Narina knocked at the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple, then turned to face her escort. "My thanks to you as always, Right-Wind. Tolgan should have your payment ready at the castle by the time you return. Same time again tomorrow?"

Right-Wind nodded, bowing respectfully. "As you wish. Thank you for your business."

"No, thank you. Farewell, then!" Narina gave the Argonian a brief wave before turning back towards the gates. It was nice to know that the Fighters Guild wasn't completely filled with muscle-bound idiots. Really, Right-Wind was much more agreeable than her previous escort - that Nord fellow, what was his name...? She couldn't quite remember. The tall one with the shiny armour and the hair that reminded her irresistibly of a little fluffy chick... What had happened to him, anyway?

And, more importantly, why wasn't anyone answering her bloody knock at the gate?

Narina banged on the heavy doors again, pounding her fist against the wood as hard as she could. "Hello, in there? Someone? Where is everybody?!"

After a moment, Narina heard a flurry of activity at the other side of the gates. Apparently, the residents of Cloud Ruler hadn't all been murdered in their beds. Good news indeed! The wooden doors were finally heaved open, revealing a very flustered-looking Caroline. The Blade saluted, but the gesture really didn't seem as professional when the person performing it looked so utterly frazzled. "Countess Narina, ma'am! Erm, my apologies for the delay, we're just having a bit of a... a situation. I'm sure the Grandmaster will explain everything, assuming he's fully recovered. Oh dear..."

"Recovered?" Narina asked sharply. "What do you mean by that? Has something happened? An attack? Is everyone alright?"

"No, no. Well, yes. Sort of. But not like you're thinking, I..." Caroline shrugged helplessly. "It was Martin."

"Martin?" Narina suddenly felt faint. "What's happened to him? Is he alright?"

Nine Divines, please let him be alright!

"Oh, yes, he's fine. I think. As far as we know." Caroline covered her face with her hands and whimpered, and Narina had to fight back the irrational impulse to slap some sense into the woman. "Look, Jauffre's through here. He'll explain things to you, ma'am."

Forcing herself to maintain the illusion of calm, Narina strode imperiously into the temple. Jauffre was sitting at one of the tables, looking extremely pale even by Breton standards. His mouth was compressed into a tight little line and he seemed utterly furious despite Aranwen murmuring soothingly into his ear.

"Hush, darling, it's alright. I'm sure everything's fine. He's in very good hands, after all."

"...Disobeyed my orders... Can't believe... Irresponsible... That... He.. Going to get himself killed..."

"There, there. Don't worry so, dear. It's not good for your complexion." Aranwen put a thoughtful finger to her lips. "Although a few wrinkles can look rather dignified on a man."

"Excuse me," Narina said quietly. She didn't want to startle Jauffre too much - he really did look dreadful. Her greeting was either ignored or unheard, however, as the Breton kept muttering under his breath.

"After everything I said... Wilful disregard of my wishes... Cupboard..."

"Sweetie, please. At least he's with people who can look after him! You know, out of the reach of any bad influences --"

"Excuse me!" Narina said, more loudly this time. The startled reactions she received from Jauffre and Aranwen seemed to indicate that they genuinely hadn't noticed her arrival. "Where is Martin?"

"Ah! Countess," Jauffre said, clearly distressed. "You have arrived at a rather unfortunate time..."

"Oh, it's you," sniffed Aranwen. Jauffre glanced at her disapprovingly, and she grudgingly let out a little sigh. "I mean, hello. Darling."

"Good morning. I'm here to see Martin. Where is he?" Narina repeated. Jauffre hung his head.

"We aren't entirely certain."

"What? How can you not... What's going on?!" Narina threw up her hands in complete frustration. "I've not been able to get a straight answer from anyone, and frankly, I --"

"Here," Jauffre said bitterly, handing Narina the note that Martin had left attached to the cupboard. "It seems that our future Emperor has decided to completely disregard all the protection we have offered him in favour of traipsing off to Miscarcand with Baurus and Pente."

