, they were completely unprepared for such a blast of force and thus toppled back over the edge, save for the chief Ritual Master herself, who slammed into the stone ledge with a cry of pain.

Breath would never reach her as a gloved hand seized her throat and pinned her to the wall. "You fucking maniacs. Trying to summon her? Nine help us if she were to set foot on this land again," Mikael's voice was deadly and low, Aramen standing behind him with a similarly dark expression. "Enjoy the planes of Oblivion in the afterlife." With that statement, his hand burst into flame. The Ritual Master batted weakly at his arm, cold streaming off her fingers, tears forming in her eyes before they evaporated from the heat. The magical hum in the air died and the lights went out of both the sky and her eyes.

Soon, Mikael let go. Her throat and jaw were blackened and charred. The stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. He looked over the ledge and saw the fallen corpses of the other Necromancers where they had died so unceremoniously. Aramen sidled alongside his brother, where they shared a look and a nod. Aramen tossed a fireball down onto them, watching them burn as well, ensuring they stayed dead.

Sheathing their weapons, the trio breathed a sigh of relief and sat down, catching their breaths.

"Fuck me sideways, that was hard," Aramen groaned, loosening his armor straps.

"Woulda been a dozen times worse if we hadn't had you here, Lydia. Nice damn work," Mikael said with a tired grin.

Lydia nodded appreciatively, drinking from a water canteen the Twins had given her back in Winterhold.

After a couple minutes rest, the part stood up. The two Bretons looked at the ritual circle made for Potema and decided to fuck with it. Aramen starting hucking the flaming bowls off the tower while Mikael stone-shaped the image of Potema into an incomprehensible mess, then stabbed it a few times with a conjured sword for good measure. Feeling satisfied with their work, they let out a laugh.

"Right. Time to loot and get back to Solitude. They'll want to know about this," Aramen stated aloud.

"Of course, my Thane."

"Too bloody right, bro."

It had been nightfall by the time they got back, and so they opted to get some sleep at the Winking Skeever. Friendly voices greeted them, the patrons having enjoyed their performance from last night, and even attempted goading them into a repeat. They begged off easily, however, when the people noticed the blood stains and cuts in the clothing that the trio had. They promised a similar show sometime in the distant future and got some rest.

The Twins headed to the Blue palace once again in the morning, handing off the valuable loot to Lydia for selling. They received a few looks for coming inside with clearly damaged clothing, but nobody said a word. A few guards gave them acknowledging nods, which they returned. Falk noticed them as they came up the stairs.

He got straight to the point. "You've returned. Good. What did you find at Wolfskull Cave?"

"Oh, not much," Mikael said offhandedly. "Just a bunch of draugr, skeletons, and necromancers attempting to summon and bind the Wolf Queen Potema to their wills."

A pin could have dropped in the room. The stunned silence blanketed the air.

"Potema herself?" Falk said in fear and awe. "Please tell me you stopped them."

Aramen put a placating hand up. "Not to worry. We killed them all, burned their corpses, and desecrated their ritual circle. Wolfskull Cave won't be a problem again, though I would caution you to keep an eye out for anything odd in the coming months." He gave a sideways look at Sybille, who was standing to Falk's right. "Scrying revealed nothing? Perhaps you should brush up on your divination." The court wizard huffed and turned away, but it was clear the thought settled with her, at least.

"You've done a larger service to the realm than you could possibly know. A resurrected Potema… I shudder at the thought." He shook his head. "Here is your reward. Spend it well, and know you have my gratitude for what you've done." Falk handed over a large coin purse and shook their hands.

"Should anything happen in the future, we would be happy to assist," Mikael assured him.

Elisif, who had been silently processing what she had just heard, caught Firebeard's eye and gave a motion. Falk looked back to the Twins. "Yes, there is something." He waved a hand to the Jarl.

The Twins approached her and both gave a formal bow, maintaining eye contact. "Greetings, Jarl Elisif. It is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance," Mikael spoke with honesty and kindness. "Is there anything we may help you with?"

She took a breath. "There's something… personal… I was hoping you would do for me."

Innuendos and jokes came to mind, but Mikael beat those thoughts down. "You need only ask, milady."

