AuroraNova : Full debriefing required very soon ;)
WilSquare : Thanks. Hope the rest doesn't disappoint.
GalacticHafling : Weird thing is when I was thinking about this story is "what are the tax laws in the middle ages?" (Although Tamriel seems a weird range of middle ages to renaissance.) Plus, I read somewhere it's "Guilty until proven innocent." Oh, well. Onto the next part of the play of an irritated merchant scheming to get his pound of flesh.
Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs, etc. Stories might not be in chronological order.
TRADER OR INVESTOR, PT.3
The Vici-Snowshod wedding went off without a hitch. The priest wed them, Vittoria made her speech of welcome and her hope for a unified Skyrim, and Asgeir's repeated his wife's hope and ended with an invitation to the feast set out in the Castle Dour courtyard.
When evening came they withdrew from the public to Proudspire Manor where the absent Thane Faro of Solitude had graciously allowed them to hold their private reception since Vici's own manor was stuffed with her personal guests and Asgeir's family. Not that the manor was unoccupied, the mysterious thane's husband was in town for the wedding and staying with him were business associates that he and Vittoria were to meet with tomorrow.
Revyn was obliged as the Thane's husband, and therefore host, to stand with Vittoria and Asgeir to receive guests. He had tried to decline the honor but they insisted. Everyone wanted to meet Thane Faro's husband. "Jarl Elisif, welcome. No, my jarl, I have no idea where my wife is at the moment. Madam Ambassador, how gracious. Thane Bryling and Thane Erikur, honored." And so it went, dressed in Radiant Rainment's finest bought at the last minute and selling it. He'd rather be over with Orthus and Razelan who were chatting with Avenicci from Whiterun or introducing Councilor Morvayn to the proper parties. The councilor had been unexpected and he wasn't coming as the ruler of Solstheim but as a Razelan's "business associate." Garren, Revyn's "assistant" and spy from Windhelm's tax office, was having a good time at the food tables picking through rich and exotic delicacies regular folk like him rarely had access to.
The reception duty was mercifully over and Revyn snagged a wineglass from a server. He glanced around. Maven Black-Briar had cornered Morvayn. He wound his way over, careful not to draw Maven's attention so that he could listen in. She was flirting with the councilor while trying to draw out more information about Solstheim's wealth and future plans with the East Empire Company. Before the reception began she'd cornered Revyn to inquire about Thane Gilder. She'd heard about Revyn's latest troubles and that Gilder was now living in Windhelm. During her gloating she'd mentioned she knew Gilder from his days in the Quartermaster Office of the Legion. Revyn would make sure Garren's reports to Gilder would include the note that Maven says "hello." Jarl Elisif caught his eye and lifted her chin, an invitation. He passed behind the councilor, murmering loud enough for Dunmer ears, "If she were Dres, she would be the pride of the House." Morvayn made the mistake of laughing and Maven, thinking he'd agreed to something she'd said, smiled and moved in closer. Revyn hesitated, wondering if he should do a rescue, but saw that Morvayn, after the briefest pause of astonishment, was smiling and game for action. Thank the gods he came instead of sending Arano. That one would have embarrassed everybody by loudly declaring he was married.
A couple hours later he and Garren escaped out the basement door needing to get away from all the probing questions. Most in there were Solitude nobles and quite curious about the dark elf the Jarl had appointed to their exalted ranks. A wandering mercenary delivering a case of alcohol to Falk Firebeard. She did some mysterious job neither the Jarl nor the steward would talk about. She did bounty work. The Master of the Bards College credited her with restarting the Burning of King Olaf Festival. And suddenly she was the newest thane with wealth to buy the finest manor in the city. She never attended social events, preferring the common crowd.
"With the way Snowshod is downing the mead, I can't imagine he'll be in any condition to conduct business tomorrow," said Garren.
"I think he'll be sober enough. But likely it will be Vittoria leading the discussion. Did you read Herja's notes on Dunmer exchange rates? Razelan and Morvayn will be representing Solstheim's and House Redoran's interests."
"And you represent..."
"Mine and my wife's. Peripheral interests. My attendance is a courtesy and not mandatory to this meeting, especially as Orthos, Morvayn, and Tony know you aren't really my employee as we've let Vittoria and Asgeir think. I'm just there to listen and to given opinions, but only if asked. You, however, should not speak at all. Orthos and Morvayn will not hesitate to ask us to leave. If you are confused by something or need clarification, ask me afterwards and I promise to answer if the answer is relevant to my finances."
"No problem. Snowden was quite clear on what I was to keep track of. Anything outside of that is for Gilder's own spies to dig out."
"Very good. Would you be game to quickly visiting Castle Dour?"
"Castle... You want to visit the Legion headquarters?"
"Yes. Now seems the opportune time. General Tullius is a friend of the Faro family. My wife has avoided him so as not to appear to favor the Legion while she lives in Windhelm. Even more so after she became Thane here; a promotion he is sure to have not missed. But Gilder and the Jarl believe otherwise so I see no reason not to meet the man."
Garren was agreeable and they walked brisky back towards Castle Dour. The courtyard was still full of people enjoying the feast but now off-duty soldiers and guards replaced most of the civilians. They didn't have to wait long at the door before a junior officer escorted them inside to the general's war room. The human was around 60, old for their kind, but still sharp-eyed and full of restless, coiled energy. Gray eyes studied Revyn after having dismissed Garren as of no relevance.
"If you managed to attract and keep a Faro, then there's more to you than what I'm seeing," the general growled.
"Greeting, General Tullius," said Revyn, bowing slightly. "I don't have much time — I have to return to Vici's reception — but I wanted to introduce myself and extend my wife's heartfelt apologies for avoiding you."
