Fey was in throes of delight, busily showing Tyr several small items of clothing she'd found for Blossom and Orien, much of which he stared at with a completely lost smile, but he was obviously enjoying watching her enjoy herself. The Khajiit traders had presented her with several small dressing gowns to choose from, and she'd picked a pink one for Blossom and a deep blue one for Orien that had a matching blanket for Bacon, and soft little slipper-boots for them to wear in their rooms. Orien in particular was still adjusting to shoes, still preferring to be barefoot even when the floors were icy.

Telki had her own goodies she'd gone hunting for. She proudly presented their wonderful host with his own stripes and fur (a knapped union suit done in tiger stripes) along with proper Elsweyr robes so the poor man wouldn't roast in Cyrodiil's heat. Mittens had greeted these with tears of joy and a lot of cuddling.

"Mittens, you've been so kind to us, and I noticed you didn't have very many mementos of home here. I contacted my cousin Rihandi. He's sending you some things as a thank you for hosting us."

The old man stared at her in dumbfoundment, then his face broke into a dazzling smile even as tears leaked from his eyes. "This one is so happy," he said, dabbing his face with the edge of his robe.

Telki pulled him into a big hug. "How would you feel to having family come check on you every so often?"

Her shoulder was getting very soggy by the time Flavianus came up and meowed petulantly at them. Telki scooped Flavianus up in the arm not full of joyfully sobbing Mittens. The cat purred, kneeding his claws on her arm and licking Mitten's head.

"Okay, okay okay. So, everyone here?" Ama was bouncing on her bookshelf, eyes crinkled with stifled laughter that still broke out occasionally in giggles. "'Cause nobody should miss this little tale of derring do."

Tyr buried his face in his hands, turning an interesting shade of red. "Oh, please don't."

"But it was hilaaarious! And so stinkin' sweet the Guildmaster wanted to keep you!" Ama cooed. Tyr groaned.

Fey, glancing from Tyr to Ama suspiciously, finally asked, "What exactly did you two do after we left?"

"I needed to make contact," Ama said breezily. "Knew I shouldn't go alone, so dragged Tyr with me. His cover was a big bad mercenary, and what does he do? Spend the time trying to teach the Guildmaster self defense!" Ama laughed so hard she nearly toppled off her perch.

Tyr winced: Give him an honest battlefield any day; roguing around and cloak and dagger just weren't his strong points. "She looked like anyone else!" he burst out, blush going all the way down the cleft in his shirt to his chest.

"Yes, because the Guildmaster is going to walk around with a label 'Hi, I'm the Imperial Thieves Guildmaster,'" Ama hooted. She explained to Fey, "She was wearing typical barmaid stuff, bantering with another guildie, and swatted at him. Mr. Conscientious here was horrified, and offered to teach her self defense. She was ready to toss him if he patronized her, but his earnestness won him all the sweetroll points."

"She had her thumb inside her fingers!" Tyr tried to explain himself, "She would have broken her thumb if she actually punched like that! I assumed she didn't know better, and she just told me to go on, and seemed really interested…"

Fey had a hand over her mouth, eyes shining and shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as she regarded her husband. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked rhetorically, shaking her head.

"Well, if you don't decide to keep him, I got some excellent offers from the Guildies," Ama teased. "A real gentleman like that is a hot commodity."

Fey's expression darkened slightly, then she lightly glided over to Tyr, set herself in his lap as if sitting down to high dinner, and gave him a kiss that made the Khajiit gape. "I don't share," she told Ama firmly, then smiled a bit wickedly at Tyr's thunderstruck expression.

"Oh, I made sure they understood exactly who Tyr married. After your rather impressive sacking of the Imperial agents made it back to their ears, nobody will be stepping on your territory."

"Oh, I won't kill them," she assured Ama brightly. Tyr shuddered and wrapped his arms around her, more as if he were holding her back than as if he were cuddling her.

"And I assumed Shell got that all from her father," Sanguine muttered to Merc, leaning over the second floor banister and sounding a little too interested for comfort as Tyr assured Fey she had no reason to worry and Ama started to get nervous. He'd set an embarrassed Merc on the padded bench next to him when the mage demonstrated a complete inability to walk just yet.

