Author's Note: Let me say that first of, I'm very sorry about how long it took me to get this out. I would say I was suffering Writer's Block, but I feel that I used that excuse to death. I've got one confession to make, and I feel it is something we've all done before: I've been so focused on the overall goal of the story, that I've failed to write those little conversations and small nuances with any degree of competence. I am trying to write the next chapter, but it's been slow-going.

I want to extend my thanks to everyone who's stuck with me in spite of the lack of updates; if it wasn't for you all, I likely would have abandoned this months ago.

All that out of the way, let's get to the chapter...

The Bee and Barb—Later that Night

Being undead and all, Serana had little need for sleep. Carcette had been hesitant to sleep with the vampire around but she had fallen asleep anyway. As for Snorri, she last saw him at the bar being served by an Argonian—Snorri seemed to favor a liquor called the "Cliff Racer", which—to hear the bartender tell it—consisted of Firebrand Wine, Cyrodiilic Brandy, Flin and Sujamma. Serana had a sip and was nearly overwhelmed by the taste.

Needless to say, the stuff was quite strong—she briefly went upstairs, and then came back around twenty minutes later to see Snorri nearly passed out at the bar, after downing three whole flagons of the stuff. And despite it, he was still awake—which probably said more about Snorri than it did about the drink.

"I think you've had enough," Serana muttered, taking a seat next to him.

"Maybe, maybe not…" he said, voice husky. "I'll know once the world becomes hazy…"

"I somehow doubt that showing up hung over will convince Cutty to give us information on the Moth Priest," she said dryly.

"Cutty is always like that," Snorri chuckled. "I could not possibly sink any lower in his eyes—calling in the favor was more than enough…a hangover would just be the cherry on top."

Speaking of which…

"So, what did you do for him that warranted a favor?" Serana asked.

"Long story short: I saved him from being an eccentric Telvanni wizard's 'volunteer'," Snorri said.

"Why Solstheim, though? That's Nord territory, isn't it?"

"We'd have to go back two centuries for that," Snorri said. "How much do you know about Red Mountain?"

"I know that it is Tamriel's largest active volcano, and it was where Jurgen Windcaller was defeated in the First Era."

"It erupted roughly two hundred years ago, leaving the Island of Vvardenfell covered in ash and quite inhospitable. Solstheim was given to the Dunmer for refuge after the eruption," Snorri explained. "Needless to say, the Great Houses dragged their politics with them. One of the Telvanni masters—Neloth—set up shop on Solstheim."

"And he's the one you saved Cutty from?" Serana asked trailingly.

"Sore subject for him…" Snorri concluded.

Snorri let out a light burp before taking another sip, leaving Serana to regard him for a few minutes. He looked haggard; and that wasn't purely from drinking—it was as though he was navigating a turbulent storm in his mind.

"I'd go to bed if I were you," Serana said.

"You can say that again," Snorri said. "This stuff is starting to taste bland…"

Sleep came easy for him, but not for her…

The Ratway Tunnels – The Next Morning, Close to Midday

Nothing like the smell of sewage to wake someone up in the morning; the women snapped to full awareness as soon as the door to the Ratway opened, the smell overwhelming all others. Despite being used to it, Snorri's massive headache intensified in reaction to the stench. Maybe drinking so much hadn't been a good idea.

The air was pungent, and the smell of moss and vegetation mixed with it and eventually overtook it as they came upon Cutty sitting on the stump, looking over several messages. He took a quick glance at the trio, as if to acknowledge that they were there, and went right back to checking the letters.

"A carrier 'awk came in this mornin'," Cutty said. "A few contacts in Rorikstead said they saw an old man stop in, with a Legion escort carriage. He was dressed in white robes—I'm sure 'e's the Moth Priest yer lookin' fer. He was headin' north, toward Solitude—that's yer best bet, boy."