"I didn't recognize her in Helgen," the general admitted. "She was barely knee-high when I last saw her. The officer in charge of executions did not inform me of her name. Even so, I know she has reasons to avoid me. And I know she's not with the Stormcloaks even if she chooses to primarily live in Windhelm."
"My beloved feels neutrality allows her more freedom to do what she needs. And right now she needs you to avoid Korvanjund. I'm sure your people have informed you that the Stormcloaks are looking for something there. I'm also sure you know what trouble I'm in. They've obliged my wife to do their work there and I would appreciate it if you don't force her to kill Legionnaires over some meaningless, vainglorious token of bones and teeth."
The general scowled but was silent. After a moment, without taking his eyes off Revyn, he raised his voice and said, "Withdraw immediately from Korvanjund. Allow the Stormcloaks to work and leave unhindered."
"But general—" a woman from a shadowed archway protested.
"Do it, Legate!"
"At once, sir."
"Very well. Any other place I should be withdrawing troops from?" he asked in a dry, mockingly polite tone.
"No, that will be sufficient. My thanks."
"This only works once, you know."
"Once should be enough. Thank you, general. Also, one more imposition if I may?"
"Why not? I've enough spies asking if you're on my payroll."
"Oh. Ah, I was wondering if you were acquainted with Quartermaster Elden Gilder of the division in Cyrodiil."
"Personally? No. And now, perhaps, you can do something for me?"
"If it's within my current limitations, certainly."
"I'm well aware of your current limitations." The general's eyes flicked over Garren who merely smiled. This was going to make a great story to tell Herja. "Tell your runaway wife to write her parents so that I don't have to waste resources keeping track of her. I'd like to get Inanna and Tony off my back and it shouldn't be my job to keep track of their wild brat. I do have a rebellion I need to settle here, you know.
"Now, I think we're done here." The general went back to reading reports and the junior officer appeared to escort them out.
As they left the Castle Dour courtyard a ragged creature flung itself at Revyn. "Please! You must help me!"
"Off with you!" Garren barked, moving quickly to pull the beggar off Revyn.
"You help people. That's what you do, isn't it?" the beggar pleaded, eyes locked on Revyn. "Please! He's been gone so long."
"He's harmless, Garren. Let him go."
The beggar shoved a hipbone into Revyn's hands and begged him to go to the Pelagious Wing of the Blue Palace, find his master, and talk him into giving up his vacation. Then the beggar fled into the crowd and the darkness.
The bone seemed ordinary. And the Pelagius Wing? Haunted and closed off for for some time if he remembered the rumors correctly.
Vittoria, Orthos, Razelan, Morvayn, and Revyn went to the Blue Palace the morning after the wedding for the scheduled meeting with Firebeard and Thane Erikur to discuss the possibility of shifting or splitting some of the East Empire's Solstheim trade from Windhelm's port to Solitude's. Revyn wasn't actually needed here, but Morvayn had asked him to come as his advisor. Revyn was also asked by Orthos to represent the general opinion of Windhelm's merchant class and as Solstheim's current resource for migrants between Raven Rock and the Gray Quarter. Tony and Garren sat along the wall with the other clerks diligently recording the meeting.
During one of the breaks in the meeting, Firebeard pulled Revyn aside. Avenicci had told him that Whiterun has had people prying into Revyn's and Faro's business affairs, trying to gauge wealth and political influence; he thought Firebeard should know since Faro was Thane here and asked if Firebeard had heard any of the same. The Windstadt steward and it's business manager also sent him similar warnings. Revyn confessed he was being investigated in Windhelm for possible tax fraud with further implications that his wife was spying for the Empire because her family were Mede loyalists. While Firebeard mulled that over, Revyn asked him about the Pelagius Wing.
Closed off since the death of the mad emperor on the Isle of Bretony off Daggerfall. Shortly after the news of his death arrived in Solitude, the Wing started being haunted. Horrible visions, feelings of anger, paranoia, disorientation, and shadows. Nothing the court mages or any of the priests in the city could do. Palace maids reluctantly go in once a year to clean out spider nests; they run in, shriek a bit, smash nests with shovels, run out, and then ask for the rest of the day off. Sybil Stentor, it's said, once went in and promptly came out stating that burning that entire wing of the palace down was the only solution she could think of.
But, if Revyn insisted on going in there, here was the key. Was it that easy? Well, Firebeard assumed that Revyn, like his wife, had a way with ghosts, necromancers, and dead things. Wasn't that the Dunmer religion?
Garren flatly refused to go in. The two maids, Una and Erdi, primarily tasked with that once-a-year spider hunt had heard the thane's husband was going in. Garren flirted with them and they told their stories about what they heard and saw and felt when in that place and Garran shared with them the stories around Windhelm of a haunted shop and a haunted museum. Revyn didn't come out until midnight had passed. He was looking washed out, leaning heavily on a staff and dragging what looked like a silver and crystal greatsword.
Garren helped him to a chair, noticing the mer had a huge bruise spreading and swelling across his left cheek and jaw, Una ran to fetch him some wine, and Edli was upset becaused because the greatsword had gouged a deep rut in the marble floor. "Are you all right, sir?" Garren asked.
"Oh, fine. I interrupted teatime between two insane nobles, played their mind games, and persuaded the Prince of Madness to end his vacation. On my way out, the Prince of Order appeared, tapped me, complained that he'd just got his house perfecty in order and now it was going to go all downhill again, and then gave me his sword to hold for him because a sword's useless against incipient madness."
"Um, yessir, right. Let's get you home and in bed. It's been a trying day."