"Seriously thinking about starting that five day fast?" Merc nudged Sam in the side. The Daedra shuddered. "She's stubborn, and she's set her conditions. I wouldn't want to think about the consequences if you somehow managed to talk her around them."

"Considering that would either involve something horrible happening between her and Giddy first, or—hic!—me getting the hammer after—and not in a good way—I think I'll just keep sighing over it," Sam confessed.

Merc leaned against Sam. "Well, you've still got me, and Lydia's said yes, so there's that." Sam brightened. "Not to mention whatever else you get up to when you have to leave. I'm not going to feel sorry for you, not even a little."

Sam was looking at him pensively. "You ever wanted to try—hic!—being a girl? Or I could be the girl. Being the girl's fun. Lydia will regale you with it, I'm—hic!—sure."

Mercutio tilted his head, as he actually took the time to think about it. "Maybe someday when my self confidence feels less fragile."

Taking his boyfriend's far too pretty chin in his hands, Sam leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss, the kind he normally reserved for swaying stubborn mortals into all kinds of trouble. In this case, he did it to be as distracting as possible. "Trust me, Muffin. You have nothing to worry about."

Merc practically melted. "Just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and surprise me again."

"I'm a Daedra; we do that," he grinned, one arm going around Merc while he watched the scene below. "For instance, before this trip is over, I fully intend to give Blythe more paperwork."

"Seriously, though," Ama settled, putting her serious face on for a moment before Fey could get any scarier. "In one day, Tyr has won the Imperial Thieves Guild to our cause, just by being himself. They can't be bought away from us now. Not after our Guildmaster went to one knee right there an' swore fealty. You don't swear fealty to someone with whom you have romantical designs."

Tyr hid his face in the crook of Fey's neck and shoulder, red again. "I already hate this Emperor stuff," he muttered. She turned her head to hide her face in his strangely damp hair, not wanting to bring up that she'd sworn oaths of fealty to at least two of the marks in her career.

"I also need to set a meeting with Shell," Ama went on, "Have her people meet these people kinda thing."

"Speaking of Shell," Tyr grasped on the change of subject like a drowning man a piece of driftwood, "Are she and Gideon the only ones watching the children? Because I'd pay to see that."

"That's our children, too, mellani," Fey reminded him.

"Oh, so Pearl's there. Shell has help." He grinned and shrugged, "Or Gideon has help. Whichever."

"Maybe I should check in on them," Telki mused.

"Come, dear. Help me get this home," Fey said, hopping off Tyr and walking over to where the bundles (and a tired Wemie, who'd carried most of them) waited. Fey had made sure to find the sweets Telki had spoken of before they left and bought her several in thanks. "Besides, if Wemie doesn't get home soon, she'll miss her dinner."

Wemie blushed, fiercely enough it shone through her short fur, looking suspiciously Altmer in effect. "That did not require pointing out."

Tyr grinned, opened his mouth, then shut it before he stuck his foot in it. "I…Have fun. Don't, you know, wear him out or anything." He winced. So much for not saying anything embarrassing.

Wemie gave Tyr a bland look. "Don't worry, I won't. I'll be sure to pass along your confidence in his conversation skills."

"If anyone needs the future Emperor, he'll be at home, unpacking boxes and removing teeth from his foot," Tyr announced, picking up as many boxes as he could in one go and heading for the stairs.

Fey glanced at Wemie and offered, "I'd be happy to do your hair up, if you want me to. I know several styles that would suit you."

"I'd like that. Thank you," Wemie nodded.

The Altmer returned the nod and smiled slightly, then looked around. "I see Talon has continued in his trend of vanishing when people are affectionate."

"Guess who else I don't see? Think she found him?" Wemie softly replied for Fey's ears only.

Seeing Telki was busy assisting Tyr—or possibly explaining some of the clothing items to him, truth be told—Fey asked hesitantly, "Wemie…how serious is your sister about this?"

Wemie started to say something, hesitated, and finally, with all weight of a big sister coming to a revelation herself finally answered. "Completely. I've never seen her put her foot down like she did on this."