Snorri chuckled, "I see you're still as reliable as ever, Cutty. You see, ladies? I knew it wouldn't be a problem; Cutty really works overtime these days."

"Boy," Cutty said sharply, drawing Snorri's attention. "We're even now; no more favors to call in. Next time, yer gonna 'ave to pay…"

Snorri remained dry and flippant, "If there ever is a next time, Cutty…"

Cutty growled in annoyance. "By the way, ya left these behind when ya left the guild," he said, tossing Snorri his Thieves Guild armor. "Ya know how the old sayn' goes: just in case."

Grinning, Snorri nodded. "Damn, this takes me back…"

Carriage to Solitude – One Mile out from Solitude

Snorri slept the majority of the ride off. Perhaps "slept" was a loose term—Serana noticed that half the time, he seemed to thrash about as though having nightmares…perhaps he was reliving bad memories. He was quick to dismiss the latter idea, however, and that made Serana suspicious of him.

He knew Carcette personally, and he knew that Serana's father was planning to eclipse the sun eternally. Yet, she knew next to nothing about Snorri, save for the fact that he was associated with Nocturnal in some way and had once been a member of the Thieves Guild. She felt the need to open up about her past to him, but he kept tight-lipped about his own. He seemed to focus on the here-and-now, but Serana suspected that it wasn't because his past wasn't worth mentioning—it seemed to her that he was burying it and trying to avoid digging it back up.

The carriage stopped, jerking the near-thrashing Snorri awake. Adjusting the hood of his guild armor, he stepped off the wagon and faced the gate of Solitude.

"More 'nightmares'?" Serana asked as she stepped off, followed closely by Carcette.

"It happens to the best of us," he replied.

They weren't in the city for very long—Snorri simply spoke to both the innkeeper and one of the Guild fences at Solitude's local tavern: The Winking Skeever.

Real charming name, Serana thought.

As it turned out, the Moth Priest had stopped into town and had left under half an hour ago, heading westward to Dragon Bridge. If Snorri had to guess, the Moth Priest might be heading to Markarth next. It was a shame that the carriage had left when it dropped them off—the trio would have to make their way to Dragon Bridge on foot. No words passed between them as they did so.

Unfortunately for them, the Imperial carriage wasn't in Dragon Bridge, but they weren't completely out of luck. A helpful guard told them that the carriage just passed through mere minutes ago. Snorri broke into a full-on sprint westward, leaving the women in the dust—Serana and Carcette exchanged a look, and then hurried after him.

What greeted them was a wrecked carriage and several Legionnaire and vampire bodies. One lied face-down on the soil in a puddle of fresh, cold blood, a gaping wound under her heart.

"Bled to death…" Snorri analyzed. "Didn't think that was possible for vampires…"

Serana turned the body over, checking the chest—the insignia was there: it matched what was on her own clothing. "These were my father's servants…" she trailed before moving the next vampire's body. "I take it back, not all of them were." This one is lacking any markings that would have indicated he was Volkihar. Serana got to work searching the body, loosening belts and checking pouches for any item that would indicate who these vampires worked for and where the Moth Priest was.

"A three way fight—Legionnaires, Volkihar vampires, and…whatever faction this bastard belonged to," Snorri said. "But no sign of our Moth Priest—the question is who won?"

"I'd say it was this 'Malkus' character," Serana said, waving a blood-stained sheet of paper around. "He's not one of my father's men—it says here that they were taking the priest to a 'Forebear's Holdout' not that far from here."

"Forebear's Holdout, huh?" Snorri mused. "I've been there a few times—there's a ruined fortress inside. It looks a little bit like an Ayleid ruin, but the stonework is all wrong…"

"Skip the history lesson, Snorri," Serana rushed. "You just said you'd been there a few times—do you remember where it is?"

"Remember? Hah," Snorri stood and chuckled, pointing a finger past her and across the river, up a hill beyond that. "I'm practically looking right at the entrance. Let's get to work!"