Narina chewed her lip as she read through the note. "He..."

"He locked me in a cupboard," Jauffre continued, shaking slightly with rage. "A silenced bloody cupboard. Considering the bizarre and illogical nature of his plans, I can only assume that his travelling companions had some kind of input into that. And if those two were in on this ridiculous plan, I'll have their heads --"

"Meaning?" Aranwen interrupted. Jauffre blinked, his angry scowl lessening somewhat.

"Oh, ah. Figure of speech, dear."

"Good."

"So," Narina said slowly, "Martin has run off - fooling you and all of your Blades in the process - to go and retrieve the Great Welkynd Stone himself?"

"Yes," Jauffre confirmed. Aranwen stroked his back soothingly. "It is a pity that he couldn't learn a bit about being responsible from those books of his."

"Indeed," Narina murmured. "When he gets back, I intend to tell him exactly what I think of him for this."

Something along the lines of "By the Nine sodding Divines, you're amazing" should do it.

As he walked down the Gold Road, Pente and Baurus following close behind, Martin was of the firm opinion that this was the oddest journey he'd ever taken. He had travelled with Pente before, of course - they had journeyed from Kvatch to Weynon Priory together (while she wore that absurd nightdress), then from there all the way to Cloud Ruler Temple. However, Martin could only conclude that his head had been so full of worry at the time that he simply never noticed what a... unique travelling companion the mer made. He really didn't remember her jumping and skittering around every time they encountered anything hostile before, but... Well, she was probably excited about their journey. That was probably it. It truly was strange, though. From the way the Bosmer was acting, anyone would think she was actually scared of mudcrabs!

How absurd.

Or, of course, it could be Baurus' presence that was making Pente act so strangely. They certainly made an odd pair - for the last few minutes, the Redguard had been teaching her the strangest song that Martin had ever heard. 'To calm her down,' he had claimed, although the Imperial couldn't help but suspect that this was all simply for Baurus' own amusement. He really did have the oddest sense of humour, sometimes.

"I don't get it, though," Pente remarked. "The tune is quite pretty and everything, but the words don't make a lot of sense, do they? Are they supposed to? I mean, what would the girl be doing with a carrot, and why would it be magic? Who enchants a carrot?!"

"Don't question it," Baurus protested. "The Lonely Farmer's Daughter And Her Magic Carrot is a classic."

"If you say so..." Pente wrinkled her nose doubtfully. "I never heard it before. Did you, Martin? Um... Martin?"

Martin had ceased walking and was staring up the road at a small campsite. He squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, apparently not hearing Pente's words. "Over there... Is that... Hello? Brother Ilav?" he called, breaking into a run as he resumed his journey up the dusty road. "You're alright! Praise Akatosh!"

The closer he got, the more it appeared that Ilav wasn't quite alright. His priests robes, once similar to Martin's own, were shabby and tattered in places. The man looked like he'd aged drastically since the last time Martin had seen him - the Imperial touched his own face unconsciously, inwardly horrified at the thought that he might look that bad. Ilav was looking at him rather oddly, after all. "Brother Martin! This is... unexpected! Are you well? The last we heard, you got dragged off by the Bosmer who closed that Nine-forsaken Oblivion Gate!"

"I'm fine, brother. It's a long story, but... Mara's grace, it's good to see you again." Martin's brow furrowed. "But what are you doing out here? I would never have expected you to be out in the open like this. Camping was never really your style, was it? So how are you coping out here, of all places?"

"I'm coping because I have to," Brother Ilav said bitterly. "We all are. I don't know where you've been, but we're homeless. It's not as if we have a choice in all this."

Pente and Baurus finally caught up to Martin, but he barely noticed their presence. "Homeless? Has nobody begun any kind of reconstruction work? Or found alternative accommodation? Surely you can't be living out here in tents..."