"Ah," Fey said, eyes introspective. "I…I hope, for her sake, she's…strong enough for this."

"She is."

"Now we'll see if he gives her a chance to be," Fey sighed, picking up some packages of her own and following the two Dragonborn.

.

.

Salonia's house was much like every other well-to-do lady of fashion's; impeccably furnished and with very little of her personal taste showing in the public places. It was evening, and as usual she was sitting in her private parlor, wondering what her husband was doing now (and hoping it wasn't too stupid), and fretting about the snag their plot had hit. Unraveling this issue was now falling to her, as she should have known it would. You never could count on men to do anything right without a lot of oversight.

"Oh isn't that typical?" Salonia's fan fluttered in agitation. "I told him promptly at seven, and it's well after." She stared at her pot in ire: The tea had gone cold, and one simply couldn't reheat good tea. She sighed in frustration, ringing a small bell. When a young maid scurried in, bobbing a curtsy, she waved negligently towards the pot and tray. "Dispose of that and fix a fresh tray." The girl bobbed another hasty curtsy, and removed the tea things quickly. Salonia's disapproving gaze did not shift in the slightest, but the girl didn't garner any chastisement, either.

Once alone, she dropped elegantly onto the lounge, rubbing her forehead with one hand, and tapping her fan with the other. "Why is good help so very impossible to find? Where is that dreadful man?"

As if in answer, a hesitant knock on the door echoed slightly in the wood-paneled room. After a moment, a balding head of dark brown hair over olive skin peeked in timidly. "Milady?"

"Oh finally! Come in! What took you so long?"

The cringe was not reassuring. "I have been in almost constant correspondence with my contacts, milady, and…I'm afraid, even with the increase in price, the fact that the Charging Stallions didn't return—at all—was very damning for doing business with you." After a moment of examining her face, sweating, he finally said, "You've been blacklisted."

"I've been…what?" Salonia's brows drew down and the fan ceased to tap.

"Blacklisted," he repeated, shuffling from foot to foot and wiping his rather broad forehead with a handkerchief. "No one will contract with you until they know what happened to the Stallions."

Salonia huffed. "They died because they weren't as good as they thought they were. What else?" Salonia waved her fan. "Seriously, what else could it have been?"

The man shrugged, perspiring heavily. "I said as much, milady, but as I told you when you had me find them, they were among the best in the market. At least, that were willing to do this kind of job."

Salonia's fluttering fan stopped, and her eyes narrowed at him, her voice colder than a Skyrim winter. "Find me a better market, then. Find me mercenaries as good as they think they are."

"Of course, milady," he said, bending nearly double over his paunch.

Behind him, her lady's maid slipped in, hands clasped behind her back, looking vaguely puzzled and mostly nervous. "Excuse the interruption, milady, sera, but…there is a caller for her ladyship. The lady claims to have something you've been looking for?"

"Really?" Salonia turned to regard her maid. "And did this person present a card?"

The girl rushed over, moving hastily around the rotund man in the center of the room to present a white and red inked card with a lovely painted white orchid on it. Seeing the professional looking card mollified Salonia somewhat. "Oh very well, then. See her in."

"I'll just…see myself out," her middleman said, dabbing his face with his handkerchief.

"Remember, new market. Useful mercenaries, not braggarts with an inflated sense of accomplishment." Salonia waved him out with a delicate flutter of her fan.

A few minutes passed in silence after he literally bowed himself out, finally broken by a soft knock at the door, her maid peering in a moment to see if she were busy. "Milady, Mistress Orchid Apatecia is here to see you."

"Show her in." Salonia stood to receive her guest. Afterall, manners were important. She wondered at the change in title; it wasn't like her servants to get titles wrong. Perhaps she'd wasted her time after all.

