Here we go with the next bit of Glass. What is Garan up to...
~Middas, 13th of Sun's Height, The Grey Quarter, 4E 203~
Aval Atheron let out a breathy sigh, sitting down before the fire and kicking off his boots.
Another tiresome day.
He lifted his bare feet upon the flagstones and held them close to the winking coals that provide most of the heat to the building.
The ungodly loud creak of the door and the string of swears following a distinct crunch indicated one of his siblings was home from work as well. And from the specifically colorful cursing, he knew it was his sister.
"How are the docks, Suvaris?"
"Miserable as usual. Those Argonians hardly seem to lift a claw when I'm not breathing down their ba- Is this yours?"
Aval turned his head, to see his sister standing by the table with a folded note in between her middle and index finger.
"No." he replied, puzzled. He did not notice that when he came in.
"Maybe it's Faryl's; he should be back by now-"
The slamming of the door, followed by another slam as the door was opened and swiftly shut to keep back whatever they could against the bitter wind.
"By Azura, another storm's blown in. I'll never be able to pick the crops in this-"
He stopped, looking at the page in his sister's hand before a light grin spread over his face.
"Oh ho, has someone a secret admirer?"
"We thought it was yours, you dung-brained n'wah." She said sourly, sticking out her tongue to her older brother as she opened the note and began to read.
Her face was relaxed and light-hearted, but after a moment the smile vanished from her face and her grip on the note tightened.
"Someone broke in here and left this note!" She all but shouted.
The siblings all crowded around her and read the note over he shoulder.
To the Residents of this Household~
I apologize for breaking and entering, but there is a matter of grave importance I must discuss with you involving your future. Meet me in the New Gnisis Cornerclub on the 13th of Sun's Height. Bring every other Dunmer you know.
Yours in good health.
"I don't care if it is some damn Nord Drunkard. I am going and taking my knife. I will stab this bastard for breaking into this house."
"Now hold on sister, let's not be rash-"
"Damn you, Aval! We can't stand for this! The Guard's won't lift a finger to help a Dark Elf, not in this miserable cesspool of a city. We may as well do our own justice.
"Sister, you are missing the point. Arval is right: Clan Shatter-Shield are your friends, they can pull enough strings to find out who entered our home and why-"
The argument was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door.
Suvaris flashed a burning glare to her brothers before she straightened her shoulder-length black hair and approached to see who it was.
"Sadri! What are you doing out so late? With the last Butcher murder-"
"I know, I know. But listen: I got a message left in my strongbox amongst the gold I keep in there, that told me of some opportunities to get out of here. I'm meeting this guy at the Corner-Club; bring your brothers and let's hurry!
The New Gnisis Cornerclub - seemingly the only refuge in Windhelm for the Dark Elves to drink away their sorrows, was usually empty, save for a few people getting breaths of fresh air and diving back in for a few more rounds of Sujmma.
Tonight was different.
No one was there for drinks, but everyone was there on account of an unusual note left upon nightstands and in the display cases of merchants.
"Why did you break into our homes, you filthy thief!" someone from the crowd shouted to the man in the center of the Cornerclub, standing upon a table trying to calm the group.
"Listen to me, all of you! I am Ravyn. I am a member of the Thieves Guild, and we were contracted recently to do a simple job-"
"What, trying to lead us out here and rob our houses!" Suvaris cried.
"No! A smuggling job, we are here to get you out of here!"
The bar quieted a moment before Aval spoke up.
"Why should we trust you?"
Ravyn shook his head.
"Look, we don't like getting involved in wars. Its bad for business and can ruin a reputation. Not to mention it gets people hurt that don't need to be. But we were approached by the leader of the New Skyrim Army, and contracted to get you to safety."
"The New Skyrim Army…" Suvaris murmured to her brothers.
The New Skyrim Army had exploded from the hills of Solitude, a phantom force of unknown size and origin. Travelers and couriers that did business with them spoke of their declaration: to free Skyrim from the yoke of the Dominion, yet continue a healthy relationship with their Empire as allies, instead of subjects.