Batul gra-Sharob, an Orc who Martin recognised as the town smith, shook her head. "We aren't builders, brother. We have no money and no supplies. The only ones who've managed to find somewhere else to live are the ones with family in nearby cities."

Martin shook his head in disbelief. "But..." Without another word, he ran off towards the city itself. Pente let out an exhausted little sigh.

"By the bloody N-Nine, how can he still run after coming all this way? I wish he'd say something before zooming off like that..." She caught Brother Ilav glaring at her in disapproval and squeaked apologetically. "Um, sorry. I meant by the bloody Nine, your holiness."

When Martin got to the top of the little ridge that separated the campsite from Kvatch, all his fears were confirmed. The town really was in the same condition as he had left it in - the fires weren't still burning, but everything seemed just as desolate and haunting as it had been in his dream. It really seemed like the once-beautiful city was dead.

"Don't run off on your own like that," Baurus said, coming up from behind him. "Look, if me and Pente bring you back home with so much as a scraped knee, Jauffre will kill us. Then he'll go and find a necromancer willing to reanimate our corpses, just so that he can kill us again. Then we'll get mad and come back to haunt you as revenge for our double-murder, which will make Jauffre kill us again as ghosts --"

"Sorry," Martin croaked. "But look. It's terrible..." He swept a hand towards the ruined city, his face pale with shock. "I can't believe nobody... That it's still like this. Why hasn't anyone helped?" He let his hand drop. "When I'm Emperor, I'll fix it."

Pente looked up in mild surprise. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk about being Emperor before. I bet you'll be good at it."

Martin's eyes narrowed and his jaw was set into an expression that Baurus found oddly reminiscent of Emperor Uriel's more stubborn moods. "Well, I need to start thinking about this kind of thing. It's important." He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "If anything should happen to me, ah... Would you two promise me that you'll do all you can to help this place?"

Pente emitted a particularly horrified squeak, even by her own standards. "N-nothing's going to happen to you! Don't talk like that, it's scary!"

"Didn't you hear me say what Jauffre would do to us if you got hurt?" Baurus added, flinching. "Do I have to repeat all that again? 'Cause I will."

"I'm serious!" Martin looked oddly strained. "Just promise me. It'll make me feel better."

"I p-promise, I guess," Pente stuttered. "But you're just being silly, r-right?"

"Of course," shrugged Martin, as he began to make his way towards the ruined city.

Jauffre was doing paperwork again. Aranwen couldn't help but wonder why the Breton turned to a quill and parchment for aid whenever he got stressed like this. Honestly - everyone knew that there were far better ways of relaxing than some silly writing. More enjoyable ways, of course. Hmm, perhaps I should suggest it to him --

"There." Jauffre put down his quill with a grimly satisfied half-smile. "Done."

"What is it, snugglemuffin?" Aranwen peered across the desk. "Big important official boring things? Maybe love notes?" She winked. "Oh, sweetie, you don't have to go to all that trouble. I'm right here."

"Er, no. I've had quite enough of love letters for one day." Jauffre couldn't help flinching slightly - damn cupboard. "I'm just sending out requests for aid to all the nobles of Cyrodiil. In return for closing the Gates around their respective cities, of course." He stroked his chin thoughtfully - hopefully the Nord would have closed the remaining ones by now.

"Aid for what?" Aranwen perched on the end of the desk. "For bringing back Marty? I really don't think you need to do that, darling. He should only be visiting that Misthingyland place, after all."

"Miscarcand."

"That's a nasty cough, sweetie. But use a handkerchief, honestly."

Jauffre really wasn't in the mood to argue. "Yes, dear. Anyway, the request has nothing to do with Martin's... little journey. Countess Narina has provided us with a prime location to confront the Mythic Dawn, and --"

"Oh. She did." Aranwen pursed her lips in distaste. "How wonderful."

