Chapter 25 - Guess Who's Back

"If you're looking for passage to Solstheim, too bad. I'm not going back there anymore." The captain in front of us said defensively, his eyes barely concealing fear, and Lydia and I shared a look, knowing that we'd finally found our man.

It had been a fast-paced few days since the treaty had been signed, but, luckily, I'd been able to delegate most of the work to the more-capable in the Legion and the Stormcloaks. Recruitment drives were ongoing, resources were being stockpiled, food production and consumption was being tallied, and new arms and armors were being smithed. In that time, though, I hadn't been idle, and part of my preparations for heading to Solstheim was to do research on the locals, and particularly what kind of supplies they'd need, and would be willing to pay for. I was heading there to deal with this "Lord Miraak", supposedly another Dragonborn, in the hopes of negotiating with him and securing his knowledge, power, and allegiance if possible (and stopping him and his cultists if not), but I was still the ever-pragmatic Marius, and, since I would be there, I figured getting money and resources for the newly-formed army I'd created, along with possibly securing more allies, would not necessarily be a bad thing.

Jarl Ulfric had proven spectacularly useless in that regard. His city's disdain for non-Nords was infamous, but I had assumed that he was a pragmatic and rational sort; as the ruler of a port city, knowing his city's imports and exports to other places, such as Solstheim, should've been quite high on his list of priorities, especially with the war going on. After all, the East Empire Company also operated in his city, and given their ties to Solitude, it should've been only natural that the things they shipped in and out of the capital Hold of the Stormcloak Rebellion would receive the utmost scrutiny.

Instead, he had dedicated himself largely to warfare, patriotic speeches, and the bankrupting of his city, banking purely on the fanatical fervor and loyalty of his people to keep his Hold from collapsing, and had held a disdain for the Dunmer, the Gray Quarter (even without the drunken Nords shouting insults every morning to distract themselves from their unemployment, it was still a shithole), and even shipping, although he, at the very least, wasn't as biased against non-Nords as Imperial propaganda had claimed (that is not as much of a standing ovation as it may seem; he was merely apathetic and indifferent to non-Nords, as opposed to violently racist). As a result, whatever records I was able to find came from before the Great War, which suggested that Raven Rock might be a mining settlement, and Lydia and I had arrived in Windhelm, disguised as a merchant couple, looking to sell basic goods like preserved foods, water, Nord mead (as dangerous as alcohol might potentially have been in the mines, it was still pretty popular, as far as I could tell, as it wasn't prone to spoilage), tools, and materials like iron, wood, and steel to maintain any tools.

My first thought upon entering the city, watching two drunken Nords harass a Dark Elf, intervening out of general principle, getting spat at, and having to restrain my protective Housecarl from beating him to death, only reinforced my pre-conceived notions that I really did not want to be in Windhelm. At least the Stormcloak soldiers recognized me as Dragonborn, by this point, and had stopped making implied threats at me every few metres.

Still, none of this endeared my journey to Lydia, who had been vehemently against the idea of me willingly going to the island power-base of "Lord Miraak", who'd already tried to have me killed before, and had tried to drag me away as soon as I'd explained the rationale behind my announcement in the council chambers of High Hrothgar, and had only relented on the concession that I take her with me. I hadn't seen any reason to object; Mjoll had agreed to train the troops and liaise with the Blades, Serana had agreed to help plan new strategies based on our prior adventures, as well as teach the contingent of surviving Imperial Battlemages, and Jordis was acting as an ambassador in my stead in the war council, as well as helping me keep an eye on the Thalmor from her position in the courts of Solitude. Besides, not only would this help my cover as a merchant, having a bodyguard and travelling companion, but I had also promised to take her on an adventure with just the two of us, before I'd fought Alduin, and I intended on keeping that promise. As we made our way through the Gray Quarter towards the docks with our "supplies", though, and past a few brawls between the inhabitants of the slums and some individuals in distinctive robes and masks, I did start to wonder if this was really the wisest course of action.

Eventually, of course, we'd made our way through the minor slum war (luckily without requiring the protection of my new suit of ebony armor, concealed under the simple hooded cloak I wore to protect myself from the harsh winter winds and cold; if I'd really been struck, I doubt I could have reined Lydia in) and into the docks, and begun asking around about a ship to Solstheim, whereupon we were told that only the Northern Maiden made that route anymore, and promptly pointed in the direction of a decently-sized ship. Upon approach, however, it's captain had immediately run out the cabin, waving his hands frantically, and told us that he had no interest in going back to the island.

"Are you the captain of the Northern Maiden?" I asked, just to be sure, and the man eyed me suspiciously, as well as my cargo, before replying: ""Sure. Yeah. That's me. Why? Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me." I said soothingly, and his eyes seemed to relax. He immediately tensed up again, however, when I continued: "I was just attacked by some cultists who came here on your ship, and so I'd like to investigate..."

"Now hold on!" The captain interrupted me, before gulping nervously as Lydia unsheathed her blade at his outburst. As non-threateningly as possible, he then explained: "That wasn't my fault... I didn't know they were going to attack anybody. I don't even know how I got here."

"How can you not know how you got here? You sailed here, didn't you?" Lydia demanded to know, incredulous, but I could see that the captain wasn't lying to us; he seemed too frightened to tell a coherent falsehood.

"It's hard to explain... I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then..." The captain began, suppressing a shudder at the memory. His mask of resolve cracked soon, though, and he continued desperately, in a fearful outburst: "The next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole months like that. There's been something strange happening on Solstheim for a while, but after this... I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim."