The Imperial forces that did not respect the decree were broken in a matter of days. The word on the roads and of the Khajiit Caravans told that Solitude fell in an instant - as did Morthal and Falkreath - before Whiterun sided with the new entity.
What was more, the Shadowy face of this new group, was revealed to be none other than a Dark Elf, now acting as Jarl of Whiterun of all places.
"We have several dozen carriages and carts to transport you and your possessions to a new home, a place where you will truly be free to set up your own society. It will take some time to get there, but the reward will be that you will never have to take the boot of the Nord again!" Ravyn declared, raising his fist in the air. A loud cheer of approval sounded from the motley band of Elves.
"What are we waiting for! Let's get going!"
"Wait! What about the guards?"
"The Guards have been bought off and will turn a blind eye. All you need to do is get a move on before the snow sets in."
~Windhelm Stables, Eastmarch, 4E 203~
"Well done, Ravyn," Garan said, the amber glow of his eyes peeking out from under his hood.
"You will certainly earn a bonus if you manage to get them to keep moving at this pace."
"I was always known for my speed, m'lord."
"Also, there was a… personal, favor my Lord wished to inform you of."
The Dark Elf thief raised an eyebrow.
"The Dark Brotherhood is no more."
The Elf's breath caught in his throat.
"What?"
"Some time ago, they were nearly all slain. Only a few survived, managing their infamous assassination of the previous Emperor. However, their… home base of operations was not as hidden as they would have believed, and they were raided by a Hold's guards. The Hold in question - Dawnstar - was burned to the ground in retribution, but the order has formally disbanded."
"How do you know of this?"
"Because my Master has one of their former members serving dutifully and loyalty as a servant," Garan said casually. He leaned forward, a wry smile on his face.
"You no longer need to look over your shoulder anymore, Mighty Tong. Your rivals are gone."
They grasped forearms in a common symbol of thanks.
"There are no words… Tell him I send my thanks."
"Of course. But, do not let this good fortune impair the mission. You are to escort them to the collection point, where you will have your payment given. Here is a bit of… encouragement, to ensure that you continue doing your job professionally."
A glint of blue in the shadows indicated a gemstone as it sailed through the frigid air and into the waiting palm of the thief.
"I have to ask… Why not have the Companions do this? Big warrior types, happy for the honor for little pay, seems like their type of job in all honesty. Why bother with thieves?"
Garan simply smiled before melting into the night with such skill to make a master burglar envious.
"The Thieves Guild doesn't meddle in politics, but they can be bought. The Companions are too resolute." The elder Dark Elf said, his voice seeming to echo all around the thief.
"Do your job, brother. Get your pay. You might even be remembered in the hearts of these people."
~Fredas, 10th of Last Seed, New Mournhold, The Pale, 4E 203~
Dominus breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of the sea from the porch of the Windpeak Inn, taking a sip of hot mead.
The Dunmer refugees were all smiles and all teeth, gladly working the mines and the docks, crafting inexperienced works of armor and mixing alien Dunmeri potions.
The buildings, made of the local wood and stone, were designed in the Redoran style of domed, organic curved buildings delving underground, yet with the northern flare of pine wood and harsh stone as building materials.
Lord Dominus smiled, content.
"With this, those abroad will be entranced and fawn over our humanitarian rescue of these folk. Perhaps we could similarly relocate the Argonians?" He asked, turning to Garan.
The Dark Elf Vampire stood beside his Lord, an untouched and cooling bottle of mead in his hand.
"I am unsure if we would be able to relocate enough without causing serious suspicion and become drawn into conflict with the Stormcloaks before our armies are adequately prepared for the Eastern Campaign."
"You have a point, Brother."
Dominus pondered a moment, taking a sip of the mead.
"Regardless, the Orc Tribes of Dushnikh Yal and Mor Khazgur will have fallen by now, and our forces will have begun to clear out of the area and solidify our holdings. Now that Falkreath has been pacified after the fiasco of that damn traitor in Whiterun, we will soon hold all of the Province. We must look into what we are to do after the final push. Who whall we fight? And who shall we befriend?"