"I heard what you did for us at Wolfskull Cave. I believe you two are someone I can trust." Elisif seemed hesitant, though not reluctant to continue. "As you may know, Talos worship is outlawed in the Empire. When we buried my husband I made offerings to all the gods… except Talos. I would like you to take an item of his, a warhorn handed down from his father, and place it at a Shrine of Talos."

"We would be honored," Aramen answered.

"Thank you. It would mean a lot to me." A small smile adorned her lips for a moment, before it fled. She handed them the warhorn, which Aramen placed carefully in his bag. It got him thinking about another horn they had a while back, but they left that in his room at the College. Still, the thought made him smile mischievously as they walked out.

"Just let us off here, that'll be fine."

The sun had just begun to rise when the carriage pulled to a stop by Halted Stream Camp, seeing a few guards notice get slightly tense, but calming when they recognized the thanes.

Something the Twins had mentioned to Jarl Balgruuf a while back was the fact that the mine was perfectly tenable now that it was clear of bandits, just needed a wash and some workers. They were glad to see he had taken their advice, and it seemed it was back in business.

They stopped here because they wanted to stretch their legs. The day and a half long carriage ride had afforded them plenty of time to relax and continue their spell experimentation, so they were ready to roll. Lydia had alternated between asking questions about their past and homeland and simply sitting in silence, occasionally laughing at the Twins' exuberance and antics. Their answers were carefully measured when delivered, but it felt nice to talk about their home, although with some pangs of sadness that they would never return.

They trodded along, passing Whitewatch Tower and soon came close to the Shrine.

"Time to go to work," Aramen declared, to which Mikael agreed. "Lydia, watch out for anyone coming. We'll need a couple minutes."

After they were done, and gulped down a few mana potions to rejuvenate, they stood back and admired their handiwork.

"So, who's going to be playing bait this time?" Mikael prompted.

"Well, you got caught pretty quick by those necromancers last time. I think it's best if I do the ambushing."

"I was the bait the last time we did this stunt, back at the camp!"

"And it worked out perfectly didn't it? Besides, I was bait for the dragon back at Whiterun."

"That is TOTALLY different, and you know it. Besides, I was bait with Kvenel!"

" Come oooon. You really do make excellent bait." Aramen wheedled.

Mikael sighed. "Fiiiiiiiiiiiine," he whined, pulling the horn from Aramen's pack and trudging over to the shrine with a dejected slump in his shoulders. Lydia smirked and Aramen blew a raspberry at his brother.

Mikael approached the Shrine of Talos. Gently, he set down Torygg's War Horn and clasped his hands together, bowing his head. This one's for you, mate. You did good. Hope Sovngarde is treating you well. Guess we'll see you later. Mikael was slightly startled when he felt the Blessing of Talos hit him, as they had never actually prayed at a shrine yet since their arrival.

Mikael stayed standing there, head bowed, for about five minutes before he heard the sound of greaved footsteps behind him.

Agent Lorcalin was a proud member of his race. A High Elf of nearly 700 years, he had spent his life in service to his people, more recently the Thalmor, council of the Third Aldmeri Dominion. His father was the warden of Elder Root's prison, and often would he come home complaining of the "morally depraved filth" and "upstart animals" and "fools who associated themselves with the wrong sort" that he watched over. The older man passed on his firm belief in good breeding and quality of blood that strengthened the Aldmeri Dominion. Lorcalin's mother was a well-respected enchanter. She mainly enchanted weapons and armor for nobles and other high-profile individuals. In short, both of his parents were powerful and well connected. It was inevitable, with such high standards, that he would seek to exceed even them.

His youth was spent in training, learning the intricacies of magic and the skill of sword fighting. Once he was of age, he enlisted in the military, promising to become an illustrious soldier and become more famous than his parents.

He was there when the Summerset Isles fell to the Empire. How he had fought valiantly, slaying men by the score with fire and blade. To become a general just as the tide turned against them was, however, a damning instance of poor luck. Despite his success in holding the line on several occasions, he was still viewed as a failure because he could not turn the war around. Even his parents had looked at him differently, for all they claimed to still care for him. But he could see the disappointment in their eyes.

He had even gotten a chance to see Tiber Septim himself step onto the battlefield - something he did not care to recall.

And he was there to see as the pure, perfect culture of their Summerset Isles become tainted by the hand of men. The young were not content to listen to the wisdom of their elders - their betters. They viewed the hierarchy that had led them so clearly for generations as "rigid" and "strict". They were more willing to "adapt" to the world.