"Months?" I echoed, trying to comprehend, but the captain had clearly hit his limit, and he shook his head, unwilling to continue. His first mate took over, and explained: "Aye, landlubber, months. We remember preparing to leave Solstheim on the 18th of Last Seed when the masked freaks boarded. Next thing we know, it's some time in Sun's Dusk, the masked freaks have set up shop in the slums of Windhelm, and are engaged in some fanatical and violent debate with the locals about who the true "Dragonborn" really is, and Windhelm is even worse than it ever was, what with all this talk about the World-Eater returning."

"Yeah... what nonsense..." I said evasively, not knowing what to make of the latter half of his story. Deciding to steer the conversation back to safer topics, such as our reason for being in this shithole of a city, I turned back to the captain before Lydia could comment, and implored: "Look, captain, I need you to go back to Solstheim, one last time."

"Have you been listening to me?" The captain asked rhetorically. "I'm not going back there."

"Sure you are." I said in a friendly tone, setting down my crate. Pulling out a coin pouch, I tossed it to him, and continued: "Firstly, people are trying to kill me, and I'm not taking no for an answer. Secondly, this is your chance to take revenge on the cultists. And thirdly..."

As his eyes went wide as he opened the coin pouch, I finished with a grandiose: "I'll pay you triple the market price."

"Well... a man's got to make a living, after all." The captain answered, after a quick internal struggle. Sighing, he waved us onboard, assigned men to transport our crates, and said: "Fine. We'll cast off immediately."

-THE WATERS OF RAVEN ROCK, TWO HOURS LATER-

"Well, here we are." The captain called out to us, and Lydia and I came out of the lower decks as he continued: "This is Raven Rock. Can't say I'm all that glad to see it again. Good luck. Maybe you can figure out what's going on around here."

Looking around as our boat rounded the bend and began it's final approach to the docks, my first thought was wondering why everything was so brown and grey. The architecture was weird, sure, but I'd seen weirder architecture during my unofficial trips into Valenwood. Even the architecture in Skyrim was very different from the Imperial City, not to mention the differences between the Holds (Riften and Markath, for example, held little similarities). The way the world here seemed so dull, though, was very off-setting, and it took me a while to reconcile my first image of Solstheim with my pre-conceived notions of Skyrim's off-shore island. At least the island was covered in snow, like most of Skyrim was at this time; I may never like the cold as a true Skyrim-born Nord would, but it was slowly becoming a familiar feeling to me. The next thing I took note of was the massive wall that covered eastern and southern borders of the town, and the mountain that towered over it. Lastly, before we docked, I noticed the group of hard-working miners, slowly doing... something to some stone obelisk at the western outskirts of the town, something that required scaffolds.

"So this is Raven Rock, eh? Not all that much to look at." Lydia said with disdain, snapping me out of my sight-seeing, and I chuckled at her flippancy. Before I could answer her, however, I felt the ship dock, and a well-dressed Dunmer greeted me with a curt: "I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. State your intentions."

Finding his bluntness refreshing, especially after the political wrangling and diplomatic overtures I'd been forced to be a part of for the past few days, I waved Lydia down, and said confidently: "My name is Marius, and I'm here to trade-"

"Hold on, now..." The Dunmer interrupted me, before asking: "Are you the Marius Dragonborn?"

Unsure of how and why he'd know of me (based on what I'd heard, few went between Solstheim and Skyrim, which meant word of me shouldn't have spread this far), and especially unsure of his loyalties (for all I knew, he could have been working with Miraak), I tensed up, subtly signalled to Lydia not to do anything yet even as I heard her tense slightly in response to my reaction, and cautiously confirmed his statement with a simple: "Yes, I would be... who's asking?"

To my complete and utter surprise, however, he warmly replied: "Ah, the Guardian of Azura's Star; I thought I recognized the star hanging by your waist! Welcome, Champion of Azura! I am Second Councillor Adril Arano, and on behalf of House Redoran and Councillor Morvayn, I welcome you to Solstheim."

"I thank you for the hospitality." I said stiffly, too stunned to even show my shock. I hadn't expected to be recognized this early, though I would admit being recognized for having Azura's Star was a slight improvement over being recognized as the dragon-slaying Dragonborn, especially if Solstheim was crawling with Miraak's cultists. Although, it did raise a question that I had to voice out: "How did you hear about me, though?"

"Aranea Ienith, the High Priestess of Azura." Adril answered simply, and it took me a while to connect the name to the prophetic and ominous Dunmer I'd met at the Shrine of Azura, in Winterhold, all those months ago. Pleasantly surprised that I could be sure I had one ally on the island, I inquired further: "How is Aranea doing?"

"She's done a lot for the community of Raven Rock, spiritually, as one of the priestesses of the Temple of Reclamations." Adril entertained my inquiries, before suggesting: "I'm sure she would be happy to know you're here; would you like to meet her?"

"That sounds lovely, but I'm afraid we must get on with our business." Lydia interjected, grabbing my shoulder roughly, and I sighed and shook my head, answering: "Sorry, but it is what it is."

"Ah, yes, you said something about trade? We don't get much supplies from Blacklight, seeing as this is a mining town on the frontier where all the mines dried up; we're always in need of critical supplies."

"Well, we have some supplies to trade..." I said, internally debating telling him more; it sounded like he had a good opinion of me, at least, and talks would be more productive if I could be honest. Finally deciding to extend some trust towards the Second Councillor, I continued: "But, in truth, I'm actually here to make diplomatic overtures as a representative of Skyrim."

