Special thanks to 16DarMidnight80 for looking over this!
-L-
Ulfric and Galmar were in talks with Jorleif, but for once it didn't seem to be about anything directly related to the war. With Jorleif thus occupied, I'd taken advantage of Ulfric's assurance that I had right of access as his diplomatic advisor and had one of the house servants take me to wherever Ulfric was.
He wasn't even in his strategy room, but in a more comfortable parlour in the residential quarters. Now why he can't maintain something reasonably similar in his great hall I have no idea. Wood gleamed and a good fire crackled in the hearth. The chairs were large and heavily padded, and in one of these Ulfric was almost sprawling, goblet in hand (which was tilting precariously since he was ignoring it in favor of whatever Jorleif was saying). Although it was clear that this was business, it didn't seem the overly serious sort.
Galmar, too, looked comfortable, perched on the arm of another very solid chair and looking a little less grumpy than usual—to the point of having actually taken off his bearskin. This wasn't surprising given the warmth of the room and the company within. The removal didn't diminish his size by much.
The silence had that quality that suggested whatever the serious matter was had just been concluded or resolved.
"You're back," Ulfric noted as he—having heard my delicate, attention-catching cough—waved me in.
"I am, my lord. May I present my housecarl Mjoll the Lioness, recently of Riften?" I asked, having paid a brief obeisance.
"You may." He studied her thoughtfully, as did Galmar, who slipped his bearskin back into place. That's going to be a penance to wear.
"My lord," Mjoll bowed politely, but said no more.
"Good pick," Galmar approved.
Wait until she meets Rolff. Then we'll see where you stand with that assessment.
"The Emperor's come to Skyrim," Ulfric announced without preamble.
"Yes, my lord. His cousin Vittoria is getting married in Solitude. And I have some unease over this visit." To say the least. While in Solitude—the date for the wedding was kicked around for some time, so everyone's been anticipating it for months and months. And, I may add, Vittoria would change the date just when people got bored talking and speculating. I think she liked being the talk of the town and remaining the talk of the town.
"Of course you do," Ulfric responded blandly. "Can you operate in Solitude?"
"Not yet, my lord." From the indifference that met this statement, I figured he didn't expect me to be able to so he wasn't disappointed. "Which means his Penitus Oculatus had better be all they're cracked up to be," I answered darkly. Then, shaking myself and producing the handkerchief I'd wrapped the poison-detecting ring in. "I have come across some disturbing rumors and feel it necessary to bring them before your lordship."
Ulfric's expression of good humor slipped away.
Galmar tensed.
"Someone in Whiterun was looking for a rare and particularly nasty poison. I don't know who it's intended for. Maybe the Emperor. Maybe you. Maybe someone only one person cares about. But from what I gather, the buyer is someone who will pay well."
"We're closer to the Morrowind Border than Whiterun," Galmar noted.
"I asked Nurelion to let me know if anyone asked him about this reagent. He said in no uncertain terms that, knowing what jarrin root is for, he'd lock the would-be buyer in place and call the City Watch."
"What do you suspect?" Ulfric asked.
"I suspect everything. If this is meant for the Emperor, the Stormcloaks could be implicated whether they are involved or not."
Galmar snorted at the use of 'they' rather than 'we,' but everyone ignored him.
"If it is meant for you… that could be awkward for your cause. I suspect this poison is meant for the Emperor, and I have asked my friend in Whiterun to go to the authorities. I will, of course, forward a letter to Solitude, but it's uncertain whether that will do any good." I pinched the bridge of my nose before producing the ring, wrapped in a handkerchief.
"How worried do I need to be?" Ulfric asked.
"You don't need to allow this to incommode you." I opened the handkerchief and offered him the ring. "This ring detects poisons—the stone turns pale when close to one, the stronger the poison the paler the stone grows. Something like jarrin root would certainly not go unidentified."
Ulfric took the ring, frowning at it before looking to me. He slid it onto one finger, then looked past me. "Mjoll, Galmar, Jorleif—I'd like to speak to Thane Grey privately."
The room cleared, the two housecarls standing in front of the door. Ulfric beckoned me to follow him to the far end of the room, and spoke in a low tone. "How was Riften?"
"I believe I have found an acceptable plant and a way to integrate someone into Riften's higher circles. Madame Black-Briar refused the offer of Jarlship, but I've leveraged her cooperation for the time being by promising that the Stormcloaks won't seize her business and assets, or place them under a suitable custodian. Laila has been informed that your lordship thinks well of her and sends his compliments. As you can see, I have outfitted myself with a suitable housecarl. My steward should follow soon."
"And Whiterun?"
"I'm… assembling ideas," I answered cagily. "May I bring them before your lordship once they are more definite?"