Fools, every last one of them. Idiot children who did not know the better time for their people, when Altmer acted properly and listened to their parents and respected traditions.

He was there when the Gates of Oblivion began appearing all across Tamriel. He combatted the innumerable Daedra that spilled forth from the foul gates, slaying his kinfolk… including his parents. He was protecting his hometown when he heard that the Crystal Tower was destroyed. The news shocked him to his very core, and he fell ill for several days. When he awoke, he gathered his fellow soldiers and took to the field once again, driving the demons back into their gates and littering the ground with their corpses. He saw the gates close at the dawn of the Fourth Era, and knew his people were responsible for saving their home.

His valor and courage in the face of this crisis restored much of his lost reputation, and it allowed him a position of General again. He returned home for a time to enjoy some time off, many years of it. Then, the Great War. He relished it. He repaid every insult that man had thrown against him with death. Truthfully, he was seething as the White-Gold Concordat was signed, creating peace between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Peace? With these lesser creatures? It was unthinkable.

Still, he thought, he was not the young man he used to be, and the years had taken their toll. He was older than most Elves had chance to be, which was thanks to his magical abilities. Even those were waning, as was his once sturdy body, and there was an undeniable appeal in being able to galavant all across their beloved empire with impunity, striking fear into the hearts of all at the sight of his cloak.

With his age slowing him down, he had settled into a lesser role in pursuing heretics in Skyrim. Patrolling the common shrine areas usually netted them a few fools each season. And it was on such a patrol that he and his two comrades came upon a man, standing with his back turned to them, right in front of the shrine. His hands were clasped and his head was bowed. It was all he needed.

"Greetings, weary travelers. Would you care to join me in a prayer? It is for the dead High King Torygg, slain so cruelly before his time," he said without turning around.

"Is that so, heretic?" Lorcalin declared, enjoying the rasp of weapons unsheathing. "You have confessed to praying at a Shrine of the false god Talos. A heresy such as this is punishable by immediate execution."

"You know, I understand why the Thalmor and Aldmeri Dominion hate Talos," the tall Breton said conversationally, still looking at the shrine. "You feel threatened by him."

"Threatened? By a mere man? A man dead over an era ago. He is no more a threat than a mudcrab," the High Elf spat, but still his sweat ran slightly colder. He could still picture the human as he charged forward on the front lines…

"Bluster all you like, Agent Lorcalin, you and I both know that to be false."

Hearing him speak, Lorcalin froze in his spot. He recovered quickly, suspicion demanding answers. "How do you know my name?"

"For if you truly did not feel threatened by him, then you would not mind people believing in his godliness. You'd let these so-called insignificant peasants that are so far beneath the might of the Elves alone. You'd let them worship bears, if it made them feel better, because what does it matter what they think? But you know well the power of such faith, and it scares you. You hate him for what he represents."

"Shut your mouth, you worm-" one of the Justiciars interrupted.

"It's the fact that men could rise to be greater than you." Still with his back turned, the heretic crossed his arms. "Elves have such long lives, and they are seen as craftsmen of impeccable quality in whatever their given profession is. After all, if you gave a monkey a millennia to figure out how to use a forge, it would eventually learn."

Anger boiled within Lorcalin. "You dare-!"

"But still, credit where it is due, you are hailed as such for a reason. You do have great works of art and of steel. And you've seen the passing of the ages go by far more slowly than the rest of us, haven't you? It must seem such a short time, the lifespan of men. A mere blink of an eye. You spent so long as the prime race of this world, the head honchos. You drove out the native population of the land you moved to when Aldmeris went sideways. And then men learned to forge weapons. They learned to sing songs. To write. To build homes. To wage wars. And they did it so much faster than you." He snorted. "How it must have felt, to watch a sped-up version of evolution. To see them achieve in centuries what took you so much longer."

"Insolence, you will-!"