The young woman that entered the room certainly looked the part of a lady. Her clothing wasn't overly ornamented, but perfectly tailored and of good material, the kind that never quite went out of fashion and, if properly cared for, could be handed down generations before being cut up and used for patterns. Her silk shaw was in the latest mode, and embroidered with painstaking care—Salonia herself wouldn't turn up her nose at owning it. Matching embroidery on silk cuffs had been added to the sleeves of the gown, and around the neckline, where a simple, elegant pendant that might actually be Ayleid rested just above the slight swell of breasts, which was slightly daring but hardly objectionable. What was most remarkable about the woman however was her face, perfect in nearly every way, with the ideal cream-in-tea tone, slightly flushed cheeks, and long, dark curled eyelashes framing dark brown eyes, the only "imperfection" a small teardrop beauty mark under the outside of one eye. Her hair was piled atop her head in the latest fashion, a hint of that same matching ribbon holding it impossibly in place.

"Lady Carvain," she greeted with a friendly smile, sinking into a perfect, demure curtsy, "It's a pleasure to finally get the chance to speak with you."

The perfect manners and gracious bow left Salonia furiously trying to regain her composure, and she fluttered her fan before returning the courtesy by indicating the opposite sofa. "My pleasure, I assure you. Won't you be seated?"

"That is most kind, your ladyship," Orchid said, walking over daintily and not seating herself until the higher class woman had done so. "I'm afraid my visit isn't as social as a gentlewoman such as yourself might prefer, but it has been difficult for certain parties to get ahold of you."

"Praise the Divines, then. I prefer business to aimless prattle." Salonia adjusted herself more comfortably. "My maid indicated you might be of service to me? How is this so?"

Orchid smiled sweetly, "Well, to be completely frank, milady, my brother is an assassin. He belongs to a small company of them."

Salonia's brows raised as she thought that through. "Is he now?" Salonia gave herself a moment to study this "Orchid." She doubted she'd use her real name to discuss such delicate business. "And how did you learn I was looking for an assassin? That is hardly conduct expected of one my station."

The younger woman glanced down demurely, like a girl asked an improper question by her suitor. "Milady, it is very difficult to find work in such an occupation without knowing how to find those in need of such services."

Lady Salonia looked the girl over long and hard, mind churning. "Alright, suppose for argument's sake I were in the market for an assassin or a group of assassins. How would I know your brother and his little guild could get the job done?"

"Oh," that sweet smile was back, "Would you like a demonstration?"

The lady shook her head. "In all honesty, I cannot think of a demonstration that could compare. This hypothetical job involves heavily fortified places in extremely unfriendly territory far away from here, and bringing people back alive. What demonstration could you give that could match it?"

Touching her lip softly in thought, Orchid looked up toward the muraled ceiling, "You do have a point. We could, of course, give you a free local kill to prove our worth, but that hardly compares to breaking into the Palace of Kings, killing the High King, and returning with Mede's new heirs."

"Half now, half when the children are in my possession." Salonia's eyes were alight with delight. "So nice to find young women as capable and bright as you. I'd quite given up on the next generation."

Orchid inclined her head, "That is high praise from such an esteemed lady. We can begin immediately should you wish. We are willing to give you a few days for the funds if you need to draw them from somewhere."

"Yes, well, it'd simply take a moment speaking with dear old Dum, I'm sure." Salonia's agitated fan told Orchid exactly her thoughts on "dear old Dum."

"Would you prefer having your man compose us an invoice for him?" Orchid inquired, hiding a smile behind her gloved fingers. "We wouldn't want to trouble you overmuch."

"Of course! Of course, we must go about things properly, now, mustn't we?"

"I believe my brother most likely waylaid him in the parlour. He's such an eager young man and tends to anticipate getting things started," the woman said, a hint of apology in her tone for her kinsman's antics. "I can ask your maid if it is so if you'd like to relax a moment."

There wasn't much Lady Salonia could say to that besides the polite, "Why thank you." She'd been neatly and politely outmaneuvered. There was a small cautionary voice in the back of her head, warning her, but the girl had been unfailingly polite, and she knew so much already, there hardly seemed anything she could give away to the girl.

Her man was back in the room in less time than it took to brew a cup of tea, sweating even more profusely than he had earlier, and making several blunders of etiquette in his haste, though he spent an unseemly amount of time simply gawking at her guest.

"Eyes on your work, old man," a voice snapped. A young Imperial man leaned against her doorway, half his face horribly scarred, the other bearing a resemblance to Orchid. Other than his face he was perfectly formed, large for an Imperial, and moving with just as much grace as the young woman.