"It is a very selfless and brave thing for her to do," Jauffre said firmly. "As I was saying, I am asking the Counts and Countesses to send over anyone who is willing to help us in the coming battle. Hopefully the extra assistance will swing things in our favour. Or at least keep us from getting overwhelmed too easily..."

"You can count on my help, sweetie! You already know I'm a wonderful shot, if I do say so myself. Archer Aranwen, at your service!" The mer's face lit up in a proud smile. "Oooh, maybe I should go out hunting! It's been a while since I got to practice on a moving target, after all!"

"No!" blurted out Jauffre. "No. I'm sorry, but nobody leaves Cloud Ruler Temple unless it's utterly necessary."

"Oh, silly! I'm quite sure I can hold my own against deer. And a harmless-yet-devastatingly-beautiful lady is hardly a likely target for the... the Misty Dark, or whatever they call themselves these days. The rude people. Red robes. Those."

"Yes, but..." Jauffre busied himself with his quill. "Lately I have an awful habit of losing important things when I let them out of my sight. The Amulet of Kings, my helmet, Martin..."

"Oh, you're just the silliest, aren't you?" Aranwen squealed, planting a smudgy kiss on Jauffre's forehead. "I'm not about to disappear, am I?"

"No," Jauffre admitted. "No, you --"

"Well, then!" She clapped her hands with an air of finality. "Goodness, darling, don't worry so. There's no way you could possibly get rid of yours truly, snuggletoes!"

"Indeed." Jauffre felt oddly disturbed. Wouldn't that sentence have felt more like a death sentence than a comfort just a few weeks ago? By Talos, how things changed...

Despite the state that Kvatch was in, Martin was oddly comforted by being back in his old hometown. It was really hard to place exactly why, but he decided not to question it too much. Apparently, there was a part of him that could see past the devastation and burned-out buildings to the fond memories underneath.

"Arkay's armpits! What in the name of the Nine is that smell?!"

Baurus was apparently less enthusiastic about their location. Pente didn't seem much more happy with it, either. She screwed up her face. "S-scamps, I think. Eww. There aren't any still around, are there?"

"I'm just going to the chapel," Martin said, half-distracted. "I'll be back in a moment." Upon receiving an answering nod from Baurus, he walked quickly up the chapel steps and entered the building.

Wary of Pente's comment about the possibility of Daedra still being about, Martin glanced around the church interior just to check. He didn't want to be interrupted in his business by a fireball to the head, after all. The chapel was dark, but he seemed to be alone - good. The priest swiftly crossed the room and headed towards the Altar of the Nine, smiling slightly at the familiar surroundings. At least this place was relatively undisturbed... Praise Akatosh for that.

At the back of the Church was Martin's objective: an old, exquisitely carved statue of Dibella. The scantily-clad stone figure had always puzzled him, all things considered. Why a statue of Dibella would be in a chapel devoted to Akatosh was quite the puzzle. Privately, Martin suspected that it had something to do with a very lonely priest at some point in the church's past. After all, what other reason would there be for certain areas of the statue to be so, well... detailed? Martin approached the back of the stone figure and felt around for his objective, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. Somehow, it always felt so disrespectful to be doing this --

"So you went to all the trouble of coming out here just so that you could play grab-ass with a statue?" Baurus' voice rang out, his laughter echoing throughout the room. Martin gasped in horror and leaped back as though burned.

"That's not, I, ah... It's not what you think, I assure you!"

Baurus raised a single eyebrow, that infuriating grin still on his face. "Wait 'til I tell Narina that you left her behind in favour of a stone temptress. I'd never have expected it of you, you know."

Exasperated and thoroughly embarrassed, Martin waved Baurus away. "Look, would you mind leaving me alone for a short while? Ask Pente to show you her house, perhaps. Please? I'll come and find you when I'm finished here."

"Well, if you want alone-time with Dibella that badly..." Baurus' grin faded. "Are you okay?"