"Of course." Ulfric stepped back, folding his hands behind his back. "Wars are fought during those months not overburdened with snow. Be expedient."
I inclined my head, accepting the almost-ultimatum.
"Write the letter to Solitude. It's impolitic for the Emperor to die here."
"I will not fail to do so, my lord."
"Pretend the Penitus Oculatus can't do their job."
"Then we need a way to deflect blame away from the Stormcloaks. I'll think about what can be done… but I think assassinating the Emperor is more agitation than the Thalmor would want to try controlling. It would re-spark the Great War, and I'm not sure they're any more ready for reignited hostilities than we are." Which means we can't pin it on them—the fallout is too much, too unpredictable. It would cause further splintering, fractures along unforeseen faults. In fact, if I see such chaos as a result, there's no way those witch-elves won't. Which means they would be as interested as we are in ensuring the guilty party is made publically known.
And it's possible that we'll never see this rare reagent. Nurelion knows it because he's ancient by human standards and has traveled. But I'm sure word can be gotten out about what it is and what it's wanted for. With such an important personage in the Province, most people would assume such an exotic poison would be for a high-profile victim.
The only culprit I can think of is the Dark Brotherhood. They don't care about chaos; they're contracted by whoever can pay. Still… it's a bit… blatant… to go around asking local alchemists for this kind of reagent. Maybe I'm making too much out of this.
But, studying Ulfric's profile as he ruminated, I decided better too much fuss than not. If it's meant for Ulfric, that would complicate my own plans. If it's meant for the Emperor… well. He had bodyguards and all sorts of security. Surely if I can come across a ring such as the one now guarding Ulfric from poison then the Emperor has one. That sounds like basic security, especially in a known-to-have-hostiles province.
Still…
-L-
"Alms for a poor beggar?" a cracked, wheedling voice asked.
I turned, reaching into a pocket as I did so. The coin vanished into the beggar's hand. "Saw a familiar face yesterday—Dunmer in the Grey Quarter, slender, short dark hair. Wore a silk scarf, carried a case with her, spoke in a whisper. Pretty thing, too. Was asking questions here before—back when the Butcher was still loose."
"Really?" I asked, producing another coin.
"Aye."
"What was she asking this time?" There was reason to believe this woman was implicated with the death of Nilsine Shatter-Shield, simply given the timing, a corpse out of sequence, and an 'investigator' who 'investigated' and then disappeared. But she wouldn't be noticed if she stuck to the Grey Quarter.
"Nothing strange. Wanted to know if she could get a boat to Morrowind and when. Found a small boat, took her and her companion off that day. Must've paid handsome."
I handed her the coin. "Tell me about the case."
The beggar shrugged. "Just a case, wooden, carved pretty. About like this," she indicated a shape almost as big as a woman's torso, but thin.
"Tell me about her companion."
"Aw, him'd be remembered; strange kind of fella for a lady to want around her. Jumpy, red hair… something funny about his eyes. Him she left at Candlehearth while she was asking her questions. Came back and got him, then they was back off to the docks." The beggar teetered uneasily. "Saw me, he did. Just… his head snapped round, looked at me, he did… leaned over to her, whispered to her."
"And then?"
"She just wrapped her arm round his and walked him off. Seemed amused by whatever he said. If I had to say… well. Haven't slept well since they left. Never know when they might be back."
I studied the beggar, shivering more from nerves than cold, while considering what I had in my purse. "I think Windhelm is very dangerous for you, my friend. I wonder if you would deliver a message for me, in return for the coin to go to Riften? It's safer. Warmer."
The beggar looked incredulous, then suspicious. "What sort of message?"
"I would want you to tell the mage, Marcurio, from his new friend that charity is becoming in a man of his position. That his new friend's friends may have things to tell him and he should make note of them. And then you should tell your friends about my friend's open ears… and open hands." I've wondered how to establish ears in other cities. Now I have at least one.
And I'll send a horse courier in advance of this fellow to ensure Marcurio gets the message… and that if he doesn't to let me know. I think that this woman will complete her commission for the chance to get out of Riften in case the Dunmer and her companion come back. Still, if this woman isn't dead yet I doubt she's in much danger.
"I could do that," the beggar said softly. "I could indeed."
"Good. Wait here for me. I'll return directly." Because, of course, I can't just hand over a big wad of gold; it's hard to carry and I don't need her robbed along the way.
-L-
(Delivered by courier)
17 First Seed
Sir Marcurio,
A woman will bring you a message from me. A single coin is her due. Ask her what her arrangement with me is and honor it on my behalf. Collect and forward allthe scraps they bring you.
-L-
18 First Seed
Whiterun
Dear Leandra,
I spoke to Arcadia about the individual offering her a commission to obtain the jarrin root. She says she'll remember what you said and has promised to put the word out to any of the alchemists of her acquaintance what jarrin root is, in case the would-be buyer asks about it elsewhere.