"Malero!" Orchid protested gently, looking slightly shocked, "that's quite rude. You have not been invited in or announced."

He waved a hand, "So announce me already."

Heaving a quiet sigh, she turned apologetic eyes to Salonia, "Milady, I apologize deeply. This is my brother, Malero. He's rather rough around the edges."

"I'm just trying to make sure this clerk doesn't make the same 'impolite' overtures the last one did," he groused, but bowed to Salonia. "It will be an honor to serve you, milady. No one has asked me to do anything this exciting for a long while."

"By all means, come join your sister, but please, I find that the more nervous one makes a scribe, the more errors they make simply from shivering so."

"Franky, I think my face scares him," Malero said scathingly, striding over to the couch where his sister sat, looking absurdly large next to her small frame. Unlike her, he was not dressed for a social call; though his clothing was in impeccable taste, it was obviously also meant to be moved in. His pants clung to him in ways that were slightly obscene for day-to-day wear, and the cut of his tunic accented the breadth of his shoulders. Salonia always did appreciate a well made man, even if his face had been butchered.

Lady Salonia scoffed. "Of course he is. You survived it, that makes you formidable."

He shot her a very white smile, though Orchid glanced down again, as if something amused her. "In many ways," he told her.

"Do behave, brother dear," Orchid chided lightly. "This is a lady you are speaking to!"

He looked even more amused by that, "Maybe she'll chain me up in her dungeon."

"This is why I don't bring you anywhere," she said primly. "You are being very distracting."

"Maybe I want to be. After all, I am here to offer my services." He laughed when his sister looked downright appalled at that statement.

"So, you're the diplomacy, and he disarms by sheer outrage? Commendable." Salonia settled herself and waved her fan languidly. "So, how much of that flirt is honest interest, and how much is meant to leave an old woman stuttering?"

He grinned, "If you want me to come back after walking my dear little sister home, I'll demonstrate."

Loud honest laughter rang out behind Salonia's fan, laughter that left her redfaced and gasping. "And still, you didn't answer if it's to make me stutter and blush or real interest."

Patting Orchid's perfect coif, he replied, "I wouldn't want to ruin my poor baby sister's sensibilities. She takes after our dear departed mother that way. Woman used to claim I was a changeling."

Salonia considered, and said lowly enough only the siblings could hear her. "If you wish to stop by again later, you may."

Orchid turned a very fetching shade of pink while her brother flashed Salonia that white smile again, "Would you prefer if I used the door or the window?"

Salonia raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave it to your imagination."

"I'm, er, finished," the tubby Imperial clerk said, casting his wide eyes around as if he hadn't just overheard an entirely uncomfortable conversation. He handed the writ to his lady for inspection. The paper was slightly flimsy from his hands.

She perused the damp parchment top to bottom. "This seems in order, if a bit…moist." She gestured for the quill impatiently, eyeing the slightly chewed top with distaste, and quickly signed the writ so she could clean her hands on a lace napkin. "There, get that sorted as quickly as possible, if you please."

Orchid accepted the writ graciously, "I'll deliver it myself tomorrow. At this rate, I'm slightly frightened that my brother would give the poor man a shock. He rather strikes me as the delicate sort." Malero snorted a laugh.

"Thank you, Mistress Orchid. That will do nicely." Lady Salonia folded her fan with a snap. "Well, then. I cannot remember the last time business was such a pleasure."

"It was lovely meeting you, milady," the young woman said, taking that for the dismissal it was and rising, giving a slight curtsey. "We look forward to doing business with you." Malero's lips twitched slightly, obviously putting a different spin on her wording.

She waved towards the door with a negligent hand. "I'm sure Ancilla will be happy to see the two of you out. I do appreciate your help with this delicate matter."

"Of course," Orchid said before Malero could open his mouth. "We are quite happy to offer our services. Have a lovely rest of your evening, milady." At Salonia's nod, they followed the maid out, leaving Salonia with her thoughts. She smiled as she imagined Amaund's face tomorrow when she told him she had the matter neatly handled.