Martin nodded. "Fine. Really. I just have something I need to do." Baurus nodded and left the chapel, while Martin shook himself lightly. Back to the task at hand. Muttering a quick prayer of apology to the Aedra, he slipped his hand down the back of Dibella's stone skirt...

There!

...And pulled out a small silver key. Excellent, nobody had found it! One of the great things about life in the service of the Divines had been the inventive hiding places. Smiling in a mixture of relief and triumph, Martin hurried down towards the chapel undercroft and opened the door. At last.

The undercroft was thankfully deserted - Martin had feared that the Daedra might have tainted the place. That wouldn't have been pleasant. Sighing with relief, he knelt down and pulled up a flagstone from the floor, revealing a hole. Martin reached down into it and pulled out a small box covered with a layer of dirt. Unlocking it with the key he had retrieved from the statue, the Imperial tipped the contents out onto the floor and began hurriedly sorting the items into two piles.

Alright - the letters home are safe to keep. The condensed volume of the works of Crassius Curio should probably go - not very Emperorly, really. And these woodcuttings... Martin squinted and lifted one of the carved images towards the light for a better look. Each of them depicted an incredibly familiar-looking Imperial engaged in various activities associated with the worship of Sanguine. Martin tilted his head and winced - the artist had definitely exaggerated his flexibility in this particular carving. He was quite sure that he'd never been able to bend that way. Firmly, he placed the woodcuttings to one side.

Definitely not very Emperorly. Let's see, a few coins... Old amulet... Mum's wedding ring...

Oh.

Martin put the ring carefully into the pocket of his robes. He definitely had to keep that. It would come in useful if he ever felt like proposing to anyone one day. Not that he had anyone in mind, of course. Not at all.

After sweeping the little pile of "un-Emperorly" items to one side, Martin burnt them to ashes using a weak fire spell. Carefully, of course - he didn't want any more of Kvatch going up in flames. There, now there would be no evidence to link Emperor Martin to Martin the Sanguine worshipper! Well, unless old Engorm was still around. That could prove awkward... But unless the old mer had changed considerably since Martin had known him, he could probably be bribed into silence with a lovely new corset. That wasn't something that Martin really wanted to think too much about, though. Ugh.

Dusting off his hands, Martin straightened up. All done, thank the gods. It was about time he went to find Baurus and Pente. After all, saving the world was important business!

"... And this is the wardrobe that I hid in when the Daedra came to eat me. It's a bit smashed up now, but, um, it was prettier before. Less broken. And look, most of my things are still in boxes... I guess the Daedra were only interested in stealing my cake, nothing else. I'm surprised it's all still here!" Pente knelt down by the boxes and began rummaging.

Baurus had done as Martin asked and requested a tour of Pente's house, and she had been happy to oblige. The Redguard was quite surprised by how eager she'd been - she seemed surprisingly unaffected by their visit to Kvatch, to be honest. She certainly wasn't going through the same mood change as Martin. She didn't appear to have the same conflicting emotions, or the horror at the state of the city...

"Oh, wow! My crystal ball! I'd forgotten about this, look!"

...In fact, she seemed pretty perky. Baurus knelt beside her to examine the trinket she was waving around. "Shiny. I never thought you'd be the type to have one of those."

Pente shrugged. "It was a present from one of my aunts. She's a mage back in Valenwood. Look, it has my name carved into it and everything!" She smiled sheepishly. "That's the only thing I ever saw in the ball, but, um, it's pretty anyway."

As Baurus watched Pente put the crystal orb into her bag, he decided that he had to say something. "You're okay, right? Not upset by being back here or anything? Because you shouldn't repress it. It'll end up making you explode. And, uh, I prefer you un-exploded."