She says the would-be buyer was a woman, probably a Nord, but wore a scarf over her hair. Arcadia says her eyes were remarkably green and she had a pretty manner—someone of good breeding. She wasn't someone local—not asking for jarrin root—and Arcadia said the woman made it sound harmless. Like love-potion harmless.
Your friend,
Ysolda
-L-
(Delivered by courier)
19 First Seed
Bee and Barb Inn
Madame,
The woman arrived, found me, and said you—I assume you, as she didn't use names—sent her. I paid her as you requested. She says she'll spread the word.
Cordially,
Marcurio
-L-
20 First Seed
To Thane Grey, Hjerim—
My lady, it is my duty to inform you that your housecarl Mjoll the Lioness has been arrested for civil disruption, assault and very nearly resisting arrest. You are required to appear at once before Jarl Ulfric to resolve the matter.
At your service,
Lorik, Captain of the Watch
(Countersigned by Jorleif the Steward)
-L-
"I am sorry, my Jarl," I said, contriving to look more surprised than I felt. "I don't know what could have provoked her. "Mjoll is a kind woman, if a little stern."
Ulfric frowned as if he wasn't quite convinced of my words.
Galmar, the other injured party—or at least representing the injured party—looked upset… and that upset did seem to be leveled at his brother rather than me or my housecarl.
"I certainly do apologize for her, my lord."
Ulfric motioned to the guardsmen who stood just outside the door to the small audience room into which he'd called Galmar and me.
Mjoll (who looked calm and composed, her chin jutting defiantly) and Rolff (who seemed to be hungover rather than drunk, and looking more than a little nervous) were walked in. Mjoll seemed to tower over Rolff in a way that made him look even filthier than usual and much more a lesser man than his brother. Even in shackles, she seemed even more iconic as a 'true Nord' (in terms of heart and valor, as well as looks) than she usually does.
"My Jarl," Mjoll said, bowing her head briefly.
"My Jarl…" Rolff repeated. He had a spectacular bruise forming on his jaw which looked like Mjoll's right hook and from the way he stooped she might have hit in him the guts.
Ulfric looked from Mjoll and me to Galmar and Rolff—and to his credit Galmar looked both abashed about and mildly disgusted with his brother. More, I think, because this was a blow to pride than anything else.
I do love Mjoll. I'd wondered how to contrive her running to Rolff in one of his more charming moments and it turns out I didn't have to contrive at all. All I knew was that she'd been walking Svana to the Snow Quarter's seamstress to pick up a few items I'd commissioned and things went downhill from there.
"I was minding my own business," Rolff grunted.
"By some ridiculously loose definitions, perhaps," Mjoll answered sourly, once she was certain he'd finished his defense. "I found this… person… drunk in the street, shouting the most awful things to the 'grey-skins.'"
"No law against voicing an opinion," Rolff answered. "And it's a common opinion."
"For the most common of people, perhaps. You do demonstrate that," came Mjoll's quick retort. I had to work not to smile at this—it was a clever bit of wording.
Rolff's face turned pink beneath the stubble and grime.
"Threats to citizens of Windhelm ought to be taken seriously. When I noticed a nearby watchman, I accosted him and he preferred not to get into it—his words—with this fellow. So I got into it." Mjoll shook her head. "At the very least, he frightened my thane's housemaid."
Clever of her, more clever than I expected, however highly I think of her: it might be one thing to voice threats that might be considered idle. Offering insult to a thane's household is a little more actionable.
Rolff shifted as though waiting for Mjoll to add something.
Something clicked in my mind. "Did you put your hands on my housecarl?" I asked quietly, sensing that this was true. It was just like Mjoll to downplay anything he did to her since she was perfectly able to deal with trouble. Svana had been in a state when she informed me that Mjoll had been arrested.
"That's immaterial, my thane," Mjoll answered with calm dignity that left no doubt in anyone's mind.
I snorted at 'that's immaterial.' 'That' is considered provocation, though I think her humility in allowing Svana's distress (and that of the Snow Quarter residents) to be the chief points was a wonderful presentation.
"Once I'd laid the fellow out the Watch came and arrested us both. Disturbing the peace, I think he said." The lack of derision in her voice suggested she knew that they needed a real, genuine reason to arrest the man, divining from the normal way of things in Riften that the fellow had powerful friends keeping him out of trouble however much trouble he made.
Unlike in Riften, they probably swooped in like they ought to have. Fewer bribes, if Galmar's shadow is the only thing protecting Rolff. Galmar wouldn't stoop to bribery. In fact, he'd probably take a swing at the imprudent person who suggested it.
Ulfric, with his best impassive expression, looked from Mjoll to Rolff. "Do you contest anything in this woman's story?"