Her smile widened and took on rather predatory tones. No, not Amaund. She'd ring for that uppity Nord High Chancellor. Imagining his face when told the matter was well in hand was an image to give a woman pleasant dreams at night.

Speaking of pleasant dreams, she wondered about that Malero character. She had no delusions there. The boy carried himself like a courtesan, and had probably made a killing in the courts before whatever tragedy befell his face. Pity more women valued a fine face over a well made body, but she'd long lost any respect for most court ladies. Most of them were barely worth having around as decorations, their minds as full of fluff as their wigs.

However, if the boy were willing to pretend interest in her, of all things, she'd certainly avail herself of the welcome distraction. It had been quite the while since she'd had a proper bed warmer.

.

.

Lady Carvain's pudgy, nervous man nearly floated down the street away from them, contact information for their "assassin's guild" in hand and unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved that Mistress Apatecia wasn't the primary contact. Caught between Orchid's charm and Malero's glower, he felt rather like the fool in a children's story that managed to glimpse the princess beyond the dragon, and wandered off to tell the hero about her.

"Well, that's taken care of," Malero said impatiently, pushing himself off the side of the cream stone wall that encased Carvain Manor and offering her an ironically gentlemanly arm, "Shall we, dear sister?"

Orchid turned, placing her hand properly on his elbow. "If you ever do anything like that ever again," she said pleasantly, "I will ensure you vomit blood for a week."

"But dear sister, her ladyship is lonely," Malero protested in mock-sympathy. "Her husband is all the way in Bruma while she's stuck here, plotting against people."

"Don't ruin this for us," she ordered, ire flashing in her dark eyes as she glanced up at him. "There is too much at stake already without you playing around."

"It's boring here," he complained, leading her through the streets. "Stuck waiting around, smelling your concoctions. Even enchanting is getting tedious." This part of the city was mostly empty this time of day, and the siblings looked more like they were out for a stroll than on business. As the number of people started to pick up as they left the homes of the gentry behind them, Orchid cast a subtle spell, sliding eyes off her brother to her, a common enough trick of young, well-to-do girls with a bit of mage talent in the Imperial City. The capitol was full of beauties; it was his scar that was less forgettable.

"Maybe if you hadn't drawn so much attention to yourself you might still be allowed to go out," she chided, her scathing tone so jarring with her mannered persona he desperately wanted that perspiring pig to hear it. The man would probably wet himself. "You always were lacking in foresight."

"I'm only mixing business with pleasure," he reminded her with a sharp smile, "Sleeping with a mark is hardly as objectionable as some partners I could take," he added, not missing the momentary stutter of her pleasant mask. "So, when do you think our esteemed mage and leader will return from Skyrim? Just the three of us here is…even more boring than when we're all together."

"I don't presume," she told him shortly, and he snorted, looking away. He'd pushed too far and wouldn't get anything more out of her. Trying would likely get him poisoned. Orchid was ridiculously good at coming up with new ways to poison people, but he was a favorite of hers to test them on. Of course, he returned the favor by putting amusing enchantments on her things. Amusing for him, anyway.

The door to their safehouse was in the cellar of an inn, giving the illusion of them having rooms there. The innkeeper was another Young One, of course. Not interesting enough to take from the Orphanage back to the estate on Alinor, so simply raised in one of Dessnia's little training houses on the continent until it was time for him to make his way in the world. Sometimes they never made contact again, thinking they were free. Most of them knew better and weren't hauled back as an example. Besides, they always had jobs and livelihoods waiting for them with other Young Ones, which was a lot better than most orphans could expect. For the most part, they went through their lives just as they were—innkeepers, mercenaries, craftsman, traders—sending any interesting bits of knowledge to their handler and just making general reports when nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"Evening, master, mistress," Cassos Falvirus, as he'd been dubbed, greeted them, making a motion like tipping his hat. Orchid smiled at him, earning a slight smile in return. The Young Ones that never were taken to Alinor were always a little bit in awe of the ones that were, that were special. It was easy to see there was nothing special about Cassos besides his memory, which took in every bit of gossip his customers gave him and faithfully reported it later. Providing their base was probably the most interesting thing he'd had to do in years.