"Are you trying to pull us into your petty civil war, because, if so-" Adril answered wearily, and I shook my head quickly, before interrupting him: "Haven't you heard? The Civil War's over, at least for the time being. I'm acting as a representative of a newly- and temporarily-unified Skyrim, looking for allies to help deal with the dragons."

"The dragons have become a nuisance here, as well." Adril admitted. "We've been able to force them back beyond the Bulwark thus far, but between them and the Ash Spawn that have been attacking the Bulwark..."

"So you'll consider our offer?" I asked, hopeful, and Adril sighed, and shrugged, before noncommittally replying: "I can't make any promises, but I will discuss it with Captain Veleth, and if we find it to our liking, I'll raise it up with Councillor Morvayn."

"That's as fair a deal as any, I suppose." I said, nodding my approval, before gritting my teeth, and doing something I knew I'd regret. Gesturing towards my crates full of supplies, I continued: "In that case, to sweeten the deal, you can have all these supplies, for free. I just have one more question, though."

"Speak your mind, Guardian of the Star." Adril replied with wide eyes, stunned at my outburst of self-serving generosity, and I asked: "Do you know who Miraak is?"

"I... I'm unsure. I swear I know the name, but I cannot place it." Adril answered, shaking his head, before he admitted: "Captain Veleth might, though; I think he apprehended a few drunkards the other day that may have mentioned it. He said he was going to investigate the Ash Spawn attacks outside the Bulwark, if you want to speak to him. Just tell him I sent you."

Thanking him, I left him to speak to the ship's captain and pick up the supplies on his own, and together with Lydia I made my way out past the great wall, looking for answers.

-OLD ATTIUS FARM, OUTSKIRTS OF RAVEN ROCK, FIVE MINUTES LATER-

"Thanks... I wasn't sure I'd make it off this farm alive. I wish I could have said the same for my man here. Captain Veleth, of the Redoran Guard." The weirdly-armored Dunmer said between pants, looking ruefully at his dead subordinate, and I nodded at Captain Veleth, before pointing to the piles of ash that had originally been humanoid in form and hostile, and asking: "I assume those were ash spawn?"

I'd only just gone past the walls when I'd spotted a group of armored Dunmer being driven out of an abandoned building by the weird ash-based creatures, who'd been horribly resilient to their weapons. They didn't seem to have vitals to pierce save for one specific stone in their "chest", being ash as they were, and slashes and smashes were only marginally more effective against them. Before they'd killed the last survivor, though, I'd intervened, plugging one in the chest with my crossbow, while an Unrelenting Shout literally caused a group of them to disintegrate. From there, Lydia and I had helped finish off the remaining ash creatures, with little difficulty thanks to my Thu'um.

"Some of the Redoran Guard have taken to calling them "ash spawn"." Captain Veleth admitted, before shrugging his shoulders, and searching the piles of ashes. "Me? I don't care what they're called... all I know is they're a danger to Raven Rock and they need to be stopped."

"How did that bring you to this old farm?" Lydia asked, and I suddenly had a foreboding premonition of needing to take care of this mess. Before I could gesture at Lydia to keep it down, however, the Dunmer pulled a note out of a pile of ashes, somehow, before turning to us, and answering: "We were going to search for clues that might lead me to wherever they're coming from. I know it isn't the best place to start, but we knew they've been coming from this direction. And, by the looks of it, it paid off."

"What's the note say?" I asked in resignation, knowing that I wouldn't be raising Miraak for a while, and Veleth answered, face showing extreme confusion: "The note says it's from General Falx Carius, but that's impossible."

"Impossible? Why?" Lydia asked, and Veleth answered before I could: "Well, Carius was the Imperial garrison commander at Fort Frostmoth, but he died over 200 years ago when the Red Mountain leveled the place. There's no way he could still be alive."

"Let me guess; you want me to investigate Fort Frostmoth, and kill him if he's still alive?" I asked drily, and Veleth nodded, not detecting my sarcasm in the least.

"I can use all the help I can get, and you've shown, with your weird voice magic, that you can deal with Ash Spawn far more easily than any in the Redoran Guard can." Veleth answered earnestly, and I sighed. No good deed went unpunished, truly. Accepting that my quest for information regarding Miraak would be slightly delayed, I consoled myself with the knowledge that I was, at least, making some local allies, and that it probably wasn't the legendary General Falx Carius who was behind the Ash Spawn Attacks. Telling Veleth I had some information I wanted in exchange once I returned, Lydia and I thus set out for the former Fort Frostmoth.

Honestly, infiltrating the old, crumbling Fort Frostmoth was nothing difficult, especially after the Siege of Castle Volkihar; most of the walls had already fallen, and the ash spawn weren't the most imaginative of guards. Between their lack of ability and my weirdly-effective Unrelenting Force Shouts, it took us maybe fifteen minutes to get through them and reach Falx Carius.

Falx Carius was not like the ash spawn at all. He did have his heart replaced by the same weird red stones that apparently powered the other ash spawn, sure, which probably explained how he was animate, if not alive, but he still held his former intelligence, the skills that once made him the legendary champion of the Legion, and, most importantly, his flesh, bones, and skin, which made him a bit less susceptible to my Unrelenting Force Shouts as compared to his ash spawn minions, and combined with his massive cudgel he almost caught me off guard during his initial blow.

