"'It's a surprisingly useful School,' whispered Massitha defensively. 'You see, it's all concerned with magicka's ability to alter the perception of objects without changing their physical compositions.'" –Incident in Necrom

Sun's Dusk 14, 4E1

(Densius Fidelis):Room Forty, Argonian Royal Palace

Only a few minutes before the appointment in the medical room, it seemed I was starting to arrive at an answer: to stick with the mundane flow and comply, not have this day be radical and explosive. It seemed the thoughts of doing otherwise had just been a pointless scare instigated by the knowledge of the bracelet. The chance they'd apply the knowledge I'd give them was slim, since it would only be about two weeks until the invasion. Their mysterious visitor was doing what they wanted, but they didn't know what was coming.

Yet even if the probability they'd apply the knowledge was slim, the fruition would have grievous consequences: more of our soldiers getting killed.

Still, even if the information was applied, it couldn't turn their guards into Gods. Maybe it would double our casualties. I tried to envision the battle:

Likely only about twenty would be necessary to deal with the palace. Maybe four or five of our soldiers would die under normal circumstances. So the knowledge, if it was applied, would lead to an additional four or five deaths.

But it seemed highly unlikely the knowledge would be applied.

So yes, the probability of compliance causing a problem was a sliver, shrinking the significance of its possible fruition to a smaller size than the consequence of non-compliance, my own death, which was essentially inevitable if I went passive-aggressive.

My thoughts went silent briefly, but doubts still danced like ghosts in the back of my mind.

Was I the Argonian Royal Court's only test subject? They'd had me bringing them dead animals earlier, implying they'd begun experiments a while before this. What kind of things were happening in their laboratory basement? Were they experimenting on other, non-voluntary people down there?

Were these tests more of a way to keep me from being a parasite, or were they really precious? It was a question I'd had before.

Did being human give me some importance? My mind started buzzing as the thought slithered into me.

But there wouldn't be any humans involved in their applications, so why would it? I needed to relax. The test was probably a minor, mundane incident, just another day in the palace.

I looked back at the clock:

It was 1:58.

With the limited time they'd have to apply what they discovered, it seemed a life wasn't an appropriate sacrifice. But after that dilemma, I needed to let my bubbling mind and body calm down. The conclusions made it clear the bracelet was just an unnecessary 'failsafe' for them.

Hopefully that enchanted article wasn't needed to keep Soch-Eena in check either; To think of her betraying our mission now was unnerving. But she'd maintained her loyalty even when we were separated. It was logical to assume she would remain this way as long as she didn't know about the magical trinket, even if her genuine self was disloyal.

But I would have to be weary for the effects of the bracelet in the future. That would bring a new kind of tension to coarsen and add seriousness to the time in the palace, a tension around every corner from a danger no Legion soldier was used to dealing with.

Had Sudeeda been using the bracelet during every briefing she gave us?

But that didn't matter at the moment.

How I wished to have never seen that man's sleeve fall! I somewhat envied Soch-Eena now. Seeing the bracelet had sent my mood spiraling down, and put an unpleasant rawness and gravity in the last hour.

I looked at the clock once more for how soon I would present the results.

Only thirty seconds had passed.

I looked at the wounds again:

The healed areas all bore roughly the same pattern. The scales emerged from their source onto the healing area in the shape of a spear-head, a triangle which was slightly bigger on the deeper wounds, even more so on the deepest skinning.

Other than that, they were surrounded by new skin. The flesh of the deeper skinning was discolored, paler than its surrounding, and the flesh around the deeper burn was doughy looking. This cursed marsh had given me even more scars, and I was bitter about it.

Disturbingly, it looked like it didn't take a healer to gather some data on how to spread a transformation, in my case the scales, faster. That was probably their intent with the experiment. Would the status of my hand really provide useful information, useful enough to risk my life to deny them?

But staying compliant would keep their guard down. Yes, this worrying needed to stop. It was eroding my mental health.

Since staying here would mean lingering internal demons, it seemed a good idea to get up and head to the medical area right now.

The mattress groaned as I got off it. I began heading to the door. I opened it.

The halls were quiet on this floor, as no longer was anyone rushing to lunch. Everyone was either back at their workstations or relaxing. Their minds weren't stormy, like mine.

But the dilemma was over, I had to remember that. It was time to think about something else.

Judging by the scars on my hand and mouth, I'd become ugly through this. That was disheartening.

But the name "Densius Fidelis" would go down in history books. Surely it would open up worlds of new importance to my life, and that would be dreamy. My life would be forever bathed in glory, which was a prize of greater absolute value than any punishment I'd yet been given. But things would drastically change and the scar on my face might be enough to destroy my sex-life. That mark still jarred even me. It was funny how simple placement could make it go from a dashing battle-wound to a grotesque deformity. I wouldn't have minded a subtle slash down the cheek

I looked back at my hand. That burn scar was hideous as well, even though it could be worse. The scales "covering" it looked a misshapen too. Would they do any more to this poor body?

These last two weeks had brought changes with the magnitude and force of an ocean. It hardly felt like the same life anymore.

