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-JazzyKat

Most of the guards jumped as Ter'im slammed into the barracks, but none commented on the furious tears that streaked down Ter'im's face. They just shuffled over to the side of the tables and poured him a mug of mead and continued with their gossiping. A wayward comment caught Ter'im's ear and his ear turned toward the voice before he could control the reaction.

"Heard there was a report of a dead orc up in Morthal; a bard and a right bad one at that. Rumor has it the Dark Brotherhood had a hand in the killing."

"The Dark Brotherhood? You must be further in your cups than we thought. The Brotherhood disbanded years ago, reduced to petty contracts and no gold," another guard snorted as she knocked back a bottle of wine.

Another guard chipped in, slurring and tipping forward in his chair excitedly, "Yeah, but it's made a comeback. After their main sanctuary exploded, they fell under new leadership after they took down the Emperor."

Ter'im just shook his head and smiled softly as he finished off his drink. Ter'im managed to stay awake for a bit longer, but soon succumbed to the temptation of a warm, kind of soft bed. He tumbled into one of the cots and fell asleep quite quickly, despite the coming and going of the night guards. A hand shook him awake the next morning and Ter'im woke up and recognized Dirk once again.

"Ter'im wishes Dirk a good morning. How goes the rest of the palace this morning?" Ter'im greeted the wary soldier, sliding out of Dirk's way to the cot. Dirk inclined his head in thanks and drew his helmet off before answering Ter'im.

"High King Ulfric stomped around the meeting room, shouting and raving at everyone until Galmar reprimanded him and the last I saw of the King, he was chopping at one of the practice mannequins. I believe the King sent your husband over to Hollyfrost Farm for the day, but he has ordered the rest of the guard to keep you from leaving the city." Dirk said, rubbing a hand through his hair, looking at Ter'im pleadingly.

"Do not worry yourself about it Dirk, Ter'im has a few more tricks up his sleeve than what you think he does. Is Galmar still in the castle?"

"Yes, I believe so. He and that big fellow with the strange eyes should be in the dining hall."

Ter'im patted Dirk on the shoulder, gathered his gear and slipped back into the dining hall, spotting Galmar and Farkas talking. Ter'im slinked over to them, nearly invisible and just as silent as he could manage.

"Psst. Galmar!"

Galmar to his credit did not look alarmed, nor did he change his expression as he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "What, Dragonborn?" Farkas looked up from his mead at Ter'im curiously.

"Ter'im needs to check in at the White Phial, he has heard rumors of old man Nurelion finding the legendary phial and has a mind to go get the thing for himself. Can you cover Ter'im's ass long enough to retrieve the phial?"

"What are you going to do when the old man asks for the phial to use for himself? Surely you're not going to murder the old coot in cold blood are you?" Galmar grunted, freezing when he felt the sharp line of a dagger at his throat. Ter'im pressed the dagger in enough to draw a thin line of blood on Galmar's throat.

"Do not assume what Ter'im wouldn't do." Ter'im hissed.

"Very well, Farkas and I will field off Ulfric, but do not dilly-dally. He is angry enough at you as it is, though you are in the right in this instance. I will watch over your husband as well, now go!" Galmar promised, shooing Ter'im out of the castle with a wave of his hand.

Ter'im slinked through the shadows of the town, using some lesser known shortcuts to avoid the guards and the townspeople, popping up at The White Phial quite suddenly, startling Aval Atheron, who stood at the market stall closest to the shop.

Ter'im silently pushed his way into the White Phial and was witness to a rather heated argument between old Nurelion and his shop assistant, Quintus. Quintus backed off once it was apparent Nurelion was too sick to continue the argument, coughing between every breath. Quintus scurried off to find his master a tonic and Nurelion finally turned his attention to Ter'im.

"I apologize for you having to hear that, it just seems my apprentice doesn't appreciate the fact that I've finally discovered the location to the legendary White Phial and won't let me go after it."

"Ah, the Phial, yes. Perhaps Ter'im could look for you?"

"Perfect! The Phial is buried with its creator, Curalmil, in a forgotten cave to the west. Even in death Curalmil was a crafty bastard, and you'd need the skills of a master alchemist to get to the phial. Lucky for you I have just what you need to reach his final resting place." Nurelion reached under the counter and passed a bottle over to Ter'im.

The old man looked like he was going to natter on about the quest, so Ter'im hurriedly shoved his map under Nurelion's nose and waited until he'd marked the Phial's location down. Ter'im snatched his map back with a quick, "Thanks!" and sprinted back out of the market place. He stopped just short of the gate and dropped quickly into a crouch, becoming invisible thanks to Nocturnal's blessing. He crept silently outside feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline. He couldn't resist the urge to show off a little and brushed close enough to a guard to pick the gold out of his uniform.

Ter'im chuckled under his breath at how easy sneaking out had been as he straightened out of his crouch and unfolded his map. He heard guards shouting behind him, so Ter'im took off at a dead sprint through the snow, quickly downing an invisibility potion.