In the end, though, I was Marius Dragonborn, and while he was a formidable opponent in his prime, I had faced off with the World-Eater and had survived. Even as he tried to press the advantage, the head of his hammer crackling with wild, chaotic energies and discharging fire, ice, and electricity as he drew closer, I was already recovering, and preparing to draw my crossbow. Most importantly, though, I wasn't alone. I didn't bother blocking his blow, instead trusting Lydia to deflect it away from me, and even as her old steel sword shattered under the assault of the more powerful hammer, she still skillfully used it's momentum to deflect his cumbersome weapon away from me, as well as give me an opening she knew I'd exploit, without any danger to herself. The crossbow shot was an easy one, and the two hundred year-old undead former champion of Fort Frostmoth fell once more, with a last gasp of "I've...failed..."

I felt nothing but pity for the creature that had once been Falx Carius; his "Empire" had changed so much as to be unrecognizable from two hundred years ago, he'd been killed during the events of Red Year, and someone had raised him back up with just enough of his former self to still be loyal to his old ideals, but not enough that he'd been able to adapt to the new, unfamiliar world. In the end, he'd attacked an Imperial settlement, and they'd been forced to call upon someone like me to put him down. I decided not to dwell on it too much; the man was a legend in the legion, although not to the same extent as the mythical (and possibly fictional) Hero of Kvatch and Nerevarine, but, at least, I never personally knew him as anything more than a story. Getting back up and reloading my crossbows, I casually thanked Lydia, spied her broken sword, and passed her Carius's cudgel, and fought off her half-hearted attempts to make me use it. Remembering how Falx Carius had been felled, though, I quietly resolved to get her a small buckler as well, just in case, and together we went back to Veleth, to report that his problem was fixed.

-RAVEN ROCK, TEN MINUTES LATER-

"It's a shame. There are quite a few tales of General Carius's exploits, including the founding of Raven Rock." Veleth said ruefully, when I reported his death, and I shrugged, having already dwelt on it too much. Before I could get around to asking my question, though, he nudged a potato sack, and continued: "Councilor Morvayn told me to give this to you if you made it back in one piece... and you got rid of General Carius. Also, he said something about not being able to accept so many supplies so freely, so..."

My eyes widened significantly, when one of his men opened the potato sack to reveal a massive amount of septims. Remaining stoic despite my response, he said: "Ten thousand septims, out of the Councillor's personal pocket. And Second Councilor Arano told me about your proposition, which I've agreed to tentatively; the dragons have been getting to be more and more of a nuisance, and you've proven yourself by taking care of Falx Carius and the ash spawn."

"That... that sounds excellent." I breathed out, incredulous at how things seemed to, for once, be working in my favor. Before the other shoe could drop, though, I figured that it would be best if I took advantage of this, and began: "Actually I have two questions for you. Firstly, what's that unusual armor you're wearing?"

"Ah, this is bonemold armor... quite impressive, wouldn't you say? It's fashioned from actual bone that's been reinforced with a resin-like material and then shaped to form the armored plating. It might appear brittle, but I'd wager it could stop the blow of a weapon better than iron or steel." Veleth explained, tapping his bonemold sword against his armor, and suggested: "If you'd like to know more, Glover Mallory, our local smith, can probably teach you."

Committing the name and mentioned techniques to memory, I decided to continue on, and asked: "Do you know someone called Miraak?"

"I might know someone. Or maybe not. I can't remember..." Veleth said, rubbing his temples in clear discomfort, and I tried for a more gentle approach. Lowering my tone slightly, I coaxed: "It's okay... just tell me if you know him."

"I... I can't. I just can't be sure. I think maybe he had something to do with a temple. A temple here on the island. Or maybe it has something to do with the Earth Stone. Does that help?"

"It's a start, I suppose." I said thankfully, before grabbing the potato sack, and pulling the stunned Lydia away with my other hand. The smith, Glover Mallory, was luckily not far, having set up shop near the centre of town, and his forge was honestly a dead giveaway. What caught my eye, though, as I walked up to his shop, was a Shadowmark above his door, marking him as a member of the Thieves Guild. Deciding not to comment on it, and vowing to keep a closer eye on my coin pouch, I approached the smith, and asked: "Glover Mallory? Captain Veleth recommended we visit your shop for our needs."

"Did he, now?" Glover asked, thoughtful, before shrugging, and moving to sharpen a sword. "Either you're here to get showered in sparks, or you're looking for something to buy. Out with it."

"Actually, I'm here to learn to ask about bonesmithing." I said, and he gave me a once-over, before asking: "And why do you need to know about working bone? Bonemold equipment may be stronger than regular iron and steel, but it's nowhere near as good as that ebony armor you're wearing."

"That may be true for regular bonemold, but what if I were to change the type of bone being used?" I asked, gesturing at Lydia, and Glover's eyes widened as my Housecarl stepped forward and opened a sack, revealing lots of dragon bones and scales.

"How... where did you even get these?" He finally choked out, and Lydia fought to keep her grin down, while I answered as neutrally as possible: "We've been fighting dragons in Skyrim for the past few months, but recently I've been thinking I need better weapons and armor."

"Fascinating, fascinating... so, lad, do you want me to try my hand at it, or did you ask for lessons on making bonemold equipment because you wanted to try it yourself?" Glover asked, examining the bones, and I nodded, replying: "I have some rough designs in my head, but I haven't actually drafted any blueprints. Also, I'm a bit lighter in frame than most people in Skyrim, so overall it'd be easier if I smithed it myself."

"Fair enough, lad. And what are you offering for my lessons?" Glover asked, putting back the bone he'd been examining (Lydia and I made sure of that), and by the gleam in his eye I could tell that he'd decided he could probably wring a lot of septims out of me. Sighing, I answered: "Eight thousand septims, but I'm going to need you to throw in a lightweight buckler for my Housecarl as well."