Rolff shifted, wilting further. I doubt he's ever been in this much trouble, let alone been taken to task over anything that sprayed out of his drunken mouth. "No, my Jarl."
"Am I to suppose he sought to physically repel or detain you?" Ulfric asked.
Mjoll clearly didn't like admitting to this and I knew why: she doesn't worry about her safety, just the safety and wellbeing of minding-their-own-business people. Or maybe it was that he went down so easily and she feels guilty, having expected more starch to him. That might be it. "Yes, my jarl."
"Galmar, as Rolff was the instigator, he will remain in prison until the day after tomorrow. After that you may redeem him if you wish," Ulfric said. "This is a respectable city."
Which means avoiding Mjoll… or minding his manners.
I didn't smile, but I wanted to. I didn't look at Galmar, either. It wasn't a lot of progress into trying to ease some of the tensions within Windhelm, but it was a start—as I said early on when asked about problems, quelling Rolff would go a long way.
"I expect there to be no more such altercations," Ulfric continued, pinning both Mjoll and Rolff in turn, the very image of the fair judge. "It's unbecoming."
"Your pardon, my Jarl," Mjoll answered, bowing her head as if recognizing the reasonability of the sentiment, even if she was right in the first place. The jut of her chin said as much. And no one had any doubt that if she felt she needed to intervene, she would.
"Your pardon, my Jarl," Rolff echoed.
The Watch representatives were waved in by Ulfric. "Take this man back to his cell. He may be redeemed at the usual price beginning the morning of the day after tomorrow. Otherwise, he will serve his time."
Rolff was walked away by the guards at an intimation from Ulfric.
"Mjoll the Lioness will be released immediately as she was not the instigator and at her Thane's request." Ulfric gave me a look which didn't really mean anything except that certain forms were obeyed.
The remaining Watchwoman undid the shackles on Mjoll's wrists.
"My I dismiss Mjoll?" I asked softly.
"You may."
"Mjoll, please wait for me outside."
"My thane." Mjoll bowed her head and withdrew.
"I expect there to be no more altercations of this nature," Ulfric repeated, this time to Galmar and me.
I turned to Galmar. "You do have my apologies, Sir Galmar." I didn't mean it, but it was what I was expected to say, just as it was Galmar's place to take the blame upon himself since Rolff was his brother and the antagonist.
The last of the forms obeyed, Ulfric dismissed us both.
"I didn't mean to embroil you in this," Mjoll announced once we were outside and squinting because of the glare on the snow.
"It's quite alright. I don't mind apologizing for such altercations; Rolff needed to learn that there were people who don't notice the shapes of ears or recognize 'friends in high places.'" And I think that, this time, Galmar really will give Rolff the old-fashioned word... and enforce it.
Maybe I do Galmar an injustice and this isn't such a horrible thing. Family ties can be tricky: maybe he wasn't the only one who needed an excuse to do something about Rolff. There, I'll let that be my charitable thought for the day—whatever doubts about the accuracy of it I might entertain.
-L-
(Journal Ulfric Stormcloak, First Seed 20)
Leandra's slow to build groundwork but once she has it her plans close like a steel trap. Through some contrivance I don't doubt will never be discovered, she got her 'crusader' (as she calls the woman) of a housecarl on the same early morning street as Galmar's brother. The next thing I know, I have missives from the Captain of the Guard saying that Rolff (once he woke up—Mjoll seemed to have hit him rather hard) name dropped. Mjoll refused until she was point-blank asked if someone was responsible for her.
Loyalty is an important trait in a housecarl, and it was clear she wouldn't embroil her Thane until absolutely necessary.
I did wonder about someone coming out of Riften and whom Leandra regarded, her politics being what they are. But she couldn't have found a better iconic 'true daughter of Skyrim' outside the Stormcloaks. Now I know what Leandra meant when she said she knew she would spend time apologizing for her housecarl.
It came back to me, once I had all four of them in a room, that she'd said something about Rolff being muzzled—or at least leashed. I should be annoyed over feeling like I'd been backed into a corner—it's one thing for a ruler to show a certain indulgence to his housecarl. It's another to extend that to his housecarl's brother.
I have to say, in that family Galmar got everything Rolff apparently did not. I would never admit it to anyone and I'll probably scratch this out later, but it's true. I did wonder for a few moments if she might not be angling to create some kind of rift between Galmar and I that she might fill… but on reflection I don't think so. I'll keep an eye on the possibility and if she is, well, we'll deal with that when the time comes.
This proof of action couldn't have come at a better time. It's late in First Seed, the time when wars are traditionally begun or renewed and I haven't heard a peep about Whiterun except that she's still thinking. I hope her plans for Whiterun are as decisive, once she has things lined up.