"Good evening, Master Cassos," she replied, pulling Malero to a halt. Her brother never had really grasped the importance of manners between peers; he barely grasped it towards his betters. "How are you fairing this day?"

"Quite well, mistress," he replied, looking a bit dazzled she'd asked. "Nothing too out of the ordinary, but we had a new shipment in if you all want to have a look before the rest of the custom. Oh, and your friend has returned."

"We must go greet her then," Orchid declared. "Thank you for your excellent service."

"It's an honor to serve you, mistress," he said with complete honesty.

Malero snorted and dragged her on, nearly making her stumble. "For someone that always says I don't know when to stop, you're just as bad," he groused, closing the door to the tunnel behind them. Though it was made of heavy wood, the outside was carefully sculpted of rock clay, painted the same dull grey as the rest of the basement. "What do you get out of flirting with that potato-faced bore?"

"I realize it would never occur to you that cooperation is more easily given to someone you like," she remarked coldly, sweeping down the hallway, "but do try not to be even more of an idiot than you usually are. Being polite to an innkeeper is common practice, otherwise you get bad service, or worst, thrown out. It would look odd for him to accept rude treatment from us."

"Being polite is one thing, but you flirt with everyone," he replied, stopping to knock in a rhythmic sequence, then cover the peephole in another before unlocking the door. "It attracts too much attention to always be beating men off you with a stick. We had less trouble when we hid in a brothel."

Orchid's lips pressed together slightly. "I have better things to do than service multiple men a night just to keep up a facade," she said tightly.

"It wasn't that bad," he shrugged, opening the door cautiously.

"For you," she muttered, pushing right passed him. "Where are you, Lizard?"

"I'm here," a gravelly voice called from a shadow, red eyes shining in the dim light before she uncurled and stood in the same motion, moving fluidly to the table. "How was your mission?"

"We got the job, despite someone trying to play courtesan," she reported, shooting her brother a nasty look.

"You had already secured the job for us; she has no other real options, and is smart enough to know it. Noblewomen get bored easy," he reminded her, going and pouring himself some beer, then cutting precisely even slices off the cheesewheel, grabbing some bread and the butter crock, and striding over. Orchid snagged a bit before she sat, accepting the plate Lizard handed her. "They're always looking for the next entertainment, and they like the illusion of danger while being safe in their status. Sleeping with a hired assassin fits that bill."

"And your face heightens the sense of danger, rather than simply diminishing your looks," Lizard nodded, the frill of red feathers sprouting from her skull lifting slightly. "For the moment, I agree with your action. It is good to have more than one way to a mark."

"I hope you aren't expecting her to melt for you," Orchid put in, still skeptical, "She's far too jaded to fall for someone just for what they can do in bed."

"I have to pull the scales from her eyes before she can get stars in them," Malero retorted with a smirk, just to hear her groan in defeat.

"At least if we have to kill her quickly she'll let one of us right in," Lizard shrugged, gathering dried fish and a jar of caviar from the food storage. It was much easier for an Argonian to get caviar, both because they could simply hunt it and because it was a staple of their diet, unlike humans who for some reason considered it a delicacy.

"So how was your mission?" Malero asked, watching the Argonian eat with revolted fascination.

"Some of the team allowed to escape did not make it," she said, untroubled, "but the ones that did earned sympathy from them and were taken in. They believe they are safe, for now. Lee has found a place to watch them unobserved, but it is difficult for even Lee to avoid notice completely. The quality of Young Ones the enemy has managed to attract…"

"I still can't believe Talon turned," Malero stated, munching thoughtfully on his cheese and passing Orchid a bowl of grapes, which she set aside, having lost her appetite. "You think maybe he hasn't, and is just playing with them?"

"Talon never struck me as the type to play such a game," Lizard said with a shiver. "Nor Feyliin. You are thinking of Ilmiyon perhaps, or Faloniril's Bosmer."

"She I can see doing it," he admitted, taking the grapes back and eating them himself. "Ilmiyon's dead, but some of her missions were carried out in just as twisted a manner as he ever did."