"Ten thousand septims for a Stalhrim buckler and the bonemold formula, and I'll need you to do me a favor." Glover counter-offered, and I ignored Lydia's stunned expression as I considered whether it would be worth it, to do a favor for a member of the Thieves Guild. Seeing the look on my face, Glover continued: "I just need you to talk to Crescius Caerellius. The foolish old man's taken my pickaxe again, and I want it back."

"Why all the fuss over a simple pickaxe?" I asked, buying time to decide, and he shook his head, answering: "No, no, no. This isn't just your run-of-the-mill pickaxe... I'm talking about an Ancient Nordic Pickaxe. They don't exactly grow on trees, you know."

"What's an Ancient Nordic Pickaxe?" I asked, finding his terms surprisingly reasonable but wanting Lydia to recover so I could get her opinion, and Glover explained: "It's the only tool tough enough to crack Stalhrim, is what it is. Not many of those beauties left in the world... forging them is a lost art. The one Crescius "borrowed" came from the Skaal Village up north. I, uh, traded them some goods for it."

"You mentioned Stalhrim earlier... is Stalhrim some kind of ore?"

"Calling Stahlrim an ore is like calling my forge a campfire. Some say it's "enchanted ice," but I think there's more to it than that."

"I assume it's rare."

"I don't think I've come across more than a chunk or two in my lifetime, and smithing's my trade. If you're looking to learn more, you should head over to the Skaal Village. Someone there's to bound to know about it than I do." Glover admitted, trying to play up the value of the buckler, and Lydia suddenly pulled me away, before whispering in my ear: "My Thane, what are you doing? Even an item with as little Stalhrim as a buckler would be easily worth a few thousand septims; why are you buying such a thing for me?"

"I just figured my sword and shield shouldn't go around without a shield, Lydia." I said, ruffling her hair, and she punched me hard in the shoulder. Rubbing my aching arm, I continued whispering to her: "Look, we're going to need everything we can get in the upcoming fight. As strange as this sounds even to me, this is no time to be frugal; hoarding money is not going to do us any good if we're all dead and the world's eaten, Lydia. So, at least, just let me ensure your safety as best I can."

Turning back to the amused Glover before Lydia could see my face heat up, I finally agreed to his deal, and got directions to Crescius's home. As Lydia and I made our way to get Glover's pickaxe back in silence, I quietly mused over my whispered outburst earlier. Clearly, the battle with Alduin had taken more out of me than I'd realized. I still felt justified, though. Lydia hadn't actually seen the fight between me and Alduin, the desperate struggle where I'd broken most of my bones just to stay alive. She'd only seen the aftermath. Even Paarthurnax hadn't had a clear view of the fight, forced as he'd been to keep his distance. Only Alduin and I had known how close I'd come, so many many times, to death. Only I knew how unprepared any of us really were to face off once more with the World-Eater; sure, I had no intention of letting Lydia face her, but I'd be doing her a disservice by not, at least, preparing her for that battle.

My thoughts were interrupted, though, when we finally reached Crescius's house, to witness a row between him and his wife, which eventually resulted in her storming out, and him agreeing to return the pickaxe if we would be so kind as to do him a small favor, and explore the mines underneath his house (why he even had mines under his house is beyond me). Sighing, and sharing a resigned look with Lydia, we reluctantly acceded to his request and took back the pickaxe, even as my mind turned towards wondering why I always ended up in such convoluted series of events just to get one or two simple tasks done.

-OUTSIDE GLOVER MALLORY'S HOUSE, RAVEN ROCK, TWO HOURS LATER-

"So you finally tracked down old Crescius, eh? Quite a character, isn't he." Glover said casually, looking up at us, before his eyes widened at the amount of dirt, blood, and minor scratches and dents we'd collected. Giving us another once-over, and especially the new mask and sword hanging by my belt, he finally answered, as smoothly as possible: "Tell you what. Since you went through all the trouble of finding it for me and all, you keep it."

"Seriously? After all that?!" I thundered angrily, making Glover flinch slightly, while Lydia just chuckled in resignation, having long since accepted that following me would mean witnessing the largest case of bad luck in the whole of Tamriel. The good news was (at least for Raven Rock and Crescius) that the mines actually still had ebony ore. They had a lot of ebony ore. In fact, they probably had enough ebony ore to give my entire army ebony weapons. The better news (for me) was that there'd been a sword that had, apparently, allowed one to use some energy to fire off a red beam of force. That had, apparently, been the key to escaping, after we'd fallen into a chamber with a sealed door, and had been especially useful in taking out the weird masked floating draugr, whose Destruction spells had actually been able to overwhelm one of my wards. Eventually, though, Lydia'd been able to shoot it down while it had been trying to zap through a renewed ward, and I'd gotten the chance to fire a sword beam that had cut it down, whereupon Lydia had suggested we take it's mask as a trophy.

There had also been an actual source of Stalhrim down there, which I'd eagerly mined with the "borrowed" pickaxe, as well as a Word Wall holding a Word for a new Shout, one that allowed me to adopt what was, apparently, my true form as a Dragonborn. Since the rest of the mines had been inhabited by some draugr, I'd had the chance to test it out, which was ideal as compared to using the Shout untested in heated combat. During those experiments against the poor draugr, I'd found out that the Dragon Aspect Shout had, essentially, given me an ethereal-looking but physically-solid layer of dragonhide, which had the weird side-effect of making me look very much like how I had in Aetherius, as well as granting me the strength of a dragon.

The most worrying thing we'd found down there, however, was a thick black book, one which I refused to read. There'd just been something about all the tentacles on the cover that had made me remember Hermaeus Mora, and coupled with Mephala's warning, I figured it would be best not to risk exposing anybody to it. Thus, before Lydia could even look at it, into my backpack with the leather-bound Oghma Infinium I shoved it, hopefully until I could find the time to chuck it into a fire.