I noticed I wasn't thinking about Black Marsh's opening. My mood had been taken down too far for those kind of thoughts, apparently.

The corner was very close.

There were weeks more of this to go. If this is how the second day felt, things did not look good. And to think I'd predicted this time would be an epic blessing!

I turned left, now looking at the stairs.

I thought back to Soch-Eena. She was in the middle of the ocean right now, holding onto a rope under the sea, water batting against her. She was the one with the fate of the Empire in her hands, while a medal-winning Imperial soldier had become, temporarily, almost irrelevant. A former criminal was saving Black Marsh from the Argonian Royal Court and possibly the world from the Sload, the most heroic task since the Oblivion Crisis. Not only that, but she'd destroyed the Dark Brotherhood. No doubt we'd be mentioned side-by-side in the history books, but 'Densius Fidelis' would be morally dwarfed by the murderer of Philida. It was slightly sad and frustrating to think I might go down in history as a side-kick or afterthought, especially with all the mutilation undertaken to make it this far.

I was about half-way to the stairs. A door creaked somewhere else on this floor.

Hopefully they wouldn't mark me up even more. But then again, how could they pity a potential spy?

Would they have any assignments for this human beyond tests? It seemed I would have to analyze the merits of those, too. That meant more long, aching quandaries. And this was all because the mage giving the tests had been clumsy enough to let his sleeve fall. Otherwise, I'd probably be feeling mentally secure.

I began trotting down the stairs, right hand sliding down the glazed railing. As my feet pounded them, my mind went back to the climatic event incoming. I hit the flat area and turned. I went down the second set.

I began pondering the purpose of the tests. It seemed the Argonians were looking for a way to accelerate the process of Hist sap transformation through damaging flesh. It stood to reason they'd want to learn how to speed up the process: my hand had been dipped about two weeks ago, and yet the scales hadn't even spread onto my arm. It seemed it would take a year to get fully covered. But the mix of injuring and healing potion seemed to speed the process up drastically. It got me a day's worth of growth in about an hour. That meant they'd sped up the process by...about twenty-four fold, making a complete transformation take...only about two weeks. And their healing potion was a tier below top-notch. Military grade healing potion worked twice as fast.

I turned left.

Accelerating the process that much would definitely be useful, but fortunately they wouldn't think to apply that knowledge in time.

Yet what if their discovery about Soch-Eena had encouraged them to rush? What if they were going to take a risk, having somewhat predicted the invasion? After all, they couldn't expect two spies to try to take down the Argonian Royal Court alone; they must have known their two mysterious travelers were working for someone larger, and who could we be working for if not the Empire? My mind started rushing again.

It wasn't too late to turn back, unfortunately. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I retreated into my thoughts. My mind abuzz, free will's presence could be felt.

But I had no idea what to do if and after I refused to show them.

I could just go back to my room, but then what? Would I wait until they came? Would I fight them when they did? Then they could just check my corpse.

I turned another corner, seeing the fateful door to the medical room.

What if I ran outside so they couldn't find the body? The tower guards would spot me, but they would just figure their indentured servant was on an assignment.

To run off into the wilderness would be noble, but solemn. I'd face the blackness of death instead of the buzzing excitement of an opened Argonia.

Almost at the door, I needed to stop and sort this out.

If they were rushing to figure out how to start applying the Hist sap, it seemed probable I'd get another series of questions. Yet I could outright throw them off if their trust was gained now. That would be better than barring them from knowledge, which would be all that would happen if I decided to run away.

Yes, showing them the results was the right course of action. I stuffed thoughts to the contrary away again. Those wrong-minded doubts seemed to be getting harder to the fend off, the questions eroding mental barriers, but it would be over once I showed my hand to that lethargic mage.

I walked towards the door, a funny sort of tingly feeling all over at what I'd just dedicated myself to: I'd be showing them the truth now, but lying to them in the future. It was a mid-way between compliance and rebellion, though it was probably a safe route due to the fact I was given no medical treatment dependent on the answers provided an hour earlier.

I opened the door.

The man who'd run the tests was on a couch. He shifted and turned his head towards me, seeming a little perkier than before. I wondered if he still had the charm bracelet.

I walked up to him and my mind started to feel pleasantly boxed in. Yes, he did. But it was a reminder towards which one could feel only trace resentment due to the nature of a charm spell (at least one of military strength).

I held the hand out in front of him. Seemingly in sync with the awkward method of presentation, he stared at it. It still wasn't too late to change course: I could pull it away. But was there reason to? It was hard to think in the proximity of the charm. Again, was there reason to pull away? No, I had no reason to pull my hand away. All the questioning of this decision had made doubts reflexive, but they were irrational.

Or was that just what the bracelet was influencing me to think?

"Thank you." He replied.

He pushed himself up from the couch.

It was done, the information submitted. Internal bickering was pointless now.

As his footsteps creaked along the wooden floor, I was slowly becoming happy it was too late to change my mind.

I would be a terrifying soldier when the invasion came, because I'd been docile for this first test. Thinking about it that way, I felt clean and proud.

I turned and opened the door to walk back to bedroom forty.