"It could be," Lizard said after a moment. "They have rescinded her kill order. She somehow snuck into four estates without detection, and fought her way back out of two of them. She's to be reeducated."

"So either she really impressed them, or she's just laying down the bait for a loyalty test," he surmised, frowning. "If it's the latter, that'll earn her a Name. An actual Name, not just something to call her."

"That doesn't mean as much as it used to," Orchid said flatly, giving them all pause. The stripping of Feyliin's Name for apparently helping orchestrate the escape in the first place—and all to save a human that turned out to be not only far, far more problematic than they'd known and essentially stealing that potential asset from the Thalmor—had shaken the ranks of Young Ones deeply. Despite being a traitor, Feyliin had earned her name and chance at an afterlife. To have it stripped away and be consigned to the Soul Cairn again…What good was working to earn a Name if it could be taken away as punishment?

"Is she really is going to be reeducated, though? If so, I'd hate to be her." Malero shuddered, honest atavistic horror coursing through him.

"She won't lose her skills or knowledge," Lizard shrugged, "just her rebelliousness."

"Are they going to do that to Talon?" Orchid wondered aloud, pursing her lips slightly.

"They say anyone can be broken," Lizard mused, stirring the eggs with a clawed finger, "but I think that requires there to be a personality there to break. They could no more break Talon than they could Lee." Glancing up at Orchid, she added, "Worried about your teacher?"

"It's useless to reeducate a courtesan," Orchid shrugged with perfectly feigned unconcern, "They become too indifferent to properly pretend the emotional depth needed. At best, they can be used as whores."

"Four children is usually the limit for an Altmer anyway, so she wouldn't even be useful for breeding," Malero remarked, taking his dishes to the sink. "Still…do you think Lee can avoid them all?"

"Lee's nature is one of balance," Lizard reminded him, both of them keeping their eyes off the courtesan while she composed herself. What they didn't see, they didn't need to report. "If anyone can slide through the fissures of auras, magic, and society, it is Lee The Null."

"Well, I suppose I should put this dress up and go mix some poisons," Orchid said, leaving her dish for her brother to pick up, as always. She gave him an arch look, "Are you going to need any alchemical help completing your self-assigned mission tupping the old bat?"

"Eat shit, sister dear," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Giving him her sweetest smile, she flounced back around and headed toward the back. She'd make some help anyway, something to inflame an old woman's senses, perhaps sent through the air, or that absorbed through the skin. This was too good an opportunity to waste on her reckless brother's meager skills.

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It's too hot to think up here, so I'll just share that no one has strangled each other (so far) and the comic is on-going.

Thank you everyone that read and reviewed. The overall feedback was very positive, which just tickled us pink, and for pictures of Talon. While we have created these characters in-game, they don't look exactly how they do in my head, but if you want to see how they came out within the limitations of the RaceMenu then this story is also on AO3, with accompanying illustrations. Fey, Tyr, Telki and Hubbies, Rommy, and the twins and Pearl are also included in the Running the Asylum comic by Sir-Douglas-of-Fir on Deviantart, as well as Wynni having more screenshots on her page, and her husband having made some in-game dance videos. :D

GalacticHalfling: Glad you think so! :D See above.

afeleon276: See above. Wemie is Ohmes-Raht, which look mostly elven except for very short fur, claws, tail, eartuffs, and cat eyes. Little details like that. Telki, Ama, and Nala are all Dagi-Raht, which are basically the stereotypical anime cat-girl, as taken from the Dagi-Raht race mod. They have fur, stripes, pointed tuffed ears, tails, claws, a bit of a kitty nose at the end of theirs but their face and form is overall human rather than cat. Dagi-Raht are also very short. Wemie is average height.

The Celtic Dragon: The University is basically the Tamriel equivalent of a for-profit university here, only the mages earn status as well as money. Amaryllis is rather protective of her family pride, and Nala poked at it. We'll see her again later after she has had time to think about what she's learned. ;)

birgittesilverbow: That made my life, thank you. *huggles* I may actually print that out and hang it above my desk.

Wynni: *nyan ε:3 *

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Next time: Shell has self-doubt, Heron nearly gets arrested, and Blythe and Talon have a frank discussion.