"Well… The Aldmeri Dominion believe us a vassal state, while the Empire considers us a secret ally… War will be inevitable, and we will be forced to choose a side. They will… likely march either through Southern Hammerfell or through the south of Cyrodiil. It would be easy to rally the Reach to war against the Empire, perhaps stamping it out permanently by terminating High Rock and annexing the ruins of Orsinium… But the Cyrodiil Vampyrum Order would never tolerate such an insult…" Garan reasoned.
"The longer the life the longer the grudge." Dominus agreed.
"But if we are to sever ties with the Dominion, we will need to move quickly. Seize the embassy, perhaps have Vingalmo play diplomat and continue sending messages back and forth in order to keep them blind to the threat, then… I am not sure, perhaps barter our way into a triumvirate with the Bretons and the Redguards, perhaps eventually corrupting them and sinking our claws into their political machines."
"I would advise extreme caution, my Lord. The Political machine of the five Kingdoms of High Rock and the rivalry between the Crowns and the Forbears in Hammerfell, including the knife's edge of dueling the Thalmor in espionage is a deadly game to play that had ended in the failure of the finest diplomats. However, you are wise. You should prevail."
"Thank you, friend." Dominus said with a smile, saluting bottles with his kinsman.
"I do not understand how you stomach this drink, my Lord," Garan said, pulling a face after he took a drink and smacked his lips.
"It is quite a sweet drink, this Black-Briar mead. I personally prefer Flin if I can get it, but this is the best and most plentiful they have here."
"No, I mean mortal drink in general, my liege."
"Ah. Well… I do enjoy the simple warmth against my mouth, either in the form of… nectar," He said, pausing as a pair of Dunmer walked past, chatting to one another loudly.
"Or mead, or several different breads. The feel of my fangs cutting through a warm, crisp loaf on a crisp morning, a cup of lukewarm Flin at my side… That would make my mortal morning."
The Lord turned to see his advisor looking utterly confused.
He rolled his eyes.
"Granted, the food does not affect my hunger or thirst anymore, but the flavor is still something to savor among my wife and children." He explained, turning to lean on the railing and face the Dunmer.
Garan grinned.
"How is your family? I presume you met with them when you pacified Falkreath?"
"Well-"
"My Lord!"
Dominus turned to see a fur-clad Nord rushing forward - an Enthralled Bandit, by his crude weapon - with terror in his eyes.
"Soldier, what is the matter?" he asked, his crimson eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"The Dawnguard, Sire. They have allied with the Stormcloaks- The pass…"
"What has happened?" Dominus shouted, casting aside his mead - the warm drink melting the snow as the bottle sank with a muffled clunk into the snow - as he seized the man by the collar and lifted him off his feet.
"Lakeview… The Dawnguard Army attacked Lakeview…"
He released the man, standing motionless as the Nord coughed for breath.
Garan was unable to see the back of his Lord, but his rage was burning bright enough to melt the Ice of the Sea of Ghosts.
"Send word to all our forces, and to the force seizing Winterhold. Riften and Winterhold are to attack immediately. All pretense is out the window - go loud - I have something I must do."
He sped off at a fast walk towards his Shadowmere, mounting him in a single stride.
"My Lord!" Garan said, dropping his bottle with a heavy thud and chasing after his Master.
Dominus began at a trot, causing the Dunmer Chamberlain to jog in order to keep up.
"Sire, please, don't do something drastic. We will get our revenge-"
"I am going to my family, Garan. I will see you in Falkreath."
The Plot Thickens! mwahaha... BTW it will get a lot darker from here on out, and I mean A LOT darker to the point where I will mention it in the story description to avoid uncomfortable readers. On another note, The General will have a new story out VERY SOON, I am working on the new story Ark, but I need to watch the episode in order to get the plot and dialogue right, which required a day just to get it all right. Furthermore, this story is getting over hump number 1 and getting intot he deep andd ark curve before the next hill of this plot rollercoaster. Anywho, I hope you all have a good day; adios -Cloaked Writer