"I just wanted to remind that codger you can't just go around taking things from other people. Now that you've delivered the message, I'm satisfied." Glover's words snapped me out of my memories, and I stared at him as he continued trying to mollify me and bribe me to forget all about it. "Besides, that pickaxe hasn't done me any good in years. Maybe you can put it to good use. Anyway, here's the buckler you commisioned, and my personal formula for making bonemold equipment; I made a few adjustments to the formula, though, which should allow it to be used for dragon bones too. It's not really tested yet, though."

Sighing, I took the proffered items from the smith, passed the blue Stalhrim buckler to my near-reverential Housecarl, and scanned through the note. As my mind registered the ingredients needed, as well as the steps, I sighed, knowing I was going to need to visit the aforementioned Skaal Village at this rate; void salts and netch jelly were be easy enough, despite not being common alchemical ingredients, thanks to Serana's connections as an alchemist, and even if they couldn't be found Serana could probably figure out a suitable substitute. Dragon bone meal, that would be rare if I wasn't Dragonborn, and didn't have sacks of them lying around in Proudspire Manor. Fresh water, exceptionally abundant. The formula did also require me to have a pre-existing mold of the armor, which I supposed I could make within a month, with a little help.

The only problem was that it required a cup of ground Stalhrim chips and a cup of crushed dragon scales to be mixed with a bucket of soaked bone meal-void salts mixture. Dragon scales were easy enough, but Stalhrim smithing was a lost art, kept a secret by the Skaal, as Glover had mentioned earlier, and I didn't have enough Stalhrim to just experiment by myself. If I wanted to get my armor done right, I was going to need to find the Skaal and learn from them.

"Well, Lydia, looks like we're going to be making diplomatic overtures to the Skaal, as well." I said, keeping the note and turning back to my Housecarl, and to my surprise she just groaned in annoyance. Raising my eyebrow, I asked: "Is there a problem?"

"Not really, my Thane." Lydia said with a sigh, before finally admitting: "It's just... the Skaal are really weird, for Nords. All "don't kill except out of need" and "live in harmony with the land". Technologically-backwards spineless milk-drinkers is what they are."

"I'll take that under advisement." I said drily, before grabbing my stuff, and continuing: "So... shall we visit the Earth Stone now?"

"Wait, you're going to the Earth Stone? Are you insane?" Glover interjected, and my eyebrow raised once more, as he explained: "Something's wrong with the Earth Stone. Nobody knows what, but it draws people in randomly when they sleep, and they work on it, making some structure around it, all while chanting some weird mantras about a guy called "Lord Miraak"."

"What kind of structure?" I asked, and he merely shook his head, before replying: "Nobody knows. Either they wake up, with no memory of ever working on it, or they just remain in that weird, trance-like state, and keep working on it non-stop. The latter option's been slowly growing more common recently."

"Don't worry, Glover Mallory." Lydia said, stepping forward and clapping me on the shoulder. "My Thane's got this; the legendary Dragonborn came from Skyrim looking to stop Miraak."

"So the legends are true... I never put much stock in them, but..." Glover began rambling in an uncharacteristic daze as I glared at Lydia, who shot me a look that conveyed something along the lines of this being non-serious retribution for the surprise I'd sprung on her, and I sighed, having never known my Housecarl to be this cheeky. Jordis, maybe, but not Lydia. It was, at least, a step up from the constant worrying and lecture-giving she'd been subject to, and I couldn't help but crack a slight grin at her new light-heartedness, even in the face of the impending apocalypse. Something told me I should enjoy this while I could; once we returned to Skyrim, she'd be back to keeping her stern, unflappable facade. Glover eventually finished mumbling, and suggested: "In that case, you should try speaking to the Telvanni mage, Neloth. He's been keeping track of what's been going on at the Earth Stone. I should warn you, though, he's an eccentric one."

Eccentric didn't even cover it; when we got to the Earth Stone, the bearded Dunmer mage immediately approached us, studied us for a few seconds, and declared: "You there... You don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others here. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"

"I'm looking for someone named Miraak." I replied easily, and his face scrunched up in confusion, before he carefully answered: "Miraak...Miraak... It sounds familiar but I cant quite place... Oh. Wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

"What does that mean?" I asked cautiously, unwilling to believe my ears. Apparently the guy who'd been trying to get me killed was long-dead, which meant that either someone was impersonating him, in which case chasing down this false identity was probably going to lead to a dead end, or I was so unlucky I'd pissed off some guy who'd been dead for thousands of years just by existing. Neloth, in response, merely shrugged, and answered: "I'm not sure, but it is fascinating, isn't it. Perhaps it has some relation to what's going on here. Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

Seeing no other choice than doing even more travelling, I sighed, and prepared to thank the Dunmer mage for his time. Lydia, unfortunately, wasn't finished, and she asked: "What are these people doing?"

Neloth looked her over, before speaking in a condescending tone, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: "Building something, clearly. And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."

"Have you tried to stop this?" Lydia asked in alarm, and Neloth merely laughed at her, before answering: "Certainly not! Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how this all turns out."

Fortunately, before Lydia did something we were all sure to regret, I grabbed her hand and pulled her away, all the while thanking Neloth for his time.

-THE ROAD TO THE TEMPLE OF MIRAAK, ONE HOUR LATER-

"I'm just saying, my Thane. I don't know what I expected from an inhabitant of Solstheim." Lydia grumbled for the umpteenth time, and I made a vague, non-committal grunt to show that I was still listening, even as I kept a watchful gaze on our surroundings, growing more and more wary the closer we got to Miraak's Temple.