"And at the end of the Second Era, Tiber Septim waged a war against pretty much the entire continent, and won. A man was able to take the entire world. You blinked and almost missed it. The mighty and mystical Elves, beaten handily and outdone by someone a fraction of their age. And that's what scares you. The knowledge that if man were so motivated, they could rise up again, and another Talos might be born, and take back the Empire from you. You're afraid of him because you know someone could get it in their head to fight back against you and win. You tell them Talos is not a god even when history has shown his divinity time and time again, because no Elf has ever become so powerful. The Aedra were not ascended Elves. You're jealous." he laughed. "Because man is not weak, and they are not inferior. Because at the end of the day, the Aldmeri Dominion is just a bunch of whimpering, terrified, doubtful bullies that keep looking over their shoulders in fear of the day when the next man will come and slap your asses down and remind you that no matter what, a single powerful person of ANY race can cause more change than an entire country of the oldest and most developed race in the world."

"YOU HERETIC! YOU INSOLENT MAGGOT! DIE!" the female to his left screamed in rage, sprinting forward.

She made it almost into sword-swinging range when her entire form was enveloped with lightning. She screamed as it continued for three seconds, then fell dead, twitching, to the floor.

Agent Lorcalin and the remaining Justiciar looked around frantically, but the lightning did not come from anywhere around them. It looked as if it came… directly… on…

"Your tricks will not work! DIE!" the other rushed him. At about next to her dead companion's body, the ground collapsed under her, and she fell into a shallow pit with spikes, which dug into her exposed flesh where the armor did not block it. Before Lorcalin could do anything, the pit erupted in flames, engulfing the woman with a raging inferno that consumed her entirely.

The tall Breton finally turned around to face Lorcalin, a damnable smirk on his features. "Is this the divine favor of Talos? A series of freak accidents? Magnets? In the end, it doesn't matter to you, Lorcalin, because you're just another arrogant prick that's about to die." The man snapped his fingers, and the Thalmor agent felt his feet be swallowed by the dirt, crushing them as they pulled him down. He screamed and dropped his sword, casting healing with one hand, shooting lightning with the other. The Breton hastily erected a ward, but was still thrown back by the force of the bolt. Lorcalin tried to pull himself up, but the was now stuck up to his knees.

Years of military training kicked in and let him duck under the crossbow bolt that passed over his head, as well as twist out of the way of the arrow that followed it, This unfortunately left him completely off balance, and so he face planted into the ground.

Pushing himself up, the High Elf noticed the strangest markings on the ground. Arcane markings. Runes, he thought suddenly. It was all-

Another snap of fingers, and the world exploded around him.

Mikael poked at the hole in his robes where the lightning had singed away the fabric, healing himself as he did. "Boy am I glad that worked. I was not looking forward to getting into a magic-pissing contest with a High Elf of who knows how old."

"Damn right, runes worked like a dream… even if these ones were so strong they sucked up potions like a skooma addict," Aramen commented, looking back at the several empty blue bottles.

"One day we'll be strong enough to make 'em this good without draining ourselves dry."

The lightning rune the first Thalmor had run into was just about a dozen or so lightning runes overpowered and stacked on top of each other. That much power makes it look like a smiting from the heavens when it went off. The Pit Trap rune configuration was a new design, and did exactly what you'd expect; collapse and compress the ground underfoot and leave a hole with spikes in it. Inside that were several overpowered flame runes as well. The quickmud was also experimental, and had the added crushing effect for maximum trapping potential. Top it all off with some illusions they had worked into runes as well, and it was all hidden. Everywhere around those spots had also had similar traps, since they weren't sure where they were going to stand, and so Mikael had just activated them all once Lorcalin was secured, destroying the remaining traps and blowing him to pieces.

Sadly, they had yet to invent an actual explosive rune, but when they did… the laughs that echoed through the halls of the College while those were worked on haunted the other students to this day.

"Shall we get going, my Thanes?" Lydia prompted. "The noise will likely draw some attention, and we do have places to be."

"Right you are, Lyd," Mikael responded immediately. "I'm done being bait for today. Let's get to Winterhold. Got some gearing up to do!"

"Damn right!" Aramen shouted.

Lydia only shook her head, smiling.

The trio walked away from the smoldering earth, towards the front gate of Whiterun.

"...there's a 'master bait' joke somewhere in here, isn't there?"

"Alas, the moment passed. Next time."

XxX

Wasn't as quick as I wanted to be with this next chapter, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Rest assured that things will be picking up quite soon, a new arc on the horizon! What could it be? Who will be involved? Yadda yadda. Thanks for reading, folks. Please review and stay tuned for more!

-Waki