"Eh?" Pente shook her head. "I'm not like Martin. I was only here for a day, remember?" Her eyes misted over slightly. "It was a really, really good day, though. I already told you about the cake, and the house was pretty, and I was finally living away from mother, and everyone here was so friendly... But no matter how nice it was, it was just one day. I just don't miss it like Martin does. A-and besides," she squeaked shyly, "I've had better days since then."

"Ah," said Baurus, offering a sage nod. "Like when you got to run half-naked through Leyawiin. A high point for us all."

"Har har. Really funmMmf." Pente once again found herself muffled into silence by Baurus' lips against hers. It'd be annoying if it wasn't so, well --

"Oh! Ah, sorry." Martin suddenly appeared in the doorway of the room, and the two Blades broke apart quickly. "Ah, I'd have knocked, but, uh... Your door appears to have fallen off." Martin shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Oh, h-hello, um, yes. I was choking," Pente yelped, "and Baurus was helping me breathe and it totally w-wasn't what it looked like, honestly, well, if it looked like we were kissing or something which we weren't. H-hah, kissing? What gave you that idea --"

"He knows," Baurus muttered. Pente quietened down.

"Oh. Don't tell mother."

"I won't," Martin said, smiling weakly. "This was your house, then?"

"Uh-huh. Um, for a little while."

Martin nodded. Of course. This was the room that Martin had started his dream about Miscarcand in - apparently, prophecy was rather fond of coincidences. "It's nice. Or I expect it was, before it got, um, burned. Ah, are we leaving, then? I assume we should hurry."

Baurus noted that Martin seemed a little more upbeat now that he had finished his business in Kvatch. Good. "Right. You're coming to Miscarcand too, then? Not making your own way back to Cloud Ruler like you said you would?"

Grinning, Martin shook his head. "Of course not. Go off on my own? Are you mad? I might scrape a knee."

It was getting dark by the time that the three friends reached Miscarcand. Pente stared at the graceful white architecture in amazement - who knew that Ayleid ruins were so pretty? All the arches and columns looked beautiful in the moonlight. It gave them an eerie yet graceful glow as they shone faintly against the darkness of the sky. No, Pente thought happily, this place can't possibly be dangerous. I wonder if the Welkynd Stone thingy is pretty, too?

"Be careful, everyone," Martin said, breaking into Pente's thoughts. "I've done nothing but study these ruins lately, and they're a lot more dangerous than they appear. Tread carefully, we don't want to get caught in any traps."

Pente's face fell. Bugger.

With Baurus in the lead, the little group entered the doorway of the ruin. Martin lit a torch so that they could see better in the darkness, and they crept down the stairs, testing each step as they went. Her stomach fluttering nervously, Pente began chewing at her thumbnail. This place definitely seemed scarier now. The eerie blue light, the cobwebs, the faint noises coming from below...

"Did you hear that?" Baurus whispered suddenly. Martin shook his head.

"I didn't hear anything. What was it?"

"I thought..." Baurus glanced at Pente, noting her fearful expression. "Oh, um, nothing. Just the wind." They emerged from the little stairwell into the upper level of a larger room, which was once again lit up with that odd blue light. Martin suddenly paused.

"Wait, now I think I heard something. Voices?"

"Damn," Baurus muttered. "Stay there." He crept forward and peered down into the lower level of the ruin. After a second, his mouth dropped open in horror. "Fetching hell," he whispered. "Martin! Put the torch out!"

Martin did as he was asked, then crept towards Baurus, Pente following close behind. The Imperial paled as he looked down into the lower area of the hallway. "B-by the Nine!"

"We're all going to die," Pente whispered, unable to take her eyes off the sight below. "We're going to get slaughtered. Sliced up. Burned to bits. Murdered."

Baurus couldn't quite bring himself to contradict the mer as he looked at the group of red-robed figures milling about below him. Unfortunately, it appeared as if the Mythic Dawn had chosen Miscarcand as the location of their new hideout.

So what now?

Notes: Pheonicia gets insane amounts of thanks for helping with this chapter. And being generally awesome. Whee!