There was just something about Solstheim, apparently, that upset Lydia, and Neloth's callousness had offended my dear Housecarl's morals and sensibilities beyond anything I'd ever seen; she'd been ranting about how hot and bothersome Solstheim had been making her and how we'd been forced to fix the entire town's problems in the five minutes since we'd arrived for the entire hour we'd been travelling. Unsure of how to react to this new side of Lydia, I'd chosen merely to make noises of acknowledgement, and put into practice all the experience I'd had in dealing with her lectures.

Seeing some movement in the corner of my eye, I immediately halted both my movements and my musings. Lydia, to her credit, was still my highly-trained Housecarl, and upon seeing my freeze she immediately ducked behind a rock, before giving me an inquisitive look. Making sure the coast was clear, I slunk towards her, before studying the ruins eastwards of us that had caught my eye. Then I studied it again, because I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

An archer fending off three werebears at once by herself was an impressive-enough sight, but the familiar-looking archer's long flowing red hair, her painted face, and the extremely-revealing skimpy Nord armor, with the furs and the iron pauldrons... looking back at my wide-eyed Housecarl, I asked: "Lydia, is that who I think it is?"

-SNOWCLAD RUINS, FIVE MINUTES EARLIER-

Aela the Huntress, Shield-Sister of the Companions, member of the Circle, master archer, was not a happy werewolf. In fact, as she growled and snapped at the werebear trio she'd been learning from over the past week or so, and fended them off with her bow, she found herself growing extremely angry, and closer and closer to giving in to her bestial rage. And she could, in fact, pin-point the moment it had all begun going downhill for her.

Her brief contact with Marius, when he'd first dropped by Whiterun almost three months ago, had inflamed her already-strong werewolf-enhanced primal instincts and urges, far beyond any self-control she'd been capable of, and the way he'd all but disappeared after being publicly named Thane had left those urges without an outlet. Thus, for the first month after she'd met him, she'd been little more than a creature of impulses and hormones, forced to clear her head by taking regular hunting trips at night in her werewolf form.

Skjor had been with her for that month, as her Shield-Brother and pack mate, and they had found that, eventually, they had tired of the smaller prey. There was only so many times you could experience the thrill of ripping apart giants and mammoths with your bare hands before the adrenaline rush wore off, and as the first month ended her frustrations had begun to build up. Luckily for her, though, she'd find new prey just before the impulses began to overwhelm her, and she left to hunt down Marius Dragonborn.

The Silver Hand, a group of fanatical werewolf slayers, had always been mortal enemies of the Companions, and especially the Circle, for obvious reasons. However, they'd never actually attempted to wage open war against the Circle, thanks to the fact the Jorrvaskr was deep within the city of Whiterun, and the people of Skyrim loved the Companions (or, at least, tolerated them far more than they did the glorified mercenaries). Kodlak had been happy to keep it that way, having declared an unofficial stance of "we won't hit them unless they hit us first", and had been keeping a close eye on the Circle to ensure that things remained as they were. Skjor and Aela had never liked those rules, but they'd always respected the old man, and had thus followed it. That fateful day, however, Skjor and Aela had found a secret base of the Silver Hand's, one which they used as a prison for captured werewolves. Frustrated at not having an outlet to vent her passionate feelings out onto, coupled with the frustrations she'd always felt at the seemingly-free reign the Silver Hand seemed to have, something inside her decided to go against the rules, and she and Skjor attacked their fort at Gallows Rock.

That had attack had gone far better than two unarmed and unarmored werewolves attacking a fort full of hardened werewolf slayers should ever have went, which is to say not everybody died horribly. Skjor certainly did, unfortunately, though Aela had been too distracted slaking her bloodlust to initially notice. When the last Silver Hand finally fallen, bleeding out in a pool of his own innards, Aela howled in triumph, having finally vented out most of her frustrations, and for the first time in a long while her head felt clear and level. That feeling had quickly devolved into grief, when she'd noticed the very-dead Skjor, which had soon turned into hatred for his killers. And so began Aela's week-long campaign of vengeance against the Silver Hand, which resulted in scores of dead Silver Hand mercenaries, a dozen dead leaders and high-ranking officers, and three razed bases and forts, before Kodlak had finally confronted her.

Kodlak, in the way only the old man who'd known Aela most of her life ever could, simultaneously comforted and chastised the recalcitrant werewolf. He'd known about Aela's nightly activities from the very beginning, and from there it wasn't hard to guess what caused Skjor's death, or what Aela had been doing for the past week, especially when old and trusted friends told him the Silver Hand had taken numerous hits and were gathering together. And thus, before things could escalate into open war, Kodlak set out to convine Aela that enough blood had been shed, and that Skjor's death had been more than avenged, and that anything more was less "honorable" and more "excessive brutality". After a few hours, a number of choice words, and a lot of broken items, Aela had finally come to see things the same way as the Harbinger of the Companions insisted, and had agreed to take a sabbatical. Thus, just before the Explosion of the Throat of the World and the Silver Hand's retributory strike on Jorrvaskr (on the same day as Marius's return to Whiterun), Aela had left for Solstheim, ostensibly for peaceful meditation like the Skaal of old, and unofficially to try and stop her from hitting any more Silver Hand targets and further inflaming tensions.

Neither Kodlak nor Aela had foreseen, though, that Solstheim would be home to a group of Hircine's followers, and when Aela had left the Skaal village after but a few days, unable to reconcile her passion and bloodlust with their more peaceful, almost-pacifistic ways, she'd run into the werebear pack. Torkild, the leader of the trio, had welcomed the fellow follower of Hircine, and from the three (and with the unwilling help of dozens of hapless Miraak cultists) had Aela learned and grown in strength and prowess as a fellow blessed of Hircine. Her more primal instincts, however, had grown as well, and for the first time since she'd embraced her condition and become a beast, she found herself at risk of being overwhelmed by the beast within, and had recently begun contemplating that, perhaps, Kodlak's words had truth to them, and she shouldn't embrace Hircine's gift too much.

That had caused a mild falling out when after a month she'd brought up the idea of going back to Skyrim; Torkild had begun to think of her as part of his pack, and had not been happy to hear that she'd wanted to leave. Aela, for her part, had appreciated their guidance, and been grateful for all their help, but had never pretended that her stay with them was anything more than temporary. Besides, strong as they were, individually they were no match for her, and thus held no authority over her as far as she was concerned. She did, however, hold enough affection for her new companions to not make a big deal about it, but instead decided to simply just walk out on them, confident that they didn't have the sheer balls to stop her.

She'd miscalculated, unfortunately; Torkild had been sharp enough to guess her intentions, and had confronted just after she'd already turned for the day to hunt, and when she'd thus unable to rely on her bestial form's strength and speed. Of course, even without her enhanced strength and speed, she was still an extremely highly-experienced Companion, and had refused to be cowed by his pathetic attempts at intimidation; big as he was up close, it didn't compare to seeing the destruction wrought by the dragon at Whiterun's Western Watchtower, or witnessing Marius face off against it alone (as far as her memory was concerned, at least). Hence, when he'd delivered his ridiculous ultimatum ("Submit, or be made to submit!"), Aela had spent a moment being shocked, before spitting at his face, denouncing him as weak, and kicking him in the groin with her metal boots.

Aela sighed as she dodged yet another rush by one of the other werebears; this was getting tiresome, and while she didn't want to kill them, her true place wasn't with them, and she was rapidly losing any patience and goodwill she once held for the pack. Almost as strong as giants and much faster, but they had no idea how to use their speed for anything besides frontal charges. As she twisted again, and a claw swiped at where her armor had been, she drew an arrow, and prepared to start fighting seriously; they'd eventually score a lucky hit, and while their skill was lacking, she couldn't fault the strength of their arms. Idly, as she prepared to kill the possessive werebears, and her instincts took over most of the processes involved in fighting now that she no longer held back, her conscious mind began thinking about her time spent with them; possibly trying to justify the fact that she was going to kill her former companions (but not Companions; they were definitely not like her family), though she honestly didn't need such justification: a true warrior, such as herself, would always relish the opportunity to fight against such a strong foe, and thus prove their superiority.

Just as her mind thought back towards the giant that had wondered unto that farm 3 months ago, and how she and Farkas had brought an excited Ria along to kill her first giant, something she never expected to happen happened. In what she could only describe as an imitation of that day 3 months ago, just as she let loose an arrow into the eye of Torkild and killed him, in a manner almost identical to how he had intervened during that fight, the man she wanted to see the most, but least expected to see, leapt into the melee with his sword, and once again proved his mettle to her.

Author's Note: And I'm back, with the first installment of Act 4: Solstheim (I'd call it Dragonborn, but I don't intend to purely limit Solstheim just to Miraak and Marius)! And welcome back, Azura's Star, which finally makes a return from being used as a soul gem in Castle Volkihar, a dozen chapters ago, to be used to make the Dunmer of Raven Rock more respectful and receptive to our Dragonborn! Also, this is the chapter where Marius engages in copious bribery to get what he wants.

Sorry for how short Falx Carius's fight was; yes, I know he's a tough and skilled opponent, but Marius by this point has gone toe-to-toe with the World-Eater her bad self. Thus, instead, I decided to emphasize both how easy the fight was, as well as how tragic Falx really was, as little more than a mindless rabid dog that needed to be put down, thanks to a failed attempt at necromancy. Whether I succeeded is, as always, a different matter entirely, but at least Lydia now has a better weapon. But yeah, don't expect Marius to give the mooks he slaughters his way through more than even a passing mention; after fighting Alduin, they're not even a speed bump at this point, nor do they register as such, now that Marius is focused on the battle with Alduin, both the past and the future one. It may be very unsatisfying, seeing all this be delivered more in exposition than demonstration, and for that my apologies.

I should really have called this whole chapter the Throwback Chapter; even bone-smithing, which Marius was unable to learn in Skyrim when he wanted to make dragonbone armor, has made it's reappearance, this time as the bonemold armor of the Redoran Guard. By the way, if anyone begins to call out my bullshit with regards to the bonemold formula, just know, I essentially copied that from the Improved Bonemold Formula found in the game, only adding in the dragon scales as a fortifying agent.

On a side note, I've seen a lot of reviews asking for Aela's return, and I am nothing if not a spineless pandering author. Actually, I never forgot about her, unlike what one may think (I swear); this is the chapter where everybody's been making a comeback, from Aranea, Azura's High Priestess, to Miraak themselves. What better chapter to bring Aela back, eh? Chapters like these are why I actually rarely comment on exactly where characters are or what they're doing; I want their reveal and return to be a surprise. At the same time, though, I'd also need to thank reviews pointing out I've forgotten a character, or made some errors here and there; I lack a proof-reader, and my ability to self-edit decreases exponentially as my work increases.

Holy crap, though, how'd we hit 36k views and 200 favorites?